Magnolias & Mimosas

Champagne Friday: Random Style

2012-01-13T14:24:00.006-05:00

I have been conspicuously absent around here this week. I haven't felt great and between catching up on Downton Abbey's season 2 premier on the PBS website, trying to stockpile R.E.D. Friday items, and starting my taxes...well, there hasn't been much of anything bloggy in my life this week. But I can't let a Champagne Friday pass without celebrating. So this week I'm popping a cork and recounting some random events from the past week that never quite made it onto the blog. If you have a little random of your own, be sure to link up with Shana.

1. Neal has started back to school so while he's writing papers about the structure of leadership in organizational leadership in leadership companies (or something), I'm watching 30 Rock...from start to now. That's 102 episodes. I'm on number 70. So far, I've learned that Frank is not that foul when dressed as a Harvard man, Jason Sudeikis is way hotter when he's playing Liz's boyfriend, and that show has a lot of guest stars. Like people who, I would imagine, have to appear due to some unfortunate loophole in their contract (especially any cast members from SNL...except for Seth Myer. How did he get out of it?).

2. A number of my friends opted out of Christmas cards this year and decided to go with Happy New Year's cards instead. And here I thought they just didn't care. Also, we are sending out Happy Arbor Day cards instead of Christmas cards so, y'know, keep an eye open for that coming soon to your mailbox.

3. All of the sports commentators nonchalantly commented on Tuesday night that Auburn wouldn't give UK too much trouble in the game on Wednesday. Thanks a freakin lot, guys. We nearly lost and I would have been all too happy to blame it on you and your dooming predictions. Save them for our opponents, will you?

4. While watching the evening news this week, there was a commercial for a flavor enhancer that you put in your food. It comes in a packet and you add the "chicken" flavor to chicken, "beef" flavor to beef, and so on. What the what? Do I even want to know why companies don't think our chicken tastes chickeny enough for us?

5. The season 2 premier of Downton Abbey got clobbered by the critics. Of course, these are the same people who said I should watch Dances With Wolves (still haven't made it through without falling asleep), How Green Was My Valley (sounds like a porn film), and Titanic (OK, you have me there. Although geez, Rose...can you freaking scoot over so Jack doesn't have to freeze to death?). But I thought it was magnificent. A bit of a twist for Mr. Bates and Anna...a little bit o war to keep it real...and Dame Maggie inserting barbs whenever possible. They will probably not win any awards for their depiction of the English at war, but I don't watch DA (I'm going to shorten it and see if it catches on in the interwebs) for the war scenes. I watch it to see Mrs. O'Brien scheme and Lady Mary pine after Matthew. Because I'm a chick and that's what we do.

6. Lastly, Neal has discovered a pizza place in Macon that is 7 different types of garlicky goodness. They get their crust to puff up like Papa John's, but without the tub of grease floating on the top. But if you don't have anything of the Ingleside variety near you, Papa John's is giving away a pizza every 45 seconds every Saturday until Super Bowl. I guess this is their new marketing strategy...if there's going to be a heart attack every 45 seconds, let's make sure we're the leading cause.

Happy Champagne Friday. A toast to you, wherever you are!

Champagne Friday: The British Are Coming

2012-01-06T11:49:00.006-05:00

you're the best

I was actually searching for an image of British royalty casually sipping on champagne for this post. But a complete lack of images tells me one thing: the British royalty do not openly sip champagne. And I just think that's a damn shame. Although, I bet Camilla does a pretty healthy keg stand.

For this Champagne Friday, I am unabashedly singing the praises of PBS's new season of Downton Abbey. No...that is not DownTown Abbey. That would be a McMansion parked squarely in Covent Garden. Downton Abbey is the engaging and soap opera-esque story of the upstairs inhabitants of a country home outside of London and the downstairs staff that keeps it running.

With the exception of Maggie Smith (that's Dame Maggie Smith to you), who plays the reigning Dowager Countess of Grantham (but may be more familiar from her roles in Harry Potter), I recognized none of the cast. But they perfectly execute their roles so that it's easy to imagine yourself falling into the patterns of either the upstairs or downstairs lifestyle. I recently read a review in the USA Today that said one of the reasons Downton Abbey is such enthralling entertainment is because the staff are not treated like third class citizens by the upstairs residents. In the first season, the cook cried on the earl's shoulder and the butler lent comfort to the oldest Grantham sister. Their lives are intertwined and the series shows an easy, albeit occasionally dramatic, interaction between those living upstairs and those working downstairs.

The second season starts on PBS on Sunday, which is why I'm spewing my British love, all the way from the colonies, here today. If you want to get caught up before Sunday, fortunately the first season is only approximately 7 hours long. You can find the 7 episodes of about 45 minutes each on Netflix instant streaming or you can watch them on the PBS website. Another reason to love a hit PBS show? As they are facing a possible cut in government funding, it's so much easier to donate to a station that gives added quality to your life. Also, it's public television and I have yet to hear anyone on Downton Abbey drop an f, s, or h-bomb. And the sex scenes consist of a twee bit of kissing and maybe a hand wrapped around the head. Three cheers for not having to cover Neal's eyes!

I'll leave you with some of the Dowager Countess's more cutting remarks...so very British...so very witty. They are delivered so precisely and so quickly sometimes that it's hard to get them all!

And some of these could give a bit of the plot away so if you would rather hear for yourself, then I'll leave you here. Happy Weekend and Happy Champagne Friday!

"I couldn't have electricity in the house, I wouldn't sleep a wink. All those vapors floating about."

"Last night! He looked so well. Of course it would happen to a foreigner. No Englishman would dream of dying in someone else's house."

"Why does everyday involve a fight with an American?"

Corn and Caucuses (or what I learned from Wikipedia this morning)

2012-01-03T12:09:00.004-05:00

This is what I know about Iowa:

1) It is in the midwest.
2) They grow corn there.
3) When I was 10 years old, the love of my 5th grade year, Jeremy Woodford, moved with his family (as if he had a choice at the ripe age of 10 to stay behind and live out his days with me) to Des Moines and left me clutching his elementary school football jersey in the gym after a dance.
4) Every 4 years, the candidates flock to the state to duke it out and win over the undecided voter.

The Iowa caucus generally falls on the first Tuesday of January, which means you probably missed most of the hype due to the month-long excitement of office Christmas parties and watching the Yule Log on Netflix. But even when you aren't tuned in, it still happens.

Iowa seems to be a rather random choice for candidates to attack and conquer. A more rational decision would be Texas. Look how many people live in Texas. That's like half the country. Seal up the Texan vote and you are as good as inaugurated. Or what about Maryland? Those folks live so close (and sometimes intertwined with) the D.C. set that surely they would only vote in someone they deem worthy as a neighbor.

But, nope, Iowa it is. All because Georgia governor, Jimmy Carter, used his "win" in Iowa to catapult him into success in New Hampshire and ultimately to 1600 Pennsylvania. Ever since, candidates have traveled to America's land of corn and Jeremy Woodford to hold court in places like The Pizza Ranch. These town hall meetings, which sometimes happen in a town hall but more often than not take place in someone's colonial home living room (decorated with Queen Anne coffee tables and a roaring fire) are called caucuses. I love the word caucus. I think it sounds like a rowdy party of cactuses (except, technically it's cacti and when you say it like that it just doesn't make sense any more). So these cactuses get together on a Friday night and, fueled by Captain Morgan rum and the hopes of bumping pricklies with a cactus from Economics class, throw a toga party in the basement of a city hall building. By midnight, the DJ is grinding jams while the cactuses are grinding trunks and that is called a caucus.

Or it's "a smoke-filled room where candidates for public election are pre-selected in private", according to the diary of James Adams. Although James Hammond Trumbull suggested that it comes from the Algonquin word for counsel. And other sources claim it is derived from the Latin word caucus, meaning "drinking vessel".

Regardless of whether they're getting counseled or getting drunk, Iowa gets the first stab at it every 4 years. But the Iowa caucus is not without its fair share of controversy.

Winning the Iowa caucus does not always equate to presidency.

Apparently, the Democrats must vote publicly in an Iowa caucus, which is just lunacy. Even a Kindergarten teacher can tell you that closing your eyes and raising your hand is the only legitimate way to take a vote.

Absentee voting is not allowed. Our deepest apologies to all of the Iowan military serving abroad. You are basically Washington D.C. during the Iowa caucus.

The equation for calculating votes is apparently very complex and not as easy as "1 for Bachman, 5 for Gingrich, 19457436368474 for Romney."

Speaking of complex, my hat goes off to whomever wrote the breakdown for the Democratic and Republican processes for Wikipedia. I got hopelessly lost somewhere around the 2nd paragraph and started thinking about how I was so hungry for strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. But I think everyone would agree, you know your political shit.

So, today is a big day for the corn-fed. They will close their eyes and raise their hands (being Republican and all) and later tonight someone will emerge victorious. I hope it's Rick Santorum in those ridiculous v-neck vests. I see a fashion trend there that's just itching to emerge.

And now that I think about it, maybe substitute the word "potato" for every time I used the word "corn". Hard to keep my starches straight.

Do you live in Iowa? Do you have some light to shed on the matter? Are you offended that I called you corn-fed? Don't take it personally, so am I.

Oh the Difference a Year Makes

2012-01-01T11:00:00.004-05:00

When I awoke this morning, it could have been any other day in any other year. We were in bed and asleep by the time 2012 rolled in and only the excessive news coverage of last night's celebrations reminds me that it's a new year with new plans, new expectations, and new dreams. Otherwise I would still be writing 2011 at the top of my checks.

So, obviously I am returning well in advance of my anticipated February 1 date. And if I had come back when Neal's deployment was done, I would have been moved back over here around the middle of November. But I waffled about leaving behind new readers and returning to a blog full of good times and the saddest of sad memories. Ultimately, Magnolias & Mimosas best describes my affinity for the full white petals of the deep south trees and justified drinking before noon. And, of course, my enduring love affair with the ampersand.

I would do a year in review, but a) I am not much inclined to spend vast amounts of time and energy reciting the past and b) I think you would be less inclined to read it. Suffice it to say, Neal and the 352 were integral in closing down Iraq (and, consequently, in the quietly televised ceremony of troops crossing the Kuwait border and American flags being lowered for the last time) and I spent my time and our money trying to distract myself from his absence and my loneliness. But I also grew the business to a point where I am now able to pay myself a salary and I very nearly finished our wedding scrapbook...5 years in the making. We learned how to endure involuntary separation with more patience, understanding, love, and humor than ever before. We remembered how to depend on one another again.

And we are leaving 2011, the Iraq War (although, technically, it is termed Operation New Dawn since Congress never sanctioned the thing to begin with), and Skype as our only means of communication behind. We are looking forward to finishing our tour in Georgia and expanding our family when the time comes. But I don't think of today as The Beginning, filled with hope and promise and all that is fresh and new. I closed the door on 2011 the day the 352 arrived home. I welcomed the new year and all that it offered on a sun-toasted day in the middle of November. The Beginning doesn't have to always land squarely on 1 January. It's convenient for calendar sales and comparing resolutions around a break room plate of fiber squares, but it is not wholly necessary.

Therefore, for us, it's just another day. Except for these Paleo eggs that Neal urged me to try...just as I was reaching for the waffle maker.

Hiatus

2011-02-01T11:58:00.003-05:00

Y'know how when bloggers get all ambitious and motivated and try to start a second blog, they suddenly realize that they can't keep up with the first one? And you, as readers, think I can barely stay on top of this one and now she's adding another blog? How will I ever keep up? It's sort of like that around here.

I would like to think that I am not defined by the events in my life. But the truth is, I absolutely am. I am defined by the loss of a son, the life I live in the south now, the deployments we have endured. And to say that M&M will not become an "Army Wife" blog is just wishful thinking. I am defined by how we will get through this third deployment and that will color every post I write from now until the end. Therefore, the result is an Army Wife blog. I didn't start M&M with that intention. Being married to a Soldier was just part of a bigger life, so I feel like it's dishonest to continue posting under this blog. I get aggravated when I begin following a blogger who describes their blog as a smattering of life's little moments and then it turns into a blog about one aspect of their life. Every post is about their new husband, new baby, new job, new deployment. I will read the first 4 or 5 posts, but after that, I'm out because that's not what I signed up for. So, I'm giving you all an out...a chance to duck out of something that you did not sign up for.

Magnolias & Mimosas is going on hiatus until February 2012. My blogging will continue over at 400 Wake-ups until Neal returns home next year. My smattering of life's little moments are defined by the distance, both physical and emotional, from my husband and my blogging can't help but reflect that. You have all been such faithful and dedicated readers of Magnolias & Mimosas that in the interest of complete disclosure, you should have a chance to bow out of this Army Wife's blog. When he returns, life as I once knew it will return. Being married to a Soldier will once again just be a part of who we are as a couple and the life that we lead in the deep south. So, until then, au revoir or come find me at 400 Wake-ups.

And thank you to everyone who has been so devoted to this blog. My passion for writing has not changed, only the location where I share it.

xoxo and Cheers!

Allyson

The 4th is the New 1st

2011-01-04T12:37:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year!!

Personally, I am a little ready for 2011 to choke on a Hot Tamale and die...but I wish you all the best in the next 12 months. That's not true...I don't want 2011 to die. That's like saying I hate 2011. And all I can hear is my childhood babysitter's voice in my head saying It's not nice to "hate" something. You don't hate it. Hate is a strong word. So, I don't hate or wish death on the new year. I'm just not particularly looking forward to it.

The packing began on Sunday.

Now my "workout room" is littered with piles of varying shades of brown and green. I am not complaining, though, because as soon as those piles are gone, so is he.

As I was lying in bed last night, alternating between staring at the ceiling and staring at the clock, I began to think about these next 3 weeks. The 3 weeks leading up to the last deployment were spent feverishly working to get the interior of the house painted. Not because it was going on the market or even because it needed it. I just thought it would be lovely to have the house painted. I have never regretted a decision more than that one.

These 3 weeks are simply going to fly. He will work everyday until we head to Kentucky. Then it will be a whirlwind of visits, trying to see everyone one last time. We have 2 tiny projects to complete on the townhouse between all of the visiting. Then it's a race back to Georgia so that he can finish packing and I can stick him on a jet plane...don't know when he'll be back again.

I would say of the entire deployment, the month leading up to and the month before coming home are quite possibly the hardest. In the middle...even after the second month, really...you have established a routine. Oh, right...the trash goes out on Wednesday night....I can work out in the evenings now...Remember to start the cars and motorcycle once a week...Why is that electric bill so high in Kentucky? I need to send Mama Virgo over to check it out...That sort of thing. Even the phone calls from Iraq become routine.

Sort of.

What many civilians don't understand is that if I'm at the movies and I get a phone call from the desert, I'm stepping out to the lobby. If I get a call and I am in the middle of the pew, in the middle of the church, during mass, I'm taking that call. I eat, sleep, and pee with my phone beside me. Because I can't call him back when the movie is over. I can't call him back if I leave it on my desk while I run out to get the mail and miss hearing it ring. It's hardly ever a breaking news phone call. Mostly it's How are you?....Fine. You?....Good....What did you today?....Oh same ole' thing. You?...Grocery store, oil change, went to work out. I miss you and love you....I miss you and love you, too. What matters is hearing his voice, his laugh. Even though he laughs at everything and in the midst of a serious conversation it drives me nuts, he just wouldn't be the man I married without it.

I started thinking about those phone calls last night. And the quiet that fills the house at night. So much quiet that sometimes I feel like I'm just going to suffocate from the weight of it. And I started thinking about the worry. I have taken to calling his ultimate destination Camp Cupcake because there will be amenities that Forward Operating Bases in Afghanistan do not have. But he is traveling to a region that, according to CNN, is no longer part of the "war." And where there is no war, there is very little military protection. He is not worried, but I am.

And I began to think about the ceremonies planned for pre-deployment. I have never had the opportunity to participate in these events because he has always been cross-leveled in...meaning that he was pulled from his unit in Kentucky and attached to other units across the country. I have always been alone when that jet took off, not another spouse of a Soldier in sight. Now I will be surrounded by many of the family members in our unit. I can't sit down in the middle of the Atlanta airport and have an Ugly Face Cry like I did the last time. But maybe I shouldn't be doing that anyway.

Anticipation will make a person crazy. Predicting what the last few days of one chapter and the next few days of the next will hold...it will cause you to stare alternately at the ceiling and the clock. I am not new to this game and yet I still dread the coming days and weeks. Women often say to me, "I wish I could send my husband away for a year!" And mostly, all I can do is smile and nod because really, you don't. You don't want to send your husband, your best friend, you life partner into a completely inhospitable environment (both weather-wise and safety-wise) while you stay behind and keep everything running as smoothly as possible. When the baby projectile vomits all over 3 walls in the middle of the night, it's just you and a rag. There is really no point in even mentioning it when he does call because by that point, the situation has resolved itself, either for better or worse, and it would only cause him worry. There are a million tiny crises over the span of a year that you must address and dissolve. No woman wants to face these without at least a little bit of help from the man who said "I do." If he is making you crazy, send him on a golfing trip with his buddies. But don't suggest to a military wife that you would trade shoes with her in a hot second. Chances are, you would be banging on the door, wanting those Jimmy Choo's back in a week.

I am trying as hard as I can to continue being a functioning, even thriving, member of society. But the truth is, I'm suspended in a Jell-O mold of jealousy. I am jealous of the anniversaries spent together, of babies being born and babies being planned, of a weekend routine full of chores and projects done with a husband close by. We will have our Parisian holiday, complete with pie in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. It's just a long and lonely road to get there.

This post is part of my Deployment ramblings. I am writing these because A) another military wife, new to the game and lost in a sea of feelings, may stumble across this blog and realize that we are all in this together. We are a family and we all know what it's like to endure Annual Training, deployments, and pressing uniforms. No one should feel alone. There are too many of us. and B) Blogging forces me to sit down and record my life's events. Whether ridiculous or tragic, I can always look back through my blog and see how far I've come...how much further I have to go. Blogging through a deployment may just keep me from losing my mind. I have thought a LOT about this and have decided to close my comments during the Deployment ramblings. I am doing this not to prevent you from having your say, but from feeling like you must say anything at all. I know and love that you all are pulling for us, praying for us, thinking of us. I am not blogging about this deployment because I need affirmation. I am not doing it for sympathy or attention. I simply think that the stories that evolve out of a deployment will never make it onto CNN. So, I'm putting them here. It's the least I can do. If you really want to contact me, I check my email about 7000 times a day.

xoxo

The Eve of Eve

2010-12-23T12:34:00.004-05:00

I wanted to sit down and write one more nugget of love before Christmas officially arrives. Neal is off tomorrow through Monday and I anticipate lots of kitchen time, a fair amount of couch time, and maybe just a smattering of bed time. Not much blogging time. We are under the 30-day mark and if I don't think about it, I'm perfectly content. Once I start dwelling on the events Neal will miss and the shear loneliness that always accompanies a deployment, it's a total tailspin into multiple tubs of Nutella and bourbon. But I am making you this promise...there will be blogging! Magnolias and Mimosas burst onto the scene approximately a month after Neal arrived home from Kuwait. And what I regretted most about my decision to begin blogging was that I hadn't made that decision 13 months earlier. Not for the ego-stroking or self-gratifying posts about a military wife's struggles. It was more about providing the truest glimpse into deployment and the sorrowjoygrieffrustrationdelight that comes with it. I heard a pundit say once that only 5% of the American population is really affected by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The other 95% is at the mall. But what if you could read the stories from the front line? Breathe in the honesty? Translate that into action for our men and women in uniform and their families? We all sleep under the protection of the flag, sometimes blissfully unaware of the men and women who are providing that protection. I can be one story. From one perspective. I promise that over the next year, I will give my version of events...not for sympathy or even empathy...just to give a viewpoint.

But for now, the gifts are all wrapped and placed under a tree that is up and decorated only because I was bitten hard on the bah-humbug butt by the Christmas spirit at The Biltmore. We have more food than our base housing fridge can hold, a true testament to the blessings we are bestowed. And a wreath holds all of the Christmas cards we have received over the past couple of weeks. More blessings. We will spend the next few days baking, cooking, laughing, lounging, and being together. I will soak up every minute and store them in the footlockers of my mind so that I can pull them out when I see a movie that I know Neal would enjoy or bake a dish that he would lick clean. Facing a year without your best friend and life's partner is a daunting task, but why squander hours away on that thought when there are so many moments to enjoy now? Tiny, joy-filled moments that make up the length of life...that is my Christmas wish for you. Thank you so much for reading this past year; I hope you will stick around for the next one. Merry Christmas from the Miller household. I will see you on the other side, a few pounds heavier, but no worse for the wear!

xoxo and Cheers!

Twas the Night Before Mobilization

2010-12-21T12:32:00.003-05:00

Neal poses in front of a HET.

'Twas the night before mob'ing, when all through the halls,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the Slaws.

The duffles were packed with thought and with care,
In hopes that everything was all crammed in there.

The colonel was nestled all snug on her cot,
While visions of logistics danced in her thoughts.

And Captain in his beret and Giles in his fleece,
Were having a long talk about war and peace.

When out on the road, there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their desks to see what was the matter!

Away to the window they poured like the rain,
Yanked up the blinds and peered out from the frame.

The moon and the light of street lamps below,
Gave the luster of mid-day to events they'd behold.

When what to their bomb-searching eyes should attest,
An up-armored Humvee and 8 rumbling HETs!

With a fiery lieutenant leading the show,
They suddenly saw, it was Firrento!

