Invictus Maneo

Coconut Sweet Potato Bisque and the last vestiges of fall

2011-11-09T18:56:00.000-05:00

Yes, I realize that fall isn't quite over, but I have to tell you. Fall = October. November/December = Christmas. And that's just plain fact.

My latest culinary obsession is the Tupelo Honey Cafe cookbook and the Coconut Sweet Potato Bisque recipe found therein.

Ingredients:

2 large sweet potatoes, peeled & thinly sliced

4 cups and 4 1/2 teaspoons H2O

1 can unsweetened coconut milk (14oz can)

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons REAL maple syrup (this ain't no place for Aunt Jemimah)

1 1/2 teaspoons honey

2 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground pepper

4 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (also known as a "dash")

Equipment:

Cutting knife

Vegetable peeler

Immersion blender

Large cast iron dutch oven

Tasting spoon

Self-control

Wash, peel, thinly slice your potatoes.

Throw 'em in the pot with your 4 cups over water over high heat until they're boiling. Boil 20 minutes, or until you can easily break apart the potatoes with a spoon. Reduce heat to medium and if you have a potato masher, mash up the potatoes in the water. If not, a large spoon will do quite nicely. Add the coconut milk, sugar, syrup, honey, salt, pepper, and pumpkin pie spice. At this point, use your immersion blender to blend everything up together, being careful to keep the wand under the surface of the soup so you don't make a giant mess. If you do, it's ok though. Simmer for approximately 15 minutes and let it thicken.

In a bowl, combine the cornstarch and the 4 1/2 teaspoons of water to make a paste. Add to the soup along with the cayenne and blend again. This will thicken the soup even more to a deliciously creamy texture. Soup should coat the back of a spoon.

Permission to lose your mind granted. :)

Please note, if you do not have an immersion blender you can definitely use a food processor and work in batches transferring back and forth. I used to do that until I got an immersion blender and I can say with confidence it has changed my soup making life. This is the one I have. Bon appetit!

PS, the Tupelo Honey Cafe is in Asheville, North Carolina, and if you ever have the chance to go, GO. Not an option.

I think I'm falling for you

2011-10-24T11:34:00.000-04:00

To quote Colbie Caillat, and to jump on the trite fall sayings train, I'm falling for Fall. Since the first day of Fall, (September 23), after our impromptu Fall Festivous, our townhouse has been decked out. Not over the top, mind you, but simple things like mini pumpkins and a few wreaths just take us from blazing hot August right on to mild October.

[Sorry about the quality of the pics--iPhone will only get you so far.] Something I think is essential to winding your way from one season to the next...following your nose.

Please excuse the abrasive purple background. Yikes--but this candle smells amazing. It's definitely Fall, but with a hint of Christmas-around-the-corner. And now you know why I buy it year after year.

This one is a new one I picked up on a Target trip. Also known as a how-did-I-get-all-this-stuff-in-my-buggy trip to pick up "a few things". Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day soy candle in Orange Clove. AH-MAZING. I tell you, delicious.

[OK, this is more of an aside, but I have to tell you--Mrs. Meyer's countertop spray in Basil is likewise delightfully scented and will leave your kitchen smelling like you gave it a deep clean. Doesn't smell chemically, but light and refreshing.]

And, I know I'm biased, but how could you not love this sweet face?! I'm dying from the cuteness.

[And, he's Fall colored. Win-win.]

Hold on to your hats, folks.

2011-10-18T18:37:00.000-04:00

And, hello Fall! So nice to see you! I went a whole summer without blogging. And I'm sure my readers deleted me from many a bookmark. But just in case you didn't, I just wanted to drop in and say......I'm ba-aaaaack!!

So here are the highlights of my summer.

May:
*moving day! Chapel Hill to Charleston [and a few trips to WalMart and Goodwill]
*went full time at work = [more dollars]

June:
*Anniversary Numero Dos, [ice cream and cake and cake]
*Andrew started work at WaterMissions International as a Junior Engineer, [unfortunately, he does not drive trains]

July:
*Andrew defended his thesis, [en garde]
*We got a Vizsla puppy and named him Diesel Leroy Chicken Wing Armstrong [love at first tinkle on my kitchen floor]

August:
9,644 weddings [actually, three]
Barrett, my brother-in-law, moved in with us for a semester, [there's no such thing as leftovers]

September:
*Nothing happened and it went by really fast [RULL fast]

Ah. Now you see? We are all caught up. And now it's mid-October. Practically Christmas, which you know just makes me all giddy with excitement.

And now, pictures of the puppy! True story, my first iPhone done kicked out after approximately two weeks so I lost all of the pictures of going to get Diesel at the dog show [fluff the tail, fluff the tail!] and all of his tiny baby Diesel pictures. So sad. But anyway, here's the ones I do have:

We went on a long walk and Diesel boy just plopped down in the grass.

It's the wrinkles, I tell you.

Baby Diesel in the car on the way to Hendersonville last weekend.

Digging in the dirt at Alhambra Hall.

I do apologize for my tardiness in posting this. But it's going to be a wonderful Fall!

I gotta get this off my chest

2011-06-23T17:50:00.000-04:00

1. Transition is hard. and good. It's both. Complexity, folks.
2. Money is hard. All at once we have too much and not enough.
3. Some days, I feel like I'm in a time warp. Age and innocence wrapped up in one soul.
4. We don't have cable. We don't need cable. But, man, I miss the Kardashians. {See number 2.}
5. I'm l o v i n g living at the beach again. But. IT'S REALLY HOT. yowza.
6. I'm so proud of my friends and of what each of them is accomplishing and attempting and learning and doing. And I'm learning to accept and embrace that we aren't all in "the same place" anymore. And that, my dear friends, is how we learn from the experiences of others. If we were all in the same boat, we would lack the opportunity to marvel at what God is doing new and different in each other. {See number 3.}
7. Some days I love my job, and some days I'm just thankful I have a job. And there ain't nothin' wrong with that.
8. It has been h e a v e n l y living with my husband again. I love him. And I'm reminded of the reasons why every.single.day.
9. I think about Christmas daily. It gives me the cool fuzzies. {See number 5.}
10. Peace, love, America.

So. I'm sorry? I made some lists...

2011-06-09T13:01:00.000-04:00

I haven't written in almost a MONTH. a month. Sheesh. (But I was kinda busy. Not an excuse, I know. But I'm going to try and parlay it for one. 'Kay? Good.)

Also, my camera is on the fritz. Circling the drain. Headed south. That is, I've no pictures of our new abode as of yet. And I don't think you would want to see anyway because there's still boxes everywhere and pictures leaning against walls and a general disarray that lends no beauty to photographs. Unless it's like hipster messy. You know, like when artists are featured on a blog and they are trying to come across as so cool they don't even care if their bed is unmade? Yeah. It's not even like that.

Since the earlier part of May, aka the alleged date of my last post, we've done a lot of things. Even things before then that I didn't blog about. Like go see Noah graduate and get commissioned as an officer in the Navy. That was at the end of April. I didn't even tell you! Shoot. It was awesome. I loved America before, but boy do I love her now. Brought a tear to my eye. And I'm so proud of my big brother. So proud.

And then we moved. A week-long logistical extravaganza, you might say, that ended in sunny Charleston, SC. Since that day, Andrew has set a date for his master's defense and his start date at WMI. I've started full time at the hospital. (Hooray!) We've joined and plugged in to St. Andrew's City Church (total awesomeness). I helped throw a supercute (if I do say so myself) baby shower for Summer in Hendersonville. We celebrated two years of marriage (woot!). We're on the waiting list for a puppy (be. still. my. heart.) We've been to the beach, grilled out, gone for long walks, watched movies, hung out with friends, and generally enjoyed summertime and togetherness. It's been so good. This is the life. One evening after dinner we were just chatting and cleaning up and really came to the realization of how good we have it. We have it so good. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you and Amen.

So now. Here's the goal over the next few weeks.
1. Finish the house. Maybe not like tooootally finish, but hang the rest of the pictures and get organized. You know. A house that's a home is never really finished, right?
2. Go to the beach 100 million times. This one's priority.
3. Paint some furniture. Pretty excited about this one.
4. Rest and enjoy life with my love.

It's a pretty good list. Not too lofty, but a few goals that need motivation and motion behind them. I've got a few other goals for the summer though, including but not limited to:
1. Purchasing a beach cruiser.
2. Obtaining some new furniture. I've got a list. It's a long one. Probably won't get it all this summer, but maybe a few pieces.
3. Couch to 5k.
4. Fishing
5. Make one of the more complicated homemade ice cream recipes with our ice cream maker.
6. Sew new throw pillows with some leftover fabric. Recycling. Ah.
7. Read books that make me smarter. But also that I enjoy.
8. Write a new song. Haven't done this in a while, but I think I'd like to give it a shot.
9. Beg, borrow, steal or buy a new camera. Hopefully not steal. That would be trouble.
10. Make more trips to GoodWill. Simplify is a good word to think on.
11. Keep up with blogging! YES!

Like I said, not limited to. And since I'm the editor of this list I can, of course, edit things out. Or in. :) I like being editor.

So there you have it. A small summary, but hopefully has y'all up to speed. Two things before I go:
1. I'm obsessed with Pinterest.
2. Congratulations and best wishes to Zach and Cristin on their engagement!!! Love you guys and can't wait to celebrate with y'all!

Arrivederci!

Wednesday, May Eleventh, Two Thousand and Nine

2011-05-11T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm still sweating and I haven't stopped. Between work, driving, the strange weather we're 'aving, mate, packing, laundry, errands--oh, the errands--I'm plumb wore out. And we haven't even moved in yet! Sheesh!

I feel like a horse at the Kentucky Derby, right before the gun, stuck behind the start gate. Not that I will ever know what that actually feels like, but this may be a tiny sliver of what it feels like. Holding pattern, I tell you. Holding pattern.

Thank goodness this is one of those times that, no matter how sloooow time is going, there will be a definite end to the waiting. Thank goodness.

I have so many ideas for crafty little home projects that I can't wait to get started on--but I have to move in first. And get organized. Organization is a must. After pretty much the opposite of organization for the last eight months, I think I would like organization to move in with us and become a permanent fixture around our house. Misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows, mmm? Yes. Do move in with us?

Here's the master plan:

Tomorrow after worksicle: UPS store, dry cleaners, then to the townhouse to CLEAN! I've debated this question for a handful of minutes here, and even though the place will indubitably get trashed by the very act of moving in, I would like to start out with my very own elbow grease rubbing the shine into the countertops, sinks, toilets, and at least to let my eyes rest on every little square inch of that place before I'm trying to shove things into the cupboards. (Out of sight out of mind? Not quite.) I want it to be spic 'n span. No, that is not product placement. But I do. Want it to be clean. Very clean.

Friday: Head 'em up, move 'em out. Lots and lots of boxes and thingssss at my parents' house will be loaded into Stella's spacious hind end (what? it's true) and unloaded in the New Place. These things mostly include kitchen stuffs and a random assortment of bedding, pictures, paintings, and otherthingsIstuckinboxes. My goal is to have everything land where it eventually will be living, as well as to totally unpack the kitchen and get rid of all of those boxes to make way for Prince Ali when he comes with the big furniture on Saturday. (Did you catch at Aladdin reference? Because I thought it was awesome.)

Saturdaze: Andrew + The Armstrongs-in-law will arrive at some point with a big ol' Pensky truck with the remainder of our worldly goods. We will unload said goods and start unpacking for REAL!

Sunday: Probably more unpacking. But I know one thing is for sure: my day will not include driving to or from anywhere. Unless it's to or from the beach.

Walk it out

2011-05-02T15:12:00.000-04:00

A Springtime walk and some scenes from my favorite route in Chapel Hill.

A view up the road from our house.

Standing on the corner looking towards campus/UNC Hospitals. The cranes are helping build a new Dental school building. Gorgeous blue sky!

A house with heaps of potential, but coed residents keep it in a constant state of junkiness. Boo.

Another house with loads of potential.

Beautiful blooms!

From gloom to green in a few short weeks.

A little NC dogwood for you.

The Jimmy Dean Dome. (haha ;) )

Uphill. A.k.a. buns and thighs.

More potential.

The weirdest architectural design ever. It's scowling at me.

Azaleas!

I have to tell you, it feels good to sit and take a breath! The last few weeks have been a whirlwind and the next few weeks are not looking to slow down either. We went to Rhode Island to see my brother, Noah, graduate from the Navy's Officer Candidate School (Delta Company ROOLZ.) And we went to Hendersonville for Easters. And then I got a horrible cold. And we worked and drove and packed and drove and packed some more. Our time of residence in Chapel Hill is coming to a close and just when we want to slow down and take it all in, everything goes to warp speed and it's over before we know it. Ain't that the truth? Pray for us in this time of transition, pleaseandthankyou.

Also, was the Royal Wedding not spectacular?! I loved it! AND my wonderful husband got up at 4am with me to watch it live so that I would not be oo-ing and ah-ing alone. What a peach. :)

Cheers!

2011-04-10T23:00:00.000-04:00

It's official. We're headed South at the beginning of May. Well, South-er. To the Lowcountry, the glorious Lowcountry. Andrew accepted an engineering job at WaterMissions International where he will lend his hand and heart in saving thousands of lives annually by providing potable water to many of our great globe's poorest of poor and to those in the midst of disaster. I am so. incredibly. proud. I couldn't be prouder.

This weekend we made like Elmer Fudd and went "hunting wabbit", so to speak, only our wabbit has a door and four walls and a 12 month lease. We were quite successful, if I do say so myself, and ended our huntin' day with a sizable catch: a little brick row house in the Old Village. We are so excited! We can walk to the Pitt Street bridge, ride our bikes to Sullivan's Island, brunch at the Village Bakery...ah. I can't wait!

It's a funny thing, going home. Although I will be moving back to my hometown, my mind understands that it really will never be the home of my childhood, even if my heart is still lagging behind a bit. Because when you get dropped off at college, it doesn't really register that it's the end. The end of childhood, the end of things being as they once were. The end of free and easy as you know it. And it's a good thing. It really is. Children are supposed to grow up and become independent, mature adults. They are supposed to move out, get married, move away, and start families of their own. But sometimes, I wish I could close my eyes and go back. Back to Christmas morning with just the five of us and Muffin, too. Back to the sound of the clanging triangle signaling time to come home. Back to pizza toast and grape Kool-aid and a treat before choir practice. Back to Cove Creek and Red Eye, Manhunt, Dodgeball and Red Rover. Just for a second.

But. [And there is always a but.] I know that I can't. I can only reminisce and thank the Lord for my parents and siblings and what a fantastic childhood I had. I am in love with the man of my mother's prayers and thank goodness and praise the Lord he agreed to marry me. I went to an amazing university (Go Tigers!) and fulfilled my 14 year-old dream of becoming a nurse. I don't want to go back, because if I did, I would be missing all of this. The goodness of what is happening right now at this time, in this moment in my life. And it is good, so good. And who knows what comes next?! Only God knows, ain't that the Truth. So here's to the future--the exciting, scary, delicious, romantic, rocky, hilarious, hectic, wonderful, adventurous, unknown future--here's to it.

Here's to a brick-front townhouse off of Center Street, a new job, another season of life. Breathe in, breathe out, say a thankful prayer and move forward.

Shocking, I know.

2011-03-29T21:13:00.000-04:00

Two posts a day apart??? Keep breathing, Reader. Boredom begets many a blog post.

Have I introduced you to this cat?

I didn't think I had....here he is, sunning on our stoop. He lives around our little duplex, and belongs to someone, but we don't know who. (I think he has an owner--Andrew thinks he's feral). But he loves me. I mean, seriously. Cat will be waiting in the driveway when I come home to Chapel Hill after a work week. (Andrew says he loves everyone, but I'm convinced. It's me.)

I don't know his name--sometimes I call him Basil, (with a short 'a', like the Brits), sometimes I call him Marbles. But mostly I just call him Buddy Boy or Sugar Pie or Honey Bear or Muffin Pants or some such endearment. I really don't even know if he is, in fact, a he. But what I do know is that this cat meows and meows and meows and rubs and rubs and rubs until you pet him and sit down and let him climb up and make himself comfortable in your lap. How could a cat this sweet be feral??? And how could he not want to run away and live with us for the rest of his nine lives? I think he wants to.

Now, before you go callin' me Cat Lady and buying me long denim jumpers for Christmas, let it be known that I love this cat because he is nice. Lots of felines are not nice. Not nice at all, i.e. you unwittingly reach out to pet them and subsequently pull back a bloody nub. But this kitty is a nice kitty.

So what if he faintly smells of dirt and dead animal. (It's true. Gross. I know. But hey, cat's gotta survive in the wild, right? King of the Jungle and all that. And vigorous hand washing after petting.)

I'm thinking he probably won't be coming with us when we move. Andrew already said I couldn't steal him. Durn.

For everything.

2011-03-27T17:27:00.000-04:00

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.:

a time to be born

and a time to die;

a time to plant

and a time to pluck up what was planted;

a time to kill

and a time to heal;

a time to break down

and a time to build up;

a time to weep

and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn

and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones

and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace

and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek

and a time to lose;

a time to keep

and a time to cast away;

a time to tear

and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence

and a time to speak;

a time to love

and a time to hate;

a time for war

and a time for peace.

He has made everything beautiful in its time.

Ecclesiastes 3

{ESV}

O, that Wisdom would place her graceful garland on my head, that I may seek and understand this time.

What ha' happened was...

2011-03-17T22:03:00.000-04:00

Andrew got me flowers for Valentine's Day. {Awwwwww!}

Dane asked Meghan to be his Lawfully Wedded Wife! {Awwwww, a second time!}

At some point I made Ree's Meatloaf for dinner.

And took pictures of it. All whilst my husband sat salivating by. How cruel.

Andrew and I went to "Science Day" at a local elementary school to help four classes of 3rd graders "swab" the environment and inoculate agar plates. Except you can't use words like "inoculate" and "agar". You have to say "smear the q-tip on the jello".

He wears his Toms every day of the week. And I like it.

Little bird, little bird--brush your gray wings on my head...{tweet, tweet!}

Since last time

2011-03-13T17:02:00.000-04:00

12 days is too long since my last post. Sorries all around, folks. Life on the road just gets under the fingernails and it takes a little bit to scrape all the dirt out. Rinse and repeat and such.

Andrew and I are sitting al fresco at Foster's Market in Chapel Hill with the hum of the traffic, the chirping and tweeting birds and the rotund bumble-bees' buzzing as our backdrop to this glorious sun-streaked afternoon. There is a ginormous genetically engineered Golden-doodle nearby, smiling and drooling while his owner sips her raspberry soda and thumbs through a magazine. The conversations of nearby tables float over our heads, snippets of deals struck and prices negotiated rhythmically bobbing in the atmosphere.

It's the middle of March, Lent has begun--the season of waiting for Easter to arrive. This Spring holds so much. So much transition. So much accomplishment. So much hope. A little bit of rest for the weary. A time to get to work in a different way this go around. Something different for all this sameness. Like a childhood vacation spot revisited, geographically the same but feeling a little looser than last time.

Daylight saving time started last night, (also known as summer time according to Wikipedia), which means church was a little thin this morning, even with the ubiquity of cell phones that automatically take care of the time change. Kind of a goofy thing we made up ourselves to make the summer days longer and the winter days shorter, but I'll take it. Grilling out for dinner is much less romantic in the dark.

I have a camera full of photos to dump and post, but I just haven't gotten around to it. For all of you who read for the pictures, I promise they are coming. I just have to find the chord... :)

Winding down

2011-03-01T21:20:00.000-05:00

The best part of my {work} day, somewhere between seven and nine o'clock.

A broken off square of Ghirardelli Twilight Delight chocolate, (At 72% cacao, this heavenly morsel is sweet enough to satisfy, but bitter enough to stop you from eating the entire bar. And really. Could there be a more perfect name for this piece of nighttime quadratical loveliness?? I think not.)...

And a hot cup of Bigelow Sweet Dreams tea. In a pretty cup, of course. (For what is tea without it's teacup? Hot, dirty water.)

Happy March, lovelies.

(Hurry, Spring, hurry!)

Spring, come on down!

2011-02-27T18:32:00.000-05:00

I know I have previously confessed to you my fatal flaw of willing the next season to hurry up and get here...well, let me just sheepishly raise my hand and mutter, "guuuiiiiiilty", because Spring has sprung, whether or not it's reflected in the calendar date or the weatherman's forecast. Spring officially begins March 20th. But who wants to wait for twenty.more.days? Not I, said the fly.

For some reason, with every first bloom of the Bradford Pear trees, I am compelled to paint my finger and toe nails a bright, sunny shade of something deliciously girly and happy. This year it's the old cheeky standby, Cajun Shrimp. My good man.

Of course, I have more selfish reasons to encourage the coming of Spring--only eight more weeks-ish of driving back and forth, back and forth. I am ready to be a full time wife again. I miss my hubby every day that I'm not with him. It's time to reunite for good. Period. End of story. Thanksverymuch. Take a bow. The End. Fin. I can hardly believe that we have been doing this for six months already. Time flies when you're on the highway two days a week. (That's not how the saying goes, but...still. Time flies.)

