Remember the “bro”? Or the “MANzier”? Then you’ll love this.
And by the way, the spokesperson for this company makes me really uncomfortable. I cringe and hug my knees every time he opens his mouth. But don’t let that stop you.
Author / Bethe
New Moon
I’m such a bad blogger. I have just been so busy playing this summer and enjoying a little freedom from school and obligations that I haven’t had time to sit down and put anything down on paper. I’ll assure you that things are very, very good right now, and I continue to enjoy some real blessings from unexpected places. I’m very thankful these days.
Since it’s been awhile, here’s a classic “Bethe Moment” from last week to hold you over. I took a quick business trip down to Austin last Thursday to go to a conference. On my way down I spotted an outlet mall in Round Rock with my VERY FAVORITE STORE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD… White House/Black Market. I could wear their clothes every day and be perfectly content to live in a colorless world of black and white.
I made it a top priority to stop there on my way back from the conference. I found endless bargains (everything 70% off, praise the Lord!) and then spotted my SECOND FAVORITE STORE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD… Banana Republic. God was smiling down on me that day at the outlet mall Round Rock, Texas!
I was so excited and distracted by this fantastic find that I must not have paid much attention as I put my clothes back on in the dressing room. I took my bags and the pretty green shirt I wanted to buy and made my way through the very crowded store to the front counter. But on the way, some sparkly (discounted!) jewelry caught my eye, so I spent several minutes leaning over the endless options laid out on a low table, trying on necklaces and comparing dangly earrings. I spotted more necklaces on another table, and again leaned over and marveled over all the glorious wonders to be had at BR that day.
But I was good and talked myself out of buying more jewelry (confession: I had already bought fantastically cheap jewelry next door, so I had plenty) so I finally made my way to the check-out line. Several minutes later, a nice woman came and stood in line behind me.
And then I got a tap on the shoulder, and this nice lady told me…
“Honey, your skirt is unzipped.”
Eeek! I reached behind to feel the zipper. Not only was it unzipped, but it was gaping open, leaving my beautiful underwear visible for all the world to see. Eeek! I quickly made a mental note of all the times I bent over to look at the beautiful jewelry, with all the folks standing behind me. Yep… there was a full moon that night in Round Rock, and the moon was me!
Which is why I can never go back. Or if I do, it will definitely have to be in a disguise.
Fun with a photo booth
I think I’m going to declare 2009 to be the Summer of the Weddings. I’m not complaining… weddings are a great excuse to see old friends, eat a free meal, and dance the night away. Last night we went to yet another one… this may be one of the coolest weddings I’ve ever been to.
First, they had a photo booth.
Then, they had ice cream… and homemade chocolate cream pie. Even chocolate chip cookies.
And finally… there was two-stepping. My night was complete.
Congrats Katie & Justin! May God bless your new marriage, and thanks for a fantastic party!
A toast to the happy couple
Here is the toast my sister Sarah and I gave to Lindsay and her new husband Dallas at their wedding last weekend:
Dallas, you have been dating our sister for six years, and we’ve put through many trials. Through this lengthy pledging process, you have proven yourself worthy, and because of that…
Tonight we would like to welcome you into the sorority. (hand shirt)
First thing on the agenda is our formal event. Make sure you’re there tomorrow night, in a tuxedo, ready for your initiation, and then to the dance that follows.
This year we’re excited to announce that our annual sisterhood retreat will be held in (drum roll)… HAWAII!!! Please have your parent or guardian sign this waiver so you can travel more than 15 miles from the house, and so that you cannot hold the sorority liable if you decide to have another tarzan vine-swinging experience on your trip.
We at Beta Sigma Lambda (for Bethe, Sarah, Lindsay) are very community-minded. We have service projects almost every weekend that you can take part in. Please be sure to bring your lawn mower, your paintbrush, and your first-aid kit – also known as Lindsay. The first project will be Sarah’s yard, and then we will move on to Bethe’s house, where there will be some minor manual labor… so please also bring a water bottle. We at Beta Sigma Lambda appreciate the importance of good hydration.