More rapid than gunfire, the 5-tons rolled on,
Soldiers all driving, destroying the lawn.

"Now Grayson! now Martin! now Paxton and Sheal!
On Weston! on Hayman! on Hammond and Deal!

To the front of the gate! to the top of the wall!
Now drive away! drive away! drive away all!"

As dry leaves will whip in the December wind,
When met with an obstacle, they all did ascend.

So, up the rooftop, the HETs they all flew,
With a Humvee of gear; Firrento, too!

And then in a flash, they heard way up higher,
The squealing and screeching of their balding tires.

As Giles grabbed Captain and was turning around,
Down through the air shaft Firrento was bound!

He was clothed in Dress Blues, from service cap to shoes,
Limping from the fall, he threatened to sue.

A bag of OCIE he had flung on his back,
He looked like CIF, just opening his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled! his smile was so merry,
His cheeks rosy red - like chow hall cranberries!

His pursed commander's mouth, drawn up in a grin,
Baby butt's got nothin' on his clean-shaven chin.

The white of his teeth, his slim silhouette,
What keeps him from bouncing around in a HET??

He had slender man-hands and toned runner's calves,
He smelled a little like patients and Tiger Balm salve.

So clean-cut, so fit, so essence of brass,
Leading HRC was his skinny lil' ass.

A wink of his eye, a click of his heel,
Giles rubbing his eyes to see if it's real.

He spoke not a word, just unpacked the gear,
Sunglasses, Gortex, wet weather pants in here.

He turned to his men, a salute he then mimed,
And giving a nod, up the air shaft he climbed.

He sprang to his HET and called to move out,
They shot to the sky, broke free of the clouds.

"We got this!" he screamed, as they roared out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all! And to all a goodnight!"

by: Moi

* I apologize for the all of the acronyms. I can only tell you that OCIE is the gear that Soldiers get - and usually it's pretty fancy stuff (in the way that everyone who has ever slept in an Army sleeping bag will never appreciate North Face sleeping bags again). And CIF is who gives out the OCIE.

*Firrento (also not his real name) is the commander of our unit and is truly a skinny little dude. And a physical therapist, hence the Tiger Balm.

*Also I am not an Australian journalist leaking sensitive documents over the WWW. Names and unit abbreviations have been changed to protect our men and women in uniform.

Champagne Friday: The Little Village That Could (with your all's help!)

2010-12-17T08:34:00.011-05:00

A Christmas Story
by Mama Virgo

Most American school children, OK and some adults, would have a difficult time finding Zambia on a map of Africa. Hopefully, most would be able to point to Africa – “you know, kids, it’s the really big one between two big oceans”. Depending on their age and interests, they might have heard of Dr. David Livingstone who has a large town (pop. about 90,000) named for him in southern Zambia. But the vast majority of the world population has never heard of the Kazungula District of Zambia. And only a handful of people, including you folks who frequent this blog, have ever ever heard of a remote forest village called Namapande (you won’t find it on Google Earth). This geography lesson is intended as a reminder of how special you are! Not only are you aware of this village but some of you sent contributions to help put a roof on their school before the fragile bricks were destroyed by the rainy season. So settle in, grab the drink of your choice and listen to the Christmas story about Namapande and how a few good folks made a difference just by caring about people you will never meet; people who want their kids to have an education; people who are on the margins of the marginalized; people who can never repay you or do anything for you – except of course make you feel warm all over because of your generosity.

Many villages in Zambia were flooded during the rainy season several years ago. This season can last from about October until April with an average of nearly 40 inches of rain. Unable to rebuild their community after another flood, the government advised about 400 villagers that they would be relocated to a new area, Namapande, virtually flood proof as there is no water in sight. The villagers were allowed to take minimal possessions to their new land. One gift that they did not realize at the time was that they were placed in a part of the Kazungula District which is an area loved and served by two Kentuckians, Lonnie and Fran Turner. There is some discussion/debate about why the government chose land that was isolated; had no readily available water source; was at least 10 miles from a main road; was covered with bush and vegetation; and had no visible means of obtaining food. I prefer to think that they did not intend harm or hardship.

But these villagers are tough. They did not whine and complain (which is the American way…why did the government do this to me…nobody likes me…blah, blah,blah). Nope, they dusted off their machetes and started clearing the land by hand. Keep in mind, this is an area about the distance from the U.S. Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial if you squared it up. And if you think that’s not far, try walking it sometime in July or January and imagine clearing your way with a machete. For housing, the government gave them military style tents, which when we saw them were fairly tattered. These villagers, being more comfortable in thatch huts, started building their homes quickly. Soon, the government installed a well about mid range of the property. Helpful, but not sufficient for all these folks. Onto the scene arrived Lonnie and Fran, having heard about this remote cache of people who had few resources, a village now called Namapande Resettlement. Who knows how these things become known in a forest of no computers, no phones, a community not visible from the highway. Nonetheless, Lonnie and Fran’s humanitarian organization, Partners in Development, went to work and put in another well and started visiting the village on a regular basis, providing some resources, and developing a relationship with the people and the village president, Billy. Guess what, you must have a relationship with people before you can help them! Sweeping in, destroying their village, setting up a democracy, and arranging the village American style does not work.

Our group, who was visiting with Lonnie and Fran, arrived at Namapande on Sunday, August 1, 2010 to an unbelievable welcome. The only indication from the main road (a two lane highway through the bush country) that a village is near is a road sign made from a log with Namapande carved its length.

The road that traverses about 10 miles back to the village is composed of packed and loose sand, one lane and barely passable in places. Its’ condition in the rainy season is unimaginable.

The road ends in a clearing where many villagers were gathering, cooking fires were burning and two large tents stood as the centerpiece with UNICEF stenciled across them.

These were the tents, equipped only with small wooden benches, which served as the school buildings for what appeared to be several 100 children of all ages. Behind the tents was a newly constructed brick building, a skeleton of a structure with no roof, made from homemade bricks and mortared with local material (not your Daddy’s bricks and mortar).

As we unloaded, we were surrounded by smiling, eager children who are unaccustomed to seeing pale skinned, pale eyed people. As we began to take their pictures with our legion of digital cameras, feeling so paparazzi-like, and then show it to them, they were aghast. Many, if not all, had never seen a picture of themselves. They pushed, crowded, all wanting more photos taken. That afternoon evolved into music, the performing of plays which they had written for us, dancing, laughing, eating familiar as well as new foods, and sharing, although we did not speak a common verbal language. The Turner’s brought $5000.00 worth of donated textbooks from the U.S. and presented these to the headmaster of the school and her two assistants.

Some of the children were allowed to hold the books and were visibly upset when it was time to return them to the teachers for safe keeping. As we toured the school shell, we were told how the funds had been exhausted and the danger of the bricks crumbling when the rains came if no roof was in place. There was no question that we had been placed there at that moment in time to serve a purpose. We could be the feet to make sure that school was protected; knowing in our hearts that Americans are generous and that we would not be alone in our commitment.

In many African countries, children complete Basic School which is comparable to our elementary education. If they are to go further, then families must pay for them to leave home and live in boarding schools. Understandably, few are able to further their education due to finances and the need to stay and help the family. At a minimum, children need that basic education and hope that they can go further. The intellect of these children is quite amazing. We were saddened to know that many will not be able to attend high school. But the building in Namapande is the beginning and prayerfully not the end for many of these children. The roof is now on and the building is protected. Plans are underway for finishing the building when weather permits.

If anyone dares to tell you that a few people really cannot make a difference, especially halfway around the world, tell them the story of Namapande. If anyone asks why you are here, what is your purpose in life, tell them the story of Namapande.

Writer’s note: This about the 4^th draft of this blog. I started out trying to be cute, caustic and comical, and a bit critical of the government. Entertaining, but stupid. It dawned on me, Duh, that this will be posted on the internet which means the government can see it which could result in consequences impeding the work of the Turner’s. So, a word of warning, if you care to comment on this piece, please be aware that if you Google Namapande, this blog will likely be there, as it was when I did so in preparing this post. Please be mindful of how your comments could be taken. It’s preferable to believe that everyone is doing their best to help these folks.

Champagne Fri...er...MONDAY!

2010-12-13T13:33:00.008-05:00

OK, yes, I think my exact words were "and there will be a Champagne Friday this week! I promise!"

And then Neal came home from work.

And opened the bourbon.

Not just any ole nasty gut-rot redneck stuff, either. The Woodford Reserve. (Tip to the bourbon afficionado wannabes: Maker's Mark is for your wife to mix with her Diet Coke/7-Up/triple-distilled sparkling water. If you are asked at the office Christmas party, Woodford Reserve is your drink of choice. Ascot is optional.)

So we had a bourbon with dinner. And another with dessert. And then another while we watched Wall Street (the original, not the one where Charlie Sheen is trying to fit another movie in between jail terms). And then, well...I don't quite remember. A Christmas tree was definitely involved, though. Suffice it to say, the good Cap'n needed to blow off some steam. It was our first weekend home with nothing to do since the first part of September. And in just a little over a month, bourbon will be nothing but a wet dream for him. So, rev up the ice maker and pass the bottle!

Anyway, here it is Monday and while things have calmed down some, I still have a couple of projects I'm finishing up. But I wanted to spread Christmas joy through the WWW. So...first...

Isn't this AMAZEBALLS?? I bet bourbon would be very tasty in an angel mug. Or Champagne. Or something non-alcoholic. Bwahahaha...whatever.

Anyway, as part of Shana's 12 Days of Christmas, this is today's giveaway item. Just by telling you about it I get 3 entries. Which is awesome. Unless 3 of you enter because you saw it here first. Or 4. And then I'm in the red as far as entries go. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on today's post....which you should do anyway because she is, once again, letting us live vicariously through her and Christmas in NYC.

Secondly, the children of Africa are singing your praises because the school in Namapandi has a roof!! Mama Virgo sent me these pictures on Friday:
Isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? Yes, well it's no Frank Lloyd Wright...but it's a fully functional school building. When you're comparing it to a tent, it may as well be the Louvre. If you have forgotten how the school looked when Mama Virgo and her team of IBC volunteers left, here's a refresher:
And then I did that annoying and pushy thing where I asked for money/prayers/a band of angels and *voila* we raised the roof! So, to all of those who sent checks, prayed about it, told a friend who sent a check, or told a friend to pray about it, THANK YOU! Here is proof that money and prayers work hand-in-hand.

To celebrate the completion of the school in Namapandi, Mama Virgo has graciously agreed to write a blog post about her experiences there last summer. She has been known to string a sentence or two together into paragraph form (and once, into book form...God bless the dissertation) so expect great things. No pressure, Mama Virgo.

Congratulations on making a difference, good luck on Shana's wing-ed coffee mug, and Happy Monday! Just 12 more days until Christmas!! I can hardly stand myself...

Random Musings on a Wednesday

2010-12-08T09:13:00.005-05:00

I sat down at my desk this morning instead of my workbench.

I opened up Blogger instead of the Daisy & Elm email account.

I started blogging instead of stringing pearls or answering emails.

It's a step, right?

I've caught a lot of flack lately about the tumbleweeds blowing through this place. And (borrowing from Obama) let me be clear...I am not abandoning my blog. I have not burnt out, run out of things to say (hahaha), or taken up a pseudonym (although some days it is so tempting). I'm just busy. B-U-S-Y. Busier than I ever thought I would be with a hobby. A hobby that I sold as a business but never actually thought it would become one. And now it has. The thing about being a business owner is you work 27 hours a day. I've always known that little nugget of wisdom, I just never thought I would live by it. I had decided that you owned the business, therefore you decide how much you want to work. Unfortunately, that could not be more false. The business owns you. Well, it owns you if you want to be successful anyway.

I am in no way complaining. In fact, I started thinking about it last night and if you consider that I actually started this venture the week I found out I was pregnant (that's a hormonal tangent for you....Oh! I'm going to have a baby! Let's start a business!), I've been running Daisy & Elm for 18 months. That is the longest I've ever held the same full-time job. That speaks volumes to me...like I clearly have issues with authority and the only authority I respect is my own...like I would rather peel my eyelids off of my face than punch into a time clock...like I'm not exactly the social workplace butterfly I thought I was. It has nothing to do with working in my pajamas because I get dressed everyday. Well, *almost* everyday. And it tells me that being creative is what keeps me happy, keeps me sane, and minimizes the fights over stupid in the Miller House. It's just a bonus that people seem to like what results from a day in the studio. Part of the agreement that Neal and I made when we went AGR was that he worked outside the house and I worked inside. Yes, it is basically 1945 all of the time here, except that I refuse to wear high heels while vacuuming. He works his 8 hour day and I keep the house clean, the fridge stocked, the dinner on the table, and clean laundry in the closet. Except now I also have this thriving business. My infant hobby became a flourishing (and sometimes cantankerous) teenager. And I couldn't love it more. But that's where I've been.

The biggest problem is, if I don't write almost daily, I feel like my head is going to explode. Like the verbs are going to start leaking from my nose as I empty the dishwasher or I'm just going to pee those past participles right out and they'll be lost forever. This, however, is easily remedied. I just sit down and type. But I also experience massive guilt because I can't take the time right this second to read all of the blog posts by all of the bloggers that make my life so jolly. So, I pick a few. More guilt. Then I don't read any. And I post to my own blog. And lovely bloggers comment. Exponential guilt. Way too much guilt for a converted Catholic. Anyway, I think I have a solution. I can read your blogs on my Droid through Google Reader...I just can't comment. So, I will start reading. I will read everything you guys write. I just won't always comment...at least until Neal deploys and I find myself with oodles of time and way too much solitude for a girl. Is that fair? I miss all of you and your stories and what adventures life is taking you on...I miss the connection. But if I miss a deadline, there are also very real consequences...financial and otherwise.

So, for some random musings (if you love random musings like a Sour Patch Kid at the movies, check out Shana @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy. She does them every Friday) before I get back to work....

1. The Deployment gods smiled down on us as we left Ft. Lee last month and we were lacking orders to attend a pre-deployment conference that Saturday. So, we took a tiny detour as we drove through North Carolina to see The Biltmore at Christmas. Neal scored us the last two tickets to the Candlelight Tour for that night (which was opening night) and he grabbed us a room at The Hampton Inn in Hendersonville (which I highly recommend). We only spent 24 hours in Asheville but we toured The Biltmore twice, once that night and then again the next day. It knocked the Bah Humbug right out of me and convinced me to haul all of our Christmas decorations back to Georgia when we went home at Thanksgiving. And it gave us some much needed together time before D-Day (Departure Day).

2. A couple of amazing bloggers have welcomed new bundles of yummy into the world! Amanda @ Its Blogworthy and Kallay @ Kallaydoscope all have new holiday babes! Congratulations, girls and as my sister would say, "Welcome to the Club!"

3. While I realize there are always two sides to every story, I will forever think that John Edwards sucks and I hope that Elizabeth Edwards is having the time of her life with her son, Wade, right now. I hope they are eating chocolate directly from the fountain as she is being fitted for her wings. I hope that Heaven gives her everything that those on Earth could not or would not.

4.
RIP John Lennon. I never knew you as an activist but I grew up on your music. Strawberry Fields, forever!

5.A day that will live in infamy. Remembering all of those who lost their lives on that dark day and all of the ones after. You are gone, but you are certainly not forgotten.

6. There are 2 contests/giveaways going on right now that I absolutely must tell you about. One is over at Shana's place. She's doing the 12 Days of Christmas and today she is giving away a canister of Serendipity's Frozen Hot Chocolate Mix. She can do this, you see, because she lives in NYC. So, check out her blog daily, leave a comment, and get yourself entered to win some of this Big Apple goodness!

Secondly, I'm hosting my own giveaway on the Daisy & Elm Facebook fan page. Entry is easy and multiple entries are even easier. Click on the Discussions tab on the fan page, then Accessorizing with Memories Contest post. Share your favorite holiday memory and you are entered to win a FIFTY DOLLAR gift certificate to Daisy & Elm!! Refer others to the fan page to share their holiday memories and for each referral, you get another entry! The winner will be randomly drawn on Christmas Eve. As bloggers, this should be an easy cheesy task. Even...dare I say...enjoyable?

I promise a Champagne Friday this week and...drumroll, please....an award! Happy Hump Day and just 17 shopping days left! No pressure.

Are you done with your shopping? Do you wish you could hire a team of elves? Have you ever tried to teach your cats how to wrap gifts?

Making Veterans' Day Last Just a Little Bit Longer

2010-11-11T22:16:00.003-05:00

In 12 minutes, Taps will, just like any other day, play here at Ft. Lee. I've listened to more bugles, more cannons, more cadence calls in the past 10 days than I ever thought possible. But with every Retreat that sounds at the end of a day, with every marching Soldier that passes, and with every lone cry of a bugle at 11 PM, I am reminded of one stark truth: freedom is not free. There are sacrifices and tears and a price associated with our freedom to worship God or many gods, to curse the president, to pick a school...a side of war...a side of the street. And when we, you and I, are not laying down our lives for these freedoms, someone is. These men and women get up before the sun. As we are brewing the morning coffee, they are running in formation. As we are kissing our spouses goodbye for the day, they are kissing theirs goodbye for the month...or months. Our daily irritations would be welcome distractions from the routines they know and live.

Today, this is not about me or me and Neal. Do we have our own sacrifice looming? Yes. There is certainly no denying that. But today we are together. Taps plays now, accompanied by his snoring and the glow of my laptop. Today is not our sacrifice. But it is someone's...many someones.

I hope you paused yesterday and thought about the men, women, and children who are affected everyday by a loved one's absence...and about the men and women in uniform who go or have gone, regardless of the orders or the expectations. They all have different reasons for serving. Their reasons don't matter. Their willingness to do so does.

The video posted above is 4 minutes long. I hope you are able to find 4 minutes in your day to sit down and remember those who have sacrificed it all, and send up a prayer for those who have done what we have not. You know I don't post videos...well, ever. And I've sifted through an hour's worth of YouTube videos to find one that I thought is a good representation of how it is to live the military life. It's frustrating...humbling...painful...but at the end of the day, it's nothing compared to the beauty of an American flag waving in a slight breeze.

We are traveling back to Macon today for our pre-deployment Yellow Ribbon event on Saturday. I will be spending Champagne Friday with my favorite veteran (Sorry, Army Dad...you are a very close second favorite...it's *almost* a tie...really). I hope you are able to spend it with your own hero...someone who may not wear a cape or even a uniform, but makes life easier through laughter and love. A salute and a cheers.....

In This Moment

2010-11-09T08:16:00.004-05:00

The dishes done,
the laundry folded.
Cleaning out the fridge,
the bread has molded.

Finding the time
to kiss goodbye.
Neal scurries out
with lunch and a sigh.

One vet remembers,
as many do not.
Each day is a bonus,
not an afterthought.

So I hug a little longer
and call a little more
and forget about revenge
or settling the score.

Each day is a bonus.
we mustn't ignore.
We aren't guaranteed tomorrow,
just right now, no less, no more.

This is part of The Scholastic Scribe's Tuesday Poetry Slam that she has just created. I'm certainly not ready for a microphone and a beret, but it does take me back to high school, writing poetry and pose to fit a picture. I feel like I'm 16 again. Maybe I'll have McDonald's for lunch and slip a note to Neal in study hall. Want to join in? Simply jot down a little something and then click over to Mrs. Scribe's blog and comment that you have done so. Easy as Cheese Whiz!

Happy Champagne Friday: HOOAH!

2010-11-05T13:08:00.008-04:00

Champagne Friday rides again...and this time from sunny (finally) Ft. Lee, VA!

As I type this, we are currently staying here:

I can see that you are incredibly jealous and I think you absolutely should be. It is very vintage. I'm pretty sure they were even able to keep the original air filters. How lovely that they have worked so diligently to keep everything original to the building, circa 1961. (Clearly, it's a little early in the winter season for this picture to be one of mine. Thank you so much US Army websites!)

However, if we play our cards just right and secure a PCS to Ft. Lee after Iraq, we could be living here:

My apologies to the nice family whose house I was camped outside of drooling and photographing.

So, to celebrate Champagne Friday, I'm going to leave you with some observations of Ft. Lee 72 hours into my visit:

1) The housekeeping staff, also known as Sharon, is extremely friendly. She is also very honest. She really doesn't appreciate it when visitors leave money scattered about as if to lure her into a made-for-Dateline-filming trap. And if you must leave your underwear on the floor, the least you could do is make sure they are clean. No one wants to see your accident.

2) The gym across the field from us has a cardio room. It is quite possibly the most awkward set-up I've ever seen...and seeing as my degree is in Kinesiology, I've seen a few. The treadmills face the ellipticals. Both sets of equipment have televisions hanging directly overhead. So, the treadmill users are expected to watch the TVs over the elliptical users' heads and vice versa. Basically, if you are like me and love to watch how people walk, run, or just behave in general, you tend to let your eyes wander to the individuals down below. That gets awkward.

3) There are bugles for everything. There are 7:00 AM bugles, noon bugles, 12:30 bugles, 5 PM bugles, 5:30 bugles, and 11:00 bugles. And I may have missed a couple as I'm not here all the time. Yesterday, they fired cannons at 5:30. I'm aware of all of this because the loud speaker is just over yonder from our room. (I can say over yonder because it's Virginia. And the seat of the Confederacy. Which is basically Mother Planet for the South.) I sleep through the 7 AM bugles so no worries there. But I wish someone had warned me about the cannons. I'm not sure my heart will ever beat regularly again.

