Let's sweat!

The other night, I dared to buy a copy of the 1988 Sweatin' To The Oldies. (It was $8.99 at Sam's Club; so sue me.)

I'm just going to say it: Richard Simmons and his short-shorts will kick your butt.

Above: A lean, mean, killing machine.

You'll spend the first five minutes laughing at him, and the rest of the workout going, "Oh crap, did he really just do a grapevine and am I on the wrong foot I screwed up this whole thing and I CAN'T EVEN DANCE HE'S GOING TOO FAST."

But bless him, he's so darned happy that you're ready to kick your flabby bits to the curb, buy a sparkly tank top and pinstriped short-shorts and pay that ish forward.

I know I will.

Dermatological Progress

Bought a humidifier today to battle my current heavens-to-betsy awful winter skin, and now it's puttering along at my bedside table like a magical vapor machine. We'll see how this one pans out (and also what it does to my hair by the time morning rolls around).

Anyone used humidifiers before to cure dry skin? Any luck?

And, not to borrow a phrase from our boy John Adams, but... Is anybody there? Does anybody care?

Settling back into normalcy

David's home from his retreat - a weekend that seemed to really be memorable and fulfilling for him - and as much as I missed him, I'm so glad he had the experiences he did.

Life begins back to normal tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll return to being a domestic goddess if it kills me. I'll embrace dryer lint and CLEAN ALL THE BATHROOM and cook and work out again and and and and.

If I could trade my part-time housewife job for a full-time gig, I'd be veryvery okay with that.

Stop me if you've heard this one

Did you hear about the two guys who stole a calendar?

They each got six months.

Cheating but not really

What? Blog entries don't count if they don't have gratuitous amounts of text containing musing prose about everything and nothing? Then my blog entry won't count tonight.

For tonight, I bring you some Friday Night Lulz. I went a little nuts with the screencapping on Quickmeme. These might be tired old jokes to an esteemed percentage of my readership, but I couldn't resist, dagnabbit.

As you can plainly see, I'm quite partial to the lyrical stylings of Joseph Ducreux the most.

You're welcome, world. And happy Friday to one and all.

Bonus Feature: My cat definitely walked on the keyboard and produced the following. I don't have the heart to delete it. 

999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999nbbbbbbbbbbbbEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH TTTTTG

Grateful

On my way to my hair appointment yesterday, I got an unpleasant ding on my dashboard: the "Check Brake Pads" light. That was a first, and not the good first either. It's the sort of first I didn't even want to have one of. You know.

So while I took my Volkswagen Passat to the dealership to get 'er looked at, I figured I'd address another problem that had been plaguing my car for a few months: it was making a dreadful putt-putt sound whenever the steering wheel went hard over. (Yes, my little gray baby has a plethora of issues, but don't they all?)

Turns out that not only do I need new brake pads, but that putting sound? A dead giveaway that my axel is about to break.

Gotta replace them both (my axel and brakes). And it ain't cheap.

So why am I grateful? Because we've got enough savings to cover little emergencies like these. And I've got a heck of a loaner car: a 2012 CC. It's all in how you look at these situations. Attitudes are contagious, and I want some positivity to be catchin'.

I'll let you cats know how it turns out.

Pay it forward

I had a hair appointment after work today. On my way, I said to myself, "Self, you've been a responsible eater here lately. You've even worked out. And hey, you know what? You've got a Chick-fil-A gift card left over from Christmas. Why don't you treat yourself to a milkshake?"

To which I replied, "Self, you're a smart girl. I deserve a mid-week treat."

"Darned right you do," I said.

"You think anyone will think I'm crazy for talking to myself?"

I scoffed in response. "Pfft. No. Just, y'know, keep your car windows rolled up just in case."

After my lively discussion, I turned into the Chick-fil-A that was just a few miles from my hairdresser. Yes, and boy howdy, I could taste that vanilla milkshake already. No, not a large. Just a small. Sure, it's still half a million calories, but there's whipped cream. Oh, and a cherry. Yes indeed.

I waited my turn in the drive-thru behind a blue Kia Sorento. Puttering up to the window to surrender my payment, the manager asked me a question that caught me off-guard: "Did you know the lady in front of you?"

Uh... "No?"

"Well, she paid for your milkshake."

The moral of this story, my friends, is such acts must be paid forward. I paid it forward to my hairdresser this afternoon in the form of a little extra tip. Also, that was a sheer and undisputed sign from God that I was allowed to indulge in a vanilla milkshake today.

And boy, how sweet it was.

Not today

I understand that in the course of my blogging once a day, I'll be more or less inclined to have a few off days. I'mma be straight with you; I'm surprisingly without something interesting to say on a daily basis most of the time.

Well actually, to be truthful, I had this fantabulous themed Top-10 style entry planned for tonight. Fully intended on writing it like a boss and weaving fancy little witticisms and blowing everyone's mind. I'm brainstorming up a storm (...yeah.), excited for creativity... and then I get tired.

