The One with the Garden

When I was somewhere between the ages of 6 and 8, I had this little garden kit that I planted in front of our house.  We lived in a relatively big house with a yard at that point, and there was a great expanse of space in front to plant stuff.

We had blueberry bushes to the side, day lilies planted in the front, and Dad tells me that he had vegetables around the side.  I don't remember these vegetables, and I don't remember what I planted out of my little kit (which, by the way, I WISH I could remember the brand name of.  I'd love to see if it still looks the same as it did all those years ago, or if they've "updated" it like they have so many other things from my childhood.), but I remember very distinctly that's where I planted everything.

Incidentally, that's also where I planted the little seed I grew in Sunday School.  Did you ever take a bean of. . .some sort, I don't remember exactly what, and wrap it in a wet paper towel and watch it sprout?  In Sunday school, it was to demonstrate growing as a Christian with Jesus in your heart or something along those lines.

When it had sprouted a fairly good amount, I took my Jesus bean around to the side garden and planted it, expecting. . .I don't know.  A giant beanstalk plant that would be awesome?

That's not what happened.  It shriveled up and died.  I prefer not to consider the religious implications of that.

Anyway, despite my OCD, I've always loved plants -- planting them, digging in the garden, picking what grew, etc.  (I have gardening gloves so I don't have to worry about dirt on my hands.  And even while I'm wearing them, I occasionally wash my hand in-glove.)  Last year, I had some great flowers on the porch (we live on the third floor of an apartment building), and they grew nicely, were pretty, all of the things you want from a flower.  I didn't keep the tags, though, and I don't know if they were annuals or what, but they died a pretty heinous death in the cold winter months.

This year, I decided that, along with my flowers, I'd grow herbs, so I picked up 6 herbs and a really cute herb-growing-pot.  I got sage, basil, mint, cilantro, oregano, and rosemary.  I paid $3 for each of those, and considering that when I cook, I often use herbs and every time you go to the store to get herbs for ONE recipe, you're paying $3-$7 for herbs that are most likely going to die a sad death in your fridge once you make your recipe, it just made good sense to grow my own.

But it wasn't enough.

So when D and I were at the Farmer's Market a few weeks ago, I was looking at a tomato plant, wishing I had a place to grow vegetables.

"I can build you one," he said, nonchalantly.

"You can build me what?"

"A garden box.  I can build you a little box that you can grow tomatoes in.  We can go to Lowe's this afternoon, and if you'll buy the stuff, I'll build it."

Sounded easy enough, and I know he's good at stuff like that, so I decided, yeah, OK, let's build a garden box.

I bought the tomato plant, and D bought two varieties of hot pepper: jalapeno and cayenne.

When we got home, he sketched out this thing with dimensions and everything, we figured out what soil, etc. would be needed, and off we went.

We bought a bunch of lumber, soil, and other building stuff (along with a strawberry plant!) and he went to work.

The green netting stuff is to keep the birds out.  I have a bird feeder on the porch, and my attempt to grow zucchini last year was thwarted by birds eating it.  Incidentally, the feeder is now on the floor of the porch, and we've hung up hummingbird feeders.  It's a lot cleaner if the seeds don't fall on the porch, and instead, just fall off the balcony altogether.

Ta-da!

 

 

How amazing is that?  The fact that he just made this whole thing up in his head amazes me.  I would have ended up making the lumber into firewood and throwing everything else off the balcony.  (If you notice it doesn't look like we're that high up, it's because the view is deceiving.  If you look down, you see that the second floor is right on level with the grass, and the first floor is, technically, underground.  We're much higher up than it appears.)

 

 

This picture was taken a few weeks ago, and I haven't taken one yet of the door he built.  He installed a couple of hook holders on the sides, and the door looks exactly like the other three sides except it has hooks that hold it on.  It's really a remarkable piece of work.

 

 

In the row closest to the camera, on the left, I planted beet seeds.  They don't look like they're doing so well currently, but we'll see.  D wants to start juicing, and apparently, beets are an important part of that.  To the right, closest to the camera, are jalapenos.  Away from the camera, from left to right, are tomatoes, cayenne peppers, and strawberries.  Most everything's growing nicely, and there are a couple of buds on some of the plants.  We'll see in a few weeks.

 

Incidentally, if we lived at any other place in that building, the sun would be blocked for most of the day, so it's pretty cool it worked out that way.

 

Here are my other plants:

 



(See the birdhouse, and where those generators are?  That's STILL not the ground floor!)

I put those 'bouquets' together from individual flowers I bought.  The top row of herbs is, closest to furthest, cilantro, rosemary, and mint and the second row is sage, basil, and oregano.

I'm pretty excited for my new vegetable box, and for this year's plants.  Here's hoping everything grows!

The One Where Men Aren't the Devil

I'm not dead, and I haven't forgotten that I blog here sometimes.  I have a new blog, though, a food one, and I'm doing my damnedest to keep up with it even though you can see from this blog here at. . .consistency isn't my blogging strong suit.  However, I have a METHOD for my other blog, so the chances are good that I'll be keeping up with it the way I should.

The chances are good, but not definite.  I'm on week 2 and keeping up, so we'll see.

Along with this blog, and my oft-neglected but recently picked back up site She Likes to Bake, I've started a new project called Sarah Cooks the Books.  It will eventually just be SarahCookstheBooks.com, but for right now, it's still on blogspot.  So there you go.  Check 'em out, and I just ordered this book, so I promise they'll both be better-looking, and soon.

My on-topic point today is men.

Not these men.

