Love to All our Soldiers

Just a quick post of thanks to all our soldiers and their families. Thank you, thank you, thank you for putting your life on the line for your country.

My great uncle, Staff Sgt. John Forrest Bouldin Jr., fought in World War II with the 453rd Bombardment Group. For their 182nd mission, John and 11 other soldiers took off from a base in Old Buckingham, UK. It was the morning of November 26, 1944, that they took off in their B-24 Liberator Bomber, headed for Bielefeld, Germany. They were to drop a 101-ton payload on a railway viaduct. But something went wrong, and their plane crashed in a field in Port Common, Kenninghall, Norfolk, UK, only 8 miles from take-off, having never been able to rise above 200 feet. Knowing they were going down in a field surrounded by farm houses, they dropped their load beforehand and saved the townspeople, but all 12 soldiers perished in that crash.

John came home, but not the way his family had hoped, and he was buried in Temple, Texas. His Purple Heart hangs in is brother's home, which I spent time in this weekend.

Then a few years ago, a farmer in Kenninghall was plowing his field, and 62 years after the crash there, he found John's military bracelet with his name on it. Many stories had been told of that crash over the years by the Kenninghall community. They were so grateful to the U.S. soldiers and all they did to help end the war and Hitler's march toward "The Final Solution" that they erected a memorial over there for them.

After receiving John's bracelet from the farmer who found it, John's brother Jamie erected a memorial in Pendleton, Texas, where John grew up. The memorial was not only for John, but for two other young men from the local community who died during WWII. The photo here is of the memorial stone. It has three sides, one for each of the fallen soldiers, with special sentiments inscribed by their respective families.

Today I also celebrate my closest active soldiers, my brave sons-in-law Greg and Finn (brave in large part because they married my headstrong daughters). I'll hug you when I see you. (You've been warned...)  :-)

Thank a soldier today. Unfortunately, freedom doesn't come free, and there are far uglier things than war (though surely not many).
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Listen to Your Mother, Austin

Okay, so I promised you all a link to my performance of "It's Complicated" at the Listen to Your Mother-Austin Show. And apparently not making good on your promises is frowned upon in this establishment!

I must say, on video I appear to be on Valium, but I promise I wasn't. Just 1/4 xanax and, um, wine. And holy crap the lights! Why do stage lights make you look like Frankenstein's Bride's Great Aunt Brunhilda? Plus, I'm pretty sure I sound like I belong to the Lollipop Guild.

Sigh.

Word of warning, a technical malfunction occurred during my introduction and the beginning of the vid, so it's slightly glitchy. What you missed was simply me droning out:  "I am the mother of four daughters. The eldest is separated from the youngest by only four and a half years." That's always riveting stuff, birth. Well, it is if you imagine being there! Which I wouldn't recommend before meals. And then also a fractional glitch midway through, strangely representative of my real life. Heh.

Regardless, it was a really fun and cool experience, and I can't thank Wendi Aarons and Jennifer Sutton enough for allowing me to join the show. So go on, have a peek HERE. I'll stay behind and be embarrassed enough for all of us.
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Nopocalypse Now!

Cue Marlon Brando, hissing in the shadows: The horror! The horror!

Not.

I don't know about you, but the whole Rapture non-event was more like the Napture. Think the Universe's lackey hit the snooze button. And I was really hoping to see fireworks of epic proportions because, as you know, my life is in serious need of roman candles, whistling snakes, and bottle rockets; and damn if the most exciting thing I did all weekend was shave my legs.

Oh wait, no, I did not shave my legs. Not really a need...

My friend George thinks we need t-shirts that say, "I survived the Nopocalypse of 2011" so I'm having some made up.

Who knows. Maybe we'll have really bad better luck in December, 2012. I'm totally not even buying Christmas presents next year, just in case some nut job is actually right about the Earth losing its shorts because of the big fat cookie jar of sins we've accumulated as a society for the last several thousand years. (And you thought it was just because of those modern hedonistic liberals.) I'd venture that a full century of random fornicating in the back seats of parked cars has been the most blatantly egregious of sins, along with the second coming of gladiator porn and Twilight worship, and likely the entire cause of the planetary F.U. to all us beings with so-called advanced brains.

Oh well. I'm giving this year's Napture a thumbs down for apocalyptic failure. In case you were wondering.
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When I'm 85

Sometimes I wonder how long it will take for Prince Charming to show up. Sometimes I don't wonder at all, like when I'm drooling over beefy cable hunks with my girlfriends. Hunks like Crixus, Spartacus, and Gannicus. In my fantasies, I am Slutticus.

At least, if Charming doesn't get here before May 21st, I feel comforted knowing I'll go out in a blaze of manless rapture. But if by chance we're all still here after Saturday, and if by chance I'm still single many, many, MANY years into the future, when I'm an old fartesse and gravity is the only thing having its way with me, I imagine my dating and relationship criteria will change. Just a tad. For instance, I figure when I'm 85, my ideal mate should come with:

• A "handicapped" tag dangling from the rearview mirror of his golf cart. If I'm 85, I want curb service. Speaking of which . . .
• A home on the range near Luby's. A quickie will be a zippy trip to the buffet so I can gum the nutless waldorf. Speaking of which . . .
• Real teeth. Someone's got to help me chew my jerky--and like it! Speaking of which . . .
• A sense of humor for when we both fall down and can't get up. And pee our pants cuz we're laughing so hard. And have to be rescued by people one-quarter our age. Speaking of which . . .
• Good posture. Stooping is unattractive (versus schtooping, which is, of course, AWE-tractive). Speaking of which . . .
• Endless RX of Viagra – unless he's King of the World without it. In which case, giddyup! Speaking of which . . .
• Cowboy boots. I don't care how old we are, we are regularly cuttin' a rug. Speaking of which . . .
• His own hair. Or a beautiful bald head. Both are preferable to the off-kilter wiglets I've seen. Speaking of which . . .
• Poor eyesight. The older I get, the worse my man's eyesight needs to be because . . . because . . . Um . . . Speaking of which . . .
• A good memory. Somebody's gotta remember why he fell in love with me, every day for the rest of my life.

