Let's Talk About Love!

 

I found this picture at Pinterest.com and being the Cassie that I am I jumped up, grabbed some paint, a paper plate to pour it on, and a sponge brush. This is the result: 

 

 

A cobalt blue heart painted haphazardly on my wall. I don't know about you but I am in love with this heart. Isn't LOVE what it's all about? I personally have lots of loves. Baby loves, mommy loves, sister loves, best friend Boy loves, church loves, brother loves, and the list could go on. However there is still one love that I am waiting to meet. I have no idea who he is but I promise he is awesome. 

So if a huge bright blue heart on my wall helps me to keep the faith while I wait for "The Love" then so be it!! Perks of livin' in a fort people, random blue hearts actually improve the way the room looks! Who knew right?

Waitin'-on-Love Over and Out

South Carolina-eeness

This is Loki, she's cute and perfect and has razor sharp teeth so proceed with cation.

This is my "Holy Hell My Camera Is Fixed" face. Thanks to Spence and a rather cold can of compressed air.

It's so hot in South Carolina that when you take a digital camera from the lovely AC out into the sweaty sticky yuck of the air it gets all fuzzy and fogged up...yep true story.

 

Spence with the perfect pooch.

Loki has a bit of a problem. She likes to eat my hair. Don't worry we are looking into Hair Eaters Anonymous.

Love this stinkin' dog!!

BEACH!! Which is why I came to this place . .and the brother. . .and his girl

They aren't possessed, their faces just look like that. . .judge much?

. . .and the award for Most Attractive Family goes to. . .drum roll please. . . *long pause* "Anyone but these ugly beasts!"

Found this little buddy while walking on the beach, his name is Frank. He asked to be part of our family, we told him he wasn't pretty enough. We have standards, that's all.

I know this may not look like the best proof of our standards seeing as I look like a molting fish who has been out of water much too long, however I just got done working out. Que Fergie song: "I be up in the gym, just workin' on  my fitness."

May I just say, "I put them boys on rock, rock.  And they be lining down the block just to watch what I got."

Vacationer Over and Out

Driving 15 Hours, not actually so awesome.

Me and the Momma drove to South Carolina. It sucked.

 

 Sometimes we make faces like Bella

WE LOVE LOVES

 Funny Story: As Mom and I are walking into the girls restroom we notice a rather large MAN walking out. . .excuse me man but you have to have rather important plumbing to pee in this room, here's a hint: You don't have it!!

This is how you try and stay warm when Mom is blasting the AC and it's Antarctica up in this place!

Proof that Mom wasn't actually the one to blame. . .Genevieve (My Impala) has pretty amazing freezing out skills.

 BEST TRAVEL FOOD EVER!! And the best travel food ever deserves Cassie Kisses. Not all things do ya know.

Mom knows about the yumminess of the Vermont White Cheddar Wheat Thins, also she probably won't love that I put this picture on here. I am in control. The pictures stays. So there.

Practically-a-trucker Over and Out

So. . .yoga. . .nuff said

I have decided that Jillian Michaels is an evil, sadistic, goddess. 

 

Her body is practically perfect what with the muscle definition, flawless tan, and clear skin. However I bet she has split ends. . .hah! 

So what if she could kick my butt from here to next Thursday? My hair is better then hers! Que "happy song" LALALALAA LA LA LA LA DOO DAHHHH! 

Moment of truth: I have splint ends too *hangs head in shame*

Stupid girl must be some sort of deity.

So myself and the Sis-in-law got the grand idea to purchase this little baby. I figured if the people from The Biggest Loser could do yoga, so could I. Phsh!

News Flash: Those people are freaking hard core! 

Jillian makes you feel safe, tells you to try something different, and to not be afraid of new experiences (perhaps she is in the wrong profession? I see psychiatrist in her future, just sayin') and then she asks you to contort your body into uncomfortable positions (keep in mind my body is much fluffier then most), once contorted she then expects you to move in a repetitious manner so as to "Burn that fat"! Now that you are panting sufficiently she is going to tell you to hold that terribly painful pose for 15 seconds. . ."yeah 15 seconds isn't that long, I can do that." I think. Too bad for me that Jillian starts rambling about one thing or another for about half an hour while you're twisted up like a fatty pretzel wishing for the sweet relief of death, or for her to shut up so you can un-twist. . .either or, either ways fine.  

You know what else is completely sickening? Those skinny-minnie girls on the video with her NEVER stop smiling! You're not fooling anybody lady!! We all know that you wish you could drop-kick Jillian right in her perfect derrière. All I'm sayin' is that no one would mind if you threw in a grimace every once in awhile.

The trick is to do this "practice" (that's what Jillian calls different forms of exercise, she's so fancy) in a semi-dark room with zero reflective surfaces. You have to be really thorough while inspecting your work-out space, because heaven forbid you forget to put the blinds down all the way and half way through the hell we call yoga you catch a glimpse of this sweaty, round, walrus wearing your orange t-shirt and gray shorts. . .oh sweet baby Jesus that is me. Now you have to finish your work-out while trying not to vomit from the image you just saw. 

Not that I would know from personal experience or anything.

Another tip that good ol' Jillian doesn't mention is that you must have proper support for "the girls". No really, it's all fun and games until someone gets a black eye via flailing boobage. Strap down those puppies or you'll regret it. 

In all seriousness I highly recommend this DVD. I can't say for sure if I have actually "burned that fat" but I can hardly walk so I'm thinking it works pretty well.

