a mish-mash of randoms..friday's letters & 13 in however old i am

I feel like I’m 90. I am sitting in my office, shivering with my hands wrapped around a mug of hot water….well, they aren’t wrapped around it right now, because I am typing, but I do stop every few words for a warm up. This is ridiculous. I’m all for air conditioning, but please tell me why it has to blow snow? It’s July. Can’t we just experience summer a little bit? It’s so fleeting. I am already crying on the inside thinking about December….

So, I am really slacking lately. I know. I keep getting inspiration and then just sort of zoning out half way through…like, if you could see my screen right now you’d see that above these two paragraphs, I actually have a list started to link up with Erin’s post from the other day…which, better late than never? I just can’t seem to get my shit together. Anyway, her’s was a “26 in 26” link up…and such a cute idea…and I’d be all over that, if I were about to turn 13, because I have been staring at my list for 2 hours now and I can only come up with 13 things. There’s only 13 things I want to do this year? Apparently. I especially like this idea because I always thought it made more sense to make your New Year’s Resolutions on your birthday rather than on January 1^st…I mean, unless of course, January 1^st is your birthday, which is a win/win for you, isn’t it? The only thing about this I’m not too jazzed about is admitting how old I actually am about to be, but, of course, I can only think of 13 things anyway, so it’s a moot point. At least I don’t have to admit my age…here are my 13 things…

My birthday is in 3 weeks. I'll keep working on this list and see if i can do any better by then...I mean, only 13? That's just embarrasing.

1. do the color run….or some other 5k, but preferably the color run
2. meet Adam Richman (if you know me, you know this one is in the bag)
3. buy a bottle of Booker's bourbon and drink it
4. make lobster pot pie
5. reach my goal weight
6. go on a tropical vacation
7. go with Ben to meet his grandpa
8. finish my room
9. reach 100 followers on le blog
10. throw out all the clothes that don’t fit me anymore or that I never wear
11. get a manicure at least once a month
12. finish Atlas Shrugged
13. take a cooking class at Sur la Table

So lots of fun stuff lined up for this weekend….and by “lots” I mean one….lobsters. On sale for $3.99/lb….rub your eyes, read it again…THREE DOLLARS AND NINETY NINE CENTS A POUND. For lobsters. That’s straight up nuts, folks…and I plan to eat my weight in those little boogers….actually, scratch that. I just did the math.  That’s more than I was hoping to spend. But a lot, anyway. I plan to eat a lot of them and to me, that = fun. And yummy.

Without further adieu, I bring you a quicky Friday’s Letters…

 

Dear lobsters,

Sorry about your imminent death. If you weren’t so delicious, this wouldn’t have to happen.

Dear Sami,

Keep your head up, sister. You are stronger than you know.

Dear Mental Health Day I took on Wednesday,

Thank you. THANK YOU. You were the most perfect day I have known in a long time…I floated, I shopped, I cleaned, I made myself an amazing omelet…I can’t say my sadz are 100% cured, but they are much improved and I owe it all to you.

Dear Adam Richman,

I‘m sort of over you…are you bummed? I don’t know what happened…I just lost that lovin’ feeling.

Dear summer,

I know we’re reaching the point where everyone else has just about had it with you and your 90 degree temps and stifling humidity….they are jonesing for colorful leaves, crisp apples and cool breezes…um…not me. please don’t go. I love you. I’m begging you, please! I haven’t eaten nearly enough tomatoes, we still haven’t been to a carnival, we haven’t gone out on a boat even once….please stay. Forever.

Dear Delaney,

Thanks for doing such a great job taking care of Ben this summer. You guys are having a blast and it makes me so happy…I’m really proud of both of you.

Have a super fly weekend y’all.

i've got a case of the sadz. again.