How'd we do it?? Well my first answer is I HAVE NO IDEA. But upon ruminatin' a little more, I would say, 1. iChat, 2. Free Audiobooks app on our iPod, 3. Prayer and compromise. (Number three's a two-fer, but four is just an awkward number for a list, don't y'all think?) iChat kept us sane--seeing someone while you're talking with them makes a huge difference. Free Audiobooks have improved my vocabulary and my education instead of allowing me to follow my compulsion to mash "scan" over and over again until I know the song on the radio. And prayer and compromise...well you can probably guess that being apart the majority of the time is tough cookies. Like old leather tough. You get selfish with your time--and when I say you, Reader, I mean I. All of those, and knowing it's not forever has helped me keep my head on straight. As opposed to it spinning off into orbit. We've come close, but--so far-- still attached.

Anyway, Happy Early Spring to you and yours. Regardless of the calendar, my attitude is of Springtime, my heart says it is so. So it must be. :)

Butterfingers

2011-02-20T19:49:00.000-05:00

Nope.

Sadly, this is not a post about the deliciously flaky, buttery chocolateness that is my favorite Yogurt Pump topping.

I got home Thursday night to find that, sob, in the course of the afternoon as Andrew, my dear sweet husband, had precariously and gingerly perched the coffee pot in the drainboard atop a bit of other miscellany: it fell. It crashed. It shattered. No more coffee pot. No more automatic morning aroma of nutty goodness. No more pause and serve. No more. Through no fault of his own, Andrew had inadvertently perched our beloved carafe on the thin edge of it's demise, and it had tumbled to it's inauspicious end.

I tried not to be upset. But the bitterness, like cold coffee grounds, was ever-present in the back of my throat. To stifle my pain and relieve the burgeoning headache from the lack of caffeine, we French pressed our way to an overstimulated stupor.

In my grief the next day, I took to cleaning. Scrubbing, dusting, laundering. I deep cleaned every appliance in our tiny kitchen. I laundered our bedding, couch cover, towels--anything that could be removed and covered in a goopy layer of Shout. Toward the end of my disinfection rampage, I began to dry all of the wet dishes in the drainboard. There were trays and racks from the toaster oven and microwave, bowls, plates, etcetera--I picked up the glass turntable for the inside of the microwave. It was covered in water droplets. I swiped them away with my colorful dishtowel, and as I was moving toward the microwave to replace said item, it slipped. I lurched to recover the heavy glass, but it was awkward in my hands and still wet--it crashed to the floor. My eyes screwed shut, I didn't want to look at the fate I knew had befallen the appliance accessory. It was in a billion pieces. One. Billion. At least. I couldn't believe it. In the span of 24 hours two of our most used appliances were completely out of commission.

Today, we googled. We whipped out the debit card and purchased replacement parts. A small fortune later, we breathed a sigh of relief. In a few short days--coffee will be brewing and popcorn will be popping yet again in the Armstrong household.

Crisis averted.

Bonne Saint Valentin!

2011-02-14T11:15:00.000-05:00

To my one and only Valentine,

I love you to the moon and back, forever and a day. You're the syrup to my waffles, the creamer to my coffee, the jelly to my toast.

You just make everything sweeter!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! On a day all about love, don't forget to tell the ones you love the most how much they mean to you. Hallmark may be making a killing, but Love wins in the end.

Keep Your Hands Off My Doritos.

2011-02-05T17:31:00.000-05:00

What a perfect day to have the sniffles, if the sniffles must prevail. Chilly, windy and overcast, sprinkles of rain here and there.

I want to bake, but my hiney says, please. do not.

I want to read, but I just finished my latest novel, Little Bee.

So, here I sit in the bed: two sweaters, wool blanket, full box of Puffs [plus Lotion], mint tea. Playing on the computer. Do they still have Oregon Trail? I've got a hankerin' to play that game. To ford the river or take the long way around? Let's live on the edge: ford, we shall!

I found this the other day and made it my desktop, and methinks you should do the same. I stumbled across it through Poppytalk, gah--the cuteness. There's just a few blogs out there with cool stuff on them, hm?

Anyone excited about the Soooooper Bowl? or the commercials?? I wonder what gems the corporate marketing think tanks have come up with this year.

Anyhow, alls I'm hoping for is some good dip. None of that sissy Skoal stuff.

Did you know? {Groundhog's Day Edition}

2011-02-01T21:34:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, (February 2nd), will be Punxsutawney Phil's 125th prognostication. Which basically means Phil's got some serious longevity in his genome.

Phil lives in a burrow on Gobbler's Knob. Just say that out loud. Gobbler's Knob.

Before being dubbed "Phil" he was called Br'er Groundhog.

A groundhog is also known as a woodchuck. However, "how much wood could a groundhog chuck" doesn't really present the same challenge.

Let us have a moment of silence and pray that Br'er Groundhog does not see his shadow, henceforth cursing us with six more weeks of winter.

{Dear Springtime, please hurry! Love, MaryGene}

The list goes on.

2011-01-31T18:25:00.000-05:00

1. Guilty pleasure: Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

2. January, February, and March are useless to me. And cold.

3. When my hair is long, I want it to be short. When it's short, I want it to be long again. And I can't.stand.it. when it's in the in-between stage. #shudder

4. I'm afraid of my bathroom scale right now. #doubleshudder

5. In a few months, I will face the annual battle and recurring question: to tan or not to tan?

6. I really shouldn't tan.

7. Valentine's Day is coming up. Do you have your doilies at the ready?

8. I love hotdogs.

9. I really shouldn't love hotdogs.

10. Whenever I say wikileaks, I have to concentrate not to say winkileaks, or wikilinks. Not that I say wikileaks that much. I'm just sayin'.

11. See? This is what kinds of posts you get in January. Boooo-rinnnng.

12. My apologies. Let's hope for a more stimulating February.

Loves

2011-01-24T14:10:00.000-05:00

1. The pies have it. {Williams-Sonoma}

2. One-piece of cake. {Anthropologie}

3. Two toned kicks. {Gap}

4. The fluff factor. {House of Turquoise}

5. Statement studs. {Stella & Dot}

Better late?

2011-01-11T21:51:00.000-05:00

Wait.

...

It's 2011?

What just happened?

Last I checked I was squaring up a rotund, homegrown pumpkin on my front stoop, craning my neck to see if the October issue of Martha was in my postman's hot little hand.

And there it came and there it went. And ThanksgivingChristmasandNewYear's rolled by right along with it.

I wouldn't say that 2010 was a bad year, either. It was fraught with good times and tough times, elation and despair, frustration and epiphany. January through August, which seem like eons ago, were spent grasping for a nursing job, whilst the summer was whiled away making-over the greater Southpoint area at the nations most user-friendly cosmetic store. [Would you like to sign up for two free issues of InStyle magazine?] And then came the job offer that was both impossible and incredible in the same breath. Scrubs, stethoscope, and a full tank of gas, I headed south for the winter. Well, three days a week at least.

One thing I've learned in my sage 24 years of life is that things rarely go as planned. Plans are for the birds. Plans are unmet expectations waiting to happen. Disappointment in the flesh. Do I sound jaded? I don't mean to be. I'm declaring the folly of plans, not the futility of hope, mind you. Hopes are altogether different than plans. Hopes are born of God, plans are ferreted out my me, myself, and I. To hope is to trust. To plan is to control. And to contrive to control is to cater to that niggling little part of me that doesn't hope, trust, or persevere. To give over to the bully who mutters in a huff, "if you want it done right, do it yourself!" is to deny the sovereignty of my Maker. Do I really think I know better? Sheesh.

And so 2011, I relinquish my resolutions, my plans, my deadlines.

But I will keep tight hold of Hope, tucked in my heart and held by a string.

Scraaaaappy New Year, e'er'body!

2011-01-01T11:24:00.000-05:00

Here's the shakedown of our Christmas and New Year's goings on. Not really, it's just some photos. So, it's more like a mini shakedown.

PW's French Onion Soup for Andrew's and my Christmas dinner. Sacré bleu, is all I have to say about that.

Presents under the Christmas tree. Yippy skippy!

Now, I can't take the credit for this idear, because as you might've guessed it's from the January issue of Martha Stewart Living. It's obviously very easy and it's a nice way to let your tree live on for a few weeks into January without having to feel like a lazy bones for having the full regalia of Christmas decorations up until Valentine's Day.

A bunch of tulips, a coupla carnations, some branches from the ol' Fraser fur and you've got yourself a soothing, simple January bouquet. I threw in the snowflake ornament just for kicks. And because it was still attached to the branch I cut off.

For auld lang syne!

Happy New Year,

MaryGene

Numbers One Through Ten

2010-12-27T22:07:00.000-05:00

Feeling sad that Christmas is over? Here's a few things to 'chin up' about:

1. The brother and sister down the street zooming around on their brand new gender specific pink and blue motorized razor scooters. And the fact that, while they will come inside sweaty and stinky, they have actually burned no calories at all, only gasoline.

2. Gift cards!

3. The infinite supply of gum in my stocking(s).

4. New Year's is just around the corner. Bubbly, hoppin' john, collards, and a brand new start!

5. It snowed in Charleston. For the second time. In one winter.

6. Reminiscing about our well planned but poorly executed "igloo" in Hendersonville that I'm sure any Eskimo worth her salt would giggle at.

7. On the flip side of the ghastly and depressing task of un-decorating for Christmas, is the delight of simplifying your surroundings for January.

8. The two Hallmark driven "holidays" between now and Easter keister: Valentine's Day, and St. Patrick's Day. One's about love, the other's about the love of the Irish. And about how everyone you know claims a liddle bit o' brogue they can't disguise.

9. America.

10. On January 1, the countdown begins again. Merry, merry!

and wonders of His love

2010-12-21T22:16:00.000-05:00

I think. Honestly, I do. That the thing I love about Christmas, the thing that makes me cry when we sing old fashioned Christmas hymns in church with lyrics so precise, the thing that makes me read and reread the account of Jesus' birth in Luke to seek and search any small clue is this:

if God. If God can be born to an obscure unmarried teenager and her anxious fiance in a crude, cold, clammy, stinky stable. If God can boldly step in to this furious fray. Step up to humanity's plate. Step out of heaven. If God can intervene. Interject. Interpose His precious blood.

Then He really must so love the world.

I can't help but marvel at His creativity. A baby. Of all things. To come as a baby instead of an apparition or a booming thunderhead or a beaming parting of the clouds. It's shocking, if you really think on it.

There cannot be an Easter Jesus without a Christmas Jesus. And Christmas Jesus came with the intent to be Easter Jesus.

Repeat,
repeat the sounding joy!

O Simplicitas

2010-12-16T21:34:00.000-05:00

by Madeleine L'Engle

An angel came to me

and I was unprepared

to be what God was using.

Mother I was to be.

A moment I despaired,

thought briefly of refusing.

The angel knew I heard.

According to God's Word

I bowed to this strange choosing.

A palace should have been

the birthplace of a king

(I had no way of knowing).

We went to Bethlehem;

it was so strange a thing.

The wind was cold, and blowing,

my cloak was old, and thin.

They turned us from the inn;

the town was overflowing.

God's Word, a child so small

who still must learn to speak

lay in humiliation.

Joseph stood, strong and tall.

The beasts were warm and meek

and moved with hesitation.

The Child born in a stall?

I understood it: all.

Kings came in adoration.

Perhaps is was absurd;

a stable set apart,

the sleepy cattle lowing;

and the Incarnate Word

resting against my heart.

My joy was overflowing.

The shepherds came, adored

the folly of the Lord,

wiser than all men's knowing.

The Scoop: a tidbit for a Monday night giggle.

2010-12-13T21:13:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time when I was driving back to Charleston from Chapel Hill for work on a rainy, windy, f-f-freezing cold Sunday afternoon I happened upon a shiny, white Cadillac. This Cadillac was, in fact, an ordinary Cadillac, as it was driven by a blue-haired, hundred-year-old lady at approximately 57 miles per hour in the right hand lane. Now what was so special about this centenarian and her lily white Caddy?

Well, it may have had something to do with the triple scoop Butter Pecan ice-cream cone she was downing like a madwoman on her way to Bridge club.

Mary had a baby, yes, Lord!

2010-12-06T21:20:00.000-05:00

If you squint, screw your face up the right way and look closely at the snow-covered house, you will see a lady beckoning at the door for the sleigh riders to hurry on to the house. Likely for cider, hot chocolate or some such delightful confection. In another dimension, that's me.

In this dimension, this is me. Leggings, hoodie, amazing knit socks from Loose Lucy's or Granny's Goodies (can't remember which), and of course a Christmas apron if there's baking to be done. And there's always baking to be done.

When I went home this weekend to Andrew, Christmas came with me, wrapped around my shoulders and tied around my heart. I finished up decorating the apartment, (also known as getting our Christmas tree), mandated (nicely) that Christmas music be the only music played, and made PW's blackberry cobbler for dessert one night. I would have taken pictures, but I've realized by now that if you're at all savvy at this whole blogging/internet thing, you've probably met The Pioneer Woman.

On Friday night Andrew and I went to the Varsity theater on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, (kind of like the Astro (may she rest in peace) for all you Tiger fans), bought Salted Caramel Hot Chocolates from Starbucks, (recommendation, YES), and took in It's a Wonderful Life on the big screen in good old fashioned black and white. I loved every minute of it.

On Saturday, we got up bright at early at the frigid crack of nine thirty and made it over to Rob and Ann's house in Raleigh. They had graciously retrieved our Christmas tree from the mountains of North Carolina for us and we were just going to pick up our adopted baby tree and bring him to his new home. As we were heading out to the car Ann shouted, "look!", and sure enough: snow. It snowed on Saturday from about two o'clock onward, enough that our neighbors made a really big, sad, dirty snowman. College kids. Can't live with 'em (germs), can't keep 'em from playing bad electric guitar at all hours. By Sunday afternoon, the snow had burned off, but the cold dug in his icy heels and had decided to extend his stay.

And now this. We had requested a "table-top" tree from Rob and Ann, and a table-top tree is what we got. Short. Little. Table-top. Perfect. Only problem is, our table top that we were going to put our table-topper on was apparently too tall for our table-top tree. So our tree ended up on the floor like a regular, read: tall, tree and is more like a Christmas bush than a tree. "Oh, Christmas bush, oh, Christmas bush, how hearty your diameter..."

I'm almost 5'3" but I was wearing probably two inch clogs in this picture. So, I'm about 5'5" in this pic. (OOooOO, go me!) However, if you forget that little (get it) detail, and look at this photograph long enough, I kind of look like a giant. Kind of.

Never have I ever felt closer to the heavens. "Angels from the realms of glory, wing your flight o'er all the earth...!" Whew! I'm out of breath. You know, lack of oxygen at these high altitudes... :)

Vitamins. With a short 'i', like the British.

2010-12-02T17:40:00.000-05:00

Go here. Read. Get a big glass of water. Swallow. Zip those skinny jeans.

Growing Pains

2010-11-29T20:29:00.000-05:00

Ow.

Oy.

Ughhhhh.

It's as if a torturous seamstress has threaded her fiery needle through each of my shoulder blades to draw them together, tightly, tightly.

It's as if bathroom breaks are a luxury, a bonus, a plus.

It's as if crumbling mascara and crumbling composure were part of the job description.

It's as if a mean-spirited cobbler inlaid my arches with cobble stones rather than mounds of supportive cushioning.

It's as if my calves had spent all day pirouetting without my knowledge until that fateful moment of alighting on a chair for the first time all shift.

It's as if a trickster barista brewed my brew without the zing of caffeine to ensure my second visit of the day.

It's as if my figurer will go on figurin' until somebody hits the lights. My brain does not stop when my badge swipes the clock.

It's as if I will never blow dry my hair or stay up late or wear normal clothes again.

It's as if I were a nurse, or some such thing.

For every ache, I am thankful.
For every complaint, there is a gut check.
Hard earned exhaustion is the unction, the ointment, of searing unemployment.

And I wear it well, and am thankful.

¹The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
         Because the LORD has anointed me
         To bring good news to the afflicted;
         He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
         To proclaim liberty to captives
         And freedom to prisoners;
    ²To proclaim the favorable year of the LORD
         And the day of vengeance of our God;
         To comfort all who mourn,
    ³To grant those who mourn in Zion,
         Giving them a garland instead of ~~ashes~~,
         The oil of gladness instead of ~~mourning~~,
         The mantle of praise instead of a ~~spirit of fainting~~
         So they will be called oaks of righteousness,
         The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified. [Isaiah 61]

In no particular order.

2010-11-19T14:06:00.000-05:00

The kitchen sink area. Yes, that is a miniature "The David" sculpture.

Fridge and washer. And trashcan. Ew, sorry. Note, nut wreath of awesomeness from last year.

Stove and coffee area looking into the hallway.

On top of the fridge--fruit bowl, winery, greenhouse, and mixer.

Fuel station.

Kitchen sink again.

El Bano. Eez tiny. So tiny that there is no good angle to show much of anything. Obviously, that's the back of the bog.

Page from a book taped to the glass of an old frame. And a shell. :)

Yup. Blue sink. Blue tub. Black and white checked floor. Awesome.

Blue tub.

Our kitchen table--used to be an old library table, so we stuck with that theme and added a vintage desk lamp, a stack of cookbooks, a photograph of a kid looking at a globe at school (that my dad took, btw), and a wall map (shower curtain in the kids' section at Target!)

The living room of Christmastimes. The plate of ornaments is just waiting for the tree.

Kitchen table again. (Hence the "no particular order" title.)

Coffee table decor.

Couch times complete with a Christmas tartan.

The view from the front door--you can see straight back to the bedroom. The little tear drop door hanging will eventually have mistletoe. Right now it's just pine cones and ribbon.

Our amazingly comfy and warm bed! We didn't have a headboard and some of the walls in our apartment are not nail friendly, so we kind of had to work around that to get a little Christmas in our bedroom.

I'm pretty sure I will keep these lights up forever. The Noel pillow was a birthday gift from my sister--and I LOVE IT!

LOVES.

Looking from the bedroom towards the front.

I added a little Christmas to the lampshade by hanging my Grandmother's crocheted snowflakes to the rim. Perfect touch, methinks!

Is this real life?

Twenty-four

2010-11-15T21:20:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow. is first day. of the rest of my life. I'm turning 24. I can hardly believe it. Sometimes I feel like I just got home from school on the last day of my eighth grade year at Moultrie ready to burn my uniform in the backyard and excited about *high school* (and a hush goes over the crowd).

Getting older is weird. Everyone's getting married. Some are already having babies. Buying big stuff we always thought was for boring, old, financially stable people (like cars, houses, computers, etc.), but not for people like moi. What like we're supposed to have babies next??? As Kent said at Steph's wedding last weekend, "kids is a cuss word in our house." Just kidding. But am I? In these last few hours of 23, my youth and zeal waning with every tick tock, I wonder, what's to become of me.

Will I have 2.1 kids and a house with a picket fence? God forbid a mini-van? Will I work for 35 years as a nurse and spend the majority of my life at my job? Will I aspire to so many exciting and admirable things but never get farther than a google search or a daydream? I don't know.

I like kids. And I like picket fences. And I think it's perfectly admirable and exciting to want those things. I definitely want them. But right now? I know that I don't just want to do what I'm supposed to do next just because I don't know what else to do. Supposed to says who? Who's blueprint am I following? My parents? My friends? My colleagues?

Listen, y'all. I'm not trying to be Debbie Downer, I'm just in a funky place right now. News flash, things don't just fall in to place. You have to decide (with Divine guidance, of course) what you want. And what I want is a teensy bit elusive right now. I just got what I spent the last year praying for, (a job, for all you newcomers or those with slight amnesia), and now I'm kind of looking around wondering what just happened. Confession, I'm also trying not to just push through to May when Andrew's done with school and we can be together again (baby lambs and rose petals...roll credits...NOT). Because come May, then what? And I can't really answer that question right now. Neither of us can. And honestly, I think we're precisely where God wants us. Not a little to the left or the right, but right here, exactly. In an odd little cattywampus place, like when you've realized you miscounted the steps in the dark. Because. Last year we learned a slew of very, very hard lessons. And now, it's Friday before midterms and guess what? There's a test. Lesson...test. Duh. Why didn't I think of that? And the first and only question on this test:

1. Trust Me? (Check yes or no).

I didn't have to pee in the woods. But I would have if it came down to it.

2010-11-08T19:01:00.002-05:00

My life is straight-up bananas right now. So sorry if my lack of blogging has messed up your morning routine. But I'm not going to tell you a sob story about how busy I am. 'Cuz I don't have time for that.

So. Andrew and I both grew up camping every summer and sometimes fall. Ironically enough, my family went from the beach to the mountains, just minutes from Andrew's parents' house and Andrew's family went from the mountains to the beach, a few hours north of my parents' house. We probably passed each other on the highway. Good thing we didn't meet back then though. I was pretty squirrely. Like I'm not now. Right.

Anyway, Andrew and I decided to take our first fledgling camper steps as newlyweds last weekend, at a state park only a half hour from our apartment. We kept it simple--tent, stove, sleeping bags--got everything in the car and headed out Friday afternoon to spend the night in the woods. (Which has always been kind of been an enigma to me. But whatever.)

Plastic bins always get the job done.