4) If you skip a workout, you will suddenly find yourself shamed into dragging butt to the gym because everyday after the 5PM bugles, a squadron (or 10) begins doing PT, complete with synchronized counting, across the lawn. Yesterday it rained for 12 hours straight. And yet, there they were, counting, jumping, jacking, and pushing up (which, Shana, is nothing like push-upping). In the rain. I didn't drag butt to the gym, though. I just stood there and watched and prayed none of them caught their death of pneumonia.

5) Either everyone is getting lots of good sleep, lots of good sex, or lots of good food because they are all alarmingly friendly and helpful. Even when it rained for 12 hours, I was still inspired by the Soldier on MP duty, standing in the rain and checking IDs. When I said, "what a day to work outside, huh?" she smiled and said, "oh that's OK. I like the rain." Who the hell likes 50 degree rain? No one. But 2587403 points to her for at least saying it.

I'm now jaunting off to Richmond, about 25 minutes away to scout out sights to see and food to eat should Neal happen to get the day off tomorrow. And I may hit a bead store or 2 while I'm there. But never fear, I'll be back for 5:00 bugles and PT!

Happy Champagne Friday, darlins!!

Are you drinking champagne with me today? Have you been to Ft. Lee? Can I bring you a cannon back as a souvenir?

S.L.U.T.S. Tour the South

2010-11-04T11:09:00.036-04:00

Before I even begin, I must commend Shana @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy on her most excellent recap of last weekend's festivities and buffoonery. And I suggest you hop over to read her blog, as I will only be giving the highlights with pictures and she does a fantastic job of providing you with the bigger picture.

Now, she is absolutely correct in saying that I picked her up with a small bar packed in the trunk because, really, what kind of southern belle and blog author of Magnolias & Mimosas would I be if I didn't at least greet her with mimosas? Although, just in case she preferred a little something harder (or softer) at 11:00 AM, I brought a variety. And my compliments to Class VI at Robins AFB for making all of this possible for under $50. Shana has generously posted photos of Georgia Aqurarium Parking Garage Mimosa Drinking on her blog. (And yes Mama Virgo, this was before we got out of the car and walked around Centennial Park for like 3 hours, so it's all good.)

Because we all know that Virgos love their lists, here's a top 21 from our S.L.U.T.S. (Southern Ladies Under Tremendous Stress) Tour of the Deep South:

1. When staying in Atlanta, may I suggest always staying in The Glenn Hotel on Marietta Street. Always. The staff is young and flirty, the decor is hip, and the views from the rooftop bar are spectacular. Plus, there is a frosted pane of glass between the shower and the bedroom...y'know...in case you are into voyeurism.

leading into the bar from the elevator

the bar (which was decorated for the Halloween party that we slept through)

view from the rooftop bar

rooftop bar with my lovah, CNN, in the background. kisses, Anderson!

2. It is 3 1/2 hours from Atlanta to Savannah. If you must make that drive with someone, I recommend doing so with someone who loves to swap stories as much as you. I love my husband. He does not swap stories. It is a very quiet drive. Sometimes I make up jingles for tampon commercials in my head.

3. Your first stop in Savannah should absolutely be at Savannah Candy, preferably on River Street, so that your second stop can be at some incredibly touristy gift shop to get your fortune told by Zoltar.

Shana gets caught with her hand in the taffy bin

fortunately, when we woke the next morning, Shana was exactly the right size

4. If Zoltar repeatedly rejects your $1, perhaps you don't want to know your fortune after all.

my fortune: "You talk too much. Close your mouth and open your ears. But you are always willing to be helpful to others." So, I guess there's that...

5. There is a difference between sexy witch...
and slutty witch...
It is important to know the difference.

6. When presented with the choice, always spend the extra $15 for a set of really good fangs. You'll never regret it.

7. Halloween weekend is precisely the best time to take a hearse tour around Savannah. Someone else drives your drunk ass through the entire city while you get to see everyone's costume from a seat that is sort of like what the Pope rides around in the PopeMobile. I highly recommend it. (Again, Shana has the best costume pictures posted on her blog)

8. If your tour guide happens to be Wes, a firefighter with the Savannah FD, he may take you into a burned out building that is supposedly extremely haunted. If you are, by your very nature, a total horror wuss, you're going to need to be pretty toasted when you tour this house. In effect, by the time you see this:
everything should look like this:
Trust me. Especially if Wes tries to take you into the basement. And my sincerest apologies to Shana, who kept getting snagged on my bracelet and instead, was sure she was being violated, repeatedly, by the black vomiting ghosts of Savannah's Yellow Fever epidemic.

9. This is Wes, the firefighter tour guide (in the black t-shirt, not the fishnet. Although, I would not have been particularly shocked if he had been in fishnet).
Even if you dress like this for your hearse tour, Wes will not take you home at the end of the night. He has standards, after all.

10. If you tour the burned out house that Yellow Fever built, you will be plagued by the first sign of Yellow Fever, black vomit, even if you have only consumed 1 mojito and 3 LIT's through the course of the evening. To prevent black vomit, may I suggest avoiding River Street's "Savannah Tea" and not eating beef tenderloin bruschetta for dinner. Also, watching Paula Deen on TMZ will only make you sicker. (Again, my sincerest apologies to Shana the Good Witch for not being able to hold my liquor. I blame the Savannah Tea. And the Yellow Fever, of course.)

11. Hell yeah, Y'all...Paula Deen will cure that hangover faster than you can say "fried chicken makes my liver sing a lover's ballad."

ain't nuthin' wrong with dat

12. The Shalom, Yall Jewish Festival will completely destroy any hope you may have of getting a decent shot of the beautiful fountain at Forsyth Park.

Well, one without tables, people, and tents, that is. But you will get to see and sign the pink fire truck, if you so desire. Ruby the fire truck, dedicated to Breast Cancer awareness.

13. If you absolutely feel called to build a house, the least you could do is build it in Savannah. They just don't build 'em like this in Jersey. Can I get an amen?

14. Leopold's Ice Cream Shop is famous. And a perfectly acceptable substitute for lunch.

15. May you never say a negative word about the Holiday Inn Express on Bay Street. The staff is helpful, the price can't be beat, and they also boast a lovely rooftop view of the river. No bar up there, but I think I will suggest it when I write my review on TripAdvisor.

Holiday Inn Express...not just for the Griswolds anymore...

16. Someone (who shall remain nameless, but has been to Savannah numerous times, unlike the other traveler) may try to tell you that The Pirate's House restaurant is absolutely, definitely, and without a doubt on River Street. She will then force you to walk the entire length of River St. 4 times in search of this illusive and supposedly haunted touristy spot.
It is not actually on River Street. But a simple phone call from your fancy new Droid will tell you that.

17. When you finally make it to The Pirate's House, you may feel obligated to choose between shrimp n'grits and pecan-crusted chicken. May I suggest refusing to choose and ordering both?
And the veggies are sliced and sauteed. Not from a Bird's Eye bag. I asked.

18. New Yorkers understand a lot of things...what a bagel is supposed to taste like...where you can find a purse that is easily mistaken for one from the Valentino collection...how to travel in large crowds without actually having to touch someone. But what they will never understand unless they leave New York is shrimp n' grits. This is a Shrimp N' Grits Virgin getting her first taste of the explosion of flavors that is only possible down here in the Land of Milk and Honey.
Yeah, J...you want to see that face more often? Give that girl grits! And a bottle of wine wouldn't hurt, either.

19. Bonaventure Cemetery is worth the short jaunt over to Thunderbolt, GA. Made famous by the movie, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, it used to house the famous Bird Girl statue. Now, you must give your $20 to the Telfair Museum's Jepson Center in order to see Bird Girl. She is probably miserable. Wouldn't you be if you were uprooted from acres of silence and Spanish moss, only to be plopped down on cold tile, surrounded by electronic eyes? Yes, I thought so. But many other statues are still located in Bonaventure. I propose you get your photos now, before someone else makes them famous. Also, if you start seeing mobile homes and chickens running through the yard on your journey to Bonaventure, you haven't gone quite far enough.

20. It is impossible to take a picture of the Spanish moss that captures its true and mystical form. Case in point...
The only person I know who has been able to pull off a truly spooky Spanish moss/cemetery picture is Salt.

21. Finally, even when you are completely sober (albeit still suffering from an alcohol/fried bacon grease hangover), you will still try to tell your northern traveling partner that the Spanish moss growing in the trees is an "orgasm" as opposed to an "organism," clearly indicating that the next deployment is going to be extra rough.

A city girl and a southern belle walk into a bar...and the town is never the same. And I'm looking so forward to bringing the south to the north this spring. If I come home saying "youse guys" though, I may just have a come-apart.

The Pink Campaign Big Reveal

2010-11-03T08:32:00.008-04:00

OK...yes...it is the 3rd of November and technically Breast Cancer Awareness Month ended 3 days ago. I blame the Army. And I-85 traffic. But here I am in somewhat sunny and excessively chilly Ft. Lee, VA. It looks exactly like the set of An Officer and a Gentleman...except no one is D.O.R'ing and I have yet to hear "Up Where We Belong." But other than that, exactly the same. Atlanta and Savannah with Shana were, to put it simply, roaring good times and now that I have lots of time to sit and type, I will be recounting our adventures through the genteel south. But today is the Big Reveal of how much money was raised with Daisy & Elm's The Pink Campaign. I think I may have promised a vlog with Shana...however, that requires a certain amount of knowledge about the webcam installed on my computer. And a certain amount of sobriety. Neither of which were readily available to us. So, we did pictures. We were going to photograph Shana in her divinely sexy (but not slutty...you Halloween Express shoppers should know the difference by now) witch's costume, but decided to do it in her new Lady Shan-blis hat (if you don't get that, you are overdue for a viewing of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil). I think you will all agree that it becomes her.

So, without further ado....

This is the money we have raised thus far for Susan G. Komen's Race for the Cure.

And THIS is the money that COULD be raised if everyone, who has not done so already, hops onto the fan page and reviews their purchase under the "Reviews" tab. Go ahead. I'll wait. I will wait exactly 6 days. Check mails on Monday morning. I don't know...that $434 check is awfully pretty. And look how much happier she is about this one! Make Shana happy. It's a beautiful thing.

I would like to specifically thank Shana @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy for posing with checks in this Big Reveal. I would also like to thank Amanda @ It's Blogworthy and Kallay @ Kallaydoscope for re-posting and re-tweeting about The Pink Campaign almost everyday. And to everyone who did the same but I failed to catch them in the act, thank you as well! You all made this a successful event and quite literally, I could not have done this without you. I am beyond thrilled to send such a donation to such a worthy charity. And I absolutely plan on doing this again next year!

On a somewhat related note, let me address those of you who have friends and family members who have fought and won, or fought and lost, their battle with a horrific disease that was not breast cancer. I have heard you and I know that it sometimes seems unfair that Breast Cancer Awareness gets so much attention in October. What about Prostate Cancer? Or Leukemia and Lymphoma? What about childhood cancers? These are all devastating, yet often ignored by everyone except those touched by them. So, today I'm instituting a new policy at Daisy & Elm. If you purchase an item from me, either from Facebook or the Etsy store (or my website should I actually get it up and running sometime while I'm here) and you would like for your payment to benefit a particular charity, please let me know when you are ordering. I will send my entire profit to the charity of your choosing upon receipt of payment. I will only keep the cost of my materials used. If you order this piece during the month that has been chosen to recognize your charity, I will send 100% of your payment, in exchange for a review of your item...just as we did this month. I hope that is a fair and decent compromise. While I have lost women close to me to Breast Cancer, I have lost far more loved ones to Alzheimer's, heart disease, and miscarriage. The charities that represent those causes are nearest to my heart and if given the opportunity, they are the ones I would choose to fund. I want to give you the opportunity to do the same.

Thank you again for making The Pink Campaign so successful and now that I'm 2 hours from DC, keep your eyes peeled for new bling with White House beads...if I can find them!

Peace, love, gorgeous jewelry, and a beautiful cause...

Champagne Friday: On the Road Again

2010-10-22T09:09:00.005-04:00

I feel like I'm always traveling on Friday. Last Friday, I took Mama Virgo to IKEA and she repaid me by taking me to The Cheesecake Factory...and Trader Joe's. Today, I am leaving town and heading back to base, just in time to run my Race for the Cure in Macon tomorrow morning with the Air Force Posse. But I wanted to post something for Champagne Friday as I've been a little hit-or-miss lately.

So, to celebrate, let me tell you about Michael's yesterday.

Usually, everyone is in a big hurry in craft stores. I'm not sure why. I try to go when I have several hours to kill. I plan my trips to Michael's and Hobby Lobby like I plan my trips to Goodwill...lots of time to dig through everything, mix and match ideas, and try it all on for size. But, I will admit, there are times when I just need one thing and I know exactly what it is. And then, I think I could probably be classified as someone who is in a hurry. Most of the time, the cashiers are very pleasant...it's the customers that make me wonder what is wrong with the world. If one cashier suddenly opens her register, instead of the next person in line stepping over, it's a rush of carts...with children left behind to fend for themselves and a trail of body parts...the limbs of those who couldn't move fast enough. This is only a slight exaggeration. You would think the cashier was handing out winning lottery tickets to each customer in her line.

Sometimes, mothers have pushed a child's patience with beading and scrapbooking just a bit too far and it is in the check-out line when he/she finally melts down to a puddle of goo and tears. This usually comes justafter they have asked for the candybar/PopRocks/pen with a pom-pom lid and silly face/a spool of ribbon with puppy paw prints. "No" is the answer...and then it starts. I generally try to let that woman go ahead of me...for the sake of all of our sanity. It is pretty rare that I actually have a completely pleasant experience in the craft store.

Until yesterday.

I just needed one thing and I knew exactly what it was and where it was. And I needed to get out of there so I could check that off my to-do list and haul ass and Mustang across town. As I stood in the ever-growing line, silently wishing I had one of their coveted 40% off coupons, I overheard the woman at the register telling the woman in front of me about how she really needed to organize her purse, but hadn't had time because her son had been sick...blah...blah...blah. I almost always tune someone out who starts telling me their life story at the check-out line. Mostly it's because I don't want to get stuck in the parking lot being their sympathetic ear. I have just enough of Mama Virgo's Therapist gene in me to entice someone to just let it all out.

Let me stop here and say that I realize this is not Christian-like. We are put on this earth to take care of one another, whatever those needs are. I am working on this attitude of mine. If the woman in front of me at Target needs to tell someone about her mother with cancer, I absolutely should stop and listen because there is a reason that I'm with her, in that time and place. So, I'm working on it. Like my life, it's a work in progress.

Anyway, the woman in front of me, being more Christian-like and kind, listened and sympathized. The cashier told the lady she could only use 1 of her 3 40% off coupons each day. So, instead of putting the other 2 items back and using her coupons later, she turned to the 2 of us and said, "Would you like a coupon?" HELLZ YES! And then I felt like a big slab of crap. I had totally tuned her out and she turned around and gave me what I wanted the very most in that moment. I thanked her and mentioned how I was just thinking "Darn! I REALLY wish I had a coupon right now."

The next cashier over opened up his line and the woman in front me, with her arms overloaded, turned to me and said, "you go on. I have a lot and you just have that one thing." There was so much nice going on, I thought my heart would explode. So, I walked up to the cashier and paid for my one item with my 40% off coupon and practically skipped out the door.

I keep thinking about the experience and the idea of paying forward a kindness. As I go through the weekend, where I'm bound to stand in lines, sit in traffic, and talk to many people, I hope to find a way to share this stranger's kindness repeatedly.

Happy Champagne Friday, lovahs! Cheers!

Not Even Close to Wordless Wednesday: More Army Fun

2010-10-20T09:28:00.009-04:00

I have gotten several comments regarding my blog over the past week.

"I love the Army pictures!"

"Thanks for sharing!"

"Wow, your blog is bright. I mean...whoa...BRIGHT!"

OK, that last one was from Mama Virgo. We were driving to IKEA last Friday (how my mother had never been to IKEA until last Friday is beyond me. I feel like I failed her as a daughter. And a human being. But just like when I introduced her to Goodwill, there will be some fall-out from this discovery...most likely in the form of throw pillows and closet organizers.)....and she said, "Wow, your blog is really bright." Yes. Yes it is. Allow me to explain.

When pretty pixie with the pink toenails is chillin' at the top of my blog, I don't get any Google analytics because it's not a Google template. Not that I obsess over visits or numbers, but I would like to know if anyone from Malaysia is hitting my blog or if someone found me from googling "Army slut wears jock strap for wine tasting." Y'know...that sort of thing. So, I grabbed a template that was quick, easy, and...PINK! And here it will stay until I have 7 minutes to sit down and figure out something a little more customized. My apologies to those who must wear sunglasses to view my blog these days. And you're welcome to everyone who no longer has to grab their reading glasses.

I hate that I'm currently writing about once a week. And really...it's supposed to be Wordless Wednesday so, technically, there aren't supposed to be any words at all. But I'm finishing up last minute touches on the KY condo before I head back to Georgia at the end of the week. Besides, I think y'all were really digging Neal's training photos last week and since that's approximately 75837% more exciting than what's going on here, I'm bringing you part 2. I am absolutely certain that you would rather see men in uniform (which is second in sexiness only to men in baseball pants), carrying large guns and rolling around on the ground than hear how I found the perfect striped throw pillows at IKEA or hung bourbon distillery pictures in my dining room.

So...Happy Wednesday to all. And now I give you....our U.S. Army....

This would be 50-cal training. I don't know about you, but I've never seen a man with a gun that large hold it that close to his little soldier.

Walking while firing a weapon. Much harder than walking while chewing gum and walking while texting. Slightly less difficult than walking while tying your shoe.

This picture reminds me of that episode of Designing Women where they take the women's self defense class. The entire 30-minutes they are saying, "And what does she say?" "She says NO!" Fists up, assume the stance, be ready to kick, scream, or run like hell. But a soldier never runs. Although they do play Retreat over the loud speakers every night. What is that about?

How amazing that as far as we've come in modern warfare over the past 40 years, we are still throwing grenades. I mean, they are inherently dangerous, what with the tiny pin with a tiny loop that could get caught on anything and all. But here they are...throwing grenades and running for cover. May as well attach a firecracker to a carrier pigeon....

Urban tactical ops. I reeeeaaallllyyyyy hope Neal never needs this skill. The men I know who have returned from a tour of knocking down doors and securing houses are never the same. They are your PTSD and TBI soldiers. They don't walk around in the dark and they jump at the sound of fireworks. But wouldn't the training be kind of fun? As long as you know there isn't someone with a bigger gun waiting on the other side, I mean.

I guess this was the walk-through. They do it for real today. Whatever for real means....

I think Neal is beyond pleased to be out of the classroom and on the move. And he's getting close to the end of this mobilization...which is good. Apparently if the chow hall decides there aren't enough soldiers to feed that day, they just shut down. Without feeding anyone. I can't even count all the ways that's wrong. Good thing Neal loves a tasty MRE!

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: Because I Have to Be

2010-10-13T13:46:00.012-04:00

When I gave you all the option to choose between a military blog and a travel blog for my second Blogger project, you guys were pretty much split right down the middle...with a large number requesting both (y'all know that I only have 24 hours in the day, just like you, right? And you like it when I come visit your blogs regularly, yes? OK then, oh demanding ones, I can't do two. But I'm flattered that you would want 3 separate websites with my ramblings floating around the www). So, I'm going to turn some Wordless Wednesdays into Military Days because, unfortunately, the less said in print about what goes on around here, the better. I will give as much detail as Captain, my Captain, will allow. There are also some fun Army rules that can be revealed without endangering our troops in any way....such as...if you are killed in the line of duty and you have sick time, you cannot collect on that sick pay. Well, good to know. Thanks for clearing that up.

So, today I bring you training photos. I can't say who or what or where...but Neal is posting them on his Facebook page, so I assume they are safe for general consumption. And I asked him last night. And he said, "sure. Just don't say who or what or where." So...there ya have it. Happy Wednesday! It's a great day when Chilean miners see the light of day and Kentucky sees precipitation fall from the sky.
PS...I think it is a definite sign that I've been on Twitter too much when I have to resist the urge to hashtag all of my final phrases. Maybe it's time for a vacation from the Twat.

Neal's bed. Not quite a king, but it's not the unforgiving rocky earth, either.

Preparing for....anything and everything.

Assume the position!

Weapons....aimed at the flag??

We've come a long way since the bayonet.

HMMVEEEE!

Upside down HMMMVEEE!! At least if it ever happens, it's not completely shocking.

This is that part where we whistle and sing "out on the range...."

Praying over weapons...or what looks like praying over weapons.

Annnnddd...now I'm going back to bed because I gave myself food poisoning with pizza last night. Usually, when I do that, it takes me about 6 years before I can eat that food again. If it takes me 6 years to eat pizza again, I may actually drop to single digit pants sizes. Unless I replace it with a filet-o-fish.

Happy Wednesday, lovelies. I hope you enjoyed today's slide show. It was Army Strong! Hooah!

Taking Inventory...a Couple of Years After the Fact

2010-10-09T14:03:00.004-04:00

It's an azure, cloudless day with temps topping out around 80. A perfect day for betting at Keeneland (which just opened yesterday. There is very little that I love more than opening weekend at the horse races...) or tailgating at the UK vs. Auburn game (yes, we will get our asses handed to us in our helmets, but whatever. Defeat is best served with a keg of Miller Light...), or checking out the World Equestrian Games that end this weekend. But I'm camped out in my courtyard, covertly watching the neighbors and their 3 daughters from Alabama unload everything that you move from house to house. It's a voyeur's game...peeking out from Audrey Hepburn sunglasses to see what bedding they brought or how much you can actually squeeze into the trunk of an Infiniti. But, it's Saturday afternoon and I'm also catching up on blogs. This is the perfect place to be.

