2.OH

Do you remember here, where I mentioned this?

Well, now I'm here!

Such an honor to be featured and I hope I can do the site justice because hers is a tough act to follow.

Thank you, Julie!


- Emily McP

The good witch

Mom:

You birthed me from your womb almost 27 years ago, and apparently, it hurt like hell. I know because you told me. Also, dad never let me forget about his lunch with your doctor in the hospital cafeteria being interrupted by the labor I was putting you through. Dad, I'm sorry, this one isn't about you.

While I don't remember making my way down the dark tunnel and into that white light, I do remember the time in first grade(ish) I went to a neighbor's house without telling you. When I came strolling down the sidewalk on my way back home (like it was NBD), dad was running down the street yelling my name while you met me in the driveway. You were two inches from my face and told me to "NEVER leave the house AGAIN" without letting you know, and I told you about your coffee breath. You tried so hard not to laugh.

I remember you taking me to ballet class and picking me up with McDonalds Happy Meals (orange soda included) in-hand. There was a reason I didn't continue dance after age eight.

You bought me a chalkboard and pointer so I could nurture my talent of teaching stuffed animals reading, writing, and multiplication tables using mini marshmallows; a dream I still haven't given up on.
You also stood by while I made "soup" with every herb and spice in your kitchen so I could practice being a chef in the instance my day job fell through. Neither panned out.

You were there at every school function and church play. You took a few pictures, but thank goodness you never learned to operate a camcorder or else I'd have to continuously relive that "awkward stage" from third grade until I was a freshman in college. It's not that you didn't want to document those precious moments, you honestly just don't know the first thing about technology, nor do you care. That is what is so endearing about you, Glenders. But why you own an iPhone is baffling.

We've seen each others best and worst, of which the latter is far outweighed.

You work full-time, care for a husband, an elderly mom, spoil three grandchildren, chase an active Corgi, and have raised three (beautiful) daughters. You taught me to give my troubles to God and showed me that besides Him, nothing is more important than family.

Although it sometimes takes a glass of Pinot to end your day, you deserve it. That glass of wine is celebratory because your miraculous strength is to be admired.

Cheers, mom. Here's to hoping I raise a kid half as awesome as me so I can finally give you the credit you deserve.




- Emily McP

Down on bended knee

Yesterday Jordan calls me:

Jordan: Get ready for the best news of your life. And no, I'm not engaged.

Me: You're pregnant!

Jordan: Better. BOYZ II MEN is playing in Shreveport next weekend.

Just so happens to be the weekend I'm in town. Call it fate, call it what you will, but I will be there in an all denim ensemble and Timberlands. Jordan says she's wearing her nicely pressed baseball jersey, emblazoned with the logo from her team of choice-the Shreveport Captains.

I remember hearing Boyz II Men for the first time. I was in middle school and my mom was driving me to the bus stop because I was too lazy to walk eleven yards. Spoiler: Nothing much has changed.
As we pulled out of the driveway, mom tuned the FM to KVKI (light rock, less talk) and there they were, the gents of BIIM singing about wanting me to throw my clothes on the floor, because they were about to make love to me. In front of my mom? How embarrassing.

I think it should go without saying that I will be at that show.

Front and center.



- Emily McP

Doubled-up

By the by, I've been meaning to make this post for a few days now, but mess happens, you know?

I just wanted to share a few of the "happy places" I visit on the world wide webs (and the like) for when the world seems too much, or just when I need good seeing-eye material. And no, I do NOT mean while at work...

Life2PointOh is a recent addition to the webs and one of the founding editors, Julie Miller, is a fellow friend and Louisiana Tech grad.
My dearie friend Jordan is a contributing writer on the site and does a dynamite job relating to us twenty-something gals in her posts. She should know, because she is a twenty-something gal.
You can read her first inspiring post here.
Like a momma, I am so proud of hers.

