Broken KitchenAid Mixer Correspondence with Dad (posted by Emily)

From: Dad Sent: Tuesday, September 16, 2014 11:15 AM To: Emily Subject: RE: I made butter...

Don’t cry over churned milk.  Back in the day, every small town and neighborhood had a small appliance repair guy.   These were frequently wounded vets or odd little guys who didn’t really fit in to the larger society but had an affinity for tinkering, boundless patience, and nothing better to do.  Their lairs were often dark basements or tattered store fronts but were always cluttered by partially deconstructed appliances, magnifying lenses, assorted screws, and electronics.  The places were scary and intriguing at the same time.   Though these people could not have made much money, they were valued and respected within the community for their apparent wizardry.

Perhaps there is a message here.  These days, when things (or people) break they are cast aside partly because there is no on there to fix them but partly because we quickly give up, and partly because it is simply easier to throw it away and get something new.

-

From: Emily Sent: Wednesday, September 17, 2014 5:42 AM To: Dad Subject: RE: I made butter...

Thanks, Dad, for this really thoughtful response. I read it to my officemate and she said that you are a “true poet.”

-

From: Dad Sent: Tuesday, September 16, 2014 11:15 AM To: Emily Subject: RE: I made butter...

I should have probably made this a comment on the blog, but that would require logging in and I still find that clunky.

Do you have your KitchenAid fixed?  You know me, I would probably just keep it unplugged and work with it that way for years.  I guess that is why I can’t have a sailboat.

Two years ago, my snowblower (which we bought 2^nd hand when we got here) broke.  I tinkered with it and tried to fix it myself, but, worried that I would only break it more.  I tried looking up small engine repair places and found that the only ones that were around were only open during very restrictive parts of the week.  So, through the winter of the most snow on record, I shoveled that crap, while the snowblower sat in the warm garage.   Finally, at the end of the winter I discovered a little place that was open and, at least said, that they could fix it.  The first thing I had to do was work out a way to get the thing to their shop.  I tried to fit it into the back of the big Volvo.  That was me trying to lift this huge awkward thing and fit it into our new car without scratching anything, all the while mom standing by making unwelcome comments.

A near hernia later I decided to go rent a pickup from U-Haul.  You know how I hate borrowing things from other people and I refused to borrow someone’s truck and U-Haul advertises trucks for $19 a day.   Of course taxes and charges etc. added up to about $30 but, at least, I wasn’t borrowing something.

When I arrived at the repair shop, it was as I had expected.  The outside front and back was littered with row upon row of pieces and parts of lawnmowers, snow blowers, and other unidentifiable small engine devices.   I tentatively stepped through the door into a dark and cluttered Quonset hut and was confronted by a group of about six  guys with a mixture of what do you want and who the heck are you expressions on their face.  I felt a bit like I had interrupted something important.    After a couple of beats, one of the more amiable guys stepped to the counter and asked, “what can we do for you.”  The room seemed to relax and what ensued was a hilarious group dialogue of the “your momma” variety with all of these guys cutting on one another and even, gratefully, including me in their joshing.

Eventually, the form got filled out in spite of the laughing.  A guy was dispatched to go into the parking lot to help me unload the snowblower, which he did by basically reaching into the truck and lifting this 175 lb. piece of equipment out with one hand.  As I drove away I wondered if I would ever see my snowblower again.

In just two weeks I got a call that it was fixed.  I asked if they could deliver it, to save me the trouble of renting another pickup.  They said that they would have someone deliver it for an extra $25, which was a bit of a gouge, but well worth it.   Of course last year was one of the lowest snow years on record, but the snowblower worked better than ever.  The one thing I missed by having them deliver it was that opportunity to step into that other world where men are happy to hang out in one another’s company, where skills with things mechanical are held in high regard, where appearances are less importance than reality, where a well told joke or well played prank is valued, and where camaraderie is easy and natural.

Weekend Update: Underwood Ranch Baby

Underwood Ranch Baby

This weekend J and I made our way up to Lometa to visit his family's land.

Since our last visit, the Underwoods have co-leased some acreage from their neighbor, a guy who's stocking up for the End Times. So, only somewhat worried that we'd be shot by something from his impressive arsenal of weaponry, J and I took the Mule buggy over to the new land to check out the new cows.

This visit to the farm was unlike any other visit to the farm that I've experienced since I began dating J two years ago. Why? Well, it has something to do with a disturbing trend that some people like to call a "baby."

Now she was very cute and well behaved, don't get me wrong. But I had this startling revelation that drinking until I can't stand up and playing washers til 3 a.m. may be a thing of the past. Also, and this is something I was becoming aware of as soon as I graduated - there is a huge range of experiences for the young twenty-something. It was just that until now, those experiences didn't include infants.