I can’t figure out the reason behind them….those are the worst kinds of sadz. At least if I could pinpoint a reason, I could work on making it better, but the Mystery Sadz? There’s no cure. I just have to wait them out and try not to let them eat me whole. I’m going on 3 days now. I’m struggling with whether or not I should call my therapist and add an extra appointment, have my meds adjusted, cry on her shoulder…or whether I should just wait it out, tell myself everybody struggles from time to time and I just need to put on my big girl panties and stop being a whiny little bitch. Especially since there’s no reason for this.

I’m bored.

I’m unmotivated.

I feel like a failure because I am letting my goals slip away from me, shrouded in apathy.

I’m homesick.

I have IBD.

My commute makes me want to drink nail polish remover on the daily.

I’m lonely.

I feel like my wings are clipped.

I don’t want to do anything other than lay around.

I don’t want to make dinner, I don’t want to work out, I don’t want to do the laundry, I don’t want to grocery shop, I don’t even want to call and make appointments to get my hair done. I don’t want to do anything. I just want to make like Sleeping Beauty, prick my finger on a spindle or whatever the heck she pricked her finger on, fall into a deep sleep for 100 years (God, sleeping for 100 years sounds like the most amazing thing I have ever heard) and wake up to……to what? A whole different set of things to bitch about? God, shutUP, Rachel. Seriously.

Source: sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net via Rachel on Pinterest

But I can’t help it. When the sadz get me, they get me good. I just want MORE….more in my daily life, more adventure, more excitement, more things to look forward to, to be hopeful about, more spontaneity and reckless abandon…MORE…and looking at what I have already, that statement is gross. And I realize that, believe me, I do. And it makes me want to punch myself in the face, so it’s a vicious cycle, really.

I’m sorry. I hope you skipped this post. I really do. I’m disgusted with myself for feeling this way when I have so much for which to be thankful. But I’m just keeping it real….file this under

“sometimes I share too much.”

um. sorry i suck?

I know this hasn’t been a very exciting week so far on this here little blog of mine and I feel really lame about that because I just sponsored my very first blog, Gumdrops & Gloss and I’m also working with Tiffany on a brand, spankin’ new blog design and feel like I’ve got so much going on and coming up and then meanwhile, I come over here and it’s like zzzzzzzzzzzz………

But it won’t be like this forevah, my people. As you may or may not know, one of my favorite things in life is lists…grocery lists, Christmas lists, wish lists, to do lists...but my favorite kind of list of all is The List Of things To Look Forward To…(also, you have to know that ending sentences with a preposition is one of my biggest pet peeves, but saying “The List Of Things To Which One Looks Forward” just sounds way too weird, so I’m just going to sit here and twitch…). That said, I’m a gonna make a list for YOU all, of things to look forward to on this here blog…

• Do you like lipgloss? Do you like to smell yummy? I’m cooking up a giveaway! I’m collecting goodies as we speak. I want to make it fun, sparkly and cohesive and I think 100 followers will be a great reason, so stay tuned for that in (hopefully) the very near future…
• New blog design, coming in August. I am SUPER excited about working with Tiffany, I am in love with the palette I chose and I am just so ready to finally feel polished and happy and like this little space of mine represents ME….and you, cuz you hang out with me here, and do you know how happy that makes me?
• A post on Benny’s first kiss, which just about landed me in the ER. Lock down your ovaries ladies, this one is a killer…
• Aaaand….certainly lots of crabby bitching about my upcoming birthday…but I am trying to remain positive like Erin and keep tings in perspective over here, so who knows. (Seriously, read Erin's post. it is awesome.)

In the mean time….I leave you with this….because it’s hot out, Coolatas are good, and my kid is cute.

xo

some days i just can't keep up.

Why beat around the bush? I’ll just come right out and say it…I am pretty sure I’m still at least 15-20% hungover from Saturday night. Yes, it’s Tuesday.  I already know, ok? I can see your judgy eyes from here. I think I learned my lesson though. I say that every time, but this time I mean it….however, right now, I just don’t have the brain function to produce an intelligent, thought provoking post….

You know, because most of my posts are intelligent and thought provoking….

