The Next Costume

What am I now?

This is for all you Catholics out there (and I'm supposed to be a guy.)

Getting ready for Halloween

Here is my first costume of the day:

What am I?

Check out the bangs

And the leg warmers

Can you guess?

Rollin with McMommy

I know I should do my McMommy three part post in the correct sequential order, but I can't. I have decided to combine my "what did McMommy and TRS talk about/think about meeting?" with "Rollin with McMommy" (Please insert Clueless' "Rollin with the Hommies tune at your will).

Since our talking and drinking was interrupted by a minor thing like a child and a trip to the ER, McMommy graciously offered to have me come over in the morning and hang out at her McCasa.

Pictures taken while in the Er:

Btw: I love the fact that we took pictures of our shoes separately without telling the other! My feet are much more used to the abuse of my shoes from the night before...I wore them all week.

I'm trying to extract my other pic from the night...me checking out my hair in my phone and getting the ATM in the background. Am I alone in associating ATMs with going out to bars or cabs in need of cash...not medical emergencies. But that is just me...I'm sure there is someone out there saying, "OH, crap, LurLinda...I just sliced my finger. Grab a cup of milk and my ATM card we are going to the ER."

So, we did the McMommy lifestyle right the next day. We had Dunkin' Donuts, discussed new trends in blogging, did a podcast that was only semi-successful, toured the house (which is so well decorated--she earns major CK Points for all the green paint), went and did lunch and errands, got to see the Target and the McMommy dream house.

All of this brought a bunch of realizations about McMommy:
1.) The Dream House is awesome. I drooled over the front door. We then took a tour of the neighborhood to see the other houses, commented on what we like, what we didn't like. (This is what my family calls "checking up"--my dad is a real estate developer, so every Sunday we would go around and check up what was new in the real estate market.) I love doing this with K-dubs, but it was extra fun with McMommy because we have similar but not identical tastes.

2.) Despite my fear of all the mini-vans, the McMiniVan is not bad. I could totally get the appeal...with two kids, video player, and the non-slamming doors (all for Carter)...it has some pluses. That being said, I am not ready to trade in my Jeep yet.

3.) We talked about a LOT of things...and half the time we would only get to half of the conversation before hurrying onto another topic...there was a lot to say and I had a blast trying to fit it all in.

4.) The kids: Oh my gosh I could fill 80 more blog posts about her kids. Seriously, the sweetest, most fun, and cutest two boys I've met since my truly wonderful nephews. Carter was calm and sweet in the ER the night before, so I was expecting some fussy grouchiness for the late night party boy. He was great though. He definitely took some while to take used to me and wanted extra love from McMommy, but she kept saying, "Oh, he is so grouchy, I'm sorry." But I couldn't see it. If this was him grouchy, he must be the most easy going kid ever! Of course, he smashed his finger another time while I was there...thankfully not the same finger and not nearly as bad as the last digit trauma. The only thing more fun than seeing Carter take a bite out of 10 munchkins and smash the other halves and laugh at his own silliness is seeing him and Matty together. They have such complimentary personalities. Matty not eating much at lunch and Carter finishing his full meal and everyone elses. Also hilarious: Carter's deep voice. He doesn't speak a ton but it is Barry White reminiscent. They both were well behaved, fun, gave me hugs goodbye and def. made me think more positively about having kids soon.

Okay there are a lot more like, how cute and tiny McMommy is, that she is even more fun in person, how not weird it was to hang out with her like old pals, and how glad I am that I made her be friends with me 7 months ago.

IRL-virgin

So I am an IRL virgin. And McMommy was my first. Don’t worry, Mom. We were safe. There were speed dial calls and texts if she turned out to be a 60 year old man-perv, and an arsenal of butt kicking moves that I am sure I could have pulled out. It was a decision that was made with great thoughtfulness…we didn’t rush it…I swear.

Let me back up by saying that I have never had a remote chance of meeting a blog friend in real life before and I was okay with that. I was envious of people who had real friendships with bloggers, but I was wary. In this “To Catch a Predator” time, no one can be trusted, especially in my paranoid mind.

