Notorious ABZ

This.

2012-02-07T22:21:00.001-05:00

It's been a long road.

This.

2012-02-06T21:39:00.000-05:00

"I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny - a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls." – J.K. Rowling

I have been battling myself and my body for all of my adult life. I have tried to be someone I'm not because of other people's expectations. I have starved and spray tanned and plucked and measured and weighed and worried and berated myself for my imperfections. I'm tired now. I don't want to fight anymore. I have a little girl. She needs a strong, confident role model. A healthy role model. Someone she can believe in. I intend to be that person.

I'm working on some pieces outside of this blog that I hope to post here soon. They're not quite coherent enough (even for this blog)(wow, right?) to post yet, so in the meantime, you get this wonderful quote from the wonderful Ms. Rowling. It fits my mood today.

There will be peace in the valley one day. This little light of mine, and all that.

Cheers. I'll be back soon. All of me. Whole and intact.

Now I'm Growing Concerned

2011-12-19T19:12:00.001-05:00

Folks, last night after brushing Cayce's teeth I stood up from the toilet where I'd been sitting and snapped the seat clean off its hinges.

I broke the toilet seat. At my inlaws house. For those keeping score (aren't you?) that's (un)lucky number eight, my first broken seat away from home.

What is happening here? I'm the Godzilla of toilets. I'm the Hurricane Katrina of hinges (though sometimes I actually crack the seat itself)(Oh God, I think I'm bragging now...). I'm like the hulk and toilet seats are...everyone. My toilet seat habit is quickly becoming a rampage.

ALLISON DESTROY!

Seriously, something has to give here. This is getting expensive.

The Carpenter and His Manger (or When Larry Met Jesus)

2011-12-10T21:31:00.001-05:00

One frosty morning in late November, my mother-in-law set off on a holy journey to find Jesus. Not a Jesus for her heart, she's already got that one; a Jesus for her yard. She didn't want any of these non-proclaiming, shrunken Protestant Jesus' either; she was bringing home a full sized Savior.

She left the house, I imagine, with the same determination and fortitude that always accompanies a woman with a purse full of coupons. Now, let me stop here and say that my MIL is one of the women I admire most in my life; besides teaching me that you don't have to be blood to be family, she has taught me the value of perseverance and of going after the things you want. That in mind, I had no doubt that when she said she intended to come home with a heavily discounted, completely assembled, full size Jesus, that madame, she was going to do exactly that.

Imagine her disappointment when she not only ended up with a Jesus half his actual size, but no manger in which to house our plastic Lord!

Through a series of events that are probably too complicated to recreate here, my MIL ultimately decided that the only way she was leaving with half the God she came for was if He came at a really attractive price. Somewhere during those negotiations she agreed to give up His manger. Enter Larry.

My father-in-law has finally, in his retirement, been able to give his time to an activity at which he is wonderful, and one which he truly enjoys- home remodeling. He's aces at carpentry - hell, the man owns a lathe - and an expert at all those general handy man services invaluable to those of us who have, say, broken 7 toilet seats in 5 years. That is why, when half sized Jesus found himself without a home, naturally it fell to Larry to build one.

Unsurprisingly it was his smart mouthed third born who pointed out that, "You know Pops, Sweet Baby Jesus was a carpenter. He won't appreciate shoddy craftsmanship."(Scott understands that even half sized Jesus sees all). And that is how there came to be an exposed, half sized nativity on my mother-in-law's front lawn. Because my FIL cant simply house the holy family; they need to be housed in style. That's why he is putting off construction until next season and drawing up plans for what I imagine must be the only actually habitable manger in biblical history. Unfortunately, until renovations are complete the Holy Family will be camping out on the front lawn without a roof (I can only imagine what they'll look like once the first winter storm has given them all tiny snow yarmulkes). And because posts like this are just better with pictures, here you go.

Just to rile up the neighbors I plan to tell anyone who asks that he's actually constructing a guest house and that we're taking reservations for Easter when our sources tell us it should be vacant.

So here it is. I hope it makes you smile, too. Merry Christmas from the family. All of us.

2011-10-17T22:17:00.002-04:00

On My Feet Since 7 a.m.

Racing and rushing and sweeping and serving and scooping and driving and hugging and lifting and pushing (and swearing) and smiling and bargaining and rinsing and drying and brushing and wiping and goinggoingGOING all day long

and at the end of the day all I can concretely say I accomplished was making the kitchen floor smell like lavendar*.

Heart of this house. It’s hard work.

*since everyone is alive and fed and in clean clothes as of this posting, I guess I can also consider those successes, if less tangible. Also, I used the waffle maker today, and I’m pretty proud of that.

__________________________________________________________________________________

After this writing I remembered that I also baked two loaves of bread today, so forget the floors, that's damn tangible. But I'm still proud about the waffle thing.

Yes, I bake my own bread. Armageddon, remember?

2011-09-16T13:56:00.000-04:00

We may be separated by time and distance but Adriane still manages to know so much about me.

Armageddon: It's Arma-comin'! (Or Perhaps This Title Just Made Me Giggle)

2011-08-25T14:10:00.001-04:00

Behold, the most recent additions to my Kindle library:

Back to Basics: A Complete Guide to Traditional Skills, Third Edition

The Homesteading Handbook (Back to Basics Guides)

How To Survive A Man Made Disaster: Surviving Martial Law, Social Chaos, Economic Turmoil, And Terrorism In An Angry World

According to Abigail Gehring, I will soon have the ability to can and preserve (which I’ve begun doing already), build an adobe home or log cabin, install solar panels, and blacksmith. Which is awesome because my horses are all like, “Bitch, you see these bare hooves?”

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a marked fear of impending Armageddon and am convinced that pestilence, famine and a return to bell bottoms is indeed upon us. Thus I have begun a backyard garden and begun shopping for farm land near fresh water. You think I’m joking; I’m not (good news for my family: we can’t afford farm land near fresh water, and I have a very, very short attention span)(“Ooh! Look! Something shiny!”).

Anyway, while on Amazon purchasing Barbara Kingsolvers amazing book Animal, Vegetable, Mineral (a memoir about the year she and her family spent living on a farm and eating only local and sustainable foods, consuming only local and sustainable products)(Swoon!) Amazon kindly suggested these appealing titles. Since these are right up my overly paranoid, dark, foreboding alley, I bought them immediately, causing my husband to telephone from his business trip and ask if I was drunk at my computer again. I was not.

Anyway, while my brother builds his desert arsenal in anticipation of zombie warfare (an event for which he laments that I am woefully unprepared, possessing only seeds, not guns) I am preparing for any number of scenarios which ultimately result in an unavailability of food and/or horseshoes (same tree, slightly different apples).

What can I say? I am legitimately concerned about our food supply, and about being able to provide for my family in the coming decade. However, judging by the fact that I purchased all three of these books for a grand total of $4.75 after tax, it would seem that I am the only one (At just 99 cents for the Surviving Disaster book, it seemed a safe bet to hedge) (can’t hurt to keep it on the shelf and read a chapter from time to time, can it?)(OH MY GOD, CAN IT?).

Fine. Learn nothing about adobe. Buy your cheese at the grocery store. Skip the chapter on churning. Just don’t come crying to me when the genetically modified corn starts turning the tables and eating you. And I, in turn, will not complain when it turns out that my brother was right and the zombies eat my brain. Fair is fair.

(Incidentally, Scott already pointed out that in the event of disaster I will likely have a very difficult time accessing all these wonderful resources on my Kindle. Oh well. Baby steps, right?)

Firing Up All My Righteous Indignation

2011-08-10T15:57:00.001-04:00

Remember that time they remade Gone With The Wind and everyone said, "Wow, you know, the classic was great but Sandra Bullock really brings a relatable, every woman quality to the role of Scarlett."

Right. Because it didn't happen. Because that would have been stupid. And not plausible. And stupid. It's also why you never saw Meg Ryan remake Casablanca or Tom Hanks calling, "Rosebud!"

And while I suppose I'll concede that Dirty Dancing isn't exactly in the same league as Gone With The Wind or Casablanca (though I concede it grudgingly) the very idea of a remake is, to me, sacrilege. Ditto Footloose. Footloose! I mean, have we learned nothing from Havana Nights? Do we cover Zeppelin songs or hear AutoTune versions of I Wanna Hold Your Hand on the radio? No sir, we do not. Because the youth of America needs to discover an appreciation for the glitter free, non-Kesha world that came before them. And because the originals were so good that they just don't need to be remade. They stand the test of time (incidentally, in my life as a Semi-Professional-Writer-Who-Works-In-Her-Pajamas, I am not allowed to start sentences with "and" or "but", and I'm pleased to find that writing this paragraph was every bit as luxurious and indulgent as I dreamed it would be).

And if you think you have some sort of legitimate counterargument for why anyone but Kevin Bacon should ever be seen on film playing chicken with a tractor, I give you this.

How many times have you heard "Nobody puts Baby in the corner" from your friends/co-workers/Aunt Tilly/strangers in the subway/sitcom characters? About 1000? Don't lie; you've said it yourself. And that's why we don't remake movies like Dirty Dancing. Because the only time in history that the phrase "Nobody puts Baby in the corner" ever had any impact was when Patrick Swayze said it (R.I.P. sir. You remain the only Johnny Castle for me).

Now, I'm not completely crusty. I agree that sometimes a remake can be even more fun than the original (I can't actually think of any examples right now, but it must be so because as they say, the exception proves the rule). Still, I beg you, Hollywood, please stop. Karate Kid was one thing but this feels like you're graffiti'ing all over my childhood memories. And ruining, well, everything. In the world. All of it.

Do I sort of want to lick Henry Cavill? Yes. Do I want to hear him say, "Don't put your heel down?" or justify his dance space? No.

Enough already, Hollywood. For $10 a seat I'd like to watch a movie I haven't already seen (I also wish you'd stop casting Kristen Stewart in films, but that's a post for a different day). Got it?

Good.

Don't make me come out there.

Destroying Her Innocence: Step One

2011-08-08T20:57:00.001-04:00

Thanks to my husband, Cayce now has a copy of Bambi.

“But where is Bambi’s mother, mom? Where is she now?”

“But what happened to the bird, mom? What happened to the bird?”

“Is the fire going to get them, mom? Is it? What happened to the woods, MOM?!”

And so on.

I hope he also picked up some gin when he was out. I think I’m getting depressed.

The Florida Turnpike: My Waterloo

2011-08-05T10:02:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday morning I ran my third tollbooth in just over a year (they're building up like broken toilet seats, they are).

I'm telling you here and now that not once did I run a booth intentionally. In fact, no one was more surprised than I was when I received those little black and white photos of my license plate blowing through the SunPass lane on the Sawgrass Expressway. This is alarming to my husband for a number of reasons.

In the 15 years since we've been together I've been trying to convince my husband that I am actually a very good driver (and yes, he usually says the same thing you're thinking now: so was Rain Man). Just when I've managed ten years without a ticket and reduced my Number Of Objects Hit/Bumped/Nudged/Scraped Per Year to an all time personal low, the toll booth thing comes along and ruins my credibility.

