It's All About Commitment

The word for today is commitment.  Actually, I have several random observations to make, and I needed a way to tie it all together.  I'm committed to finding a common link.

So let's take a look at a few recent goings on that I have witnessed that really express commitment as I see it.

Commitment to Self.  Saw a guy driving on his hog recently and his head was tattooed.  Flames on either side of his head.  Like horns, but not. Bet his friends call him "Ol' Fire Head." I mean, when you make that decision, to tattoo your head, you're really committing.  I've also encountered another man several days in a row in the stairwell of the parking garage.  I can't be sure, but it seems as if he might be living there.  What I can be sure of is that he is committed to smoking.  A lot.  Like possibly two packs at once.  I know this because he's always burning a heater when I pass him at 7:30 a.m. and there are approximately 74 cigarette butts surrounding him, which if I did my math right, is more than two packs.  Anyway, as the hip hop artists like to say, "you be you."

Commitment to Beauty.   This of course was witnessed last night when I laid my eyes upon the

most beautiful football helmet ever to be worn at the Oklahoma State game.  Chrome.  Giant Pistol Pete.  Shininess.  Pure beauty.  All of my thumbs are up.  Well done.  You know who doesn't have a commitment to beauty?  Arizona State.  Fire helmets are a bad look.  A very bad look.  It's like a cross between melted butter and one of those tiger-eye marbles (nice reference, Kathy.  You clearly just celebrated your 80th birthday).  Who has ever said, "You know what would be awesome?  If we made it look like our heads were engulfed in flames."  No one said that, unless they were under the influence of bath salts.  Cut 'em lose and set 'em free, Sundevils.  They are ugly and they are bad luck.  I'm convinced they are the reason you lost last night.  That and the complete and total lack of defense.

Commitment to Your Job.  The officials in the OSU vs. Texas Tech game were committed.  Come hell or high water, they were going to throw those little yellow flags.  What's that?  The defender tripped over his own feet?  FLAG.  The defender tackled the ball carrier?  FLAG.  The opposing coach is seducing me with his bedroom eyes?  FLAG.   In total, there were 26 flags thrown.  That works out to 2.3 per minute of play.  I was asked by a friend what the record for most flags thrown in a game is, and Husband swooped in and answered for me.  He has a commitment to interrupting and story-stealing.  He says 36 is the record.  He didn't cite his source, so who knows.  I can't find it through different searches, so I give up.  Let's just say 26.  The record was set last night.  The end.  Well done, zebras!

Commitment to Under Performing.  This would be both of my fantasy football teams.  Through three weeks of play in two leagues, I have managed to compile one win.  That means I'm currently sitting at a 16% winning percentage.  I'm the Idaho of fantasy football.  Magic 8 ball says outlook is cloudy for this week too...because I started stupid Kirk Cousins.  Cool story, bro.  Four interceptions.  That, my friend, is a commitment to pissing me off.

I'll dive more into the enigma that is Cowboy football early next week.  Right now, I'm committing myself to sleep, wine, and finding inner peace with the suckdom that is my fantasy football season.   You're either in or you're out. And I'm totally in.

Pinterest: I love you. I hate you. But mostly, I hate you.

Today is my Tiny Human's birthday.  She is two.  Seems like just yesterday I was thinking to myself, "I'm not mature enough to be a parent."  (Confession: that was just yesterday).  And according to script, I am currently in the throws of the irrational stress of throwing a birthday party.  Lord help me if I make it through Saturday.

Like all good moms, I turned to Pinterest for my inspiration.  Before I get into my hate of the website of the devil, I should state that I actually think Pinterest is genius.  Because I was the person clipping things out of magazine before and had binders of "ideas."  And now the internet is organizing my clutter.  Thanks internet!  Thanks Al Gore!  (I cannot explain why I keep mentioning AG in my blogs).

Here's the problem with Pinterest....I have a false sense of self and Pinterest makes me believe that I can make anything.

Let me walk you through my latest Pinterest project....

I searched and searched and pinned and pinned birthday party ideas.  I settled on a cowgirl themed party.  I figured this was probably the last party I would get to choose the theme, so I went with what I wanted.  I'm selfish.  You need to just get over that.  And it gave me the excuse to buy tiny pink cowboy boots, so it was a win-win situation.

