Is this what Noah felt like?


I’ve been a life-long church-goer. You know how that song by Brad Paisley goes…? “Saturday night out on the town and a church girl on Sunday”. I’m claiming that as my tag line. Because although I may be sporting those eye crusties in pew number 7, I always do my best to claim that spot next to Nana & Papa. Or the back pew for the times I’m late.


Anyways. In church I learned about the story of Noah and how it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that’s happening here. Either that or BrenAmerica has developed some sort of Monsoon season. I feel like I’m living in some Vampire-esque alternate universe where we crystalize at the sight of sun light. Maybe that is what happened and the Lord is just looking out for my best interest. Thanks, God. I mean what else could it be? Because this entire year has practically been a torrential downpour.


I would watch the weather and hope for brighter days, but due to recent history, I have begun to seriously doubt all weather personnel. I may just invest in a Farmer’s Almanac and be done with it. Or just not do anything and never know what to expect. Live my life on the edge and whatnot. Sounds so trendy. Like something a hipster would do. Or a weather-man-doubter.


I realized I hadn’t written a blog in several months and with all this down time at the golf course (BECAUSE OF THE ENDLESS RAIN DROPS FALLING FROM THE SKY AND VERY FRIDGID TEMPS) I’ve had time to gather my thoughts on lifey-things and such. What better place to get your thoughts out than the world wide web?!…

So, just a little warning, this may get a bit long winded. 

Lucky for my readers mom, there is this nifty little “x” in the top right hand corner of your browser. You can shut me up any time you want with just a click of the mouse! I know what you’re thinking…you wish you had that in real life. Too bad, friends.



Could anybody enlighten me on the need for an express lane at the store when NOBODY EVEN ABIDES BY THE 15 ITEMS OR LESS RULE. As you can see, this gets me a little worked up. But as a rule-abiding citizen of the great ole USofA I think I have the absolute right to get a little testy!

The other morning I was running in for a quick trip to pick up some last-minute things for a big shebang. I went to the express lane (because I had 15 items or less) thinking it would be a short process. 


The lady 2 people in front of me had 6 items. Which she kindly broke into 3 different purchases.


Andddd one of her purchases were cigarettes which means the checker had to walk very slowly to the cigarette cabinet, find a manger, unlock the door, and then walk very slowly back and check her out. Another on of her purchases was a donut. 

Woman. Just buy your friend the dang donut.


As if this one experience didn’t doom me to the self check-out for life –

a different time this oldgeezer man behind me, very obviously, COUNTED MY ITEMS.

And I was all NUH-UH OLD MAN. In my head, of course. But still. I had that look on my face that was all like “I dare you to count one more item.” 



I’ve recently started this Zumba journey. For those of you who do know me, I know what your thinking: “Kyla already dances so well I bet she is a star in that class.”

Well, that’s not quite the case. 

I love the heck out of that class but I look like a fool with my noodle arms and uncoordinated body. But TRY AND KEEP ME AWAY. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a working out environment ever in my entire life. 

I knew from the first time we did the pony that this was made for me.

Be still my heart.

I’m movin and grooving and shakin what little the Good Lord gave me. And you know what? When the instructor says “How is everybody doing?!?!” I’m the only one that says “WHOO!” back but I don’t even care. Because my heart is happy and I’m getting that bikini bodddd, y’all. LOL.

I’ll get that bikini bodddd once I put down the chips and guac. And maybe lay off the wine a bit. Clear liquids, right? Bartender can pass me the gin & toni. I’ll  be just as happy. And fit and fiiiiine.



As you probably guessed I’m one of those Bachelor / Bachelorette fans. Krusty and I watch it religiously and yell at the TV give our unbiased thoughts on the current happenings.

You want to know what I think? I think that it’s absolutely bonkers to go on this show. But you know what else? I probably would just to have an excuse for a stylist to make me look beautiful. Because lemme just say they all looked flawless on “THE BACHELOR TELL ALL” – which was by-far my most fave episode. That and the one that left Kardashian and “Guidence Counselor” in the dessert. Because that was fun-nay.

But “THE BACHELOR TELL ALL” just got a little rowdy. And I liked it.

