because what you see is what you get

In life sometimes you cannot or do not act like your true self. We all are guilty of little lies every day: lying to ourselves, to others, to spare someone's feelings or to get out of an uncomfortable situation. Sometimes, if you are not completely honest with yourself, all of those little lies can add up to you not even remembering who you really are. It may not be a problem for you if you don't really like who you are in the first place. Maybe you want to be someone else. For me, I just want to be me again, and I feel like I have not been that person in a very long time. I went home and found out who that was, and even better, that I liked her.

She is the me you find when you remove all the pretense and bluster. She is who I am, for better or worse, like me or not. She is me, unplugged, the stripped-down version, minus all the bells and whistles. Just like a movie star who looks completely different without all the makeup and lighting tricks and airbrushing, she is me without the packaging and verbiage that might "sell" me better. This is me, unadorned, if you care to know. If you don't, then go away. I've decided to stop caring what you think.

It's Friday, I'm in Love....

Because it's Friday, and I promised, here's another edition of "It's Friday I'm in Love..." (please note the aptly used Cure reference, a throwback from my teen angst days.  PS I still LOVE them.)

Today, I want to tell you why I love my friend, Jennifer.

Jen and I met on the day we moved into our dorms at Southwest Texas State University in August of 1992.  I moved there with my best friend from high school (side note--this is something I would definitely not do again if I had the chance.  I wouldn't recommend it, unless a. you are used to living with your best friend, or b. you have been friends all of your life and you are 100% positive your friendship can withstand the strain) and Jennifer came all by her lonesome from Midland.  We were standing in line in front of her to get room assignments, and I remember thinking as I heard her speak to her mom, "This is someone that I could be friends with," you know, in case the whole best friend thing didn't work out.  Turns out that was pretty prophetic of me, considering that by Christmas my best friend and I were not even on speaking terms.  Boy, is THAT another story for another time...

Jen got assigned to the room next door to me, and  she got a "potluck" roommate who was never there, except to change clothes. That girl's clothes always smelled like a weird combination of b.o. and cigars.  Turns out she was a horse of a different color, if you know what I mean, which you probably don't but Jenny does.  Since she was always alone, we invited her to go everywhere with us and we hit it off fast.  We became better friends than I was with my "best" friend from home, who at that point mostly found new people to hang out with, leaving Jennifer and I on our own.  That was cool with us.

The awesome thing about our friendship is that it just felt like we had known each other all of our lives the day we met.  We ended up finishing each other's sentences, and almost speaking in our own private language of inside jokes.  I'm sure we annoyed and confused so many other people who were ever around us.  To this day, when we talk (which is not often enough, because we both have three kids and crazy lives) we usually just start up a conversation we may have left off two years ago.  We've been friends for 17 years now; her family has always treated me like I was their own, and so at this point I would say we were more family than friends.  We can make each other laugh even when the walls are crashing around us; sometimes it feels like if we were the only two people on earth, that might be okay. She just gets me in a way that no one else does, or ever has.

I want Jennifer to know just how much I love her, and not in a gross kind of way (Stop going there, perverts!) either.  She is the other half of my soul, I believe, because it just makes perfect sense when we are together.  How else could we go sometimes a year without talking and then start up like we just talked five minutes ago? Anyone else I would have written off long ago, and she probably would have too. She is my oldest and dearest friend and I trust her with my life and the life of my children.  

Jenny, I love you.  Stop crying. 

Thursday Things

Things That Sound Better on Paper or in My Head Than They Actually Are in Real Life:

• Swiffer WetJet--instead of mopping the floor, it just kind of pushes a wet mess around and makes the floor worse.
• Giving the cat a bath--Water+cat+claws+ouch= one pissed off kitty. Who then gives you the evil eye and plots against you for the better part of three days, while surreptitiously peeing in your closet floor on your houseshoes. Your. House.Shoes.
• Smoky eye makeup--my troubles with this go back years and have recently been chronicled on FaceBook.  Even with a mostly idiot-proof smoky eye kit with pictoral instructions, the result is more Mimi from "The Drew Carey Show" than supermodel.  Don't try it at home, unless you are headed to a clown college reunion or a trendy new goth-vampire coven meeting.
• Weedeating your yard without protective eyewear--no problem, right? So wrong. I found out the hard way when I took a rock to the eyeball and scratched my cornea last summer. There really is a worse pain than labor, and taking one to the eye is it.  I cover up with three-inch-thick old lady blue blockers now.  And proud of it.
• A KISS farewell tour--I went in 1996 in Austin.  I thought it would be their last go-round in full makeup, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience the phenomena again.  Boy, was I wrong! Not only was the concert kind of lame (sorry KISS army) but Jen and I were about the only females in a three-mile radius that night.  Oh, and that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Make that 54230.2 times in a lifetime.