I can see his point. If I've missed an entire toll both, exactly what was I looking at while behind the wheel? But here's the deal. The Florida Turnpike is not the New York State Thruway. And in my humble (and right) opinion, you simply shouldn't be allowed to continue on without paying the toll if a toll is required. If a toll is required, why is there an open lane, unencumbered by booths? Why, indeed? (He says it's not that simple and that I'm wrong, but when is that ever really the case? Really?)

Anyway, after a very long (and very emotional) conversation with my husband, I think (and hope and pray) that I now understand the intricate (and deliberately deceptive and underhanded) workings of the FL turnpike.

In the meantime I thought I'd better keep you all abreast of the situation in case A) you have plans to travel the turnpike in my area in the near future, in which case, for your safety, I drive a black, late model Lexus GX470 or B) the number of toll booths actually does match the number of toilet seats, in which case at least I'll have the running joke to keep me warm when I'm sleeping in my car (or on your couch).

Either way.

I'm a smart lady. But really, I've got to be the dumbest smart lady I know. How do I miss them? How? And how is my ass that dangerous? I just don't get it.

Two Kinds Of Cheese, Just One Post

2011-07-27T10:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a rough day for me and in classic Al fashion, I decided to soften it up with copious amounts of melted cheese. Homemade bacon mac and cheese washed down with two (okay three, but the third one had ice cubes) glasses of Chardonnay, making yesterday not so much as cheat day as an "Had a torrid affair with your brother and now our youngest has his eyes" kind of day. And if that sounds a tad dramatic then maybe this would be the right place to tell you about all those peanut M&M's. There were a lot of them.

Today I'm back on track with egg whites for breakfast and both Boot Camp AND Zumba on my To Do list. And just in case your Tuesday looked like mine did, I'm sharing with you both my favorite Mac and Cheese recipe (seriously, best mac and cheese ever -- I skip the topping and add bacon instead) and one of my favorite Zumba routines. The instructor in the red is my friend Jane who teaches classes at her house, which is where I work out. And yes, I know this routine back to front. And I'm kind of awesome. It's all I have, so please be happy for me.

No matter what kind of day you're having, you'll be able to turn it around with either one or the other (it's impossible to do this routine without boosting your mood, however silly you might feel) (and that mac might actually change your life). So here they are, two kinds of cheesy in just one post. Pick your poison and please, report back. Especially if you decided to try the Zumba. Lord knows I could do with a laugh.

Happy Hump Day, everyone!

Shallow? Yes. Thank Goodness.

2011-07-20T17:18:00.001-04:00

There hasn't been a shoe-splosion like this since I was pregnant with Cayce, a time when I had plenty of funds for purchasing but couldn't squeeze my ass in to pants. Ergo, shoes. All of these shoes. Really. I know.

I also know it's sort of, well, gross to have returned to blogging and done nothing but post photos of shoes. But there has been precious little shoe fun around here the last three years, and precious little purely-for-Al purchasing. These shoes do more for my spirit than I can describe right now. It might seem silly, but these shoes make me happy because they were gifts I bought for myself that are just for me. They're not practical, they're not economical and I didn't need them (save for the Nikes - I can actually make an argument for those. Sort of). And that feels wonderful. (Although seriously, if it doesn't stop here we may need to talk intervention)

How bad did it get? Last summer when I went to see SATC with the girls I went in to my closet and discovered that I didn't have a single pair of high heels. Not. One. Not a single pair. And that made me realize just how little care and consideration I'd given to myself, even before I got pregnant (social workers generally dress like substitute teachers out of necessity - working with teenaged sex offenders is not a job for which one purchases peep toe heels). It was time. I missed buying (and wearing!) fun shoes for the sake of fun shoes, and the fact that I haven't bought a high heel in nearly six years (six! years!), save for two low--heeled-clearance-rack-purchased-for-an-event pair, tells you an awful lot, doesn't it? Knowing what you know about me? (*cough*shallow*cough*) So yeah. It was time. There was a void, and I'll tell you what: these have filled it.

I mean, they're not cheese, but they'll do. They'll do just fine.

And Last But Not Least...

2011-07-20T16:59:00.000-04:00

(the black are peep toe, in case you couldn't tell. And yes, I've coordinated all my new workout clothes to match these shoes. Duh.)

Is It Cheating To Post A Pair Bought In June?

2011-07-20T16:53:00.002-04:00

The nudes. The espadrilles are part of the wall-walking collection.

I Know, Right?

2011-07-20T16:48:00.001-04:00

Some Women Post Baby Photos

2011-07-20T16:47:00.001-04:00

5 Pairs of New Shoes In 5 Days

2011-07-20T15:54:00.002-04:00

Number of walls/doors/innocent passersby bumped in to while admiring my feet in new shoes:

About the same.

*sigh*

It's been a long time. I needed these.

I Want Procol Harum's Whiter Shade of Pale Played At My Funeral

2011-07-12T14:16:00.002-04:00

In part because it's one of my favorite songs and great to have a cry over, but also because it tickles me to think of everyone going all Double Rainbow guy in the pews trying to figure out the meaning of all those nonsensical lyrics.

Perhaps it will lend me a depth in death that I do not possess in life. Fun to think about, even if Scott will never let me do it. I'll end up with Amazing Grace. Watch.

Blasts From The Past - a Repost In Honor Of Baby Astrup And Mary Sunshine

2011-06-13T10:50:00.000-04:00

A dear friend is due with her first child any time now, and another gave birth over the weekend. Seeing all their facebook posts had me strolling down memory lane. While wandering I remembered this posts, one of my favorite I've ever written, and decided I'd repost it here, since I'm too busy drafting press releases and medical proposals to write anything fresh or relevant. But hey, you'll laugh. And that's enough for me. Happy almost THIRD birthday, Cayce Joy! And welcome to the world Mary Sunshine!

Finally, Some Advice I Can Use.

Hey, do you remember when I told you that I really don't live in the kind of warm, fuzzy community where old ladies are likely to rub my pregnant belly or new moms coo over my infant? That's entirely true.

That's why I was so surprised to get this reaction from another mom in the grocery store the other day.

"Oh! You're so lucky! How wonderful for you! When are you due?"

I look up from my purchasing (incidentally, I was in the baking aisle. Again. When will I stop, Lord? When?) and see that the speaker is a rail thin woman in a Juicy tracksuit and a mine's worth of diamonds. She continues.

"Oh, this is just the best thing you'll ever do! It's the best job you'll ever have! I have an 18 month old at home and I can't tell you how wonderful it is! Really, it's just the best ever!"

I stammer a thanks as she waves and continues down the aisle. I'm surprised because really, people just aren't that nice around here, and that was definitely your typical Boca mom. And then, just as she's rounding the corner with her cart, she yells over her shoulder, "Be sure to get a really good nanny!"

Ah yes. That's more like it.

It's 5 p.m. And I've Only Just Changed From My Pajamas In To My Workout Clothes

2011-06-08T17:11:00.001-04:00

Of all the things I remember from my professional life, I miss zippers the most.

How Is It That...

2011-06-01T19:53:00.002-04:00

all this activity can make me look so good but feel so old? Everything hurts. All of it. Even my hair.

Surely this isn't what nature intended.

Avoidance. She Learned It From Her Mother. Oh, and Drama.

2011-05-31T20:29:00.000-04:00

We've introduced the idea of using the potty and Cayce...well, is mostly interested in the Princess underwear. Which is fine with me. There's no rush, she'll get there when she's ready. On the other hand, the stuff she comes up with as a response to the potty is too priceless not to push her sit there from time to time.

Who's kid reads a lot of books? My kid. My kid reads a LOT of books.

Me, to C on the potty: "Okay pee pees, come on out!"

C: "But the pee pees didn't answer, for they had gone off on a grand adventure!"

And then later...

Me: "Come on pal, let's try sitting on the potty."

C: :::sorrowfully shaking her head::: "No, it's just no use. I simply can't use the potty."

Folks, she's not even three. Makes you wonder what stories she'll come up with when she breaks curfew, doesn't it?

(and come on. I LOVE it. That's my girl!)

This. Again and again, THIS.

2011-05-29T13:17:00.001-04:00

I'm working my way through A Course in Weight Loss by Marianne Williamson, trying to resolve some painful emotional issues and figure out how to fill some big holes in my life - and my heart - without the excessive use of cheese. 1/3 of the way through I can already tell you that this book is changing my life. Besides hitting the lowest weight I've seen in 7 years, I'm not yo-yo-ing anymore. Or fasting. Or starving. Or counting. Or bingeing. Or - dare I say it? - whining. See what I mean? Profoundly life changing.

I've been meaning, for quite some time, to write a post about the experience. It's been so valuable to me, and so important to me, that I really want to share it. However, until I've figured out what I want to say exactly, I really (reallyreallyreallyreally) think you should take a look at this post by one of my favorite tumblrs, who is sort of already saying what I'm going to say (sooner or later)(probably later). So, just to whet your appetite for more weight loss talk (Ha! See what I did there? Punning! On a Sunday!) check out this post from ieatbutter. With a name like that, what have you got to lose?

Oh! And As Unbelievable As It Sounds

2011-04-27T19:05:00.000-04:00

I broke my seventh toilet seat today. 1-2-3-4-5-6- SEVEN. I have now broken seven toilet seats in the six years we've been in this house.

Apparently if I ever want to beat someone in a fight all I'll have to do is sit on them.

Smoked a Turkey For Easter Brunch and Three Days Later My House Still Smells Like a Girl Scout Jamboree

2011-04-27T15:38:00.002-04:00

File under "Things I didn't think about when I bought the hickory chips". And don't bother looking for me this week, I'll be busy scrubbing the smoke smell out of my $5k couch. Bring marshmallows.

That's what I've been up to recently- smoking turkeys, and working. And working out. I'm finally - finally - down to my pre-pregnancy weight. That's right; it only took two years and nine months. Hurrah! I once scoffed at a woman who took 18 months to lose the weight. Heh. That was silly. In my defense, getting laid off (twice), being foreclosed upon and having my life in tatters may have had something to do with my inability to put down the goddamned cheese (and wine. And chips). But in great news - incredible, actually - I have some new tools in my arsenal that have made the first real and, I hope, lasting difference in how I eat and in how I respond to stress, fear, etc (see, "cheese, mass quantities of"). More on that later, as it really does deserve its own post.

I'm also working like a madwoman, which is very exciting. And I'm spending tons of time with my child. Y'all, I gotta tell you, this kid is just amazing. I love her more every day and, as always, I love every stage more than the last. This one? For sure the best yet. She's so independent and fun and funny and affectionate and wonderful and just so full of personality. We're doing so many things together now that we couldn't do a year ago, or even six months ago, and I don't think I've ever been happier. Just listening to her play make believe with her dolls is enough to make my day. More on her soon as Cayce, too, deserves a separate post.

But that's the word. Work, working out, spending time with my little pal and her Big Daddy and planning some wonderful things for the summer. Oh yes. And turning my living room in to a smokehouse. Let's not forget those hickory chips.

