I like shoes. Not in an obsessive, hoarding way (that’s purses, so keep ‘em straight). I just appreciate a good, pretty, comfortable pair of shoes. So much that I usually wear them until they are falling apart and I end up wishing I had bought two.

FACT: My favorite pair of tennis shoes (that I still own and wear regularly) was purchased when I was in 10th grade. Yes, that means they are 10 years old.

Even though I love shoes, I often make bad shoe choices. Like my bad food choices. I pick out things that look good and I end up paying for it a few hours later.

About a month ago, I spent a day shopping with my mom. I don’t even remember the shoes I wore that day, but I do know one thing — they hurt. My feet were screaming by the time we made it to our 4th stop, which just happened to be TJ Maxx. After I had wandered through every aisle of their housewares section, answered phone calls from my mom (who was in the dressing room), and become bored beyond all reason (I hate shopping in stores unless I am looking for something specific — but YES, I am a woman), I found myself in the shoes. And before I knew what happened, I had a shoebox in my hand a new sandal on my foot.

And it was glorious.

It felt like a massage and walking on air all at once.

And the best part? FIFTEEN DOLLARS.

Sold!

The only thing is, I don’t know what my shoe is. I mean, I don’t know its name. It’s a Columbia sandal, but I’m pretty sure they don’t make it anymore and there’s not one in their current line that’s exactly like it.

It looks like a cross between the Gretta™ II and the Kambi™. The body of Gretta II (without the icky flowers) with the little between the toe strap of the Kambi.

Flowers? Yuck.

Toe strap. Keeps my foot from sliding all the way through and the inevitable tripping scene that would follow (trust me).

So I don’t know what I’m wearing, but I love it. It’s all that I wear now. With shorts, with jeans, with skirts, and you can just almost get away with dressing it up…but it’s tricky. And I will wear it until all the support is gone for my one foot that still has an arch. (Long story. I’ll share sometime. Suffice to say I have got a whacked out right foot with a fallen arch, that is also 1 inch longer than my left.)

Columbia doesn’t know me. I mean nothing to them. And that kinda hurts, but I’m okay. Alls I know is that they make warm jackets that have kept me safe and cozy whenever I left mine at home over a spring break trip to New Mexico and ended up snowed in under 3 feet of snow. So, yes, Columbia, I kinda owe you my life.

I’m cleaning the bathroom. It’s a deep clean because the bathroom needs it and my in-laws are visiting. Not that they’re going to be using our shower or anything, it’s just a way for me to waste time cleaning something that doesn’t necessarily need to be cleaned when there are piles of laundry to be folded on the couch. Kinda like when I was 8 and I had toys piled in the floor and Mom would walk in to check on my progress only to find me dusting my perfume bottles and arranging them tallest to shortest on my vanity.

Yeah.

Well, I’ve been fighting something for a long time in the shower. No, not the desire to shave my legs because that is nonexistent.

Black mold.

Now, I don’t know if it’s the cancer causing kind, but with this old house leakiness I’m worried that it’s In The Walls. Sitting. Waiting. Silently attacking our brain cells and causing exacerbating neuroses.

So what does a person who is prone to WebMD-ing (verb, like Googling) every cramp or temperature change do when she thinks she has black mold lurking in the walls? She Googles pictures of black mold. And when she can’t be confident that what she’s got isn’t the bad kind, she looks up “symptoms of toxic black mold poisoning” and gets scared because everything it lists is something she has experienced in the 5 years she’s been living in this house, except for “spleen pain” and that’s only because she’s not sure where her spleen is.

There could totally BE spleen pain. Where is my SPLEEN?

And then the she who is me decides to counteract the cancer-causing mold spores by stopping at Jamba Juice and getting one of those açai berry smoothies because it’s filled with antioxidants and that’s really my only chance now. But on the way there I’m on the phone with my mom who sounds like she picked up smoking overnight and made up for the 40-some-odd years she didn’t smoke. She’s got some sort of contagious infection and I was just with her last night for an extended period of time…

Sheesh.

As luck would have it I did have a buy-one-get-one-free coupon, so I got the açai and the Coldbuster®, which I am saving for the morning. Tonight I’m fighting off the mold spores and tomorrow I’ll battle the common cold.

Now back to the shower.

There’s nothing I love more than a warm bagel with soft inner core and a slightly toasted crust, with a healthy serving of cream cheese. Last year I started baking more and one of the first things on my list to try was this doughy little delight. I thought it would certainly be a tricky project, but as it turned out, the process was pretty simple and one that I caught on to quickly.

I will say, like with most things for me, my first try was much better than my second (what these photos feature). Just luck, I guess. Also, the first time I made these I skipped a step (we’ll get to that) and the bagels turned out better.