I fully understand that sexism is alive and well.  I fully understand that women don't get paid as much as men in most jobs and that a woman's more likely than a man to be raped and that men have pretty much run things since the beginning of time.

But what I don't understand is when, exactly, feminism turned from "Let us vote, dammit!" to "Men are evil bastards who need to die a long, slow, painful death for the crime of having a penis."

The very, very feminist website I referenced wanting to quit before but haven't quite been able to bring myself to leave had this story the other day about how money tore apart this woman's marriage.  That's not really here nor there, but it was this little gem that made me take notice:

 

Truly, there are few things in life that irritate me as much as the use of "Mr. Mom." (saying that a dad is "babysitting" his kids when the mom's not there is another one.)  Why Mr. Mom?  Why not. . .I don't know. . .Dad?

 

So, knowing I was throwing myself directly into the jaws of the angry shark (does. . .that metaphor work?) I said:



To the credit of many on that site, I, at the present moment, have 35 upvotes.  But those aren't the ones I'm interested in.  (Mostly because, in this case?  I KNOW I'm right.)  It's the downvotes I'm looking at.  At least 7 people feel that Mr. Mom is an OK terminology to use.  Why?  I don't know specifically, and I can't ask, because downvoting is anonymous, but I'm going to go ahead and guess that it's because I dared suggest that a man could do a good parenting job and not be referred to as any version of "Mom."

There was another time I got into this same scuffle, regarding an article of women who've been raped.  I brought up instances of women who claim they've been raped, but have in fact, not.  (Because truthfully, those women should be punished just as hard as the men who rape.)  I said something about men who are falsely accused having to go through hellish things (wrecking of reputation, alienation of friends, loss of potential dates, sometimes court proceedings. . .) just because a woman either didn't get when she wanted and then lied about it or got what she wanted, but then decided she didn't actually want it, so she calls rape.  (Those were the examples I used.)

This was the response I got from one person:

So, to recap, it doesn't matter what I think of people who lie about being raped and ruin lives in the process.  The important takeaway from this is that MEN DON'T NEED PEOPLE TO CARE ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS.

(For those of you who don't know, "cis" is another one of those words created because we as a society have the inherent need to label EVERYTHING.  Short for "cisgender," it is "the opposite of transgender, a cisgender person’s gender identity matches their body and the gender they were assigned at birth, as well as the traditional roles and behaviors associated with that gender."

In other words, heterosexual people who don't think they should be the opposite sex.  This "word" is thrown around A LOT on this website.

So my purpose in life, since I'm a woman and all, is to be sympathetic to women and to not care about men at all costs.  If a woman lies about being raped?  That's OK, because she's more likely to be the victim of a sexual assault than a man is.  If a man is accused of rape and he didn't do it?  I shouldn't care, because he's a man, and as a man, he's more likely to be the perpetrator of a sexual assault, so it's like a pre-emptive strike, and he probably had it coming anyway.  Right?

I call bullshit.

I'd like to say it for the record here, for anyone to read, men, women, women who frequent that website, whatever.

I like men.

I like men a lot.  Most of my best friends in life have been men. 

Hell, I married a man!  I married a man that doesn't sexually assault people and who I'd never call "Mr. Mom" when his daughter is here.  I married a man that is a much better person than a lot of the women I've known in my life.

So no, I'm not going to take your side just because we have the same indoor plumbing.  If you're a jerk, I'll ignore you.  Same if you're a man.  If you're a jerk, I'll ignore you.  If you're not a jerk. . .well, apparently, you're just a figment of my imagination then.  Because men who deserve kindness and compassion and for their lives to not be ruined by false accusations of rape don't exist.

(Note: My spellcheck doesn't recognize "cis" or "cisgender" as words, so there's that.)

The One With the Melting Pot

The title of this one sort of sounds like I went on some kind of psychadelic drug trip.  But I did not.  Just went to dinner.

The Melting Pot, if you don't know, is a fondue restaurant.  I've heard about people going, and there's another blogger that I read that loves it and goes as often as she possibly can (mostly for the chocolate), but it's. . .ridiculously expensive, so I've never been.  However, last week or the week before, Groupon had this deal where you could pay $20 for $40 worth of food.  Obviously, I bought one.

 My friend, Faith, is getting married in a couple of weeks, and my friend/her roommate, Andrea, suggested we go out next week for a bachelorette-party-dinner.  (Meaning, you know, just going to dinner.)  We're going to the Melting Pot (with Groupons!), so I decided to take D out on a rarely-utilized Date Night as to go with him for the first time before I go with Faith and Andrea.  (What an awkward sentence.)

We got all gussied up and headed over to The Melting Pot. . .except there was an accident on the highway involving a car being stuck under a tractor trailer, so we had to re-route, thus making us late for our 6:30 reservations.  (I called to make sure we'd still have a table.)  So that was the first thing.

When we arrived, we were seated by the manager.  We were seated in this area with tiny booths for two, which had a curtain that you could close to. . .assure you had privacy, I guess.  (The couple in the booth adjacent to ours was making good use of the closed curtain, if you know what I'm sayin'.  And I think you do.)

I felt sort of awkward, going into a nice place and whipping out a Groupon page, but then I figured, if they were going to judge me for cheap(er) food, they shouldn't have put up a Groupon.  It said on the print-out to give the Groupon to the waiter upon arrival, so we did.

The waiter explained how the whole process worked, but he spoke fast and had an accent and didn't enunciate, so I had a hard time understanding exactly what was happening.

