Showing posts from January, 2013

Wine for fun and pleasure.

To improve your relationship with wine, drink more wine.

At least, that's what has worked for me.

Bear with me, now, while I explain what I mean. Being a very mature, cultured, and an all-around classy broad, I took longer than many of my peers to develop the appreciation for the taste of wine or beer. Or any alcohol really. When it comes to liquor, I'm currently a vodka tonic girl, because vodka has the quietest flavor of all the liquors, in my opinion.

My first experience with wine was as a wee little tyke when I began taking communion. I grew up Episcopalian. That's how we roll. Just a little sip on Sundays after the little wafer, but I enjoyed the taste. Maybe it was a cerebral love because of all it represented and symbolized of the faith I'd taken on in my own name. Or, it was just really tasty. Or maybe it was both.

But any other clandestine sips of wine were never anywhere near as satisfying. I later found out that the wine we used was ordered from Israel by a loca…

Mama peas.

In case none of you know, I have a niece, Natalie, who is the sweetest, goofiest kid I know. She's also extremely adorable, as is any relative of mine. Clearly, I'm not biased. My sister occasionally sends me texts with one-liners from NatNat giving me some conversation highlights, and I've had some really delightful conversations with the kiddo myself, too.

Here are my favorite Natalieisms, as I remember them (which are likely incorrect, as my brain is like a sieve). My sister could surely correct me.

1.) When about aged 3 or 4, watching a singer on TV (national anthem at a ballgame, maybe?), telling my sister, that the singer's shoes were cute, but she did not like her hair or dress. They were not cute.

2.) Around that same age, in Marshall's while going through the shoes, she tells me she thinks something is cute, and her Mama would think it was cute, too, "But it's, um, it's not really my Mama's style." She was very into "cute" out…

It's not so bad.

I've written about negative attitudes before. It's easy to get bogged down in the little annoyances that seem to ruin your day. I completely get that and am frequently heard to be making exasperated grunts and groans (super attractive trait, I know). But for most of us, it really, really isn't that bad. Based on a facebook comment I made last week, a lot of you agree.

Left home late. Didn't eat enough breakfast. Had to wait on the longest line of cars ever to pull into my parking garage. Got out of the car and I drop the coffee and it spills everywhere. But, I have a home to leave and a job to go to. I have plenty of food in my fridge. I have a functional, safe car. My coffee landed on the ground, and not me or my clothes. I'm saying (writing) this out loud to remind myself (and any other whiny babies such as myself) that my problems, well, aren't.
I make it a point to try to be thankful, grateful, for the small blessings I experience each day. The above c…

Stinky salad containers.

Before we got married, Patrick and I attended some premarital counseling sessions with the priest who married us, Father Hanson, the current pastor of the church I grew up in, St. James Episcopal. He was great. He told us his job wasn't to tell us whether or not to marry--we'd already decided that, obviously--but to give us points to consider going forward to help make our marriage a success.

We discussed God's role in our marriage. Our personalities. Finances. Children. He had us separately fill out a sheet defining certain terms to discuss later, terms such as "forgive," "respect," "repent," "friend," and "trust." He used those terms to guide us to the idea that in order to be successful, we have to like and respect one another. We have to be willing to humble ourselves to admit when we screw up and not just say, "I'm sorry, forgive me," and expect that to fix things, but to actually show repentance.

Fr. Hans…

Family affair.

As I've mentioned before, I have a cat named Lizzie. I've had her almost five years, and she's nearly six years old. She was found by her previous owners as a tiny little kitten alone in a ditch. (Insert: Awwww!) They didn't know if she'd been abandoned, left for dead, or simply separated from her mom, but they scooped her up and although they already had two cats, they took her home and named her Elizabeth.

I've always found it odd when people can remember all the pets they've had in their life. By that, I mean, that they remember all 5 or 6 pets they've had. My parents (my dad, in particular) have a complete inability to live without a pet. I remember briefly, a few years ago, when they "only" had one cat and one dog. (Presently they're back up to two cats and two dogs.) When I was a child, my Sunday school teacher asked each of us how many pets we owned. I counted off 16. Okay, that was an exception, not the rule, but we had a few cats, …

Expert procrastinator.

