I’m classy, sassy and a bit badassy

Classy, Sassy, and a Bit Badassy

I think I’ve reached the age where I know exactly who I am.

I’m classy. I like things a certain way. I like to look put together, have a pretty home, use my manners, and treat people with kindness. I believe there is still something to be said for carrying yourself well and having standards.

But let’s not confuse classy with quiet.

Because I’m also a little sassy.

I have opinions. Lots of them. My face usually announces them before my mouth even gets a chance. I laugh at things I probably shouldn’t. I use sarcasm as a second language, and sometimes my filter clocks out before I do.

And then there is that tiny little badassy side.

That’s the part of me that survived the hard things, built a life, raised kids, ran a business, made mistakes, learned lessons, and kept going. It’s the part that says, “Nope, not doing that,” without needing everyone to understand why.

When you’re younger, you spend so much time trying to figure out who you are and worrying about what everyone thinks.

Then one day you realize… I’m good.

Not perfect. Not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s perfectly fine.

I can wear lipstick, love pretty things, cry over a memory, spoil my grandkids, speak my mind, stand my ground, and still have a little sparkle while doing it.

Classy enough to know better.

Sassy enough to say it anyway.

And just badassy enough to be myself.

Did the Rapture Happen While I Was Shopping?

Today I had one of the weirdest experiences, and it happened not once, but twice.

I pulled into a store parking lot, and it was packed. The kind of packed where you have to circle around looking for a spot and start wondering if you really need whatever you came for. I finally found a place, went inside, grabbed what I needed, and headed back out.

The parking lot was practically empty. Not just a little less crowded. Empty. As in, where did everybody go? I stood there for a second trying to figure out if I’d somehow lost track of time. Maybe I had been shopping longer than I thought. Maybe I’d accidentally wandered every aisle in the store. But no. I was in and out.

Then it happened again. Different store. Same exact thing. Packed when I arrived. Empty when I left.

By that point my mind had moved beyond logical explanations. My first thought was that maybe the Rapture happened while I was inside, and somehow I got left behind. That’s not exactly the kind of realization you want to have standing in a parking lot holding a bag of purchases.

My second thought was that perhaps the zombie apocalypse had started and everyone else got the memo except me. Maybe there was some emergency alert that went out while I was comparing prices or trying to remember why I walked into the store in the first place.

I know there are perfectly reasonable explanations. People come and go. Stores get busy and then they don’t. But when the same strange thing happens twice in one day, it starts to feel a little suspicious.

All I’m saying is if I pull into a crowded parking lot tomorrow and come back out to complete silence and abandoned shopping carts, I’m not sticking around to investigate. I’ve watched enough movies to know that’s how the main character ends up getting chased by zombies.

And honestly, if the Rapture did happen and I got left behind, at least I know I went down doing something important.

I was shopping.

Eight Grandkids, One Balloon, and Rules Nobody Remembered 😂

Last Monday I watched eight of my grandkids so Katie could go to work, and if there is one thing I have learned about my grandkids, it’s that they stick to me like glue.

I’m not sure if they are afraid they are going to miss something fun, something ridiculous, or just the next stupid thing Lolly decides to do, but they are always right there. Hip side. All of them.

Today’s big entertainment involved tape and a balloon. That’s it. Somehow those two items turned into an entire game, complete with rules, strategy, and a whole lot of confusion. Even the crawling grandbaby got involved.

The best part? We made up the rules as we went.

“This square gets to serve.”

“This square gets to pick what body part you have to hit the balloon with.”

“This square has to cover two spots if someone gets out.”

“If the balloon hits the ground, you’re OUT!”

By the end, we had so many rules nobody could remember all the rules, including the people who made the rules.

And when you play with a bunch of kids, especially with a few under three, you quickly realize the little ones are no longer players… they become part of the obstacle course.

The toddler lying on the floor having a meltdown because Barbie’s clothes won’t go on? Obstacle.

The baby crawling through the middle of the game? Obstacle.

The random kid walking through at the exact wrong moment? Also an obstacle.

You don’t stop the game. You just adjust and keep going. (Hey!  I'm teaching life lessons here!)

They had so much fun creating new rules, changing the game, and trying to keep up with the chaos they created. But like all kid activities, the greatest game ever invented lasted until suddenly… they were done.

Time to move on.

Thankfully Lolly had the next activity ready.

Lunch.

My choice. 😂

I let them make their own hot dogs, which apparently is also an activity when you’re a kid.

