Oklahoma and Biceps are Fighting Fire

Oklahoma, like many parts of the United States, is on fire. Both June and July have had high temperatures over 90 degrees. And little rain.

It’s the perfect storm for unintentional grass and structure fires, along with the intentional arsonists dreams coming true. One little spark and poof-down goes a whole neighborhood.

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Biceps came home yesterday morning with bloodshot eyes, less than two hours sleep and the hope of a nap.

After helping him unpack his smelly clothes, throwing him in the shower and feeding him, his head fell hard on the pillow. Twitching ensued for several minutes until it was “light’s out” for Biceps.

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A mere 21 hours later, after dressing in his fresh clothes, packing him a lunch, Biceps left at 5 am to start it all over again.

Please pray for the safety of all firefighters-paid and volunteer. And if you have a local fire station close to you, I know from experience that a quick “thank you” from time to time makes the firefighter’s day. Along with cake. They really like cake.

I want to date him so hard.

Biceps and I have been rather busy for several weeks. It seems as though we are two ships passing in the night. Something’s gotta give.

I promised a “death till I part” and I meant it. Plus, there isn’t a single soul out there better suited for me, more willing to put up with my weirdness and more good looking than this specimen.

He even looks good eating pizza. Shoot, he looks good even when he doesn’t look good.

I think it’s time for me to take the bull by the horns, plan a date and quit waiting for him to have the time to do so. The man is working his buns off to provide a roof over my head.

When God blesses you with such amazing handsomeness, it’s no time to stand idly by. I’m thinking we need to Netflix a Rick Steve’s-the Amalfi Coast episode possibly, mix up some bruschetta and light some candles.

You know what I mean.

Why leave it up to him to plan all the romantic shin-digs? It’s time to get in the driver’s seat. Vroom.

How to be a dork and prepare for Television

As you may know, yesterday I was on Fox23’s morning show, Great Day Green Country showing off my fancy Homemade Household Cleaners. Ok, so they’re not really “fancy”, but I like to jazz things up a bit.

After all, Fox23 did give me a ridiculous title of “DIY Diva”.

 

If I may, I’d like to keep myself grounded (now that I am a big t.v. celebrity) and show you what I dork I am.

 

It may be no big deal to people accustomed to television debuts–however, I thought about the day of my appearance far in advance, then I over-thought it, then I over-thought my over-thoughts-again. I even looked for a new outfit, but reverted back to one of my favorite classics-this brown little ditty.

Now, for the behind the scenes nitty gritty.

I did buy new shoes that were never seen on air. But, they made me feel sassy and classy and that helps a girl when her pits are sweating because she’s so nervous.

The day before, I decided to have a bit of a dress rehearsal. First, I dug these curlers out of retirement and got busy making my hair “vintagey”.

I prayed to God that no one would knock on the door while I looked like this.

I fished my small collection of lipsticks out of retirement. Biceps isn’t into lipstick-for me or for himself, which works out fine since I usually end up with it all over my teeth anyways.

However, to be vintage-one must have red lips…

…and short red fingernails.

And also a cat named Maxwell that helps run lines.

During set up, I realized that not wearing anti-perspirant has its downfalls. Here’s the inside of my head during the live taping:

“Don’t lift your arms too high. They’ll see your pit sweat.”
“Look at the camera with the red light on. No, not that one. That one.”
“Look at the host, but not for too long.”
“You’re looking at him too long.”
“Don’t worry he called you Rebekah Gree-man. Forget it.”
“Should I correct him?”
“No.”
“Why am I here?”
“Did he just call me a ‘Shaman’?”
“What’s a Shaman?”
“I should look that up when I get home.”
“I wonder if Biceps will take me out to lunch when this is over.”
“Don’t lift you arms.”
“You lifted your arms.”
“It’s over already. What the heck did I just say?”
“I hope no one saw my weird mouth things that I do.”
“Put your arms down.”

Now you know that I’m a serious, Grade-A dork. With sweaty pits.

Ever get nervous about entertaining “the Unknowns”?

Dear Readers:
I thoroughly enjoy welcoming people into my home. If you are ever in the Oklahoma area, look me up. I will put a pot of coffee on, grab some chocolate zucchini muffins out of the freezer and set my Pandora to Ella Fitzgerald.

The house may not be perfectly clean, I may not have the fanciest furniture and my cats may leave a few white hairs on your clothing. But, if you are up for those few inconveniences, I am up to stuffing you full of food and then sending you merrily on your way.

However, I know my shortcomings. I am a work in progress and there are those rare occasions when I wonder if my “hostessing is the most-essing”. It’s silly, I know. But when guests are “the Unknowns” to me and also co-workers of Biceps, my crazy meter skyrockets.

“Men are simple”, I tell myself. “Throw some meat on a paper plate, place a beer in the other hand, and they will think you rule as a hostess.”

Although, I don’t think men use the term hostess.

I tell myself the above theory over and over, and yet I’ll spend 10 hours cleaning, 5 hours cooking, 3 hours grocery shopping and at least 2 hours getting ready…

And then they’ll eat everything in 10 minutes and not care if the toilet is clean, as long as there is one-or at least a tree they can stand behind.

So, dear readers-does anyone else get nervous about entertaining “the Unknowns” or is it just my weird paranoia of not measuring up to what I think people think of me?

(Which is ridiculous and not at all a Godly thing to do, but yet, here I am doing it…I am definitely a work in progress.)