A Brand New Flava

When Zone Perfect changed its recipe for Chocolate Caramel Cluster bars, I thought my life in protein bars was over. Yes, I enjoyed the Cinnamon Roll and Chocolate Coconut Crunch bars just fine, but those weren't the main event of my protein bar diet, and they didn't have the strength to become so. Saddened I moved on to other brands and found complete solace only in Power Bar Triple Threat Chocolate Caramel Fusion bars, but there was still a void in my heart.

Zone introduced their dark chocolate line last year, and I began to feel my pulse once more. Dark Chocolate Strawberry became a regular on the rotation, yet it wasn't quite the caliber I was desiring. As of Saturday, however, my world once again has color (and flavor) thanks to the brand new Zone Perfect offerings.

While perusing Target's protein supplement selection my little eye spied two new flavors: Dark Chocolate Cookies & Cream and Dark Chocolate Caramel Pecan. I chose the pecan variety, and my friends, my tastebuds are singing once again. The bars are the perfect flavor combination and instead of a jaw-ache-inducing crunch/chew incongruous texture, Zone has made these slices of heavenly pleasantly crispy with just the right amount of caramel softness. D. Vine.

Zone Perfect

Slow Rider

I have a streak of tactile defensiveness in my nature. I love the look of sleek, tucked in shirts, and I sincerely believe that camisoles are the most amazing piece of clothing ever created, but along with both of these items comes the dreaded "slow ride."

When first donned, everything looks great, feels great. Make a motion, sit down or stand up, however, and suddenly your shirt (or shirts) or a bunchy, jumbled, riding up mess. You're left with two options... spend the day constantly pulling, prodding or otherwise adjusting OR do what I do: channel a blue haired senior citizen and tuck your offending items into your underwear.

Oh yes, horror of horrors, the waistband of my pants just isn't doing a good enough job holding everything in place. I've now drafted the elastic of my undergarments into active duty. Am I proud? No. Is my mind resting easy because there's a place for everything, and finally, everything is in its place? Oh, my friends, yes.

Each time I take a trip to the water closet I look myself disdainfully in the eyes knowing that I am voluntarily choosing to commit the faux pas's of faux pas's - a crime best suited for nursing home lounges; however, the ride has stalled, and I'm sitting pretty with a smooth, sleek and bunch-resistant top.

My Not-ty List

I'm no fashion authority, nor do I claim to be, but just, no.

1. The Canadian Tuxedo - I've seen more than one offender in my place of work over the past few weeks. Whether you're mixing washes or going for the washochromatic look, sorry. Not working.

2. Jorts - The return of summer means plenty of warm weather to flaunt your games, but please be careful about how you do it. Men in jean shorts turns women off faster than saying, "I have an STD." If worn the proper way women can be sexy in jean shorts. General rule: if you have male anatomy, don't don jorts. Ever.

3. Middle Parts - I very, very rarely see middle parts done in a flattering way on non-celebs. Middle parts do absolutely nothing to boost volume or create an actual hairstyle; they also tend to make face shapes long, saggy and sad.

4. Peace signs - Actors and actresses are supposed to be creative types, no? Then why can Lindsay Lohan, Lisa Rinna, Miley Cyrus and others not manage to contort their hands in any other shape than the vomit-inducing peace sign?


5. Fringe - I know that fashion In-The-Knows are insisting that fringe happen. Call me square, but I just really hate this boho look. Ruffles = A+; fringe = D-. I like clean-cut and streamline. Personal preference, I guess.


6. Man-icure - Men should not wear nail polish. Male polish is not okay. End of story.

7. Obama love - Beyond not being an Obama fan politically, I'm not an Obama trend fan either. He's our President, not the latest wardrobe fad.

8. Tyra Banks - One word... Woof.

Lootin' and Pollutin'

We're the Planeteers, and you can be one too, 'cuz saving our planet is the thing to do.

