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Chicken bees…second attempt

Apparently I wasn’t very clear in my last post….so trying again:

New blog: chicken bees.

Go find me there!

chicken bees

Chicken bees.

That is all.

As in click the link.

moving on…

So, I’ve been thinking for quite awhile now….even before I started writing here again…that I feel like I have outgrown this particular blog.

I don’t really understand that, because I mean, it’s a blog.

But, I guess the best way to describe it is that my voice has changed. My experiences over the past few years have changed me.

I am realizing that this blog does not have that new voice that is inside of me. I am instead trying to fit the new me into the old voice and it isn’t working.

I feel the need to start fresh.

So, that is what I am going to do.
I haven’t completely figured it all out, yet, but if you want to know where I am writing once I do, just let me know in a comment or send me an email or something. Whatever works.

No hard feelings if you don’t want to know or care to know or anything like that. I mean I’m not that interesting. 

Okay, announcements are through. 

Carry on.

fallen down the croc hole

Okay, y’all. We need to have a conversation about crocs.

Not croc…odiles

Crocs

Those ridiculous, come in every color of the rainbow, add charms and bedazzle them until they’re more gaudy than before, how’s that’s even possible I don’t even know, Crocs.
Since forever I have been vehemently against the croc movement.

Let me play the Never Have I Ever game and ask me about Crocs and my sign would absolutely say N E V E R.

Now that we are clear on that, let us completely change direction and talk about our kitchen. 

More specifically, our floor.

Well, if I’m being thorough it’s more like our kitchen and laundry room and hallway and half bath and the area beyond the kitchen that’s supposed to be a living area but has been overrun by dog beds and dog toys and Kellan’s “work station” (aka the place to pile ALL THE THINGS so no actual work ever even happens there so we may as well just call it an “open closet with no doors”).

These floors are where we spend probably…ehhhhh….75-80% of our day. So lots of walking and standing and general being on your feet-ness happens on these floors.

We bought this house as “new to us but not new at all” and so the previous owners had redone the kitchen and in doing so, decided to redo the floor. Granted, this house has been around the block puhlenty of times and has had maaaaaany of owners and I am hella glad they took it upon themselves to put in new flooring.

But this floor you guys.

Not only did they decide to buy IMPORTED ITALIAN TILE (that was ZOMG expensive when we had to buy like 10 tiles when we redid the half bathroom because they apparently thought the dark red monkey and pineapple tree wallpaper, among other poor design choices like a vanity that was so big you could barely close the door, was worth saving), but they also didn’t do anyone any favors in the comfort department because this floor is like walking and standing on the hardest, most unforgiving surface you can imagine. 

Without shoes. 

Because we don’t wear shoes in this house. 

My feet and calves would literally ache every night when I went to bed. A throbbing ache that wouldn’t let me sleep and basically screamed, “FLIMSY HOUSE SHOES AND SOCKS AREN’T CUTTING IT!” I would wake up in the morning and hobble down the stairs because my feet, more specifically my plantar fascia tendon, was so sore and so stiff that it just decided to start protesting the second I put my foot to the ground in hopes I’d listen and do something.

So, finally, after putting up with it and dealing with the pain for two years (I’m a glutton for punishment apparently), I decided to try and find some shoes that were easy to get on, comfortable, and would support my feet.

Naturally, I went to Zappos. They are my favorite way to buy shoes because A: I don’t have to go anywhere, which leads to B: It saves me actual hours of time because I have Sasquatch feet and finding shoes in my size is always a disappointing wild goose chase. Anyone with feet bigger than a size 8.5 don’t deserve to wear nice shoes. Apparently all of us size 11 and aboves should just head straight to the men’s section. Do not pass go. Do not look at anything that sparkles because it will not be in your size.

Anyway. Zappos. 

I start my search for indoor shoes and house shoes and supportive shoes. I add some options to my cart to compare. 

I keep searching.

I have decided that I need to do this right if I’m going to wait two years to do it at all.

And what does the search pop up?

Crocs.

What are you doing to me, Zappos????

CROCS?!

Did we not already have this conversation about acceptable shoes? I’m so happy you have lots of size 11 options but I think we’ve gone too far here. We are stepping out of bounds. 