We ordered the spinach and artichoke cheese fondue which took. . .a long time to get there.  I'd drained my Diet Coke (as I do), and kept burning my mouth with nothing to drink except pilfered water from D.  (I realize that there is that expression about even dogs waiting for their food to cool, but we'd been waiting a long time, and I was hungry.)  We finished that up and sat, patiently waiting, for our Caesar salads to get there.

And we waited.

And we waited.

And then our waiter came by and told us they'd forgotten about our salads.  Which is awesome.  Especially the part where he told us they'd forgotten about us.  (This happens. . .constantly with both D and myself.  We both have a tendency to slip through the cracks, so when you put us together, we're basically invisible to the naked eye.)

Then the salads came.  Caesar salads, which were actually very good, if not a little small for $7.

Then we waited.

And waited.

You might think that, at this point, we were mad and yelling and all that, but. . .we were actually having a lot of fun.  We go out. . .never, and while everything was happening against us, we were having a really good time being a couple, if that makes sense.  The waiter came by, and D mentioned that we'd been there for an hour and a half and were still waiting for a meal, and we'd like to speak to the manager later.

So our 'entree' got there.  We decided to split one, because, you know, $23 dollars.  There was a little bowl of vegetables, 4 pieces of chicken, 4 shrimps, 4 pieces of steak, 4 pieces of sausage, and several sauces.  I have to admit, I was a little bummed out that the food was so. . .sparse.  But then, we were splitting one, so maybe it's different if you eat the whole thing yourself.

There was also a pot of hot broth, where you. . .cook your own meat.  We were puzzling over this when the manager came over, but we sent him away so we could eat.

We sat there, trying to figure out if the two-and-a-half minutes the waiter indicated would actually cook this meat.  We were going to put it in a little at a time, but ended up just dumping everything in the broth, like a soup.

Two-and-a-half minutes passed quickly, and the meat didn't. . .look done.  So we discussed paying this much money to cook your own meal, and then pulled some of the meat out again.  It still didn't look done, but it was dark, and it was hard to tell.  D ended up pulling out the flashlight on his phone, and we were dying laughing about how ghetto the whole thing was.  But the meat was done, so we ate.  It was really good, but there wasn't much there.

Ultimately, the manager came back and comped our entree and one of the salads, so we had money for dessert, which was a pot of melted milk chocolate that came with marshmallows, bananas, strawberries, Rice Krispie Treats, a piece of cheesecake that. . .wasn't very good, and pound cake.

The chocolate was amazing.

(I realize as I'm telling this story that I'm not conveying how hilarious that whole situation really was.  I don't really know how.)

Then the waiter came by and asked if we wanted coffee.  I didn't.  D did.

A few minutes after that, the waiter came back by to let us know the coffee machine was broken.

All you could really do at that point was laugh.

The waiter brought us our bill, and it came out to $36 something. . .except he hadn't factored in the Groupon I'd handed him at the beginning of our 2-and-a-half hour ordeal.  Instead of laughing, all we could do then was shake our heads.  He came back a while later and was like, "Oh, yeah, you had a Groupon."

So he brought the bill back, and it was the lovely number of $0.00.  So we left a tip (really, we did) and left.

All things being said, I'd go back, but not if I was paying pull price for anything.  The food was good, but there wasn't nearly enough of it and it was WAY overpriced.  But we had a great evening, and I'm looking forward to going with Andrea and Faith next week.

The One with My xoJane Post

Those of you who have known me for a long time know that my legit career aspiration was to work for the now-defunct Jane magazine.  I can actually credit my mom for how I discovered Jane magazine. . .she'd read an article in the newspaper about different types of girls, and how the more traditional girls read Cosmopolitan, but the more off-beat, quirky girls read Jane.  "Have you ever read Jane?" Mom asked.  I hadn't, but I immediately got a subscription, sight unseen.  Us quirky girls, you know, have got to stick together.

And then I fell in love.

The first thing I ever had published in a magazine was a little blurb in the beginning of the magazine.  They'd asked a question. . .something about money going toward sports in schools.  I can't even remember.  But I'd e-mailed in my response and they published it.

They also had these columns called It Happened To Me that paid somewhere between $50 and $100 to people to just tell stories about. . .crazy or weird or strange things that had happened to them.  My plan was, I was going to write one of those, Editor-In-Chief Jane Pratt was going to fall madly in love with my writing style and offer me a job as soon as I graduated college.  It was my plan.

Then Jane Pratt left Jane magazine and Brandon Holley took her place.  At some point, and I can't even remember why, I'd e-mailed the magazine, and Brandon Holley herself e-mailed me back.  Brandon was no Jane Pratt, but oh my God, the editor of the magazine of my dream job had e-mailed me back.

Then, in the summer of 2007, I was a newly-minted college graduate, working a temp job at a pharmaceutical company, waiting for my Big Break, when my friend Ashley e-mailed me with the news.  She was a graphics major in the journalism school at UNC, so she was on these journalism-related listservs. 

"Just saw that Jane magazine is folding," she said.  ":("

And just like that, Ashley ruined all my hopes and dreams and aspirations.

(Just kidding.  I'm just shooting the messanger.)

So I did some Yahoo!ing (you know, before Google was a way of life), and although it was very cloak-and-dagger and very mysterious, it was true: My beloved Jane, the goal of my life, was going under.

Admittedly, the quality had taken a drastic, drastic downturn in the previous few years.  I'd even let my subscription lapse for a while after Jane Pratt left.  But. . .it was Jane.

Fast forward some years, and Jane Pratt has started a new online venture, xoJane.com.  It had a rough start, I think, but then it caught on.  There are lots of different voices on the site (Personally, I'm madly in love with Emily and Daisy, even though the latter has caused some. . .uproars.)  There are some really bitchy voices within the commentors, but there are also some very lovely people.