Anyway….in the meantime, I would like for you guys to do something….do you have 99 cents?? Remember my friend John? Well that little hottie has a new song out and he is donating 50% of the proceeds from the sales of that single to the Starbucks Create Jobs for USA Network, so go buy the single by clicking here

(or up there, where I also linked it, cuz why not?) and feel good about making a difference….and then dance around your kitchen, singing along to this catchy little ditty. That’s what I plan to do…just as soon as I am back in the game…which, at this rate, might be by September....

friday's letters...

Ahhhh Friday, you slippery, elusive little devil….we’ve got our hands on you again and not a moment too soon, huh? Good lord. Ok then…..this can only mean one thing? It’s time for Friday’s letters…

Dear Picasso (aka Benny),

Thank you, sweet boy, for the gorgeous mural you so lovingly drew on our bedroom wall in green crayon this morning. It is, truly, a masterpiece and will cause me great strife when I take to it with elbow grease and a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser tonight. Never stop creating, my love….but try not to do it on the walls anymore unless it’s really, really necessary in the name of artistic expression, k?

Dear Chalene Johnson,

Thanks for the workout this morning, hooker. I’m sore already. But, I feel good, so even though I called you a hooker, the thanks were sincere.

Dear Affro-de-humidity I’m rockin’ today,

Please don’t get any bigger. You already have your own climate. Thanks.

Dear NYC Color Run,

Why ya gotta be sold out?? My weekend opened up and I was so pumped to get registered and….no….so totally bummed. Not that I was in any way, shape or form prepared to tackle a 5k right now…I get winded taking out the garbage these days, so maybe it’s for the best but next year? I’m making you my bitch.

Dear Erin Condren Planner,

You’re still not here. Not cool. I’m starting to twitch.

Have a great weekend everybody!!!

this is the story of a girl...

I have this friend who used to be in a band.

You might have heard of them.

Anyway, I use the word “friend” loosely…or rather, creatively. In this instance, it’s sort of like:

Friend  /frend/ (n): this super cute guy in a band that I fell in love with on the spot one day back in 2000 when I was standing in Nordstrom and their video came on and I wasn’t really paying attention but thought to myself  “oh hey, I like this song!” and so I glanced up and almost fainted right there at the register… and who, today, calls me by name, kisses me hello every time I see him and makes up mind numbingly elaborate stories denying that the songs he writes are about his surreptitious and undying love for yours truly (even though we all know the truth...“I love a girl in California, but I married a girl up in New York”? you’re not fooling anybody), but who definitely does NOT call me on the phone and ask to go grab lunch or take our boys on a playdate or something. Heavens no, that would be absurd. So is he technically my “friend”? Well, Potato, Po-tah-toe.

Anywhoo….Pretty sure I left the mall that day with the CD in hand, devouring and memorizing every word of the liner notes before I pulled into my driveway.

Go big or go home, folks. I don’t do crushes half way.

I spent 2000-2001 listening to that CD backwards and forwards on repeat incessantly until everyone around me probably wanted to shoot themselves in the eardrums. Until the obsession slowly faded….and my love for alt rock gave way to a short affair with techno and electronica (I don’t know.)…when I stumbled out of that phase,dazed and more than a little confused, I found myself laying out in the sun on my roof in Jackson Heights, Queens (how I would up in Queens is another story for another day) with that old cd in my walkman – yes, i said walkman - I know. can you handle it? I was totally consumed by sense memory. Out of nowhere, a light went on and the liner-note cramming I had done all those years ago all of the sudden proved useful….these guys…this band…they were from Long Island, if memory was serving me correctly, and mother of god I could not get my bikini clad ass down the stairs fast enough to google that shizz.

So there I am, a week or so later, sweating my ass off in a tiny, divey, biker bar in Port Jefferson, 2 feet from the stage, completely unaware that I was standing on the precipice of the moment that would ultimately change the entire course of my life.