How are YOU guys? I miss you. And I'll be back. Soon. Really.

If You're Thinking to Yourself,

2011-04-13T19:10:00.000-04:00

"Two months of nothing but a photo of her kid and Paula Deen riding a ham and she returns to blogging with that?", don't worry. I just thought the same thing.

Some Days I Want to Give Up

2011-04-13T19:06:00.001-04:00

And yet, somehow, I always find the motivation to carry on.

It's Heritage Halston and its beauty makes me want to weep. Maybe I can write one more advertorial tonight.

It's Nap Time, But Where Is Cayce?

2011-04-04T19:44:00.000-04:00

This photo will delight me every time I look at it, for the rest of my life.

Cayce moved in to a big girl bed about a month ago and she has been AWESOME. No climbing out at night, no fighting naps, nothing. There have been two or three times instances at nap time where she's climbed out and sat on the floor with her dolls and we've had to go back in and tell her to get in bed, but otherwise she's been aces at this big kid bed thing. She falls right to sleep each night, wakes up around 7 each morning, grabs some books and reads until about 8, at which time she comes to get us if we haven't gotten her up first. But the other day at nap time she apparently climbed out and decided to play with her stuffed animals but fell asleep in the pile. Worst. Criminal. Ever.

Yes, I'm Alive.

2011-03-21T19:42:00.001-04:00

And you're choices are either a monstrously long post about work, family, the new books I'm reading, my lifestyle change, my diet and the 30 Day Shred (yes, AGAIN) or simple confirmation that yes, I am alive and I hope to post brief but informative details on that fact soon.

So....you're welcome.

I Just. Cannot Get. Enough.

2011-03-02T16:21:00.000-05:00

www.pauladeenridingthings.com I just can't stop.

Balance. I Can't.

2011-03-01T20:52:00.002-05:00

We are so low on both groceries and dishes that for dinner this evening I served my child toast, orange wedges and black beans, which I made her eat from a can with a spoon like a hobo.

I’m a terrific writer, and I’m a terrific mom. Apparently, just not at the same time.

(in my defense she thought the from-a-can-with-a-spoon bit was awesome, so I think I might call this a victory)

You Want To Romance Me? Get Me My Own Bathroom.

2011-03-01T15:58:00.003-05:00

I wish this weren't true. But it is. Oh, how it is (I especially like the part about getting kicked in the balls while trying to take a bath with his wife).

Glamour. I Live For It.

2011-02-22T21:29:00.000-05:00

After my meeting this morning I came home and changed in to workout wear. That was 8.25 hours ago. Give or take. I haven't worked out yet. Which means I never had on workout clothes, I just wore sweatpants all day long.

On the bright side, it seems nothing can squelch my innate optimism ("It's only 9:30! I might still be able to get in a workout!"). So there's that.

2011-02-20T11:25:00.001-05:00

In the two and a half years since we lost our jobs and out of necessity started working for ourselves, I have learned a great deal about handling myself and my life with grace. Except when I am asked this question. "Why don’t you guys just get jobs?” And then I turn in to the Hulk. Nothing makes me so blindly furious as being asked why we haven't taken jobs.

Sure, there were TONS of jobs in advertising in South Florida at the time. Tons! Especially in real estate advertising, where we’d been working. SO MUCH WORK! We could have gotten jobs any time, we just wanted to see if the bank really would take back our house, or whether they just liked spending all that money on postage.

Assholes. Jobs? Why didn't we think of that? It made me SO angry to hear that, because of course we'd applied for jobs! I even applied for waitressing jobs! Scott applied for assisting jobs! He sent out hundreds of resumes for jobs that would never even have covered our bills, just to earn us some regular income. He was- and still is, even now that we've made it and we're in the clear- shooting high school football games on Friday nights for $100 a pop. We TRIED. I even entertained an offer from my former employer when the very thought made me want to lay down and cry. But I went to the interview! I tried. So to hear people (idiots) ask things like, "Why don't you get jobs?" made me furious, and also made me wonder whether they had newspapers, radios or television sets. Because if they did, how could they possibly ask me something so stupid? Yes, when we wanted money, why didn't we just walk over to the job store and pick out shiny new jobs?

Yes, I'm still mad. I'm working on it.

Jobs, indeed.

My Current Reading List:

2011-02-14T16:08:00.000-05:00

Inside the Stalin Archives
Gone With The Wind
Hollywood Wives

I also ordered a cardio ballroom DVD, the Official Dirty Dancing Workout, two social media textbooks and some pacifiers.

Go ahead, Amazon. Suggest what I might like to buy next. I dare you.

You Know, Just Reposting Stuff Other People Wrote.

2011-02-09T19:02:00.004-05:00

This post from dooce resonated with me today (which, quite frankly, is unusual) so I’m sharing it.

I’m constantly checking my behavior in front of my daughter to make sure I’m setting examples I would want her to follow (except for my language- we’ve just accepted that we are going to be the parents of the only kindergartner who talks like Eddie Murphy). And while there’s nothing new or Earth shaking about this post, I just liked it, and I relate to it, even more so because she mentions wanting to be alive to see her influence play out in her daughters’ life. That’s what really hit me.

I’ve been writing letters to Cayce since I got pregnant. I wanted to preserve my memories and leave something for her, some piece of her history and my love, that could be there in case I wasn’t. There isn’t anyone left to tell me about the day I was born. I don’t know when I took my first step or cut my first tooth or what my first word was. I guess my mom and I both figured we’d get to that stuff when I had kids, but she didn’t live to see that day. And while I know that recording Cayce’s growth and her accomplishments and my love in letters won’t replace me if I’m gone, I also know what it feels like to have no history, and what I would give to get a piece of it back, however small.

And as much as I love skinny jeans and short skirts, I exercise and I try to eat well because I don’t ever want to hear, “You have cancer” and wonder, “If I’d taken care of myself, could I have stopped this?” I want to dance at my daughter’s wedding. My parents didn’t live to see me married. My father didn’t live to see me go to prom, or graduate high school. They weren’t there to celebrate when I became engaged. My father had a lump in his neck for two years before he did anything about it. At 37 years old he was diagnosed with Stage Four cancer. He died five days after he turned 40.

I’m not perfect, but I do take parenting very seriously, and for me that means, at the very least, doing everything I can to be here to do it. Whether I fuck it up or not, at least I’ll be here. And that’s something, isn’t it?

So, yeah. Sort of a downer today and possibly not where dooce was going, but that’s what came up. They’ve been on my mind a lot, my mom and dad, so maybe it’s time to get some of this stuff out. I think these ghosts have been haunting me long enough.

And I Do Want To Post More Often, Really.

2011-02-07T15:13:00.000-05:00

It's just that every time I sit down to blog all that comes out is "work work work work" and something that sounds like "Whaaaaaa". Also, all that banging my head on the desk really interferes with my concentration.

So. Busy. It's insanity. It is an avalanche of good stuff. But holy cats, I'm being buried alive.

I'll be back soon, I will. In the meantime, try to smile and carry on without me. That's how I'd want it.

If You're Wondering How The Diet Is Going, It's Already Gone.

2011-02-07T15:10:00.002-05:00

No egg whites and oatmeal for me today, no sir! Today’s meals have consisted of naught but two kinds of chips (tortilla and potato, because you can’t have the same meal at lunch that you had at breakfast), one homemade brownie (on the bright side, goddamn do I make some fine brownies) and two cups of coffee. I feel fine, thanks for asking!

One of the great things about me is, I don’t eat my feelings. I refuse to self medicate, preferring instead to tackle my stressors and my emotions head on, with dignity and a calm demeanor. Also, I would never use phrases like “eat my feelings” or “self medicating.” I mean, heh, who would?

Hold me.

Next Time He'll Probably Just Ask For Money

2011-02-03T14:46:00.001-05:00

Our newest client is a personal trainer who happens to be a friend of ours. We’re building him a website and running his social media campaign and he is paying us in personal training and boot camp classes, officially making us the poorest people on the block to have hired help. He also has me on his meal plan - or he did, until Scott took me to Five Guys for lunch today (I’d crack that, hey, lettuce is on my plan, but I don’t put lettuce on my burger. And frankly, I’ve never understood people who do).

I encouraged this relationship after assessing my husbands health and his habits and realizing that he either needed to make some changes to his lifestyle or he needed to get a really good life insurance policy (a new Mercedes won’t make me miss him less, but at least I’ll be grieving in style)(besides, without life insurance we don’t even have enough to bury us- I’d have to flush him down the toilet like a goldfish). A few weeks ago I laid it out for him in terms he can understand.

“Babe. Listen. You smoke, you drink. You don’t eat well and you don’t exercise. Pick two.”

Enter personal training (and, I’m almost afraid to say it, nicotine patches. Please God let it work).

Anyhoo, right now Scott is lying on our bed trying to digest his double cheeseburger, fries and cherry Coke in a hurry, because his first training session is in 22 minutes. And as we look down the barrel of Scott’s first EVER workout session, I wonder: if training itself kills him, will I appreciate the irony? Or just wish we’d had time to file that insurance policy first?

The One Where Erin Trumps Me (Again)

2011-01-26T19:43:00.000-05:00

Our new social media client, 414 Lift, is a personal training/fitness company run by our friend Leo. I'm in charge of generating content for 414 Lift's new facebook page (Scott does the easy stuff like creating the page and maintaining it) (you know, now that I've taught him how). To get in to the spirit of the whole thing, I'm following along with Leo's Healthy Eating Plan and going to Boot Camp. And Scott...Scott is actually going to begin training with Leo tomorrow. Yes, really. I sure hope you guys like laughing.

Anyway, while I am the Queen of Dieting (and complaining about dieting, and blogging about dieting) this is even more restrictive than anything else I've ever done. I was telling Erin about it today. The conversation went like this:

Erin: "I don't know, that doesn't sound like much fun."

Me: "Pfffft, it'll be effective though. Talk to me NEXT week!"

Erin: "Oh, do they allow you to make phone calls from inside Women's Correctional Facilities now?"

Damn her. And she's probably right. No cheese, no bread, no alcohol, no salt, no caffeine, no sugar...Nothing but grilled fish and hours spent staring at the Victoria's Secret catalogues trying to decide which bikini will look best.

What? Don't tell me you read that last post and thought I was deep.

Silly you.

Off to steam green things. Send lemon wedges.

I Know You, I Walked With You Once Upon A Dream...

2011-01-25T10:30:00.000-05:00

All she wants to be these days is a Princess (and occasionally, a Princess Cowgirl). She puts this on when she wakes up and doesn’t take it off until she goes to bed. I’ve been singing Princess songs to her since she was born and now she knows them all. She’s in her room right now singing “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes”, and minutes ago she came out wrapped in her Princess blanket and asked, “Isn’t my dress lovely, mom?” And I don’t really care that it’s Princesses she loves; I’m just happy to see her love anything this much, and to be able to share it with her.

