Summer Smashed at the Shore

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The prompt:

Your blogging Tribe is visiting you for ONE NIGHT out on the town. Write a post with a pre-game drink recipe (alcoholic or non) and tell us where you’d take your blogging friends for a good time!

The response:

My recipe for a perfect {blogger} friend night on the town is actually more of a night in…

Instead of trying to yell over music and chatter of local restaurants and clubs we are going to take it nice and easy. We are meeting up at the timeshare condo on the beach.

It will be a night to let our hair down, kick off our shoes, and dig our toes in the sand.  No dress code. Swimsuits encouraged. Lounge wear is perfectly acceptable.

We’ll meet down by the pool where some cool mango bellinis will be waiting in chilled glasses.

 Mango Bellinis

1 tbsp fresh mango puree (or mango nectar in a pinch)
4 oz. chilled champagne or proscecco
chilled champagne flute
sliced mango to garnish

Add the mango puree/nectar to the bottom of the flute. Add champagne and stir to combine. Garnish with fruit. Chill out and enjoy.
 
The second refreshing glass of tropical paradise can be transferred to a plastic cup before we wander down the beach. The balmy ocean breeze blows away all our stresses and we forget about our hectic week, work, and family obligations. Computers are off and the kids are with dad/the sitter. We are officially off duty.

As the sun sets,  tiki torches glow and the pool bar and restaurant start gearing up. We dine poolside, our table overlooking the ocean so close we can nearly dangle our flip-flopped feet in the tide. The reggae band begins to play, a gentle, relaxing groove, and we laugh the night away.

After dinner and perhaps a few more drinks the band starts jamming and it’s time for dancing. Or maybe you may just want to chill in the hot tub. Life is full of tough decisions.

And yes, the indoor/outdoor pool has a swim-up bar (with a rather hunky bartender). This is the good life.

What does every girl’s night need next?  Why some dessert of course. Beside the beach-side fire pit is a buffet set up for grown-up gourmet ‘smores.  Yeah, you read right…

Grown-Up Gourmet ‘Smores go so far beyond just some dry, old graham cracker squares and a Hershey bar.  As we have matured, so have our tastes. Just some ideas to salivate over:

  • Nutella, thinly sliced French bread & marshmallow
  • Sugar cookies, raspberry-filled dark chocolate square, fresh raspberries & marshmallow
  • White chocolate, coconut-covered marshmallow, thin slice of pineapple & shortbread wafers
  • Gingersnaps, marshmallow & caramel-filled chocolate square
  • Peanut butter cookies, dark chocolate & marshmallow
  • Cinnamon graham crackers, Reece’s peanut butter cup & marshmallow
  • Pretzel chips, dark chocolate square with sea salt caramel filling & marshmallow
  • Chocolate wafers, caramel & marshmallow
  • Chocolate wafers, mint filled dark chocolate square & marshmallow
  • Coconut-covered marshmallows, banana, dark-chocolate caramel square & shortbread wafer

Are you drooling yet? Yes, we will be keeping Ghiardelli in business that night. And we will be oh so thankful we are wearing comfy, expandable lounge wear and cover-ups.

We will sit around the fire pit with a marshmallow roasting stick in one hand and an umbrella drink in the other.  After we stuff ourselves with these gourmet delights we can sit back in our Adirondack chairs digesting, watching the moon rise over the ocean, and savoring our escape from our hectic everyday lives.


Since we are hanging by the condo we have a built in crash-pad — no designated drivers and no bedtime. The party will go on until dawn and there is always time for some more dancing…

So when are you coming down to the Sunshine State?

Cheers, Ladies…


Link up at Adventures in Mommyhood or at My Time As Mom now until Sunday, August 28th

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An Italian Wedding

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My favorite wedding photo…it’s impossible for me to pick just one.  I always considered myself extremely unphotgenic.  More likely, I was just shy and insecure.  But my wedding photos were the first pictures of me I truely loved.

My Hubby and I eloped in Rome.  Yes, Italy.  We had been planning the normal “big” wedding thing — a ceremony by the water followed by buffet and dancing at my MIL’s club —  and planned to honeymoon in Italy. Then I came down with a wicked case of cold feet. Not of marrying my Hubby, I had no worries about that, but the whole wedding biz was chilling me to the bone.

