As you may know, I signed up for my first (and probably last) triathlon about 3 weeks ago. The big event was scheduled for this Sunday morning. My (Iron)Man, has been my coach throughout, motivating me to work hard to accomplish my goal.
My goal was to not back out or need an i.v. before crossing the finish. So far so good…
UNTIL I got sick on Thursday night. It’s now Saturday afternoon and I don’t feel any better. My incessant sneezing and nose draining has turned to nausea and the worst throbbing headache of my life. Despite many a cocktail of Gatorade and o.t.c. meds, I still feel like crud. The thought of putting my body through strenuous physical activity tomorrow morning sounds like hell just doesn’t seem like a wise decision.
I am genuinely bummed about not being able to do it. Although I have only gone for three swims, biked thrice, and gone for one run—I felt like I could handle that thing. I was excited to do it with My Man, and really looking forward to our sweaty embrace at the finish line. He was going to be so proud of me and I was going to be pretty dang proud of myself.
All hasn’t been lost–and something good has come out of this whole thing. I have a new found love for biking! I love that you can talk while you ride (without too much huffing and puffing) so it meets my need for socializing while exercising. I have also conquered my fear of the paper thin tires on a road bike, and my fear of wearing heavily padded men’s bike shorts in public. Check and check.
I am left with this question: Should I sign up for another triathlon? Doing so this far in advance would mean that I would actually be expected to train for it. Intense time-consuming training does not appeal to me, but I sure hate feeling like a weenie…a loser…a quitter. I can’t quite think straight on this mixture of Sudafed, Excedrin Migraine and Midol (for good measure), so I better wait till my head is clear of these uppers, downers and hallucinogenics before I make any rash decisions. I’ll keep you posted.
What happens when you stop by the grocery store with an empty tummy on Guilty Pleasure Thursday?
That’s what.
Describe yourself in one adjective:
Resourceful.
In the busyness of our weekend, between World Cup viewing parties, house hunting, dinners with friends, and “training” for the impending triathlon, getting my act together for a Sunday wedding shower slipped my mind. Luckily I had already purchased a gift, but unfortunately our home is gift-wrapless. One day, if our numbers are up, we will have a whole room devoted to gift wrapping.
I simply would not be able to stop myself from giving people presents.
Until then, I’ll make do with what I have. And what I have is tape and scissors.
In a pinch, I pulled the “Vows” pages out of the Style section out of the Times and used it to wrap my gift. In lieu of a bow, I put hearts around the couples I found particularly hilarious. (If you’ve ever read the vows section, you will agree that it’s more comic than romantic).
Kate, the BtB, was gracious, beautiful and appropriately oohed and aahed upon opening each present. And she really appreciated my gift and the creative packaging.
One point for me.
One point for Kate.
One point for the environment.
Everyone wins.
Dear Bride-to-Be,
You have a lot to think about between now and your big day: the menu, the flowers, the band, your dress, seating arrangements, planning the ceremony, cake tastings, scheduling fittings, selecting bridesmaids dresses that your bridesmaids “will wear again.”, and transportation logistics. But there is another item that you need to add to the prenuptial to-do list, something that often goes unaddressed: filtering the reception playlist for the wedding band. Most of you incorrectly assume that because a band plays weddings, they need no guidance from you beyond your selections for the first dance and the father daughter dance. Well they do. Somehow a handful of godawful songs have become staples at receptions. These songs are either downright terrible, decent songs that have awkward beats that clear the dancefloor, the wrong song by the right artist, and/or worn-out overplayed songs whose day has come and gone. These songs will be played at your wedding if you don’t put your pretty pedicured foot down.
I know this wasn’t on your Pottery Barn registry, but my wedding gift to you is a Do Not Play list to send to your wedding band. The list could go on and on, but here is the short list of popular wedding band songs that you should aim to avoid.
DO NOT PLAY:
- Play that Funky Music White Boy- Wild Cherry
- Get Down Tonight- KC and the Sunshine Band
- Ladies Night- Kool and the Gang
- Mony Mony- Tommy Ridell
- I’ll Take You There- The Staple Singers
- We Are Family- Sister Sledge
- That’s the Way I Like It- KC and the Sunshine Band
- My Guy- Mary Wells
- Hot Hot Hot- Buster Poindexter
- I Second That Emotion- Smokey Robinson
- Tracks of My Tears- Smokey Robinson
- Stop In The Name Of Love- Supremes
- The Twist- Chubby Checker
- Jungle Boogie- Kool and The Gang
- Who’s That Lady- The Isley Brothers
- Mr. Big Stuff- Jean Knight
- Sweet Home Alabama- Lynard Skynyrd (this could be controversial but I vote no)
- Dancing In The Street -Martha & The Vandellas
- The Way You Do The Things You Do-Temptations
- Do Ya Think I’m Sexy-Rod Steward
- Everybody (Have Fun Tonight) – Wang Chung
- I Will Survive – Gloria Gaynor
- YMCA-Village People
- Low Rider-War
- Wipeout- The Surfaris
- The Macarena
- Electric Slide
- And I’m gonna go ahead and say it. Don’t Stop Believing- Journey. Yawn.
