Birthday Magic

Today is my 23rd birthday!!! I spent last night eating at Firebird's with Little, Daddy and Boyfriend followed by cake and presents that included Baby Sister. I was so beyond spoiled by gifts including

- A huge antique trunk for my room that I can't stop drooling over
- A gorgeous necklace from Francesca's (my fave)
- This shirt that Nina swears by, and now I do too. I have it on today with heels, jeans and long, chunky beads. It is the softest thing EVER, and I've gotten multiple compliments on it.- New skillets... YES!
- Sonic Unleashed for Wii... cannot wait to fire it up.
- A pink crocodile insulated lunchbox that looks like a purse... Loooove.
- The discontinued, but oh so, heavenly Pecan Passion 3-1 scent from Bath & Body Works. I know Daddy must have stalked Ebay for months looking for it.- A MAGIC BULLET DELUXE (!!!!!!) I adore, adore, adore infomercials, and I've been lusting after the Magic Bullet for years. Years. I didn't even think to put it on my birthday list, but the magic birthday elves heard my heart's plea. With recipes for 6-second chicken salad and 8-second spaghetti, I'll have oodles of time on my hands!

I'm getting lunch with Sis and Little at Chipotle in a few minutes, then tonight going to Hotel Charlotte with dinner and drinks with my precious friends. Can't wait for more celebrating!

And I'm not the only one getting gifts... don't forget to enter my A. Tierney giveaway!

Glitter

This morning I did my weight routine in my living room. Before work. After my daily beautification process. While wearing heels. Just like Mariah Carey. Ew.

This is my 201st post, which means yesterday's Wenis Debacle 2009 was my 200th. Also, my birthday is tomorrow (woot) and Hems & Hers has already seen great success. To celebrate this trifecta of goodness, I'm hosting an A. Tierney giveaway! If you haven't checked this site out (although I'm sure you have), stop by and take a look at their fabulous merchandise. For this giveaway, the featured item is the enamel crisscross bangle. I can think of few things cuter than a bright bangle paired with a lovely Hems & Hers dress or skirt to end summer with a bang.

To maximize your number of entries:
1. Leave a comment with your email address identifying your favorite color crisscross bangle.
2. Follow my blog (or tell me that you already do... I mean, I am a pretty big deal)
3. Become a follower of Hems & Hers
4. Announce this smidge of a giveaway on your own blog.

You have until Sunday, August 2 (shoutout to Little's birthday!) to enter. I'll announce the winner on Monday, August 3.

Face Meet Wenis

Sis, Daddy and I are playing on a volleyball team through the Y this summer, and we had our second game last night.

I love volleyball... I played through middle school and most of high school, while Sis played in middle school and Daddy played in college followed by years in a competitive league. We're basically all stars, and we're having a blast.

During the game last night, as Baby Sis and I were scrambling for a ball, my face and her wenis collided, leaving me with a ginormous lump above my eye. I'm not hyperbolizing... the nubbin is easily identifiable as a foreign object on my fave. Normally just par for the course, but this week is my birthday week (shout out to July 31!) which means lots of photographic evidence of the injury I sustained. Hopefully the damage won't be permanent, although I did find it affecting my depth perception on the sewing machine last night.

Yo, Sis, I'm expecting one heckuva good present come Friday. Something to assuage the guilt you must be feeling.

Girl After My Own Heart

Sweet Sadie loves Smirnoff Mojitos nearly as much as I do.

Are you loving her summer shave?

Ointment

In an effort to save the company some pennies, our uber-efficient-Nazi-tyrannical office manager informed me this morning that she has been growing an aloe plant at her desk, and when the Neosporin runs out of the First Aid kit, she doesn't intend to replenish the supply, thanks to her home-grown salve.

She's already taken away Post-Its and replaced them with squares of scrap paper and paper clips. What's next? Our desks?

Unveiling

Come check out my new blog site! Welcome to Hems & Hers!

