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

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?

Champagne Friday and a Real Reason to Celebrate!

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!

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

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!

There's Always a Drought in the Summer

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....

High on Paint Fumes and Life

I am a disgraceful Kentuckian. I completely missed the Kentucky Derby this evening. That hasn't happened since...well, since I got so drunk on mimosas in college that I had already passed out by the time 6:00 rolled around. Unfortch, that was not the case today.

Since Champagne Friday last Friday, we have:

• secured a Very Brady bungalow on Robins Air Force base (it screams 1975...but I'm thinking...since I've never seen that year, perhaps it will be like new to me. It's a rental so I refuse to paint, but I think I can decorate around brass lighting fixtures. Maybe.)
• met and had a "power dinner" with the colonel and most of the officers of the new unit. The colonel's wife makes a mean Butterfinger Pie and has already scouted out the best Urgent Treatment Center in the area. I wish they weren't moving, too.
  
• been to Macon, back to Warner Robins, back to Macon, back to Warner Robins, and back to Macon...and finally back to Bluegrass Country
  
• put about 1100 miles on Patty the Prius (who continues to brake without fail).
  
• chased down the mailman from 10 houses up because I thought the last piece of paperwork that we needed to finalize Neal's orders was in that day's mail. It was. I have no regrets. Except that maybe I should have put on a bra first.
• finally received orders for the move which means....yeah...we're stuck like peanut butter in the roof of your mouth. Another way to look at it: it's official. Official means money in the bank and a moving date. For sure. For sure is hard to get in the Army.
  
• met with our Realtor who is honest about the ivy sitting on the kitchen cabinets and loves our house...but maybe with a mulch bed.
  
• planted a mulch bed.
  
• painted the master bedroom (complete with 12' cathedral ceilings). Twice. (Today we realized that we will never again use dark tan for a wall color...perfect for beer, bad for 1-coat painting. Also? Cathedral ceilings are meant for cathedrals. Not for suburb cookie-cutter houses. We are so done with anything over 9'.)
  
• separated out what is staying here in the condo (...the most rockin' awesome condo we're going to buy after Chez Miller sells. I picked it out last week. If we lived downtown I would be doing daily drive-bys. But that's far and I don't even have time to shower regularly right now.) Having to divide everything out...this pot stays, this pan goes...this drinking board game stays, this Monopoly game goes...makes me realize I never want to get divorced. I do not want to have to do this again.
• packed every spice, spatula, and saute pan we have so that cooking is now an impossibility. I'm going to weigh 4938 lbs by the time we get to Georgia.
• pushed our departure date for vacation back. Twice. We will get on that plane.
  

So...yeah...the Derby didn't even occur to us until the radio DJ (who is actually one of my sorority sisters) said "did your horse win today?" Horse? What horse? That's where we are right now. We forgot to pick a horse for the Kentucky Derby. We live in Kentucky...like 90 miles from the Derby. I blame the paint fumes.

Time to Google "how to stage a house for maximum selling potential" but I'll check back in soon. And post pics of the new digs. If, at first glance, you don't break out into the theme song for My Three Sons, you're a better person than I am. But it's 4 bedrooms and won't suck up our entire housing allowance. So, what's not to love?

And please go check out my girl Cher @ The Only Girl. She reviewed a necklace she bought from me last month (the very fun, very funky Not Your Mama's Pearls) and she stumbled across some celebrities wearing the same piece! If her...er..."find" doesn't make you giggle and squeal with delight, then you just don't get it and there's not enough hours in the day for me to explain it.

Just remember...I'm not dead. Just moving, selling a house, obtaining a Georgia business license, and generally only sleeping about 4 hours each night. But Neal's got a job (that he's wicked excited about so that makes me wicked excited) and we are leaving all of our winter clothes here. Life is a Buffet song.

How the Bluegrass Belle Becomes a Georgia Peach

Wednesday afternoon went a little something like this:

Setting: Home office of Chez Miller. Monsieur Miller has been working diligently and tirelessly on resumes, cover letters, and repeated job searches. Madame Miller is beading, glazing, and generally trying to fit round pegs into square holes. Smooth jazz plays softly in the background (I'm so not joking about that).

The clanging of Neal's phone nearly sends us both into heart failure (this is completely my fault. He used to have a gong as a ring tone, which he never heard...especially when I was calling for something important....like his shirt size. So, he changed it. If anyone ever finds us dead in our house with Neal clutching his G-Zone phone...you'll know what has happened and that it really is all my fault.)