We got to the campground just as the sun was setting--we tried and tried to get there before dark, but Ranger Rick and his Girlscout assistant gave us a site that already had someone in it so we had to go back to their little hut and switch sites. We ended up pitching our tent and starting the fire during the wee twilight hours of the evening. (This has nothing to do with vampires, for those of you who's hearts just skipped a beat).

I built the fire, Andrew pitched the tent. Contraptions are not my thing.

We decided to be super low maintenance in the grub department: hot dogs, baked beans, and s'mores for dinner and coffee and biscuits on a stick for breakfast, granola bars while we were ABSOLUTELY DYING for our biscuits to get done. Easy peasy lemon squeesy. I can't say much for the nutritional value of these meals, but who counts calories while they're camping? You look like a swamp creature anyway, (remember you forsook your nice warm bed to sleep on a leaky air mattress in the middle of the woods that happens to be less than two miles from the highway. And BONUS, it's frickin' freezing Mr. Bigglesworth.), so who cares if you feel a bit squidgy around the middle, too. Right? Right. I love camping.

I know what you must be asking yourself: what on earth is a biscuit on a stick??? Well, Reader, they are only the most delightful, if just a hair troublesome, camping breakfast foodstuff that will ever cross your lips in the pale blush hours of the morning.

What you need:

Biscuits
Sticks
Fire
Critical Thinking Skills

Acute hunger makes men do crazy things.

YUM!

We filled ours with grape jelly, but you could use honey, butter, strawberry jam, chocolate...oh, the possibilities!

Our first solo camping trip was a great success--we enjoyed ourselves immensely and might even do it again sometime. Heh, heh. Although if I had to choose camping or Christmas, I'd choose Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas!...I started decorating this weekend. I KNOW! My obsession is out of control. But I just love it. Pictures will follow forthwith!

I'm a little bit of a Hallo-weeny.

2010-10-29T12:13:00.000-04:00

Halloween. For some it brings back memories of trick-or-treating, churchy Fall Festivals, homemade costumes...and for some it's about the fear factor, blood and guts, horror, being scared out of their wits, ghost stories, murder mysteries...you get the picture. As a little girl, I remember being a black cat for approximately nine years in a row: black tights and leotard, a homemade safety pin attached tail, triangular felt ears hot-glued to a headband, my black patent leather church shoes and a few whiskers drawn on my freckly cheeks with Mama's eyeliner. Jessica, Noah and I, along with the rest of our neighborhood crew would set out down our street, stopping at each house to run up the driveway, and press the doorbell fifty times and yell trick-or-treat as soon as the door was cracked. We knew which houses gave out lame-o candy like tootsie rolls or dum dums. And we knew which ones were the jackpot houses, like the "glass house" at the end of the street, (always our last stop). They gave out ice cold Cokes and king sized Snickers bars. I know. I'm sure our parents were pleased as punch when we returned home with caffeine and sugar saturated half consumed Cokes in our grubby little hands.

Part of me wishes we could have the trick-or-treating and the fun costumes without the plastic tomb stone riddled yards, or the creepy skeletons on the porch. I remember one year we stopped at this house with a coffin on the front porch and as soon as you got up to the sidewalk, it would open and a guy with a BULLET HOLE in his forehead would sit up and scare the pants off of you. It was TERRIFYING. As we walked, (well, I ran), away I lost my shiny black shoe in the pixie grass on the edge of the yard and, as Noah had the flashlight, I was left rummaging around in the dark by myself with my heart in my eight year old throat, scared that the very fires of hell were licking at my heels because of the "dead guy" on the porch. I may have cried. I don't remember. I probably blocked that part out. When I found my shoe, I ran so fast I felt like Michael Johnson in the 1996 Summer Olympics, Izzy and all. I just leaned back and bolted. I probably screamed the quintessential, "wait for meeeee!!" a few times, too.

Anyhow, this blog is proof that I made it home, mostly unscathed, to dump my candy out on the kitchen table or the living room floor for my parents to inspect. We would sort through the "good" and "bad" candy and the rejects would be put in a big bag to be taken to the prisoners at the local jail where my Dad and some of his buddies had a prison ministry. I know. Unwanted candy taken to the prison? I don't even know what to say. We would share some candy with my parents, trade amongst ourselves, (although I'm pretty sure I got duped into giving away the good stuff because Noah and Jessica were pretty good negotiators back then), and then put away our candy for the days to come. My candy would usually be gone in about two weeks. Noah's would last until Easter. I'm not sure if he had ten times as much as I did or if he was just very disciplined as a ten year old. Either way, I marveled at his endless supply of Skittles, M&Ms, and Milky Ways.

As an adult, I love to think back on the excitement of thinking up a costume and the anticipation of trick-or-treating. But I also worry a teeny bit about those kids that dress up as Zombie Bride, a Dead Surgeon, or George Bush. What lessons or values are they learning through this American tradition?? I guess it's up to the parents, but still. If I was scared of the neighbor's 18 year old son with a stick-on bullet on his forehead, I'm not sure a ten year old dressed as Freddy Krueger is such a fantastic idea.

To each his own, I guess. But I still shiver when I'm walking the neighborhood and I see a tricked out house just waiting for a few little kids to venture up the driveway. I, for one, will be staying on the street.

Notable Achievements

2010-10-19T20:16:00.000-04:00

Instead of posting on all that I haven't accomplished in the last ten or so days, I will post on a few notable things juxtaposed to that blessed and proverbial check mark. Glass half full, mm?

1. Half of the curtains are hung in our apartment. Score. This is an accomplishment because, A] we have cinder block walls on all outside walls (can't nail or screw into them without special equipment) and B] I made two of the curtains myself and I have one pair left to make.

2. Andrew and I paid off half of our credit card yesterday. Cheers to being [almost] debt free!

3. Sometime between the months of August and September I completed 30/30 days of Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. They were not consecutive days because I was one giant hematoma after about a week straight of killer work-outs, but more like every other day with long walks on the "off" days. I lost just a couple of libbies, but I could tell a big difference tone wise. I think the biggest thing for me is monitoring what I put in my mouth. And I like brownies.

4. Today, I did Level 1 on the Shred DVD after not having done it in about a month. It was brutal. And I'm being kind. But I finished. Barely. So, it's an accomplishment in my book.

5. Chubby bunny.

6. It's less than a month 'til my birthday. My Dad's birthday is on Friday. He'll be 35. ;)

7. This list is no longer resembling the list that I set out to make. Oh, well.

8. I started looking for a Christmas card yesterday. Loves it.

9. I love Martha Stewart, but I know there's no way that she freakin' makes all those pies and cakes and decorations and crap. I mean, get real. But, I love her.

10. For the life of me, I wanted to make this list a consistent and congruous catalog of accomplishments, but pretty much the first three are the only legit achievements for today's inventory. But three is a good number. Makes a balanced arrangement. Adds height and dimension and interest.

Yep. Thanks for reading.

Hearth & H o m e

2010-10-10T20:03:00.000-04:00

Staring down the barrel of the monthiversary of my auspicious employment, I will say it has flown by. As well as, dragged on. Lord, help us get through this year. But not just get through it. To savor it. Because as I have learned the Lesson of who I Am, somewhere between the Holy City and the City on a Hill, I will [am] learn[ing] where, exactly, my Home is. And one thing is for sure, for real: home is not a place, a house, an apartment, a city, or state. It's a feeling. It's an easy breath. A place of belonging. Peace. Comfort. Restfulness. Security. Trust. And I only know One place like that.

Today, the tenth of October. Sunday night. The fuzzy place between weekend and workweek. Laundry is done, scrubs are ready. I still need a fabulous picture of Andrew and me for my locker. I'm thinking towards all of the humdrum and all of the excitement this week holds. Which is how it should be. We're not quite ready to digitally reveal our newest home [little "h"] but here's a sneak peak at the front door:

Potential. Other than the "lead paint" clause in the contract, it's nearly perfect. ;) That is to say, it has character. I'm heading up on Wednesday to push full-steam ahead and try to "finish" it by the time I leave for work next week, so hopefully, we'll have pictures to post sometime in the near future. And by "we" I mean me. It's an illusion of my own design that Andrew has anything to do whatsoever with this blog. Other than, of course, he is many times the subject matter. Bless him. And as far as the Big Reveal goes, this isn't Extreme Makeover--it's our same ol' stuff in a new-to-us place. So while you're holding your breath, I won't hold it against you if you cheat and breathe through your nose a little bit.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

2010-09-27T21:53:00.001-04:00

Except this ain't Paris.

I don't believe in the mountaintop--valley undulation of life. I believe that there are always good things and hard things happening in a person's life at the same time. There are always things to be thankful for. And things to pray fervently for. Things to cry about. Things to laugh about. The principal drivers of this concept, however, are perspective and disposition. You can always look at the bright side, denying that any wrong ever overtook you. Or you can be Debbie Downer and latch on to the negative aspects of any situation and deem your scenario doomed from the start. I hope to be neither, but with God's grace and wisdom, praise Him for the blessings and ask for strength and perseverance during trials and tribulations. Yes, Lord and Amen.

Of course. Here I am, two weeks in to my new job and nomadic lifestyle, missing my husband and my old, "comfortable" life terribly. I understand now, why God was so frustrated with the Israelites for wanting to go back to Egypt. They had forgotten all that He had done and all of the promises He fulfilled. Yes, three days after witnessing the miraculous parting of the Red Sea, having nothing to drink, they looked at each other in dismay and said, "What shall we drink???" I think God may have said something along the lines of, "what the...?"

Two weekends ago, (which seems like an eternity!), Andrew and I packed up our apartment and moved 15 minutes up the road to good ol' Chapel Hill. Sounds simple, right? WRONG. It's amazing how much CRAPOLA one can accumulate in a year. All occasion cards and seasonal decorations. Bills and coupons. Office supplies and camping gear. Not to mention furniture. Oy vey! It was just the two of us and because of my schedule we had basically 36 workable hours to get everything packed, moved, and unpacked to a livable state. Friday night, Saturday day and evening, Sunday morning and early afternoon. It was hellacious. There's no other word. We were both tired to begin with and we just didn't realize how much stuff we had. Plus, since we hadn't seen each other in a week we really just wanted to relax and hang out. And I had a bad attitude. Whoops? Sorry, Andrew. Anyway, we did get everything done, just in the nick of time. We even got our monstrous couch in the narrow front door by removing the screen door, the front door, the couch legs, and pushing and pulling like freakin' lumberjacks with one of those big ol' toothy saws! YEAH! A big ol' toothy saw! Ahem. We got the couch in without [really] damaging anything. Much.

The chaos. PS, Thanks, Ulta, for all the boxes. And a great summer.

So, we moved from here to there, from hither to thither. When I get off of work on Thursday, I will be going home to hopefully put our little bungalow to rights, so that we have a comfy, cozy, albeit teensy-weensy, apartment to call casita. Pray for us.

In other news, Brad and Cory got hitched this weekend in a beautiful, God-filled ceremony in Hendersonville, NC.

The newly minted Coopers!

Yay for weddings and yay for marriage! Cowabunga, dudes. I gotta go to sleep.

Five Second Rule

2010-09-25T12:12:00.001-04:00

It seems like that's the governing principal in my life right now. That I'm only in one place for five seconds at a time. In the last two weeks I have been from Charleston to Chapel Hill to Hendersonville and back again what seems like a bazillion times. Which is, truly, a very large number.

And I'm the one who signed up for it. And it's okay. So far, I love my job. It's not okay that I get to see my husband only on the weekends and that we feel like we have to be "doing something" in order to be using our time wisely, (you know, instead of grocery shopping, cleaning, watching movies...living "normal" life", if you will). But alas, there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. Not sure which season and time this is, but undoubtedly, we will look back and be able to pinpoint God's faithfulness and sustenance in our lives. Cuz He's just like that, you know? Yup.

Anyhow, TODAY is Brad and Cory's wedding and Andrew and I couldn't be more thrilled to be surrounded by family and friends again! The string of common weddings has gone from a steady stream to a dwindling trickle, though. We've got to come up with other reasons to see our Clemson family! Reasons that don't involve high heels. Just sayin'.

Anyhow, as Ol' George G. used to say, "Life is just a bowl of cherries, so live and laugh at it all".

Welp, I've got to go get ready to be a program giver-outer lady. High heels, and all. Ciao!

PS--I'll [hopefully] be able to post more on the move and my job later. I just, you know, had five seconds to write a quick blurb. Stay tuned.

A Word

2010-09-20T21:13:00.001-04:00

This is what the Lord says; "You will be in Babylon for seventy years. But then I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again. For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for ~~disaster~~, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. I will be found by you," says the Lord. "I will end your ~~captivity~~ and restore your fortunes. I will gather you out of the nations where I sent you and will bring you home again to your own land." Jeremiah 29:10-14

September is on crazy pills.

2010-09-14T18:23:00.000-04:00

No, really. As "David After Dentist" would say, "is this real life???" Seriously, I feel just like that kid. Is this gonna be forever?? RrrrrrAAAHHHHHH!!!!

I miss my husband. I just can't help it.

In order to give myself something to do this past weekend while I was waiting with bated breath for my First Day, I made a Fall banner. A pennant banner to be more specific. It will coordinate just perfectly with my nut wreath from last year. I got the idea from this fine lady and decided to give it a go. And it turned out pretty well, methinks.

Here's what you need:
Computer & printer OR stencils
Manilla folder
Exacto knife
Scotch Tape
Fabric paint of any color
Sponge paint brush
Burlap
Twine
Scissors
Pencil
Ruler/straight edge
Needle & thread OR hot glue gun
Patience

Here we go!

First, if you don't have stencils, print out your F, A, L and clip art onto regular computer paper. Tape letters onto manilla folder or other sturdy medium, being sure to trim away excess paper so they all fit. Trace around figures with exacto knife being sure to press down firmly so as to cut through the folder.

These will be your stencils! Be sure to save the "floating triangle" for the A!

I didn't take pictures of myself measuring the pennants, but if you lay out your burlap and "size" the triangles before you cut, making sure all of your letters fit on that size, you can cut one and then use that as a guide to cut the rest. Next, tape the stencil onto the burlap and use the sponge brush to dab the paint in the center of the stencil and onto the burlap. Don't wipe or swipe brush back and forth so as not to push paint under the edges. Continue with all of your letters and shapes.

Once the stencils are dry, measure out a length of twine and either hand sew or hot glue each pennant onto the twine by wrapping a little bit of the fat part of the triangle around the twine and folding it over. Leave an inch or so between each triangle, not too much or it will be very long!

Voila! Happy Fall, y'all.

Obviously, that is not my mantle. It's my parents'. But you gotta use what you can where you are, right? Eventually I will take this back to NC with me and use it in our apartment, but who knows when the decorating stage of our new digs will be. It might be Christmas before I get to hang this up at home, and if that is the case, you're lookin' at my latest Christmas tree decoration.

These last few days have been ~~INSANE~~ very busy, and the next couple of weeks are likely to follow suit. I am certifiably exhaustified.

Labor Day is an opposite day, cuz no one goes to work.

2010-09-08T15:15:00.000-04:00

Except me. I had to work on Labor Day. At the ungodly hour of six am, so in light of that sitch, Andrew and I celebrated our holiday on Sunday. We went to the Eno River State Park and frolicked around the historical sights and had a picnic on the riverbank. And wished we had a puppy. Nonetheless, we still had a fun time in the perfectly temperate weather learning some history about this place we call home.

Looking over the river.

Avoiding poison ivy.

The Old Mill. Put "Old" in front of anything and you can charge people to come see it.

A Mechanical Engineer's dream come true.

Happy as a clam!

We really had a very relaxing time, hanging out, poking around the park, eating our PB&J picnic lunch, tossing the frisbee, and leaving all of our cares behind. :) State Parks are very under appreciated in mi opinion.

Moving on, quite literally. It's starting:

Rows upon rows of cardboard boxes.

Boxes o' books.

Sadly, not everything we have will fit into our new apartment. Given, we haven't actually tried to fit everything in there yet, however, we're quite sure that the space we're dealing with leaves no room for things that we hardly use, are keeping for sentimental reasons, or can't use yet because we don't live in a house, etc. So, we're going through everything, (and by "we" I mean me), and either getting rid of stuff for good, or boxing things up to store with the 'rents for the next ten-ish months. And they thought they were done with us and our ubiquitous stuff! Muahahaha! That means books, storage bins, "extra" instruments, extra tables and chairs, my old computer and printer, summer clothes, (sob!), and much more has to be taken to my parent's casa with me this weekend. I don't know if all of that can be crammed into Stella's spacious trunk and backseat, but goshdarnit I will try. She'll just have to suck in when I shut the doors.

Honestly, September is going to fly by and I'm not at all sad about it. It's already the eighth and sometime between now and next weekend I've got to start my job and move all in the same chunk of time. We're trying to get situated before Brad and Cory's wedding weekend, (the 25th), because of our timeline of getting out of here and into there: we have to move sooner rather than later which plants our migration right smack in the middle of my two-ish week orientation at the hospital. SWEET. My logic is as follows: because of the move, the job, the wedding, etc, September will be over before I know it and it will be October and officially FALL, which I can hardly complain about. :)

Thank you for reading the above psychobabble that is tumbling around in my head. Basically, I'm ready to get the show on the road. I've got places to go, people to see, and things to do. And I love Fall.

Numbers One Through Eight

2010-09-04T23:22:00.001-04:00

1] Although it is not technically Fall yet, I am burning a Yankee Candle Company Autumn Wreath candle. It smells like Fall and Christmas all at the same time which, you know, is amazing. Calendar dates are more like guidelines, mm?

2] My last day at the Best Cosmetic Store Ever is Monday. And there was much rejoicing.

3] Today at the aforementioned cosmetic store, a lady came up to pay for her items whilst smoking a cigarette. Another lady had her yip-yip dog in her purse and it was growling at everyone. We had to call the police because a dude was pilfering fragrances. And a man asked if we had any snacks. (???) This is not Sam's Club. There's no shrimp cocktail on ice behind the counter.

4] The Clemson Tigers won this afternoon. As if we would lose. Pfft.

5] My hubby got us Med Deli, (short for Mediterranean Deli. Doi.), for supper tonight. If you don't know what that is you need to get your baba ghanoush to Chapel Hill and find out.

6] Andrew keeps asking me to watch 24 episodes on Netflix. We've watched Seasons One and Two. Annnnd I'm kind of over it?? Is that blasphemous?? I mean, I looooove 24. (Oh, Jack!) But it's kind of stressful.

7] I'm thirsty.

8] Amen.

A swiftly tilting planet

2010-09-01T12:42:00.004-04:00

Wait, what? Huh? What just happened?

I'm pretty sure that the planet I'm on tilts just a little differently so that everything major happens all at the same time. Read: quitting a job, moving, starting a job {which requires a 4.5 hour "commute"}, Andrew starting Year Two at school, etc. Oh my transition. It's not that I don't like change--I do--at least I think I do. I'm ready to leave this apartment tucked safely in my memory as our First and create Home in a tiny, cheap, new, challenging space. I'm ready to leave the world of cosmetics and hair and beauty and don navy blue scrubs and a Clemson purple stethoscope again. As much as I sometimes want to dig in my heels and yelp, "but this is easier the way it is!", I can't help but note that the transitions, literary climaxes, or the ever-cheesy Michael Jackson-esque key change in books, music, movies are usually the most exciting parts of the piece: where the audience is riveted, moved, watching with rapt attention. I think when change comes our way, God is not just watchful, He's giving a standing ovation, savoring His grace and hard work in our lives. Yes, Lord, and Amen.

As for the logistical bits, Andrew and I are moving our little family into a teensy, tiny apartment close to campus so that Andrew can walk to class and we can save some moola. Sometime in the next month we will be making that arduous 15 minute trek with all of our worldly goods, so if the airwaves go silent, don't worry about us. We'll probably be cramming all of our stuff into the single, ~~cubby hole~~, non-walk in closet that the space affords. Awesome. Speaking of which, I recently did a massive closet purge, (only on my side, I'm still prodding Andrew to do his), in order to A) get a tax write off (yippieee!) and B) simplify and downsize. Just in time to squish everything into a closet that will barely fit my stuff, let alone Andrew's. Awesome, for the eh-second time-ah. Anyway, you will definitely be seeing organizational/decor updates and whatnot, (don't you love how the world whatnot pretty much covers everything? and whatnot? YES). However, if this planet does spin out of orbit to crash into the moon or something, you may have to hold on to your hats while we get things up and running enough to share.

My brand, spankin' new, big-girl job starts September 13th and will require a 4.5 hour drive from here to there, weekly-ish. My plan for tackling such a commute is pretty loose as of right now, simply because I'm not sure what my schedule will be like and I will know more once the job actually starts. Duh. BUT. I have decided to use my time in the car wisely and listen to audiobooks instead of compulsively pressing the scan button, as many of you know, I likey to do. :) Andrew found this amazingly timely free audiobook app for our iPod--we'd been looking on Amazon and even on UNC's student library, but either they cost an arm and a leg, (i.e. ~$20 range. Yikes.), or there's a "wait list" and you only get them for seven days. Womp, wommmmp. I had to drive down last weekend for pre-employment paperwork and whatnot, (see, you have no idea what that means! They could've made me stand on my head or do the chicken dance in the cafeteria and you'd never know), and on the way there and back I listened to 19 chapters of Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott. Fo' free! I was a little leery of the aforementioned Brit-Lit chunker, but thought I would give it a shot. The worst that could happen is that I hated it, turned it off and went back to my beloved scan button. Ivanhoe is a classic and I've been feeling the need to read something meaty lately. It's awesome. SO GOOD. I-want-to-listen-to-it-right-now good. At first, I was like, "HUHWHAAAT??? Speak American!", but once you listen carefully for a little while you get into Sir Walter's writing language and style and it all starts to come together. I highly recommend it for long, solo car trips.

