on not being late, but being late

Yesterday I almost missed my flight. You see, that's the first time that has ever happened to me. Usually when I fly everything goes smoothly (read: they have more than one computer working for those people checking bags). But not yesterday. Yesterday fifty people and I stood in line waiting for our lucky chance to get to use the one computer saved for us regular travelers. Yesterday I was labeled as a failure when a big fat yellow LATE CHECK-IN tag was put on my bag. 

Yesterday was fun.

But as someone somewhere once said: yesterday is history, tomorrow's a mystery.

For the next thirty days I will be playing a game called How Many Places Can I Go Other Than My Home Of Houston. Since I will be living at the airport and possibly almost missing another flight, I decided to come up with a list of things that made up for the fact that Southwest made me I almost missed my flight. 

one.

Funny flight attendants. Most of the time during safety speeches, flight attendants sound about 50% less enthused than the economics teacher in Ferris Bueller. Our guy yesterday was cracking jokes left and right. Almost to the point where I actually wanted to pay attention during the safety speech.

Just kidding. I always pay attention because I'm convinced the one time I don't pay attention will be the one time something will happen and I'll be like HOW IN THE WORLD DOES MY SEAT BECOME MY FLOTATION DEVICE? 

two.

Window seats. Even though I was a LATE CHECK-IN I still managed to get a window seat...in the very back. Although 98% of the time I keep the window shade down so I'm not really sure why I added this as a point...Oh! Yes! Because as you watch the person in the middle seat struggle to fall asleep sitting tall, you get to lean your head on the side of the plane and act like it's totally comfortable to rest that way.

three.

On fleek music. My name is Emily and I have a music problem. Hi, Emily! Every time I listen to music I always get too excited to see or hear what's on next so I skip a song before it is over. Well shut the plane door because yesterday my shuffled playlist was on fleek (isn't that what the kids are saying these days? I try so hard to be cool). All my favs were back to back. It's almost liked the flight gods felt bad for labeling me a LATE CHECK-IN when I was most definitely on time. 

I'm not bitter at all about this, obviously.

four.

Riding the plane train at the Atlanta airport. I don't care what anyone says, I think the Atlanta airport is the best airport and I will always get excited riding the plane train. Pre 9/11 security that's what we did for fun. My mom would take me and my brother to the airport and we would spend way too long (but not too long at all) riding the plane train. That's what was on fleek back in the day.

five. 

Luggage. I was told since I was a LATE CHECK-IN that there was no guarantee my luggage would make it on my flight. It did. And I was happy. The End.

Happy Friday!

Linking up with Karlee.

to the holy city

I'm not an overly emotional person.

Dramatic? Yes. Emotional? Not so much.

Unless we're talking about the movie Up. That totally changes my emotional game. 

I debated even writing about this, but I have been so incredibly moved by my home, my beloved Charleston. Charleston experienced an absolute horrible tragedy last week. I'm sure by now you've gotten the media's take on it, and you've also gotten your 800+ Facebook friends' thoughts and opinions on it, as well. 

While everyone was arguing, bashing, reasoning, and forcing his or her opinion or reasoning down other's throats this was happening:

And this:

And this:

All images: Post and Courier 

To me, what it boils down to is a person thinking he was better or superior than other people. In this instance it was over race, but we've seen it time and time again over race, sexuality, religion--any aspect of a life that makes it different than someone else's life. When will we, as humans, stop deciding that we are better than others? No matter what the reason. 

We are all important. We all have a purpose. We do not get to decide wrongly who gets to live or die. Who has worth and who doesn't. Spoiler alert: we all do.

It has been and still is breathtakingly beautiful, overwhelming, powerful, add in a thousand more synonyms to this, to watch how Charleston has dealt with this tragedy. I have never been so proud to have had the privilege to call a place home. Charleston, you are something else. 

So like I said, I'm not an overly emotional person...unless it has to do with the movie Up. Or with the hugs, tears, support, love, love, love, and unity shown by the strongest of the strong, Chucktown.