But McMommy and I started this Real Life affair slowly…almost to where I didn’t realize where I was until it was too late…she is crafty like that. We exchanged numerous emails before we had blog emails so we knew each others’ real names and work places right off the bat. Then came the challenge…

When I started losing the weight earlier this summer, McMommy was very encouraging and supportive. And then she started talking about losing 10 lbs, which if you’ve seen her in pictures you know it was UNNESSARY. Out of nowhere, we decided to see who could lose 10 lbs the fastest. A prize was decided. And this is where the phone calls and texts started.

Side note: McMommy may look nice, but let me tell you she is a tricky one when she wants to win. She would text me saying things like, “I’m going to eat some cake.” To which I would respond, “good, the prize is mine…and I don’t have to work out today.” Then 10 min. later I’d get a phone call: “PSYCH, I’m on the elliptical at the gym…you are going down!”

In our Not-So-Much-Biggest-Loser competition, we learned a lot about each other. Husbands’ names, the fact that they think we’re crazy, real life dramas…it was fun, but kept at a respectable distance so that ties could be severed if one of us turned into a 60 year old man-perv.

But now, it is too much…I’ve gone to far. She is too awesome and now a bond has been forged. Now she will have a hard time blog-divorcing me, ‘cause once you go McMommy…you don’t go back.

Going Baby-One more time

Leaving one more time, and I am not loving it.

However, I have a few more things to look forward to than just work. I am meeting with several friends in the area, so I am excited about that.

But I just hate leaving KW and Pens. I get so antsy. I want to soak up all the time I can with him. I pick fights with him and snuggle with him. Needless to say, I'm a mess.

Thought I would just let you all know...that I am a mess. News at 11.

Luggage Kharma

So, some comments from the Honeymoon of Horrors series said that my bad luck with luggage must of been used up with that trip.

Well, I wish that was true.

However, 6 months after our Honeymoon v.1.0, KW and I went down to Atlanta for Labor Day weekend. We got there fine, luggage arrived, and then we went to the lake:

My mom had rented some Ski-doos and forced me and KW to take them out together.
***sidenote*** This is ridiculous if you know me: I am a klutz, I have no need for speed...in fact speed scares me in an open vehicle. My brother's little battery-operated Jeep Kid Car would terrify me when at top speeds. I got lost in Yellowstone on a snowmobile excursion because I wouldn't go fast enough to keep up with the group***

This is all to say...I got scared in the middle of the lake, stopped the 'Doo and KW, who was jumping my wake, ran into me.

Thankfully, no damage done to me, but his 'Doo had some major scrapes.

KW was traumatized by the event: almost maiming his new wife and having to pay for the damage 'Doo. I'm not sure which hurt worst--but to be fair, it was like $1000 and we didn't have that lying around.

To top off the weekend, when we got back to Washington, my good old Vera Bradley luggage was not at baggage claim....and I left my purse at the gate in Atlanta. (I thought I had put it in my carry-on.) My bag had several of my favorite articles of clothing: jean jacket, green linen skirt, the one good bathing suit. Losing these items were unthinkable.

So in tears (because we had no cell phone, no cash, and no keys to our car parked in the lot), I ran to the airline office to do the paperwork on my luggage. Having no numbers to call friends, we were just scrambling on how to get home (bt-dubs, it was 1am). While filling in the paperwork:

Describe bag: black floral, cotton quilted: vera bradley duffel
size: largeish...not the biggest, one, but second biggest.
Tags: more VB floral

an angel masquerading as a flight attendant walks into the airline office holding my green purse out saying, "someone left this at the gate in Atlanta, we just took it down." I SCREAMED, "THAT'S MY PURSE!!! OH MY GOD! THANK YOU!!!!" She truly thought I was crazy: a.) forgetting bag in airport--after 9/11, it could have been blown up for a faux-bomb and b.) freaking out about getting back. But after the 'Doo accident, no luggage, and the lost purse, I figured I was cursed.