He walked out onto that stage, this man who had been serenading me via sony walkman all this time, whom I had been daydreaming about, obsessing over and internet stalking for years. Close enough to touch, real and in the flesh and more beautiful than I ever even imagined. My jaw dropped and my heart slammed into my stomach like it had just been poured full of concrete….and I was a goner. Wrap it up.

After that fateful show, he came down to mingle with the handful of people, most of whom he seemed to know quite well and I stood, like a deer in the headlights, paralyzed by fear, salivating. The very definition of Stalker Creep. The friend that so mercifully tagged along for this drool-a-palooza decided she couldn’t take it anymore and went to him, took him by the elbow and announced that her friend over there, the one with the crazy eyes, panting? Well, that girl wanted to say hello but couldn’t manage to move her feet, and would he be so kind as to just, I don’t know, WAVE or something?

Looking at these pictures now gets me totally hysterical. I was a shaking, twitching, sweating, nervous wreck. I still shudder thinking about the asinine things that came out of my mouth that night...and I smile, thinking about how sweet he was to this hot mess who couldn’t for the life of her gain her composure.

I didn't have a clue that my future husband was at that bar that night, shouting requests from the back of the room. I didn’t even meet him until 6 months and countless shows later, but I always heard him, hollering from the back…of course, if you’d asked me then, I’d have sworn to you I’d never love anyone other than John ever, ever again. That didn’t turn out to be the case, but do I still have a colossal, shameless crush on him? You betcha. Youuuu betcha.

When I think back on all the moments that have belonged to me, the most fascinating ones are the ones where, unbeknownst to me at the time, the road forked off in a new direction. Had I made even the slightest different choice, to go to Macy’s that day rather than Nordstrom for example, I wouldn’t be sitting here today. I would never have met my husband, I wouldn’t have my son. Where would I be? Who would I know? It’s enough to blow your mind if you think about it too hard.

So twelve years later, here we are. The memories are plentiful, the laughs, the embarrassments, the totally cockamamie things that continue to come out of my mouth, the kisses, the hugs, and THE MUSIC have filled my life with a happiness I can’t explain. Directly and indirectly. And there was John, essentially the catalyst to all of it. I can’t make this stuff up, folks.

Montauk, 2006

"if you can't find your way then the way finds you
everyday you're defined by the things you do
everyday that you wake you're reborn brand new
so get up find your feet and walk in new shoes again"

~jh

 

the newest member of the family....

Meet Markey.

Sweet little ball of puppy feathers and undoubtedly the most scrumptious puppy breath you could ever smell.  She is the newest blonde in our little clan, living the good life down in Florida with her big brother Bentley looking out for her from above, and I have loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her. By the time I can get there and sink my face into her platinum fur, I know she won’t be a puppy anymore, but that’s the thing about Golden Retrievers…no matter how big they get, how white their snouts, how limpy their gait, there forever remains a spark of puppy in their eye…

Welcome to this crazy fam, sweet girl! You got a good one, for sure!

it's the most wonderful time of the year...

So it’s starting….

The annual case of IBD (Impending Birthday Doom for those of you not into link clicking today)…I realize that my birthday is not for another 6 weeks, but this is right around the time where I start thinking about it, realize it’s…well….impending…and, as is my nature, start concocting all manner of hi-fallutin  things I’d love for people to do for me. Somewhere in my brain, I’m pretty sure I believe I am a princess…or a movie star or, you know, someone worthy of being carried around on a giant satin pillow by Channing Tatum and fed frozen, peeled grapes. It’s the Leo in me, what can I really say?

And, just as an aside, I’m really not so into Channing Tatum. I only picked him cuz all the girls are crazy about him these days and I want to be in with the in crowd...I mean, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers, but meh….now, if Adam Richman wants to carry me around on a pillow and feed me grapes, we’d really have something….(oh crap. Am I talking about him again??) intervention!!!!!!

Where was I? oh yes. Birthday Doom.

I have to admit though, thankfully, that the Doom has not quite set in yet…which is great! I mean, I’m hopeful maybe this year we can skip the Doom. Hopeful, but not optimistic. I don’t know what my problem is.