Now for the slow songs. In general, slow songs are intended for couples, make the singles feel single, and make most dancers lose the momentum that has been building as a result of the amazing playlist and open bar you have provided. The occasional slow dance is fine, but please ensure that the band doesn’t play the following songs for those choice slow dances:
- Have I Told You Lately- Rod Stewart
- Actually any song by Rod Stewart
- Here and Now- Luther Vandros
- Still The One- Shania Twain
- Hero- Mariah Carey
- Another Sad Love Song- Toni Braxton
- I Can’t Tell You Why- The Eagles
- Love Will Keep Us Alive- The Eagles
- Don’t Want to Miss a Thing- Aerosmith
- Saved the Best for Last- Vanessa Williams
- When I Fall In Love- Celine Dion
It’s not the table linens, the font you used on your invitations, or the monogrammed cocktail napkins that people will remember from your big day. Give a damn about the details that actually mean something! Being a control freak about choosing a great band and hand-picking the playlist is the only area where you have my permission to be a borderline bridezilla. Your guests will thank you and you will have a ball.
Have a Happily Ever After,
Jennifer
P.S. Brick House?
This Thursday’s guilty pleasure, the Sloppy Joe.
Cue the theme music from Adam Sandler on Saturday Night Live…
Now let’s face it, Sloppy Joes aren’t cool. They haven’t made the retro (old-school is the new cool) comeback, they don’t appear on many a menu, and they aren’t met with the same gleeful nostalgia as 1950’s classics like chicken pot pie, meatloaf and mac&cheese. And I would venture to say that you have not and will not invite friends over for Sloppy Joe, as the dish may even be considered tacky. I suppose many of you were burned by this second-rate sandwich in your youth. Maybe your mom made the canned version for dinner on the nights you had a babysitter, and she out on a dinner date with your dad? Maybe you remember the soggy bun and the neon orange color the fatty mystery meat left on your cafeteria plate? This wasn’t a staple in our family’s dinner rotation growing up, and they weren’t served my school cafeteria. This may explain why I occasionally get a crazy craving for that sweet and salty mix that simply must be satisfied. I recently had one of those cravings and I had to give in.
I urge you to give Joe another chance. A good recipe that calls for fresh ingredients, lean meat, served upon a toasted bun will change everything. Here are is a great five star recipe for the classic Sloppy Joe.
And here is another–the Sloppy Joe, revisited and revised to suit the healthier lifestyle.
Sloppy Joe, lightened up
Ingredients
- 1 pound extra-lean ground beef or turkey (92% lean or above)
- 1 onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 jalapeno, minced and seeded
- 1 red pepper, diced
- 1 can small red beans or pinto beans, preferably low sodium drained and rinsed
- 1 1/2 cups no-salt-added tomato sauce
- 2 tablespoons tomato paste
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1 tablespoon molasses
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 teaspoon mustard powder (or a tablespoon of mustard)
- 3/4 teaspoon salt
- pepper
- 8 whole-wheat burger buns, toasted
Directions
Brown the meat and the onion in a large nonstick skillet or dutch-oven over medium-high heat for 5 minutes, breaking up the meat into crumbles as it cooks. Pour the drippings out of the pan and discard. Add the garlic, jalapeno, and red pepper to the thoroughly drained meat and cook 5 minutes more, stirring occasionally. Stir in the rest of the ingredients, reduce heat to low, and simmer for at least 5 minutes more or until thickened. If you can stand the wait, let the mix cool completely, refrigerate, and serve it the next day (reheated, of course). Place a scoop of Joe onto each toasted bun and enjoy.
And for those of you vegetarians, who have tuned me out by now, your loss. Here is a link to a great recipe for a vegetarian Sloppy Joe, the “Snobby Joe” as featured in the Veganomicon Cookbook.
And if you are desperate, like really desperate or camping or snowed-in, Manwich is allowed, but I wouldn’t recommend it. If you do settle for Manwich, at least toast the bun forchristssake.
Together, we can make Sloppy Joe is new cupcake.
Somehow My Man has convinced me to do a triathlon with him. Lord knows why I said yes. It just came out. Sometimes he’s just so dang cute I can’t say no.
He is what you would call a triathlete, and assures me that the race we signed up for is great for first timers like myself. We’ll see about that, now won’t we?
I have never been one for early-morning competitive timed events, but in the back of my mind I thought maaaybeee one day I would do a triathlon after I had a rasher of children. After winning the damn thing I would say, “look kids, your mama’s still got it.” Now I’m thinking I will knock it out p.k. (pre-kids) so I can say “once upon a time your mama had it.”
