Closet Hillbilly

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in Texas is... southern. I happen to be one of them. I am mercilessly teased about not eating red meat (read: anything with eyelashes). I do not in fact know how to do the Boot Scootin Boogie. I rode horses all throughout my childhood, but it involved a riding jacket, crop pants and equestrian boots. Not a cowboy hat in sight. There is, however, a little bit of yeehaw way down deep in my soul. 

{Top} Thrifted  {Jeans} American Eagle  {Belt} Forever 21  {Bag}  Coach
{Sandals} Target  {Sunnies} Ray Ban  {Necklace} Lala Crystal on Etsy

For one, I love me some bull riding. Put a dirty, bowlegged cowboy on the back of a half ton animal with a rope tied around its most sensitive bits, and I suddenly become a whoopin' and hollerin' Child of Dixie. I have no idea where that comes from. I believe it's one of those 'stand there and look pretty' kinds of things where you aren't really interested in the man per se, but just the idea of it all. The behavior itself is inexcusable.

I also have a sick, sick obsession with a little show on the History Channel called Swamp People. Again, real life people in the USofA hunting alligators in canoes, eating squirrels and requiring the use of subtitles for their butchering of the English language manage to keep me riveted to the TV for an entire hour a week. A real life gator hunt has even made its way to my bucket list.

And by real life, I mean in a separate, non canoe boat many, many feet away from the actual gator killing. Very hands off.

How to Catch a Chicken

Yeah, I don't know how either. I did however, have to learn.

Dare I say, "On the fly."

A few weeks ago on a Thursday morning I was backing out of my driveway for work and glanced at my mirror in time to something red run out from under my car. I did a double take and realized I was looking at the back end of a chicken running across the street. Now, my everyday life doesn't normally include close interactions with barnyard life, so chicken wrangling isn't on my list of have-dones. In fact, it was on my list of hope-to-nevers.

As I continued to back out, I realized that the poor guy was probably going to get run over or poached by one of my rather aggressive cats, so I felt it was fate that I ended up spotting him on the one morning I was running a little ahead of schedule. Figuring he came from the neighbor's chicken yard, I got out of my car, strolled over to the neighbor's and bent over to help my new friend over the fence. Lesson #1: Chickens aren't fond of being handled. I was met with severe clucking, wing flapping and talon thrashing. I also found that this particular chicken was freakishly fast. Before I could grab on, the bird took off on a death run with in my opinion, excessive amounts of directional changes and head bobbing. 

Once I realized this wasn't going to be a walk in the park, I devised a strategy. I would use some chicken wire that was lying in the yard and lay it against the fence, creating a tunnel to herd the chicken into, and then placed a large empty trash bin at the end to act as the receptacle. My plan was to swiftly grab the trash can and dump the little red bastard over the fence. What I didn't plan on was the chicken exiting the tunnel early. Lesson #2: Chickens will peck the hell out of you. 

{Tee} Gap Outlet  {Skinnies} Rue 21  {Flats} Target  {Bag} Coach 
{Scarf} Forever 21  {Sunnies} Ray Ban  {Watch} Target

After multiple laps around the yard and a few attempts to scare it back over the fence, I had really had enough. Here I am trying to spare this tasty idiot back into a yard that I had no business being in in the first place. I decided to try the tunnel experiment one more time before giving up and saving myself some money on cat food for the next few days. I shooed him back into the tunnel, and as he popped out the other side, I grabbed him around the middle and in true shot-put style chucked that mother clucker over the fence in one fell swoop. 

Brittany: Wife, therapist, blogger, chicken wrangler.

Quirky Quickie

Sorry for the blog silence. We are currently in the throes of the Austin housing market. We jump up and run to a new listing within an hour of it hitting the market. We don't sleep after putting in offers. We have been competing against at least 10 other offers per house. I'm fried. I don't have a lot in my brain today, so I thought I'd post some unnecessary facts about me. Because this is a most pressing issue.

1. When stressed, I revert to childhood and lock myself in a room and watch shows from my childhood. On my Top 5? The Little Mermaid, The Jetsons, Golden Girls, Cosby Show and I Love Lucy.
2. I have enormous tonsils, making swallowing pills hard. Solution? I eat gummy vitamins instead. When I drink water, Micah likes to say I swallow like a baby cow.
3. I hate ice in drinks. Yet I refuse to drink hot drinks. I will happily guzzle room temp or even warm has-been-sitting-in-the-car water. No ice, no steam.
4. Velvet and courdroy give me the creeps, and make my hands itch.
5. I may or may not still sleep with my newborn blanket wrapped up in my pillowcase. 

Powerful

Perception is powerful. Words are powerful.  Our perception of ourselves can be a strong influence on the way we treat ourselves, and the way we speak of ourselves.

I ran across this video the other day and found myself greatly impacted by the words of these women, and how powerfully their words altered their image to a stranger. My heart wrenched for women, these women, as they were described so beautifully by those who were strangers merely moments before.