I'll leave you with this video from the Unity Chain on Sunday Night. 

Beautiful in every way. I'll be over here crying happy tears for this profound example of hope, love, and a better tomorrow. No matter where Ricky and I end up, Charleston will always have a big ol' piece of my heart. 

Charleston Strong. 

summer lovin

This weekend was one for the books!

What does that even mean, though? One for the books. I mean, sometimes books are scary. Or sad. How do you know what kind of weekend I had if I say it was one for the books? Luckily for you, my weekend was one for the good kind of books which means this blog post will neither be scary nor depressing. 

The good book about our weekend would start like several other of our previous good weekend books:

Once Upon A Time Freddie and Emily packed a picnic and went to Miller Outdoor Theater. While there they ate delicious sandwiches, sipped on wine and Lemonade-ritas (guess who drinks that? Hint: it rhymes with dot flimily and/or neddie), and enjoyed the wonderful performance by _____.

Earlier this year it was Houston Ballet. A couple weeks ago it was MetDance. This weekend we went for The Peterson Brothers. The Peterson Brothers are...wait for it...brothers! Brothers who are eighteen and sixteen and play guitar exactly how an eighteen year old and a sixteen year old should be playing the guitar: with their quick, nimble fingers. They rock, literally. Freddie has totally turned into a groupie. The squealing, giggling, stalking groupie.

Like...he went to the "bathroom" and came back with this picture.

Stalker. 

From there our weekend took us to Jurassic World. GO SEE IT NOW, PEOPLE! My thumbnails are raw from dinosaurs. To be really fair they are raw from my biting them because of scary dinosaurs, but let's skip that long explanation and say they are raw because of dinosaurs. Thanks, dinosaurs. Thanks, Obama. 

From the world of dinosaurs our story took us to Discovery Green for a nighttime flea market. Here is when the story gets REALLY good. 

Freddie has a thing for vinyls. It's almost as serious as his thing for the Peterson Brothers, but not quite that serious yet. There we were at the nighttime flea market, sipping on our free sangrias, when we stumbled upon a vintage vinyl booth. Long story short, Freddie came out with some cool music and some great music. The great music of...the Grease soundtrack! Grease! Is the word! That you heard! Man, I was/am so pumped. I popped that bad boy in the record player yesterday and partied hard-y.

Freddie hasn't come around to singing his Danny/Freddie parts yet, but we'll get there. I told him if it helps he can substitute my name in place of Sandy. Emily, Emily, why, oh Emily??

Like I said, we'll get there. I've got chills that are multiplying, but it's all good because we've got plenty of summer nights coming up. 

Add in some happy hours, some Tex Mex, some friend time pool time (hay, Ellen!) and some BB (Breaking Bad for you amateurs) and you've got yourself a weekend for the good books. 

rain, rain, isn't here.

It has been so dreary here lately. Like I'm almost 50% sure that Mother Nature read my post last week about the Texas heat, and she felt bad so she gave us...no sun. It always looks like it is about to rain cats and dogs, but then it only rains kittens and puppies. In addition to the sprinkles the Weather app keeps telling me there is a 90% chance of thunderstorms, but the Weather app is a dirty liar.

 You see, if you remember from here I am four-year old level terrified of storms. I have to mentally prepare myself for a storm. The weather apps and weather people are making it very hard on me. Woe is me! I think a storm is coming, so I brace myself for the lightning flashes and my screams, and then...nothing happens. Oh wait, yes! Look! I see drizzle! It's drizzling out. Not quite kitten and puppy level, and far, far from cat and dog and thunderstorm level, but the weather app and weather people might be on to something.

 Since the weather has been tres lame-o, I've taken on a new hobby.
Coloring! 

 I mean studying. I've spent a lot of time at the table studying/coloring my anatomy this week. This coloring book is genius. Actually, what is genius is putting this coloring book and my two other textbooks together and then, and only then, I start to understand what the hockey puck these anatomy people are trying to tell me.

