I've had it...

...a thousand times. That look. That look that tells people, the ones in the Hellmart parking lot watching you:


"I have no clue where I parked my car."


It wasn't on my face. (Not today.) But on a woman who was about my age. I felt such sympathy for her. It is the most frustrating thing. Almost as frustrating as The Search. The search that involves going from room to room in your home, desperately trying to find your glasses. You have no idea where you might have left them. (It doesn't seem like they could be in the freezer, but you've looked everywhere else, right?) You have no clue. Not until someone, someone whose been watching The Search go on for 10 -20minutes, finally asks:


"What are you looking for?"


"My glasses," you say. With complete bewilderment.


"Are they the pair you're currently wearing?"


How is this even possible??? How do I not feel them on my face? How do I not realize I have to have them on because I can see where I'm going?


I have no answers to these conundrums. None. Nada. Zilch.


Sheesh.


Hope Y'all had a Wonderful Wednesday! Stay focused! Stay calm! Stay determined! Have FAITH! (You got to that parking lot in your car...it's there...SOMEWHERE.)

Terrific Tootsies!

In February, I told Y’all how much I loved Working Hands hand cream. Which My Sweet Hubby (MSH) purchases at Tractor Supply.

Look what MSH and I found at the Tractor Supply in Granbury, Texas, last week:

Be still my heart. And tootsies.

I giggle when I think about an experience that happened several years ago:


I was in the midst of a lovely pedicure. [Let me stop here and give you a teensy—possibly innerstin—fact: Once I started having professional pedicures (Remember, please—I was 47 before I had my first one...sad. Yes. Very sad.), I became hyper-vigilant about keeping my feet soft—especially my heals.]


Back to the experience: This kind pedicurist said, with clear and obvious admiration: Ahhh…Wow. Your heals are very smooth—like a baby’s buttom!

TLC can verify I’m committed to the endless process of feet exfoliation. (She keeps hers away from my inspection at all costs.) And I’m always searching for a cream that is inexpensive, but effective. Voila—here it is, Folks...O’Keeffe’s Healthy Feet! (By The Way: They have a delightful website that can help you determine where you might find or order this fantastic product.)

I’m positively pooped from working over at our Barn&Breakfast (Wink.Wink.). The clutter is endless. It's reproducing. I'm sure of it. I clearly need a professional organizer. TLC would adore this job. If only she didn't live two hours away. Dadgummit.

Hope You Sillies had a Sweet Saturday—Wherever in the World Y’all Are!

ta-ta for now…

The Right Side

I went to two doctor appointments today. I left my home at 7:45 a.m. for the first stop at my primary care doctor’s office. Bloodwork. She’s monitoring my Vitamin D levels. Wow—is Vitamin D all the rage or what? TLC’S D has been low. Little Leighton’s (LL) D? Ditto. Seems like the “experts” are learning more and more about this vitamin my generation knew we needed only for strong bones—not for the benefit of our entire immune system.

Because I lost my left breast to a modified radical mastectomy twenty-one years ago, and because they took all the lymph nodes they could find under that arm, I don’t have my blood pressure taken on my left side. Nor do I have blood drawn from that arm. My doctor's nurse procured lots o' blood out of my right arm.

My second stop (after picking up an Egg McMuffin—YUMMO—I had had to fast from midnight on…) was to a large medical clinic in town. I was meeting with a surgeon who is not only a good friend of ours, but also a fantastic doctor. Last summer, I promised my primary care physician, for the third year in a row, that I would get a colonoscopy. I had my first one when I was 47. I was due for my second at 57. I’d somehow gotten way, WAY past that deadline. Last year I almost got this accomplished in Ft. Worth—because this doctor didn’t take my fabulous (tongue-in-cheek, don’tchaknow) insurance. For several reasons, I cancelled a scheduled scope right before Christmas. Then I was forced out of my previous policy by the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) at the end of 2014. The new insurance I secured has my friend as a Provider—so I’ve been anxiously waiting to find the time to visit him and schedule this (non-fun) colonoscopy with him.

I won’t bore y’all with ALL of the details of my two-hour visit to this doctor and his clinic. (Not like I did my precious friend, Drew. I believe I told her every little event that occurred in that time frame. Sorry, Dearest Drew.) My first thirty-five minutes there were a complete train wreck. Won't tell all about that experience. Will simply say: Sheesh. Once I got in to the exam room and started visiting with the doctor I so adore, he asked me if I’d had bloodwork recently. I told him I’d just come from my primary care’s clinic, but that I didn’t know what she’d ordered—besides the level of my Vitamin D. He suggested, since I was there, I go ahead and get some additional bloodwork and an EKG. These would be two tests the anesthesiologist would want before putting me out/under for the scope.