After kissing the feet of my angel turned flight attendant, we were not as surly about losing our luggage because we could get into our apartment where my other clothes lived. So after a few days of waiting for the luggage, the airline said I needed to fill a claim for all the items in my bag because it most likely wouldn't be coming back. Thankfully, I had not lost expensive pieces just ones I really liked. Heartbroken, I claimed everything and not even the thought of shopping for replacements with the new money cheered me. But ever the trooper, I moved on with my life, received my replacement check, and bought some things.

Fast forward 4 months later and I receive a call:
"Ma'am this is Sargent Salenzi from the Dover Airforce Base. We have your package."
Me: "uh, what package?"
SS: "Your luggage sent from Kuwait."
Me: "What luggage was in Kuwait?"
SS: "We have a bag from Air Tran that was sent to Kuwait with a group of solders, your information is on the bag, can we send it to you?"
Me: (laughing so hard, I couldn't breathe) "Uhm, yeah thanks!"

So my black floral Vera Bradley luggage was sent with the troops who were going through security behind me in the Atlanta Airport. Because nothing says, "I'm ready for battle" like a Vera Bradley duffel. Everything was in there, nothing moved around...however, my black Vera Bradley was now gray and tan where the hot, Kuwaiti sun was beating down on it on the tarmac...and yes, there was sand in the bottom of it.

A non-Mom request for a future Mom

My friend just announced she is pregnant.
Yes, it is my friend, not me.
And no, it is not my "friend" version of me.
Just my friend, I promise.

But she asked me about what books my Mom-Bloggers recommend for pregnancy.

So I put it to you all out there: what books could you not live without or could have thrown at a pile of dog poo? She is looking for any and all "good" information.

Please help, she is only 6 weeks along and nervous. And alas, I am of no help, whatsoever!

Honeymoon of Horrors--Part 3

So we left off here, but if you are new to this tale, start here.

When we left our sad-sacked honeymooners, they were in a great city, great hotel, but with no clothes. No problem, right? Run to your local Walmarts and grab some cheap replacements until the bags show up. Oh wait? They don't have Walmarts in Italy? What about Tarjay? It is fancy, they must have it in Italy? No, hmmm...what about a drug store with the 3 pack of Hanes undies and undershirts? CRAP, I miss America.

Okay, I never said any of those out loud, but I thought them.

Our lovely, English speaking hotel concierge would call the baggage handlers every 3 or 4 hours and would update us with, "It should be here in 3 to 4 hours." Now, you would think after 2 days, we would just say, "Oh let's just get some new clothes." But two things deterred us every time:
1.) Every time our concierge would say "3 to 4 hours," it was done with such passion and assurance and examples that he had assurances from people from the airport that it was on their way that we believed that it would be 3 or 4 hours for our luggage reunion. A couple of times it was the wrong luggage, that hurt worse than no luggage at all. I almost took someone else's luggage not caring if it fit at all, just to have something to wear.

2.) Italian shops are fancy and expensive and are scary to the two of us who stink of airplanes, McDonald's, and rain. We looked and smelled like wet dogs. It was not our most attractive moment. And I did not have the guts to walk in and ask for clothes in my broken Italian.

Related sidenote: If you have been to Rome, have you ever noticed that every other store is a racy lingerie store. You do realize that when you are walking past, in need of fresh underwear (sorry, it is the truth, people), and the pink lace thong in a size two holds no appeal to you. Esp. in the wet jeans you have been sporting for 4 days.

We would go into stores while we were sightseeing but KW was sure our stuff would be there when we got back and with our luck, we knew as soon as we laid out over $100 worth of clothes...our luggage would be waiting for us. If we had known how long that would have been, $100 would not have been that much to pay.

By day 4 we were getting nervous, we were going to Florence for a day to visit my friend who was studying art up there. KW started his conference the day after that and he had to have a suit. That meant blowing a huge amount of money on a Italian suit that would probably not fit right, because we didn't have time for tailoring. Awesome.

