Texas Bound (Again)

Ack!

I am not having a good day. For starters, my Twitter account was hacked into and Twitter locked it when they found out. However, they haven’t told me what I have to do to get it re-opened. I miss my Twitter. Also, on the front page of Yahoo there is apparently some cranky swimmer bashing Michael Phelps. Why is he bashing Michael Phelps? What did Michael Phelps ever do to him? Apparently he’s bitter because Michael Phelps beat him at the Olympic Games by a second or something and he claims that he’s the real winner. Why do men always have to win? My husband moans when he loses. He was playing Wii Sports and whenever he’d lose he’d scream that the game was cheating.

I also need to pack because our flight to Texas leaves tomorrow. I am not packed. I’m running around with clothes in my hands trying to decide if I really need to bring them. Do I need a fancy shirt? Suppose I go to a fancy place? I doubt I’ll go to a fancy place but what if I do? Do I really need two different pairs of flip flops? I think I do. I have a black pair that goes with certain outfits and a purple pair that goes with another. Do I really need to match? Does it matter? I don’t think people will gasp if my flip flops don’t match my shirt. Or WOULD they?

Do I need to bring jeans? It’s sweltering hot in Texas so when would I wear jeans? But suppose it gets chilly at night and I want to walk along the beach? Why would I walk along the beach? I’m allergic to exercise. But I might walk along the beach hand in hand with my husband because it’s the romantic thing to do. I want to be warm because it would kill the romance if my teeth were chattering beside him as he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Wait, why would my husband be whispering sweet nothings in my ear? I’ve confused him with someone who is romantic.

What outfits should I bring the kids? They have such cute outfits. The problem is, they have a lot of cute outfits so I never know exactly what to bring. I’ll bring Tommy’s patchwork shorts with the matching shirt and...oh...should I take the blue shirt that brings out the color of his eyes? What dress should I bring for Natalie? They’re all adorable. The red one? The blue one? The green one? The white one? The brown one? ALL OF THE ABOVE?

I need to bring my straightener. Otherwise I’ll be a giant puffball because my hair does not like beach air. Do I want my lotion that makes me smell like a rose?

I’m giving myself a headache.

I cannot pack.

I laid out some of my husband’s nice shirts so he can pick which ones he wanted to bring. He mainly wears shirts with sayings on them. Sayings like “Save the trees! Wipe your ass with an owl!” or “Only Chuck Norris Can Prevent Forrest Fires.” Chuck Norris is his hero. But he can’t wear a lot of those shirts around the beach house. It might give my poor dear Grandma a heart attack if profanity is emblazoned across my husband’s chest.

I bought Tom this lovely light blue shirt because he has light blue eyes and I knew he’d look handsome in it. Tom took one look at it and went,

“No way. Not wearing it.”

?????????

What’s wrong with the light blue shirt? What has the light blue shirt ever done to him?

“That’s what old people wear,” Tom grumbled. “Why do you want me to look like an old man?”

Excuse me? I know several young people who wear light blue.

Still, I didn’t have time to argue. So I showed him a white polo shirt I found.

“Are those PALM TREES on that?” Tom looked disgusted. Oh the HORROR! Palm trees! Dear God.

“Yes, Tom but you can barely see them,” I said through gritted teeth. My patience was wearing. Why can’t he be one of those men who wear whatever I lay out for him? Why does he have to have an OPINION?

“I don’t know...palm trees...” Tom mumbled, rubbing his chin.

“Tom, please. We don’t have time to argue. I need to get ORGANIZED!” I shrieked. I wanted to crumple to the ground and curl into a little ball and hire someone to pack for me.

“Fine. I’ll wear the palm tree shirt,” Tom said because he could see that I was close to losing it. He knew I was two seconds away from bursting into tears and yelling at him to do the packing because I was DONE!

I also need to find room for Tom’s nice shoes because we’re going to my Grandma’s church on Sunday before heading to the beach. I haven’t set foot in a church in….I can’t even remember when the last time I set foot in church. I believe in God, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never felt totally comfortable in a church. My butt starts to ache from sitting on the pews and then I start to wonder why pews can’t come with arm rests.

Oh no. I just realized that I need to shave. When can I shave? I suppose I’ll do it tonight. That way I’m nice and smooth for the flight and I can wear shorts without people pointing and laughing.

What shoes am I going to wear to church? Are flip flops allowed in a church? Didn’t Jesus wear sandals which are sort of like flip flops? So it should be okay. I don’t think I’ll have room for heels. Plus I can’t walk in heels properly. What if I go stumbling across the pews and land in front of pastor and he asks me how I feel about Jesus? The first thing that comes to my mind is, “I totally dig his robes,” which I don’t think is exactly what the congregation wants to hear.

Note to self: don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in church. If I stub my toe or lose my balance I need to say “Ooopsie” in a sweet 1950s wife sort of way.

I need to gather the entertainment for the children so they don’t scream down the plane. I have books, coloring books, crayons, toys, food….at least this time my husband will be traveling with me so if the kids get too loud all he has to do is give them a Look and they’ll fall silent again. Why don’t the kids quiet down when I give them a Look? I look quite frightening when I’m pissed but they just laugh at me and say that they can see my nose hairs because apparently my nostrils flare when I’m angry.

So...I better finish this packing business. When I write again I will be on Texas soil. My body is going to go through quite a shock because it’s only been the seventies over here and it’s in the 100s over there. I look so unattractive when I’m hot. I resemble a lobster with bad hair.

Good Lord I almost tripped over the suitcase and nearly slammed into the wall. I do not want to board the flight with a black eye.

Wait. I can’t say Good Lord. I’ll be going to church on Saturday.

So. Oopsie. I meant to say oopsie.