Not so gold strike

The Gold Strike Casino in Tunica, Miss., glitters from the outside and impresses on the inside. The flashing lights and melodic chimes are hypnotizing. There are no clocks on the wall allowing time to disappear into the brightly colored slot machine wheels. It’s a curious place, providing better opportunities to people watch than a crowded airport.

If you know me (well), you know that I’m definitely not a gambler in any shape or form. I work hard for my money and don’t particularly enjoy watching it disappear in a few seconds. My FIL is the experienced one and usually flirts with lady luck at the craps table for hours. He knows what he’s doing…I don’t. I prefer playing video Blackjack. There isn’t any pressure, you can take your time and no one is telling you what to do. But for the life of me, I couldn’t find one video Blackjack machine in the whole casino. I tried playing poker, but burned out quickly because I didn’t really grasp the concept.

Parish was sitting next to me and I think I made him a little crazy asking over and over, “Should I keep this one,” “is this a flush,” and “Does this pair count?” Finally he told me to cash out and move on. We walked around the casino floor and eventually found his mom playing at a slot machine. I started whining and spinning around in my chair. Parish shoved a $20 in the machine and ordered me to “have fun.” Playing with someone else’s money is great motivation, so I started pushing buttons and after about five minutes, relaxed. I had about $10 left and then it happened – I hit the big one. The numbers started racing by and I tapped Parish on the shoulder so he could witness the excitement. I tripled my (Parish’s) money and let out a squeal. OK, so maybe $67 isn’t “the big one” but it’s the most I’ve ever won. Ha! Of course you know what I did next, I quickly punched the ‘cash out’ button and left the casino.

The next morning we went back to the restaurant for breakfast. I know it sounds like all we did was eat, but we also walked around a lot and took the stairs to our room every time. Our morning meal was delish and less of a workout since I didn’t have to wrestle a lobster. Parish and I shared a waffle and sipped on mimosas.

After breakfast, I went back to the room to pack up and Parish stayed behind. An hour later, I was ready and sitting with the luggage, knowing that my husband would walk through the door any minute and compliment me for being prepared. That never happened. I had to schlep my luggage down to the hotel lobby and call him on his cell phone. Turned out, he tried his hand at roulette and it sucked him in. He won back breakfast and some spending money for the rest of the weekend. He suggested I try it and I did. I don’t think I’ve ever lost $20 so fast in my life. The experience confirmed my belief – I’m not a gambler, I’m a spectator who likes to spend my money slowly, on tangible things.

Wedding bells for my Elle

My best friend is getting married. I know it sounds like a title to a new movie, but it’s not, this is happening in the real world. We met our freshman year in college and over the past six years, she has become the sister I never had. In fact, we are so alike; sometimes I wonder if we were separated at birth.

Recently, we were gabbing on the phone about her upcoming nuptials. Although the wedding is over a year away, it’s still exciting to talk about some of the things she is planning and possible venues they are planning to visit. I wish I could be there to help her out. It’s so hard being so far away – Lacey was an integral part of my wedding planning and I hate being states away as she plans her big day.

She went with me when I tried on wedding dresses and when she cried - I bought the dress. Her mom designed our centerpieces and helped me pick out invitations. Naturally, Lacey was my maid of honor and her speech at my wedding made me laugh and sob at the same time. But even though I live 1,000 miles away, I’m going to try my hardest to be involved with her wedding. When it comes time for her to choose a wedding dress, we talked about using Skype. I have a camera on my iPad and she has one on her phone – it just might work. Nothing compares to being there in person, but I want to see her face when she finds “the one.”

I thought it also might be a good idea for me to make a replica of my body and mail it to Colorado for Lacey to use during bridesmaid dress shopping. I need to find a way to dip myself in wax or have a mannequin artist make a ‘Rebeccaquin.’ A life-size cardboard cut out would work, but only for the height, not the other bits.

Parish and I are thinking about going home for Christmas, and when I told Lacey the plans she said we could go dress shopping when I got there. This idea made me so happy! My trips home are usually wild, there are people to see, lots of meals to enjoy and life to catch up on with family there. Adding dress shopping into the mix is pure craziness, but I will do it for my best friend.