A triathlon involves Swimming, Biking, and Running, in that order. I have done all of these things at one time or another, but never on the same day, one immediately after the other, without pausing for rest and refreshment. And for some reason, My Man keeps calling it “the race.” To clarify, I am NOT racing. I just want to finish in one piece.
I only have three weeks between now and the big day to get this body in gear. That’s not much time, but less time to train means less time to stress about not being trained. Here is my starting point, as of day one of training:
Swim. Swimming for exercise is not my idea of fun. Never has been. Like most kids I was on the swim team a few summers of my childhood. I hated the swimming part, but stayed in the game because I loved my red and black team Speedo. Man I felt hot in that thing. Seriously. My sister and I would get dropped of at the pool in the morning, go jump in the shower to look like we swam the requisite laps, and then hang out in the snack bar until practice was over. No one really noticed our absence because we were in the slow lane. After “practice” we would seamlessly reemerge and join the other girls for a day of diving board games, handstand contests, and country club chicken fingers.
I am most nervous about this leg, and unfortunately, I’m not quite as confident in a Speedo as I once was.
Bike. I am least worried about this leg of the race. I mean, I will have wheels. Wheels! That makes getting from one place to another a whole lot easier.
Run. It’s no secret that I prefer walking. It’s much more social and much less sweaty. I rarely run by choice. I usually run if I’m in a hurry, if I’m being chased, or if I’m trying to get home from a walk before I get caught in a lightening storm. I will only have to run two or three miles for the triathlon which I can totally handle as long as I have music to distract me. Are iPods allowed?
Well, I’m off to train. And by train I mean carb-load. It’s raining outside.
Oh, and does doing one triathlon make me a triathlete? Discuss.
My week-long blog hiatus was due to the following: A trip to the beach with my family, and a stay at a beautiful beach house without a computer, nary a cell phone bar, and no internet connection. Pure bliss.
I have been enjoying the small things, spending time with the people I love the most, and taking time to practice presence and take it all in.
Had I been callously rushing through the day-to-day, I might have missed the special love letter Someone was trying to send me.
A perfect heart shape in the center of my Sour Cream & Onion chip.
So let’s take the time to slow down and enjoy every bite of this crazy life, shall we?
I love magazines. Like LOVE them. Nothing wrong with that, right?
I subscribe to the standard fare for a girl my age: Real Simple, Cooking Light, House Beautiful, Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, In Style, New York…the list goes on for far too long. Then there are my subscriptions to magazines I place in the aspirational genre including Martha Stewart Living, Bon Appétit and Veranda. One day I will put those tips to use on how to braise duck, etch portraits of my family into Easter eggs, and decorate my beachfront mansion. One day.
Now for the Guilty part of this Pleasure…
There is also another group of magazines that I don’t subscribe to, but definitely don’t miss an issue of. These are the magazines that my mom, 29 years my senior, subscribes to. She and her peers in the 40+ demographic may be the target audience, but I just can’t get enough. Among them: Redbook, Prevention and Ladies Home Journal.
Women like Robin McGraw, Katie Couric, Jenny Stanford, Carnie Wilson and Andie MacDowell grace the cover of these mags. Lauren Conrad, Scarlett Johansson, and Taylor Swift can step aside. Fergie is out, Marie Osmond is in. Advertisements for birth control pills are replaced with ads for Estroven and Boniva.
I would be glad to share the tips I have acquired over the years on subjects including: dealing with the empty nest, how to spice things up in the bedroom after children and after 40, when it’s best to retire, and different ways to cope with menopause.
Those are the magazines I buy when I am stuck at the airport and the mags I reach for at the doctor’s office. Fortunately, my mom passes on her back issues to me so I don’t raise eyebrows at the checkout. I thought this little fetish for magazines geared for the over 40 crowd was a secret. That was until this arrived in the mail the other day.
An AARP membership card with MY name on it. For those of you who don’t know, AARP stands for the American Association of Retired Persons. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I am a good ways away from hanging it up, so to speak.
I was confused and mildly insulted. However, I am considering membership, as long as it includes a subscription to AARP The Magazine.
Happy Guilty Pleasure Thursday.
Marie, one of my very best friends in the wholewideworld, just became a Mrs.. Marie has that rare perfect mix of a super-sharp wit, intelligence, compassion, genuine love for other people, and undeniable rhythm on the dancefloor. I couldn’t imagine the man who could possibly deserve to marry my friend, but she found her match. It makes my heart warm.
It was an amazing weekend of wedding bliss at the family’s ranch in Brenham, Texas.
The breathtaking bride and a proud member of her top 9.
The bridesmaids killing some time before the ceremony.
The bride, brushing her teeth for the last time as a single woman.
Here is the bride’s 90 year old grandmother giving her last-minute advice for the wedding night.
Here is me getting all artsy.
I would be glad to photograph your wedding. Just shoot me an email and we can discuss my rate.
The weather was terrible the two days leading up to the Big Day. At 3:00 the day of, just when the F.O.t.B. was about to make the final call to move the ceremony inside the tent, the sky cleared and the day got gorgeous. They were able to have the ceremony outside under huge old trees overlooking the lake.
