Sunday, April 30, 2006

Portraits of Me

I realize I hardly ever post pics of myself on my blog. It's because I have kids and I think they are way cuter than me. But I've been trying to come up with the perfect pic for my myspace, and since I'm having a heck of a time posting them over there, I'll post them here for your enjoyment and/or amusement.

Hmmm...not quite hip enough...

Looking a little too giddy...

This one's my favorite. Rachael coached Chad and me on taking the perfect myspace picture: Pouty lips, eyes to the side. Yep, got it!

Friday, April 28, 2006

Going home

Tomorrow, we are going to Beaumont to visit my aunt and uncle. We are also picking up a piece of furniture that belonged to my grandmother.

We moved around a lot while I was growing up, but I've always considered Beaumont to be my real hometown. I only live an hour away from there now, but I hardly ever go back. I haven't been there since a couple of Christmases ago, so I haven't even seen it since Hurricane Rita.

Sometimes hometowns are hard to back to. There are a number of ghosts in Beaumont (and I'm not necessarily talking about my grandmother's haunted house) that I'd really rather avoid.

But home is home and I still feel drawn to go back. Here is a picture of our house in Beaumont. I can assure you that there was no camper in the front yard when we lived there. Maybe the people who live there now never got their power back on after Rita. Who knows. Also, the house was red when we lived there. It was the red house on Redwood Drive. We moved in right before my 7th grade year and my parents moved out a year after I got married.

See that little window above the bush? That was my bathroom window. My high school boyfriend used to park down the street and walk up to the window at night after my curfew. I would stand on the toilet so we could kiss through the window. Romantic, huh?

It looks like the house had some roof damage from Rita, and I also notice the trees aren't as lush as they were back in my day. I really had a lot of fun growing up in Beaumont, but I am so glad we were long gone when that storm hit.

One more memory of that house that I'll tie in with a True Confession: A few nights before my wedding, my dad and I sat out in the driveway and smoked a cigar. First and last cigar of my life. Not so sure about Dad. It was pretty disgusting. But memorable.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Some kid movies are a bust

My last blog inspired this week's column, so that's why you might read some familiar stuff.


By Deana Nall
Baytown Sun

Published April 26, 2006

When you decide to become a parent, you take on an overwhelming responsibility.

You make a commitment to take this sweet, blanketed bundle home from the hospital and raise it into a fully functional adult in just 18 years.

And, during that time, you agree to watch a whole lot of kid movies.

Kid movies aren’t necessarily a bad thing. “Cinderella,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “Charlotte’s Web” are classics that I could watch over and over.

I also loved the more recent “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.” This movie is one of the best I’ve seen in years. I saw it twice in the theatre and bought the DVD the day it came out. I listen to the soundtrack whenever I’m in the car. And occasionally, when no one’s around, I check the back of my closet in the hopes that instead of a wall or a mountain of my shoes, I’ll find a passageway into a distant wonderland where I get to be queen.

Then there are the bad kid movies.

Not movies about bad kids. Poorly made movies marketed to children.

I’m afraid I saw one last weekend.

Saturday, I took Julia, my first-grader, to see “The Wild.” This is a Walt Disney production that features some animals in a New York City zoo, including a single lion dad and his cub (who, in the spirit of “Finding Nemo,” become separated, ensuing in a 90-minute search), a koala bear who inexplicably acts drunk, a squirrel who has the hots for a giraffe, and a herd of wildebeests who decide the drunk koala bear is some sort of god who can transport them to the top of the food chain.

Throw in the fact that all of these animals suffer from some sort of hyperactivity disorder, and you’ve got “The Wild.”

I used free passes to see this movie and I still paid too much.

It wasn’t even that funny. And I like to think that I know funny. “Monsters Inc.,” “Finding Nemo” and the Toy Story movies were hilarious. “The Wild” tries to get there, but it doesn’t.

Disney has spent decades putting out some of the best children’s entertainment there is. So what were they thinking here? Were they trying to cash in on some of the popularity of DreamWorks’ “Madagascar” (which is also about animals in a New York City zoo)? Do they believe all they need to make a children’s movie is celebrities to do the voices for obnoxious, caffeine-addicted animals?

One thing “The Wild” adheres to is the Disney phenomenon of “The Missing Parent.” Ryan, the lion cub, has a mother who is conspicuously absent. So did Snow White, Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine and Belle. At least we know what happened to Simba’s dad (“The Lion King”) and Nemo’s mom (“Finding Nemo”). We, with our kids, got to watch them die.