I'm still praising the Lord for his provision and sovereignty, but you can pray for me for the Mommy-wow-I'm-a-real-nurse-now transition. I'm a leeetle nervous, but confident that His power is made perfect in my weakness ( II Corinthians 12:9) and my transformation will only make Him more famous if I'm the most unlikely candidate for success.

A promise to hold fast:

5 Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. 6 They weep as they go to plant their seed but they sing as they return with the harvest. Psalm 126

Post script: a very happy birthday to Mrs. Jamie Orr. I love you through and through!

Mail call

2010-08-26T17:18:00.000-04:00

Dear Fall,

It's me again. I just wanted to check in with you and make sure you're still on schedule with the cool weather and pumpkins and everything. I know, I know. We've talked about this before. But you have to admit, sometimes you're late and then there's a few embarrassing episodes with seasonally inappropriate clothing and pit sweat. I know you're not really familiar with pit sweat, given your chilly disposition, but trust me. It ain't pretty. I mean really, you could come a little early. I don't think anyone would complain. Just make sure you let Mother Nature and Father Time know where you're going. It's kind of annoying when you show up early without their knowledge and they make you go back and call Summer to fill in for a few more weeks. Ugh. She's not pretty when she knows she's sloppy seconds.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to your visit, and I think everyone else is, too. You're kind of a favorite. Just remember to show up no later than September 22. I don't want to be wearing a sun dress on my November birthday. Awkward.

Love,

MG [and the rest of the Southeast]

First things first.

2010-08-23T18:52:00.000-04:00

So, y'know how there's that understood chain of events that happens once you meet "The One"? Like...love...really love...engaged...~~naivete~~...married...~~more naivete~~...~~decorating the nursery~~...babies...etcetera. Well, in between the "married...babies"...I've been told that certain happenings should take place in order to deem one ready for los bebes. It's called the, "Can you keep a living thing alive?" test. And it starts with houseplants.

Remember when I planted my herb garden on the porch? Yes? Basil, Rosemary, Thyme, Mint...all delicious, aromatic and lovely little organisms. Well, I also have a few other houseplants just for the decor factor, and with a few cuttings here and there as well. Here's how they're all doing:

"Devil's Ivy" or Pothos plant--thriving!

Clipping of Pothos--precious!

Philodendron--growing!

Philodendron clipping--perfect!

Herb fiesta--three out of four?

So.....if you did not notice....I'm missing an herb. Cue the funeral dirge--the Thyme died. Dead as a doornail. Or a doorknob. Or a stone. Dead and gone, as T.I. would say. We went on vacation and, alas, the Thyme was not hearty enough to withstand the hot, hot heat of a southeastern summer.

Ok, the plants and babies theory: apparently, the order is plants, fish, dog, baby. If you can keep the three previous living things alive and healthy, it's a good indication of your readiness for the responsibility of a bambino, (according to someone). Basically, if we do some simple math, I'm at approximately an 86% success rate, (I'm counting the clippings as one plant). YIKES. If I was a goldfish I would be hoarding food flakes and hiding in my plastic tank castle.

AnyHOW, regardless of Andrew's and my proximity to reproducing a squishy, pooping, screaming, delightfully cute little rugrat, we are definitely getting one of these regardless of how the whole fish thing turns out:

Oh, hello, Love! (Vizsla puppies...me wantie).

Can we all say a collective, "yes, please!" In fact, let's skip the fish and cut to the chase, ignoring my slightly brown thumb altogether: I gotta get me a puppy dog!

Save the Date

2010-08-17T18:06:00.006-04:00

First day of work: 27 days away.

(Ann Taintor)

First day of Fall: 36 days away.

(Woodnotes)

My birthday: 91 days away.

(le Credit)

Christmas: 129 days away.

(Martha)

So much to look forward to. Life is good.

When life hands you lemons

2010-08-11T13:08:00.006-04:00

It's okay not to make lemonade. Or lemon squares. Or lemon meringue pie. Or any other mouth puckering, sweet dessert that you would serve with a lipsticked smile and an apron. Sometimes it's okay just to look questioningly at the sky and yell, "what's with the lemons??!?!", and then to crumple on the floor in a sour, sticky heap.

But it's not okay to stay there. At some point, you have to muster the strength, the "cojones", as my favorite Alaskan ex-governor would say, to pull yourself up and try to get some perspective. And the perspective from the floor is pretty bleak, I must say. Even when I did get off the floor, I left my lemons in the fruit bowl until they were shriveled and fuzzy with age and decay.

Yesterday, I was offered a job. As a nurse. Many, many prayers answered in one short phone call with a virtual stranger. I was unemployed for fifteen months after graduation and still have a month to go until my start date. A "tough year" is putting it lightly. The difficulties of being newly married with one partner in grad school and the other unemployed are myriad, but they go beyond the bank account to the heart of the matter. My heart.

You see, being unemployed isn't just "having no money", it has a lot of feelings involved, too--ones that I think our society unfairly places on us and says, if you're not gainfully employed, if you don't have a title that tells me who you are, then what, exactly is your point here on this earth?? Well, I was reminded of my "point" here, every day for the last year or so, and sometimes it was with a whisper and sometimes it was with a shout, and sometimes it was with a baseball bat to the occiput. Jesus has reminded me who I am and who I am meant to be--set apart from my career and my finances, my plans, my future. Not that he doesn't care about those things, but he cares about my character much more than he cares about my comfort.

6 So be truly glad.[b] There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. 7 These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. 1 Peter 1:6-7

The "joy ahead", though, is not necessarily getting what you want, it's looking back and realizing that you are forever changed. That the Lord's loving discipline has surgically removed the cirrhosed, calcified, gangrenous parts of my heart and he has started the growth of new, healthy, pink, viable tissue. To quote a preacher that was recently in the headlines for making it to the other side of a terrible scandal, "going through something like this makes you become the person you thought you were; the person you always hoped to be."

In no way am I saying that God is done with me. I'm quite sure he's just gotten started, actually. And I didn't do everything right. When setbacks and disappointments came, I cried--bitterly. I pitched fits. I reacted childishly, selfishly, short-sightedly. But eventually I also learned to concede to the Holy Spirit. To yield to heavenly discipline and press into the Father instead of pulling away in anger. That is what has made all the difference in the world. When I was stripped of what I thought was my identity He declared to me who I truly am. When I was anxious and sleepless He whispered His faithfulness to me. When I was frustrated and weary He imparted His patience and perseverance. And so much, much more.

3 Not only so, but we[c] also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. Romans 5:3-4

Hope does not disappoint. Hope involves trust and confidence and expectation. Trust that He knows what He's doing. Confidence that He's done it before and expectation that He'll do it again.

So, when life hands you lemons and confection is not an option you'd like to pursue, remember that 1) Jesus loves you. He really, really, really, really, really, really, loves you! And 2) He probably has things in mind for you that don't involve baking, but things that will leave you much more satisfied, whole, confident, joyful, and hopeful. "Trite" and true, but tried and true.

And in closing, I leave you this:

Amen.

An unending thank you to my family and friends for your prayers and encouragement. Don't stop now. ;)

Red Beans & Rice did miss her

2010-08-10T12:32:00.004-04:00

Thank you, Sir Mix-A-Lot, for that delightful contribution to society. What a gem.

The other day, I realized that I had somewhat abdicated my duties as creative and resourceful housewife for much of this summer, resorting to grilled chicken and vegetables as my dinner plan of choice. Granted, this meal plan is quite thrifty and managed to help us squeeze a few extra dollars from our grocery budget in the last month. But. It's boring. And it gets old. And I hate thawing chicken. And trimming off the fat. Blech. Barf. Vom. Ew. Gross. Hate it.

So, I decided to search the trusty ol' internet for something I hadn't cooked before that didn't involve chicken. At first I was looking for slow cooker recipes, but it was already mid-afternoon and I needed something for dinner in a few hours. Enter, Red Beans & Rice!

The only problem was that I found a few different recipes with many of the same ingredients but a few extra crazy-complicated steps that I just wasn't in the mood to follow. Soooo, I decided to make like the scientist I married and experiment. Heh, heh. Here's the recipe I came up with and let me just say, it's DELIGHTFUL. And healthy. And cheap. And it lasted us for three and a half dinners.

**Please note, if you are a stickler for measurements, this recipe may make you want to shave your beard and wear sackcloth and ashes because I pretty much went by the measurements of "pinch" and "dash". Don't hate me.

Heavy pot (I used my cast iron dutch oven, which I will rant and rave over every time I use it because it is the best thing that ever happened to my kitchen. That, and my ice cream maker.)
2 cans kidney beans
One package turkey kielbasa (sausage), sliced
2 cups-ish high quality H2O
Salt & pepper, to taste
2 stalks celery, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 onion, diced
Coupla garlic cloves, minced
A few turns of the pan of Olive Oil
Hot sauce, to taste (I used Cholula because it's the best)
Cayenne pepper, to taste
Paprika, to taste
Dried thyme, to taste
One bay leaf (take it out before you serve it. No eating allowed.)
Long grain wild rice. Or whatever kind of rice you like.
Chopped green onions for garnish on top

So, get all your diced veggies and throw them into your heated pot with your olive oil. Saute 'em around a bit. Once they get a translucent and smellin' all good, add your spices. If anything at all, go easy on the Cayenne at first because a little goes a long way. You can always add more, but you can't take it out! Stir it all up and let it meld for about a minute. Then add your water and beans and sausage. If I've left anything out, add that, too. Bring the heat up to a simmer because you want everything to get all mixed up and delicious together and let some of the water evaporate off to create a nice, spicy saucy juice. Cook your rice in a separate pot, and serve in a bowl with the rice on the bottom the beans and sausage in the middle and the chopped green onions on top. EASY PEASY LEMON SQUEEZY! Remember to taste throughout and adjust your spices accordingly.

I apologize to the city of New Orleans for stealing their thunder. Bon appétit!

Battlefield of the Mind

2010-08-06T16:03:00.007-04:00

Standing in the battlefield of my heart and mind, clad in ill-fitting armor of my own smithing, I have toed the line with ferocious, unforgiving Giants. I have faced my enemies awkwardly outfitted with my shield of Pride, and my breastplate of Self-righteousness, holding in my hand a dinky, dull sword--not unlike a child's play thing--my sword of Shame. I clamored and clattered forward to fight my foe, missing the mark with each swipe of my weapon. As I lay bleeding, with a heart smashed to smithereens, a horn sounds, and the Lord of Heaven's Armies is at my side. His armor is impenetrable, his sword could halve the earth like a machete to a melon. His attack is always sound, always successful. At once, my armor is forged from heavenly metal, gleaming and shining and perfectly tailored. The Helmet on my head says I am His, the Shoes on my feet leave the imprint of freedom, my heart behind the breastplate beats like new, the Sword in my grip whispers and shouts Truth with every thrust and parry, every blow. We fight together, each Giant falling, failing, one by one. Fear is dead. Jealousy is dead. Regret is dead. Anger is dead. Impatience is dead. And as I stand over them, my mouth opens to declare victory: it is His voice booming from my chest, "Invictus maneo. I remain unvanquished".

A few days in Charleston: Episode Three--A "Hair"-brained scheme

2010-07-28T13:39:00.009-04:00

Oh, hey Bieber, what's up? Oh, you want a haircut?? OKAY!

Step right up!

Hey, quit stealing all my hair rubber bands.

This one I fondly dubbed, "Friar Tuck/Overjoyed Sumo Wrestler".

And this one is "Rod Stewart".

This one is "I just got out of prison and I ain't never seen a cell phone."

If I hadn't grabbed it from him at just the right time he would have shaved off his eyebrows.

Nearly there!

He's BAAA-ACK!!!

Ah. Thank ya, JESUS. Y'all's prayers must've worked. ;)

A few days in Charleston: Episode Two--The Pawn Shop

2010-07-27T12:54:00.006-04:00

Of course, if I am in Charleston, I'm going to carve out some time to see my ~*gurlies*~, one about to be flung to the far east, and one about to be flung into jewelry design fame. No, seriously. Kelly a.k.a Stinks is going to China to be a missionary. Used to be she might've said you couldn't get me to be a missionary in a foreign land for all the tea in China...and now she just might get to find out exactly how much tea they're talking about. Lauren a.k.a La or Raren is just tapping into the amazing world that is gemology and metalsmithing and is about to take Two Blue Stripes to the next level-like, woah!

And I am lucky enough--no, blessed enough--to call them dear.

Thursday afternoon the three of us convened at Lauren's house, both Kelly and Lauren pleasantly surprised that I was in town, to catch up, ogle Lauren's latest creations, and exclaim that Kelly just purchased her plane ticket to the ends of the earth. It was a glorious reunion, I have to say. It always is.

After an hour or so of chatter, we set out to see if we might find Lauren some "scraps" at a local pawn shop. She'd been dying to go and check it out, but needed reinforcements because, well, it's a pawn shop. Sketchy doesn't really cover it. None of us had ever been into a pawn shop before, and had only envisioned it as a place that burglars frequent to exchange their loot for cash, or that divorcees go to cash in on their dissolved marriages and turn in their rings. But what we didn't imagine was that this pawn shop was a cleverly disguised arsenal with guns of all makes and models lining the walls and glistening behind the fingerprint riddled glass cases. SCARY.

Unfortunately, we left empty handed, astonished at the overpriced junk jewelry but ready to get the heck out of dodge. Good story, huh? Hey, a blogger's got to blog about something, right?

Anyway, we met at Chic-fil-a the next morning to put our Bridge Run Free Chicken Biscuit coupons to good use and then Kelly went to work and Raren and I went to the beach with some peeps. Great day in the mornin'.

If you're totally disillusioned with my story-telling abilities, just wait until Episode Three. There are pictures and they are funny. I'll give you a hint: it's been a long time comin'.

A few days in Charleston: Episode One--Liar, liar.

2010-07-26T17:46:00.005-04:00

Tuesday evening Andrew and I set out on a mid-week trip to Charleston, one, to spend time with my lovely sister, Jessica, and two, to pull off an epic surprising of my mother who was completely unawares of Jessica's imminent arrival.

First, we fleeced our own mother. We lied. Oh, man we told big fat falsifications and prevarications--by hook or by crook, we lied the whole two weeks before just to make sure Mama was totally in the dark.

Lie #1. Andrew had a meeting with WaterMissions on Wednesday, so we needed to come on Tuesday.
Lie #2. I had to work on Tuesday evening but they were going to let me off early, oh, around eight o'clock.
Lie #3. Jessica wasn't going to be able to come home this summer for lack of funds.

First, we made sure we had a mole planted on the inside to watch Mama's every move. The mole: my father. An ex-Army Seaman, this guy knows his stuff. The stealth factor is unlimited, not to mention his iron emotions when faced with probing questions.

Then we chatted with her, but no too often so as not to cause alarm or suspicion, and nonchalantly planted the "meeting with WMI" seed, noting a noncommittal day and time of the meeting, and reiterating the "we're not sure, but we'll let you know" right down to the last second.

Once we recovered Jessica's flight information via email reconnaissance, we launched Operation No Jessica Left Behind and planned to use my retail job as a cover--a likely story--so that we were unable to get home until around 12:30.

Mama's clock put us getting home late, when in actuality we would arrive at the Charleston International Airport just in time to meet Jessica at midnight, gather her belongings and arrive when Mama expected us. We hmmed and hawwed via text message about the "traffic" and our "arrival time", but in reality, we had left a little after seven, stopped at Chic-fil-a to pick up rations, and were on our way much earlier than expected.

When we walked in the front door, as expected, Mama was a-snoozin' in the bed, but Daddy was posted on lookout by the computer monitoring system he had rigged up using his MacGyver-Army training picked up back in 'Nam. Jessica military crawled it into the dining room as Mama sleepily came down the stairs. Andrew and I hugged and kissed all around and when we were about to head into the kitchen, BOOM! Jessica pounced on Mama like a cat on a mouse! You shoulda seen my mother's face! PRICELESS. Jaw to the floor, bug-eyed, and totally agog. (AGOG--look that one up and put it in your word bank. Cha-ching!)

Ah, sweet success. And that was only the beginning.

A smidge of randomosity

2010-07-19T17:34:00.006-04:00

1. I saw a gentleman in Harris Teeter the other day with two 12 packs of Mountain Dew and a bag of Funyuns. Wikipedia says that Funyuns were invented by a bloke named Douglas Bubbletrousers. I'm having a hard time believing that the "Funyuns" bio isn't one of the reasons Wikipedia is not an acceptable source on college term papers.

2. I just painted my nails OPI's Bubble Bath. Ah, bliss.

3. I purchased Tigi's Rockaholic Dirty Secret Dry Shampoo so that my husband and I can take our grungy, dirty, hippie steez to the next level.

4. I'm already thinking about Christmas. and Fall.

5. Bing Crosby originally sang the song Pennies From Heaven in the clip from Elf. How'd you like your nickname to be an onomatopoeia?

6. "Elf" is a funny word.

7. It looks like we're having chicken again tonight. Womp, womp.

8. Why can' we have juss like a salad? (please, tell me you know what movie I'm talking about.)

9. In case you're clueless...

10. Amen.

"Let freedom ring; let the white dove sing." -Martina McBride

2010-07-12T14:11:00.008-04:00

On the fourth day of the seventh month of the two thousand and tenth year of our Lord, Andrew and I got no takers on an Independence Day afternoon on the American Tobacco Campus in historic Durham. But we went anyway. Just him and me, me and him. We actually went out to lunch with some new church friends, spend two hours talking, came home and fell asleep and didn't leave the apartment until about six o'clock. But, since no one was joining us, we weren't actually late at all. In keeping with my latest trend of sharing the history of my topics, here's a brief rundown of the story of the American Tobacco Company, which later was renovated and refurbished to be the American Tobacco Campus, now a thriving area for art, music, food, sports, and community.

In 1865, Washington Duke of North Carolina was released from Libby Prison, having been captured during the Confederate army's retreat from Richmond. He was sent to New Bern, North Carolina-137 miles from his 300 acre farm four miles north of Durham. A federal soldier gave him 50 cents for his 5 dollar Confederate note, and with that Duke set off, walking 137 miles to his home.

There was little left of the farm except for a small amount of Bright leaf tobacco. Duke subsequently sold some of his land and became a tobacco farmer. With his family's help, he pulverized and cleaned the crop in a small log barn. Then he packed it into muslin bags and labeled it "Pro Bono Publico"--for the good of the public. The first wagon load he took to Raleigh was drawn by two blind mules.

Soon Duke & Sons found itself in tight competition with the Genuine "Bull Durham Tobacco Factory. His son, James Buchanan "Buck" Duke, decided the company could generate much needed profit for the relatively small but growing cigarette market. He succeeded in this area so well that in 1890 his four biggest rivals joined him and he became president of the new firm--The American Tobacco Company.

Duke & Sons found W.T. Blackwell's Genuine "Bull" Durham Tobacco Factory to be strong rival. In fact, it was one of the largest in the world. The "Bull" had many imitators, other brands that capitalized on the words "Bull" or "Durham" in their tobacco advertising. Buck Duke refused to follow suit, choosing instead to delve into the cigarette market in order to compete.

In subsequent years, American became the biggest tobacco company in the world with successful products such as the unique, "toasted" tobacco in the Lucky Strike brand. Pall Mall and Tareyton also ranked among their successes. American even enjoyed the help of celebrities such as Frank Sinatra and Jack Benny in its promotional efforts.

In the early 1890's, Washington Duke left the business for his sons to handle while he became involved with local affairs. He succeeded in bringing Trinity College to Durham. Through the continued generosity of the Duke family, the school soon became the largest endowed college in the Southeast and, in 1924, Trinity College became Duke University.

Congrats for making it through that snooze fest. Raise your hand if you skipped to this paragraph. Be honest. Now I don't care much for cigarettes, or Duke for that matter, but I'm a big fan of history and knowing the Five W's about a place. Andrew and I went and listened to some live music on the lawn, ate tapas at Cuban Revolution, and then attempted to watch the fireworks after the Bull's game, however, we soon found that the best place to see them was from the highway. C'est la vie. (...Er, "that's life". Probably shouldn't throw in a French catch-phrase during a post about American patriotism. Uhh, um...freedom fries?)

Listening to live music on the lawn, "Red, White, Blues & Bluegrass". A very peaceful afternoon. I'm pretty aware that my eyes are quite misshapen in this photograph. Moving on.

The Lucky Strikes tower and the stage underneath, housing performing "Mandolin Orange".

The stage underneath the tower (you can't see it in the pic, but the stage was "floating" in a stream that ran through the middle of the lawn.

Annnd we're on to a different topic altogether! This past weekend we went to Brad and Cory's engagement party in Society Hill, SC. It was a delightful evening meeting family and friends and celebrating with the Coopers and O'Tuels, and one soon-to-be Mrs. Cooper!

Me and Andy--yep, there's a ponytail back there.