Through my internet searching, I found these cute homemade stick horses.  I read the comments, and all 45 rave about how easy this project is.  One mom goes so far to say, "These are so cute and so easy!  Perfect for a mom who can't sew, like me!"  Well holy crap, that sounds just like me.  Sign me up.

I buy all the accoutrements and am ready to roll.  I will be able to knock these bad boys out in a night, Maybe two

Step 1: Stuff sock with polyfill.

This is super easy.  I nail this part.  I basically owned step 1.

Step 2. Sew on nose and mouth with knitting needle.

How am I supposed to do that?  She says it so matter-of-factly, it can't be hard.  Hey Husband, will you YouTube "how to use a knitting needle?"  Hmmm, that doesn't help either.  How the eff am I supposed to get this stupid mouth attached?  Why aren't there more instructions?  I thought this was supposed to be easy!

I then proceed to yell at Husband, you know because it was his idea to make the damn horses and all, "Just turn off the video!  It's not working!  THROW EVERYTHING AWAY!"

It is immediately decided that I should walk away from the project for the night.

The next morning I realize that while the instructions say "knitting needle," the picture shows a "crochet hook."  I clearly have bought the wrong instrument.  Back to Walmart.

Okay, now I have a crochet hook as pictured.  Hmmmm, nope.  That's not working either.  WHY IS THIS SO HARD? What am I going to do now?  Oh, what's that?  It's supposed to rain on Saturday?  I have no activities.  And no stupid stick horses.  Maybe  we just won't answer the door. Maybe everyone will think they got the wrong day.  I will never throw a birthday party again.

I send a few frantic emails to a friend who is crafty.  She is my only hope.  I need her to tell me how to solve the problem.  She confirms my suspicion that the instructions are stupid, which makes me feel better, but doesn't get me any closer to making the horse.

I make a last ditch effort and go buy a needle made for yarn.  I've gone rogue.  I'm Robert Frosting this shit and going off road.  I have a Master's degree for God's sake, I will master this horse.

Step 3. Have a glass of wine.

At this point, I'm completely improvising.

Step 2 (again).  Sew on mouth and nose with your new fancy yarn needle.

Tada!  It worked.  And the rest actually was easy.  Kind of.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the finished product.

You may notice a few things in this picture.

• An unmade bed and dirty clothes on the ground.  I don't have time to make the bed or pick up my clothes because I've devoted all my free time to making these godforsaken stick horses.
• The horse doesn't have ears.  While I have been to Target, WalMart, and Michael's 19 times this week, I can't remember to buy felt.  He may or may not get ears.  At this point, I could care less.

My timeline was a bit off.  It took three days to complete one horse.  But now that I know what I'm doing, I should be able to knock the rest out in a relatively quick manner, and Husband shouldn't get yelled at for his lack of knowledge of looping yarn on knitting needles.  

After this test of my fortitude, I came to the stark realization that Pinterest is full of lies.  90 ways to tie a scarf and millions of lies.  It's never as easy as they say it's going to be.  Ever.  And it's full of ringers.  Normal people aren't coming up with this stuff.  People who have a freakish ability to make crafty crap are pretending to be normal and tricking the rest of us into thinking we can do it too.  

These people are being paid for their ability to make this cute stuff.  You know how much I got paid?  Nothing.  All I got out of the deal was two knitting needles and a crochet hook that will never be used again. That and the satisfaction of knowing I won.

That being said, I'm willing to sell you a custom-,made stick horse for the bargain price of $300.  I will also throw in a signed copy of this blog so you can know how much went into making it.

On to the next one.  Giddy up.

That is information I do not have

It has come to my attention that I may not know everything.  I can tell by your reaction that you are as surprised as I am.  It's okay, we can get through this together.

While I pride myself in having lots of useless knowledge, it seems like I might need brush up on a few topics.  The following conversations exposed my lack of knowledge on two different topics.