I did have a chance to watch the baby while her mom and dad were out shooting the handgun the mother got for Christmas. That was cool. I kind of understand now what Mom has been saying about liking to play with Aggie because she doesn't have to take care of her when she leaves. Yea, I feel the same way about babies right now. It was cute and made cool sounds, but I'm more than happy to hand her off when she starts screaming.

KitchenAid Mixer Update

The best news out of this weekend is that Mrs. Underwood called Bed Bath and Beyond and they will take my broken mixer and replace it with a new one!

I'm somewhat embarrassed that my boyfriend's mother had to do this calling around for me, but I really didn't even think to call the place she got it from. I thought that we'd for sure be way out of warranty. Also, now I know that Target has a 90 day return policy, so I guess that's points in favor of BB&B.

Shit, I made butter & Everything breaks

Shit, I made butter

If you've ever wondered how to make butter, last night I learned how.

I was elbow deep in the process of making Tres Leches (an involved process, not for the faint of heart) when I received a call from Dad. He wanted to talk. Apparently he talked to "his other offspring" this weekend.

Anyway, so, per usual, I got carried away in the conversation. Realizing that things were going a bit long, I threw some whipping cream into my KitchenAid mixer along with vanilla and sugar and set it to high. And walked away.

I kept talking to Dad and eventually remembered to ask how long it takes to whip cream.

He said, "Oh, eventually it will stiffen up...but don't let it go too long or it will turn into butter."

Well, so, I went to check on it and realized that I'd beaten all the air out of my cream and turned it, churned it, into sweet butter.

Everything breaks

When I tried to turn off the mixer to clean up the cream mess, I realized that it wouldn't turn off. It will only go to two speed and when I try to turn it off it pops back to two speed.

I did what any grown up would do and panicked. And started unscrewing ye old KitchenAid. And that sick feeling in my stomach started to gurgle up.

Because this was a gift from Jarrod's mother. My maybe future mother in law. And clearly, if I broke it I AM NOT WORTHY. As a woman, as a person, as a cook, as future mother. My head started to spin and I got more and more upset and I knew that I needed to go to Jarrod's to meet him when he got back from his flight.

So I screwed the broken thing back together, grabbed my keys and left.

I knew when I saw him I would cry. Cry, and cry and cry.

And I knew that he would say, "It's okay, I'll fix it." But he's not a KitchenAid mechanic.

And so I cried more.

And my apartment is still covered in chunky cream.

Weekend update: It's just a can opener

Can or Can't Opener Sunday I kept my word and met up with a group from my church to play soccer.

Nothing makes me realize how unfit I am like praying that I was chosen for the the Shirts team in Shirt versus Skins and then trying to hide astonishment at the chiseled ab-ness of some of my fellow parishioners (there's something hot and unholy about that).

While huffing and puffing up and down the small soccer field, I started doing what any cake-loving kid would do and began dreaming of the meal that I would eat later that evening. Of course, it was going to be healthy. A lean protein like fish or shrimp.

After it got too dark to play, Aggie and I drove to the HEB to pick up some food stuff. I've heard before that you shouldn't go grocery shopping hungry or after a workout and I understand why. Everything looked like a flipping jelly doughnut. And I was wanton for a jelly doughnut, you-know-what-I'm-sayin. Anyway, I got this crazy idea as I walked into the store that I would make my meal for less that $10. Activate anxiety. Activate Mission Impossible music.

I'll buzz through the shopping part as it wasn't exciting. I settled on shrimp (to be turned into baked coconut shrimp), rice and fiesta bean salad blend in a can.

I was at J's place doing laundry, so I knew that I was limited in my cooking tools. I knew that he didn't have a can opener. That's a lie. He has an electric can opener and I've battled that thing before and decided that I wasn't up for fight it tonight.

So, I bought a $2 manual can opener.

I brought my bounty to the shortest checkout line (for once in my life I was able to stand in the 15 items and under line). The cashier's look screamed, "I play Dungeons and Dragons, wear ironic graphic boxers and live with my mother." You know, male, low pony tale with hair parted straight down the middle and small glasses. Looks like he might program software in his downtime.

I finally got up to the front of the line and the guy began checking out my stuff - er, groceries. As he comes upon my can opener, he says "oh this won't do."

I returned a small, strained laugh.

"Yea, I know."

It was a piece of shit-can-opener. I was well aware. The type of can opener that you through against the wall after you mangle a can lid into a murder weapon. If you're laughing, you've been there. We all have.

