The Dallas Chronicles - Part Deux or "Did He Just Call Me A Terrorist?"

Oh, what fun Dallas had in store (no pun intended) for us on Day #2. We woke up in our lovely hotel room to NO hot water. Or at least I had no hot water. I called the front desk & said, "I must be doing something wrong. It seems we have no hot water." The front desk replied, "Oh, no. You don't have any. They'll have it back on in about 20 minutes." Megan waited patiently for me to curse myself by deciding to just skip the shower & get ready so, of course, when I reached the "no turning back" stage, the hot water came on full blast for her. Nice.

We headed north to take on the shoe sale at Nordstrom Rack. That place is heaven, not only for shoes but clothing. I spent a bit more than I should have I'm sure, but dang, that place was filled with deals! Most notably, these. (I got them cheaper. Don't judge. MUCH cheaper, if Chuck should ask.) It started a chain of black-shoe buying that lasted much of the day. Including these in black, and deviating from the black theme for a little variety, these in brown. And some adorable dresses at rock-bottom prices. And maybe a couple more pair of shoes. I LONG to return. :-)

By this time, hunger had hit us and we headed for Chipotle, which, in addition to Nordstrom RACK, was something else Megan introduced me to on the trip. Barbacoa bowl? YUM! I hear we're getting one soon in Little Rock & I cannot wait to take Chuck. Fast, efficient & GOOD. Just what two women on a shopping mission needed. For the record, "fast, efficient & good" referred to Chipotle, not Chuck.

By this time we needed to head even further north to Frisco, TX and IKEA, mecca of ultra-cheap, yet hip decor. We were met at IKEA by Adam & Sam, Megan's future husband & his brother. My last trip to the place was a complete nightmare since I forgot that the cheap prices mean absolutely no help at all loading your heavy particle-board furniture onto the cart & into your "already-stuffed-with-shoes" Suburban. It was such a pleasure to go grab what I needed & have two guys at my beckon call to do the hard work. We then headed to the Corner Bakery for lunch, which was fun & then said goodbye to the boys & headed back south.

Off then to North Park Center, possibly the only truly cool mall left in North America. It's home to lots of my favorite stores, but sadly, no longer Lilly Pulitzer. We did however hit anthropologie, Kate Spade (there we only lusted after things & were inspired by the decor), Barneys (again, only lust), Nordstrom, LOFT, Carolina Herrera (again major lust, after the spectacular dresses & Argentinian salesboy - he was a GOD, I tell you), Urban Outfitters, etc. North Park is a dream. Right down to their landscaping & original works of art. A.MA.ZING.

Looking up in entryway of Barney's New York - Love how they integrated modern sculpture into the store's design!

ALMOST makes me pine for my uterus. But not quite.

Somewhere in here we also hit West Elm, where I was able to complete our new "prison bedding ensemble" (Chuck's words) with the grey/white sheets that match our duvet, & Megan purchased an ultra-cool garden gnome who died an untimely death on her apartment stairs. Luckily, Adam found a clone for her in Austin. From here we headed to the Galleria, where we hit another Nordstrom shoe dept. & had a great dinner at Mi Cocina. Now we're full, but worn out? NEVER. We head back to our hotel, unpack our loot & hit the sidewalks for some night photography downtown. We had so much fun.
We discovered we have a shared love of retro signs...

Gazed in the windows of the original flagship Neiman-Marcus...



Watched a couple exit their wedding reception in style...
We wandered, uninvited, into this awesome boutique hotel called The Joule, that has a freaking rooftop pool that hangs over the street and a wine cellar to end all wine cellars, at least as far as being funkily lit...

Exterior of The Joule

Two giant, slowly revolving gears at the check-in desk...& below, the wine shop.

Found other quirky stuff to photograph...

Doors on a ultra-hip club we bypassed...