And while getting caught up on all things blog, I ran across Shana @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy's post, "I'm older than 30, but..." Glamour published an article ages ago about everything a girl should have before she's 30. Since Shana and Krysten @ After I Do have been taking stock this weekend, I think I will, too. Somehow, not accomplishing an item on a beauty magazine's list of what I should have accomplished by the age of 30 goes down better on a sunny, temperate day.

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you've come.
I actually have this one in spades...and by "spades" I mean ex-fiances. I have an ex-fiance who, I think, could have worked out if we had been older when we met. I also have several who remind me that I'm not a punching bag or a back-up plan or the other woman. I am actually more grateful for them...as painful as the entire experience was.

2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone in your family.
The only decent furniture I have ever purchased myself was a bed when I moved to Arizona, and really, it was not that decent according to normal people's standards. It was the mattress, box springs and frame for a twin bed. Hardly luxurious. As a married woman, we have purchased loads of beautiful and expensive furniture (thankyouverymuch, Operation Iraqi Freedom) and now, family heirlooms are actually in the minority.

3. Something perfect to wear if the employer/man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
Unfortunately, my body is clinging to those last 20 pounds like Bret Michaels is clinging to his last last last 15 minutes of fame. So, yeah...no. I don't have either of these. I have some fantastic jewelry, a couple of pairs of pants that either give me muffin top or camel toe, and a rockin' new haircut. That's what I have right now. Cellulite and highlights.

4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella that you are not ashamed to be seen carrying.
I have all three of these, thanks to our Italian vacation...which required an umbrella and a suitcase and scored me an Italian leather purse. And my PSA for the day: Apparently, you can take a lighter to real Italian leather and it does not scorch, mark, or otherwise destroy your handbag in any way. Also? I will never again buy a suitcase that does not have 360 degree-turning wheels.

5. A youth you're content to move beyond.
Yes, yes, a resounding YES! I was a brat and a bitch.

6. A past juicy enough that you're looking forward to re-telling in your old age.
I think the story of how I met and fell in love with our children's father is as juicy as my past needs to be. Well...that and that one time at band camp. No, seriously...there really was this one time at band camp...

7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age - and some money set aside to fund it.
How funny that this pops up today, less than 48 hours after a lengthy conversation with my investment broker. One word, boys and girls...Roth. Not as in the David Lee variety. As in the "pay taxes on it now, reap the rewards later" variety. This is not as fully funded as I would like it to be, but as long as the Army keeps us employed, I think we'll be just fine.

8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account - all of which no one has access to except you.
Check, check, and check. I definitely think a credit card should be added to this list. Have your own credit card. Pay your own credit card with your own bank account...Miss Independent.

9. A resume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
Uh..well, it's not padded...but it's also not growing, either. I mean "starting a business from scratch" is definitely a strong addition. But I'm pretty sure it's more impressive if you show a profit at some point. So, let's say this one is in progress.

10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
I am amazingly blessed with many friends who do both of these exceptionally well. Sometimes, they let me cry and then they make me laugh. Those are the moments that make life so sweet.

11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
While I fully appreciate the need for a woman to have her own tools (which do not necessarily need to be pink. C'mon women, unless it's a Race for the Cure toolkit, we need to man-up a bit), I don't really understand the black lace bra part. Why black? Why lace? Why not something with garters or a Mrs. Claus teddy? At the age of 32, I do not own a black lace bra and I think that is perfectly OK.

12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
I can't think of a single thing I've purchased for myself that was ridiculously expensive. I think if you add up the money I've got invested in my scrapbooks, shoe collection, and hair, that is pretty ridiculous. But I'm OK with that because hell yes, I deserve it.

13. The belief that you deserve it.
I think I covered this in #12. But in case you skipped over it, hell yes I deserve it. I'm a good woman, a good wife, and mostly a good person (snark not withstanding).

14. A skin care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don't get better after 30.
Well, my skin care routine needs a little (or a LOT) of work and I should probably try to drink more water and less mojitos. And I should definitely be fitted for the proper bra. But for the most part, I exercise, I get lots of sleep, and I laugh on the daily. That should take care of most of it.

15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all of those other facets of life that do get better.
I have had 32 jobs in 17 years. I love, love, rainbows shooting from my eyeballs LOVE making jewelry and rosaries. I can't imagine doing anything else. I would very much like to think this is the beginning of a beautiful career. And my marriage to Neal is typical and magical, all at once. Satisfying barely scratches the surface.

Thank you so much to Krysten for starting it and Shana for keeping it going. This was not nearly as painful as I thought it must be. Now...my Nikes await and my mini-bottles of champagne beckon. Please feel free to play along! We may not be where we thought we would be at the age of 30 (or beyond), but we are where we are and that is the best place we can be!

Sip. Tweet. Repeat.

2010-10-08T09:43:00.003-04:00

Think of today's post as a very un-blog post. Like a very un-birthday, but with less candles and more gifts...gifts of the 140-character variety. I follow a group of trendsetting mamas on Twitter and they have persuaded me to join their 2nd Friday festivities, which includes boycotting blogs in favor of hanging around on Twitter all day. I, personally, don't care for the word "boycott"....it reminds me of civil rights protests and sit-ins (OK, having been born in 1978, I've never actually participated in a sit-in, but I bet Mama Virgo has! And I'm her flesh and blood...so...). Anyway, let's say that I'm re-directing my attention to Twitter for today's Champagne Friday celebration. I know there are a huge chunk of readers who think Twitter is simply short for "a-twitter"...as in..."Mama Virgo is all a-twitter about her vacation coming up next month." But actually, it's yet another social media that we young'uns have developed to know exactly when our BFFF's have hit the Taco Bell drive-thru or found a bathing suit sale at Target. It sounds a little high-maintenance, but can actually be loads of fun! So, pop the cork on some bubbly and come find me @MagnoliaMimosa on Twitter. I promise, by the end of the day, you will be completely hooked!
Happy Champagne Friday!

Cheers!

Wordless Wednesday: Signs, Signs, Everywhere are Signs

2010-10-06T10:32:00.009-04:00

As most of you know, we have been burning up the stretch of I-75 between Lexington and Macon. These are just a few roadside signs from our travels. Sometimes, it does a person good to get past the state line and see how the rest of the world spells. Or...doesn't...

click to enlarge if you are not seeing the hilarity in any of these

Clearly, someone needs a lesson in verbs vs participles...or...something. Hey sis, help me out!

Lucky him! Mine only pees asparagus-odor urine!

This is really not that unusual to see on I-75....

Unless it's followed by this...I wonder if the late afternoon sun casts a cross-shaped shadow over the "back room"....

Oh Warner Robins Logan's...I really hope the "appitizer" is something prepared over a pit and not the result of your bus boy being tasked with changing the sign.

Happy Wednesday, lovahs! Champagne Friday is only 2 days away! And if you're looking for something pink and shiny AND want to help fight breast cancer with Susan G. Komen's Race for the Cure, come visit me at Daisy & Elm until the end of the month! Need more details? Check here. See you THERE!

The Pink Campaign Launches in a Browser Near You!

2010-10-02T15:09:00.006-04:00

What's pink and sparkles and saves lives all over? The Pink Campaign I am launching today through Daisy & Elm! I know there are girls out there who don't go all weak-in-the-knees, stars-in-their-eyes gaga over the color pink. I'm not one of them. I think I used to be one of them, but then the allure of navy started to fade and, really, nothing showcases my eyes or my hair like the color pink. I'm also strangely attracted to items that sparkle in the sun (vampires are the exception...sorry TwilightLovahs) and little pretties that dangle delicately from my ear lobes. Thus the birth of my jewelry empire (that is less like an empire and more like a very large wheel that has been slow to turn). If you bring my love of pink and my passion for gorgeous, yet affordable, jewelry together, mix it with a splash of I wanna save the world and you get...
...which starts TODAY!! It's not a giveway, unfortch...there is money exchange involved. However, if you love it and if you buy it, I will send 50% of your check to the Susan G. Komen Foundation and 100% of your check if you review it on my Facebook fan page (but I will be tempted to keep it all if you write a negative review...although...there is really nothing negative about beautiful jewelry so I don't think we to worry about that).

So, here's how it works....you have from TODAY until Thursday the 28th (I would run it until the 31st, but Shana @Fumbling Towards Normalcy and I have to grace Atlanta and Savannah with our presence over Halloween weekend and I don't think I should be drinking and crimping. That's how people lose an eye, y'know...so it ends the day before she arrives.). Each day, you have to come stalk me on my Facebook fan page (which is not my Facebook group page...look for the the featured item as the profile picture, not my logo, to make sure you're in the right spot) or on Twitter (@Daisyandelm) to see what the featured item for that day is. If you love it, gotta have it, or gotta gift it, email me to let me know. If you're first in line, it's all yours. Remember our motto at Daisy & Elm: There's only one of everything so...See it. Love it. Buy it. Make the other girls jealous. Once it's purchased, it's gone, baby, gone! When I receive your payment, either via PayPal or by check (or cash if you're in the Lexington area), 50% of it will go toward the big check I write at the end to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. If you love it so much that you feel inspired to review it on my Facebook fan page, I will send 100% of your payment to them. When Shana arrives on the 29th, we will have a grand unveiling of how much money you raised for this magnificent charity. Y'all came shining through for the children of Africa (which, by the way, Mama Virgo is writing her guest post...she's just waiting on some pictures of the school to arrive in her email in-box)...so let's do a little something for breast cancer research and pray to heaven above that we are never forced to reap the benefits!

This is not an Etsy event. Please don't go over there looking for it. With a new item everyday, I could go poor in listing fees. I hope you understand. Plus, that's less competition for your pretty pink something.

Get ready....get set....shop. love. buy. support.

Nailing It

2010-10-02T11:06:00.006-04:00

Neal loves analogies....like I love a chilled glass of pinot grigio and a sunset. He uses them in practically every situation where he must explain something. Most of the time, it is an effective way to clarify one of his explanations (which, admittedly, are hard to follow sometimes...with all of the unfinished sentences and chuckling in the middle...). So, I'm used to them. And it's not like they just sprang (or is it "sprung") onto the American grammar scene...I'm pretty sure they were on the SAT's. But on the way home from KY a few weeks ago, Neal struck an all-time weird with his analogy of the $400 hammer (and let me say that until then, I had never heard of the $400 hammer analogy, which, according to Neal, was "all over the news a few years ago".... On our 8-hour drive to home #2, the following conversation took place:

Me: So, when are they going to decide if our Yellow Ribbon (pre-deployment workshop) is going to be in Macon or Orlando?
Neal: I don't know. Soon, I guess. It depends on where the other units have theirs.
Me: Oh, so our unit won't be the only one at the Yellow Ribbon?
Neal: No, we will be the only one for that weekend, but if they can have several units per month in the same hotel, then they may get a discounted rate so then they may pick a hotel that's more convenient to all the regions.
Me: OK...so wouldn't it be cheaper for everyone to have their conference in their area rather than fly everyone to a different state in order to save money on the conference room? (Let me stop here and say that I'm certainly not opposed to spending the weekend in Orlando. I would actually prefer it. I am just always baffled by wasteful spending).
Neal: Well, it's like the $400 hammer. Have you ever heard of the $400 hammer?
Me: No.
Neal: If you have a hammer that cost $20, it doesn't really cost $20 because a guy had to make the hammer and he makes $25 an hour. Then it had to be shipped and that's x amount of money....
Me: What does this have to do with how the Army books hotel rooms?
Neal: I'm trying to tell you! It's like the $400 hammer. Then this hammer has to be unloaded by the truck driver, who makes $50 an hour...
Me: Can we please kill the $400 hammer analogy? It's only confusing me. Who is the hammer and who is the truck driver in this scenario? Am I the hammer? Is the Army the hammer?
Neal: This is what I'm trying to tell you! The $400 hammer does not cost $20! It actually, in the end, costs $400!
Me: OK...I am not an idiot...I understand the analogy. I do not understand how that relates to the Army or the Yellow Ribbon or us flying to Orlando. (I think, at this point, there may have been some banging on the dash involved. Also, probably, some fairly negative body language).
Neal: I can't believe you've never heard of the $400 hammer....
Me: STOP!!! How does this, in ANY way, relate to the Army and our workshop??
Neal: Well, if I make $25 an hour and it takes me an hour to book the hotel room, then that's $25 right there, on top of the hotel room....
Me: Seriously, was that so hard?? Why does there have to be an analogy? And y'know what? Analogies only work if you understand the initial concept. Having no idea how the Army chooses Yellow Ribbon destinations or how they book hotel rooms, the analogy is useless. Why couldn't you have just said that 5 minutes ago?
Neal: Because it's just like the $400 hammer....

I think I may have blacked out at this point. Arguing with a 5-year old sometimes does that to me.

Happy Champagne Friday, FINALLY!

2010-09-30T12:31:00.010-04:00

I'm not sure where the past 3 Fridays have gone. I don't even think there was champagne consumed on those days. I mean, that's not to say there wasn't something else...sangria, Miller Lite, grog...just not champagne. That is a sad, sad story indeed. But today is different because we do have a bottle of champagne chillin' in the (dorm) fridge, thanks to Mama Virgo and her Happy Anniversary wishes. Nothing says Happy Anniversary like finally celebrating it, 2 weeks later.

So, to celebrate Champagne Friday this week, I bring you drunken photography. Pop a cork, put your feet up, and celebrate the weekend, my friends...for Monday comes way too soon!

Horse racing + lemon drops + track-side seats = drunk by 2 PM

Neal has a beer-induced lazy eye.

Nothing says "environmentally friendly" like boob windmills.

Neal totally missed his calling as a Chippendale...just sayin'...

I love it when dancing involves the hands, too.

Last one of the evening.

Cheers!

The Neighbors Have Eyes

2010-09-30T09:00:00.001-04:00

Introducing the lovely and multi-talented KLZ from Taming Insanity. Read her. Love her. Follow her. I would follow her to the ends of the earth, but then, maybe that's just me....

We recently moved out of a one bedroom condo.

By "we" I mean, my husband, myself and our 11 month old.

Out of a 700 square foot, one-bedroom condo in a high rise in downtown Chicago.

Yeah, good times.

But now that we're doing this suburban thing, I realize that there were certain luxuries about living downtown. For one? We were anonymous.

Sure, certain people might know us as those people who are stupid enough to live in a one bedroom with a baby but they lived on other floors. They had other schedules. They had other lives. In the condo, I could happily do whatever the hell I wanted and continue to be encapsulated in our suffocatingly small little place. The people living around us largely ignored us.

The neighbors were not the issue. Because in that condo, we had all the tension we could take already inside the walls.

So, now that we've moved to the suburbs, I'm slowly realizing that things are not so casual now. My neighbors know where I live. I'm no longer one of hundreds of people crammed into a four building complex. I'm one of three people living in a house.

This was never more evident than when I decided to clean out our fridge before garbage day. We had some Italian beef that needed to get trashed. I dump it into the garbage bag where it promptly begins to ooze out. Fantastic.

So, my new-homeowner self begins to freak. I crouch low to the ground and scurry with the bag so the mess will be kept in a confined space. I rush around the side of the house and hurl the bag into our garbage can. I fly back into the house to get paper towels to cleanse the beef juice from my garage floor.

As I do this I realize: the garage door is open. People are driving by. And I have enacted this insane garbage tossing ballet for the whole neighborhood to see.

While wearing plaid pajama pants. And turquoise knee-high socks. And an orange shirt that says "Don't need no credit card to ride this train".

So, yeah. Casual Friday is over. As is casual anytime they can see me. Because I have already established myself as the nutso of the neighborhood.

Or, I could just roll with it and prepare to host my own White Trash Bash.

KLZ

My Hats Off to the British and the French

2010-09-29T13:05:00.006-04:00

To say that this past trip north has been stressful would be a magnificent understatement. The journey started out smoothly enough...I was only fifteen minutes late picking Neal up from work and Poppy only cried this time from Warner Robins to Atlanta...which is preferable to her crying from Warner Robins to Chattanooga. As usual, Lulu was asleep before we ever got off base. It's amazing how different sisters can be, even when they are of the feline species. I accidentally picked an exit with a Panera which meant I got to have their apple walnut salad instead of that disease-in-a-bowl that Wendy's tries to sell to the unsuspecting public. And we walked in the back door of Chez Vacation at 12:15 AM...only fifteen minutes past ETA....

Except that we walked into a warm and, unpleasantly, humid house. It had been almost a month since our last trip up but we both agreed that we remembered setting the thermostat to something other than Louisiana Swamp. Something was not right. While Neal checked the breaker box and flipped switches to God knows what on the furnace panel, I emptied the contents of our travel cooler into the fridge...the very warm, very not cold refrigerator. Wait, let me be more specific...the 7-year old, Jenn-Air, stainless steel refrigerator was not cold. Seven years old. My cats have outlived this refrigerator. In fact, the only thing this refrigerator has outlasted is my tenure at each of my 32 jobs and Lindsay Lohan's time in jail. The AC finally kicked on that night, but the refrigerator just sat there like the hulking dish cabinet it had become.

The next morning, Neal unplugged it and then plugged it back in. Lo and behold, it worked! The motor whirred to life and cold air shot from the vents. Hallelujah, we sang, as we did a victory dance around the kitchen island. Exactly 24 hours later, as I was shoving Fazoli's into my piehole and discussing wedding flowers with BFF Curly Sue, the damn thing just stopped. I sat at my beautiful new high-top dining room furniture and listened for any sound of life from Jenn-Crap. Nothing. I called a place who sent a man with a clipboard and a screwdriver. Seven minutes later he declared the compressor ruined and suggested a $900 fix. I stifled my laugh and wrote him a check for his time and expertise (a check that Neal is still grumbling about...perhaps he should learn to fix refrigerators instead of drive tanks...).

We spent our Anniversary Do-Over on Sunday looking for a new refrigerator. Ironically, the 4th anniversary gift is appliances. Or linen. Linen if you're a traditionalist, appliances if you want to get the diamond a lot earlier than the golden 50th (and I'm a realist...that would make Neal 87. We are going the Modern road). I thought we had bought each other Droid X's. Apparently, it was Droid X's and a Samsung french-door refrigerator. Happy Anniversary to us! I've been waiting for it to arrive for approximately 3 days now and I've learned the following things about myself regarding refrigeration:

1. I could never be French. Going to the store everyday is exhausting and time-consuming...even if I can almost see it from my house. Granted, my vegetables are not fresh off the truck, but I have a horrible habit of looking for signs of mold before diving into leftovers. So maybe fresh is not particularly important to me.

2. When you are operating out of a dorm fridge, it brings into focus what you deem valuable enough to occupy prime real estate. I, for example, have a 3-pack of egg substitute, a package of buffalo chicken deli meat, a container of hummus, a bottle of International Delight creamer, 2 beers, and a bottle of champagne.

3. You never know how much you enjoy...how much you need ice until it's no longer an option. I realize the British have been doing this for years, but what is the point of having iced tea without ice? How can you put a bottle of champagne on ice without ice? If I fell down the stairs and sprained my ankle, I would have to run it under cold water and hope that kept the swelling down. And nothing freezes ice like a freezer...no matter how much you pray over the ice tray and dorm fridge.

What I'm saying is, we have come a long way since the invention of refrigeration and I'm pretty sure that any cavewoman or frontier cowgirl tendencies I may have had at birth are long gone. Mama needs something with twin cooling, a separate drawer for her wine, and an endless supply of ice!

Purely to Announce Someone Else

2010-09-29T12:04:00.008-04:00

You will have to excuse me in my brevity today. Apparently my laptop and my pinkie finger are conspiring against me in an attempt to end all blogging activities. I just typed an entire post, full of wit, wisdom, and sarcasm, only to have it deleted when my computer unexpectedly shut down to install updates. Normally, this not an issue as Blogger saves about every 2.7 seconds. Not today. It didn't save squat. Ever. And then, as I was mid-way into retyping everything that was no longer "off the top of my head," my pinkie reached over and deleted the. whole. thing. Clearly, it's time for a V8 or another cup of coffee or warmer socks. So, let me just say that tomorrow, I'm featuring a guest blogger who is going to discuss the very opposite of the predicament we find ourselves in. While we have gone from suburbia to the middle of everything, she has gone from the middle of everything to suburbia. And just the first couple sentences made me giggle with absolute understanding.

This guest post was going to be extra-perfect because I am supposed to be in suburban Chicago rightthisveryminute, were it not for the complete come-apart of a certain JennAir product in our kitchen. An important product...that keeps my wine and chocolate cool and my Weight Watchers ice cream bars frozen...and is currently being replaced by something other than JennAir.

Dear Maytag,
In case you missed my FaceBook post, JennAir sucks.
Love,
Disappointed in Da Townhouse

Thus, I am cleaning the previous owner's short and curlies out of my bathroom vents and not drinking Bloody Marys for breakfast with Queen Elizabeth. Sometimes life is ruthless. As I continue to clean, unpack boxes, and buy out Target's entire selection of lamps, please enjoy my guest blogger tomorrow and make her feel welcome! After all, she is one of us!

Cheers and Bottoms Up...just 48 more hours...

Samsonite: Party of Two

2010-09-21T10:11:00.006-04:00

Let me just put it out there that as much as y'all may have missed me, I've missed you more. Since my last post (golly gee, how 19 days pass so quickly), we have been to Kentucky, Atlanta, Charleston, and, emotionally, to Hell and back. We have been living out of duffle bags and fueling up the Prius more than twice a month. And we have celebrated birthdays and anniversaries...some were highly anticipated, some were anxiety-filled.