It was this can opener or the $15 KitchenAid. And that shit would have blown my budget. And (of course) I've got my KitchenAid can opener at my house.

"I mean," he said, "I used to work in a restaurant and I had this boss that every two weeks would buy me a new can opener (what the heck is ponytail guy doing with can openers?). And this just won't work. It won't last."

"I just need it to open one can," I said, realizing that I had boob sweat stain prominent on my University Democrats shirt. A thrill, I'm sure.

"Oh, it'll do that for sure. Probably 20 cans. But not much more than that."

"That's fine," I said. Paid and carried out my shrimp, other stuff, and less-than can opener.

Thanks for your concern HEB guy.

Other Stuff This Weekend

J was out of town in Chicago with his sister. She was in charge of planning the trip and did not invite me. Okay. I see how it is.

I had a church leadership retreat Friday and Saturday. Came home carsick as all get out Saturday and slept until Sarah Neill (who was watching Aggie) knocked on my door and woke me up (and the litttle dog jumped on my bed and really woke me up).

Sunday I had church and gardened. And then played soccer and did laundry at Jarrod's place. It wasn't until hours into my laundry doing that I realized that the heat on the dryer was turned to low and finally understood why my clothes wouldn't dry.

Water under the sink

Ever wake up with an "it's going to rain today" headache? That was me this morning. I've been trying out this new alarm SpinMe, which requires that I get out of bed and spin around twice to make it stop making noise. It's meant for people who have trouble getting up in the morning. Like me.

Anyway,  so I was off to a good start. I was up so early, in fact, that I had time to clean up the kitchen a  bit before GoTime.

So I went under my sink to grab a scrubby sponge to clean off the stove. And discovered the bin that I store my cleaners in was filled with brown water. Yep. The same bin that was filled with brown water last week when I called Ye Old Landlord.

And that's the same sink that she texted me about last week and said was an "easy-peasy" fix when the plumber came out.

Not so easy peasy. It's still leaking. And now, the bucket overfloweth and I have a big mess.

So, I went from zero to 60 mad.

And J chose this time, this early morning, pissed off time to say,

"This is why I don't want to buy an old house."

When my dog ate (or tried to eat) Turtles

The part where I left her alone Aggie, my twenty-pound mutt, spent some time in her early years out on the streets of of Baytown.

In every other possible way she is a civilized dog, except for this one thing. Whenever Aggie is left alone, she dashes to whatever food is around and devours it. This is often a problem because, well, it's not like I leave out Dog Food. It's always People Food and not the good, healthy kind. Insert story about the time she ate a plate of  Ghirardelli brownies.

Last night, I decided to go visit a friend and planned to be gone only for an hour, so, thinking she could be trusted and that I didn't have any food out, I did not crate her.

The part where  I was wrong

I returned home to Aggie poking her head through the curtains, wildly wagging her tail. She met me at the door. I should have known something was up.

In my living room there was a package of Chocolate Turltles on the couch and one on the floor - I wouldn't find the package in my bathroom until later that evening. Luckily the packages were somewhat chewed on, but otherwise intact. She wasn't able to make her way into any of them. Thank goodness, or we would have had another shit storm. Insert story about the time she ate a plate of  Ghirardelli brownies.

You see, what makes this funny is that the box of Turtles was on my kitchen table which is pushed up against the wall. Aggie, being only two feet on a good day tall, couldn't have just reached the box. No, I'm sure it was a charade. The Little Dog must have climbed up the two chairs, jumped on the table, then walked across the table to where the box was.

And she has a really little mouth, so she must have done this three times to account for each of the chocolate turtle packages that I found. I just can't imagine what was going on in her Little Dog brain each time she grabbed a chocolate, couldn't open it, then climbed up onto the table to grab another. Or why she stopped at three. And why she didn't try harder to rip open the package.

The part where I didn't scold her

Standing there in my living room, taking this all in, all I could do was shake my head. Aggie, I guess filled with guilt, ran into my bedroom whimpering with her tail between her legs and folded into a really little ball. And I just laughed. After all, I was the one who left out the chocolate. I just never thought she'd climb the table to get to it. Or that she could smell it.

So I went and grabbed her from my room, laughing, pet her head and told her it was all "OK."

The Greatest Show on Earth with the Greatest Cousins on Earth

There isn't really a type of person that goes to the circus. I mean it's really an event meant for kids, but I was suprised at the mix of people there. There were people of all ages, young and old and many different cultures represented.

It's been a while since I went to the circus. I remember that Mom and Dad took us when we were young, but I don't remember much more than that.

