Got my hair did....

My hair is an on-going process. It is THICK like horse hair. I especially love when someone casually says: "I have thick hair!" Then my competitive side kicks in and I say: "Oh yeah? Feel MINE sucka!" and then they say: "OH MY GOSH YOUR HAIR IS SO THICK!" and then I smile smugly.

I can happily report that I have never had hair like this: 

Hello sexy 80's hair!

or this:

This is my grandma circa 1972. My dad calls this the "Bonnie and Clyde" picture. I'm thinking she's more of a "Little Bo Peep"

Even though I've never had those stylin' locks I have had some baaaaaad hair cuts in my VERY SHORT lifetime so I'm pretty doggone particular about my hair. I've gone from short to long to short to blonde to red to brown to blonde all in the name of style.

Blonde.

Red-brown

YEE-HAW! Who knows what color this is? Butterscotch?

I think Christian's hair is better looking than mine at this point....

I must be yelling: I have short hair...and I love pirates! My best friend Jana's face says: I told her not to drink that extra coffee, but she just never listens!

Hair is an ongoing battle for women. Am I right ladies? Course I am. My problem is (and this is my problem in life) I get bored easily. I'm not going to say I have ADD but I might have ADD. This translates to every aspect of my life, including my hair. 

This has come back to bite me right on the ass in my life...."Yes hair-cutter person! I really want super short blonde hair...yes I know it's been long and brown for the past 6 months.....DO IT! DO IT NOW!" and then I cry in the car on the way home and call my mom saying: "SHE RUINED MY HAIR!!"

I started to feel the breeze of change right around Thanksgiving. The wind was calling me. Speaking to me. It was saying: "Do it. Dye your hair red. Why not? And go ahead and get some chunky bangs while your at it...c'mon....it's no big deal...."

So feeling charged with the gumption of hair change and the attitude of Why not? It's only hair....

 I marched into my hairstylist's salon looking like this: 

Minus the giant philly cheese steak and chipped nails. 

and came out looking like this: 

TA-DA! Red hair and bangs baby!

Yeah I was an intramural champ in College.....don't worry about it!

So the next time you hear the whisper of change in your ear, I say go for it. Life can be boring enough just living day to day.... just as long as you don't end up like this: 

 **disclaimer! I am in no way related to any of the following**

Boy or girl? Your call.

Or this:

Hello. I'm Timmy and I'm the teacher's pet.

Or even: 

He is saying: "you WANT to know me."

Actually this last one is pretty impressive..... 

I think I may be emotionally ready now...

A few weeks ago I went with my brother Andrew and my mom to his senior picture session. I was just a wee-lass of 10 when my baby brother was born. Instantly, I adored him. He was my baby doll, and I carted him around EVERYWHERE. So it really blew my mind that I was watching him get HIS senior pictures because I totally remember getting mine taken:

No big deal.

Each year of Andrew's high school years he's taken a STUPID yearbook photo. Seriously. Either his hair is in an angry comb-over or he's making an idiotic face on purpose. I don't even have one to show you because my mom has hidden them all. So the deal was Andrew could take his Senior yearbook photo HOWEVER he wanted (a mustache is involved) as long as he swore to take good senior pics. I am pleased to say he stayed true to his word, even though his 'big-ness' made me sad. Why? Well.....

.......It's hard to go from hanging out and knowing this little dude's face so well: 

to this: 

WHO ARE YOU?!

And from this: 

To this: 

Where is my smooshy faced baby?!

After awhile I did come to grips with the fact that this model session was happenin' with or without me, so I did what I do best: Be bossy. I declared myself Andrew's stylist and 'pose-instructor.' I even offered to take control of the camera for the photographer....I see now it's for the best he declined my offer....whatever.

I consider myself the family historian and I made sure to take plenty of 'behind the scenes' shots. Let me tell you, I got some good ones!

His face says: "Don't bother me! I'm modeling my face off!"

This next look says: "It's sexier with your hands in your pockets. Trust me, I'm a model."