Birthday Week was a huge success! Over the course of 7 (OK, Neal...eight days), I received Major Hugs, an Army teddy bear who stands on my desk and keeps watch over his troops, an Army wife car decal (which I will affix as soon as we move off of the Air Force base), 3 iTunes gift cards (Dear CNN: Seriously? $1.99 for an app? Is that money going to feed Pakistan or get clean drinking water to the Haitians? Because it better not be funding your Christmas party), a tiny pink MagLight, a bouquet of flowers, and finally, my iPod docking station/speaker system. Yes...I am spoiled, but I'm a pretty princess and deserve to be showered with Apple products.

Exactly one week later, Neal and I jaunted off to Atlanta for the night, mostly to distract me from Shep's 1-year "birthday," which falls on 15 September. Neal was Julie the Cruise director for that trip and from the moment we checked into our hotel, which had a lovely view of CNN Headquarters from our window, to the VIP tours of CNN that he purchased in advance, I was completely distracted. Meeting Rick Sanchez didn't hurt, either.

(Yes, that's me leaning towards Rick. I was just waiting for him to catch a whiff of the Star Power that I constantly emanate. Instead, I think he caught a whiff of La Tourists de Summer.)

And, of course, Andersondahling met me with open arms. We've been separated for so long...it seems like my men are always leaving for war-torn countries.
Anderson said he understood the separation was difficult and he would work harder to be home more. What? He didn't have to speak those words, he told me with his eyes. We're connected like that.

Did the 15th suck a lot? Yes, but the 14th sucked harder...not really knowing how I would feel the next day. I could look at the clock and say "A year ago right now, my water broke." or "A year ago this very minute, I delivered Shepherd...a silent baby surrounded by crying ones." But Neal packed so much into last Wednesday that I forgot to look at the clock. Sometimes mortals work miracles.

And now, I can no longer say "This time last year, I was pregnant." A year can change your life and occasionally, a year can suture a shattered heart.

We were home for barely 24 hours when it was time to hit the highway again. Since Neal will be deployed next year for our 5-year wedding anniversary, we took the opportunity to celebrate this year in Charleston...home of the Citadel and a large Civil War population who refuses to cross over. Well, Charleston does provide a more hospitable climate for haunting.

Now, we are headed back to Kentucky, where Neal will head on to his first of two conferences in Indianapolis. He will come home for a couple days and I will leave with him for the second one, continuing on to see Queen Elizabeth in Chicago. At the end of the week, we will travel back to Georgia for the October battle assembly and two days later, Neal will mobilize to Ft. McCoy for the month. I told you...there has been a lot of travel and very little home cooking over the past 3 weeks. That is not going to change any time soon.

I want to thank everyone for the plethora of birthday wishes. I would tell you about the first time I actually felt 32, but that's TMI-overload. So, let's just say that 32 is not the new 23. And thank you for your thoughts, prayers, comments and texts about Shepherd's birthday. We feel so elevated by your positive energy and support. Neal and I feel incredibly blessed to have each other, but we also have bottomless gratitude for our friends and family who have reached out to us.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary, so I may, again, be noticeably absent. But then he'll be conferencing and I'll be waiting on furniture to arrive. What better time to surf around the blogisphere? AND...I've decided to launch one more blog...because I have so much extra time on my hands. And I'm going to let you all pick what it's going to be! So, vote now because it's going up in 2 weeks!

A) I want to hear more about your Army Life! I live in suburbia and think it would be intoxicating to be surrounded by men in flight suits all the time. Also...does the commissary really have the best sushi? Make it Army for me!

B) I realize that you have traveled a lot in the past 20 years. While some of these places are less desirable (hello, Macon GA), I would love to know what it was like to have espresso in Rome and high tea in Scotland! Make it travel for me!

And if you would like to suggest a blog title for this new project, there is a chance (OK, a very good chance) that it will win you some Daisy & Elm swag. (And by swag, I don't mean a plastic pen emblazoned with my logo or a business card magnet...I mean actual jewelry of your choosing).

Thank you, to all 96 of my followers, for hanging tough with me through the month of September. I can only hope that October will bring less highway miles and more blogging!

Oh, and check out my guest post for Krysten @ After I Do! I blogged while she moved. Happy Birthday, Krysten! I hope you've unpacked the box with all of your gifts!

Two-Word Wednesday: Birthday Week

2010-09-01T13:13:00.009-04:00

Today is 1 September, which, for those of you playing at home know, is the first day of Birthday Week. Neal tried to argue last night that, technically, a week is 7 days and if you count Wednesday to Wednesday, that is 8 days. Therefore, Birthday Week should not start until tomorrow. I had to explain to him, using small words and speaking slowly, that Wednesday to Wednesday is one week and therefore Birthday Week starts today. He finally relented, mostly because he fell asleep mid-sentence. If you are a Birthday Week hater or you would like to argue Neal's case for him, I will kindly point you in the direction of his blog, as your kind are no longer welcome here. Birthday Week starts today. Period.

And to prepare for such an event, I have located birthday pictures from the past 3 years. I'm not sure where the others are stored, but they aren't on the external hard drive and since I'm supposed to be packing and not blogging, it will just have to wait. Without further ado, the last 3 years:

This is me, Curly Sue, and our waitress at Don Pablo's. Apparently said waitress was a carrying a small case of the Bubonic Plague because sometime around midnight, I began to feel like I had been run over, backed over, and then run back over by a semi. Two days later, as I stumbled into the UTC, wheezing, sneezing, and leaking from all of my holes, I ran into Curly Sue sitting in the waiting room. There are not that many illnesses/injuries that will push you to the head of the line at a UTC. Low oxygen count is one of them. Come to find out I had pneumonia.

Actually, it was double pneumonia which, as it turns out, is not double the fun. Breathing treatments are the pits, especially when they refuse to give you a dragon face for your inhaler because you're "too old" or some such crapola. Happy 29th Birthday to me!

The next year, I fared better....
Dinner at The Black Tulip, before it met its untimely demise. Curly Sue and Mama Virgo and not pictured: Army Dad, Suzy Stepmom, and Grandma Gaga.

I was also treated to fondue with the girls. Any reason to eat at The Melting Pot seems like a stellar reason to me. The food is so good, we had out-of-body experiences, apparently. Neal is noticeably absent from these photos as he was in Kuwait for that year. So, double pneumonia last year, husband at war this year.

Neal thinks this photo is HI-LAR-EE-US....at almost 17 weeks pregnant, I was feeling a little like a beached whale...although Motherhood Maternity does a pretty decent job of selling clothing that makes you look less like one. We took a week trip to Philly and Baltimore to celebrate my birthday and our first stop was this Museum of Sciences in Philadelphia. As soon as I stepped in front of the fat mirror, Neal was firing off photos. Such a loving husband. Exactly 7 days later, Shepherd was delivered. If I had known then what I know now, I would have never made it past the state line.

I am infatuated with my birthday. I don't get hung up on numbers or what it all means to be "in my 30's." I'm often mistaken for someone 5 years younger, so what does it matter how old I am when I am not pegged for being in my 30's? Aside from the whole "biological clock" thing that has gone from a windchime to Uncle Ben in the past 6 months, I'm pleased as peaches to be turning 32 next week. I can't imagine being any other age. Besides, now that the average life expectancy has exceeded 70, I still have more than half of my life ahead of me. And what better day to start celebrating than today? Oompah! It's Birthday Week!

Try a New Food Tuesday: Death by Chocolate

2010-08-31T23:02:00.007-04:00

The Air Force Posse (AKA The Sun Devil, Yaz, and Dane Cook's babydaddy) and I have been trying to gather once a week for scrapbooking, lunching, and general debauchery (or as much debauchery as the government will allow on federal property...which is, essentially, scrapbooking). A couple of weeks ago, we had just finished taste-testing The Sun Devil's scrumptious (and shockingly simple to make) array of Tastefully Simple dips and breads. As I reached into the fridge for a Diet Coke (because washing all of that down with pinot grigio would just be sinful. It was, after all, 2:30 in the afternoon), I noticed a rather large container with a slice of cake that was roughly the size of my head, including my Georgia fro. "There's cake in here!" I exclaimed. From the living room I heard, "Don't touch that, hooker! It's MINE!" Clearly, this cake was something special. Not blessed-by-the-pope special or even sneezed-on-by-Jon-Hamm special....but unique, nonetheless.

Me: Yaz? Why are you defending your cake's honor?
Yaz: Because it's from Maggiano's and The Sun Devil brought it to me when they went to Atlanta last weekend.
Me: OK...and?? I've had Maggiano's before. I'm not a total boob.
Yaz: It's Chocolate Zuccotto Cake and it's divine. *eyes rolling back into her head and I think, just for a second, I saw her orgasm face*
Me: So, can I have some?
Yaz: You don't understand. It's from Atlanta.
Me: So is Coke, but I don't have to beg for that around here.
Yaz: I will give you a small bite if you use it for New Food Tuesday.

And here we are....two weeks later and I finally have my shiznit together enough to talk about what an incredible experience it was. And for the record, the pictures really don't do it justice. This cake is such a rock star that it deserves its own head shots.

Getting up close and personal with that sambuca chocolate mousse and iced chocolate frosting.

I would also like to say that I could write a better, more accurate description of this sin in a bin if I could have had a bigger bite. That's all I had to work with...they wouldn't treat Paula Deen this way.

I know it's easy to be distracted by the hunk-a-scrapbooking-machinery behind me and the rainbow assortment of embossing powders...but please try to zoom in on eyes rolling back...

Well that was delightful and if it weren't for Weight Watchers and their bedeviled points system, I may have tried to make a run for it with the cake and the fork. I mean Yaz was sort of sandwiched between 2 card tables and yet another Cricut. I could have had at least a 20 yard head start. But alas...there are jeans with sizes in the low teens that must be squeezed into in the coming months.

Many thanks and chocolate breath to Yaz for "sharing"....although if it had been up to me, I would have taken the same size bite that Mama Virgo used to take of my McDonald's cheeseburgers when I was a weeAlly (which is about 1/2 of the serving size). I think I may be passing through Atlanta soon, though.

You heard it hear first: Maggiano's will make you fat and happy.

Mojito Monday: The Week in Pictures

2010-08-30T11:57:00.012-04:00

...and because I missed Champagne Friday. And also because, according to Weight Watchers, margaritas are 5 points each while mojitos are only 3! Embrace the mint!

It's just another day at Queenie J's house when a dragon and a ninja burst into the kitchen, demanding peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Goodbye, big ole cheese wagon...hauling a ninja and a dragon to their first day of school.

Now what? Scrapbook? Make jewelry? Organize? Drink whatever is in that cup?

Soldiers in Neal's unit voluntarily jumping out of airplanes that are clearly not engulfed in flames.

And all manage to land safely, without incident. Neal was so inspired that he has requested to go to Jump School after the deployment. Greeeaaaattttt.....If I had known that would happen, I would have suggested IHOP instead of the drop zone.

Right after the battalion commander announced that Neal volunteered for this crazyass idea. I'm smiling because...y'know...that's what we do. Smile now, fret later.

Pickin' peaches at Lane's Packing. For $3, you get 6 wine tastings and the wine glass they came in. The tour is free, but good luck making it out of there without something peach-related. We came away with only peach BBQ sauce this time. Mama Virgo and Anna Banana weren't so lucky. Wine, pecans, and peaches, oh my!!

A little family time and a rare photo of the 3 of us. Neal, me, and Poppy (who is disguised as a sweater).

Lady Lulu declares, from her perch high above the kingdom, that it has been a good couple of weekends. Eating, drinking, and being merry with Queenie Jeaninie and her crew. Eating, drinking, and being merry with Mama Virgo and Anna Banana. And belly rubs for everyone!

Try a New Food Tuesday will return to its regularly scheduled time tomorrow. So many pictures of what I've been eating, so little time to describe the good, the bad, the ugly....

Texting Has Made Us Stupid

2010-08-26T13:00:00.004-04:00

I am taking a page out of Salt's book today with an Open Letter Thursday. I haven't done one since the Urban Active debacle. I think I'm due.

Dear CVS Advertising/Marketing Department,

Last Sunday, I was perusing the Jacksonville Sunday paper, enjoying the French Roast my sister has started brewing and wondering what sales you all would be offering up to the mostly unemployed public this week when I stumbled across this:

Let's get past the fact that 50 prints for $6 is a pretty good deal...at 12 cents per photo. Even Sam's Club has a difficult time competing with that. I would, instead, like to draw your attention to the small print, especially the part that says "(like 12 cents each)". I am more than just a little appalled that we are now accepting Valley Girl Speak in our marketing campaigns. I just did the math...it is not like 12 cents each...it is 12 cents each. And even if it was sometime thing like 12.43 cents per photo, there are roughly 27392 different ways to indicate that the price is just slightly over 12 cents. Like is really not an option for print advertising. Or it shouldn't be. I don't mind to see like littered around blog posts, Kindergarten assignments, and the screenplay for Clueless...I am, however, adverse to having it posted on the 1st page of a Big Box sales flyer. We are already fighting a losing battle with the invention of text language and spell check. Perhaps you should refrain from caving to the peer pressure, even if it does cost you your target audience. This is not a deal breaker for me. I will still buy my Chia Pets from you at Christmas and sometimes you do have the best deal on Halloween candy. I would just appreciate a little more care taken in the production of your newspaper ads...even if you think no one reads the newspapers anymore.

Sincerely,
M&M

Happy Birthday, Queen Elizabeth!

2010-08-25T09:59:00.003-04:00

...And no, her name is not actually Queen Elizabeth...or even Elizabeth, for that matter. But she has always felt like my big sister, even when we shared the most coveted room in the sorority house (corner room, second floor, with an air conditioning unit. One of the few perks of being the House Manager was getting to pick your room before anyone else. Well, and getting to pick your roommate. Queen E lobbied harder for that job than anyone else. I like to reward hard work.)

I was obnoxiously distant during my last two years in the sorority. I blame The Psychopath (AKA ex-fiance #2) for this noticeable absence. When he told me that if I got drunk on my 21st birthday, he would leave me, I should have taken it for the flashing red sign that it was. But I was young and in love and incredibly stupid. Queen E stuck by me on my 21st and for all the days following, even when I didn't come home for weeks on end and debt collectors were calling to hound me about bills unpaid. Today, that wouldn't be a problem for Queen E, but this was before cell phones, when the only number they had was our land line. And they liked to start calling around 7 AM.

We fell out of touch why my life fell apart, as hard as I tried to keep it all together. Note to any tweens or teens reading this: if you think a guy may be ruining your life or if you sense that you are not the woman you were before you met him, give back all the jewelry and the football jersey and run for the hills. He's not worth it. It's not worth it. The first sign will be when he asks you to cancel plans with your girlfriends so that the 2 of you can eat Donato's Pizza on his couch and watch The Matrix for the 15th time. But somehow, we found a way to connect back up, even before Facebook came along. I attended her wedding, visited her in Chicago, she came down to Kentucky, and the friendship that we should have had in college began to take root. Eventually, she was a bridesmaid in my wedding and we attended her daughter's christening.

Today, she turns 25. Again. It is a lady's prerogative to never tell how many times her BFF has celebrated 25, as long as she can still pass. And she absolutely can.

And because she's a Virgo, too, and we both love lists, here's one for you, Queen E!

Reasons why Queen Elizabeth rocks my little Virgo world:
1. She can laugh about The Psychopath Years...now.
2. She is 199% honest. Even brutally. But I depend on that, especially when I'm making major life decisions.
3. I would have never been able to set a wedding date if it hadn't been for her.
4. She finds great deals on photo printing, jeans, make up, shoes, wine and everything in between. And she shares it with me so I can shop, too!
5. When I spend too much on our shopping trips in Chicago, she lets me blame it on her.
6. She is one of the few people who will wander aimlessly around The Container Store with me for hours....and then help me recreate it all from what we find at IKEA.
7. She loves a plan. And hates it when a plan changes. It's like we were separated at birth.
8. She introduced me to pinot grigio and Jen Lancaster. That alone is worth Lifetime BFF Status.
9. In the past few years we have had: amazing seats at a White Sox/Red Sox game (as in, a player's wife was seated directly in front of us), countless dinners at Maggiano's, tickets to my first ever hockey game (GO Blackhawks!), tickets to The House of Blues Gospel Brunch (totally worth every penny...but get there early for extra mimosas!), trips to the beach, trips to distilleries, and trips down memory lane. And that's just what springs to mind during my first cup of coffee...
10. Our birthdays are exactly 2 weeks apart and that means we are pretty much twins.

Happy Birthday, Queen Elizabeth! I hope you get all of the wine, chocolate, and Coach you wanted! I'm sorry you're there and I'm here, but I will make it up to you one of these days!
xoxo

Rollin' in the Prius

2010-08-18T16:01:00.003-04:00

Hi, you've reached Magnolias & Mimosas! Sorry I can't post witty and insightful things or pop over and spread my sarcastic goodness all over your all's comments sections right now. I'm on my way to the Queen's house. Big Sister was being all melodramatic about her need to scrapbook and make fancy jewelry and drink mojitos and Little Princess felt every mile of that guilt trip. So, off I go. I will return on Sunday, after Neal finishes his last paper for this class and I'm properly pickled from sun and drink.

We are clearly elephants at the Jacksonville Zoo.

See ya on da flip side with stories, pictures, and fancy, handmade baubles.

PS For those of you looking to break into my house, it is still inhabited by a man who has had 25 years of weapons qualifications and 2 lionesses. I wouldn't, if I were you.

Pat Conroy Makes Me Wordy

2010-08-14T11:40:00.006-04:00

Disclaimer: This is probably the longest book review you will ever read...if you do choose to read it. But if I didn't get these thoughts out of my head as soon as I placed South of Broad back on the bookshelf, they would roll around in there until they dripped out in the shower and I would never get them back.

Growing up as an only child can result in one of several ways...you are withdrawn, shy, and retain an alarming number of imaginary friends...or you can immerse yourself in the lives and loves of school friends...or you cling to the music, authors, and art of your parents' generation. You hold on to these aspects of your childhood because without a sibling to torment, shadow, and adore, you adhere to your parents and everything they bring with them. Unfortunately, Army Dad never really grasped that (despite his numerous attempts at fatherhood, unlike my mom) and saw his role in the family as The Discipline and The Lecturer. While some of his teachings and traits stuck (I am hyper-vigilant while traveling alone or at night, I always prepare for the worst while simultaneously hoping for the best, and I could watch The History Channel for hours), I don't fall back on his music or his books when my ship starts to rock. Instead, I download albums by James Taylor and Mary Chapin Carpenter. I put Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young on repeat until the storm subsides. I'm sure these were all part of Dad's collection at some point (probably when he and Mom were still married and she brought with her the art that had fashioned her into the woman she had become), but he is not the one I think of when the music plays. It is Mom and her gardening gloves as she surveys a lonely spot of land...or driving with sunglasses on, sunroof open and Jimmy Buffett enticing us with cheeseburgers and margaritas...or playing Fur Elise on the piano in the dining room of the only house that could both heal us after an emotionless divorce and allow our relationship to almost completely disintegrate. The music and the authors that belong to my mother came to belong to me, as well. And that is how I fell in love with Anne Rivers Siddons and Pat Conroy.

Although I embraced the Sweet Valley twins and Anne of Green Gables as fully as any tween in the early 90's, I was also reading about the tumultuous relationships that adults have and how geography can sometimes play an integral role in all of it...particularly in the south. Outer Banks, a novel about four women who become fast friends after joining a sorority at Randoph-Macon College in the 1960's, has haunted me since I first read it my freshman year in high school. Reading it several more times has done nothing to ease the restlessness I felt after the first read. Even though it has been many years since I've picked up my weathered and abused copy, I still often think about one of Ms. Siddons' unintentional themes...how music in the background of an experience can actually shape the memory of that experience. The soundtrack and library of my childhood were established by my mom. Until I read Outer Banks, I rallied against allowing music to define a period of my life. After, I realized there is really no way around it.

I read Beach Music by Pat Conroy next and found peace and escape in his lengthy descriptions of the south and the tides of the Atlantic Ocean. Together, he and Ms. Siddons replaced my blood with saltwater. Jimmy Buffett then blended it to a perfect, fruity concoction.

While I've read some of Ms. Siddons' later works, most recently Off Season, none of it comes close to invoking a passion for the characters that Outer Banks did. However, Pat Conroy's latest book, South of Broad, not only served as a love letter to the entire city of Charleston and its neighboring islands, it also transported me to a time in American history that I, unfortunately, missed. While some authors tend to draw out their stories, reaching for some set page goal, I absolutely believe Mr. Conroy needed all 512 pages to tell the story of Charleston and her evolution from the segregated and society-obsessed brat she was in the late 1960's to the diverse tourist destination she is today. He, like my parents, witnessed the 60's and 70's firsthand and paints, I think, an accurate portrait (even for a work of fiction) of what the deep south was like during those years. Meld that with the dramatic and tragic arrival of the AIDS epidemic in San Francisco in the 1980's and you have the ingredients for an epic story, spanning several decades and encompassing entire lives of the main characters.