So let's just call this here entry a placeholder for my daily responsibility of blogging. I'll write something substantial tomorrow. And, as my favorite fellow Georgian, Miss Scarlett O'Hara, would declare in a breathy note of hope, "Tomorrow is another day."

Home, home again

Flew back home to Georgia tonight and got to come home to a danged good-looking husband and a plate of fried green beans and good old back-of-a-liquor-store BBQ.

Had a wonderful time in VA, but it does feel good to be home.

I mean, look at this man's face!

Make a joyful noise

Saw "Joyful Noise" with Kirsten tonight. Went in with admittedly lowered expectations, but I was pleasantly surprised. Dolly is adorbs even in stiff-faced plastic glory, the songs were catchier than folks gave credit for (the gospel-ized version of "Yeah" was more than worth the value of the ticket), and my faux pal JJ had charisma and charm out the wazoo.

Not a bad film, really, provided you aren't afraid to love life a little and let go and, y'know, make a joyful noise.

For the record

The post I just sent out was written yesterday, but there was an error in getting it sent. Go figure, iPhones. So don't you worry, adoring fan. I'm still on point.

Simultaneously loving being with my folks this weekend, but I'm missing my David something awful. Went to a wonderful wedding on the base today, and danced like it was my job.

Mad skills in VA will be continued tomorrow, yo.

Shopped til I dropped

As part of Birthday Festivities Part Deux, we went clothes shopping. For like, eight hours. Gotta say, I haven't been marathon shopping in a fair minute. It took a lot out of this new 26 year-old, but I made out like a bandit: beaucoup clothes and accessories.

Oh, and Tropical Smoothie again. Can't deny that. Peaches 'N' Silk, it has been WAY too long.

Happy Un-Unbirthday

Breakfast with my husband, wondrous gifts from parents-in-law, flying home to a shopping spree with my mommy, then dinner with my amazing family.

I'm blessed, yo.

All right, 26.

Tomorrow, let's make like Jack Dawson and make this count, yeah?

Sissy time

Quickie but goodie: My little sister and I are having a good old-fashioned slumber party.

And my Friday is tomorrow. Huzzah for that.

Monday?

My husband made me dinner (Brown Derby's Cobb Salad, wahoo!), our apartment is clean, and I downloaded the bootleg of the Newsies stage production's audio.

You know, I think to myself as the lilting scent of Febreze lingers in the air, today didn't really feel like a Monday all that much.

Mind = blown.

Folks, if I ever get ambitious enough to take one month out of the year and wear a different one of these styles every day, that'll be just peaches.

Then again, I'm thinking she can pull this off because she's entirely adorable and has amazing scarves. Might need to be a bit better equipped before I take a crack at it.

Dropping some hobbitsy knowledges

"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."

"What are we holding onto, Sam?"

"That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for."

Tale as old as time

As part of my preliminary birthday festivities, David took me to see Beauty and the Beast in 3-D tonight (with a delightful prelude of my first maiden voyage to Which Wich - holy cow, deeeelicious).

In case you're a total stranger, Beauty and the Beast and I have had a history that goes back many moons. I saw the movie when I was six years old with my dad, was enamored with Belle (uh, hello, a Disney heroine that had brown hair and brown eyes just like me!), and mildly scared of Beast. By middle school, I'd collected Belle-related collectibles and had developed a treasure trove that Ariel herself would envy. In high school, I fell in love with the Broadway musical, and all through college, it was safe to say it had become an obsession.

Then, on March 30th, 2008, I attended a Disney Entertainment audition and was cast in the role of a lifetime at Walt Disney World Resort:

So, y'know. Belle and I go way back.

Needless to say, my love for the film and all things in it strengthened my appreciation for the 3-D release. The effects were my no means kitschy - if anything, they were truly breathtaking. The scenic sweeps of the opening "shot" of the castle were jaw-dropping and gasp-inducing, to be sure. I even noticed little details of the castle that I'd never spotted before: little statues and accents and such. It was magic, pure and simple.

But, come on, I'm not biased or anything.

And the sky is gray

Went to eat at California Dreaming tonight. Had the Hot Vegetable Salad, which was wonderful, save for the fact that it was swimming in balsamic vinaigrette. Honey butter croissant was definitely a plus. I ate all the things.

Bonus: Tomorrow's Friday.

Added Bonus: A week from today is Dolly Parton's birthday. (And mine too!)

So, y'know

I caved and bought a pen-and-paper planner.

She's a beaut, ain't she? Pastel yellow with a brown magnetic closure, and a place for my pen, and and and and and. I got to write the dates in on each page, which of course makes it feel like a grown-up's activity book.

I love how I just freaking said that I was going to endeavor to go all-digital in my planner-have this year. Perhaps it was my last squeak of protest before succumbing to the Way Things Ought To Be. There's an unmistakeable satisfaction in scribbling life's plans into a book.

Sorry, not sorry.

They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!

As an early birthday present (or, more aptly, an unbirthday present), David bought me the Lord of the Rings trilogy on Blu-Ray. I've gotta say, if there was ever a geeky fandom I could immerse myself in, it'd be all things Middle Earth.

