Surprise, Surprise

I like surprises. I really do. Not the kind where your pooch leaves you a mammoth I-can't-believe-you-left-me-alone-with-what's-her-face-for-the-whole-weekend dump in the middle of the carpet. Not the kind where your teenager discovers she's oops-wonder-how-that-happened skipped a period. And I'm not too sure about the I-told-my-parents-about-you-and-YOUR-BLOG announcement, cuz . . . holy first impressions, Batman! Those heart-stopping surprises can leave you pinging around the room like a crazed pinball in search of a deep, dark hole. But I'm talking about fun surprises. Man surprises, cuz when a man surprises you with his good intentions, you get a feel-good smile out of it. At some point.

But, as we all know, there are right ways and wrong ways for a man to surprise his woman. For instance:

Wrongway Surprise Exhibit A, which says:  But I Was Doing You a Favor
After Winter put her cake in the oven, she went to the store, leaving her husband Adam "in charge." Adam, a self-professed "excellent baker" from waaaaaay back, took it upon himself to exhume their daughter's birthday sheet cake from the oven and frost it. How hard could it be, right? You pop that sucker out of the oven, cut it in half, plop it on a plate, and slather the creamy stuff all over it, just like you do to your face in the morning. He must have been thinking, When she sees what I have done for her, I am so getting laid tonight.

I give you now Surprise Exhibit A, for which we all got a good laugh and Adam got a good tongue lashing, and for which (I am betting cold, hard cash) Adam did not get laid.



Even though it looks like it, this hand-frosted masterpiece has not been, nor would it ever be, attacked by rats or raccoons or humans who are not blind. Plus, Adam's bakery exploits necessitated a replacement cake, prepared in record "OMG we don't have time for this" time by his harried wife.

Wrongway Surprise Exhibit B, which says:  But You LIKE Surprises
Lacy's husband Wayne, always a kidder, strategically placed an intriguing trinket in her bathroom shower, hoping she would come upon it and be pleasantly shocked and awed, followed by uproarious laughter and phone calls to all her friends about how he “got” her good. He must have been thinking, She's going to be reminded how much I make her laugh, and—slam dunk—I will surely get laid tonight.

I give you now Surprise Exhibit B, the sight of which caused his wife to highjump six feet into the air, clutching her ample bosom, while shrieking his name like an evil banshee, and for which (I am betting cold, hard cash) Wayne did not get laid.



Note also that Surprise Exhibit B is considerably larger than a real cockroach and therefore inspires higher decibels. And since Waynerdog repeated this little trick with me, his unsuspecting roomie (because he could), I can attest to the part about highjumping, bosom clutching, and evil banshee shrieking. As a side note, turns out Wayne can scuttle out of a room just as fast as a cockroach.

Rightway Surprise Exhibit C, which says:  But I Was Thinking of You the Whole Time
Hot Sexy Man, or as he likes to be called, HSM, spent the earlier part of last Friday night in the liquor store where he chatted up 24-year-old hottie distributors and taste-tested their finer offerings. While there, HSM texted me, "I got something for you." He must have been thinking, She's going to think I only have eyes for her, and this will get me laid tonight.

On his arrival several hours later, I was presented with Surprise Exhibit C.

I really did dig it and, of course, you see how much we drank once the bottle was opened. I will let you guess how this one turned out—if you dare risking your cold, hard cash.

(In the interest of full disclosure, cuz I know you peeps have come to rely on my honesty, I am still and always a virgin.)
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August, Best Revealed in Pics. And a modicum of, you know, prattle.

I know. It's crazy how long I've been MIA, but it's only because August has been filled with a crap ton of life. The good kind. That translates to consumption, people, if I'm honest:  food, drink, adventure, work, love, and a little bit of heartache. Some things I captured in pictures, some I didn't dare. Here's the quick recap:

I wrote and edited a book. Technically, I ghostwrote it, but people, an entire freakin' book. In four days. I might have died from lack of TV and Internet but for the cool sister-writer company, fascinating subject, and relaxing ambiance of our remote Round Top farmhouse. Plus, she paid me.

Hot sexy man interlude:  One evening, I listened to a salsa band and danced on a crowded patio with said hot sexy man. We were the only ones dancing merengue and cumbia, and I didn't care. Let a few Coronas be your inspiration, people. And perhaps animal print.

Got to be both entranced and thoroughly bewildered by 2001 A Space Odyssey. But this hot sexy man interlude was well worth it. The man both entrances and bewilders me too.

Took part in filming a lipdub at the Hemisfair in San Antonio. It was ten billion degrees out—because that is the convection oven that Central Texas has become—and I zipped around in a golf cart with a crazed woman and her megaphone while cute cameramen dashed madly about, dripping sweat. But what a fun project! When it's ready for viewing, I'll post it.

Bestie trades in her megaphone for me!

Afterward, we returned to my bestie Winter's house in Canyon Lake, slurped pinot grigio (oh, how pinot loves me), reveled in girl talk, and gazed at the stars and the moon. There may have been some howling and crooning, but I don't remember.

