Would you live in a cemetery like these people do?

After eating out and seeing a movie a couple of years ago, my husband and I began driving around the outskirts of downtown Houston looking at various places.  Recognizing that we were near the old Jefferson Davis Hospital, I asked him to drive by it again.  When our oldest son was 2-years-old in 2007, we accidentally came upon the old hospital and looked around the inside of it.  It was abandoned, but there was security guard on the property.  Although we were not previously aware, people had been flocking to this hospital for a very long time due to claims that it was haunted.  I don't want to entertain any of those stories here, but the place IS interesting.  Really, any old building with a historical marker on the outside of it is interesting to me.  It drives my husband crazy, but he always stops so I can read them. 

This is what it looked like when we found it in 2007. 

In 1840, just 4 years after Texas won its independence from Mexico and Houston was founded by the Allen brothers, 5 acres of land were bought on what is now known as Elder Street by the City of Houston along a couple of bayous that run near what is now downtown Houston.  A cemetery was opened and contained 4 sections for the poor, slaves (as slavery would not become outlawed until 1863), Confederate soldiers and people that died from suicide or in a duel.  In a duel.  Isn't that interesting?  You dueled?  You will be buried HERE!  It is estimated that approximately 10,000 graves are within those 5 acres. 

Queen Victoria in 1841.

The cemetery operated until the 1880s.  Today, there are only about 3 visible areas that you can tell were burial plots. There are no original markings on them at all. In 2007, a marker was made to honor a grave that had been discovered containing soldiers' remains.


From 1840 to 1880, there were many, many grand homes built in downtown Houston.  I saw many of them in a book I have about Houston history.  I wanted to take pictures of the pictures to put into this post, but then I was afraid I'd get thrown into the clanker with stale bread and mouse-nibbled cheese for the next 50 years of my life.  So, I thought I'd just let you know that most of those beautiful homes were razed to make way for an emerging downtown, which makes me sad, of course.  Those homes were majestic!  How could they just be demolished?  I know the answers, but I still hate that those houses were just punched right in the face.  
The oldest occupied house is the Waldo Mansion, which was built in 1885 at Caroline & Rusk.  It was moved in 1905 where it sits now in the Westmoreland District, which for you Houstonians is near Montrose and 59.

Waldo mansion, 1885

Here is a picture I took of another home in the Westmoreland District, which may have looked like some homes that were hit in the gut with a wrecking ball in downtown Houston.  Obviously, this house would cost a lot to repair.  Someone with lots of money, please restore this home before it gets knocked down and then invite me over and give me a tour and possibly give me the whole house for free.

So, you get the idea of what Houston looked like in some parts in 1880.  During that year, operations shut down at that location as the official city cemetery and moved over to Allen Parkway.  From 1880 to 1924, the cemetery containing 10,000 gravesites on Elder Street became neglected and overgrown.

That's when Jefferson Davis Hospital was built ON TOP OF THAT same neglected, overgrown CEMETERY and named after the THOUSANDS of people buried underneath, some that were Confederate soliders.  The hospital only operated at that location for 13 years and then moved to an updated facility nearby.

Jefferson Davis Hospital, circa 1920s.

From 1936 to 2007, this place was abandoned!  It just sat there getting dustier and dustier and and dustier and dustier and dustier and dustier, until artists moved into this building renamed "Elder Street Lofts".  People LIVE there now.  They live in a place that used to be a cemetery and a hospital.  Perhaps this is common in other parts of the country and world?  I have been out of the country, with the exception of Mexico, once and that was to Paris where the Catacombs are located.  Underground are thousands of bones of the deceased while the vibrant life of Paris goes on above.  Maybe building on top of cemeteries can't be avoided at some point?
"We don't like thinking about dying and we don't like being dead and so we don't like taking care of cemeteries," says Mark Denton, an archaeologist with the Texas Historical Commission. "Our society has this out-of-sight, out-of-mind philosophy about the dead, and it's reflected in how many cities have built over and turned former cemeteries into something completely other than a cemetery." (from http://www.houstonpress.org/)

Do you think buildings should be placed knowingly on top of graves?  Do you know of other places with similar stories?  Would you live in this place?