The good ol' Pee Dee River. Man, I love me some South Cackalacky. For those of you who thought you might appear in some of these party pics, let's just say I exercised my artistic license and decidedly omitted them. If you're not pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, call me and we'll chat.

Oooohhh yeah, don't forget to visit your old pal Facebook and vote for Meghan to be the next Levi's girl!

Ok, I think I'm done here. Am I done? Yep. Done. I mean, finished.

Levi Strauss, put 'er there.

2010-07-08T19:27:00.004-04:00

What do you think of when you hear the word "Levi's"? Do you think "mom jeans"? or cool name for a hipster kid? or a Biblical tribe? Well, think no further--I'm talking about Levi Strauss & Co., making denim look good since 1873. Levi Strauss, a German-Jewish immigrant to America, started his company in San Francisco, CA in 1853 selling dry goods (fabric, clothing, combs, purses, hankerchiefs, etc) at his store, Levi Strauss & Co. Obviously since San Fran was the hub of the California Gold Rush, he was in a fine geographical location to make a pretty penny helping all those miners get outfitted for their forays into the wild unknown. Jacob Davis, a tailor out of Reno, Nevada, approached Strauss with a business deal: he wanted to make men's work pants "with metal points of strain for greater strength" and wanted to use the fabric that Strauss sold wholesale, as well as to make Strauss his business partner. In 1873 they received US Patent #139121 for using copper rivets to make the pockets of denim work pants stronger. They began manufacturing "jeans" and the rest, as they say, is history. In the LS&Co. archives in San Francisco they house hundreds of garments from just about every time period, (including the "XX", the oldest pair of 501 jeans in the world, circa 1879). There are also letters to the company from people like Cary Grant, Ronald Reagan, Lady Bird Johnson, Clint Eastwood, Henry Kissinger, and a cowboy from the silent movies--William S. Hart. Back in the day, they also didn't call 'em jeans they called 'em "waist overalls". Ha! You can read more about Levi Strauss & Co.'s rich American heritage by visiting their website.

So, why am I giving you a history lesson? Well, it just so happens that one of my friends is a FINALIST in a contest to be the face and the voice and the, er, "click" of Levi Women's online presence in social media: Meghan Ellie Smith. The contest is to be the next "Levi's Girl", someone who is "socially minded, culturally connected, and will best represent the Levi's Brand". Meghan is all those things and more--she is an incredible artist, a daring fashionista--even when she doesn't try --and she lives in Brooklyn, NY and goes to school at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Y'know, FIT? Yah. Meghan was born and bred in the deep south and now she kicks it with her urbanite pals in the Big City. When she's not in school, she's either painting or frolicking around the subway, streets, or parks making video montages and uploading them to her hilarious blog, Antlered Pigeons.

HERE'S WHAT YOU NEED TO DO. Go to FACEBOOK and search Levi's. Then go to the company page, follow the link to vote, watch Meghan's stand-out video and VOTE FOR HER. You can vote once a day, every day, until July 15th. I'm going to do it. You should, too.

If you can't follow all that clicking mumbo jumbo, here's the link.

White washed

2010-07-03T11:42:00.008-04:00

A few days ago I got a bee in my bonnet about some of the "accessories" around our apartment. I think it was just one of those things that I had a brief thought about, and then that thought dogged me until I decided to do something about it: probably 85% of my "decorative items" or tchotchkes, if you will, are wood. I actually love wood. I really do. But I've been reading a lot of home design blogs lately and I'm becoming obsessed with white--the gleaming possibilities of a can of spray paint loomed before me. Yesterday, I grabbed Stella's keys and without so much as a look in the rearview mirror zipped to Lowe's returning with primer and satin finish white spray paint. Some days you just gotta follow the craftiness inside your soul. So. Here's where we begin:

Wood stuff, spray paint, well ventilated and covered area: check.

Primed and ready for two coats of satin finished soft European eggshell a.k.a. white.

Finished product: 25 cent shelf from goodwill. Loves it.

Finished product: awesomely shaped squared wooden bowl (of which I have 57). Gorgeous.

Finished product: tray from clearance section at World Market. Nothing short of amazing.

It was an easy and CHEAP switcheroo to give us something a little different to look at every day. Change is good. Honestly I kind of wanted to paint more like 10 things, but I talked myself out of it. Let's ease into it, shall we?

Oh, and I also bought a $1.50 American flag at Lowe's. 'Cause I'm a sucker for those stars and stripes. Y'all have a happy and safe Fourth of July!

There's a snake in my boot!

2010-06-27T21:13:00.004-04:00

Just saw Toy Story tres with my lovely amiga Abby. If you're wondering why I'm inserting occasional palabras de espanol, you'll just have to see the movie to find out. It was quite precious, actually. Aside from the little girl behind us asking if every character was sad in almost every scene, and the infant crisis down in front, it was quite a care-free and enjoyable movie-going experience. I highly recommend it.

Now. If my allergies would just take a chill pill, I might be able to tell you about the beach. There's just nothing quite like a span of two or three days of soaking up the salt air and the sound of the crashing waves. As much as the beach comes with it's own innate set of unpleasantries, (you know, the sweating, the repetitious sunblock application, the sand in the crotch of your bathing suit that is amazingly on the inside of the lining), it really is one of God's greatest masterpieces. Andrew and I drove down on Sunday morning and met the whole clan at the campground--everything was in it's place, the "mamas" had each site laid out to be most organized and user-friendly, but to also provide the most community fostering atmosphere--the "git-the-sand-off-ya" showers were rigged up, and the shared mini fridge was stocked with waters, juice, and just about anything else cold and wet. The sun was shining bright and the only thing between us and the edge of America was a quick costume change. The next handful of days were filled with games, (Corn-Hole, Sequence, Cranium, and Fishbowl, to name a few), laying out, playing in the water (or cooling off), going out to eat, hangin' around the campsite, cheering on the Tigers, and an assortment of brownies to tempt even the most disciplined of dieters. It was quite the vacation.

On this week's docket, there's laundry, grocery shopping, work, sleep, and sweating off the brownies. Oh, and I almost killed my plants again while we were away. Leave it to me to abandon my garden on the hottest span of four days this summer. I'm still willing them to live.

In other news, next weekend is the Fourth of July!!! My second favorite holiday next to CHRISTMAS, of course. I don't know, there's just something about America that just makes me smile from the bottom of my heart. There's a part of America that's trademarked by tiny flag pens on expensive lapels, million dollar campaigns, I'll-scratch-your-back-you-scratch-mine and then there's a part that's more jorts than Jaguars, more "count on me" than count my votes, more nose to the grindstone than nose in the air--that's the part I'll sing about with my hand over my heart. God bless America, land that I love.

And with that, I leave you this.

The Saturday Morning Post: take 2

2010-06-19T11:36:00.001-04:00

Andrew is finally HOME!!! Oh, you didn't know he was gone? That's because I didn't tell you. Want to make sure and keep the creeps out. Anyway, he's HOME HOME HOME from Ecuador--and I spent what was probably the longest week of my life alone here in good ol' 'baccy country. Except my mama came for a few days. But other than that I was alone. Destitute. Heart-broken. And not even a puppy dog to keep me company. Okay, okay. It wasn't that bad. But it was.

ANYWAY. While mama mia was here we went to see two movies: Killers (LAME), and Letters to Juliet (CUTESY).

See 'em if you wanna. Your life would still be complete if you skipped them, but if you're at a loss and don't really feel like seeing Splice or some other freaky-deaky dutch sci-fi movie, then go right ahead and purchase your ticket with your semi-current college ID. (I mean, you still feel like a college kid, right? right.) And Andrew and I watched Nine (THEATER/MUSICAL) last night.

Depends on who you are/what you like, but I thought it was good. Lots of chicks in underwear/bustiers, which I didn't quite understand--in all honesty, Chicago and Moulin Rouge were way better, but I will say that Daniel Day-Lewis (Last of the Mohicans, There Will Be Blood) is a great actor. And he is in Nine. His character's name is Guido Contini. And they sing about a million songs with his name in it. It gets in your head.

ANYWAY. We're going to the beach tomorrow! Yippee! A whole three days of oceanside delights. I am making this to take with us. Don't be jealous. I'll have to take 64 walks every day to counteract the calories in this thing. But that's ok. It's vacation. Vacation is code for "pig-out". Which is a hilarious saying.

ANYWAY. When Andrew got home from Ecuador, I made the most American dinner I could think of: hamburgers, corn on the cob, fruit salad, and brownies. Martha has an excellent "recipe" for grilling corn and it goes a little something like this: submerge ears of corn in husks in cold water for one hour. Grill in husks for 20 minutes, let cool, remove husks and silk, and serve with salt and pepper and butter. And floss. (I added the floss part. I think it's a necessary addition). It's delish. Last night I also made raspberry sorbet, (also from Martha). It's super duper easy and a great summertime dessert! All you need is a food processor, 12 oz bag of frozen raspberries (or three cups fresh berries, frozen), 1/4 cup sugar, 1/4 cup water; and 1/2 cup whipping cream and another tablespoon of sugar. To make your sorbet, pulse frozen fruit in processor until just chopped, stir water and sugar together in a bowl until sugar is dissolved, then pour into processor. Puree until you've got an ice-cream-like consistency, then transfer to airtight container and freeze for 30 minutes. When 30 minutes is up, whip your 1/2c cream and tablespoon of sugar until stiff peaks form. Serve in cute, summery glasses! YUM! drop a few blueberries on top and you've got yourself a 4th of July dessert that's sure to be a crowd pleaser. God bless America. I would add a picture of the sorbet--it's so pretty!-- but I don't have one and I can't find one online. All I know is that it's in the July issue of MS Living. Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out.

ANYWAY. Now, I've got to go climb Mt. Kilimanlaundry so we can pack, head 'em up and move 'em out. And by the way, only 188 days until CHRISTMAS!!!

Shake, shake, shake, shake-uh-shake it!

2010-06-11T21:47:00.005-04:00

I should take a shower. But I'd rather blog. I've had about 87 cups of cranberry juice this afternoon, so I'm really hopped up on the Q. Or hyped up on the Q. (What is Q, by the way? I hope it's nothing bad...) Either way, I'm pretty sure my urinary tract is in tip-top shape. My glomerular filtration rate must be off the charts. I mean, but still good. Moving on to another drink, however. Anyone ever heard of a Queen's Park Swizzle? Anyone know what a swizzle is? Yeah, it's not a dance move or something a rapper uses to cleverly rhyme with words he made up and then trademarked to go on to make millions and influence thousands of unsuspecting young children. It's not. I didn't know what a swizzle was either until a few weeks ago when I went home to see my brother, Noah, who had flown in to visit my parents for a few days down in the Chuck. By definition, a swizzle is "any of the various tall, frothy mixed drinks made usually of rum and lime juice and sugar shaken with ice" or "a tall, traditionally rum based cocktail filled with crushed ice. A stirring rod or swizzle stick is quickly rotated between the palm of the hands to form a frost on the glass." Now, I'm no lush, but... it's AWESOME.

Granted, we were working in less than perfect conditions with less than all of the proper tools, but we made do. Noah taught me how to make a Queen's Park Swizzle and a Bourbon Smash. Annnnd boy did we make some super sippers. They dance on the tongue and sing in the belly. I'm talking about my fav, though. The QP swizzle. I'm no NYC bartender, but through my research I've discovered that a perfect Queen's Park Swizzle would be in a Collin's glass, (tall and skinny, like me. Not.), with true Demerara sugar syrup or "sugar in the raw"--not the white stuff you plop in your tea--a nice 8 year rum, (like a nice sea bass), fresh squeezed lime juice, fresh mint leaves, real crushed ice, (think Sonic ice), and a few dashes of Angostura bitters. {Bitters is "a distillation of aromatic herbs, barks, roots, and plants, steeped in alcohol." It's approximately 45% alcohol, so not something you want to drink outright, but just used in small amounts to add flavor to a drink or food. Much like vanilla extract. Angostura is made from roots. And some other stuff. It's good, don't worry.}

So. First things first. Equipment: tins, jigger, muddler, swizzle stick, Collin's glass or the next best thing, straw. Ingredients: crushed ice, lime juice, mint, Demerara syrup, 8 year rum, Angostura bitters, magic. Numero uno, you have to make your syrup. Two parts sugar to one part water, and depending on how many people you're planning on serving, adjust accordingly. Stick that puppy on a stove top and give it a good stir until all the sugar has dissolved and you've got, well, syrup. It keeps in the fridge, so don't be afraid of making too much.

Next, yank a bunch of mint leaves off your stalk, wash them well and shake off the excess water. Drop 'em in the bottom of your tins, (you know, the shaker thingy). Measure 3/4 oz of your Demerara syrup in your jigger (excuse me?) and pour it in. Don't worry if all of it doesn't go in. You'll be pouring in lime juice next so it will get the rest of it out. Now. This step is very important. At this point all you've got is mint leaves and syrup in the bottom of your tins. You need to muddle the mint leaves so as to bring out the peppermint oils and infuse the syrup with the flavor of the mint. I said muddle not crush into oblivion. So. Take your muddler and gently, but firmly, press down on the mint leaves. There. Now you've done it. Next, measure 3/4 oz of lime juice in your jigger (say what?) and pour that into the tins. See? Got all the leftover syrup. Then measure 2 oz of rum in your jigger (who dat?) and pour that sucker in. Now, close up your tins and shake the ever-living life out of that thing. You should feel it in your triceps. If you don't break a sweat, you're not doing it right. You're basically trying to incorporate everything into one delicious, inseparable liquid--like pouring two cylinders of sand into a box during a wedding ceremony. Except not. So, then, you grab your Collin's glass with your swizzle stick at the ready, pour in the drink from the tins, making sure to get all that delicious mint out, fill that glass up a little over halfway with ice, stick your swizzle stick down in the ice (pardon me?) and quickly rotate it between the heels of your hands until a frost forms on the outside of the glass. Once you're there, now you've REALLY done it. Add more ice to the top of the drink, three or four dashes of Angostura bitters, a sprig of mint and a sexy black straw and you are good to go. Seems complicated? Do it a few times and you'll be taking orders in no time. Or getting mentioned in the New York Times. Ahem, Noah, ahem.

Here's mine. Disclaimer: this was probably the second one I've ever made, it was not in the proper receptacle, and the straws were more like Coca-cola-in-a-glass-bottle straws instead of swanky-NYC-bar straws. Oh. freakin'. well. It was still delicious.

As SK would say, "YEAR WON!"

2010-06-09T14:13:00.001-04:00

As some of you might've noticed, whether in pictures or in person, my dear husband's hair is getting rather long. As in Huckleberry Finn/Tom Sawyer long. As in Justin Bieber long. As in he desperately wants a certifiable ponytail before his youth has waned and the sun has set on the "it's my steez" excuse long. Why? I assure you I cannot figure that out. I tease him and try to embarrass him into shaving his head, but he will not have it. I think this might be one of those "pick your battle" moments. At least he bathes regularly.

Last weekend, Sunday to be exact, was our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! Hip, hip hooray! Whew. And what a year it's been! Many ups and downs, highs and lows, but we wouldn't trade a day.

{Photograph: Brian Tropiano} Here we are, June 6, 2009. What a blessed day. So. In light of our Bob Cratchit finances, we were blessed with some hotel points from Mike and were able to take a mini-vacation for one night to a fancy hotel. In Raleigh. That's right. 30 minutes away. Hey, vacation is a mind-set, people. We had it all figured out: we'd leave straight from church, have lunch, go to the hotel and act like we just arrived in the Florida Keys. It was SO MUCH FUN! And just for the record, when I walk in to a hotel room, I run around into all the areas of the room exclaiming over how great everything is. And then I tamp down the urge to drop everything and jump on the bed. And BONUS, ol' Robert, the concierge, UPGRADED us to a SUITE that went for $500 a night. (Um, thank you Lord?) That's more than 2/3 of what it costs us to rent our apartment for a month. Yowza. Needless to say, we were totally stoked out of our minds.

Sittin' on the couch. Yep, it's a self timer. Documentation is my purpose in life.

The living room area. Soaking up the square footage.

The bathroom was bigger than my kitchen and had his and hers sinks, a huge jacuzzi tub, and a shower with approximately 87 shower heads. And a TV behind the mirror in front of the sinks. Yeah. I know.

The bedroom area--behind me was the balcony to the front of the hotel, and, obviously, the bathroom was connected to the bedroom as well.

The screen behind the mirror. I know it looks weird--but the mirror is in a frame if that helps to see. The picture was faint, (like it was behind a mirror, doiii), but it had great sound and it was easy to change the channels and everything. Snaaazzzyyyy!

I meannnn, you can't go on vacation without snacks.

The view from the balcony to the front of the hotel. Please, do me a favor and scroll up and compare Andrew's wedding hair to his current hair. Pray for me.

I'm a little bit shiny, and a bit winded, but it's probably because I had just finished running around the room and jumping up and down. {Dress: Target; Belt: J.Crew; Necklace: Buckar/my amazing, thoughtful, loving, doting, extravagant husband!}

Right before the rain, walking back to the hotel after dinner and ice cream. Perfection.

Rain "Orr" shine, they tied the knot!

2010-06-03T14:24:00.008-04:00

Looorrrdy do. I've got to sit down. The last six days have been a crazy whirlwind. Andrew and I have been to Hendersonville, Clemson, and Charleston--all in the name of fidelity, family, and friendship. The first leg of our trip was to Hendersonville, to crash for the night and to see Zach's new digs, (and what shiny and spacious digs they are), and catch up with old pals that we haven't seen since I-don't-know-when. Andrew and I went our separate ways on Saturday morning--him to Lake Wateree for another friend's nuptials, me to Pendleton for a sweet, sophisticated bridal luncheon with Jamie and Friends. I left with moments to spare and only took one wrong turn, (even though I had the GPS--hey, sometimes you can't really tell where the purple line is. Geez). Still, I had to shimmy out of my shorts and into my skirt on the road, tempting the Fates and testing my flexibility and concentration. I made it in time for mimosas and excited chatter and the powers that be were none the wiser of my tardiness.

Saturday afternoon, sans husband, the Girls 'n' I made our way to the amphitheater at the Botanical Gardens at Clemson, just in time for the first raindrops to splat on the stones and drive us inside to the Madren Center to rehearse for the Big Day. We dined in style at The Galley with friends and family surrounding Jamie and Kent with kind words, encouragement, laughter, and advice. I'm pretty sure anyone with a propensity for tears was boo-hooing, Yours Truly included. I just can't take it when grandfathers, dads, or brothers get choked up, man! And then, of course, Steph with her life altering friendship with Jamie--I was a goner. For sure. It was one for the books. And for a few, one worth a "To-Go" box.

Sunday fun-day was Wedding Day and all the girls convened in the Bridal suite at the Martin Inn, dresses, shoes, and earrings in hand. Oh, and bobby-pins, hairspray, and waterproof mascara, too. It was a morning of finger foods and up-do's, cameras clicking and champagne glasses clinking, peals of laughter and a few crocodile tears, too. A quick change of ceremony venues because of the deluge outside--not without careful consideration--and we were set to see Jamie and Kent get hitched in a few short hours. The ceremony was beautiful--heartfelt and bursting with Truth, reminding us of our purpose, marriage's purpose, and Christ's heart of love for his people. Jamie was absolutely. STUNNING. I'm so serious. I've seen some beautiful brides in my time, but Jamie was just magazine picture perfect! We partied the afternoon away, and saw the freshly minted Orrs off with Clemson orange pompons (yes, I mean "pompons". Look it up.) and glow-sticks lighting their way.

Then. Andrew, Chris, and Jennigray and I began the arduous journey back to Charleston. Jennigray rode with me until Orangeburg and we giggled and chatted until she had to make the switch. The rest of the way home, I had to blast the radio and slap my leg in time to keep myself awake and alert to make it home. I was "le tired", as the French say. Andrew and I made it home safely, a little after one AM, and were greeted by my parents and my Big Brother, Noah, who is a hot-shot bartender in New York City. No, really. He is. We all hung out for the first part of the week until I had to get back yesterday. Noah taught us how to make some yummy cocktails, but more on that later.

Last night as I was driving back to the Triangle, a hurricane whipped up right above Stella and me and dogged us for about 50 miles. It was terrifying, to say the least. To say the most, I could not see but a few feet in front of my car, (there's a reason they call it "blinding rain"), water covered the road, and Lightening reached her bony, spindly fingers into our atmosphere every few minutes, with booming Thunder as her hair-raising side kick. I wanted to pull over and ugly-face cry. But I didn't. I gripped the steering wheel and squinted into the distance, cursing every 18-wheeler that sped by me, totally disregarding Stella's and my fragile state. We made it, though. A bowl of Multi-Grain Cheerios later and I was in bed, a-snoozin' away.

And I will leave you with this...moments before becoming Mrs. Jamie Blackwell Orr!

Cloudy with a chance of [Swedish] meatballs. And a side of rice.

2010-05-25T12:32:00.005-04:00

Rain, rain go away little MaryGene wants to go to the pool.

Not quiiiite as catchy as the original, but it shall suffice. What the heeeeeck is up with this weather lately?? Huh? I thought it was "April showers bring May flowers" not "April sunshine gives you a tan too early for wedding season and then storms in May leave you pasty as a Martha Stewart white gourd in October." (Also not as catchy as the original, but it, too, shall suffice.) Good golly, Miss Molly. Geez, Louise.