And they still have It Happened To Me.

I think you know where this is going.

I wrote this.

It was terrifying and exciting and awesome.  So far, the comments have been supportive.

And I like to think it's my one step closer to having Jane Pratt discover me*.






*It should be noted that I applied for a job with xoJane, but I never heard anything from them.  It's just as well:  I'm not sure how D would have felt about moving to Manhattan.

The One with the Diabetes Sisters Conference

I went to a conference this weekend with Diabetes Sisters, a non-profit that works with women with diabetes.  I came across it accidentally, and it sounded pretty awesome, so on a whim, I signed up.  I also signed D up for a new program they did called Partner's Perspective, which was for the boyfriends/fiances/husbands of the women with the 'betes.

It was epic in its epicness.  I have not, since my days of diabetes camp, been in the same room with so many people with malfunctioning pancreases (pancreaii?).

Friday night, we got checked in and did "networking activities," which closely resembled "speed dating," and where we discovered that there were people there from 20 states (as far away as California and Washington) and also Canada, and then afterward, a bunch of people went to the hotel bar, where there was space reserved. 

Since I'd never been to a bar with diabetic people, I waited to see if they were going to be Good Diabetics and just order a Diet Coke, or if they'd be bad normal diabetics and get a drink.  Luckily, we were all normal diabetics there, and had a couple drinks.  (D did come to my table with a low-sugar drink for me, which was awesome -- it was a less sugary margarita, and it was awesome.)

Saturday, the conference started bright and early with yoga and zumba which I skipped, because 7 a.m. is too early for yoga and zumba.  Then we had a full day of sessions about diabetes, living with diabetes, pregnancy and diabetes, eating and diabetes. . .all diabetes-related stuff that will obviously be useful for. . .ever.

A group of four of us skipped out on the last sessions of the day and went out to downtown Raleigh's Artsposure!  Neither of the two sessions really applied to me, so I decided to be sociable (surprising, right?) and it was actually a really good time, walking around and checking out the art and weirdness.

(If you wonder, and I know you do, the two sessions I had to choose from were "Is CGM right for me?" and "Is it time to start on insulin?"  I don't really have an interest in CGM until the new version of my pump comes out and I've been on insulin since I was 4, so neither one really applied.  I'm guessing that the insulin one was mainly for the Type 2's that were there, so it definitely didn't really apply.)

Saturday night, we had a dinner and recognition ceremony where we were all given little picture frames with a group picture in it and it was announced how long we'd all been living with the 'betes, and then it was back to the bar.

Sunday morning, we had a 1-mile walk-a-thon around downtown Raleigh, and then breakfast and two more sessions (I went to the exercise one and the one about sex and diabetes.)

It was an awesome time, because I felt like. . .I don't KNOW anyone else with Type 1 diabetes, except the people I went to summer camp with, and we aren't friends anymore.  It's lonely, really lonely to have support from people on the outside (D is literally the greatest husband I could have asked for, in all aspects, but especially when it comes to supporting me and my damn brokwn pancreas.) but if someone doesn't literally know what you're talking about, if they don't do it themselves every day, there's just no way to know.

I made some great acquaintences that I hope to turn into friends, and I'm definitely going to take part next year.

D also told me that he learned a lot from his sessions, and that it was good for him getting the perspective of other husbands who have had to deal with this crap. . .because it's not just the diabetic that has to deal with it.  It's the people around them, too.

So thanks, Diabetes Sisters, for a a full, awesome, learning weekend.

The One with the Produce Box

I love food.

I think if you know me, even marginally, you know how I feel about food.  I like eating it, cooking it, looking at it, talking about it. . .food has so much potential.

The problem, though, is that a lot of food, especially food you don't cook at home or that you do cook at home, but that somes pre-packaged, isn't food at all.  It's a "food product." 

I drove to D's hometown last week and listened to an audio book I'd picked up sort of arbitrarily.  It's called "In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto" by Michael Pollan.  Sometimes, when I'm listening to audio books on the way to the mountains, a 4-hour drive, I get restless and bored.  This book, though, kept my attention the entire way, and I wanted to keep getting in the car to listen to it further.

He talks about how much extra crap is put into food, how the "Western Diet" is most likely causing "Western Diseases" like Type 2 Diabetes and Heart Disease, and how people can eat the way they're meant to.  (The whole book is based on seven words:  "Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants."

One of the examples he used involved Sara Lee Whole Grain White Bread (which. . .I don't even know how that's a thing.)  One of his points is that people should try to eat things made with 5 ingredients or less.  Bread, at its core, has 4 ingredients:  flour, water, yeast, and salt.  Some people add a little sugar, others a little butter, but you really only need 4 things to make a loaf of bread.

The Sara Lee Whole Grain White Bread, however, has (according to this website):

Enriched Bleached Flour [Wheat Flour, Malted Barley Flour, Niacin, Iron, Thiamin Mononitrate (Vitamin B1), Riboflavin (Vitamin B2), Folic Acid], Water, Whole Grain [Whole Wheat Flour, Brown Rice Flour (Rice Flour, Rice Bran)], Wheat Gluten, Skim Milk, High Fructose Corn Syrup, Sugar, Yeast, Butter (Cream, Salt), Contains 2% or Less of Each of the Following: Calcium Sulfate, Salt, Dough Conditioners (May Contain One or More of the Following: Mono- and Diglycerides, Ethoxylated Mono- and Diglycerides, Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, Calcium Peroxide, Datem, Ascorbic Acid, Azodicarbonamide, Enzymes), Guar Gum, Calcium Propionate (Preservative), Distilled Vinegar, Yeast Nutrients (Monocalcium Phosphate, Calcium Sulfate, Ammonium Sulfate and /or Calcium Carbonate), Corn Starch, Vitamin D3, Soy Lecithin, Soy Flour.