I had forgotten the colors, the dancers, the acrobatics. I remembered the elephants and tigers, but forgot how amazing it was to see these animals do handstands. I was amazed at the skills of the poodles of all sizes.

Anyway, I'm so thankful that Aunt Lori came into my life and that she continues to invite me out. Lauren, Evan and Wesley are the best kids and so well behaved.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh9hpeGX5EI&w=420&h=315]

EMpowered with Emily Macrander

Pedal Party in Midtown Houston

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyHjAsoKIY8&w=560&h=315]EMpowered with Emily Macrander

Always looking for my Knight in Shining Armor (Big Bend trip)

As it was getting toward evening Saturday night, Chelsea and I decided to take a walk around Marfa. This was the point in our trip where we talked a lot about life and where we see the future, faith, God and family. As we rounded a corner we saw this small stone church and Chelsea asked if we could go up to it. She was satisfied that her suspicion was true, it was in fact an Episcopal church. Chelsea was raised Episcopal and is in a period of spiritual exploration as she tries to land in her adult church. Anyway, no one was around so we tried the door. It was open. Despite Chelsea's concern that we might be tripping some sort of silent alarm, we went inside. The sanctuary was still and empty inside and seats maybe 100. It's pretty small. I told Chels that this is the kind of place I want to get married because I wouldn't be overwhelmed with the number of available seats for guests. The church windows were colorfully illustrated biblical scenes. We walked around for a few quiet moment before letting ourselves out and continuing on.

"Henkey is Marfa" (Big Bend trip)

When I was in Marfa, there happened to be a film festival so there were all kinds of unique individuals running around. In the center of town there was a small art bizarre capitalizing on the out-of-town tourism that was booming in their town for the weekend.

As I told Chelsea, I was really interested in getting a piece of art to commemorate out trip to Big Bend. At the bizarre, there was a young blonde woman that had a booth set up where she was selling shirts that she was drawing original art on for $25. Next to her table was a night stand (smaller table) with stacks of her art on it. I'm not sure if she had any intention of selling this art. But it was there, so I asked.

I was particularly interested in the pink man you can see in the above picture. Below his face, it reads, "the most beautiful man in the world." I really wanted to get it for Todd and Nick to add to their collection. I also wanted something for myself, but couldn't figure out just what I wanted. So, Chels and I asked Megan to put aside the Most Beautiful Man so that I could come back later and purchase it.

When we returned later that evening, the booth was empty. So I grabbed the most beautiful man and wandered around wearing my best concerned face. I found a woman in a top hat that seemed to know what was going on and explained that the artist was gone and she'd never given me a price for the Most Beautiful Man.

The top hat woman led me over to couches by the booth where Megan and a young man were cuddled together in a "dream-like state." Megan told us what she wished to charge and helped me pick out the painting that I would buy for myself.

Then, checking out, the top hat woman looked at my Most Beautiful Man picture and said, "I can't believe that you're buying this."

"Why?"

"This is a picture of Henkey. Henkey is Marfa."

I'd met this guy earlier. He was the one Megan was lying with out the couch with. I smiled.

"Henkey is a tortured artist," she went on. "And he used to dress in drag. Then Megan moved to town and they fell in love."

Oh, I get it. So this wasn't just any Most Beautiful Man. This is a portrait Megan drew of the man she loves, an adoration of his whole self. So cool. So Marfa.

Always say, "Yes, and..." (Weekend update)

I'm so excited to announce that Jason invited me to join him for a Comedy Sportz Houston six-week improv course. Jason and I were in Comedy Sportz High School league together and I'm really looking forward to the class and to spending some time with Jason. One of the main teachings of improv is to always say, "Yes, and" when given a suggestion.

In other news, this past week, I went to my first-ever Texas Exes Alumni Chapter meeting. A things have shaken out, I spend a lot of time with Aggies (thanks J) and really don't have many Longhorn friends in Houston. I really enjoyed that the chapter meeting was a lot like the Kappa Delta meetings of yester-year. Shouldn't surprise me as the president of the chapter was Greek himself and is running the meeting the only way he knows how - like a fraternity meeting.

J threw a party this Saturday and we mixed many friend crowds. Always nerve-wracking, but it really went well. We had a few friends from Jarrod's office, friends from college, from church, and Gonzalo and his neighbor Eric. The night ended with a walk to House of Pies and a delicious Bayou Goo pie...which I then ate for breakfast Sunday morning.

Sunday afternoon J and I went to Bombay Pizza to eat and watch the World Cup game (I'm so glad that my "interest" in soccer has come to an end...).