Don’t forget about elections next year. We are always looking for new and diverse leaders. You are welcome to run for any elected office, including president. However, I wouldn’t hold my breath, since you are a bit outnumbered, and you only get ½ a vote. We’re pretty sure president and vice-president is in the bag for the next few years, but feel free to try anyway.
This year our focus is on recruitment. Please feel free to recruit new pledges. Our only requirements are that they be tall, dark, handsome… and rich. Sarah would also like one from Australia.
Our chapter meetings are held at the pedicure spa. Your attendance is not mandatory, but you must send your lovely wife… and please also send cookies. Please also note that your dues will need to be paid by the first of the month. Make that check out to me.
Dallas, we’re so glad to have you as part of our family. Let’s all raise our glasses, in true sorority fashion, to welcome Dallas into the sisterhood. You’re in it for life, mister. We can’t wait to teach you the secret handshake.
To Dallas and Lindsay!
It started out rough, with our sweet dad wrecking his car right before the rehearsal at the church. He ended up hurting his arm and popping his tire, so the men (my dad, uncle, and a family friend) had to change his tire in the sweltering heat. Then, while we were practicing at the church, an employee came in and told us that tornadoes were nearby and that we needed to high-tail it over to dinner before they hit. So we all hopped in our cars and drove like maniacs to the nearby Mexican food restaurant. Once there, everything was much, much calmer. Speeches went great, their slide show was beautiful (except that apparently I didn’t take a good photo from the time I was 8 until I was 27), and I think everybody had a wonderful time. And they got married the next day, which is really all that matters.
A wedding and another ugly cry
I was so good this weekend… I didn’t cry a single time during my sister’s wedding. I managed to keep it together the entire weekend without losing it a single time–I was so proud of myself.
It was a wonderfully fantastic weekend. It was also wickedly stressful. I barely ate the whole weekend. I slept just a few hours. We dealt with one crisis after another (you know, the typical car wrecks, flat tires, tornadoes, orange-size hail warnings on the radio, and hair disasters at the salon). I had to get up extra early to get the happy couple to the airport this morning. Then church, then back to my parents’ house to drop off the tux and wedding dress. It was there that (a) I found out that my childhood dog died this morning, and (b) I dropped my beloved iPhone and killed it.
Now even more flustered, I set off to the Apple store to get my phone fixed or replaced. I walked up to the first employee I saw and asked him to help me fix or replace my phone.
That’s when I got the news. I couldn’t get a new phone for TWO DAYS.
And the tears started welling up in my eyes. At first, I just got all blurry-eyed, and my lip started to quiver as I asked him to check with the other stores to see if someone else could help me. I told him I’d be willing to drive to Dallas to get a new phone. Anything. I was desperate.
And then the poor, unsympathetic Apple employee told me that there was no store in the entire metroplex that could help me until tomorrow night.
And that’s when the waterworks started to flow.
I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. It wasn’t about the phone. But one minute, I’m trying to stay calm, and the next minute, the tears start flowing, the shoulders start shaking, my nose starts running, and I blurt out, “BUT-I-DON’T-HAVE-ANY-OTHER-PHONE-I-DON’T-HAVE-A-HOME-PHONE-AND-I-DON’T-KNOW-ANYBODY’S-NUMBER-AND-I-HAVE-PLANS-THIS-AFTERNOON-AND-PEOPLE-ARE-EXPECTING-ME-TO-CALL-THEM-AND-WHAT-AM-I-GOING-TO-DO-WITHOUT-ANY-WAY-TO-CONTACT-PEOPLE-IF-I-NEED-TO-CALL-911-IN-AN-EMERGENCY-I-WON’T-HAVE-A-WAY-TO-DO-IT!-I’M-SORRY-I’M-SO-EMOTIONAL-BUT-MY-SISTER-GOT-MARRIED-AND-MY-DOG-DIED-THIS-MORNING-AND-I’M-HAVING-A-VERY-BAD-DAY-AND-ISN’T-THERE-SOMETHING-ELSE-THAT-YOU-CAN-DO???”
All that, as tears and snot ran down my cheeks. Some of the other customers started to stare, and I just couldn’t get it together. A weekend of controlling my emotions had finally taken its toll and right there in that Apple store, I just lost it. Sometimes a girl just has to have a good cry.