Thankfully, the night before we left for Florence, KW's hanging bag showed up (just his hanging bag, btw). So we had his suits and a suit of mine that I couldn't wear because it was too long to wear with flats. Now, if you were me, you might say, "WHATEVS, wear the pants and let them drag." But I wanted to hold on to my dignity and the fact that we were newly married with not a lot of money, and this was a new suit...I couldn't be swayed. I did wear it around the hotel room and to dinner that night, where we had our first non-McDonalds meal. KW ended up giving me a piggy back ride after awhile to stop me from whining about my new pants.

With all of these trials, I was a whiner. I complained and cried and lamented the loss of all my cute clothes that I was wearing on our honeymoon. And on that last night after dinner (when I put back on my wet jeans after dinner), we went down to the Circus Maximus and KW had had enough.

My complaining and pouting were not to be deterred. He was making the most of the situation like the trooper he always is. This time in my fit-pitched induced hysteria, I did not notice that my ballet flats that were wet and worn for 5 non-stop tourist days were stretched so far that my feet were coming out of them. So, when I was trying to catch up to KW for one final fit, I slipped on a cobble stone and felt a pop.

Now, I was not down for the count but I was hurt. I started crying real tears at this point and hobbling behind my irritated husband because he thought I just found fresh tears from a new fit. I finally, eek out a small "KW." And he turns around, clearly frustrated and growls, "WHAT NOW!?!" (sidenote: he never raises his voice...KW-yelling is more of an attitude than volume.) I whimper: I think I twisted my ankle.

Instantly, his face softens. He looks around, points, and says, "Go in there and buy some shoes."

There is the Pollini shoe store. I don't say anything to him. I simple walk in request a shoe in the size I think I am in European sizes (thank God for growing up in the fad of Birkenstocks). The shoe fits, we buy it. All is right in the world. We have no idea how much we paid for them. And I didn't care.

They look kinda like this:
Except they say Pollini instead of Coach and are pink. I will take a picture of them shortly.

After that, we find a United Colors of Benetton and buy some shirts and weird cotton like underwear. I still could not find pants that would cover my ankles because I am tall and they were switching to spring wear.

While the rest of the trip was not picture perfect, it was smoother sailing.

We got up to Florence to see EB. She showed us around, went to the pharmacia with me to get an ace bandage, let me wash my jeans and lent me some PJ pants, and then came back and stayed with us while KW was in his conference. We had a lovely girlie time while he was working. It involved a lot of leisurely eating and drinking, which is my only goal when I vacation and something KW has never mastered on any trip.

My luggage? Oh, yes, it showed up the night before we left. I wore every single bit of clothing for those 6 hours. And it felt glorious.

It took me a little while to find the humor in the trip, but I hope that you are able to get a chuckle out of it.

The bright side: I learned a lot about me and my husband, which kind of the point of a honeymoon, right?
The very bright side: I think we will continue to make up for our Honeymoon Horror for the next 60 years.

Honeymoon v.2.0--Updated

Chicago was awesome.
KW did not even bring his books!!!

We got to talk, walk, see and do.
It was a great time.

Pictures to come...and the last installment of the Honeymoon of Horrors story.

The Honeymoon of Horrors, Part 2

See Part 1, here.

So we were packing our bags and with me that is a big deal. I hem and haw and make lists, lists, and more lists. Since it was mid-winter and we both have a tendency to get sick when we are not wanting to (man, if I knew how true that was then...I would have invested in Nyquil), I packed my carry-on with a ton of cold medicine, books, and guides. I did not pack anything absorbent because I knew that my cough medicine would spill everywhere.

Well, there are only two things wrong with this picture:
1.) I had no socks or clothes to change into or keep warm with.
2.) Yes, it did spill...all over the place. All of our Italian guide books are still stuck together with green hardened gloop.

Before I realized all of the Nyquil spilling had happened, we had crossed the Atlantic with our friendly Washington Post reporter who was stuck in a cross-Atlantic parenting scheme (neither of us could remember his name but remember that his kid's name was/is Niko) and were trying to navigate the 9th circle of hell that is the Charles D. Gaulle Airport. Customs was boring but uneventful, finding a bathroom as interesting, as was finding food before our connecting flight.