Entrepreneurial

As I mentioned last week, I'm working on a new site dedicated to my newfound love of sewing pretty things, but until I get that running, I wanted to talk more about the concept! Some of you have asked about it, so let me give you the basic idea.

1. You tell me what you want made (skirt, dress, etc)
2. I give you options (A-line skirt, pencil skirt, strapless dress, tie-neck dress, etc)
3. You tell me what type of fabric you have in mind (color, pattern, etc)
4. I send you 4 fabric options to choose from. You choose one of those, and I hit the machine, or we go back to the drawing board until we find something that is PERFECT for you.
5. I sew and send, you wear and bask in the compliments.

Pricing will be pretty easy... $40 for skirts and $50-$60 for dresses, depending on the pattern difficulty and amount of fabric used. I think the price is fair since you'll get to customize your piece, and you'll know that no one else has it! Below are pictures are some of the items I've made so far...

Ruffle-Neck Dress (this is actually a strapless dress pattern that I added the ruffle to. You can do it either way)
Pleated A-Line Skirt (with or without pockets)
Tie-Neck Dress (with or without grosgrain sash)
V-Strap Dress (mine is made from pique, which makes it sturdier and more voluminous than Little Sister's cotton one)
I'm always working on new styles, so the offerings are ever-expanding. Even though the new site isn't up yet (because I can't decide on a name), you can start ordering right NOW (yes, now). To find out more, just leave a comment on this post or email me at polkadotsandproteinbars@gmail.com.

Morsels & Tidbits

- At lunch, the lady on the treadmill beside me was sporting a shirt that said, "My immune system is stronger than your immune system." Judging by the fact that she sneezed 4 times during the 35 minute period, and I sneezed nada, she's a liar. And so is her immune system.

- I dislike Martha Stewart. I dislike hotdogs more. So when the ladies in the gym insisted on keeping the TV on the Martha show today, I gritted my teeth. When the episode was dedicated to hot dogs, I tried running with my eyes closed and gag reflex on lockdown. Gross.

- Either I am a total genius or just waaaay late to the game. Today I'm wearing a top I found at the Banana Republic outlet that is satiny and slippery, and I spent the morning adjusting it repeatedly. During one of the adjustment periods I found a snap sewn into one of the shoulders with a string and another snap attached to that. Anytime I've ever seen these contraptions I've cut them off. I mean, what's the point? Today, though, I wrapped the string around my bra strap and snapped it closed. Voila! No more slipping, sliding and indecent exposure. Did I just innovate a satin saver, or has this existed for 60 years, and I never knew?

- This month I've made 2 skirts and 2 dresses, and before it's over I'll have made 2 more of each! The orders are coming in :-)

Worship Wednesday

Last night I was searching through my pastor's blog, when I came across this post that just resonated deep in my heart. Read this profound passage and share your thoughts!

FROM PASTOR STEVEN FURTICK:
I’m working on 2 new spiritual disciplines. I’m calling them preemptive praise and retroactive gratitude.

Here’s how they work:

Preemptive Praise:
Give God the glory for His answers to your prayers as if they’ve already arrived.
After you’ve asked Him to act on your behalf, thank Him like it’s already done.

Retroactive Gratitude:
Calculate how fervently you’d be willing to petition God to get back the things you value the most if you ever lost them. Things like your salvation, your health, your children, your house, your job, and your daily bread.
Convert those would-be-petitions into expressions of praise. Worship the Lord as if your blessings depended on it, realizing He could take it all away at any time.

Preemptive praise lays a foundation for present tense blessing.
Retroactive gratitude counteracts apathy.

Together, these two habits form a powerful tag team to defeat depression and despondency. They draw our attention away from our hurts and needs, focusing our affection on the character of our faithful God.