Looting and polluting is not the way; hear what Captain Planet has to say...

The power is YOURS!

Whatevs

If I haven't mentioned it 1 or a million times, I am a huge TV junkie. Mindless entertainment is so okay in my book. I'm also uber-preppy but not a fan whatsoever of Martha Stewart. I like her projects, and I like her magazines and the idea of her, but I think she comes across as cold, standoffish and distance (unless she's talking to your girl and mine, Hopsy, of course). I just think she tends to have the personality of a dead fish. It makes me uncomfortable.

Anywho, I'm housesitting at Madame P's this week, and while I was flipping through the channels on Tuesday night I discovered my newest obsession... "Whatever Martha" on the Fine Living Network. If you're unfamiliar with the show, it features Martha's daughter Alexis and her friend Jennifer watching old episodes of Martha and basically tearing them to shreds. Alexis has the dryest, most sarcastic biting wit, and I love it. I very rarely watch a show and laugh out loud (unless Lobster and I are having running commentary about epic fail bachelorettes or the most epic fail of all, Tyra Banks), and never do when I'm watching by myself. Within the first 30 seconds or so, I was hooked and giggling to myself at regular intervals.

The most amazing part about the show is that it's created and executive produced by none other than the ice queen herself! Martha pre-approves all of these shows, and the fact that she is okay with Alexis and Jennifer dissecting the unflattering fit of her lilac oxford or suggesting that Martha create a bra instead of mittens for Molly Ringwald out of old sweaters, makes me rethink my opinion of Miz Stewart.

Furry Friday

This week has been beyond draining, so I'm going to be lazy with this post and share a sequence of photos illustrating Sadie's neverending love for all things bedding, just like her mama :-) Please excuse the poor quality caused by the wonders of the camera phone.

...Who Art in Heaven...Hallowed Be Thy Name...

Dear Heavenly Father,

Wow. It’s Thursday, but my heart and my head can’t stop thinking about Sunday. You sure knew how to prick my heart with Pastor Furtick’s sermon on temptation. Lord, it is so easy for me to pretend like sermons don’t apply to me. The examples so often used about drugs, alcohol, stealing, murder, etc, don’t apply to me, Father. Outwardly, I have it together and those “big sins” aren’t a problem. On Sunday, though, You knew my heart. You allowed the example of worry to pervade the message, and You spoke directly to me. “Worry is the opposite of worship,” I was told. “Worry is a sin,” it was repeated. In my got-my-stuff-together-piety I had disregarded my chronic fears, worry, need for personal perfection and anxiety and instead credited them to being mature, responsible, aware and proactive. Satan’s studied me as I’ve grown closer to You, and he knows all about the pride and insecurity that live in me, and he’s using them to attack me and wedge his way into our relationship.

Dear Lord, those anxieties and concerns that started out so small and tiny have become my security blanket. I have enveloped and wrapped myself in them, and I don’t want to let go. Father, whether I continue you to deny it or not, You know my heart, and You know that my insecurity, worry and stress all stems from a refusal to truly trust You with my life. In my mind, I’m independent; I don’t clog your ear with petty problems. To your eyes, I’m a stubborn child who is blind to the fact that Your Will for my life, Your path for my feet, Your hope for my heart far exceed those that I try to control for myself.

God, since I was a tiny girl I have professed you as my Savior, the Lord of my life, and although I do sincerely love you, I have spent years acting as though a Savior is nice but not truly necessary. I talk the talk, Lord. Outwardly, I walk the walk. I know the jargon, the buzz words, the lingo of Christianity. Father, internally, I’m a wadded up, wrinkled, soiled and stained ball of mess. Just because others don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there, although that’s how I’ve lived. And that, Lord, is the reason that I need a Savior. It’s the reason that I need YOU.