Wait.  What?  Why is there both high fructose corn syrup AND sugar in BREAD?

So the point was. . .watch what you eat, because you're eating a lot of crap, even in things that should seem healthy.

This is why I prefer cooking at home.

I came across theproducebox.com, which is a CSA sort of thing.  You sign up and pay weekly, so if there's a week nothing appeals to you, you don't have to buy a box, and you get a big box of locally-grown fruits and vegetables and other assorted goodies.  (One week, we got homemade bread.  Best bread ever.)

The best part about the whole thing is that everything comes from North Carolina, and a good majority of it comes from within 60 or so miles.  It's fresh and it's local and the carrots I've had out of these boxes taste better than any supermarket carrot I've ever eaten.

This was the first box we got.  Strawberries, carrots, white sweet potatoes, kale, cilantro, cucumbers, and a type of red lettuce.  Since I like to make kale chips, I ordered two bunches of kale, thinking that one might not be enough.

This was, in fact, false.  There was so much, I ended up using one bunch of it to make kale chips and the other bunch to make kale and ricotta ravioli.

I look forward to the boxes every week, and I'm actually thrilled that I'm using fruits and vegetables that didn't come from Florida.  Or Mexico.

I would highly recommend looking to see if you can get involved in a CSA.  If not, maybe check out farmer's markets.

Because when it comes right down to it, I, personally, don't want a side of Ethoxylated Mono- and Diglycerides with my chicken salad.

The One with the Birchboxes

Two of the things I love most in life are samples and beauty products.  I have an embarrassing amount of makeup, lotions, cleansers, stuff for my hair, nailpolish. . .it's a little ridiculous.

Back in March, I got an e-mail from a website called Birchbox.com, telling me that "the wait was over!" and that I could sign up for my Birchbox subscription.

Since I'd forgotten I'd put myself on the list, I hadn't necessarily been waiting (I didn't even remember what Birchbox WAS), but when I went to the site, I remembered that you can sign up for $10 a month to get a little box of beauty product samples.

Best thing ever?  Yeah.

I got my first Birchbox in March and have subsequently gotten ones in April and May.  The one for May, I was a little disappointed with, because it was Gossip Girl themed, and I'm not into that, but I got an awesome perfume, nail polish called "Disco Nap," and a BB cream, which I keep hearing about, but had no idea what it was, that looks pretty good on me.

April's was all organic-themed, and the best thing out of that box was the salt scrub.  Apparently, some of the moisturizer out of this box smelled like a man's cologne, according to D, so I just gave it to him.

March's box, however. . .there are still a couple things I haven't tried, but I've loved everything that was in it.  It was the best inaugural box ever.

It starts with a box. . .

How freaking cute is that little box?

In it, there was a nice variety of things.  Two of them, I ended up buying in a full-sized version, one from Birchbox itself, and one from Amazon because, sadly, it was backordered on Birchbox.

This perfume smells like tiny little bunnies hopping up and down a rainbow and frollicking with unicorns.  Legitimately, it is one of the best-smelling perfumes I've smelled in life.  D's not a huge fan of it, and it costs $85 a pop. . .otherwise, I'd have bought out Birchbox's stock of it by now.

These are bits of "fashion tape."  I guess it's what celebrities use in order to wear ridiculously high- and low-cut dresses without showing all.  I haven't used these yet.

This hair elixir, I'm now obsessed with.  I bought a big bottle of it off of Amazon.  It smooths out my hair (which is prone to frizziness, especially now that I'm having it colored) and smells vaguely of vanilla.  Changed my hair life.

This is maybe the most amazing invention I've seen to date.  Stick-on-able eyeliner.  I'm a mess with eyeliner.  I rarely draw it on straight, and I can't do anything fancy with it.  Until now.  (Admittedly, I haven't tried it yet because it intimidates me, but the whole concept is awesome.)

I love how this stuff smells.  It's blemish clearer.  It clears blemishes.  What can I say?  It works.

And last but not least. . .

Stripper to go!  This is another thing I bought.  It's this little. . .finger-of-a-glove looking thing soaked in the best-smelling nail polish remover in life.  You can stick it in your purse, and if you (like me) get to work and notice your nails are looking ridiculously bad and chipped, you can take it right off. 

(Although, I'm not sure what you should do if you're like me and leave on your red polish too long so the parts of your nails it covered turn an icky shade of yellow that looks like your nails are diseased and going to fall off, but OH MY GOD, you guys, it's stain FROM THE NAIL POLISH!)

Ahem.

So that's Birchbox, and, more specifically, my March Birchbox.  I'll have another entry. . .sometime about another thing that I pay to have brought to my door through a really cool service. . .fresh, local farm-grown veggies!

*Note: I wasn't paid for this post. I pay for my own Birchbox subscription; I just legitimately love the service and the products. Birchbox doesn't know who I am. I wish they did.

The One With the Photo Challenge: Day 1

I know. I'm kind of notorious for starting projects on this blog and just kind of losing interest halfway through. It's kind of weird, actually, because in real life, I'm pretty good about seeing things through, but on my blog, I just. . .don't.