But we, like all Americans, persevered. We came, we ate, we left. We also made fun of the mid-western families wearing Paris sweatshirts. Seriously, shouldn't that be an oxymoron: Paris Sweatshirt.

So, we traveled with our trans-Atlantic parent all the way to Italy. It was a good flight, and we were ready for some sleeping and sightseeing. We got down to the baggage claim area, and waited and waited and waited.

And you've guessed it, our luggage was lost.

This is where our trans-atlantic parent travel companion comes in handy. He helped us fill out our claim forms and figure out when our luggage would come back to us.

Assured that our luggage would be behind us on the next flight from Paris, we waved goodbye to Father-of-Niko, who was reunited with Niko at this point, and went off to the Hotel d'Inghilterra. Italian translation: Hotel English. Yes, they spoke English and it should have been our saving grace and a pacifier.

The Hotel D'Ingleterra is located near the Spanish steps over Prada and/or Gucci. They knew it was our honeymoon and had a bottle of champagne waiting for us, but we weren't sure if it was free and were too scared to drink it in case they charged us for it. Yes, we were that stupid and cheap. It was very nice and was a very safe place. But paranoid Alex was scared all the time of being mugged or looking stupid or being mugged while looking stupid: way to go, Alex!

At this point of the trip is when I realized something very profound and telling about my husband: when in a new city, he is a tourist from HADES.

He must see and do and go and check things off of the lists that he has ever found about the city. Despite the fact that we had no luggage, no change of clothes, and no walking around cobblestone street worthy shoes, KW headed us into the direction of the Coliseum at a break neck pace. So at midnight in a foreign city, we go trapsing down the Via dei Fori Imperiali to see the Coliseum basked in moonlight. To say that I was in a foul mood would be an understatement. I had been to Rome before and did not have my husband's excitement to go around a strange city in our smelly clothes.

We did not get mugged if you thought this is where this story was going...but I spent many hours in panic that it would. Fear not, readers, my purse and KW's wallet was safe. We made it back to the Hotel, but not before stopping at the only open restaurant nearby: The nicest McDonald's in the world.

This would be our home away from home during our trip and where we would eat the majority of our meals.

Why? you ask, in the city and country with the most wonderful food would you be subjected to only McDonald's? Because, dear readers, our luggage was as elusive as the Pink Panther.

More to come, fallout with no clothes and not in the "ohhh, we're on a tropical island with no clothes kinda way" or "hey we are in the fashion district of Europe, let's shop" kind of way...so don't go there. I did and was sorely disappointed.

The Honeymoon of Horrors, Part 1

***I caution this tale that I know people have had truly horrendous honeymoons: true famine, plague, pestilance, and death stuff, my tale does contain those things but in moderation that makes for a humorous tale...years later.***

I warned you that I would start this tale, so here it is:

Unlike many married couples, me and KW did not take our honeymoon right after the wedding day. No, what did we do right after the wedding day? Packed all of our belongings and moved 600 miles to Washington DC, where I started Graduate school the next day. We always said, we would take our honeymoon eventually. Probably the next summer. But summer came and went in a flurry of extra classes and extra jobs. Plus, we were just getting settled in, what is the hurry?

Fast forward a year after the wedding, KW is working for a man who does a lot of international travel and asked KW to help him organize a conference in Rome for the February after our one year anniversary. KW thought this would be the perfect opportunity for us to have our honeymoon. So we booked our arrival to Rome five days before his conference started, which gave us 8 days total in Italy.

To say we were excited is an understatement. We got one flight over for free and 4 nights of a really nice hotel(plus a few that his boss threw in).

So February of 2005 came upon us, and we could not have been more excited. We packed with meticulous care. We needed sightseeing clothes, going out clothes, work clothes, the works! I am not a light traveler usually, but I was determined to not go overboard. This would be the beginning of my undoing.