Firstly, my last post on skin care and lotion and all that jazz?? I felt like it was SUPER LAME when I posted it and y'all generated the most comments I've received, EVER! Six whole comments. Thanks for letting me know I'm not alone. :) Hehe. Now, back to the post at hand.

Last weekend we ventured to Charlotte to meet Mom and Pop Armstrong to pick up Brother Barrett at the airport from his Mediterranean adventures in Greece and Turkey. We also, conveniently, made a stop at Ikea, a haven of Swedish made home goods, and meatballs and egg/shrimp open-faced sandwiches. Weird, Sweden. Weird. How about a couch? No? A meatball, then? Sven, get the meatballs! Their marketing scheme totally worked me over, however, because I left with a throw pillow and three awesomely retro Stacy-Peralta-Zephyr-skateboards-esque juice glasses. (For fiddy-nine cents each!! Heck yes.) I will say, though, that just thinking back on the moola I shelled out for my Pottery Barn throw pillows really irked me when I realized that the pillow from Ikea was going to set me back a whole $12. Seriously. The 20x20 insert at Pottery Barn alone will get you almost three entire pillows at Ikea. My advice?? Buy the 20x20 feather inserts at Ikea (around $6) and then buy your covers at Pottery Barn (if you've found some you love love love and just can't live without them). I AM SO SMART. My IQ must be, like, way up there. ;)

So, like any good blogger would, I read Pioneer Woman's blog almost every day, and last week she posted briefly about a website called freerice.com. And now I am addicted. You know my "I heart words" column (see upper left corner)? Yeah, well if you visit freerice, you'll know why I can't seem to x out until my bowl has at least 100 grains of rice in it. At least. Just try it. You will freak. out. I just went to the site to set up the hyperlink...and I played until I got 1100 grains of rice. YEAH.

This weekend is Kent and Jamie's wedding--Andrew and I are SO excited and can't wait to celebrate and see people we haven't seen in eons. And, of course, to visit our Alma Mater, the place we met and fell in love. Quite fitting to take part in a wedding and visit our old stomping grounds right before our anniversary. It's gonna be a bang up time.

Ta-ta for now!

Saving face

2010-05-19T11:24:00.010-04:00

So, since Spring is about to come to a close, and the beach, bikinis, and brooooown skin are on everyone's minds (especially with wedding season coming up, and coming in strong), I thought I would profile a few products that I personally use in order to, perhaps, implore you, dear readers, not to harm your precious skin, to embrace the tone of your epidermis, and also, to fake it 'til you make it if your pallor is a little bit less like Nicole Kidman and a little bit more like Casper the Friendly Ghost.

Numero uno: for daily use I like to lather on Olay Total Effects 7-in-one Anti-aging lotion with SPF 15.

It's fragrance free, and chock full of anti-oxidants, and really feels like it's turning back the clock while protecting from future damage. It's a little pricey for a face lotion, but usually, if you shop around or look for coupons you can get a few bucks off that $20 price tag.

Numbero dos: Olay Total Effects Night Firming Cream. Basically, the nocturnal version of the aforementioned lotion, without the SPF. Because, unless you sleep on the sun, you probably don't need sunblock while you're snoozing.

Numero tres: Neutrogena Ultra Sheer Dry-Touch Sunblock. It's by far, the best face sunblock ever--better than Aveeno faces sunblock. I know. Blasphemous. However, this sunblock soaks in quickly, is not greasy, and smells like flowers! It's awesome.

It runs about $8.99 and mine came with a free chapstick that is almost like a lip gloss, it's so creamy!

Numero quatro: Jergens Natural Glow Daily Moisturizer. I'm sure you've all heard of this one--it's a self-tanner lotion-in-one so that you gradually get that beachy glow instead of slathering on real self tanner only to discover that you've chosen the wrong color or it's streaky or you missed a spot or twenty. Confession--I've never used a genuine self tanner. I'm itching to try 'em out, but I'm just not so sure yet. I'll let you know when I take the plunge.

I usually don't use this stuff every. single. day. because--just like the real stuff--it can "gather" at your wrists and ankes and wave the "fake flag" if you're not careful. Truly, exfoliating those areas in the shower will help guard against the tell-tale line. They also make this stuff for faces, but I usually just use bronzer.

So, there you have it: the "skin"-ny on skincare. Heh heh.

I am so clever. ;)

A dweam wiffin a dweam.

2010-05-16T21:55:00.004-04:00

If there's something Andrew and I have learned in the last 344 days of being married, it's how to cope under uncertain circumstances and handle change like champs. We've had our fair share of setbacks, letdowns, and disappointments, but we've also had a good measure--poured out and shaken down--of blessing. We've been faced with crisis and have hashed things out and still been able to look each other in the eye (just one) ;). So much of what we have dealt with has been a result of unmet expectations--about jobs, family, time commitments, household stuff, etcetera--everyone has a picture of "what it will be like when we're married", and inevitably, that picture may become a little blurred once the wedding bells ring. We've learned more about ourselves and each other and, the third entity in our relationship--our marriage itself--than we ever thought possible in a few weeks shy of a year. We've peeled back one tiny layer of what it means to actually serve our marriage, and laid a few bricks of the foundation of our union: forgiveness. You see, many unsuspecting newlyweds think that communication is the bedrock of a good marriage. You know, talking things out. While I'm definitely not discounting good conversation, I really believe in my heart of hearts that without forgiveness--real forgiveness--a marriage is doomed: not necessarily to divorce, but to bitterness, coldness, to ending up being more like business partners, or "ships passing in the night", instead of friends and lovers. So many arguments and altercations are the result of each person's individual unmet expectations, (as we've noticed), about an event or issue, not actually what was said or done in the situation--hence, forgiveness as the most necessary and stabilizing force in any marriage, days old or ripened with age.

I also think that "premarital counseling" as preparation for marriage is a ruse--a few meetings with a pastor aren't going to prepare you to absorb a whole 'nother person: "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife; and they will become one flesh." (Genesis 2:24) Last time I checked, 1+1≠1. But, that's why God's in the business of miracles. One of my goals for our marriage is that we attend some form of marriage counseling periodically through the years--even if we don't think we "need" it. That way, we at least have some perspective of what it's like to be married, instead of what it's like to dream about being married and in the meantime make a bazillion phone calls about wedding plans. :) And, just for good measure, I'm not saying that premarital counseling should be done away with entirely--everyone should be looked squarely in the face by a man of the cloth and told exactly what their getting into--however, I wish there was a "follow up" bit of sorts, like on your first three anniversaries or something. Anyway, a girl can dream.

That's my two cents, a few weeks premature of our first anniversary. It's ok, though. I'm not shy. So, take it or leave it. But if you take it, leave some for everyone else.

Post script: for some challenging, truthful, old school literature on marriage check out As For Me and My House by Walter Wangerin. CLUTCH.

h o p e

2010-05-12T21:46:00.002-04:00

The road called Hope is cobbled and crooked. It is the scenic route to the City of Joy, twisting and turning, challenging it's sojourner with every hook and dip, every rise of a hill, every rickety bridge, and every gap in the pavement. It asks much of it's traverser, but promises much in return. It whispers encouragement, just when a foot slips, a knee bruises. A glance over the shoulder reveals an honest path. A forward gaze is cloaked by a fine mist; shapes emerge in the distance, and Trust is a necessary companion.

The journeymen hiking Hope's scantily mapped trail are couch potatoes called athletes. Walk-around-the-block-ers called Iron Men. Renamed and repurposed by Hope's landmarks and landmines. Growing into their new [true] identity with every beleaguered step. Hope Road asks too much; Hope's roadies gather and glean at every slope and crest, begging for deliverance.

Hope delivers.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

2010-05-10T10:39:00.008-04:00

So, you're all really fond of me, right? Since I haven't been writing, right? Right? It has been many moons since my last post, and even more moons since I wrote about something worthwhile, methinks. This might just have to be a list post.

1. Let's just get this part over with: I did not get the job that I interviewed for back in March. It's a long story that I won't tell because I'm tired of hearing myself say it. Found that out about 2 1/2 weeks ago. Fun times. But, I did get a part time job that starts tomorrow, (and has nothing to do with medicine), that will give me the chance to get out of the house, put my hands to something, and make a little moola. Me likey moola. After all this, I think I'm going to be one tough broad. Not tough as in chewin' 'baccy and foregoing measures of personal hygiene, but tough as in "onward and upward", "keep on keepin' on", "if it doesn't kill you it makes you stronger". Basically, once I get a "real" job, you should keep your distance. ;)

2. My heart was wrapped in Clover--North Carolina, that is. A few weekends ago we celebrated the upcoming wedding of Jamie and Kent at a little bachelorette soiree involving delicious food, sun, gorgeous lingerie, and lots of laughter. And speaking of weddings, many congratulations to Cory and Brad--engaged at last! Love is in the air, my friends. Or something's in the water.

3. Andrew and I have been tearing up the road in the last week. At least tearing up I-95 and I-40. Like ten times. That's what it seems like. But we spent a great Mother's Day weekend with the Armstrongs in Hendersonville, just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. We drove all over the place, saw the fam, played doubles tennis (or tried), and celebrated the goodness of mothers everywhere.

4. Bless your pea-pickin' heart! My friend Grace and I have signed up for a farm share. But we're sharing it. So, we're doing a farm share share. The fancy name for it is "Community Supported Agriculture", or CSA. Basically, we paid Brinkley Farms a flat amount for a summer/fall share, (but we're splitting it since we don't know exactly how much food it is), and every week we pick up a box of our requested fresh-from-the-farm produce at a drop-off location of our choice! They offer 50 different kinds of vegetables, some fuit, fresh eggs, farm raised pork and beef,(no hormones or other craziness added in to "beef" them up, heh heh), and it comes down to about $15 a week--which we spend that much on produce at the grocery store anyway! Not only are we supporting a local farm, but we're getting fresher food, (thousands of miles fresher), and foregoing all the chemicals and other junk sprayed all over grocery store foods. Sounds like a deal to me! Do yourself--and your community--a favor and do a quick google search of farms that offer a CSA program near you. DO IT. You know you want to.

5. I may or may not have killed my Basil. I left it for four days. It is very shriveled and sad looking. I've watered it three times already today in attempt to revive it. I may have to start CPR and mouth to mouth soon. Things are getting hairy. But I mean really. Am I going to ask my neighbor to come over and water my high maintenance Basil while I'm gone? I don't think so. Suck it up, Basil. No, really. Please suck up all the water I've poured over you in the last few hours. Please? Find the will to liiiiiive!

I'm sure there's more. But I've been out of practice for so long it may take a few posts to limber up, if you will. And I will. Oh, I will.

I ain't dead, just busy.

2010-04-30T14:40:00.003-04:00

A Haiku.

Shopping at the mall
Panties for the Bride to Be
Party all night long

I'll let you guess what my weekend plans are. ;) (Bow-chicka-wow-wow!)

We all "Needtobreathe"

2010-04-23T14:20:00.006-04:00

After last night's show, I'm convinced. Heaven will be a rock concert. A cabaret of every genre: there will be show tunes, gospel, rock 'n' roll, classical, bluegrass, hymns, Latino, blues, reggae--and Jesus will be lead guitar and vocals. And you and me? We'll be back up dancers. We'll sing harmony. We'll play bass, piano, and maybe even the sousaphone, I'm sure. Tambourines and tympani--it will be a holy, eternal moment in what used to be time.

We went to see Needtobreathe at the Cat's Cradle last night in Chapel Hill. I will tell you, I'm usually not the first one to say, "Oh, hey! Let's go see the __________ at the ________ tomorrow night!" But if I go when someone else has invited me, I always have a great time. And last night was a testimony to that, for sure. Andrew bought tickets online and informed me on Tuesday that we were going. No argument here, but no giddy excitement either. Much to my surprise, however, the Cat's Cradle was SOLD OUT and Needtobreathe put on a stellar show--I kind of want to do it again tonight! They played some oldies and some new songs from their album The Outsiders and the crowd went nuts! The only thing that would have made it better would have been if we were in Clemson with our Tiger family instead of a sea of Tar Heel strangers. I kind of wanted to yell, "1-2-3-4 and cadence count!", in sheer defiance. Andrew sweetly and probably wisely discouraged my almost-outburst. Harrumph.

It was during Something Beautiful that I put my eye up to the keyhole of heaven and saw a glimpse of eternity: the crowd was worshipping--it wasn't just a fun song to sing, it was a heart's cry to be in the presence of Beauty itself--Himself. And it was awesome. Truly.

Hey now, this is my desire
Consume me with your fire, 'cause I just want something beautiful
To touch me, I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees
I'm waiting for something beautiful
Oh, something beautiful

And just so you know, I would see Needtobreathe 10 times again before I would see John Mayer again. Belie'e dat!

Who puts the "G" in ROY G. BIV?

2010-04-19T13:49:00.010-04:00

I do! If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should probably track down your fifth grade science teacher. (I'm sure he's on facebook, so it should be a snap.) So, the "G" stands for greeeeeeen and even though I've already done a "going green" post (about switching to green household cleaners) I read a blog post this weekend by a girl I went to high school with about the amount of plastic trash she picked up on the beach during a surfing "sesh" in California where she lives. Long story short, the slogan litter trashes everyone finally got through my thick skull. Now, I was raised a tree hugger--my parents recycle everything, they compost, grow their own vegetables and other sundry foods--but now that I'm an adult and very mature ;) I decided to take one more baby step towards doing my part to save this planet from choking on it's own discarded shiitake, pardon my Japanese. I purchased (for $0.99 each) five reusable totes from Harris Teeter. One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, right? Right. And, BONUS, when they wear out, you take them back to Harris Teeter and they replace them fo' free!

(I know, who takes pictures of their groceries? I'm trying to create visual interest here, people. Sheesh.)

"Going green" has definitely become trendy--kind of like celebrity philanthropical endeavors--but it's a trend I'm happy to hop on board with--I think because--unlike tights, platform stilettos, bib necklaces, mismatching patterns, coral lipstick, and mauve nail polish--it's benefiting others and not just the proprietor, -er the tote toter. And, hey, it might actually have some staying power. I hope so.

The reason I rushed out and bought reusable grocery bags is because plastic (not just bags) is one of the major perpetrators (80%!!!) of ocrean litter--one of them being a giant floating trash island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Growing up on the coast, I just remember as a teenager going to the beach every other day--or every day-- in the summer and seeing people leaving their solo cups, water bottles, Chick-fil-a cups, or whatever in the sand as they gathered up their towels and beach chairs to head back to the beach house. Or seen someone literally watch their empty cup, can, plastic bag tumble down the beach in the wind and not even move a muscle to retrieve it. Just because you're on vacation doesn't mean you get to take leave of your senses, people! Gah! As the tide rises it inevitably sweeps all that trash out into the ocean for any of the sealife to mistake it for a tasty meal. How would you feel if you sat down to tuna tartare and moments too late realised it was trash tartare? Not cool, humans. Not cool. Epic FAIL.

BUT. Now is the time to redeem ourselves. Ever heard the saying many hands make light work? Well, it's true. Everyone can do their part to lighten our planet's load and preserve the beauty of God's creation for present and future generations. Do it. You know you want to.

The Saturday Morning Post

2010-04-17T11:45:00.019-04:00

This whole week went by without me writing so much as a single, durn thing. Sorry 'bout that. Trust me though, you probably wouldn't have wanted to read about it anyway. Booooooo-riiiiiing. Yes. Except 24 on Monday night. OHMYGOSH. And that's all I'll say.

This week, Andrew had to get all shot up for his stint in Haiti this summer--oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Andrew's going to Haiti this summer with Water Missions International--

WMI - Haiti from Water Missions.

saving the world one cool drink of water at a time. Anyway, he had to go to the clinic and receive no less than five shots, three in one arm, two in the other: Hepatitis A, Typhoid, Diphtheria Tetanus & Pertussis (DTap), seasonal flu, and H1N1. And we're probably lookin' at Malaria meds and maybe some "just in case" antibiotics--just "get the prescription filled and take it with you in case you get sick" kind of meds. (DO NOT EVER TAKE ANTIBIOTICS UNLESS YOU HAVE PROOF POSITIVE THAT YOU NEED THEM. ALWAYS ASK THE DOCTOR FOR A CULTURE BEFORE TAKING ANTIBIOTICS. If you do not indeed have a bacterial infection and you do take antibiotics, you will just be aiding and abetting "super bugs" and drug-resistant bacteria for future generations.) Ahem. And that's my RN soap box for the day. Anyway. The nurse who administered the vaccines gave Andrew one giant band-aid for each injection. Thus he proudly displayed his bandaged arms for two days. And like any good wife would, I forced him to pose for a picture. :)

In other news, I went to a jewelry party at my dear friend Abby's house on Thursday. Her mom makes amazing jewelry out of clay--I know, you're thinking, "clay? wouldn't that be heavy and clunky?"--it's not. It's beautiful and delicate and unique. Anyhow, Abby's house got burgled on Tuesday night, bringing back some memories from the ol' college days at the Ridge. Laptop lifting walk-through, anyone?? Word to the wise. When you're not at home, hide your laptop. Shove it under the couch, the bed--anywhere it's not in sight. You and your lifetime's stash of pictures will thank me later. Anyway, Abby made a slew of delicious dips and hors d'oeuvres--including Pioneer Woman's Bacon Wrapped Jalapeno Thingies--her name, not mine. ;)

Photograph from PW. Delectable, finger-lickin' recipe found here.
Any they were good. Really good.

Last night we had ourselves a little mini date--and quite fittingly went to see Tina Fey and Steve Carell in Date Night.

It was seriously hilarious. I had a laughter induced headache when we left. I'm not kidding. I took two Ibuprofen. The plot is kind of so-so, honestly, but they did a lot of improvisation, which you know Steve and Tina are just sooooo good at! It was worth the out-takes in the credits alone! Watch the trailor here. And go see it.

As Porky would say: Abadee, abadee, abadee--That's all folks!

I spend time in the gym so I can eat food like this

2010-04-12T15:00:00.011-04:00

Strawberry cobbler from PW. You heard me. Strawberry.

Date night self timer attempt #1. We were a little off.

and #2. I like to call our outfits "The Farmer in the Dell". Did you know--a dell, by definition, is a "small wooded valley"? What is that song about anyway? Hi-ho the derry-o? What the heck? Just please go read it. I think my favorite line is, "The cheese stands alone". Definitely.

Anyway, I know I always post pictures of ooey-gooey deliciously sinful and decadent food on here--but we don't eat like that all the time, I promise. It's just that grilled chicken and vegetables aren't really worth rooting through my purse for my camera. And I think you've all seen that familiar plate before. Just close your eyes and imagine. The night we made the cobbler we also made jerk chicken shish kebabs on the barbie--and they were so good and healthy. Yum. The night before that however--for our date--we went to the Cheesecake Factory. And we did have cheesecake. And it was really, really good. Then we went to Barnes and Noble for like four hours. Heaven, I'm in heaven!

Later, alligators!

House on fire!

2010-04-08T11:59:00.004-04:00

Did anyone else play that ice-breaker game in high school youth group?? No? Mmkay.

Well, yesterday afternoon I gave my first and best effort at creating Pioneer Woman's homemade pizza. And I did. And it was amazing. And we have left overs. Muahahahaha!! But I also almost watched all of our worldly possessions go up in flames. You see, the oven had to be set to 500 degrees. That's the last degree setting until "broil". Pioneer Woman, while seemingly innocent and kind, did not put a warning at the bottom about cooking pizza in a ghetto oven. If it had been my cook book it would have read something like this:

WARNING: If you live in the ghetto, have ghetto neighbors, went to a ghetto high school, have ever been told you are the lucky owner of a ghetto booty, have ever owned a ghetto vehicle, have ever hummed Elvis Presley's "In the Ghetto", or have a ghetto oven: do NOT attempt this pizza. I repeat, do NOT attempt this pizza.

Well, there was no warning. So I proceeded sans caution to make a lovely, gourmet, tomato-basil pizza, and then a subsequent pepperoni and turkey sausage pizza for my manly hubster who cannot survive on greens alone. See, one of the first steps in assembling the pizza is to drizzle the pan with olive oil and then spread out your pizza dough. So, I drizzled. *Note: I think the key here was that PW used rimmed baking sheets. I do not have rims. I wish I did, because that would probably complete my ghetto lifestyle. Heh heh.* Anyway. I drizzled. And I spread out the pizza dough and topped it with pesto, real mozzarella, roma tomatoes, and a sprinkling of parmesan. And then I stuck it in the fiery furnace, alongside Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. And behold, it did not catch on fire...immediately. About eight minutes into the baking time, I turned on the oven light to see the deliciousness that was filling my apartment with a dizzying aroma of goodness, only to see olive oil pooling at the corner and then dripping off onto the blazing hot element in the bottom of the oven. And then, the flames. Thank goodness, however, that by the time I shrieked, "ohmygosh, it's on fire!!" the flames were gone. But where there's fire, there's smoke ('er, something...), and our apartment was literally filled with hazy smoke--as if pollen wasn't enough--even more so than when I burned the pork chops or the meatloaf, (I'm a good cook, I sw'ar). We, (and by that I mean "I"), set off both fire alarms--twice. I had only cooked the first pizza when the flames popped up, but we powered through, baking soda on hand, to cook the second one and they both turned out delicious, amazing, party-in-your-mouth good. So. P-Dub, thanks for the recipe. But next time, a heads up about cooking in ghetto ovens might be nice. I still love ya (and your recipes) more'n my luggage, though!