I didn’t want to pay $6,000 (over half my budget) for a decent photographer. I didn’t know over half the people on the guest list (Hubby has a bizarre extend family) and I refused to spend our day schmoozing with people I’ve never met and probably would never see again. Our day was suddenly about pleasing everyone else and I felt like a hired performer only there to make the audience happy.

My parents always encouraged me to elope, so when my Mom was actually concerned about what to emboss on the cocktail napkins (because apparently this is a big deal) I snapped.  I suggested to my (then future) Hubby that we just ditch this whole big wedding thing and get married in Italy.

He said, “let’s do it.”

And then he proceeded to plan almost the entire thing.

How could I not marry him?

It was springtime in Rome. We were married in Santa Maria in Tempulo, a deconsecrated 11th century monastery in the heart of the city.  Our brief nuptials were witnessed by five family members who were “forced” to take a European vacation to share in our moment.  I’m still not sure what I promised to do that day — although our wedding planner, Gabriella,  translated, the Italian matrimonial vows are far different (and much more modern) than the traditional American brand.

After the ceremony we traveled around the city on a photo shoot of a lifetime.  We were posed in front of the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, and around Campo di Fiore.  Tourists stared and snapped pictures while the magnificent Gabriella cleared our path.  I was so embarrassed to be the center of attention, truly a bashful, blushing bride.  I can only imagine how many of the ubiquitous Japanese tourists posted their pics of the “Italian bride and groom” all over the internet.  Somehow Pino, our amazing photographer, managed to capture only the brief moments I actually looked up.

Hungry and exhausted, we enjoyed a late lunch (and amazing Italian wine, of course) at a local wine bar before going back to our hotel to nap.  That evening we celebrated at a divine trattoria in Trastevere.

It was small. It was unique. It was seeped in history and culture. It was absolutely perfect.

He’s taking off my garter, but I always thought it looked like Prince Charming sliding on my glass slipper.

It took several months for the thick, padded box covered with Italian air mail stickers to arrive.  The leather album, filled with timeless treasures beyond my wedding day dreams, was worth the wait. 

Now someday I just need to scan the negatives to keep these images alive (and far less blurry) forever.

Cheers or as they say in Italy “Salute!”

This is a part of the Down the Aisle link up over at Mommy of a Monster — check it out!



Get-me-to-the- Greek Pasta Salad Recipe

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Some people can’t keep their hands off a bag of chips, while for others it’s ice cream or Oreos.  My kitchen crack is pasta salad.  I know, that sounds absurd, but there is something about the al dente pasta lightly coated with rich olive oil and herbs that sets off serotonin in my brain.  Grab a piece with a hunk of feta, a sliver of pepperoni, and some crisp, fresh summer veggies at their absolute peak sitting atop and I am in foodie blissdom.

Summertime just screams for pasta salad.  It’s just too damn hot to eat a heaping HOT bowl of pasta.  And it just so happens there is no other time of year to find grape tomatoes as sweet as candy and peppers (as well as other produce) at prices which won’t break the budget. 

This was my favorite meal this week.  I could make it in huge vats and eat nothing else…well, as long as I had a nice cool chardonnay to go with it…

Get-Me-to-the-Greek Pasta Salad

serves 6 main dish, 12+ as a side

Ingredients:

Dressing:
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 1/2 teaspoons dried basil
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 teaspoon onion powder
3/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon white sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

If you want to make this super quick and easy you can use bottled Greek dressing (Ken’s is decent and I just discovered the Grandessa Signature from Aldi works in a pinch as well). Fresh is best, but I’m not going to tell, and if you hide the bottle, no one else will notice.

Salad:
12 oz. dried pasta (I prefer Wacky Mack bow ties for color and texture, but you can use twists, wagon wheels, any shape you like)
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1 cup sliced  bell peppers (use any colors you prefer — I like a mix of red and green)
3/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup chopped green onions
1 (4 ounce) can whole black olives, halved
3/4 cup sliced pepperoni, cut into strips (if you want to go Vegetarian omit)
1 can white beans (cannellini) or chick peas
1 box frozen artichoke hearts, chopped and thawed

Directions:

  1. For the dressing: whisk together olive oil, vinegar, garlic powder, basil, oregano, black pepper, and sugar. Set aside.
  2. Cook pasta as per directions on package for al dente.  
  3. Meanwhile, assemble all other sliced and diced veggies, pepperoni, beans, and feta.
  4. When pasta is done drain well and toss into large bowl.  Add all your salad ingredients and about half of the salad dressing. Toss to coat. Slowly add about half of remaining dressing and toss again. You don’t want everything to be too soggy and saturated with dressing, just gloss and well-coated. 
  5. Cover, and chill 2 hours or overnight. Stir before serving. Add remaining dressing if desired.