I'm most proud of myself this week for painting and putting up these shelves in my bathroom. I was, however, a little overzealous and got red spray paint all over my cement porch. Oops. Sorry, Landlord Donna.

Hanging with friends, helping out neighbors

J and I went out with my Flow-Cal colleagues tonight because the receptionist is leaving our office for greener pastures.

Over pizza, I got to talking to my friend about giving back. OK, I told her I was getting tired and needed to get some sleep because I was getting up early, but whatever, we got around to the topic.

She told  me that she was on a giving-back kick as a part of a self betterment thing she'd been doing since the New Year. I'd say seven months of success is pretty successful resolution, right? She said that every time she goes to the grocery store she does two things: she brings recyclable bags (because we waste so much plastic) and she picks up one of those pre-packaged Houston Food Bank bags. She said she figures that with the money she saves with her grocery loyalty card, the $7 or so it cost to buy the bag is negligible.

I was really moved by the conversation. I think what I came away with is that I can do something to help. Even when I'm busy or broke, helping people gives me worth and confidence and on some days, perspective.

Some friends and I (even J came!) had the opportunity this morning to give some time to the Heights (my hood!) Interfaith Ministries Food Pantry. They were celebrating their 50th year of serving the community and we were chosen (or I chose...) to man the clothing giveaway booth.

Performing this service was really neat. There's something about giving people the clothes that they will wear or the food that they will eat. There's something about giving without asking questions, about respecting someone's autonomy and dignity.

As time went on our piles of clothes would swell with donations, then shrink as people claimed items. But all throughout, some items, particularly some decade-defiant garments like the ones we're wearing in this picture, stayed behind. Why?  Well, I think I figured it out when four tween girls lept at the opportunity to bag a trendy lace top - people, all people, want to look good. They could have been shopping at the Galleria and it wouldn't have been any different. I think we'd all rather go naked than look like fools.

I remember one time seeing a Goodwill billboard that read, "donate what you'd want to buy." That's tough for me as I tend to want to hold onto my stuff with a death grip. And it's a tough call. But I can say that at the couple of places I've sorted clothes, we trash clothing with rips and stains. Also, just toss that old g-string and matching bra, really. Though I really do wish that I'd gotten a picture of my friend Dan wearing that blingy-bra. That woman was either drag queen, a stripper, or someone who really liked to dress up at home - the bag was full of similar items. It was like a 1994 Victoria Secret fire sale.

When we were unloading things from the storage unit today, we pulled out a car seat. Before we could wheel it over to the giveaway area, a young mother came up and asked if she could have it for her son. Yes, of course.  I can't know that woman's struggles, or why she needs assistance to buckle up her son, but I can be the one who puts that in her hands.

Dancing at The Post in Marathon, Texas

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPJTbjyEz84&w=560&h=315] Friday morning, Chelsea and I were told that we needed to go to The Post in Marathon to meet all of the "strapping young cowboys" by our guide director at Far Flung.

Saturday evening, late-late by my standards, Chelsea and I left Marfa and headed out toward Marathon. We hadn't eaten yet because we were waiting on the famous grilled cheese in Marfa. When we got around to checking out the Grilled Cheese Parlor, however, we found out that the wait would be around 30 minutes to get a sandwich and they only took cash or check.

So, we did what every good American would do and we went to Dairy Queen. I tell you what, the chicken fingers were hot off the fryer even five minutes before they closed. And if you get the chance, check out the S'mores Blizzard, it's the bomb.

It would have taken us around 40 minutes to get to The Post, but it turns out it's not on any published map (do as the locals do and ask). So we burned some time driving around and getting lost. Finally, we stopped by The Gage Hotel and I ran in to ask. I was surprised to find that our waitress Meghan, from a few nights before was working the bar. She gave me directions and told me that "everyone in town will be there."

Her directions were as follows: "Take a right at the railroad tracks and drive for about two miles." Um, make that 10-15 miles in the middle of nowhere with no lights. The only reason that Chelsea and I kept trucking was that we get being passed by cars going in the opposite direction. That seemed hopeful.

Finally we arrived. Chelsea and I both thought that we were going to a two-stepping bar. What we didn't realize was that we were really going to a community gathering. It wasn't a bar at all. There were grandparents and grandchildren and high schoolers. There were popular kids and misfits. It was a scene. People were sitting on lawn chairs, popping beers out of coolers. Chelsea and I found a space on a cement bench and watched.

There was a live band and a big cement block that people were dancing on. After some rag tag Texas Country, they played "Sweet Home Alabama" and I knew that these people were alright and everything was OK.