But I'm going to attempt this August Photo Challenge. Possibly, it will inspire me to post something every day. Possibly, it will be something else I will fail at and it will make me sad. We'll see!

The pictures will probably be taken with my cell phone camera, so I'll apologize for that in advance. Here's the list:

It's currently August 2, and as such, I'll post twice today. I know you're excited.

Day 1: Self-Portrait

The One With Offensive People Reading Books

My apologies to those of you who read this blog in a reader. The html etc. in my last post was messed up in an epic sort of way. I think I got it figured out.

Also, I just realized that, even though they were about a month apart, I began the post before this one and the one before that by talking about how much I love books. Sorry to be repetitive.

When we last met, I told you about offensive books that may or may not actually be offensive. Today is kind of along the same lines, but the offensiveness of the next book in question is more ambiguous. At least, it is to me.

Have you ever had one of those conversations with people that, you THINK you know the other person's opinion on something, but then it turns out you're WAY wrong

Par example, you're talking to someone about American Idol (which. . .I DO NOT WATCH), and the person you're talking to says, "Can you believe the shaggy haired guy?"

Now, their tone of voice leads you to believe that they share your opinion on the shaggy haired guy: that he's the most dreamy, talented man to ever stand behind a microphone. (Note: If there are currently any shaggy haired guys on American Idol, that is just a coincidence. I do not watch.) So you nod emphatically.

Then the other person continues by saying, "Seriously. Don't you have to have some TALENT and SEX APPEAL to be on these shows?"

Whoops.

Had you opened your mouth, the conversation would have ended quite differently, perhaps with a fistfight. Instead, your friend thinks you agree on something, and you know for sure your friend has lousy taste in men.

I think you know the types of conversations I mean. I had one of those today.

This lady and I were discussing banned books, and she said, "Oh, we banned a book once."

I THOUGHT she meant this particular library branch. That someone had complained, and they had removed a book because of it.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, wittily.

"Yeah," she said. "It was this book. . .I think it was called 'Two Princes.' It was about this prince trying to find a princess, but he couldn't find one he liked, and he ended up with another prince. A man."

"Oh," I said, rolling my eyes in a knowing manner. "That's ridiculous." My eyeroll was meant to convey that I, too, thought it was ridiculous that they would ban a book for something as innocuous as a gay king. The misunderstanding of the conversation went both ways, however, as I learned when she continued with, "I know. Can you believe it? A gay king. In a children's book! Once I figured out what was going to happen, I stopped reading the book to my grandchildren immediately!"

Oh.

Oh.

This lady wasn't offended that a book about gay princes had been removed from the library. She was offended there was a book about gay princes written.

"I collected all of them from this library and shipped them off to other branches," she said as she walked away, basking in her own smugness.

. . . . . . .

Apparently, it's in vogue now to promote small-mindedness and lifestyles different than your own. Excellent.

Incidentally, the book she was talking about is King and King by Linda de Haan.

Unfortunately, it looks like that lady won, because we have no copies in the system. But along with the bad, there is some good. The absolute cutest book I think I've seen in life is called "Where's Walrus?" by Stephen Savage. (I'd post a picture, but Blogger is giving me fits today, so you should just click on it to give it a look.) It's about this walrus that escapes from the zoo and hides from the zookeepper by putting on different hats and taking on different jobs. The book has no words, just pictures, but it's awesome. Kind of makes me want to go have a kid so I'd have an excuse to buy it. Maybe next time I'll find something other than books to talk about.

Then Again, Maybe I Won't.

The One With The Girl Who Distracted Me From Writing

I've fallen drastically, desperately behind my NaNoWriMo numbers. I'm approximately a week behind, and with this kind of project, it's really hard to catch up.

I'm also working on another project. . .a food blog, so I can keep this one for my day-to-day, and that one for food-related things. Once I have a spare few dollars, I'll buy the domain name I want, and then I'll be in business. So if you're not so much interested in food, you can read that one instead. If you're not so much interested in me, you can read that one. Win-win.

(Although, come to think of it, I don't think that you'd be reading this if you didn't have at least SOME interest in me. But I think you know what I mean.)

Part of the reason I've fallen so far behind on my writing is because I've been reading. I started the "Millennium Trilogy" a while back, and have finally gotten to the third book. It took me a while to read the first, ("The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo") and I finished the second one ("The Girl Who Played with Fire") yesterday. Today, I started "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest," and once I finish this one, I'm not 100% sure what I'm going to do with myself. Write, maybe.

The second book had a weird effect on me, actually. It was a really good book. . .but I wanted it to end. I wanted to be finished with it so I could start on the last one. It was good, but I think probably about 100 pages could be cut from it.

Let's see, what else has been distracting me from what I need to be doing?

Food Network. I've been addicted to "The Next Iron Chef" for the last few weeks. It's pretty obvious who's going to win (I HATE when shows make it so obvious who's going to win. . .especially when said person has ALREADY HAD a show on the network) but my favorite guy is still in the running. D accused me of having a new boyfriend, and he may or may not be right. This guy is awesome and badass. Also, he made a dessert last week inspired by his girlfriend's favorite sweets (Aww!) and made his grandmother's potato recipe for one of the challenges. (AWWW!!!) I also looked up his restaurant in New York, and checked out the menu. Super-delicious sounding. Also super expensive.

Speaking of delicious food in New York. . .I don't know if any of my readers are in the Manhattan area, but has anyone ever been to the Antique Garage in SoHo? Apparently, they use word-of-mouth for their advertising, so I'm guessing there wouldn't be any billboards or anything.