It is easy to look at the year 1968 or 1985 or 2010 and see it as a single moment in history, as if it arrived by virgin birth with no history and no future to influence it. But when you read a story, fiction or biographical, that spreads across 4 decades and recounts how events affected those who lived them, it is impossible to ignore that we are all a thread in the quilt of time. Maybe we become the thread spun of gold that illuminates all others around us or maybe we become frayed and tattered. Regardless, we cannot escape our place in the pattern. Our every thought, word, and action will change how the quilt is crafted but we will never see most of those changes. It's a butterfly who changes course in Brazil. It is removed from us, but that doesn't mean that it never happened or had consequences. South of Broad reminds me, in a way that very few books have before, that cause-and-effect is real and occurs every second of every day.

But South of Broad covers many of life's mysterious currents. From integration of the deep south to the harrowing realization that a disease can erase the lives of so many before anyone cares to the breath-taking resilience of the most violated and damaged individuals. To say this is a novel about a group of friends who met in high school, grew up to marry one another and survived Hurricane Hugo (which, as unjust as it may be, is absolutely comparable to Hurricane Katrina to the residents of South Carolina), is a gross oversimplification that should insult Mr. Conroy. Is it a novel worthy of awards and praise? Absolutely. Is it perfect? No. I quickly grew bored of the chapter that gave a play-by-play of high school football games and I was exhausted by the hot and cold relationship between Leo and Molly. But the integrated high school football team and their cheerleaders provided the backdrop for so many of the central relationships to develop, so I will forgive him. And Molly was proof that no matter how strong your love is for someone else, there are areas of the world where society will still dictate your spouse and your course in life.

Mama Virgo read this first and was lukewarm on it in general. The ending she thought was "weird"....which, as lame as it is, was the only way I could describe the ending to Ms. Siddons' Off Season. Weird. I didn't feel the same about South of Broad. I think some who are intrigued by this review will rush out, buy the book, read all 512 pages and think to themselves, "that was the most melodramatic piece of trash I've ever spent my time reading." But I've been on this earth long enough to know that the events in the book could all happen today. In a world where kidnapped children are found living in the backyard of and working for their kidnappers, where a handful of celebrities turn up dead by their own hand each year, where citizens in small towns everywhere find their big break on television reality shows...nothing in South of Broad is impossible...or even improbable. This book covers a society divided by race and class, the emergence of open homosexuality and the hatred that follows, child abuse, murder, acts of God, scandal in the Catholic church, the wrath of Alzheimer's, philandering, disease, and the inhumanity we show to others. It is only the most genius of writers that can make me feel inspired and hopeful after all of that.

Champagne Friday: Rah-Rah-Rah!

2010-08-13T16:48:00.011-04:00

Men who know how to dine properly

Happy Champagne Friday, lovelies and lovers!

For the record, I have no idea who these 2 men are, but since today's post is U.K.-themed (University of Kentucky, not United Kingdom...*ahem Kiera*), served with a tall glass of champagne, I thought they were completely appropriate. And who doesn't love KFC? I know there's a nasty rumor going around that Colonel Sanders was an arrogant SOB who only cared about his chicken and his slaw...but if your chicken and slaw are that good, I won't judge you on your personality flaws.

As Salt mentioned yesterday, pre-season has started for the NFL and college football is right around the corner. As a marching member of the drum line for 3 years in high school, I lived and breathed Friday night football. And Game Day Saturdays in college meant washing down my egg and cheese bagel with a Bud Light. I can't help but get all giggly when September approaches, the weather cools, and Kroger runs out of brats.

Unlike our basketball team, University of Kentucky football has not always been a winning team. During my college days, we kind of knew we were going to lose days before the opening kick-off...it gave us an excuse to drink more. But now, holy pigskinbatman! We are actually good. And I actually watch games. Which means I have to dress for these games. And accessorize...because it is what separates us from the monkeys. So, when my friend, The Sun Devil (who is a die-hard Michigan fan, but I love her anyway because SEC has nothing to do with Big 10 until post-season) began making these flip-flops to help fund the adoption of a baby, I knew I would be hitting her up for a pair in U.K. blue and white.
They are bring-a-little-tear-to-my-eye cute and I've already been breaking them in for the first game. Granted, Georgia weather will allow me to wear them a little longer than if we were still in Kentucky, but I am not above making a trip to the UTC for frostbitten toes. As I always say to Neal: "it doesn't matter what your feet feel like, it's how cute the shoes are." But you just can't teach a man about self-mutilation for the purpose of adorable footwear.

And then I crafted these beauties for the Etsy store. I love them, but I have my own pieces so these will go up tonight. (click to enlarge)

Look familiar, Kelly?

And those are tiny diamond-like chips lining the bottom. They sparkle in the daylight, like vampires...but with far less chance of death.

If you are interested in The Sun Devil's (AKA Jen) flip-flops, you can find her on her blog, Flip Flops for You or on her Etsy store, ltmsjen.com. She has many NFL/NCAA team colors plus designs for holidays and children. All proceeds will help fund their wish of adopting a child. I have already put in my order for a pair of Army flippy floppies because, really, a girl can never have too many pairs of shoes. And they're comfortable! Neal is so happy.

Cheers!

Roadtrippin' (which is not wordless. At all.)

2010-08-11T12:06:00.008-04:00

I sort of dragged in on Monday night, less from the sheer exhaustion of a 5-hour drive and more from the hangover that lasts longer now that I'm pushing 32. But mojitoes were made and had to be drank...and then there were the margaritas. And Carlos. And Carlos making googly eyes at Salt...

Ah..I digress. So, I had every intention of writing this yesterday but as I was driving home from Sam's Club, I started crying through every country song on the radio (yes, even "All My Exes Live in Texas") and then remembered how I had given the stink eye to that lady in the frozen food department and I realized....I have PMS. It's been awhile so I had sort of forgotten how much joy this brings to my life for 5-7 days. I took that as a sign to take to my bed and Facebook stalk under the covers. But now, after several cups of coffee and a handful of macadamia nut Hershey kisses (Brooke, my supply is running low! Darn you, Hawaii, for controlling supply), I am ready to face the world.

Sunday morning came early after a cookout with my Air Force friends on base, but I was eager to reach Savannah where Amanda of It's Blogworthy and her hubs, K, awaited me. Brunch at Goose Feathers was fantastic and I cannot recommend it enough. The line was long but moved swiftly and the owner was actually working the cash register! I am not sure if that speaks to her dedication or her obsession with control, but either way, I was wildly impressed.

Amanda and K are the most adorable couple, him fretting over the space between her babybelly and strangers, and her giggling about his Mama Hen Complex. I could have sat with them for hours, chatting about work, blogging, and travel. K is sort of a diamond in the rough. You know how hard it is to find a man who will have an enjoyable and two-way conversation with you about something other than field goals...kind of like trying to find size 7 thongs in Victoria's Secret. But K does it and does it well. He and Amanda are the perfect compliment to each other. Kind of like us..

Many thanks to K for snapping the photo of us in Ellis Square, Savannah and many thanks to Amanda for unknowingly letting me hijack it from your blog.

I could have stayed until the junk in the trunk went numb from unyielding cafe chairs...but Salt of Salt Says was drinking beer and Mama Salt was pouring mojitos and the first sign of alcoholism is drinking alone with your mom. We couldn't let that happen, could we?

So, it started with a beer on Sullivan's Island:
And then progressed to margaritas at a Mexican restaurant (where I accidentally used my outside voice to order fish tacos. I think I insisted that they be so good they would make me bellow sex noises.)
And then the drunken photography ensued.
But at least there was no drunk Facebooking or drunk texting (this time). Just 2 girls and Mama Salt on the balcony, discussing Prop 8 and where we will all be on Judgment Day (tequila makes me very philosophical).

The next morning was a dehydrated haze of pain, but one latte and an egg/brie sandwich later, we were on the road to normal.
Salt picked up a little Jasper lovin' with her frap and then we hit the bead store, Beaded Venus, which we immediately renamed Bedazzled Penis. I've managed to put up a couple creations from my finds at the bead store, but more are on their way. Glass pumpkin puppy heads anyone?

Finding King Street in downtown Charleston, using only street signs, proved to be a little more dangerous than scavenging bead stores in Mt. Pleasant. Let's just say that Salt has seen the less desirable neighborhoods of Charm City and this area ranked right up there with them. We dialed the Preppy White Girl Look down and the Totally-Fake-Unconcerned-Look up until the windows with bars disappeared and no one would mistake us for Narcs. At this point, there were several hysterical "incidences" and I just don't think I want to squeeze them all into one post. Suffice it to say, those of you who read Salt's blog know that she has completely ridiculous stories and it's tempting to believe they are born in her imagination. I'm here to tell you this crap really happens to her! And to me when I'm with her. So, more later on that. Sorry to be such a flapjacking tease.

Salt covered our trip to the city's creepiest cemeteries in her post today, so I will send you over here to check that out.

And I'm headed out to the rest of you, who I've been neglecting in favor of fruited wine, Budget Travel magazines, and Pat Conroy's latest novel, South of Broad. Love and butt-bumps to Amanda, K, Salt, and Mama Salt for a weekend of buffoonery. Let's do it again, shall we?

Happy Champagne Friday, Zambia Style

2010-08-06T08:41:00.006-04:00

HAPPY CHAMPAGNE FRIDAY!
Photo courtesy of my friend, the Parisian Contessa, who just returned from Paris and Amsterdam.
Lucky bitch.
And that's the butt-end of about a million bottles of French Champagne.
This cave has my name all over it.

Thank you, Contessa, for the use of a vacation photo. It is truly a significant snap and very apropos for today.

This Friday's toast goes to Mama Virgo and the Immanuel Baptist Church Mission Team for the work they continue to do this weekend in Zambia. On Wednesday, I posted pictures of the school they came upon that needs a roof in order to not only house the students, but to even survive the next rainy season. The school is not part of their original itinerary, which was jammed full as it was. But with a school mostly finished and only awaiting a roof to finally become useful, Mama Virgo and the team saw a need that could not be ignored. They agreed to collect the funds necessary to finish it. That is a $12,000 bill to completely finish a building that the students can use instead of a tent. Some people spend that on a vacation (not any I know of, personally, but some do).

As Neal and I discussed it that evening, with the closing documents of the new house laying to one side of my computer and travel guides to Egypt and Amsterdam laying on the other, we agreed that we could not, in good conscience, book a European vacation or install wainscoting in the new house when there are children in Zambia without a roof on their school.

And last night, when Neal left a half-finished cob of corn on his plate, I echoed many generations of mothers and said "there are starving people in Africa who would want that corn."

To which he said, "no, they just want a roof on their school." True story. Although, they would probably take the corn, too.

After Wednesday's post, I got several responses back from those of you who wanted to give, but felt bad that it wouldn't be a large sum. To that I say, "Sally Struthers feeds and educates a child on $1.25/day. It doesn't take much. It just takes a lot of us." So, thank you to all of you who have sent checks in financial support of Mama Virgo and the IBC team of volunteers! And thank you to those of you who give in other ways, whether it be for breast cancer research, or the cure for AIDS, or an animal shelter. Thank you for giving from your wallet and your heart and your hands. It takes all of us to make this world great. If we each do one small thing, it adds up to many enormous things quickly.

And if it's not Zambia, Krysten over at After I Do has a charity spotlight each week. Read about the organization and if it calls to your heart, click on her "donate" button. It's easier than Sunday Morning.

I'll leave you this weekend with the latest pictures from Mama Virgo. Internet creeps and crawls at best so sending photos is tedious work, but she's eager to show their progress on the school and the children who await it. Cheers to you, IBC Team! You are doing God's work!

The students in their tentschool in Namapande.

Awaiting a roof, but at least the workers are back on the job!

The IBC Team (Mama Virgo takes a knee)

I Would Drive 5 Hours For Salt

2010-08-04T15:22:00.005-04:00

And by that, I mean....

Salt @ Salt Says! (Not to be confused with the little girl and the umbrella on the navy canister. I can see how you would be confused, though.)

I am still reeling in my jealousy over the epic meet-up of some of my favorite bloggers, Jessalyn @ Cape Cod Awesome, Surferwife @ A Day in the Life of a Surferwife, and Cher @ The Only Girl. I was shoving a chocolate chip cookie in my face, sippin' on some sparkling lemonade, and checking Twitter when I saw this:

T-Minus 24 hours until vacation! Charleston here I come!

Charleston? Charleston, South Carolina? (No offense, Charleston, WV...I would just rather not drive 12 hours to visit you.) I started choking on a chip as I rushed to pull up Google Maps just to see how far Warner Robins is from Charleston. 5 hours? With a very convenient little stop in Savannah 3 hours into the drive? I can so do this! And thus began the email marathon of whether we can bring Salt and Mimosas together.

As it turns out, we can! And Mama Salt will meet Mimosas (AKA Bubbles Friday AKA MagnoliaMimosa) and we, the three of us, shall sit under the stars and drink mojitos like the true southern belles we are. I guess we could drink mimosas, but that takes champagne and that shiz is expensive, yo. Even the $4.99 Barefoot variety. And driving home the next day with that hangover would be disastrous.

Salt and I have even located The Charleston Bead Company, where your two favorite jewelry designers will play to each other's creativity, thus inspiring delightful, whimsical pieces that sparkle in the sun.

Or maybe we'll just laugh at all of their fugly beads and snicker about how we could do so much better.

Either way, it's going to be the stuff that legends are made of because, really, how could it not??

Tomorrow is Try a New Food...um...Thursday? I bought Dragon Fruit at the commissary yesterday. It's definitely a fruit with attitude. AND I have more pictures of the school in Zambia sent to me last night! So much to do! Focus!! Or...just dance about in your boxers and squeal about how much fun Sunday and Monday are going to be. Either way....

PS: Blogger,
I hate you when you won't UN-ITALICIZE. Why must you pee on my parade? THBT!!!!!!!!
~M&M

An Ammendment to the Last Blog Post

2010-08-02T17:36:00.002-04:00

Hey guys,
I'm already getting a phenomenal response. I just received this email from Anna Banana and wanted to pass it along:

I needed to make a correction on the previous info I sent you about donations for the school project. I now know that I will be sending the money through Immanuel Baptist Church to Partners in Development which is a legit non-profit organization. Therefore, anyone wanting to contribute but needing the tax record for contribution purposes should send their contributions to Immanuel Baptist Church, 1075 Collins Lane, Frankfort, KY 40601. Make out the check to Immanuel Baptist Church and in the memo line, put either "Partners in Development" or "Namapanda school project".

Jane says the "school is two thirds finished and they ran out of money. It has walls and window frames, but if the roof is not on by the rainey season in late October, it will crumble. They have almost all the materials but they are locked up and they cannot get them because the workers were not paid." The money the mission team is putting together ($12,000 in all) will finish it all.

I'm not pushing for donations here - just needed to clarify how any donations should be made for tax deduction purposes. Thanks to all for your patience. Will send any further updates as I receive them.

Thank you from me, to0!
~Allyson

An Open Call For Help

2010-08-02T15:40:00.009-04:00

I realize it's kind of tacky for me to abandon you for over a week and then pop back over to ask for a favor...a big favor...a solid, but you should know me well enough to know that I'm not above that sort of thing. Besides, Life got in the way. Pesky Life. We closed on the townhouse in Kentucky on Friday, moved on Saturday, drove back to Georgia on Sunday. And then there's that bottomless pit of laundry.

However, I promise to return full-time this week. In the meantime, I am going to be tacky and ask for your help.

You all remember my mother, the infamous Mama Virgo:

We know that she bleeds U.K. blue and would prefer to breathe sea air than Kentucky air...but she's also committed to selfless-service, and has been for quite some time.

Mama Virgo left for Zambia last Wednesday. She and a small team of volunteers from my hometown church in Frankfort, KY were going to construct a building or two, conduct camps, and just try to improve the quality of life in general. They have had limited Internet and no cell phone service, but this afternoon, I received the following progress report:

Hi All!

Here's the latest on Jane and crew! I just missed a call from her but she left the following information on the machine. On their day trip yesterday they encountered a situation in one of the villages where there has been a school built - except for the roof. The area is holding school for a bunch of kids in a tent and the building is just setting there unfinished. It won't make it through another rainy season and the work that has been done so far will be lost, so she and Steve (Mission Team Leader) have committed the $12,000 that it will take to get a roof on the building. The mission team is pooling their funds for $1000. She asked me to spread the word at church and among friends for anyone willing to pitch in to help out. Anyone else willing to pony up should send the money to Jane at home. She says a lot of kids will benefit from the school and it's okay if she doesn't get the money back, so no pressure here - just help out if you feel moved to do so.

I am simultaneously inspired by the mission team and appalled that the government would allow the school to remain 2% uncompleted and totally unprotected. According to some opinions back home, the Zambian government is unconcerned about how the children are educated and what conditions they must endure to receive that education. I cannot imagine settling for a tent when an actual school is within sight. Mama Virgo and her band of dedicated workers are reaching out for financial assistance so that they can provide the physical assistance. Mama Virgo has agreed to supplement the gathered funds so the roof can be built. She understands that she may not get reimbursed, but wouldn't it be great if she was?

Rarely am I so inspired to share a story and encourage others to participate like I am right now. This is first-hand assistance. I wrote my check to the Red Cross after Hurricane Katrina and I texted my money after Haiti, but this is my mom in Zambia, asking for money so they can build a roof. Mom has always taught me that while our lives here seem ordinary and middle-class, we are indulgent compared to many cultures. And if the people in those cultures are lacking, it is our duty as a member of the human race to try to help. Mama Virgo has already fronted her own money to travel to Zambia and work for 2 weeks, and she understands that she could be writing a large check for a small roof. It would certainly not be pocket change, but she's prepared to do that. I just want to make it a little easier for her.

If you would like to help, please email me at gymwildcat@yahoo.com. I do not have a Paypal account set up or any donation sites prepared. You would just be sending her a check in the mail to her house and she will be sending you pictures of the work you helped make possible. It's a very simple process with a huge impact.

And here is what they've seen and done so far:

I echo Anna Banana's sentiments...please do not feel pressured to do anything. People give or don't give for a variety of reasons. I just think I would be doing Mom a huge disservice by not putting the information out there. As her daughter, it's the least I can do.

Champagne Friday and a Real Reason to Celebrate!

2010-07-23T13:50:00.013-04:00

via Much More than Mommy

I know, right?? This is my 200th post! It took me over a year, but I finally made it (and let's be honest, March-July were sort of rough months around here). I realize I should be doing some sort of giveaway to mark the occasion and thank you, my loyal readers, for sticking around even after the squid tasting. And I will...someday. I actually just realized this was going to be my 200th post when I logged on to Blogger this afternoon. So much for stalking myself and keeping track of numbers (and yet, oddly, I know exactly how many Facebook friends I have...)

So, thank you for continuing to read and continuing to comment. I would write even if the only reader was me, but you all make it 4739203% more satisfying! (And I'm just wondering...do you all ever write something so good that you go back and read it about 20 times, silently congratulating yourself on how good that was? Oh?? Just me? Awesome.)

On to Champagne Friday, which is dedicated to Kelly @ Dare to be Domestic, who, according to her Facebook status update, has been working for today since Monday.

via Vintage Posters

5. First, a sad note...last Sunday morning, I heard glass crashing. Before I even turned the corner down the hallway, I knew what it was...champagne glasses. More specifically, champagne glasses from our wedding (which are also the ones we drink from each Friday). So, when your mama instructs you to pack away your china and your champagne glasses, otherwise they could get broken...she sort of has a point. But that is, ironically, the very reason for Champagne Friday. Life is too short to save the champagne for weddings and babies. It's also too short to let the china and the champagne glasses collect dust. Yes, they might get broken, but that simply provides an excellent excuse for the purchase of new champagne flutes!

4. Here's a recap from last Saturday's Taste of Warner Robins in a photo montage:
(pictures have been cropped to protect the innocent and the un-sober)

It started out innocently enough...

Then the open bar commenced..(there was quite a line. The bartender suggested double-fisting).

Then, it sort of went...

um....

decidedly downhill....

But we had a raving good time. And we outbid everyone else on a Cuisinart Keurig coffee maker...and still got a good deal (yes, I know...silent auctions aren't about getting a good deal. It's about the charity. I beg you to name one person who doesn't go to a silent auction hoping to get a good deal, though).

3. The top 3 lines from the night:

Allyson: "I just LOVE a man in an eyepatch!"

Neal: "WHY do you INSIST on wearing uncomfortable shoes??" (said with great exasperation)

Dane Cook's Baby Daddy: "That thing is so ugly...if I won a fur vest in an auction, the first thing I would do is put it on eBay!" (said to the guy who, as it turns out, had purchased said fur vest for his wife).

2. Poppy got the hiccups this morning. I was simultaneously entertained and concerned. What an odd feeling.

1. We're headed to Savannah tomorrow! It's a one-day kind of thing...be there before noon, self-guide, and head out after dinner. This is not our first time to this particular rodeo, we just need to get out of town for a bit. And Savannah will do in a pinch, I suppose...

via Oglethorpe University

Have a lovely weekend, bellas!

Cheers!

Try a New Food Tuesday: A Teaspoon of Puff Pastry Makes the Squid Go Down

2010-07-20T19:04:00.007-04:00

Let me preface this by saying that we love calamari. I mean pink-bloated-hearts-and-rainbows-shooting-out-of-our-eyes LOVE calamari. Extra crispy with marinara or even just a squirt of lemon makes us drool and vibrate. Dried and shredded squid can't be that different, right? It's not deep-fried in a batter of southern goodness and sin...but it is the same animal. It's not like trying dried elephant just because I like frog legs.

Wrong.

So, so very wrong.