To know him is to love him-a stolen Meme

I have come across a fun and cute blog: Some Like it Hot. And she was doing a Meme about her hubs. Well, I haven't really done one of those, so I thought, "Why not? It will help them understand KW and the honeymoon story about to come." Thanks, SLIH, for letting me steal this? (Even though I asked permission to steal after, but that is sorta like asking, right?)
He will kill me for posting this picture, but it makes me smile when he is silly. The man will seriously do anything to make me laugh.

1. He is sitting in front of the TV, what is he watching? ESPN or Fox/MSNBC/CNN/CSPAN and maybe some Travel channel

2. You are out to eat, what kind of dressing does he get on his salad? If any, thousand island

3. Whats one food he doesn't like? Cheese, he likes it, but it doesn't like him...same with blueberries

4. You go out to a bar, what does he order? Something he never has tried before, something on special, or a Manhattan for special occasions. Mainly he drinks my drinks.

5. Where did he go to High School? St. Joseph's Catholic

6. What size shoe does he wear? I think an 11, but I don't know. It differs with types of shoes.

7. If he were to collect anything, what would it be? Crap. The boy makes Samford and his son look like true collectors. He loves getting things that he thinks people will cherish some day: newspapers from when someone died (ie. The pope), autographs of people before they were famous (ahem, if they become famous), antique odds and ends, pictures of quasi-famous people, autographed books (A TRUE FAVORITE!). All of these things he stores in his clothes dresser (cause I tell him, it needs to go somewhere), but now there is no room for his clothes.

8. What is his favorite sandwich? Subway meatball/sweet chicken teriyaki/seafood sensation (Gross on the last one, I know!)

9. What would he eat every day if he could? Meatloaf

10. What is his favorite cereal? Oatmeal...brown sugar with nuts added on top

11. What would he never wear? The uber preppy-button up with a tie and sweater with jeans.

12. What is his favorite sports team? NBA: The Kings and The Celtics (now that they have 2 SC boys on there!)

13. Who will he vote for? McCain

14. Who is his best friend? me, his brother, Bob, and Josh M. from law school

15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn't do? Nag at him as much or ask him to walk Penny

16. How many states has he lived in? Cali, SC, VA, GA, MI

17. What is his heritage? German and Irish but he does not recognize his Irish (which would be the part I would embrace whole heartily: wear green, drink beer, and have a ready made excuse for a temper! Sign me up, Irish heritage!?!)

18. You bake him a cake for his birthday, what kind of cake is it? German Chocolate Cheese Cake (I have figured out a non-dairy version, but dairy is still his fav.)

19. Did he play sports in High School? Yes, he went to a small school(like graduated with 10 people, small), so he "had" to play everything. Basketball, Baseball, captain of soccer, and I'm sure there was some extreme badminton team.

20. What could he spend hours doing? Studying, reading NBA blogs (HoopsHype) and Drudge Report, and seeing things he has never seen before.
This is when KW dragged me to his "Weird Michigan" locations. This is in Hell, Michigan. And he was determined to get a picture with a snowball in hell.

And this is when we first got Penny. You can see KW's face stuck in there behind her. Classic.

So there in a nutshell is KW. I wonder how well I did? I'll have to ask?
How well do you know your significant other?

Honeymoon v.2.0

So KW and I are taking a mini-honeymoon vacation this weekend. Okay not really.

For this trip, I am going to work a conference in Chicago for the school and since I can drive there easily, KW is coming along. We are hoping to see Wicked, eat some good food, walk around a ton, and see stuff. We've been to Chicago before but have enjoyed it more every time.

KW and I have taken a lot of mini-honeymoon vacations like this: work is paying part of it, so you have some schedule restraints or parents are paying for it, so you have family obligation restraints.

We have never had a vacation without one of these. Yes, even our honeymoon.

Wait, I haven't told you the story of our honeymoon yet? Oh, well, it is a doozie. But I will have to write a separate post on that later today.

Now, I do not want to come off complaining that we have gone to some really cool places for pretty cheap through both mine and KW's work.

