Life's a .......

Back in the day, we used to say, "life's a bitch. Then you die." I'm not quite so negative these days. I've matured, thank goodness.

These days, we have so much to be thankful for. We're well. We have electricity. My husband and I are putting some distance between ourselves and work and other looming obligations to rest and recharge this weekend. West Texas is calling me.

See what I mean? I'll be looking at this tomorrow night. A nice, neighborly goat may happen by to visit while I sit on my porch.

While life is so good for me, I just can't get thoughts of those less fortunate out of my mind. My best friend's Uncle Bo died this week in a plane crash in West Texas while surveying flooding on the Rio Grande from the air. The Texas Gulf Coast is in serious distress. My brother and his kids can't go home to Beaumont. The markets are a mess. Two very important people in my past life have really scary cancer. I wonder whether that beautiful Galveston beach house that Joni of Cote de Texas blogged about earlier this summer even exits anymore.

I can really see myself sitting in this chaise, reading a book. You know, in another life.

The really simple and realistic girl in me loved this house from the Joni's post. I could see myself lurking on this porch, incognito, watching tourists meander by. I wonder how it fared when Ike attacked?

We don't get to pick the trials that make us stronger and form us into really tough old ladies who retain their good manners, snazzy good looks and charm. I guess if there' s any lesson to learn, that's it.

The bathroom wall I'm currently in love with

My most favorite recent faux application -- lucky for me -- is in my very own bathroom. Philosophically, I'm really not into making something look like something else, which I guess what faux painting is supposed to be, after all. For some reason it makes me think of something my grandmother used to say: "You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

While Mama was referring to "common" people without breeding or good manners, she hadn't yet seen some of things we can do nowadays with good painting materials and plain old sheetrock walls. Please let me whisper that our family can only claim manners, alas. And some of us don't do so well with those either.

Anyway, back to my favorite wall. Its basecoat is Sherwin Williams Blonde, which is a pretty great color in a light-filled house. I can be a little muddy in a dark little room without much natural light. Then, I used Faux Effects Lusterstone colors Antique Parchment, Silver Moss and Charred Gold. But my favorite part is the white, which is Faux Effects Fauxstone Pull-Off. That's my favorite product ever.

Sorry. This photo is a little blurry because I was trying to take the photo without a flash, in natural light. Still, you can get the idea.

I really love how how the Antique Parchment catches the light and looks gold. I did a similar application in a house on Treasure Island, in the middle of Lake McQueeney. Remember this?

This is the house with the sexy sink. I didn't do a very good job taking this photo and it looks a little blotchy, which it didn't in real life.

Now I need to go see about being a faux mother and cooking some real dinner.

Too many adjectives

For the love of God, could we stop with the labels, the excessive adjectives? If I hear Sarah Palin's little baby Trig referred to as "the Down Syndrome Baby" one more time, I might go mad. It's just rude. Were we not raised better than that? I grew up in Texas, mostly, and we like to think we have manners. Some of us spit and cuss, but we like to say things like "bless her heart" and not mention the obvious -- until later.

Are you wondering from where this rant comes? Listen, you won't hear me or any of my girlfriends say, "Oh yeah, I'll bring Susie, Little Bobby and my Ugly Daughter over to swim on Saturday." When we're talking about our neighbors, we don't say, "Oh, yes, she and her husband have three kids, two cute and normal ones, and one with buck teeth and diabetes."

It's just despicable. And disrespectful. Trig is a baby. A sweet little four-month-old baby. And despite whether you think Sarah Palin should have avoided his birth or not (God help you) , he's a baby. He is one of God's children and he deserves to be referred to as such.

In my experience, only cool and special people who can handle it are gifted with "different," "special," "challenged" and "not-quite-right" kids. And that's all I have to say about that.