And lastly, I was accused of terrorism on homeland soil...I mean, you people didn't think I would go away for three days and not get in trouble for something, did you? (At least it didn't involve the Argentinian salesboy. Begrudge me that.) Megan & I are walking along, minding our own business & shooting photos in the dark Dallas night. I mean, it was not unbelievable that someone could have been lurking, waiting to shoot J.R. as he worked late. We happen to walk by the Comerica Bank building, rather BORING in and of itself, but they have saved light fixtures from an era waaaay back that I think are very cool & those are adorning their lobby. There are also two gorgeous light fixtures on either side of the entry. I love preservation of the old. And so I sought to CAPTURE that old stuff on my camera. By shooting UPWARD. On the SAME side of the street the building sits on. I am nothing if not a rebel, people. That is now, according to the dickhead, non-uniformed, security guard, ILLEGAL in the United States. So don't go claiming you didn't know that. I repeat, "You are not allowed to photograph a tall building in the United States while standing on the same side of the street the building sits on, looking up at it." But you CAN, however, cross the street and shoot up at the VERY SAME BUILDING. How many people are rotting in our jail system for this very offense? One would wonder. We were caught off-guard and didn't think of any witty comebacks until we got back to our room. In all honesty, he didn't look like he would jump on the witty bandwagon so it was likely just as well. I avoided arrest by the forces of Homeland Security & here are the two controversial photos that I am NOW, MR. SECURITY GUARD, releasing to the entire WORLD via the internet. Do with them what you will. Just don't say you got them here. And for the record, in Texas, it's pronounced, "tare-ist", said really fast.

Thank GOD, I didn't try to stalk "W" at his new residence in the Big D or I would have made the evening news. (Because I love him, people. Tone down the hate. Co-EXIST.) Always have to leave something for next trip.....

The Dallas Chronicles - Part One

Several months (or maybe even a year or so???) ago, I met a girl on Twitter. She responded to a tweet about one of my kids & their love of bacon & we then continued to exchange tweets, became Facebook friends (of course) & well, the rest is history. A few lunches here & there were enough for us to find out we share a mutual love of author Jen Lancaster, of "Bitter Is The New Black" & "Such A Pretty Fat" fame. When Megan found out she was coming to Dallas to promote her new book, "If You Were Here", we were all OVER that. Would I want to take a trip to Dallas the weekend of May 6th and meet Jen? Hell, yeah. Would Megan like to stay another night & take in some fabulous Dallas shopping? Hell, yeah. It was a go. I didn't look at the calendar to see that it was Mother's Day weekend at the time, but would it have changed anything? No. These precious little darlings can celebrate having me for a mutha ANY day of the week. Jen only comes along so often. And so begins my first interstate adventure with the girl Chuck refers to as my "internet girlfriend."

I drove. Which, if Megan has a vote next time, will likely not happen. For a short while, as we were pulling into the Dallas suburbs, I mistook the shoulder for an extra traffic lane. And drove in it for quite some time. I tried to play it cool hoping she didn't notice but she's a sharp one, that Megan. In our hotel room she said, "Did you realize you drove on the shoulder for a while?" Uh, I totally MEANT to do that? No, I just said, "Damn, I was soooo hoping you were not taking that in." She was. And trying to keep from laughing. Swear to anything, we did NOT have our first drink until much later that evening. I have no explanation. Except that my horoscope says I'm "aloof".

The hotel. Awesome. I usually Priceline my trips to Dallas but Megan had heard about Hotel Indigo & I looked it up online, finding not only reasonable rates but that Chuck, domestic traveler extraordinaire, is a Priority Club member with InterContinental Group. Sweet. They don't have a room with two beds but if we get there early they can probably upgrade us. I ask Megan if she wants to take a chance on having to share a bed and without hesitancy, she says "Let's just go for it." We figure, if nothing else, we can charm the desk clerk. We arrive & immediately fall in love. With the accommodations. Not each other. Very beachy-themed hotel, which is a tad odd for Dallas but sooooo cool. And we got a suite with a sleeper sofa for me. Yea!

