Virtual Hug

This in response to your last post. It's to remind you that even when you're in a rough place, you've got friends who love you, support you, and want the best for you.
(And if I had all their pictures, I'd post them here, too! :)

Letter to Guy

I'm so pleased to hear London is up in arms about us visiting next week. How nice of everyone to trash the place before we arrive. It's difficult to tell whether the American media is sensationalizing the events that are occuring over there, though I know our media would never do that. Still, with headlines that scream "London Descends into Anarchy" and images of charred and burning car corpses, I admit it does give one pause. People (perhaps British citizens themselves) have said that hooliganism is a pastime of the British underclass, and they're from Tottenham, so what do you expect. Somebody else said Tottenham looked like crap before the riots, so no great loss there. The cynicism is lost on me, though I relish snarkiness for the acerbic writer that I am.

At the very least, I thought it wouldn't hurt to go straight to the source ask you a couple questions: (you know I like to ask questions):
A. Where, exactly, are these events taking place? Are they concentrated in just one area or are there pockets of violence and unrest?
B. Do you think things will settle by next week and will we be able to do and see all the touristy stuff while we're there?

Beyond my obvious self centered concerns, I do rather hope you're not dragged into any skirmishes while we're there. Scanning online, I thought to include a picture here of what you're up against.
I mean, look at them! ugh.

I think this calls for the deployment of England's secret weapon.

It's no secret, we all know you have one.

I just hope he's potty trained.

Off on vacation, you've left me to my own devices!

Besides, I'm Team Jacob.

I know I've been vacant...

But maybe i'm still just trying to get over the trauma of finding this on my sundae...

A Note Before You Go

I knew you were going to be in for a good time when I read this quote from Nobel Prize winner Enrico Fermi, who was asked if he believed in extraterrestrials. His reply:

"They are among us, but they call themselves Hungarians"

Pay no attention to the young boy before you, or the multitude of shaggy horned men that follow him. 

They dress this way in an attempt to scare off winter, and let me tell you:

 if I was winter I'd quickly change my name to spring.

The young men in southern Hungary march around the streets making "frightening noises" using wooden rattles, bag pipes, and drums. But, whatever frightening noise they make can't nearly be as awesome as the face on their masks.

Charming.

Chasing the young women of the village, whose job it is to flirt back, they end this spectacle of a festival with a bonfire on the second day, which surely can't come soon enough.

My trepidation was alleviated by the photos of your hotel. Surely, no horned shaggy men would try to molest you in a palace as celestial and grand as the one you showed me. 

And then I found BudapestMadness.com. 

Have you seen this site?? What in the Sam Hill is going on here?

Let me just say that apparently, the British men find Hungary to be the perfect little hot spot to have their Stag Do's. With packages titled, "Girls, Cars, Beer, Spa" or "Flat, Guns, Girls, Beer" or even the catchier, more enticing package of "Girls, Girls, Girls, Beer" - I am inclined to believe there is more to Budapest than what meets the royal eye.

Just take a look at poor Matt, who had a Facebook profile devoted to his 2008 bachelor party in Budapest.

I sincerely question the idea of what his friends believe the term "friendship" means.

And, may I point out, that this was taken in the MORNING.

Perhaps I rush to conclusions. Perhaps this is no poor reflection of the city itself, but rather, the concept of what a Bachelor party means to British men. 

And that is definitely a topic to be dealt with in another post.

In the meantime, Au Revoir, my dear.

Or "Búcsú" (as they say in Hungarian), and good luck!

Nice shoes.

And before you jump to any conclusions...

she was the HOSTESS, okay?

Also, I wish he would have taken his glasses off. 

They're distracting.

This weekend we:

Went to Old Town,

Ordered vegetarian pizza

Can you believe Emma ordered a Spinach Mozarella Quesadilla? 

My baby is growing up. (Sniff)

Went to park

Played with snails

Practiced Zen Tangling

Hung out with Trouble!

Went to Los Angeles and did what any good Angelino would do...

Attended a Dodger's game.

A nice weekend to kick off summer vacation.

I AM NOT ALONE!

I just had to share this with you, as often, I feel you think of me as mildly retarded for some of the things that I do.

This PROVES that:
A. I am not mentally retarded OR
B. That America is filled with retards like me.

I'm not sure that the second option is very comforting, but it's better than the first option not being true.

The following is taken from my favorite blogspot blogger, written by Jana Matthews.
AKA "The Meanest Mom" (Click on link below to go to her original post)

The Walk of Shame

"Last week, we checked out 12 books at the library, which is 12 more than we should have checked out.

