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I just got home...baby* brother drunk...awesome.

*He is 23...so it is kosher.

What Do/Would You Do?: Santa Claus

I have seen a few bloggers talking about how they handle Santa Claus with their children.

Do they go with the Santa Claus myth/lie?

Do they just celebrate it as the birth of Christ?

Do they do a combo of the two with some different traditions?

I know I don't have kids yet to do Christmas, but I would like to be prepared.
What do you do or plan to do?

I would love to hear your opinion.

Yes, I am that big of a geek

When Typefaces are personified!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Each one perfectly played but Wingdings is by far the best

I did it...check it out

WOHOO!!!!

Short Story Long: Sex in a Glass

Yes, that is right...I have Sex in the title so I am now prey to spammers and weirdos alike. But this is a classic story with a classic refreshing twist. Sit down, children, and gather round.

A long, long time ago in a distant land of pretty girls and southern boys called Furman University lived our heroine, TRS. TRS was in a sorority with many good girls. However, there were some girls in the sorority that liked to shock the good girls with things like DRINKING! BOYS!!! and CAFFEINE!

Thus, paints the backdrop of my story: A sorority sister of mine (one of the bad ones) loved McDonald's fountain soft drinks so much that she often said that it was better than sex.

Shocked, scandalized but suspecting the full truth to this statement, a young, naive TRS told her friend and roommate, Buffalo Betty about the comment. During our weekly Friday-Happy-Meal run, Buffalo Betty cried "I want a Chicken Nugget meal with a Sex in a Glass!"

Thus the naming of Fountain Coke from McDonald's Sex in a Glass. And for my love, Diet Coke: Diet Sex in a Glass...often shortened to Diet Sex.

So much was our love of Sex and Diet Sex, that whenever we were sad a run for sex was always in order. Many times through the drive thru, I would say "2 Medium Diet Sex...I MEAN Diet Coke! Coke! (not sex)."

There is rumor that Coke gives McD's a different formula for fountain drinks, or they calibrate their syrup to soda ratio better...I don't care. I love it and will never stop calling it what it truly is: Sex in a Glass.

***K-Dubs would probably like a disclaimer that this name was formed before having sex, esp. with him***

Voodoo Chicken Enchiladas

If you follow me on Twitter, you might have seen me making Voodoo Chicken Enchiladas two nights ago.

K-dubs and I had Voodoo Chicken Enchiladas while in Chicago because I did something I never do: I asked the waiter what he likes and GOT IT! I also LOVED IT!!! (I have a chronic disease of poor ordering.)

The Voodoo Chicken Enchiladas was so great that I tried to find a recipe, but alas Google failed me and I couldn't find one.

What I did find: Voodoo Chicken recipe and basic info on how to make enchiladas
Voodoo chicken recipe found on Recipezaar

Marinade
1 cup honey
1 cup butter, melted (I would put a little less and used margarine)
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 ounces Southern Comfort
1 lime juice
3 ounces balsamic vinegar
Dipping Sauce
1 cup chinese sweet chili sauce (or chili flakes)
2 ounces Southern Comfort
2 sprigs cilantro, chopped
1 lime, juice of
1 tablespoon hot sauce
3 ounces honey
1 ounce sesame oil
3 boneless skinless chicken breasts

So I threw in most of those ingredients (subbing Jim Beam for So Co, cause I don't keep that junk in my house and added a bit of brown sugar)into a crock pot and cooked it for a lOOOOOOOooong time...till it was pull apart tender and awesome.

I filled the tortillas with the delicious chicken shreds rolled the tortillas tight and packed five of them in a 6x6 pan. Poured the reserve crock pot juice over the middle of the enchiladas and baked it off for 20 minutes at 350. I think sprinkled cheese over the middle and baked again till good and melty (yes melty). The goal for me was to make the ends of the tortillas crispy. It looked somewhat like this:
After one test try and photo was taken with the photo booth, sorry for the quality.

And here is how good it tastes:

The Final Costume

Hey remember all those many moons ago, when I was posting my many Halloween outfits? Yeah, I forgot to show you the piece-du-resis...peace-de-risest...okay no French this early...the last one.


What are we?
Please in all Christian charity ignore the crap in the picture and do not say that I am a hooker, please?

Oh, and I so needed this make-up to finish off the look.
These are my girls that got ready with me: Southern Belle (get it, Belle-costume...althought I thought it was Cow Belle for a second), and my rocking out Avril Lavigne wanna be (you should have seen her faux hawk up close and personal).

So I am finally done with all my traveling (I think) and will be doing a huge post on travel tales and woes soon.

Playing the Photo Album game

All the Mom Bloggers are playing it, so you know I'm game.

You take your sixth photo from your sixth album and talk about it.

Well, it just so happens that I had pictures from another Meme that someone else held ages ago and I forgot to participate.
It was show us your house, your junk drawer, your fav. jewelry, the place you blog:

So here is my every day jewelry: No earrings, no bracelet, wedding and engagement ring and my bean necklace. Please notice the pox, probably why this never got published.

