Saturday, June 2, 2018


A few years ago, I decided to be a flamingo for Halloween. I made my costume myself. It was...interesting. After that, I found myself really into flamingos. My Pinterest account was all, "Who gives a Flock?"  Recently, I've noticed it is quite easy to find flamingo paraphernalia. Plastic ziplock bags at the store? Gotta have those. Socks? Mine. Reusable bag. Must collect. I've always liked flamingos you know.


It occurred to me, maybe I didn't choose to like flamingos. Did the marketing people put all this "Let's Flamingle" crap out there? Does everyone like flamingos now, like how a few years ago everyone gave such a "hoot" about owls? No! I was that bird for Halloween three years ago. I practically invented the flamingo!

So this fall, I suddenly decided I had to have dark green winter coat. I wanted to be a little different. I've had black coats forever. Black poofy coats, black wool coats, black poofy but less poofy than the other one coats. I've had white coats but they get dirty too easily. Red isn't good on me. Blue is so boring. Yes, dark green would be just the ticket. 

It was surprisingly easy to find the ideal dark green winter coat. I only went to a few stores and tried on several selections at each establishment before finding one that was just right. I happily wore my new green coat for several months. A few times at work I picked up the wrong coat because someone had a coat similar to the color of my coat.

One day, waiting in line to order my *pumpkin spice latte in Starbucks while wearing black leggings, boots, and dark green coat, I noticed there were three other women wearing coats the exact same color as mine. WTH? Have I no original thoughts of my own?!?! How did this happen? Did those marketing people get me again?

Come to think of it, no, no, I really thought out this green coat thing. I'm sure of it! I totally invented the green winter coat.  

* Just kidding. I wasn't really ordering a PSL, but its funnier if I was. 

Sunday, September 14, 2014

The Struggle is Real

"How do you function throughout the day," my husband asked me yesterday. 

I work for an incredible cataract and Lasik surgeon and I'll be having a Lasik evaluation on Tuesday to see if I'm a candidate for laser eye correction. I was explaining to Nat a legitimate safety concern I've pondered for years. If someone in the "murda bizzness" came into our house while I was in the shower without my contacts in or my glasses on, should I be able to blindly fight them off and escape, I would be unable to identify them at a later date based on how visual impaired I am without helpful correction. 

Another scenario I am fully concerned about is in the event I find myself on a sinking cruise ship. I stand a better bet if the boat starts to go down and I'm in my glasses, as long as I don't loose them in rough seas than I do if I'm in my contacts. If I ended up stranded on a deserted island for more than a day or so with my lenses in, I'm at risk for that cornea eating amoeba everyones been so concerned about on social media these last few months; or I can take my lenses out and be disabled. The struggle is real.  I've also seen too many episodes of doomsday preppers and realise I would need to have numerous pairs of eyeglasses to bring with me should my lenses break.  You know, in battle.

I can't find my glasses unless I have them on. Settling in on the couch in the evening then realising I haven't taken my contacts out for the evening and having to go upstairs to take them out is far worse than it sounds. EVERY DAY.  If I decide to wear my glasses for the day, I need to literally be two inches away from the mirror to apply eye makeup. Mascara wands and eyeliner are longer than two inches. It's a logistical nightmare.

I've been told my corneas are not thick enough to undergo the procedure as I am so very nearsighted a lot of cornea would be needed. I sat in the lunch room last week discussing my scary scenarios with a cataract and glaucoma surgeon and two optometrists. One of my friends, who is also near sighted asked if it was possible if my corneas were too thin to get to 20/20 vision, if I could get the surgery to at least make me less nearsighted. All three doctors agreed that it is not something that is done because most people who get Lasik are so determined to be entirely out of glasses. 

After hearing my sad, sad tales of blurry woe, they understood my desire for visual improvement even if it wasn't perfection and all began to understand my predicament. So in answer to my husband's question, of how I function during the day? Not only do I function, I bring everyone else around me into my crazy blurry world. 

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Safari in...Vegas?

