Vinobaby's Voice

My words, My Voice

2012-02-08T07:33:00.000-05:00

Source: englishmuse.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

I joined a monthly writer's meet-up group about a year ago. I haven't attended each month. I wasn't allowed. If I hadn't cranked out enough words on my manuscript that month, I didn't consider myself a real writer. Slacker — yes, but writer — no.

Since I finished draft #1, I figured I damn well earned the title.

In real life, I am a wallflower. Seriously shy. My mouth might as well be duck-taped shut around strangers. At all of the previous meetings I attended I sat quietly, lips zipped, listening to electrical engineers and actresses, karate instructors and math professors read a short piece of writing.

Their writing.

Some of their diverse pieces were amazing. Some...not so much.

But I've never shared my own work.

Last night I finally let them hear my voice.

It was a total last minute decision. I planned to bring in the first few pages of my novel, edited. Since last week was a giant clusterfluck, that didn't happen. Concerned I would soon be perceived as some kind of wanna-be-writer-stalker, I figured they deserved to read something from me. A half-hour before I had to leave, I alternated printing 25 copies of a blog post while prepping a quick gourmet meal for the family (premade bbq chicken and tater tots — whoohoo!).

I last spoke before an audience back in college, and I refuse to mention exactly how long ago that was. My feet tapped, my stomach knotted, my heart thought I was running a 5k. I tried yoga breathing and sipped on endless mugs of hot tea in a vain attempt to stay calm. (No wine available. Damn. I guarantee that would have loosened my tongue.)

I didn't throw up. Though I really wanted to.

And I did it.

I read my Swimsuit Shopping {Part one: the Grey Hair} post. If it was funny enough for Scary Mommy, it should work for a bunch of part-time hacks, right?

The audience laughed on cue. I received a (minor) ovation at the close. They wrote positive, encouraging words on their reading copies (and corrected only one typo) before they shuffled the pages back down the tables to me.

Hallelujah.

The woman next to me commented about how "candid" my essay was. Candid? Obviously she was unfamiliar with the blogosphere. As I scanned through my published posts trying to find an accurate example of my writing, I gravitated towards humor. I can laugh at myself just fine. There was no way I could have read any of my truly candid posts, presented my tales of heartbreak or grief for all to critique. Funny how they are far too personal to read aloud to a few dozen strangers, yet I can write them for the world to read and judge.

Hopefully next month I will have my chance to get some feedback on my 'real' writing. I think I may throw up that night.

It gets easier each time, right?

I Should Have Been a French Parent

2012-02-07T09:59:00.000-05:00

Source: education-games-for-kids.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

We've all heard how American kids are spoiled, whiny, co-dependent little zealots who are permitted to survive on boxed mac and cheese while their mothers drift off to Zanax-land because their demanding darlings still won't sleep through the night at age four. Whether or not you agree with this is immaterial. This is how much of the world sees us.

We give into our kids food cravings because we are afraid they will starve themselves to death.

We permit them to wake as often as they want at night, always rushing in to sooth them at their first call.

We spend our lives shuttling them from Gymboree to gymnastics from toddlerhood on, intent on giving them structured play time so they never feel bored.

We play with them on demand so they never feel ignored or unloved, and push off our chores until they have finally drifted to dreamland, sacrificing our chance for some leisure time to catch up on laundry.

We turn ourselves inside out trying to appease our little major generals. They rule our world. And they know it.

The French, simply don't.

We all knew those French were different. But, zut alors, perhaps we didn't know how different. First we discover French women don't get fat, and now they are better parents as well?

According to all the buzz, Bringing up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting celebrates les Français strict, yet hands-off approach to parenting. Pamela Druckerman, an American journalist raising her children in France, dispels the myths of typical American parenting vs. the traditional French approach in her new book.

For example:

French kids eat real food. Sitting at a table, with adults, using silverware and napkins and manners. Their plates are more likely to be filled with broccoli and brie than chicken nuggets.

French babies sleep through the night at a very young age. It is the typical French practice to start teaching infants how to sleep through the night as early as two or three months, supposedly not through a strict Feberization, but more of an "attentive listening" process.

French children throw far fewer temper tantrums than their American counterparts. They are taught to delay gratification, that they can't always get what they want (sing it, Mick), and they are allowed to figure out how to resolve their own spats while their parents watch and nibble on a croissant.

The French parenting ideal is called the cadre or frame. Children have strict, set rules for things such as school/daycare arrivals and departure times, meals, and naps. But how they spend the rest of their time is up to them. Boredom is encouraged, so children to learn how to amuse themselves.

French parenting, as described by Druckerman, is "a combination of being very strict about a few key things but also giving children lots of freedom.” No helicopter moms in French airspace.

French parents claim to be far more relaxed and laid back. Their children are not the center of the universe at all times. "French mothers assume that even good parents aren't at the constant service of their children and that there's no need to feel guilty about this."

Happy parents lead to happy children, non?

Honestly, this sounds quite a bit like how I parent. And I cannot tell you the amount of merde I get for my parenting style.

Since I can't afford to move to France (yes, it is a dream — lavender fields, good food, fine wine...) I will appease myself by reading this book, so I can discover if the French really do have more of a clue about parenting.

Vive la différence?

Oui or non?

It's My SITS Day & the Origin of Vinobaby

2012-02-02T05:52:00.003-05:00

It's my SITS Day! A special welcome to all of the SITS GIRLS dropping by today. If you somehow don't know about the SITS Girls, a quick rundown: they are a fabulous support group of 15,000+ women bloggers who are passionate about building a community and sharing their blogging and social media skills. They are smart, savvy, and want to help make YOU a success. Check them out.

In honor of all the newbies, I decided to finally answer a question that has been burning in my online friend's minds for years: How did you come up with that weird Vinobaby name?

Eons ago (okay 2008), when I first broke down and started this blog, I was a reluctant SAHM stuck at home with only my darling yet daunting 4-year-old for company, and I often teetered on the brink of sanity. Days blurred together as I shuttled the Kiddo to playgroups and kept house like a frugal 50s flashback housewife (minus the pearls and heels, of course).

I parented differently than many of the moms cluttering the park benches and kiddie gyms. I wasn't afraid of my child like so many of them, wasn't terrified he wouldn't like me, or worried I'd scar him for life by telling him "NO" if he tried to bite me while drawing on the couch with permanent marker. And I seemed to be the only SAHM who did not find changing diapers fulfilling. I longed to be more...

I had things I wanted to say, but I simply didn't have the proper audience in real life. So I went online. Like so many of you. Fearing I would be stoned on the playgrounds or plastered with a scarlet letter for my scandalous beliefs, I chose to remain anonymous.

Lets drift back a little further...

While ~~growing fat and busty~~ eagerly awaiting Kiddo's arrival, I explored some of the pregnancy message boards. Most of my friends IRL were child-free career girls and I was desperate to find women who had a clue what I was going through. I wasn't going to use my REAL name — that just wasn't safe of smart. I started thinking...

An ACHTUNG BABY condom package hung from my bulletin board, a souvenir from an amazing U2 concert years ago. (I was in college, it seemed like cool souvenir at the time.)

The Hubby and I married in Italy and loved going to wine tastings together...wine in Italian is VINO...

Besides having a BABY on the brain (and on my bladder) at the time, babies are often made with the help of a little vino. (You can't tell me ours is the only one. The preponderance of children named "Tequila," "Bailey," and "Margarita" would fail to argue.)

A screen name was born.

It may be lame, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

The original title for this blog was Musings From the Bottom of a Plastic Wine Glass. I know. Too long. To lush. Not that Vinobaby's Voice is any better, but for now, I'm stuck with it. If all goes as planned, I will complete my novel, my writing career will take off, and this will be the little blog attached to my big professional author website. Someday.

It's good to dream.

So, welcome to my world. If you are new here, you will find my blog is rather eclectic, like me. While I no longer consider this a just Mommy Blog, I do often write about kids and family. But as I've grown-up and my world has diversified, so has the blog. I post about food, writing, books, newsworthy issues, wine, and occasionally I whine. I try to keep some humor in most of my writing, because sometimes a laugh is what gets us through the day (at least until 5 o'clock). Check out the Popular Posts tab to see what other readers have liked.

So I invite you to pull up a chair, put your feet up, grab a mug of coffee or glass of wine and explore. Follow me on Facebook, join me on Twitter, and subscribe by RSS. Please? We can all use a bigger tribe. Feel free to look me up on Pinterest or GoodReads, too. Thanks so much for dropping by!

Scalloped fingers with a side of mandolin whine

2012-01-31T07:13:00.004-05:00

Please excuse any tpyos, as I am pecking at the keyboard for the first time since typing class in middle school. And trying not to yelp. Granted, only the cat is home to laugh at my pitiful attempt at hacking, but she keeps shooting me totally unsympathetic glares and has been sniffing around at my wounded digit as if she'd make me a meal if I ever die home alone.

As I've stated many times, I will never qualify to be a REAL foodie. While I do love to cook and make many dinners my friends consider "fancy-schmancy," there are a few things I just make straight from the box. Like cake. And potatoes.

Another reason I will never be a real foodie: apparently I lack basic slicing skills. I can wield a knife just fine, thank you, but I am not responsible enough to use a mandolin slicer.

Looks simple, like on this example from Amazon.com, right?

SunDAY was lovely, the kind of day I fantasized about when I imagined my life as a grown-up with a family. I enjoyed a yoga class in the morning, then Hubby, Kiddo, and I rode our bikes to the park for a leisurely afternoon of reading, playing, and quality family time. I had no choice but to complete the Rockwell-esque day with a classic Sunday dinner. I make a mean meatloaf (and if you don't like meatloaf, it's only because you've never had a good one), and I wanted something homestyle, something evoking images of June Cleaver in an apron (and pearls and heels) to pair with it. I still had potatoes leftover from Christmas, so I decided make some scalloped potatoes from scratch. No problem, right?

Wrong. So. Utterly. Wrong.

I make homemade potatoes once a year, at Christmas. And these potatoes kick ass, but they take far too much time and effort to make on a regular basis. (I'll post the fantabulous recipe one of these days.) We don't go the potato route often, but when we do, I usually leave it to Betty-in-a-box.

The savory meatloaf went into the oven, I peeled the potatoes (a task I HATE), then broke out the mandolin. First potato sliced up fine. I turned to my Hubby, who was washing dishes beside me, and bragged, "Look how EASY this is."

Famous last words. Never, ever utter such a challenge to the fates when dealing with razor sharp blades. Might as well just shoot myself in the foot.

The second potato was oddly shaped, like funky turnip or a turd. It wouldn't stay in the SAFETY guard. It was so long— my fingers were inches away from the blade — I figured I'd just trim down one end flat so it would fit into the safety guard.

Slice. Slice. Slice. SCREAM.

I looked down and all I saw was red. And firework bursting before my eyes.

I threw my finger under the faucet and screamed at my Hubby to get me a towel. He gave me a wad of paper towels, which I pressed to my finger as I slid down to the floor.

I sat there, with the cabinets holding me upright, direct pressure on my wound, for a good 20 minutes. Kiddo offered to call 9-1-1 for me. The bleeding must have stopped, as nothing was dripping onto the floor or anything, so I passed on that idea.

Hubby peeked around the potato slices, checking for any lurking finger parts. He found none. But there had to be something there. Then he actually asked if I wanted to save the damn potatoes. Hell, no — I do not want a side of skin with my potatoes, thanks. (Oh, trying not to get nauseous...)

Eventually, I had to get my finger bandaged properly. I can't look at my own blood. I will pass out faster than you can say "I am a freaking wuss." It was up to Hubby. As soon as he removed my compressed paper towels, I screamed. He panicked. He threw some antibiotic on some gauze and slapped it on my finger.

I ran through my entire repertoire of swear words. Yes, it burned that &*%$#*@ bad.

Eventually the pain receded and we managed to eat dinner (and we didn't even burn the meatloaf, yeah!). I sucked down a well-deserved glass of wine.

But we still have no idea how much of my finger was sliced off. We are all afraid to asses the damage.

When I called my parents this morning, I received absolutely no sympathy. None. Instead they laughed hysterically. Maybe I should drive a half hour to have them change the bandages and check the damage. (Okay, my mom worked the desk at an ER and my dad was a paramedic — I'd have to lose a full appendage to get sympathy, I suppose.) It's just a flesh wound...

I wonder if I can convince the Kiddo to tend to my finger. Maybe I can bribe him with a new Skylander?

Typing without a finger utterly sucks.

Source: epidm.edgesuite.net via Leeann on Pinterest

What I wanted.

vs.

What I got.

Betty Crocker is making ALL of my potatoes from now on.

And mandolin slicers are tools of the devil.

Confessions of a Scary Mommy: The Book, The Review

2012-01-26T06:48:00.001-05:00

I shall start by assuming you all know about Scary Mommy. If you have somehow lived under a cyber rock for the last few years, here's the rundown:

The blog: Scary Mommy: an honest and irreverent look at motherhood — the good, the bad, and the scary. Thousands of moms flock to her site religiously for a daily dose of wit with a side of mom-bonding.

The woman behind it: Jill Smokler, a Maryland mom of three, and the reigning queen of dishing out motherhood's dirty little secrets. "Erma Bombeck-style insights...about the underbelly of marriage and parenting...to a new generation of women." ...yeah, yeah, yeah... She's funny, she's real, you'll wish she lived next door so you could vent together over margaritas.

Now that we've cleared that up, Jill Smokler wrote a book. A pee-in-your-pants, snort-coffee-out-your-nose, funny kind of book. Confessions of a Scary Mommy, hitting stores April 3rd, is not a highbrow work of literature. It's a book about stretch marks, snot, and shitting on the delivery table. It's also about cutting yourself some slack, having compassion for fellow moms in the trenches, and maintaining a sense of humor as necessary skill for survival. It lifts the sacred veil off the face of motherhood, revealing that none of us really have any clue what we are doing. It's about REAL life.

The book's twenty-seven chapters cover everything from delivery room dramas to competitive birthday party planning. Each is only a short snippet — kind of like a Reader's Digest or Men's Health article — perfect for a quick read while hiding in the bathroom with a sleeve of Oreos and a shot of tequila.

Each chapter starts with a round-up of "Mommy Confessions," anonymous admissions taken from Smokler's highly poplar blog boards where moms air their dirtiest laundry. Many will make you laugh, some will make you gasp, and most will make any mom nod her head in agreement while shouting, "Hell, yeah!" because, well, we've all been there. (And yes, there's even an App for that.)

As to be expected, Confessions of a Scary Mommy doesn't sugarcoat any aspect of modern motherhood. If you are not a mom yet, you may be outrageously offended by some of the off-color confessions and candid reality checks. How dare some mothers think these things, let alone say them! These women are EVIL and don't deserve to raise a child! Ditto that on the brand-spanking-new first time moms still jacked up on the delicious new-baby-smell high. They'll fall from their pedestals soon enough, and they will come crawling to this book and to the blog to get them through the day.

If you are a mother and you cannot find something to relate to in the first chapter alone (even if you are afraid to admit it) you LIE. Or you are a cyborg, Stepford Wife, or on some really, really good grown-up drugs. From the dreaded mommy guilt to aching ovaries and swearing at our children when they act like little shits (in our heads, of course) — we've all been there. And it is an utter relief to realize we are all a part of this vast sisterhood of Scary Mommies.

This book will scare some people — absolutely— there's foul language and feces and brutal honesty. Confessions of a Scary Mommy may terrify my expecting cousin, but I'll buy it for her because she deserves to know what she's getting into. And for my mom, so she realizes I now understand all the crap I put her through. And for my Mother-In-Law for — nope, never mind — she'd drop this book like a flaming shit bomb at the first "fuck." She's of the generation who believes some things just aren't said. I think these things should be screamed from the rooftops, so this generation of moms can be saved from a lifetime of self-flagellation and vodka tonics at 10 a.m. They need to know it's okay to not like your children every second of every day, even though you love them fiercely. They are okay. Scary Mommy said so.

The only thing missing from this book was a few more pages. I would have loved for the chapters to be longer, explored in more depth, but then no busy mom would be able to sneak in enough time to read it. Call me selfish, but I just didn't want Confessions of a Scary Mommy to end.

So buy it. Yourself. It would make a fabulous Mother's Day gift, but you know your husband won't remember, so just put a nice bow on it and call it even. Consider it a belated Push Present. Because you fucking deserve it.

Confessions of a Scary Mommy
by Jill Smokler
Gallery Books, 208 pages
$10.20 [hardcover] $9.99 [Kindle]

*I won a copy of this book fair and square. I did not receive any monetary compensation. The opinions expressed are my own. I cannot guarantee a positive review for any product or services, but I can promise a review written with honesty and integrity. Others opinions and experiences with this product may differ from my own.

Nike Ads & New Atitude

2012-01-23T07:47:00.001-05:00

I've flushed the negative attitude and my cold/allergies from my system. After a few rather ornery posts these last few weeks, I figured you deserved something a little peppier. {Not that I do 'peppy' all that often. Nix that. How about more inspirational?}

'Too Cute' baby sloths, puppies, kittens, and Kermit the Frog on a log singing The Rainbow Connection all came to mind. Images of sunshine and rainbows and floppy-eared bunnies would exemplify my improved attitude, right? Then I read a post by Joann Mannix on the Just Be Enough site and my focus drifted back to the real me.

Last year I posted How Vintage Nike Ads Kept Me Off Prozac. Nike's ad campaign, run over the last two decades, featured brilliant, timeless pieces of copy written not just to convince us to run to the nearest store and buy sneakers, but to empower us.

I've mentioned "JUST DO IT" covers much of my office, on sticky notes and bulletin boards, it's even on a Post-it note on my blog header (I'm not kidding — look up).

I was supposed to start editing my first draft two weeks ago. In his memoir on the craft of writing, Stephen King recommended burying a manuscript into a drawer for at least six weeks. So I did. I even gave it a few extra weeks for good luck. I let it rest, distanced myself from the words I knew inside and out, and gave it rot or bloom. I'm not yet sure which. Last week I began the process of reading it with fresh eyes, spotting the gaping holes, inconsistencies, and festering wounds I've created. Now I must learn how to repair them or slice them out with a surgeon's cool finesse.

Unexpected delays popped up, my work delayed — life got in the way. It's time for me to push my dreams and my manuscript up on my ladder of priorities. Enough with the excuses. Now is the time I must, I WILL, push all of life's clutter aside, hole up with my manuscript, and bring it to life. I will just do it.

My Golden (Globe) Boy

2012-01-19T07:06:00.003-05:00

Two nights a year I am glued to the television: the Oscars and the Golden Globes.

Around 6 p.m. I mute the TV (Ryan Seacrest and god forbid Joan Rivers grate my last nerve) and settle in to watch the Red Carpet Live pre-shows. Seriously, it's the only time I get a free pass to act like a catty, celebrity-stalking, fashion-whore. Oh, and I watch because I appreciate the fine arts of acting and movie-making, as well.