The Right & Wrong Times To Ask "When Is Your Baby Due?"

We've all done it. Probably. We've all assumed someone was pregnant, asked about it and were absolutely wrong. What can do you do then? There are no trapdoors in life. There's no way to suck yourself right out of the moment. You said it and you must own it.

That can be an ugly place to be.

You may have been on the receiving end of those words, too. When I was NEWLY pregnant, a woman at my former workplace said, "Kelley, I knew you was pregnant from behind." Mmmmhmmmm. She said that. She could tell from my big ol' behind that I was with child. She was right, but that behind didn't have anything to do with that baby. He was brand new! He was probably the size of a grape! Grapes don't cause you to have a rhino rear!

Knowing the heartache these questions can bring, my cousin and I developed some guidelines on this situation just this weekend. We don't want any unnecessary ugliness in a person's life. We're thinking that everyone could use a few tips and pointers on when to ask...

If the woman has a slight belly bulge, DON'T ASK. It may just be pizza.

If the woman says she's late on her cycle and she has a slight belly bulge, DON'T ASK. She maybe super bad at math and may have also just had some pizza.

If the woman has a bunch of other kids and you know she gets pregnant easily and has a definite roundness to her abdomen, DON'T ASK. It may just be the gift her baby left with her that was just born a month ago. If you were a better friend, you would have known that. You will not be giving her an additional gift by asking if she's pregnant. You actually need to go get her a gift card to Babies 'R Us and keep those questions to yourself. Sakes alive.

If the woman is holding her back like pregnant women do, DON'T ASK. Girlfriend may have had to move a lot of 12-packs of Diet Coke from her trunk to her pantry last night.

If the woman sort of waddles and is also holding her back like pregnant women mostly do, DON'T ASK. She may be part duck, part human. This may be the way she walks all the time. Who made you the official on walking patterns? Do not ask her when her baby is due and do not ask her to quack.

If the woman has an unmistakable pregnant lady belly, DON'T ASK. She may have had a whole watermelon for lunch. Do not tell her she looks like she swallowed a watermelon, either. She may find a watermelon and bust it over your head.

If, while you are talking to her, you see a definite imprint of a baby's foot poke out, DON'T ASK. It may not actually be a baby. That footprint may actually be a weird something she's got going on in her innards. Unless you have a trapdoor under your feet, you best keep that yapper zipped.

If she's wearing maternity clothes that you recognize from your own maternity clothes collection, DON'T ASK. She might like loose-fitting clothes, sister. If those loose-fitting clothes are actually tight-fitting, you really better not ask. (After my oldest son was born, my 82-year-old great aunt asked if she could have the maternity shirt I wore to my baby shower. I gave it to her. She'd probably have liked it if someone had asked her when her baby was due.)

If she said that she's having contractions, DON'T ASK. She may be an English teacher and she's talking about a contraction lesson that she's got coming up. You can't run the risk of being wrong.

If you are walking by a woman at Target that looks really, really pregnant and then something warm and liquidy spills out everywhere around her and then you slip in it, DON'T ASK. That might not have been her water that broke. She may just look like she's pregnant and she had to pee really bad. You can't risk being wrong. That could ruin her day. She may not want her bladder to receive any more attention. Just mop up the warm body fluid, make sure she's going some paper towels and keep shopping.

If you find yourself in an impromptu labor & delivery situation with a stranger at a grocery store and you see a baby's head crowning, DON'T ASK. I think it's pretty obvious that her baby is due right now. Go grab some paper towel packages and give it to her as a pillow. Maybe call 911.

So, you see, it's really pretty simple.

Never, ever, ever ask.

(Wait for her to tell you unless you are needed in the frozen food aisle with your forceps.)

Have you ever asked this question at the wrong time?
Has anyone asked you this question at the wrong time?

Get your boxing gloves out. It's Bluebonnet time.

Well, shoot. It's that time of year again and I haven't done any preparation. The time of year when all mothers of Texas kids, especially younger Texas kids, get all in a tizzy. Some of us anticipate when this moment will hit and others don't realize the moment has hit until they are sitting at a red light.