And yes, maybe it is indulgent, but I still let her wear it everywhere. She’ll be little for such a short time. And it’s this easy to make her this happy for such a very short time.

She is the best thing I have ever done. I wish my mother could see us both.

NATIONAL CHEESE DAY?!

2011-01-20T17:30:00.001-05:00

It's real, people. I looked it up.

Ordinarily I'm opposed to arbitrarily giving out "days" for everything under the sun (does the Sun have a day?) but I mean, pffft, finally.

Working In Excel Again. This Is How It Makes Me Feel.

2011-01-20T16:02:00.000-05:00

I hate you, Excel. You're lucky I don't have a carving knife. Or a billiard room.

And She's Loving Him With That Body I Just Know It...

2011-01-20T14:28:00.001-05:00

So, when writing for a brochure or website, I’m writing to fit a template. Usually the designer just puts in latin filler copy to hold the place where my copy will go. Except for my favorite designer, who this morning filled in all the copy spaces not with gibberish filler copy, but with the lyrics to Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield.

And I tell you all of that because the lesson here is think outside the box and have a sense of humor, and you may just make your copywriter’s morning. Now I won’t have to drink with lunch.

Trish, wherever you are this morning, I’m sending you happy vibes and much gratitude. Lord knows I needed a laugh.

Hey gang. What's new with you guys?

$68 To Fill My Gas Tank Today.

2011-01-19T14:44:00.001-05:00

If I’d had the choice whether to give Mobil my $68 or to just punch myself in the face for a tank of gas, I’ll bet the punch would have been less painful.

In June of 2008, Scott and I bought an eight cylinder Luxury SUV that runs on premium. (You remember June of 2008, right? When gas hit $4 a gallon?)(Oh, and Scott and I both lost our jobs?)

And in 2004 we bought a house in South Florida, at the height of the real estate boom. That didn’t exactly work out either.

So I guess what I’m saying is, this is why we’re not stock brokers. It’s obvious that we have zero ability to predict economic trends. My advice to you? Follow along on this blog so you can be sure to do, you know, whatever we’re not. That should steer you right.

I have to write three press releases a week just to fill my gas tank. I make bad choices.

So...I Just Got Five New Projects, All Marked URGENT.

2011-01-18T16:26:00.002-05:00

You keep on using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Did You Guys Know

2011-01-17T16:30:00.000-05:00

that the largest alligator ever discovered was 19 feet, two inches long and weighed 1500 pounds? It was discovered in Avery Island, LA in 1890.

That’s what I’m doing today. Reading an 84 page article on Florida wildlife and nature while eating a brie-green apple-dijon mustard grilled cheese and wearing my yoga pants. It was assigned to me so that I can write copy for a country club set on a nature preserve, a contradiction if I’ve ever heard one (In my head I call it “Irony Ridge”).

Anyway, my point is, the next time I complain about my job, I shouldn’t. My job is awesome. Also, I thought maybe you’d like to know that there is a Florida census for alligators. There were a million at last count (although really, how do they fill out the forms with those tiny little arms of theirs?).

Next post: mangroves.

What did you guys do at work today?

My Blog: The Redheaded Step-Child Of My To Do List

2011-01-14T11:29:00.001-05:00

Can't you guys all just come over for coffee? That would be so much easier.

Things are moving at a frenetic pace over here, which is excellent, because I really like food and electricity. More impressive than kicking my career in to high gear is the fact that I've been squeezing in time for workouts AND salad, meaning I'm feeling remarkably productive AND well balanced, two things that rarely go together for me.

That said, I still can't seem to find time to tell you guys all the marvelous things I want to tell you, so until then, I leave you with the funniest thing I've read all week. Well, since Wednesday, anyway. For all my Twi-hards:

"Twilight is like soccer. Everyone runs around for two hours, nobody scores, and a million fans insist 'you just don't understand!'"

(Also, from Tumblr: "Bella, they have sex on True Blood all the time. Edward's just not that in to you.")

Have a fantastic Friday, all y'all, and maybe I'll manage something snarky AND informative come Monday.

Word to your mothers.

I Used A Copy Machine Today For The First Time In Four And A Half Years

2011-01-10T13:38:00.001-05:00

I think that’s weird. It’s weird, right? Don’t most of you do that on a daily basis?

(On the flip side, I imagine few of you routinely pick someone else’s nose, or perhaps, get to see your own words in the newspaper every week. I’ve been doing other things.)

This morning I went in to the office for the morning meeting, something I rarely do now but will be doing more often in the coming weeks. And it was nice. I pitched some ideas that were met with great enthusiasm, and I left with a loaded calendar and a To Do list long enough to pay my mortgage - and that list just covers the week to come. So it’s cool. I’m once again a contributing member of society (though I write marketing copy, so whether or not I actually contribute anything of value is fiercely debatable).

And now here I am, back at home, my high heels kicked off under my desk, preparing to work, like a real grown up. And like a real grown up, I’m also slightly overwhelmed. It’s satisfying and exciting to be so busy, to have created a career for myself out of thin air. And I’m really looking forward to all that cheddar rolling in (literally and figuratively). But part of me remembers that when I was poor and didn’t work, I got to take a lot of naps and I never had to use the copy machine. And I’m having trouble, right now, remembering exactly what was so bad about that after all.

If any of you have some super special tips on finding balance, now is the time to share.

I am feeling a great deal of anxiety about how I'll balance all my responsibilities- my daughter, my husband, my home, my business, my clients, my health, my family's health, my friendships. We're about to announce some big changes around here, about to launch a new business, and you guys will hear all about that as soon as our logo is complete and we have a little more information. It's awesome, and I can tell you now that we have an amazing year ahead of us, and we're both feeling excited, and very positive. But I also know that it's going to really test my mettle, and...oh boy. I mean, I'm a super special snowflake and all, but now here it is, everything I asked for. And what, my friends, is scarier than getting everything you ever wanted?

Exactly.

Hold me.

And Our First Order Of Business:

2011-01-06T17:51:00.002-05:00

Zip our pants.

Easier said than done (see: coated; dip and covered; cheese).

But this isn't about want. I do not simply want to zip. This is about need. This is not another diet post, or a resolution post. This is about not going quietly in to that good night. It's about standing at the base of the mountain and saying, "You can't beat me! I'm bigger than you! I'm stronger than you! I will climb you! I will PREVAIL!".

And it isn't just about the fact that I ate too much blue cheese and too many wings (and things) over the holidays, and that I've been out of my workout routine for, oh, months now, and lost all that gorgeous muscle I'd put on last spring. I'm thinking about making some changes that will make fitness a bigger part of my life, and also put some of my talents to good use. And hey, maybe a little money in my pocket.

Last summer I was down to a great weight that was about 2 pounds from my prepregnancy weight, but I was carrying even more muscle. I looked good. I felt good. I still carried about 15 pounds I was hoping to lose, for reasons that make sense to me even if they don't to anyone else, and I was feeling reasonably confident about my success in that endeavor. But then life, as it so often does, threw me a big cheesy curveball, and filled it with booze. Now I've put on a few of those lost pounds, and lost some of that muscle, and God knows I am tired of fighting with myself in my closet.

So, while I still feel good about myself, having decided I'm just too pretty to worry about being fat, I miss the energy I had a few months ago, the ease with which my pants zipped, and the sense of satisfaction that came from finally having the kind of strength and endurance I had before I became pregnant. Obviously the two years after Cayce's birth were not a good time to get in shape, what with a new baby, a new business, no money, and all the fallout that came with those issues, so finally getting to that point, even if I had a pound or two to go, was a huge deal. But now, even though work has me busier than ever, I'm ready to start meeting some bigger personal goals, many of them related to fitness.

This is the year I get my pushups back. This is the year I hit the weight I'd like to be at the start of the next pregnancy. And I'm hoping that maybe- and that's a big maybe- this is the year I become a fitness instructor.

Did your head just snap around? Did I just catch you a bit off guard? I know; me too. But I've always wanted to try it, and I think it could be a great way for me to make sure that fitness stays high on my priority list, as well as a great way to earn some extra money. Plus, I just really like telling people what to do.

Exercise is one of those things I always railed against. I was never an athlete. In fact I was medically excused from gym class for seven years. (Really. I'm slick like that.) I have always been graceless, uncoordinated, unathletic (however, I am one hell of a fine speller). But in my twenties I discovered that I love to work out. It balances and stabilizes me in a way that nothing else does. I feel better, sleep better, my moods are more regular. And because I love it so much, and love working with women, with groups, speaking in public, teaching, I've begun to wonder if maybe this might be a natural fit for me.

So, my goal for 2011 is to take as many classes as I can, to work hard at meeting my personal fitness goals, and to begin researching what it will take to get my certificate, and to be ready to teach, if that's what I decide I want. That is MY marathon, my Everest. Something I never thought I'd be able to do. So here it is.

And off I go. Personal 358 Day Shred, Day One.

Well Then.

2011-01-06T17:15:00.000-05:00

It has been awfully quiet around here, hasn't it?

We are back. At last. And without exaggeration, it was the nicest holiday we've enjoyed in many years. It was peaceful, it was relaxing, it was fun. It was perfect. And if the way one spends their New Year's Eve is any indication of how they'll spend their year, it's going to be a wonderful year.

There are so many things going on here at Chateau La Bummer that I really don't want to squish them in to one post. I'll be back at my desk starting tomorrow, ready for some snarking and some fun, and ready to finally write about some changes that are taking place around here. Nothing Earth shattering, but all good stuff.

Man oh man, am I glad to be back. Happy New Year, blog friends. I hope your holiday was as healthy, happy, dip covered and cheese coated as mine was. We've got a wonderful year ahead!

I Think I Broke The House

2010-12-13T07:57:00.001-05:00

This morning I spent five minutes trying to figure out how to work the vacuum cleaner attachments, and then while I was vacuuming, all the lights and the t.v. went off and won't come back on. Yes, I tried flipping the circuit breaker, but as that mostly entailed standing in the garage in my pajamas randomly pushing buttons in that big gray cabinet, it's possible (probable) that I didn't do it right.

There's only one conclusion I can draw from all this: Scott is right, he really does do everything around here.

This Is How We Spell Christmas At My House: F-R-I-E-N-D-L-Y'-S

2010-12-10T13:58:00.002-05:00

Today was payday and Big Daddy took us to Friendly's for lunch. It rarely happens (we have no health insurance, so we can't afford the angioplasties necessary to sustain weekly- or monthly- Friendly's lunches)but when it does...hooo boy! Is that some good stuff. And what fortuitous timing, as Day 9 is Favorite Holiday traditions.

My dad was a jeweler who owned his own shop, so from November 1 through Christmas Eve he was more an enigma than a dad. My mom, The Keeper Of Christmas, filled the dad void with shopping, movies, Christmas specials, and a whoooole lotta dinners at Friendly’s. If you grew up in the Northeast, I’m guessing the word Fribble sparks longing in your heart too. My Boston-born friend Susan nearly caused an eight car pile up after careening across four lanes of traffic when she spotted the first Friendly’s she’d seen in Florida in six years. In her defense, she was pregnant at the time, and pregnant women are known for that sort of behavior, classic childhood memories notwithstanding.

