It's beginning to look a lot like... WEDDING BELLS!

So beyond distracted.

Giddiness upon waves of stress upon waves of more giddiness upon waves of intense pain in my teeth... Oh wait. That's because I did white strips today. Naturally, I went for the biggest bang for your buck (i.e. the most extreme for the shortest amount of time, duh). Even so, if I knew the Target special was going to require hydrocodine to counteract the pain, I never would've gone there. Or wait... yes, yes I would have.

MC: heeehee hooo hoooo oouchieee oww

C: You know those are terrible for you teeth, right? My dentist told me that last time I was there (Insert tone of judgement because he knows I avoid the dentist like the plague- I have "good teeth genes" ok!- Insert my tone of judgement because he goes to the dentist 6 times a year... These opposing forces, L's & G's, are why we work. Can I get an AMEN, Paula?)

MC: Well I'm still doing them.

WHY must I be a defiant 6 year old at any.given.moment? Not sure. But guess what? We got our marriage license today!! This means it's the Dental Expert and the 6 year old FO' LIFE come next Saturday... Welp that certainly sounds like a headline for the Enquirer. 

Mom gets here tonight, sister gets here Tuesday, and the festivities begin on Thursday!!!  Aside from my breakdown every time I refresh the weather.com 10-day forecast (it says RAIN! wahhhh, it says SUN!, they're lying), I am loving the timing of our wedding. I certainly couldn't survive as a bride-to-be with the holiday treats all up in my thighs at any given moment. I salute you, January brides.  

Sorry for the lack of posts, I know you've all been inconsolable. I promise to be back in action post-honeymoon. Next time you see me (hear me?) I'll be Mrs. Double Name Gupton!

Hook 'em!!



That is all.

Tracy Anderson + Gangam Style

Have y'all heard of Tracy Anderson? Gwyneth swears by her, and I have a bit of a girl crush on both of their killer bods. True to form, I'm burnt out on just about every workout I've overdone. Running is the only thing I consistently go back to, but my knees and shins and hips are quickly resembling those of an 86 year old. Sad, but true.

 

Enter Tracy's Metamorphosis.

 

 

You take a little online quizzie- who doesn't love a quiz? And it analyzes where your body tends to store fat and/or gain weight. Based on that analysis, you are prescribed the workout set that is specific to your shape. It's about $90, but with that comes a plethora of DIFFERENT workouts, specifically targetted to YOUR ass. And hips. And thighs. Each varying mat workout begins with the same dance cardio routine, which brings me to the real point of this post.

 

Y'all. Homegirl stole my dance moves. Jumping around, kicking her legs, aimlessly bounding... ring any bells? Yep. 30 minutes of straight bouncin' around, calling it dancing. Pretty much my Friday & Saturday nights in a nutshell. So clearly, I LOVE IT! I suggest putting your own music to it after you do it one time. It goes amazingly well with Gangam Style. On repeat.

 

In Loving Memory of Greta 1/22/2009 - 9/26/2012

Most of you know that I hardly ever called her "Greta," so the title might seem almost comical. Among countless other senseless nicknames, she was my Teetsie, my RuRu, my Shushie, The Girl. I remember the day we got her like it was yesterday. We showed up to the Swissie Compound, complete with dog mansion to match the breeders' mansion. We heard the "aRU-RU-RUuu" bark before we saw the gentle giants, and I remember saying to Crawford, "Those are the male dogs... right?" Sure enough, they were girls and one was Greta's mama. Once we got the all-clear from the protective breeder, we had that sweet baby in our arms. I am using the term "baby" loosely, because she was not your regular sized 8 week old puppy... She was already heavy to carry. Gosh I would give anything for that day.

Her size was not the only "non-puppy" thing about her. Her demeanor at 8 weeks to the day she left us was that of an 18 year old precious lug. Not much excited her. Except for Crawford. I always said that if I walked in one door with a huge slab of raw meat and Crawford walked in the other, she wouldn't even glance my way. She loved him SO much. And for good reason! That man would do anything for her... and he did.

There are so many things I will miss. That face. Such a precious, puddin' face. Those brown dots above her eyes, or her eyebrows I guess, were my favorite part. She was so striking! Her eyes held so much more wisdom than she every fully revealed. It was like she knew secrets... Her coat. I will miss that soft fur with every inch of my being. Her presence. Her calming, soothing presence. Going on walks. I will miss the way she knew we were going on a walk anytime a plastic bag was rustled. The way she would put part of the leash in her mouth and tug it like it was actually her walking Crawford or me. That is a great way to look at it honestly. She took care of us, just as much as we took care of her. She held us up!

Everyday life will be the toughest. We already feel it. Now it doesn't matter if we forget to put the trash can on the counter out of reach or if we leave tennis shoes and socks on the ground after a run. We don't have to put a chair on the couch or close his bedroom door to protect it from Greta hair. Saving trash bags, keeping towels in the car, and putting her leash in a spot the other will find it... All these little habits we are so conditioned to do just don't matter anymore. 

 

I think that's part of what God and Greta want us to see too... All the things that simply don't matter. Whether the burlap is frayed enough for our wedding tablecloths, whether or not it will rain that day, whether my nail color is too summery (ha)... Doesn't matter. Love matters. Being kind matters. Being authentic matters. We gained another clear perspective as well: We can't wait to go to heaven. This world is so full of pain, and with Jesus there is no pain. Don't get me wrong, our lives on earth are amazing and we are beyond thankful, but they don't compare to what is waiting for us!

 

Thank you, Greta for strengthening our love for each other and for the Lord. We will miss you every single day... You're the Best Girl, and now you really are our Angel. We celebrate your life!!!



