I have to know if this is just a Texas quirk, or if the rest of the country is involved in the tackiness.

Do pick-up trucks in other, perhaps less redneck, states sport decals of a mischievous Calvin (of the dynamic cartoon duo Calvin & Hobbes) peeing on whatever it is that is irksome to the truck’s owner?

This decal can manifest itself, if the truck is a Ford, as Calvin peeing on a GM logo. Or vice versa. I’ve been told that you’re either a GM man or a Ford man here in Texas, and guys take it pretty seriously. (!) You might also see Calvin peeing on the words ‘My Ex Wife’. Talk about your tacky. In a tacky competition with the ‘lady’ silhouettes on big-rig mud flaps, I’d say Calvin is doing just fine.

This is totally unrelated, but if Sarakastic can do it, so can I…

& Somehow I was in Target today, picking up a pair of slip-on tennis shoes for my younger son. Well Cherokee names its shoes, for example the Ashley or the Lulu, and I think it’s kind of cute. But as I was perusing my receipt today, walking out of the store, I noticed that the shoes I’d bought–the little black Vans-style slip-ons had been named the Hezekiah. ????? Now I can see if they’d been worn leather sandals or lace up work boots, but really–a little black and white tennis shoe?

Made me wonder…has there been a Hezekiah hurricane yet?

My first day back from a (rather) relaxing trip to Savannah, where evidently Paula Deen reigns as the resident Queen Bee, I was thrown back into the fray as my Mother’s Day Out class–the overly precocious two-year-olds–performed for their parents and grandparents at the annual Spring Show.

The theme this year was Under the Sea, and the entire class wore orange t-shirts, painted with white stripes edged it black, and visors with shimmery sequins and gigantic googly eyes. We were a school of clown fish. How very apropo.

The little crew was adorable, and thankfully there were only a couple of quirks in the works. One little boy slid off the stage (on purpose), went limp when I tried to lift him back up, and insisted on going to his mom and dad in the audience. A little girl started yanking at her jeans during The Lord’s Army, audibly complaining, “My pants are falling down!” And lastly, and my personal favorite, one particularly trying little chickadee jammed her finger up her nose, retrieved something, tried wiping it on the stage, and then, reconsidering, decided to eat her catch instead.

But all in all, the Lord’s little army was very, very cute. And I was forced to wear a Flounder (think The Little Mermaid) hat from Disney on Ice. Yes, I looked ridiculous, and I’m truly hoping there are no pictures.

But now we can all breathe a sigh of relief that it’s over. *S-I-G-H* Whew! That felt good.

Tomorrow begins the Special K diet…

Am I the only one who doesn’t particularly care to read about deep dark family secrets that come to light during the course of a book? Am I the only one who thinks there are waaaay too many books who use that on their backcover blurb? Am I the only one who doesn’t have a deep, dark family secret?

Unless…

Maybe I just haven’t yet uncovered my family’s deep, dark secret. Maybe it’s just itching to come out during the course of my book-worthy life. This is a possibility I had not considered. Hmmm. (Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t give me any hints.)

I am personally a little iffy on the whole memoir trend. I mean, if your life has played out such that it is worth strangers reading about it, then by all means, write yourself a memoir. But if it really hasn’t, and is perhaps instead somewhat embarrassing, save yourself the trouble (and the embarrassment). I have had what I believe to be some really astonishing, dare I say, even hilarious things happen in my life, but compared to what has happened to other people, I’d say I’ve been pretty hum-drum. At least from a write-your-own-memoir perspective.

That doesn’t mean that some of my anecdotes wouldn’t make some great material for works of fiction, because as we all know, quite often, truth is funnier than fiction, and at times, even more unbelievable.

So what is the point of this post, you might ask? I don’t really know. But rather than ponder that question, it seems my time would be better spent sleuthing out my family’s deep, dark secret. Because as far as I can tell, they (the deep, dark secrets) are pretty darn common.

Feel free to reveal yours in the comments. Anonymity is available.