sweet spring

I went for a walk/jog in the park yesterday, and I noticed that all of the honeysuckle was blooming. I know that, to some people, honeysuckle is just an invasive weed-vine, but I can't help myself--I love it. To me, honeysuckle smells like childhood. I remember pinching the blossoms off the vine with my tiny fingers and slooooowly pulling out the stems, carefully trying to extract that single, sweet drop of nectar. It almost felt like sneaking candy.

The blooms yesterday were not quite mature enough to sample, but maybe they'll be ready in time for my next walk. The first desserts of spring. I can already taste it.

two of a kind

This is what happens when two of my favorite people get together:

(click image to enlarge and get a close-up view of just how nutty they are. By the way, they chose the title for the photo strip, not me. I would have gone with Goofy and Goofier. I'm just not sure which one would be which.)

sibling revelry

Honestly, it isn't quite fair for this many cool people to be in one family...

(and look--we managed to arrange ourselves oldest to youngest, left to right, without even meaning to. We're so in sync.)

pinata parade

We're having a Mexican-themed dinner at work, so I did an online search for a tiger pinata. And what I discovered in my search is that there are a whoooooole lotta pinata fails out there. I mean, you wouldn't even believe it. Which is why I have pictures to show you.

Guess what this is:


Give up? It's listed as a "cowboy boot." I promise that is not the first thing I thought of when I saw this image.

Next up, we have "dolphin" pinata:


Which looks to me like a cross between Pinocchio and Marvin the Martian--don't you think?


"Cake" pinata belongs over on the Cake Wrecks blog.


I'm trying to figure out why "dreidel" pinata is flipping me off.

I feel like if I rub "football" pinata, a genie might pop out.

"High heel" pinata looks like a bed you find in one of those cheesy honeymoon chalets. With tiny pink pillows.


"Smiling Dave" pinata really needs to put some clothes on. Or he might get re-named "pedophile" pinata. Seriously, he's naked and he seems far too happy about it. It creeps me out.

Suppositories come in red now? Oh wait, that's just "chili pepper" pinata.

Shouldn't I feel bad about beating up a United States army tank with a stick? It just seems unpatriotic. Maybe this is a big seller in other countries.

There's that tube sock I lost! ("hockey puck" pinata)

I think this must be a"squirrel" that has ingested too much high fructose corn syrup. And possibly nuclear gases.

And finally, there's "banana" pinata.

I'm not even going to touch that one with a stick...

salivating

This restaurant is on the verge of opening just 2 blocks from my house.

A new restaurant? With specialty cocktails and dishes prepared with local, seasonal food? And Laura Wilson is involved? And it's all walkable from my house?

How many different ways can I say, "Yes, please!"?

I'm so excited.

morning happy

If this video doesn't make you smile at least a little bit, then, dude, I'm really sorry that you're dead.

tuesday night cable

I'm always really bad at putting together "Top 10" lists of favorite books, movies, television shows, etc., because there are just so many possibilities, and I am terrible about limiting myself. As soon as I come up with ten, I am sure to think of an eleventh that deserves a top slot for one reason or another. Let's just call me indecisive.

But, I have to say--every time I catch "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" on cable, I am reminded of how much I really enjoy this movie. The characters are colorful, the dialogue is clever, and the journey is amusing. It kind of makes me want to stock up on Dapper Dan for no good reason and R-U-N-N-O-F-T to Tishomingo.

Say what you will about the Coen brothers--they have their hits and misses--but this movie could be a solid eleventh, or better, in my book.

two T's is two 3's

I love birthdays. Seriously. I don't quite understand people who dread their birthdays or refuse to celebrate them. The way I see it, I've been blessed with another full year of life, and I'm going to celebrate the heck out of it. Another year? Bring it on. I will happily wear it like a badge of honor.

Whenever my birthday falls on a Monday, I take it as an excuse to celebrate the entire weekend before--a full Friday-through-Monday birthday extravaganza. And it helped that this weekend held some of the most glorious weather Nashville has seen in the past few months.

(soaking up the bee-yoo-tiful Saturday afternoon, lying on the front porch swing, sipping wine, and wearing my new birthday kicks.)

It was a fabulous weekend that included bowling, a European spa facial, pedicures, margaritas at Rosepepper, dinner at Allium, a bonfire, and lots of relaxing...and it culminated in a super-duper surprise party at the skating rink.