BTW, you can see Winter at HorseCentric. Excellent blog about all things horsey.

Our view of Canyon Lake.

Last week, took a six-hour drive to Fort Polk to see my youngest daughter and her family. Held my gorgeous grandbaby AJ—when she would let me. At three months, she only likes her mama right now. But soon enough, she will develop a taste for candy and shopping.

Here she is NOT HAVING IT.

Her father and I both walked around saying, "She hates me."

Fortunately, the other one and I have a mutual admiration thing going. Jazzy B stole my heart at the moment of her birth almost eight years ago. She is most definitely third-generation firecracker.

While in Fort Polk, went to the shooting range with Sergeant SIL and fired a couple hundred rounds of his Glock and a couple hundred rounds of his AR15. Was all over the map with the Glock, but the AR15 won my heart, especially when I kicked a volleyball down the range—with bullets. Somebody, sign me up for an action movie! At the far end of the range, 440 meters out, was an itty bitty white target, which I hit repeatedly. Iron scope, people. When the SIL brags to his buddies that your shooting is better than some guys in his unit, we can all be proud.

Had long, wonderful, meaningful talks with my little girl, who's grown into a smart woman with a big heart and some good advice for her mama. When did the shoe get on the other foot? This is when you get to feel really proud she's yours and that her family is so awesome. And that her liquor choices are actually drinkable now.

Hot sexy man interlude:  went skinny dippin'—and did not get caught. Unlike last time, when I was rudely advised of some sort of policy matters. Who gets all businessy at one in the morning? I say, a little adventure is good for the soul. (Sorry, no photo.)

I fed horses, then groomed and rode a sweet old paint named Cody, for whom I felt instant love and affection. Partly because he didn't—nay, couldn't—buck me off. Afterward, I gave him a shower. Think he liked it; he asked Bestie for my number . . .

Then I did something no one has ever asked me to do before: I swept dirt and pebbles. Only for you, Bestie!

Went to see Conan (holy mother of hunky barbarians—didn't need the witch to be spellbound) with my other bestie, roomie, general troublemaker, and Truebie partner, and with whom the subject of food porn has taken on an intriguing life of its own. Um, hold that thought for another post, while we go grocery shopping.

And? I shaved.

See? August has been busy.
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Shopping with Roomie

My roomie, Loops, is truly what a great friend should be—like a sister. I can pretty much tell her anything—and I have—and I know she won't sit in judgment. We have more fun together than ought to be legal sometimes and, fortunately, her awesome husband is completely cool with that.

So this afternoon, after pool time, we're at the grocery store. I send her on a mission to secure a cucumber for the salad I'm going to make for our regular True Blood Sunday feast. She finds one, holds it high, and YELLS to me across the produce aisles. "Koko! Is this big enough for you?"

I squint to see, which is unnecessary because people can see zeppelins right there from the bleachers. I think, I've never seen a cucumber with that sort of girth, and I imagine her firing it into the air while I go long behind the peaches.

"That'll do," I say, motioning her over. "Let me have a better look." It's important to examine produce before you buy it. I mean, sometimes vegetables that are too large are not juicy and tasty enough, so, you know, I have to be sure.

Image is larger than it appears,
and it is HUGE.

Loops brings it to me—all proud—and shakes it in front of my face, but she won't hand it over.

"Oh really?" I say, plus superlative words reserved for shock and awe. "That big boy's mine. For my salad."

It quickly becomes a tug-of-war. I grab one end, she has the other. We are engrossed in the behemoth produce for a few minutes, till we notice the old guy sneering his disapproval while maneuvering his cart around us.

You know that only inspires us to be troublemakers, right? Because that's appropriate in a grocery store. But never fear, civilized people, and my mother, we mature within minutes, right after we sheathe the prize. For safety reasons.

Surely, this needs no caption.

But Loops has it in for me, snapping photos whenever I pick up something ripe for innuendo. In most aisles, we are giggly tweens.

Here are just a few highlights from our shopping excursion that are safe to post.

Like I'm not going to share the Rodney!

No! You cannot steal my mojo.

A little light reading for later. But I can't choose just one!

Woot! HEBuddy Bucks—50 points for Koko! 
Let's just say Camera Girl spun the wheel for ONE point.

And then there's the payback thingy. You do it like this:  When Loops isn't looking, open the hummus and have a taste (mmm, good); then put the lid back on, align it with groceries that need to be put away, and wait for Loops to discover it.

"Oh my god! Look at this!" Loops shouts. "Oh my god!"

I screw up my face. "That's . . . ew!"

At her husband, she shoves the tub of hummus and shrieks, "Did you do this?"

Husband says no, makes grunts of extreme disgust. Loops has quite the little freak-out over grocery store etiquette and uncivilized shoppers, which is kind of . . . well, totally satisfying.

In a sisterly kind of way.
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