God Bless America… and Mexican Beer!

I guess the Fourth has different meaning for everyone, and I’m no different.

There are parents praying for the safe return of their sons and daughters from Iraq, war veterans recalling previous battles and what they fought for, while others find it an opportunity to celebrate a day off from work for fun, food, and drunkenness.

But for me, I find it a chance to reflect on my granddad, who passed away five years ago today. I always have a rough go at it in the weeks leading up to the Fourth, I guess because his death was the first and only passing I’ve ever witnessed. To be honest, I hope I never see something like that again, but I suppose I’m lucky to have lived to 19 and never witnessed someone dying in front of you.

So this morning, I woke up, cried a little, remembered what a true American stands for, and spent the day with Ashley and her family out in Comfort. I was thinking about going home to Dallas, but I had to work yesterday, and I found out my mom had to work. That and my family never talks, reflects, discusses the Fourth and Gramps’ passing, so I figured, what’s the point?

Comfort, Texas is about an hour and a half southwest of Austin, between Kerrville and San Antonio on I-10. It’s a beautiful drive through the Hill Country, and there is nothing quite like a serene 70-mph drive on Hwy. 290 through Johnson City and Fredericksburg while listening to Madonna and Kelly Clarkson. Haha. God bless crappy, yet awesome pop music.

I got there in time to see a traditional July Fourth parade, complete with “Little Miss Comfort” pageant contestants and their floats. After a few good laughs at the fake waves these girls were tossing out to the crowd, I quickly realized they must be taught to wave like corpses. I also learned that a horizontal oval looks much better in presentation than the more common circle wave.

But probably the best float/parade moment was the Mexican float. Now, I hate being stereotypical, but this totally went down!

So, their float was just a big trailer, not decorated, with people just sitting in the float, not really doing anything. And
instead of throwing candy to the children like the rest of the floats, they had coolers filled to the brim with, take a guess, Mexican beer. AND they were passing the stuff out to the crowd along the streets!! HAHAHAHAHA! I couldn’t stop laughing, and if I had thought before I left my house the morning, I totally would have grabbed my camera for a blog picture opportunity!

Only in Texas would that stuff go down, and only a city south of Waco and outside of the Bible Belt would something like this be approved as a valid parade float. HAHAHA.

So, happy Fourth -- and happy shortened work week!

We’re expecting? Um, what?

Father’s Day is that time of year when families get together, profess their love of good ‘ol dad, and then go about their daily business.

Justin and I had his entire family over (around 20 people) to the house for some golf, fellowship, and food. His family has a tradition of passing out an enormous amount of cards (Hallmark must make enough money off of them in one year to supply ten full-time artists/writers) and this “holiday” was no different.

What was different this year is Justin getting a Father’s Day card. I was minding my own business cleaning the kitchen while others were opening gifts (it was also Justin’s sister’s birthday and his uncle’s), when I hear, “Jenni, you got Justin a father’s day card? OOOOH, are you pregnant?”

Um, hell no I’m not. But let’s back this boat up.

I don’t do cards first of all. I find them to be an enormous waste of money and they get thrown away that same day. I mean, buy some chocolate for that $2.50 instead of a card that approximately 15,000 other people get in a given year.

Second, if Justin were to receive a card from me proclaiming I’m pregnant, it definitely wouldn’t be in front of 20 other people, all finding out at the same time. That announcement is a private moment meant to be shared between me and him… and then shortly thereafter, as many people as I can call in one day.

So it turns out it was just a bad joke by some family member on Justin, or me… I don’t quite know.

But seriously folks, let’s try and keep the witful humor related to things like poop, pee, someone farting, not on my uterus. It just isn’t as funny.

Politics and Roaches... one in the same?

So I was in the Big D this past weekend for a couple of reasons: one, it was Mother’s Day, and I had to surprise my mom with an iPod Nano my sister and I went in on (although, the younger sibling has yet reimburse me for my troubles). Second, Saturday also marked the culmination of a very hard fought battle for my dad to get on the town council.

I think I got my dad into trouble with his campaign manager, because he neglected to inform her of my work background. She about murdered him on the spot actually when I told her I do PR, but since he won, she forgave him. She said she’ll use me when they find a candidate for mayor… I’m thinking it might be her.