That moment?


Lawduhmercy, grab your cameras! Plop Junior down in some bluebonnets and snap away before those bluebonnets up and die and you look like a neglectful parent.

(The first person to post their children's photos in the bluebonnets on Facebook is typically the first person who gets their Christmas trees up.)

The painful reality that yet another bluebonnet season was going to pass me by hit me while I was at a red light yesterday. I casually looked to my right and dern it if those blue state flowers weren't staring holes right through me.

"Gah, bluebonnets! I see you! Yes, I forgot about you again! You'd think a state flower would be a little more understanding."

Honestly, I think the bluebonnets wish we'd pick another state flower.

"Belle, get ready because I see a young toddler boy on his way to sit near us."

"Oh, Howard, I don't think so. Looks like he's headed over there to Charlie and Bonnie's neighborhood. I sure am going to miss those two. Oh, Bonnie. Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie."

"Nope, he's waddling our way, Belle. His mother is panicking. Look at her freaking out over where he sits. She's thinking that other lady is about to steal her spot. I'll tell you where both of your kids should sit, ladies! Back in their car seats! Stop stepping on my friends! Why can't they just pick another 'state flower' already? Haven't we done our duty long enough? What's wrong with a dandelion? Why can't they sit in a patch of dang dandelions, for goodness sakes?! Or how about a daisy? A buttercup? A...  Belle? BELLE!!!!!!!"

Yep, Belle's a goner.

Timmy's diapered butt killed her.

Toddlers and Texas children far and wide kill Belles and Howards left and right during bluebonnet season, which is very short-lived. It's amazing how many bluebonnets Texas butts can snuff out in such a short time. And we'll snuff out those flowers, boy. We don't care. We'll act all self-righteous when we see someone pick a bluebonnet (which, it turns out, is not really illegal...I don't think), but we'll plop our rear in patch of them in no time flat.

"What??? You picked a bluebonnet????? THAT'S OUR STATE FLOWER!! Forget the bank robbery! Get this lady!! Call Rick Perry and get her to the front of Death Row!"

I'm not even kidding.

It happens every year that I will want to take the boys' pictures in the flowers. I'll want one of those fancy pictures I see all over Facebook. The one that makes me look like a loving and playful and kind mother. (Bluebonnet pictures are up there with the rodeo and floatin' the river as a Texas mom's duty.) The thing is, I use my phone as my camera because I'm lame. I have "real" cameras, but they aren't as real as other people's real cameras and those are the cameras taking all the fancy pictures that go on Facebook. By the time it all clicks that I might want to ask someone with a real real camera to take the boys' pictures in the flowers, THEY'VE VANISHED. They've packed up and left town.

A couple of years ago, I decided I'd be my own photographer. I could do this thing! I drug the boys to a hill not too far away and anticipated a sea of blue to photograph. I was going to finally be eligible for that Super Texas Mom award. Wouldn't you know it that when we arrived that sea of blue was tainted by butt prints all over the prairie? Belles and Howards were all smushed and lifeless. I had to try to situate my boys at such an absolutely perfect angle that it looked like the 2 living bluebonnets equaled the 4 million that were on that hillside less than 24 hours ago.

"Smile, boys! Come on, smile! Now, don't turn your head that way. It makes it obvious that we're working with only 2 bluebonnets here. *MAKE YOUR MOTHER LOOK KIND OR I'LL PUT YOU IN TIME OUT!!!!!!!! MAKE ME LOOK KIND, DANG IT!!!"

*I didn't really say that out loud.

Those bluebonnets can bring out the ugly in people.

So, if you are ever in Texas around March and April, beware for screeching cars at the roadside. We'll stop anywhere if we spot a patch of blue. Parents who care deeply about 5-point harnesses will shove little Billy Jo right into a median surrounded by cars zipping by at 90 miles per hour for that coveted picture.

"Now, smile, Billy! That 18-wheeler ain't gonna hurt you!" *tries to remove bits of rubber tire that just flew into her teeth* "Smile, son!"