Sunday before the first NFL game of the day:

Husband: I don't even know who the backup running back is in Minnesota.
Kathy: Don't ask me.  I can name a grand total of two players for the Vikings.  And Adrian Peterson is one of them.  Kevin Williams is the other.
Husband: Kevin Williams doesn't play for them anymore.
Kathy: Okay, I can name one player on that team.
*Husband goes into the office, looks up roster, starts reading off players.
Kathy: Let me go ahead and stop you.  I should have been more clear.  I don't care who plays for the Vikings.  

A few weeks ago after the Tony Stewart incident.

Kathy: You know, I really don't know anything about NASCAR.  I think I could only name a few drivers.
Husband: Same here.
Kathy: Tony Stewart...Dale Earnhardt...Jimmy Johnson...Cole Trickle
Husband: I don't think the last one counts
Kathy: Depends on who you ask.  Rubbin' is racin', ya know?
Husband: Let me out of the car, Cole!  (in Australian accent)
(we really should take our show on the road.  High comedy at all times)

I also don't really know much about OSU.   I don't know why JW Walsh was sitting on top of the stadium on Saturday night.  According to the depth chart that was released on Saturday, he was still listed as a potential starter.  I suppose sitting on top of the stadium is our new "bullpen."  Very innovative.  When it's time for him to come in, we send him a bat signal and he parachutes down.  What I do know (now) is that the man who sits in front of us at the games does not appreciate one tiny bit criticism of Walsh.  Noted.  Please accept my half-hearted apology, sir.

I don't know if we will be any good.  I don't know if the receivers will be able catch what Double X throws them or not.  I don't know how we will stack up against the rest of the Big XII.  I don't know if running it up the middle three downs in a row will start to work....just kidding.  I do know the answer to that one.  It won't.

So check back with me in October, maybe I'll be smarter then.

Until then, I'd like to share with you a revelation that occurred last week.  Remember a couple of posts ago when I told you all about how I get phrases wrong?  Well, I know where that comes from.  Husband.  He gets things not quite right all the time.   Like, he's in the ballpark, but not hitting home runs.  Need an example?  I'm happy to provide one.

I'll give him an A for effort.  Nickname definitely came from a movie about "blades."  One stars Billy Bob Thorton  The other stars Arnold Schwarzenegger.  What's that?  He's not in that movie?  Please add, "facts about Blade Runner" to the list of things I don't know anything about.

So. Many. Questions.

Okay people, I will keep this short.  I've got things to do.  I'm sure you do as well.  Here are a couple of questions that I need immediate answers to...

When will America's Got Talent end?  For the love of everything holy, how long will this show go on?  I feel like it has been on my whole life.  Every night.  Every single time I turn on the TV, there is Nick Cannon wearing a suit made of disco balls or flamingo feathers.  Make it stop.  And can we change the name to America's Got "Talent"?  Kind of like Dancing with the "Stars."  Both words are pretty subjective.  If I have to see that weird little girl in glasses sing one more power ballad, I may just lose it.  I may just go ham.

How old is too old to use the phrase "going ham"?  Asking for a friend.

What is wrong with people who call "The Rant?"  The local news here has this horrible, horrible segment every night where they pose a question to their viewers and ask them to text or call in with their opinions. Usually the questions are something like, "Washington politicians hate freedom and bald eagles.  Do you think it's okay to take away your freedom?"  Or "People in California support gay marriage.  Do you think this means someone will make you marry a same sex partner? Are you okay with it?"   Or "A mom in Vermont doesn't want people to have guns around her children.  Are you okay with the government taking all your guns away and using them against you?"  It truly brings out the worst.  Usually, I change the channel immediately.  Ignorance is bliss, people.  And the less ridiculous opinions I hear on the Rant, the happier I am with the current state of things in Oklahoma.  The other night, Husband and I had a deep conversation about The Rant.  (We were both sick and sleeping on different ends of the house, in case you were wondering why we were texting each other.)

Why is local sports media trying to convince me that the OU and OSU games are "big" games?  They aren't.  Tennessee is a shell of their former selves.  It's like meeting Alicia Silverstone...now.  Kinda cool.  Would have been a whole lot cooler in the 90s.  This is not a big deal.  Only a big deal if OU poops down their leg and doesn't blow them out.  Come on, now.  And if I have to hear one more time that UTSA is the most experienced team in college football, I will change the channel and watch Nick Cannon on America's Got "Talent."  You know what else?  They lost, at home, to a crappy Arizona team.  Arizona literally walked over and said, "Here, you guys take this game.  We want you to have it."  And UTSA is all, "Nah.  We're good."  If we lose to the roadrunners...well, then our coaches aren't worth a flip.  Drumming up hype that isn't really there....that's so raven.