And before anyone asks — no, this is not some family recipe. You have to go back 80 generations before you find our Jewish ancestors and I can promise that no one in the Johnson family has made their name baking bagels. The recipe I use belongs to John D. Lee and I’m so impressed that it will take a mighty good sounding one for me to try another.

First you’re going to knead that dough. Have I told you how much I love my dough hook? It’s changed my life. Really.

I have the smallest kitchen imaginable. Okay, wait. My great-grandma Lily’s kitchen felt smaller because it was so narrow, but I do promise that I have no more than one square foot of clear counter space. That fact makes me cry sometimes.

First world problems.

Then you’re going to separate that dough into balls and let it rest for 10-20 minutes. Here’s the deal (that’s my saying, if you haven’t noticed) — this is the step that I skipped the first time and my bagels turned out a lot better. Do what you will with that fact.

In the meantime, boil some water. Oh, and make sure your oven is preheating to 425.

Then you’re going to roll the dough into little snakes and join the ends to make our circles. Let them rest again for another 20 minutes while your water is boiling.

Dump those suckers in! Boil one minute on each side then remove and place on an oiled baking sheet (make sure they are dry before putting them on the baking sheet).

I like to make sure that they are all lightly-coated with oil before placing the baking sheet in the oven.

Bake 10 minutes, turn them over, and bake another 10. Tada! You’ve made bagels. Easy as can be and so much tastier than anything you’ll buy at the grocery store. Work at it long enough and I’m sure you’ll be craving these over your local bakery. Enjoy!

This is dedicated to Becca, who has waited patiently for goodness knows how long to hear about how I made these things. And of course I post it right after she goes gluten-free. Stay strong, my friend, and let me know how these things taste gluten-free.

Now, this is the story all about how…

Just kidding. But I do know every single word to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song. It’s gotten me a long way in life, as you can probably tell.

This is something I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. It is “The Story of How I Met My Husband, Long-Form.” I’m pretty sure most people know the short version — went to school, hung out for a few years, met this dude who was a senior in high school when I was in 8th grade, got married.

I was blogging the entire time we were dating, but I never ever talked about our relationship. It may amaze you that I managed that sort of restraint, however, it never occurred to me that writing about it while it was happening would be appropriate. In reality, I’m very talented at freaking people out and the last thing I wanted to do was scare this fairly normal, upstanding, Christian guy away.

Ours is an interesting story. I hear all the time from people who knew us both before we dated that they never would have pictured us together — and I get that. Neither would I. But together? It’s like when you find a good contrasting color to paint one wall in a room, one that by itself maybe doesn’t look like it will belong with the main color, but then you put them together and stand back to take it all in and say, “Huh. It works somehow.”

I’ve established the TV and movies that I feel represent our relationship the best. It’s sorta like Son-In-Law in the situation (only that Kevin is nothing like Pauly Shore and I didn’t come home from my first year of college donning fish-nets and brassy bottle-blond hair…but you know, other than that); like My Big Fat Greek Wedding in that…well, have you met my family? We’re not Greek, but I think if you threw an accent on us all and encouraged us to break china you wouldn’t be able to see much difference. And at this stage in our lives it’s something like Green Acres, only reverse. I’m definitely the one who wants to move (back) to the country and farm. And Kevin tells me I’m responsible for the feeding of the goat and chickens because he wants no part of it.

There’s a little bit of Big Valley thrown in, but lest anyone start thinking I want my husband dead and the responsibility of running a whole ranch on my hands, I’m going to leave that one out for now.

Only here’s the deal — I’ve got no idea what to call this little series of mine. I’m working on a name and I’ve got a few possibilities floating around in my head, but I’m going to let you, the reader, tell me which one you prefer. That post will be later today or tomorrow, but right now I want to open it up to your suggestions.

What do you think would be a good name for the series about how I met my husband?

• I TOTALLY approve of the GLEE intro!
• Jorge!
• You know you’re a LOST fan when you’re thrilled over Jorge Garcia and not so much Jon Hamm.
• Okay, so it’s just the first award, but I kinda like the commentary on the winner as he/she is walking onstage.
• I guess I need to start watching Modern Family.
• Also, my intestines are so ridiculously upset right now that I’m terrified to eat anything. But I’m starving.
• You’re welcome.
• Love Edie Falco’s dress.
• Fact — I cannot spot a Kardashian. I have no idea who they are and I’m proud of this.
• Praying Matt Mahler didn’t see that COULD IT BE ANYMORE SPOILERISH spoiler for LOST.
• Moment of truth for our LOST guys…
• GAH. So bummed.
• Ricky Gervais was hilarious, but I’m pretty bored at this point.
• My liveblogs always end up this way.
• I should liveblog something more fun. Like the flea market.