I know better. Over the past six months, 2 DVDS and a Babysitter's Club novel haven't made it out of our house alive. After our last mishap, I swore that I would never step foot in the public library again.

But then school let out for the summer and my morals fell by the wayside.

"My name should be up there," I told my brood while we waited in line at the circulation desk. I pointed to a gold plaque listing the names of the library's biggest donors.

Kellen was carrying the corpse of our latest victim in a plastic shopping bag. Exactly what happened to the book is certain; by the time I found him, its body was barely recognizable.

"Cameron dropped it into bathtub!" my daughter screeched.

"I saw him throw it in!" added Cortlen.

Clearly several people witnessed the assault, yet it didn't occur to anyone to try to do anything about it.

"What could we have done?" Cortlen asked incredulously as he covered his hands with his mouth to stifle the grin.

"You could fish the book out of the water," I suggested.

[insert blank stare]

While at least one of my kids would like me to believe that he isn't playing with a full deck, the second witness was smart enough, however, to realize that time was of an essence. She knew that the book wasn't going to last long before it turned into a pulpy mush. That's why she screamed at the top of their lungs for the third to join them.

I found everyone in the bathroom, giggling hysterically.

"You think that's funny?" I asked.

Twenty-four hours later, I had to make the walk of shame. I timed my library visit so that it would coincide with the lunch break of the Children's Librarian.

"Ooooooooh!" The librarian on duty almost fainted when she saw the book. She spent the next few minutes looking like she was mourning the loss of a close relative.

It was almost too much to take.

"What do I owe you today?" I asked, pulling out my wallet. Most libraries let you buy the exact same book on Amazon and pay a small replacement processing fee. This library makes you give them half of your liver.

The librarian was willing to give me a number (which wasn't as bad as I thought), but only after she showed the deceased to all of her co-workers.

All I needed was a scarlet "A" pinned to my breast.

The only consolation in all this was that while the librarian was showing off my latest example of bad parenting, my toddler was using his fingers to make irrigation holes in a large potted plant in the lobby. Usually I would have grabbed him, but for some reason, I didn't have a lot of motivation. By the time the librarian and I were finished settling up, the ruined book was put in perspective." ~ Jana Matthews

Nothing says I miss you like Spinach Artichoke Pasta

One of the things I hate most about living on opposite sides of the country is that you aren't in my kitchen.
This is where I like you to be; this is where you belong.
You always know what seasoning should go on top of my meat or which pasta and vegetable would make the perfect side dish - which you will promptly be able to make without a recipe.
Consequently, I am very lonely in my kitchen. And in my world, loneliness breeds boredom.
And when I get bored, I get restless.
And when I get restless, you should probably watch out.
Which is why, last night, I decided to make my first attempt at producing a Food-Blog-worthy entry.
This was nothing short of embarrassing and disastrous.
How do all these people make such beautiful dishes?
I shall tell you!
EXPENSIVE CAMERAS.
And an eye for dish presentation doesn't hurt...

I mean, let's be honest - that doesn't look remotely appetizing!

Especially when you compare it to this:

Which would you rather eat?

(You don't have to answer that).

And when I photograph my Spinach Artichoke Pasta,

THIS -----------> 

doesn't even come close to  

THIS-------------->

I've had a long day, and I've lost my wit.

I think the point was, Spinach, Artichoke, and Pasta aside - 

I wish you were here.

No Comment

WHAT?

                                                       She started it!

But failure never tasted so good!

So I'm always pushing the creative boundaries of what David will tolerate from me. Earlier this week we had an interesting run that I was hoping I would be able to put together in a visually new format. Unfortunately, as of yet, I am unable to produce the work I had intended, as the file format is incompatible with the program I was trying to use. There may be a way around that, but this week has been so busy that I haven't had a chance to play around with it. Keeping my fingers crossed.

This last week and a half has been an utter failure for David and I. A combination of poor weather, the demands of Navy Recruiting, and a week of Cub Scout meetings (we are both volunteering for this summer's Cub Scout Day Camp), volleyball games and practice (of which David and I are both coaches), orthodontist appointments, band concerts, and my sister's graduation - we fell hard from our running routine. Not only that, but we haven't been watching what we're eating. With a Chinese Buffet dinner of rice, sushi, dumplings, beef, and sesame chicken (to name a few items), and a rich IHOP brunch of Spinach, Mushroom, Tomato Omelet with a side of stuffed Cinnamon-Raisin French Toast filled with sweet, smooth cream-cheese and topped with strawberries and cream under our belt, who could blame us for not being able to resist this decadent temptation after the unrelenting schedule and stress of this last week?