From his office, I proceeded to the Lab. A very kind young woman tried to get blood out of my right arm. She had to call a supervisor. She had no success, either. After wincing from the excruciating pain caused by the second tech digging around that vein, I begged them, very politely, to go ahead and try sticking my left arm. Thank My Lord, it worked.

Next, and while waiting for my EKG, a woman whose age was somewhere between 80 and 84 (I’m not very good at age-guessing any more, so I could be off a year or two on either end!), sat by me in the waiting room. A woman about my age was helping this woman use her walker. I noticed the older woman before she ever reached me because she was quite attractive. She was dressed in black pants and a black knit shirt. She had fashionable black glasses and stunning, dangly earrings. Beautifully expressive eyes. A warm smile.

As soon as she sat down by me, she said: “M’am? Could I tell you something?”

Not going to lie: This made me a teensy bit nervous. I thought it was charming, however, that she was calling me, someone clearly quite a bit younger than her, “M’am.” Cracked me up.

“Sure,” I smiled.

“I love your hair,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

Whew.

“You just made my day!” I replied. “And my hairstylist’s! Thank you so much. I truly appreciate your kind words!”

“I wish mine was that thick.” (Here’s the truth: Mine is not that thick—it looks thick-ish when I curl and tease it—the old-fashioned way. Wink. Wink. That's how Big Texas Hair is accomplished!)

Her hair was lovely. White/blonde, very healthy looking, and pulled back in a pretty ponytail.

“I love yours, too!” I said. She smiled, almost shyly, and thanked me.

Now this, in my humble opinion, is pretty hair. I braided TLC’s the night before she was to have Kit whack it off. (Yes. We were pretending she was eight years old, again.)

The entire incident made me think about the impact we can have on someone’s day. Week. Life. I normally feel quite defensive about my hair. I know a few people (My Sweet Hubby for one…) who often encourage me to “smooth” it down a tidbit. (TLC, on the other hand, likes it big. The bigger, the better!) This sweet, kind, attractive woman made me feel proud—if only for a few minutes—of the hair I typically dislike.

Compliments ROCK, right? Let’s all try to give at least one person per day a compliment, okay?

Hope Y’all have had a Wonderful Wednesday. Guess what? It’s Friday Eve Eve!!!

smooches and hugs and love…

i'm back!

Well...at least for today!

As ELC mentioned, my little family will soon be making a big move! We are excited--2015 has truly been a roller coaster. Ups. Downs. In-betweens. We are looking forward to a fun, fresh start. I am forever grateful to ELC for ALWAYS picking up my slack with our sweet blog. She has so much dedication and love.

Last Thursday, Little Leighton and I headed South for a visit with Grammy and Pa-Pa and a salon appointment for moi! (I still go home to have my hair cut and colored by our precious Kit--she cuts the whole fam-damily's hair, actually. Bless her heart. I'm sure she would like to drop a couple of us.) ELC and I had been chatting a couple of weeks ago about cutting my hair. It was ridiculously long--completely unmanageable. ELC suggested (she always makes good suggestions) I consider cutting at least 6 inches so that I could donate it. Done and done! I couldn't wait.

LL and I arrived at our destination mid-afternoon on Thursday. Once we had our snack of freshly baked (by ELC, nonetheless!) gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, we headed outside. It was a pretty day, and we were ready for some fresh, country air! I was immediately taken aback by the sheer beauty of Mom and Dad's roses! I couldn't resist and had to cut a few to put in the most tiny, precious vase. Aren't these divine? (No filters for these pics!)

The next morning, after a breakfast of champions (Pancakes--again made with love by ELC! Are we in some kind of Twilight Zone? Y'all know she's not a fan of cooking. BUT, let me tell you what...she rocks at it when she gets in that kitchen!) and coffee (duh), I headed into town for the big cut! Of course we took a before picture (Yes, I made it black and white. Between the pony tail kinks and roots and my pasty white arms, I couldn't handle full color.)

Six inches later? (Yes, another black and white.)

I really love it! Kit blows my mind with her talent. Now, I have no clue how to fix it. It's been quite some time since my hair has been this short. I'm going to practice and learn! I texted ELC this shameless selfie Friday night (LL stayed with them for two nights, while I headed back. I'll let ELC give y'all a recap of all of the fun they had! So many shenanigans with those three.) after I attempted a half-up 'do.

Thank y'all ever so much for your patience with me. I can't wait to share more about our new adventure soon.

I hope this is a magical week for all...TTFN.