I’m not sure if I’m making a toast during the September affair, but I’ve already started mentally thinking about what I’m going to say. I’ve also started rattling my brain about the perfect gift. Lacey is marrying a man who loves his dog, going camping and hiking for hours into the wilderness. Although she does enjoy camping, Lacey is a girly girl who wears pink, drives a little sports car and sips champagne. I’m relieved I still have 13 months left to think about a gift.

I met her fiancé in college, although they weren’t dating at the time. So, he has my stamp of approval. He’s a great guy, hard working and he loves Lacey, which is the most important part. OK, my eyes are getting a little misty…I better wrap this up; I have a wedding to help plan.

Happy birthday ladies!

The excitement of June continued to unravel in the latter part of the month. We got through the birthday cake, iPad Anonymous meetings, our anniversary dinners/lunches and happy hours. Then Father’s Day a couple weekend ago, which was a nice, all day affair in Center Ridge. The only thing left to celebrate this month is my mom and aunt’s birthday in Colorado.

I’ve been working on their gifts for a couple of weeks and finally put the last present in their box of goodies. As much as I would love to be there in person, I will have to rely on the trusty postman to deliver my birthday wishes. While shopping at Park Plaza recently, I picked up some great gifts. If anyone else got the box, they might be confused, but I know my mom and aunt so well. And I know they will just love what I send (they better!) For instance, I’m sending them both bottles of freshly picked watermelon hand soap from Bath & Body Works.

Why send someone soap for their birthdays? Well, there’s a story behind it (of course). My father-in-law grows the best tasting watermelons I’ve ever had. Every summer, my family asks me to mail them a watermelon. Can you mail a watermelon? I have an aunt who works for FedEx and she says you can, so I might try it one year. But in the meantime, I’m sending watermelon soap. It’s much lighter, fits in a reasonable size box and won’t cause a gigantic mess if it breaks.

I’m also sending them some body butter from B&BW. One of lotions is named P.S. I love you. How fitting is that? In also including body sprays from Victoria Secret – they recently had their semi-annual sale and it’s an event we always went to.

Since beauty care was covered, I ran by the Argenta Market and picked up some J & M raspberry cookies. Janis and Melanie is the local company that sells the cute boxes of cheese straws. I like supporting local companies and when my parents visited one year, I had a box of J&M cookies in my pantry that they enjoyed.

Hopefully now all of the items in the birthday box make sense. I know they will be surprised too. My mom sends me a box about every other month and sometimes every month. She is always so thoughtful and so is my aunt. My mom comes from a family of nine – six sisters and a pair of very hard working parents. Most of my aunts are scattered all over the country, but I’m closest to the one in Colorado. I also consider her my second mom and will forever by the “cool aunt.” She’s the one who took me and my cousins to the zoo, the park, ice cream shops, cemeteries, toy stores and anywhere else it was legal to go. The items in the birthday box pale in comparison to the amount of love and admiration I have for these two fabulous ladies. Happy birthday ladies and thanks for living lives worth admiring.

A mother of a tale

Officially speaking, I’m not a mother, but I have been known to play one during family affairs. My sister in law (SIL) gave birth to the most precious little boy about a year and a half ago. I call him ‘Baby J’ and I love him to pieces. I also have a special bond with him because I was one of the first people to see him when he was born. He arrived about five months too early; seeing that little miracle is one sight I will never forget. Baby J is growing and despite his surprise entrance into this world, is doing really well. He is one active toddler and is in the phase where he wants to put everything in his mouth. Needless to say, for this year's Mother’s Day, everyone was busy and someone had to keep an extra eye on the little guy. I wanted to give my SIL a break from being a mom for a few hours, so I tried my best to watch Baby J while she relaxed. In between making sure the baby didn’t get too close to the grill and fryer, I made a salad and fixed a fruit pizza. This taste of motherhood was a mouth full!

My in-laws live out in the country, so there is more than enough space for everyone to enjoy and relax. The baby loves to be outside – so that is where we spent most of our time. Unfortunately, you have to watch out for things you wouldn’t in the city: snakes, large bugs, loose dogs, snakes and dead carcasses. Since I appointed myself as the official baby caretaker, I had to observe all of the surroundings to ensure my nephew was kept safe and the opposite of snake bait. We had a lot of fun exploring the area and I enjoyed getting some sun.