A few weeks ago, it was time for the annual Julie, Mel and April trip.  Not so long ago, we all lived in Maryland. But times have changed and they live in Florida and California respectively so the annual trip means we can pick any destination we want and meet there for a few days of fun. This makes the travel part all the more tedious as the fun doesn't really begin until we meet up. That doesn't mean it can't be entertaining...

This particular trip would be my first to the infamous Las Vegas, Nevada. How have I never been there?  As I daydreamed of our  penthouse while in the security line at the airport, it occurred to me that I had not moved forward in an extended period of time. Suddenly, rationally irritated, I tuned in to what was happening ahead of me. A tragically uncool family of four was blocking my progress. A Mom wore a tan safari hat on a rope draped around her neck so the hat lay flat on her back just below her pony tail held by a scrunchie. She wore khaki shorts with a belt, a faded yellow t-shirt and wool, (WOOL! It's August. ) socks under hiking boots. The Dad figure, teenage son and preteen daughter wore the same uniform. The son sat crossed legged untying his boots while the daughter flailed about with her quart sized bag filled with tiny bottles each containing less than three ounces of liquid. They were in my way. They were also ridiculous. I switched lines and quickly forgot about them...

Until twenty minutes later, settled into my seat reading Cosmopolitan (who does that after the age of 21?!?! I was on vacation OK?) they sat down next to me. With all their boots and hats and in-appropriates. Is there a safari I don't know about in Vegas? I verified I was in fact in the correct place and assumed they would soon discover this flight was not going to .... Australia? Surely, they needed more sunblock than three ounces each as their skin tone was only a shade darker than Edward Cullen. 

I had forgotten about them once again, until the son walked past me on the plane to go to restroom. (Apparently, they were going to Vegas. In those clothes.)  Upon realising it was occupied, he uncertainly looked back at his Mom, unsure what to do. For a moment, I related to him. Once upon a time, I was that lanky, unsure, pale, teenager in thick glasses. (Did I even need to mention they all had matching circular spectacles?)

I couldn't be too concerned with the kids insecurities however because the guy next to me was either having a panic attack based on his heavy breathing and wiping his palms on his shorts, had turrets syndrome based on the noises escaping his mouth though he was obviously trying to suppress them, or was quite possibly possessed based on how far he could rapidly jerk his neck in one direction. Like seriously, almost backwards, owl-like. I felt like I should talk to him*, but I help people all day at work and since he mostly seemed to be hanging in there, I decided to see what Cosmo said about having the "Best Sex of your Life." Surely, after all these years they had something new I didn't know about. 

Having forgotten all about the khaki family once again after one magazine, one nap, and several Chapters of Cameron Diaz's "The Body Book" later, someone a few rows ahead asked a question. The flight attendant replied, "Peanuts? No, we won't be serving peanuts on todays flight. There's an allergy on board."

I think we all know who was responsible for said allergy.

Proper Vegas Attire

*I did in fact make friends with panicked, turrets, devil guy by the end of the flight. Turns out, he was reading Cameron from my kindle the whole time. He was a lovely individual and I hope he had a fantastic time in Vegas with his friends and enjoyed his shows!

**I also hope the Khaki family...survived. 

Sunday, November 24, 2013

What to do...

Dear Internet Friends,

You may recall, a few years ago I was heckled in a fairly explicit way by some "youngsters." A few teens and a few "almost teens." Hubs and I were seriously thinking about getting a dog anyway, but this really got the ball rolling and within three weeks, young (yet large) Brubeck came to live with us.

I never had an encounter with said kids again, but on occasion a passerby would cross to the other side of the street as Bru and I approached. Even though my guy is very nice, he's 95 pounds and it feels  nice to be perceived as having protection by my side. All was well in Annapolis.

I could dress him up to be intimidating, but it might be more effective if he didn't have such a great smile. 
A few weeks ago, I peeked out the window when Bru barked at a couple of big kids being rowdy on skate boards in the street. They were making barking noises to get Bru going.