Another person that turns my mouth corners to a happy position is Brooke; her and I met during the Tyler Read ages as her Josh and my Chris were bandmates. I've been a faithful blog follower for a while and her posts are consistently thoughtful and entertaining. I love.

If you're feeling cute and crafty (and fashion-y?) head over to A Beautiful Mess and keep wishing you can be half as cute as Elsie. I thank my MIL for that introduction.

My friend Erica (pronounced Urca) is the Founder of the non-profit Pet Education Project, or PEP, to teach kids the importance of properly caring for animals, which is so important! Girl is doing work.

Lastly, René made a vow to post to her blog every.single.day of Lent, and by gosh, she she did it. What a feat!

All of my friends are accomplishing so much, I feel so inadequate!


- Emily McP

Phallic flowers

What a weekend. Sunday night Chris and I drove back from New Iberia where we spent a few days visiting with his (our) family. He wasn't supposed to be home from recording until last night; unfortunately, his grandmother became ill Thursday so he changed plans at the last minute to come home Friday.
I'm not entirely disappointed he was here a few days sooner, but if it meant a healthy Mawmaw, I'd wish him back to Virginia.

What a gal Mawmaw is; there is no other like her. She spent the weekend in ICU with pneumonia, on top of other ailments that have plagued her for a few months now. Despite her health and how bad she must've felt, Mawmaw still managed to make us laugh with stories about how she met "Chiefy" (her husband) and drawings of phallic flowers. See below:




"It's a penis," she wrote. That sense of humor AINT goin NOWHERE.

Mawmaw spent the better part of the weekend attached to a mask that controlled her CO2 levels, so pencil and paper was the best form of communication during those times. Thank goodness for the comedic relief.

Although she's now out of ICU and home from the hospital, the future remains unclear. We continue to pray and hope for recovery and know one thing for sure:




We love you too.


- Emily McP

Rambling (wo)man

Thoughts in the last minute:

Coffee coffee everywhere, and not a drop to DRINK!

That girl has really cute hair.

Must pack. Don't forget to feed and water the kitties. And gas, don't forget gas.

I could eat a plate of hummus.

Oatmeal cookies.

Beach.

I could eat.

Suntan lotion, green water, white sand. Coconuts. Lots of coconuts.

I miss Chris.

I miss home.

I miss.

My tooth hurts.


- Emily McP

Impending infamous-ness

My father-in-law (Mr. Don) just emailed me to say that the 4th and 5th names for hurricanes this year are Don and Emily.

Batten down the hatches and seek shelter, y'all.

It seems that Louisiana has been hit with two hurricanes in a row, every three years.

In 2008, it was Gustav and Ike; Katrina and Rita in 2005.

This is merely a plea to not place blame or associate our names with disaster if it were to strike; because while we hope it doesn't, we'd like to be infamous for other reasons. Like, roping 38 cattle at once, or paragliding from the Cliffs of Dover.


- Emily McP

Chronicles

Somewhere in a previous post I know I've mentioned my fear of revealing any detailed future plans in the very realistic chance that I am unable to follow through.

Not being able to reach whatever personal goal or task I've set for myself is a let down. What's worse is letting others in on my agenda and having nothing to show for it.
I don't want anyone to form expectations only to be disappointed, or not be surprised, when I don't follow through.

So I say nothing.

For whatever reason, I feel differently today, and want to share this nugget with you:

I am in the process of writing a children's book.

Please, hold your applause and/or judgement. I don't proclaim this for any other reason than to notify you that this blog may, at times, serve as a vessel for my book-writing-chronicles. And because MAYBE JUST MAYBE William Joyce will happen upon my blog and offer his advice, because something tells me this will be an arduous process with plot twists and roadblocks. I've already hit a few.

Artistically, mentally, authorly.

In an effort to retain a bit of mystery (and keep you intrigued), I shan't divulge any details surrounding the concept or character(s). Although, thanks to my talented and helpful husband, the main character is developing into quite the adorable.

BTDUB, is illustrating your character prior to writing a manuscript the WRONG way to write a book?