Thank you to my wonderful husband and fabulous friends and family who contributed to make this birthday extra-special. I love you all!

Why Fakebook won't last

Facebook won't last.

Knowing that doesn't require the skills of a Nostradamus--it's pretty much inevitable. Just as other social sites have fallen by the wayside (Friendster, MySpace, etc.), Facebook will follow. I'm not saying anything profound with that statement, so I want to focus instead on why I think it will fail.

I don't think that Facebook will fail due to administrative error--the problem won't be due to any bad decisions that Zuckerberg or anyone else makes. It won't fail because it will suddenly be flooded with spammers and pornsters, one of the issues that plagued MySpace. It won't even fail by simply losing its novelty.

I believe that Facebook will ultimately fail because it is ultimately fake.

Most people on Facebook have upwards of 100 or 200 "friends." I've even seen some friend counts approaching 1,000. These friends are people that you (presumably) know in some way, and you have granted them access to your information, your photos, and your status updates. But how much further does it really go than that?

In the past week, I've seen some pretty intense status updates. One friend was mugged, beaten up, and had her car stolen. How many of her 400 friends commented with condolences or well wishes? About 20. Another friend lost a beloved grandparent. How many of his 500+ friends sent their sympathy? A dozen or so.

Now, granted--some of the close friends probably opted to show their support in other ways (phone calls, visits, etc.)-- but the majority of those 400 or 500 people aren't close friends. They are aquaintances who call themselves friends...and yet they didn't even take a couple of seconds to say "I'm sorry" or "Thinking of you." Ouch.

Another example is birthdays. Facebook actually offers the service of notifying you a couple of days in advance when any of your friends are about to celebrate a birthday--which leaves you with zero excuses for not wishing someone a happy birthday. And yet, the last time my birthday rolled around, I think I received about 10 birthday wishes from my 250+ friends. That's about 4% representin'. And based on my studies of other people's profiles and their birthday wishes, that seems to be pretty standard across the board.

So I believe that Facebook's failure will lie in its fakeness. I know that I personally am tiring of it. My 250+ number mocks me in a way, because I know that if I whittled the list down to my true friends-- down to the people that I could call at 2am if I needed them--the number would be much closer to 20 or so. So why have the extra 200-ish?

It's a question I have been pondering heavily lately (perhaps because I am on the doorstep of another birthday). As I get older, I am feeling the need to focus more on what's real, what's true, and what's really, truly important. And I believe that this movement in my soul is a natural progression.

In a world where so much is "virtual", I believe that we will begin to see more value being placed on things that are real. Real handwritten letters. Real experiences. Real relationships.

Which is why I believe that I am not the only person who will become disillusioned with Facebook. In the "real" revolution, there will be a sea change. And person by person, friend by fake friend, Facebook will fall.

And honestly, I think we'll all be better for it.

sea change

Was it really November when I last posted? Goodness. I could probably be charged with blog-neglect. Well, it's a new year with new beginnings, so let's just start fresh, shall we?

For a while now, my dad has been encouraging me to read the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I added it to the already long list of "Books other people have recommended to me," figuring that I would get to it eventually. Eventually finally arrived about a month ago, when I was on a Costco trip with a friend, and I noticed the book in a pile on one of the book tables. We both ended up buying a copy, and I finally cracked open the cover a couple of weeks ago and began reading.

And I was instantly addicted.

By "addicted", I don't mean that I found it to be an enthralling page-turner that I couldn't put down, or that I read it straight through in a matter of hours. Instead, I became addicted to the idea of the book--the philosophy that the book is based on. If you haven't heard about AVM yet, here's a synopsis: Kingsolver and her family (husband and two girls) move from Tuscon, Arizona to a farmhouse in Virginia. For one year, they vow that they will only eat food that they have grown or that has been produced locally, and the book is largely a memoir of their experience.

Now, I have always considered myself more of a city girl than a country girl, and I tend to cringe when people talk about buying land and moving out into the country. The idea of a house and land in the middle of nowhere has never been particularly appealing to me.

Until now.

After reading AVM, I want to live on a farm. I want to grow all of my own vegetables, bake my own bread, make my own cheeses. I want to know the people that are responsible for the food I eat. I want to be friends with a dairy farmer and meet the cows that are producing the milk I use. I basically want to fall off the grid of corporate food culture.