When I was nine months pregnant, I met my friend Jamie for lunch at Friendly’s. I arrived first, and instructed the waitress to just send Jamie, also nine months pregnant, over to my table when she arrived. The hostess brought me three pregnant women before Jamie arrived. That’s the deliciousness of Friendly’s.

And in case you were wondering, I’m a supermelt girl, myself. Kickin’ Buffalo Chicken or Parmesan. Either way.

And Now, With Dogged Determination

2010-12-09T19:32:00.000-05:00

I bring you Day 8. :::yawn::: There has to be something snarky or entertaining to say about Christmas, hasn't there? By God, I'm going to find it, if it takes all holiday.

Um, my favorite Christmas dessert? That doesn't exist. I can't be bothered with dessert. Dessert, much to your surprise I imagine, does nothing for me. I like to prepare it. I like to serve it to other people. I love that other people love it, and that I can make them happy with all my fancy desserts. But I rarely eat so much as a bite. You know what tastes like Christmas to me? Frozen Giorgio Mozzarella Sticks and Ragu spaghetti sauce.

Oh yeah. I'll bet your mouths are watering now. And surprise! I just turned fried cheese in to my favorite dessert. I'm nothing if not consistent.

Mozzarella sticks were to me, as a youth, the perfect food. Now an adult, I've expanded my palette exponentially, but these simple sticks of cheesy, crunchy goodness remain high on my list of what is right with the world. On Christmas Eve, we used to have dips and appetizers, no main course. And I always chose the Giorgio Mozzarella sticks and a teacup full of sauce (always Ragu, because that's the only sauce my mom ever bought, world without end, amen). It's a tradition I never gave up, even though last year I ran out of time and oven space and had to serve them on Christmas morning (also? I kind of didn't want to share them with the whole party of 30 in my MIL's living room. Christmas is a time for giving of oneself. In not one of the carols does it mention the sharing of one's cheese). And believe you me, my assorted brothers and sisters in law fell on them like vultures. Good thing I brought two boxes. Best. Christmas. Brunch. Ever.

Forget dessert. Everyone loves cheese.

Clearly My Enthusiasm For This Project Has Waned

2010-12-09T19:22:00.000-05:00

It began to fizzle when I saw that Day 7 was "Your Favorite Christmas Memory." How is that different from my favorite Christmas? And again, I ask you, who has one standout, unless your Christmases have been a lifetime of suck? I suppose if you got engaged under the tree or something you might have a standout, but for the rest of us, they mostly start to blur together. And frankly, if I'm this bored, I can't imagine how all of you feel.

I do have this, though. The Christmas I was in 5th grade (1989?) my brother had the New Kids On The Block Christmas album (on cassette, naturally) and I remember my mom letting him play it in the living room on Christmas morning. The only track I remember is Funky Funky Christmas, and the line where Santa says, "You left the fireplace burning and I burned my butt." I also remember my brother's hysterical laughter.

I wonder if I can find that album on iTunes...Maybe Tommy will get a Christmas gift this year after all.

And I Should Also Add...(Myndi and Marshmallows)

2010-12-07T12:46:00.000-05:00

that you can thank Myndi for passing along the caramel recipe, and also for the notes at the bottom. While my caramel did take only 20 minutes to reach temp, her notes are going to save someone out there a lot of heartache.

And as promised, here is the post about marshmallow making, complete with recipe. Please try it, you'll really like it. Makes for a great gift too, with packets of good cocoa. Yum. Ah, the holidays. So sugary. So buttery. So wonderful.

And Now, A Dream Come True. Calling All Slackers...

2010-12-07T09:49:00.000-05:00

Remember this post? Well, WPBF-TV in West Palm is looking for a meteorologist. I think I'll throw my hat in the ring. What the hell, I look good on camera.

Pardon The Interruption

2010-12-07T09:33:00.000-05:00

We break from the Christmas posting to bring you this Zimmer Family news post.

T-minus 6 days until we get in the car and head to New York for Christmas. And for the first time since 2007, we are not worried about how we will get there, or how we'll pay the bills when we arrive. It's delightful. I'd sort of forgotten what this kind of freedom felt like. It's very peaceful. Maybe this year I'll eat a few less slices of pizza and drink a few less glasses (bottles) of wine, now that I'm no longer vibrating like a human tuning fork. I make no promises, but it's nice to think it's possible.

That said, the stress level is climbing around here, owing to the egregiously long To Do list taped to my refrigerator (fine, fine- in my head). Work, work, work, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, packing, packing packing. Oh yes, and I think I sprained my foot this morning. I know, I'm excited about it too. WTF? I'd like to think it was just an accident, but there are no accidents. Surely this is the result of my secret plan to spend this month's travel savings on Uggs (and, well, cashmere. Shame, I feel shame). Damn you, Universe! I'm icing and elevating as we speak, so let's hope I'm stiletto ready by New Years. Or by tomorrow, either way. Tomorrow would be nice. Especially since I don't have any Uggs.

Anyway, in the midst of all the madness, I still found time to mix up a batch of Gingerbread Caramels last night while watching White Christmas in the kitchen. Priorities: I have them. And let me say, if you've got a candy thermometer and a nice big cooking pot, you can make them too. They were SO incredibly easy, and they're the kind of delicious that makes your eyes roll back in your head. Skip the cookies this year and try out these caramels. The Marshmallow recipe will follow soon.

So that's the plan, Stan. We're eyeballs deep in record cold temperatures (33 in Florida? It's a Christmas miracle!) so we'll be staying indoors, keeping warm, prepping for the big four wheel drive sleigh ride North and icing our broken feet (or perhaps, just hanging them out the window). And in six short days, we'll be heading to a climate near you.

Happy Tuesday, friends! I can't believe how quickly the time is passing!

Gingerbread Caramels

Vegetable-oil cooking spray

4 cups (2 pints) heavy cream

2 cups light corn syrup

4 cups granulated sugar

12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1/2 cup unsulfured molasses

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon ground ginger

3/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1. Coat a jelly roll pan with cooking spray. Line with parchment, leaving a 2-inch overhang on short sides. Coat parchment.

2. Bring cream, corn syrup, sugar, butter, and molasses to a boil in a large pot* (Use your biggest pot. I used a big soup pot) over high heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Clip a candy thermometer to side of pan, and continue to cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until mixture reaches 248 degrees (firm-ball stage), about 20-60 minutes*.

3. Remove from heat, and stir in vanilla, salt, and spices. Immediately pour onto prepared sheet, without scraping pot. Let stand, uncovered, at room temperature for 24 hours without moving.

4. Coat a large cutting board generously with cooking spray. Pull up parchment to unmold caramel, and invert onto the cutting board. Remove parchment. Cut into 1-by-1 1/4-inch pieces***. Wrap each in cellophane or waxed paper****. Caramels can be stored in an airtight container for up to 1 month.

*I stress this, use a large pot! The caramel grows as it cooks and you don’t want it to overflow.

**The original recipe said 20 minutes. Mine took more like 40 minutes to reach the right temperature. You really need patience with this recipe.

***A pizza cutter works great for cutting these.

****I used wax paper as cellophane would not stay sealed.

Day 6: All I Want Is What I Have Coming To Me. All I Want Is My Fair Share.

2010-12-06T15:02:00.000-05:00

Favorite Christmas movies.

I think you can summarize my character by looking at my list of all time favorite movies- not Christmas movies, favorite movies. Number one? It's A Wonderful Life. Of course. Because I am, and probably always will be, completely magoo. I'm a hopeless romantic, totally corny, a relentless optimist. Which is why I have 25 blogs about Christmas and none about real life. Pass the martinis, please.

Day 6: My very favorite Christmas movie(s): (What? You didn't think I had just one, did you?)
It's a Wonderful Life. George Bailey, I'll love you 'til the day I die. When the credits open and you hear the voices of George's friends and family praying for him, I cry. Every single time I see it, I cry. I love this movie so much. It was my dad's favorite, too.
Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. The most quotable movie of all time. My dad took us to see it in the theater when I was ten. My father was Clark Griswold. And somewhere between 10 and 31, it rubbed off on me.
A Charlie Brown Christmas. Lights please. I can recite every word of Linus' monologue. It's probably the scene that most says Christmas to me, and the one I remember best from my childhood (except perhaps the Grinch scene where Max the dog takes the sled down the mountain- we used to laugh until tears rolled down our faces). Now that I think about it, I can probably recite the whole show. Lucy is my favorite. She's just such a bitch.

And so here it is, my favorite movie monologue. Happy Monday, everyone.

Day 5- AND The Part Where I Complain About Bob Geldoff (Again)

2010-12-05T20:35:00.000-05:00

Day Five- your favorite Christmas album. My favorite Christmas album? It's my own. Ever year I make Christmas compilations from my very vast library of Christmas tunes. And courtesy of Playlist.com (which can still suck it) here is about half of what is on my favorite compilation of all time.

And since there are some new readers out there, let's briefly revisit the Bob Geldoff Situation, and why I think Africa doesn't care that it's Christmas.

Let me begin by saying that I adore Christmas music (I know; you're stunned). I love all of it- except the stuff they're playing on the radio. Hundreds- no, thousands- of new Christmas songs produced in the last decade, yet the radio stations see fit to play nothing but Feliz Navidad (no bueno), So This Is Christmas/War Is Over (a song that actually motivates me for violence) and worst of all, Feed the World/USA For Africa Do They Know It's Christmas. I hate all of them. Passionately. And Bob Geldoff worst of all. I believe in the feed the world message, but I just don't think we need to tell them that it's Christmas. I'm not sad that they don't have snow or mistletoe, and I bet they're not either (for reasons not least of which being that they certainly haven't parkas or down boots, and I imagine a snow storm would scare the shit out of them). Do they know it's Christmas? No. No, they don't, BOB. Because by and large, they're not Christian. They're just as hungry on Arbor Day, and they'd be just as happy to receive food and clean water in honor of Secretary's Day. I get it; we have more and come December we're all eyeballs deep in an orgy of consumerism. Maybe a donation to the less fortunate would be nice. But come on, Bob, think about the lyrics first, won't you? Because really, they're kind of offensive. Offensive AND dumb. One of my least favorite combinations.

And now the rant is over for another 364 days. On to the music. Here are some of my favorite Christmas tunes. Well, the ones playlist.com has in it's files, anyway. Enjoy! And anyone who wants a Christmas mix, just send me a note and an address and it'll be on it's way.

Day 4: Best Gift I've Ever Given

2010-12-04T08:27:00.000-05:00

Another easy one. iPod. Christmas 2001.

In mid-November Scott left Crossgates Mall, drove to my apartment, picked me up and drove me back to the mall to show me this thing called an iPod at the Apple store. I've never seen him so excited about anything. And I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Even so, I went back and bought it for him the next day and then put all my efforts in to trying to keep it a secret until Christmas.