 Ricky came home the other day and was all like, Perfected coloring yet? I mean, that is what you're doing, right? Yes, I am working on perfecting coloring. No, I have not perfected it yet. It's hard coloring in tiny bones and also staying in the lines, mmmkay?

 Another hobby I've picked up is using the stairs. What fun!

In preparation for these storms we were supposed to be getting, our complex shut down the elevator because last bad storm time their electrical system was struck by lightning. Struck! By! Lightning! And apparently getting struck by lightning is not only no fun, but it is also very expensive. Who knew? (we all knew).

Oh! Oh! I cooked breakfast on Sunday morning! Like cooked cooked not picked-up-a-granola-bar-and-ate-it cooked breakfast. That's new and stuff.

 So that's what has been going on. I'm coloring, cooking (once), and using the stairs. I've never felt so young in my life (except when I'm out of breath after very slowly walking up six flights of stairs).

Happy Friday!

emily eats

Guess what?

It's one month until my birthday! But, but, but...you good people already knew that, I'm sure. Yesterday afternoon I realized I hadn't even sent out my birthday list yet. That is some crazy shiz! Don't worry, I quickly sent it out and all is right in the world again. 

But that's not really what we're hear to talk about, obviously, because we have the whole month of July to talk about my birthday. Duh!

We're here to talk about this past weekend. This past weekend where we went to an Astros game and I wasn't sure which team to cheer for. Have you ever had a totally mind boggling experience where you didn't know what you were supposed to do? What was expected of you?! Talk about stress. That was me at the Astros game. Sweaty palms, fast pounding heart, left arm ready to chop (Hey, Braves), but I wasn't at Turner Field. I wasn't watching the Braves. I was watching the Astros and the Mariners.

WHO DO I CHEER FOR?!

Listen, all that up there is only half-ish true. Yes, we went to a game, Yes, it was super weird not knowing for whom to root, root, root. But no, I wasn't really worried about it and I definitely wasn't sweating about it because big sporting events usually sell...Dippin Dots.

Dippin Dots!

Dippin Freaking Dots!

The ice cream of the future. The ice cream that brings thousands to sporting events (because, believe me, it's not just the sport bringing fans there). The ice cream of which you are so particular not to drop or lose ANY little dot.

I would go to games every weekend if I knew I could live off of Dippin Dots. 

It's okay though, I just hope I live until the future day where Dipping Dots becomes the ice cream of the present. 

Now that I've given you the secret on how to survive game-day-omg-which-team-is-my-home-team stress I'll go ahead and keep talking about food. 

Pizza.

Pizza was another big part of our weekend. You see, post-Dippin Dots food has to be top notch. I mean the highest top notch. Once you eat Dippin Dots, you can't intake just any food. It has to be good. Really, really, good. 

Which is why we ended up at a hole-in-wall, BYOB, deeeeelicious pizza place. We also ended up ordering three giant pizzas for only seven people, but that's neither here nor there. 

Dippin Dots make the world go round and Luigi's pizza keeps you spinning with the world. <<why I don't come up with my own analogies.  

And that, my friends, was my menu from this past weekend. Now you don't have to stalk Instagram to see what I ate. You're welcome.

Over and out. 

on wearing one's birthday suit

Let's talk about sweat. 

Sweet sweat.

^^^bonus blog points if you can name that movie. 

Back in the ballet days we would sweat a lot. By we, I mean not me. My fellow ballerinas would sweat and their sweat would make the craziest marks on their leotards. My leotard always looked dry and clear. But not my friends'. Nope, their leotards had X-shaped sweat marks in the back, or six pack sweat marks around their abs, and even the ever-so-noticeable under the boob U-shaped sweat marks. Boob sweat, amiright? 

But I had neither boobs nor fun sweat marks. 

Fast forward eleven years and guess what, guys? I sweat now. 

I still don't have boobs, though. Wanh wanh. 

I can hear the thunderous applause--Yay, sweat! Yay, toxins leaving your body! 

But the things is...I don't want to sweat. I don't want to stand up from a nice Sunday brunch and have sweat lines and marks all over my dress. I don't want to look like I wet my pants/dress. I don't want to be sticky all day. 