What are some of your sounded-better-in-my-head nominations? I'd really like to know.

A Letter to Me

I just heard the song "Letter to Me" by Brad Paisley, a song I have somehow missed ever hearing even though it is several years old by now.  It sparked a thought in my mind, because who wouldn't want to send a letter to their past (or even future) self to clear up a few things?  So, at the risk of sounding too self-important for words, here is my letter to my 17-year-old self:

Dear Me,

I know being 17 is rough.  Trust me, 30 sometimes isn't much better.  But, do know that it does eventually get easier.  And that guy, you know the one, he really doesn't end up being "the one" like you think he will.  In fact, you might do better to pay more attention to that quiet big guy, your friend, because he has a crush on you and turns out to be pretty good looking.  

Don't let your friend tell you that you are fat, that you are stupid, or that you can never get a guy on your own, because all that ends up being a bunch of b.s. and her personal hang-ups.  When you go to the prom, think about asking someone else, maybe one of your OTHER older friends, or pack the following: a pair of walking shoes, Kleenex, some cash and a camera to record the hijinks that ensue.  It really is THAT bad.  But, it's okay, because it gives you a great story to tell later.

Remind Jason Redden to kindly remove that ceramic goose head from the icebox so you can avoid being grounded for a month for that party you had.  

Stop obsessing about your weight and just eat less and exercise. Believe me, it really is the only way.  Avoid that haircut you want because Demi Moore had it in "Ghost"; it will never look the way it does on her.  When your dad gives you a choice between a 93 Geo Tracker and a 93 Camaro, wait the two days and get the Camaro. 

You won't believe how amazing your kids are, and wait until you see your husband.  Things will all be fine, and even though you feel awkward now, you will hit your stride about 35. All the trouble you go through will be worth it.

Tuesday Top Ten: Hair Metal

Okay, let me first say that this probably sounded better in my head than it will on the page.

You should also know that I absolutely love 80s-early 90s hair metal way more than someone my age probably should. In my defense, it is the music I grew up listening to, the first kind of music I liked that was purely my own and not because my parents liked it. As a matter of fact, my mother HATED it, which made me love it all the more. To me, it was a little bit dangerous. It's also what made me, to this day, love a good bad boy...

Anyway, here goes....

Top Ten Reasons Why I Think Rock Music Definitely Needs a Hair Metal Comeback:

10. Kip Winger probably really, really needs a job. (If for no other reason than to keep him in toothpaste for his big white choppers.)
9. Emo-kids could really use a lesson on hair and makeup from guys that DIDN'T make it look so effeminate.
8. Rock music is really kind of a downer now. It's no fun anymore. It needs more songs about partying, boobs and liquor. Never mind that that might not be a good influence for our kids--when has rock ever been, or supposed to have been? Remember Elvis? The Beatles? The Rolling Stones? There's my point.
7. Kids are already trying to bring back 80s fashion. I see them at the middle school sporting leggings, oversize flourescent t-shirts with large lettering (Think: Wham! and Frankie Say Relax) and Converse low-tops with oversize, mismatched shoestrings. They are wearing the rubber bracelets again. They are primed and ready for this rock revival, and clearly need to "cum on, feel the noize".
6. I'm convinced the hair spray industry needs a boost in this economy.
5. There are hardly any "rock stars" left--guys who give new meaning to the term "sex, drugs and rock and roll". It would be a shame to see this rare breed go completely extinct. Otherwise, who else can our little boys aspire to be? Jason Mraz? John Mayer? Seriously.
4. There is no other use for spiked, metal or otherwise bedazzled codpieces.
3. Because I just can't stand to hear a Motley Crue song on the classic rock station.
2. So I can stop feeling so old and, just maybe, have some fun again.

and the #1 reason that Hair Metal should make a comeback:

ASSLESS CHAPS. Enough said.