Why did I end that last paragraph that way?  I have no idea.

Letters: Two X's and such

Dear Daxx Garman,

I see you.  With your two X's.  I assume they stand for your arm being two times stronger than Walsh's.  Too soon?  I never wish for injury, unless it's the opposing team, so I was sad to see Walsh go down.  I feel bad for him.  It's been a rough go.  But moving on... I'm in on team Daxx.  I don't know why there are two X's in your name, and frankly I don't care as long as you keep slinging the ball down the field.

Just win baby,

Kathy

Dear Guy at the Gym,

I know you are working hard on getting swole.  Your tight tank top and determined look told me so.  But the panting and the grunting... it's too much.  It takes every bit of self control for me not to turn around and tell you that I think you might be overexerting yourself.  Take it down a notch or seven.  Maybe you don't have to rep it out.  As to the other guy who eats peanut butter sandwiches in the corner, I don't understand you, but that's okay.  You just keep up your committment to protein during your workout.

Shhhhhh,

Kath

Dear Brandon Pettigrew,

You know that ol' Chinese Proverb, if you love someone let them go?  Possibly not Chinese and probably not about Fantasy Football, but I think it applies to us.  After drafting you in at least one league every year since your rookie debut, I had to set you free.  Fly little dove, fly.  I want to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your breakout season, because I know that is what will happen.  You're welcome, Lions fans.  I did this for you.

May your rock hands tranform to huge sticky mits,

KHR

A moral victory, but I digress.

Do you guys ever misuse phrases?  I'm starting to realize that I misuse a lot of phrases.  In my old age, I'm morphing into the bartender from Boondock Saints. I ended a long email rant the other day with, "but I digress."  I then started to think, "I'm not sure I used that correctly."  I often use this phrase to end impassioned soliloquies.  Kind of a "and that's what I think about that!" or "this is Kathy, signing off."  And it seems, that "I digress" doesn't mean either of these things.  I gathered from my extensive internet research (Urban Dictionary and Wikipedia) that it actually means, "I've gotten off topic, so let's refocus."  Here's the ironic thing: I get off topic ALL THE TIME.  You'd think I would know the proper phrasing for my condition.  I just needed to get that off my chest.  A little confession before we get to the meat of the story. Moving on...

As I watched the Oklahoma State game last Saturday, I could feel a pool of water gathering at my feet.  It wasn't because I peed my pants, it was the ice melting from my cold heart.  Alas!  There is hope after all.  After my last doom-and-gloom post about my bad attitude toward expectations of the season, I got several private messages telling me to shape up or ship out.

Well, don't worry friends.  Optimistic Kath is back. Sure, I suffered some regression and reverted to the 1990s Cowboy fan inside all of us.  I expected humiliation.  I anticipated disgust.  But the 'Boys came to play.  Could it be that we've cleared that hurdle?  Maybe the days of saying, "Oh well, there's always basketball season," are over.  Let's be honest, I'm the only one who still says that anyway.

I started thinking, maybe we've evolved past the team that just gets whipped, and instead we've become the team that always competes.  That's a good progression in my opinion.  We have moved from Michael Dukakis to Al Gore.  Although if we really were Al Gore, technically we would have won the game, just not been given credit.  Like OU against Oregon in 2006.  But I digress...  (I totally just used that right!)

A lot of people have referred to the Florida State game as a "moral victory."  I don't believe in moral victories.  You either win or lose.  And the variance of which it takes to get over losses is what I really focus on.  I got over this one pretty quickly.  Sure, I had that oh-so-familiar feeling during the game.  You know the one, where you think you might barf from nerves that this could really happen or it might all be taken away?  I feel ya, Al Gore.  I feel ya.

But I took a lot of positive things from our season opener.  There is hope.  And more importantly, there is fight.  And as a fan, that is all I can ask for.  Go out and fight each game.  And if you can come close to taking the opposing quarterback's head off, ala Emmanuel Ogbah, that'd be great too.

