You are Beautiful

Today I'm lovin' things that make me giggle.  And this? This makes me giggle. : )

Happy Thursday, ya'll! 

Things I Love: My Dad

I realized today that I didn’t get my dad a Father’s Day gift.  It’s 3 days past Father’s Day, and it just now hit me. I didn’t even remember a card – that’s really unlike me.  I’m usually the one on the ball with gift-giving for holidays and special occasions. My brother’s the one who shows up with a gift wrapped in the Walmart sack he just purchased it from.  Not me.

I spent Father’s Day with my dad at the site of my parent’s weekend cabin being built.  Although it’s only currently a big hole in the ground, it’s a place I see spending many future days.  I can’t wait for weekends watching my dad be a Grandpa and teach my kids to fish, swim, and hike through the woods.  The cabin can’t help but become a place full of memories.   

Of all the dads out there, I think mine’s pretty great (I think my mom is too, for the record, but it’s not Mother’s Day, now…is it?).  My dad is the kind of guy most people meet and instantly admire.  He’s genuine, hardworking, and has a heart for helping people. 

- - -

Every year on my birthday, my Grandma likes to call me early in the morning and tell me about the day I was born. Her favorite part of the story makes her cry, but the story’s not complete without telling it.

“And then your dad brought you out, all bundled up, and he leaned over and kissed your forehead and said ‘I’m always going to take care of you little girl, I’ll always love and protect you’ And he sure has, Kelsey, he sure has.”

It’s true, he has. 

Dad, you are a great many things to me.

(In no particular order)

Coach.

Although stomping inside and pouting after you made me run after each ball I flung over your head might not seem like the best way to show my appreciation.  I did. I appreciated every game of catch, every softball practice, and every event you were present for on the sidelines. 

Financial Guru

You taught me from a young age that debt is a four-letter word in our household.  You stressed the importance of saving and opportunity cost (though you didn’t call it that at the time). But when it came time to enter the “real world” you gradually released my training wheels and let me ride – I’m not sure if I’d have stayed on two wheels if you’d had flung me out on my own without guidance.

The Voice of Reason

You’ve seen me run the gamut of emotions when it comes to making a decision or handling a situation.  In my most distressed and confused moments, I can call you and you know just the right thing to say.  You have a gentle way of presenting all sides of the story, and I always feel better after talking to you. 

A Handy Man

I hope by the time I’m old like you, (ha!) I know how to do a fraction of what you can. You’ve shown me that a little elbow grease goes a long way, and that I’m smart enough to figure out just about anything myself.  From our first project of transforming an old kitchen table to my little cottage that was a diamond in the rough – I learn so much working by your side.

Mr. Right-About-Everything

You are obnoxiously right about any topic we debate.  Do deer shed their antlers once a year?  That’s ridiculous.  But apparently true.  From trivial topics to serious stuff – your answer is always right.  And it annoys me!

A Giver

Although you’ve never gone right out and said it, you’ve made me believe my talents are a gift from God.  Your example has taught me to use my gifts to help others – in big ways and small. 

A Protector

Since I was a little girl, you’ve let me know I’m loved and watched over. I’ve always known I have two special angels in heaven taking extra care in what I do.  I know from time to time, you’ve called on them for reinforcements, and those beautiful angels have wrapped their wings around me.

A Father

As I’ve grown up, I can’t remember an important moment that you haven’t been a part of.  You’ll always be the reader of bedtime stories, and the one who taught me to ride a bike.  You’ll always be the one who had confidence in me, even when I couldn’t find it in myself. And you’ll always be the dad who calmed my nerves with a game of catch and father-daughter dance practice the night before my wedding day. 

Thank you Dad, for keeping your promise to your little girl. 

I Like to Read

I'm currently reading two books on my Kindle. One of them is by acclaimed author Cormac McCarthy callled Blood Meridian. The other is by Lemony Snicket and is part of the fictional author's A Series of Unfortunate Events series. Blood Meridian is considered by some to be one of the best American novels ever written. Lemony Snicket is technically a series written for children and young teenagers. Blood Meridian is, thus far (like all of the Cormac McCarthy books I've read) AWFUL. Lemony Snicket's books are AWESOME (I've read them once before).

Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events" in all its glory.

So what makes a good book? Some people will tell you it's the writing. Yeah, I suppose writing matters. If I spent my entire walk through your book tripping over commas and bumping my head on typos, it will distract from my enjoyment. I get that. That said, I just finished a great book called One Day by David Nicholls. There were an alarming amount of typos, but I cared so much about the two central characters of the book, I couldn't leave their world even when the book wasn't in my hands.

"If you're going to read only one book about grocery carts, make sure it's The Road." --Oprah

Other people will tell you it's the idea. Another one of Cormac McCarthy's overrated books is called The Road. It won a lot of awards. Oprah liked it. It's about the end of the world. It also sucks. I love post-apocalyptic stories as much as anyone, but this one is about a man and his boy walking through a dead world with a shopping cart. Every now and then they have a tense moment. Yippee. Sometimes when I walk through Hy-Vee with my shopping cart I bump into someone I don't know but who knows me, and it's tense for a bit until I remember who they are. That doesn't mean that I should spread that story out over 250 pages.

The situational plot doesn't really matter. Whatever neat concept the book is going for doesn't matter. A plot can involve dinosaurs, furniture, or British people, but the only way a book will be good is if it features characters I like. That's the problem with Cormac's books. No one is likable. They all kill each other. Also, he doesn't use quotation marks. I don't know why he doesn't do that. Being a literary author, I'm sure he has an overly pretentious reason. I probably wouldn't understand his overly pretentious reason because he probably stated said reason with too many big words.

This book is violent, sexist, racist, and filled with a bunch of drunks, but somehow it still manages to be boring.

On a happier note, do you know what has a compelling story? Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. If you would have told me a rather dark story about an evil Count Olaf making the lives of three orphans miserable could be funny, sweet, and meaningful, I would have said, "Olaf is a good name for a Count." Then I would have taken your suggestion and read the first book. Then I would have enjoyed the first book and read the next twelve of them. The three orphans laugh together and support each other at every turn. The books make me literally angry at the naive, stupid adult characters in the book not named Olaf. The author also has some of the best random asides of any author ever. For instance, he started chapter three in the fifth book of the series "The Austere Academy" with the following:

"The expression “Making a mountain out of a molehill” simply means making a big deal out of something that is actually a small deal, and it is easy to see how this expression came about. Molehills are simply mounds of earth serving as condominiums for moles, and they have never caused anyone any harm except for maybe a stubbed toe if you were walking through the wilderness without any shoes on. Mountains, however, are very large mounds of earth and are constantly causing problems. They are very tall, and when people try to climb them they often fall off, or get lost and die of starvation. Sometimes two countries fight over who really owns a mountain, and thousands of people have to go to war and come home grumpy or wounded. And, of course, mountains serve as homes to mountain goats and mountain lions, who enjoy attacking helpless picnickers and eating sandwiches or children. So when someone is making a mountain out of a molehill, they are pretending that something is as horrible as a war or a ruined picnic when it is really only as horrible as a stubbed toe."

Source: Snicket, Lemony (2009). A Series of Unfortunate Events #5: The Austere Academy (pp. 31-32). HarperCollins e-books. Kindle Edition.

Compare that to Cormac McCarthy, who would write something like this:

I am a character. I don't have a name. The book will keep calling me the Kid or the Man or something. I'm talking right now but you don't know I'm talking because there are no quotation marks. This will get very annoying as time goes on because I'm not doing this for any reason. I'm so sad.

Source: McCarthy, Cormac (2013). Cormac's Next Crappy Book (pp. all of them). HarperCollins e-books. Kindle Edition.

A good book for you to read this summer.

I will leave you all with this: summer is coming. You need to find something to read. Cougar Town won't be on TV until the fall, so you need to keep your brain occupied. You can only handle so much exercise before your heart explodes so start reading. I'd suggest you read Lemony Snicket because it's great. I'd also suggest Harry Potter. Or, if you're an adult that refuses to acknowledge most of the best stories are kids stories, read The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon or Catch 22 by Joseph Heller or, better yet, anything the great Kurt Vonnegut ever produced. You can even read Cormac McCarthy. I know a lot of people like him. Either way, just read. It's good for you.