{ahem}

Sunday night I was a horrible mommy and turned on the Golden Globes pre-show during dinner. I didn't want to miss a dress, gem, hairdo, snippet of gossip, or (could we be so lucky?) trip and fall.

Then Kiddo started getting into the show. And commenting.

The outrageously gorgeous and perfectly curved Salma Hayek floated across the red carpet in a stunning Gucci gown. I assumed the Hubby's eyes would be on her. I was not prepared for the 8-year-old's to be as well.

"I like that dress. I think you'd look *damn* good in that dress, Mommy."

I nearly snarfed my chardonnay.

Instead of scolding him for his unacceptable language, I gave him a Nutty Buddy.

I may not win Mom of the Year (like I was even in the running),

but my kid's going to make a brilliant husband someday...

Because this is what I *really* look like.

I'm linking up with Mama Kat, and sliding this in as #4 (describe the scene at ~~breakfast~~ dinner) and #5 (what brings you joy).

What posts are you most proud of?

2012-01-17T08:14:00.000-05:00

What posts are you the most proud of?

The most popular posts, which may have skyrocketed your numbers and added to your loyal following?

The prettiest posts, filled with gorgeous photos of your stunning kids or faraway travels?

Instructional posts, clearly explaining some social media guides or a favorite craft or recipe you created?

Topical posts, where you rallied for a cause or pointed out newsworthy injustices?

The funniest posts, guaranteed to make each reader snort coffee out her nose and comment about your wit and wry humor?

Or the candid posts, where perhaps in a moment of crisis or heartbreak you bared your soul through your words, not to please the readers, but to heal a piece of yourself?

If you are a varied writer, your answer may be bits of all of the above.

They are the the posts where your voice rings honest, clear, and true.

Nicole from Moments That Define Life prompted us to list five blog posts we are most proud of. A few I list below were obvious choices for me, as they received countless comments or appeared on BlogHer. Though I'm positive I could go back and edit these essays for clearer words and sentence structure, I'll let them stand as they are.

When Grace is Gone: A tale of longing, heartbreak, and acceptance.

Swimsuit Shopping {Part one: the Grey Hair}: A toddler, a fitting room, and some painfully funny discoveries.

The "C" Word: A waiting room, a diagnosis, a life flashing before closed eyes.

Thrift Store Shopaholic: My favorite frugal fashionista tips to help you find the treasures amidst the trash.

Killer Whales and Kindness: In the wake of a Sea World trainer's death, a look at our relationships with these captive creatures.

What posts are you most proud of?

Memories Captured

2012-01-16T06:22:00.001-05:00

I once dreamed of roaming the world, photographing awe-inspiring natural wonders for National Geographic or charismatic celebrities as the next Annie Leiboviz.

In time, I discovered I fare better shooting house cats and husbands.{With a camera, people, not a gun.}

I still love taking pictures anyway.

My parents bought me my first camera when I was somewhere around age eight or nine. With that Kodak Disc, which looked more like a deck of cards than a camera, I captured pandas playing at the National Zoo, buffalo roaming across the Black Hills, and the last Dusky Seaside Sparrow before the species faded into extinction. Good stuff. Things I can only recall now because of my aged photos.

By my tween years, I upgraded to a Minolta 35mm, a treasure I still yearn to experiment with, if only I could find film. I took a couple of photography classes in college, learned how to coax images from film to paper, and went through several more cameras before I bought my current Nikon.

The art of photography transformed with the arrival of the digital age. I am now utterly spoiled by my 8 gig memory card, which allowed me to take 2,500+ pictures over a ten day vacation in Costa Rica. Unreal. Compare that to the twelve rolls of film I shot while on my wedding and honeymoon journey through Italy — only 288 chances to record a momentous journey, and no knowledge of if the images turned out until weeks later when the glossy 4x6s were finally in hand.

But I just can't keep up. The technology advances at break-neck speeds and the costs are, well, prohibitive. I don't own a digital SLR camera or Photoshop. Yet. But I do adore my little Nikon P90 and Picassa, so when I saw Galit Breen of These Little Waves and Alison of Mama Wants This decided to host a Memories Captured link up, I simply couldn't resist.

Pure joy captured: a boy, an ice cream cone, a gorgeous day at the park with his parents. I should have used this for my holiday cards last year.

I couldn't decide which version I adored more. I could have kept playing on Picassa for hours, but I do have a few other things with which to occupy my time. I love the timelessness of the first image; it could have been taken in 1960, 1985, or yesterday. The second image captures the vibrant sparkle and deep indigo of Kiddo's eyes. They get me every time.

Which do you prefer?

where the magic happens

2012-01-14T15:38:00.001-05:00

Not *that* magic.

While cruising through the social media universe (a.k.a. wasting time on twitter) I came across an interesting little proposal: an I'll show you mine if you show me yours link up. Really? I didn't think Just Jennifer was that type of girl...

She's not. {get your mind out of the gutter} She's showing off where she gets her blog on.

Since I also decided to hook up with the SITS Girls Build a Better Blog Challenge starting this Monday (#SITS31DBBB), I thought it would be polite for me to introduce myself with a peek into my writing world. (And where I waste time playing online Mahjong, tweeting, facebook stalking, etc.)

To the outside world, I'm still considered just a SAHM to an elementary-aged child. It seems as if every single day I am bombarded by the "but what do you DO all day" question.

I write.

Every single day.

I completed the first draft of my novel in November, after nearly two years of agony. On good writing days, the words flowed like properly chilled chardonnay. Pure bliss. Most days, words appeared on the screen only after laborious contractions. (Stabbing pains, like before the epidural, when I pleaded for the magic drugs. Perhaps that's why so many writers dull the voices with drink?) Now I must start editing, rewriting, and proofing. Eventually I hope to con an agent into representing me and actually publish the book. It's nice to dream.

I blog.

You're here, so you know that.

MY own personal domain. Somehow we ended up with more bedrooms than kids (one of the perks of having an 'only' — another is that the Hubby has his OWN office across the hall). After the baby-making machine shut down, I adopted orphaned furniture from all corners the house. The ten-foot double-desk (old sewing tables) came with our home, the bookshelf came with the husband, the filing cabinet once filled my dorm room, the desk chair liberated from an old job. I painted the walls to match the sky on a perfect day, breathing life into the once drab room.

A cozy twin bed transformed into a couch for ~~napping~~ reading and working. Framed artwork filled the walls at first, but since much of my novel takes place in Costa Rica, I hung souvenirs and vacation photos to "keep me in the mood."

When I am lucky, and the weather hangs in perfect balance (a few measly weeks a year), I escape with my laptop to my satellite office. Also known as the porch.

Those are good days.

So, where do you do it?

Frog Zen

2012-01-13T12:30:00.001-05:00

Just so no one is worried, my attitude tempered from this...

Source: google.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

...into this...

Source: middlechildcomplex.tumblr.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

...with a little bit of this...

Source: nmjohari.wordpress.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

...and a breath of this...

Source: palmheart.tumblr.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Peace out, y'all...

Buy More Girl Scout Cookies to Sate the Hate

2012-01-12T07:27:00.004-05:00

I'm feeling rather stabby today. I don't know if it is because of the rain, my sore throat, the recent death in the family, or the massive car repairs, but my mind is lingering in gloomy places. Even the cat refuses to come near me.

In addition to all this crap I've had to deal with, over the last few days I've seen several young girls broadcasting messages —confrontational, stupid messages — and I just want to rip them to shreds. They are just kids. Technically teens. If you put yourself out there on YouTube or the Today Show, you must realize people are going to judge and comment on your message, right?

Earlier this week I ranted about the sexy high school yearbook photo controversy. Yesterday I found a video of a young teen asking us to boycott Girl Scout Cookies.

Boycott Girl Scout Cookies? Is she insane? I sold those ~~evil~~ ~~divine~~ cookies for a cause for a least seven years, and ate them for at least thirty more. Why on Earth should I boycott them? According to this girl: because some troops refuse to discriminate against transgender children, and allow them to participate. The horror.

This little Girl Scout obviously worked hard on her message, practiced the delivery, and attempted to present it like a well-thought out argument. I'm assuming a parent recorded it for her, or is at least aware of her posting the video on YouTube. While I applaud her standing for what she believes in, I vehemently disagree with her.

I will buy twice as many Girl Scout cookies this year just to show how much I disagree with her bigotry. (I suppose it won't hurt that every little girl I know is selling them this year and has already hit me up.)

I am biting my tongue (or restraining my fingers) because I totally want to go off on this girl, but I remember how words can maim, and I did vow to be nicer.

Though I enjoyed a sheltered childhood and kind parents, others still spit comments which cut like a razor and seem to linger forever. I've suppressed most memories of the mean girls' taunts in school and blacked out a good part of my college years (when I when I was not exactly a stellar friend either). I know so many people suffer far crueler jabs on a regular basis, but I'm cranky, so I'll throw these little nuggets of venom out there for the world to judge:

No. I just don't like her. ~ Overheard from Mr. McGreggor, 4th grade P.E. coach, on why he wouldn't let me join the safety patrol.

Your so clingy. Stop following us around like a puppy dog and find your own friends. ~ 8th grade "friend" (who had the nerve to send me a friend request FB recently).

My, your so pale...and you've gained weight. ~ Aunt. I was 5'4 and about 104 lbs at the time.

But everyone else likes me. There's obviously something very wrong with you. ~ Whispered by Mr. Arico, 10th grade biology teacher.

And this song goes out to (*insert my name here*)...they must have written it just for you...{cue Cold as Ice by Foreigner} ~ High school friend/massive crush/d.j. LIVE over the airwaves (because he couldn't get into my pants).

What, you think you're gonna be a brain surgeon or something? You're JUST A GIRL... ~ Mr. Zagacki, 11th grade physics teacher.

Yeah, you've gained weight. I can see it in your back. ~ (EX) college boyfriend.

You're a Nazi, and you will be a terrible mother someday! You shouldn't be allowed to even have children! ~ Certifiably crazy employee (who I WAS NOT allowed to fire. At the time, at least.)

I guess I just need some sunshine and Samoas. Thin Mints would work just as well. Luckily, I think may still have a box or two lurking in freezer and/or Aldi is down the street (have you tried their 'fake' G.S. cookies yet?). Yup, cookies and sunshine...works every time...well, at least when it's too early for wine.

Wordless Wednesday: Read My Shirt

2012-01-11T07:13:00.000-05:00

Since I intend to hole up in my office and edit my a$$ off for the next few months (technically, I just plan on editing my $hitty first draft — the a$$ work must be done at the gym) I thought I'd find myself some inspiring new threads...

Source: awelltraveledwoman.tumblr.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Source: cafepress.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Idea

Source: cafepress.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Yes, It's Too Sexy for ANY Yearbook

2012-01-09T09:24:00.006-05:00

So there is this big brouhaha going on about a Colorado high school student's yearbook photo. Sydney Spies, an 18-year-old Durango High School senior, and her mother are making the TV talk show circuit, claiming the teen's freedom of expression is being squelched.

Spies told 9News, "I'm a dancer, I'm trying to be a model, I really enjoy photography and I think that this is a good thing to represent me and I think they are taking away my freedom of expression."

As a former high school yearbook editor, I think this is a crock of crap.

I am all for freedom of the press, personal expression, yadda yadda yadda, but this is high school. There are things called dress codes and editorial discretion. These rules are in place to protect the children. Spies claims the student yearbook editors first voted to allow it, then changed their minds. Good for them. Perhaps they had time to think about their decision, and cooler heads prevailed.

This is a PUBLIC high school. The dress code requires students "fully cover the chest, back, abdomen, and sides." Clearly this get-up violates the code. Period. That's not even getting into the come hither, practicing for Playboy pose or the photo's inappropriateness.

Stick it in your modeling portfolio, Honey, but not in the public school yearbook.

I'm not sure if I'm more irritated with the teen or her mother, Miki Spies. Yes, it is a mother's job to support her child, to stand by her, and encourage her to stand up for what she believes in. But this is more like shopping her out for a modeling contract or a reality show. It's cheap. It's tawdry. This girl is totally getting pimped out by her mother.

By pushing this issue and the photo into the media, Miki Spies has allowed open season on her daughter. I've read comments calling the teen a future porn star, a stripper, and stating she'll be knocked up before she graduates. Is this fair? No. We don't know this girl. She could be a straight-A student on her way to Harvard. Which she can pay for by working for an escort service. (Oh, damn, I did it myself.)

And before you say I am judging the mother/daughter duo too harshly, check out the alternate photo Spies submitted to the yearbook (which was also rejected):

Seriously? These photos weren't stolen from a cell phone or leaked without permission. This isn't a character assassination. They flaunted these on the Today Show (see clip below).

This is the type of situation mothers should protect their daughters from, not promote.

Now Mama is saying they are hiring a civil lawyer to take on the case. Give me a break. There is no case. This is a shameless quest for notoriety and publicity (granted, yes I am feeding it, but it ticked me off).

You've had your five minutes of fame. Stop embarrassing yourselves, put some clothes on, and go back to school.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Let's (not) Talk About Money

2012-01-05T08:28:00.001-05:00

Source: google.co.uk via Vinobaby on Pinterest

There was a time when no one ever talked about money. Not how much you made, nor how high your bills soared; it was utterly uncouth to mention what you spent, or even how much you generously donated to charity. Money talk was a complete taboo in polite company, and even behind closed doors within a family it was simply not discussed.

Now everything is flaunted out in the open like a tacky Nude Girls Here flashing neon sign.

In these tough times, it seems as if friends and family are always talking about money — be it how much they have, spend, splurge, or charge. And it's getting damn hard to differentiate when to keep my mouth firmly clamped and when to call someone out. With everyone in such fiscal fluctuation, personal finance often becomes a main topic of conversation.

But seriously — should it be?

I'll admit, I am guilty of this faux pas. But for me, it's more of a defense mechanism, a last ditch justification. It's certainly not bragging, although I do want to encourage others to find great deals.

My biggest problem is legitimizing any money I spend. We live on such a shoestring, I constantly feel the need to explain each buck I dole out. For example:

Friend: Wow! I love your new suede skirt and boots! {I think she is looking at me with her eyebrow cocked in a challenging, possibly even accusatory, manner. Panic sets in.}

Me: Oh, thanks! It cost me next to nothing, really. {whispered} The skirt was only three bucks, the boots five. My "secret shopping place," of course.

Now, why can't I just say "thanks" and be done with it? Accept a compliment, instead of rising to a (most likely imagined) challenge?

But then there's the other side to the coin: the braggarts. We all know them. We might groan inwardly when they open their Chanel-lipsticked mouths. But we never know just what to say to them.

Friend: I just had the most amazing dinner at {insert fancy & overpriced restaurant name here}. You've been there, of course, right?

Me: {smile and shake head politely} Nope. Haven't made it there yet.

Friend: Well you simply MUST go there. I had {insert $50 Kobe beef burger or $65 prime rib here} and it was just amazing! Really, why don't you go there tomorrow night? You simply have to!

Me: {fake smile getting painful} Sounds delish. We'll have to check it out, someday.

Friend: But you MUST! The restaurant is right around the corner from you. Our bill was only $250 for the two of us. And of course we left a $50 tip. You should go. Treat yourself!

Me: Really. Sounds great. We don't just eat out much.

Friend: I insist!

Me: Are you treating?

Friend: {aghast} NO!! I am on A BUDGET!

Me: Well, so am I. And dinner there would cost more than my entire month's grocery budget. Okay? I probably won't be going there anytime soon.

Friend: Oh. Well...{waves hands in the air dismissing all that I said} Did I tell you about the surf and turf I had at {insert another schmancy restaurant here} last night? It was only $60. The appetizer was cold, and my steak wasn't cooked right and I had to sent that back to the kitchen twice, but the lobster was divine and....

{My eyes glaze over as I imagine the waiter spitting in her food...}

Wasn't there a time when this conversation was absolutely socially unacceptable? What is the right thing to say when this drivel is shoved down your throat? Sometimes you just can't walk away, change the subject, or punch the offender.

Another modern phenomenon: friends and family who brag about their new $400 cell phones and $1,500 3-D TVs, and insist on telling you how much they spent on them down to the penny. Then, about a month later, they subtly hit you up for a "loan" to pay their cell phone and cable bills. They'd mow you down if you dared mention the fallacy of their actions. And it really is none of your business how they spend their money. Except, well, when they spend so much time talking about it, it does become your business, even if you do your best to change the subject and ignore the chatter.

Times are tough for so many people now. Unless you are Suze Orman, you shouldn't be judging any person's financial habits. So...can we just stop talking about it so damn much?

It's quite possible, the next time you brag about buying the family (all seven of you) Disney season passes (it was only $2,500) then you whine about how you can't pay your electric bill, I'm just going to walk away.

Or the next time you spend an hour telling me about the six new dresses, three handbags, and ten pairs of shoes you bought yesterday (but they were on sale at Neiman's), then ask me to install a new garbage disposal in your kitchen because you can't afford a plumber, I'm going to hang up on you.

It's one thing to vent to a friend or need a shoulder to cry on, and those are not the situations I'm talking about. It's the bragging. The blustering. And the flat-out lying. Can't we just all agree to keep our mouths and wallets shut?

Just for today...

2012-01-01T10:51:00.002-05:00

Source: google.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

I fully resolved not to make any resolutions this year. But while perusing the Sunday paper this balmy New Year's Day morning, I came across Dear Abby's list of New Year's resolutions. She adapted these credos from the original Al-Anon manifesto, so technically, they are twice over NOT my resolutions. They are pretty dead on, so I've only slightly modified them to suit my place and time.

Just for today: I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not let all of the hooplah about the Myan Calendar freak me out. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all of my problems at once, but not because I believe the world is going to end on December 21st.

I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime. But if I can just do it for one little day, it will be enough.

Just for today: I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine (or images of lounging on a Costa Rican beach, or my son's smile). I will not let rainy days and Mondays get me down. I will go to yoga and actually try to breathe instead of using the time to dwell on mental to-do lists.

Just for today: I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things I can correct and accept those things I cannot. I am not an alchemist; I cannot turn lead to gold.

Just for today: I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought, and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer. I will not rot my brain watching reality television or Fox News. I will not waste too much time on Pinterest. I will write something.

Just for today: I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. Even if it nearly kills me. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, even if they are cutting me off in traffic and flipping me the bird. I will improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking. I will strive to make my fake smile seem genuine, and to learn to bite my lip without causing pain.

Just for today: I will refrain from improving anyone but myself. Except for my kid. I'm a parent. That's kind of my job. Adults, however, are not my responsibility. They are on their own.

Just for today: I will do something positive to improve my health. If I'm a smoker, I'll quit. (Are there really still smokers out there?) If I am overweight, I'll eat healthfully — if only for today. If I'm at a good size, I will try to eat more veggies and less crap. And not only that, I will get off the couch (or desk chair) and take a brisk walk, even if it's only around the block instead of to the gym (where I'm paying for a membership anyway).