Signed,
Curious.


- Emily McP

Mad about madras.

Went to the beauty parlor after work for the sole purpose of getting my hair colored. Ended up getting it trimmed as well.

Then while my hair was baking, decided to get my nails did.

Aaand why not get my eyebrows waxed while I'm at it?

Accidental Me day. My bad.





- Emily McP

McPeter$

Saving our dollars and cents and putting money where my mowlth is.




Vacation 201? here we come!


- Emily McP

Lights out

The wicked witch of the South brewed a nasty storm which seems to be hovered ever so eerily over our apartment complex. And has been for well over an hour.

Storms are cozy and all, but being a third floor resident has a downside when you're nervously surveying that awfully low-hanging tree and the safest place to duck and cover is the garden tub-with two cats and a husband.

Never mind that the electricity is out. The meat is spoiling, the ice cream is melting, and the Sparkletini is sweating.

While putting up dishes by candlelight, I asked Chris if this is what they did in the "olden days."

He assured me that the pioneers did, in fact, warm themselves by the glow of candles and their MacBooks.





Time to eat the contents of the icebox before it all goes to waste.

- Emily McP

YOU.

MAKE ME FEEL SO YOUNG!

Spring is kinda-sorta here and I am sorta-kinda basking in it's glow.

This time of year is inspiring, isn't it?

This is me:




I am a hydrangea.

I also wouldn't mind being a tulip, poppy, buttercup, or azalea, but I'm saving those for baby names.

Once the Mardi Gras madness dissipated, the McPeters (that's us) took advantage of the most beautiful weekend on God's green earth and spent our time in sunshine.

We lazed, we bathed (in sunlight, you pervs), and spent the contents of our pocketbooks on food and entertainment.

Park and pic-a-nic on Saturday



Lunch provided by
Whole Foods.




Sunday brunch at Stanley (my phone really wanted to correct that to Stankey-I should have let it)




Now the only things in my wallet are grocery receipts and lint.

Speaking of, I decided to go without coffee for Lent, which is similar to going without water. It's not really, I shouldn't compare it to that, but it's hard. I'll extend my appreciation to Bigelow for it's decent alternative to my cravings:




I began writing this post a few days ago and it's another incredible weekend once again.

I'm now going to be a lotus dancing on the sparkling waters of our apartment complex's crystal blue chlorine waters.

Go be your own blossom.

- Emily McP

Fully baked

Let it be known: I will have a cookie jar collection.

I will be a regular ceramophile, not entirely unlike Jack Donaghy via Victor Nightingale. Except, hopefully our kids won't have some "unresolved childhood thing" because I never baked any cookies because I thought they didn't deserve them. Those jars WILL be stocked and my children won't ever feel the need to own a cookie jar with "MOM" emblazoned on the front but think of it as an upside down "WOW."

I hope you people watch 30 Rock.

I don't know when a fascination with cookie jars came about, but I suppose my knack for all-things-owls had something to do with it when I saw Mr. Wise Ol Owl at Anthropologie




This Mr. Owl was far from budget-friendly miscellany, but the jar currently in my possession (reported on in previous post) is a more precious (and thrifty!) replacement.

Of course, owning a cookie jar is a privilege as it means you are the bearer of delicious baked treats.

My grandmother constantly kept cookies in her jar. Sometimes she cheated and snuck in Oreos, but most of the time it was "Memaw's oatmeal cookies" that my grubby paws retrieved.

I know it's a little soon for me to be a grandmother (or is it??) but now seems a good time for me to carry the homemade-oatmeal-cookie torch and keep my jar full and ready at all times.

I made the dough, chilled it, cut it, baked it, and now the cookies, in their adult form, reside in Owlie.






The only problem is, I made three batches. We don't have grandkids and rarely receive visitors.

Please come eat some?

- Posted from my awesome iPhone

A Cupid I shall play

My Valentimes day gift from Chris finally came in on Saturday.

Meet Mr. Owlie Jar




The cutest little cookie holder you ever did see.

- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Arts and Creme

How 'bout those Redskins, huh? They really pulled it off against the Lions last night.

My apologies, the tube was set to ABCFam and I was too busy making creme brûlée and Valentines garland (see below) to be bothered by any other nonsense. That didn't stop my eyes from being massacred by #superbowl tweets on my timeline every time I checked, but at least I didn't have to watch the game to get an update.

I know, my tone is sarcastic and cynical, but I just cannot find an ounce of care in my body. I know the citizens of Louisiana were singing a different tune this time last year, and a "two-dat" would've been nice, but alas!

I was supposed to be traveling back to New Orleans from Shreveport yesterday, but wintry weather foiled my weekend trip altogether. I'm sorry, Megan, your bridal shower will go on!

Despite being miffed at Mother Nature for her behavior, I was able to get a few things accomplished, including those few (eight) movies I'd been meaning to watch.

Saturday's sloth led to Sunday's labor, and here are those fruits:







I've had a set of ramekins and brûlée torch since our wedding, but this was my first try. It was chocolate. And sent straight from the heavens.







My weak attempt at "garland." Its elementary-era cut-out hearts with Tacky glue and glitter. And that "M" may or may not be an upside down "W." It was all Michael's had left!

- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Trifecta

Do you ever have those moments of clarity where you think, life is good, everything is going to be fine, and I have so much time to figure it out? Those thoughts usually filter through while I'm listening to a song, or most recently, after watching a movie.

In those moments, everything is perfect.

For instance, last night I was watching Julie & Julia and this sense of "there is not a damn thing I can't do" came over me. It could have been the recurring Paris+food+romance connection that felt relatable because that IS MY heavenly trifecta.*
More so, I felt kin to the "Julie" story (pre-book deal) because, just maybe, I'm in that same position?
You know, (or maybe you don't) that place somewhere between apathy and world domination where you search for validity and rationalize every move you've made to justify where you are at this exact moment.
I don't say that because of low self-worth or because I'm sad. I'm neither. I just need a challenge.

I was talking with Chris the other day and mentioned feeling a little defeated because of something at work that upset me. After watching the movie, it now seems a little reminiscent of (one of) Julie's dinner-mishap meltdowns.

I whined like a baby and complained that I'm not good enough to be anything, or do anything. That he's a musician and that is his identity. And while he's wonderful, he still strives to be better. What have I ever done? Nothing.

Not true. But we're all allowed one (or two or three or four...) brief moment of insanity to feel that way. Only then can we discover our strengths! Or discover how crazy we really are.

I feel I have derailed. Not from my sanity, but from the reason for the post. Actually, either are probably true. This could go on for hours.

Paraphrase: Julie, happy at home, yet professionally unsatisfied and perhaps, emotionally unfulfilled, challenged herself with Julia's recipes which were created in a Parisian kitchen, where she (Julia) lived and loved her husband.

I'm a Julie who wants to live in a Julia world.

This makes sense to me.



*I'm sorry I have such an incurable love for a place that probably won't ever love me back, but I will never quit Paris.
I also love food and my husband, so to have all three at the same time may cause slight hysteria.



- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Virginia is for Lusters

Southwest is my new favorite airline.

Why?

Because their flight attendants say things like, "For those of you who listened to my safety instructions-thank you. And for those who didn't-good luck to you."

Not only do your checked bags fly FO FREE, but the pilot tells bad lawyer jokes (hope there weren't any on our flight!) and the crew sings Southwest-themed songs to the tune of "Zippity-do-da."
I also received TWO bags of peanuts for my return flight.

Southwest is not stingy; and for that, I thank you.

My reason for travel-by-plane this past weekend was to attend The Bigger Lights "hometown" show in Virginia, and to soak up a few extra husband hours before his hiatus away from home.

Hiatus. Hiatus. Hi. Ate. Us. What a weird word!

