ted's 30!!! would anyone have known if i hadn't attacked his cake with white chocolate?!? i don't think so...:)
Thursday, April 22, 2010
happy birthday ted!
ted's 30!!! would anyone have known if i hadn't attacked his cake with white chocolate?!? i don't think so...:)
the boomer in love
The boomer (red velvet cake with cream cheese icing)--full of love because 3 of the top 4 NFL drafts were Sooners!! What's not to love about that?!? ;)
happy earth day!
A couple of years ago I started recycling at home, recycling at work, and taking my own bags to shop. I haven't warmed up to the idea of a composter yet, but I have looked into them so much so that I know the best ratings and what I will buy if I ever get the urge. I also don't plan on giving up my Tahoe anytime soon, but I am attempting to hug trees a little more than the average human. So I decided to share a couple of my favorite green items in honor of earth day as if I am Oprah and as if you really care...
Crate & Barrel has these amazing bags for $17.95/set of 4 right now! Super cute, handy to fill up and tote to the Recycling Center and totally easy to wash. You can even make your own super cute inserts to label each bag. I have these at home and at work as they are cute enough for me to tote around in the aforementioned Tahoe and as easy as a trash can for the reluctant recylcer.
This my friends is the Lands' End Zip Top Canvas Tote Bag. I have 2 Extra Large ones that I take with me grocery shopping (okay...3 if I'm having a party) and I honestly don't know why I ever hasseled with shopping without them. They are amazing and it usually only takes one trip from car to house for a weeks worth of groceries! The bags stand up on their own in the cart while I fill them up and I'm convinced they can handle any weight I bestow upon them. You can often find them in the Lands' End overstock or outlet online for a good deal if you aren't picky about color--mine of course, had to be green! :)
--Yours in Minty Greenness
Ashley
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
i want you to want to
I’m girly. I fantasize about wearing pearls, heels, a cute dress covered by the cutest apron you’ve ever seen and serving dinner to my angelic children and husband all while listening to Sinatra. I have this 1950’s housewife inside of me that occasionally seeps out—often unexpectedly. A couple of years ago in Vegas my cousin and best friend witnessed this first hand when they found me wearing heels as I ironed my clothes for the evening. A college roommate once had a guy coming over to our house and I met him at the door wearing a large hat and sundress while twirling about with a martini in hand listening to ‘ol blue eyes. I’m not sure to this day whether he was completely freaked out or just entertained, but we’re friends on facebook, so I’ll assume it wasn’t too traumatizing for him.
Housewife tendencies aside, I often get lumped in the “guy’s girl” category. I find myself in the guys’ group at most social and family functions. In my defense, it isn’t the men that are the draw, but they tend to occupy the room with the biggest T.V. to watch the game. And whatever game that is, I want to be watching it too and getting my two cents in on what’s happening in the world of sports. I’d rather watch Sportcenter than any local or national news and the only vacations I sign up for are those that revolve around diving or my favorite sports teams. In 2005, a diving vacation conflicted with my team being in the World Series and I’m convinced to this day that they lost because I had to watch every game in Spanish from my hotel room.
Needless to say, I pride myself on being able to balance my femininity with my logic and understanding of men. And that is why I sometimes knock my own socks off with my ridiculousness. I will only tell one story of my ridiculousness for now and it began on Christmas Eve.
That evening the whole family was coming over for Christmas Eve dinner. My mom and I love playing hostess and the house is always ready for an instant party. Despite this, for some reason we always decide to cram something else in or get something else done right before our guests arrive. It’s pretty much what we do and I’ve resigned to the fact that it will never change. So we went to bed the night before thinking we didn’t have much to do the following day. I wake up and piddle around making desserts and then suddenly remember that I have these cute boxes to wrap goodies in to give everyone. So I begin to rummage through the cabinets and see what I can throw together to bake for the boxes. And now I’ve done it, I’ve started a project and will not rest until it’s done—forgetting that I have yet to take a shower or change out all of the pictures in the house. Yes, I just said change out all of the pictures in the house. You see, I had this grand idea at the beginning of December to start collecting old Christmas photos to display instead of the ones we normally have on the walls, however, this grand idea does not come to fruition until the day of the party. So while brownies and cookies are baking I start rummaging through pictures and pulling frames off every wall. One frame doesn’t make it and two others are dropped, but do not shatter. The pictures make it up and the oven timer is buzzing. I pull everything out and am running around in my sweats when out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my amazing boyfriend doing what I can tell by the squint of his eyes and movement of his thumb is playing brickbreaker on my Blackberry. Since I am sometimes passive-aggressive, I ask him what he is doing, even though I already know exactly what he is doing—not helping me. In a not-so-sweet way I ask him if he would mind helping and helping right now is cutting the brownies. I know he hates cutting brownies, because I make gooey brownies and there is really no flawless way to cut them into squares, and I probably have the time, but he isn’t doing anything to help! He cuts the brownies, I shower, the party is a success and the gift boxes are neatly stacked on the bar ready to be taken home by the guests.
