My personal style is changing. In fact, it is ever changing and I love that about myself. As I hurl towards my 40s (next year, people! Don’t get too excited to wish me a happy birthday just yet!) I am finding myself giddy about becoming a new person. A better person. Oh, hell. A phenomenal person. I am becoming the person I want people to talk about someday after I’m gone. Morphing into something different and some new style is actually fun. It happens every time I change my hair from naturally curly to straight or vice versa. I get to become a different person. Without a doubt, I am more fun with my curly hair. Straight seems to imply seriousness and I gotta say: the older I get the less serious I want to be about things. There is plenty of time in life to be saddled down with weighty and momentous trappings.

I’m ready to cut ties and let loose. Both in life and in my wardrobe. I think that maybe I am a cowgirl at heart.

Currently, I am obsessed with all things Junk Gypsy. I wrote about them not long ago when I got a care package from one of the owners, Jolie, who is a reader of this here blog. She is of the super cute and fun variety. We hit it on in rapid fire emails to one another and I’m pretty sure we are now cousins. The kind who show up at the family reunion and who sneak off to steal beers from Uncle Wally’s cooler, shake them up, and put them back in there to wait for it to explode all over him. Those kind of cousins.

Jolie is on the right and her mom and sister are next to her. If they get any more cute I’m going to have to hurt a baby horse.

Anyway. I love Jolie and her wares. I love them so much that I’m not going to do anything but show some of my favorite things from her little shop down in East Texas and hope that you take a visit. When I said I was doing this she actually agreed to give my readers a special offer so we’re partnering up to offer something special.

Check out a few of my favorite items:

The PoNchO ViLLA. This entire outift screams I AM MY OWN PERSON AND I AM FRINGY AND HAWT.

This is the EL CHeAPo ConCHo cuff which comes in turquoise, lapis, red coral and orange coral. I think you’ll need them all.

I simply adore the moonlight pendant. It has got to be one of the more versatile pieces from Junk Gypsy.

One of their many t-shirts outfitted with layered necklaces. A great, easy way to classy up a t-shirt.

Their TiE-DYE off the shoulder hippie ChiCK blouse. Innocently sexy. Purposefully sassy.

Lordy be, but I am all about the WANDERLUST these days.

Baby guitars. For when you’re feelin’ a little wild.

Here’s the special offer from Jolie and family over at Junk Gypsy. If you’re ordering something online you can add ‘MOCHA’ to your order and get free shipping. But wait just a second, little darlins. There’s more…

Coming soon I will be doing a giveaway of some Junk Gypsy goods that Jolie is sending to me. She has graciously agreed to outfit me for the BlogHer Conference in New York next weekend. If you happen to see me there, say “Howdy!” because I’m pretty sure I’m going to look like a seriously hipster cowgirl. While I love to get things, I also love to giveaway. So I’m taking some of those goodies she’s shipped to me and giving them away in a contest to be done the following week of BlogHer. I’m giving it away and not keeping it. GIVING IT AWAY will become my new mantra. To me, this was the best way to show off her stuff, garner new customers and lovers of Junk Gypsy, and do a good thing. In fact, I might just do Good Things Contests from now on without always seeking sponsorship. Because that’s how real cowgirls and gangstas and mommybloggers roll. Or so I hear.

The only thing I’m hanging onto, however, are a pair of Tony Lama boots because they are custom fit for my big ol’ country girl feet and you wouldn’t want them after I’ve broken them in anyway.

Yee haw.

Sure, I just posted a little contest I’m running, but lest you believe that I was going to skip posting on this here blog I am here to prove you wrong. It is an annoying fact about me but since I come by it honestly as the bratty middle child I think it is somehow okay. Let’s just chalk it up to my charm. My allure, if you will. My charisma and magnetism. Or maybe it’s just my ability to use a thesaurus. Hard to say.

Anyway, I am kind of on fire about a few things lately and since I can’t form paragraphs right now I thought I would write a list of them. Because recently, when I tried to explore my feelings about such things they came out in such a way that I sounded like a dying polar bear who was also trying to sing an opera, remove a dagger from my lower abdomen, and stop my eyes from bleeding as I took my last breaths. I am not a dramatic person by nature, but this is truly what it was.

First, I am sick to death of some writers who get a platform. Joel Stein, Kathleen Parker, Pat Robertson and Maureen Dowd? You’re on my list.

In politics it’s Michele Bachmann. Lady? You are a special brand of crazy and you should be rendered speechless.

Weather reporters. They are positively giddy when they use the phrase “feels like” and sometimes it’s a bit creepy. Stop that.