Mmmm!

Consequently, and perhaps not so surprisingly, both David and I have each gained 4lbs in less than 10 days.
To be honest, I was a more than a little bit shocked.
Not that I wasn't expecting to see a difference on the scale.
But 4lbs?
I wasn't prepared to see that at all.
And let me just say that the pictures of your gorgeous new frame are doing nothing to alleviate my guilt over having failed so miserably this last week! LOL
That being said, I'm jumping back on the band wagon. It feels awful to fall so hard...and so fast!
I know you are familiar with the struggles of eating temptations and dealing with the disappointment that comes with letting yourself down.
Hopefully, within these next two weeks, I can recover the ground I lost and push myself harder to make even bigger gains.
Summer is coming, and with it, the urge to sleep in and lounge at the beach.
I'm hoping you can help me stay on top of things.
Posting your running time today, I realized, was a good way to challenge myself to see if I could meet or beat your time. So that's where I'm going to start.

I was a good girl for lunch today.
Even though Sophia begs me for macaroni and cheese most days, and most days I eat it with her,
I resisted the temptation to eat a crap lunch.

Chick-pea Tomato Salad with Feta, Basil, & Mint

 It's sinful how easy it was to prepare this lunch, and heavenly how healthy it was and good it tasted.
Here's the Chick-Pea Tomato Salad Recipe in case you want to try it.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:)

We all fall off the wagon sometimes. This time it was my turn.
Time to jump back on and take this pony for a ride.
Yeehaw!

Finally

Lots of (the same looking) pictures of my butt. :}

Why we run hills...

...well, you were going to see why, but this stupid blog site is having issues loading my pictures.
Hmph, again.

Hmph

Okay, so i lied. I am jealous...but not of your running opportunities and such......but of all the time your Mother gets to spend with you. :'(
Miss you.
Sincerely,
Little Miss Whiney-Pants

Lamentations

There are times when being sheltered from the craziness that is T.V. and the internet has its benefit.

How else would you find sensational stories about the fact that porn was found inside of Bin Laden's compound? Titles at various disreputable news agencies, like the New York Post and The Daily News, deliciously cry, "Osama Bin Wankin'!" with strategically placed inserts about, "Whakistan" and "The Porn Identity". 

I crave me a good laugh, like anyone else, but when these laughs come at the expense of a dead mass murderer, I begin to suspect that nothing is sacred or off limits in this world. 

So prepare to welcome the porn movie titles of "Weapons of Mass Seduction", "1000 Arabians in 1 Night", and "Talibuns". If they aren't already out there, they're coming. 

Well, not "coming", you know, but coming, in the sense that...oh, nevermind.

Speaking of running...

Do you think you would ever?

And one more thing...

Since we are on the subjects of all things British, I came across an interesting and completely inconsequential article that was thoroughly pointless and delightfully cheap. I, in no way, take any credit for the following comparisons, genius as they are. My only persuasive argument is that sometimes it's fun to be trashy.

Oh, look! It's my two favorite English ladies with their fabulous h-h-h-h-ats.

It's too bad they didn't try for a Little Mermaid wedding thing. I totally would have showed up like this:

Muah!

All things British

This week I have learned a lot about our British cousins across the pond.
In addition to their unexplainable obsession with headgear, I have found they are equally as fascinated with the opposite end of human anatomy: in short, the female "bum".
But there is one bum in particular with which they are enamored, that enthralls them, and sends them into spasms of delight. I know what you're thinking, and no - it's not J.K. Rowling.
Allow me to introduce you to Pippa Middleton, and her bum.

The picture illustrates what a devastating development this is, especially in light of the fact that she barely has one. What she does have is perky, though small, (and if I may add my two cents, rather flat).
Now, as an American, I can (though with no pride) appreciate the cheaper elements of any cultural phenomenon. But there's something so distinctly distasteful about this particular obsession, that when I heard they created the Pippa Middleton Ass Appreciation Society, I cringed.
Really, England? I had truly held out hope that somehow, in some small immeasurable way, you were better than us. I imagined there was more sophistication in your tiny left toe than the total amount of alcohol Snooki could consume in a weekend. With nicknames like the "Minxy Middleton" and T-shirts that read "I'd like to be in the Middleton of that!", I am convinced that if there were a line to be drawn around the future Queen of England's sister - you have most certainly crossed it.