Chelsea and I visit Big Bend

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HK8cfBt0tQ&w=420&h=315]

You're never too old for a Daddy Story

This weekend was a rare treat. Dad was in town because Shell deemed it necessary for him to man a booth at the Grand Prix. Because Dad came in town, Todd and Nick drove down from Baton Rouge on Saturday evening to spend the night. Bonnie and her boyfriend Kyle also drove in from Katy.

It's so good to be around old friends. Bonnie and I have been friends like junior high and she knows me an my family really well. When we were in high school she would come over for dinner for a meal cooked by Dad, so this Saturday wasn't much different.

Dad cooked his famous pizza with cracker crust. After we ate we sat around my apartment telling stories about growing up. I'm happy to share this time with Nick and Kyle because I think they get to know a side of their plus ones that maybe you don't get so much with newer friends. Also, I always love entertaining and filling the Norhill House with love.

Do this and win free Birkenstocks

This may be the coolest thing that happened to me this week. I follow Bree on Work Clothes I Suppose and this past week she was talking about how she and her fiance recently purchased Birkenstocks.

Now, to be fair, they live in Seattle and Birkenstocks are practically formal wear up there. Nonetheless, I was reminded of the Birkenstocks I had in the early days of high school (junior high?) that I used to wear with socks. Yep. Socks. So I went online to see if I could find myself a pair of discounted Birkenstocks. Um. Well, Birkenstocks apparently don't go on discount. Unwilling to relive my high school days at an $80 or up price tag, I gave up on the hippie sandals.

The very next day, I was out at a volunteering event and the woman coordinating the event was wearing blue, rhinestone Birkenstocks. Playing the fool, I asked her if by any chance her shoes were the famed leather sandals. Of course they were. I gushed over them and told her that I had been looking just the day before and was dejected that I couldn't find a pair at the right price. "Oh," she said,"I have a pair in my car right now that I can't wear because they gave me a blister."

Now I was nervous. I never say no to someone's castoffs, but the ones she was wearing were flashy/fancy, which is not my current fashion preference. She went on to tell me that she had like nine pairs and could totally unload the ones in her car. I just had to remember at the end of the afternoon to ask her.

So I had an internal conflict. Was she just being nice and I was supposed to forget? Well, I wasn't that conflicted. We were, after all, talking about free shoes. At the end of our shift, I "remembered" our conversation from earlier. And, look! I got free shoes.

Everything is Awesome (Weekend Update)

Good Tuesday, family! J and I were about town (though finally stayed in town) this past week.

The start of the week was odd as I missed Monday because of my trip to Atlanta for Mary's wedding. I have an assistant that just started working on my project and her first day was Monday...oops.

Well, her second day was just as strange because instead of going to the office, we went to The Galleria for the company's Users Group. It a big annual conference that we hold each year for our customers. It started with, like, 14 attendees and has grown large enough to fill a ballroom. That's pretty cool. Employees were invited top attend the keynote.

Wednesday at the office, we invited our customers to tour the office. Mom, Dad and J have had the pleasure, so they know that it's a real treat. Everyone loves the ping pong room. Also, this meant during-working-hours-drinking. That's pretty cool. Because of my winning personality, I was chosen as an elevator greeter. My coworker Josh captured this picture of me in action.

Wednesday evening, J and I went to Papasitos with Jason, Emily and some other friends for two-for-one fajita night. Since we had a big party, we were placed in a room with other big parties...which were birthday parties. So we heard the Papasitos birthday song several times. Do to copyright issues and it being a Spanish restaurant, it's not the real birthday song. Not even close.

Friday, I went to CVS Pharmacy to pick up some drugs. While there, I also picked up some nail polish. So, because I'm strange and not patient, I started painting my nails while in line. It started by painting my thumb then went from there. I finished one hand in the pharmacy line, then had wait in another line to buy some stamps. So, I started on the other hand.

There was this kind older woman that was my cashier and she needed to take a swig on her Arizona Tea, so I had time to paint. Anyway, with fresh and wet nails, I could really maneuver the checkout process. So my kind checkout lady took my card out of my wallet, put my stamps into my bag, helped me sign my receipt and then put the $20 I took out into my wallet. All the while, she was kind and said she "understood" that sometimes a girl just needs to "pretty up."

Sunday was church as usual in the morning. Though this week the band was all new. That was pretty cool. Since J has been back, he's had the opportunity to play quite a bit, but this week he chose to sit it out.

We finished out Sunday with a trip to Little Woodrow's in Rice Village to watch the USA World Cup Game. Here's a picture from a happier moment before that final goal.

He asked for her hand. You won't believe what happened next...