On Christmas morning, at my mom's house, I waited until all the gifts had been unwrapped to say, "Wait, there's a tiny one left for Scott. No, no, don't get excited, it's just a little toy, it's nothing big." I wish I could describe his reaction. Between us we've had countless iPods and iPhones (seriously, Steve Jobs should send us a thank you note this Christmas) but that one lasted the longest and was the most fun to buy (or receive, or use for that matter) and it tops Scott's list of favorite gifts ever received. When the iPod died in 2005, we buried it in the backyard while a bag piper played Danny Boy and a retired Marine played Taps on the trumpet.

Well, not really, but we were really, really sad. Wow, great Christmases. I guess I'm full of 'em, ain't I?

Day 3: The Best Gift I've Ever Received

2010-12-03T09:27:00.000-05:00

Okay, this is the hardest question ever. And it's an unfortunate question because I think this whole 25 Days project is perhaps about to become rather a bit maudlin, and more than a little depressing. It's possible that one ought not to embark on a walk down memory lane (on her blog, anyway) when such a walk will undoubtedly require excessive use of the words dead, death and died. It's not exactly the warm fuzzy Christmas project I'd had in mind. Perhaps a change of title? 25 Nightmares For Your Christmas? But stick with me, because sad or not, this memory is one of my favorites, and it's one that hasn't seen much daylight in the last seven years.

I could go easy and choose as my favorite Christmas gifts cashmere sweaters and Coach wallets and my holiday dishes, or maybe my electric blanket (without which I might truly have frozen to death while attempting to weather the winter of my mother's menopause)("Mom, it's 42 degrees in here and frost has actually gathered on my bedroom wall." My mother, "Put on a another sweater."). But truly the best gift I ever received came when I was a sophomore in college. My brother worked laboriously to help my mother learn to use the internet so she could design me an Allison Barbie doll- all by herself. The doll looks just like me, has an outfit carefully selected by my mom, and has a book of interests and matching accessories (accessories!) that mirror mine. The Allison Barbie likes hanging out in her dorm room with Leslie and reading books and spending time with her boyfriend, Scott. There was also a heartfelt message from my mom. It's pretty awesome gift, even for a grown up (or, at 20, a semi- grown up) and I loved it.

I know that the create your own doll option was designed for little girls, and might seem like a weird present to give a college kid, but my mom had been collecting special holiday Barbies for me since I was 9. When I hit 20 she decided it was time to stop, so that year I got my last holiday Barbie, and something special- my Allison Barbie. We both knew it was the last year for dolls and there were a lot tears, happy and sad, on Christmas morning when I opened that doll. When she died I packed away my Allison Barbie, and I haven't seen it since. It's the one memory I still can't quite bear, even after all this time, but it remains, to this day, my favorite Christmas gift ever.

The Part Where I Became A Foodie (Alternative Title: The Part Where Day 2 Kicks Day 1's Ass)

2010-12-02T15:18:00.000-05:00

I'd been planning to post these commercials anyway, before I heard about the 25 Days project, and this seems like a much better way to get started than with an audio clip of my favorite holiday song. All of you who are my age and older, you've GOT to remember these commercials.

In 1985 Kraft aired these commercials during the Jim Henson Christmas Special (a special in which no Muppets appeared- a tremendous let down for me, as I was and still remain an epic Muppet fan)(Miss Piggy in particular, but who didn't see that coming?). And while my brother was enjoying the comical holiday antics of Rugby The Tiger, Mew The Mouse and Meteora (she was just Meteora, like just Madonna), every year I would fast forward the VHS tape to get to these commercials. I remember every single line, every nuance, like it was my own family Christmas. It should have been apparent then that I would one day big a big foodie (and a little bit chubby)(curvy, for all you kind folks). It's funny; I loved these commercials more than I did most of the holiday specials, and I still remember them with a fondness that most people reserve for Rudolph (not surprising, as you all know my views on that particular classic- Santa was a dick).

Now, isn't that better than an audio clip? You can make dip now! And meatball subs! Did Bing Crosby ever teach you how to prepare for a holiday party? I think not (though from what I hear, ol' Bing was a big drinker AND a big smoker, if you catch my drift, so it's possible his parties would have been better than Kraft's).

If nothing else, tell me these labels don't take you down memory lane (unless of course, you are my cousin Erin. In that case, you were one).

Come on, who else remembers these? It can't be just me! Um, can it?

Day 2: Favorite Christmas Of All Time

2010-12-02T14:06:00.000-05:00

Some of you are probably wondering, "What happened to Day 1?". What happened is that Day 1 is post an audio clip or your favorite Christmas song, but blogger won't let me post audio files. Well, it will, but playlist.com has shit for Christmas music, so Day 1 and playlist.com, like eggnog, can suck it.

Day 2. Come on. Favorite? Really? Unless all your other Christmases have sucked, or a loved one returned from miles away ala a 1980's Folger's commercial (or perhaps you got a new luxury car, ala today's Lexus commercials) who has one favorite Christmas? To be honest, I consider every single Christmas where both of my parents weren't dead to be my favorite Christmas. Yeah, I know; I really know how to dial up the fun around here.

Since I posted the list and thus have to choose, I'd say that Christmas 1986 might just win. In addition to the stockings and flannel jammies and hugs and movies and cookies and toys and fun, on Christmas morning that year there was a big envelope under the tree with "The Burke Family" written on the front in my dad's handwriting. Inside was a big stack of cash and a picture of a swimming pool. Now that? Was a really great Christmas (except for the part where we found out we had overhead wires and had to move before we could have a pool, but that's really more of an Easter memory).

We had wonderful holidays year after year with my mom and dad, and I guess that's why I can't hate Christmas even now, when it often makes me so sad. It's such a wonderful reminder of joyous holidays past and of the love and sense of family I had growing up, and which, in so many ways, I still have. And now Christmas is becoming exciting and miraculous and wonderful once more because Cayce, at two and a half, is experiencing the excitement and wonder of Christmas, and I get to see it through her eyes. Well that, and I've discovered Gingerbread Lattes- and Gingerbread Martinis. They help to ease the pain.

Share your lists with me, you guys. What are some of your favorite memories?

25 Days Of Christmas With Your Own Notorious ABZ

2010-12-02T13:45:00.000-05:00

My buddies over on Tumblr started me on a little Christmas project that sounds like fun, and which might keep me blogging through the chaos of the holidays. For those who might want to participate in turn, here's the list. I'll be doing my best to keep it up, because silly or not, it makes me smile. I'm a giant sucker for Christmas, as you well know, and if my bills were all wrapped in green and red and gold foil with "Celebrate today by paying your bills!" on the envelope, I'd be signed in to online banking faster than you can say "hopelessly swept up by the commercialism of the season." And so, I give you the list.

Day 01- Post an audio of one of your favorite Christmas songs

Day 02- Which has been your favorite Christmas of all time?

Day 03- Best gift ever received

Day 04- Best gift ever given

Day 05- Favorite Christmas albums

Day 06- Favorite Christmas movies

Day 07- Favorite memory

Day 08- A holiday dessert of your choosing

Day 09- Best holiday traditions

Day 10- Do you give to charities or other people around the holidays? Which is your cause of choice?

Day 11- Are you any good at wrapping presents? Describe a gift wrapped by you.

Day 12- Another audio of a favorite Christmas song/carol

Day 13- Describe your typical Christmas Eve

Day 14- Ever sneaked a peak at a gift?

Day 15- Do you still believe in Santa Clause? If no, how did you find out he was fake?

Day 16- Favorite Christmas book

Day 17- Describe your first Christmas memory

Day 18- If you could spend the holiday any place in the entire world, with whomever you wanted, where would you be and who would you be with?

Day 19- Who is the most enthusiastic about the holiday season in your family?

Day 20- You have one Christmas wish. What is it?

Day 21- A detailed explanation of what your house looks like on December 25th.

Day 22- Name all nine reindeer without using a search engine.

Day 23- What is your absolute favorite part of the holidays? Only one.

Day 24- Why is Christmas important to you?

Day 25- Describe your day. Merry Christmas (:

Suck It, Eggnog.

2010-12-01T15:43:00.000-05:00

I've always been curious about why George Carlin never included eggnog in his list of foods he won't eat because of the way they sound. I mean, if yogurt is gross, isn't nog worse? Personally I've always imagined eggnog tasting like mucus, but I suppose if that were true it wouldn't be so popular (or would it? Folks I know, they like-a the rum). Anyway, in an effort to banish eggnog from the cultural Christmas collective, I introduce to you all the Gingerbread Martini. Oh yeah.

Admittedly, Monin Gingerbread syrup may not be the sort of thing you can just scoop up at the grocery store (unless you live near Wegmans- at this point it wouldn't surprise me to learn that they're stocking nipple clamps and the powdered teeth of Siberian tigers) but you can easily order it here in plenty of time for the holidays. Being more of an instant gratification girl myself, I plan to call Total Wine to see if they're stocking it, which I'll bet they are. It's the Wegmans of booze, so the odds are in my favor. Keep it mind, won't you? I mean, you'll be stopping at the liquor store anyway. Don't lie; you are.

So, here it is, a little holiday cheer from me to you, and this time you won't need a springform pan. Happy December folks! It's fixin' to be a good 'un.

Gingerbread Martinis:

1 ounce Ketel One vodka

1 ounce Baileys Irish Cream liqueur

1/2 ounce Kahlúa liqueur

1/2 ounce Monin gingerbread syrup

1/2 scoop vanilla ice cream — semi-melted

Whipped cream

Gingerbread cookie

Truth.

2010-11-22T13:30:00.000-05:00

One Of My Favorite Things

2010-11-21T21:00:00.000-05:00

Is Oprah's Favorite Things. It's not because I love cashmere or mail order desserts, or learning about the latest trends in hostess gifts (though isn't that reason enough?). It's because I just love watching the studio audience go completely googly-eyed, batshit, pants wetting crazy. Seriously. Look at this. It's unreal. People don't have this kind of reaction when they find out they're getting a kidney.

And though each year the favorite things seem to move farther and farther from being what us mere mortals actually give as Christmas gifts (or receive- hello Reader's Digest subscription)(which I did love, actually, if you want me to admit it), I still love watching it, and when Part Two airs on Monday, I will be glued to every minute. I may even cry a little. Just because.

Oh Oprah. What can't you do?

Wherein Princess Diana Makes Me A Nihilist (And Scott Meets A Rabbi)

2010-11-16T15:02:00.001-05:00

Somehow, reading the Prince William-Kate Middleton coverage escalated in to an obsessive re-reading of all the coverage surrounding Diana’s death, which resulted in a crushing depression when I realized that no matter who we are or what we do, life is completely pointless because we all just die anyway (this feeling may have been exacerbated by the amount of work/chores I have ahead of me today). Then, while knee deep in my nihilism (seriously, crushing) Scott got a call about a cash gig- hurrah! He’ll be spending the weekend following around a Rabbi during a series of religious events. Really. I know; these seem like they should be related, don’t they? I mean, there’s got to be a joke in here somewhere, I just haven’t found it yet.