We are super serious about the bluebonnets 'round here. There's even a site dedicated to bluebonnet sightings. There are probably many like it. They're like UFOs or something. For goodness sakes.

After all of this writing and talking about the state flower, I'm really tempted to take my boys to that red light I was at yesterday near the old barbecue restaurant and busy intersection for a snapshot. I'll have them stand amidst the 10 bluebonnets scattered among the ant hills and weeds and then ask them to smile.

I bet no one will be competing for that spot.

But I'll take my boxing gloves, just in case.

Confession: I May Be An Overreactor. My sister, too. (Alternate title: What would YOU have done if this was in YOUR house?)

My sister wasn't hurting anybody. She was just sitting there eating her pizza on her couch. And watching some TV. I'm sure it was something on Bravo. She just loooooves Bravo. She was minding her own business and watching something on Bravo. Or HGTV. One of those two. Minding her own business and watching Bravo or HGTV. It could have been Food Network. Minding her own business and watching Food Network or Bravo or HGTV. Or perhaps it was...


My brother-in-law heard my sister scream and came rushing down the stairs.

"What? What? What's wrong?!??"

"Looklooklooklooklooklooklook!!!!!!!" My sister frantically pointed up toward the ceiling with her arms flailing all around in her full-on freaked-out mode.

"Oh, Lisa!"

"What? Get it!!!!"

"I thought you were bleeding to death down here. I can't believe you screamed like that over THAT!"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? It's a BAT! A BAT! There is a BAT in our LIVING ROOM."

Not the same bat, but, lawduhmercy, that thing is ugly. Source

It wasn't in the living room long, though. Before they were able to stick that thing into a headlock, it had flown upstairs into their game room. My brother-in-law chased behind it and decided to turn on the ceiling fan in the hopes that the flying blood-sucking mammal would crash into the blades and fall to the ground.

And that's what happened.

I still don't know if that bat was alive or not when he sailed face first into the carpet. I need to remember to ask my brother-in-law about that. I just know that the bat problem had been taken care of for the time being.

Except when I told my sister that the pest control people I had pestered about sponsoring our neighborhood swim team told me that bats usually travel in pairs. (I had to pretend I had another goal for coming into their establishment other than just wanting them to cough up some dollah bills.) The bats-traveling-in-pairs thing got her all freaked out over again.  Well, that, and the fact that there is bat residue in her house.

Bat particles.

My sister is one of those REALLY clean people. I feel like I'm a clean person, but my sister is REALLY CLEAN. If she were fresh out of the shower but then had to take the trash out, she'd want to take a shower again. For her to have bat atoms in her house is a huge deal.

So, this is how it's been for the last week:

"Kelley, can you believe there was a BAT IN MY HOUSE?"

*Brother-in-law in the background* "Would you stop it, already? The bat is out of the house. We have rid our house of the bat. The bat area has been cleaned."

"A bat, Kelley," She'll continue. "A bat."

I always agree with her, because the first person I'm calling if a bat finds a key to this house is her. Well, that's after I've yelled and flailed around my own house for a bit.

This bat business prompted a conversation between my sister and me about the level of sympathy our husbands have for us when something super really bad happens like bats flying into ceiling fans in your own house when you were minding your own business while watching HGTV. (Or was it Bravo?) Her husband felt that her level of yelling was only appropriate for profuse bleeding. I am thinking he should have thought her reaction should have gone more like this one:

"Oh, dear me. Would you look at that? A bat in my own house. Shoo, bat. Shoo. Honey? Oh, honey! When you get a chance, could you see if you could get this nuisance out of the house? I'm trying to watch the Food Network and this constant flapping of this bat's wings are sort of bothering me. No rush, though."

I only feel like I am at liberty to tease them about this situation because my husband would have had the same reaction as my brother-in-law if he had found me yelling like crazy over a bat in the living room. I know this because I know how my husband reacts when I hurt my toe. If I have nailed the sucker into the side of some furniture, for example, and fall down in agony, the scenario would likely play out like this:

"OUCH!!! OUCH!!" *crashes down to the ground*

"What's wrong??"