I went up to New York last year (two years ago?) with a friend of mine and his dad, because he was checking out NYU. We randomly came across this run-down looking, really pricey restaurant and had dinner there. Since that day, I've wanted to be on that Food Network show, "The Best Thing I Ever Ate," because the dinner I had that night. . .I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I had this thing called the Shrimp Casserole. I'm aware that the word "casserole" brings to mind a heavy thing with maybe cheese and breadcrumbs and stuff like that, but this was like nothing I've ever had. It was light and flavorful and I may or may not be having a foodgasm right now thinking about it. The most incredible thing I've ever put in my mouth. (That's what she said.)

Anyway, I thought of that again today and told D that sometime within the next year, I need to get back to New York and have this thing again, $24 price tag be damned.

(I'm a little worried about starting a food blog. I feel like 75% of my life is taken up by eating, thinking about, and making food, so I'm not going to have anything else to talk about here.)

So what about all of you out there? What's the best thing you've ever eaten?

The One With My List of 5

I'd like to say, first of all, HELLO! to my two newest followers.

(Not followers as in, they do everything I say without question, but followers as in, people following my blog.)

(Also, how awesome would that be? To have followers. Like Jesus does.)

(Not that I'm comparing myself to Jesus.)

(Even though that would be awesome, too.)

Every time I get new followers (and you can ask D. This actually happens.) I'm all, "They LIKE ME! The INTERNET LIKES ME!" And then I usually feel like making out with someone, and D's RIGHT THERE, so I'm all, "Let's make out!" and D's all, "Thank you, Internet!"

Or something like that.

Anyway.

Have you seen the episode of Friends with the List of 5? 5 celebrities you'd be allowed to sleep with, given the opportunity, no questions asked? D and I have. . .oddly frequent conversations about the List of 5.

Now, in the interest of full-disclosure, since I do have a penchant for the ladies, I actually get a List of 10 -- 5 dudes and 5 dudettes. I had to fight for this, but in the end, D saw my point. Sometimes he still insists he should also get 10, but for now, he gets his 5. But in the interest of keeping things hetero, I'm just talking about my List of 5 Dudes.

D knows most of these, so it's not at all awkward that I know he'll read this.

I should also note that. . .really and truly, I have no desire to ACTUALLY sleep with any of these people. Because I think that would be awkward. But those are the rules of the game.

Also. . .I have a friend that, toward the beginning of her relationship with her husband, said, "I'm so in love with (the guy) that I don't even LOOK at other guys anymore."

I did not say this at the time, but I'll say it now: That's crap. You never stop LOOKING. You stop acting upon things when you're with someone you want to be with, but just because you've found love (or whatever), that doesn't mean that you completely cease to notice that other people exist. You might even develop a harmless crush on someone. Doesn't mean you love your person any less. It just means you are human. So none of my 5 mean anything about the state of my relationship with D. It just means that there are some very, very pretty men out there in Hollywoodland, and I notice that they are pretty.

The top 2 are people who are always on my list. The rest rotate sometimes. That kind of defeats the purpose of a list, but WHATEVER.

So without more rambling further ado, Sarah's List of 5 (This week):

1. Billie Joe Armstrong

via Google Images

This guy here? Has been my boyfriend since roughly 2001. He's all dark haired, eye-linered, punk rock hotness. This is one of two guys that, when D sees them on TV, he goes, "Oh. There's your boyfriend." Yeah, he's obnoxiously political, but I feel like, as long as he doesn't talk? I'm good to go.

I also (kind of ironically) love that he and his wife have been together as long as they have. And also that one of their kids has the middle name "Danger." Homeboy can LITERALLY say, "Yeah, Danger is my middle name." Awesome.

2. Alec Baldwin

via Google Images

Yes, I realize this is an older picture, but it makes more sense, I think, if you start there. Alec Baldwin has something weirdly appealing about him, although I think a lot of it comes from his character on "30 Rock," which I LOVE. He's older man hot, and I'm into that. Obviously.

I said something about A.Bal to my father a while back, and I think he completely misses the point of the List of 5.

Me: I kind of love Alec Baldwin.

Dad: His politics are ridiculous. I hate him.

Me: I don't really care about his politics. I like his work.

Dad: He was a jerk to his daughter.

Me: I'm not looking to marry the guy or have any of his children so he can treat them badly as well! I'm talking about him being a good-looking guy. Also, he's a good actor.

Dad: Well, he's a jerk.

Me: You don't have to be a nice person to do your job. I've known a lot of jerk doctors, but they still do what needs to be done.

Dad: I hate Alec Baldwin.

So there's that. Point of that being, I guess, I should never invite A.Bal over to Dad's for dinner.

And speaking of hot older men:

3. Richard Gere

via Google Images

This guy's just got it going on. He's sensitive! He's snarky! He's a mother-effing SILVER FOX! (Did you SEE him in "Chicago"?) I love this guy. Incidentally, you know how when some people make certain faces, or look at you a certain way, they look like someone famous? D sometimes looks like Richard Gere. I'm just sayin'.

4. Nathan Fillion

via Google Images

This guy is adorable. He's never not cute, in anything he's ever been in. In the show "Castle"? Adorable. In "Desperate Housewives"? Adorable. In "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog"? Adorable AND funny. This guy's a win-win-win. He was added to my list around the time "Waitress" came out. Love this guy.

And finally. . .

5. Carrot Top

via Google Images

5. Carrot Top Demitri Martin

via Google Images

Demitri Martin, actually, is the third person that D consistently refers to as My Boyfriend, and I can't believe I almost forgot him. This guy? Is hysterical. Freaking hysterical. The kind of comedy that it takes you 2 seconds to realize why what he said is funny, but when you do, you laugh your ass off. Smart comedy.