And then, a few nights later, mom’s bunco group comes to the house. While we’re cleaning up my mom asks me what my dad is doing. I know this is a loaded question, and what she really means is that he isn’t doing anything more important than helping us. So now, my understanding of men kicks in and I tell my mom I will take out the trash, and there really isn’t anything we need his help for. It wasn’t even a party he got to participate in and she wants him to help clean up? She then says she just wants him to want to help us even if we don’t really need it. I remind her of the line from The Break Up where Jennifer Aniston’s character tells Vince Vaughn’s character: “I want you to want to do the dishes.” And he replies: “Why would I want to do the dishes?” The words escape my mouth and suddenly my advocacy for my dad turns into guilt for making PJ cut the brownies on Christmas Eve. Did I really need his help or was I just mad because he wasn’t buying into my ridiculous theory that all of these extra things needed to get done? I didn’t need him to cut the brownies, I just wanted him to want to cut the brownies. And yes, I now see how ridiculous that sounds. So I call PJ and tell him this whole revelation that I’ve just had and that I will never be so ridiculous about things like that again and you know what he says? I know it verbatim and it went exactly like this: “I really didn’t mind cutting the brownies, and I really haven’t thought about it until you brought it up again.”
And there, my friends, you have it. I’m girly. I overanalyze everything, and now instead of taking pride in understanding men, I will take pride in the fact that I have begun to understand myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, Sportcenter is about to start and I need to put on my pearls.
Housewife tendencies aside, I often get lumped in the “guy’s girl” category. I find myself in the guys’ group at most social and family functions. In my defense, it isn’t the men that are the draw, but they tend to occupy the room with the biggest T.V. to watch the game. And whatever game that is, I want to be watching it too and getting my two cents in on what’s happening in the world of sports. I’d rather watch Sportcenter than any local or national news and the only vacations I sign up for are those that revolve around diving or my favorite sports teams. In 2005, a diving vacation conflicted with my team being in the World Series and I’m convinced to this day that they lost because I had to watch every game in Spanish from my hotel room.
Needless to say, I pride myself on being able to balance my femininity with my logic and understanding of men. And that is why I sometimes knock my own socks off with my ridiculousness. I will only tell one story of my ridiculousness for now and it began on Christmas Eve.
That evening the whole family was coming over for Christmas Eve dinner. My mom and I love playing hostess and the house is always ready for an instant party. Despite this, for some reason we always decide to cram something else in or get something else done right before our guests arrive. It’s pretty much what we do and I’ve resigned to the fact that it will never change. So we went to bed the night before thinking we didn’t have much to do the following day. I wake up and piddle around making desserts and then suddenly remember that I have these cute boxes to wrap goodies in to give everyone. So I begin to rummage through the cabinets and see what I can throw together to bake for the boxes. And now I’ve done it, I’ve started a project and will not rest until it’s done—forgetting that I have yet to take a shower or change out all of the pictures in the house. Yes, I just said change out all of the pictures in the house. You see, I had this grand idea at the beginning of December to start collecting old Christmas photos to display instead of the ones we normally have on the walls, however, this grand idea does not come to fruition until the day of the party. So while brownies and cookies are baking I start rummaging through pictures and pulling frames off every wall. One frame doesn’t make it and two others are dropped, but do not shatter. The pictures make it up and the oven timer is buzzing. I pull everything out and am running around in my sweats when out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my amazing boyfriend doing what I can tell by the squint of his eyes and movement of his thumb is playing brickbreaker on my Blackberry. Since I am sometimes passive-aggressive, I ask him what he is doing, even though I already know exactly what he is doing—not helping me. In a not-so-sweet way I ask him if he would mind helping and helping right now is cutting the brownies. I know he hates cutting brownies, because I make gooey brownies and there is really no flawless way to cut them into squares, and I probably have the time, but he isn’t doing anything to help! He cuts the brownies, I shower, the party is a success and the gift boxes are neatly stacked on the bar ready to be taken home by the guests.
And then, a few nights later, mom’s bunco group comes to the house. While we’re cleaning up my mom asks me what my dad is doing. I know this is a loaded question, and what she really means is that he isn’t doing anything more important than helping us. So now, my understanding of men kicks in and I tell my mom I will take out the trash, and there really isn’t anything we need his help for. It wasn’t even a party he got to participate in and she wants him to help clean up? She then says she just wants him to want to help us even if we don’t really need it. I remind her of the line from The Break Up where Jennifer Aniston’s character tells Vince Vaughn’s character: “I want you to want to do the dishes.” And he replies: “Why would I want to do the dishes?” The words escape my mouth and suddenly my advocacy for my dad turns into guilt for making PJ cut the brownies on Christmas Eve. Did I really need his help or was I just mad because he wasn’t buying into my ridiculous theory that all of these extra things needed to get done? I didn’t need him to cut the brownies, I just wanted him to want to cut the brownies. And yes, I now see how ridiculous that sounds. So I call PJ and tell him this whole revelation that I’ve just had and that I will never be so ridiculous about things like that again and you know what he says? I know it verbatim and it went exactly like this: “I really didn’t mind cutting the brownies, and I really haven’t thought about it until you brought it up again.”
And there, my friends, you have it. I’m girly. I overanalyze everything, and now instead of taking pride in understanding men, I will take pride in the fact that I have begun to understand myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, Sportcenter is about to start and I need to put on my pearls.
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