True Story Tuesday - Temporary Tourette's

For years I have been plagued by a case of mild Tourette's (no, Anonymous, you do not need to send me any links about Tourette's awareness as you did for orphans, I know what it is and that some people really do suffer from it. I totally watched MTV's True Life about it: "Stop being careless, Grandma! Careless, careless, careless!"). When someone asks a question, and I know the answer, I cannot restrain myself from eagerly shouting my response. Let's examine several case studies shall we?

Exhibit A
Setting: Crowded lecture hall. Communications class.
Situation: The professor is discussing mass media and its effect on society as a whole. As an example he is discussing Harry Potter. He is saying, "... and the really bad guy in Harry Potter. I know you know who I'm talking about..."
Reaction: I love Harry Potter; I equally love pop culture references and assume that everyone around me has not only a knowledge of, but affinity for, such cases. Expecting a reply en masse, I yell out, "LORD VOLDEMORT!!!" Cue crickets. No one else had spoken, and the professor clearly was not expecting an answer. Not only do I like a Tourette's sufferer, but a severely nerdy one, at that.

Exhibit B
Setting: Crowded classroom. Communications class.
Situation: Our professor, who only knows how to give examples focusing around her children, is discussing TV shows. Since she doesn't watch shows unsuitable for anyone older than 4, she is using Nickelodeon and Disney programs as support for the lecture. "You know, you don't often see spinoffs from cartoons, but one of my kids' favorite Nickelodeon cartoons just got its own..."
Reaction: Forgetting that just because I babysit constantly and have unlimited access to each show she talks about, does not mean that everyone else does or that I need broadcast the fact that I do. "Oh my gosh, Go, Diego, Go off of Dora the Explorer!!!!!" Crickets. Then lots of blushing and trying to pretend like Lobster was the one who answered that.

Exhibit C
Setting: Work seminar about social media. Entire office in attendance.
Situation: An outside IT consultant (read: tech geek) is teaching us about widgets. As an example he shows us the MarioKart Wii widget he has on his computer. "I love MarioKart for Wii," he says, "I always play the bad version of Luigi. I forget his name right now..."
Reaction: OMG, I LOVE MarioKart for Wii. I got a Wii for Christmas, and while I currently only have Wii Sports and Dance Dance Revolution, my parents have MarioKart, and I tear it up. "WALUIGI!!!" I yell excitedly, before realizing that, yet again, no one else has answered with me. Sensing a kindred spirit, he continued, "You play MarioKart too??? Which character do you play?" "Baby Peach," I mumbled. "Which car???" he plowed ahead, immune to my mortification. "The Super Kart," I grumbled. "AWESOME CHOICE!" he applauded. Lesson learned. For now.

Bookworm

Queen Bee tagged me in this wonderfully fun book game. The rules? To list my favorite literary moments as a child. It was NOT easy to cull this list down. I was a complete and utter bookworm when I was young (it hasn't changed much since then). Without further ado, here are my favorites then (and still now).