Just for today: I will gather the courage to do what is right and take the responsibility for my own actions. I will treat people as I want to be treated. Karma is a bitch, but only if I am. I will be enough.

Namaste, my friends,

and best wishes for a happy, healthy, and sane 2012.

Source: someecards.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Wordless Wednesday: the cat speaks...

2011-12-28T07:00:00.004-05:00

No. No work for you. All mine.

A cat's not-so-subtle reminder that I'm on a break...

Hope you all are enjoying your holidays.

Yes, I wrote holidays. And by that I mean: Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's, Kwanzaa,
Festivus, Winter Solstice, or whatever other special days you may be celebrating. Deal with it.

Cheers.

Santa Baby — Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-21T07:18:00.000-05:00

This one made the Christmas card:

But this one should have:

The tables have finally turned, and now my big guy is scaring Santa with his list (see last weeks Gabberflasted Santa). Revenge for terrifying him at 14 months?

Dear Coldplay: a note from the little people

2011-12-19T08:07:00.001-05:00

Source: coldplay.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Dear Coldplay:

Tickets for the U.S. leg of your Mylo Xyloto tour officially went on sale Saturday.

Even though I am a massive fan, I didn't buy any.

I don't know if I'm more upset with me, or you.

My husband and I caught you last time you swung through Orlando on the Viva la Vida tour. The show was amazing: a vibrant mix of older favorites flowing into new, and I fell freshly in love with several songs on the album for which I hadn't shown the proper respect. We had such a fabulous time that we snatched up tickets for a second show a few months later, under the stars in Tampa. But that time, we bought a ticket for our son, as well.

My little guy was absolutely enthralled with the Viva La Vida album. Though he was familiar with the older songs, he knew the words to every track on the then new album, and had mastered the art of pounding the air drum to his favorites. Your show at the Tampa Amphitheater was to be his first venture into the entrancing and exhilarating world of live rock shows. He was only six at the time. (He also had a bit of a crush on Apple, and mentioned how we should arrange a playdate for the two of them before the show. We tried to explain that cool as that would be, it probably just wasn't gonna happen.)

Then the show was cancelled. He was devastated — we were pretty bummed as well, but, hey, we had caught the act a few months before. Though, I had been desperately looking forward to getting lost in the lush tunes while dancing under the stars. We had to promise (pinky swear, technically) to take our son to see you next time you toured.

And we fully intended to keep our promise.

We bought Mylo Xyloto the day it came out, and had it had been on vinyl, we would have worn some heavy grooves in it already. My kid and I worked on our wild and free dancing to Hurts Like Heaven, Every Teardrop, and Charlie Brown nightly. We watched as shows were announced in Europe, and waited for our chance to join in the reverie.

I understand you are a megaband now, a powerhouse quartet headlining massive festivals music across the globe. I realize you currently have a hit album and the band is riding on a wave of success. I get that life is a whirlwind for each of you at the moment, overflowing with fame, fortune, and a maybe little family time squeezed in where possible.

Source: twitter.com via Dedra on Pinterest

But, dudes — the tickets went on sale one week before Christmas. For June shows. And they were far from inexpensive. $70+ bucks a piece for nosebleed assigned seating. Well into the $100s for anything where we could actually watch you in person instead of the video screens. And that's not touching the cash for parking, gas, beers, and merchandise.

Most of us little people have exhausted our measly budgets right now. December is rough; every bit of hard earned cash we could scrape up went into the form of bicycles and Barbies, or video games and coffee makers. If we were real lucky there might be and iPad or a new phone under the tree (the better to watch your videos on, of course). But most of us don't have hundreds left in the kitty for concert tickets at the moment. For a show next summer.

So, as much as it breaks my heart, we won't be buying tickets now. If you had put them on sale earlier, perhaps they could have been my Christmas gift to myself, or a few months later, they could have been a birthday or anniversary present.

Because as much as I come alive at a show, as much as I dream of dancing under the heavens to Every Teardrop is a Waterfall, as much as I want to watch my little guy's eyes light up like technicolor stage lights as he hears the first notes of Viva la Vida, we are going to have to pass this time.

It's just not in the stars...or the wallets...

But best of luck to you this tour. Maybe by the time the show comes around, we will have saved enough to buy tickets. Or maybe we will take those hundreds of dollars and just buy a new flat screen television, a Coldplay Live DVD, and a couple of decent bottles of wine so we can rock out with you for more than one night only...

Cheers,

A Coldplay Fan & Her Little Family

A Gabberflasted Santa

2011-12-14T06:22:00.008-05:00

Just last night...

"You want a WHAT?

A Star Wars LEGO Death Star?

Don't you know those things cost, like, $400 bucks a piece, Kid?

Santa's on a budget this year, you know...I'd have to lay off a few Elves..."

***

Everything Was Beautiful at the Ballet {even with an 8-year-old Boy}

2011-12-13T08:17:00.003-05:00

We all are guilty of doing things impulsively on occasion — whether it's just sneaking a box of cookies into the shopping cart, ~~stalking~~ peeking at that old boyfriend on facebook, or deciding to buy a car that day. Last Tuesday I took a leap of ~~cataclysmic proportions~~ faith when a "daily deals" email tempted me with an offer I simply couldn't refuse. I bought tickets to the ballet. And I decided to take my son.

No, I was not drunk at the time....but that would have been a fabulous excuse.

Now, I have a pretty darn good kid, but he's an 8-year-old boy. His world revolves around Star Wars, video games, and soccer. Ballet, is most certainly NOT on his list of cool things to do on a weekend, unless perhaps you can somehow work in sets created from giant Lego blocks and dancers decked out in Storm Trooper costumes.

But I was dying to see the Nutcracker again. It had been nearly two decades since my first venture into the enchanting world full of mice and men, magically growing Christmas trees, the Land of Sweets, and Sugar Plum fairies. And the music! Tchaikovsky's enthralling score is one of the most well-know classical pieces in America; I dare anyone out there not to recognize at least a snippet of his grandiose waltzes or zippy Divertissemens which have grown into holiday staples.

Not long after I clicked that tempting little "buy now" icon I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into. I would have to dress my son up and make him sit still while girls in tutus pirouetted across the stage. There would be no popcorn or cartoon action to keep him glued to his seat. I got nervous. Really nervous.

The venue was a lovely theater tucked into a corner of one of the largest convention centers in the country. My son equated it to the international airport for it's massive parking lots and hanger-like exhibition space. Getting there was an adventure in itself. But once inside there were escalators! And food vendors! And kids everywhere. Hallelujah — I was not alone.

Little girls in festive velvet danced across the lobby, boys stood awkwardly in their Sunday best, and parents flashed looks wavering between pride and death threats. We rode the escalators some more as we waited for the doors to open.

Our seats were fantastic — orchestra left, about ten rows back — and a family with three boys (three!) sat behind us. ALL the children within earshot were on their best behavior; no one kicked my seat, cried, complained, or spilled popcorn in my lap (not that it was allowed inside anyway). I felt as if I had crossed into a different dimension: I had entered the blissful parent zone.

The music started, and as the plush red velvet curtains rose, a chorus of "oohhs" rippled across the audience. A little girl behind me actually gasped and stage whispered, "What the...!" The performers — dozens of children and adults in their sparkling party finery — flooded the stage. The scene was set. The children were enthralled.

My boy sat still, watching, listening, occasionally even dropping his jaw in awe, for the entire 60 minute plus first act. Okay, maybe he started getting a little antsy during the last number, the Waltz of the Snowflakes (one of my all-time favorite dances), but he remained engaged the entire time. He loved the choreographed fight scenes between the Nutcracker's soldiers and mouse army, the sword play between the children, and the mysterious Drosselmeyer with his magical twirling cape. The pyrotechnics and cannon blasts lit up not only the theater, but each child's imagination.

We rode the escalators a little more during the intermission to coax any stray wiggles out. I did not give into the tempting hot chocolate or candies offered. Though much of the ballet was to take place in the Land of Sweets, I didn't need my kid on enough of a high on sugar to actually be there.

Act II was shorter but filled with more "real" ballet than the first half of the tale. While I lost myself in fantasy lands of graceful ballerinas leaping across the stage in their tea-length tulle, my son let loose a yawn and whispered, "Sorry, but this music makes me kinda sleepy." Apparently, he is not fond of waltzes. But he jumped back on board as the Cirque du Soliel-esque high-flying hoop dance wowed the crowds followed by the captivating antics of the Russian, Spanish, and Chinese dances.

Our kids are often more mature and intelligent than we give them credit for. Perhaps we should hold them up to slightly higher standards more often; take them out of their comfort zone of crappy Nick shows and video games and introduce them to new worlds of wonders. I can't imagine how any young girl, devoted to the commercialized versions of pepto pink princesses and fairies, could not be awestruck by the spectacle of a real ballet. The characters float across the stage, their costumes more breathtaking than any cartoon version could conjure; the Sugarplum Fairy twirls as the real-life version of the little plastic jewelry box figure we dreamed of becoming as girls, ourselves. The dancers exemplify not only grace and beauty, but the rewards that years of determination and of diligent practice can reap. They show us real dreams come true. And that boys — ahem, men — can be dancers, too.

The ballet exposes our kids to the disappearing world of art, music, and dance. The Nutcracker is the perfect production to aquatint newbies of all ages to this often daunting new realm: a ballet on training wheels, enjoyable for everyone. Give it a try. It will be worth it.

My boy insists he wants to see to the Nutcracker again next year. He just has one request: we have to take his father. I think that can be arranged.

I took my 8-year-old son to the ballet. And maybe you should too.

Rum Balls, Baby...Flippant Foodie Friday

2011-12-09T08:59:00.001-05:00

Looking for a homemade holiday treat for a cookie swap, office party, or neighborhood gifting? Want something easy, delicious, and memorable? How about a treat with a kick?

Rum Balls are tasty, look as if you spent hours slaving away in the kitchen and can make any holiday gathering tolerable. Plus they are simple enough to make even if you sneak a few nips from the rum bottle. Perfect.

*Note: these are not for children (unless you want them to sleep*). Alcohol IS a main ingredient.

Rum Balls

Time: roughly 30 minutes
Yield: about 3 dozen

2 cups crushed vanilla wafers**
1 cup crushed coconut or pecans (works best to chop in a food processor)
1 cup confectioners sugar
2 tbsp. coco powder (you can add up to 1/2 tsp. more if you want them more chocolaty)
2 tbsp. white corn syrup (or honey)
1/3 cup rum (I like Captain Morgan)
extra coco, sugar, or chopped coconut for coating/dusting

Mix all ingredients.
Add desired dusting materials to a shallow dish.
Scoop out about a tablespoon of mixture (use a cookie scoop for speed and consistent size) and roll into balls. (This is easier if you keep your hands damp.)
Roll each ball in the dusting sugar or coconut to coat evenly.
Set each ball onto a wax paper covered cookie sheet and chill in refrigerator.

The longer they sit, the tastier they will be.

Place each ball in a mini cupcake wrapper for an impressive display.

*Just kidding. I would never advocate giving kids rum. Though, my MIL still swears bourbon is the best thing for a teething baby...

**If you want to be creative, you can play around with flavors. For a more chocolatey vibe, use 1 cup crushed chocolate wafers. For a little bit of spice, use 1 cup of ginger snaps and dust with the crushed cookies as well. (I tried this and they were the bomb.)

Wordless Wednesday: Elf Hostage

2011-12-07T08:08:00.000-05:00

This would totally happen to an elf in our house. Only more Clone Troopers and lightsabers.

Source: google.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Different, Disturbing, & Slightly Disgusting Toys

2011-12-06T09:13:00.003-05:00

While perusing the sale ads last Sunday, I was amazed how many odd toys there were out there. Some were unique, while others could be considered slightly disturbing or downright nasty. Besides the first toy listed, how many will Santa be setting under your tree?

This one is cool. It is the only thing in this post I'd buy...but for myself. The FAO Schwarz Muppet Whatnot Kit lets you create your own Muppet Whatnot. {Whatnots are those zany-looking extras you see in every Muppet production.} I want my own Muppet.

FAO Schwarz Orange or Blue Muppet Whatnot Kits include a Muppet Whatnot body, 3 wigs, 3 pair of eyes, 3 noses, glasses and a pupeteer rod. $59.99 @toysrus.com

Aren't we lucky: Doggie Doo, Europe's top new action game, has crossed the pond just in time for the holidays. Kids feed and walk the little plastic pup. When they squeeze his leash he makes a gassy sound that gets louder and louder until...plop! You have your own, fresh doggie doo. The first to clean up after the dog three times wins. I wonder if it is scented? WTF?
Only $17 @toysrus.com

Kids + ninja swords = Bad Idea.
Fruit Ninja Game is a takeoff of the digital application. The object of the Fruit Ninja Game is to slash and splatter fruit like a true ninja warrior. What happens when they get bored with the plastic and decide to raid the fridge and knife drawer? Danger Danger. $20 @toysrus.com

I'm not really sure what to say about these things. Ugly Dolls are plush toys and they are...well, ugly. They look pretty much like how one of my sewing projects would turn out. So I think I will save the $20 each and just glue some felt together. Or perhaps marketers are hoping parents will reminisce about the days of Ren and Stimpy and want to share them with their kids (recommended ages 3-5).

Animal Planet Remote Control Charlie the Capuchin Monkey can sit on your shoulder and "unleash cheeky phrases on your friends and family!" I am dying to know what these "cheeky" phrases are — swearing? Dirty jokes? Do they simulate throwing poo like the monkeys at the zoo? This interactive toy features many mannerisms, sound effects, and movements which really bring him to life. All I can think of is Betsey, the cute, cuddly, and diseased monkey from the movie Outbreak. My son would freaking love this (for a day). $25 @toysrus.com

Animal Planet Radio Controlled Rattle Snake looks and moves like the real thing. Realistic skin and serpentine movement mean this can easily be mistaken for a live snake. As it slithers in an S pattern, its tongue flicks in and out and eyes light up. This could make Christmas day with the family highly entertaining as screams of terror echo through the house. You might even get a trip to the ER for a heart attack. Great way to clear out the house and signal everyone that it's time to go home. $29 @toysrus.com

"The Wow!" My Keepon is the dancing robot that moves to any music. A tiny microphone in My Keepon's nose (ewww) allows him to hear the music you play or even the rhythms you make yourself. My Keepon listens for the tempo of the music and matches the beat with an uncanny sense of timing.
Look — can't you see it's dancing — wait, it moved left, then right, up, down — seriously, how much can two Nerf balls dance?
$49 @toysrus.com

Masquerades are all about mystery, and so are the Bratz Masquerade Dolls. Remember all the slutty Halloween costumes so many of us were complaining about? Now we can give our daughters a leg up on deciding if she wants to be a sexy angel or come-hither fairy next year by playing with these dolls. Maybe it's all a plot — if parents see these dolls around the house for a few years we will be desensitized to the trashy tween costumes. And each doll comes with makeup and a child-sized matching "sassy" mask so our little girls can practice for their nights out full of mystery and disguise. At least they're not wearing fishnets.

21.99 @toysrus.com

From jumping over creeks in the backwoods, all the way to the skatepark, the General Lee BMX Bike will take your rider everywhere he needs to go. Do kids now even know what this is? Are the Dukes of Hazard making yet another retro comeback? At least there isn't a big 'ole Confederate flag license plate dangling from the handlebars. {sigh} $179 @ walmart.com

**Nothing here is a product review or endorsement.

Potato, Prosciutto & Fontina Cakes — Flippant Foodie Friday

2011-12-02T08:32:00.000-05:00

The holiday meal: family, friends, good times and high drama all often playing out around the dressed up dining room table. Don't you ever just wish you could set out a meal to wow them all — you could Cook Like a Rock Star, and leave them speechless, stuffed, and fully sated?

Over at the Bookshelf Bombshells I reviewed Food Network star Anne Burrells's new book Cook Like a Rock Star. Head on over to check out the full review.

Although there were many recipes from the cookbook I was nearly dying to attempt, truffles and lobster were simply not in my budget for the week. But prosciutto I always have on hand. I paired this savory side with some juicy steaks, but it would be a perfect accompaniment for any holiday roast or turkey. This dish would certainly impress your In-Laws and put your fussy Aunt Eunice's plain old mashed potatoes to shame. Wouldn't that be fun?

Potato, Prosciutto & Fontina Cakes
Serves: 4
Time: About 2 hours

Mise en Place
2 pounds Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters
Kosher salt
¼ cup heavy cream
¾ cup freshly grated Fontina cheese
½ cup prosciutto, cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 large eggs
Extra virgin olive oil

ANNE ALERT!
These lovely cakes need to chill for at least an hour before cooking so if you want to really streamline the operation, make the cakes ahead (even the day before) and stick them in the fridge until you are ready to eat.

Put the potatoes in a large saucepan and cover with water, season the water generously with salt.
Bring the water to a boil (BTB) and reduce to a simmer (RTS). Cook the potatoes for 25 to 30 minutes, or until fork-tender. Drain the potatoes well.
In a small saucepan, heat the cream.
While the potatoes are still hot, mash with a potato masher, leaving them a little lumpy: stir in the hot cream.
Mix in the Fontina, prosciutto, and eggs and stir well to combine. Taste and add salt if you need — you probably will.
Form the potato mixture into cakes about 2 ½ inches wide and ¾ to 1 inch thick. Put them on a baking sheet and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Coat a large nonstick saute pan with olive oil and bring to high heat. Working in batches, brown the cakes on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Place the browned cakes on a baking sheet and transfer them to the oven for 10 to 12 minutes, or until heated through.
–Recipe From Cook Like a Rock Star by Anne Burrell —Photos by Vinobaby

These were trickier than the recipe made them out to be; the stickiness of the freshly mashed potatoes made them hard to work with, even with the recommended refrigeration. The ingredients made a whopping 16 cakes, and could easily have been ample side dish for eight, instead of the suggested four. But they were quite tasty, and these luscious potato cakes sopped up steak juice perfectly.

http://BookshelfBombshells.com

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Five Things (x4)

2011-12-01T08:08:00.002-05:00

Things You Don't Know About Me

I switched my major from journalism to advertising because I can't spell a single word without spellcheck.
I like cake mixes.
I have a rather sadomasochistic relationship with my rose bushes.
My Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Uncle was a pirate.
I'm afraid of most dogs. And horses.

Things I'm Knowledgeable About

Gone With The Wind. I've read it at least five times. I've seen the movie more times than I can count.
Design on a dime. I can paint houses, tile showers, and lay an entire house of laminate flooring. And I can use the saws and power tools that go along with the job.
Creating meals from whatever you have around. I can't plan meals. Around 5 PM I decide what I'm in the mood for and see what needs to be used in the fridge. Cooking ensues.
Nature. My mom claims some of my first words were "Jacques Cousteau."
Generic trivia. I read the papers, watch the news, and try to absorb everything. The amount of useless trivia cluttering my brain is immense. It does come in handy come Pub Trivia time thought.