Throw the flag. 

Blow the whistle.

We don’t do Crocs.

Then my feet reminded me in no uncertain terms that they were having a full on rebellion and if I ever wanted to walk again  – without pain – I better buck up.

Sooooooooo I hesitantly clicked on them. 

The Crocs.

And wouldn’t you knownit? These shoes had like….no wait….let me get the actual number….These shoes have one thousand three hundred and seventy six reviews and five stars. 

If one thousand three hundred and seventy six people are taking precious time out of their life to sing this many praises for these godforsaken shoes, I may as well read what they had to say.

And they said everything I hoped they wouldn’t. 

They said they were perfect house shoes. Perfect for plantar fascia issues. Perfect for hard floors. Perfect perfect perfect heart smiley emojis sunshine and rainbows.

In my brain…the rational part…the part that said NO WAY was like, well, I can always return them, right? I can say I gave it my all and it just didn’t work out and these people have no idea what they are talking about.

Heh. Crocs.

So…..I can’t even believe I’m admitting to this….so after much waffling, I bought myself a purple pair and Kellan a green and blue pair.

And then before they came we randomly left for LA for two weeks and I forgot about them (that’s acting life for ya).

When we got back home, I started wearing the crocs…because I had to do something for my feet or else (that’s what they said).

And low and behold! They were the most amazing shoes I had ever put on my feet! They looked ridiculous! I felt ridiculous! I loved them!

No more foot issues. No more screaming calves.

Hallelujah! I AM A BELIEVER!

I think I told Tim every day for at least a month straight how amazing my Crocs were. How they had solved all my problems and were so easy to clean! So fast to put on! So perfect for every situation!

Tim just rolled his eyes like suuuuuure. Whatever you say, sweetheart.

Then, one morning, Tim comes hobbling into the kitchen all, “oh…ouch…ohhhhhhh I was on my feet too long in here yesterday and I wasn’t wearing shoes.”

I saw my window and I jumped right through it.

You need to get a pair of Crocs.

Tim side eyes me all say whhhaaat? No way am I wearing Crocs.

And like the overly enthusiastic convert I was, I grabbed my phone and pulled them up on Zappos and tried to have him see the light that was CROCS.

BUT LOOK! So many color options! Special kinds for men! Here! Try mine on! You don’t understand! These shoes are ah-mazing!!! They will change your life! 

Tim finally….hesitantly….picked out a pair.

I ordered them faster than he could get the words out to tell me he changed his mind.

You won’t regret this! ::dazzle super smile DING star flashing off my teeth::

Once they came I was like an incessant grandma: DO NOT FORGET TO WEAR YOUR CROCS!

And Tim would be like OMG. FINE.

As the days went on, he slowly started to begrudgingly agree that the shoes really were useful, but he never outright said it. He wouldn’t wear them outside for yard stuff. And he’d only sometimes put them on if he was “going to be on his feet for awhile.”

Then, the night of the tornado happened. The night he was jolted awake by me running down the stairs yelling all kinds of words at him that were basically HONEY! TORNADO! SHELTER! NOW! TORNADO! NOW! SHELTER! NOW!

I ran into the kitchen. I put on my crocs. Kellan stumbled into the kitchen in his pajamas and what did I have him put on?

Crocs.

After Tim finally made his way into the shelter and we all got our bearings and took a breath, I look over at him and said, “Are you wearing any shoes??”

Because honestly we all hustled our asses out the door as fast as possible and I’m not even sure how I had the wherewithal to remember shoes for me or for Kellan and I sure as hell did not even think about Tim’s feet.

Tim looks at me with this YAH DON’T EVEN GO THERE look and says, “my Crocs.”

I had to stifle a laugh because priorities (read: tornado) but I know my face said enough. It said it all.

And Tim, seeing my look, shoots back a pleading, “but they were just so easy to put on!

::waggles my purple croc covered foot in the air toward Tim::

Don’t I know it.

If it was anyone, it would be Tom Hanks

If there was ever an actor I would hope to bump into while we were out in LA, it would be Tom Hanks.