1. Frances books - Of all of the characters I encountered in my fictional journeys, I most related to Frances the badger. The little rhymes she made up, and her well-intentioned, yet often melodramatic, antics always melted my heart. Bread and Jam for Frances is the best, by far.2. The Boxcar Children - this series was captivating, charming, sweet, and wonderful. Not only was I enchanted by the adventures of the Boxcar Children on the page, I translated it into my real life. I would play "Orphans" on a regular basis and pretend I was an orphan running away from a terrible orphanage and hiding in a boxcar (these books + Annie, maybe?). Please don't judge my warped imagination.3. The Bobbsey Twins - I was never able to really get into Nancy Drew, but the Bobbsey Twins mysteries had my full attention. Always riveting, but rarely terrifying, their hijinks had me entertained for hours on end. Flossie was clearly my favorite, because she was so precocious, and with a name like Flossie, what was there not to love?4. Madeline - Who doesn't love Madeline? I mean, really? I don't think I need to even explain this one. I think I owned almost the entire series.
5. Berenstein Bears - Ditto for the bear family. How could I pick a favorite? If I had to, it might be the summer camp one. Or the puppy. Or the gimme gimme's...
6. Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs - Not a chapter book, but to this day, one of my most treasured picture books. It was so whimsical and fanciful, and even though, I think the overarching idea was fairly scary and negative, I wanted to live in the town of Chewandswallow. I was thrilled to hear that a movie version will be released this fall.
7. The BFG - Standing for Big Friendly Giant, I read this book over and over again. I love any and everything by Roald Dahl, but I think this one tops the list. I even dressed as Sophie one year for our school's character day.8. Amelia Bedelia - Another year, I dressed up as the lovable and kooky Amelia Bedelia. These are some of the most entertaining stories I've read to date. I dare you to read one and not crack a smile!9. The Mandie Series - These books are much lesser-known, and maybe only published regionally. I ate them up when I lived in Knoxville because they took place in Tennessee. Mandie was an orphan (natch... I can't resist a good orphan), and her tales were always poignant and harrowing. She was also a devoted Christian girl, which I admired.10. Lurlene McDaniel novels - When I graduated a bit from the easy reader books, I was immediately attracted to any and everything by Lurlene McDaniel. As if my obsessions with orphans was not enough, I added to it a love for the tragic. No McDaniel book had a happy ending. Someone always died - a baby, a boyfriend, a parent, a best friend, it didn't matter. Usually it was from terminal illness - AIDS, cancer, etc. I still don't know why I was such a voracious reader of these sad, sad books.

I could go on and on, but for now, I think that's a solid synopsis.

Six Smiles

The adorable Miss HoneyDew at Life After I Dew tagged me to play a game, in which I list 6 things that make me happy. Only 6? Okay, here we go...

1. This little furball... Sadie May Jr. III. She keeps me laughing. She's the most ridiculous, funny, personality-filled dog you will ever meet. Guaranteed. Here she is deciding whether to take a nap, hide from the vacuum or attack my parents' cat. She hid. She also likes to make herself at home in their dog's (Bosley's) bed. He doesn't like to be her friend as much as she likes being his.
2. This other little furball, fondly known as my Baby Sister.3. Not having bangs anymore. Exhibits A and B.4. Learning that tequila shots don't taste as good as margaritas.
5. Setting off both the airport metal detector and the explosives detector... twice. Being quarantined in a glass box and getting wanded. I hear Guantanamo is lovely this time of year.


6. Him.

Boy, Oh Boy

Last night whilst on my favorite piece of cardio equipment, I was feasting my Baby Greens on the latest issue of Glamour (my substitute for subscribing to the now-defunct Domino one week prior to its closing). One of my favorite celebrities is Taylor Swift. I really think we could be friends, and I was delighted to see her featured on the cover looking cute, classy, sassy and beautiful (squinty-ish eyes and all). Her feature was focused on all-things denim, and when I got to this look, I fell in love.


I have a lovely pair of denim bermudas from Gap that are fine, but they are close fitting to my thighs and upper knees, and while they are decently flattering, I knew in my heart I needed a pair slouchy, loose, relaxed jorts (in the lovely sense) to call my own.

Living on a shoestring budget I've learned to adapt and overcome when pursuing many objects of my desire, and this look was no exception. I decided that the best course of action would be to find a pair of relaxed-fit men's jeans, and cut, distress, roll and sew them in place to make my own Swift ensemble.

I pranced into my friendly, neighborhood Target and approached the dressing room with 8 different pairs of male jeans to try on.

When the sales woman saw what I was bringing in she said, "Those are boys' jeans."
"Yes, I know," I replied pleasantly.
"Why you tryin' dem on? They're not for girls."
"Because I want to buy some," came my cheerfully condescending reply.
"But those are for boys," came the unsurprising answer.
"Yes, I know, and they're for me too."

Unimpressed, she let me into a fitting room, and when I returned to her the seven pairs that didn't work and proudly clutched the winning pair she eyed me judgementally and rolled her eyes, probably remembering a time when women looked like ladies, and so on and so forth.