Okay, so it’s actually Pink Lemonade flavored Emergen-C. But I’ve got a mean recipe for lemonade that’ll make you slap your grandma.

Uhh.

I didn’t know I knew that phrase until I typed it. And then I looked it up to make sure that was the appropriate use. Never second guess a country mind.

• Can’t wait to take part in Offering Hospitality’s Recipe Swap next week! The theme this time: POTLUCKS! And trust me, this girl (the one that wanted a potluck wedding reception…oh hush up.) has got plenty to share.
• Zen Habits: a brief guide to life
• I know all the lyrics to “California Love,” but that’s pretty much unrelated to this link (except for the whole Tupac thing). Unrelated and not nearly as fabulous.
• OMSH’s schoolroom makes me want my four bonnet-wearing children RIGHT NOW so that I can start with all this homeschooling. And I’m pretty much kidding about the bonnets. Pretty much.
• We’re finally watching the LOST epilogue tonight! That means I can read JOpinionated’s analysis of it right after! And I’m linking it before I’ve read it because I already know it will be great.
• And to bring the subject back around to my wedding again — The Beauty of a Mason Jar. I really wanted to incorporate these into the decor at the reception, and we did, but things didn’t get quite as rustic as I wanted them. Oh well. Too late to start complaining.

One of my co-workers has cancer. Her name is Gail. This is her third time battling cancer, but it’s different this time. You see, her first two bouts were with breast cancer. Now it’s ovarian.

If I’ve ever met a fighter, it’s Gail. I’ve only been at my current job one year, but in that time I have learned a lot about Gail’s life and her struggles. She’s no wimp. She is devoted to her first family (husband and daughter) and her second family — here where we work. Gail has devoted her life to working with children (and the story behind this is amazing by itself) and there is a palpable change in our atmosphere with her not here. We’re all praying for a full recovery.

Watching this illness attack my friend has revealed to me just how much of a family this place really is. People are stepping up. There’s a weekly schedule to take a meal to Gail and her husband. Some others are signing up to go into her home and help wherever it’s needed. Others are giving what they can financially. It’s amazing to see a group of people come together to support one of their own.

But she still needs help. Times are hard for everyone right now, so you can imagine how it is for someone suddenly inundated with bills from the hospital, for chemotherapy, and the multitude of prescriptions she must now take.

If you’re going to be near Norman, Oklahoma tomorrow, please consider joining us…

Zumbathon, Raffle, and Bake Sale
Benefiting Gail & Chuck Pendley
August 28, 2010
Irving Middle School Cafeteria & Gym
3:00-5:00pm
$10 for Zumba
$1 per raffle ticket

(There will also be a garage sale in the school parking lot from 8am-3pm the same day, so if that’s your thing, come on out!)

I will be there working the front table and would be delighted if you would take the time out of your afternoon to support this dear lady. Even if you cannot be there, if there is anything about Gail’s story that touches your heart and you would like to help her financially, contact me at liz@misswisabus.com and I can put you in touch with the appropriate people.

If a monetary gift is not something you can do, please just offer up a prayer for Gail. She needs them desperately and I know I speak for hundreds of co-workers, parents, and students when I say we miss her and want her back!

Click here to view the story KOCO Channel 5 in Oklahoma City did on Gail and what her friends are doing to help her.

I have the body language of a liar. Sheesh.

(viewing on Google reader? click through for video.)

1. I have a standing offer to join the Witness Protection Program that I don’t take as seriously as I should.
2. My mother gave up a life as a trapeze artist to marry my father.
3. My husband was the first person I ever kissed (and I was 22 when it happened).

This is a part of The Real Housewives of Oklahoma’s McLinky Monday. Go on over there and join in on the fun, but don’t forget to guess which one of these is my tall tale.

(Explanation on the two truths to follow, if you’re interested.)

I saw this cranky bird at the OKC Zoo when we visited a few months ago. Look at him, observing those who pass by with little more than a squinted eye. Clearly he’s unamused. So am I. A little.

• I think I’m experiencing a case of gastritis. Ouch.
• I’ve never had to take legal action about anything before, but it’s looking like that is about to happen.
• Once I asked my dad if he would bail me out of jail if I ended up there. I was in a weird phase and he knew that I really meant, “if I am arrested and jailed for protesting.” Since that is the only thing he could imagine me going to jail for, he said no.
• He’d rather me sit in jail and think about what I’d done than take responsibility for a protester.
• I don’t think anyone has a CLUE how close I came to going off in front of NEWS 9′s camera at that Sarah Palin book signing fiasco. But I had to get to work and couldn’t feel my rear end or my fingers (it was THAT cold).
• I despise Waiting for Godot.
• My Tietze’s Syndrome is acting up again.
• What would this blog be without a random self-diagnosis from time to time?