Not Sausage Links, SAUCY Links! Geez!

Special Edition Post:
The Secret Is In The Sauce BLOGATHON!

Last week I joined an elite society of trained operatives. We masquerade as normal, regular ol' women who are just going about our business (taking care of our families, working, writing, perhaps whipping out a quiche or baby quilt every now and then) and who happen to enjoy an occasional blog post or two. Seems innocent enough, yes?

Pah!

We work under a veil of secrecy.

Codename: "The Secret Is In The Sauce"

Recruitment into this hallowed league is deceptively simple: one needs only to click on the cute little pink leopard-skin badge over in the right-hand column..over there...lower...no, lower...almost...Oh, for heaven's sakes! It looks like this:



One click will introduce you to a network of blogging women so friendly, so charming, so supportive...that you might think they are mere civilians. You know, nice ladies who write thank-you notes and would not be caught dead wearing white shoes after Labor Day.

But don't make that rookie mistake. Tread with much respect and do not look directly into the LCD glow of their pupils lest you unleash an unearthly torrent of pointy-nointy Ninja stars. [Bwang!] (Those things really smart, BTW.)

Included here for your consideration are links to five of my saucy sisters-in-arms' blogs, along with some [ahem] "post titles" to give you a little taste of what to expect:


Nanny Goats in Panties
"World Peace? I'd settle for covered parking."

Happy Meals & Happy Hour
"Bartending School: What College Recruiters Don't Want Your High Schooler to Know"

American in Norway
"I swear, if one more person asks me if I know ABBA..."

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blog
"I'll tell you what you can do with your tuna-noodle casserole."

Texas Word Tangle
"Parent-teacher what? Oh, I don't THINK so."

Remember, when you visit:

• Don't make any sudden moves.
• Tell them their hair "has loads of body and manageability." (Trust me. Just say it.)
  
• And, for God's sakes, don't set your sweaty Big Gulp down anywhere without a coaster under it!

Believe me, it'll be worth it (especially if you win one of the super-cool prizes they're giving away every hour today at saucy headquarters). This is one network of ladies you'll want to have on YOUR side.

Good luck, my friend.

What's Up With The Fort Worth Crease?

So I'm reading NORWOOD by Charles Portis right now (excellent) and I run across a little passage describing the protagonist (the aforementioned Norwood) sitting on the back steps of his house wearing a black hat with a Fort Worth crease.

What's this? A Fort Worth crease? Qu'est-ce que c'est?

I go straight to Google (heard of it?) and slap "Fort Worth crease" into the search box and whoop! Hat crown heaven!

Now, from what I can tell, this is a Fort Worth crease:

According to my research, it's also called the "Hapalong." There are at least a dozen other specific crease names, including the Horseshoe, Rimrock, Centerfire and Two Dot. For the complete list, check out Dave Brown Hats. Good stuff there. According to tradition, the shape of your hat crown telegraphed your political stance to the rest of the world. A flat top crown announced that you held conservative, law-and-order (republican) or Monarchist views. Those at the liberal/democrat end of the spectrum wore rounded crowns. Every hat I had growing up had a Cattleman crown:

This included my favorite-ever navy blue felt hat that I wore to school on Go Texan Day in 4th grade - the same day we got to do special square-dancing on the blacktop and run across to the chain link fence on the far side of the soccer field to squint past the Katy Freeway and see the covered wagons and horses of the Salt Grass Trail Ride pass by on their way to kick off the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

The blue hat was special, too, because it was the first time I was allowed to have the little post card tucked in the inside band that read "Like Hell It's Yours! This hat belongs to:" with my named typed in all capitals on the manual typewriter behind the counter at Potter's Western Wear out in Columbus, Texas. It was kind of like this one:

I had a parent-approved card in my hat with a curse word on it. Clearly, I had crossed a threshold of some kind.

I never had another cowboy hat that I loved as much as that one. They steamed and blocked it right there in Potter's, turning the crown from a Hoss Cartwright into a cattleman before my eyes. I wore it as long as I could stand it (my melon was growing at a pretty rapid rate in those days) - until I'd still have a rather disturbing-looking crease of my own running across my forehead two days after I'd taken it off.

Now that I notice it, if I run my finger reeeeal gently up and down my forehead, I can still feel that crease.

What can I say? It's a dandy hat that makes a lifelong impression.