Off course, it is doubtful that Todd and I will be uprooting and moving to a farm anytime soon, but I can now see it as a possibility--even a desirable possibility--for the future. And in the meantime, I am going to plant a garden in the backyard this spring, buy more produce from the farmer's market, and stop relying on Kroger for the food I put into my body.

And I'm also going to start making my own cheese, beginning with mozzarella. I'll let you know how it goes...

counting

Sometimes, I feel so blessed that I think it must be illegal. Seriously, it sounds silly, but when I stop to think about what I am thankful for (as so many people are wont to do this time of year), I am stunned by how many good things I have in my life.

Family: My family is, simply put, amazing. My parents are loving, encouraging, and supportive...they always have been, and I know they always will be. I have close relationships with my siblings--I can truly call them my friends, and we thoroughly enjoy each other's company. I have two precious nieces who adore me (but not as much as I adore them, of course). I have a wonderful, thoughtful, loving husband. And while many people complain about their in-laws...I think mine are absolutely great.

Friends: I have beautiful friends. Not just in Nashville, but spread out across the country. I have friends who make me laugh, who let me cry, who encourage me, who bring me flowers for no reason, who show up at my house to help scrape paint, who keep me honest, who teach me new things, who love me. And I love them. And the thing I love most about my friends? So many of them are doers. They are givers. They truly strive to make the world around them a better place. My mom always told me to surround myself with balcony people, and when I look around at my friends, I realize that I have done exactly what she advised.

Work: Not only do I have a job, which in itself is enough to be thankful for...I have a great job. I have a job that others envy. I love my co-workers--they constantly make me laugh and keep me encouraged. I have a boss who values me and believes in me, which makes me feel empowered. I have ample vacation time and personal days, so that I can take time for myself when needed. And I feel rewarded when I hear the laughter of students ringing through the hallways, because I know that what I do helps make that possible.

Health: I just had my yearly physical and got an A+. But I am not only thankful for my own health, I am thankful that everyone in my family is in good health right now. My 90 year old grandmother had a bit of a scare over the summer, but she has recovered and is back in good spirits. All is well.

And the thing is, the list could go on and on. I don't need fingers to count my blessings, I need an abacus.

And I am so incredibly grateful. So deeply, humbly grateful. I have so much to celebrate--not just on Thanksgiving--but every day. I thank God for these blessings.

And I thank you, my family, friends, balcony people, for all of the joy you bring this life.

idealistic, more or less

For the past six or eight weeks, I've been in a bit of a funk. I've had this feeling that's been gnawing at my insides, and I haven't been able to identify it. I just knew that it wasn't a pleasant feeling, and it made me sad.

And then this morning, it hit me. The feeling I have been struggling with is disappointment. A general disappointment in people.

My disappointment isn't directed at any one person or person(s) in particular--I think it has been fueled by multiple events and experiences. I have been disappointed by people personally and professionally...and even by people I don't know, whose stories I have heard on the news or second-hand through other folks. And I guess part of the disappointment comes from the fact that I just don't understand--that I can't understand what motivates people to do the things they do or say the things they say or act the way they act.

I think sometimes this whole fallen world business gets to me, and I crave redemption. I wish for better. I wish for more. Specifically, I wish:

- that people would love more...and hate less
- that people would give more...and take less
- that people would forgive more...and be bitter less
- that people would think of others more...and of themselves less
- that people would encourage more...and complain less
- that people would smile more...and scowl less
- that people would help more...and be less selfish

But mostly, I wish that people would love more and hate less, because I think that would help solve a whole lot of problems.

I'm not trying to be Pollyanna, and I know that I myself need improvement in all of these areas (well, except maybe for smiling more...if I smiled any more, people might start thinking that I'm a clown). But I do think that if everyone chose to work on these things--or even just one of these things--it could make a significant difference...in our families, in our friendships, in our workplaces, and in our communities.

So why don't we?

UPDATE: Ironically, just a couple of hours after I posted this, I read that Oxford American Dictionary has chosen their 2009 Word of the Year. And the winner? "Unfriend." Again--sad. Especially since one of their considerations in the selection is that the word "reflects the ethos of the year." Sigh.

Why blog?

Lately, I've been wondering about my own motivations for blogging and pondering if I should continue. There are thousands, perhaps millions, of blogs out there, and each has its own reason for existing.