Can I just say Jillian needs to calm down on the “protein shakes” AKA STEROIDS a bit. Dontcha think? Because no self-proclaimed lady in her right mind wants to be wearing such an angry face during a heated debate. Mama always taught me to remain looking pleasant at all times. 

*Except for the fact that I got PapaBear’s jeans and tend to turn BEAT RED when I feel a really bad thing coming on. Which I am proud to say only comes around once in a blue moon; I tend to remain calm a large majority of the time. DONTCHA WORRY GUYS.*

Surprisingly enough I am both TEAM WHITNEY & TEAM BECCA. Even though, as my poor roommate (who has the stomache bug and will probably be quarantined to her room for the next 72 hours) can attest that I’ve always been TEAM CARLY from the beginning. But alas, I shall settle.

Whitney is ADORABLE and Becca has just this BEAUTIFUL FACE AND EVERYTHING. As much as I love watching this show I can’t help but feel a bit ug when it’s all over.

I’m behind on my episodes so I can’t give my opinion on the final turnout but I have a strong hunch the winner’s name rhymes with Shmitney. BUT PLEASE, NOBODY SPOIL IT FOR ME.

So stay tuned for later this week. Because I’ve got plenty on my mind to share.



By the Beard of Zeus!

One week down.

And I think I like it. :)

Everything is still a little surreal. In college I always had my own “space”, but now I can actually do WHATEVER I WANT (budget permitting) TO THE SPACE. How does that make me feel, you ask?


It’s way cray.

I loooove to decorate. And I don’t mind painting furniture either. Well, I didn’t until I had my “I can actually do WHATEVER I WANT (budget permitting) TO THE SPACE” moment. Because at the current moment, I’m pretty over it. But it’ll come back after another weekend of me binge-watching HGTV and DIY. Or the next time I pop open some Cab. Whichever happens first.

As if you don’t know…


Decorating seems to make everybody so happy on those shows.

Disclaimer: I do realize that the reason the hosts are always so perky is because they don’t do a lick of the work. Luckily, I have accepted the fact and traded it in for not having to look as good as they do at the completion of the project. There’s nooo way I would wear my fur vest to refinish a coffee table. Also because I don’t have a fur vest. Because I spent my money on a house. They have it way too good.

Sorry, I’m over it. 

Sort of.

And to pull this focus train back into the station….

This whole house-buying thing was way doable.

Thanks in part to my awesome rooms, Krusty. Paha. Kidding. Her name is Kristie. And she might move out now that I just called her that other “K-word” on social media.

Other Disclaimer: Our celeb-couple name is Krusty Clamajaka. Sounds way gross and awful, but there’s one of those “it’s an inside joke” explanations that go along with it. So just work with me here.

To the point I was going for earlier – it’s a very rewarding thing to be able to say you’ve actually accomplished something with this kind of magnitude. And I’m very thankful to everyone who has helped. If I was doing all of this myself, it would be a lot less enjoyable. But the way things have gone, I would probably do it again. In 5 – 10 years.

And that’s the current update on my life as a homeowner.

Status: Still quite enjoyable


And they swore they’d never move me again….

So…………………………………I did it.

I bought a house.


This was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in all of my 22 3/4 years of living. And probably the thing I’m most proud of. For those of you in complete and utter shock, you may be surprised to learn that I am quite responsible when it comes to the fiscal aspect of things. No, I cannot do math. And no, I probably will never learn. But I can definitely set up that automatic withdrawal from my checking to savings (shout-out to the Wells Fargo mobile app!).

I’ve learned a whole boat-load of things through this process. Because other than the Honda back in ’11, this is the first major purchase I’ve ever made.

For one, it was not as hard of a decision as I imagined it to be. As soon as I walked into my (soon-to-be) condo I felt as if I had found my wedding dress! Ridiculous, right? (I should probably lay off of the TLC wedding programming.) When I made that particular comment I could feel the “Ugh, Kyla. You’re going to have to get married one day. Please.”  look from Mom.

The only thing that would’ve made that first glance more exciting would have been if Ty would’ve had a giant RV in front of the property and yelled “MOVE THAT BUS!” right before I opened the door. But alas, my Realtor walking me through the front door had to suffice.