This weekend, J and I went to Atlanta (Hot-lanta, Wedding-lanta) for my dear friend Mary Nevaire's wedding. Mary and I met in college through Kappa Delta and bonded over Piggy Wiggly and collared greens. Mary is Southern through and through and I think found comfort in my 1-drop Sourthern-ness that I claim from having family immediate family from below the Mason-Dixon.

Mary and Austin's Wedding Story

Mary is a close friend that I could tell many stories about...like that time...well the Internet doesn't need to know about any of that. Seeing Mary and Austin get married was a long time coming. When I met Mary in school, she was "single." She and Austin made the decision together before they left for college that when they were not in the same state, that they were able to see other people at their choosing. Austin was going to Georgia Tech. I think that for a lot of people that would spell disaster, jealousy, whatever, but for Mary and Austin it worked. And Mary did date other people, but throughout college Austin remained a constant.

After school, Mary moved back to the South and was able to finally live near Austin and really give dating a-go. They lived in Nashville a while, and I think it was sometime around then that Mary started to think more seriously about getting married. Then, as life happens, her grandmother and grandfather who she was very close with, passed. And something about that BIG LIFE MOMENT propelled the pair toward marriage. It may have also had something to do with Austin getting assigned to Hong Kong for work, but you never can tell, right?

So during their engagement, Mary moved back home to Atlanta to plan her wedding and prepare for the big move across the world and Austin went on to Hong Kong. Six months later, on a warm summer day in June, Mary and Austin got married in a beautiful ceremony in her parents' backyard.

I should also add that Mary is a fantastic writer. You might even call her a feminist, locavore blogger. Her writing can be found at nevairethevagabond.com.

Other Pictures of Our Atlanta Adventures

In which Emily Pontificates about Pet Ownership

I think I finally get it, Mom and Dad. I understand your reticence to acquiring more pet animals, despite the pleading of your adorable children.

Over the weekend, my friend’s 19-year-old daughter posted pictures of kitten that she found. They live in a somewhat rural area in Texas, so it’s not unheard for animals to get dumped or for cats and dogs to run amuck and just, you know, answer nature’s call and willy-nilly reproduce.

The kitten looks like if you took a cute baby cat and put it in the garbage disposal. Homecat looks a bit worse for the wear, if you know what I’m saying.

So I see this cat on Facebook, and see her plea to have someone find a good, loving home for the “adorable” cat and ALL I CAN SEE IS DOLLAR SIGNS.

You see, my friend’s family is already caring for one cat her 12-year-old daughter found earlier this year. It was one of those, “it adopted us” stories. Yea, you mean, you put out food and the cat kept coming back? Hm. That’s a real thinker. Wonder how that happened?

After her daughter, “became too attached to let it go.” My friend captured the cat and brought it into her home. Well, I’m sure to no surprise to you, Mom and Dad, that cat came with some invisible price tags.

When it started to rip up the leather furniture just doing its cat thing, my friend paid to get it declawed – which she was told by some well wishers that declawing is inhumane…I would imagine it’s more inhumane to beat the cat with a frying pan after it rips up a several thousand dollar couch…just saying.

THEN, after a routine checkup, followed by a special test (caching, caching) the cat was diagnosed with cat HIV. Apparently, FIV is pretty common, but it is like the number one or two killer of cats and even cats living with it and being treated for it will die at a much younger age than their non FIV counter-cats.

…But her daughters were so attached!

Animals, even domesticated ones, once free, want to get away from you. If you can catch them, they’re likely quite ill and unable to stir up the energy to run – or, in the case of The Little Dog, too pregnant.

I’m starting to think that a pet purchase is a lot like buying a car. You can buy a used one, but the less reputable the source the more likely it is you get a lemon. And, buying a used car, you go in knowing that in order to get it to run for any period of time, you’re likely to have to put in some money for repairs sooner than later. Dogs, like cars, need regular maintenance, to run for years to come. Unfortunately, cars come with insurance and dogs just come with Big Vet Bills. #DanteAteABall #AggieHeartWorms

I guess what I’m coming to realize is that there is a difference between, “that animal can be saved” and “I can save that animal.”

Lake Tahoe Trip with the Girls

I'm typing this up on my lunch break, so how much I'll be able to write is really dependent on how long before officemate returns to his desk.

This past weekend, I went on a trip with my sorority sisters to Lake Tahoe in Incline Village, Nevada.

We try to take this trip annually and this time marked our fourth year. Past years we've gone to New Orleans, some-river-in-Texas and Kansas City. So far, we've been blessed to have the same girls be able to attend. It's always a good time getting catch up on what's-been-going-ons for the past year, because really, who uses the phone anymore?