^^^yes, that was my Sunday.

Texas doesn't care about all those I don't's. Texas doesn't care that you feel like you are dying when you are outside. Texas doesn't care if you hide in the shade, because you will still feel like you are dying. Texas doesn't care that it's only June 10. Texas doesn't care that come mid-August you really will be dead from the heat. 

I can take all the humidity in the world, but the heat...it's hot. No joke. 

So I've compiled four sure-fire ways to survive the Texas heat.

one

Always be within a five foot radius of a pool. Always. Can your bathing suit bottom double as a diaper because you are not leaving this pool's side. I suggest packing snacks, but you should make sure your location also has grills within the required five foot radius. But don't stand too close to the grills because guess what? They're hot, too. <<life lessons from Emily. You're welcome. You are going to sleep, eat, breathe, and survive here until the cooler 80 degree temperatures come. 

two

Carry around something with which to wipe your face. I'm not talking about a cute lil' hanky. I'm talking about a full length, heavy duty towel (or two). Because your face will drench the towel after a few hours. Because your face will literally be dripping in sweat. Dripping in sweat. Have you heard that expression? Yes? I bet it derived here in the hot as h*ll lands of Texas. 

three

Liquids. Drink them. I'm not even going to give a spiel about water because I want you drinking anything that is liquid. That pool water you're living by? Drink it. That condensation on your cup of an actual drink? Lick it off. Get that water. Leftover beers from the party at your new home pool party. Drink it all. You'll be sweating out all the bad stuff so who even cares. Drink. It. All. 

four

Forget clothes. Maybe even forget bathing suits. Heck, spend your time in your birthday suit! Trust me, you might even want to rip off your birthday suit after some time in the sun. There is no cooling down. There is definitely no options for clothes that will cool you down. You will be hot in everything you wear. So forego wearing anything! You came into this world in your birthday suit so you should definitely survive the long, hot summers in your birthday suit and your birthday suit only. 

Obviously I say all most of this in jest. As in, I won't be drinking pool water...yet. And I probably will be wearing clothes this summer. Wink. But serious moment now: 

how do you survive the summer heat?

a texas post

Things I've learned about Texas so far:

Fact #1

Everything is bigger in Texas. This is not limited to the size of the potholes and the number of potholes per square foot. Holy My Tires Aren't Gonna Last Batman, think of the worst road you have ever driven on. Now come drive in Houston and laugh at your memory of said "bad" road. It's almost like they refuse to fix the roads because then Texas wouldn't have the biggest potholes and we can't have anyone winning the bigger contest, now can we?!

But really, my tires aren't gonna last.

Fact #2

The license plates are a snooze fest. No color, no fun, all boring. I kind of like that I still have on my SC tag because I'm pretty sure I just make everyone jealous of my car tag swag when I'm out driving around. Hair flip.

Fact #3

Tortillas and all things Tex Mex are 100% superior here. It's a fact, Jack. They have fresh, warm tortillas everywhere. Everywhere! You don't even have to try to find them! They find you and they make you love them. Have fun eating your gross non-Texas Tex Mex. I'm too busy devouring my delicious fresh tortillas to write more here.

Fact #4

Texas BBQ. Ho. Ly. Cow. The BBQ here is like...

no words. All amazing. Food baby for days. Worth it. It's so delicious that I think I could only handle it like once every couple of months. Because wow. Just come try some. 

Fact #5 

Ricky and I live here now. We are here! In Texas! It's for realsies and I can't even believe it. Sometimes I sit in our living room, looking at the view of downtown, and think Well Fudgesicles, we actually moved to Texas. Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Charleston anymore.  So we'll count it as a Texas fact. 

Happy Friday!