Exhibit A:
I'm assuming the characters down the side say something like "if you don't want to vomit in the back of your mouth, do not attempt to eat this. Dried, shredded squid should be reserved for reality show contestants and sadists only." And you know they can fit all of that into 3 characters because that's how they roll in Taiwan. (As I noticed today, there is an exorbitant amount of food packaging in the commissary that is not in English. Five years of French is doing nothing for me right now.)

The ingredient list is simple: squid (yeah, got that from the very first whiff), sugar (really?? No need to be stingy with the sugar, Orchids.), salt, and MSG sorbic acid lactose (yes, that is all one ingredient).

The smell is simple, too: fishy.

After getting busted on my last Try a New Food Tuesday, I've decided to devote a little more time and research (in the form of a quick Wikipedia search) to the food I'm taste-testing.

Dried, shredded squid is a seasoned snack that is most commonly found in Asian countries and Hawaii. True, this stuff was everywhere in Honolulu. More than once it prompted the idea of a Fear Factor Hawaii while we were visiting Princess Pomtini. It is also referred to as sun-dried squid and cuttlefish. This MSG-laden snack was most often consumed in Japan, as an accompaniment to alcohol (hey, beer nuts are not for everyone) until someone decided the English didn't know what they were missing. I would have to say that this would go down much more smoothly if there was beer (or vodka) involved.

Neal thinks so, too.

Anticipating a lingering fishy taste, I decided that we would need something to wash this down with, so I picked up these.

While I am reserving the full description for next Tuesday, let's just say they are layers of puff pastry, shaped like a pretzel. YUMSTERS!

I now realize that I need to devise a rating scale for Tuesdays. Surferwife has margaritas, Salt has an unrevealed rating scale for her new recipe blog...I should follow suit. While I think on it, I will simply say that if you like beef jerky with an aroma of Pacific Ocean, this could be the snack for you. If not, add sake and try again.

Champagne Friday (or Why Neal and Shaun T Are Trying to Kill Me)

2010-07-16T18:39:00.007-04:00

via Life's a Feast

Happy Champagne Friday!

And I apologize for this entire post being in italics...nothing technology-related is working for me today. This afternoon, Facebook just up and deleted a whole thread of emails between me and a friend of mine. Now, Blogger won't let me NOT use italics...which is kind of frustrating because italics is how I emphasize.

I'd like to buy 4 capital letters, please, Vanna.

C-R-A-P.

Thank you.

Anyway...on with this Friday's Top 5:

5. I didn't die this week.

I don't really think I've lost any weight or tightened anything up, per se....but my muffin top kind of aches and everything from the hips, down, sort of burns when I sit (or stand...or walk...) so I consider that a good sign. Something MUST be changing because I'm usually only sore in my muffin top after coming out of my Spanx.

I'm sorry...I can't resist....I had to Google "Spanx" to make sure I was spelling it right and the first result was advertising Spanx for Men. It looks like this:

via The Fashion Police

Apparently, this is referred to as the "Manx" or a "Mirdle"...take your pick. Personally, I prefer The Saturday Night Special....

Anyway...where was I?? Oh yes...Insanity. I am almost certain that I've never worked out before. Even as a Spinning instructor. I do not sweat in a Spinning class like I've been sweating in our second bedroom. Every time I think I'm going to die and every time I make it through. But this landscape is bound to change so we're pushing through to week 2!

4. Neal didn't die this week.

More specifically, he didn't die when, as I was lying on the bed, pathetically protesting another Insanity workout just as Mother Nature was punching my girl-dom parts with her gold knuckles, he said:

"Aw! you just gotta suck it up! Power through!" (followed by some sort of pumping action with his fist. I'm not sure what the fist thing was. I was temporarily blinded by fury.)

People have died for less. And gotten away with it.

Please don't tell me to "suck it up" when a stuffed pig ain't got nuttin' on me.

Thankyouverymuch.

3.
Lovely, yes? This is my accessory for the Taste of Warner Robins tomorrow night. I found and fell in love with a beautiful, deep purple, silk dress at Ross and strung this up to go with it. I fought like Hell to add a third row of smaller pearls but it was simply not working out. I'm finishing the bracelet tonight. Pictures to follow next week, I'm sure.

2. As I mentioned, The Taste of Warner Robins is tomorrow night and I'm ubernuts excited. Lots of food...open bar...silent auction...live auction...did I mention open bar? I know...as Neal has already reminded me, the last time I got all giddy over an open bar at a fundraiser, I ended up flashing my bra in more than one picture, making an indecent proposal to an Executive Judge, and puking in someone's lawn. (But that someone did live next door to a Denny's, so I'm thinking that probably happens a lot). I promise to be on my best behavior. Besides, I don't know how to get vomit out of silk.

1. BFFFF Curly Sue and her BoyToy, BarBQue, are in town this weekend visiting her parents and us. Actually, BarBQue is MUCH more than a BoyToy...but we'll just leave it at that until he hits a knee. They are coming over Sunday night for dinner and then who knows what will take place...Drunken Wii? Drunken Pictionary? Drunken Rummy? Chances are....there will be drinks involved. And y'all came through for me this week with Lisa @ Pickles and Cheese's Cherry Firecrackers (alcohol + Pop Rocks = adult fun without the risk of losing a limb) and Micah @ The Yellow Front Door's Sangria recipe (it is seriously the easiest Sangria recipe I've ever seen). If we are sober Sunday night, it is absolutely our own fault.

I hope that you all have a fantabulous weekend full of the people and activities that you love. See ya on da flip side!

Cheers!

I'm Famous!....Sort of...

2010-07-15T10:31:00.007-04:00

Imagine my surprise as I was reading comments on Tuesday's Try a New Food, Diana's Bananas version, to find the owner of Diana's Bananas had commented on my blog!

It went like this:

We're really happy that you tried and seemed to enjoy Banana Babies, their taste and nutrition and their ability to generate a great deal of fun!
Sincerely,
Bob Carmody
Owner, Diana's Bananas, Inc.
PS: We're in grocery stores all over the U.S.

I think I may have blacked out in my chair for a few seconds.

Unlike some of my lovely readers, looking at you, Blue Violet, I don't receive stuff in the mail to review. That has actually never happened. And rightfully so. I only write a review once a week and it has to be something that I found in the commissary. I'm not all that shocked that my daily mail consists of Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons and water bills. But I was shocked that the owner of Diana's Bananas, Mr. Bob Carmody, actually sat down and took time out of his day to comment on my blog. Y'all know I'm a freak about customer service. Fifteen years in the customer service business will do that to a person. And I have to say, even though I don't much care for bananas in general, Diana's Bananas just moved WAY up on my Things I Love list.

I am slightly chagrined by the way I reviewed Banana Babies because I did not really think anyone of any real significance to the company would read it. I was just making some honest statements about the taste, the look...which, really, can't be ignored by someone like me. Or, apparently, any of you. And not being one to believe everything I read, I decided to Google Mr. Bob Carmody...just to see if he really was who he said he was.

This is Bob Carmody:

via Bob Carmody's LinkedIn profile

First of all, he's in a flight suit standing in front of an aircraft that looks like something that flies over my house on an hourly basis. As someone who lives less than a mile from the landing strip at Robins AFB, I am so squealy that Mr. Bob Carmody is in a flight suit. I have no idea why...his profile indicates that he's been in the food production industry for most of his life. But it makes me happy.

And yes, it does list him as the owner of Diana's Bananas, "World's Best Chocolate Covered Frozen Bananas."

So, now that Mr. Carmody has invested a little time in Magnolias & Mimosas, please allow Magnolias & Mimosas to invest a little more time in Mr. Carmody. (And for the record, when I Googled him, it returned many links for bloggers that had reviewed his product and he had, in turn, commented on their post. I simply love it when a business owner understands social media and refuses to shrug it off as a trend.)

According to Diana's Bananas Facebook page, the company was founded on a whim, as most good companies are. In the mid-80's, Mr. Carmody was hosting a booth at The Taste of Chicago (which I've been to, uh....a few years after the mid-80's...and I would highly recommend it). He began to think about the idea of freezing a fresh, ripe banana and then bathing it in their chocolatier-grade melted bar chocolate. Then he says, "We each took a bite and passed it around. Our taste buds leapt for joy...and we sprung into action."

I love it when a man uses the phrase "leapt for joy." You don't hear it often.

He goes on to say, "Our team personally selects only fully ripe, creamy, sweet ripe bananas, which we quick freeze to -20 degrees Fahrenheit. The result is an easy-to-bite banana with texture so smooth, you'll think you're eating ice cream."

I think the commissary keeps their coolers a little too chilly because I didn't get creamy...I got sort of icy...but that's the military for you. Everything is just a little to the extreme.

Mr. Carmody also pointed out that they are available in grocery stores all over the country, although none of you have seen Diana's Bananas. So, please use this store locator link on the company's website to find the one closest to you if you're all frothy at the mouth right now for a frozen, dipped banana.

So, thank you, Mr. Carmody for putting your product in the commissary (you clearly have some link to the military...5 stars for that!) and good luck to you and Diana's Bananas....although you seem to be making your own luck and spinning your own success, one blog at a time. Bloggers have big mouths and big opinions. Kudos to you for taking advantage of it!

And seriously....chocolatier-grade melted bar chocolate and raspberries?? I have it on good authority that raspberries are the new banana....

Wordless Wednesday: A Pic From My Hometown (Seriously)

2010-07-14T10:12:00.003-04:00

Picture credit goes to one of Mama Virgo's friends...I just don't know which one.

Try a New Food Tuesday: They Froze WHAT??

2010-07-13T20:35:00.009-04:00

I apologize for my tardy posting of today's Try a New Food Tuesday. I, on a whim, decided to join Neal for lunch in Macon and then we, on a whim, decided to join Neal's coworker, Chief HasNoRhythm and his wife, Diva V, for lunch at Sticky Fingers. Diva V lobbied hard for my rib/pulled pork combination plate to be today's feature. But I had already been to the commissary to purchase this box of frozen goodness and they may not last a whole week until next Tuesday rolls back around.

I'm not sure if this is a deep south thing, a Georgia thing, or an Army thing...but I have never seen Diana's Bananas Banana Babies. They are frozen and chocolate-covered bananas...on a stick. And I know what you all are thinking. Even you, Kallay! Naughty girl.

I don't particularly care for bananas. It is absolutely a texture/stringy thing. And they taste like chalk in the roof of my mouth. But Neal eats one every morning sliced up on his oatmeal, so I thought this would be fun for both of us. I get a hard chocolate shell and he gets the frozen banana. (That's going to be an extra 10 minutes of Insanity...but so worth it.)

In case you had doubts, Diana of Diana's Bananas would like you to know that she has the world's best chocolate-dipped frozen treat! I think Klondike would have something to say about that....

This is what the world's best chocolate-dipped frozen treat looks like after it's been out of the box and left to fend for itself in the Georgia humidity. (Incidentally, this is also what our windows looks like every morning after the AC has run all night and what my sunglasses do as soon as I step out the door.)

This was right after I told him that we had to re-take the picture because his eyes were closed in absolute frozen banana bliss in the first. And he was not giving up his hard chocolate shell!

I have sooooo many hysterical and raunchy things I could say about the frozen banana...and sucking until, well...nevermind...but I have too many readers from the Baby Boomer Generation who read this. Not that they would get offended, they just think I'm more pure than that. So, let's maintain, shall we?

The frozen banana was OK. It's not worth the extra 10 minutes of Insanity for me. Now, if that was a chocolate-dipped frozen raspberry Shaun T. and I would have to negotiate.

Happy Champagne Friday! Before Noon, Even!

2010-07-09T09:20:00.011-04:00

Actually, this is all about me procrastinating. And the fact that a limb the size of a small tree fell from a much larger tree in our yard this week and the lawn guys decided this morning at 8 AM was the perfect time to chop it up and take it away. Did I mention said log was right outside my bedroom window? But I've already been very productive. I inhaled some hazelnut coffee, caught up on email, took a pregnancy test (it was negative, so you can bet your sweet ass there will be champagne tonight. And maybe sushi and perhaps even sprouts on my salad) and taken pictures of my office.

Why did I take pictures of my office, you ask?

Because I'm finally participating in the International Workspace Tour, conducted by my girl Cher @ The Only Girl!!

So, without further ado, here is the office of Daisy & Elm, LLC!

I do not have the mad photoshop skillz that Cher, Jess, and Salt have...actually I'm not even sure how to draw arrows on things...so I shall just draw your attention via written word. It's what I'm best at, anyway.

This is the office. I think it's supposed to be a bedroom, but 4 bedrooms with 2 people is 2 too many...unless I was a hoarder...which I certainly am not. I am, however, a whore for plastic, labeled bins. Yay for plastic! It may be turning all of our boys into girls, but it makes organizing a breeze! And that dark spot in the middle is Poppy. I was going to move her for the photo session, but this is must more realistic. She would be a great beader...if only she had thumbs.

This is my project board and the best idea I've ever had. The containers are over-sized spice containers with magnets on the back from IKEA. The ones at the top are custom orders. The ones at the bottom are ideas that I've had. Usually, this board is on the wall...but the hangers never made the move. Do you know how hard it is to find just hangers for dry erase boards?? Hey Staples, that was not easy!

And here sits the tacklebox of beads. Big Boops has make-up in hers, I have beads. I actually spilled out of the tacklebox a long time ago, but it does hold a majority of what I have. And it's all color-coded. *swoon*
Allyson and Roy G. Biv sittin' in a tree....

I do love the view outside my office window. It's of our backyard and, as I previously mentioned, it's wildfreakin'kingdom out there. Cardinals and squirrels and feral cats, oh my! Clearly, Poppy is amused. This is the best scenario, she can see them but can't catch them. I think if she ever caught a living thing besides a palmetto bug (where she is 568% bigger than it), she would stroke out.

The scrapbooking magic happens here. And I just noticed this morning that Neal has put a fire extinguisher next to my Cricut. I guess he is concerned about a craft-related emergency. I hate it when my pages are so good they spontaneously combust.

This is the photography studio, which used to be in another room at the old house. I do like the convenience of creating something and then swiveling in my chair to photograph it. Handy like W.C.

Poppy was eager to point out that I was almost forgetting my latest love....I got a Floozy Koozie from Foxy's Etsy store, Down With Knit! Actually, I custom-ordered it because I wanted something with pink camo, to celebrate my new role as married to the active Army. I have a second one that she made...but Beloved Sister has that one. I heart my Floozy Koozie and it gets used a lot.

And last...

A dresser that my grandfather refinished, topped with photos from Keeneland Racing meets in Lexington and the glass head I've had since the summer of my senior year in high school. The dresser holds everything that the closets cannot (someday I will show you the closet we used to have and the the closet we've involuntarily downgraded to here). I found the glass head at Pier One when I was 17 and instantly fell in love. It was the week after graduation so I still had a wad of Graduation Cash burning a hole in my Wal-Mart purse. It was the perfect purchase. My roommate and BFFFF loved it, too. He sat on the mantle and sported baseball caps in the summer, a Santa hat at Christmas, bunny ears at Easter...and everything in between. Now he sits in my office and keeps eye over the crafting process. I'm sure at some point it will no longer be feasible to tote The Glass Head everywhere we move, but I do consider him family now. We've been together for 14 years!

Thanks for stopping by and Happy Champagne Friday! If you want to do your own International Workspace Tour, make sure to let Cher know so she can link you up on her blog!

Cheers!

The Definition of Insanity

2010-07-08T09:38:00.007-04:00

So, as we all learned on Tuesday, there is a reason why Neal came home from a month in the desert the same size (and maybe a few pounds lighter) and I'm having trouble zipping up my skirts now. M.R.E.'s are less delicious than a Bacon and Bleu cheeseburger from Wendy's (which are phenomenal. If you like bleu cheese, this is the way to go!) followed by a limeade from Sonic during their Happy Hour. As we were preparing for a motorcycle ride on the 4th of July, I came to the abrupt realization that the past month had not gone as I had intended. I took my stability ball and bands to Kentucky so that I could continue to work out while I was home. I even had my former co-worker and Pilates instructor come over for a class in my empty house. And then I stopped. I went to breakfast with friends, lunch with friends, and dinner with friends. And the apple-shaped Allyson grew and grew and grew...so much so that when my husband said, "put on your jeans, we're going for a ride," instead of bouncing happily into the bedroom to change and thinking about how great my ass would look on the back of that bike, I wondered if I could just wear sweats instead. Over-sized Army sweats.

I was lamenting this to him as we toured the gardens in Ft. Valley last Sunday, roasting in my dark denim and extra layers of fat protection, when he said, "well, you're in luck because guess what's coming next week." Oh, guessing games. Yip. Ee.

"An elliptical?"
"No."
"A Pilates machine?"
"No."
"A personal trainer and personal chef who will live in our back 2 bedrooms?"
"No."
"What then???"
"Insanity!"

Google Images

Gggrrrreeeeaaatttt.....won't this be fun?

Now, let me just say that yes, I have a degree in Kinesiology and yes, I was a fitness director/group fitness instructor/personal trainer for a number of years...but I believe in exercise in moderation. I don't think the entire world is meant to have 8 pack abs and actual arm definition. And I've never seen either one of those things on me (which may or may not have anything to do with the whipped cream I put in my coffee at breakfast or the ice cream I have after dinner every evening). I was always the chunkiest one at the fitness conferences, but I saw myself as healthier, not fatter. I did not have an unhealthy relationship with food...we knew how to co-mingle in the world very well, as a matter of fact. And I could teach back-to-back Spinning classes and finish it off with a Pilates class and still have energy left over to lift. I was in shape...just not skinny. I have a feeling this about to change all of that.

I did the Fitness Test last night. Granted, I had already done 30 minutes on the Wii Gold's Boxing game...but I kind of thought I was going to die in my living room and the cats would gnaw off half my face before Neal came home to find me. In preparation for today's workout, we watched the DVD in bed last night. It looks hard. And by hard, I mean whatever is four stages beyond impossible. But if I die, Neal will have to find a new woman who puts up with that throat-clearing thing he does in the shower. And that's probably not going to happen....so maybe he'll stop the DVD before my heart gives out.

Maybe I'll have 8-pack abs and cellulite-free legs at the end of 60 days. Or maybe I'll get pregnant and won't have to do any of it. I'm kind of OK with either. There are demons to face in both scenarios and neither will be easy. But perhaps I could lose baby 1 fat before baby 2 comes...

Try a New Food Tuesday: Just Add Water

2010-07-06T14:03:00.023-04:00

As promised, this week I am trying an M.R.E. (AKA Meals Ready to Eat...AKA Field Food...AKA I was eating way better than Neal for the entire month of June). I was under the absurd impression that just add water meant that it was all dehydrated and that after adding water, the meal would expand to its typical size...sort of like those dinosaur sponges you used to win at the county fair. Not so. And, for the first time, this is actually much more fascinating.

Today's lunch: Spicy Penne Pasta with peanut butter, crackers, lemon-lime "Gatorade" and almond poppyseed spongecake. Mmm!!

Just add water...

This is everything laid out. Everything in brown is food, the green package is the "oven", and the clear baggie contains apple cider mix, a fresh moist towelette, salt, pepper, toilet paper (for those who have to go right after they eat), and a pack of matches (for those who have to go explosively right after they eat).

The first step is to take the main course, which is spicy penne pasta today, and stick it in the heating packet. The white pouch at the bottom looks a lot like a ThermaCare Heat Wrap, but heats water instead of flesh.

In the field, I would have a canteen with water for preparing the meal. On the floor of my office, I have a plastic bottle of water. After doing this entire experiment, we realized it would have been much more realistic if we'd found a bush or something to squat by.

The next part all happens very fast. As soon as you pour the water in, the chemical reaction begins and you have about -4.5 seconds to roll the end of the cooking pouch and stuff it in the original box that the main course came in. Then you shove it against something solid because the pouch will begin to expand as the steam is released. There is also steam coming out the other end. My fingers didn't stay there very long. The entire heating process takes about 10 minutes.

While my penne cooked, Neal suggested I fix an appetizer of peanut butter and crackers. Really, all I'm missing at this point is the white linen tablecloth.

All that peanut butter clinging to the roof of my mouth sent me searching for my powdered drink mix. Lemon-lime...one of my least favorite flavors but hey, I'm down in the bunker, watchin' for insurgents and shooting everything that moves. Lemon-lime is the least of my problems. One of my more pressing problems is the colostomy bag they give you to drink from. Seriously, the Army can up-armor humvees but can't create a collapsible cup. Whassup with that?

Again, imagine my UK blue patio cup is actually a metal canteen with a camouflage cover. Thankyouvermuch.

And, apparently, I'm supposed to be using my field knife to open all of these packets, but craft scissors seem to be working just fine for me. Does that NOT look like the catheter bag of a very dehydrated patient??

And there I go drinking it...because GI Jane ain't got nuttin on me. Also...there is still peanut butter stuck in the roof of my mouth.

Oh! Lunch is ready! And a bonus freebie facial.

It looks exactly like Chef Boyardee...and actually, it tastes exactly like Chef Boyardee...if Chef Boyardee started adding red pepper chili flakes to their food, that is.

Neal says that the dried fruit is for a mid-afternoon snack. I don't personally eat cranberries, unless they are liquified and mixed with vodka...but I can see how these would be a lovely 4PM pick-me-up.

Dessert is almond poppyseed spongecake and it was not that bad. A little dry, maybe...but there's always the I.V. bag full of green juice to wash it down.

What's left over...the apple cider, moist towelette, toilet paper, salt, pepper, matches, and gum (which, according to Neal, is used for cleaning your teeth. In the 4 years we've been married, I can count the number of times I've seen Neal chew gum on two fingers...but maybe it's different in the field).

