FOMO

My husband has FOMO. My brother-in-law has FOMO. My nephew has FOMO.

Most of the men in my life have FOMO.

Why? Because boys never grow up, and they always have this Fear Of Missing Out.

This was apparent to me once again this past weekend when the Aggies BTHO Nebraska. At Kyle Field. With a record crowd. It was awesome to say the least.

We were only able to be a part of the game from afar, listening to it on the radio.

And when the final seconds ticked away, a sea of maroon took the field, joined arms and yelled the Aggie War Hymn.

And Brady looks at me and says, "Back in my day, students didn't rush the field."

And I say, "I know babe, but times have changed. And at least we did it respectfully."

Then Brady makes an old man gruff.

And then Ray's cell phone rings. And it's Collin, his baby brother, yelling to him from Kyle Field.

"We're on the field! This is so awesome!"

And Brady doesn't skip a beat before saying, "Man, if I was with Collin, I'd so be on the field right now."

Hypocrite? Maybe. FOMO? Most definitely. Die-hard former student? Would an Aggie be anything else?

Happy Turkey Day. And BTHO tu!

214 words.

Sexy

That's right. I got called sexy. By two of my coworkers.

One was a man. And one was a woman. So both sexes think I'm sexy.

I'm cool with that.

It must have been the new bangs. Cause that's the only thing I've changed in like, 10 years.

And, I'm still trying to get my sexy face down. My friends know I have issues with that. And if either of my coworkers had seen my attempt at a sexy face, they would have retracted their sexy statements.

Trust me. I would have.

92 words.

Friday Ku-Tip: If It Looks Like Flour, It's Not Flour

I love my mother-in-law. She cracks us up. And she admits it.

And she loves to sabotage our healthy eating habits by baking yummy, 2,000-calorie sweets. And leaving them on the counter so we can't pass them up.

And we usually give in. Except in those very rare cases when a dog treat would taste better than her baking concoctions.

And, while 9 times out of 10, her treats are tasty, there is always that one time…

That one time that my sweet mother-in-law slaved away in my kitchen to make me, Brady and Daniel homemade cookies while we were outside sweating off our first-born kid working on the barn.

And everything seemed fine until she took her first batch out of the oven.

The perfectly rounded cookies had disappeared into a cookie sheet of runny mess.

Did the missing sock leprechaun move to my oven and destroy our cookies?

Nope. That would have been the obvious culprit.

What actually happened was that my mother-in-law did not realize that while flour and powdered sugar look alike, they do not make cookies bake alike. Or taste alike. Or do anything alike for that matter.

And our labeled canisters must not have helped either.

Ku-Tip: If it looks like flour and tastes like powdered sugar, it's powdered sugar.

216 words.

We're Legit

This is all her Nana's fault

November 1, 2010. Remember it.

Why? Our lovely niece Mia Brooke Harlow came into this world. And, thanks to our tech-savvy bro-in-law, we received a play by play of the entire process.

And, just as exciting, we became official. We as in Lazy K Ranch. I waddled to the courthouse on Nov. 1, thanks to an eventful mule mishap two days earlier, to register our brand at the Robertson County courthouse.

So, we're now legit. Too legit to quit. And Lazy K Ranch is legit.

And, if anything wonders onto our ranch, we may officially brand it. Except Mia. She is too young for tattoos.

105 words.

Friday Ku-Tip: You can't take us anywhere

This past Sunday I realized something. Brady and I should never be allowed out in public.

I came to this epiphany while we were enjoying the best BBQ in the Brazos Valley. We were surrounded by flat screens showing football game after football game. And, since neither of us actually wanted to watch some football (thanks Cowboys), it only made sense that we talk some football.

Talk football as in I ask Brady a lot of questions.

Like, if people knew tu would suck this year.

And, if people knew Baylor would be good this year.

And, why our offense couldn't get our act together when our defense finally showed up to play some ball.

And, how a team like Baylor could slowly build up their football team but the Aggies couldn't.

And, Brady explained to me that having a good offense goes hand in hand with having a good defense. Something about Baylor's offense dominating during their time on the field giving their defense time to rest up and dominate once they took the field. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Makes sense. But if this was true, then why couldn't the Aggie's offense score more points against Arkanas when our defense did their part.

"Our offense would drive down the field," Brady tells me, "But then we would just peter out."

Our eyes meet. We both get these big, goofy grins on our faces.