After that, we watched some crazy show they all seemed to love. I personally did not understand the appeal, but I’m pretty sure my grandparents thought the same thing about the stuff I watched.

Before I knew it, it was time to head home.

Eight kids. One balloon. A roll of tape. A million made-up rules.

Sometimes the simplest things really are the things they remember.

The Fourth of July: Oklahoma Tried to Melt Us ☀️

We had our big Fourth of July cookout and swim day with the family. When everyone is here, there are 22 of us. Yes… twenty-two humans. That is no longer a small family gathering. That is an event that requires planning, food inventory, and possibly a traffic director. 😂

Dennis had the outside all decorated and ready. We had flags and stars everywhere, sparklers waiting for the kids, and Katie painted a Fourth of July banner. Everything looked festive and patriotic… exactly how the Fourth should look.

Now the weather? That was a different story.

Because it’s Oklahoma, apparently Mother Nature decided we needed to celebrate our freedom by testing our ability to survive.

It was 100 degrees most of the day with absolutely no breeze. None. The trees weren’t moving. The air wasn’t moving. I’m pretty sure even the birds looked around and said, “Nope!”

Even the pool water was warm.

And when you’re the one running around making sure everyone has food, drinks, towels, sunscreen, and that all the things are getting done… it feels about 20 degrees hotter.

At one point I had to go inside, sit on my bedroom floor directly in front of the fan, and recover. Dennis came with me and claimed it was to “make sure I didn’t die.”

Sure, Dennis.

I think he wanted the air conditioning too. 😂

Eventually Dennis got the water hose and just started spraying people. It did not matter if you were in the pool, out of the pool, walking by, or just existing. If you were outside, you were fair game.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Dang Oklahoma heat. We are used to it… but we are also usually smart enough to stay inside when it’s that hot. Unfortunately, you can’t exactly have a backyard cookout in the living room.

We made a ridiculous amount of hot dogs, smoked sausage, barbecue chicken, potato salad, macaroni salad, fresh fruit, cupcakes, and had ice chests full of drinks. Basically the normal holiday spread where you prepare like you’re feeding the entire neighborhood.

And kids are funny. They ask for food all day long… until the food is actually ready.

Then suddenly swimming is more important than eating.

We made everyone dry off long enough to take family pictures, which is basically an Olympic event with that many kids. Then they jumped right back in the pool and within minutes were yelling from the shallow end asking if they could have a cupcake.

Of course. 😂

Then Oklahoma said, “That’s cute. Let me add a little drama.”

A huge storm cloud rolled in and shut the Fourth down. Some areas had winds up to 90 mph — thankfully not where we were — but it was enough to postpone the fireworks show until the 5th.

Because apparently even the fireworks looked at the weather and said, “Yeah… we’re not doing this today.”

It was hot. It was chaotic. It was loud. It was exhausting.

And it was exactly what a family Fourth of July should be. ❤️🇺🇸

250 Candles on America’s Birthday Cakej

This year, America turns 250 years old. Two hundred and fifty. That number is hard to wrap my head around when I stop and think about it. Two hundred and fifty years ago, a group of people signed a document and declared that they wanted something different. They wanted the freedom to make their own choices, govern themselves, and build a future that belonged to them.

Were they perfect? Of course not. Has America always gotten everything right? Not even close. But what amazes me is that through wars, depressions, disagreements, disasters, victories, and generations of change, this country is still here.

Think about all the people who came before us. Farmers. Teachers. Soldiers. Factory workers. Parents. Grandparents. People who built homes, raised families, started businesses, and simply tried to make life a little better for the people who came after them.  Most of them will never appear in a history book. Yet they helped build the country we live in today. 

When I think about America’s 250th birthday, I don’t just think about fireworks and parades. I think about all those ordinary people who quietly did their part. The ones who worked hard, paid their bills, raised decent kids, helped their neighbors, and left things a little better than they found them. That’s the real story of America. Not just the famous names. The rest of us too. People like our parents and grandparents. People like us.

Two hundred and Fifty is a long time. Entire nations have risen and fallen during that span. Yet here we are, still arguing, still growing, still stumbling sometimes, but still moving forward. Maybe that’s the lesson of America. We don’t have to agree on everything to love our country. We don’t have to be perfect to be proud.  And we don’t have to forget our history to celebrate how far we’ve come.

So when America blows out 250 candles, I hope we take a moment to appreciate what an incredible milestone it is. Not because we’re perfect....But because we’re still here.

And that’s worth celebrating.