Things I Know Nothing About

Starbucks. Never been in one. I must be the only American to never have a triple venti cafe mochacaramelo creamo or whatever it is they call their hooch.
Fantasy football. I had someone explain it once, but it was too boring to absorb.
Scrapbooking.
Reality television.
Snow. Dressing for it, driving in it, shoveling it. Never even really seen the stuff.

Source: weheartit.com via Kimberly on Pinterest

Things I Believe

I believe you don't need to practice or believe in a specific religion to be a good person.
I believe ignorance is not bliss.
I believe in Star Wars, angels, and the Tooth Fairy. (Okay, technically this is Kiddo's quote, but it was too adorable not to include). I believe in the magic of childhood.
I believe you don't have to buy a $30 Elf on the Shelf to believe in Christmas Magic.
I believe happiness is not a result of getting something we don't have, but of appreciating the life and love we do have.

Source: Uploaded by user via Debbie on Pinterest

Zaggora HotPants Two Week Challenge

2011-11-28T09:05:00.000-05:00

First, I will admit, I didn't know what Hotpants were before I received my shiny yellow envelope in the mail. I thought they were some fancy brand of yoga/exercise pants, like Lululemon, something I would love to try but would never cough up enough cash to buy.

Second, I should state that I do not believe in weight loss, cellulite loss, or dieting gimmicks. I believe you lose weight by reducing the number of calories you eat and drink and by exercising. Period. I would love it if cellulite creams and pastes and wraps actually worked, but science has pretty much summed up the problem by revealing that you can shrink the nasty cells, but they ain't ever completely going away.

And third, well, I'm not really trying to lose much weight. Now, I am constantly fighting the battle to firm up all the squishy parts, get rid of the saggy pregnancy lower belly bag, and fight off the cellulite that plagues every woman once she reaches a certain age. I eat well. I work out. I yearn to be fit and strong. Actually, when I work out a lot (yoga, pilates, weight training) I usually gain a few pounds, which can be frustrating and usually makes me want to kick the scale.

So, with this in mind, I was quite surprised when I opened my package and pulled out my Hotpants. They felt like a diver's wetsuit — thick, foamy, and tight. In fact, they are made of neoprene, polyester, and nylon — good for surfing? My Hubby joked I should call them my "sweat your ass off" pants.

Zaggora's Two Week Challenge:
Lose two jean sizes in two weeks - no crazy workout, not nutty regime.
Zaggora claims their Hotpants are "specially engineered using Celu-Lite technology" to utilize your body's heat to get results.
Hotpants increase your perspiration by up to 80%, so you can get a 60 minute workout in just 30 minutes or wear them at home or while you sleep.

Day 1: Ran a 5k on the elliptical then another 5k on the bike. I was soaked from head to toe. I had to take a shower immediately. When I peeled off the Hotpants they were wet inside (the sweat doesn't go through the pants) and my panties could be wrung out.The Hotpants have to be hand washed, so I tossed them in the shower with me.

Day 2: 6 mile bike ride on path.

Day 3: 1hr yoga class. Hotpants didn't dry out overnight, felt rather funky putting on damp.

Day 4: 1hr Power Pilates.

Day 5: Wore at home.

Day 6: 1hr Yoga.

Day 7: Wore at home. Pants feel looser — stretching out or am I shrinking?

Day 8: 8 mile trail bike ride.

Day 9: 11 mile trail bike ride.

Day 10: 1 hr Body Pump toning class + 1 1/2 hrs Yoga.

Day 11: Thanksgiving. No, I did not pig out. Yes, I am sore.

Day 12: Wore at home.

Day 13: 1 hr Yoga.

Day 14: 10 mile trail bike ride.

After the Two Week Challenge I did not drop two jean sizes. Or even one. I did not lose a single pound even though I felt like I was working out a ton (and still eating healthy as well). My measurements and weight remained exactly the same. Frustrating.

{Excuse me while I go examine my thighs and bum.}

Everything looks the same. My thighs do feel a bit firmer — the muscles have been getting quite a workout. Wednesday's double hitter of squats, lunges, and yoga nearly killed me, so I had better be getting some results. The skin looks exactly the same though. My hips and tummy (where I really would have liked a little more firmness) show no changes in skin texture or tone. I suppose the only thing which will shape this troublesome area is plastic surgery to sew all the muscles back to the skin (thanks Kiddo).

The Hotpants certainly made me sweat more as was claimed, but perhaps I don't have much water weight to lose? After I acclimated myself to the tight waistband, the pants were rather comfortable. I liked how they kept my muscles warm while cycling and doing yoga. They will probably be nice once it gets cold out and may shave a sliver of warm up time off my routine. I won't be wearing them every day, but I'll certainly keep trying them as I work out. A girl can always dream, right?

*This product was provided to me for free for review purposes. I did not receive any monetary compensation. The opinions expressed are my own. I cannot guarantee a positive review for any product or services, but I can promise a review written with honesty and integrity. Other peoples opinion and experience with this product may differ from my own.

The Creature at the Bottom of the Fridge

2011-11-22T08:17:00.000-05:00

I just had one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Thank God no one actually SAW it. I sent the Hubby out into the yard to do chores so he would not share in my shame (although he probably caused more than his fare share of it). Naturally, I decided to share my mortification with all of you.

Now, honestly, how often do you clean out your fridge? Not just checking for stinky cheese and expired salad dressings, but take everything out and scrub the shelves and walls. If you are like me, the answer would be "I didn't know you were supposed to do that." Come on, seriously — once a month? Once a year? Once a decade?

With the holidays coming up, I knew it was time to make some room for trays of candy apples, chocolate pretzel rods, and a full Christmas dinner. My fridge was already packed (because, I am a grocery shopping addict) and I knew I needed to make room for pies, turkeys and extra wine and so forth. So I figured a Saturday morning would be a good time to do a little cleaning out and rearranging for maximum space.

And then I started taking things out.

Easter bunnies, tons of Christmas candy (LAST years), tiny jam jars which expired two years ago. A Costa Rican juice box and a cool version of Costa Rican Oreos (keep in mind, we were there in June of 2009). Oops.

I took out all the shelves on the door and sopped up the leaky salad dressings and marinade goo.

Then my morning took a disgusting turn. I took out the shelves and drawers in the main section. Do you know what is living under your cheese drawer?

I sure as heck did not. I wasn't' sure if it was alive or long dead. Any health inspector would have fined me more than my mortgage payment. OSHA would shut this kitchen down. I was going to take a picture of it, but I think I would feel less embarrassed and exposed if I posted a picture of myself eating ice cream naked.

And my MOTHER might see it {shivers of housewife failure}.

Parmesan cheese (I hope) and a glass of chocolate milk or perhaps black olive juice covered the bottom. It looked like something from a black and white fifties horror flick. I broke out the pure bleach and gloves. My sponge was not touching this jiz, so I wadded up a roll of paper towels and used a frosting knife to pry the solidified crud.

I am just shocked my family hasn't been hospitalized for any strains of food-borne illness.

It was pure nastiness. I had no idea.

When it was all sanitized, organized, and put back together, I felt like the little lady from Poltergiest: This fridge is CLEAN.

My PSA for the day: unless you prepping for your kids' future science fair project, discover what is lurking at the bottom and back of your fridge...and be prepared with a gas mask and hazmat suit, preferably.

Talking Turkey and October's Food Challenge

2011-11-18T07:42:00.001-05:00

No, this is not my overstuffed pantry, but a girl can dream...

Source: houzz.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

I know I am massively late for posting the results of my October Food Challenge. You remember: The Official USDA Food Plan: cost of food at four different levels 2011 U.S. average said I should be spending between $488 (Thrifty plan) and $964.20 (Liberal plan) per month for my family of two adults (19-50 years) and one child (6-8 years). If you don't remember, click here for a refresher.

The first half of the month I spent $172.41. Which included Kiddo's birthday festivities.

And for the second half of October I spent....

{drum roll please}

$185.41

Which is very high for us, but I had a Costco trip and hosted a steak dinner for a friend's 50th Birthday.

For a Grand Total of $357.82 or $82.63 per week.

We ate one meal out. Kiddo & Hubby brown-bagged it each day.

That's $130.18 UNDER the USDA's $488 Thrifty Meal Plan.

Ooookkkaay...so this doesn't include wine, but it's everything else. And my cupboards and freezers are still stuffed. Although nowhere near as pretty as one shown above, but eat well for well under budget.

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But now it's time to talk turkey.

Thanksgiving duties alternate between my parents and my In-Laws usually. I host Christmas dinner each year. Some years I've made dressed-up pork, I've cooked lasagna Bolognese, and I've done turkey. I try to mix it up each year, do something special, something memorable.

Last year we decided to smoke a turkey on our gas grill. We brined it overnight, then slowly smoked it (far from the house) over mesquite and hickory chips. It was a giant experiment, my Dad (the smoker), my Hubby (the griller), and myself (the head chef) all working together to figure it out.

It was the best damn turkey I have ever eaten.

So of course, I plan on doing it again this year. Except, for some reason, I didn't write down exactly how we did it.

Crap.

I remember watching some YouTube videos and checking out a zillion recipes online, but for some bizarre reason I didn't bookmark the one(s) we used. Or maybe I accidentally deleted it? Ah, I must find that recipe!

30 minutes later...
Oh wait...THIS one looks familiar. It's Alton Brown's Honey Brined Smoked Turkey. I'm pretty sure this is it. I know I would have trusted Alton and it looks familiar. Hallelujah!

Wait, now that I have watched the video I KNOW this is the recipe. I must not have saved it because I would have just assumed I would trust Alton Brown with this kind of experiment.

Courtesy of he Food Network

If you want something different, something juicy and smokey and succulent and flat-out divine try it. It may take a little more effort than popping a Butterball in the oven (in the bag!) but the brining keeps it moist and plump, and the smoking...well, THAT you can taste for yourself.

I will never make turkey another way again. Thanks Alton.

Prom Dress Confidential

2011-11-16T06:49:00.005-05:00

This is perhaps one of the most humiliating posts I recall writing. But I know all of you women out there in the blogosphere must have some pretty hideous ~~skeletons~~ prom dresses in your closets as well. Tacky prom dresses are a feminine right of passage, like attempts at big Jersey hair and blue eyeshadow duos or your first hangover, bikini wax, and walk of shame. It wasn't pretty, but we've all been there.

Dress #1
It's 1989 (yes, I'm THAT old). I'm 14 and I had never been asked on a date or kissed a boy. I have more books than friends. I'm just a shy, pale L-O-S-E-R.

Suddenly, I was cast into a leading role in the school play. I ditched the bad perm and braces. And I started dating the play's director — a SENIOR ! {gasp} With long hair! {gasp} And an accent!
{cue Dad breaking out the shotgun}

Late one night after a performance, he knocked on the front door. I was still covered in white hair spray and old lady stage make-up. He danced me to his car while his friend played the sax in my candlelit driveway. He asked me to prom (of course I said YES) and I finally experienced my first French kiss. (ooh la la)

I believe the next day was recorded in our family history as the day I gave my mother her first grey hair. And she will never let me forget about it.

Because of this sudden twist of fate, all the pages of dreamy satin and taffeta I had ripped out of the Seventeen Magazine Prom Edition became extremely important. Vital. A matter of life and death. I was a bookworm Cinder-fecking-rella going to the cool kid's ball. I had to find a dress. THE dress. My favorite was a royal blue Jessica McClintock (for Gunne Sax?) number I drooled over in the teen fashion mags. It was only two weeks until prom, my mom was utterly UN-thrilled I was going, and I was desperate to find the dress.

Somehow, we managed to find the last one. In my size. I had my dream dress. And the matching royal blue pantyhose. And the matching dyed satin shoes. And probably the matching eyeliner as well. Now I want to gag at this over-coordinated ensemble, but back then, I thought I was the bomb.

A very, VERY nervous bomb.

The prom was uneventful. I was absolutely petrified. I was far too naive to hunt down some spiked punch in the ladies room to calm my nerves and force my tongue to work. I vaguely remember dancing to Madonna and trying to melt into the walls. My date was a perfect gentleman (despite nail polish and an off stuffed duck) and dropped me back home by my strict 12:30 curfew. Then he most likely went out with all his friends and got trashed. I bailed on him before the prom pics even came in. I was not ready to leap from Girl Scouts to groping in a relationship with someone far older and wiser.

But at least I can say I went to Senior Prom as a Freshman.

Which is a good thing, because my actual Senior Prom blew corn nuts.

I went stag with a couple of girlfriends. I did not have a date.

But by then I had learned that poofy prom dresses were passe, for mere children, and not my style. I upgraded to reading Vogue and Glamor. I wanted to look stylish, sleek, and as sexy as I could get away with (which was not very). I wanted a dress they guys would notice, so they would not see the giant "L" glaring from my forehead. I scoured stores in probably six to ten malls in four counties until I found the one.

Dress #2
A little black sequence cocktail dress. Classic. Chic. Sparkly. Different. It was rather rebellious at the time. I freaking loved it.

(The snippet of neon satin, lace, and crinoline on the left was much more the norm still in 1992.)

So I went to prom stag. I don't remember much: dancing with some popular girl's boyfriend, trying to entertain my self by rating boys attempting the African Anteater Dance in their matching pink bowties and cumberbunds, sitting in a South Beach cafe after we escaped the cheesy prom venue, swinging on a sandy beach playground under the stars....

But I still have that dress.

And I can still fit into it 19 years later without Spanx

(although a stronger bra might be beneficial).

So all those smug girls whispered about my lack of a date can just bite me.

I do mean that in the nicest way, of course.

Join in my moment of embarrassing female bonding. Do you have an ugly prom gown story to share?

Thanks to Mama Kat for inspiring this moment of weakness I shall most likely soon regret.

Celebrating with Cupcake Prosecco

2011-11-15T07:04:00.001-05:00

Last Wednesday I finished the first draft of my novel. {cue applause, fist bumps, high-fives, and whoo-hoos } Surviving my first such labor called for a celebration. It was time to break out the bubbly.

Luckily, my dear Hubby was thoughtful enough to take out the good flutes and pop my bottle of Cupcake Vineyards Prosecco into the fridge to properly chill. The celebration was ON.

A few bubbly basics: just because a wine has bubbles does not make it a champagne. Any wine which bubbles when poured into a glass is considered a sparkling wine. Varieties are produced around the globe, from South Africa to Germany to even Texas. Most are produced by a similar technique: a second fermentation of the wine produces carbon dioxide which is kept under pressure and creates bubbles. A true Champagne must be made in the Champagne region of France, about 90 mile northeast of Paris.

Prosecco is a sparkling wine made only in the Veneto region of Italy (think gondolas and grapes). It is generally a fresh, dry wine, meant to be drunk while still young (the wine, not the drinker).

I first sampled Prosecco while while on my honeymoon in Italy. I have many fond memories of drinking the bubbly (and some pictures that I don't quite remember) after my wedding in Rome and while wandering through a flooded Venice with a bottle in hand.

So generally, it's safe to say I like Prosecco. And I most certainly enjoyed the Cupcake variety.

It was much lighter and less complicated than a fussy Champagne. The crisp, clean flavors reminded me of fresh tart apples with a drop of homemade lemonade. It was vibrant and dry with just a subtle dose of sweetness. The nose was slightly citrusy, but the dry effervescence of nearly any sparkling wine usually overwhelms me too much to properly detect the aroma.

The Cupcake Prosecco would be a delightful addition to any celebration, and its price point simply cannot be beat. While it is excellent on its own, it would make a mean Bellini or Mimosa as well.

Cupcake Vineyards NV Prosecco D.O.C. 2010

Pairings: Perfect with nearly any appetizer.

Price: Suggested retail $13.99, but I've seen it on sale for as low as $7.99 (a steal!)

Availability: Nationally

Related Posts: Cupcake Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc Review

*This product was sent to me for review purposes. I did not receive any monetary compensation. The opinions expressed are my own. I cannot guarantee a positive review for any product or services, but I can promise a review written with honesty and integrity.

I Finished the 1st Draft

2011-11-10T10:10:00.002-05:00

I finished the first draft of my novel.

94,432 words.

Twenty-two months of inconsistent writing.

I am a writer.

After a 3,000 word marathon, only minutes before the school bus's flashing lights would signal my time was up, I typed those beautiful words I never thought I would have the privilege to see upon my screen: The End.

That may sound dramatic, but this writing shit is hard. I've stumbled and almost given up and faced nearly depression-worthy writer's block for months at a time.

I took time off to blog more, to deal with medical issues, to search for a 'real' job, to spend time with my family.

I hid from the story lurking on my computer because I was terrified I had no clue what I was doing. I feared I possessed not a single drop of talent. I convinced myself everything I ever learned about grammar, structure, and storytelling had been banished from my brain and replaced with soccer schedules, recipes, and the theme songs to every children's televisions show aired over the last eight years.

I convinced myself I couldn't do it.

But then I had to prove myself wrong.

It may be an absolutely horrid waste of words not fit for even the most illiterate and ignorant reader to despise.

It may be the absolute shittiest of shitty first drafts.

But it's there.

The story cannot be edited, fixed, transformed into something of beauty and grace and depth until I give it a life on the page. The awkward caterpillar comes before the butterfly (and this creature is ugly, smelly, and missing a few legs). Now to figure out how the hell this metamorphosis thing works.

Let's just hope it doesn't take another two freaking years.

Cheers.

Wordless Wednesday — Mess Magnets

2011-11-09T06:49:00.000-05:00

Boys are mess magnets. Whether they are four or forty, they somehow attract every grass stain, mud puddle, and cranberry juice spill in a three-county area (and for the big boy, an occasional red wine stain as well).

Now I do have to say, Kiddo is pretty well behaved and I run a tight ship around here, but there is just no way he can avoid messes.

I have learned to laugh instead of yell, to grab the camera while I catch my breath and sometimes slowly count to 10. The mess will be cleaned up. The memory will last forever. Sometimes the simple things are the snapshots of life that stick with you forever...

Age two. He decided it would be fun to cover his entire room with baby powder.

And himself. This is just a small snippet of the room.

Was he trying to create a Florida blizzard?

I was eternally grateful he did not get into the petroleum jelly
right next to the powder as well.

King of the Mud at age 3 1/2.

Who needs a water slide (or the swimming pool only a few feet away)

when you can have a Mud Slide?

Hanging in his Mud Hot Tub at age five.

He was supposed to be helping Dad wash the car.

Who is going to hose him down now?

Sometimes it's just the simple things that keep us smiling...

Think Kiddo is the messiest kid?

I received information about Clorox’s Bleach It Away campaign and am sharing my messy moment for the chance to win prizes from The SITS Girls. To learn more about the messy moment program, check out www.BleachItAway.com. Sharing your story on the Clorox fan page gets you entered for the chance to win $25,000 and daily prizes, and you can grab a coupon for Clorox® Regular Bleach.