Saying Goodbye

My Aunt Betty died this Saturday.

Her death almost came as a respite after a long while fighting disease that robbed her of her memories and quality of life. It is nice to know she is now at peace, with no more pain or suffering, and with her beloved parents, husband and other family that went along before her.

She ended her struggle with her children and grandchildren beside her, at home and free from the confines of a hospital. It was as it should be, as much as these things ever really are. I grieve for our loss of such a special lady as much as I grieve for her children's loss of a treasured mother and grandmother.

More than I grieve, though, I am so happy that we had Aunt Betty in our lives for so long. She lived a long life, mostly happy, I think. She was able to experience her grandchildren bringing their own children into the world, something many people are not able to live long enough to do. I am blessed to have known her and--though I will miss her spirit and her easy laugh, the way she would do anything to make Sam laugh when he was little, the way she hung on his every word as much as my own parents did, the way she took as much interest in every one of her 20-something nieces and nephews' lives--treasure the moments we had with her for all of these years.

God bless you and keep you Aunt Betty. Say hello to Memaw, Papaw, Uncle Son, Uncle Ronny and all the others who have gone before us. We will miss you.

My city by the bay...

I am listening to Journey's Greatest Hits album.  "Lights" has always been my favorite Journey song.  I decided a long time ago that it was appropriate and would always remind me of my own city by the bay, LaPorte, Texas.

I wasn't born in LaPorte, and my family didn't live there. I moved there in the summer of 1984, when I was almost 10 and ready to start the fifth grade. Naturally, like any kid, I hated the idea of moving to a new school, away from my family and friends. But, my dad got a better job there (the job he later retired from some 20 years later) and we had to go.  At first, I hated every single thing about LaPorte. I hated the smell (a unique combination only experiencing can do justice), I hated the apartments we had to live in while our house was being built (they hated children, and we weren't allowed to make ANY noises), and I hated even its name.  My sister and I called it "La Port-a-Potty," a description that was not far off, as far as the smell was sometimes concerned.  But, move we did, and though it was hard adjusting to a new city, a new house, new friends, and a new school. La Port-a-Potty grew on all of us.  So much so that my parents still live there, and it is still, after more than 15 years of living elsewhere, what I refer to as home.  

Next weekend, I'm going back to my "city on the bay," to see some friends I have seen little or not at all in that fifteen years I've been away, for various reasons.  My heart is full just thinking of heading back to the place that put me in such a tizzy almost 25 years ago.  Sure, I've been back to visit before, but for some reason this time is different.  This time I really feel like I am returning home instead of visiting; this time I feel like I want to be there, on my city by the bay.

When the lights

Go down

in the city

And the sun shines on the bay

Ooh, I wanna be there

in my city by the bay

Oh, oh, oh

So you think you're lonely

Well, my friend, I'm lonely too

I wanna get back

to my city by the bay

Oh, oh, oh

It's sad, oh

There's been mornings

Out on the road

Without you

Without your charms

Oh, oh, my, my, my

New Trend: It's Friday, Let Me Tell You Why I Love...

New Tradition for this blog.

Fridays are now officially "Let Me Tell You Why I Love ..." days.  This is the part of the show I like to call "touchy-feely".  My goal is to tell someone different every Friday just why I love them and what I love most about them.  This week's victim is.....

My husband, James.

For the obvious reasons (duh--I married him!) I will skip all the traditional hearts and flowers and butterflies, the wherefore art thous and the let me count the ways, for a far less traditional set of reasons why I love my husband.

Yes, he's handsome, he's smart, he's talented and he's sweet.  He's also at times a real pain in the ass, but that's part of the package.  There are a lot of reasons that I love him, but these are just a few:

1. He has actually made me pee my pants laughing before.  Sometimes he knows exactly what to say to send me off into a never-ending fit of gut-busting laughter.  Not many people get my sense of humor, sometimes not even him.  But he is comic genius with the litany of fart jokes and bodily functions that pass for high comedy around these parts.  (Hey--admit it, you laugh at it too.  Come ON...it's funny) Sometimes he can just look at me and I start laughing, and he usually knows why.
2. He thinks pirates are way cooler than ninjas, and vikings are cooler than everyone.  Which is the obvious logical choice.
3. He parents my children with me, and sometimes for me.  This in itself deserves both a trophy and a withering look of pity.  He gets why we can laugh at them, but God help someone else if they do.  I also know that he would give his life for any one of us, no questions asked.
4. He has survived 9 years of living with me, which can only best be described as taking a tornado, tying a rope around its heel, and then expecting it to live a civilized adult life in captivity. Not an easy task, and one that many have not been brave enough to try for longer than a few seconds at best.
5. He has a natural way with children that is something you cannot be taught.  Kids flock to him like he is the Pied Piper of XBox or something.  He coaches basketball, and everywhere we go you find kids that he has coached, even some 7 and 8 years ago, that call him "Coach".  He is the best kind of coach there is, because he teaches kids not just how to play the sport, but how to be a good winner and a successful person through lessons learned on the court.  He's fair, he never yells at them, and he never talks down to them like some people do to little kids. They respond by affording him rock star status in the streets of Burleson.
6. He likes what he likes and no one can sway him otherwise.  Sometimes that drives me crazy about him, but I admire that he sticks to his guns once he makes up his mind about what he likes, and never for a moment lets someone else tell him otherwise. He doesn't take crap off of anyone, regardless of who or what they are to him.  For someone who is about as brave as a church mouse, I envy this quality in him so much.  It would have saved me years of heartache if I had ever mastered it.
7. He is, hands down, the best salesman I have ever seen in my life. He could sell cars to Henry Ford, ice cream to eskimos, and snake oil to even the wiliest carnie.  This is something that can't be taught, is hard to learn, and does not come easy to a large percentage of the world's population.  
8.  He cries any time there is a dog or a soldier in any movie or t.v. show.  Any time. And he thinks we don't notice, but we do.  He is as macho as they come, but he does little things that give away what he really is--a giant ball of mush.  Ok, a very hairy, manly, macho ball of mush.  (He would really insist that I added as much).

There is nothing I have said here that I wouldn't, or haven't, told him to his face a million times. He knows how I feel because I am pretty good at telling him, good or bad.  One thing I can say is that we always know where we stand with each other, which in modern relationships puts us pretty much a step ahead of everyone else.  We have a relationship that no one but us understands, but it works for us.  All this because we had a shared fondness for Sammy Hagar and room in our hearts to, despite all the complete crap life has collectively thrown at us, try and find love again, against all odds.  All this because he was the only person maybe in my whole life that I ever felt I could be completely, 100% myself with and not worry about losing. Because he loves me too, and that's enough to ask of anyone in today's world. 

Welcome all my friends, to the show that never ends...

Hey.  I'm Kristi.  If you don't know me, you will.  If you do know me, you might learn something new. And if you know me and just don't like me, you can just use this for fodder for making fun of me (as if I don't give you enough ammo already).  

If you're still reading, then thanks for that.  Obviously you are, if you are reading this...but I digress.

I am a mom, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend, an employee, and (mostly) self-deprecating human being.  Two things you should probably know about me up front: I am nothing if not completely a smart ass, and, I am the first one to admit my own shortcomings, faults, boo-boos, mess ups, etc.  This makes an interesting combination most days.

For a long time my friends and family have told me I should write a book.  I'm not there yet (basically, I am clearly just too lazy to do the work involved), but I do have an amazingly inordinate amount of strange and interesting things happen to me every day of my life, and it usually makes for some pretty sweet stories.

In advance, I would like to thank the following people:

• My parents, for creating me, and for not killing me
• My husband, also for not killing me, and for giving me wings
• My kids, for putting up with a lot of "mom" junk, and for giving me endless interesting  anecdotes with which to regale people at any cocktail party  
• My friends and the rest of my family , for loving me despite my many obvious flaws
• and, God, for making puppies, Tom Jones and lemon flavored candies.

Also, here are a few promises I'll make up front:

• I won't use this blog to air my or my family's dirty laundry. 
• I will not in any mean-spirited way use this as a way to abuse or humiliate someone. If that happens, it certainly wasn't intended.
• I will try to be positive and uplifting, and not use this to spread hate or intolerance in any way.

That said, welcome to the adventure that is my life.  Please keep your hands, feet and any unsecured articles inside the ride at all times.  Buckle your seatbelt, hold on and pray we don't crash.