This year was a BIG ONE because our friend Brittany is about to leave for Peru for two years in the Peace Corps. We're planning on Girlfriend Getaway-ing to Peru one of those two years but have no solid plans yet. Another BIG DEAL was that my dear friend Chelsea announced to the group that she was engaged! Chelsea and her fiance James have come to visit me a couple of time in Houston recently and so I'd say I can confidently say that they're now "couple friends" with us. (You know, friends that you can go out with as a couple where no one wants to secretly kill a member of the quad.) I've known Chelsea for several years, and I've seen her entire relationship with James, so it's really cool to get to see them (nothing works here but a cliche) 'take it to the next level' or 'seal the deal' or 'smash the plate' (is that something people say? Opa!).

On the trip, we were able to book two adjoining rooms with a passage way between the two so we could move back and forth as we wanted to. Friday we went into the village and did a little bit of shopping, though there wasn't much shopping to be done...Incline Village isn't super touristy which is nice unless you're looking for a souvenir tee-shirt. Also, since when are all souvenirs Made in China? Doesn't that defeat the point? There was one shop selling locally made crafts, but the woman working at the shop - it was a quilting shop - had a total attitude. She was so rude!

The seven of us were admiring the crafts in her shop and I saw that she made some smaller quilted items. I said, "oh, you should consider quilting dog collars." She balked and said, "I could never do that, I think people who dress there dogs up are disgusting."

Um, well, oops.

I was really irritated because I totally was turned off by this woman but it was the ONLY shop that we could find that sold local stuff. So because of her bad attitude I did not patronize her shop.

Saturday was the day we’d set aside for hiking. Chelsea was just returning from a walking tour of Spain, so she pitched to us that we walk a 8ish mile round-trip hike. All of the girls agreed, though I’m sure that many were suppressing an urge to say, “no” as to not be the only one who would rain on Chelsea’s long-hike parade.

It was a really nice day for a hike, the snow and rains from the previous week were gone as were the clouds from the day before. So we set out on our hike, maps in hand. Along the way we me some British women who tried to rent us property in Austin. Before we knew it, we very clearly not on our intended path. Somewhere around mile seven we stopped for peanut butter sandwiches and hotel-stolen jam. At this point, half of our party split to go home. But four of us braved on – and on – and on. Yea, don’t trust bikers when they say that the lake is “just around the corner.” By that time we had figured out where the hell we were and knew that there would be a pond that would serve as a logical end point to our hike. We made it.

When we got home, my pedometer said that we’d hiked 18 miles…just a small amount off from the original eight that Chelsea said…and 40,000 steps. Later that evening, Sarah Michelle and I went to the consierge to ask about a recommendation for a spa that was cheaper than the one the hotel offered. Yea, classy, right? Well, so we got to talking about our day and about our hike and next thing we knew, one or the women hands us complimentary vouchers for use of the amenities at the hotel spa. So it was only the steam room, sauna, relaxation station and showers that we could use, but that’s more spa than I’ve ever had and yea, it was totally free. Awesome.

There was this group of women in the spa with us, you know, the LOUD, RICH and ANNOYING type? They asked our group which package we had gotten (all which started around $400) and I felt shammmme, shame, shame, shame. The free one. All of the women thought this was quite hilarious, and then, to my surprise, admitted that they snuck in their own champagne so they didn’t have to buy it from the hotel. That was pretty funny.

Sunday’s highlight was a chartered boat ride around Lake Tahoe, just for us girls. It was Beautiful (with an intentional capital B) but, as I told Mom and Dad, was no Alaska. The boat ride was so cool, the weather was so perfect, the tide was so right, the captain was so creepy. That happened. It was his second chartered boat ride of his liffffe, but still, really man? He asked one of our girls if he could shoot a photo of just her on the boat, because her “sailing outfit was so perfect.” It was a short dress.

We got off the boat alive and really no worse for the wear. After all, it is that shit that happens on vacations that we will talk about for years to come. Like that time that they accidentally didn’t have our booking in New Orleans and instead gave use the pent house suite? Or that time the firefighters in the firehouse across from our hotel (same trip) invited us to stay the night. The fire wasn’t the only thing that was smoking, if-you-know-what-I’m-sayin’. I mean they were hot, not that anything was actually on fire.

Anyway…anyway, maybe the oddest thing coming out of the trip was just how many times we were asked if we were visiting for a bachelorette party. No. I guess we’re just that age. I guess it’s not that often you see a group of seven single women traveling together, getting along.

So, I know I’m lucky. And I’m so appreciative I have these women in my life.