A friend of mine, who is Ukrainian, told me that a lot of kids in her native country aren’t allowed to watch children’s movies from the U.S. because of all the dead and dying parents depicted in them. I really like some of these movies, but sometimes I wonder if there isn’t a better way to entertain kids.

Back to “The Wild.” Here’s what I recommend. Watch “The Lion King” instead. Then take a few Sudafeds and go to bed. What you will dream will look a whole lot like “The Wild.” And you will have saved your seven bucks.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

The Weird

I took Julia to see "The Wild" today. I thought it was weird and boring. Some examples of weirdness:

1) A squirrel who has the hots for a giraffe
2) A koala bear who walks around acting like he's drunk all the time
3) A wildebeest who wants to become a carnivore and take over the world

The movie wasn't funny, either, and I know it wasn't just me because Julia wasn't really laughing. I really believe you could watch Lion King, take a bunch of Sudafed, go to bed and dream this movie. Then you wouldn't have to live with the fact that you paid $7 to go see it. Just a thought.

Friday, April 21, 2006

True Confession #8

I haven't posted one of these in a while, so here goes:

I've always liked Madonna.

Go ahead. Say what you will.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

TV can ruin your lunch hour

By Deana Nall
Baytown Sun

Published April 19, 2006

This week, I continued my adventures in Baytown’s new restaurant offerings.

On Thursday, my husband Chad and I checked out the new El Toro on Garth Road.

First of all, this place is enormous. You could invite a couple hundred of your closest friends on a lunch date and they’d have no trouble accommodating you. If you need to go to the restroom, though, you might consider dropping tortilla crumbs on the way so you can find your way back to your table.

Next, the food. Like most Lakewood dwellers, Chad and I know El Toro’s food quite well. I have the phone number and menu for the Bayway location memorized. So, at the new location, I ordered my usual: three tacos. With a fork.

(Other than burgers, I have an aversion to eating food with my hands. I don’t know why. If my therapist ever figures it out, I’ll let you know.)

The food was great as usual. But something put a damper on our dining experience, and it wasn’t what was on our plates. It was something on TV.

Each dining room at the new El Toro has a couple of flat-screen TVs. On this particular day, the TVs were tuned to ESPN.

I wouldn’t normally have a problem with that. However, during the lunch hour on this day, ESPN was broadcasting the World Sumo Championship.

Maybe I’m just not culturally educated, but as far as I can tell, here’s what sumo wrestling is: A couple of guys who look like they’ve been sitting on a couch their whole lives watching... well, ESPN while eating truckloads of Krispy Kremes suddenly decide it might be fun to put on giant diapers and fight each other.

Actually, diapers are a lot more modest than the things those guys wear.

“Just don’t look at it,” said Chad, who, bless his heart, never really gets riled up about anything.

“But it’s like driving past a car accident,” I said. “I just can’t tear my eyes away.”

Besides, all 27 flat-screen TVs in the restaurant were showing this spectacle of almost-naked rotund guys. It was hard to ignore.

The announcer had just introduced an especially rotund Polish wrestler when our server walked up.

“Is this making anyone besides me completely lose their appetite?” I asked her.

She glanced up at the screen.

“That is pretty disgusting,” she said. “I’ll see if they can change it.”

I spent a few minutes cupping my hands around my eyes so I could focus on my tacos instead of Dmitri Zbcdhjrtyk’s jiggling backside.

Then all 27 flat-screen TVs in El Toro switched to hockey, a sport that can get bloody, but at least the participants are fully clothed. Salvation at last!

Other than having to look at scantily clad, overweight men while I was eating, we had a nice time at the new El Toro. The food is up to El Toro standards and you can still get ice cream on the way out the door.

Just check ESPN’s schedule before you go.

Deana Nall lives in Baytown with her family.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Peeps and such

Why don't they make chocolate-covered Peeps? Wouldn't they be AWESOME??

Saturday we went to my parents' house to spend time with my brother Brian and his girlfriend, Michelle.

Here's Chad thinking, "What the heck kind of family did I marry into?"

Apparently, Julia is no longer capable of simply smiling for a picture, as evidenced here.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Sacred Marriage

Chad has some good things to say about marriage (and me!) on his blog today.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

I'm just a girl who can't say no...

