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! 

Tinsel Trouble

Fake Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,

I'm writing you today.

It's been 50 days or so,

since I put you away.

At one point you were beautiful,

and kept our home well lit.

But I'm tired of finding your needles

on our carpet and our shit.

I've vacuumed the house at least five times,

I've cleaned from floor to ceiling.

No matter how much I scrub and wash,

they keep reappearing.

Fake Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,

I know without a doubt, 

If I find any more of your remnants,

profanities I will shout.

It Was Bed Time

With Kelsey gone this week, I'm supposed to be on blog duty. I failed that endeavor tonight. I got home from class, played with my poor dog who has been home alone all day (except for the twenty minutes I had between class and work), and went to bed. I did that rather thoroughly, so I suppose that fits for Thorough Thursdays. For the second consecutive week I don't really have a project I completed to write about. Except...

This past weekend I was finally able to take Christmas lights down. It was sort of sad in a way. I like Christmas lights and am not really sure our use of them makes any sense. I wish we had them lit longer. For some reason we put them up in December, a month where no one is outside to enjoy the lights, and we stop turning the lights on in January. This confuses me because we can't take the lights off our houses until sometime near March when the weather warms up.

While this blog probably won't change the world, I'd like it to change every single person in America's approach to Christmas lights. Here is what I propose:

One, we put Christmas lights up in May and keep them there until September. People actually sit outside during the summer. It would be nice to have some extra light. Just think about all those hot summer nights in the big city. You'd feel much safer with a bunch of twinkling LED light strands. We would continue to call the lights, "Christmas lights," even though they are now technically summer lights. Future generations will forget why they call the summer lights Christmas lights when Christmas is six months later. We will have been on the ground level of a delightful anachronism. Good for us.

Hey are you guys there? It sure is a nice summer night, but it is so dark. I wish I could see you.

Two, for the dark winter months that make everyone sad and depressed, we will put a lot of inflatables that dance in sync to various pop hits from the eighties. Music can be piped in through the tornado sirens. Wouldn't it be great to drive into a neighborhood during the second week of December and have a motorcycle riding Santa Claus inflatable bobbing his head to Cutting Crew's I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight? Obviously it would.


Three, during the summer months no nativity sets will be allowed. We don't need a lot of plastic baby Jesuses all over peoples' yards. There are actual babies and kids outside in the summer. If we put a lot of fake babies outside, it would just confuse people. Besides, the sun would just fade the paint and the heat would probably crack the plastic.

The summer heat will crack me my child. Please leave me indoors.

Four, all the inflatables will be kept inflated throughout the winter. The music will stop piping through tornado sirens on New Year's Day when Americans and the inflatables dance in unison to Auld Lang Syne. It will be up to each individual city's mayor to declare a "take down the inflatables day." If there is a mid-January weekend with unseasonable warmth that will be declared Deflate Day and the yards will be cleaned up. NO EXCEPTIONS. NO EXCUSES. NO FEAR.

So yeah, I took the Christmas lights down this past weekend, and I'm very proud of that. I'm also proud of how I just revolutionized what I call Yard Art. I'll try accomplish a real project between here and next Thursday!