Also, the fact that I have yet to feel any slight form of regret is pretty awesome. I may or may not be known for hasty decisions….but this was an easy YES. Oddly enough, this one trait of mine still tends to take my parents by surprise even after all these years. I’ve always been one of those “If I really want to do it, I’m going to do it. Like right now.” kind of gals, but they still secretly hope that I’ve gone through all of the deep thinking required for these kinds of decisions. This is probably why my father offered me a large sum of money to forgo a wedding and just elope – and then immediately ate his words and has never spoke of such things again. Because that idea does sound pretty dreamy. Quick to the punch. Just like I like it.

Pinterest has been my bestie-for-the-restie through all of this, too. So many ideas. Wait…so many CHEAP ideas. That’s what I meant. All of my remodeling ideas aren’t going to happen for a while, which is OK because it’s 100% move-in ready yesterday, but I’m still pretty stinkin’ stoked to be able to make it allll my own.

Move-in day happened and I have begun to observe my parents for any signs of emotional distress. They seem to be taking it pretty well. And they’re the best. Because they helped me more than I could have ever imagined! Yippee!

I’m doing pretty well so far. Considering. I’m just waiting for that first time I start to feel a little sad from adultville. Like when I hear sad songs about growing up on the radio. Or when my first payment is due. That might cause some tears. And pain. Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea…HEY PEPTO BISMAL!

You know you were all thinking it.




Magazines know EVERYTHING!

I’ve been a long-time reader of Cosmopolitan magazine. I can’t help it. Something about the pretty cover and unrealistically beautiful cover people with unattainable looks always catches my attention when I’m waiting in the HEB checkout line with my (usually very strange) combination of weekly groceries. And I will probably continue reading it for many years – even though about 99% of the stuff in the magazine is absolutely bizarre and ridiculous. I sincerely hope that all you ladies out there that do read this magazine don’t base your lives off of it. People don’t actually do this junk…or do they…? All the magazines these days have gone a little overboard with pop culture.

Let’s begin.

While waiting in the checkout line yesterday, I was casually browsing the magazine covers to get a quick recap of all the breaking news going on in the lives of celebrities. It’s always so accurate and completely relatable, so I like to be in the know.

On the cover of a teen magazine was Selena Gomez standing with that ever-so-popular hand-in-your-messy-hair stance, holding a wallet. That she was biting. Is that weird? To me it is, but maybe I should try it. I mean, she did snag Biebs. So it must be the thing to do. Cosmo cover girls do a lot of weird things, but never have  I ever seen one eating a wallet. I guess the rumors that she was money hungry were true. Aha. Joke of the day. You’re welcome.

Cosmo cover girls just wear crazy outfits…that I not-so-secretly wish I could pull off. Sadly, I put maybe 15 minutes into bettering my appearance, and I’m pretty sure these looks aren’t created in such time. They need at least 20. For sure.

Now for the meat and potatoes.

My favorite part is the advice column that’s usually smack-dab in the middle. I’ve decided they do this so they can throw in a few love stories and make you feel down in the dumps. Then, PRAISE JESUS IT’S THE ADVICE PAGE I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR! Because you don’t actually realize how many life-altering problems you have until you spend 30 minutes reading stories and adventures of complete strangers.

I would like to know the qualifications of an Advice Columnist. I like to write. Can I be one?

The advice is unreal. By that I mean AWESOME. Just kidding. Unless you’re into it. In which case go for it. How else would you know if a prenup is a good decision? However,  if any of you are crazy enough to take my advice would like some input on a current situation in your life – preferably dealing with love and relationships, because everyone knows I am just an absolute genius on the subject – let’s give it a try. I’ll temporarily take over the “Dear Abby” title. Because I like to do what I can to help the community.

Secondly, it’s those quizzes. As weird as they are, I’m always going to be adamant about completing each and every, very accurate, quiz. I like to know what kind of person I am. The end result is always some very helpful information like which type of high heel you reflect. Also, my spirit animal is a Gazelle. <– That quiz was my favorite. It’s like playing MASH as an adult. Remember that game? I always got the short end of the stick in that one….

Then there’s the horoscopes. Virgo at your service! As hard as I try, I just can’t avoid these things. And I believe them. These words just seep into my sub-conscience. For example, one time it said something about finding fortune. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a dollar in my back pocket. Coincidence? Nope.

Well, that’s all I have.

Time to go read my new mag.



Magical Maifest Memories….except not.