Blagojevich’s lawyer painting him as some sort of innocent, bumbling fool. I hope that my defense in a court of law is never that of an idiot. I’d rather you paint me as smart enough to be conniving. Note to myself: do not kill anyone. Those words will haunt me if I do. “Your honor, but I AM stupid and this was an accident!”

Wikileaks. Who has time to read all that?

Ok, that’s it. I’m done. I know I haven’t expounded on any of these things nor have I linked them, so I will mention one of the books I am including in the contest prize package because as I was putting it together yesterday I was so overjoyed about this book that I sat down to read it again before setting it aside for packing purposes. It’s David Shannon’s children’s book No, David! and it is a bit older but always fun to read. It’s got cute drawings and has a great story based on Shannon’s own childhood perspective of always being told No!

With all the things irritating me lately on the news I think I will just yell “No, David!” at them every time they irritate me. Not that I’m going out of my way to pay attention to them, but they keep popping up. So, like the adult that I am, I’ll yell at them using someone else’s name. This is probably why I don’t write much about politics here.

Enter the contest here by asking a good question. There are already some amazing, though-provoking questions and if anything is putting me in a good mood, it’s reading them and trying to decide which to answer. Some of them have me stumped.

Oh, dang. Before I published this I watched as Shaq serenaded Justin Beiber as he proclaimed himself as his biggest fan. No, David!

This week I am up to my eyeballs in stuff. Stuff like taking the kids swimming, going to the water park, playing more tennis than I’ve ever played in my life, getting tennis elbow, riding bikes, baking pies, getting in my 2 hours of writing each day, and generally getting ready to return to work. Tomorrow.

I said TOMORROW.

So I stopped at my new office today (new office! new school! new windows to see the sunlight!) and met one of the janitors there who quickly became my BFF. We all know that’s the way it works. If I ever expect to get my trash emptied and have him haul my boxes up to my new office, then I’d better find a way to make that man happy.

I meant with something like a nice lemon icebox pie. What were you thinking?

These last few hours of vacation are spent on important things like children, eating good food, going to the movies with a gaggle of friends tonight, and writing about shoes for BlogHer. And while I’m wrapping up my book and polishing off the necessary paperwork to go out and be rejected accepted by a publishing house, I was catching up on my Time magazine reading. They have a section where they ask people 10 questions that are supposed to be revealing in some way. What would you ask someone like Shirley Sherrod? I thought. Or that Old Spice guy, Isaiah Mustafa?

These are the zombie shoes I mention in that post. You should really go and read it now. Or maybe just order them online.

Then I came up with a contest. I like to get a sponsor for my blog contests sometimes, but others? Well, I like to do it my damn self. And I want to give away some of the books I’ve read to get my shelves ready for my own published book. SOMEDAY, right? A gal can hope.

So, ask your questions. I will try to answer them as honestly as possible and still keep some semblance of privacy. Ten will be chosen, but one of the ten chosen will win a box of books. From me to you. *Plus, a little surprise or two because I like to do that kind of stuff. It must be the Southern Hospitality my father instilled in me even though my Northern Hospitality mother is more likely to do this kind of thing.

Comments will close on Friday, July 30 when I look up from my desk at my new job and say, “Really? Only 17 people asked questions? Ok. Fine. I’ll still choose a winner.” and then I’ll answer the Ten Best Questions for a post on the following Monday.

This should be fun unless the fun is all in my head in which case I will just go an infuse some more vodka which is now a part of the summer fun in which I’ve been indulging AND OK I’LL STOP NOW JUST ASK SOME GOOD QUESTIONS.

*It is entirely possible that I might add goodies in this Book Box that have helped me have a good summer. Sunblock, tennis balls, infused vodka. (KIDDING. I don’t think that’s allowed. Is it?) I dunno. I’m feeling weird.

When my sister became a grandmother I took pleasure in teasing her quite a bit, but she says she was ready for it even though she’s a mere 40. Last weekend I visited with my family in Chicago and took my good camera (I have a point and shoot as well) and decided that I was taking no less than 60 gazillion pictures of my very fun, extremely photogenic great-niece who seemed to be in the best mood ever for an almost 2 year old. Much of the time she sat in my lap and let me snap away. Every time I looked at these I thought, “You ought to be in pictures”. The curls, the eyes.

Being with my family always makes me happy and any time I am feeling down I am going to look at these pictures to remind me of it. Anyway, I thought I’d share. (And please, don’t steal them. Her grandmother would hunt you down and remove your spleen with her bare teeth. No kidding.)

The fact that she sat still long enough to get good pictures shows that she probably needed a nice long nap.