The master: Read Breakfast of Champions or Slaughterhouse-Five.

Let's be chickens.

Seeing as it's Cinco de Mayo, I feel there really would be nothing more appropriate than blogging about my undying love for margaritas.  Do you?  Well, I thought so too, but there really is not a whole blog post available on that subject at this time. And pish posh, too obvious. 

I always do, margarita, I always do. 

So instead of talking about the happiest beverage on earth, I'm going to blog about.... the mail! Hold on to your seats, folks. The mail's here. Let's be chickens. 


(You'll be thinking about those 15 seconds of footage all day, promise.)

In my opinion,  there are 4 types of mail.
Type 1: Junk Mail - Useless to all, looks friendly and promising, yet fulfilling only to our garbage.
Type 2: Bills & Statements - Forwarded on to the billing department.
Type 3: Mail for Jay - Could it be? Something other than a bill or junk? Yes!! Ahhh man... it's for Jaaaay.
Type 4: Mail for Me!  A card? An invitation? A magazine??! Yippee! 

Got this baby in the mail today from Barb - seriously heel clicked in the driveway as I opened it.

That's how I feel when I get Type 4 mail.  Super excited, smile on my face, clucking all around and flappin' my wings.  My friend Barb, she's rockin' at sending Type 4 mail.  Pretty sure I'd get a card from her on President's Day if they made them.  I dunno, maybe card sending is her love language. But getting a random card from my friend makes my week.  

Here we are celebrating College Roommate Appreciation Week.
Card received in mail one week prior. Love you!

Many a New Years Resolution have been dedicated to get better at sending Type 4 mail.  Because Steve and I can't be the only ones out there who gets ridiculously excited to get something like a card or a magazine - can we?  

I wonder what animal Steve pretends to be when he gets a magazine?

And yet every year I fail miserably.  Probably because of my irrational fear of the post office and my utter inability to plan ahead, but whatevs.  It's the thought that counts right?  Okay, not so much on this one, slacker.  My "brainwaves happy thoughts invisible card" doesn't quite have the same effect.  Darn.  

TOMS

They arrived in the mail a few weeks ago, and I've been smitten ever since.  Yes, they're my TOMS.

If you haven't heard of TOMS, they're a super-fantastic (whoah cheerleader!) company that matches shoe purchases with shoe donations, one-for-one. Pretty rockin', right?  I think so. 

In Covey language, we call that a win-win.  I win because I get these cute, lightweight, super comfortable shoes.  And some child in the country of Argentina, Armenia, Burundi, Cambodia, China, El Salvador, Ethiopia, Guatemala, Haiti, Hondorus, Lesotho, Malawi, Mali, Mongolia, Nicaragua, Niger, Peru, Rwanda, South Africa, Swaziland, Uganda, or Zambia wins because they get a pair as well.

(Worldliness test: Did you recognize all of those as countries?  I will admit, there were a couple I hadn't heard of before. Dang you, Iowa naivety.)

I love mine so much and I don't even need a pair of shoes.  I can't imagine how excited a child receiving their first-ever pair of kicks would be to get some TOMS.  I mean, I hope the kid who got my donation got a pair made with really cute funky fabric.  Can I request that?

Dear TOMS,

Please give my donation of 1 pair of shoes to a child in need.  Also, can you make sure her shoes are made with extra cuteness and the fun fabric? I'd appreciate that.

Sincerely, Kelsey

Okay, maybe not so much.  Also, I think I would about die of heart-spilleth-over if  I was ever involved in a shoe drop.  You know, go to the country with the company and drop off some shoes to some kids.  My eyes would probably be swollen shut from all of the beautiful happy tears I'd shed.  Maybe I should get going on  my second letter....

Dear TOMS,

I just bought my first pair of TOMS, but I really like what you do.  Can I come along to deliver  my one pair donation myself?  Your job is cool. So is mine, I'm a teacher and I have a summer vacation.What I'm getting at is that perhaps you could schedule one of your shoe drops over the summer and I could go?  I'd appreciate that.

Sincerely, Kelsey

                                                               Lovin' my TOMS!