Make sure to hide any leftover in the back of fridge to prevent snacking — yes, it’s just that good.  Just imagine you are sitting {below} soaking in the salty Santorini air while sipping on an imported glass of vino (I’ve heard Greek wine is swill).

Cheers.

Now, it’s time for you, my dear readers to join in.

times they are a-changin’

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Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.
~Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan sang this song, this poem, to me when I was far too young to comprehend any of the complexities of life, of dreams, and of how to weave them into my own reality.   I was in a state of constant flux, throwing care to the wind and not realizing how careless changes could impact my life.  I lived for the day.  And I actually laughed at Dylan–his ragged, nasal, and gravelly vocals launched me into a vicious fit of  giggles. I was lost in the folly of youth, blind of the wraiths of time. 

But the times they are a-changin’.

I just watched my baby bravely march up the school bus steps. He was cool, calm, and ready to take 2nd grade on by storm…at least on the outside.  Somehow I miss him already.  He accepts change with the grace of a young man far wiser than his few years. 

His recent fortune cookie find promises everything  a parent could ever wish for her child: a life of happiness and peace…to have this one must realize that change is the only constant in life.

 My fortune.  If only it will be true.  I know I cannot wait for fortune to find me, I must work to find it.  Time to get back to the grind.  Time to shift focus.

Yes, the times they are a-changin’.

Time to go back to the gym.  It has been a tumultuous summer with far to many doctors visits, minor surgeries, recovery periods, illnesses, and dental drama.  I feel about five pounds heavier.  My clothes feel too snug.  It’s time to step away from the snack foods and step back into a healthy routine.

At the start of 2011 I decided to focus on my blog for a while.  I had no idea how all-encompassing a task this would become.  When I’m not writing an actual post I’m researching or taking and editing photos.  I’ve taught myself some new programs, learned how to create html codes and dabbled in several aspects of design. Then there’s the whole social media enigma.  Facebook, twitter, keeping up with the constant commenting and finding new blogs to comment on–it eats up as many hours as  a full-time job.  And yet it pays zilch.  Need to make some changes.  I’m going to cut back on my blog time.

A new opportunity presented itself when I was invited to join the Bookshelf Bombshells book review site. (If you haven’t checked it out yet, you should.)  Books. Beauty. Brains.  A brilliant group of women. Time for me to step into my new role of responsibility.

And it is time to get back to my book.  I need to finish the damn thing.  Then I need to start at the beginning and rip it to shreds so I can carefully craft it back together with twice as much love and skill.  It is once again time to treat my novel as my job.  Finishing it and selling it would be the best damn “promotion” I could wish for.  But it won’t just happen. I need to make some changes, regain my focus, jump back into the muddy puddle of my writing and dirty myself with words.

discipline. strength. creativity. balance. 
For the times they are a-changin’.

Triple-layer Fruit & Yogurt Pop Recipe

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Welcome to the new Flippant Foodie Friday feature (ahh, don’t you just love alliteration).   As much as I would love to be a real foodie, it’s just not feasible.  
  1. I’m poor.  As much as I drool over shaved black truffle over any and every expensive gourmet cheese on the market, I just can’t afford these little luxuries. I splurge every so often (real Parmigiano-Reggiano = heaven) but much of my food bill is done on the cheap.
  2. I don’t have a $2,000 camera to snap photos that would make a NYC food stylist drool.  I have a nice little Nikon but I don’t have a studio and lights.  My pictures are decent.  Take them or leave them.
  3. I simply don’t have the time.  This is not a full time gig. Hell, blogging is not even supposed to be my full-time job- I’m supposed to be working on my book.  I can’t spend the whole week repeating a recipe just to make it perfect.  And I have a family.  Yes, I cook every night, but it’s usually Rachel Ray-style – homemade in 30 minutes or less.
  4. I use packaged foods.  It’s the kiss of death for a “real” foodie.  Cake mix is my friend.  The oven is not.  Yes, homemade pasta is 5x better than cheapo from a box, but it just doesn’t fit into my life here and now.  It’s a yearly (if we’re lucky) indulgence.
  5. But I love food.  And I think create some pretty decent dishes. I don’t follow recipes; I generally read several and take bits and pieces of each to make my own creation.  And I’ve been told my creations are pretty damn good, so I thought I’d be generous and share some of the love.  