I wear the bean necklace every day now, but I used to wear this:

This is the La Primavera cross, which the description says "combines Christian symbols with those of spring to express feelings of hope and love. The dove in the center of the cross is a sign of God's reconciliation with man, based on the story of Noah's Ark found in Genesis. It is also a symbol of purity and peace. The Ichthus at the very bottom of the cross is an ancient symbol for Christ, and the leaves, flower, and the sun on the arms and at the top of the cross relate to the warmth and new life of spring. The name, La Primavera, is Spanish for "the season of spring"."
I thought it was pretty and bought it for myself when I was 17. An acquaintance had received it as a gift from her sister, and I thought it was so pretty that I bought it for myself. It was the first piece of non-cartoon jewelry that I bought myself and I love it for that. My acquaintance didn't like it that I just bought her "special sister necklace," but I was happy to do something on my own, it didn't matter. (Yes, I was very sheltered and at 17 I got a taste of making my own decisions for the first time: getting my hair cut without my mom's approval, buying clothes or jewelry without her approval...having a car really does mean freedom at that age, huh? And now I just hope the car I have doesn't break down.)

Tangent over: The bean necklace is actually a gift from "my brothers" when I graduated high school. I say "my brothers" because my mom obviously picked it out and put their name on the card. This was made evident when Bo said, "hey what did we give you?" and Chops said, "Man, that is nice..we picked out something great...Thanks mom!" Still, it did its job, every time I wear it...I think of them. My mom said she picked the bean because my family calls me Binky...Bean-key. Silly family.

Still I love both of them and I think they will always be my stand-bys.
What is your favorite jewelry? Or do you want to play the photo album meme?

iPhoto Silliness

So, K-dubs says I don't have enough pictures in my posts...so here is nothing but a bunch of backlog pictures from my iPhoto booth:

A pic that I sent K-Dubs from my trip to Florida last year.


Me, jeering my Gator loving friend


K-dubs in his new glasses--man, I think he is good looking in those.


Me, being silly


family portrait

Ode to Stick Bush

Our apartment does a nice job of landscaping around the apartments. Some people will take matters into their own hands and plant gardens and plants of their liking. However, K-Dubs and I are of the "don't invest your money in someone else's investment" persuasion. So when we moved into our apartment, there was a mound of dirt by our door that sported 3 very large sometimes flowering weeds. We didn't mind them, we didn't say anything about replacing them. But one late fall day, we came home from school and found this:



A bush or shrubbery with no leaves.
We thought, "Wow, can't wait to see the foliage on that in the spring!"

But spring came and the leaves never appeared. Thinking that maybe stick bush was a late bloomer, we just let him go. Then stick bush became our little mascot. Similar to the lions guarding the Art Institute of Chicago.


Last week we came home from work again and the stick bush was gone. GONE! With no warning and no ceremony. My stick bush was taken from me. I had plans for the stick bush! I was going to drape it in lights and tinsel for the holiday season, put festive ornaments on it. Make it my own Charlie Brown Christmas tree. I voiced my indignation to K-dubs and lamented my now thwarted plans. To which he said, "You never had those plans...you only made them up now that you have lost stick bush...and you are weird."

Dump Truck, Backing Up

Okay, I'll admit it. I am in a funk...in a bad mood...down in the dumps.
And for no real reason.

Is it the change in weather? Love the fall, hate trying to find room for my sweaters.

Is it my messy apartment which refuses to clean itself? Oh yeah, that is a mountain of pain.

Is it my daily battle with one of my bosses who is driving me nuts? Sure.

And maybe added all together would account for this funk.
Maybe it is just Ennuis. Or PMS. or a bad hair day.

So to get myself out of the dumps what did I do this morning:
-Prayed that God would give me a happy attitude when dealing with the boss
-Put on a pretty skirt and shiny high heels
-and hope that tonight's girls night will lighten my mood

Other mood altering options:
-Go for a run (if it light outside which only occurs from 9-5)
-Get a hair cut...it always makes me feel good.

Do you have any suggestions of what brightens your mood?

***Update***
Called my hair dresser, Jennie, for an appointment and they told me she moved to Des Moines!!!! Des MOINES!!!! Now I have to find another hair dresser!?! BLERGH!!!!

Things I Hate-Episode 1

I really hate when people think they are speaking the complete and utter truth because their mouth is open. That what they say is not only important, and not only valid but more important and more valid than what I am saying.

See the conversation below as an example:

TRS: I love fall tree colors. They make me happy
Person: The best colors are in the Northeast
TRS: oh, these are nice. And I've always loved the colors in SC/NC
Person: But they are nothing compared to New York and Connecticut
TRS: well, that is an opinion
Person: No, it really is better. I have seen them all. I know.
TRS: Well, I will always love Jones Gap, Stone Mountain, etc.
Person: yeah, but it is better.

See, what I am saying?!?! No concessions for what I am saying. That person is always right, and I am supposed to just say, "By George, you must be correct and I must be wrong!!!" Yeah, that is not happening.

Sorry to have a 'tude. But I don't like it when people always think they are right...that is my job.

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.