One Beautiful Sunday

Hey. It’s One & Done Sunday.

I woke up yesterday at 6:15am to give #2 money to go to Atlantic City.

Don’t judge me. Her high school choir was performing in the Miss America parade.

Beauty pageants pretty much represent everything I’m against: overemphasis on outer beauty, popularity, conformity, and vapidness. I’ve always had a closed mind to them. Then I was forced by my children to watch enough of one episode of Toddlers and Tiaras to be totally okay with my mind slammed shut against beauty pageants.

Until this week, that is, when CC sent me a link to an article on one of the contestants in this year’s Miss America pageant. I started digging around and found more that made me open my mind just a little.

Sergeant Theresa Vail from Kansas, whose platform is Empowering Women, Overcoming Stereotypes, and Breaking Barriers. She’s an expert M-16 marksman, a bowhunter, and field dresses her own game. When she walks in the swimsuit portion of the competition, you’re gonna see her tattoos. She’s my favorite, so she gets two links: the People magazine article and her own blog post explaining why she chose not to cover up her tattoos.

Nicole Kelly from Iowa was born without her left forearm. Her platform is The Power of One and she wants to go on the road as a theater stage manager. Nicole, I know people! We can set you up. Here’s a link to the Today article.

Jennifer Smestad from my former home of Arizona was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome at age 10. She keeps it in check today with acupuncture. Her platform is Tourette’s Syndrome Awareness and Advocacy. Here’s a link to the Daily Mail article.

All the contestants do their own hair and makeup for the final televised competition tonight. This is because, during her reign, Miss America has to do it all herself anyway. And every time she walks out the door, she has to look like Miss Freaking America. Can you imagine? No running out for half & half in last night’s mascara and the yoga pants you slept in, no swinging by the dry cleaners when you just ran five miles at the gym and are drenched with sweat.

I may still not be completely enamored of beauty pageants, but Miss America has my attention tonight. 9pm on ABC.


Happy Sunday.


I Have No Shame

My garage, two years after moving into this house:

At least you can walk through it now. That’s an improvement. I’m happy to provide the public service of letting you feel better about your own garage, or whatever other room of dirty secrets you may have in your house.

Oh, and I can fit a car in here, see?

Sweet, sweet Miss Lucy. I still owe you an alternator. I’m a bad mama. Hey, what’s that on the wall?

No, not the hacksaw. Not the push broom. The long thing straddling the boards, IYKWIM.

Oh, this is new. It came home today with CC. Here’s the part where I win the husband contest, even though my garage (which is all my mess anyway, not his) looks like the Room of Requirement.


The back of an arrow:

The front of a different arrow:

The front of the first arrow shot into the back of the second arrow:


Color me impressed.

Splitting an arrow with another arrow was the only way CC could drag the range attendants’ attention away from #2, who was with him and is a fine shot herself. For some reason, the old guys there are more interested in a pretty fifteen-year-old female archery protegé than my handsome husband.

When he asked about repairing the arrows, they kind of looked at him and said, “We might be able to fix the back one, but really? You should hang that up on your wall. That’s a trophy.”

The kids and I don’t think the pegboard in the garage behind the Mustang is a good place to display a trophy. They all agree, it’s wicked awesome. We’re exploring other options.

I’m wondering where we can display Dad’s archery talents to have the greatest impact on potential teenage boyfriends. Any ideas?