The highlight of the day was when I backed into a birdbath, knocked it down and then fell into the water. I was soaked from the waist down and turned red from the neck up. Only one other person saw this smooth move and quickly came over to fix the bath. Thankfully, the 50-pound, solid rock basin fell in the opposite direction of where my nephew was standing. I laughed and the playing resumed once everyone made sure we were OK. My nephew didn’t even know what happened because he was busy picking up pieces of wood to put eat. I stood with my backside to the sun and said, “No, icky, yuck, yuck,” and tried to take the wood from his little fist. He put up quite a fight, but I eventually pried the soggy piece of nature from his little fingers. I threw it into the bushes and kept saying, “Yucky,” and “icky,” over and over. A few seconds later he picked up a stick, turned it horizontal and licked it. How he didn’t learn and grasp my icky mantra is beyond me. I repeated the previous steps and heaved the stick into the air and picked him up. “Let’s go see what your momma is doing,” I said.

I found my SIL sitting in the shade looking so relaxed and peaceful. “Are you wearing Auntie Becky out?” she asked as she took the baby and handed him a bottle. I smiled and said, “Of course not, we are having a fun time.” And I meant every word, but at the same time, I was relieved I could go back to just being an aunt and drying my pants off.

The dance will have to wait

A coworker told me about the Wye Mountain Daffodil Festival one morning while we waited for the company coffee maker to produce the coveted magic potion. He told me it was just past Pinnacle Mountain and a great local event to check out. I’m always up for an outing and if it’s local and supports hard working people, I’m all for it. This festival, I found out after some research, is a fundraiser for the Wye United Methodist Church. My coworker explained how there is a whole field of daffodils and you are able to pick some and buy bulbs and picnic and frolic in the fields. (Well, he didn’t mention the last part, but isn’t that what you are supposed to do – dance with daffodils?)

Also, I had never been to or heard of Wye before, but with a fun name like that, I knew I had to check it out. Parish had to work last Saturday, so I made myself lunch, grabbed a water bottle and headed out.

Of course I “Googled” to get directions and tried calling the church before I went, but all I got was a busy signal. I took that as a good sign, as in – the daffodil field is open and someone is too busy to answer the phone. That assumption I made came back to bite me in the end.

The timing actually worked out perfectly, I was in need of some personal/alone time and the journey to Wye provided some nice “me time.” I put in one of my favorite country music CDs, cranked it up, rolled down the windows and jumped on Highway 10. After about 35 minutes, I finally spotted the sign I needed – 113 North. I turned right and arrived at the church about five minutes later. Not one single soul was around and a line of orange cones was lined up in front of the entrance. My little daffodil-loving heart just plummeted into my socks. I looked around to make sure no one was playing a prank on me – they weren’t, because like I said, there wasn’t anyone around.

I gazed out to where the flowers were supposed to be and all I saw was green – not one spec of yellow. I was too late. I visited the Facebook page for the festival when I got home that night; it looks like such a pretty display. I’ve already (mentally) put it on my calendar of things to do next year. Only about 350 days to go…

Despite missing the blooms, the drive to Wye was really nice and getting to pass Lake Maumelle two times was a lovely treat. Since I was already out and about, I decided to walk around Pinnacle and bask in the sunshine. Pinnacle was hopping of course, but the half-mile trail by the playground wasn’t too busy. I also read my book, Little Bee, while sitting in the big open field. It was so peaceful.

By the time I got back in the car, I was a little sunburned, sweaty and thirsty – but I was happy. On the way home I treated myself to an iced coffee at Gellattes and finished my book. There is something to be said about taking some time out for yourself – whether the daffodils are in bloom or not.

A bullutiful ride

Sometimes you have to “Take life by the horns” literally. I did. During a recent night out, I rode a mechanical bull for the first time in my life. It turned out to be one of the most craziest and silly things I’ve ever done. Truly, it was the highlight of my week, perhaps month.

Parish and I checked out the Electric Cowboy off of Interstate 30. This was only our second visit in over three years, which tells you how much we think about the crazy club. We were actually heading downtown to hang out at a piano bar, when my husband nonchalantly said, “Do you want to go to the Electric Cowboy?” Being in a spontaneous mood and glad to be out of the house, I headed in the direction of the neon sign.

If you’ve never been to the EC – let me preface by saying it’s not a quiet place to meet friends and sip a martini. Trucks occupy a majority of the parking lot and there is a snack cart outside waiting for hungry, inebriated people.