The thing about Andrew is he's really really really serious. So in addition to being his stylist/modeling coach, I had to keep him laughing and loose: 

Oh you know how that one time I said Andrew was super serious? Yeah, that was a total and complete lie, the guy needs zero help in that department:

Right before I snapped this, he literally said: "Hey Jess, what if I took my senior pictures like THIS"

What's amazing about being close with someone from the day they were born is you get to see all their quirks, picadillos and personality traits emerge as they grow. So the kid who does this:

really did come by it honestly: 

Hey what are big brother's for?

and even though my little smoosh face grew from this: 

into this:

and sometimes it makes me extremely sad that he is becoming a grown up with a grown up job and grown up responsibilities, I can at least take comfort in the fact that......

........we'll always have this:

Senior yearbook picture, 2011-12.
So proud.

Way back when 3...baseball edition.

When I was just starting to date Chris in high school, it was during the football season. I don't know if you know this, but our town is NUTS for high school football. Being raised in a basketball family, I didn't really care about football. All I knew is I LOOOVED those powder blue pants....

This is Chris scoring a touchdown..

Oh hello blue pants! Thank you for being invented.

My dad even told me this joke when I was in High School: Girls who like baseball enjoy the strategy of the game, and the skill of hitting a tiny round ball with a round bat. Girls who like football-Oh look at those pants!! <---Totally me 10 years ago. 

If I was apathetic about football I REALLY didn't like baseball. I would venture to say I hated it. So it's fitting that I would marry a baseball player, now baseball coach. 

For the first six years of our relationship, I was constantly dealing with my arch nemesis: baseball. Baseball took Chris away for 5 out of 6 of my birthdays, every summer, and most weekends in the Spring. I never complained (ok I complained, but minimally) and I went to all of his home games to show my support. 

Me and one of my besties not letting a little rain stop us from cheering Chris on. 

Baseball officially took over my life. Even my little brother, Andrew, was playing it like crazy: 

This kid now TOWERS over me, and is a pretty awesome player himself.

I basically knew NOTHING about baseball, and had to learn it all on the fly. I first learned to love the player-then I learned to love the game they love so much. I then discovered that baseball players are a special breed.

I think since baseball is SUCH an intense thinking sport (I mean, really, if you only hit 3 out of 10 times, you are considered successful...say what?!) when the boys are off the field, they really like to relax. They NEED to relax.

Baseball players MIGHT be the funniest people on the planet. If you get to play a boy's game as a man- you're probably going to be a little goofy. Not to mention all the time spent together in the dugout. You learn to entertain yourself: 

This is Chris' college team running a football play before the game, see what I mean?

Secondly I learned to appreciate the baseball tan:

Note the perfect jersey outline. Sexy...kinda!

A baseball tan represents athleticism, dedication and commitment. You play a game that requires you to catch and hit a ball...outside...rain or shine.....during the coldest and hottest months of the year...you gotta have commitment to put up with that crap.

I learned that baseball takes brains and brawn:

Ouchtown, population: Chris

Finally, I learned these guys are fiercely loyal to each other, and you have a friend for life:

Taken circa 2004 and we're still friends with these idiots.

As our months together turned to years, I ultimately transitioned into a GIANT fan of baseball. I had the unique advantage of seeing inside the warped mind of a player, and came to understand this special game and what it represents. 

Truthfully, I'm grateful Chris played so much baseball. I credit all those late night phone calls and time away to a lot of our success. We learned to communicate clearly and honestly, together.   

I think we both knew to get to this:

and this,

Chris coaching last Spring

We had to first, be this:

and this,

 

 

And the baseball pants didn't hurt, either:

Holy crazy awesome weekend Batman!

I am super excited to share my weekend with you! I took a bajillion pictures (which means half are blurry) and created TONS of memories! Give me tonight to recover, and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow!!

P.S. I am currently eating a delicious left over burrito while Betty sits at my feet and stares...drool included.


-Jess

It's that time of year....*update*

Today I was telling Chris in my world the holidays don't start until AFTER Thanksgiving. Then I realized we were in the car driving to Wal-Mart to buy supplies for a Thanksgiving feast tomorrow, and that the holidays had officially commenced without my say-so! RUDE holidays...RUDE.