"Hee-ey cute face," the big kid shouted up.

A little surprised, as I was annoyed at how loud he was being, I replied, "Oh, thanks. I think he's cute too," as I proudly patted my handsome boy on his head.

"I don't care about your dog, I mean you!"

Insert record screech sound here. Wha?!?! Kid thinks he's got swagger.  I go about my business until a few minutes later I hear, "Byyyyye, cute face!!"  Dude, this kid can't be more than twelve years old. I'm a little unsettled, but shake my head and laugh. When I told my co-workers they howled with laughter.

Unfortunately, what he bellowed up next left me not sure if I'm prude, or rightfully disturbed. I hesitate before even typing the words....."Oh wait, Caesar wants to suck your boob!!!!" My co-workers were less amused and hubs laughter ceased when I told him that part.

A few days go by, and "cute face," escalates to "where you walking hot-stuff?" Sigh.

"Tell him his Mom's hot-stuff!" one co-worker suggested. The problem is, if he had a proper Mom, he probably wouldn't be saying such inappropriate things, so it's probably not going to help if I can't act like an adult.

Not wanting to evoke any sort of retaliation, while wondering in the back of my mind what he's going to say or do next, much less in a few years, I've succumbed to politely waving and acknowledging the name "cute face." Brubeck has started to low-growl and grumble when we walk past. Other neighbors have seen him throw rocks and try to enter a house, uninvited with two barking pit-bulls inside.  This afternoon, he raised his middle finger when Bru woofed at him from the window as they trampled through my front yard. Kid is officially an ass.

So now dear internet friends, I'm at a crossroads. What would you do? On the one hand, it's kind of funny. On another, more accurate hand, it's not funny at all and I don't know what to do. I mean, my initial thought was to get another scarier dog, but that's clearly not going to work. (It seems I baby the "scary" out of dogs. Oops.) Oh, and kids not remotely deterred by them anyway.

Thanks in advance,

Cute Face

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Shopping like a normal person, not a crazy pyrex addict...

I don't think it's any question that I have an addictive personality. When I like something, I like it a lot. There are like five movies in life that I just want to watch over and over. I never tire of painting my nails. Discover a new author? I'm going to read everything they wrote in a month. New song? I will listen repeatedly. Let's not even start on the shoes.

The new pyrex obsession is something that actually has been in the works for years, but just now came to full fruition. It didn't really register that it was something I could have. I just assumed it was expensive and I didn't realize it was usable.

Randomly searching through instagram about a month ago, I discovered that vintage pyrex is totally usable, durable and obviously adorable. People sell and trade it and it's relatively inexpensive. During my first go at the thrift store, I saw a girl with a cute pyrex dish marked for $3. I cursed her in my head for arriving before me and dashed to antique store I occasionally peruse before she could beat me there too. It seemed this was a competitive sport.

Unfortunately, said store is aware of pyrex's current popularity. Most of it was more expensive than what I learned through my research I should be paying. Still, I didn't leave without starting my collection.

Since then I've checked the thrift store several more times, but only the same few pieces I wasn't in love with remained on the shelves. Back to my addictive personality, I promised myself I would only purchase what liked and knew I would use. Mixing bowls, and two divided casserole dishes are at the top of my wish list.

This morning, I decided to check the thrift store again. More of the same, more of the same, and what's this?... A divided casserole in perfect condition for $7. It wasn't a pattern I loved. I contemplated it for a moment as my gaze drifted further down the shelfs. Hark! I spied a blue, Cinderella mixing bowl, with several random things on top of it.  My heart skipped a beat. A large-ish woman stood directly in front of it. She was looking at the shelf above. That woman stood between me and that bowl. She immediately became my arch enemy. My eyes narrowed. Must. Get. To. Bowl. I nonchalantly made my way trying not to look too eager, and reached my hand casually in front of the lady just as she reached her hand towards my bowl. We bumped hands as she swerved left towards me.  Praise the lord she was reaching for a cheese tray! With a huge sigh of relief I politely suggested we switch places which she thought was a great idea.