Yes I do.

It’s expectations. Damn pesky expectations. They do no one any good, you know? But this year, I’m trying to keep it simple. I’ve already chosen my dinner spot, which is usually a whole big production…and in case anybody needs help in the gift-picking department, I’ve gone ahead and started a Pinterest board. Go ahead and email me if you need my address for shipping….hahahahah….ahem.

1.

2.

3.

4.

But seriously. I know I’m not the only one who does this, because I have discussed it at length with friends who all agree that most of the time, birthday expectations are just a recipe for disappointment….are ya picking up what I’m throwing down or….? No?

:::crickets:::

I’m trying to change my way of thinking…I really think this year is going to be different….better….I really think so….

it's friday, yo!

I’m realizing as I’m reading over my Friday’s Letters that they might come off a bit hostile…and I may or may not have screamed some pretty severe profanity and umbrella-stabbing threats at the woman who honked at me when the light turned green this morning and interrupted me checking my emails. So I’m feeling stabby today. I’ll try and bring back the happy next week, folks….

Dear Pediatrician,

Don’t piss me off today. You’re already on my sh*t list. Don’t give me the worried face when I am answering your asinine questions just a tad differently than you’d like, don’t send me into a panic over nothing like you always do and don’t even THINK about giving my son more than one shot, got it? p.s. take a good look at my sweet boy cuz we’re switching doctors after this appointment. Your office staff is from hell and you’re not far behind. Also, my PMS is raging right now, so you should probably call for reinforcements. See you at 2:45.

Dear Tomorrow’s Weather,

Thanks for being such an overachiever!!! Yes, I definitely said I like it hot but I actually don’t recall mentioning that I’d like to be able to poach an egg in my swimming pool…but hey, maybe I did. Who knows…I drink a lot of wine.

Dear 2lbs. I lost,

So help me god, if you mysteriously show up again and bring a pile of friends with you just in time for my WW meeting Sunday morning like you have been doing for 8 weeks now (plateau much?), you’re going to be sorry. I'll eat nothing but rice cakes dipped in Sriracha for a week. I’ll show you who’s boss.

Dear Erin Condren Planner,

Please hurry up. I am dying to get my paws on you! Plus, I have a lot of things to plan! And by a lot of things, I pretty much just mean I need to transfer over my birthday wish list and decorate October 13^th with glitter and hearts. So hurry. That stuff is muy importante.

Dear Self,

Get your act together. I’ve been gentle and forgiving with you for long enough, it’s time to get serious. I’m not asking for miracles here, all I want is a little effort. I’m not sure why you’ve lost all motivation….nothing has changed. There are still big events on the horizon and when they roll around and you’re still tossing the same 4lbs back and forth, all your clothes look terrible not matter what ridiculous pose you twist yourself into and you beat yourself up for not taking this seriously months ago, there will be tears, like there always have been. Why?? Why not just make the sacrifices once and for all and allow yourself to be happy? Think about it.

{via}

Dear wine,

I think we should talk. Maybe our breakup was a little premature. I mean, look how much fun we have together!!!

And last but not least…

Dear Andi,

Tomorrow is your wedding!! To your baby daddy and all around awesome dude…the love you have been waiting for and the love that you DESERVE. I am over-the-moon happy for you, my sweet firend, and I can think of no one who deserves this wonderful life that is unfolding more than you…I wish I could be there to kiss you both! I love you, girl!!

‘til next week my friends….unless I melt first.

technical difficulties...

I haz them.

and by "technical difficulties" I basically mean my blogging brain is crapping out and I can't think of a single damn thing to entertain you people with. Not a single thing. Except for things that suck, and nobody wants to read about sucky things.

So, until i get my mojo back, here is a picture of Benny covered in blueberry pie...

I hope your 4th was safe, glorious and celebratory....even though falling on a Wednesday has totally thrown me off in the weirdest way...like, really.

Peace out, Sprouts.