 I even broke out the 'ol Thanksgiving decorations complete with socks and a clothes hanger.....

 I came home, popped in the movie "Elf" starring Will Ferrel, and made spinach dip in a bread bowl and a pumpkin cheesecake with caramel sauce (question: Do you say CARA-mel or CAR-mel? I say CARmel. I also pronounce Crayola Crayon like cran so I could be wrong on the whole cara vs. car-mel debate).  I'm also making these Meatball Bubble Biscuits and White Chocolate Cherry Shortbread cookies.... I have some work to do.....AND we're going bowling tonight (c'mon 300!!).

I will take a lot of pictures of our feast tomorrow so you can see how it's done in good 'ol Missouri!!!

***udpdate***
 I forgot to mention that yesterday I asked Chris to be my sous chef by reading me the online recipe for the salted caramel cheesecake.  I really didn't need a sous chef, but I was bored and wanted someone to talk to while slaving away in the kitchen......NEVER AGAIN. 
 Here is the sad sad sad truth and fate of the delectable dessert:

Chris: "Ok next up.....add 3 tablespoons of salt."
Me: "Really? Gosh that seems like a lot.........Ok so 3 tablespoons of SALT."
Chris (confident): "Yes. 3 tablespoons."
Me: "3 tablespoons of SALT"
Chris (even more confident): "Yes."
Me: "3 TABLESPOONS"
Chris (confident and annoyed): "YES!"
Me (shakes head in bewilderment but trusting Chris and unknown recipe to know what they are talking about): "oooookay!" *dumps in 3 tablespoons of SALT*

2 hours later...... 

Me: OH MY GOD THIS IS THE MOST DISGUSTING CHEESECAKE I'VE EVER TASTED IN MY LIFE! I FEEL LIKE I'M EATING THE OCEAN IT IS SO SALTY..... *THUMP* (that was the sound of the precious cheesecake hitting the trash can while trying not to puke).


My moral of the story: If you want someone to be your sous chef, don't have them read the recipe to you out loud they might mistake TABLESPOON for TEASPOON...........that and everybody Wang Chung tonight. Oh and if you think 3 tablespoons of salt is a little suspicious and is too much for a sweet dessert...you're probably right and you should go with your gut instinct to double-triple check that fact.

You need a Layla in your life.

Some people in the world are what you would call 'cat lovers.' Sadly, I am not one of these people.

I used to love cats. I even had a cat named Maid Marian after the character in the Disney movie 'Robin Hood' (I still don't think you understand the magnitude my love for all things Disney). Here is a picture of my 4 year old self and Maid Marian taking a nap...

Yeah that's me in a frilly pink bathing suit taking a nap with my cat that I dressed in baby doll clothes.....No big deal!

 Honestly, I thought I LOVED cats. Then I turned14, begged and received a cat I named Kobe (go Lakers!). Don't worry about the fact that Kobe attacked and attempted to eat my arms and legs on a daily basis, it's ok.

Although, it kind of looked and felt like this: 

NO KOBE NO!!! DON'T GO FOR THE JUGLAR!!!

Actually it wasn't ok. It wasn't ok at all, and I was tired of getting rabies shots every 2 weeks. Needless to say, Kobe had to go. 

THEN when I was 20 I decided I needed a cat to keep me company in my apartment. Who lets me make decisions!?!? I got an orange fluffy cat Chris named Hank. Let me just say: SCREW Hank. I HATE Hank. That was years ago, and I'm still nursing a hatred for that damn cat. He and I didn't understand each other whatsoever. After that I said: NO MORE CATS FOR ME!! 

Then I got Betty. 

......and she's basically a cat.

Since Betty fulfilled my animal cuddle need (and wasn't snooty like a cat). It was decided that we needed an actual dog-dog, to go with our cat-dog. Enter this thing: 

 

HOWDY Y'ALL!

I'm Laya and I HATE fake pumpkins and art supplies!