Linking up with Karli.

currently: the summer edition

playing
Okay, so once upon a time I hated country music. And I still kind of do...but Freds listens to it non-stop and I love Freds so yadda yadda yadda (I still don't like it...). I've been catching up on the show Nashville and have these two certain songs stuck in my head. Like you can find me singing one or the other about 22/7. Okay fine, 23/7. They're so catchy! Sing with me!

going

That's a good question, currently link-up. Here's the thing, Freddie and I have been go, go, going since the minute we moved to Texas. We got here and then both have been leaving here for other commitments, so instead of going anywhere right now we are staying--staying and exploring. So by going I mean we are staying and going around Houston. 

wearing

With the help of some wonderful people, I found a Pilates studio here (!!!!) where I can get in my trainee hours so I'm back to wearing workout clothes forever and real clothes for never. I've got my eye on some of these super fancy lace workout leggings. My eye will get more focused on them once the price goes down (so never...), but I'm still looking at them for now because they are pretty.  

sipping

Did you know they make Pinot Grigio Hard Cider? Guess what? They make Pinot Grigio Hard Cider! How rad! I'm not sure who "they" are, but I think they made a great decision when this drink choice was created. Freddie's taste buds disagree. 

reading

Um, can we just talk about how great reading is? Reading is great. Having time to read is great, too. I feel like such a turd saying that. Like if something is really important to you, make time for it, right? Well, I have not been having/making time to read in the past. Lately I have been, and it is the best. If you want to laugh and cry and laugh some more, go read What Alice Forgot. If you want to feel inspired and a little lame because the sound of carrying 50 lbs on your blistered back is a no and then inspired again, go read Wild. I'm having trouble deciding what my next book should be, but I have a feeling it's going to be epic. (I realized that I ordered The Anatomy of Movement from Amazon so technically that is my next book. I told you it was going to be something epic. Wink). 

Linking up with Anne and Jenna!

on being an adult. kind of.

Freddie was gone for the weekend which meant I was on my own for the first time in this new big, bad city of Houston. H-ton. Houst. The Houst <<<this is me still working on and failing a Class A nickname for Houston.

 I told myself, "Self, you will get off of the couch and do things because you are an adult, for goodness sake. Go forth and do adult things!"

Let me tell you what. I did what any woman should do and I washed my freaking makeup brushes for the first time, uh ever. No really, go do it now. I've never felt more adult in my life than when I was washing them and thinking Ewww, that was on my face? and No wonder my face has been so full of zits lately... and How did it get so dirty?! Do I wear that much makeup?!

All I'm saying is, you should be embarrassed to be my blog friend because of how dirty my makeup brushes were. Have no fear though! They are now clean, and maybe in a week's time my face will be shiny and clear and clean (yeah, right. I'm not that adult yet). 

Hmm, let's see. What are some other adult things one should do when one's husband is gone and one finds herself in a new city? Oh yes! Do not explore. Definitely not. Want to know why? Because said new city has been flooding a lot and husband left on a weekend when more flooding happened. So don't explore (unless you want to explore Target because I definitely was there exploring twice this weekend). 

I cleaned. I cooked. I read. I read by the pool. I practiced my Pilates. I studied my Pilates. I did my running. I read by the pool again. I got groceries. I read again. I washed dishes. I ate Ben & Jerry's. 

So much time to read when you don't have a full-time job! Shocking. 

And then, right in the middle of my adult-ing, there was the worst thunderstorm I have ever seen. Ever. You know the pictures of insane, ridiculous looking lightning strikes you see in textbooks, and you think Holy crap, that's not even real. Guess what? It is real and it was all happening outside my window on Saturday night. Insane, ridiculous lightning strikes and the world's loudest thunder. This all equaled Adult Emily crumbling into Tiny, Helpless Emily hiding under a blanket on the couch. 

I am just as terrified, if not more, of thunderstorms as I was when I was 5, 10, 15, and 20, etc. You get the picture. THUNDERSTORMS ARE SCARY. My adult solution was to blast the TV and scream a loud AHHHHH or NOOOO every time I knew a thunder blast was coming. 

...

Maybe I'll try the adult thing in a few more years. When I can look thunderstorms in the eye and say, Pooh-Pooh. Until then I will bask in the glow of my face caused by my newly clean and wonderful makeup brushes.