Cheers, readers…

Summertime, and the livin’s easy…and hot…ridiculously hot.  The never-ending heat wave is still gripping the country and local temperatures have been climbing to the upper ’90s every day.  Five minutes outside and you are guaranteed to be dripping with sweat and lusting for an instant cool-down.

Nothing screams “heat wave treat” more than an icy popsicle…well, I suppose an icy frozen beverage could, but we are talking family treats here at the moment…

My Kiddo is obsessed with the neon freeze-ice tubes full of frozen chemicles.  Whether they are sold as Otter Pops, Fla-Vor-Ice, or a generic name the concept is the same: high fructose corn syrup, artificial flavors and dye encased in cellophane.  Yum.

Between the heat wave and orthodontic issues, Kiddo has been going through popsicles at an absolutely rate (faster than I go though wine!).  In an attempt to get a pop with a semblance of nutritional value into him, I decided to try some fruit and yogart pops.

They may take more time and effort than simply opening a cardboard box and cutting through the cellophane wrapper  but they were nutritious and a tasty hit.  And the blueberries still gave Kiddo the crazy blue tongue (a favorite part of the tube pops) without pumping him full of mystery chemicals.


Triple-layer Fruit & Yogurt Pops

Note: Adapted from “Perfect Pops: The 50 Best Classic & Cool Treats,” by Charity Ferreira.

Prep: 30 minutes
Freeze: 6 to 8 hours
Makes: 6 pops

Ingredients:
1 cup blueberries (about 6 ounces)
2 teaspoons sugar
1 cup low-fat yogurt (I used apple, but lemon or vanilla would also work well–just use your favorite flavor, okay?)
1 cup strawberries (about 6 ounces)

6 wooden popsicle sticks (or twigs, craft sticks, or whatever decorative stick you want)

  •  Puree the blueberries in a blender (or food processor) until smooth. With a sturdy spoon, press the mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into a bowl, extracting as much juice as possible. Discard the solids. Whisk in 1teaspoon of the sugar and 2 tablespoons of the yogurt until well combined. Spoon the mixture into ice pop molds, dividing it evenly and filling each mold about one-third full. Freeze until set, 30 to 45 minutes. Wipe spillage off counter because blueberries stain.
  •  Meanwhile, repeat the process used for the blueberries, this time with the strawberries.  Set aside in refrigerator.
  •  Divide the remaining yogurt (about 2/3 cup) evenly among the molds, placing it on top of the blueberry layer and filling each mold another third of the way full. Freeze until the yogurt layer is set, 30 to 45 minutes.
  • Carefully spoon the strawberry mixture on top of the yogurt layer, dividing it evenly. Insert sticks. Freeze until firm, at least four hours or up to one week.
  • To release the pops, run hot water over the outside of the molds for a few seconds; gently pull the sticks.

Enjoy! 
(And eat outside. Blueberries & strawberries stain. Let the eater beware.)

Enjoy!

    Summer Fun: Gone Wild and Retro

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    The Summer Fun meme from Things I Can’t Say just seemed like too much fun to pass up.  Except, well, this summer hasn’t been much fun.  We enjoyed a few day trips to the beach but Kiddo spent the long, hot days at camp.  No vacations.  We spent far too much time in the ER or at the dentist, Orthodontist, Dermatologist, and Oral Surgen’s offices.  It was too damn hot and buggy to even play in the pool.

    So instead of dwelling on this summer’s washout I decided to think back to our rocking summer not long ago. It was the summer we decided (or technically fate made the call) we would remain a family of three.  It was our first real family vacation. We decided to go big or go home. We traveled to Costa Rica.

    For ten days we traversed the rugged countryside and treacherous roads. We climbed erupting volcanoes, hiked down to breathtaking waterfalls, and surfed on black-sand beaches.