                                           


Perhaps I have yet to truly sample all the glory that English bums have to offer.
Or perhaps, I'm more American than I know and I can't deny the fact that bigger means better.
I mean, who can't look at J.Lo's butt and, for better or for worse, think, "Whoa"?

There really is no comparison.
In the end, I am in no place to pass judgement, nor do I wish to appear superior to anyone else.
I suppose, were I the ripe age of 27, I might fancy a few 100,000 people "Liking" a Facebook page strictly devoted to my ass. We only live once, right?

Well, now that was tasteful.

Just for the sake of blogging

I, my friend, have nothing to blog about.
I suppose I could tell you on here how much I miss you.
I hope you've enjoyed your time with your family; maybe someday you all could gather on this coast. :)
I've been working like crazy but making enough tips to make it worth. I logged 46 hours last week, and this week I've put in 39 hours with still a full shift to go. Next week I'm on 6 days. Money, Money, Money.
I see Day-bid is off to Pensacola!!?!?! I didn't realize he was flying down there to interview with the Blue Angels. That would be absolutely AMAZING! Such an opportunity! I'll be keeping him in my thoughts.
I've had some nice success at the gym, seeing results. I've been sticking to a healthier diet of salads and proteins, lots of water, and, believe it or not, normal sleeping patterns. I don't get on the computer when I get home from work, I go straight to bed. I'm up every morning by 6:45am (7 am on days off) and in bed by 9:45-10:30pm at the latest. I weighed myself at the gym yesterday: 120lbs. I doubt its accuracy, but I'm still happy regardless. It is the continuation and maintaining of results that is going to be tricky because while 112 days seems like nothing 'til the wedding, 112 days is a long time to try to keep from gaining weight, at least for me.
Just under 13 weeks until I (am scheduled to) leave for London. I haven't turned in any paperwork for the visa clearance stuff yet. Still waiting on all pieces of info that they need before I turn it in.
I've gotta get the girls up to Rhea's and then head to work.
Never as clever, witty, or entertaining as your posts, but it is a post.
zozo
(it seemed fitting for a sign-off from Ze2NonBlondes) ;)

Cocklaphobia files

Over the last year, we have averaged four posts per month on our blog; all during a time of tremendous movement and activity: you were in the midst of finalizing a divorce, getting engaged, buying a home, taking trips outside of the country, working two jobs, and I was managing family life for our family of five as I drowned in school work in an effort to finish my Bachelor's degree. Then 2011 comes around and life seems simplified: you have finalized your divorce, settled into your home, quite your stressful day job, and have a group of fantastic people who have taken on the burden of planning (and paying for) your wedding, and I have been frolicking in my madness over the pure joy of being done with school.
So someone please explain to me why, then, is it May 2011, and we have yet to post once on this blog? (And breaking the New Year Cherry doesn't count.)

I am so baffled and concerned by this, that I have taken it upon myself to do the right thing and use this opportunity blog about something very important to me: the issue of the English hat.
I think you know how I feel about this regrettable cultural British phenomenon, and I have yet to see how anyone could possibly explain it to me enough to make sense.
The concept of high art as fashion is an acceptable one, if only it weren't for the fact that even old British women (including the Queen) wear ridiculous head paraphernalia.
(I think I just I called the Queen an old British woman. I hope this is not terribly insulting...to other old British women out there.)

And I acknowledge that my bafflement over this bizarrity may be falling on deaf ears. You have been known to have a peculiar fetish with head ornaments that occasionally push the boundaries of my tolerance. However, you are broke enough to not make it a habit of buying these items, for which I am grateful.

Coincidentally, you may or may not have seen that there was a little British wedding that happened last week. For days I was, and occasionally, continue to be, tormented by the photos of many of the guests.
Suddenly, I was hit with an overwhelming sense of panic as my mind flashed forward to the British wedding that we will be attending in August. I have the sudden urge to beg you to tell me that it isn't true - that the guests at your wedding won't be wearing anything that looks like the following:

 



And if you dare ridicule my phobia of British headgear (I refuse to call them hats), I challenge you with the following test:

From the following pictures, please select the "headgear" that was actually worn to a British public event:

A. 

B. 

C. 

D. 

E. 

 OR                                        F. All of the above.

If you have guessed F, you are correct. It would also be correct to be terrified by the natural state of the woman's face in picture E. (I believe her name is Princess Beatrice.) Do you think it's possible that she is related to our own American royalty, Lady Gaga?

It looks quite possible. 

Although, after seeing all of the photos above, I am convinced most anything is possible in England. 

Long story short: if you put a hat on me, I'll kill you.