Northern Virginia, I really loved being in you; partly because you were where we honeymooned. You also have this magical, colonial quality that strikes me, but you are far too frigid.

The weekend was much too short, but the time was well-spent. While there was much popcorn-eating, champagne-drinking, pajama-wearing, spades-playing, show-watching, friend-visiting fun in that time, what really set this weekend apart was mine and Chris' eye-opening decision: open a dance studio.
Of course! How did we not see this all along? We're both well-versed in the art of dance and our business sense is miles ahead of any possible competition.

We figured Chris will teach tap and hip-hop, while I cover ballet and jazz. We affirmed this decision by demonstrating our techniques, respectfully, but failed to produce video evidence, so...you're out of luck.

Regrettably, even after our delightful time, I had to go back from whence I came. The party was over.

I get fairly emotional when Chris leaves home for tour or practice, but coming back home was a different level of woe.

I fancy myself an independent woman, considering (considering what, I don't know), but traveling back alone and arriving at home with no one inside (aside from Eve and Elle) to greet me, left my heart a little heavy.

Still, that won't ever stop me from making those trips.








- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Wait a minute now-Uh oh

Last night I went to a karaoke party where I was pressured into rapping Nelly.

Wide-eyed, I stared at the screen in hopes I'd come in on the proper beat of Country Grammar when I said to myself, 'C'mon Emily!'

Then I woke up and was thankful my worst fears haven't yet been realized.


- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Jambalaya, crawfish pie, on the bi-yoh

Dear Emeril,

Thank you for existing. And your recipes.




This was numners.



- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Confession

While at work, and sitting, I clinch my cheeks for 15 reps a few times a day to firm my butt.



- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Yesterday

Jillian Michaels. You bitch.

This morning I woke up with a sore everything. I thought my yoga experience was going to be relaxing and centering, but Jillian had other plans.

I suppose the Meltdown part slipped to my subconscious because I was not prepared for that amount of hurt.

Ms. Michaels, if your "5 pounds in a week" really works, I will be singing your praises.

I don't know if it was the adrenaline or the crazy talking, but I didn't stop there. Oh no, my friend. I went jogging.

I drove to the park to run amongst the ducks and chickens in the cool January air. Shortly after, I tuckered out, sat on a bench and enjoyed the view.





Fast forward through my hair cut, a Saints loss, leftovers for dinner, and a bad rental-Did You Hear About the Morgans? (Hugh Grant, I expect a lame movie from SJP, but you?)-and begin the second part of the evening.

I in my kerchief, and Chris in his cap, tucked in for the evening, and watching tv with eyelids slowly closing (mine), when Chris asked if I wanted to "go out." It was midnight.

Whuck?

Chris had been receiving threatening "If you don't come out..." texts (exaggerated) from friends all evening, so we agreed to meet up.

After traversing Frenchmen , we happened upon a party.

Despite Chris' assurance that guys who own tubas aren't homeless, I ignored him and gave them a $10-spot anyway.

They were just singing for their supper. As was the stray doggie hanging out by Taco Bell at the fourth-meal hour. Only he didn't have to play an instrument to receive our burrito donation; his eating styrofoam was enough to make me cry.

Sorry, no pic of the dog. It was too hard just to drive away.

But I do have a pic of my new coffee mug.





And a pic of this car.





Please tell me that that was written by a child.


- Posted from my awesome iPhone



- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Daily Persian

Oh the things us cat owners do because we don't have dogs.

- Posted from my awesome iPhone

Out with the old!

Resolutions are made to be broken.

So I've decided to start mine today, January 2. Why? I needed that extra day to situate myself. And prepare for another year or failure!

I'm joking.

But I am reluctant to tell my resolutions for that reason. If I said, 'this year, I'm going to learn to juggle standing on one leg on top of a pregnant elephant,' then you'd all be sorely disappointed because IT AIN'T HAPPENIN.

I'm more into the surprising-myself-and-others approach.

Can you dig it? (we can dig it)

Happy 2011.




- Posted from my awesome iPhone