    Kiddo proved that 5-year-olds are fearless adventurers.  He zip-lined through a primeval rainforest without an ounce of fear.  He chased and hand fed wild monkeys as he laughed with delight.  He left worrying about the danger up to me.
    It was the summer that will linger in our memories like a morpho butterfly carried along the moist and salty breeze.  It will be forever beautiful, wild, and dreamlike…

    I only took about 3000 pictures. Below are just a few favorites summer memories.

    All photos here are copyright and property of Vinobaby’s Voice.  Do not copy without permission (or I’ll track you down and stick a rabid monkey on your a$$).

    Look!  It’s erupting!  @ 5 a.m.

     

    La Fortuna Waterfall

    View from our hotel breakfast table

    Arenal lava

    Sunset Manual Antonio

    Wild Red Squirrel Monkeys inside our B&B

    All I can think of is the movie Outbreak…”Here Betsy…”

    100 ft up in the canopy and no fear

    Paradise

    To read more about our escapades in Costa Rica:


    “Link up your Summer Fun for a chance to win prizes from Ubisoft.”
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    Why Sharing a Birthday Stinks

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    A long time ago, in a sweltering suburb a few hundred miles away, a little girl was born.  Growing up as an only child, this little girl thought birthdays were all about her.  She never had big fancy parties (bounce houses and magic fairy face painters had yet to be discovered) but enjoyed intimate celebrations with neighborhood friends and family.

    On the night of her ninth birthday she received a wonderful surprise: she had a new cousin.  Her mom announced the news while the girl was frolicking in the backyard swimming pool with her best friends.  It beat out the Barbie clothes and bicycle by far.  It was the best birthday present ever. 

    Flash forward about fifteen years.  This young, independent woman met a sweet, smart, and even kind of cute guy.  On their first date they discovered they have many things in common: a passion for books, a love of history, similar tastes in music, both graduated from the same university, and both share the same birthday.

    Well, same date but four years apart.

    And his older brother was also born on this crowed day five year before him.

    Apparently October was a very busy time for making babies. (She filed that away for future reference.)

    Fate was just screwing with her.  This was either REALLY creepy or they were meant to be.

    Flash forward again to present day. The couple has been married for 10+ years. And this woman (yes, it’s ME) freely admits SHE HATES SHARING HER BIRTHDAY.

    She doesn’t want presents or parties.  Once she passed 21 there was no need for a big celebration.  Once she passed 30 there was no need to really even mention the day.

    All she wants is one day a year she doesn’t have to clean up cat puke, cook, load the dishwasher, or clean pee off the bathroom floor.  If she had her OWN birthday these teeny tiny little requests could be easily granted by her husband and son.  But it’s her husband’s special day too.  And birthdays are a BIG deal in his family.

    She can’t really go out with girlfriends because then the celebrations would be lopsided. Men don’t go out with their ‘boyfriends’.

    So what does the birthday couple do? A few of the birthdays were a blast. The year Disney granted free admission on your birthday worked out well; the family enjoyed a day at the Magic Kingdom for the price of a child admission.  Last year the Dave Matthew’s Band was thoughtful enough to hold a concert on the couple’s special day and the duo danced the night away under the stars.  But even things like concerts are tricky; it has to be a band BOTH love (no Godsmack or Micheal Franti & Spearhead).

    Most of the time they pickup three meals out so no one has to cook.  Okay, but once again they have to agree on where to go and precious time is wasted with the “Where do you want to go?  I don’t know; where do YOU want to go?” debate which can last for hours.

    As if they were twins (eeeww) the couple often receives joint gifts.  Yes, they are appreciative of anything anyone is kind enough to bestow upon them, but it is still a bit creepy.

    Luckily they do share one love: wine.  Granted he is partial to reds and she to whites, but a bottle of vino has become the gift du jour.  Thank God they have that in common.

    She is still tying to convince her husband to let her move her birthday up or back a day.  Then they could each have a day to pick meals and not have to pick up dead bugs.  She thinks it’s a win-win deal.  Maybe it will happen…someday…Until then they will just have to enjoy a special glass of wine together on their special day.  Cheers.