Twisty-tiger-pretzel Over and Out 

The Castle

Normal girls live in one home. I am not normal (shock and awe, right?). This girl lives in a fort and a castle. Just try and beat that. I dare you.

Alright so the "castle" doesn't have a drawbridge or towers or even the up and down ridge rock formations 

    

To the untrained eye the Castle may just look like any other house sitting happily on its lot. But when you look closer you can see that this little baby is totally worthy of royalty. 

The walls all have paint on them, its a lovely, peaceful sort of beige. Those same walls are made of none other then. . .wait for it. . .DRYWALL! This isn't a joke, it's completely true. That's not all people this place has carpet and I would be willing to bet a substantial amount of the money I don't have that if we pulled up the carpet in this beast we would find sub-floor, oh yeah this place is legit. 

The only bugs we worry about are moths and flies which can hardly be avoided when living in Missouri. 

Yep, this place is a castle alright, but you know what comes with castles? Not servants! There is however an absurd amount of upkeep! You have to vacuum and dust and polish and shine. Who has time for all that noise?
Besides Cinderella (and that chick ditched those tasks when she married Mr. Moneybags the prince. . .who by the way had his own castle) 

Castles may be in civilization but so are ambulances and police sirens which I hear on a nightly basis while residing at this fine establishment. The stars don't seem as bright but that may be because the Golden Arches of the local Micky D's are casting a garish hue in my direction. 

There are ups and downs to every situation, that's all I'm sayin. Luckily I get both. I also get to drive the hour and a half it takes to reach both of my homes. Maybe I'll live in a cottage on Highway 14 right smack in the middle of the Fort and the Castle. How's that for a compromise?? 

 It would be okay with me if it looked like this. Also the name of this painting is Gingerbread Cottage. It would be okay with me if it was made of gingerbread, even better if the gingerbread had zero calories.

Wanna-be-cottage-dweller Over and Out

Early Morning Thoughts

This morning when I woke up 3 thoughts instantly flooded my mind: 

One - I wish I had a magic wand so that I could Reducto the heck out of Mali who was barking her head off which in turn woke the small child that is going to be in my care for the next 12 hours. 

Two - I wonder if the guy who is going to cut the grass today will be hot?

(This next one is far superior to the previous two)

Three - I love being me.

I mean who else do you know who can successfully wish death upon her dog via a Harry Potter spell AND virtually oogle the lawn guy, all within 20 seconds of consciousness?

It's a skill really.

Multi-talented Over and Out

Tennis: A calorie burning buddy of mine!

Sara Evans has a rockin' body even though she's had two kids and her jerk of an Ex-husband broke her little heart. She gives all the credit to tennis. . .If it's good enough for Sara, it's good enough for me. My Mom and I like to have "bonding moments" they normally include: reading parties on her bed, Sunday afternoon naps (also on her bed), and a plethora of other activities. Recently we have taken up tennis.

Well I don't know if you could really call it that, you see the sad truth is that we kinda suck. When I say we what I really mean is me. Mom is actually good, darn her natural athleticism!! Speaking of which could she not have spared an ounce of skill to pass on to her darling daughter?? She says she gave me all of her craftiness (as in ability to make and create things, not in a sneaky burglar kind of way) Craftiness is nice and all but it doesn't exactly help me to tone my arms or flabby stomach so maybe I'll ask about a trade in? Can you trade traits?? If so I would like Miley Cyrus's hair, Julianne Hough's fake tan, Miranda Conkle's firm skin, and Mom's tennis technique.

This is how the tennis time goes down: Mom serves (it lands within two feet of where I am) I miss, "Sorry Mom!", she replies, "It's okay honey, try again." Mom serves a second time. I hit it at a dramatic angle that sends it flying directly at the person in the court next to us. . .on my side of the net. Mom serves a third time (trying to hide the S***-eating grin that takes over her face from my last attempt) I connect! "That one is totally gonna land on your side of the net! Winner!" I shout triumphantly!

We stop ever so often to collect the three bags of balls that are all gathered in happy little groups against my side of the fence. Mom's side is empty. . .of course.

When I do manage to actually hit the dumb neon ball I normally like to add a little flare normally in the shape of a nice leg kick or spin or something. Sometimes I even throw in a hair flip (the skanky white-trash boys who are playing basketball across the way go crazy for the hair flip)

So playing tennis in Missouri is like playing tennis in the little 4X3 sauna at the gym. The air is hot like sin, and thick like peanut butter. Mom and I are super glisteny by the time we are through. . .who am I kidding? Truth is I sweat like a man. The idea that girls have to glisten daintily while men can sweat buckets of salty manliness is pretty lame. You heard it here first: REAL WOMEN SWEAT LIKE MEN.

 Real Women also make fishy faces as often as possible. . .

Screw Julianne Hough! I'll take Mom's fake tan in addition to her skill. Might as well keep it in the family :)

Mom gets 10 points for skill and 5 more for patience. I get 2 points for playing even though it is painfully obvious that I blow. 3 points for enduring the ridiculous heat and 10 points for looking the part = TIE

This look says, "Hey I am extra sporty. . .I have excellent stamina and will never surrender. Feel free to hit the ball anywhere you like because my sassy nike's will carry me swiftly to the desired destination with ease and elegance." Kinda a mouth full for one outfit but hey my wardrobe is kind of a chatty-Kathy or should we say chatty-Cassie??!!

In the end Mom always wins. I have come to accept that. Although how could she not? I mean she gets to spend a solid hour and a half laughing as I trip all over myself and swear directly at the ball from time to time. Good humor.

Funny-and-slightly-less-fat Over and Out