A Tale of Embarrassment

I had a professor in college who said he had calcium deposits in his brain. About once a year, usually in February, the calcium deposits started to move in such a manner that he would freeze, mid-sentence, for ten to fifteen seconds. Then he'd resume his sentence and have no idea he paused through ten to fifteen seconds of his life.

The opposite of that happened to me tonight. I had reverse calcium deposits I think. It was "final presentation" night in my marketing class. I knew the content of my team's presentation inside and out. I could have told you my material without any slides or notes. I was rehearsed. Everything was going to go just fine thank you very much.

There were six of us in our group. We started to present. Tom started. Good job Tom. Then Bill. Next was Larry. Who of course transitioned to Matt. He handed off to Greg. Next it was my turn! I nailed my slides. I gave a demo of a website we created. I explained in such good detail that even a child born with a Skittle brain (mmm...Skittle brain) would understand why they needed to buy Italian sausage.

Once I finished my last slide, trouble brewed. I'd rehearsed my material, but I never considered what I'd say when I needed to transition back to Tom for our wrap-up. One would think I'd say something like, "And here's Tom, with our wrap-up." But no. Oh no. Sweet Lord do I wish I said that. As the transition approached I got inexplicably nervous. Then a cell phone went off. The ring tone was the Mario song from the underground worlds. As soon as I heard duh duh duh duh duh duh, my brain broke. The reverse calcium deposits shifted around, and I could not shut up.

I finished the material on my slide without a problem, but then I said, "And here's Tom to present our geographic transition plans and our results and our, evidently I can't walk and talk at the same time, and our um, um, um." Only it was one million times worse than that. It's the first time I've ever been in front of group and felt that rattled. Normally my ego carries me through without a problem. I think the fact I started the presentation very tired combined with the distracting Mario theme song that made me think of last week in LA when my friends and I decided we were going to beat Mario 3 whilst drunk in order to save my brother-in-law's life (long story...suffice it to say Joe lived and all is well in Koopa Kingdom), doubly combined with the fact I couldn't think of a relatively easy transition on the fly caused me to look like an idiot.

After the presentation, I immediately made a joke about it. No one in the class seemed to notice my word vomit that much. My group said it was more hilarious than anything. But still, I don't expect that from myself, so I felt like an idiot.

There is probably a metaphor in here somewhere about making sure you are prepared for everything--including life's transitions--but I'm not going to make it. Sometimes a funny story is just a funny story, and it need not be bogged down with subtext.

Nooooooo!!!!!

These appeared in the middle of the living room today.  Seriously, where are they coming from??!?!?!?!

Hello my name is Kelsey, and I'm a decoraholic.

Seriously, I can't help myself.  Our kitchen wall has been 3 colors and we've only lived here 2 years.  I move things, swap things, and rearrange until I like it for a while - then I like to do it all over again when I get sick of something.  Our house will never be finished. 

Yah, I subscribe to Better Homes and Gardens - why don't you?

Lucky for Jay, I'm addicted to decorating on a major budget.  I pride myself in finding cute things at reasonable prices.  I'm no Martha Stewart, but I enjoy it, and it's my house, so I guess that's all that matters - right?

My copy-cat look - complete with unkillable flowers. I prefer my plants to be death-proof. 

 Here are some things I'm loving right now....

This picture in my living room was originally purchased from Walmart (that's right, Walmart) for $10.  It's been a nice print, but kind of blah.

It's okay, it served it's purpose

And it's been replaced by my find of the day at Old Time Pottery!  The price? $30!!  You want to see it up close?

I  knew you did. Obviously, I'm still an offensively horrible photographer, but I love this artwork!!!  It brings out the whites, the tans, the chocolate browns and blues in the living room and kitchen. LOVE IT. 

Much improved

And I can't resist little things like this $5 polka dotted fish that was just screaming to be placed in our hall bath. 

 Because he already had a "matching" buddy on the wall.

Everyboooody! - yahhh - Rock your potty!!! - yahhhh!

Or this $6 silver starfish that I have no place for yet....

But I'd like to do something like this with someday:

Yes, that's Young House Love. Part of the reason for my addiction.

Lastly, I bought this framed photograph at the Orange Beach art fair.  It matches NOTHING in my house, but I had this strong feeling that it belonged to me.