This was the most beautiful wedding I have ever seen. Those two pictures above (that I ganked from some stranger’s facebook page) (where all the bridesmaids look pregnant) don’t begin to depict how amazing the setting was.
Oh, and the bride wore white boots under her dress.
And the happy couple’s getaway car was actually a helicopter.
Texas.
My friend Meredith is about 9 1/2 months pregnant with baby number two. What do you want when you are that pregnant, besides a comfortable place to sit and a margarita? Something cool and delicious made of chocolate and peanut butter.
Being the good friend that I am, I decided to make sweet Meredith, her husband and their #1 a tasty dessert to enjoy these last few days before the newborn makes his or her grand entrance.
I have been drooling over this recipe since I saw it a few months ago on Cooking Light and I knew it was just the thing. It comes together really quickly, requires no sifting, no cooking, and only dirties one bowl. Perfect for a gal on the go like myself.
Peanut Butter Pie
Ingredients:
- 1 cup powdered sugar
- 1 cup natural-style, reduced-fat creamy peanut butter (such as Smucker’s)
- 1 (8-ounce) block 1/3-less-fat cream cheese, softened
- 1 (14-ounce) can fat-free sweetened condensed milk
- 12 ounces frozen fat-free whipped topping, thawed
- 2 (6-ounce) reduced-fat graham or oreo crusts
- fat-free chocolate sundae syrup
Directions:
Combine powdered sugar, peanut butter, and cream cheese in a large bowl; beat with a mixer at medium speed until smooth. Add milk; beat until combined. Fold in whipped topping. Divide mixture evenly between crusts; chill 8 hours or until set (pies will have a soft, fluffy texture). Cut into wedges; drizzle with chocolate syrup.
I closed the refrigerator on a job well done.
So what do I have to be guilty about on this Guilty Pleasure Thursday? Well, I made this special pie with full intentions of taking it to my friend, the expectant mother, the next morning, but things came up. I had a crazy few days at work, my computer and My Man got viruses, one think lead to another and the pie was still in the refrigerator. Somewhere between “I cant give my friend a two day-old pie” and “this pie looks aahh-mazing,” I cut myself a generous a slice and ate it. It tasted like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup but better. My Oneandonly had a slice last night to make me feel better. Consensus: Yum.
So, on this Guilty Pleasure Thursday I feel guilty because I (ahem, we) ate the pie I intended to give to my ohso deserving friend–but oh how pleasureful it was.
The lesson from all of this? Double the recipe.
Meredith, I will make you dinner and dessert, when you get home from the hospital with the newest little miracle. You have my word. xoxoxo
When I was about 10 years old my parents enrolled me in Etiquette Lessons. Every Saturday for about six weeks I had to change out of my soccer uniform and join the other little girls in their pretty pink dresses and boys in clip-on ties whose parents made the same investment in their future. Our little legs dangled from the big chairs in front of fully set fancy tables with fine silver and china. We learned which fork and spoon to use and when, which bread plate belonged to us, and how to enjoy soup without slurping. We were educated on the art of making polite conversation and taught the correct way to make formal introductions.
But what I remember best about these Saturday lessons, besides the buttery country club crackers used for bribery, was learning to eat an artichoke. Even my parents who signed me up for the course, likely because I thought mashed potatoes were a finger food, found it funny that so much time was spent on such a specific topic and technique. Yes, it can be tricky and not necessarily intuitive, as the majority of the artichoke is inedible, but how often are we offered whole artichokes anyway?
Nearly twenty years later I have yet to have the opportunity to put my artichoke etiquette to use. Clearly I am running with the wrong crowd.
A seasonal artichoke sale at Whole Foods inspired me to bush the dust off of my artichoke eating technique. It turns out it’s like riding a bike.
Steamed Artichokes
Ingredients
- 2 Artichokes (or as many as will fit in your steamer basket)
- Lemon
- Butter, seasoned oil, or dip of your choice
Directions
Cut the stem flush with the artichoke body so the artichokes can sit upright. Snap off and discard any battered outer leaves. With a serrated knife, cut the top third from each artichoke and discard. Using scissors, trim the prickly leaf-tops off and throw them away. Cut the top quarter off the artichoke with a serrated knife. Rub the cut surfaces with a lemon half. Your artichokes should look like this before they take a trip to the steamer basket.
Arrange the artichokes in a steamer basket set over at least 3 cups of simmering water and steam, covered, until the leaves can be easily removed, about 40 minutes to 1 hour. About halfway through cooking time check the water level and add more, if necessary. Serve the artichokes warm or at room temperature.
Artichokes are typically served with melted butter or seasoned olive oil for dipping, but here is a recipe for a delicious looking saffron dip for you overachievers. They are also great plain.
Click here for instructions about how to eat one and what to do when you get to the hairy choke. (Hint: the discarded leaves should look like this)
Invite your most elegant friends over and enjoy this delicacy in prehistoric prickly packaging.