Holiday Comforts

2011-11-07T07:01:00.001-05:00

This post is sponsored by Tempur-Pedic, the brand millions of owners trust to deliver their best night’s sleep every night. Enjoy our Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer now and give the gift of custom comfort to someone you love.

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Fall doesn't arrive in the sunshine state until after the Halloween pumpkins have been retired and the traditional stuffed turkey sits atop our dining room table. (Not a real bird filled with cornbread stuffing, but this guy. He's the only Precious Moment creation I own, I swear.)

There are no trees covered with leaves of varying shades of scarlet and gold, no early season snow falls. Instead we thrill when the temperatures dip to the 60's and we light the pumpkin spice candles to fill the cool air with the scent of fall.. Then we have full permission to break out the jeans, sweaters, and flannel p.j.s, and to unpack the down comforter to create a nest of warmth and softness.

I do my best to make the holidays a time of peace and comfort instead of stress and drama — well, at least as much as within my power. Thanksgiving is always held at another family member's home — as long as everyone vows to get along and there is enough wine it's a lovely day. I MUST watch the Macy's Parade every year. Not until Santa rides by on his elaborate float is the Christmas season is officially allowed to begin.

If I am lucky, I have most of my shopping done by then. Not fighting the cranky crowds relieves some of the pressure and gives me time to enjoy decorating the house and filling the air with the aroma of bayberry and cookies and memories of holidays past.

Around the 1st of December I put up our tree, carefully placing each ornament while White Christmas (or more recently Mama Mia) plays on the TV. My mom bought one special ornament for me each year as I was growing up, a keepsake documenting a stage in my life. The year I bought my first scraggly Christmas tree for my own apartment she passed the box along to me and those ornaments are some of my most cherished possessions. She continues the tradition still, only now she buys one for Kiddo as well. Someday, he'll have his own tree too...

I break out our stash of holiday books — an eclectic mix of my childhood classics and modern tales — to read while snuggled up together in Kiddo's bed. This year he will be reading many to us. Christmas Eve we must read Twas the Night Before Christmas, the pages lovingly worn from over thirty years of tradition.

I host the Christmas festivities each year. Kiddo is the only child in our tiny immediate family and I insist that he not be ripped away from all his new toys right after he opens them. Instead we spend the day together, in our home full of family, friends, and food. I always make my heavenly brandied apple pie (if you are exceptionally lucky I might share the recipe soon). Everyone usually leaves happy, stuffed, and perhaps a tiny bit tipsy — signs it's been an awesome holiday, filled with peace, love, comfort, and joy.

Time to start planning, kids...

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Comfort is the perfect gift for everyone on your holiday gift list, so be sure to take advantage of Tempur-Pedic's Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer! I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective.

Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc: Flippant Food & Wine Friday

2011-11-04T08:11:00.002-04:00

Any blog regulars or twitter followers should know how I adore wine. Some women relax with crochet needles, some go for Prozac, I savor a glass (or two) of wine at the end of the day. So when Cupcake Vineyards asked if I wanted to review a selection of their wines...there was no arm twisting necessary...only dreams of untwisting a few caps from bottles of their varied vintages.

And I do mean varied. When most people picture a vineyard, rows of lush grape vines and villas come to mind, the grapes harvested, bottled, and distributed from the same carefully tended land. The Cupcake Vineyards winery resides in Soledad, California, far south of the famed Napa Valley. But since each grape variety has distinctly different needs, they also buy grapes from around the world, taking advantage of the unique soils, micro-climates, and generations of experience to expand their wine selection.

Cupcake's Sauvignon Blanc hails from the cool climes of Marlborough, New Zealand, the country's largest wine growing region.

I was nearly startled by my first sip of the Sauvignon Blanc. The cool, crisp, nearly tart wine was the virtual opposite of my go-to buttery and oaky chardonnay. After a few minutes if opened up just a bit, the flavor mellowing into a delightful mix of fresh greens and zingy citrus.

This pale, light-to-medium bodied wine was quite refreshing. The winemaker calls out the bright lemon and lime tastes; I was reminded of a Granny Smith apple (perhaps because I was staring at a bowl full of them). Either way, I was inspired to bake an apple cake as I sipped the delightful wine.

It paired well with a grilled chicken salad, the wine echoing the crispness and freshness of the vegetables. Perfect for a summer afternoon or dining al fresco on a balmy Florida fall evening.

Cupcake Vineyards 2011 Sauvignon Blanc

Pairings: White meats (chicken, light fish, shellfish), light vinaigrettes, salads.

Price: Suggested $13.99

Availability: Nationwide

*This product was sent to me for review purposes. I did not receive any monetary compensation. The opinions expressed are my own. I cannot guarantee a positive review for any product or services, but I can promise a review written with honesty and integrity.

November Manifesto

2011-11-01T08:28:00.000-04:00

I WILL FINISH MY NOVEL THIS MONTH.

On this first day of November and the kick-off of NaNoWriMo,

I challenge myself not to write an entire 50,000 word novel in a month,

but just to finish the 80,000+ words I have struggled with for two years.

I will shift my priorites and just GET IT DONE. It can suck. That's okay.

I can't edit and rewrite until I have something to edit and rewrite.

No one else will treat my writing as anything but a hobby unless I take the lead.

It's not some cute little thing I do between loads of laundry. Well, actually, it is.

That needs to change if I ever want to be published.

Yes, I understand bloggers have jumped on this bandwagon and cooked up NaBloPoMo.

I'm not going to write a blog post a day.

In fact, I'm going to blog LESS so I can focus on the book.

That is all.

Howl: A True Story

2011-10-31T07:14:00.001-04:00

A howl crept into my dreams last night, blurring the hazy line between real and make-believe.

Again it interrupted, closer. Louder. My ears, tuned through the years to hear any childish murmurs, perked up, alert, listening. It was 3:10 AM. The night should have been silent and still.

Screeching. An owl? Incomprehensible howls. A cat in heat? A wounded animal? It was creeping closer.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

I bolted strait up in bed, preying my heavy-sleeping husband heard it as well. He did.

"Oh, God... HELP!"

My husband peered out the window above our heads. I dashed to the blinds facing the street. A dark figure, a man, lurched down our quiet suburban street, haphazardly dodging between the streetlights as he screamed.

We looked at each other, panicked. We were awake, right? I pinched myself to be sure. What should we do?

I grabbed the phone and for the first time in my life dialed 9-1-1.

I frequently call the number in my dreams (more technically, nightmares) and usually the phone just rings and rings until it rolls over to the droll automated voice telling me all lines are busy, please try again later. Or someone does finally answer and I have no voice...

Someone answered.

"911, do you have an emergency?

"There's a man waking down my street. He's screaming for help."

"Does he look injured? Do you need an ambulance or police?"

"Yes, I don't know what's wrong with him, he's just crashing into things and screaming for help."

"We get calls like this all the time. Are you sure you need support?"

Am I sure?

Crashes echoed down the sleeping street as the man overturned recycling bins and garbage cans. "Oh God, oh God, help meeeee..."

My husband peered out the stained glass of the front door, it's cut-work refracting the already disturbing scene outside. A knife filled one hand, a baseball bat the other.

Our son crept out of his bedroom, his sleepy eyes wide. "What's going on?"

Even with the full moon I could not make out any details of the man. Was he injured? A victim of a hit and run, burglary, or domestic dispute? Was he holding anything? An animal he hit with his car...or a child?

Was he a victim or a villain?

I read the newspaper, watch the news, and read far to many crime novels. I am acutely aware of the heinous acts man can commit against even those he may love the most. He could be fleeing the scene of the crime. Was there a scene of horror within some neighbors darkened house? Guns, knives, flames, even samurai swords have destroyed lives in even the quietest, supposedly safest suburbs nearby.

"Yes, we need the police, now, please..."

Three minutes, forty-eight seconds. That's how long my call to 9-1-1 lasted. Two police cars silently sped down the street, stopping just past our house. My husband burst out the door, his curiosity getting the best of him. I carried my son back to his bed then waited by the door for answers.

Two houses down, the police wrestled the man to the ground as he shouted, pleaded for help. Help from what? Drugs? PTSD? It was the night of 9/11...was he being chased down by ghosts and destruction?

I will never know.

Police cars cruised our street long after the ambulance pulled away. All were silent: no lights, no sirens, once they passed no traces of their presence lingered on the moonlit lane.

Yet the rank smell of fear clung to us as we tried to return to sleep. We could not find safety or solace even huddled together under the sheets in our suburban glen. My hand grew stiff from grasping the phone, but I would not release my lifeline.

I would not go back to sleep this tonight. I held out for my saviors: daylight and coffee.

Costumes for the Ages

2011-10-27T09:46:00.003-04:00

When I was a kid, many moons ago, most Halloween costumes were homemade. Our parents dug through closets to pull out their own old clothes to make costumes (I remember many cheerleaders, hobos, varsity football players, and 50's costumes) or if they were crafty, they sewed, painted, or pieced together something on their own.

My favorite costume:

a hand painted brown paper bag turned into a Rice Krispies box.

Love.

Princesses circa 1979.

I think my tin-foil covered crown and egg carton flowers are way cooler than the

thin, plastic store bought costume on the left.

But I'll admit: making costumes now is much harder. Most years I just don't have the time or inclination.

Kiddo's first Halloween he wore a candy corn covered onsie (he was only weeks old) until his diaper had a blow-out.

Next year he wore a clown costume I found in a bag of hand-me-downs.

I think the fireman was next: the coat a gift from Grandpa (a fire chief himself). He wanted to be just like like him.

I must admit, the two Peter Pan years have been my favorites so far. During this phase, the only movie he would watch was the classic Disney version full of Pirates, Lost Boys, and his first crush, Wendy. I'll never forget finding him in tears on the living room floor, devastated because even though he really DID believe, he still couldn't fly.

I was lucky enough to track down this costume at a consignment shop. He still has it, and wants to keep it forever (for his kids -- gasp!).

My little boy who doesn't want to grow up.

That's just fine with me.

Now he has matured into his Star Wars phase. I spent hours sewing his Jedi costume last year (read all about it here), so yes, that puppy's getting recycled this year (and maybe next year if he still fits).

But whether the costume is homemade or bought after Halloween off the clearance rack, it's the thought, and the memories that count. For kids, Halloween may be all about the loot and the parties, but for me, it's all about capturing a little piece of childhood to live on forever.

I'm linking up with the lovely Nicole at By Word of Mouth Musing's Howlerific Halloween. Join the fun! (and our bat's named Staraluna)

Also hooking up with the fabulous ladies of Four Plus and Angel and Sellabitmum for their Boo in the Blogosphere Halloween party.

Come join the fun!

22 Things I HAVE Done { + Link-up}

2011-10-25T00:42:00.023-04:00

*Last week so many of us came up with our list of things we have not done. Fun, but slightly depressing. This week we need to celebrate all the cool things we HAVE done. Have your own list? Link up below. Inquiring minds want to know.*

Tried to catch a rattlesnake.

Wandered through flooded Venetian piazzas with a champagne bottle in hand.

Found a baby sea turtle on the beach.

Zip-lined (with my 5-year-old) through a rainforest.

White water rafted down the river where Deliverance was filmed (I heard no banjos).

Pierced more women's, men's and babies' ears than I care to remember.

Sold wedding gowns to Bridezillas.

Watched Cinderella smoke a cigarette in the tunnels below Disney.

Watched a volcano erupt as the sun rose.

Been trapped in a herd of buffalo.

Ridden Space Mountain twenty times in a day without getting nauseous.

Wept tears of joy as my newborn was placed in my arms.

Been bumped by a shark while boogie boarding in the "Shark Capital of the World."
Savored the applause onstage during the curtain call after a performance.

Stood in awe beneath the Sistine Chapel.

Lived with 18 different roommates from 5 foreign countries (not all at once).

Been licked by a giraffe.

Sang and danced barefoot in the rain (with a few thousand other DMB fans).

Dug a grave in my yard.

Sat with a friend (and fed them booze) while they got a homemade tatoo.

Written ~~79,476~~ 80,568 words of my shitty first draft (still not done though).

Savored a $100+ bottle of wine (crossed off my "things I haven't done list" this weekend — whoohoo!)

Now it's YOUR turn. Have you scored the winning soccer goal? Bungee jumped? Woke up with a tatoo you don't remember? Won a spelling bee? We want to know what makes YOU special.

Looks like we can link up with Mama Kat on Thursday too!

Legoland Florida Review

2011-10-24T09:00:00.006-04:00

*Note: This is a completely unsponsored post and unbiased review. I paid in full for all Legoland admission tickets, food, parking, and souvenirs. Free tickets would have been nice, but alas, no free rides here.

Legoland is Florida's newest and most anticipated theme park addition. Located in Winter Haven (about 45 minutes south of Disney) on the grounds of the old Cypress Gardens, it is a brightly colored mecca for Lego lovers and fans. Be warned: it IS a park for kids. It is not like EPCOT or even Universal, which play to a definite adult audience as well. Legoland claims its target audience is kids 2 to 12. I would say more specifically 5 to 11-year-old boys. For them, it is a wonderland.

We visited with my son, an 8-year-old who lives, eats, and breaths Legos: their ideal guest.

The park was everything he wanted and more.

We spent the day at Legoland on Monday, October 18th, the 3rd day the park was officially open. We were hoping to avoid the crazy opening weekend crowds. We did. The park was not busy at all. In fact, when we arrived at the empty parking lot we thought the park was closed. Lines for all rides (if there were any at all) were short. Now I understand why Legoland will be closed two days during the week (Tuesdays and Thursdays).

Rides and Attractions

Legoland has four roller coasters and all are great for kids. The height restrictions are minimal: 36" to 44" will get you on all the rides.

The Dragon is an easy coaster, full of knights, castles, and of course, dragons.

The Coastersaurus is an old wooden coaster refurbished from Cypress Garden days. It's bumpy and a bit different, but fun (once you get past the fact that you are trusting a very old wooden ride). My son actually looked a little nervous and asked the attendants if it was really safe.

Test Track is a short, swervy ride, but it was the steepest and fastest — a 45 foot drop before you hit the switchbacks — but still okay for most kids.

Flying School is a suspended coaster (meaning you hang from the top) where kids and adults can get the feel of flying without the fear like other suspended coasters (such as Sea World's Manta). It may look a little daunting, but it's an easy thrill.

If you want to ride the coasters I would recommend hitting them first. If you turn right at the carousel (another holdout from the Cypress Gardens days), you can swing towards the Dragon first then follow the path along the back of the park to the others. We walked right on or waited only about 5 minutes for each on the day of our visit, but I have read reports of an hour wait — no fun with kids for such a short ride.

The Ford Driving School was a huge hit. Kids ages 6-13 sit through a short movie showing them how the life-sized Ford Explorer outside the ride was built and teaches them basic traffic laws and instructions. They are led out to the driving school track, a cute replica of some city streets complete with lanes, stop signs, and traffic lights. They drive their own cars around (no parents allowed) following all the laws to get their license. It was adorable, and the kids all seemed to be beaming with pride that they were driving all by themselves. There is also a Jr. Driving School for ages 3-5.

We didn't get to try out the Boating School, also located in the Lego City area, due to some technical problems. Only one boat was running.

The Lost Kingdom Adventure was just as fun for the adults as the kids. Guests ride four to a car through an ancient Egyptian tomb. It's not scary. Each person has a laser gun to shoot at targets scattered through the day-glow painted ride and a scoreboard on their dash.

The Pharaoh's Revenge is a glorified ball pit, but the kids loved it. Inside this small two-story netted area kids fire foam balls at each other (and parents if they don't wait outside).

Only ride the Aquazone Wave Racers if you want to get wet. Spectators can set off water cannons as the 2-person wave racers spin by. Fun for riders and spectators if you can manage to wait near one of the cannon buttons.

The Safari Trek is more for the littlest ones. While the Lego animals are amazing to behold — towering giraffes, water-squirting elephants, lions, zebras, even meerkats — the mini-jeep tour lasts maybe two minutes. I wanted to get close-up photos of the 'animals' so we waited in line for 15 minutes (longest wait of the day by far), then as we buckled into our vehicles, the ride broke. We sat for another five waiting to go somewhere. Walk the perimeter of the ride to see the cool animals, and don't bother actually riding unless there is no wait.

Build and Test is a air-conditioned break-room for the adults while the kids have a blast building innovative race cars from dozens of bins of blocks. Kids fill several four car ramped race tracks with their creations, each vying to get their vehicle to the finish line first. Chairs line the walls for adults to chill out in the A/C while the kids are busy. We had to drag our Kiddo out after a half hour.

Toddlers vs Big Kids: Speaking of little ones, Duplo Village is geared straight towards the smallest guests. The area features a mall-like play area, a Duplo block building area, and a few easy rides for toddlers 36" and up. This area will not interest any kids over 5 though, so parents/groups may need to split up if they want to give toddlers their own time.

I have a photo tour of Miniland linked here, so just a few words: it's cool. Even someone not really into Legos should appreciate these model cities. You could spend hours checking out all the amazing details the master builders included. It takes about 20 minutes just to stroll around the area, but plan on spending much more time there. It's worth it. But save it for later in the day when you need a break from the rides. Bring some binoculars if you have room in your bag.

Part of the original Cypress Gardens is still on display. Take the time to wander through the lush gardens of old Florida. Where costumed Southern Belles once greeted guests, Lego figures now stand — kinda kitsch, but a nice homage. Make sure to stroll under the immense banyan tree, planted in 1936. Many kids will be quickly bored with this area, but adults will appreciate the relative peace, beauty, and quiet. It's also a great place to walk a tired little one in a stroller at nap time.

They also tried to preserve some more of the old Cypress Gardens by keeping a water ski show. The Lego version, Pirates' Cove Live Water Ski show, is not a show stopper, but the kids seemed to like it. You won't see any of the old water ski pyramids or difficult stunts and tricks. Instead, bumbling Lego costumed soldiers try to save Isabella's pirate ship from the bad pirate Captain Blackbeard. It's a bit cheesy for the adults, but the kids seemed to dig it.

The Island in the Sky is a rotating platform which rises over 100 feet above the park to give a 360 degree view of the area. It is not scary or fast, and the breeze from that height is quite lovely. If you are lucky you can catch part of the ski show from above and spot the Bok Tower in the distance — far more interesting that the Kmart and Bealls across the street.

As you stroll through the park, pay attention to the nearly life-size characters scattered around. The detail is amazing, and some have been created by Lego designers with an interesting sense of humor.

Food & Dining
The official policy says no outside food or drink except for baby formula or special medical needs. However, at the time we went, no one was checking bags for contraband pb&js or chips. No alcohol is sold in inside either (but it's only open until 5 anyway, so you can hold out).

