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Showing posts from December, 2012

Tiny bites of Kryptonite.

I try to eat what folks call "real food." And most of the time, I try to make that "real food" as healthy as I can reasonably tolerate. Like most things, such as my writing, I'm pretty solidly in the "mediocre" category of accomplishment. (Sorry for bragging so hard on myself.) There will be salt. There will be butter. There will be fat. There will be mac and cheese from a cardboard box and Santitas tortilla chips. But there are lots of fruits and veggies, whole wheat instead of white (mostly), organic meats, and American, wild-caught seafood. And I aim to eat a reasonable amount--not too little (as Patrick always says, "You gotta eat. If you don't eat, you die."), and hopefully not too much.

Usually, I keep myself fairly well in line.

Until.

Until appetizers.

Until parties with finger foods.

Until we go to the house of our friends who have a pathological fear of guests going hungry and serve 3 different casserole dishes of dips for about 4…

Merry Christmas!

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Merry Christmas to you from Boring Can Be Fun! Hope your Christmas is the best kind of boring fun you could have!

Multiple peanut butter cups.

'Tis the season of Advent. This means lots of things for Christians who are familiar with what Advent is. (If you don't know, here's a bit of info about it from the website of the church we attend: http://saint-peters.net/advent.)

Now that you're back, since I'm sure you all took a moment to go bone up some Advent goodness, I don't need to go into details about Advent. It means all of those good things, but it means something else.

The Advent Calendar.

This is something I've loved since I was a wee little tot, and to this day breaking out the advent calendar is one of my favorite holiday activities? Why? Well:

It marks the beginning of Advent (duh) which means Christmas is tauntingly close.It's a beloved childhood memory that I carry with me and relive each year for an annual dose of warm, fuzzy nostalgia.CANDY.
Oh yeah, I definitely use the Advent calendar that means I get a little treat each day. None of this opening windows on the cardboard or moving the …

Hide, it's the Holly Jolly Trolley again.

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Saturday morning of this past weekend, Patrick and I checked out of the hotel we stayed in after the wedding and into a B&B. We're becoming rather snobby about our accommodations, and I don't mind saying so. The hotel offered nothing but a plastic carousal of cereals (reminding me of a hamster feeder), bad coffee, and a "variety of toasts" for breakfast.

Unimpressive.
The B&B is one we stayed in back in July, and if you've ever had a good B&B breakfast (hellurrr--it's the second B in "B&B", the breakfast is supposed to be good!) then you'll understand why we prefer them over hotels. Our B&B knocks it out of the park.

After check-in, we high-tailed it over to the St. Augustine outlet mall for a little retail therapy. Just kidding. Spending money just for kicks this time of year is more like Holidayus Walletitius Nervosa for us. We'd been spending enough money on rooms and food and gas to get to St. Auggie, so we wandered ar…

I'm 30. This is ridiculous.

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This weekend in Saint Augustine was beautiful. Well, no, it was actually kind of misty and gray. But watching Patrick's cousin get married to her luv-ah, now that was beautiful. The wedding was on Friday night which seemed weird at first, but we ended up completely loving. Most weddings (mine included) are Saturday evening affairs. That's great, but it totally takes up the whole weekend. You prep most of the day Saturday, spend all evening at the wedding, stumble into bed in the wee hours of Sunday morning, get up at the slightly less-wee hours of the day and go home. Boo. Below is how I spent my Friday afternoon and evening.

Patrick and I rolled in to St. Augustine Friday, early afternoon, ready to rock and roll. I slapped on my makeup and fixed my hair. It was shiny, smooth, laying perfectly! Hooray! Patrick slipped into his newest suit and was lookin' FRESH. I put on my dress and strapped in to my favorite shoes ever. I looked as good as Patrick--for 15 minutes until we …

Why weddings rock.

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Well, this was supposed to have posted automatically on Friday afternoon. I guess I still have to figure out a few things with this fancy schmancy blog! In the meantime, pretend it's Friday afternoon, and you're enjoying this on your lunch break. ;)

As you are reading this, I will be on my way to Saint Augustine to watch Patrick's cousin get married. K and B don't shy away from a good time, they're beyond excited to be marrying each other, and this is a big, crazy, fun-loving Catholic family, so to say that it won't be an austere occasion will be understating things a bit. 