Next I will master the art of recreating those warm buttery country club crackers.
My name is Jennifer and I play the lottery. Now this isn’t like an addiction or anything, but who doesn’t like a good game of chance with the potential of a money payoff every now and again? I remember, way back when, when my income came from allowance (my age in crisp one dollar bills) and whatever change I collected selling lemonade and my paintings in the front yard, I used to divide the money up this way:
- Lip Smackers and Wet n’ Wild nail polish
- Trolls
- A little in the “wampum bag” at Indian Princesses
- A bit to the church (to secure my salvation)
- Savings
- A scratch off lottery ticket
Lucky Seven was my was my scratch off ticket of choice. Of course I was way too young to buy tickets myself, but our nanny/housekeeper/ soul sister Pearl would buy one for me if I was good. The most I ever won was $10. But do you remember how much $10 was when you were little? A whole damn lot.
None such luck today.
Until today, I hadn’t bought a scratch-off ticket in ages, however, I still buy the MegaMillions or Powerball tickets on occasion. Even my mom has been known to dabble a bit as well, only when the MegaMillion jackpot gets above the $150 million mark. Now, I don’t know how to say this, but my mom doesn’t really need to win the lotto as much as some of us. Ya read me?
Allow me to paraphrase my mom’s lotto tip/theory: The winning ticket never comes from a nice part of town. You have to go a bit off the beaten path, nearing the other side of the tracks, if you want to have any chance of winning. For example, places that have a stack of newspapers like this by the cash register:
For you Atlantans, that means fat chance hitting the jackpot from a ticket purchased in the 30305 or 30327, to name a few. I took her tip and bought my tickets from what my Man and I fondly refer to as the meth addict Kroger.
We will have to see this weekend whether or not I am a winner. I’ll let you know…
Actually, I probably won’t. I wouldn’t want you trillas coming out of the woodwork claiming to be cousins. And things in my world wouldn’t change all that much.
My life as a multimillionaire would look something like this:
- I would do the kind of consulting work I do now, only I would provide service pro bono to non profits.
- I would work part-time so that I could spend more time with friends and family, travel, relax outside, hand-write more letters, take art lessons, etc.
- We would turn our AC way down at night so we would still need all of the covers in the summer.
- I would give more money to causes I believe in and to people who need it, and do so anonymously.
- I would get my hair highlighted more regularly to maintain the illusion that I am a natural blond
- We would buy a modest but comfortable house in Atlanta with a big yard for our hypothetical future dog and children. We would also have a small (but tastefully decorated) house at the lake and one at the beach.
- I wouldn’t get a new car, but I might get the iPod hookup installed
- Despite my millions, I would never EVER buy anything at Bed Bath & Beyond without a coupon.
- I would still get a thrill from a good old fashioned bargain: finding cute clothes on sale, buy one get one frees, successfully haggling the gentlemen at Jiffy Lube for discounts, etc.
Wish me luck! My odds are one in 120,000,000. Not bad?
Re-immersion after a week of vacation can be uncomfortable, awkward and even dangerous. We took the necessary safety precautions when we opened our work email inboxes Sunday afternoon. We didn’t know what to expect from Outlook after a blissful week with no Internet and spotty cell phone service.
Facing the working world again was pretty smooth, only we should have worn full body armor instead of just helmets. Moments later I burned my entire hand on the oven and My Man stepped on one of my cute bumblebee pushpins. I had to do some minor surgery to remove it from his foot. There was bloodshed.
For weeks now, we have been literally counting down the days to the beach, so upon our return we were both a little down and out. I’m one of those who operates out of the here is what I have to look forward to mentality. I think I have always been that way. When I was in elementary school, I remember looking forward to Art on Mondays and Wednesdays and PE on Fridays. I would save my favorite brightly colored warm-up suit for that special day when both classes were together for PE, as doing so enabled me to make a fashion impact on the larger audience. In that spirit and to help get me over the hump and back into the groove, I jotted down a quick list of things I have to look forward to:
- My friend Marie’s wedding is in less than two weeks. She is one of a kind, a beauty inside and out, the best dancer on the dancefloor, and she makes me laugh harder than just about anyone. I can’t wait to celebrate her marriage to the luckiest man I know. (Plus the bridesmaid’s dresses are pretty dang cute).
- Mad Men Season III is out on DVD. This will be purchased when Borders sends me one of those 40% off coupons. I’m waiting very patiently.
- Lots of fun party invitations came in the mail while we were out of town. Oh how I love parties and oh how I love getting fun things in the mail! Hint hint.
- We get to go on a beach getaway with my family at the end of the month! My parents are really good at vacation, and my sister and her Main Man will be there too.