Let's talk it out

I'm back and fully rested and recharged from a vacation to Arizona.  109 degrees will do that for you.  It's like being at a sweat lodge, minus the crystals and meditating.  I'm sure you are just itching to hear my thoughts on the OSU game, but you'll just have to wait.  Later in the week, my pretties.

I thought I'd share with you a couple of conversations I had while vacationing in the desert.  It's a little peek into the way Kathy's mind works.  Fascinating stuff, for sure.

Husband and I dropped by a local sports bar to catch the Arizona State game.  They were playing Weber State, which I learned from Wikapedia is in Utah.  And that Damian Lillard went there.  And that's about all I know about the fighting Webers.  It's hard to really evaluate a game like that, because you start thinking, "My god, this is the greatest team on earth!  Oh wait, where is the opponent from again?  Have they always had a football program?"  Anyway, when games are a wash, I tend to focus on other things.  On Thursday night, I focused on the huge gentleman who came in and sat at the table right next to us.  He was no less than 6'5 and you could see his muscles through his shirt.  The following conversation ensued:

Kathy: Is he someone?  I feel like he is someone.
Husband: No idea.
*sits and stares at the back of his head*
Kathy: I just KNOW he is someone famous.  He's way too big not to be famous.
Husband: *shrugs*
10 minutes later
Kathy: You know, if you weren't with me, I'd go up and ask him who he is.
Husband: *shrugs*
Kathy: Sometimes I feel like you are holding me back from being the person I want to be.  And the person I want to be is the person who knows who he is.

After he left, I turned to Husband excitedly.

Kathy: Will you be embarrassed if I get up and look at his bill to see who he is?
Husband: Sorry.  He paid with cash.
Kathy: GAH!  Now I'm never going to know who he is!  Thanks for nothing!

What I learned from this conversation:  Next time, I'm taking the risk of embarrassing Husband and just asking.  I could have made a famous friend.  I will not let that opportunity pass me by again.

The next day, I headed off to the nail shop to fancy up my fingers.  I knew it was overdue, but maybe not how much so, until Tom, the manicurist, set me straight.

Tom: Your cuticles.  Very tough.  VERY tough.  It means you're healthy, but very ugly to look at

Tom: Been a long time since you have manicure, yes?
Kathy: Yep, it's been a while.
Tom: That's an understatement.

Tom: Next time you get on the scale, you will be two pounds lighter.  Two pounds of cuticles, gone.

Tom: Just look at your nails.  They look so much better.  Your boyfriend, he will not run away from you now.  Because he was probably planning on running away from you before.  Now he will love you more.

What I learned from this conversation: If Husband doesn't love me now, I just don't know what else I can do.

As we arrived at the Phoenix Sky Harbor airport to head home, I had a bad feeling we weren't going to have a smooth travel day with the Tiny Human.  I knew this because when she was told that we were going to get on the airplane she had a total and complete freakout because it wasn't happening at that very moment.  Through tears and snot she yelled, "Airplane!  Airplane! Airplane!"  Then she dropped her pacifier on the floor and that caused what seemed to be the end of times.  And let me just say, I'm being paid back in full for all those snide looks I gave to parents with crying kids in my 20s.  The glares I receive are nothing short of death rays.  Sometimes I can feel my skin burn.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret...when my child bows her back and throws herself to the floor and screams, she's not doing it because I'm a bad parent.  She's doing it because she's insane.  Cut me a little slack.

Following the two epic meltdowns within 15 minutes, we made it to security.  The TSA agent gave me a "I couldn't be more annoyed with you if I tried," look and said the following:

Super Friendly Guy: Can she walk through?  Or do you have to carry her?
Kathy: Depends.  Do you want her to scream in your face?
*laughter from other passengers*
Super Friendly Guy (visibly irritated): It's up to you.
Kathy: Actually, it's not.  I'll be carrying her.

What I learned from this conversation: Not everyone thinks I'm funny.  Especially security personnel at the airport.  Their loss.

And that my friends, is how Kathy does vacation.  I wonder if I could put out a Craigslist "Missed Connection" for my sure-to-be best friendship.  I'll be sure to mention that my cuticles are in great shape, so I'm super lovable.