Between Patrick and myself, I'm not sure who enjoys weddings more. (Possibly he does.) When you consider all the fun stuff that comes with wedding celebrations, it's no wonder we love them. What is so great about them, in my opinion? Why, I feel a list coming on! Allow me, please, to enumerate a few reasons...


Why Weddings are Rockin' Good Times 1. It's an excuse to get dressed u…

Bad weather. Good days. Hope you like Jane Austen.

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As I write, it is a chilly, gray day. It looks like it could start raining at any moment. I sure hope it does. I love rainy weather. I love cold, dreary days. I love dark, soggy, summer afternoons. (Apparently, I'm not easily affected by S.A.D.) Why? I'm not sure, really.

When it is dark and dreary, it seems to me to be the perfect time to wear your snuggliest clothes, grab a blanket, have a warm drink (must have both hands wrapped around the mug), and light some candles. It seems it would also be wise to have deliciously scented cookies baking. Once they're done, eat them. (Don't suppose I needed to have told you that bit.)

While eating your cookie and drinking your hot chocolate, you should be doing something to improve your mind. This is when you break out the boxed set of Pride and Prejudice. Which one, you ask? Which one?! My Lord in Heaven above, the A&E one with Colin Firth! Shame on you for not knowing better. 


While sipping, snuggling, and nibbling, you'…

Cooking.

A little something seems to be happening to me that has me marveling at myself. It's been coming on slowly, so I was shocked when I first realized that I've kind of become a good cook. Not a great cook. And I certainly don't bake. But I can cook a meal to general satisfaction. Such a ringing self-endorsement, isn't it?

Okay, okay, some of my attempts haven't exactly gone of swimmingly. See: Punkin Joes. And there was the time that, when making tomato sauce, I thought it would be smart to add cinnamon. Cinnamon, Rebecca? Really? (I was thinking about Cincinnati-style Chili and lost my mind for a moment. Afterwards, we had to have Cincinnati-style Chili to use up that sauce.) Sometimes I still over- or under-flavor something. And, fine. Sometimes I may cook foods that I like but others don't. That's just a difference in personal preference, I like to think. I hope.

But at least 51% of the time (that's a majority, people!), I do a good job. One thing I can d…

Stop with the backhanded compliments.

On Monday, I said I wanted folks to stop complimenting each other so much. Now, I address a seemingly similar but much more insidious issue, the backhanded compliment. These are generally issued by, as the laypeople say, "frenemies" as well as some well-meaning but completely misguided friends and acquaintances. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. But as is my custom, I'll give you some examples.


"Wow, I really love what you've done with your makeup. You look so awake!"
Oh dear, I must have looked dreadful before, even though I felt perfectly rested. Wow. Now I feel bad about how I must have looked all this time.

"You've decided to keep the baby? How brave!"
I was expecting congratulations, but an incredulous reaction followed by a comment that lets me know you think I'm in for a huge uphill battle works, too. Thanks.

"Your new shirt looks really expensive. Was it a gift?"
Um, uh... no, I bought it myself, but uh, it was…

Stop with compliments.

Apparently, I'd like people to stop doing lots of things. Being so dramatic. Being so positive. Being so negative. And now, you're all too darn complimentary. I sense a bit of a series here, don't you?

On to my missive. I'm sick of the lovefest we all have with each other. No, that's not true. I'm sick of the lovefest some people have with each other. Now is the time for me to admit I'm not one of the people who is surrounded by the effusive positive reinforcement I'm talking about today. (Worry not, best friends. I wouldn't have you any other way.) Maybe I am a wee bit jelly--that's "jealous" for those not hip to the freshest lingo, you jive turkeys, you--but I still feel there's a real issue here.

"You are so beautiful!"

"Love, love, love this picture! Could you be any more gorgeous?"

"Ahhhh, you're the best!" 

"Love you!" "Love you more!" "Love you the mostest!!!!!!"

P…