We as women and bloggers find ourselves in constant comparison with one another. So many colors, shapes, sizes, styles, ages, etc. We compare our looks, our pants size, our hair, skin and clothing. We nitpick photos, zapping them with photo retouching, Photoshopping our perceived imperfections at 75% zoom. What would we say about each other? How would we describe each other in the eyes of another woman, another blogger?

I think this video sends a powerful message, one that bloggers resonate with. We follow along with each other, cheering each other on, supporting the ventures and aspirations of our virtual friends. We feel so much a part of each other's lives, spreading a net of support wide across the interwebs. The support and camaraderie that we share is enviable, something of dreams to find so many women willing to support each other without ever meeting.

I hope this serves as an encouragement to us all, to continue to love and support each other, as well as ourselves.

Temporary Nest

Plenty of life things have been happening in the absence of my blogging. Big ones. 

We recently met with a mortgage broker to get an idea of what we need to save/spend in order to end up in our first home. It looks like we have to do it fast. The time to buy in Austin is yesterday, and every few months home prices rise 10%. The market here is saturated in the summer, which is great considering that on average, homes get snapped up within 48 hours of hitting the market and buyers will put an offer on anywhere from 3-6 homes before they actually end up with a place to live. This gives us a better chance of finding something within our budget that we can get in before someone else. Also, our realtor has told us to write a 'love letter' to the home owners with information on us and why we want this home. 

Seriously? This is what home buying has come to? It's an inappropriate joke, but it feels like trying to adopt an American blonde haired, blue eyed baby. 

All of the home buying process aside, the idea of moving out of our little bungalow is hard for me. Yes, home ownership allows me to do bigger projects that make our home more personal. Yes, we build equity and have a return on our investment. But a starter home in Austin will not be our little urban rental, chock full of character in our ideal neighborhood. It will be a fixer upper miles away from everything we love. 

I have poured a lot of love into a rental. I know that may be a mistake, but I have to nest where I land. And so far, this is has been my most favorite nest. My first real big girl house that I've been able to spruce up with my big girl paychecks. It isn't exactly ours, but it sure feels like it. And it sure doesn't feel great to leave it. 

Maybe once we see other houses and I combine my own ideas with my Pinterest boards, I can get more behind this idea. Time will tell.

Sweating Dollar Signs

Now, I know you're probably tired of the 'look at my expensive purchases' posts. They don't come around, like ever, so bear with me. I had to spread out my hedonistic joy over the course of a week-ish and had to save the best for last! I am not a handbag girl. Never have been, never thought I would be. Until I saw this.

Once that beauty had seared its way into my mind with glove tanned leather, a roomy interior and cognac coloring, I knew there was no going back.

I had saved up birthday and Christmas money to buy my dream bag, and had my trip to the store all planned out. I even made sure to 'dress' for the occasion. I was going to stroll in, pretend that it was no wind up my skirt to buy a $400+ bag, make some small talk and then leave to geek out over my first big girl bag in the car. 

Smooth, I was not. I made it two steps in the store before I began to sweat like a linebacker in July. The reality of buying something that costs as much as some people's car payment sent me into a panic, but I was committed. I opened my mouth in an attempt to ask about the bag, and promptly word vomited in a thrift induced panic on the two poor sales girls. I was the only person in the store (thank the Lord) because I was falling apart faster than Britney Spears' career. Too soon? Back to the bag. 

{Blouse} Forever 21  {Pants} Gap Outlet  {Wedges} Forever 21 
{Watch} Target  {Sunnies} Ray Ban  {Bag} Coach 
{Necklace} Lala Crystal on Etsy

I made it out of the store alive, but not without having the girls assure me 10+ times that this would be a purchase that could carry me through the years and was totally worth spending what felt my left arm on. I buckled up the purse in its bag on the way home and couldn't even take it out of the bag until the next day. Since then I have settled into it nicely, only stifling small screams when children come near it and making sure to condition the leather once a week.

It's official. I'm a freak.

Shady Lady

So, you're probably teetering on edge with the excitement of my big new purchases. Right? Yeah, me too. But no, really.

{Top} Thrifted  {Pants} Forever 21  {Sandals} Target 
{Necklace/Bangles} Forever 21
{Sunnies} Ray Ban

In thinking that my wardrobe will be in constant flux due to this little thrifting problem of mine, I figured that my accessories would be a good starting point to being incorporating investment pieces. I am the queen of plastic sunglasses and slouchy faux leather totes. So to imagine buying a metal pair of sunglasses or a leather purse that equals the total of 30 pairs of sunglasses or 15 purses gave me palpitations.

After much research and Instagram polling, I took the plunge and combined 18 months worth of Macy's gift cards to help buffer the blow of a pair of investment shades. My choice? Ray Ban Aviators. They're classic, hardy and come with a great warranty/care plan. Plus, they're versatile. They can be casual and 'boho' or dressed up with a striped top, skinnies and blazer.

Perfect for my bipolar closet.