After soaking up the accommodations & figuring out where we need to go, we head out for the North Park area since that's where the Barnes & Noble where Jen is signing her book is located. I had called Thursday morning to reserve books, as well as tickets, for us & luckily, since I called right when the tickets were released to the public we got Group "A" tickets! Which meant we were in a group of about 50 who got to be seated for her talk AND got our books signed first. Let me just say, it was awesome to meet her. She's as hilarious & candid & down-to-earth as she seems in her books and on her blog www.jennsylvania.com. We were hoping for an invitation to go out for cocktails but there was a huge crowd and we bombed in that category. Thankfully, so also did the suck-ups that brought her LOTION & PLAID-WRAPPED GIFTS. Plus, we rest easy knowing that we didn't look like brown-nosers. And, I'll say it again, she thought we were sisters & liked my skirt (which isn't a skirt). All in all a fun evening, not only being entertained by Jen but the odd misfits that being famous brings out in droves. Surely we are NOT in that category. Don't you dare go there.

Since we were lacking an invitation for cocktails, we hopped across the street & had dinner at Maggiano's in North Park, probably one of my favorite restaurants anywhere. As we headed to our booth, one of those semi-circular, corner, romantic booths, I slip on the wood floor and slide dramatically into the booth, causing the people seated across from us to practically spit out their veal cutlets & stare at me throughout the entire dinner as if I was going to offer an encore performance. Nice. But the dinner was great. The meals were HUGE and the Appletini's hit the spot.
We went back to the hotel that night, stuffed & exhausted but ready to start Jen's new book, "If You Were Here". We talked until we fell asleep, & had sweet dreams of Nordstrom RACK, which we planned to take on the next day........

Part 2 coming tomorrow.

Should Have Married Martha.....

Chuck decides last night at the stroke of midnight to start the following conversation. Actually it was 11:53 but that doesn't sound as dramatic.

C: I was reading an article in SW Airlines Spirit magazine & I think we should raise some chickens.

ME: Aren't we? Two of them finally quit clucking an hour ago.

C: Real chickens.

ME: Here? On Waverly Drive? In the middle of Little Rock?

C: Yes. You can build a chicken coop for around $100 dollars.

ME: You can do a lot of things for around $100 but that doesn't mean I want you to. No chickens. Why in the hell do we need chickens?

C: So we can have eggs.

ME: We have eggs. Perfectly good eggs.

C: But they aren't OURS.

ME: I paid for them at Kroger. They are most certainly ours.

C: But wouldn't it be nice to just go out and get them in the backyard? We could just gather them and bring them in and they would be all nice and not even cracked.

ME: No. No, it would not. That's why styrofoam was invented. If I were a betting woman & someone had me put $30 on the chances of an egg in a styrofoam carton making it to Little Rock via I-40, in a semi, from a dairy in Knoxville, completely unscathed OR the chances of you carrying a basket of eggs up our deck stairs without tripping, I'm gonna go with the Tennessee trucker every time.

C: It would be fun. The kids could help.

ME: Really? The kids could help? Ryder's gonna clean out the chicken coop? Wyatt's your only hope. And that's a stretch. Remember Apollo? How good they are to help with him?

C: Night.

ME: Night.

Know When To Hold Em

Chuck & I got away this weekend. For about 28 hours, anyway. We headed over to Tunica, MS, entertainment capital of the Delta for some rest, relaxation & good music. I mean, how often does one get the opportunity to see Gary Allan live??? Apparently for me, every few months. Don't judge. And Chuck caught him once at Riverfest without me. But it's never enough. Ever. The man is hot & can sing. Enough said.

We started out in typical fashion with Chuck having a traditional last-minute panic attack that the car wasn't clean enough. So we (read that "I") had to make a trip through the car wash, so as not to be offensive to any hitchhikers we picked up along the way. Then we realized we forgot the concert tickets so I went back home and got those. That seems to be a tradition for us too. We ALWAYS forget tickets. After watching Brooks' ballgame, we turned the kiddos over to my Dad (and Jimb0) & hit the road. Except Chuck forgot to get cash. So we had to find an ATM, which, of course, was out of cash. So we had to use the "indispensable" bank app to locate another EVEN THOUGH I WAS TELLING HIM THE ENTIRE TIME, "On JFK Blvd, in Park Hill! You don't need no stinkin' app! C'mon, we're burnin' daylight". Once we got cash, we had an uneventful trip to Memphis. But only because I refused to stop and dance at a strip club along I-40 to earn Chuck some gambling money. (He wasn't serious, holy relatives & friends. Do stop reading to fan yourself a moment. Or drink some liquor. It does a body good.)