"I hurt my toe!" *rolls from side to side on her back while clutching her foot*

"You hurt your toe?? I thought you broke your leg or something!"

"I can't hurt my toe and get some sympathy? Why does it always have to be catastrophic? Is the only way I'm getting a 'Are you okay? What can I do to help?' outta you is if I come through here with a 2 x 4 sticking out of my right ear?"

(I'm fairly confident he'd give me a pat on the head and a "there, there" if I had a 2 x 4 sticking out of my ear. Possibly.)

When he says things like, "I thought you broke your leg!", he pretty much knows I didn't break my leg. That is his way of saying that my outburst doesn't match my pain level and so, therefore, does not require much sympathy.

"But, I hurt my toe!"

"You aren't even crying, Kelley."

"But, I hurt it!"

"Not crying."

"Okay, I'm better now."

I guess he sort of has a point. I do recover pretty quickly. And I can be a little dramatic. I guess my sister can be that way, too. We all react to pain and bats in the house in our own individual ways, though, and that's our God-given right, dingdangit.

We know our husbands care about us. Of course, they do. Once when we were first married, and before my husband became desensitized to my pain reactions, I had heartburn that made me feel like I was having a heart attack. I clutched my chest and slid down the bathroom wall. (I've seen a lot of movies.) I do remember him dropping everything and running over to me with a worried look on his face exclaiming, "Kelley! Kelley! Are you alright??". I tuck that little scenario in the back of my head when he doesn't run to get a stretcher for me after I hurt my toe.

Seriously, though, if my sister or I see a bat just after we hurt our toes, we are going to need a stretcher. We might as well stock up on a couple of those right now, just in case.

If He Never Came Back: A Story of Loss With A Chance To "Give Forward"

I think we all like the idea of "paying it forward". We like to be the recipient of it and we like to do it, when we can. I once went through a drive-through at a Smoothie King to learn that my smoothie had already been paid for when I got up to the window by the guy in front of me. The next time my kids and I went by that Smoothie King, my preschooler asked if our smoothies would be free again. The little dude just thought that is how it went at Smoothie King.

There is a site out there that is all about forward giving called Give Forward. Give Forward is a "crowdfunding" site that reportedly raises 21% more than other sites like it. I just spent less than 5 minutes on the site and came away feeling so inspired. There are so many people out there that want to help others. It is amazing to see the amount of money raised for some of the people featured on the main page of the Give Forward site. Money for people who have suffered a traumatic brain injury, children who are battling cancer, a young woman who had a massive stroke after surgery and more. Across the top of the page it says that Give Forward has raised over 92 MILLION (million!) dollars for individuals in need.

Need Help with Medical Bills? Raise More with GiveForward.com

That takes my breath away.

I love that Give Forward helps join families and communities together in a common goal to help someone dealing with something pretty major. It gives people a place to help. It gives people an alternative to bringing over another pot of baked beans. Baked beans are certainly a welcomed sight and we need food to get through each day, but baked beans are hard to put through credit card machines and they squish up pretty badly inside envelopes.

There was no Give Forward back in the 80s. I guess people collected money in mailboxes and stuff and helped people out that way. I think back to friends who went through some really trying times and wonder how they would have felt to be the recipient of some Give Forward generosity.

We recently used Give Forward to help raise money for my friend Courtney of Our Small Moments. I wrote this post on her behalf back in September. This fundraiser for her raised over $16,000. I wanted to share the story with you to show you the power of what this site can do for you or someone you know who is dealing with something heavy.

I stared at my husband's flip flops a little longer than usual this morning. I stared at them and then I put them on my feet. I walked around. I stood there. Squished my toes into the soles.

I was mesmerized for a while. Deep in thought. I wondered what I would do if I saw those flip flops on the floor and knew that he would never wear them again because he wasn't coming back.

What would I do if I knew that I'd never see him again?

I think I would have collapsed into a heap and cried until I fell asleep.

Right there in the hallway.

Some people face this sadness due to a spouse that leaves from unhappiness. Some children face this sadness due to a dad that doesn't want to be around anymore.

But, some people face this devastation because their husband has passed away.

And, I cry.