Other than eating the burrito I left on the table last night while coaching a basketball game; Layla is kind of perfect.  She is ALL that is dog:

 and a bit of a card shark.

We built a blanket fort last Saturday (pics to come) and Layla just HAD to get in on the card action. Her face says: "I TOLD you to throw down the pair of threes. Now do it. And then make me a snack."

In addition to being a bad ass card shark dog , Layla also thinks she is human:

"uhhhh....NO. You sleep on the floor, I called dibs on the bed. ALL of it. Also, I need a new pillow, yours is too fluffy and hurts my neck."

She will always protect you from the evil vacuum cleaner...

 

She HATES the vacuum cleaner like I hate Hank, the stupid orange fluffy college apartment cat. 

If you ever need a frisbee partner or a running back for your football team, give Layla a call because she's got the moves:

Here she is trying to find a ball for us to play with. She is a bit suspicious that I am holding out on her, and comes back to check on me. When you see Betty, you will understand why I think there needs to be a "doggy braces'' invention......

Layla always stays loyal to her football team even when they lose to the Patriots 34-3......

Chhhhiiieeeffsss........

I think I hear Chiefs offensive coordinator calling.....Layla will get back with him......

The best part of having your own Layla? 

I mean beside the obvious card shark bodyguard, human like qualities, fearless vacuum fighter, physical prowess, ball hunting skills and loyalty?

She's not a cat.

Bowling extraordinaire

A few days ago, I wrote the masterpiece called: "The bucket list! The bucket list!" As usual, I thought of 60 more things I would like to add to my bucket list like: create a new recipe and hit a home run (this does NOT have to be achieved during an actual game or on an actual field).

If you remember, one of my bucket list items was to bowl a 300. Well I went bowling with Chris and my parents last night, can you guess what happened?? C'mon, GUESS! If you guessed that I bowled a perfect game.... 13 strikes in a row.... a score of 300....then you guessed...

WRONG! Yay for you! 

This picture is from last year when we were in a bowling league, but you could pretty much substitute it for any other time...except I have blonde hair now and different glasses because I lost the ones in this picture AND I hate Miller Lite.....I'm only drinking it because it was free and free beer is always good beer.

It's ok I didn't bowl a perfect game, I'll get another chance soon because we bowl a lot. A lot a lot. We even have a locker to keep our shoes and bowling balls in:

Chris is holding my shoes and trying to get my ball (oh yeah--totally have my own ball) out of our bowling alley locker....shortly after this picture I realized I should have asked him if he needed help, but ....I didn't. 

It is vitally important to have the right equipment when bowling. You can opt to use the bowling shoes at the bowling alley that THOUSANDS of people have worn before you: 

 Note the many pairs of shoes on the shelves and any other possible bowling accessory you made need is readily available.

 Or just get a pair of your own! 

These little babies have seen better days. 

I got them as a  Christmas present from my parents two years ago.

After my mom saw what a blast bowling was she decided to get in on the action. Not wanting to wear the musty shoes provided by the bowling alley she decided to express herself with a pair of bowling shoes that showed her personality:

SHA-ZAM! Tie-dye bowling shoes? Yes, please!

When bowling, you must put your name into the mini-computer to track your progress. I find putting in funny or book characters as names makes us all bowl much better:

In the 1 position you have D for 'Dragon' (dad). R for 'Rocksteady' (me). Number 3 DQ is 'Dancing Queen' for mom and NH is 'Night Hawk' for Chris. As you can see Night Hawk had a heck of game, rocksteady not so much.....

Look at that form! Go mom go! Let's just all assume that this turned out to be a STRIKE!

Night Hawk is obviously AWESOME at bowling....and life.

So if you're ever in Missouri, be sure to look me up.

I'll definitely take you bowling. It doesn't matter if it's tomorrow or ten years from now. Why not? Because like the sign says when you walk out of our bowling alley: 

Oh hell.

(Obviously the sign is to big for my camera....)

 Take 2: 

*sigh* since this is clearly not working.....

..... I've recreated the sign for you and added a just little bit more pizazz....