I sense a room repainting coming on....

Home Away from Home

I often refer to Orange Beach as my "home away from home".  We've traveled here for 11 years, and that's truly how it feels.  Each year, part of the excitement is arriving at the condo we've rented to see how neat it really is in person.  They're always clearly professionally decorated and just beachy and fun.

When deciding between condos this year, mom sent me three options.  Two of them were adorable, and had a weekly rate around what we were used to paying.  Then, there was the wild card - sparsely decorated and really cheap.  It didn't take me long to decide to take a chance on door #3.

"I'll take the chipper chicken Franc" I said, quoting Steve Martin in Father of the Bride (a phrase we use in the Kuebler family when going with the less expensive choice)

Well, a wild card it certainly is.

Before you take the virtual tour, here are a few alternate titles for this post:
YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR
4 Gentlemen, 2 Ladies and Some Monkeys
Is That an Urn in the Corner or are you just happy to see me?
Grandma Died and gave us all of her shit
My Eyes are Burning at the Sight of that Color!

We could go on and on...So without further adieu...

First impressions are everything.  So why not paint a mural of 4 waiters carrying wine in the entryway? I mean, why not? 

The hall bath color is not done justice in this picture.  But the mismatched crooked gold sconces on the wall add a nice balance. 

Holy hell, my bedroom is scary for so many reasons.  My eyes burn from the red.  The tree might bend over and swallow me in the middle of the night.  What happened to bend the headboard the way it is? What's with the large octagonal table?   

 And the monkeys.  The scary, scary monkeys.  This should never be on anyone's wall.  Ever.   

They're everywhere.

If burn your eyes red weren't bad enough, let's enter the brightest yellow bathroom you've ever seen. Go Cyclones?

They liked the color so much they decided to pain the bathroom door as well.  Look closely at the tea set in the corner.  That matches the theme of scary monkeys...

Oh, phew!  There are some more! On that chair cover.  Caps for Sale?

Headed down a stark white hallway, a single giraffe hanger is used as decoration above a pantry door.

This laundry room looks harmlessly lime green at first, until you realize the bird cage with the crimson candle and the backless time-out chair.

And a mirror hung too high to see into, with ya know, 3 large bells.

They ran out of ideas when it came to the kitchen, so they kept it completely white.  Sadly, despite the discolored fridge handle, this is the best looking room in the place.  

But fear not, we have a harp playing cherub in the wet bar, accompanied by an elephant carrying wine corks and a little water damage to boot. 

The living room boasts ugly draperies, a huge urn with sticks and grandma's rocking chair.  Not to mention the beheaded giraffe you saw on Monday's post. 

Heading into mom's room, the dangling "chandelier" smoke detector adds ambiance. 

Look closely at that rod on the left.  Apparently the word "level" was not in their vocabulary. 

Zebra rug, palm tree and pink bed skirt.  Another broken headboard.  A light that does not work.  Par for the course at this point. 

Another one of grandma's heirloom nightstand a bit more animal print. Raarr. 

GOLD!!!  (It's really shiny in real life)

Not too bad, all things considered.  'Cept the painting is literally on the edge of the wall, the sconce has another gaudy candle, and that big planter has nothing in it. 

Okay, so this is certainly NOT our home away from home.  Thank God it's got a kick ass view. 

Flashback: 2007

So...I take a lot of pictures that I do nothing with.  A few make it to the blog, some maybe facebook, but most just sit and take up hard drive space on my little white Mac. I would love to be a scrapbooker, but that would require printing pictures, planning pages, and many trips to Hobby Lobby.  That's way too many steps. 

 4 years ago, I tried my hand at some digital scrapbooking, and I was mildly pleased with the results.

But that was literally 4 years ago, and I only made it through 5 pages and one vacation.  I made a vow I'd print more pictures after that, but I can count on one hand how many times I've printed a picture since then.

So...do I throw in the towel and concede that "modern day" photo albums exist only online? Have you found a neat way to do something with all of the pictures you take? Have you found any digital scrapbooking or photobooks so-easy-dummies-could-use-them that would be useful?

I'm feeling the itch for a project!