UPDATE: I just heard a tow truck outside and raced to the front window to make sure they weren’t repossessing anything of ours (they weren’t) so I guess I do still care about something after all. Good to know.

Shalom, everyone. Existential crises aside, Tuesday certainly seems to be looking a lot better than Monday.

Too Much Behind The Music

2010-11-16T08:09:00.000-05:00

If we ever strike it rich I plan to spend all my time dressing like J. Lo during the Puffy years. Leather dresses, high heeled boots, fur. The occasional headscarf. Sweaters with underwear (to say nothing of our mutual love of off the shoulder). It would be a real departure from pocket tee's and torn yoga pants, but I think I can pull it off.

Maybe this is why the Universe has seen fit not to give us any money?

So, I Guess I Just Don't Sleep Anymore.

2010-11-15T08:47:00.000-05:00

Awesome. What fun for me. On the up side, imagine all the stuff I'm going to get done. On the down side, looks like I'll be spending a lot more money on pumpkin spice lattes.

Seriously brain? Don't you have anything useful to do? Some filing maybe, or deleting of unpleasant memories? Maybe airbrushing some blah ones?

Furthermore, having been stripped of my usual weapons and armor (booze, cheese, energy, humor, wit) it is only 8:45 a.m. and I am already having my ass handed to me by life. Normally I'm optimistic to the point of foolishness (denial, it's an art form), but today I'm counting the minutes until I can get back in bed. Admittedly I have very first world problems, but even so...

11 hours, 14 minutes.

I wonder how blue cheese crumbs might taste in an omelet...

Can't Breathe. Too Much Laughing.

2010-11-12T13:54:00.000-05:00

No matter what is happening in my world, a visit to this website always leaves me in hysterical tears of laughter. Probably because I am always sending nonsensical, autocorrected texts myself. Go. Laugh.

On A Lighter Note

2010-11-12T13:27:00.000-05:00

The weather is absolutely gorgeous here today and we've thrown open all the windows ("The hillls are alliiiiiiive...") and turned off the air conditioning, and I can hear the sounds of the workers from the door and moulding factory outside having lunch. Every day they stop work for an hour and play soccer in the field that separates my house from the warehouse. Then they lay their lunch on the grass and eat before going back to work. I can hear them out their cursing and cheering each other and it makes me smile. I don't know; just a happy thought, I guess. Somehow it helps.

The Difference Between 31 and 21

2010-11-12T13:25:00.000-05:00

I'm here at my desk gathering my notes and preparing to work. Cayce is napping. Later I'll play with her, cook supper, do the dishes, put her to bed, work some more, clean some more. Smile.

What I'd really like to do is lay my head down on my arms and let loose some deep, heaving, choking gasping sobs, and hide under my bed covers until the world rights itself. Instead I will work and I will mother and I will smile. And hopefully, the world will right itself a bit faster than it might had I given in.

I think this is called maturity. It kind of sucks.

Texts From Tommy Tuesday

2010-11-09T13:45:00.000-05:00

Welcome to a new segment I like to call "Texts From My Brother". Because why think up my own posts when I can just relay his hilarious text messages? Like this one that I received this morning:

"I just spent two minutes giving one of the young guys what he thought was advice but was really Young MC lyrics."

See what I mean? Stay tuned; I've got a phone full of them.

And Today We Watched Rudolph

2010-11-09T13:05:00.000-05:00

Criticize me all you want but as a mother, I feel it's my job to expose her to as much magic and wonder as I possibly can before I send her off to school to be robbed of her joy and become programmed and cynical.

I had some bad news these last two days- some terrible things happened to two people I love very much- and I was feeling pretty blue. So Cayce and I snuggled together on the couch with Rudolph and some Halloween candy. It was a marriage of luxuries. And reliving all those great memories- and watching Cayce's little face light up and feeling her snuggled in my arms- certainly lifted my mood and brought me the only measure of comfort I could achieve. It was nice. Wonderful, actually.

Still, that said, is it just me or is the Santa in Rudolph really kind of a dick?

Gina's Pumpkin Cheesecake

2010-11-08T17:51:00.000-05:00

Well drat. There's no photo of this cheesecake available on the Food Network website. None that does it justice, anyway. Because this is another fantastic recipe, whose flavor is matched only by it's presentation. This is the perfect Thanksgiving dessert- seasonal, delicious, gorgeous, easy to make, and ideal to make ahead. It was a huge hit at our Halloween party, and Scott is counting the days until he can dig in to one at Thanksgiving. Super simple, super delicious. I owe Gina Neeley of the Food Network a huge debt of gratitude. Make this cheesecake and you'll see why. To get the recipe straight from the food network site, click here.

Ingredients:
For the Crust:
30 ginger snap cookies
6 tbsp (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, melted

For the Filling:

4 (8 ounce) packages of cream cheese, at room temperature
1 3/4 cups sugar
1 (15 ounce) can of pureed pumpkin
5 large eggs
1 1/2 tsps ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp table salt
1 tbsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350.

Add the gingersnaps to the work bowl of a food processor; pulse until crumbly. Transfer to a large bowl and add the melted butter. Stir until evenly mixed. Press the mixture into the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan with 3-inch sides. Bake the crust until golden brown, about 10 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool completely while preparing the filling.

Filling:

Put a teakettle filled with water on the stovetop, over medium heat, and bring to a boil.

In a large mixing bowl, add the cream cheese and sugar and beat with an electric mixer until light and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Add the pumpkin and beat until incorporated. Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time, then add the cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, salt, and vanilla, and beat until blended. Add the flour and beat until incorporated.

Wrap the sides and bottom of the springform pan with heavy-duty aluminum foil. Pour the filling into the pan and put it in a small roasting pan. Pour the hot water from the teakettle into the roasting pan, filling halfway up the sides of the springform pan, about 1 1/2 inches. Bake until the center of the cheesecake moves slightly when the pan is gently shaken, about 1 hour and 20 minutes. Remove the cake from the water bath and let it cool on a wire rack.

Once cooled, use a paring knife to loosen the sides of the cake from the pan. Chill the cheesecake for at least 4 hours before serving.

You See This? I Made This.

2010-11-08T16:35:00.000-05:00

With my own two hands. Sure, my father in law bought the groceries and my mother in law did all the dishes, but the tart part? All Al, baby. Most impressively, when I'd made this tart with my own two hands, it actually looked exactly like this photo (which as you can see, I stole from Martha Stewart's website, because another thing I did not do is photograph my tart, damn it).

This, along with the Pumpkin Cheesecake I made (recipe and stolen photo to follow), was the hit of the party on Halloween. The premise is that it's a sort of grown up Snickers bar- I know; sounds awful, right? The bottom layer is an Oreo cookie crust, the next layer is caramel and salted peanuts, and that creamy layer above it is peanut butter mousse. Which kicks nougats' ass, by the way. And the top layer? Chocolate ganache.

I'm unreasonably proud of this tart.

It's a really delicious dessert with a lot of wow factor, which makes it great for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of steps, but the execution is pretty simple. I'm a pretty seasoned baker, but I can promise you that I had no trouble with this at all, and that the result is worth the effort (but again, I didn't have to do the dishes). You'll find the recipe here. Go for it, gang. And hey, let me know how it turns out, won't you? Also, even if a Snicker's isn't your thing, be sure to check out the amazing candy bar recipes from the October issue of Martha Stewart Living. I think you'll dig them. Happy baking!

I Ate Gray Bacon This Morning

2010-11-08T14:25:00.000-05:00

I just looked at it and figured, "It's poisoned pig meat and I'm about to microwave it in it's own fat. Now is not really the time to be picky about freshness" and in to the microwave it went. Thus far I seem to be just fine. Nitrates. They're good for something.

It was a very quiet weekend around our house, the best part of which involved watching Dirty Dancing with a glass of red wine in bed while Scott slept beside me. This is what passes for romance at my house. It's not bad, really. I think he only pretends to sleep because his pride won't let him admit he wants to watch Dirty Dancing. I caught him peeking when he thought I was sipping.

You know, every time Dirty Dancing airs on cable, I always think, "This again? This movie really isn't so great." And then I always watch, and I'm always wrong. It is that great. The only downside is that somehow- and I can't be alone in this- watching Dirty Dancing always means sentencing myself to at least three days spent listening to the Kellerman's anthem on repeat in my head; worse still, it's almost always the Lisa part. (I can mimic her exactly, too) (which isn't very complimentary to me)

If you think this post is going somewhere, think again. I'm supposed to be working.

Happy Monday, folks. Happy Monday.

As Usual I'm Part Of The Problem

2010-11-05T14:22:00.001-04:00

I may or may not (may) have watched White Christmas twice already this week. In my defense, A) it's really more of a musical than a Christmas film and B) Colorful, happy holiday movies (and musicals) are the only way to escape my reality without the use of drugs, alcohol or (yet more) cheese. Bing it is. I stand by my choice.

In other news, it's hitting a high of 68 today, which means that down here in Florida we're all pulling out our sweaters. I personally will be spending this afternoon mapping out outfits that will allow me to display my entire jacket and boot collection before the temperatures return to the 80's on Monday. It's going to be a like a (chubby) one woman runway show. I love cold snaps. Being able to open the windows and pull on some jeans and a henley this morning made me so happy I almost cartwheeled all the way to yoga class. I didn't (see: Woman, Chubby) but I may or may not (may) have broken in to a chorus of The Sound Of Music as I threw open the windows and let the fresh air in.

White Christmas, boots, fresh air AND latte weather? This is the best day EVER! And it's FRIDAY? My cup runneth over.

Four

2010-11-04T13:35:00.001-04:00

I have eaten FOUR pieces of cheese since I woke up this morning and it's only one o'clock. There HAS to be a support group for this somewhere. Oh arteries; I'm so sorry.

The First Time Wegmans Has Ever Let Me Down

2010-11-04T10:36:00.000-04:00

Ah, Wegmans. Where to begin?

When listing the motivations to move back to Rochester, Wegmans falls somewhere in between family and friends. I adore Wegmans, and when we visit New York, I come up with every conceivable excuse to make as many trips to Wegmans as possible. I daydream about it. I miss it like I miss my family; more, in fact, as Wegmas has never criticized my haircut, asked to borrow money or made me wait two hours to open the Christmas gifts because they just can't get anywhere on time.

So when Alec Baldwin discussed Wegmans in a recent Letterman appearance, I was unreasonably excited- almost as excited as I get when I see Jim drinking a WCola on The Office. It makes me feel famous. Famous, and validated. And part of something bigger. Something special. Wegmans has that effect on people. I think it's the moon cookies.