Normally, if you were to see a small child dressed in head-to-toe brown and green sparkles portraying a tree, you might think it were a little odd.

However, if you are a Brenhamite and you see a small child dressed in head-to-toe brown and green sparkles portraying a tree, the next thought would be, “I wonder where all the other woodland creatures are? They must be coming up on the next float.”

Welcome to Brenham.

Home of Bluebell Ice Cream, Friday Night Lights and Maifest.

This gajillion-year-old tradition is one of the biggest things in this town [the county fair is wayyy better, but that’s just my opinion].

There is even royalty. Yes, you read that right. Four people are selected to reign over the majestic courts in their fancy attire. 275 foot trains, crowns, tiaras, septors, the whole she-bang.

And then there’s the costumes for all the little children to wear.


Of course, the costumes have to fall into the theme that is selected for that particular year. And I have come to the conclusion that whoever does these costumes has no regard for any of the participant’s dignity. Because they’re ridiculous. “Oh, the theme is I Love Summer! This little girl should be Sunburn. And this person will be the Aloe Gel.”

Over the years, I have had some ridiculous costumes. I never even liked Maifest actually, but it was the “Brenham” thing to do. So I participated and complained the whole way through. Until that one year I was a dog. I mean, I’ll be a good sport and do almost anything for the sake of a good time, but that crossed the line.

And the list of costumes starts now.

1. Nun – this one was simple, but to this day I still don’t understand why I was given this costume. The photo set actually had dice and cards in the background, so as you can imagine, this picture is pure gold. Unfortunately, I don’t exactly know where it is. I may have hid it that one summer when I went and put all my pictures from junior high in the back of the cabinet.

2. Icecicle – leotard with silver tassels that constantly shed with each small step I took. Oh, and the other girl in this picture was a red jellybean. Of course, right?


3. Betty Gable – this costume was probably the best looking and my favorite, but it was also the most uncomfortable and itchy thing I ever wore. Terrible choice in fabric. Also, black gloves in May was an awful idea.


4. Lollipop – I actually had a giant lollipop to carry during the ceremony, and as your resident childhood fattypants, I actually ate it during the Coronation. Like the whole giant, sugar-filled, size-of-my-face lollipop.


And finally,

5. Poodle – tutu, ears, tail, neck-ruffles, wrist-ruffles, ankle-ruffles. There was actually a routine with this costume and I had to crawl out of a dog house, shake a food bowl, and sing into my long tail. Which had a poofball at the end of it.


Pure golden magic right here.

So there you have it. Brenham’s oldest and weirdest tradition.

The Truth Behind Today’s Country Music Lyrics

Hello to you all.

This morning, while watching GAC – after convincing Mother that starting the day off watching the news was in no way a good idea – I made a stark realization about the lyrics that were coming out of these people’s perfectly-veneered mouths: “Eh”.


I mean, I like it. I really like it. I listen to it alll the time. And I hold single-person dance parties on the daily. But if you know me, you know that I am generally obsessed with about 98% of the musical genres out there. Hard metal and tacky rock included (you can thank big brother and PapaBear for that one).

As a songwriter and apparent drama queen (or so I’ve been told), I can assure you that the words/sentences/ridiculous-analogies are just there to make the beat work. They don’t actually speak the truth. Well, they do, but things could be a lot more simpler if the words didn’t have to rhyme.

Lyrics can say a lot about a person. And here is a list of translations from today’s country music:

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22 – “Crap. Adult-hood is almost here. Better get it all out of my system now.”

I’m a redneck woman, and I ain’t no high-class broad  – “I wear my pajamas to Wal-Mart and strapless dresses with non-strapless bras.”

And I don’t even know my last name – “I know there are more important things, but how will I ever show proper identification?”

God is great. Beer is good. And people are crazy – I honestly can’t really argue with this. Rock on, Billy.

And hold on tight cause it’s gonna be wilder than any eight second ride – “I better use a rodeo analogy so people know I’m a cowboy. I can’t wait to take a good dip at the end of this song.”

Run and hide your crazy and start acting like a lady -“Granny is on her way over. Better shape up.”

Behind every woman’s scorn is a man who made her that way -“I’m a woman and I hold grudges until the end of time. Get used to it.”