There are 11 spots to grab a bite throughout the park, from funnel cakes to fried chicken. The selection in each dining area is specific: for a burger you must go to Castle Burger or Cap'n Blackbeard's Burger. Lakeside Sandwich Co. only has a small selection of premade sandwiches, wraps, and salads in a refrigerated case.

For more variety you can try FunTown Pizza Pasta Buffet ($10.99 adults, $6.99 kids) for all-you-can-eat pizza, pastas, and salads (but how much can you really eat for lunch?).

We chose the Market Restaurant and were pleased with our choice. They feature several stations including fresh fruits & snacks, soups, basic salad (not a salad bar though), a few Asian dishes, mac & cheese, and rotisserie chicken.

For $8.99 I bought a 1/2 chicken meal with two sides (choice of veggies, rice, or roasted potatoes) that was more than enough to split with my son. The chicken was tasty and the veggies fresh. My husband bought the 1/4 chicken meal ($6.99) and was stuffed.

There is also a Lego building station inside the restaurant to keeps kids busy while parents catch their breath — a nice touch.

Legoland's signature snack can be founds at Granny's Apple Fries. I saw countless visitors snacking on the warm cinnamon and sugar coated Granny Smith apple fries served with a whipped cream dipping sauce.

Shops

Unlike some of Central Florida's other theme parks, Legoland is not covered with souvenir shops and kiosks on every corner. It's rather refreshing. Most of the park's 11 retail outlets are close to the main entrance (which means they are packed around closing time — shop early in the day and they are empty).

The Big Shop is supposed to be one of the largest Lego stores in existence. I certainly saw every Lego set I had ever seen in the catalogs lining the walls. And the prices ARE NOT MARKED UP. They are the same as online at Lego.com or at your local superstore (Toy r Us is actually more expensive). You can buy a souvenir set without being fleeced, and they have many to choose from that you can't find locally. WIN.

Minifigure Market is touted as THE place to build your own custom figures, but there is not much to choose from. At the time of our visit there were about three different torsos and legs with a Halloween theme to mix with different hair and hat styles. There are no licensed figures to choose from (i.e. Star Wars, Harry Potter, etc.) Kiddo was not impressed. (3 mix & match Lego minifigures for $9.99) They also sold the minifigure "magnet" 3-packs ($14.99). They had a good selection (same as online) and this is the only real way to get many of the highly sought after licensed figures. (Beware: some of the figures cannot be detached from their magnets any longer.)

The coolest shop is the Pick A Brick area outside the Lego Factory. The Lego Factory itself is just a two-room "tour" of how the bricks are made, in kid-speak. At the end of the tour an official (and free) Legoland Florida souvenir brick pops out for each child before you walk through the Pick A Brick store. Hundred of colorful bins featuring Legos sorted by size, shape, and color line the wall. Bricks are bought by weight: you fill your bag with whatever you want and it is weighed at the register ($8.49 per 1/4 pound). Not too bad for some unusual pieces. Kiddo picked out some odds and ends he has never seen before for about $5. WIN.

My boys loved the small Lego Studios store, filled with Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Spongebob toys. It didn't hurt that they have a screen with the Lego Star Wars cartoon playing inside. I had to drag them both out.

There are a few other shops scattered around the park. The King's Market featured knight and princess costumes and weapons (foam, of course). Outside the Driving School you can purchase an official Legoland Drivers License on a lanyard ($14.99, but you get a paper copy without a photo for free).

Discount Tickets

Regular price adult one-day admission is $75, child (3-12) $65. While this is competitive with other Orlando parks, it is a bit pricey when you consider Legoland is only open from 10 - 5 daily. Annual passes are also available.

Currently, Legoland & Pepsi are a offering buy one adult ticket, get a child ticket free deal. Go to www.legoland.com/pepsi and enter promo code: 11090601. You can only get one free ticket at a time, so if you have more than one adult/child pair you will need to do each transaction separately. The child tickets just went up to $65 bucks, so this is a decent deal.

*(update 10/27/11) Publix Supermarkets are selling discounted tickets: Adult $60 and kids $50 (plus tax), a saving of $15 each from gate prices.

AAA Members can purchase discounted tickets at their local AAA branch, online, or by phone ($55.99 adults, $49.99 kids).

Central Florida Entertainment books have $5 discount coupons.

I'm going to stay on the lookout for discounts in the Lego Magazine. They run specials for all other parks, so hopefully soon some Florida deals will appear.

Parking is $12 per day.

Annual Pass Upgrade:
At the time of our visit, you could upgrade your one day ticket to a two-day ticket or annual pass while you are at the park.

The 2-day upgrade was $15 per ticket —not bad — but must be used within 10 days.

An upgrade to an Annual Pass was $50 (+ tax) for adults and $30 for children. It is good one year from the date of purchase and does NOT include $12 parking.

We haggled over whether or not to upgrade to an annual pass. In the end, we did not, mostly because of the 1 1/2 hour drive through rush hour traffic each way and because it wouldn't include the water park when it opens next spring/summer. We probably should have though.

Overall, we went on a good day. Granted, it was the Monday after grand opening, but the park (and parking lot) were pretty empty and we had virtually no waits all day. If it had been sunny, crowded, and in the middle of summer, it would have been hard to see as much by the early closing time of 5 p.m. We did not get to see every attraction as it was.

The grounds were lush and nicely landscaped. The Lego characters scattered throughout the park were as much fun as the rides. Keep your eyes open to spot "wildlife" around the rushing waterfall and study the details of the "people" around the park.

This park is perfect for elementary aged boys. I'm not trying to sound sexist, but I personally don't know too many girls who prefer blocks to Barbies. Yes, certainly some girls will dig it (I would have when I was a kid), but if they are more into princesses and fairies take them to Disney instead. If you only have children under age 5 and under 42" I would wait to go. The rides are geared to kids but not toddlers.

In the end, my son could not decide upon his favorite part of the day. He loved each ride, store, figure, and show. His only disappointments: he couldn't make a Captain Rex figure and Legoland wasn't located next door to our house with $5 admission. WIN.

**If you have any questions, please leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer it for you.

Cheers!

Flippant Foodie Friday: Crepes {part un}

2011-10-21T08:18:00.000-04:00

Have you checked out Bookshelf Bombshells yet? If not, got there...now.

I have a fabulous review of Cooking For Geeks: Real Science,Great Hacks, and Good Food by Jeff Potter up on the site. Check it out. It will prove that I am a real writer and occasionally intelligent, as well. The holidays (there are more of them than just Christmas, folks — get over it) are rapidly approaching, and I always have some guys in my life that are just impossible to shop for. You know who I'm talking about: your techie brother who rarely looks up from a screen, the dear friend who decided to make Napalm in his backyard at age twelve just to see if he could (and still thinks dangerous things are cool) — this book is perfect for them, and perhaps you too. Read the review and see for yourself.

I pick one recipe to "officially" review per selection, and I simply had to experiment with Jeff Potter's formula for crepes. I have had a secret love affair with crepes since I first discovered them at a French Club banquet in high school, but they can be tricky and time consuming to make. This recipe worked. The directions were clear and easy to follow. And they made sense.

I doubled the ingredients and ended up with 12 thin and pliant crepes. My taste testers swooned over them at dinner (with an Apricot-Dijon Chicken filling — I'll feature THAT recipe next week). And for dessert, Nutella and banana crepes with a chocolate drizzle. {drool} Try it. Your friends and family will thank you.

1-2-3 Crepes

Whisk or puree until entirely mixed, about 30 seconds:
1 cup (250g) milk (preferably whole milk)
2 large (120g) eggs
1/3 cup (40g) flour (all-purpose)
Pinch of salt

Let rest for at least 30 minutes, preferably longer, so that the gluten in the flour has a chance to thicken the batter. (Stash the batter in the fridge if you’re going to leave it for more than half an hour.)

Making crepes is like riding a bicycle: it takes practice before it’s easy. Expect to completely screw up the first few you make (training wheels!), and keep in mind that while the batter is easy and the technique simple, the error tolerances are actually pretty tight, so don’t get discouraged! Like riding a bicycle, it’s far easier to :: fast; going slow is hard.

Start with a nonstick frying pan over medium-high up the pan for about 30 seconds, or until a drop of water sizzles when dropped into it. Once your pan is at temperature, plan to work quickly: butter, wipe down, pour batter in while swirling, flip, flip again, add fillings, plate, and repeat. Because they’re fast and cheap, crepes are great for dinner parties or brunches, but you should definitely practice beforehand.

Butter: Grab a cold stick of butter with the wrapper partially pulled back, and using the wrapper part as a handle, spread a small amount of butter around the pan.

Wipe down: Use a paper towel to thin out the butter over the surface of the pan, wiping up almost all of it (and on repeats, any crumbs left behind from the previous crepe). The pan should look almost dry; you want a super-thin coating of butter, not noticeable streaks.

Pour: Pour in the batter while swirling the pan. Pour about 1/4 cup / 60 ml of batter into a 10″ / 25 cm pan, adjusting as necessary (you want enough batter to just coat the bottom evenly). While pouring in the batter with one hand, use your other hand to hold the pan in the air and swirl it so that the batter runs and spreads over the surface of the pan. If you can pour batter out of the pan after swirling, you’re using too much. If you’re short on batter, you can “spot pour” a bit in to fill in the gap. This is also the point at which you should check the heat of the pan; it should be hot enough that the batter develops a lace-like quality — little holes all over the crepe as the steam tunnels up through the batter. If your crepes come out whitish, turn up the heat.

Flip: Wait until the crepe begins to brown. Don’t poke, don’t prod; just let it cook. Once the crepe has begun to brown around the edges, use a silicone spatula (one of those folding spatulas works well) to push down the edge all around the circumference. This will release the edge of the crepe so that it lifts off the pan. Carefully grab that little edge to flip the crepe with both hands.

Flip Again: Let the crepe cook on the second side for half a minute or so, until it’s cooked. The first side should come out a uniformly brown tone, so flip the crepe again before adding the fillings. This will leave the better-looking side on the outside of the finished crepe.

Add fillings: Add whatever fillings you like. You can heat and even cook the fillings by leaving the pan on the heat during this step. Or, you can move the crepe to a plate and fill it off the heat if you’re using something cold (e.g., lox, cream cheese, dill). Crepes are a great vehicle for almost any filling, either savory or sweet. If a combination of ingredients works on pizza or in a pie, it’ll probably work in a crepe.

- From Cooking for Geeks by Jeff Potter

22 Things I've Never Done

2011-10-20T06:39:00.001-04:00

***I'm 37 and I've never:

Kissed my husband at the top of the Eiffel tower.

Wandered through a field of sunflowers.

Played in the snow.

Taken a gourmet cooking class (preferably in Italy or France).

Mastered walking in stilettos.

Officially learned how to surf.

Been published in a national magazine.

Built a bonfire on the beach.

Drunk a bottle of wine costing more than $50.

Cruised the Pacific Coast Highway in a sports car or convertible, preferably.

Been pampered with a massage or facial.

Caught dinner and a show on Broadway.

Been inked.

Bought an expensive designer purse.

Learned to like sushi.

Stared a great white shark in the eye (from inside a strong, steel cage, of course).

Watched orcas breech and porpoise in a frigid sound.

Jumped into a pile of crimson and bronze fall leaves (then raked them up again).

Danced at a masked ball.

Savored a twelve course tasting menu.

Snuggled up with my son in a tent in the woods and protected him from things that go bump in the night.

Finished my damn novel.

**Now Mama Kat and the Pioneer Woman came up with this great list. But while I pondered some of the things I someday want to do, I was thinking about all the cool things I HAVE done.

So I'm going to start a meme for that, so we can feel good about what we have achieved in our short lifetimes.

Come back here next Tuesday and link up 22 Things I HAVE Done. Have you run a marathon? Perfected the snow angel? Eaten octopus? We want to know.

Legoland Florida Miniland Tour

2011-10-19T07:27:00.001-04:00

The Grand Tour via Miniland, Legoland Florida style...
Seven distinctive themed areas, and the "heart of Legoland."

First stop South Beach. Note: it is the happening South Beach, full of models rollerblading, hunks working out, and hot cars. Twenty years ago it would have been full of 80-year-old snowbirds and walkers.

Lego sunbathers. Now my son will know how to create Lego breasts -- fabulous. Please note the chick on the right looks as if she has had work done (this IS South Beach, Miami). Also please note those are NOT water bottles or soda cans on the table (this IS South Beach).

So that's how you make a Lego banana hammock (a.k.a. speedo).

The Little Havana section of Miami. Please notice the old man in the lower right corner is about to whack the old man in the wheelchair. They take their games seriously.

I spotted Beyonce the Chicken posing on a corner of Little Havana.
(Yo, Blogess, I didn't know you pimped your chicken down there!)

Kids gathered around the space shuttle, counting down with the clock.

When it hit 00:00 steam came out of the engines. The adults thought it was cool.

The kids were mad because they thought it would actually lift off.

Next head right up the coast to Daytona International Speedway for a NASCAR race.

The infield is where all the 'real' fun happens during a week-long ~~party~~ camp-out. The girls are drinking tropical beverages under the umbrella, and I'm sure if I look closely enough there are plenty of beers to be found.

Also note the Lego Port-A-Potties on the right.

A short drive up the Florida coast will bring you to St. Augustine,

alleged home to the Fountain of Youth.

See how the aged strip off their clothes and turn into infants.

I don't want to go back that far, thanks...

And we can't forget Key West. Where else can you find cats jumping through fiery hoops (bottom center) and sword-swallowing tightrope walkers just across the street from everyone's favorite bar. I was pleased to see Legoland flies the Rainbow Flag proudly (must be the European influence -- they are far more open-minded and tolerant than us).

This shipwreck was pretty cool. Divers poked around treasure chests, coral reefs, and skeletons as a hammerhead shark prowled above.

I'm not sure where or what time period the pirate scene depicted, but several great sailing ships and a smoking volcano proved to be a big hit.

Next you have to go to Vegas, right?

I dare someone to count how many wedding couples they can find.

There are several by each hotel and many hidden as well, I'm sure.

I like the Luxor because it makes me imagine I am in a desert region full of vast cultural and anthropological history, instead of the gambling capital of the world.

With Elvis, of course. And the guy in the back looks like he is attacking the woman.

Where is CSI when you need them?

While there are many grand Vegas hotels depicted in Miniland,

I like the little wedding chapel.

I'm sure there is at least one Elvis inside.

Ahhh, Venice. Oh damn, we are still in Vegas. Never mind.

It is far too clean to be the real thing. And there are no pigeons. Or Japanese tour groups.

Or authentic amazing food and culture.

On to New York City. This model city is quite large and detailed.

Yes, the man in the orange is a full-sized adult.

They aren't called skyscrapers for nothing.

Quick stop in Central Park. I've always wanted to visit Strawberry Fields.

And I've always wanted to see how to make Lego dreadlocks.

I've already danced in a drum circle with hippies.

(I would have been the one with the curls and the bell bottoms in the center.)

Who doesn't love a trip to the Central Park Zoo?

With parrots and penguins and school girls...

The Sound of Plastic, live on Broadway...

and a mugging just outside? (See guy on bottom left with hands up.)

Times Square...wonder if they add in all the drunks and police on New Year's Eve?

Now off to our stately nation' s capitol. The Washington Monument.

I forgot to zoom in to see if it had any of the new cracks.

The presidential motorcade moved through the city.

I didn't spot any Tea Party protesters as it toured our capital.

President Obama and the first family standing in front of the White House.

Now off to Los Angeles for some mega star sightings in front of the Chinese Theater.

(I couldn't tell who the celeb was supposed to be...any ideas?)

A relaxing concert at the Hollywood Bowl...

A quick trip (just a few steps) to San Francisco's Golden Gate.

And make sure to spot the crazy cat lady with curlers in her hair waiting to be rescued from her great fire.

And I shall end, with a Lego kiss...

If you have an eye for detail and a love of Legos, you could spend hours wandering through Miniland, carefully examining the remarkable details the Lego builders added into every scene. Even if you are not a Lego aficionado, you will be amazed. Spend some time there.

Full Legoland Florida unbiased review coming up soon.

**This post is not sponsored by or affiliated with Legoland Florida. No compensation was received (meaning we paid for all our tickets, trinkets, parking, and food).

One-Buck Chuck and my Frugal Food Challange

2011-10-17T07:00:00.000-04:00

So back at the beginning of the month I wrote about My October Food Budget Challenge and promised to save ALL of my grocery receipts. The USDA thinks my little family of three should be spending $464 to $963 per month on groceries. I disagree.

Now, I DID mention that I am not including my wine budget. You can't make me.

But I do have to show off a Target frugal find from Friday:

No, I DO NOT DRINK Arbor Mist.

OR White Zin.

(Well, maybe in college, but that was a LONG TIME AGO.)

But I know people who do.

I'm just trying to be a nice hostess.

(They don't have to know it cost $1.)

The Martin Codax, however, is a Albarino from the wine reigion of Rias Baixas in Northwest Spain.

Reviews say its a pretty decent bottle for its $16 price point.

Personally, I like this bottle's $2 price point much better.

I would have bought more, but I scoured the shelves and it was the ONLY one.

I only hope it didn't sit in a truck for two years and taste like vinegar when we pop the cork.

Now back to the REAL budgeting.

Week 1 was tricky. I hosted Kiddo's birthday party and had ten family members over for lunch, cake, and drinks and I had to bring store-bought cupcakes into his class. There was also a ton of stuff I use on sale at Publix (with coupon matches--come on, how can I turn down pasta for a quarter?) so I had a much bigger shopping week than usual.

Week 1:

Publix $60.37 (saved $95.41 though)
Aldi $52.49
Walmart $15.84

TOTAL $128.70

Week 2:

Publix: $7.43
Aldi: $36.28

TOTAL: $43.71

The USDA says I should be spending between $108 (thrifty) and $192 (liberal) per week, so even with the big party week, I'm still doing okay.

{sticks tongue out at USDA}

We shall see how it goes. I still have to do a Costco run before the end of the month. Ka-ching.

Flippant Friend Friday: Things I Can't Say

2011-10-14T07:43:00.000-04:00

Today I'm hanging over at the sweet and sassy Shell's Things I Can't Say. You all have been by her blog, I know, whether it's for her heartfelt Pour Your Heart Out Wednesdays or some of her uber popular and fun memes such as Rockin the Bump. And if you haven't been by, you need to go there right now.

Things I probably shouldn't say (or write): I hate children's birthday parties. Being trapped in a melee of screaming kids running around with pinata bats or priate swords while on a massive sugar-high is bad enough. But having to host my own beloved Kiddo's party nearly gives me a panic attack.

Make sure you head over to Things I Can't Say to read all about how I am Martha Stewart's worst nightmare. Maybe you can relate. Or maybe you really are the hostess with the mostess and thrive in a throng of kids. Chime in on the conversation.

****************************

Now, as a little sidebar, I have to share a MAJOR DISCOVERY that may change your world.

Aldi sells their own version of Girl Scout Cookies.

