Let's talk about those thighs...

See the picture above left? That would be moi at the age of almost 6. With thunder thighs already. I have a November birthday so I was 5 turning 6 in kindergarten that year. My mother put me in ballet lessons to help me quit sucking my thumb.

As we all know, ballerinas don't suck their thumb.

My sisters were in school all day and my parents at work, so my grandmother, Mimi, babysat me that year. She had a very nubby woven fabric on her sofa....and if I could catch some of that cotton under my fingernail, and gently rub it against my nose, I would go into thumb-sucking heaven. You thumb suckers out there know exactly what I'm talking about. Most thumb suckers do one other activity along with sticking their thumb in their mouth.....twirl their hair, rub on the corner of a blanket, rub cotton on their nose. I have very few memories of my childhood at this point, but I can close my eyes and remember pulling at the cotton weave and getting just enough under my fingernail to tickle my nose. Why would I want to stop sucking my thumb? It was the best comfort in my world. Low maintenance kid activity.

So after a brace on my thumb, hot sauce on my thumb and all kinds of pleading and begging....my mother pulled the ballet card out of her pocket. I am assuming the ballet lessons paid off in that I finally quit sucking my thumb. But, hello? The thighs? Those are not ballerina thighs. Those are Texas thighs. Texas, where everything is bigger.

And why is it that chubby thighs look so dang cute on a 5 year old? I am going to work on embracing my inner 5 year old as my thighs still rub together.

Yes. You are on the right page!

What do you think of my new header? Jordan designed it for me. I just came home from eating out with some friends and found it as a surprise! I knew she was going to work up a design or two but this was on here....and I love it. Thanks Jordan!

How to make a 1 day paint job last all week

We have lived in this house for 10 years. The color of every wall, ceiling and closet in this place was the palest mauve (purple-pink) when we bought it in '99. Most walls were painted a very safe neutral before we even moved in...I would have done it before closing on the house if I could have...just so I wouldn't keep dreaming about the mauve. I would have dreams that I had to live with that color and people would think I picked it out. The closets upstairs are still mauve, if you don't believe me...let me know and I will post a picture on here.

We painted the master bedroom a Ralph Lauren color within a month of moving in....Cameroon Green. It was a very grayish green. And I loved it. Until I got sick of it.

Then we painted it a coral color about 5 years ago....to match a Ralph Lauren comforter I had. If you were to take the paint swatch and hold it up to the comforter, it was the exact shade of coral in the flowers. But on the walls of a 15 x 17 room, it screamed HELLO THERE!!! Chuck actually painted the room for my Mother's Day gift that year, so I have lived with it for 5 years. It was very pretty at night with lamp lighting but way too much otherwise.

Let me give you a little advice...find the exact color you want, then go towards the "muddier" shade of that color. It won't scream at you.

Are you wondering what those two ovals are above the bed?

Hats...Chuck's grandfather's and my grandmother's.

On my summer project list, the biggest project is to paint this room, AGAIN. And I'm doing it all by myself. So I am taking a one day paint job and making it last all week. Monday...prime two walls. ...two of the walls with the least amount of furniture. Tuesday...paint color on those two walls, and touch up enamel on baseboards of those walls. Wednesday ....you get it.

I am so sick of painting, I can't even begin to put it into words. I think I am spoiled because Chuck is the painter and I am the cutting in person. But cutting in and painting is way too many trips up and down the ladder. I have begged Chuck to take a day or two off....but he looks at me with that look....uh, hello? I work. This is your project. And then he proceeds to tell me how many meetings he has blah, blah, blah. And honestly I am too tired to give it my usual pleading and begging until I wear him down. He's right, this is my project.

So I am knee deep in paint right now. I will be "out of the office" so to speak until it's done.
Hopefully I will have the "AFTER" picture soon.

On a completely different note: I did watch the MJ Memorial service today while painting. I teared up and had that horrible lump in my throat....but couldn't stay focused enough on the screen to go into a full out cry. I think those who put this together did a wonderful job. The speakers certainly highlighted Michael's finest qualities and moments....while touching lightly on his strange behaviour. The artists who sang were wonderful. Brooke Shields was very believable....and she made me feel guilty for ever thinking their relationship was bizarre.

But I still wonder how he got from that little boy from Gary, Indiana....to the man he was last week that convinced a doctor to give him the drugs. The drugs that apparently relaxed his heart and lungs to a complete halt.

All that matters is that Paris said her Daddy was the best father you could ever imagine. And that's the one thing he would been the most proud to hear. Let's all believe he did hear it.