Plus, um, he's hot. Like. . .super hot. Funny and hot. Nice.

So there's my 5, 3 of which remain consistent. So you guys tell me: who would YOUR 5 be?

The One With the Second Gay Book Club Meeting

Had my second Gay Book Club meeting a couple weeks back and it was, as is to be expected, something worth making commentary on.

D and I got to the Busy Bee Cafe early. D's been carless for. . .a while now, so we pretty much have to either travel everywhere in a pack, or someone sits at home, unable to go anywhere except to the places of business within walking distance. This place was NOT within walking distance.

We'd been arguing about. . .something, I don't even remember, and we'd just grudgingly ended the argument, so we're sitting there, tersely, with our respective beers when Charles walks in, carrying his copy of the book, and a giant fruit tart.

Yeah, a giant fruit tart.

Turns out, when I'd RSVP'd for the October book club meeting, and I'd made reference to the fact that the meeting would take place the day before my birthday. Charles had mis-read what I'd said and thought that THAT day was the day before my birthday. So he brought me a celebratory fruit tart.

How awesome is that? Seriously. I've met this guy once, and he's bringing me birthday fruit tarts. Very sweet.

So we stand there for a few minutes, until 6:30, when we're supposed to start, and NO ONE ELSE has shown up. I introduce Charles to D, who is working on something for one of his clients, they make small talk, and then we decide that probably no one else is coming. Book club members be damned! We're going to sit and have a couple of beers, maybe some dinner, and we're going to talk about this book.

Now, if you'll recall, this is an LGBT book club. D, bless his heart, who is neither L, G, B, OR T (Just D), was all, "Hey. I'll join you!"

So he did.

We sat and talked some about the book (which I didn't like, Charles liked mostly, and D had not read) until this other guy showed up. I THINK his name was Derek. He was very proper. Nice enough. Just very proper.

We sat there, talking about the book, drinking beers, and eating hummus. The hummus was pretty good. Needed some more flavor, though.

(I'm realizing at this point that this story is not as interesting as I'd initially thought. Sorry.)

We ordered dinner. Charles had the "Hot" Ham Sandwich (ham with gouda, jalapenos, sweet potato paste stuff and arugula) which he said wasn't actually that hot. Derek(?) had a hamburger. He told the waitress, "When I say 'nothing but cheese' I mean I want nothing on it but cheese. No vegetables. No onions. No lettuce. Just. Cheese. Do you understand?"

Yikes.

D and I split a burger. The burger itself was really good. It was a "Tom & Jack" burger (with pepperjack cheese and fried green tomatoes). I wasn't too thrilled with the fried green tomatoes, but at least now I can say I've tried them.

And then there was the fruit tart.

My God, I love a fruit tart.

We stayed until 9:30 or 10, and then headed home (with the leftover fruit tart). D charmed the gay menz, and a good time was had by all.

Hopefully next time, when we read this book, there will be more people. It was fun with 4, though.

Also, I'm supposed to pick the book for November, and I haven't come up with anything yet. Any suggestions? (It doesn't have to be LGBT-centered, by the way.)

The One Where I Win Again

So, y'all remember when I won candles, right? I won them from Say Anything and was all kinds of excited, because I usually don't win things?

I have a new story for you.

I was sitting at work yesterday when my cell phone rang with the local area code. Usually, I don't pick it up if I don't recognize the number, but I decided, for whatever reason, to answer it.

"Hello?" I say, wittily.

"Hi," says a guy. "Is this Sarah?"

(What I should have said, in retrospect, is, "No! THIS is!" and laughed maniacally. Sadly, I didn't think of that until later. Also, he may or may not have hung up if I did that.)

"It is," I say.

"This is Brody from G105. Do you have plans for tomorrow night?"

(This is. . .surreal, to say the least. I don't know what Brody looks like (I linked to the site, but can not see it from this computer because it's in Category: Music.), but I have listened to him for years, and he has the most awesome radio voice. I may or may not have a Voice Crush on the guy. But you know how radio goes. He probably looks like this.)

"Why?" I ask. "Are you asking me out?"

(Um, yes. I actually said this.)

Brody laughs. "No, no," he says, "But do you have plans for tomorrow night?"

It's at this point that a little thought in the back of my mind begins to form, but I'm thinking, surely not.

I DO actually have plans, as I'm supposed to go see my shrink, but I say, "No. No, I don't."

Brody says, "Well, then, you and three friends are going to see the Maroon 5 show, and meeting the band backstage!"

SON. OF. A. BITCH.

I'd entered a contest for these tickets a couple of weeks ago, and I'd said to D. . .Friday, I think? That "oh, yeah, we'll be going to that concert."

And we are.

What makes it. . .kind of awesome is that I was a last-minute entry. The contest ended a day or two after I'd entered.

Also, when I entered, I didn't realize it was also for backstage passes. I thought it was just for tickets. But now, since there ARE backstage passes involved, there will probably be freaking SWEET seats.

So once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I told Brody I loved him* and that he'd just made my life.**

As such, tonight, I will be taking D, Katie, and Katie's college roommate, Katherine, to see Maroon 5. And to meet the band. Who, by the way? I effing love. They are in my Top 3, and their first album, Songs About Jane, was the soundtrack to my college experience, expecially freshman year.

I am a little sad that the venue won't let us being "professional" cameras, as D IS a professional, but whatever. I'm MEETING THE BAND.

It's still a little surreal. Of course, there will be full updates later.

*Not true.

**True.