"Hey Deana -- can you write three thousand-word profiles, a two-part news feature, a couple of articles and your weekly column, and recopy the entire Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary by hand by next week?"

Sure. No problem. That's what I actually said to the last editor who called me. "No problem." Other than this being a holiday weekend and experiencing a complete lack of motivation and being home with two kids -- one of whom is part monkey -- sure, no problem!

Anyway, I just got the Narnia soundtrack and I LOVE this song:

Written by Alanis Morissette, Harry Gregson-Williams

Oh, perilous place walk backwards toward you
Blink disbelieving eyes chilled to the bone
Most visibly brave no apprehended bloom
First to take this foot to virgin snow

I am magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind
And I live the envelope pushed far enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my throne
Destined to serve, destined to roam

Oh, ominous place spellbound and un-child-proofed
My least favorite shelter bear alone
Compatriots in face they’d cringe if I told you
Our best back pocket secret our bond full blown

And I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind
And I am pioneer naïve enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my throne
Destined to seek, destined to know

Most beautiful place reborn and blown off roof
My view about face whether great will be done

And I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind
I am a groundbreaker naïve enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my throne

And I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind

I am a Joan of Arc and smart enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my throne
Destined to reign, destined to roam
Destined to reign, destined to roam

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Lunch Date

For this week's column, I reviewed a new restaurant in Baytown.

Oh, and I finally have a myspace. I'm still working on making it pretty, but it's there.


By Deana Nall
Baytown Sun

Published April 12, 2006

12:31 p.m. That’s the time I usually get the call.

“Hey,” my husband says. “You wanna ...”

“Yes!” I respond. And just like that, I’ve got a lunch date.

I try not to do it every day, but I love going out to lunch. Let’s see — scarfing down a sandwich while dodging airborne Gerber Pasta Pickups from my daughter’s highchair? Or Antonio’s with the handsome, blue-eyed guy that I married? No-brainer.

And as much as people like to run down Baytown’s restaurant offerings, there’s more here than meets the eye.

Take “Mikke’s Old Fashion Burgers,” for instance. That’s where Chad and I met for lunch on Monday.

Well, kind of. Because of Chad’s work schedule, we can’t meet until about 12:45. Sometimes I’m hungry by 11 a.m. That’s what happened on Monday, so I had already eaten by the time I got to Mikke’s. On the days I have lunch with my 7-year-old at her school at 11:40, I can have lunch as many as three times in a two-hour period without anyone knowing.

But enough about my unhealthy and embarrassing personal habits. At Mikke’s, I watched Chad eat his hamburger while 19-month-old Jenna and I shared a chocolate milkshake and an order of Belgian fries. (All the food groups were in there somewhere.)

As a revered member of the press, I got to talk to Michelle “Mikke” Mutton about her new restaurant. Located across from Foozies in the Kroger shopping center, Mikke’s has been open almost two weeks. She explained to me that Belgian fries are fries made from fresh potatoes — never frozen — and that her milkshakes are made from scratch with only fresh ingredients. The hamburgers and hot dogs are made to order and you’ll never find anything sitting under a heat lamp.

“I did my best to make everything first class,” Mikke said.

And Baytown is noticing. Mikke’s four tables stay full during peak hours and she’s about to add more seating outside.

“We thought we’d open up a hamburger place and people might come in from time to time,” she said. “But we get slam-dunked every day. I order double and triple of everything and I still run out of food.”

Mikke’s desserts, including German chocolate cake and brownies — which she insists on making from scratch with real butter and eggs — are usually gone by 2 p.m. She hides cakes in the back to save for the dinner crowd.

And Mikke is no short-order cook. Having lived in Baytown as a child, she eventually ended up at the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu Cooking School in Paris, where Julia Child was her mentor. Her specialty is French and Italian cooking, but she said there is more money in hamburgers and hot dogs.

Besides, she said, “Baytown needed something like this.”

I’ll be back at Mikke’s soon — on a one-lunch day — to try a burger. And some German chocolate cake.

Before anyone gets mad at me, let me say that I still love Someburger, Rooster’s, The Dawg House and Tookie’s in Seabrook. I’m an equal-opportunity hamburger and hot dog consumer.

Mikke’s is located at 4539 Garth Road. The phone number is 281-420-7900.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Family ghosts

All right. Back to my grandparents' haunted house.

