All or Nothing

So one time, I had to change the password of the email address I use to log into my blog. That happened 11 months ago, and I always try to enter my original password, and Gmail always kindly reminds me, "You changed your password over 11 months ago." I know this should be helpful and friendly, but it makes me feel judged and moronic. Like, you are NOT better than me Google. My password is whatever I want it to be. So that by the time I log in and set to post something new, I feel like a shell of a person and probably much like a real writer... tortured and haunted.

Anyways. As a live events producer, I oversee the planning, creation and execution of large scale creative elements. Much of the time, this includes purchasing necessary supplies. I know everyone at Target by name (obviously this because of my penchant to shop there professionally, not the least bit because of personal habits), frequent Hobby Lobby, Michael's and AC Moore. When I'm tasked with making a white spandex tent for two aerialists to hoist to a remix of Ellie Goulding's "Anything Could Happen" in order to house 8 dancers... what?! Yeah, that's what I do.

For a recent element, I needed to procure about a thousand yards of black grosgrain ribbon. So, I began my typical route through local craft and fabric stores. When I got to Michael's I hit the ribbon jackpot... spools and spools of it. So I loaded up my cart, thrilled that I could make fewer stops than I originally planned, and headed to the register. When I got there, the cashier looked at my cart, then at me, and I expected the typical questions about what I'm doing with that many whateveritemsIwanttopurchase (pipe cleaners, a billion yards of canvas, a trillion small stones... you name it, we've bought it). Instead she looked at me accusingly and simply stated, "You can't buy all that." Perplexed I stared back and being positive that I was misunderstanding her said, "What do you mean?" "That's all our ribbon. There won't be any left." "...." "If you buy it all, no one else can." "Riiight," I answered back, struggling to keep the condescension low. "This is a store. You sell ribbon. I am a customer. I want to buy ribbon. I want to buy all of it. And I can pay for all of it. I didn't know there was a quota reserved to share." "Well, it's just not considerate," she begrudgingly muttered as she began scanning ream after ream of the grosgrain. I was stunned, but also suppressing laughter. I mean, dang greedy capitalism that allows me to purchase goods from your store to make you money... ??? Am I right, y'all?

What's Left to Ponder?

The last time I tried to buy a pack of lighters, so that I could have the ability to instantaneously light the multitude of candles in each and every room of my house, I was carded. I couldn't figure out why I needed to present my poorly-complexioned identification for the purchase, but the cashier explained to me that since you have to be 18 to buy cigs, you have to be 18 to buy lighters since they light them. Uh huh. So does that mean I have to be 21 to buy a koozie because it could house beer? 21 to buy a lime because I could be pairing it with both gin and tonic (ohmygoshgivemeoneofthoserightnow)? Those thoughts, of course, led to deeper and deeper pontifications, resulting in the big question of the day: do you have to be 21 to buy O'Doul's**? It's nonalcoholic but housed in the beer cooler. Looks like beer, smells like beer, gives you a gut like beer, probably tastes like beer but without the best part of beer - the buzz. My goal for the week is to find someone in high school, send them into the store and see how successful they are.


**my high school/college boyfriend's dad was nearly addicted to O'Doul's. We'd go over to his parents' house and find his dad on the couch in the bonus room, shirtless, with O'Doul's cans scattered around. He was like a non-alcoholic drunk, which was probably sadder. I wonder if he ever knew there wasn't alcohol in them. 

Things I'm Not

A lot of people argue that bloggers must be pretty self-involved, and I agree with them to an extent... you spend your own time writing about yourself for other people to read, loading the best pictures of you, with details that you don't even tell your mom in your daily phone conversations and giving your opinion on things that don't matter. It's like Facebook on crack. But I don't blog because I want people to virtually love me. I blog because it's good for me. It's good for me to have a little corner of somewhere to just... do. To just share. To document. 

The reasons I'm not a very good blogger:
1. This blog doesn't have a theme or direction. It's not a house blog. It's not a wedding blog. It's not a mommy blog. It's certainly not a fashion or beauty blog. It's not inspirational. It's not about fitness. It's not very funny... it may used to be, but it's not anymore.
2. I update as often as Jennifer Aniston doesn't wear black... meaning, rarely. 
3. I don't have a great camera. Any pictures that I bother to load are iPhoned (yes, it's a verb) and usually with an Instagram filter.

But, I'm still here years after I launched it. Not even sure who, if anyone, still reads. Alas, here's what's on my mind on this Monday in Charlotte.