Tomato-Basil pizza. Recipe from The Pioneer Woman Cooks.

Look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls

2010-04-05T15:02:00.010-04:00

Apparently, before the days of wikipedia, Funk & Wagnalls used to be a publisher of dictionaries and encyclopedias, with it's last issue going out of print around 1997. But more on that in a minute.

This weekend, Andrew and I headed way down south, where the wisteria drips off the trees like jewels on a royal's necklace. The weather was spectacular--not too hot and not too cold--sunny skies and a slight ocean breeze. Just magical. On Saturday night, my mother whipped up an amazing passover spread, complete with lamb and mint jelly and topped off with blackberry cobbler and creamy vanilla ice cream. Yummm. During our dinner conversation, with our lovely guests Dane and Meghan, my father began a discussion about something that, apparently, was quite incredulous, because we started saying things like, "huh?", "are you sure?", "really??", and he responded with, "yeah! Look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls!" *cricket, cricket*. Except it didn't sound like "Funk and Wagnalls", it sounded like "funkin' wagnalls" which sounded like something else. You can imagine the guffaws and side-splitting laughter that ensued. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to try to use the phrase, "look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls" at least once every day.

Easter morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed to beat the traffic to Boone Hall for St. Andrew's annual Easter celebration. Every one of the 4,000 chairs had a bum in it and there were people standing in the back. The children's tent was packed out. It was an awesome, awesome time of celebration and thanksgiving! I didn't take pictures until after the service, however, because we were busy chit-chatting with people, but I think I still got some good ones!

The celebration tent, nestled between the river and the "cotton field".

The annual, obligatory family phooootoooo! Minus two siblings and a sibling-in-law. We're looking quite natty in our Easter duds, if I do say so m'self. ;)

The flowered cross this year was a leeetle chaotic, (usually you bend the stems or cut them off prior to sticking them in the mesh), but our good friend Todd was in charge of it and his lovely wife, Elizabeth, was home with two sick cutie-patootie kiddos. So, we'll cut him some slack--this year. ;)

Every year, there's myriad carefully selected songs for pre-service music and for the service itself--this year, one of the opening songs was a Hillsong selection called Mighty to Save with the first lines of the chorus declaring Saviour/He can move the mountains/My God is mighty to save/Mighty to save, words borrowed from Matthew 17. As I was belting out this song with the other 4,000+ people in attendance, I got the feeling that Jesus wasn't necessarily talking about geographical feng shui. I think He was talking about people. Who in your life do you perceive as an immovable mountain? Who's heart is so hard that you have an inkling of doubt that even the One who cheated and pummeled death couldn't handle them? Well, he can. He is so mighty that His love and grace can move even the most stalwart of your friends or family to turn to Him and know the He is love. He is truth. And He is yours and mine--and theirs.

Happy Easter, everyone. And may we celebrate every day what Christ has done for us all.

Mt. Kilimanjaro, among other things

2010-03-31T10:40:00.006-04:00

Last weekend, I came to somewhere in the middle of Coleman Boulevard and realized I was on the front end of a 10k foot race to the other side of town. Up until that point, I think my brain was still in my nice, warm bed at my parents' casa. I'm not sure if it was some sort of defense mechanism my body whipped up to make sure I actually got out of bed and crossed the starting line, or the fact that I skipped my morning cup o' joe. Either way, the frigid wind (thank you, March, for being total crap) and the thousands and thousands of natives, transplants, and tourists made for a seriously startling morning. Two miles to the bridge, a half a mile straight up the slant side of Mt. Kilimanjaro, a mile or so running with wobbly legs to the pavement downtown, and a few miles left to the finish line where the Kenyans had been chillin' for an hour or so. There's nothing quite as demoralizing as a well rested African munchin' on Chick-fil-a as you cross the finish line almost on your death bed. But, I finished. And I didn't stop. So, check that off until next year.

So....I have some big news. I don't necessarily have a job yet, but I had an interview at UNC yesterday and my impression was that it went very, very well. The "New Graduate" Clinical Nurse I positions don't orient until July and August, but they asked me to come on as a CST for a few months prior--I'm not sure what that technically stands for, but it's a dual role of unit secretary and nursing assistant. Not at the same time, per se, but a few days a week as a nursing assistant and a few days as a unit secretary. Basically, it's a huge opportunity and I'm taking hold of it with both hands!! It will be challenging, no doubt, but I'm ready for a challenge. Thus far, (aside from job searching) my greatest hurdle has been finding my way around town. I don't want my brain to turn to mush. Bring. it. on.

In light of the latest distractions--being out of town and preparing for the interview of a lifetime--our apartment has gone completely to pot. It's gross. I'm embarrassed. I would probably not even crack the door for a delivery man, just implore him to leave his goods on the door mat. The laundry is piled to the ceiling, we've been surviving on pickles, cereal, yogurt, and peanut butter, and the bathroom is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Today, my job is to put on my super-wife cape and welcome my husband home to an apartment rivaling a stepford wife's mansion. It probably (definitely) won't stay that way, but a girl can dream.

Happy last day of March everyone! Don't be fooled tomorrow!

Heyyy, that's me!

2010-03-29T11:47:00.001-04:00

Check it oouuut!

http://www.labellebride.com/2010/03/south-carolina-with-charleston-charm.html

All things bright and beautiful

2010-03-25T16:32:00.015-04:00

It's amazing to me how nature continues to mirror God's character: how He is completely simple and pure, yet so infinitely detailed and genius.

I spent breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday, and breakfast and lunch today on my porch with these sweet, smiling, blooming trees waving at me in the breeze. All kinds of birds and honey bees were twittering and buzzing back and forth to each other, all heralding the arrival of this present season. What a glorious thing, Spring!

Each little flower that opens

Each little bird that sings

He made their glowing colors

He made their tiny wings

All things bright and beautiful

All creatures great and small

All things wise and wonderful

The Lord God made them all!

Full swing in Spring: a vernal check up.

2010-03-23T15:04:00.003-04:00

As the saying goes, March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb...I'm hoping we're in the lamb days, for good! Here's a little list of springtime made manifest in our household. I'm sure you all want to know. ;)

1. As previously posted, our Easter tree is still displayed in all it's pastel splendor on the kitchen counter. I'm seriously trying to avoid Easter candy, however, namely JellyBelly jelly beans, Reese's peanut-butter eggs, and Cadbury eggs of all kinds. But I won't be mad if I receive any or all in an Easter basket. If I'm not too old for that sort of thing. Which, I'm not. Because I just decided I'm not. So....there.

2. The heat and/or air-conditioning is OFF and has been for at least a week now: hooray for a low bill! Windows are frequently down during the day to freshen the air and get rid of the stuffiness of winter!

3. Our bedding has been changed and laundered; the extra blanket is back in the closet where it belongs.

4. My New Year's resolution is still rockin' on: vitamins swallowed daily!

5. All of my hanging clothes have been rifled through and clothes too small/too big/out of style/haven't been worn in a year(s)/bought in 8th grade have been gifted elsewhere.

6. Herbs are all present and accounted for, and thriving. Basil is a bit tricky with the weather still a little on the cool side at night. It needs lots of water because of the terra cotta pot (very breathable). I usually set it outside in full sun during the hottest part of the day and then bring it back inside at night. I try to talk sweetly to all of them, too, so they grow to be kind, smart, well-rounded plants. I haven't played any classical music for them, though (yet). If you find me someday in my yard reading the newspaper to the bushes with Beethoven blaring in the background, please have a Come-to-Jesus with me. Again, I will thank you, kindly. Anyhoo...Who knew a few stalks could be so high maintenance?

7. I've been using Jergens gradual tanning lotion on an every other day basis on account of my serious pastiness and the upcoming Bridge Run where I will bare my bare legs for all the world to see. I'm trying not to get to the orange-y, certain-areas-are-still-pale-and-obviously-fake-stage. I'm also trying to actually achieve a non-pasty hue by this weekend, so it's kind of an uphill battle to stay somewhere between pasty and orange...which would be somewhere around creamsickle. I'm trying to be a creamsickle.

8. The back porch (like we have a front one) is cleaned, re-staged, and readied for warm evenings of grilling out and feasting al fresco!

9. I have drooled over all of the beautiful Spring clothing lines being revealed in stores and online, like Target's Liberty of London...but when your shopping budget is approximately zero dollars and zero cents, drooling is about as far as you can go.

10. My toenails are a cheerful shade of OPI Cajun Shrimp, (a staple, kids), and I've worn sandals every day for almost a week. Just try to wrap your mind around that. Glory.

Baa-aa-aa. (That was supposed to be a lamb. In reference to "going out like a lamb". Use your imagination.)

An egg bearing tree for me!

2010-03-18T19:05:00.012-04:00

I haven't dyed Easter eggs since...elementary school?? We used to always have an Easter tree, dingle-dangling with beautiful colored eggs, varying in color, shade, and sometimes crazily dipped and drawn on with wax crayons--you know, quintessential 7 year old artwork. Delightful. Well, this year, I decided it was high time I dyed some eggs again. I still had some branches from my fall foliage days so I just arranged them in a pitcher on the counter and hung my eggs on them. That was the easy part. Getting the egg out of the shell without breaking it to smithereens? A tad harder. Anyway, 14 eggs and near-respiratory arrest later, I had an Easter tree. Voila!

A little bit of warm water, a splash of vinegar, a few drops of food coloring: Hello, Springtime!

Pastels really aren't my fav to wear, necessarily, but pastel eggs? Pretty!

Hot glued some twine on each egg--super easy.

Easter loveliness!

(I used leftover nuts from the nut wreath for vase filler at the bottom. Scoooore.)

It's finally warming up here--so exciting! The bridge run is in about a week, and Easter is the week after! Holy cow--see ya later, March!

Before she left Killarney, did your mother kiss the Blarney?

2010-03-17T17:03:00.008-04:00

If you don't know that song, you should. An oldie, but a goodie! Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all my fellow Iri'men (and women)! 'Anybody seen the leprechaun say, "YEAAAHHH!"'

Andrew and I went to see John Mayer: Battle Studies on Monnnnday!!! It was amazing. It was thrilling. It was like we were in 8th grade again. Seriously. The average age was probably 15. I mean, no worries, we weren't the only adults there--lots of people were suckin' down their ginormous Bud Lights and gettin' in the mood for a lil' 'lectric guitar, but still. There was definitely shrieking and jumping up and down and sign waving from the middle school sector. But the guy can shred, I'll give him that.

And for your listening pleasure:

Yehhh, I have a gh-etto camera, so that's all you're gonna get. But it was awesome. It really was.

Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

2010-03-14T22:09:00.009-04:00

With black soil and shards of pottery and pretty pots all in a row. :)

Ok. So. My past gardening experience pretty much peaked at growing a lima bean plant in a Styrofoam cup in elementary school. And I don't even like lima beans. But, I'm trying my hand at growing herbs as I mentioned in the previous post. Please note, my experience and/or terminology is that of a newbie, so if I am not quite a Gardener to the Starz, pardon me.

First things first: Here's what you need. Four terra cotta pots, four herb plants of your choice, potting soil, un poquito de extended release fertilizer pellets, pieces of broken pottery, H2O, and two nimble hands.

Um, I already planted the mint. 'Cuz I done stoled it from my parents' front yard. Did you know mint is a vine?? Yeah, those suckers will take over your yard if you let 'em. Anyway. I clipped a few leaflings and planted them before we left Charleston, so I kinda had a head start on this whole endeavor. The leaves are to keep moisture in. Just so you know. It ain't cute but it does the job. (Not sure why I've switched into Grungy Farmer mode...must be the fertilizer...juss kidd'n'.)

Moving on. Potting soil, pieces of pottery. And a large kitchen spoon thingy. In case you lack a spade like I do. I ended up using my hands, so it was kind of superfluous.

Step numero uno: place pottery shards in the bottom of each pot over the drainage hole. This will allow for oxygen to enter and water to escape more easily once the plant and all it's tangly roots get in there.

Fill each pot with a little bit of potting soil and then sprinkle some fertilizer over that. Mix it all around, if it makes you happy.

Tap each herb plant out of it's temporary home, being careful not to mangle it's beautiful foliage with your nubby hands. If you find that the roots have grown through the holes in it's plastic container, (like I did), do your best to perform emergency surgery causing as little damage as possible. Bottom line: get the thing out. Place the plant in it's new and permanent 3 bedroom/2.5 bath home. Fill in the sides with potting soil.

Rinse and repeat. Water the plant enough to saturate the soil and enough so that water drains out of the bottom of the pot. You're actually supposed to have those plate thingies to catch the water, but beggars can't be choosers. And I stole these pots from my parents. (Aren't they nice?) Repeat this process until all of your plants are lovingly nestled in their new pots.

Bonus: I also received a flippin' sweet valentine strawberry pot from my dearest friend Lauren. It had this little pellet of dirt that you add water to and then sow the seeds. Amazing. And realllllly cute.

Yep. It's tiny. If this thing grows, I'll be amazed.

From left to right: Bernice, Alma, Gertrude, and Myrtle.

Siiiiike.

Mint, thyme, basil, rosemary.

Yummy, yummy, in my tummy.

And that is how it's done.

Here, there, and back again

2010-03-12T18:00:00.006-05:00

Whew. I just flew in from Charleston and boy are my arms tired! Seriously though, we drove. Beeecause flying would be a little extreme. Last Thursday I returned to our home sweet home in Durham only to unpack, launder, and repack my clothes to head off to Hendersonville for the weekend. And what a weekend it was! Gorgeous weather, precious family time, and yet another spectacular fitness event. We also filed our taxes, but then, so did you, right? Right. Sunday we made the trek back down to Charleston to visit with my parents and so that my Engineer could meet with the folks at Water Missions International about his summer internship. Yes, that would be South Carolina. Yes, we are in North Carolina. Talk about Engineers Without Borders. I married one.

Anyhoo, something I have been begging my Daddy-o to take on over the last, say, 10 years is mapping out our family's genealogy. And he's finally done it. He started his anthropological investigation about a month ago and since then I have been helping a little bit here and there when I am in town. I know it sounds super dorky, but genealogy is SO FUN! Finding ancestors and branches of your family you didn't even know existed is quite a thrill. And it also opens things up for creative family baby names (*wink wink* ...don't panic--no babies here. Just keeping mental notes)! So far we have an Addelaide, Quinlan, Blair, Asa, Josslyn, Imogene (totally the best), O'Neal, Hines, Whitner...but we also have Lazarus, Abraham Moses, Pheobe Magnus, and other grotesque combo platters. The list goes on and on. It's exciting! And this is only my family--not Andrew's--so obviously our kids will have a whole other section of their tree. Coolio. Everyone should do genealogy. Aside from learning how to spell "genealogy", you learn a lot of things. Hey, I bet we're related, you 'n' me.

So, I haven't really told y'all this, but Andrew and I are doing the 2010 Cooper River Bridge Run this year. I have done it a handful of times before but I will be the first to tell you that I am not a runner. A runner I am not. But apparently, this month, I am. The aforementioned fitness event?? Running around the track and Andrew's high school alma mater, (which in Latin means "nourishing mother". No, we did not jog around Andrew's mom. In case you were confused) . Training, if you will. It's a 10k/6.2 mile race with a half-mile uphill portion, i.e. the bridge. (Hence, the name of the race.) I ran five miles on Saturday around the track in Hendersonville, and then in Charleston from the starting line of the race in front of Moultrie Middle School (word) to the apex of the bridge and back, which is also five miles, more or less. Wanna know which one was harder? Yah. The bridge. Oy vey. And that, plus another mile. When we were on the slant side of the bridge, I seriously thought my heart was going to pop off of it's arteries like a water balloon pops off the spigot when it gets too full. Yowza. I'm still going to do it. Andrew says, I just need to get my head right. Mind over matter. Mmm-hmm. More like gravity needs to take a mini-hiatus while I'm running up the bridge. Anyway, it's in a coupla weeks. I'll let you know how it goes. Chances are, if you're a Clemson Tiger, a Charlestonian, or somewhere in the vicinity of the lowcountry, I might see you there. And if I'm on a stretcher please refrain from pointing and laughing.

In other news, I planted my herb container garden just now and will be filling you in soon! I've got mint, basil, thyme, and rosemary. I just pray that somewhere in my ancestry there was a talented farmer whose "growin'" chromosomes got passed down. Here's hoping!

Wham! Bam! Thank-you ma'am!

2010-03-04T23:44:00.006-05:00

I went to Charleston on Tuesday to see my three verybestfriends and did not take a single photograph. Maybe it was the hulking lenses the aforementioned bosom buddies were toting compared to my minuscule gold Olympus point n' shoot. Maybe it was the French Onion Soup and Verdi champagne. Maybe it was the OPI rainbow scattered across the countertop. Maybe it was the colossal list of engagements we were stalking on Facebook. Who knows? But I was there, even if I have no proof. The proof is in my heart. *Sniff.*

What a glorious thing it is to go home. And not in a figurative way, but in a literal way. To really know that the little lurch your heart makes when you accelerate over the crest of the Cooper River Bridge (the Second) is not caffeine overload from that last cup of coffee, or exhaustion from making the drive and pressing the radio "scan" button 6,000 times--it's because you've come home. Home. It's funny, too, how I can be sitting in my childhood bedroom and be homesick. Or chatting at the breakfast table with my parents and miss them terribly. It's almost as if I didn't realize how much home meant to me until I really left--not for college, which is transient, a false reality--but when my license changed to another state and my last name changed to one that was not my own, one that I still have trouble scrawling prettily on supermarket receipts. Don't get me wrong--I wouldn't change anything. Not one thing would I alter. Despite all of the changes in my life, Andrew is bar none the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. But I loved my mini-vacation/BFF pow-wow over the past few days. It was wonderful. Rejuvenating, even. I got a little girl time and a little salt air. Good for the heart and the soul. Home, where my thought's escaping/Home, where my music's playing/Home, where my love lies wating/silently for me.

We're off to Hendersonville for the weekend tomorrow afternoon. I got back around 6:30 this evening, did a load of laundry and put it all back into my bag. That was easy. :) To bed for me.

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

This soup is soup-er good

2010-03-01T18:45:00.008-05:00

Heh, heh. Ha, ha. Ho. Ha, ha. Clever, I know. This delectable "Lentil and Bulgur Soup" is featured in this month's Martha Stewart Living. I've already mentioned this issue in a previous post: trust me, it's that good. Anyway, this soup is easy, cheap, nutritious, and tasty. You can't beat that. If you've never tried lentils or bulgur wheat, I'm telling you--you can't mess it up. It's yummy. Sorry the photograph is terrible. I had no natural light, throw me a bone.

Here's the recipe:

2 tablespoons-ish olive oil

1 or 2 medium carrots, finely chopped

1 or 2 celery stalks, finely chopped

1 shallot, thinly sliced

6 cups high quality H-2-O

1 cup green or brown lentils, "rinsed and picked over" (whatever that means...I just tossed 'em in the pan. Na-na-na-boo-boo.)

1/2 cup bulgur wheat (don't be afraid!)

Optional: 2 to 3 tablespoons red-wine vinegar for drizzling (meh, kind of a money waster)

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Heat oil in a medium pot over medium heat. Saute carrot, celery, and shallot until tender--approximately six minutes. Add water and lentils, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, partially covered for about 20 minutes or until lentils are tender.

2. Stir in bulgur. Cook, partially covered, until bulgur is tender but still a bit chewy--approximately five minutes.

3. Season with salt and pepper. Optional: drizzle with vinegar and/or more olive oil to taste.

That's it and that's all! Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Bon appetit!

Herbs and Easter

2010-02-28T15:38:00.011-05:00

You've probably noticed that the aesthetics of this blog have periodically changed: a new thing here, an old thing gone, a different picture, things in a different order. It's kind of like tweaking the decor in a room in your house: switching this lamp for that lamp, getting a new picture frame, a new throw blanket, trading the armchair for the love-seat. It just keeps things interesting. :) Hope it doesn't bother you! It doesn't bother me! Change is good.

Holy Moses, where did February go?? Anyone seen it? Tomorrow is March 1st, and the *official* first day of Spring is right around the corner: Saturday, March 20th. I desperately want to trade my boots for flip-flops, my sweaters for tank tops. My current wardrobe is ever-so-tired. Isn't it awesome that God knew we would need seasons to keep from going stir-crazy (among other reasons)? So that things weren't the same ol' same ol' all the time? Ah, He's so smart. One thing I really want to do this Spring is grow fresh herbs on my porch. I hate buying fresh herbs at the grocery store--the bunches are always way too much and therefore more money than you want to spend on a few sprigs of thyme or rosemary or whatever. There was an awesome tiered terra-cotta planter in March's Martha Stewart Living, ("Tower of Herbs" p. 46), that I'm going to try to recreate. If it doesn't work, or it's too expensive or too large, I'll just plant in individual pots, like in the photo below. I want to plant thyme, rosemary, mint, basil, maybe oregano--and I'll see what else is out there. Parsley, perhaps. Maybe cilantro. Mmm, oh--to be a rabbit and nibble on herbs day in and day out.