    How to Beat the Back-to-School Shopping Blues

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    It’s that time of year again: school open house invitations are arriving in mailboxes, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils fills the air, and the newspaper is littered with back-to-school shopping ads.  Even though I live for the thrill of a great bargain, I will not be hitting the stores.  Except for a few notebooks and dry-erase markers, I will not be doing any back-to-school shopping.

    I finished my kiddo’s clothes shopping months ago.

    Thrifty shopping may be socially acceptable since the economy took a nose dive a few years ago but it is nothing new for my family. My decision to stay at home with my son left us with one stagnant government employee income yet I was bound and determined to make our budget work. I learned how to find the best deals while my friends were still buying their infants new wardrobes every three months at the boutique mall stores. My baby was styling but at a fraction of the cost.

    Now my son only goes up a size about once a year.  I have his entire next size wardrobe (shoes included) waiting for him months before he grows into it.

    By picking up a few useful habits and adapting a frugal frame of mind you can also spare yourself from the back-to-school shopping melee and save hundreds of bucks in the process.

    Shopping is a year-round venture.  It doesn’t matter if you are shopping at Neiman Marcus or Walmart: there is no reason to buy your child an entire new wardrobe in one massive blast though the mall. Always be on the lookout for a deal even if it is an item not needed until next season or next year. When you run into Target for a quick birthday party gift make it a habit to swing by the kids shoes and clothing clearance racks.  An extra five minutes (or less) can save you hundreds over the course of a year. 

    Buy off-season.  This is  the key to saving a bundle.  Why buy a full price winter jacket in November when you can buy one for a fraction of the cost in January?  The best deals are found at the end of the season.  Your kids may not need any more long-sleeved shirts in March when they are 75% to 90% off, but you can stock up in the next size.  Yes, it means you must plan ahead, but most parents have some idea of what their kids will need in the future.  Your local climate, activities, and tastes determine what items you need to buy.   Here in the deep South we can get by with a couple of long sleeved shirts and pairs of jeans each year but we can never have enough pairs of shorts.  If I see them for cheap I snatch them up, knowing they will be worn.

    School uniforms get marked down too.  They may make many parents’ lives easier but the cost can still add up if you buy all the pieces in August each year.  Uniform basics (khaki pants & primary color polos)  are cleared out late in the fall to make room for holiday clothes.  Pick up spare pieces or the next size up for next to nothing and you won’t have to go on a spending spree next fall.

    Clearance racks are your best friends.  Once you realize you should be searching for swim trunks in lateAugust (when stores are getting rid of them) instead of June (when they are fresh on the racks) clearance racks can be your best friend.  Get to know your favorite store’s mark down habits you can save even more.   I rarely buy Kohl’s clearance even at  60% off (almost the same as their everyday sales) when I know they occasionally go down to 90% off (a steal!). 

    It’s all about going green.  RECYCLE.

    Consignment stores are an excellent source for name brand clothes in good condition. These stores have made a major comeback in the last few years and new shops are opening across the country to serve the budget-conscious public.   Most consignment stores meticulously go over all clothes before they accept them for consignment.  Many have strict rules detailing how many seasons old clothes may be knowing their customers want new and stylish outfits for their kids.  And if you bring in your children’s outgrown clothes for consignment you often get a better deal by accepting store credit.  It’s a win-win deal for you and the store.

    Consignment shops aren’t just for babies’ and young kid’s clothes anymore.  Trendy teen resale boutiques such as Plato’s Closet are cashing in on the consignment craze.  Junior and young mens hot styles can be bought and traded at a fraction of the mall price. 

    Thrift Stores are a bit more time consuming but can be worth the trouble.  You may have to dig deeper to find quality used kids wear but it is out there.  Most parents are too busy to take their kid’s perfectly good outgrown clothes to consignment shops.  It ends up in the thrift shop bin in exchange for a nice tax-deductible receipt.  Mixed in with the soccer uniforms and odd vacation shirts are designer duds just waiting to be snatched up for dirt cheap.  I have actually felt guilty walking out of my favorite thrift shop with a monstrous bag of deals.  (More in-depth thrift store shopping tips are listed here.)



    But I don’t have room to store extra clothes.  Buy an 18-gallon Rubbermaid storage tub (dirt cheap in January) for next year’s clothes and store in a closet or the garage. Under-bed bins work well also and utilize often forgotten about space.  Make use of hard to reach shelves at the tops of closets and cupboards to store shoe boxes and off-season clothes.