First of all, and I know I mentioned it before, I really loved this house. We moved around a lot growing up and this house felt more like home than any place we lived. This house had a distinct personality. To me, it felt like another family member. The day my Meemaw moved out, I refused to go over there. I wanted to remember it as it had been -- full of my grandparents' stuff. Not empty and waiting for another family to move in. It's still hard for me to drive past it when I visit Beaumont. It is hard for me to look at these pictures.

This picture is of the back door of the house. You can barely make out a door under the carport, and that led into my Peepaw's shop, which I blogged about the other day. To the right of that door is another door (just to the right of that light -- which I think is a porch light -- OR IS IT?), and that's the one that led into the house. The red brick part to the right is the room I used to stay in.

I grew up living far away from Beaumont. Twice a year, we made the 14-hour drive to Houston and Beaumont to see both sets of grandparents. One year during this drive, late at night (we always drove straight through), my dad decided to tell me about the ghosts in Meemaw's house.

They moved into the house when my dad was 15, and mysterious things began happening not long after. Pots and pans sitting on kitchen counters -- far from the edge -- would suddenly slide off and crash to the floor. My Meemaw had a china cabinet in the dining room, and when someone walked through the room, the dishes and silver in the cabinet would rattle. My dad heard the rattling several times when no one was walking through the room.

My dad used to listen to the radio to fall asleep. One night he woke up and heard the radio playing and realized he hadn't turned it off. He reached down to turn it off and found that the radio was already off. Then the music stopped.

He would also hear voices talking at night. He thought it was his parents. Once he got up to check, and they were sound asleep. Another time, he heard someone walk through the dining room (the rattling again) and then he heard someone rattle his parents' bedroom doorknob. He got up again to check. Again, they were fast asleep.

Let me say here that my grandparents were pretty conservative Church of Christ folks. In conservative CoC circles, you just plain don't believe in this stuff. And you certainly don't ever talk about it. It was our family secret.

Meemaw would explain the occurences away, attributing them to "the possums in the attic." She did have possums in the attic, but how they could rattle a china cabinet or knock a saucepan off the kitchen counter is beyond me.

One day Meemaw was sitting in the living room visiting with her best friend. My Meemaw's back was to the kitchen (two rooms away, but you could see into the kitchen from there) and her friend was facing her. They were talking when the friend suddenly called into the kitchen, "Woodie, (my Peepaw) is that you?" Meemaw told her Woodie was at work and not expected home yet. The friend said she had seen someone in the kitchen who appeared to be putting up groceries. She had seen movement and heard the rustling of grocery bags. The two women went into the kitchen to investigate and found nothing. Meemaw's friend was pretty unnerved, and she was never at ease whenever she visited the house after that.

Meemaw was the only family member who may have actually seen a ghost. One night she was in bed when she saw the image of a woman standing next to the bed. The woman began walking and Meemaw got up and followed her, saying, "Who are you?" Meemaw followed her through the den and the woman disappeared there -- just on the other side of the windows that appear to be covered with sheets in the picture. Meemaw recognized her as the woman they had bought the house from years earlier, who had since died. She told the story at first as having been a dream, but later she said she had been awake when the woman appeared.

The last time my dad knew of anything happening was in the early '70s. My parents had been married for several years, my brother was a preschooler and my mom was pregnant with me. My parents were getting ready to move to Lovington, New Mexico for my dad's first ministry job. Several times before that move, my parents would be visiting my grandparents when the doorbell would start ringing repeatedly. This was pretty unsettling, as you could imagine, but my Meemaw blamed it on the possums again, saying they must have been running over the wiring in the attic.

So my dad tells me all this in the middle of the night on a dark lonely, Hill Country road. By the time we get to Meemaw's, I'm scared out of my skin. And wouldn't you know it, this is the year Meemaw decides my brother and I are too old to be sharing a room and she had set up a bed for me in the living room of the house that I have just found out is haunted! After a few uneasy nights cowering under the covers, I started to relax. That house was special to me -- and to me, it wasn't just a house. It had seen me grow up from a baby, and I believed it wouldn't do anything to scare me. I felt safe there. It was my only real home.

I spent many more nights in that house after Dad told me about the ghosts, and I never experienced anything there besides the love of two precious people who I loved and miss so much. And I experienced the love of a house, if that makes any sense. It does to me.