But the crying didn’t do any good. Apple still couldn’t (wouldn’t) help me, and I’m still without my beloved iPhone until tomorrow night (if then). Luckily I have some wonderful friends who lent me an old cell phone, so I do have a phone in case my house burns down and I need to call 911. I’m officially back in the dark ages.
Going to the Chapel
Tomorrow is the big day! My baby sister is getting married (the one in the blue). So crazy, I remember when she was an itty bitty thang, cute as could be with her white blonde hair and mischievous smile. And now she’s all grown up into a fabulous woman, and she’s getting a pretty cool husband! Or, I should say that Dallas is gaining a pretty cool wife (and amazing sisters-in-law, I might add).
I’ll post more about tonight’s rehearsal dinner later, but for now I need to get my beauty sleep. Remind me to tell you about the wreck, flat tire, sprained or broken arm, the tornadoes, and the sorority initiation. Tonight was a night to remember!
It’s called a bank
If you thought you were having a bad day, check out this poor lady.
Girl Power
This in no way makes this story any less traumatic for the woman, but I think the bad guy got what he deserved. Actually, he deserves to have other body parts removed as well, but at least this is a start.
And the panic sets in
I’m the co-maid of honor in my youngest sister’s wedding on Saturday, and I wasn’t the least bit nervous. Until about an hour ago, when I discovered that there will be a fabric runner laid on top of the center aisle for me to walk on.
EEEK! What was my sister thinking?!
I’m the girl who tripped at a job interview as I walked down a tile hallway. One moment I was walking along in my brand-new business suit and high heels, and the next moment I was face-down on the linoleum, arms and legs spread eagle. I hit so hard my forehead had a bruise. I think they were so worried I might sue them that they went ahead and gave me the job.
I’m the girl who tripped while walking up the stairs at my high school. I fell face-down on the top stair, and when I finally lifted my head in shame, I saw 25 students staring back at me from a classroom, right across from where I lay.
I’m the girl who fell down a set of marble stairs at a hotel in Venice in front of a small crowd of people.
I’m the girl who fell down all 20 stairs at my apartment sophomore year, causing a deep, purple bruise that ran from my bra strap to my tailbone… the week before I was due to wear a backless formal dress.
I’m the girl who knocked out my own front tooth. Twice. And caught my hair on fire. At church.
And I can’t tell you how many chocolate fountains I have bumped into, staining perfectly beautiful cocktail dresses. I not only spill on myself, but also on those around me. Just ask the table full of people in Tuscany, who witnessed me spilling 10 bottles of water and wine all over everything and everybody. It was just like knocking over dominoes… one right after another after another.
If it can be spilled, I will do it. If there are stairs, I will fall down them. And if there is a runner of fabric laying on top of the aisle, with even the slightest crinkle or movement, then we all know that I will probably trip and fall, ruining my sister’s wedding while 350 of our closest family and friends watch.
I’m going to start praying now. Maybe she will change her mind.
Venice, Croatia, and Other Musings
I read tonight that a writer is someone who can’t keep from writing to save her life. And I could strangely relate. I write for work, for school, for church, and then I come home, curl up on my couch with my laptop and the words continue to spill out of my soul. I’m like a leaky faucet. Maybe I need to see a plumber.
This has been a crazy week… I dropped my bags off in my bedroom (with clothes, souvenirs, books and random receipts spilling out all over my once clean bedroom floor) and went straight to work. All weekend I was too jetlagged to do much (except for about six hours of work in my garden… which looked wonderful Saturday afternoon, but one day later everything seems alarmingly wilted). As I think about the coming week, which is full of activities to count down to my sister’s wedding on Saturday, I’m not sure when I’ll find time to recap my trip. But I want to do it before my memories skip off, and the trip becomes just a blur of jumbled up pictures. Like my last trip to Europe, where I think… “I went to some cool small towns in Italy… but I have no clue what those towns were!”
So on to the beginning…
Oh wait… first… Scott and Cassandra, this is for you… (Scott, you’re not a true fan unless you read the books… do it for me.)