Since I was a little girl, I was terrified of someone in my family dying. I think I've been to at least 20 funerals in my lifetime. At night, I'd pray for the longest time that angels would surround my house and protect all of us inside. I'd go through a long list and pray that everyone I knew would be healthy and safe and free from harm. I felt that if I left someone off the list, I would be contributing to their demise should it happen.

When the phone rings now at odd times during the day or night, I catch my breath. I pray that no one is on the other line saying someone I love has died in an accident or from a heart attack.

Or from cancer.

It's as if I want heaven on earth. No harm, no hurting, no pain, no tears, no sadness, no death.

We all want that.

Right now, a friend of mine named Courtney from the blog Our Small Moments is deep in grief. She, along with her two children, McCartney (8) and Anastasia (6), are dealing with the fact that the man they love so deeply is here no more.

The one that made them laugh. (Courtney said he was the class clown.)

The one that played them music.

The one that gave them hugs.

The one that made them feel better.

The one that Courtney met as a camp counselor.

The one that Courtney married in 2002.

His name was Scott.

He was 34.

And he passed away on Monday, August 12, 2013, after a brief battle with cancer.

We all want to do something for Courtney. We wish that we could turn back time, find that ugly cancer and throw it out on the street. The one thing that we know we can do is band together to help Courtney with the bills she is facing now, the future she is facing without him and the financial hardships that will happen as a result.

So, we give.

I so wish that Courtney was not the only one that I knew he faced such a terrible loss. I can think of four people immediately that have lost the loves of their lives to illness in the last couple of years, two of those from cancer. One of those who also has small children at home. It pains my heart like I know it pains yours.

Photo by Courtney Fitzgerald of Our Small Moments

Courtney's fundraiser has ended. I hope you will consider stopping by her Facebook page or blog, Our Small Moments, to show her your support. She is a wonderful, fun and inspirational person. I know she will be happy to see your face over there. She just wrote a post called "The Things That I Miss About Being Married" that I bet you would love. Knowing you.

In closing, I hope you will consider Give Forward to raise money for people that you know who are in need. You can find information about them in the sidebar of my blog and you can also go to their website here.

"All The Single Daddies": Beyonce's Song For All The Consciously Uncoupled Dads Out There

By now, you've heard that Gwyneth and Chris have "consciously uncoupled". It is all over Twitter. Here are a couple of my favorite tweets about it, written by Gloria Fallon:

Jokes aside, conscious uncoupling is a sad thing, especially for the kids, of course. Did you know that Beyonce sang a song about it once? She wrote it for the common dad, though. Not for Coldplay Chris. I'm sure he's a great dad, but his kids are older than the ones in this song. Still, I thought it was a good time to re-release it. The Conscious Uncoupled Dads out there may need a boost.

(Also, I must admit, I wrote this song for Beyonce a couple of years ago. I did, I did. Still waiting to hear back from her people. It has been over 24 months since our last contact, so I'm sure they'll call any day now. Fingers crossed it goes on her next CD!)


All the single daddies (7x)

Now hold your kids up!

Up in the tub, the bubbles bubblin' up
You're washing your kids while you sing 
You decided to dip, but baby hit her lip
Cuz her brother was playing like he was in the sea
You're up on him, tell him "Can't you see?"
You tell him to pay closer attention
He cried some tears, you remember he's only 3 years
Then he said "Daddy, don't be mad at me!"

Then you remembered if they bump it, you needa put some cream on it
If they got a rash then you always put some cream on it
Never can get mad if you see red bumps on 'em
Just gotta remember, you needa put some cream on it.

wo oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh oh x2

You got the phone to your lips, a baby on your hips
Your 3 year-old holdin' tight to your Daddy jeans
They're acting up, you put Coke in their sippy cups
You couldn't care less what others think
You need no permission, we heard you mention
"This Daddy's in charge of the kitchen!"
You make your kid take his turn
Tell him now he's gonna learn
"What it really feels like to obey me!"

Then you remembered if they bump it, you needa put some cream on it
If they got a rash then you always put some cream on it
Never can get mad if you see red bumps on 'em
Just gotta remember, you needa put some cream on it.