And I’m not wanting this for me…even though I would probably lose my chill and be all TOM HANKS!!!

It would be for Kellan.

No, really. Swear.

Kellan doesn’t even know who Tom Hanks is…except for maybe him making the connection after Tom says hello (because of course he would. It’s TOM HANKS!) and yelling, “It’s Woody! From Toy Story!”

Begin me talking ninety miles a minute to try and quickly help Kellan remember that he had a monologue from Toy Story that he was supposed to perform last summer (“Why wouldn’t Andy want you? LOOK AT YOU! You’re a Buzz Lightyear!”…) at a competition he went to in LA, but then….then…a day or so before the competition, one of the acting coaches he was working with (Lisa Ann Walter…if any of you recognize the name) literally told him eye to eye, “You are so cute you can do any monologue you want. You don’t even have to say anything. Just stand on the stage and wave.”

So after that pep talk, Kellan was like, “I’m doing my Home Alone monologue and my spongebob commercial.”

I’ll have you know that those were the “backup” pieces instead of what was supposed to be front and center. The bread and butter. The Toy Story monologue. The Lego commercial.

(Of which he has probably forgotten both)

Fast forward to Kellan rocking both his backup monologue and commercial. I guess Lisa knew what she was talking about. Kellan ended up winning Best Commercial and Actor of the Year in his age group. 

Did I mention he was four? And his age group was 4-12?

Yah. Insane.

During the awards, they would flash headshots of the four finalists for each category and the finalists would go up on stage and they would read the runners up and then finally the winner. Each person got a medal draped over their neck. The winner getting one with a yellow ribbon and heavy medal stating they had won “Best….fill in the category.”

When Kellan saw his picture he was like, “THAT’S ME!!!” And he hopped off his chair and RAN up to the stage so fast I had to stop recording the moment on my phone and go chase after him.

Then?

Then he took his moment like he had been doing this all his life (He hasn’t. This was his first rodeo) and walked up and down the catwalk, waving to the crowd, like he owned it.

All this before they even announced the winner. They had to reel him back in to do all of the official business.

Cutest. moment. of. my. life. and everyone else’s in that room. Budding actors. Agents. Talent managers. Everyone was cheering him on.

You really shoulda been there.

So, where were we? Right! 

TOM HANKS!

Kellan has a goal to be an actor.

Sidebar: We did not suggest this. He did. My plan was sports. Basketball. Soccer. Saturday’s at a gym or a field. Sweaty socks and uniforms. Apparently Kellan didn’t get that memo. Once he made his dreams known, however, we have – and are – doing all we can to help him achieve his goals.

HELLO! TOM HANKS! This is the part where you come in.

The acting life and path is mired with all kinds of challenges and difficulties and disappointments (of which we have already had plenty), and countless exercises in good decision making.

Now, I don’t know Tom Hanks from a hole in the wall, but for whatever reason, I think he would be one of the best people – if not the best person – to talk to Kellan. To teach him things about the acting life.

I know zero. I know loads about basketball. I could teach him a million things about that. Plenty of anecdotes.

However, with acting, I am learning right along with him every step of the way. So, if there was a wing in this area of life that I could fly Kellan under, I feel like it should be his. If there was ever a mentor I could choose…it would be him.

I have no idea why. 

It just seems right.

I have no rational really.

It sounds like a crazy person talking, I know. I’m not crazy. Or maybe I am. I mean really, who’s to judge here? 

(But Tom, if you’re reading this, I promise I’m not crazy)

I just want Kellan to hear it from someone who knows. Who has been there. I know he’s not perfect. 

Nobody is perfect.

But he seems perfect for Kellan.

I feel like they’d really get along. Maybe some things would sink in. Maybe some life lessons would be learned. Maybe some wisdom shared about this business Kellan has asked to be part of – on his own volition – since he was three.

Maybe…..one day.

Kellan keeps auditioning. We continue going to LA. He keeps trying. He keeps impressing the decision makers.

He just hasn’t been the right fit, yet.

He will be, one day. I know he will.

Maybe it’ll be alongside Tom and then all of these things will become a reality. 

You never know.

And then? 

I’d just casually run into him on set and be all TOM HANKS!!!!


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