Inside, a humongous dance floor is surrounded by bar maidens waiting to serve you. It’s a great place to go when you want to dance and you don’t care who watches you boot, scoot and boogie. The Electric Cowboy is also a fantastic place to people watch, because of the previous reason.

The mechanical bull resides within the wild walls of the club and for some reason I decided to jump on. Parish rode the bull first and I laughed so hard I thought I was going to need oxygen. My husband is not your traditional looking cowboy, not one bit! Watching him with one arm flapping in the air and the other tightly gripping the rope was almost too much. For $5 you had two chances to stay on the bull for as long as you could. I didn’t time Parish, but I think he stayed on for about 25 seconds. After he fell off for the second time, he asked if I wanted to try it. I hesitated for a moment as I looked at the slowly rocking bull. Then I thought, “What the heck?!”

One of the operators had to help me get on the bull and explained the simple instructions: wrap your legs around the neck and hold on. Slowly, my new friend started moving back and forth and then around in a circle. Part of the experience includes waving an arm in the air and shouting “Yow,” and “Yee-haw!” I was laughing so hard I could hardly get any audible word out. Parish said I squealed the whole time. All I remember is a 360-degree view of the club, Parish cheering and me flopping on the red blowup mat. I’m not sure how long I stayed on the bull, but it was worth $5 and then some. After the first go around, I wanted to try again, but spending $15 for less than 60 second of entertainment seemed a bit much. My forearm was sore the rest of the night – but I’m a tough cowgirl and put up with the pain.

We reminisced about our rides the rest of the night and the following morning. I’m smiling right now as I write this column – proving that taking life by the horns can be a fun $5 ride.

A shoe-in worth writing about

Elbows were flying, ladies were running, I was sweating and running barefoot. This recent craziness took place during a shoe sale at Dillard’s. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done and in order to snag a good pair of shoes, you had to be ready both physically and mentally.

I didn’t plan on going crazy, but when my bargain radar intercepted the 70 percent off signs above the racks and racks of shiny shoes, all bets were off. Seeing me go into bargain hunter mode was nothing new for Parish and he sought safety in another store. He’s a smart man. I wear a very feminine size 10, so I thought I would find the lonely rack and wouldn’t have to wrestle with the other little feet people. I was wrong. There wasn’t any organization and size fives were next to eights and size sixes were hanging out with nines. It was complete mayhem!

On the outskirts of the racks I found a couple lost boxes and low and behold, a beautiful pair of my-size 10, faux snake skin heels. Trust me, these shoes are absolutely lovely and it was must-have-at-first-sight. I clutched the box tightly as I went in to the main arena.
You had to keep on eye on your treasures; one lady interrogated me about where I found the good-looking pair. At this point, I took off the shoes I came in, plus socks and was trying on shoe after shoe. I have honestly never had that much fun shopping for shoes – ever.

Parish finally came out of hiding and found a safe spot to sit while I continued my mad spree. He actually turned out to be very helpful and commented on every pair I tried on. After I was done trying a few on, he would say, “Go back in there!” So I did. After about 25 shoes later, I surrendered. I had made it out alive with three pairs of beautiful shoes.

Parish told me to pick one pair and I nearly cried. One? I panicked and looked at the snakeskin pumps, they had been with me from the beginning. I also found a pretty pair of deep purple, patented shoes and a cute pair of black flats. He could tell that I was on the verge of tears and calmly said, “OK, let’s get all three.” I exhaled and hugged my understanding, patient and great partner in crime.

Please understand that this is not a normal occurrence. I don’t get treated to shoe shopping sprees every weekend. This was the first time sine we’ve been married (3 years, eight months) that I can recall such an event taking place. I wear shoes until something breaks, rips or becomes dangerous.

My mom sends me shoes from Colorado, which helps with my inventory. And if I do treat myself, I usually look at Payless or TJ Maxx first. Most of the shoes were originally $99 each and came to about $35 on sale. One pair was $26. So we got six shoes for the price of two. Isn’t that exciting?

I was beside myself for the rest of the day – I floated home and gingerly unpacked my new finds and arranged them neatly in my closet.

Retail therapy does exist and I think it works even better when you find a great sale and live to tell about it.