Regardless of that minor obstacle, I practically skipped to the register, where my total amounted to $6.48. I will document the transformation and hope that the mental image for the final product matches the end result.

True Story Tuesday - Bunnies & Babies

I have Lobster to thank for refreshing my memory about this little nugget. How I could have forgotten is truly beyond me.

After quitting my sorority, I spent the rest of the semester (about 2 more months) living in the house (awkward much?) with the delightful Southern Sunshine. When my stint was over, I moved into the apartment beneath Lobster's. My two new roommates were utter strangers, but were sweet and nice and all around good roommates. Several days after moving in, I returned home to an empty house to find a rabbit hippity hopping around the apartment. We lived on the bottom floor, so we were no strangers to the odd bug or somesuch making its way into our abode, but I thought the rabbit a bit odd. Hours passed until Roommate A arrived home, shrieking, "Buster! How did you get out???" Apparently Buster was her pet bunny that lived atop her dresser (and parttime roaming the apartment). A nice rabbit he certainly was, but I didn't have any extreme emotional attachment to him. We bonded quickly, though, when my roommate disappeared for several weeks leaving Buster Boy with no food, water, etc. It became my sole purpose to keep him alive. When she finally returned and found Buster safe and sound, she didn't thank me, question who had fed him or anything. Strange, I thought, but the weirdest was yet to come.

I had been there for a few months, and while we lived our lives very differently, I really had no complaints about our arrangements; however, one day I came home from the gym to find both my roommates home with a friend. All were sitting on the floor in the living room playing with a precious baby. "Polka Dots!" Roommate B cried when she saw me, "This is Trixie LaRue and her baby. They're going to be living with us for a few weeks." Ummmmmm, what??? I love babies, and I'm certainly open to letting friends visit for weekends, etc, but having a mom and tiny baby LIVE with me? Notsomuch. As it happened, though, mother and baby did stay with us... complete with bottles crowding the sink, diapers in the trashcan, crying all night and spit up on our carpet. When I kindly inquired about the living situation, Roommate B informed me matter-of-factly, "Well, she's between apartments right now. Her boyfriend is paying for her to have a personal trainer, so she can get in shape, then she'll move to Greensboro to be a stripper." Ooooh, in that case, no problem. ?!?!?

Roaming rabbits and Striving Strippers? I just don't understand people.

1 Winner and 1 Notsomuch

I've been remiss not to announce the winner of my Sew Your Own giveaway. Using Random.org, we have our winner. Drumroll please... Jill at Peeptoe Pumps & Pearls! Jill, email me at polkadotsandproteinbars{at}gmail{dot}com, so we can discuss making your apron or sundress.

So there's our fabulous winner. Now for the Notsomuches. I have been reading as blog after blog extols the liquid goodness of Sonic's Diet Cherry Limeade. Call it peer pressure, curiosity, conforming or a search to quench my thirst, but I decided to try it. We have multiple Sonics in town, but I had never been to one. Until yesterday.

Grabbing Baby Sis (did you forget about her? She's dropped off the face of the blog, I know), I headed first to Zaxby's to tame my zzzzzzzzzzzzzalad craving (oh yeah, I'm looking at you Zouthern Zunshine). Because apparently Sunday is all about walking on the wild side, I opted to forgo my regularly scheduled grilled chicken house zalad (minus the cucumbers and tomatoes, with Light Ranch, pleaze) and chose the Blue Zalad Buffaloed (with Light Ranch instead of Bleu Cheese, natch).