- The Bachelorette will be back on TV soon. It’s no secret that Ali was a caddy B. who made an attempt to seem like a sweet and innocent nice girl when she realized she was contending for the role of the next Bachelorette. I wasn’t fooled one bit. I saw it happen and it made me want to upchuck. I also prefer the Bachelor to the Bachelorette, because a houseful of unstable women is a lot more interesting to watch than a houseful of guys having push-up contests. But I’d be lyin’ if I said that any of the aforementioned gripes would stop me from tuning in. Hey oh May 24!
- My friend Meredith is having baby #2 in a matter of weeks! I I can’t wait to meet the little one.
- And there’s always breakfast. Every day it delights me anew.
Not a bad list, not a bad list at all! And a long walk with a good playlist of random funky deliciousness always gets me back in the groove. (Today it includes this down beat: Young Cash (ft. T-Pain & Iceburg) – Sometimes )
Ice cream helps too.
I have been a little MIA lately, and for good reason. We are on vacation! My Oneandonly and I hit the road last weekend and headed to the beach. We don’t have the Internet where we are staying which is… really nice.
Life. Is. Good.
I don’t mean to brag, but I am good at vacation. I mean, really good at vacation.
For your entertainment in my absence, I thought I would share a few other ways to waste time on the internet interesting Internet finds. These sites are for the most part, complete black holes for your time –in a good way, of course. These clearly fall under the umbrella of Guilty Pleasure Thursday….it’s Thursday, right?
1. Let’s get the obvious out of the way first. FreeTetris.org. Now it’s no Snood, but it is quite addictive. If you’re not careful, you may close your eyes at bedtime and she colorful shapes and feel compelled to mentally rotate them to fit on some imaginary game board. True story. Happened to someone I know.
2. The Easter Egg Archive. An Easter egg is the name for an intentional hidden message or feature in a movie, book, CD, DVD, television show, commercial, video game, website or painting. Hidden tracks on CDs or records are classic examples of Easter eggs. Some people call them secret songs or ghost tracks. Whatever you call it, it’s a piece of music that has been placed on a CD or record in such a way as to avoid detection by the casual listener. Circa 5th grade, I remember being thrilled to discover secret songs at the end of Green Day’s Dookie album and the Dave Matthews Band album, Under the Table and Dreaming. Counting Crows’ “Big Yellow Taxi” was actually a hidden cover song on Hard Candy. My favorite hidden track might be The Beatles’ song “Her Majesty” from the album Abbey Road. A quick example of an Easter egg in film is that Alfred Hitchcock makes cameo appearances in each of his movies, as does M. Night Shyamalan (Yes, I am well aware that those two don’t belong in the same sentence). Of course a book could be written about the Easter eggs on Lost. There are literally thousands of these little secrets out there. Thanks to the geniuses behind the site, you no longer have to hunt for these eggs yourself. You can look up your favorite TV show, movie or band and see if there are any of these little secrets waiting to be uncovered. There is an exhaustive list on the site, complete with a searchable index. It’s like a secret world has been revealed.
3. Texas Department of Criminal Justice. It is with some hesitation that I share this link. It is certainly not for all audiences. This link to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice contains an archive of the last words of those executed by the state of Texas, home to over a third of our nation’s executions. It’s amazing to me that documentation of the last words spoken by 450 executed inmates is kept on public record. Some ask for forgiveness, some claim innocence, and most claim the name of Jesus. You can also see what crime they were convicted of. It makes for very interesting reading. Consider it a sociological study rather than a twisted pastime. Just like WebMD, I do not recommend reading this close to bedtime.
Please enjoy these little diversions in my absence. I’ll be back to the real world all too soon. Only I will be a tanner, more well rested and more well traveled version of myself. With stories to tell…
Guilty Pleasure: a thing one enjoys despite feeling guilt for it.
Guilty pleasures are the small things that make life just a little sweeter. However, they’re also the things that aren’t good for us, aren’t cool, are unjustifiably indulgent, expensive or tacky, or generally things that we are not supposed to like as much as we do. For example: the show 19 Kids and Counting, Web MD, prunes, songs by the Commodores, sloppy joes, cheesy showtunes etc. All hypotheticals, I assure you.
But why would we feel guilty about something we enjoy? That’s why I’m coming out with it! Each week I will divulge and indulge at least one of my guilty (or not so guilty) pleasures. It could be anything from a food, a song, a TV show, a habit or hobby. Join me, won’t you?
This week’s guilty pleasure: Diet Coke
I LOVE Diet Coke. Whenever I have something salty I crave one. I couldn’t imagine enjoying popcorn, pretzels or Mexican food without a cold one. I know the best places in town for fountain Diet Coke (Fellini’s and Six Feet Under) and the places that insult the integrity of the beverage by serving a warm can with a cup of ice (La Fonda Latina). My love for Diet Coke has nothing to do with “diet.” I know very well that when all is said and done, real coke is probably better for me because it is less artificial, but I just can’t stand the taste of the real thing®. Even on Fantastic Friday in elementary school, when the other kids would order their Coke and milk to go with their pizza, I would have the lone Diet Coke in the 2nd grade drink crate.