Okay, now time for the trip recap:
I’ll skip over the travel part, because that’s not very interesting. Well, except for the part where Sara and I passed out at the Brussels airport on chairs right next to the main shopping area. We had already been traveling for about 16 hours and taken two flights, and we hadn’t slept five minutes. So on my suggestion, we found the only chairs in the airport that didn’t have armrests and sprawled out across a row. Since we were two American girls in a foreign country, we did the responsible thing and looped our bags through our arms to keep a thief from taking everything. Which means we would have slowed down a thief by about two seconds as he quickly ripped our bags out of our arms as we snoozed soudly. It probably didn’t help that I put my sweatshirt over my head to block out the sunlight. I bet we looked like homeless girls to those Belgium locals. I remember thinking, “If my dad could see me now, he would have a fit.” But somehow we survived, bags intact, and eventually made our connection to Venice.
We left Monday morning around 10:30 and arrived in Venice Tuesday evening around 6:00. I thought we were going to grab dinner and then go straight to bed. But crazy Sara and her parents somehow convinced me to go out that evening in Venice, and we stayed out until 1:00 in the morning!
I was exhausted, but I’ll admit, that was a fun night. We watched dueling orchestras play in Saint Mark’s Square on a beautiful, warm summer evening. It was one of those nights where you have to pinch yourself to see if the magical moment is simply a dream.
(Please note that I had been up more than 36 hours when this photo had been taken. I probably had 15 layers of makeup on. If you look closely, you can see your reflection in my greasy hair. Lovely, I know).
The next day we slept in (praise Jesus) and went back into Venice for a leisurely brunch and stroll through the back alleys. Both of us had been to Venice before, so it took away the pressure to see everything. It’s crazy that I have been to Venice more often than I have been to Austin lately. In fact, I’ve been to Europe three times in the past four years, and haven’t seen Houston in six. Those, my friend, are good priorities.
We had to be back on the boat by 3:00 so we could set sail on our cruise. But first, we got to do the dreaded lifeboat drill. Somehow we managed to make that fun.
That first night on the cruise was formal night, so we got all gussied up and went out to dinner. There’s something about eating steak and lobster while sitting on a cruise ship as it sails away from Venice that is just… cool. Plus, we enjoyed the chance to get dressed up and hang out with all the handsome men. Oh wait, all of the men on our trip were over 100. Except the one, and I’ll get to him later… (see, now you have to keep reading… I promise to tell you all about Jason).
The next day we went to Dubrovnik, Croatia. This was an adorable little medieval town, set on a cliff next to the Adriatic Sea. The town is surrounded by a giant defensive wall (these walls always make me think of rebuilding the wall at Jerusalem) and we were able to walk on top of the wall around the entire city. If this wall walk was a tae bo workout video, it would have been the super-advanced version. It took us about 90 minutes to walk the wall, including many steep, slippery steps up and down in 100-degree heat. There’s only one way up to the wall, and only one way off, so if you change your mind half-way through, you either have to jump about 30 feet and hope you don’t die as you hit the street below, or keep going.
The views from this wall were spectacular. I discovered on this trip that I love the combination of cliffs and the ocean, a landscape that was repeated throughout Greece as well. And the feeling of exhilaration when we made it to the highest point of the wall (after what seemed like 100 steps) was well worth the workout.
Do you see how clear the water is below? Love it.
I loved this bell tower because it reminds me of my two sisters… I’m a sucker for anything that comes in threes. I’m probably a little extra sappy since my baby sister is getting married in just a few days.
After we conquered the wall, we went out for pizza to celebrate. And then gelato, which I got for free from a very friendly Croatian gelato worker. Little did I know that I would have pizza and gelato every single day for the rest of my trip. And yet somehow, I never grew tired of it! Maybe it reminded me of my college days (when I was a little heavier than I am now… wonder why?).
Stay tuned for my next post about the day our jeep died in a Greek village on the island of Corfu, Greece. Don’t you just love having a shirtless Greek man push your car through the countryside? Of course, if I could do it over again, I would have requested a Greek villager without the beer belly. But when you’re a damsel in distress, you can’t be too picky.
