Somewhere along the line it happened. I’m not sure when, but it did. I gave up my teenage affection for hard lemonade, and my Sex And The City-induced Cosmopolitan phase in favor of spicier, boozier, hair-on-my-lady-chest-ier pursuits.
My husband found his love of Bourbon through my father. It became a family affair. If we’re having a cozy evening with my family, there is a more than likely chance that we’re going to be swilling Manhattans with (or as) appetizers. If you’re wondering, this practice goes really well with a game of Cards Against Humanity. It’s only slightly awkward when your Mother (the decidedly least gross, modestly-mannered person in the bunch) pulls out a big win for putting together combinations of cards that would make a sailor blush. Okay, perhaps it’s best that you play at your own risk. You’ve been warned. Mothers can surprise you. Continue reading →
It’s my drink of choice. I’ll take it on the rocks, mixed with pineapple juice, in a Manhattan or in one of these Ginger Fizz Cocktails. I’ll find excuses to slip it into whipped cream or cookies. I’ll even find an excuse to put it on vegetables. That’s what you’re currently looking at. A way of infusing that awesome, rich, bourbon flavor into roasted veggies. I’m realizing now these past few sentences make me sound like a real lush. Ugh. I don’t even know. But, bourbon…let’s get crazy and pour it on some carrots and see what happens. Continue reading →
Yes, I took the time to take a picture of me enthusiastically holding food to my face. It’s only going to get weirder… buckle up. We’re gonna talk skincare. I’m gonna be putting that food right on my face.
A few months back, I found myself in a heated argument with my skin. I had recently come off of oral contraceptives, and my skin was letting me know that it disapproved of my life choices. It fought back with dry patches and a heck of a greasy T-zone. Then there was Carl. Carl was the angry blemish that kept on rearing his rosy head right on my chin. He was big and unsightly and a little bit of a diva. Kind of like that really loud friend you had in college that you could never seem to lose at a party. That’s Carl. He had to go.
I was using some of the most “gentle” facial cleaners on the market, but my skin still felt itchy, dry and just stressed the heck out. One morning, I was reaching for my bottle of cleanser and just happened to flip that thing around to the ingredients. Whoa. I have no idea what any of that stuff is. Chemicals abound. There were probably forty ingredients in there, and all of them seemed to just be feeding Carl and his host of real bossy friends that seemed to be joining the party with each passing day. I was hosting a rave on my chin. Enough is enough. Continue reading →
I am in a full on “HOW THE HECK IS SUMMER ALMOST OVER?!?!” meltdown.
Didn’t it just get here? I don’t even have tan lines yet. I haven’t gone swimming in a pool, and I definitely haven’t enjoyed as many Watermelon Margaritas as I would like. I’ve made exactly one trip to the beach, and it was totally fogged in that day. I was wearing a sweatshirt and drinking a tea. Sure, I’ve totally eaten my weight in peaches and berries, but I’m just not done. I don’t know if I’m ready for squash and apples and copious amounts of pumpkin on pumpkin all spiced up with cinnamon. Slow down. Pump them there breaks.
In one attempt to stave off fall, I have been overbuying things like raspberries and figs. I know that the figs will be around for a little while longer, but I have been hoarding produce. It’s a compulsion. I am not proud. Some people hoard cats. Some people hoard newspapers. I hoard seasonal produce. Just let me cope. I know that I will come around to fall. After all, there is Pumpkin Pie involved. Someone pass the whipped cream. Whoa… that wasn’t so difficult to get excited about. I really like pie. Still… I don’t think I’m quite ready. I hope the seasons can hold off until I have found an appropriate pair of really cute fall boots. You know, priorities. Continue reading →
If you’re in California, I bet your hand is up. Unless you are one of those crazy bears that claims they don’t sweat. You know the type. That girl who wears make-up to the gym. You look at her and think “Jeez. Big mistake. After this kickboxing class she is going to look like a clown.” You almost feel sorry for her. The thing is, she is one of those non-sweating unicorns. The intense workout only makes her more glow-y and sparkly. You on the other hand (me) are sweating so heavily that it looks like you have just gone on a deep sea adventure. Your cheeks are red, your upper lip is moist, you try to put on your sunglasses, but they fog up from your general swampy-ness. Moist. No one likes that word. Also, no one likes to be moist. Especially on their upper lip. Ugh. What? Why do I say these things. Gag. I don’t know if I can make that sentence sound better. Help.
Isn’t there some stupid saying out there claiming that “Women don’t sweat, they glisten.” FALSE. Unless you are that glow-y unicorn girl. Then you glisten. You are beautiful. I am jealous of the way your bangs aren’t turning curly in this heat. Stop it. Continue reading →