I am an expert procrastinator and time-delayer and, sometimes, delegator.

If there is a particularly boring project at work with a due date, instead of doing like my go-get-'em sister and just knocking it out so I'm done with it and don't have to worry about it, I find other things to distract me. Working for a few minutes on a blog post, perhaps? (Ahem.) Dealing with some "important" emails (filled with youtube videos of cats)? Dusting my office? Checking in with a coworker to see how her weekend was? Sure! I have plenty of time to get to that project later, but this is more pressing!

Until, eventually, I don't have plenty of time. I have just barely enough time. Then I rush like a mad woman to get it done and ask myself, "Why didn't I do this earlier?"

The answer: I'm an expert procrastinator.

I find what HoneyBooBoo said to be true. "Beauty is sooo boring." There is little that is more boring and annoying than showering. Patrick doe…

Vladimir Putin.

Ah, the first full week back to work in the new year. What a booger. To alleviate your woes and worries (if you have any) on this Monday morning, I give you a story. It's a short story. I intend it to emphasize exactly how grown-up and mature both Patrick and myself are.

Hanging out at home after work one night last week, we sat down to a nice meal, "Orechietta with Sausage and Broccoli Rabe." I cooked this meal for 3 reasons.

1. It was in one of my 2 new Barefoot Contessa cookbooks I'd gotten for Christmas and I was excited to try a dish. (How easy is that, Jeffrey?)
2. It sounded delicious (once I figured out what the frank orechietta was--a type of pasta).
3. The Office.

Say what?

Office fans may know of Andy "Nard Dog" Bernard's old Cornell chum from his singing group, Here Comes Treble, who he constantly referenced (and was eventually portrayed by Stephen Colbert), "Broccoli Rob." When I first stumbled across the recipe, I immediately noticed b…

Baby bump follow-up.

I found this on and decided, if I ever have that adorable baby bump, I will not give up fashion, just like this gal! I'll rock some skinnies and high heels. And a vest, with no shirt. While pregnant enough to be in labor. Oh yes, I will.
Enjoy the awkwardness!

A boring Saturday.

Not too long ago, on a chilly Saturday afternoon, Patrick and I decided to go to Maclay Gardens. I have lived and worked in Tallahassee for over a decade and hadn't been in all the time I've been here, not since a school field trip ages ago. Patrick had never been.

We paid our $6, parked, and entered the grounds. Though it was gray, it was lovely. There's something really beautiful in the starkness of winter landscapes. (That's all relative, of course. There was still plenty of green, and a few flowers, even.) As we walked around a shallow pond, we could hear wedding music, "Here Comes the Bride." Nearby, a couple was getting married by the reflecting pool. We walked around and could see the chairs set up, the attendees in the crowd, and the bride and groom in front of them all.

That was lovely and all (really, it was), but we wanted to go see the reflecting pool. It was, after all, our 11 month and 1 day anniversary. Like their wedding was so important. But, …

Happy New Year, y'all.

Well, it's 2013. I can scarcely believe it, and yet, I have a funny feeling that in roughly 365 days I'll be saying that I can't believe it's 2014. Funny how these years roll around like clockwork (like rotation-around-the-sun-work?) and yet they still sneak up on us.

Patrick and I had a rockin', if relatively quiet, New Year's Eve. 

We kicked the day off by meeting friends for breakfast. We caught up on everyone's Christmas and then, because we're old, began talking about the Fiscal Cliff. I happily devoured my crepes while Patrick did man's work on his ham, eggs, and grits. All was well until our friend, the husband, accidentally ate the side of bacon that his wife--his pregnant wife--had gotten with her breakfast. She reached over to the plate that was supposed to contain bacon only to find it contained some empty wrappers from his hot tea. She threatened murder but thankfully another side of bacon was ordered and order was restored.

We followed tha…