Well, here's to enjoying a phenomenal life regardless of who's in it. In the meantime, I'll keep the castle lights burning.
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If You Can't Stand the Heat

Looking for a good book? Just in time for Texas Mystery Month, I've got your next excellent reading material right here! My friend Robin Allen has a new novel out:  If You Can't Stand the Heat. It's a cozy mystery with a witty protag, so if you want a fun read with an interesting plot that moves at a fast pace, this is the book for you. It's gotten great reviews.











Yesterday was Robin's book launch at Book People in Austin.







Here's a small contingent of Austin WriterGrrls, including me in my jailbird dress. Well, it IS a book about a crime!






We followed the book launch with drinks at the Driskill Hotel on 6th Street. What a great bar. Cozy and luxurious -- old Texas money, dontcha know.



Support new authors and buy this book! You can check out the reviews for Robin's book at Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9644570-if-you-can-t-stand-the-heat
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I Need Direct Guidance

Most of you know I'm a big proponent of the Law of Attraction, which says that whatever you're putting out into the Universe, you're attracting back to you—the good and the bad. So far, no sign of a silver-tipped Brad Pitt but, hey, maybe I'm too askeered of Angie to allow him to enter my space. (Or am I? . . . Come to me, Brad.)

Anyhoo, the steps are Ask, Believe, and Receive. And it's the Receiving part that's tricky. See, it's up to me to recognize the gifts and opportunities when they arrive—for instance, potential dates—and to act on them. Which is the whole problem: it's up to me. Cuz what if these gifts and opportunities aren't so clear cut? How do I know if I'm missing something good, or glomming onto something awful that only seems awesome? I totally did that once with a cheesecake. I mean, how do I really know for sure?

I think what I need is Universal GPS, some guy speaking with authority on behalf of the Universe who guides me with a British accent to my glorious bounty. He can sit on my shoulder and instruct me.

Like when I meet a guy who's not good for me, my UGPS would say: "Depart now. Travel straight ahead for 5 miles. Don't stop to second-guess. I said don't stop!"

When Mr. Goodtime is near, UGPS would say: "Turn left in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Right there! Pinch his ass! Not that one. THAT one!"

When I've missed an opportunity, but there's still hope, UGPS would say: "Turn around when possible. Use your power for good:  flash your boobs."

To avoid that guy I broke up with via text, UGPS would say: "Turn left, then right, then left, then right, then duck into a Baskin-Robbins. What? Where was I? Oh, looky there! Pralines and Cream!"

When I only have a first impression to make something happen, UGPS would say: "In ten seconds, hold in your stomach, stand like a 'ho, and suck on your middle finger." (Heh, like I would ever be so gauche. Again.)

When I'm supposed to notice someone, my UGPS would say: "Hel-l-o-o-o, girl, are you not paying attention to that fine specimen?" (Okay, he's British and flamin'.)

Or when my Forever Man is right in front of me, UGPS would say: "You have arrived at your destination. Don't fuck it up."

See, I need direct guidance. Cuz otherwise, how will I know for sure?
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Blogger! Seriously? You dumped a bunch of my comments! And just when my homies and I were makin' a whole lotta noise! You OWE me, Blogger!
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Three Fabulous Things

Let's just recap my weekend, shall we? Wherein three fabulous things happened...

#1 Fabulous Thing:
Praise the Universe, I finally got my laptop back with a shiny new hard drive and lots of space to cram all sorts of grey matter I want to preserve for posterity. Yay, and huggy thanks to Waynerdawg for making it happen. You da king.

#2 Fabulous Thing:
I made my performance on the "Listen to Your Mother" Show. What a blast! I think I only flubbed one line, but it wasn't the tongue-twister I had feared, so I probably drifted somewhere else when that happened—like to the OMG-I'm-speaking-to-300-people place. Or maybe I was still freaked out at being the person to follow the lovely and incomparable Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess). It was like, Really? I have to follow her? That's the equivalent of Jan Brady on the kitten heels of Marsha Marsha Marsha. Wait, who's Jan again, and why is she stuttering like Porky Pig? Uh, be-a-be-a-be—uh, that's all she wrote, folks.

The incredibly talented LTYM cast, post-show 
(minus Jenny and Kristin).
I'm the short shit in the middle.

Actually, LTYM was huge fun for me, and ham that I am (isn't that what Moses said? Ham that I am? Or maybe it was Dr. Seuss, who sounds a lot like Blythe Jewell, by the way—though Blythe is much prettier, with a lollipop in her hair and potty words in her mouth—this would all be clear to you if you'd been at the show!), I've decided I need a new career in public speaking. If only I had some real wisdom to impart that people would pay to hear while refraining from throwing things. I would so dig it.

I want to publicly thank Wendi Aarons and Jennifer Sutton for the awesome job they did in producing this show and for their incredible contributions on stage. They are two smart, funny, wonderful women. And I'd also like to thank my sisters in writing, all the multi-talented and lovely LTYM cast members. How about we take this show on the road, girls?

More to follow on LTYM later, including links and pics and stuff.

#3 Fabulous Thing:
After the show, I was totally allowed to eat carbs again. Woot-woot! My ingestion this weekend, post LTYM, consisted of chips and queso and salsa, chips and queso and salsa, and, I admit, chips and queso and salsa—and a waffle. Two of the best food groups ever.
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