Forgive me for wrapping myself in my own self-concern, worries, fear of failure, perfectionism and need to control my own life. Work in my heart, God, as I continue to struggle with wrapping myself in doubt and war with Satan to allow You to control my path and trust You to guide me. Shame on me for failing to even follow through with a Scripture I proclaim to be my favorite, Philippians 4:8, which commands us, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Lord, help me fix my mind and wandering heart on You, Your glory, Your beauty, Your promises, Your love. Forgive my doubt; forgive my fear; forgive my anxious heart; forgive my self-centeredness; forgive my flippant disregard; forgive my incessant worry. Thank You for your never-failing grace, eternal patience, and unconditional love for this prodigal child.

It’s In Your Precious Son’s Name That I Fall at Your Feet,

Caroline

True Story Tuesday

Up until this point most have my True Story Tuesdays have involved recounting past events. Lucky for you, dear readers (special shout out to Little Sis who is bedridden with mono), this week's true story occurred on Friday.

My high school best friend, Georgia Peach, and Lobster can both attest to the fact that I am very naive in terms of what is naughty, obscene, vulgar or crude. I really don't mind being this way, but from time to time it can get me in some trouble.

For the most part, I like to pretend that I understand double entendres, dirty jokes and the like, and I usually play along and sometimes throw in my two cents worth. Miss Georgia and Lobster have both been tasked with letting me know when (1) I'm completely missing the reference (2) using it incorrectly or (3) accidentally saying something dirty without meaning to. Unfortunately neither of my dear friends were around on Friday during a staff meeting.

As an agency we have vowed to spend more time working with social networking tools to promote our clients, and as such, we have begun meeting regularly to discuss social monitoring networks. Our most recent forum was on Twitter. While discussing Twitter, twittering, tweets, etc, the question was humorously raised about what you call tweeting in the past tense: tweeted? twittered? Enthusiastically, because I love making up new words, I loudly and eagerly volunteered, "TWAT!" Some of my coworkers looked aghast while others laughed heartily and agreed that it was a possibility. Satisfied with my new word creation, I repeated it several times during the course of the meeting and then forgot about it.

Later in the day, my coworker Red sent an email to me and my best workgal regarding Stephen Colbert's use of the word "twat" on the Today Show while referring to Twitter and the subsequent backlash. Confused about why my word would be considered newsworthy or controversial, I decided to do some research. When I Googled the term twat, I stared in horror at the results. Not only were my eyes assailed with obscene images but an accompanying definition that left me mortified.

I had just announced to most of my agency that a slang reference to a woman's nether-regions should be widely used in association with Twitter. Really classy move, Polka Dots. When I tried to explain that I had absolutely no idea what I was really saying, both of my associates eyed me doubtfully and skeptically. I explained my need for Lobster and Georgia Peach, but neither appeared satisfied.

At this point I should probably just send an All Staff email apologizing for my vulgarity and announcing that the doctors are still testing me for Tourette's.

Brunchety Brunch Brunch

Saturday morning dawned bright, warm and cheery for my belt-brunch party. Little headed over to help me get everything ready before we were joined by about 10 of my favorite ladies for a little brunchin', munchin' and shoppin'. It was truly a wonderfully fun time, and a lovely gathering to celebrate the sunshine and springtime (and, of course, update our wardrobes with some fun new accessories)! I served citrus almond pound cake, miniature quiches, garlic-cheddar biscuits, fresh fruit (strawberries, blackberries and pineapple), baked oatmeal (thank you, thank you Preppy Nonsense for a delightfully easy and yummy recipe), and orange and grapefruit mimosas. Fresh pink tulips and sunny daffodils complete the look. Of course I forgot to take pictures of my beautiful guests, but I did manage to snap some shots of the spread (why yes, I do love alliteration).

Rule #14 - The Sincerest Form of Flattery

If you are doing a spot-on impression of one of your coworkers, and said coworker sneaks up on you from behind and asks who you are imitating, she probably won't believe you when you answer, "Don Rickles," even though, in reality, the similarities are uncanny.