{GASP!}

You no longer have to wait for the cookie booths to appear in the spring or your coworker to hit you up at work to buy some of her daughter's cookies. You can get them anytime. Well, at least a generic version of Thin Mints and Samoas (or Caramel Delights, depending on where you live).

This is NOT going to be good for my waistline. Or hips. Or self-control.

I'll admit...I haven't tested them out yet...I'm afraid once I take a bite I'll go back and buy a case. But I do feel it is my responsibility to let you know if they are any good, so I'll keep you updated.

Wordy Wino Wednesday: The Costume Edition

2011-10-12T07:09:00.002-04:00

*I am a horrid poet and I totally know it.
The following poem is purely for jest and fun
and because Mama Kat said I had to write one.

I apologize in advance.

*****

Halloween is a night for witches, ghosts, and ghouls,
yet now often teens and adults look like fools.
Gone are the costumes aimed to frighten and scare;
if you're a woman you must practically show your underwear.

Sexy fairy tale heroines stray far from their books
and naughty angels and French maids give sultry looks.
And who came up with the idea for a sexy raccoon?
Same guy as the sexy ninja turtle, I'd betcta the moon.

And who wants to emulate anyone from The Jersey Shore
with big hair and hoochie dresses, passing out on the floor?
If you are a woman you are supposed to dress like a vamp
and your costume should show off your tattooed tramp stamp.

As I've seen teen girls wearing these outfits looking glib,
I wonder whatever happened to that old idea of Women's Lib?
Women can be beautiful, strong and smart
without looking like a hooker or common tart.

We should show off our talents, our brains, our grace;

for we are better than this, we've earned our place.
If I was to go out and have a good time
I think I would pick a costume representing one of my favorite things — wine!

Wine Goddess

Dionysus God of Wine Costume

(he kind of looks like Hubby anyway)

Wine Wench

Vineyard Vixen

It's Bubbly Champagne

Rasta Imposta Daqueri Costume

Martini Girl

What do you think? Would any of these outfits make me (or YOU) the life of the party?

Cheers?

Dirty Minds as Dick Has Fun With Jane

2011-10-10T09:33:00.002-04:00

Just before Kiddo started learning to read I found a Storybook Treasury of Dick and Jane at our library book store. (BTW the BEST place to build a kids personal book collection on the cheap while you support your local public library branch.)

I vividly remember sitting at my kindergarten table and reading from my paperback Dick and Jane reader. I snatched that book up and brought it home imagining hours of bonding with my child while fondly reminiscing about my own childhood.

Instead I learned that the Hubby and I have very dirty minds. It was the end of our innocence.

We always read to Kiddo before bed. Dick and Jane seemed to be the perfect book to get him started reading to us. Simple little stories about Dick and his sister Jane's adventures with Baby Sally and Spot and the whole vintage clan. A new word or two is introduced in each chapter and the stories slowly build word recognition and reading skills.

Except it became too damn hard to keep a straight face and not start giggling...especially after a glass of wine.

See, Baby.
See, see.
Oh, oh, oh.
Oh, Dick.
Look and see.
See Baby.

Sounds like something from the latest Top Ten sexually infused rap/pop song, right?

From Puff and Dick:

Come Baby.
Look up, Baby
Look up and see Puff.
Look up and see Dick.
See Dick go up.
See Dick go up, up, up.
Oh, Jane.

See Dick come down.

See Puff come down.
Down, down, down.
Oh, oh, oh.
See Puff come down.

I swear, we were both biting our bottom lips and struggling not to bust out laughing. Come on.

Jane said, "Oh, Dick.
I cannot find the balls.
Come, Dick, come.
Come and find the balls."
Dick said, "I see it.
I see the big ball."
Jane said, "Oh, Dick..."

Or how about:

Come, come.
Come and see.
See Father and Mother.
Father is big...

Couldn't they change Dick's name to Tom or Harry? Okay, maybe not Harry...and certainly not Willy. I had to have a lovely discussion with Kiddo about how some boys are named Willy and it is not because they resemble a penis. How about Floyd or Milton or Roger...no innuendos hiding in those names.

Since we are past the days of Dick and Jane in our house, I am generously going to pass along this treasure to another family. And I can't wait to hear if they have dirty minds too.

The Homemade Jedi Costume: A Jedi Seamstress, Am I

2011-10-06T06:24:00.005-04:00

The Force runs strong in this family.

The father's devotion was passed down to his son. Much like his father, he is.

Star Wars is holy in our home.

Whether it is vintage toys and classic movies or Legos and The Clone Wars, we seem to live, eat (yes, we even have table ware) and breath the ways of the Force.

It was a given that my young one would choose to be something Star Wars for Halloween. The ready made costumes were cheesy and too expensive. Being the inexperienced seamstress and incompetent crafter that I am, I decided I would try to make a Jedi costume in no time at all and for a fraction of the price.

Do not underestimate the powers of a woman on a budget.

$15? No thanks.

I asked my M-I-L, an accomplished seamstress, for help and advice (since I am afraid of my sewing machine's vast powers). She said we had to BUY a pattern. You cannot sew anything without a proper pattern.

That is not how I roll.

Patience. Use the Force. Think.

I harnessed the power of the internet to guide me on my quest. I googled the instructions.

There is no try. Only do or do not.

Eventually, I used two yards of cheap fabric, some photos from one of our many Star Wars books, and this easy to follow How to Make a Jedi Robe tutorial to whip up a Jedi costume for my young Padawan Apprentice.

Okay, perhaps "whip up" may be a bit of an exaggeration. It took me about two days of fighting with my cursed machine to figure this out, but in the end, it wasn't rocket science or like trying to fix a hyperdrive.

Even our animals feel the way of the Force, they do.

My chosen one, his powerful light saber drawn, as he confronts the dark side.

(Who knew Darth Vader liked candy?)

A happy one, is he...

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Wish You Were Here

2011-10-05T06:30:00.001-04:00

Heaven.

Did I mention there is a hammock, a book,

and cloudless blue skies involved as well?

Cheers & wish you were here...

Filet tastes on a franks & beans budget: My October Challange

2011-10-03T09:13:00.002-04:00

While ~~wasting time~~ being productive on twitter last week, I stumbled upon a tweet which piqued my interest.

Groceries? Money? I followed the link to the Official USDA Food Plans: Cost of Food at Home at Four Levels. After I pushed my jaw back up from my chest, I found the information exceptionally interesting. According to these scientifically and mathematically formulated charts, my little family of three should be spending at the grocery store each month:

$4880 - thrifty plan
$633.90 - low-cost plan
$783.80 - moderate plan
$964.40 - liberal plan

$964 per month? We'd have to be dining on filet mignon with a side of every off-season fruit and veggie sauteed in truffle butter each night for dinner. Maybe some homemade tiramisu as well (that darned marscapone cheese IS expensive). I could make all the recipes I wanted to try — like truffled deviled eggs — from the new Cook Like A Rock Star cookbook I am reviewing for Bookshelf Bombshells. I would never have to clip another coupon in my life.

Now, these numbers are assuming all monthly means and snacks are prepared at home. Hubby and Kiddo brown-bag lunch and we almost never eat out, so these number should mesh, right?

I am not about to reveal our wine budget.

You must possess top secret wino clearance to be privy to that information.

What a fabulous idea. I believe I will.

I blogged last year about my grocery shopping addiction. If you haven't read that post yet, you should — it explains my love affair with grocery stores and the rush I get when I score fabulous deals. Not all of us can climb mountains, jump out of perfectly good airplanes, or afford a vicious drug habit — a girl has to get her thrills somewhere. Everyone needs some hobbies, and well, I love food and I have a puney budget, so I have learned to make due.

I am nowhere near an extreme couponer; those people are certifiably crazy and I'm sure there will be an official disease named for them soon (couponaholic? suffering from extreme unnecessary stockpiling syndrome?). I do not illicit looks of terror form the cashiers when they see me coming.

I shop at three stores. I hit Costco for frozen meats, paper goods, and sometimes produce. I go to Publix for whatever is on sale (BOGO dry goods, frozen foods, and a tiny bit of meat and produce), and I use Aldi for just about everything else (milk, eggs, produce, and many other things are ALWAYS cheaper there). Oh, and I hit the Entenmann's outlet for bread and bagels ($1 for whole grain Arnold breads and Thomas' bagels, okay).

Yes, this takes some extra time, but time I have, money I don't. It works for us.

So this month I am going to save all of my grocery receipts so I can discover what I really spend on food. I don't have a set budget; I buy whatever is on sale. Some weeks I spend next to nothing, some weeks I stock up. I will be curious to see how it really evens out.

I am also starting will a full pantry and freezers (they are always full). Technically, we could go an entire month without shopping and not starve, but that would just be no fun. I will shop as per normal.

I have a couple of birthday parties and family entertaining events to work in this month. How much will that add to the bottom line? I'll find out and let you know.

This should be interesting. And I will see if I have to eat my words...

Flippant Foodie Friday: Mushroom, Prosciutto & Fontina Quesadillas

2011-09-30T07:25:00.002-04:00

I am all about quick and easy dinners around here. Unless there is a special occasion or I am craving a particular dish, my meals better be ready in thirty minutes or less. But that doesn't mean they need to come out of the freezer or a box (although sometimes they do — I warned you, I can never be a real foodie).

I read about a zillion cooking magazines, so I don't quite remember which recipe inspired this dish. I usually read several recipes and switch them around to what I have on hand.

Taco night is BIG at our house. Luckily, anything in a tortilla or wrap can be considered a taco to Kiddo. {Whew} He loves this recipe — which he calls mushroom tacos — and the Hubby and I can enjoy a meal with slightly more refined tastes than a box of Old El Paso.

Mushroom, Prosciutto & Fontina Quesadillas

serves 4 (2 adults & 2 children as 2 tortillas per adult and 1 per child)

6 flour tortillas
6 slices prosciutto
1 small to medium red onion, thinly sliced
1 8-12 oz. package Baby Bella (Crimini) mushrooms, sliced
4 oz. Fontina cheese (roughly about half an 8 oz. wedge) sliced thin (you can grate, but it's tough because it's a soft cheese)
garlic pepper
herbs de Provence
a handful of washed baby spinach**
1 tbsp. butter
non-stick spray

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Lightly spray a large baking sheet with non-stick spray.
Melt butter in a large skillet. Saute the onions and mushrooms until tender, about 10 minutes. Toss in the spinach at the last minute to wilt. Season to taste with garlic pepper and herbs de Provence.

Meanwhile, spread the tortillas out on the baking sheet. Spread cheese over half of each. Lay a slice of prosciutto over the other halves.

Spoon the onion/mushroom mixture over the cheese on each tortilla, dividing evenly. Fold the prosciutto half over the mixture and arrange the quesadillas on the baking sheet.

Bake for 3 minutes. Take baking sheet out of oven and flip each quesadilla. Bake for another 2 to 3 minutes, or until both sides have some brown spots and are slightly crisp.

Cut each quesadilla in half and serve.

**I sometimes add zucchini or yellow squash (if I have it on hand) sliced very thinly instead of spinach. If you use, cook them with the mushrooms and onions for the full amount of time.

Cheers & enjoy!

I Love Fall Foods @Kludgy Mom

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Christmas in September?

2011-09-28T07:10:00.000-04:00

While running through JoAnne's this afternoon I was shocked to see holiday decorations already lining the isles. No, not Halloween (that's already on clearance), not Thanksgiving (currently marked 50% off), but Christmas. In September. But, I'm still getting used to this back-to-school thing...I haven't even started thinking about Halloween yet...it's still 90 freaking degrees outside, for Christ's sake... STOP the PRESSURE!

Then one ornament caught my eye, then another, and yet another. WINE ornaments. Hmmmm...Maybe I'll have to go back in a few months when they are on sale, there is a slight nip in the air, and I feel the slightest hint of holiday cheer...

{Please excuse the photo fuzziness — my phone is practically an antique.}

If you are on my holiday gifting list, please at least pretend to be surprised if you see one of these under the tree.

Cheers my friends...

Shark Teeth & Surgery

2011-09-26T08:15:00.004-04:00

Sometimes being a parent is gut-wrenching and harder than ever imagined. Sometimes it's grand. My guts are exhausted and sore today, still recovering from a rough week.

My baby had surgery last week. Granted, it was oral surgery, and my baby will be eight in a few weeks, but scalpels, sedation, stitches, and extractions are serious enough business in this house to liquefy my insides with worry.

Surprisingly, this story starts not long after Kiddo was born. He had a little notch in his lip, like a small dent or scar, which was sometimes very noticeable and sometimes not. Occasionally people would ask what he did to his lip — a fall? Toddling accident? Slip in the tub?

The answer was none of the above.

As his teeth came in there was a slight gap right behind the lip notch and a faint line on his gums. His pediatrician finally diagnosed it as a slight cleft lip, the result of an amniotic band. Nothing to worry about, he said, it could have been MUCH worse (a cleft palate), and he could refer us to a plastic surgeon to fix it up.

When I looked up the plastic surgeon's websites, all I saw was ads for breast enlargement and face lifts. I decided to wait and see what happened as he grew. I made the right choice, and now it is barely noticeable. If he wants to undergo surgery for a faint scar someday, that will be his choice, but I was NOT about to put my toddler through unnecessary surgery.

Flash forward five or so years...

An x-ray during a routine dental cleaning reveals severe crowding on Kiddo's top jaw with no room for an adult tooth to come down; we get an immediate referral to the Orthodontist. After $1000 we leave the ortho's office with an appointment to get an expander put in his mouth and a referral to an Oral Surgeon: the panoramic x-ray showed two extra teeth on his bottom jaw. These supernumerary teeth were crowded in together, like shark's teeth.

And they would have to come out.

And get this: even though this surgery was the result of a birth defect, it is not covered by medical insurance. Yes, I called and begged and tried. I got some sympathy, but no coverage.

Our dental insurance would pay for part of the surgery, but not the $350 CAT scan x-ray the oral surgeon insisted upon, and, get this, NOT the anesthesia. It is not considered "medically necessary" to knock out a 7-year-old when cutting open his mouth, digging and ripping out at least two teeth well below the gum line, and stitching him up. I disagreed. The surgeon did as well (and would not attempt the surgery without Kiddo being out cold) yet insurance said we had to cough up the $500.

Have I mentioned that I hate insurance companies?

I did my best to stay calm and optimistic around Kiddo in the time leading up to the surgery. He knew he was going to get a "sleepy shot" then wake up and it would all be over. He stayed pretty calm (partly because he was excited to miss two days of school). I was a wreck. I bought every soft food I could think of: five flavors of smoothie mix, a dozen soups, mashed potatoes, pudding, mac & cheese, ice cream, apples sauce, yogurt. I couldn't sleep I was so riddled with worry, but I kept smiling in front of the patient.

The night before we gave him the prescribed Atavan, supposedly to make him foggy and not tense. They should have prescribed one for me.

The morning of surgery he was loopy and happily watching t.v. I rubbed the Tergaderm cream on his inner elbows and tops of his hands, to numb the areas for before the "sleepy shot." I gave him another Atavan. He seemed fine — this was going too easy (for him) — then he started crying and pleading with us not to make him go.

We had to carry him to the car, and I sat in the back seat with him, attempting to distract him and wiping away his tears of fright.

Once in the office he sat curled in my lap like an over-sized infant until we were called back. The dental chair DID look scary. He started getting hysterical, begging us to take him home. We had to hold him down while they injected the IV. Then were escorted out. My heart broke.

After an hour of waiting, we were told the surgery went very well, and he was awake and ready for us. I expected a groggy boy. Instead I found a hysterical mess. I scooped him up and carried him to the car as he begged for water. His mouth was numb and the drugs were not agreeing with him. He couldn't understand what was going on. My insides twisted like a dish towel watching his misery and confusion.

He was drugged up, nauseous, and miserable until about six o'clock that day. Then, as if some good witch waved her magic wand, my strong, funny little boy emerged from his fog. He begged for some food and stories. He turned chatty and full of swollen smiles. I was able to exhale. He was going to be okay.

The tooth fairy got fleeced at our house that night. Five teeth netted Kiddo enough to buy a few Lego sets the next day. My fridge is still loaded with mushy foods he rejected, but that's just fine.

Today he goes back to school. At the bus stop he started a heated game of tag, all smiles and full of energy. My baby is back. He will be fine.

And so will I.

Today, parenting will be grand, right?

Killer Whales and Kindness

2011-09-23T10:30:00.001-04:00

*After reading articles in the Orlando Sentinel over the last few days regarding the Sea World vs. OSHA trial, I decided this post, recycled from last year, was once again relevant and appropriate. In a citation issued by OSHA after a six-month investigation, the agency has recommended that trainers never again have close contact with Sea World's killer whales without a physical barrier or an equivalent level of protection. Sea World is challenging the finding. Original publication date: April 27, 2010.

Sunday the Kiddo and I escaped to Sea World for one of our Mommy & Son bonding days full of sharks, sandboxes, and, of course, Shamu. We have had annual passes since the Kiddo was not even two, and although we cannot go nearly as much as we used to due to school schedules, we cherish these days of fun and learning.

Our local news has been in an uproar over the death of killer whale trainer Dawn Brancheau last month (February 2010) at Sea World. Brancheau, an experienced trainer, was dragged underwater by Tilikum, a 12,000 pound orca with a "questionable" past. The press has been playing a vicious blame game with Sea World, accusing them of unsafe working conditions, animal maltreatment and exploitation. Now OSHA and PETA are also going after them, and even Capitol Hill is supposedly holding a hearing Tuesday to determine if marine mammals should be held in captivity.

Amidst all this unnecessary brouhaha, I made it a priority to see Believe, the current orca show which highlights not only the majesty of these animals but their integral relationships with their trainers. I have seen the show dozens of times over its 4-year run, and it is always different. Some days the whales were ON, seemingly feeding off the audience's energy, amazing me with their synchronized jump, flips, and splashes. Other days they seemed distracted or perhaps a bit lazy, showing off only a few behaviors, yet still delighting the crowds of first-time watchers. I love it, no matter what they do. Just to be in their proximity is enough. I secretly yearn to be one of the lucky trainers in the water with these awe-inspiring creatures, communicating with them, stroking their shiny skin, feeling their power, their intelligence, their affection.

Sea World trainers during the Believe show May 2009

(before the current "no interaction" policy).

The changes in the show we witnessed Sunday were drastic. The trainers were no longer allowed in the water with the orcas (which was the main component of the show) and they had to stay several feet back from the water even when feeding them. The "show" element did not disturb me however, our entertainment was not the priority, but the lack of physical attention these animals were now receiving saddened me. They are used to getting rub downs, hugs, tongue scratches and genuine affection from their trainers and now it was being forcefully withheld from them. I always believed that the attention, affection, and positive rewards that they received was one of the main reasons they tolerated captivity.