"Did you just say peter?" I ask.

Brady can barely get out a "Maybe" before we both burst into laughter.

And then our eyes start watering. And, it's not because of the jalapenos.

Ku-Tip: Don't say peter in public. It will always be funny no matter how old you are.

283 words.

What's My Name Again?

Why this picture makes me laugh.

Cause Tinker's Striper (not stripper. Get your head out of the gutter) Guide Service got everyone's name correct except for my husband's.

Bardy Kujawski. It does have a nice ring to it.

But, they didn't stop there. Check this out to see a second version of the incorrect name calling. It's the fifth set of pictures from the top.

Poor Bardy.

67 words.

Blackmail From the Old School Vault: Vol. 1

These old school pictures are from 2002. I spent the majority of my summer studying abroad in Mexico with eight of my closest classmates. How we survived I'll never know. I did a lot of stupid things in Mexico. These pictures prove it.

How I know these pics are old.

1. They were taken with a throw-away camera. Poor millennial generation. You don't even know what a throw-away camera is. You've always used digital cameras, or better yet, a phone that has a camera squeezed right inside of it.
   
   Well, earlier this century, we didn't have those luxuries. We had to use throw-away cameras if we went on vacation and then walk five miles in the snow uphill and barefoot to take the film to Wal-Mart to get developed. Gasp. We did not get to enjoy the pictures instantly. And, I still had to spend an entire afternoon scanning each picture just so I could have an electronic version of it.
   
   
2. I had not been introduced to Photoshop yet. Heck, no one had been introduced to Photoshop yet. These pictures are in their raw, glorious form. Complete with fuzzy focusing and nice little red numbers that told you the date the pictures were taken. As if I'd ever want to forget when these pictures were taken.

 

This photo is awesome because we're making hair nets look sexy. And, there is absolutely no discrimination going on here. Only the girls had to wear hair nets. I mean, short hair can't contaminate produce. Only long, girly hair.

I spent a lot of pesos on souvenirs. I mean, how can you go to Mexico and not bring back a picture of a burro (which is framed and still hanging in my kitchen as we speak) or this monstrous sombrero (which came in handy when Brady needed a last minute quirky costume idea for Fish Camp). Yep, don't let me loose in a Mexican market. Or I will buy awesome things like this.

So I admitted doing a lot of stupid things in Mexico. One happened this night. The girls all decided to go salsa dancing at a local club not far from our dorm. We met up with some of the local college guys we had met earlier in the trip. Apparently in Mexico, you are unknowingly paired up with one dance partner for the night. I got left-footed Magee (far left). It was a joyous experience. Trust me. I wanted to go home. So I did. Alone in a Mexican cab. Stupid, I know. But, just look at him. What part of He. couldn't. dance. do you not understand?

Aggies in Mexico like to make everyone feel welcome. We like to make everyone an honorary Aggie. We like to show people how to Gig'em and Whoop. And we made everyone at this restaurant an Aggie for life. Even our poor roommate Maggie (far right). She made a good Aggie too. Just look at her form.

Why this picture is important. Because you have to focus in on my feet. My bandaged, held together by some purple dye and cloth, feet. I got attacked by a large cow with horns that was at least 9 feet tall and 5,000 pounds. Or maybe it was just a little calf that happened to trip me up with it's rope, causing me to scrape my feet in the dirty, rocky Mexican dirt. I got a tetanus shot in my butt in a Mexican hospital because of this calf. And my poor roommate Shawna had to duct tape plastic bags around my feet just so I could take a shower. And, I kept the X-rays and glued them in my scrapbook.

I like sombreros. And so do my friends. And after calling my mom from a pay phone in Mexico City a few nights before we returned to Texas, I had to think of a creative and inexpensive way for my mom and dad to find me in the Houston airport. So, the three amigos wore our over-sized sombreros on the flight home. And through customs. And through baggage claim. And my parents had no problem finding me. Remember, this was the 17th century, so there were no cell phones.

My dad really liked my sombrero. And he liked my double-taped luggage. Apparently, in the five weeks I had been gone, I bought a lot of souvenirs. Apparently, I should have brought bigger luggage. Cause I had to leave some American clothes behind in a Mexican hotel just so I could fit all my "can't live without" gifts in my bags. Why do you think I had to wear the sombrero at all times? My head was the only place it could fit.

793 words.