Some people blog because they've made a business of it. Some people blog to share interesting news or tips. Some blog because they love food. Some people blog to keep friends and family updated on their kids. Some people blog to express anger without having to talk to someone face-to-face. Some people blog to offer reviews of restaurants, books, etc. Some people blog to share their hobbies. Some people blog with pictures. Some blog just for fun.

So the question is: why do you blog?

And, out of curiosity, why do you read this blog?

Just some blog thinking on a Monday morning...

Halloween...or Christmas?

Honestly...don't these end-of-the-year holidays all just run together anyway?

This year, we channeled Yukon Cornelius and Hermey, the misfit elf who wants to be a dentist, from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer t.v. special. And the best part? I can totally wear my costume again at Christmas dinner. And don't think that I won't.

updates from the hole

Even though I've been living and working in my hole for the past couple of months, a few things of interest have happened (and no, mom, I'm not pregnant...sorry!)

* I celebrated one really fast year of marriage with Todd. It's amazing how much can happen in a year, and how quickly that year can happen. Really--it's mind-boggling. But in a good way.

* We got a couch! And a dining room table! The house is starting to feel less and less like a college dorm, which is a very positive thing. We no longer own a futon. I call that progress.

* In not-so-positive news, we have mice. Yes, after battling the fleas, and the termites, and the brown recluse spiders, instead of getting a respite, we get mice. I knew something was up when Tucker started acting really crazy (and yes, as his mom, I can tell the difference between his normal crazy and his something-is-actually-really-wrong crazy). And then I went to make a piece of toast the other day, and there was a mouse enjoying a snack inside the bread bag. Right--the mouse was still in the bread bag. That I was holding. I'm not sure which of us was more scared, but I know I definitely squealed the loudest.

* Todd was convinced that he wanted a yellow kitchen, so I spent one of my fall break days painting the kitchen yellow. It's definitely an improvement from the fluorescent lime green color, but now when I am cooking, I feel like I am standing in the middle of the sun. It is yellow. And now I think Todd is convinced that he doesn't want a yellow kitchen. Although it does go nicely with all of the cheese on the mouse-traps...

the hole

Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

That would be the sound of me falling into a hole--the hole that I tend to fall into every year around this time. It's my fall hole. The school-is-back-in-session-and-everything-I-am-responsible-for-kicks-off-in-September-and-October-hole. The no-I-haven't-blogged-in-a-month-because-I'm-so-busy-that-I'm-just-trying-to-remember-to-breathe-hole. And, this year in particular it is also the Holy-crap-I-have-to-raise-a-million-dollars-and-the-economy-is-still-in-the-shitter-hole. That last one really does make me want to crawl in a hole and hide until May.

So, it will be relatively silent around these parts for the next couple of months, unless something just incredibly exciting and newsworthy happens. Like I find the winning lottery ticket at the bottom of the hole, or I somehow manage to get pregnant.

See you in November.

aww shucks

I love seafood. It is one of the main reasons I enjoy taking trips to the coast. I always make a point of eating as much fresh fish and seafood as I possibly can whenever I am near the ocean.

In my trips to the gulf, I have learned that you are most likely to have a delicious dinner if you seek out the hidden, hole-in-the-wall local joints...or just go to a seafood market, buy the fish, and cook it at home yourself. Definitely stay away from all of the popular, beachfront places that have throngs of sunburned tourists gathered outside...for some reason, most of these places seem to think that the best way to prepare seafood is dip it in heavy batter and drop it in a deep fryer, which to me completely kills the whole point of having fresh fish, anyway.

On this last trip to PCB, I discovered a true gem: Hunt's Oyster Bar. It is located away from the main beach area in historic downtown St. Andrews. It looks like something straight out of the 70's...a rather plain square building, painted bright yellow, with lots of woodgrain detailing inside. The first night we went, I ordered an appetizer of the raw oysters...and as soon as I put the first oyster in my mouth, I thought "OH MY GOD...I have found heaven." The oysters there are the best I have ever had in my life...I'm talking melt-in-your-mouth, briny-but-not-bitter, smooth-as-butter oysters. LIKE BUTTAH, people.

(note: I did not eat all of these oysters. But I totally could have.)