Shake it for me girl -“I couldn’t think of any other words that rhymed so  I decided to repeat the same slightly tacky phrase over and over and relate it to all things nature because I’m a country boy! I can’t wait to take a good dip at the end of this song.”

Sunny and 75 – “I know 75 is way too cold for the beach and a bikini, but 95 didn’t fit as well.”

And my favorite….

Drive me redneck crazy – “Didn’t you all know that Redneck Crazy is a lot more detrimental than regular crazy? Because it so is.”


Have a lovely day!


K-Rae Cmajdizzle

(Thought I’d use my musical name [for when I become a rap goddess].)

Ooops…Part II – Tardy for the Party

Ooops. I’m a little late.

That whole thing in my last blog about adding a new post every week definitely did not happen. Sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking putting that out there. So, we will make this Part II-VII. And I’m not going to guarantee any future posts after this. I just can’t commit to long-term things like that.

Which brings me to….Kyla’s Love (or lack thereof) Story, Parts II – VII.

Commitment. What a concept, right? Nobody stays committed anymore. Just kidding. Plenty of people do. But I don’t. Unless it involves sleep or eating. Or going out on a Saturday night. I’m way committed to those things.

Maybe when I’m 28 I’ll give it a try.

And I hope you all know I’m kidding when I constantly say I’ll do all these things when I’m 28. Because I would do it all tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself. But for now, I’m just going with the flow.

I’ve slowly started to realize that most of the knowledge I’ve gained about the topic of love (commitment included), comes from the “Quotes” section of Pinterest. And I’ve just got to throw it out there – it’s such crap. The quotes, I mean.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m obsessed. I will probably spend at least an hour (combined) every day on that particular Pinterest page. It’s like watching The Notebook, but not. Because you don’t get that ugly cry from just hanging out on Pinterest. It’s just so inspiring. And so totally unrealistic.

Why, you ask? I have compiled a list of the top three questionable overly-sappy (in my opinion) love quotes:

1. “The best feeling is when you look at him and he’s already staring.”

Really? Romantic – no. Creepy – yes. Maybe it’s just me and my lack of self-confidence (which I totally don’t have, but I was recently told I do?), but if someone is staring at me, I’m either going to be weirded out or immediately think I have a boog in my nose or lunch in my teeth.

2. “You and I will always be unfinished business.”

This doesn’t seem very healthy, right?

3. “The way you say my name is different from the way anyone else says it. I know this is love.”

I can actually understand this because I was given the name Kyla Cmajdalka. When a man can say “Kyla” and not have it sound like “Colluh”, and Cmajdalka without adding the very expected, but very unnecessary “-donka” at the end and then automatically bust into a rousing rendention of Honkey-tonk Shma-donky-donk”, then, and only then, will it be love. But for the rest of you souvenir-keychain-named-people, this just seems a leeetle lame.

Moving on….

I present to you, the top three most precioussss ones:

1. “If someone’s meant to be yours, eventually they will be.”

This cuts down on the stress of finding a good man. Because surely he’ll pop up one day, right? Even though according to my dearest Nana, I basically passed prime marrying age about 5 years ago. Bless her.

2. “I’m a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind.”

Tacky? Yes. True? Mostly. I’m not talking dirty like a 48-year-old dude who only hangs out in pool halls. I probably better fit the description of immature middle-schooler.

3. “Falling in love should be like Polaroids. Instant.”

Fave. Only because I firmly believe that if it’s not there on date numero uno, it’s not going to be there for the second. Or third. Or fourth. So pack it up and move along.

And that is that. My thoughts. My beliefs. My procrastination.

Until next time, (which knowing me, will probably be in a good month or two)….

Good bye.

Kyla’s Love (or lack thereof) Story: Part I

It was recently brought to my attention that I needed to get back on the blog train and write another post. Yes, it may have been a few days since my last spurt of writing, but I’ve been a tad busy.

I usually dedicate my posts to random thoughts that I have throughout the day; however this one is going to focus on something a little different.

I’ve mentioned in the past that I’m not much of a soul searcher. And I’m not. But thanks to a few life changes, several good friends, and numerous bottles of wine, I have come down to several conclusions about a part of life that many people would consider to be quite important. Love.

Every week until Valentine’s Day I will be writing a post that has to do with the dreaded “L-Word”. This 7-part series will highlight my thoughts on the subject, as well as any events that may occur between now and February 14.