You don't care about the things of this world
You just love your boy and your girl
Your love is what they prefer, what they deserve
But, sometimes you wish they'd pick up more toys like Woody
And Buzz Lightyear with his "to infinity and beyond!!"
Because it's hard to do EVERYTHING with your two arms
You tell them "This is what I WANT
If you don’t clean, you’ll go to your room  alone
And like a ghost, your toys’ll be gone."

All the single daddies (7x)
Now hold your kids up!

woo oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh ooh 
oh oh oh 2x

"Constant Shaving": A Song Dedicated To The Shaving Girls Of The World (Inspired by K. d. Lang)

It's almost here. The time for shorts all week long is almost here. In previous years, that time would already be here, but Texas weather is all kinds of messed up lately. My boys swam on Saturday but on Sunday we were wearing pants and sweatshirts.

We can't act like pants and sweatshirts are not going to up and leave us soon. They will. They will leave us like a cruel, cold-hearted snake soon. Are you ready for their departure? Better yet, are your legs reading for their departure? Your entire leg- not just your calf, but your knee caps and the back of your thighs, too. YOUR ENTIRE DADGUM LEG. Is it ready?

Some of you may get that top-to-bottom, every nook-and-cranny shaving business done every day, even in the winter. When I see you all the next time, I'm going to give all of you overashavers a sticker. Some of us, though, shave pretty well but maybe not very, very well. Shaving must be done very, very well in the next few weeks if you don't want people to cover their eyes and point at your stubbly, hairy legs as they stand behind you in the line at Aldo's. (I've never been to Aldo's.  I've heard you have to rent your own basket with a quarter and I don't have any quarters. My sons took every last one of mine to play the crane game, get cheap toys and/or buy bubble gum.)

I don't mind shaving when I have a brand new razor. I practically want to stand in the shower all day shaving with that thing. If I knew I how to whistle, I would probably whistle as I shaved. I have a brand new razor right now and, seriously, all seems right with the world.

I am still not looking forward to shaving each and every moment of the day, though. Even a brand new razor can't make me embrace that mess. I feel like I am going to once again become the TSA Inspector Of Shaved Legs. Instead of searching for dangerous shampoos and whatnot, I'm looking for a rogue hair. "HOW DID YOU MISS THAT HAIR, KELLEY? GO STAND IN THE TALL ROUND THINGY AND SPIN AROUND WITH YOUR ARMS ABOVE YOUR HEAD."

Shaving is something else, I tell you. Something. Else. Actually, shaving is okay. It's the CONSTANT SHAVING that gets me.

*cues K. d. Lang to sing*

The thought of the level of shaving that will pretty much have to take place from now until Octoberish hit me this morning in the shower and, thus, a song was born, compliments to K.d. Lang. (I wonder how well she keeps up with shaving.)


Even through the most thorough shave
Of hair both thick and thin
Always someone misses one space
We girls have a lot of skin

Constant shaving
Hasn't always been

Thinking maybe there was no shaving in 1892
All girls didn't shave, they were just cooking food
Now we girls find that life itself
Makes us feel like a poodle getting constantly groomed.

Cooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnstaaaaaaaaaant SHAAAAAAVING
Will it ever end?


Ah ha
Cooooooooooooooooooooooonstant shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaving
I don't want to be its friend

Constant shaving
I envy the men
Constant shaving
They just have to worry about their faces and chins.

Ah ha
Constant shaving
Is it already time again?
It's a game we can never win.
I'm so bad at shaving my knees, friends.
Let me know when the Neanderthal Woman style is back in.
Is it really already time to do it again?
Seriously, it's already time again?

Do you have any funny shaving stories? Have you ever snuck into a person's house that you were staying and borrowed their razor really fast because you were about to engage in an unexpected swimming trip and you didn't remember to shave your legs and armpits that morning? Like, really fast? When did you start shaving? Did someone point at your hairy legs in gym class and make you feel like NeanderNerd? You know I want all of the scoop. You can give it here or over on my Facebook page HERE.
Happy shaving, ladies!

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