Her eyes are like dark pools that draw you in and then BAM! You’re mesmerized! Hoodwinked! Bamboozled!

Eating my camera lens cover because they are soooooo delicious.

“The happiest people are those who think the most interesting thoughts. Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good company, good conversation, are the happiest people in the world. And they are not only happy in themselves, they are the cause of happiness in others.”      - William Lyon Phelps

Most of my days are spent thusly: I wake up and grab a cup of coffee, start rooting around the kitchen for breakfast, and then begin the ritual of taking out the carrying tray that I take up to my mother. Mornings are hard for her and I bring her food to her since it’s hard to get up and moving. She usually needs her water bottles refilled because, as a person with congestive heart failure, she tends to retain too much water. With a weakened heart, it’s difficult to get a lot of exercise and without circulation to her heart and body and then the process begins of holding onto too much fluid. It’s a vicious cycle and this disease is a real mystery. The procedure of bringing her food starts again at lunch and then once more at dinner. In between those times I can be found doing things that summer is made for: laundry, tennis, bike rides, reading, and writing. I’m really going to struggle when I have to go back to work, but that’s nothing compared to what she’s going to have to do in order to make her meals when I’m gone.

This morning when I went upstairs I stayed a while to chat while she got situated in her big comfy chair that she eats in and we started talking about the books we are reading. I made a confession to her.

“This book I’m reading, The Help, is annoying me to no end. I’m not even halfway done with it yet and I hate it. HATE it. I’m tempted to write a review of it and I’m not even finished.”

“Don’t do that. Finish the book first. You know better and plus, it might get better. You never know.”

She asked me what it was that I hated about it and I admitted that I’m fearful that Skeeter, one of the three characters narrating the book, will end up being the Great White Savior to the Black maids in the story. I’m so bothered by the fact that the author IS MY AGE and grew up with a Black maid. Her characters have great voices (I’m listening to it on Audible, but I mean that in both ways) and she makes convincing cases for their interactions with one another. One of the white women asks some of The Help, Aibileen, about educational integration:  “You wouldn’t want to go to a school full of white people, would you?” As expected, the Black maid agrees with everything she’s asked and by “agree” I mean that she tells them just what they want to hear. No one is asking her the important questions, though. In 1962 Mississippi we are to expect that when blacks start disagreeing with their masters employers they will find themselves jobless.

The other thing bothering me in this book is that I’m not at all convinced that Skeeter’s romance is anything but convenient. Not for the lackadaisical nature of people getting romantically involved when it’s advantageous, but it seems too convenient for the plot and where I think it’s heading. (See what I’m doing here? I’m trying not to give any spoilers for those who haven’t read it yet even though I’m not done reading so it’s like a unspoiled unspoiler.)

So then I started reading the surrounding controversy of this book (the ones that didn’t offer spoilers) and was astounded SIMPLY ASTOUNDED at how many people were defending the complicated loving relationships between Black maids and the White families they served. It was all very we-love-them-and-they-care-for-us-and-then-we’re-expected-to-care-for-them-when-they-get-older-that’s-just-the-way-we-do-things-you-wouldn’t-understand and it made me want to vomit. Attachment and dependence are huge themes of this book so far. So, I should be glad that someone like my grandmother got to raise YOUR family and then you’ll take care of her health bills later on when she gets sick? Excellent plan. Let’s write about it and glorify it.

Honestly, I want to rip out my own eyelashes over this nonsense.

Even before I finish this book (and I will finish this book because I have to do that once I start and I’m also doing it for a book club I’m in) I will state my distaste for the fact that a White author is doing the speaking for her Black help. Kathryn Stockett probably had in mind to force this to meet somewhere in the middle and I’m finding that a hard pill to swallow. It reminded me of a quote that I can’t attribute to anyone at the moment that reads: “You can’t make both ends meet while you’re sitting on one.”

“Colored people and white people are just so…different.” one of the characters, Miss Hilly, naively and foolishly points out. While I would hate to naively and foolishly call Stockett a racist, I will just offer this video from the incredibly pointed and opinionated Jay Smooth (whose videos I keep up with on his website Ill Doctrine) to speak for me.

Mallory came over last weekend to help take care of her grandmother while I was away.  Mason was also here in between his work shifts. They made sure the dog was taken care of, too, but they really helped by making sure the routine was kept up to keep their grandma on a schedule. They watched movies and when they stopped to see that “Corrina, Corrina” was on my mother joked, “That’s what I need. A Black maid.” to which Mallory replied, “Umm, Gramma? You’ve already GOT one of those.”

Which reminds me. It’s time to go get dinner made, take it to mom, and finish reading my book. I’ll let you know how it ends.