I would also like to add that I’m totally not against love. I have several friends who are blissfully happy and I wish them all the best.

On that note, I also have a handful of friends who have been screwed over. And it can get to be a headache. And it’s depressing. And a low-blow to the self-esteem. And just makes every single song and movie ten-times more heart-wrenching. And if you’re me, you curse entirely too much. Like a very un-ladylike amount. And get a beer gut.

Like most of the people in this world, I’ve been on both sides of the fence.

Currently, I like to think that I am right in the middle of these two places.

For once in my life I am absolutely and completely content with being a loner. Seriously, these are some of the best days I’ve had. Ever. My focus has gravitated towards bettering myself, making new friends and spending time with people who I know will still be there in 10 years. And it all makes me really, really happy.

When the day comes and I turn 28 (that’s my cut off-year for being single), I suppose I’ll be ready to take that step into the serious dating world. I figure that will give me enough time to fall madly in love, get proposed to on my 29th birthday, have a quick 7 month engagement (I hear it takes a while for the wedding dress to come in the mail), and give birth to a set of boy/girl twins at the ripe age 30.

[So boys, if you’re looking for a wife that can cook and stays up-to-date on laundry, give me a call in about 6 years.]

There is one slight exception to this rule….If you are a NFL kicker or play MLB, we can go ahead and get hitched on the spot. Like now.

But until then, I will just be going on with my life and living out my current motto:


I know this is like playing a broken record, but it really is true.

Until the day comes that you can be happy with yourself and each and every flaw you may think you have, you should just hold off. Take the foot off the gas pedal and just coast.

Because if you aren’t happy with your own self, there’s no way you can be happy with someone else.

This stuff may be complete crap, but it has been working out pretty well for me. And considering my own personal love stories, I should probably be the very last person to even think about telling anybody how to live their love life. But at the same time, I could be absolutely correct.

Who else are you going to take advice from? The quote section of Pinterest?

(I will go ahead and admit that I do the above all the time.)

So, to wrap up this little mess of randomness, I will just say that everybody should just be happy with wherever their life is right now. Whether you are absolutely infatuated with somebody, or just got kicked to the curb. Just be happy. Because you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

And lastly, if you are not happy, I also have some advice for you:

Do whatever the hell it is that you need to do to get to your happy place!

That is all.





My over-hyphenated rambling for the day.

I found this on one of my late-night-I’m-a-big-girl-so-you-can’t-make-me-go-to-bed-Pinteresting stints:
Well crap.

That’s a really hard question that I don’t know the answer to.

I’d like to blame this on the fact that I am an indecisive woman. And when that excuse runs dry I’ll turn to the ever-faithful, “I just have too much going on right now to think about that”. Because like I’ve said before, that’s a really hard question.

I’m not much of a soul-searcher. Is that such a bad thing?

If an issue arises I’m more liable to toss it away and kind of ignore it for a while…at least until someone feels like it must be brought to my attention again. Which is perfectly OK, right?

Just like this whole “what is your goal for life” thing. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Not that I don’t think it’s an important question or anything; it’s kind of a super important thing to figure out.

I’m actually quite content at the moment. Living that adorable “small town life” that Brady Ware likes to refer to. [If you don’t know who Brady Ware is, then I apologize for this unrelated reference. Or you can also look him up on the ole’ FB. And like his band! (Do I get a free 3X9:) t-shirt for this?)]

However. If I look back and refer to my oh so wonderful past, I know that I will soon become restless and need a little spurt of excitement and change. I usually try and focus these “I need something different in my life!” moments on little things like coloring my hair or cutting a few inches off. But alas, I have come to the following conclusions:

a) Blondes have more fun

b) I don’t actually brush these golden locks enough to manage short strands. It’s too much upkeep for my taste. And my hair-do-laziness is much better off when a ponytail is possible.

So now what the heck am I supposed to do??

It’s almost like I have to COMPLETELY MAKE UP MY MIND AND DECIDE ON ONE SPECIFIC THING to do. Which is wayyyyyyy out of my element. Something I have never done.

I’m not saying I don’t complete tasks I set for myself. Because I most certainly do. For example: I recently bought some fabric so I could make a pillow. And although it took me roughly two weeks to actually sit down and do it, you better believe I sewed that bad boy by golly! And it is now sitting on my little futon looking cute and fluffy as ever.