    It’s not rocket science.  You know your kids are going to grow.  Sometimes faster than others, but if you bought bargains ahead of time it won’t break your heart if he only wears the ten shirts you bought for $2 each one time:  that’s less than the cost of one new shirt in the mall.

    Shoes are the trickiest since they are very seasonal and have little room to give.  I have bought summer sandals ($2.25 at Target) only to discover my child had already outgrown them when the warm weather hit.  But I also had the next size up.  And I took the new, unused shoes to a consignment shop where they sold them for $5 and I made $2 back.  No harm, no foul.

    Shoes get marked down drastically mid-summer and mid-winter.  The one item my child begs for each year is a new pair of Sketchers, the “cool” sneaker in his elementary school set.  No problem. For the last two school years he has been elated to get new Sketchers ($10 – 80% off on clearance with a coupon from Kohl’s). I bought them months ahead of time. Our budget can handle that.

    It is never to late to learn how to be a frugal fashionista.  It just takes a patience, perseverance, and an eye for stylish steals.   And there is no reason to look like you dress on the cheap when fabulous finds are out there at any age.

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    Time Destroyed my Thyme: Failures of a Suburban Organic Gardner

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    I was Queen of the garden, guardian of nature, supreme boss of the land.

     These photos showcase delectable memories…

    …of last year’s amazing garden.

     An army of multi-colored sunflowers stood guard against my garden fence, their bright and showy blooms following their namesake across the sky each day.

    Plump, warm tomatoes hung from sprawling branches no cage could contain and mingled with sweet basil and savory green onions.  Oregano and thyme trailed over the garden wall, perfuming the air each time we brushed past. 

    I scavenged through cookbooks and websites in search of new recipes to utilize the bountiful harvest.  Graceful flowers mixed with aromatic greenery covered tabletops and counters. The essence of summer permeated our home.

    After the success of last Spring’s garden I decided to kick it up a notch: this year I would grow all my plants from seeds. I would be a suburban organic farmer and locovore extraordinaire. Better Homes & Gardens would be knocking on my jasmine covered garden gate begging to do a photo shoot.

    I planted my two favorite varieties of tomatoes, basil, parsley, thyme, green onions, chives, sweet red onions, yellow squash, zucchini, four types of peppers and two kinds of corn.  I worked organic manure into the soil with my thinly gloved hands.  I tied homemade tomato cages together with biodegradable twine.  I nurtured my seedlings with daily waterings, organic fertilizers…I may have even sang to them a few times, encouraging them to grow vigorous and healthy.  I was going to have a garden to rival Martha-Freaking-Stewart.

    Bees and dragonflies darted between the delicate blossoms.  Green tomatoes small as peas and mini ears of corn poked from beneath green leaves.

    Then the trouble began.

    A family of field mice conducted nightly raids on the yellow squash and zucchini decimating the harvest until Hubby wiped them out in revenge. The young plants never recovered (though neither did the mouse colony).

    My tender seedlings needed daily watering. The lack of rainfall this Spring doubled my monthly water bill.

    Finally the rains came and brought with them a plague of mosquitoes so thick I had to douse myself  with half a bottle of Deep Woods Off AND wear long sleeves, pants, and an utterly unattractive scarf/hat combo just to pull a few of the never-ending weeds erupting from the soil.

    Then came this Amazonian heat and humidity. Summertime arrived with its red hot guns blaring. June brought afternoon highs topping 100 degrees. Nighttime temps hovered in the 70s. Just a peek at the garden and I was soaked with sweat. All I could do was stay inside and hide in the A/C.

      Unfortunately, my garden wanted to do the same…

    The weeds and repressive heat threw a coup d’etat on my garden.  My harvest consisted of one dish of lackluster tomatoes.  One 3 by 5 inch dish. Only brittle skeletons of my beloved herbs and crops remain.  The once beautiful plot now looks as if it was the victim of a forest fire or plague of locust.  The wild weeds have taken over and mutant mosquitoes reign over the land like Dracula’s spawn.

    Bye bye dreams of BH& G. Screw you summer and Martha-Freaking-Stewart.  Screw. You.