Monday, April 10, 2006

More Cuteness

Yes, I know I have cute kids. (And I have a cute mom.)

We went on a picnic at Brazos Bend State Park with my parents Saturday. Aside from forgetting the charcoal and anything to light it with, and aside from the alligator that nearly ate my dad, we had a great time.

Target alert: Over the weekend, stuff in Target's 1 Spot was 75% off! Julia and I got all kinds of fun stuff for TWENTY-FIVE CENTS.

I have SIX deadlines this week. I think I need another Target run to kick it all off.

Sunday, April 09, 2006


I was listening to this song the other day and it made me think of someone who knows who she is. Here are the words to the song, plus a little about the song by Third Day member David Carr, and a pic of Mac Powell -- for all my fellow members of the Mac Powell Fan Club:

I won’t pretend to know what you’re thinking
I can’t begin to know what you’re going through
I won’t deny the pain that you’re feeling
But I’m gonna try and give a little hope to you

Just remember what I’ve told you
There’s so much you’re living for

There’s a light at the end of this tunnel
There’s a light at the end of this tunnel
For you, for you
There’s a light at the end of this tunnel
Shinin’ bright at the end of this tunnel
For you, for you
So keep holdin’ on

You’ve got your disappointments and sorrows
You ought to share the weight of that load with me
Then you will find that the light of tomorrow
Brings a new life for your eyes to see

So remember what I’ve told you
There’s so much you’re living for

Words by Mac Powell / music by Third Day / © 2005 Consuming Fire Music (ASCAP). All rights administered by EMI CMG Publishing.

Behind the Song:'We've all walked in the darkness at one time or another. If you're like me, finding Christ didn't necessarily change that, well at least not yet! We all go through times of struggle whether it be some sort of sin or perhaps something totally out of our control, like the death of a loved one, or the loss of a job. Whatever it may be, no one on earth can really identify with your personal situation other than yourself and that makes it twice as hard to have hope. The good news is that God loves us despite the present situation we may find ourselves in. In fact, I believe he uses those experiences in a very profound way to shape us into his likeness. We have hope in Jesus because he has plans to prosper us, not to harm us; plans to give us a hope and a future. Tunnel is a song that speaks of that hope, that light, that grace that leads us out of the darkness and back into vibrant living. 'Keep Holding On...' is the tag line after each chorus and those three words, when coming from the right source, can sometimes mean more than entire volumes of self help reading or clever sermons. When we're told what to keep holding on for and we believe in it, that phrase has power and meaning. Besides, we don't have a high priest that is unable to sympathize with our weakness. And the icing on the cake in my experience is that even when I can't keep holding on, He keeps holding on to me and he ain't letting go!' – David Carr (Third Day)

Friday, April 07, 2006

Meemaw's house

This was once my Meemaw's house at 4301 Concord Rd. in Beaumont, TX. My dad took this picture about a month ago from the spot in the driveway where he had proposed to my mom in the fall of 1962.

You can't tell it now, but when my grandparents moved there in the early '50s, it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood. Peepaw had made pretty good money as a CPA and from his investments, and this was the big move across town for the Depression-ridden family that had moved to town about ten years earlier. Back then, the yard was lush with trees and plants and a manmade stream wound its way around the yard. There was even a mini-golf course in the yard at one time.

No one ever used the front door at Meemaw's house. Everyone came in through the back, where the den was. The den had been added on before they moved in, and it was the best room in the house. It had a bar (which was only used as storage by my devout Church of Christ grandparents), my Peepaw's office, a little bathroom and -- best of all -- a pool table right in the middle of the room. There was a ceiling fan with one blade above the pool table -- evidence of pool players who had accidentally stuck their cues up in the fan over the years.

The house had a lot of rooms, and it was the kind of old house where you had to walk through rooms to get to other rooms. The only way into the room I used to stay in, unless you wanted to go out the back kitchen door, was through my Meemaw and Peepaw's bedroom. That made me feel safe.

The house had a lot of secrets and intrigue. See the covered porch? It caved in one time. I found that fascinating, for some reason. But the most fascinating place in the house was my Peepaw's shop.

His shop, before they had moved in, had been a maid's quarters. It had several rooms, stairs leading to the attic, and a tiny bathroom in the back. This was my Peepaw's chemistry lab.