Recently, my parents were going through some old photos and found this one:
There I am in my mom’s lap, age zero, happily sharing her Diet Coke. It explains soooo much.
Times have changed. These days my mom is the one that sends me articles about the health studies condemning the beverage. It has taken a long time, but I have finally started to cut back. I probably drank six a day in college. I cut it down to three after I graduated and then down to two a few years later. Now, I am proud to say that I have one a day, either with lunch or dinner. I know one a day to some people might sound like a lot, but look how far I’ve come. One day at a time.
So today, Guilty Pleasure Thursday, I will indulge in my pleasure without guilt while I enjoy classic Coke commercials from the days of yore. Tomorrow you can send me links to articles about the correlation between drinking Diet Coke and bone density loss, rotten teeth and decreased kidney function.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfU17niXOG8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdrE1VMxzoE
A note to Child Protective Services: please know that I have the most loving and wonderful mother in the world, a woman who modeled a healthy happy lifestyle to her daughters. This photo was taken well before they started pumping rats with aspartame and studying the harmful effects.
This weekend My Man surprised me by taking me to a luxurious celebratory brunch at a beautiful hotel in Atlanta. It would be pretentious of me to drop the name of said hotel, so I will do so as if we were playing a game of Taboo or CatchPhrase.
First word: Buttery snack cracker
Second word: Will Smith’s cousin on the Fresh Prince
My Man sure knows how to please his woman. The brunch was absolutely divine! There were made to order omelets and waffles, assorted homemade breads and muffins, pancakes, an extensive seafood selection, smoked salmon, caviar, beautiful fruits, about dozen different desserts and oh so much more. I wanted to take pictures of the beautiful spread, room by room, but as you know, one must make it seem like such extravagance is a regular occurrence. However, like a fanny packed tourist at Euro-Disney, I couldn’t resist taking a picture– of our drinks. While it’s not quite as photogenic as the caviar bar, hopefully it conveys that being high maintenance and requesting a diet coke, coffee and a mimosa was not frowned upon in the least.
Here are a few quick tips for mastering the art of the elaborate fancy brunch buffet:
- Check out the spread before diving in, as to make a plan of action.
- Pace yourself. Take breaks between rounds. Enjoy the day and digest a bit before you head back for more.
- Don’t eat things you have on a regular basis. Yes, I adore cereal and was tempted by their offerings in precious little boxes, but why would I waste room in my tummy for something I have every other morning?
- Try new things. Caviar? Yes please! Smoked scallops? Don’t mind if I do!
- Wear a dress with pockets, so you can pop one of those adorable meringue tarts in your pocket for later.
At the end of the meal, when neither of us had any room to spare, they brought a beautiful piece of chocolate cake with a candle. Thank goodness candle blowing out is not limited to birthdays!
When we got home I put on elastic waste-band pajama pants, turned on HGTV and took a nap. My Man put on spandex and went for a 30 mile bike ride. Therein lies the difference.
I promise this is not and will not be a blog about how wonderful my marriage is and how every day I am more in love than the day before. But today it will be a little like that.
This is our one year anniversary. A year ago today we exchanged vows in the presence of our dearest friends and family at the church I grew up in. Having all of the people who are close to us together in the same place gave me chills and I couldn’t help but tear up as my father walked me down the aisle. We celebrated at the reception, so generously and beautiful hosted by my parents at their home. The weather was ideal and the flowers were stunning. The food, the wine, the cake and warm chocolate chip cookies were delicious.
Old and young united on the dance floor. It was on fire.
I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.
And that was just the beginning.
I have enjoyed every day of being My Man’s wife. He makes me feel so loved and uniquely adored, although I don’t always deserve it. He makes up songs with silly lyrics on his guitar and I dance to them. He makes me laugh. I love his laugh. He rarely says no to a game of Gin, dice, Phase10 or Bananagrams, despite the fact that this might not be his ideal way to spend time. He asks really thoughtful questions. He inspires me to run up the hills instead of walking like I am inclined to do. He goes on walks with me, even though I know he would rather run. He loves good music and maintains an enthusiastic and unselfconscious dancing ethic. He is an amazing and faithful friend. He makes it easy for me to admit when I am wrong. He tells me exactly what I need to know to get into a sports game that before him, I never would have cared about—he knows exactly how to make me passionate about one team or the other by including the details of a coach or player’s personal life or a team’s struggles. He has an incredible amount of integrity. He kindly fulfills my request when I tell him “I really need a compliment.” He maintains the perfect balance of humility and confidence, especially amazing for someone who truly deserves to be cocky. He inspires me to be a better daughter, sister and friend. I feel blessed to be able to spend every day with him.
Tonight, so says the tradition, we will eat the top of the wedding cake we saved for our 1st anniversary. The cream cheese frosting might not have made it through the year freezer burn free—but I’m sure the champagne will taste just fine!
This is the age of instant gratification. We can have what we want when we want it. Oh how times have changed!