I hear a bunch of "uh-huh," "I see," "Oh, that's nice," and "Hm. Yes ma'am, OK" before I finally heard "well let me talk it over with my wife and I'll get back to you sometime...today!"

So, now you know as much as I did. And just for effect, Neal will be in regular text and I will be italicized (mostly because I think italics adds drama with a slant of elegance and what Neal probably does not need right now is to be referred to as elegant).

What was that about?
It seems this lady is desperate to fill this AGR captain's slot.
AGR? I thought you weren't even eligible for AGR. That's what they told you last week. (PS: AGR = Active Guard/Reserve)
I guess desperation does funny things to a person. She needs to fill the slot.
Where is it?
Macon, Georgia.
(In my head, I have started doing the little Joey-from-Full-House Dance of Joy). Really? Macon? Georgia? When?
Well, it seems my report date would be May 17th.
That's.....SOON. That's only 2 weeks after Derby! (Because that's how we roll in Kentucky. Everything is calculated by the first Saturday in May. I'm gonna miss that.)
Um...yes. But that's not all. This unit is set to deploy in December with a month of training in June.
Awesome. (I think there was a fair amount of eye-rolling here. My mother would have been so proud.) Like a year-long deployment? Overseas? In the sand? With sandstorms and tents?
Yes.
Lucky number 3. I did it before, I guess I can do it again. At least my laptop has a built-in webcam now.
So, yes? We're going to do this?
What do you think?
Yes.
Then yes. I'll go find some boxes.

Now granted, I have graciously omitted about 9 hours of discussion regarding the house, a baby, a deployment, and whether or not we're going to keep the hammock...but that's it in a nutshell. Between Wednesday and Friday, I drove Neal to the point of justifiable homicide trying to get exact dates and plans. The only thing the Army doesn't have is an unchanging plan. Neal gets this. I am still fighting it after all these years.

So, here's where we are now: we have to report to Macon on May 17th. If you don't count today or the weekend we're driving down, that's 20 days from now. We are going to be out of town for various things for 15 of those days. If you've had new math, you can deduce that we have exactly 5 days to pack the house. Six feet over the line, Sweet Jesus. How are we going to do this? Oh, I know! I'll just sit down and blog. Neal's drilling anyway. And then I'll watch an episode of Cagney and Lacey and make one more run to Hobby Lobby before camping out and making jewelry to wear next week.

Translation: I am so overwhelmed, I have no idea where to even freaking start. So, maybe I'll just not....

We head down next week to check out housing on Robins Air Force Base, which we've heard is well worth the look-see. Once we know if we'll be in a house or an apartment, we'll be able to determine how much stuff we need and/or want. This is all complicated by the fact that if I'm pregnant in December when Neal deploys, I'll come back to Kentucky to deliver at UK again. So, then what? Do we still sell the house? Do I rent an apartment? Do I move in with my dad? Oh...scratch that last one.

We are about 5 steps into a 20-step process and this is about the time that I'm just waiting to find a vial next to the bed that says drink me. However, many awesome things can come of this...my sister lives four hours south of Macon (and she is about to come unglued at the seams she's so happy), we will only be 90 minutes south of Atlanta, and 4 hours west of Hilton Head (I was thinking last night about how we could actually go to Hilton Head for the weekend. *Gasp*). But we will go through another deployment, we will have to try to sell our house from 7 hours south of it, and Neal may miss the delivery of his second child. So, sacrifices? Yes, we will make a few.

I will try to update as often as possible. I think this is a very exciting, yet overwhelming new chapter in our lives and if I don't get to write about it, my head could spin right off my body and crash into the kitchen cabinets. I also think that if I don't pack at least one box today, Neal will deny me my cupcake craving. One box down....many, many, many more to go. I remember when I used to move in milk crates and big, black, garbage bags....

Champagne Friday and the Top 1

Where, oh where, has my lil' Ally been?? Losing her mind one step at a time, I would say.

Happy Champagne Friday! It looks like Neal and I are about to become Georgia peaches! More to come this weekend as things finalize...but for now...come find me at Shana's @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy and pop a cork on this finally-sunny Friday afternoon! I would drink with you but I am still a smidge drunk from yesterday's racetrack indulgence.

So, find me at Shana's, give her a follow (because she seems to be working right across the street from Orlando Bloom's new pad *gasp*) and I'll meet you back here tomorrow for story time.
xoxo
Mrs. Peach