By day, my Peepaw was an accountant and a preacher and elder. But he was also very interested in chemistry. At night, when no one was around, he'd go back in that bathroom and blow stuff up. He kept all of his different elements in baby food jars that lined a window sill. "Watch this," he'd tell me as he'd grab a couple of jars and shake their contents into the toilet. BLAM!!! Then he'd stand there and chuckle. That toilet had seen so many explosions that it was barely attached to the floor. I remember being intrigued by the stains on the ceiling above it. Meemaw let him have that back bathroom as long as she never had to know what went on back there. I don't think I saw her back there one time.

Peepaw died in 1988. A year later, Meemaw sold the house and moved into a retirement center. I loved that house. I still fantasize about buying it and transforming it back into the beautiful house it once was.

Meemaw died in 1996.

Oh -- there's one more thing about the house that I'll write about later. It was haunted.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Don't mess with perfection

By Deana Nall
Baytown Sun

Published April 5, 2006

E. Neville Isdell

Chief Executive Officer

The Coca-Cola Company

Dear Mr. Isdell,

I realize everyone can have an off-period now and then, even in the business world.

Take the shoe market, for instance. Several years ago, women’s shoes went through an ugly phase. They were all clunky and only came in two colors: black or brown. We women bought and wore them because it’s all we had, but the return of cute shoes a couple of years ago was ushered in with great rejoicing.

Now, the “ugly phase” seems to have hit the carbonated beverage market. Not since the New Coke debacle of the ‘80s have your company’s offerings seemed so... well, flat.

For example, Black Cherry Vanilla Coke. Cherry Coke is great. Vanilla Coke is OK. But Black Cherry Vanilla tastes like someone poured cough syrup into the soda fountain. I could mix Coke with cherry Nyquil at home and get the same effect. Plus I’d have a nice nap afterward.

But what’s really got me scratching my head is the new Coca-Cola product released this week called “Coca-Cola Blak.”

Coca-Cola Blak is — readers, brace yourselves — Coke with coffee in it.

Here’s a description of the beverage I found on your company’s web site:

“Coca-Cola Blak is a sophisticated, premium blend of Coca-Cola, natural flavors and coffee essence. The effervescence and rich flavor provide the perfect pick-me-up for people looking for new ways to stay refreshed any time of the day or night.”

First, I looked up the word “effervescence.” I only found an entry for the verb “effervesce.” It says, “To bubble, hiss and foam as gas escapes.”

Mr. Isdell, I am not going to go there.

Next, I decided to try Coca-Cola Blak. I have secured a four-pack from our local Target, and I’m going to take a sip right now.

Hmm. Cold, carbonated coffee. “Blak,” a word your company has invented, is a whole lot like the word “Blecch,” which is about how I’m feeling right now.

I’ll have another taste just to be fair.

Nope. I can’t do this. It tastes too much like something I threw up in college after trying to over-caffeinate myself for a late-night study session.

I put the bottles in the fridge for my husband, who — bless his heart — will consume just about anything.

Your company has also jumped on the energy drink bandwagon. I have managed to steer clear of these so far. I did notice, however, that our local bowling alley is offering Red Bull (not a Coca-Cola Company beverage) mixed with vodka for $3 a pop. I don’t know how something like this could sell at a bowling alley. It could hardly be conducive to rolling a weighty ball down a narrow lane to knock down some pins. Such a feat requires things like motor skills and presence of mind.

What kind of slogan could accompany Red Bull and vodka? How about: “Red Bull and vodka gives you wings... and a DWI on the way home from league night.”

I know you’re just trying to give consumers what they want. Well, I’ll tell you what I want. I want pure, unadulterated Coca-Cola in glass bottles — the way they sell them at George Daniels Meat Market here in Baytown. As your company learned about 20 years ago, it doesn’t pay to mess with perfection.

Thank you for your time,

Deana Nall

Baytown, Texas

Monday, April 03, 2006


Here are some pics of the girls from the weekend:

Julia and her bubble bath beard.

Jenna and her bubble bath hat.

Jenna's latest bit of cuteness: She likes to hug her stuffed animals (which she calls her babies) and yell, "OH, BABY!"

Julia's latest bit of mischievous cuteness: The other day she told me she'd love to be involved in a food fight. "Why?" I asked her. She said, "Because mashed potatoes and gravy flying through the air is a fine sight in my mind."

Oh... and yes, that is a pink bathtub with pink tile. (Really sort of a peachy-pink.) Gotta love those houses that were built in the '50s!