For my main course, I had the crab cakes, which were exactly as crab cakes should be: mostly fresh, juicy crab meat--with just enough breading and seasonings to hold them together, barely (they were falling apart a bit on the plate, which--in my opinion--is a good thing). The sides were nothing to write home about--simple broccoli/cauliflower/carrot mixed veggies and corn on the cob--but the hushpuppies were delicious, crispy-fried on the outside and moist with good seasoning on the inside.

So when you have a meal like that, what do you do? You go back the next night. I usually try not to visit the same restaurant twice when I am on vacation, as I like to experience different things, but I made an exception in this case.

On the second visit, the ladies sat at the bar, right in front of one of the oyster shuckers, Rick. Rick was one of those people who obviously loves life and loves his job--he was singing and dancing around as he was shucking, and he made it his job to ensure that we had a great time. He kept the oysters and the wine flowing...and there was not a single bad oyster in the bunch. Some of them were almost as big as my hand, but I was up for the challenge.


After three dozen oysters and multiple glasses of wine split among the three of us, we got our checks, and the total was just over $12 each. Amazing. The Hunt's experience definitely ranks as my favorite in PCB...not just on this trip, but including all of my trips to the gulf. So, if you ever find yourself in the Bay County area of Florida, go find Hunts Oyster Bar, and ask for Rick, the "aphrodesiologist" (as noted on his business card). He'll make sure you have a shuckin' good time...and serve you with the freshest and most delicious oysters you've ever sucked down your gullet.

Yum.

what can chase away the blues?

Yesterday, Todd and I received a care package from The Princess Bakery out of Chattanooga. It was filled with deliciousness: different kinds of cookies, muffins, and blonde brownies (my favorite--I swear those brownies are manna from heaven.) Everything was completely divine, and it was definitely the highlight of my week.

So where is this Princess Bakery located? Well, it operates out of a place known as MaMaw's House, and it is run by two adorable young ladies:(this is a scanned image of the card that was included with the package--as you can tell, they are quite serious about their work.)

It seems that the girls had heard that their Aunt TT and Uncle Todd had a stressful couple of weeks, so they decided to send a little cheer our way. I mean, seriously, what better way is there to deal with stress than to throw cookies at it? Especially if those cookies have been homemade with love--and probably lots of giggles.

I'm not even going to tell you how much of that box we were able to polish off in just one night.

Thanks, sweet girls!

and how was your weekend?

The quality of writing in this post probably won't be very good (not that it is usually stellar anyway), because I'm having trouble even putting words together today.

Let's just look at a few elements of my weekend, shall we?

* The drywall guy, Fred, stood us up again (yes, for the second time) this weekend, so we still don't have completed walls in the bathroom.

* I made about 5 trips a day to Home Depot, Lowes, etc. to purchase things, and then take them back when they didn't work, and then buy new ones, and then take those back when they didn't work---because apparently, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can just be easy, especially not when it has to do with this house.

* If you've seen the house (or pictures), you know that the front door is beautiful, and it has a lovely large stained-glass style window. Well, last night while we were sitting on the front porch, the dogs started barking inside, and Todd went to bang on the window to make them hush--and as soon as his fist hit that beautiful glass window...KERACK! Shattered.

Ahhh...but that's not even the kicker. Wait til you hear this next part.

* We met the previous owners of the house yesterday, because they were back on the street visiting some of their old neighbors. We started talking to them about the house, and I mentioned that our next project was going to be the kitchen and laundry room addition. And she says, "Yes, that used to be a porch--but something had happened, and the people that were the previous owners decided to close it in." And I said, "Oh yeah, there was a kitchen fire, right?"--because that's what the next door neighbor had told me. And she looked at me kind of funny and said, "Well, something happened..." So I press her on it, and she finally says, "Someone was murdered in the house."

I'll give you a second to let that soak in.

So she tells me the story...about how an elderly black lady had lived there, and someone had cut into the house through the porch and killed her...and after her death, the family decided to enclose the porch. And as she is telling me the story, she says, "I knew that something must have happened because of the issues I was having. None of the neighbors wanted to tell me what happened, but I finally got the story." So I stupidly ask, "What issues were you having?" And she responds, "I would see her in the house."

Great. So if you are keeping track, in addition to living with fleas and termites and spiders, I'm also sharing my home with an older black woman who doesn't realize that she isn't living there anymore.

Can I move back now?

Please?

progress

Look! We have walls...



And then, there was tile...


Progress makes my heart happy.