"Girrrrl, I love this place. I got no shame!" she bellowed.

"I know that's right," I chimed in, my eyes bugging out of my face discovering as I moved the random things off my bowl that I had actually found a three piece set for $15. Mint condition. No signs of dishwashing. Minimal gray marks. No chipping. (What? I said I'd done a little research.) AND, they are adorable.

By this time, I had a huge grin on my face and a new friend. She was no enemy! We laughed and discussed how we cleaned our purchases before use.

A shadow fell upon me. By this time,  I had one hand on MY bowls while I inspected a different piece with the other. Sensing danger, I secured my treasures with both hands.

"That's great stuff there," said a tall man in his 50's. His eyes were shifty and he was sizing me and my bowls up. "My son loves it. He keeps trying to steal my Mom's."

I held tight to my bowls*,  realizing just how close I had been to being too late. I exchanged niceties nonetheless, before scurrying away to the register.

Hubs is aware of my new hobby. I was afraid he would make fun of me but I was smiling ear to ear as I described to him what went down with wild elaborate hand gestures and body movements before I unveiled my find. I thought he was being sarcastic when he stated this was great because we needed mixing bowls. I didn't know we needed more mixing bowls. I admitted that I had planned to donate Bru's dogs bowls and replace them with what I thought were our current mixing bowls.

"But then we won't have enough bowls again wife," he stated.

"We won't?... Huh. What should we do then hubs?" I asked with a sly smile.

*resists urge to make Dorothy in her Ruby slippers comparison...oh wait, I just did? Do'h!!

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Business Trips, Scary Movies and Sensitive Dogs

Hubs and I are still living like a real married couple who eats dinner every night and has weekends together. We even naturally fell into an unspoken routine where we take turns cooking dinner every other night. (Now if I could just get him to put ALL the trash cans and ALL the recycling out at the same time.)

All was going well when his first business trip was scheduled. Part of me was excited to have two days of SSB and the house to remain as I left it each day. The other part of me screamed, "I didn't sign up to be a single (dog) mom," and "but I don't wanna sleep alone." Plus, I've always been the one to get to go on "fancy" business trips.

The first night I went to Trader Joe's and bought the potato chips Nat had not been interested in trying along with a few other not so healthy options. I then proceeded to explain and rationalize my purchases to the unsuspecting cashier who surely was not judging me anyway. "There's no point in cooking for one," she agreed. "Now I always eat half of these cookies raw and bake the other half," she offered in regard to my "break and bake" chocolate chip cookies. I nodded very seriously that I understood.

Back at home, I took Bru on a walk then jetted out for my 3 mile run where I finally made my goal time. I collapsed all sweaty-like on the living room floor upon my return as I didn't need to hide my red face. I felt extra guilty eating my chips, pre-made dip and salad (not SO bad) while Bru ate his Bravo raw turkey meal with kale. You see, Brubeck's chronic ear infections and red itchy belly have gotten increasingly worse over time and we recently made the switch to raw food. More on that later, but he is doing SO MUCH better on this diet!

Shower time was when I started to remember all the scary movies Nat and I have watched over the years. Was this house built over ancient Indian burial grounds? I thought about when Liv Tyler went to get her phone in "The Strangers" and it was gone from the charger. O.M.G! We actually had to stop the movie shortly after that because my heart was pounding so hard. To be safe, I perilously placed my beloved phone on the side of the bathtub and looked at it every few seconds just to make sure. If an intruder came in, I was at least going to have my phone. (So I could request they let me make a quick call before they chopped me up...?) Really, they probably were not going to invade though, because I left a LIGHT on downstairs.

Bru and I made it through the night and in the morning I had to get up early and take him on a walk because normally Nat does that. How do single Mom's to actual babies get themselves ready AND their children? I don't even know because I was almost late to work from stirring Bru's raw meat and kale medley and I didn't even have to dress him or take him to daycare. That night, I didn't have any shower terrors, but Bru was unsettled and prowling all night.