St. Tropez Mousse

I'm Mary Clay, and I'm a bronze-o-holic.

Hiii, Mary Clay.

Most children grew up with their mothers harping "Sunscreen, Sunscreen, Sunscreen!!" Allie and I grew up with a mother harping "Tanner, Tanner, Tanner!!" Love you Mom, but it's true :) I left the tanning beds behind in college- for the most part- I confess I've been like 5 times over the past 5 years. Don't judge... I can feel you judging. I loooove laying out, but let's get real, it's not doing my skin any favors. I got super into Versa Spa for a good 2 years- like going every Friday morning of my LIFE, and while I learned from the expert Emily :) of how to make this work for me, in the end the monthly charge of $80 was taking a hunk out of this budget. Not to mention... This conversation happened while Crawford and I were on a run (of all times) about a year ago:

C: Hey, we need to talk about something. I've been wanting to bring this up for a while now.

Me: (GULP. Welp. This is it... At least we're running... I can run home and cry. And eat ice cream).

C: Your spray-tanning. I hate it. It smells and it doesn't even look that good.

Me: (That's as bad as a break-up!!!!!!!!!!!) Well it's not stopping... I am not stopping it!

C: But you look great as you are! Without that shiz all over you!

Me: YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ME WITHOUT A TAN, SO HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW??!

Notice I said this convo was about a year ago... It took me another year+ to realize he was right (and/or to listen to this request... so sor, sor). Long of the short, after Versa, Mystic, actual sprays from a person, and countless creams/gels/younameit, I've found the end-all, be-all, tan-savior of all-time!! Thank you, Benna, for pushing me to buy the St. Tropez Mousse and Mit.

 

Y'all. You can see exactly where it's going on your bod, and it's instantly bronzing- ie no waiting around for 5 hours to see it. It does not smell badly, is not streaky, the mit keeps your palms oompa-loompa free, and it dries SUPER fast. Also, you're not sticky or wary of any clothing being ruined! It lasts for about 4 days, but you can layer more onto it without looking like a melting caramel cake. Annnnd, most importantly, it has C's stamp of approval. His words: The color is much more natural, and there's no smell. Win. WIN. Sephora sells it, so get your pasty booty to a store near you, asap.

TEXAS v. OLE MISS

SUPER PUMPED for this weekend. This will be the first time in FORTY-SIX YEARS that Texas plays Ole Miss. I'm not gonna lie, this has been the pinnacle of Crawford's and my relationship for the past 4.5 years. Some might say marriage, starting a life together, popping out babes... nope. Football game featuring our respective Alma Maters.

Y'all, The Grove! This thing is the epitomy of all things COLLEGE and FOOTBALL. I might not ever come back.

Annnnnd naturally, with something this monumental, comes outfit anxiety. Several things making this difficult:

1. It's Tuesday. We leave on Thursday.

2. It's post-Labor Day, and we will be in the heart of the South where Labor Day rules are real rules.

3. It's going to be 85 during the day, but the game isn't until 8:15pm... when it will be 60 something.

4. Ole Miss girls dress up like it's prom.

Option 1:  

i.e. What is happening because I didn't get my shiz together... in 4.5 years of anticipation.

Option 2: 



If I was rich and did have my shiz together, this would be the outfit.

Leeeeeet's be honest here though, totes won't matter! Cannot freaking wayyuuuuut. PS I used Polyvore for the first time to make these outfits. Yes, I know I'm behind, but it was really fun.

Extremely Embarrassing

My Week in a nutsheel:

#1. As this man is speaking on the Republican National Convention:

I ask Crawford if that is Ryan... He doesn't speak to me for a solid 10 minutes. #idiot #usweeklyisntnews

#2. I search high and low for "easy" cookies to bring to a friend's ranch this weekend. I opt for easy White Chocolate Ritz Peanut Butter Cookies. I jot down ingredients, the gist of the recipe, and I go to town. I don't cook a lot, but in the words of my Mom "I'm pretty good at entertaining dishes." So basically, this should be my forte, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Exhibit A

 

 Peanut butter sandies anybody?! Gosh, this IS easy.

I remember the recipe said to melt the chocolate in the microwave, but I I use a double boiler because that's the only way I've ever melted chocolate. (Basically I am on my high horse... Microwave? Psh. Amateur hour.) So the white chocolate chippies are melting away, and it occurs to me that I do not understand how in the world something that thick could coat these little sandies without absolutely scalding my fingers. (No, tongs never entered my mind, but this was truly so thick they wouldn't have helped). Crawford is about to take Greta on a walk and notices that I am about to need a trip to the ER for 3rd degree burns, so he aborts the walk. Long of the short, this is what happened.

Exhibit B

Doo doo iced crackers with me yelping Owww! Hot! Like a 2 year old. (Notice the blurb of chocolate... I obvs still eat one of them).

Not yet defeated, I decide that melting them in the microwave is probably a better route? (Tail between my legs). I remember the recipe said to stir every 30 seconds, but that gets really old, and nothing is happening, so I let it reallyyy get going for 2 minutes. Herein lies the result:

Exhibit C 

In sum, this morning I do a little research, and here's the BLARING problem: I should've gotten "white almond bark" rather than actual white chocolate. I know you're saying DUH to the computer screen if you're even still reading, but I can be quite literal when it comes to new things, and these were called "Easy White Chocolate Ritz Peanut Butter Cookies." So, if anyone wants some Ritz PB Sandies... you know where to get them. I contemplated bringing them to work until I remembered we don't have recess or nap time.

#3. Crawford asks me what brass instrument I would play if I could play anything... I say the harp.