When the meal is over, you put everything back in the bag and pack it back to camp. Neal says you do this to keep the enemy from knowing how many soldiers there are traveling together and to keep them from knowing how well you're eating. If you're eating palmetto bugs and drinking your own urine, you may have less to live for than if you're dining on penne pasta and spongecake.

I have to say that it's been almost 3 hours since lunch and I'm still not the least bit hungry. Maybe all of my meals should be 1000 calories each.

My Friends Call Me M'Lynn

2010-07-05T19:54:00.004-04:00

...as in Steel Magnolias. Because my husband has declared war on the vermin in the backyard...namely, squirrels. Squirrels are plentiful and unafraid here on base. They play in the road and dare you to roll over them at your whopping 15 m.p.h. They leap from tree to tree and, apparently, LOVE to eat from the birdfeeder. And therein is the rub. Remember this?

Pluck You Too

Well, that's what it like with Neal around here. The only thing he's missing is the gun and the Grandpa sweater vest. He does, however, have duct tape and I caught him banging on the back door this morning, yelling, "I AM GOING TO GET YOU, YOU...RAT!" He thinks squirrels are basically rats with bushy tails and frequently says that people wouldn't comment about how cute they are if they didn't have the bushy tail. So, that's what's going on around here this weekend. I'm drinking Southern Lemonade by Firefly and Neal's booby trapping the bird feeder so that only God's creatures with wings can access it.

Et tu?

The Best Things Come to Those Who Wait

2010-07-03T13:19:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was a blur. When Neal was in California, he was on California-time....which is, what? Mountain time? Mountain Standard Time? Pacific Standard Time? Hammer Time? I can't remember. All I know is he was 3 hours behind me. So, when he finished his evening briefings around 10 PM, I got a call at 1 AM. I will never be one to discourage the phone calls. Most military wives I know sleep with their phone rightnext to their heads all night when their husbands are mobilized. I am convinced that, just as Agent Orange was discovered to cause all sorts of unsightly medical issues, the incidence of brain cancer in military wives will skyrocket in 10-20 years. Anyswisscheesebrain, I took these phone calls which then put me on California time. Except that I still live in Georgia. While Neal adjusted to Eastern Standard Time in about 3 days, I'm still lying awake until 2 AM and getting up at 10:30 AM. 10:30 is almost noon, which would mean that I had literally slept half the day away. I'm hoping that I will get all of this straightened out this weekend. Although, weekends around here are not traditionally known for their routine and highly disciplined ways. There is a lot of falling asleep on the couch and eating the waffles left over from breakfast for dinner.

So, I slept until 10 AM yesterday and then had to rise and shine and get the shopping before the weekend started. Class 6 (our liquor store on base) had a line that snaked back to the gin aisle. And the commissary...oh the commissary...apparently no one went to work yesterday. They all went to the commissary. All of this to say, I ran out of hours in the day for Champagne Friday. Again. But at least I'm celebrating this week...as opposed to the last 5 where I just totally forgot about it all together.

But here it is anyway...a day late..but the best things come to those who wait:

Happy Champagne Friday...er...Saturday!!

and...The Top 5:

1. This is The Big Butter Jesus before he was struck by lightening and burned to the ground. I'm SURE this was covered by multiple blogs when it first happened, but that was during my Army-induced absence and I didn't get to fully embrace it here at M&M. RIP, Big Butter Jesus. And Dear Dayton, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm sure it's nothing personal. God isn't speaking to you via weather. But just in case, maybe you should just stick a big cross up like everyone else.

2. The Big Butter Jesus flambe.
Note to self: NEVER make a giant statue with arms extended to the sky out of steel bars and plaster. Bad idea.

3. The necklace I was asked to...ahem...re-create, using black and red beads, in addition to the silver. Which is NOTHING like theft of an idea.

4. My creation...which, again...is nothing like this piece. It is original...because it's black and red and silver. See the logic?

5. Happy 4th of July!! Have a wiener. Have two. Wash it down with a twist-off bottle of champagne and think of me. The Captain and I are headed off to the pool! Ciao, bellas!

Birds of a Feather Sticking Together and Letting Me Join the Flock

2010-06-30T22:50:00.006-04:00

I got majorly busted today. I was Hobby Lobby-hunting with my new friend on base (yes, I can make friends and play well with others, regardless of what Mrs. Hurt thought) when she pointed out that I failed to add "made friends" to my list on Tuesday. Sooooooo.....let me fix that ASAP.

Number of friends made on base: 3 (It could have been 4, but I think I'm too fragile to be her friend).

I don't have blog names for them yet...I don't know them well enough. Although, if I was pressed to give them ones today, I would probably use The SunDevil (she is the wicked influence that whispers in my ear to ditch my daily responsibilities and lounge under the Georgian rays), Dane Cook's baby daddy (due to the fact that Dane Cook is going to have her babies...don't ask. We are all confused...), and Yaz (because she has 3 kids under the age of 5 and that is its own special brand of birth control. I seriously came home after meeting her and called Neal to say, "you know how we talked about having 3 kids? I would like to change my vote." I don't know how she does it. It's just a big pot of awesome to watch.)

I'm terribly sorry I left them off of the list. They like to scrapbook, say naughty things, and shop. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

On an unrelated note, is it just me or does Al Gore sort of look like...someone??

Huh...yeah...weird...

Wordless Wednesday: We Have a Prickly Kind of Love

2010-06-30T15:44:00.001-04:00

There's Always a Drought in the Summer

2010-06-29T10:40:00.008-04:00

Every time Neal leaves for an extended period of time, I always think This is going to be great! I'm going to spend every waking minute beading, blogging, and scrapbooking! I will cook fantastic meals with chocolate sauce and workout 3 times a day. I will read every single book that is threatening to topple my bookcase.

In reality, I spend a morning at the vet's office, an afternoon getting the oil changed. The washing machine quits spinning or the insurance company needs me to sign forms...in person. And I never cook anything more extravagant than spaghetti with marinara or a grilled cheese sandwich. And yet, every time I have the same thought: I am going to be soooo productive! What I'm beginning to learn about myself is that I am much more productive with Neal here. He is a machine that inspires me to answer emails, make phone calls, get things done. Without him, I hang out by the pool, watch an entire run of television shows on instant streaming Netflix, and watch the cats watch the squirrels on the patio.

Clearly, I am not productive. I was this time, however, very productive IRL. And because I love lists, especially lists that demonstrate my productivity, here's one for the last month:

*Number of houses sold: 1

(Mama Virgo is literally being held up by our sign. This was the day we unpacked 40 heavier-than-Heavy D boxes out of the attic and moved all of the furniture to storage.)

*Number of townhouses purchased: 1

(And yes, God love my husband because he just spent a fortune on an abode that he's never actually been in. We call that trust, boys and girls. Although that was trust in me, our Realtor, Mama Virgo, and biff Susie Q....not to be confused with trust just in me.)

*Number of houses that had to be completely emptied by me, Mama Virgo, and Anna Banana before the expedited closing tomorrow: 1

Now, wasn't that infinitely more fun than coming all the way down to Georgia just to float in our pool and watch airmen in flight suits at the commissary, ladies? Yeah, I thought not.

*Number of palmetto bugs sent to a watery death in our guest bathroom toilet: 6 (no pictures. It is, after all, almost lunch time)

*Number of meltdowns because of palmetto bugs in the bedroom: 1

*Number of bottles of wine drank to ease Palmetto Bug Fear at bedtime: 6

*Number of meals eaten out because cooking for 1 seemed like such a hassle: I lost track, but my skirts say "way too many".

*Number of pieces of jewelry created while Neal was gone: 1
(I've just quit checking my weekly Facebook updates that tells me how many fans/visits I have to the fan page. It's too depressing. They're dropping like flies.)

*Number of days spent laying by the pool, thinking I really needed to come home and make jewelry: 5

*Number of days I wished Neal was home: 28

Technically, today is Try a New Food Tuesday, but I felt like I needed to justify my absence before diving head-first into my commissary finds (and, I've discovered, that you need to actually go to the commissary to find food for Try a New Food Tuesday. I managed to completely avoid that for a month. Thank you, Wendy's, Arby's, Chick-Fil-A, and Chili's.)

Neal has been living on MRE's while out in the field and he brought me a couple home. Unfortunately, they are lost in the black hole where bags go when they don't arrive with your plane. So, next Tuesday will be Try a New Food Tuesday: the MRE version. I've never eaten food that was reconstituted with water. This will be an adventure. Sort of like being an astronaut, without having to wear a onesie or drink Tang.

I appreciate all of your emails over the past few weeks, checking on my progress or just my continued existence on earth. It has been such a wild ride, but (and I say this with some reservation), I think it will actually slow down some now. Maybe I'll make something with chocolate sauce tonight....

Try a New Food Tuesday: It's Healthy Because It Has "Fit" In the Name

2010-06-01T19:15:00.004-04:00

I know that y'all are going to call "chicken" because I went with a familiar food this week instead of something that contains fish eggs and cheddar cheese...but I can't be blamed. It just called to me. Beckoned me. Cried "Mama!" And so I took it lovingly into my arms, gave it a stroke on the lid and placed it gently in the cart. Oh how we've been parted for so long.

This week I give you....

Yes, it looks remarkably like Nutella...and yet it is NussFit! It is not Nutella...because it is HEALTHY!! It is FIT! It has a big ole price sticker from the commissary deli plastered across the back so it is impossible to tell how many calories per teaspoon (or...er...tablespoon...or...er...bowl). But it tastes simply heavenly spread on a bagel or across a cupcake or straight off the spoon, as it turns out.

Disclaimer: I did NOT just buy this today....because eating that much chocolate hazelnut spread in one sitting is unhealthy...regardless of the brand name. This has lasted the whole week. I would like to know where I pick up my prize for unmatched self-discipline.

Also, because I'm a giver, I'm going to share a recipe using NussFit (technically using Nutella but they seem to be one in the same...with the exception that, of course, this is much healthier). All the way from The Ungourmet, I give you:

The Best Zucchini Bread You Will Ever Eat Or Your Money Back
Click on the title for Kim's DELICIOUS recipe. There is no reason not to make this recipe. It has NussFit AND zucchini. Your cardiologist and personal trainer are basically begging you to do this for yourself. And while you're over there, go ahead and poke around a bit. Kim just posted a recipe for the most amazing burritos. I haven't tried them but if I could eat my laptop screen, I would.

Next up for Thursday is pictures from the luau...or what I remember from it. Note to fellow travelers: Hale Koa (which is the military hotel in Honolulu) makes the kind of Mai Thai that goes down smooth and doesn't hit you until you look from side to side too quickly. It is $7.00 of pure bliss and the best money I've ever spent on rented liquid. And it helps the poi go down a little smoother, too.

Hawaii's Tribute to Our Veterans

2010-05-30T10:21:00.017-04:00

I'm going to take a little blogging license here and skip past the luau we went to on Thursday night in order to post about our visit to Pearl Harbor (because there's very little I love more than a theme, especially a Memorial Day theme).

And I just want to take a second to thank all of the bloggers I follow for not blogging about the oil spill. I'm so consumed with sadness and frustration at all of it, that I just can't bear to read about it, too. Although I know it's there, and oil-drenched pelicans are dying by the minute...I just need a little laughter in my life or I will dissolve into a puddle of tears and that's not beneficial to anyone.

Pearl Harbor is, understandably, a very busy tourist destination in O'ahu. We were told by several people, including Princess Pomtini, that we should hit it early. So, we arrived as early as our relaxed schedule would allow...which was about 9 AM. Even then, there was about a 90 minute wait to enter (not meaning we stood in line for 90 minutes, we just couldn't use our timed ticket until 10:30). But fear not, fellow travelers, they have much to keep you entertained. Pearl Harbor is undergoing an extensive renovation, which should be finished by the end of the year. Thus far, they have redesigned the layout of the park and you no longer have to watch the movie before boarding the boat. It's an option. Americans like options, y'know. And there is fancy schmancy new bookstore that offers everything from $2.00 water to Rosie the Riveter Barbie (which I kind of really wanted because...Yes, We Can!...but yes it would be one more thing to move every 3 years). And we ended up doing the audio tour because, obviously, Neal and I can dig on some history. If there's a tour to be purchased, we're on it. (Unfortunately, the renovation included many of the talking points on the audio tour, so they created a pamphlet with pictures of the exhibits. Not exactly like the real thing, but I guess they at least tried to still provide you with the full experience. Yay for the federal government!)

So, we hit the bookstore. We hit the bathrooms. We hit the hotdog stand.

At 9:30 IN THE MORNING.

What is it about the smell of roasting mystery meat that appeals at any time of the day? And a big kudos to Princess Pomtini who is about 20 weeks pregnant and still wanted a hotdog! (Although I do remember craving them during my first trimester and Neal saying "THAT'S not healthy!" Whatever, dude. You grow a human and then we'll talk.)

By the time we had consumed, watched, peed, shopped, and listened, it was time to board the boat.

Princess Pomtini informed us that the sailors were usually in their all-white uniform (*swoooon*) and that she had never seen them in the brown ones. We saw on the news that night that a recently deceased survivor of Pearl Harbor was interred there that morning. Obviously, they needed everyone in white for that ceremony, the others donned brown.

(Notice the flag here because Neal took a wickedawesome shot of the flag from within the memorial that will make no sense if you don't see the big picture first.)

Here's a view from the sky that I borrowed from a blogger named Blonde Champagne (which I stumbled across when doing a Google Images search...but seriously...could they have a cooler blog name? I think I'll follow based solely on blog title alone).

via Blonde Champagne

I have the worst time keeping "bow" and "stern" straight (read: I can't remember which part this is, except that it's the part that sticks out of the water).

These underwater shots are hard to see, but that's part of the ship that is visible from within the memorial.

Inside is the wall of names, listing everyone who died in the attack on Pearl Harbor. To the left was a shorter wall that listed those who survived the attack but chose to be buried here.

A picture of where the Arizona was moored on that dark day, and where it is moored still.

Ahhh...my husband, the artistic photographer.

It's hard to see in this picture (and you can click on it to make it larger), but in the center of the photo, there are 2 tiny drops of oil. According to the audio tour, the USS Arizona continues to seep oil at the rate of about 2 liters per day (and some will argue that this is not true, that it's all a publicity stunt). Although the environmental groups have pushed for capping the leak, many veteran organizations believe it would be tantamount to desecrating a burial site. They refer to these drops of oil that float to the top and then quickly dissipate as "tears of the fallen." Of course, in the wake of the BP disaster, 2 liters a day seems inconsequential. Perspective is a gift and a weapon.

And then there's the wind. Always the wind.

This is looking at the memorial from the museum side. Call us history snobs, but having been on all of the ships in the Inner Harbor in Baltimore, we passed on seeing the USS Missouri, docked to the left of the memorial....

And we passed on the Bowfin, a submarine (not to evoke the phrase, "if you've been on one war ship, you've been on them all," but...)

A Japanese suicide torpedo. They were suicide bombers before it was "cool" to be a suicide bomber.

Stationed at the ticket counter until lunch time were 2 survivors of Pearl Harbor who were volunteering their time, stories, and signatures. And maybe they were selling their books? I can't remember now. But more than anything, it made me miss my Papa and wish he was here to tell me war stories, served with Neopolitan ice cream.

Hawaii, being on that side of the world, gets a lot of Japanese visitors. I asked Princess Pomtini how the Americans in Hawaii, and specifically those working at Pearl Harbor, handle that. She said she thinks it's OK, that we don't hold a grudge and know that the visitors here today are not the same who attacked us yesterday. She thinks there is an attitude of forgiveness and acceptance, even though we, as Americans, can be very stubborn and bitter. It's a hopeful thing to believe, even if it may not be true for everyone.

December 7, 1941 was a bleak day in our nation's history, but the memorial that stands over the USS Arizona is a stark and breathtakingly beautiful way to remember and honor those who sacrificed it all for our country and the freedoms that we take for granted.

Champagne Friday in the Punchbowl

2010-05-28T08:55:00.020-04:00

Happy Champagne Friday from Punchbowl Crater!

Our last stop on Day One was Punchbowl, the site of the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. Perhaps made even more eerie is the fact that we were the only ones there. Yes, it was a Wednesday afternoon, late in the day, but there were only 2 other people in the entire park - an employee cruising the grounds on a golf cart and a lady reading a book at the overlook. Spooooky! Like we missed the rapture or something.

To give you a little background* on Punchbowl, it was formed approximately 80,000 years ago during one of Hawaii's periods of volcanic activity. Lava pushed right up through the coral reefs to form the crater. As I mentioned yesterday, the Hawaiian name translates to "Hill of Sacrifice"...even though that name was not chosen specifically for this memorial. Originally, it was used by the Hawaiians as an alter to sacrifice humans to pagan gods and execute those who had violated taboos. (I'm sort of glad I didn't know this part as we were walking around. I would be getting the same heebie jeebies that I got from touring the Coliseum.) But during the reign of Kamehameha (Remember him? He lost 400 soldiers off the side of a cliff in a very unfortunate chess move...), 2 canons were mounted at the rim and fired to announce the arrival of dignitaries and to signify important occasions. In the 1930's, the slopes became available for lease and they were then rented by the Hawaiian National Guard for range practice. It has also been used as a bunker to protect Honolulu and the south edge of Pearl Harbor during the tail end of WWII.

The idea for the cemetery came in the 1890's when Honolulu's population began to grow (I guess they realized that putting that many gravestones thatclosetogether was a bad idea). It was initially rejected for fear of polluting the water supply (people in Kentucky would have never thought about that. I'm talking to you, lady who put her well below her outhouse) and they were also not crazy about the idea of a city of the dead suspended above a city of the living. But by the 1940's, Congress was authorizing a small fund to establish a national memorial in Honolulu, providing it was acceptable to the War Department and that the site was donated instead of purchased. The governor of Hawaii agreed to donate the land. It was not until the late 40's, though, after a good deal of prodding on the part of Congress and veteran organizations, that the idea came about to use it for the permanent burial of those fallen, prisoners of war, and missing in action during WWII and in Guam.

When you visit, it just looks like a very large park with a concrete memorial at the front and flowers dotting the landscape. The headstones are flat, which creates a very cohesive visual, not disrupted by headstones of varying shapes and sizes. As a Virgo with a generous dose of OCD running through my veins, I really enjoyed this. Artificial flowers are not allowed, but the real ones found in Hawaii naturally are so much more beautiful. Many grave sites have a vase of Birds of Paradise, which is simply the most unreal flower found occurring in nature. We first encountered them in San Francisco and I've been gooey over these flowers ever since.

Another cultural norm found in cemeteries is the placement of the deceased person's favorite food and/or drink...sort of like pour out a forty for my homey. But it's an assortment of food and drinks. You see packages of snack foods, open cans of beer or Diet Coke or even drinks purchased from, say, McDonald's, and just left there...in the paper cup with the straw and everything. So, just to recap...you cannot leave fake flowers, but you can leave an open can of beer or a McDonald's cup sitting on the grave site. As you can imagine, OCDAllyson twitched a little at this. Princess Pomtini told us, though, that they do come around every few days to pick it up and dispose of it...I guess it just takes too long for a spirit to drink a Pabst and eat a Ding Dong. Plus, if I were homeless, this is where I would go for my 3 meals a day.

But back to Punchbowl....words really can't describe the awesome and the overpowering, so let's do it in a photo gallery, shall we?

This is looking away from the memorial, back toward Honolulu. There are graves on either side of the grassy center.

When you walk up to the memorial at the top of the hill, you see this. So...to give you some direction, if you looked to your right at this moment, you would see the view from the first picture.
At the front...if you were standing at the end of that grassy strip and looking toward the memorial, you would see this 3D sculpture of a lady in the very center of the memorial. Her inscription says

The solemn pride
that must be yours
to have laid
so costly a sacrifice
upon the alter
of freedom

And the people say..."Amen."

As you enter the memorial, there are huge maps, made of chipped and colored glass of all of the wars, battles, and even skirmishes in the Pacific. They show routes frequently traveled and methods of attack.
This is one of the maps...depicting the Liberation of the Philippines in 1945.

Inside is a very simple alter, with candles and a cross and the American flag. There are also a few rows of pews for those who would like to stop for a moment or several. If you notice the glass reliefs built into the alter, they are also carried through to the gates of the memorial:

Outside, in front of the mounted lady, are these very tall walls, on either side of the walkway:
Each white wall has thousands of names inscribed of those POW or MIA military service members from each battle or war in the Pacific. And see the tree?
They purposely hollow out the center of each one. I wish I knew why. Wikipedia has really let me down on that one.

And the view from the crater really does give you the most amazing views of Honolulu and Diamond Head (to the left).
And you don't even have to hike it to the top. You can drive. And it's free. And it is truly a beautiful and serene place that creates the most perfect environment for honoring our missing in action, prisoners of war, and fallen.

So, from the Captain and the Mrs., we want to wish you all a very Happy Memorial Day weekend. Be safe in however you choose to celebrate. I will be hitting the pool and the driving range on base with my favorite veteran before he jets off for a month of training in CA. And I think I'll give Army Dad a call, too. Whatever you do, try to hug a veteran...or at least shake one's hand this weekend. They deserve so much more, but they are most pleased with your show of appreciation for their sacrifice. And it's easy. And it's free.

Happy Champagne Friday and Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

*Again...I'm relying heavily on Wikipedia for this information. If it's wrong, don't write to me, write to Wikipedia. OKThanks.