But oh, Lord! We hit Memphis. And he thinks we need to use the iPhone map app to get directions even though he has been before and knows the way, cause that makes sense, RIGHT? My husband is the king of utilizing technology unnecessarily. I was like, "Just drive SOUTH. We won't be that far off if it's not this road." So that launches a few miles of discord until I win by refusing to touch the phone & we're all happy again. All two of us. Driving along this lonesome highway that reminds me very much of Missouri Hwy. 60, between Dexter & Sikeston. Which is to say, desolate, unpopulated, dusty farmland. And then....all of a sudden there's Harrah's! "Turn here!" See? Who needs a damn app? Easier than following a yellow brick road.

We check in & decide to save Paula Deen's Buffet for breakfast thinking she'll serve up some hearty grub in the morning too. Right now we want to eat something substantial & well, a little nice. Actually, Chuck wants to sleep but no one sleeps on vacation with a Swafford unless it's after 11 p.m. & you've been given express permission from Noelle or Norm to close your eyes. Period. (Just try us. Goofy Golf at 9:00 p.m. in Florida? Who's in? Not Chuck or Debbie.) I digress. We choose Jack Binion's Steakhouse, which is conveniently located in the same casino at the Bluesville joint where Gary is playing. We take a 6:15 reservation and head out. I suggest that we ask the desk clerk exactly how to get over to the Horseshoe Casino but I should know better than to suggest something so clearly out of line and ILLOGICAL. Because why? Because the iPhone has a fucking map app on it, RIGHT? I'm going to cut this part short and say that the 2 mile trip ended with me saying, "Just shut the hell up & drive toward that tower! And USE THE VALET OR BE KILLED." We made it. Will he ever learn?

Jack Binion's Steakhouse was great. My knowledge of the Binion casino empire is much more extensive than Chuck's because for about three years, anytime I was editing client photos or sitting on my ass, I had crime TV on. So I knew that Jack's dad, Benny, founded the Horsehoe Casino brand and Jack's brother, Ted, who was also in the business & heavily into drugs was allegedly murdered by his stripper girlfriend and another of her boyfriends but both were later acquitted after initially being found guilty. (I'm nothing if not good for an impromptu round of Jeopardy, folks. Please begrudge me that.) Anyway, we were seated and I loved that we had one of those high-backed, semi-circular, plush booths where you scoot in and sit beside each other. Seriously, I felt like I was having an illicit affair with JR Ewing at the Cattlemen's Club, except Chuck failed to remember to wear his Stetson. Seated next to us was an obvious high roller with his even-more-obvious mail-order Oriental bride. They were complaining to the manager that the food was awful and that the waiter did not like them. So initially we thought we might have made a mistake in choosing our dinner locale, but thank God, it appeared that they were just trying to get out of buying a nice meal because the food (NY Strip & Filet of Salmon) was to die for. I highly recommend it. And James, the same waiter to the other couple, had no problem whatsoever with US. But really, I'm nothing if not charming, to MOST.

As for the concert, we ALL know I love Gary Allen and I've seen him more times than I've birthed babies but dear God, the man can perform. It was no less awesome than any other time I've seen him. And if you get a chance to catch someone you really like at Bluesville, inside the Horseshoe, please do it because it's an excellent venue for live music.

I'll spare you the rest of the details from our trip but suffice it to say we had a great time & as for the "How much did you win???" question........we lost $3 that we put in a slot machine to try to win my mother a fortune. Yes, we went to Tunica & gambled exactly $3. I know, right? Not big gamblers, the Buttrys. Actually, if you count the quarter that rolled under the Pepsi machine at midnight, we lost $3.25. And we found our way back home without once using the phone.