Later that day, we walked around to the rear of Shamu Stadium to the underwater viewing tank. Some days we are lucky and one or more of the whales would be swimming around in the rear tank and we would see them only a few feet away from us. I saw a glimpse of black passing by so the Kiddo and I ran down for a closer look. Kiddo was up right against the glass when the whale swam by and bumped the glass.

Now, when a creature weighing several tons "bumps" anything, it is a bit forceful and quite a surprise. Everyone crowded around the window jumped back a little and gave an amazed laugh. The whale came back again, and bumped a bit harder. When it circled back the next time, it paused directly in front of Kiddo and opened it's mouth wide before moving on. Even though there was a thick glass, I clamped onto him and gave a very nervous laugh. A visitor behind us asked Kiddo if the whale had any cavities, because he sure saw ALL her teeth. We stayed there for one more loop of the tank and window bump before I decided I had enough. This was not normal behavior. It seemed aggressive, and thought we were perfectly safe, I was uncomfortable.

We started to leave when I spotted the employee usually stationed at the viewing area to educate guests and answer questions. I casually asked, "What's up with the glass bumping? I've been here dozens of times and never seen that." She gave a very nervous laugh, pasted a fake smile on her face, and said she had never seen it either. She had just called the behavior in to the trainers. Maybe the whale had a toothache and was trying to get someone's attention. She was obviously trying to communicate something, but what?

I left feeling very sorry for these orcas and the people that love them.

Not because these whales and other animals live here in captivity. I firmly believe that Sea World does an outstanding job of caring for their animals and educating the masses about the wonders of these creatures. No, their lives are not the same as if they were in the wild. Many of the animals in the park have been rescued from certain death in the wild, and if possible they are rehabilitated and released.

Each person that has the opportunity to see one of these magnificent animals (which they would never have the chance to see in the wild) leaves with a better understanding, a greater appreciation, and a heart more willing to help protect them and the conserve their environment. There is just no comparison between watching a nature show on t.v. versus actually seeing a dolphin, making eye contact, watching it frolic and play (sometimes with real toys) to gain an understanding and respect for these amazing mammals. The few kept in captivity are essentially ambassadors for their species.

OSHA and the press need to chill on their witch hunt as well. They are treating the trainers as if they are children who don't know they are playing with fire and that fire can burn. No one becomes a killer whale trainer without knowing the inherent dangers of the job. It is not a career one chooses because they are tired of flipping burgers. It is a passion, a lifestyle, chosen by compassionate and intelligent individuals whose love for these animals overshadows the risks involved. The bond between the animals and their trainers has now been stretched, and all parties are suffering.

Perhaps that is what she was trying to tell us...with all of the bureaucratic bumbling, please show us some kindness and don't forget what we need...

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Party Skirt

2011-09-21T07:25:00.000-04:00

You have read about my skirt shopping addiction.

Seriously, how could I resist this adorable retro print —

it simply screamed my name from the thrift store rack.

I'm ready for #wineparty now...who's coming?

Flippant Foodie Friday: Bombshells and Blueberry Puppy Dogs

2011-09-16T07:53:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned that I am a Bombshell yet?

Bookshelf Bombshells is the brainchild of several close friends who have a few crucial things in common: they all read, they all have opinions, and they all have breasts. Clearly, the way forward would be to share all of those things with the Internet (metaphorically so, for that last bit). Thus was born Bookshelf Bombshells, book reviews and author interviews by beautiful, brainy women. Our staff of literate ladies are hot for everything between the covers, from vicious vampires to juicy memoirs, from hard science to soft romance. We lust for the well-written word.

http://bookshelfbombshells.com

I was tickled when I was invited to be the Food & Wine Book Reviewer. A chance to read cookbooks, foodie memoirs, and drink guides before they are released? The opportunity to test new recipes before their collections hit the bookshelves? Oh, yeah...I did not have to be asked twice. I am also the reigning Copy Kitten — which basically means I (along with several other brilliant women) get to proof everyone else's work. Rather amusing, considering half the time I barely have the chance to proof my own words before I throw them up on this site.

My first review is Slippery Tipples by Joseph Piercy: A Guide to Weird and Wonderful Spirits & Liqueurs. Sound intriguing? Check it out.

Of course, I chose to test out the recipe featuring one of my all-time favorite indulgences, limoncello.

Blueberry Puppy Dogs

10cl limoncello
2cl lemon juice
2cl simple syrup (sugar and water mix)
1 cup of blueberries
10cl carbonated water

A delightful frozen cocktail for hot summer afternoons. In a blender or with a hand blender mix the blueberries with lemon juice, simple syrup, and limoncello until they form a rough slush. Add the carbonated water and freeze for two hours. When ready to serve thaw for twenty minutes and spoon the icy slushy mixture into tall glass. Drink with a straw and maybe garnish with a sprinkle of chopped blueberries.

-From Slippery Tipples by Joseph Piercy

Are your lips smacking yet? You know you want to read more. For the full book review (and many more spanning genres from chick lit to urban fantasy with a plethora of others mixed in) head over to the Bookshelf Bombshells site, follow us on Twitter @bookshelfbmshls, or "like" us on Facebook.

CHEERS!

These Magic Moments {Wordless Wine-less Wednesday}

2011-09-14T08:50:00.002-04:00

Last night Kiddo was telling us how he wanted to move to Costa Rica. As much as we dream of that as well, we tried to explain that is just isn't feasible.

"But I still have all our Costa Rica money," he said. "We can move there and be rich." He ran to his room and dug through his fire engine bank. He proudly presented me with 350 Colones...the equivalent of 69 cents.

Maybe not this year...

Looking back at photos, it's easy to see why he was so utterly enchanted by that distant land full of magical moments...

Movie Theater Mayhem

2011-09-12T06:28:00.029-04:00

Dear Incompetent Parents of Obnoxious Children:

Please, please stay out of my movie theater. I beg you. If I had more balls (or technically any at all) I would whip around in my chair and tell you to control your rotten child, but alas, I was raised with manners—unlike you.

I go to the discount theater with my own child fully realizing there is more leniency there. It is where I taught my toddler how to behave in a movie theater. But I TAUGHT him.

It is not a place where you let kids run wild and free. We are not at the zoo or playground.

I really did not appreciate your little boy bouncing on the back of my chair and blowing spit bubbles into my ear. I was rather annoyed when he dumped his jumbo candy into my purse (perhaps sugar was not the best thing to give a wired child considering ~~you~~ I wanted him to SIT STILL). I started getting pissy when he began shouting "I want to go home!" at the top of his whiney voice. Guess what? I really freaking wanted him to go home too. Perhaps that was a subtle clue for you to remove him to a place where you could have a nice little chat about indoor voices.

I understand kids will wiggle around and talk during movies. This is a given. My own child does a bit. But when you converse back with him in your full-on-New-Jersey outdoor voice you really aren't setting very good example. You kinda need to whisper to him, get close in his ear, and explain that YOU DON'T YELL DURING A MOVIE. You drop your voice to that very quiet but dead serious tone and tell him. If you do not have that very useful I mean business now voice, get one. Threaten his life or to take away his TV or video games or his popcorn and candy. Or heaven forbid, tell him if he doesn't behave he will miss the rest of the movie.

You see, kids don't automatically know how to behave in theaters (or restaurants, on airplanes, I could go on and on). It is not an innate behavior. That is why we must TEACH them how they should behave. It's kinda our job.

So asking him, "Jakie, don't you want to sit down?" isn't really going to work. Obviously he does NOT want to sit down. He wants to run up the row bumping everyone's chairs and making us spill our drinks in our laps. You TELL him to sit down. Try it. It may work better. YOU are the parent. And if you cannot control your spawn in any way it is time to leave.

And that brings me to people with infants. I completely understand it's too hard and ridiculously expensive to get a sitter. That's why I have no life. You can bring your infant to a movie if it will stay sleeping or at least content. But if that baby starts screaming at the tops of its tiny yet extremely effective lungs it is time to STEP OUTSIDE. I don't care if you don't want to miss a part of the movie. THE REST OF US don't want to miss it either. When I can't hear the already deafening dialog over your baby's wailing it's time to go. And bouncing in the isle while the baby wails and you hiss "shhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhh" over the sound of the movie doesn't cut it either. Into the lobby, I beg you.

What's missing in these situations is a little thing called common courtesy. I understand it is no longer common, but please learn about it.

And Incompetent Mom—you are SO lucky it was a cheapo movie. If I had paid $15 a piece just for us to walk in the door I would have been in the managers face to have you removed. But alas, there are always a few families like your around, which is why I hardly ever set foot in a movie theater anymore. Life is too short to pay to be in your presence for 2+ hours.

Sincerely,

A Mom with Manners

Flippant Friday: Pinterest is for Sickos

2011-09-09T07:42:00.003-04:00

I've been a little off this week. The first back-to-school cold has hit—not the Kiddo—but me. So I've been lucky to get any home-cooked food on the table. No creative cooking for me.

Since I have been hopped up on Dayquil (non-drowsy—yes, non-hallucinogenic—no) I haven't been getting much done. I was actually too out of it to READ. That is nearly impossible. I had to find other pursuits to occupy my long days alone.

I delved into Pinterest.

An addiction was born.

I mean, what better entertainment is there when your eyes are glazed over and you need vast quantities of time wasted? Thousands upon thousands of neat and nifty gifts, recipes, fashion, decorating ideas flashing right before your eyes in a never-ending stream.

And I learned so many vital things this week:

I am not crafty.

I take crappy photos.

I do not know how to accessorize.

I need to learn to walk in high ~~hells~~ heels.

I need many scarves and I must learn how to tie them.

I can dig out all my old jewelry from high school. It's back in style.

I am grateful my Grandma gave me loads of vintage jewelry—it's back in style too.

I need belts and brightly colored shoes.

I must work harder to create unique gifts for teachers, relatives, and everyone in my life, because apparently I don't care enough to send the very best.

I should spend more time decorating my abode to create a dreamlike home full of tranquility and bliss.

I should have colored handbags to match all of my colored shoes and accessories.

I do not know how to decorate for the holidays.

There are far too many recipes containing cream of chicken/mushroom/celery soup (ick).

Mad Men brought 50's dresses and glamor back.

That glamor can work with tattoos (who knew?).

I knew I should have been saving all of my wine corks to make cool projects.

Braids and buns are back in style.

There are many other Nutella addicts out there.

I need to save money to travel, so I can't buy above listed scarves, jewelry, purses, and shoes.

I need to win the lottery to buy all this stuff and pay someone to dress me, decorate my house, and make crafty things (so I can take all the credit).

So, instead of cooking, I'll just link you up with some of the fav recipes I found.

Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffins

Frozen Samoa Pie

Donut & Nutella Acorns

Pumpkin Cheesecake Truffles

Nutella Donuts

*Absolutely NONE of these are mine, but I DO plan on trying them all out.

Have you been bit by the Pinterest bug yet?

Chasing Skirt

2011-09-06T10:00:00.001-04:00

Hello. My name is Vinobaby, and I may have a slight skirt obsession. Not necessarily chasing them (ahem, not my thing), but buying them and wearing them.

For some reason, I just cannot pass up a cute skirt. I brought home two more today. And two a few days before. But they were cheap — $1.82 for a gorgeous Ann Taylor sable suede and only $3 a piece for some adorable summer prints. I can't help myself.

I think it all started about four years ago when Kiddo entered pre-school. I no longer spent my entire day on my hands and knees picking up blocks from under the couch and cheerios from every nook and cranny imaginable. I didn't have to worry about bending over all day. And I was tired of looking like a unkempt hause frau.

So I bought a khaki skort to test the waters. I could still bend over at the playground without showing of my VS striped panties. It worked. Soon I ditched the skorts for real skirts. They were cooler and more comfortable than anything else I had worn. And paired with a simple tank or t-shirt I looked, as one SAHM friend commented, all dressed-up and nice...

Skirts started showing up in stores like TJ Maxx and Marshalls. For just a few bucks I could wear something besides khaki shorts and a t-shirt to Open House. Once I started hitting the thrift stores, forget it — a skirt girl was born.

And now I'm wondering: are my frugal fashionista ways are turning into an addiction? Compulsion? Hoarding? Disease?

I just counted and I found at least 38 hanging in my over-stuffed closet. I'm out of hangers. And I didn't count the work skirts or suit bottoms I may someday wear if I ever make it back to the corporate world. Or, more likely, at least I may wear them again someday to a funeral or something.

But I probably paid less for all of those skirts than a normal woman pays for one pair of shoes. That makes it okay, right? (Say yes, say yes, say yes...) I may have a habit, but it's cheaper than Cristian Louboutins, Louis Vuittons, or crack...

Louboutin Double Noued Sandals $995

Louis Vuitton Cabas PM Escale $1,490

And I feel great about myself when I am wearing my skirts...free, feminine, fun, and flirty...I can take on the world, Baby.

Now the question is...will I go out for more today?

Flippant Foodie Friday: Tangerine Cello

2011-09-02T08:25:00.002-04:00

"Pure sunshine in a bottle."

That's my favorite description of Limoncello, the refreshing and iconic drink of the Italian Coast. Hubby and I fell in love with the lemon liquor during our honeymoon in Italy. After each dinner (and occasionally even lunch) our cameriere (waiter) would deliver the delighful chilled shot glass of brilliant yellow liquid. Whether sipped or shot, a glass of this elixir leaves you with a slight afterglow, as if you have been kissed by the sun.

Since we couldn't stay in Italy forever (oh, how I wish we could have) we had to hunt down our new favorite after-dinner digestivo stateside. Ten years ago, that wasn't so easy. Luckily, a co-worker's Italian Mother graced us with her family reicpe. Making limoncello became Hubbys passion, nearly an obsession, as he tried to duplicate the taste he so fondly remembered from our lazy days in Italian cafes.

Don't worry, we shared. Limoncello became a holiday tradition. Friends and relatives threatened to withhold our gifts if we didn't give them another years supply under the tree. Yeah, it was that good.

When we moved into our home we were pleased to discover it came with a mature tangerine tree. It produced bushells of fruit. And we had no idea what to do with all of it. One year Hubby got a flash of culinary brillance and decided to adapt our Limoncello recipe to use up our bounty of tangerines.

A new specialty drink was born. And drunk. And enjoyed.

I'm going to share our TOP SECRET recipe with you. This recipe makes quite a big batch -- enough to last you a year (unless you have a wicked drinking problem) and to share. Make it. Your friends will LOVE you...

Trattoria Morgan's Tangerine Cello

1 kilo tangerines - 2.2 lbs (about 10)
1 liter grain alcohol*
1.25 liters water
700 grams (3 1/2 cups) sugar

Step 1
Zest tangerines. Take a zester or a fine grater and remove only the colored part of the rind. *Avoid the white pith -- it is bitter and will change the flavor.* (This part is messy, but your whole house will smell like a citrus grove.)

Pour the grain alcohol into a large glass jug or jar (must have a lid to seal). Add the zested rind. Let it sit for two weeks. (Yes, it must be glass. Large mason jars or recycled gallon sized wine bottles work well. The citric acids will corrode plastic.)

Step 2 (two weeks later)
In a large pot, bring the water and sugar to a boil. Stir until sugar is completely dissolved. Cool.

Layer some cheesecloth over a mesh strainer and set over a large bowl. Pour the grain/rind carefully into the strainer, filtering out all of the rind. Pour the (nice orange) alcohol back into the glass jar.

Add in cooled sugar water.

Let it sit another week or two. Store in glass or distribute into smaller, decorative bottles. Keep servings in the freezer -- it is best ice cold.

*Many recipes call for vodka, but we prefer grain. Higher alcohol content = no chance of it freezing when you store it in the freezer. But if you can 't find grain (I'm told some states won't sell it?) you can use vodka.

Take three shots and email me in the morning.
If you do any more I don't want to hear from you (and don't blame your hangover on me).

Salute!

{that's "cheers" in Italian, you know...}

Wordless Wino Wednesday: The Morning After

2011-08-31T07:19:00.000-04:00

On a much lighter note...

Remnants of a good night.

{No, not last night, but a memorable recent Saturday evening.}

2005 Silver Oak Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon

2008 Gnarley Head Old Vine Zin

2009 Big Ass Zin

and a reserve bottle of Winking Owl Chardonnay

Steaks on the grill

Potato, Proscuitto, & Fontina Cakes (recipe to come)

Sabrina's Spinach Salad

Cheers, lovelies...

Vinobaby's Voice

My words, My Voice

I Should Have Been a French Parent

It's My SITS Day & the Origin of Vinobaby

Scalloped fingers with a side of mandolin whine

Confessions of a Scary Mommy: The Book, The Review

Nike Ads & New Atitude

My Golden (Globe) Boy

What posts are you most proud of?

Memories Captured

where the *magic* happens

Frog Zen

Buy More Girl Scout Cookies to Sate the Hate

Wordless Wednesday: Read My Shirt

Yes, It's Too Sexy for ANY Yearbook

Let's (not) Talk About Money

Just for today...

Wordless Wednesday: the cat speaks...

Santa Baby — Wordless Wednesday

Dear Coldplay: a note from the little people

A Gabberflasted Santa

Everything Was Beautiful at the Ballet {even with an 8-year-old Boy}

Rum Balls, Baby...Flippant Foodie Friday

Wordless Wednesday: Elf Hostage

Different, Disturbing, & Slightly Disgusting Toys

Potato, Prosciutto & Fontina Cakes — Flippant Foodie Friday

Five Things (x4)

Zaggora HotPants Two Week Challenge

The Creature at the Bottom of the Fridge

Talking Turkey and October's Food Challenge

Prom Dress Confidential

Celebrating with Cupcake Prosecco

I Finished the 1st Draft

Wordless Wednesday — Mess Magnets

Holiday Comforts

Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc: Flippant Food & Wine Friday

November Manifesto

Howl: A True Story

Costumes for the Ages

22 Things I HAVE Done { + Link-up}

Legoland Florida Review

Flippant Foodie Friday: Crepes {part un}

22 Things I've Never Done

Legoland Florida Miniland Tour

One-Buck Chuck and my Frugal Food Challange

Flippant Friend Friday: Things I Can't Say

Wordy Wino Wednesday: The Costume Edition

Dirty Minds as Dick Has Fun With Jane

The Homemade Jedi Costume: A Jedi Seamstress, Am I

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Wish You Were Here

Filet tastes on a franks & beans budget: My October Challange

Flippant Foodie Friday: Mushroom, Prosciutto & Fontina Quesadillas

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Christmas in September?

Shark Teeth & Surgery

Killer Whales and Kindness

Wordless Wino Wednesday: Party Skirt

Flippant Foodie Friday: Bombshells and Blueberry Puppy Dogs

These Magic Moments {Wordless Wine-less Wednesday}

Movie Theater Mayhem

Flippant Friday: Pinterest is for Sickos

Chasing Skirt

Flippant Foodie Friday: Tangerine Cello

Wordless Wino Wednesday: The Morning After

where the magic happens