I remember waiting through the Top 40 Countdown with Casey Kasem on Sunday night to hear my favorite songs. I waited oh so patiently to hear songs like Arrested Development’s Mr. Wendal or Tennessee, and Just Kickin’ It by Xscape. Now I think of a song and I can stream in online or download it instantly. No need to phone in my request to the radio station and wait. And I don’t even have to wait through all the stories of holdups and car wrecks on the local news to get the forecast. I just go to weather dot com and there is my hour-by-hour and 10 day. These days when I watch shows I don’t even have to wait through commercials, thanks to DVR and this fantastic remote.
If I want a new pair of shoes I go on Zappos.com, put them in my cart, and my new shoes are at my door 12 hours later. I ordered a pair of shoes yesterday to test my hypothesis, you know, in the name of research.
What’s that I hear? Oh, it’s a knock at the door from a man in brown bearing gifts. Hypothesis confirmed.
It’s like the art of waiting has been conditioned right out of us and no one is complaining.
Well, I have really been pushing myself on this and practicing my patience as I wait for our upcoming vacation. This lesson in self discipline and deferred gratification is in three parts:
Part I: I have saved my favorite bottle of wine for our beach festivities. This pinot is divine and goes down real real smooth. It was a splurge in the $20-$30 price range, as we usually keep it in the low $9-12s.
Part II: We have saved Season II of Friday Night Lights for rainy day beach entertainment. Will Coach Taylor take the job at the University? Will Matt Saracen and Julie Taylor stay together? Will the Panthers be able to take State this year? These things I don’t know. And I am dying to find out.
Part III: I have saved all of my magazines for the past two months for ocean-side reading. This may have been the hardest of all. Look at that luscious stack…and that’s only half of it!
I was tempted to throw My Man’s Economist on top of that pile to impress my friends on the worldwide web, but this is a place of truth and honesty. I can’t wait to get back on track with what is going on in the world (of home décor, celebrity news, life in New York, and light gourmet cooking) while working on my tan. That’s what you call killing two birds with one stone.
That wraps up our lesson on patience and delayed gratification. What do you have a hard time waiting for? What are you saving and what are you saving it for?
I’m finally kicking up my feet after the busy weekend. Our time with My Man’s parents was just wonderful. We were so glad they could leave their serene beach-side life in Hilton Head, SC and make a trip back to steamy, pollen covered Atlanta.
We went to Soho on Friday night for dinner which was just great. Although we had a reservation, we had to wait a bit for a table. As soon as we were seated they told us to choose any two appetizers on the menu,on the house. Who can hold a grudge after free calamari and mussels?
On Saturday night we dined at our house. The menu was titled “dazzle the new in-laws with my cooking skills but spend minimal time cooking because it’s too pretty outside to be inside.” It featured
- Grilled Salmon with a Sweet and Spicy Rub (this is one of our go-to salmon recipes)
- Fancy Grits, cooked slowly with milk and chicken broth instead of water
- Spinach salad with strawberries, toasted pecans and gorgonzola
- Grainy crusty bread from Fresh Market
I didn’t take a picture of the beautifully plated food because I didn’t want the in-laws to think their son had married a nut. They will figure that out soon enough.
All I managed to photograph was dessert. And I’ll tell you these were EASY and delicious and came together in minutes. I recommend serving them warm with vanilla ice cream.
Infinitely Adaptable Blondies
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen
Ingredients
- 1 stick of butter, melted
- 1 cup brown sugar
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- Pinch salt
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
Further additions, use one or a combination of:
- 1/2 to 1 cup toasted chopped nuts
- 1/2 to 1 cup chocolate chips or white chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup toffee
- 1/2 cup mashed bananas
- 1/2 cup dried fruit, especially dried cherries or apricots
- Top with a vanilla butter cream, chocolate, or peanut butter frosting
Directions
Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter or Pam an 8×8 pan. Mix melted butter with brown sugar – beat until smooth. Beat in egg and then vanilla. Add salt, stir in flour. Mix in any additions (above). I added about a half cup of Ghirardelli bittersweet chocolate chips.
Pour into the prepared pan. Bake at 350°F 20-25 minutes, or until set in the middle. Check around 20 minutes, especially if you like a little gooeyish middle bar or two. Cool on rack before cutting them. Or just eat one right out of the oven. When no one is looking. Then cut the blondies once they cool, plate um up and no one will know.
Right after My Man and I got engaged, his parents came in town to scope my family out celebrate. Here is how my mom, my sister and I felt about the prospect of meeting these people who would soon be family (of course I had already met them but posed for the pic nonetheless).
I can now say with authority that I am truly blessed and honored to share my new last name with such amazing, loving and generous people. We really enjoyed our time together this weekend.*
*No, the M.I.L and the F.I.L. don’t read the blog.** That bit is genuine. Who do you think I am?
**But it certainly couldn’t hurt to sing their praises…you know, just in case.