I Want My Mullet Back (Not yet available on iTunes)

You've probably been asked what you would grab besides your family if your home caught fire. This is one of the things I would grab. It's one of those things I don't ever want to lose because it makes me smile & it perfectly captures the essence of who Wyatt is. He wrote it in the 3rd grade around age 8 at the height of his Weird Al obsession. (I guess it was before he had an official "Rap Notebook".) I'm glad he did it at home because I'm confident his 3rd grade teacher would have tossed it. I don't really expect any of my kids to take a traditional path in life, which mystifies some of our relatives, but in my house, "creativity & happiness" trump perfection. I may not be right, but only time will tell. It's worked pretty well so far for my dad and me.

And now for the translation, since legible handwriting has never been Wyatt's forte':

I want my mullet back!

Too bad I'm gettin' fat! I'll just use my Cardinals hat!

Oh, I forgot that I'm the "King of Cellulite"! (ok, that line could use some work, originally he spelled it cellulat!)

What could I wear?

Prada, Juicy Couture? (sister's influence is obvious)

How about what Jimmy Buffet wore on tour?

I could wear a trendsetter hat!

No, that's lame. I can't decide.

What a shame!

It's like it's right beside meeeee.

I need to fleeeee!

I know what it is --- Gucciiiiii!

Now what kind of music do I need?

Bow-wow? Fergie? Yuck!

I guess I'm having no luck!

The Dixie Chicks? Too girly!

I'll find someone, surely!

Not Bon Jovi or Buddy Holly...

I need to find him quick!

Who should I pick?

How about Weird Al Yankovic?

Yes, that's it!

Written by: Wyatt Buttry

I really do adore my three.

Greek Salad with Chickpeas

(Recipe from Everyday Food: A Martha Stewart Magazine - March 2011, if you have it!)

Ingredients:

1/2 red onion, thinly sliced (a small one is best)

2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

salt and ground pepper

1 small to medium cucumber, peeled & cut into 1/2-in. pieces

1 C grape tomatoes, halved

1/2 C crumbled feta cheese (2 oz)

1 15 oz. can chickpeas, rinsed & drained

1/2 C pitted Kalamata olives, roughly chopped (got mine at Kroger's olive bar - LOVE!)

1/2 C lightly packed fresh parsley leaves (I cut mine up with kitchen scissors)

1. In large bowl, combine chopped onion, lemon juice and olive oil & season with salt and pepper to your liking. Toss well to combine & let sit 5 minutes. (I photographed this step just to show you my cool measuring spoons. Love that they're rectangular. I got mine at Williams-Sonoma but apparently you can also get them here.)
2. Add cucumber, tomatoes, feta, chickpeas, olives & parsley.
3. Season again with salt & pepper & toss to combine. (I photographed this step just because I thought it looked pretty with the red tomatoes before I tossed it completely :-)
4. Divide among four bowls and serve immediately.

5. We served ours with buttered, un-toasted French bread & corn-on-the-cob. YUM. I also have a recipe for this delicious Mediterranean cheese bread with olives and I will post when I find where I've misplaced it. It is wonderful!

Nutritional info, if you care: per serving - 306 cal. * 16g fat * 9g protein * 34g carbs * 6g fiber

Note: I had never used chickpeas in a recipe before but found them to be quite good. Just so you won't have to put out an urgent plea on Facebook to locate them in the grocery store like I did, they're with the beans. And they're also called 'garbanzo beans'. And no one in Kroger will be able to help you find them but if you run into my friend, Tom Colford, he'll do his darndest to help you.

My mom LOVED it. Chuck devoured one bowl and a corn-on-the-cob, went to baseball practice, came home and ate what was left. And he complimented me again this morning. I liked it too. The kids just said, "Ewww, what IS that?"

Also, the flatware in the last photo is my favorite I've ever had & it's dirt-cheap from Wal-Mart, baby! I love it. Simple, clean-lined, modern. Who knew?

I Can Liven Up Any Sleepover....

( I was mistaken. This octopus cake was from the 6th birthday. But I can't find photos from the 8th, which was also a pool party/sleepover. Don't think I didn't think about just changing that 6 to an 8 in Photoshop, 'cause I did. Also, never elect me to public office. But I really did make this myself. KICK ASS, no?)