Side note: burlap pillows with a painted on chevron design are only “cute and fluffy” from afar. Eh.


To pull this focus train back into the station…

I honestly don’t have a dang clue on what to do with my one little life. I can’t read people’s minds [although that was the one superpower I wished for as a child], so I can’t say for sure that most little girls have a clear vision of what they want to be when they grow up. But word on the street is that they do. And this bothers me a little bit. 

Even when I was little I knew this was going to be a problem. I remember one specific moment in second grade. We had to make a poster with little tidbits about ourselves. When it came to the “I Want to Be A….” box I had no idea what to put! I settled on drawing a nurse that day, but let’s get real. I pass out at the site of human blood and hold my breath around people I feel have even the tiniest little sick-bug. I’d be a goner before the first shift was over.

And when I realllly try and think, reallly, reallly focus – I don’t get any more of an idea of what to do with my future than I had before I thought really hard – and possibly created little lines in my forehead for future wrinkles to develop. [Side note again: one thing I do know for sure is I will not be a wrinkly old lady. Heck no.]

When I think of my “talents” I am back down to the thing that every person seems to bring up: I can talk. A lot. Not at first, but once I get going I will most likely blow you out of the water. Sorry. But what am I supposed to do with that?

Game show host?

Secret: I’ve always wanted to be Vana White. However, I am not at all graceful and I could just see myself reaching for that last “h” in the puzzle and completely face-planting. But I’d still look elegant as ever in one of those fancy gowns. ;) Also, I would get eaten alive in one of those big cities so there is just no way that’s ever going to happen. I need to live in a little town where I can look out the window and see a cow.

So, if anybody has suggestions of what I should do with my life please let me know. Until then I’ll be getting on with my current life. Being the cat-loving/susie-homemaking/high-maintenance-farmer/college-football-watching/beer-drinking little girl that I am.

I Survived.

Hello friends!

This past weekend was spent at the Frio River engaging in bachelorettey things to celebrate the upcoming hitching of two dear friends. By “bachelorettey things” I mean quenching my every thirst with a liquid other than water. I’ll stop there.

Although I’m fairly certain I burned off a handful of those non-water-liquids tearing up the dance floor Saturday night, I knew I needed to take it a step further and do some damage control to ensure I would fit into my lovely bridesmaids dress [because it’s too late and I’m too broke for alterations].

So, my friends, I attempted to do detox #79800907986. [ <— I can never get past day 2].

And I am proud to say that this self-proclaimed-trailmix-junkie-and-corona-queen successfully completed the daunting challenge!

My food consumption was limited to three fruit & veggie smoothies per day.

And this sucked.

For those of you who don’t know me too well I’ll let you in on a little secret – I’m a snacker. Seriously.

If your belly is growling I’m the go-to girl. Because I will have a supply of snackies [that I may or may not hoard] in a very close proximity to me. This being said, there is no guarantee that I will actually share my stash OR that you will find my food as tasty as I do. I really enjoy healthy and bland foods. Sorry.

[Side note: It’s a definite guarantee that trailmix will be one of those non-sharing items. It’s my life support. My soul needs it.]

But anyways…

Each of these smoothies had their own “special appearance” and texture.

The breakfast one was deeelicious. I loved every sip and slurp.

The lunch smoothie, a.k.a. my SwampJuice/TankMoss drink was good but not something I would serve to friends. Or enemies, actually. If you can’t handle things with weird texture this is NOT for you. On the plus side, I was able to chew this the most…… :/

Dinner was the bomb-diggity. I can’t explain the excitement that I had for this meal. And it definitely looked least like the patties out in the pasture. So that was a bonus.

All in all, I’m done. And that’s what matters.

I questioned my detox-decision around lunch time on day 2, but then I remembered how much I had to spend buying all the produce and probiotics that went into this wonderful idea of mine.

I’d also like to add that I feel like a CHAMP. Apparently I was really toxy? Kind of gross. But I’m fresh as ever now!

Until I up the bachelorette-party-antie at the wedding, anyways.

For any other health-and-exercise-lovers, you should give her a go! Even though it slightly may suck. A lot.


Love, Kyla