But, OH, how I long for a vacation in which I do not pack a suit other than bathing. To not feel the pressure to perform for bosses, parents, friends, and rando family members. Where KW does not study and I do not complain. And KW and I find that perfect balance of sightseeing and relaxing (this will never happen: look forward to THE HORROR OF THE HONEYMOON, coming soon to this blog near you). In a sense, to be with just KW and me for an extended period of time.

This mini-vacation will not be this dream vacation, but we have not been on a vacation without family obligations since KW started school. We also have not been away just him and me without studying in a long time. Now, he is threatening to take his books along, but I am determined to mispack them.

If you guys have any suggestions for visiting Chicago, I would love to hear them.

Also, get ready for the worst honeymoon story ever. Okay, it is not the worst, no one died or was seriously injured...injured but not seriously.

No Sleep Till...

No Sleep Till...DC.

So I was asked to go to a conference in DC for our school. Part of me going would be "driving" the van with students overnight to make it to the conference. The students in the van also happen to be some of my closest friends. Couple that with excitement to see Buffalo Betty (who is in DC and who I spooned for 2 nights), I did not get any sleep Thursday night. Nor on Friday night (partaking in DC nightlife till early in the morn')...nor on Saturday night (same thing).

Wow, I have never done all nighters or partied till closing the bar and yet I managed to accomplish both this weekend.

Needless to say, I took the day off yesterday to recoup and become less of a sleep deprived B!tch.

I am back, rested and refreshed...sort of.

So, who can tell me what my title is in reference to?

Yes this would be worth a CK point if I hadn't been a total blog-loser and not gotten the first CK challenge winner her present yet.

I wanted it to be awesome to celebrate the birth of the CK system, but nothing seems good enough. So I am on a quest to find something awesome in Chicago this weekend. And will be sending it to Adcock next week, I promise. Pinky swear...well, only don't take my pinky if I'm a little late, okay?

And then we will do some more CK trivia if anyone cares to.

Random things that make me Happy

1.) Clothes warm from the dryer
2.) Crystal Light-Kool Aid Drink
3.) Wildflowers on the side of the road
4.) Penny when she struts around doing pretty ears
5.) Finishing a difficult task at work
6.) Having great discussions on Gchat
7.) Reciting lines from So I Married An Axe Murderer or Best in Show
8.) Road trips
9.) Saying y'all as many times as possible
10.) Chick-fil-A
11.) Losing a pound
12.) Finding a penny (the coin, not the dog. Although if she was lost, I would be extatic to find her.)
13.) stealing a fry from someones plate
14.) Gilmore Girls
15.) When my hair does the Barbie Ponytail Flip
16.) Anything Green
17.) Pretty Prints (ie. Vera Bradley or Lily), esp. if they have green
18.) Spending the weekend with one of my besties (this weekend it is with Buffalo Betty!)
19.) Finding things I thought I lost
20.) Cheese
21.) Twizzlers
22.) KW singing
23.) My brother calling me just to tell me about something funny
24.) My fav. Christmas movie: Captain Ron
25.) Pushing Daisies (a new show that I am addicted to)

So what makes you happy?

The Suspenders in Picture

Okay, so I sent Amanda pictures of the suspenders in question because she was skeptical and I was a little unsure of my choice.

Here are the pics. They are very bad and taken with my Mac photo booth in bad lighting as I was running back and forth trying to get the shot.



Outfit:
Pants-Navy Blue suit pants from Jcrew. extra long so I hemmed them into cuffs
Shirt-White 3/4 length sleeve shirt. It was fitted so it didn't look too manly
Shoes-Red patent pumps from JCrew. 4 in. wooden stack heel..the wood makes it less hooker more librarian for me.
Purse-Red Street Vendor purse from DC
Necklace-Red and blue beads
Suspenders in question-Stolen from Husband

I wish I had a red scarf or hat to complete the outfit in the Hepburn/Annie Hall way.

I changed into a blue short sleeve shirt with a star emblem later in the day after I spilled tomato soup on this shirt. The picture was taken at the end of the day after the shirt in question was saved by my dubious washing machine. Hence, the reason I look so haggard.

But what do you think?
Too much, too costumey, fun or stupid?