When our daughter, Ryder, turned 8, she was so excited to have a BIG sleepover with oh, 8-10 girls. And I was excited because 8 seems like such a big milestone. I mean, it's not double-digit territory like 10, but it's when a child really starts to seem like a "big kid", if you know what I mean. They start to lose their innocence somewhat, become a little more worldly, pick up on stuff they didn't pick up on before (be prepared to explain what it means to be gay, whether there really is a Santa, & just cut the crap about how he/she got here - just sayin') & they start to refuse anything you offer them to wear. I could go on and on. But your sweet, little innocent baby is GONE. Especially after I get her in my clutches for a night.

Ryder's birthday is in the summer and I love that because being a December child, I know how awesome it is to be able to celebrate at the pool & stay outside late in the evening, catching fireflies, at least in the South. I never got to DO that for my birthday but I was fully aware that it was much more awesome than staying inside at the skating rink in 25 degree weather, slow-skating to The Climax Blues Band. We rented the pool, designed an awesome octopus cake which I baked & decorated MYSELF ('fistbump') & while strolling through the $1 bins at Target one day, I found the PERFECT party favor. PERFECT. I mean really, for an 8 year old birthday sleepover, is there anything better than little Magic 8 Balls? Really?? Too good to be true. I had visions of them sitting up late painting their nails & telling their futures with the Magic 8 Balls. I mean, it couldn't be any sweeter if Mary Kate & Ashley had come over to join the party. And had Mary Kate & Ashley known what was about to transpire, they might have crashed the party.

Chuck & I were doing something in the kitchen, if I remember right, likely feeding the boys or getting things wrapped up to start their bedtime. We were all home from the pool, pizza had been devoured & the girls settled in for a little fun. In a little while a few of them, including Ryder, came to the kitchen & said, "We need some drinks." I remember saying something like, "Sure. Didn't you just have some?" And they said, "Yes, but we need them to play a game." After inquiring what exactly they were going to play with these drinks, one of them offered up their 8-ball innocently & said, "We don't really understand it, but I guess these are actually games." Chuck knew. It hit him like a magnet to a fridge. He gave me the "HOW COULD YOU NOT READ THEM FIRST?" look. And I gave him my "WHY IN THE HELL WOULD I HAVE READ AN 8-BALL?" look. They tell futures, EINSTEIN!

Not these. Apparently. These, O Dear Readers, are drinking games. What fun! How cute! IF YOU'RE 25!

Tell the person to your left to take two drinks.

Wink at someone and they have to drink.

Pass your drink to another person.

Tell something about yourself that's secret, or take a drink.

Drink or dare.

Aaah, the list goes on. I forget them all. And some I just made up.

Yes, I have given 10 little girls party favors that should they keep them in a safe place, will be sooo much fun in college. So, back to the story. They are beyond thrilled. "This is going to be so fun!" "Let's get Mountain Dew and Coke and Sprite!" "I can't wait to show my mom & play with my brother!" (Insert photo of Noelle's eyeballs the size of half-dollars.) THE PARENTS. What to do? What to do? Looking directly at Chuck, I say, "What do I do? They love them! I can't take them or they'll all tell their parents I took away their cool party favors. And the parents will say, 'What were they?' I have to tell them. They're all cool parents, right?" Chuck is always so helpful & reassuring. "Well, yeah, except for _______'s mother." Well, guess what? She's just gonna have to deal. OR drink, as the case may be.

So, that's the mess I got myself into. And this is how I got out of it. I gave them Mountain Dew, Coke and Sprite and sent them to their room to play non-alcoholic drinking games. I've often wondered if any of them ever wondered what the point of the game was because without alcohol and drunken cohorts, there really is no point. But they had fun. I made 10 phone calls that went exceedingly well. Ok, 9. One of them....THAT one, said she would just immediately take it from her when she got home. Good. Better you be the bitch than me.

As for me, I've learned my lesson. Pool noodles all around, baby!