    Next year I’m just going to hit the farmers market and save my sanity and my skin.

    I get the point Mother Nature.  I know who’s the boss now.

    Mama’s Losin’ It

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    An Open Letter to Bright House Networks

    13 Replies

    Dear Bright House Networks,

    To put it succinctly: you suck.

    Our tumultuous relationship has endured so many problems throughout the years I have had to repress  memories like an abused girlfriend.  From the cable going out during the Superbowl to home phone service disappearing while I had a jaundiced newborn, your crappy customer service and constantly inconsistent internet peculiarities are slowly driving me insane.  And help keep my local wine store in business (I should investigate if you own any of their stock).

    I know I don’t call you as often as should.  I don’t call at 10 p.m. when the only channel I want to watch is suddenly unavailable because I know I won’t get to sleep for hours; instead I’ll be replaying my fight with the cranky swing shift service rep desperately in need of a Red Bull.

     I don’t call when the TV guide channel mysteriously disappears for days leaving me no freaking idea what is on my 70 to 150 channels (depending on the day, the particular television set and your mood).

    I don’t call when the box resets during the season finale of my favorite show or when my child has an absolute meltdown as he discovers his favorite channel has been suddenly dropped from your ever-changing line-up.  I should  require one of your reps take him to Chuck E. Cheese so I don’t have to deal with his tears.

    I don’t call when the phone goes out in the middle of a conversation.  It actually comes in handy when talking to certain family members and it would be brilliant if I had bill collectors calling. I don’t use the home phone much anyway but I did just use up 96 minutes of my stingy cell phone plan dealing with your incompetent minions.  You can take that off my rapidly rising bill.

    Two hours of my life were just wasted by your untrained internet support team.  Two hours I should have spent working (or at least pretend to).  Two hours during which I had a feverish child calling for a Popsicle and juice while I was trapped underneath my desk tangled in a pile of wires with a phone squished to my shoulder and a flashlight propped under my chin.  And I understand it is not your fault I do not regularly clean below my computer tower, but thanks for ruining my cute white capri pants anyway.

    Yes, I do know how to check if my computer is actually on.  And why yes, I did reset my modem, just as I have had to do countless times before when your services have screwed up.   Thanks so much for making me disconnect my wireless router when you didn’t know how to reconnect it so I then had no wireless service AT ALL.  My husband will be thrilled when he comes home and cannot get any work done on his laptop.  No biggie. I’m sure he won’t mind driving back to his office for a few more hours.  No, I cannot call the router manufacturer; it WAS working before I called you, just slowly.  YOU screwed it up.  YOU need to fix it.  No, I will NOT have a nice afternoon.

    Two customer service reps later (they were at least here in the U.S. not Mumbai) and I had your touch and go crappy internet service running once more.  Isn’t this what you pay service technicians to do?  I’d like my $25 an hour for technical services I provided please.  You can take that off my bill also.

    Then there is that little issue about your billing. You are not selling used cars.  There is no reason my neighbor should be paying less and getting more services. I have good credit and I have paid my bill on time for over ten freaking years.  Do not make me turn on my car-haggling-bitch mode.  You do not want to go there.  I know you pretty much have a monopoly over this whole phone/internet/TV scam, but I am tired of being screwed.  I feel dirty and used after I deal with you.

    Bright House, I would not take this crap from any person (especially one not related by blood).  I think it is well past time we terminate our volatile and contemptuous relationship.  I deserve better.  And you owe me a case of wine for my troubles.

    Sincerely,
    (who am I kidding…I’m just being polite)

    A Soon-to-be Ex-Bright House Customer

    P.S.

    I found it absolutely delightful your automated customer service just called as I was writing this to take up more of my time with a survey. Just so you are clear about my answers: 

    Was I satisfied with my Bright House services?  Utterly and Completely Dissatisfied.

    Was I satisfied with the knowledge demonstrated by the technicians?  Who are you kidding? I know you recorded the conversations. Completely Dissatisfied.

    Please rate your overall Bright House experience.  I think I made myself clear with the FIFTH rep I yelled at earlier.  Are you stupid?  Completely Dissatisfied.

    How likely are you to recommend Bright House services to others?  Baby, I’m telling as many potential customers as possible how much you suck. Unless you can do some major ass kissing, our relationship is OVER.

    {click}

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