1. Are skinny jeans ever going to be out again? This child-bearing hipped girl is just tired. So tired of swathing my lower half in a style that isn't actually very flattering to anyone. Except Miranda Kerr (I hate how much I love her). I went shopping a couple of weeks ago for some trouser or wide legged jeans. I found one lone pair on a clearance rack at Gap. Naturally, they're the best fitting jeans I've maybe ever owned. I asked the salesclerkette if they had any more, because you know I'd have bought all of them. Wouldn't you know it? The cut is being discontinued because they aren't in style anymore. Kick me in the face. And the hips. 
2. In the same vein, am I the only one that can't find gems at Forever 21 that it seems like everyone else can? Maybe I just don't see the potential in things. Maybe I assume it's a grown up version of Limited, too. I want to love it. I really do. But I get so overwhelmed. There's SO much inventory. 
3. Check out my favorite crockpot recipes lately. They've been saving us the past month:
Curry Chicken Vindaloo
Fiesta Chicken
Chicken Tikka Masala
4. And some desserts!
Chocolate-peanut butter whoopie pies
Coconut lime sugar cookies
Snickerdoodle brownies
5. Y'all, really, this is the lamest. What do y'all want to read about?

In the Heights

In 2013, I'm focusing on time in our marriage. It's a commodity that is precious and rare for us in the season that we're both in. Working bizarre and opposite schedules can take a toll. Thankfully we're both incredibly committed to maximizing the time we're together, but in 2013, I want us to be creative. I don't want to fall in a complacent routine of Redbox, couch time or each doing our own activities. So on Friday, we had a rare day off together and hopped in the car to journey to Asheville. 

Asheville is an easy 2 hour drive from us, and we got to enjoy great conversation on the way to town. We had a truly wonderful day - first stop was Tupelo honey for breakfast (fried egg BLT for him, and, most probably the culinary win of the whole day, a pimento cheese, maple pepper bacon, jalapeño cilantro pesto and asparagus omelet for me). It was cloudy and chilly for our start, so we spent a few hours strolling along, popping into different shops and galleries and generally oohing, aahing and making fun of various wares. 

We stopped for a late lunch at Lab, a delicious brewery and restaurant in downtown. We shared kale chips drizzled with honey and house made chorizo sausage nachos and each sipped a house brewed beer. When we were sufficiently satisfied, which wasn't hard, because it was delicious, we mosied back to our car and headed to Odd Fellows, a local antiques and architectural salvage shoppe (naturally, that's the sort of joint that requires fancy spelling). 

We finished just in time to get to Highland Brewery where we enjoyed a few more brewskis and a tour of this regional favorite. It was fascinating to learn about how beer is made and how such a seemingly small operation is actually a big player in the craft brew market. Another short drive up the road brought us to the Biltmore for a glass of wine in the estate wine room. 

Finally, we ended our trip at Curate, a new Asheville hotspot serving eccentric Spanish tapas. We scored a seat at the counter, so my chef hubbers could survey the exhibition kitchen below. We loved everything we ordered... I couldn't even actually tell you what it was. Though, standouts included the calamari sandwich and the almond cake dessert that featured rosemary and olive oil ice cream. Sated and tired and happy we headed back to Charlotte. 

Despite all of our wanderings and stops we only managed one picture at the end of our breakfast. I was excited to head to the highlands and try out a current Pinterest fave of red plaid and a fur vest. I was more excited for a truly delightful day with my love, and I can't wait to find some more destinations near us. A 2013 replete with these day gems is just what we have in mind.

This One Time I Used to Blog

One of my 2013 goals is to refurbish this dusty little blog and bring her back to her once semi-shiny glory. But, seeing as it's the 10th of January and this is my first post in months, well, it's progress.

So here's where we are in life:
- This Monday will be our 9 monthiversary of marriage... I cannot believe how quickly the time is flying! I also can't wait for the next 900.
- I'm learning so much about the way I process stress... or, don't process it, whatever.
- I'm a freak about coupon. I have to self moderate so I don't become like Mama June, stashing away 3 years' worth of Beenie Weenies. Except for me, it's shampoo, conditioner and mascara... uh huh.
- I'm revamping my wardrobe. Thank you, Pinterest, for being the ultimate fashionable time suck. Our office dress code is very casual, but I realized that somewhere along the line I just got sloppy, and I hated how I felt. Now, I just cut and paste other people's stylish creativity and VOILA. Instant feel good.
- 2012 was the year of the Om. I fell head over heels in love with yoga; however, the madness of working 100 hour weeks in the end of 2012 had me falling off the wagon, and now I'm struggling to crawl back to the mat.
- I can't stop crock potting. My lovely little chef husband knows every time he walks in the door, there will be something brewing in that slow cooker. I'll be sharing some of my favorite recipes in the coming weeks (you know, because I'm a goal achiever, and I WILL post. Dang it).

Meh. Probably a vanilla showing my first post out of the gate, but alas, here I am. And I'm back. Mostly. Well, for now.