Now, I was beyond excited to dig into this zalad, that is, until I actually did. I've had it on several occassions, and it's delish, but apparently the Zunday night crew was feeling fiesty and drenched my zalad in XXX Habanero Heat sauce. I'm not wimp to spicy foods - my mom's Louisiana-born, after all - but my mouth was in flames... I'm talking sweaty, red face (as per usual, really), crying, etc. I pushed the plate away, disappointed and in pain. Or so I thought. The pain in my mouth was N-O-T-H-I-N-G compared to the pain that quickly hit my chest. Immediate Onset Heartburn? Perhaps. I'm not sure. All I know is that several tiny people, wielding machetes were stabbing me repeatedly in the chest. I was gasping for air and trying not to laugh, move, cough, or breathe while Little Ziz calmly finished her much tamer zalad. Ever the compassionate zibling, Sis laughed at my ordeal, noted that I sounded like I was in labor and inquired whether I was still up for a Sonic run to cap our evening of torture fun and bonding.

Always a trooper, I agreed, certain that the chilly goodness would ease my pain. When we arrived at the drive-in window, I could barely feel the chest blades thanks in part to my overshadowing excitement. With the precision of synchronized swimmers, Sis and I plunged our straws into the icy depths and took a sip. Aaaannnddd... that's it? I mean, really? It wasn't bad, but it was just... off. Too much tang, not enough sweet? Overall the experience was more than a little underwhelming, I must say. Maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe I shouldn't have put earth-shattering standards on a drink. From Sonic. In Indian Trail, NC. Whatever the reason, I was disappointed. I threw the drink away while it was still half-full (or half-empty, however you choose to see).

In conclusion:
- My heart did, in fact, stop dying.
- I will never again trust the workers at Zaxby's on Monroe Rd.
- While I still love the Sonic commercials, I will only admire them from afar.
- Diet Cherry Limeades don't live up to the hype. My tastebuds said so.
- If you think you may be near death, make sure to have my sister with you - she will absolutely not overreact, and will remain robotically calm. She will also laugh at you and give you strange looks as you hyperventilate.
- She may also call you a drama queen.

Clowning Around

I was going to save this for True Story Tuesday, but it was just too good.

Earlier this week I was driving down 485 in Charlotte, when I passed a car. Ah, yes, that does happen often in this city, but this was no ordinary '88 Corolla with rusted paint and no hub caps. In fact, this car was being driven and passengered by 4 full made-up clowns. On a weekday. What?!

So. Many. Things. Wrong.

Can we talk about the all sorts of wrong happening here (minus the insane abs, of course)?

Butterfingers

I've kept you out of the loop. I'm getting a roommate. She's a stranger, and she's moving in tomorrow. Actually, she's not a 100% stranger; in fact, she's good friends with one of my best friend's sisters (capiche?). Considering that I've lived alone for the last year and loved it (still have scarring from my stint with Crazy-Psycho-Roommate-From-Hell), I'm not exactly excited about the arrangement, but my bank account is thrilled, and she's a lovely girl, so I know it will be great. Who doesn't love making new friends, right?

I decided to get serious making the upstairs presentable, oh, about an hour ago. Proper Roommate Readiness Cleanup mandated making room for her in my closet-sized bathroom, clearing out Christmas decorations residing in the extra bedroom, transporting said decor to my CRV, sweeping dust bunnies from the vacant room and removing all my clothing from the extra closet (oh, how I'll miss the extra closet).

Another thing you should know about me... I abhor, hate and loathe taking multiple trips. Why take 3, 4 or 5 trips when you can schlep it all in 1? In theory the practice sounds perfectly efficient and time-saving. 2 shattered bottles of nail polish, 18 nail polish remover soaked cotton balls, 6 broken Christmas ornaments, 1 (or more) scratch in my 1930's hardwood, 4 broken fingernails, 2 smashed toes, 1 bloody lip, 64 tears, and 27 minutes later, and everything is ready for Miss Rooms to set up house. Yes Sirree, efficiency at its finest.

How to Not Make Friends

Many of life's most important lessons I learn from observing human behavior at the gym. Recently I've learned that by committing any singular behavior or combination of the below habits, you will not make friends. In fact, most people will avoid you.