See, Dad thinks I’m still seven, so of course he wouldn’t recommend that they funnel their messages, Web site copy, and news releases through me. Oh well, I don’t think I would have had time for it anyway.

Apparently, Sunday also marked the time when Mom decided to force all of my old belongings back on me. No big deal, except we had minimal space in the vehicle and she tells me this as we still have guests (Justin’s family) at the house. So instead of visiting with people, I’m forced to go through crap. Booo…

Also what I didn’t realize is that there would be tons of roaches in the boxes when I opened them at my house. Luckily, I had Raid on hand to prevent any rapid escape by these disgusting creatures, but it was so gross.

So I’m unpacking my old items (trophies from middle school and high school… in Speech and Debate, and orchestra) and two years ago I couldn’t throw away any of this stuff. I don’t know if it was Desperate Housewives calling my name or the thought of roaches crawling through all of my stuff, but I no longer felt the need to keep all of this crap.

So no more of the “Lead Me On” album by Amy Grant, and no more of that repulsive turquoise ceramic medallion I made when I was 10… they are now in the trash.

Because the trash pickup in Austin is funky, I decided to run to one of the huge trash bins in the housing development that the construction workers use, and dump my boxes filled with roaches there.

AND I TOTALLY THOUGHT I GOT BUSTED!!

As I was attempting to throw these boxes up 11 feet into the air (which 75 percent of the time I missed on the first attempt), I saw this car going into reverse. So I freaked out and got in my car to speed off. Except I’m a retard and went to a dead-in street.

So I tried to pass off my stupidity by getting out of my car (while it's still running) and trying to hide in a house. Well problem one: the car totally saw where I was and parked near me and two: the house I tried to hide in was locked.
Oddly enough, the guy that was driving car that was following me went into a house across the street. I don’t know if they were calling the cops or what, but I SPED the hell out of there, parked in my garage and shut the garage door, breathing a sigh of relief.

While no one came knocking on my door, I still think the guy wrote down my license plate number. I bet we’ll get a citation in the mail or something. Good thing the car is in Justin’s name. HAH!

Cookie Monster

So there was this incident on Easter I need to discuss that I hadn’t really brought up.

I gave up all kinds of desserts for the lovely Lenten season, and as a reward, Gran made me her famous (and by famous I mean, I know about them and they are GLORIOUS) fudge and sugar cookies.

On Easter, I was fairly miserable and over dosed on serious sugar… she made enough for me to bring back, and I was clinging to them as we were loading up the car to head back to Austin.

Unfortunately, my husband, who in today’s blog will be referred to as EVIL JERK, told me to give him the desserts and for me to take Walter and put him in the car.

Like the obedient and loving wife that I am, I happily obliged him, knowing that my desserts would be in strong, caring, and safe hands.

I WAS WRONG.

EVIL JERK decided to not head straight to the car with the sweets; rather, EVIL JERK decided he was thirsty and needed a Propel before he left Dallas. Sitting the sweets down on the counter, EVIL JERK got is Propel and LEFT MY DESSERTS ON THE COUNTER.

Okay, so you may think I’m overreacting a tad on this, and to be honest, I know I am. But you just don’t get it until you experience this fudge and sugar cookie combo… I mean, it brings back all the memories of childhood and spending so much time with my grandparents, plus Gran could sell these desserts and make a crap load of money.

So about twenty minutes down the road, I realized we had left the sweets, and EVIL JERK refused to turn around and get them, even though it was entirely his fault.

And I cried. I admit it – My grandmother is 88 years old (89 in August) and this very well could have been her last batch of cookies and fudge she ever made me! And it isn’t like I have the recipes to these, I totally do… but as decent of a cook as I am, I just can’t compete with the expertise of Gran.

So we called EVIL JERK’s mom (known in today’s blog as M-I-L SAVIOR) and she froze the sweets for me.

It’s been weeks, and finally yesterday EVIL JERK went to Dallas for some meetings and golf with some clients or something, and picked up the glorious sweets, after I called to remind him and MIL SAVIOR.

And all day today I have been showering co-workers that are deemed worthy enough (or rather, that knew about my tearful pout) with yummy cookies and fudge. Ivette even wants me to ask how much Gran would charge for her fudge.

I’m telling you… I’m going to steal Gran for a week, and we are going to make fudge and cookies all week long, so I can learn the way of the Gran and then sell this stuff online.