Nat finally arrived back we had sushi delivered and I told him we could never watch another scary movie again if he thought he was ever going on another trip. (Actually, we were really fine, but I did miss him and I was really happy to have my hubs back.)

Now, in regard to Brubeck. His ear infections have been attributed to an overgrowth of yeast. After a little research, we decided to try the raw diet. In the wild dog they didn't carbs the way they do now from normal dry dog food. Carbs turn to sugar which leads to over growth of yeast. Simply put, the raw diet is much closer to what they eat in the wild, but this food has been tested for bacteria. (You can't just go buy ground beef and give it to them- it is assumed that is going to be cooked.) I'm no expert by any means, but it's been three weeks and his belly is no longer inflamed, his ears no longer need to be cleaned every day, and he's not shaking his head nonstop. Bonus, his coat is softer and he has more energy.

Now, for a quick all natural EASY recipe. I found this on pinterest and modified it a bit. It's a great breakfast, snack or desert. I read that almonds are OK in small doses for dogs, (it may upset their stomach) so I feel its OK to share a few bites with your pup.

Banana Cookies

2-3 brown bananas
2-3 tablespoons of peanut butter
1 egg
2 cups of almond flour (Trader Joes, it's just grated almonds instead of flour)

Mix, scoop, bake at 350 for 15 minutes.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

It's like we just got married...

Nat and I have been married for two and half years now. When we first started dating, I got off of work at five and he went in at five. He was bar-tending and I was drinking so I saw him a lot. Throughout the years, his hours have drifted a little closer to mine, but he's always worked weekends,  and I've always boasted part of the reason why we get along so well is because I have most of my weeknights to myself.

Last week, Nat started his "fancy new job" as a wine rep. This means, he sells wine and works pretty close to normal business hours and has most weekends free. It also means we eat dinner together every night just like a real married couple! We can go to brunch on Sundays and I can give him "man-stuff" to do on the weekends such as, taking down light fixtures so I can spray-paint them, and rotating mattresses. I was a little fearful that by Thursday we would be sitting on the couch looking at each other like, "YOU again?" but so far, so good.

I have discovered just one downside. I no longer have time for my SSB.  Secret Single Behavior as first described in Sex in the City.  For example, if I want to eat a slice of watermelon, a few spoonfuls of peanut butter and an entire bowl of guacamole (hold the chips-just because) somebody's going to be there to give me the side eye.  If I don't want to dry my hair at night, but instead try the latest pinterest craze which will inevitable NOT leave me with the beach waves I desired in the morning and I'll have to straighten it anyway, hubs is going to see the unsightly million braids, or sock bun or headband roll around before bed while we hunker down on the couch debating the worth of the Garbage Pail sticker collection some crazy is trying to convince Chumlee and Rick to buy for thousands of dollars.
The ONE time the weird night-time hairdo translated to proper day hair. 
This morning while Nat was in the shower, I tried to Nair my legs while sitting half naked in my bathroom removing polish from my finger nails with the door open because all those chemicals smelled terrible. Of course this is the one time hubs showered more quickly than I anticipated. He walked by the open door,  took one look at me with my hair piled on top of my head, green cream all over my legs and an atrocious odor permeating into the hall and just kept going.

He is going to KNOW all my secrets. I mean, he knows I not so secretly watch Snooki and JWoww and will even deal with Chelsea Lately occasionally, but he has NO IDEA about my Breaking Amish obsession much less Sister Wives and The Vanilla Ice project! How am I going to keep up with all my trash television? Trash television is when I do my squats and crunches and lunges, ect., so this could actually be a huge problem.

In closing, I'm two and a half years into marriage and feeling like what newlyweds must have experienced in the 50's. I'll now be accepting your best marriage advice in regard to keeping my SSB!

Until then, Nat just went to Home Depot to get supplies for man-stuff, IE fixing the front porch steps, (I didn't even know he knew how to do that! What else is HE hiding?!?!) so I have to catch up on my squats and Sister Wives.