1. Treadmill Tootin' - No stranger to or 'phobe of natural body functions, I understand that it sometimes happens, but if each step is accompanied by flatulence, you will not be wildly popular. In fact you may notice a 2 machine buffer on either side of you. Your name is Tooty Nofriends.

2. Stairmaster Soprano - It has been documented on this humble blog that I have a pet peeve of people singing aloud whilst wearing headphones. The irritation has reached new heights when, while plowing through a step-climbing workout, my ears were assailed by the vocal renditions of Beyonce-wannabe. Clearly, you are not working hard enough if you can muster the oxygen capacity to sing. No one likes a Sweaty SOLOist.

3. Scented Cyclist - Perhaps it's just my hypersensitive neurosis, but it is not counterproductive to suck down an entire pack of cigarettes pre-workout? Aside from the black lung you've strapped on to accompany your iPod, the entire gym is now filled with a rancid nicotine after-burn odor. Like Tooty Nofriends, there is also a built in buffer surrounding you. Few people plan on receiving secondhand smoke with their six-pack. Oh, Blacklung Betty, my respiratory system aches for you.

4. Entitled Ellipticalist - Hey, Grabby Gloria, no, I am not finished reading that magazine. Yes, that book on the floor does belong to me. No, you may not look at it. Yes, that is my towel. Yes, I have wiped my perspiration on it. No, you cannot borrow my cell phone while you are drenched in sweat. Yes, you are a terrible machine neighbor. We may share oxygen space, but we do not share the rest of our "stuff." Please keep your hands to yourself. K? Thanks.

Boom Boom Pow

Nothing beats a long holiday weekend! Thursday night BF and I attended his hometown's Independence Day Carnival. Live music, rides, games, fresh squeezed lemonade and homemade ice cream made our evening divine. I spent Friday at the gym, helping my dad paint my bathroom, and put some finishing touches on the rest of the rooms. I also worked on some sewing projects and enjoyed the beautiful Southern sunshine.

Despite a migraine ending my night early, I spent a wonderfully festive Fourth of July at a Sundresses & Seersucker party with Boyfriend, some coworkers, and some friends. Intense rounds of cornhole ensued, and neighbors' fireworks capped the night. I finished my peacock dress in time for the festivities, and I'm thrilled with the result. Speaking of which, don't forget to enter my giveaway by Wednesday!

I just got home from a wonderfully rejuvenating day of church services, and I'm still basking in the joy that being in fellowship with passionate believers provides. God is truly with us.

Polka Dots & Protein Bars "Sew Your Own" Giveaway

It's official! Time for a giveaway!

As you know, you've all voted and chosen this fabric to win.
Because of the diversity of what you ladies want made from it, I'll leave that to the winner. Want to play? It's easy (and really blase and standard by now - sorry I'm not being more creative with the rules)!

For one entry: Leave a comment telling me what you would like made out of this fabric.
For two entries: Become a follower or let me know that you already follow.
For three entries: Leave a comment, do the following bit and blog about the giveaway on your page.

In your comments let me know how many entries you're entitled to. I'll pick a winner Wednesday, July 8. I hope you all enjoy this one! Good luck! :-)

Rule #20 - Best Before...

Before topping your Lean Cuisine Quesadilla (have you had these? SCRUMPTIOUS) with a (large) dollop of Light Sour Cream and taking a bite, it is advisable to check the date on which the container expires. If it was best before December 19, 2008, don't try to pretend that it could still be decent on June 30, 2009. It won't be. It also won't really look like sour cream. Gray is not the same color as white.

After dumping the quesadilla and opting for a peanut butter sandwich instead, you may think that the sour cream incident proves that it's time to clean out the fridge. When you stumble upon a container of pineapple juice in the back of the fridge that was best before December 9, 2008 (and absolutely essential to your Christmas punch), hold your nose when you dump it in the sink. Instead of light, fruity, tangy, delicious pineapple nectar, you will discover thick, black tar in its place. Pina colada anyone?