Alec was telling Letterman that he'd been trying to convince his mother to move to the west coast to be with her boys but she won't because, "What? And leave my Wegmans?" And I was all, "I know, right?" Long story short, Alec called Danny Wegman, and in the end, offered to do a television commercial. Which sounds awesome. Except it's not. Scott and I sat out on the verandah last night watching the Letterman clip (and Danny's painfully long intro) with bated breath, and then: crushing disappointment. Because this is the worst commercial ever. I'm embarrassed by this commercial (also? it's possibly time for me to take a hard look at my relationship with Wegmans. This can't be healthy). I love my Weggie's so much, and I brag about it so often, that I feel a sense of personal responsibility for it's reputation and success (it didn't say it was reasonable or legitimate, I just said I feel that way). And this is just so bad. We called our Wegmans insider (oh yeah- we have them) and learned that Wegmans didn't use their standard agency to produce this. Not sure why, but it's definitely not a decision I support. I mean, I get where they're going, and it's super cool that Alec Baldwin is doing a Wegmans commercial out of sincere appreciation for the company, and I do love my Wegmans, but....yikes.

But still, the story is interesting and the Letterman clip was great, so here it is, so you guys can see it for yourselves. And hey, Danny? Next time, call us. No one loves you more, and having worked for you for ten years (you had lunch with Scott once, remember? No really, I have a photo! A real one! In color!) we understand the client base and the company image. But above all, we know how to use Alec Baldwin to his full capacity. I mean come on Danny; he's supposed to be funny. Call us. Please. You're hurting all of us.

Best,

Allison and Scott Zimmer
Dreamshop, LLC
www.dreamshopda.com

Well, I've Got My Powerball Ticket

2010-11-03T13:29:00.001-04:00

What can I say? I’m a liberal. We prefer handouts to hard work.

I rarely play, but after I picked up my Post this morning and read “Tea Party Favorite Now A Florida Senator” I decided it was time for drastic measures. Since our house is only worth about $7 (unless we’re willing to accept Monopoly money, which we’ve considered), I figure Powerball is my best shot at getting out of here.

Fingers crossed, folks. When I hit, it’s Pornkins for everyone.

I Really Can't Believe We're Florida Voters

2010-11-02T19:59:00.000-04:00

I know I've got some Florida natives out there in my readership, and I suggest they go visit dooce right about now.

I am a Florida resident, and I vote here and pay taxes here, but honestly? I take no responsibility for this cesspool of a state. The New Yorker in me promises never to shoot you in the back, even though the law here says I can.

It's been six years since I became a Florida resident and yet, every time my voter card shows up at the house I'm sort of embarrassed- like, "No, no, you guys misunderstood- we're just passing through. We're not real Floridians." I'm not sure how long that's going to go on, but my guess is FOREVER. We haven't bought Cayce a Florida prepaid yet because we just can't seem to accept that she may grow up here, and it's unthinkable to us that she'll attend Florida colleges. Not because they're bad; they aren't. It's just that they're in Florida. And we don't really live in Florida. We just happen to live in Florida. It's all a big confusing coincidence. You'll understand when you're older.

Ugh. I love you, sunshine. But I miss you, New York.

I Made Butternut Squash Ravioli From Scratch This Morning.

2010-11-01T13:20:00.000-04:00

Which just goes to show that I will do just about anything to avoid a looming work deadline.

I have four pieces due tomorrow. I think I'll serve the ravioli with sage and brown butter.

These Really Exist.

2010-10-28T14:05:00.000-04:00

You guys? If it weren't for the fact that my dear, sweet mother-in-law and her kitten t-shirts are staying at my house right now I would totally fill my front porch with these and then rig a camera to watch the neighbors' reactions. HILARIOUS.
www.pornkins.com

There Are Donuts On The Table

2010-10-28T13:50:00.000-04:00

Potato chips in the pantry, ice cream in the freezer and the baby is covered in chocolate. It can only mean one thing: my inlaws are here.

Yay! It's that time of year again! Oma and Opa have arrived for their fall visit. Posting will be light this week, as I will be busy eating chips. It will likely be light next week as well, as I will be at the gym.

Happy Halloween, everyone! I'll have some costume photos and some amazing recipes up soon.

Can't Hurt To Ask (Or Show Some Gratitude)

2010-10-26T20:05:00.001-04:00

Dear Universe,

Thank you for the health and happiness of my family. Thank you that my husband is the most awesomest husband ever, and that we adore each other and make each other laugh, even on the tough days. Thank you for my very healthy, very happy kid, and for my stylist who highlights me at cost. Thank you for a safe home, for hoop earrings and off the shoulder shirts. Thank you for my health, and my sense of humor, the one that keeps and preserves me. Thank you for gin, and cheese, and all those wonderful friends I have. Thank you for my brother, and my sister in law, and all the rest of those extra siblings you’re sharing with me. Thank you that my inlaws arrive tomorrow and that I’ll be heart glad to see them, and them to see me. Thank you that, even though my parents are gone, I had such wonderful parents. Thank you for belly laughs and pumpkin spice latte, and thank you for my life. Thank you for another day. And since you’re clearly getting my memos, and since I am truly, deeply grateful and mindful of all the beauty and wonder in my life exactly as it is, I ask you now with equal depth of feeling and promises of sincere gratitude, oh Universe, please:

SEND MONEY. NOW. Shit is getting hectic down here, and frankly, we’re very tired of pushing this giant heavy rock. After careful consideration we’ve concluded we’d rather pay the phone bill than continue to build our character. We are willing to live with the fall out. Please take note.

Best wishes and much love,

Your Pal Al

So Lovely When They're Kind Instead Of Creepy

2010-10-26T14:36:00.000-04:00

This morning I was walking through Walgreens in a rotten, nasty mood. It has been a rough two days around here and I was having trouble pulling myself out of my financially induced funk, when a sweet little old man patted me on the shoulder as he walked by and told me I was the prettiest thing he'd seen all day.

Poof. Bad mood gone. Funny how it often works that way, huh?

And later, at the same Walgreens, the woman on line in front of me bought $28 worth of mints and sugarless gum- I mean, bags full. So she either has the worst halitosis ever, or she just gives really shitty Halloween candy. It didn't cheer me up, but it certainly took my mind off my own problems. Seriously lady, what are you, a dentist? Give those kids some Snickers, for crying out loud. Weirdo.

Went Out For Mexican

2010-10-23T13:19:00.001-04:00

and it turned in to my own personal Man vs. Food. Would have photographed the six pound, neighbor-obscuring platter of nachos that arrived at my table as my personal lunch, but it was just too shameful. Also? It’s possible I wouldn’t have been able to capture all of it in the frame. Ridiculous. Bet the platter is much smaller in actual Mexico.

Still, I do so love Mexican restaurants. Where else is it possible to consume nothing but tequila, chips and cheese and respectably call it a meal? Exactly. A lovely way to turn around an afternoon.

I Love Kids, I Just Hate Toys.

2010-10-21T16:22:00.000-04:00

This? Is my living room. My very thoughtful sister-in-law bought the entire Little People world for my daughter on Ebay, and now walking through my living room is a lot like looking out the window of an airplane at 10,000 feet. Tiny villages, cars and people everywhere. No safe place to touch down.

Sometimes I like to pretend I’m Godzilla conquering Tokyo.

(Also, I stood on my coffee table to take this photo and while it wasn’t exactly safe, I had no trouble at all. I didn’t fall until I was safely on the floor again.)

If You Haven't Yet

2010-10-21T16:01:00.000-04:00

been to Hipster Kitty, you should go there. It makes me laugh.

This is my favorite, but "Make Breakfast. Don't eat, just photograph" is another favorite.

There Are So Many Things I Want To Accomplish In This Life

2010-10-21T14:26:00.001-04:00

and so many things I want to see and do and enjoy, and yet I just lost an hour and a half of my life watching DVR'd episodes of Teen Mom. I can't help it; I love Catelynn and Tyler and I want to see how fat Gary is going to get.

At least I don't have to wait through commercials.

Who Has Fun At Weddings?

2010-10-21T12:37:00.000-04:00

We do. I took Erin as my plus one to Shannon's sister Colleen's wedding and we had a fantastic time. Contrary to what you might think, these photos were snapped right after the ceremony- as in, before all that gin. At this point we'd given up on trying to take a nice photo that pleased either of us, so stupid faces it was! This one is my favorite. Oh boy, we sure do have fun. Fortunately none of the photos of me dancing to Sir Mix A Lot while pulling another guest around by his tie survived. At least, I don't think they did. I also left there hoarse from screaming Bon Jovi lyrics (no, I wasn't alone) and I wore the same makeup on the plane the next morning. Funny thing is, I actually didn't do all that much drinking. Proof that it never was the booze; it's just me.

So Many Mixed Emotions

2010-10-20T13:36:00.001-04:00

I got whistled at today while walking through downtown. Whistled at AND catcalled. By a bunch of dudes in a work truck. I even got a “Hey blondie, you need a ride? ‘cause we’ll give you a ride, baby.” And as I curled my lip and prepared my stinkeye, some inner voice screamed at me, “HEEEYYY! YOU! YOU’RE THIRTY ONE! HOW MANY OF THESE DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE LEFT???” So I sneered, and I curled that lip, but frankly, I decided to just lean in and enjoy it. I mean, really. The clock is ticking. It’s not like I got in the cab or anything.

Captain Trips?

2010-10-18T20:50:00.000-04:00

Some sort of fast moving, all powerful super cold is coursing through my body right now, and I’m guessing that when it kicks in to high gear it’s really going to pack a wallop. I was healthy this morning but as the day progressed I could literally feel the sudden rush of each new symptom- it’s moving that fast. 5 p.m. muscle aches- all of my muscles, all at once (all the muscles I notice anyway- if my esophagus is aching, I can’t precisely say). 6 p.m. sort throat, 7 p.m. headache behind my eyes. At this rate, I’m prepared to be dead by midnight.

I’m sucking airborne and tea like WHOA but frankly, I feel I’m no match for this beast. Whatever you do, don’t let Molly Ringwald play me in the movie. In the event of my death, posting will be light. In lieu of flowers, please send cheese. Only repost the good stuff.

Off to eat chicken wings and watch baseball. Seems like a good way to go. GO YANKS!

Behold: My Values And My Desires, Perpetually In Conflict With One Another.

2010-10-13T16:04:00.000-04:00

Good Morning! We're Back!

2010-10-12T08:54:00.000-04:00

After a fantastic weekend in New York, we arrived home yesterday exhausted but happy. It was a perfect weekend and we couldn't have had a better time (though we could have used a lot more sleep. We are old now). My voice is hoarse from laughing (and yelling) and my knees hurt from dancing (who's old? I am). It was wonderful. More to come later, but right now I'm about to swan dive in to a giant pile of work projects, housecleaning and laundry. Wish my luck.

Good morning friends! How were your holiday weekends?

Yes, I Was Wearing This When They Called

2010-10-06T16:15:00.000-04:00

My mother-in-law just skyped me to let me know that my five year old nephew keeps getting in trouble for stretching out the collars of his shirts by pulling them down over his shoulder. When questioned he explained, "I'm trying to look like Aunt Allison."

Maybe it's time I wore collars again.

(and yes, I did wear this to Mommy and Me today. And I looked hot. So there. Shoulders are totally the new black.)( But I'll buy a turtleneck when winter comes, I swear.)

Hey Hey!

2010-10-04T09:13:00.001-04:00

Welcome Leia! I'm glad you're here!