Photo courtesy marthastewart.com

Speaking of rabbits, Easter is just two shakes away, as well: Sunday, April 4th. As I recall, one thing that was very important to me as a kid was to get an "Easter dress". I always loved getting an Easter dress, because I knew it would be just the most wonderful and beautiful new dress to wear to church on Easter Sunday. Of course, it was always a horrifying pastel or flowered something, with too-tight sleeves, and a propensity for only matching equally horrifying white shoes. And sometimes, if I were a lucky girl, there would be a wide-brimmed hat with a large silk flower hot-glued to the front. Usually, Jessica and Noah--when we were little enough that our outfits were still dictated by Mama--were wearing some version of the same: pastel, a floppy hat, camel-colored suede oxfords, and a handful of garden roses, newly shorn stems wrapped in a wet paper towel and crinkly tin foil. Oh, the agony and the ecstasy of Easter outfits. The church I grew up in always and forever has held Easter services outdoors in a big white tent at Boone Hall Plantation, right next to the softly sloping riverbank lined with moss-laden, sentinel oaks--a more beautiful sight you've never seen! During the service, the young children would venture to the front to find a wooden cross covered in chicken wire in order to secure bouquets of flowers in the holes--and by the end, a few plain four by fours would be bursting with blooms of all colors, sizes, and species. Deluge or sunshine, freezing or sweltering, no-see-ums or not--every Easter, there will always be a big white tent and a wooden cross to be adorned with flowers timidly brought forth by Easter's eager children. And there, amongst the oaks and the flowered cross, a few thousand or so of heaven's saints would sing praises to the One who changed everything. Amazing love, how could it be?/that you, my King, would die for me?

And so, without further ado, have a wonderful, restful Sunday evening.

Bob Marley's got nothin' on this girl

2010-02-23T23:15:00.001-05:00

ttthree little birds ring ~ $65

freshwater pearls, 14k gold filled wire

I would like to take a moment to shed a little light on my dear friend--and tres talented artist-- Lauren Holmes. From her photography to her paintings, her jewelry to her pottery--this young woman's creations are unique, timeless, and juuuust right. Today, obviously, I want to show you her jewelry. Lauren started making jewelry in her teenage years, and like fine wine, has gotten even better with age. I own 2 pairs of her earrings, 3 rings, and 3 bracelets--and I've borowed about ten times that amount (one of the featured items is actually the necklace I'm wearing in my profile picture! Lovely, huh?). I definitely want more, especially after perusing her Etsy shop, Two Blue Stripes, which currently showcases 60 stunning, handmade pieces. Here are a few for your viewing pleasure (photographs are also Lauren's work):

handcrafted sweetgrass bangle from historic Charleston, SC ~ $68

faceted agate, coin freshwater pearl, sweetgrass, swarovski crystal, gold filled wire

rabbit hole necklace ~ $78

31" silver chain, coin freshwater pearl, swarovski crystal, ceramic rabbit

color wheel ring ~ $55

dyed freshwater pearls, 14k gold filled wire

horse busts earrings ~ $35

carved antique bone, swarovski crystal, gold filled bead, loop and findings

*hangs two and a half inches from the ear

coin pearl cluster necklace ~ $78

champagne coin pearls, swarovski crystal, aquamarine, sterling silver fish clasp, blue chalcedony

camel earrings ~ $30

carved jade, sterling silver loop, purple swarovski crystal, gold plated brass

turquoise strand necklace ~ $65

turquoise, swarovski crystal, silver plated beads, sterling silver clasp

If you're not reaching for your wallet or holding your hubby's face up to the computer mouthing the words "birthday", "anniversary", or "just cuz"...then I fear this is where our friendship ends. Just kidding. But if you're not convinced already, head over to Two Blue Stripes and see for yourself. The featured items are there with a few other shots of them at different angles, along with about 50 more amazing baubles. Trust me, you'll want to own a Lauren Holmes creation from "way back when". Oh, and if you're engaged, pregnant, have a newborn, need a family portrait, or just like to click links, check out her photography at http://www.laurenmathenyholmes.com/ --she just finished a few other projects, too, so check back to see some of her recent work.

And on top all of that, she's a really great friend. Love you, La! xx

Things of late

2010-02-22T16:46:00.004-05:00

I just got back from a lovely rendezvous at Caribou Coffee with my dear friend Stephanie. So, so good to see her shiny, sweet face, (and her beautiful engagement bling!), if only for a brief cup o' tea. It was our beloved tea-time, but with 2/3ish of the members unaccounted for--so a bit bittersweet. Everybody's growing up, graduating, going to grad school, getting married, moving away. Hm. Life comes at you fast. Make sure you're wearing clean underwear.

So, I a few books ago, I read a book entitled The Help by Kathryn Stockett and it was very, very good and a definite recommended read from me, your very own, personal, stand-in librarian. Right now it's #2 on the NY Times Bestsellers list. And it deserves that spot, quite rightly. Set in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960s, The Help, is about the relationships and struggles between the white, punctilious (eh? eh?) "Junior Leaguer"-type women and their families and the black maids. The narrator and main character is Skeeter Phelan who incidentally wants to become a writer and is trying to make her big break by writing about the lives, experiences and stories of the black women who spend their lives cleaning up after the white women and raising their children. Hilarious, poignant, and thought provoking, this book will make you kiss your bedtime good-bye just to get to the next chapter. Read it. There will be a test.

This past week many Christians observed Ash Wednesday, the first day of the season of Lent, the 40 days (give or take a few) leading up to Easter Sunday. The 40 days are supposed to represent the 40 days Jesus spent being tempted by Satan in the desert. Traditionally, Lent is a period of time during which the Christian prepares him or herself for Holy Week (the week leading up to Easter) through prayer, self-denial, the giving of offerings, etc. Lots of people give things up like chocolate, caffeine, Facebook, etc. but it's important to remember that a Lenten resolve is not a New Year's resolution. Staying away from fried foods won't bring anyone closer to Jesus if we don't look to Him for help when it's hard and grace when we fail. The idea should be that whatever we give up or refrain from, our focus is on the Lord and how he was tempted in every way and never once faltered. Our hearts should be thankful that he was the perfect sacrifice to atone for our complete and total depravity and imperfection. My prayer is that we would all know our deep and serious need for the love of our Heavenly Father, the hope of and relationship with Jesus, and the sweet friendship of the Holy Spirit. Really, that is all He wants from us. More than He wants you to kick that nicotine habit, he wants you to know that He loves you! He really, really, really, really, really, really loves you. And that is why He was tempted and triumphed, and crucified and triumphed. Can I get an "Amen" up in herrrr'?

Welp, we're gearing up for 24 tonight. Is Dana Walsh as dumb-dumb as I think she is?? Are they going to find the nuclear rods??? Shuuuucks, I don't know!! Andrew is currently fiddling with some science project--materials: paint stirrers, rubber tubing, power drill. No idea. The dishwasher is running--albeit altogether too loudly--but it's running. We've had Sloppy Joes for dinner the last few nights--last week I made rubbery baked chicken and burned broccoli, (our whole apartment smelled like charred farts), so obviously you can imagine my enthusiasm to make up for that egregious fiasco of a meal.

True story.

Slubbin' it

2010-02-18T17:29:00.009-05:00

Photo courtesy JCrew.com

Soooo, I'm kind of obsessed with this Faded Chambray button down from J.Crew. In fact, Merry Christmas to me, I bought it yesterday with a gift card from Santa, a.k.a Mama (sorry if I've just spoiled that for some of you). The golden rule behind this laid-back Spring/Summer staple is fit. Say it with me, folks: FIT! It's nicely tailored in all the right places so that even though it is a slouchy, slubby, comfortable shirt, it still gives you a feminine silhouette. I swore up and down that I would save my gift card for Spring, but this shirt is in J.Crew's first Spring line, so, technically....yeah. I splurged. But it's gonna be so cute with white pants, gold flip flops and a chunky necklace! Or a bright, patterned miniskirt! Or over a canary yellow bikini in the summer! Yay for Spring! I just can't wait. Don't worry, I will not be rocking a Canadian tuxedo or joining a reunited 80s hair band. I'll have none of that, please-and-thank-you.

The mash up

2010-02-16T15:13:00.012-05:00

I've got about a billion things to write about. Let me give you an outline.

1. Armstrongs came to visit
--A. Valentine's Day
2. Shake n' BAKE
--A. Cowboy Cookies
3. The Olympics
--A. The travel bug

4. Going Green

--A. Seventh Generation/Martha Stewart Clean

5. Bing, bang wala-wala bing bang.

1. This past weekend the Armstrongs made the journey from Hendersonville to the Triangle, braving the sleet and snow, to visit us at our humble abode they helped us move into more than six months ago. Has is really been that long?? Sheesh. Not much has changed, however, other than my ever-changing switcheroos of plants, lamps, candles and other mobile decorative items. 'ey, lay off me, I like to change things up. ;) We went to the Barbecue Joint for supper with Beckie and Collin and surprise guests Graham, Joanna, and Price, after stuffing Graham and Joanna's moving truck and cars full of every last possession in their Durham apartment. We bade the Ashes 'adieu' and sent them on their way as a light snow began to dust our surroundings for the millionth time this winter. That evening, we watched Canada, with glowing hearts, welcome the rest of the world into its country for the 2010 Winter Olympic games. On Saturday, with Mike in from a business trip, we went to Big Ed's and met the Edmondsons for breakfast. After that we went to the mall where I found the best pair of interview pants in the world. (I think I'm going to get the job with these puppies on.) We went back to our apartment and decided to have what Beckie dubbed a "fitness event". Basically, we channelled the Coopers and all went to the gym to work up a sweat before relaxing the evening away with lasagna, blackberry cobbler and the women's moguls. After church and lunch at Pei Wei on Sunday morning, we said our good-byes. Until next time!

A. Isn't he just wonderful?!?! A man who brings flowers home the Friday before Valentine's Day. A rare gem.

2. Shake n' BAKE: no, these are not shake n' bake, break n' bake, boxed n' baked or any other kind of pre-made cookie. These. are home-made. They're called Cowboy Cookies and came to me via a redheaded nursing school friend of mine, Betsy. These are a belated birthday gift, but I'm 99% sure the recipient is not reading this blog, so it's okay that I've just blurted that out. These particular cookies have oats, chocolate chips, craisins, and pecans in them, but the original recipe calls for oats, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, raisins and pecans. Basically, you make an oatmeal cookie and then add whatever you want to it that sounds yummy, hearty, and cowboy-ish.

Here's the recipe:

MIX: 1 cup white sugar (or Splenda), 1 cup brown sugar, 2 sticks butter, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.

ADD 2 eggs to the above mixture.

IN A SEPARATE BOWL sift together 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 cups flour, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder. ADD to sugar/butter/egg mixture.

ADD 2 cups oats, 1 pack (12oz) semisweet chocolate chips, 1 cup raisins, 1 cup butterscotch chips, 1 small bag chopped pecans.

BAKE at 350 degrees on greased baking sheet for 8-9 minutes. Allow to cool for a few minutes before transferring to cooling rack (otherwise they are so soft and gooey that they will fall apart!)

There you have it. BRIEF ASIDE...The above recipe yields a TON of cookies--great for a bake sale, party, weekend camping trip with friends, etc. In the batch I just whipped up, I only made a half recipe and it gave me about 2 1/2 dozen big cookies. So, adjust accordingly.

ALSO--Once you've added the oats, the amounts and ingredients are basically up to you. Don't like raisins? Leave 'em out. Love white chocolate? Add some creamy chips to the mix. Rather have walnuts than pecans? Go for it. I will say, the original recipe also calls for 12oz of butterscotch chips (as in, equal amounts chocolate and butterscotch) and I found it to overwhelm the other flavors so I only added a cup. Play around with it! Just make sure you keep in mind your favorite cowboy as you lick the spoon or drop the dough onto the baking sheet. :)

PS: I definitely did not sample one of these hot and fresh out of the oven. And it was not very good. Which is why I'm not sad at all that we are sending them to someone else. Not at all.

3. The Olympics. Other than the amazing feats of athleticism, this years Olympic games make me want to go on a second honeymoon. To CANADA!!! Again. For those of you who don't know, Andrew and I were this close to going to Banff in British Columbia, but instead went to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick on our week-long trip as newlyweds. The trip was amazing, but the beautiful vistas and snowy mountain tops on the TV are seriously giving us the travel itch. And, boy, do we want to scratch it.

4. Going green. So. I don't know if my proximity to Carrboro, my composting mother, or my California residing sibling is to blame for this, but I've decided to systematically, well, go green, for lack of a better term. No, I'm not going to stop shaving my armpits and exist on tofu and soybeans, but my first step towards assimilation into this emerald tinted life is to phase out my usual household cleaners and opt for more environmentally and well, human life friendly organic cleaners. So far, I've purchased Seventh Generation all-purpose wipes (the fume-free version of Clorox wipes), and Seventh Generation all-purpose cleaner (for more stubborn spots and stains in the bathroom and kitchen). I want to check out Martha Stewart Clean, too, (y'all know how much I love Martha!), but they only sell them at Home Depot and I just don't really go by there very often. But anyway, instead of taking all of our "old" cleaners to the hazardous waste drop-off, we've decided to use 'em up and then make a clean break towards a safer and healthier and cleaner home. Orrrrr, as soon as we can afford it, I will be taking them to the hazardous waste drop-off and totally switching. Basically, we've got no reason not to, and too many reasons to make the switch. I mean, why not? The prices are basically the same as other name-brand cleaners, and they are not every day purchases, so it's an easy switch. It's step one, really. In ten years, though, if I'm eating granola out of my pockets, wearing Birkenstocks and socks, and living in a cave, please, please stage an intervention. I will thank you kindly.

The wala-wala bing bang was just filler. Ta-ta!

She's got ruby red lips, blonde hair blue eyes, Lord I'm about to bid my heart good-byeeeeee

2010-02-10T15:06:00.009-05:00

Law, it's been a month of Sunday's since my last post! Not really, it's just been a week. But, it's been a busy week! Sheesh! Let's see. I don't even know where to start. Today's Wednesday...Hm. Well, Friday I think we stayed home and hung out with each other. Cuz we're cool like that. But, Saturday--Saturday is the reason John Michael Montgomery's lyrics are titling this blog post. Saturday morning I was supposed to go to Ashleigh's wedding shower in Greenville, but the weather was freakin' out again--as it is in the habit of doing, as of late--so I ended up staying home. So, Saturday evening, we went to The Engineers Without Borders Symposium banquet, complete with cocktail attire, a silent auction, a live auction, a bonafide auctioneer, and tiny, unidentifiable hors d'oeuvres. The auction and dinner was obviously to raise money for EWB and to honor those individuals that have put their blood, sweat and tears into making EWB a success. Tables and tables of beautiful crafts and other items from all over the world were auctioned off, and also gift certificates and vouchers from local businesses. It was great to see all the nerds let loose without their lab coats and calculators, too. They just work too hard! ;) Anyway, the auctioneer's name was Charley. And he was very. serious. about. auctions. Very. The auction went something like this:

Well, folks we have here a one of a kind autographed basketball by Roy Williams and the entire UNC basketball team. Come on, don't pause--it's for a good cause!

Let's start at fiddy. Wouldja bid fiddy? Fiddy wouldja bid? Fiddy dollars up in the front--thanky, sir--Wouldja bid one hunert? Woulja bid one-hunert? one-hunert, one hunert, one hunert? Ma'am in the back--thanky ma'am! Wouldja bid one-fiddy? Wouldja bid one-fiddy? One-fiddy, one-fiddy, one-fiddy--it's for a good cause--one-fiddy, one--thanky sir! Wouldja give two-hunert, wouldja bid two hunert?...Alright, one-fiddy going once, one-fiddy going twice--SOLD! to the gentleman in the yellow bowtie!

And so on. And every time he said one-fiddy or whatever number, he would bounce on his toes in rhythm with the bidding. It was quite a sight. We didn't bid on anything because we're obviously in a more frugal season of life right now, but I just really wanted one of those ping-pong paddles with the numbers on it. Shucks.

So, Sunday was the SUPER BOWLLLL--Geaux Saints! I'm so glad they won. They deserved it. Sorry, Kelly. Sorry, Peyton. Better luck next time. I got into a cooking tizzy and decided to make meatballs and mocha silk pie--both from the P-Dub. She gots it right. I'm telling you, this pie is like WOAH. But here's my version:

The garnish: chopped baker's chocolate. Don't you just love it?! The paper and the stamp on the top makes it feel ol' fashioned to me. And there's my little piggy cutting board that my pops made. A little personality and just right for chopping veggies, fruit--and chocolate.

The crust: chopped pecans, chopped bakers chocolate, brown sugar, vanilla, instant coffee--and a little bit of maaaagic. Mmmm.

Our delicious super bowl meatball subs: with a little cheese, please!

So, there you have it. The last few days I've been babysitting precious little Elise and Will while Nanny Nancy has her baby. Love those kiddos. And Kelly was right. Your luck can change in Candy Land in the blink of an eye--and you'll find yourself canoodling in the Chocolate Swamp while the three year old next to you is frolicking in the Candy Kingdom at the finish line. Such is life. I hope my kids are as bright and energetic as they are some day. (I said, some day. Meaning, a far, far away day in the distant future....riiiight?? Right. Right? Riiiight.)

In other news, I shadowed on the Surgical ICU at UNC Hospital yesterday morning. I know--shadowed. Like I don't know what it's like to be a nurse in a hospital. BUT, it was good to finally go in UNC and see what it's like and get to know some people, aka The Management. I can has a job? Pretty please?? So, anyway, things are in the works and I can feel the Lord oiling the rusty joints on this thing, setting things in motion. And I am thankful. Thankful that God is in control, and not me. Because if I was in control, I might have lost it a long time ago.

So, tonight we've got ignite group, tomorrow hopefully hanging out with Graham and Joanna before they head on to Iowa (gulp. Sad day!), and then the in-laws are a-comin' to town this weekend. Should be a bang up time.

Until then, adios amigos!

A few recent revelations:

2010-02-04T18:25:00.005-05:00

1. I always get the grocery cart with the squeaky/epileptic wheel. Always.

2. When I am shopping by myself, (which, these days, is more often than not), I verbally process my loves/likes/dislikes/horror-at-the-price-tag-sticker-shock. Out loud. Meaninggggg I talk to myself. While I'm shopping. In public.

3. I have watched more CNN in the last eight months than a regular person should. I think a healthy balance of in-the-know and out-of-the-loop is the norm. Right now I am in the know. I am so. in. theknow.

4. I love snow day number one. Snow days following? Notsomuch. I thought I would love living in NC with all four seasons present and accounted for, and I do--but I also love 70 degrees from October to April and 9o degrees otherwise. Makes for a much simpler wardrobe.

5. Please watch this.

That is all.

Just say no. To snow.

2010-02-01T17:01:00.007-05:00

I gotta be real for just a second. The snow was awesome the first day. Still very pretty the second day, even though it cancelled our church meeting. But today, it's annoying. And helloooo road worker people--you can't just scrape the interstates and not the roads that lead to the interstates. That's just all around bad form. Good thing Stella is a beast and we made it to and from the grocery store without incident today. Granted, I was going approximately seven and a half miles an hour, much to the chagrin of the fancy pants Lexus behind me. Hold your horses, lady. I didn't back my seat up four inches to prevent major facial damage from my airbag in the event of a slip n' slide just to have you ride my tail like you've got somewhere to be. Chiiill, Winston. (Name that movie!) Anyway, before the driving in slush adventure, I had to make like a Yankee and scrape the glacier off my car. With one, little, half broken ice scraper. I had to get it off the front windshield (obviously to see where I'm going) and the back windshield to see where I've been. JK--heh-heh, no-- I had to back out of my precariously tight parking space between two gas guzzlin' SUVs. [Gulp]. One little fish-tail to either side and the owner of the white Tahoe or the red Expedition was going to have a nice new dent. Whoops. Not my fault? Annnnyway, I wish I had taken a picture of the continental shelf that was melting ever-so-slightly atop my vehicle. It would have lent to a more humorous mental picture of MaryGene's Snow Demolition Project 2010. Basically, the snow on the top was a little melted and stuck together so I could chisel out large pieces, (much like the breaking off of our glaciers and polar ice caps), and push them off of the edge of the car, but the snow underneath was still powdery so I had to methodically scrape the second layer of powder off without getting it all over myself. Which did not work. Passersby probably thought I was playing in the snow instead of trying to get into my car. Fail. All in all it took about 30 minutes which was way too long in my book. But Rome wasn't built in a day (or was it?) and you can't snap your fingers after a snow day and summon Spring at a moment's notice.

Too bad you can't. I'm ready for fresh flowers on the table, sandals and toe nail polish, and having a low/no heating/air conditioning bill. I always do this, though: get a hankering for the next season when we're still in the middle of the current season. In an effort to speed things up, I painted my nails ElePhantastic Pink yesterday (thanks, Lauren!). I don't think it's working. Shucks. Sorry, Mother Nature. Didn't mean to rush you.

Tonight, we're having Pioneer Woman's Cajun Chicken Pasta. Go ahead. Be jealous. Or come to dinner. Either one.

Love ya! ;)