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Showing posts from August, 2014

I didn't work out today because...

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Based on the amazing response I got to yesterday's blog post (I think zero of you commented that you'd love me to track my diet and exercise--wow!!!), I decided I would share why I didn't work out today.

I didn't work out today because...
Because it's all Patrick's fault. (Isn't is always, honey? Aww, I love you.) After I hit snooze 4 times, I turned my alarm off knowing I'd get up when he did around 6:00. But then he turned his alarm off and went back to bed!! So I didn't get up until 6:20 which just didn't leave me enough time to exercise this morning.

Way to go, Patrick. *eye roll*

On a related note, because I was running late, I didn't have time for breakfast or my second cup o' joe (the horror!). I have a coffee pot at work but no half & half. I virtuously decided to take the stairs six floors down to the cafeteria to get some.

It's not my fault they sell Krispy Kreme doughnuts and, fresh off the memory of how delightful they we…

Journey of sugar and delight. And then stairs.

This one feels a like a bit of a ramble to me. You've been warned.


On my birthday last year, I announced that I had a baby in my belly. This year, I'd like to announce that I had a Food Baby in my belly.

Yesterday I turned 32 years old. (Don't cry for me, Argentina.) To celebrate, I took the day off work, spent too much money on clothes for my daughter, and ate, ate, ATE! And, it was soooo good.

Allow me to describe for you my journey of sugar and delight:
My husband, my knight in shining glasses and (sadly) Gator gear, left the house at 6:30 in the morning just to get some Krispy Kreme doughnuts for me. Healthy? HA--not on your life. Delicious? HA--you bet your life.

Then for lunch, he took me out to Kool Beanz where I had bay scallops in angel hair pasta and an Orange Blossom beer. If you ever have the distinct pleasure of being in Tallahassee, I highly suggest them for lunch or dinner or, most deliciously, Sunday brunch. Lobster mac 'n' cheese... nom.

For dinner, he …

Stick 'em up.

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Happy stinkin' Monday, errrrbody. I hope you are all well and fine today. Have a nice weekend?

I was reasonably productive, and even managed to stick some dots on a wall.

No, seriously.

As you know, we recently moved into a new house. We'll soon start the process to buy it, and in the meantime, we're slowly starting to put our stamp, or in this case, our sticker, on the new crib. So what better room to start with than the one that actually houses a crib?

Back in our apartment, we had some candle sconces hanging on the wall that Sutton used to blankly stare at while eating. The takeaway from that was, obviously, our child loves wall treatments--she's so sophisticated--so she definitely needed something snazzy in her room at the new house so she wouldn't bad-mouth us to her school friends about our utter lack of wall decor. And don't even get her started on window treatments. 

Several weeks back, to salvage my street cred with the Under 1-Year set, I ordered some wa…

I'm already aware, thanks.

A week or two ago, I saw an article that was basically a round-up of celebrity breastfeeding pictures.
"It's so natural!"
"You shouldn't be ashamed!"
"It's a part of who I am now!"
"Look how beautiful breastfeeding is!"

Okay, those aren't direct quotes from the article or the celebs, but if I recall correctly (and I probably don't) that's the basic gist of what some of these lovely, famous, boob-bearing ladies wanted us to know: that breastfeeding is the thing to do.

Then, a few days later, I saw a news segment on the local TV station about a woman who put together a flash mob to raise awareness of breastfeeding. I'm not sure what it is about a flash mobs that is supposed to make me think, "You know, the fact that they're suddenly and unexpectedly dancing in public makes me realize: breastfeeding is better than formula," but kudos to them for trying.

If I may be serious for a moment (and I may, it's my blo…

Now that's my mama's style.

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Once upon a time, about 4 or so years ago, my 4-year old niece was helping me browse in Marshall's. She pointed to a shirt, told me it was cute, and I asked if she thought her mom, my sister, would like it. "Umm, it's cute, but it's not my mama's style."

Ever since then, anything that I don't quite like "is not my mama's style."

I tell you that to tell you this. For a while I have been ready to get rid of our living room furniture. I'm incredibly grateful to have it, as it was given to us in good condition for the low, low cost of FREE. Me likey the free stuff. However, "it's not my mama's style" and Patrick and I agreed we'd like to eventually have furniture because we like it and not just because it was $0.00.

Well, big news on that front. Hold the phone, hit pause on your walkman (oh, you have a discman? Pardon me!), and listen to this:

We bought a couch!
Oh, silly you. You thought I was going to say something funny …

Secret code.

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Want to know what people use as code for "I don't like your baby's name"?

What's her name?
Sutton Jane.
*pause* Oh. What are you going to call her?
(Alternative: Oh.What an interesting name.)

I think we're really serious about calling her Fred. Why do you ask?

Anyway, Fred is 5 months old today and I'm already looking for a pause button. She is a smiley, laugh-y, play-ey baby who wants to pull her mama's hair. (Perhaps I should call her Honey Boo Boo.)

We love her to bits and pieces.

One day I might even show you a picture of her.

Well fine, here's one, but I can't help it if she isn't overly interested in your curiosity to see her.

Happy 5 months to Patrick's and my finest collaborative work!