We watched half of the extended version of The Two Towers tonight, which I feel is the strongest of the trilogy, Oscars be damned, even if Frodo is a perpetual crackhead/Debbie Downer. That, and it reminds me of the viral "Taters" and "They're Taking The Hobbits To Isengard." (Google those if you haven't seen them. Pure unadulterated earworms, let me tell you.)

Truth: I attempted to learn how to read and write Elvish for a solid three days in high school. (And they said I'd never amount to anything.)

Heavenly Ham (and other delectable treats)

The afterlife is going to rock so hard, you guys.

Heaven. Everything good on this planet - from cheesecake to music to Leonardo DiCaprio circa Titanic - is always compared to heaven. "Oh, this turtle pie is heaven, Nadine. It's positively sinful." (Does anyone find this juxtaposition of heaven and sin ironic? Just me? Okay.)

Heck, people even spell it backwards to name their children (sorry; I will never ever jump on the "let's name my little girl Nevaeh" bandwagon that's careening out of control through neo-natal units the country over). West Virginia is "Almost Heaven," which, as Jim Gaffigan aptly puts it, means that "when I die, I'm going to a place that's just slightly better than West Virginia."

And so, when I roll up to this place that will be slightly better than West Virginia, I'll give Saint Peter a joyful high-five, fellowship with friends and family, and then head straight for the buffet.

I mean, come on. I didn't just draw this supposition out of thin air. Jesus even talks about Heaven being like an eternal banquet in Luke 14. Jesus wouldn't lie to us about the promise of food in Heaven (unless we get there and it's like that scene in Hook where we have to imagine the food. Heaven forbid, literally.). It's going to be a fantastic get-together, and get-togethers deserve great food. Sure, the only reason we need food now is to keep ourselves from being malnurished (and consequently entering the pearly gates a bit earlier than intended), but why did God make food taste so dang good?

Those of you who follow my Twitter or Facebook may have noticed I posted this little gem earlier today:

I know priorities are priorities, but if there are no fried pickles in Heaven, I'm going to be a teensy bit disappointed.

I'm not trying to be sacrilegious. I'm just saying that God (whom I believe to be just, but also loving) would not have allowed such a glorious thing to exist if we were only allowed to enjoy it for the short time we're here on this earth.

It got me to thinking, of course, about some other delicacies I enjoy as a mortal that would cause me to pause in my eternal joy with a sniffle of regret if it's not up there waiting for me. And so...

I hope these things are in Heaven

(Food edition. In no particular order.)

1. Diet Cherry 7-Up

2. In-N-Out Burger

3. Vegetable Sushi

4. That one ham-and-cheese croissant I had this one time at Ferrara Bakery & Cafe in New York City

5. Taco Bell's Cheesy Gordita Crunch

6. Fried pickles

7. Ben & Jerry's Peach Cobbler Ice Cream

8. Cheetos Puffs

9. Cilantro-lime rice from Qdoba

10. Anything from Tropical Smoothie Cafe

11. Cobb Salad from The Brown Derby (at Disney's Hollywood Studios)

12. Red Lobster's cheddar biscuits

13. DQ Oreo Blizzards (or anything with Oreos in it)

Response time: What foods do YOU want to see in Heaven?

A step in the digital direction?

One of my favorite things about kicking off a new year is looking into getting a new planner. That might make me an analog-happy dork (as only Katherine Heigl in 27 Dresses can attest to), but I think it's grand to have a pen-and-paper style planner to jot down birthdays, addresses, or just countdowns to really exciting events happening in the life of yours truly.

Here's the thing: I think I'm going to try to go without a pen-and-paper planner this year.

Sure, we can convey the shock and horror of this situation based off of the two most shocking, horrific actions in cinematic history, MESHED TOGETHER SAY WHAT.

Maybe, just maybe I can get by on typing things in my phone and hoping that it'll remind me that I have a haircut appointment. Quite honestly, I give myself a week before I go to Target and buy yet another Franklin Covey planner. Might be sooner than that.

Place yer bets, ladies and gentlemen.

Simply Saturday

Went on an impromptu excursion to Athens today with the fellas, where I enjoyed an impromptu bout of being hipster-y with my photo taking.

I also decided to NOT buy a pair of glasses that were equally hipster-y and danged cute. I swear to you, I was every bit of Zooey Deschanel in those glasses. Didn't buy them; instantly regret the decision. Decided to use the $10 toward buying a variety of awesome cereals, including Rice Krispie Treats Cereal.

Yep, definitely looking forward to breakfast tomorrow.

Mrowr

Them's my furbabies. <3

You know what's a darn good movie?

Who cares about sleep when you can snooze in school?

They'll never get to college, but they sure look cool!

Don't need a cap or a gown

When they're the nicest kids in town!

Southern Fried Specialties

When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, my family and I would sometimes hit up this country, southern-style restaurant called PoFolks. I don't remember much about the place, save that the decor was straight from the Li'l Abner set. And anything that looks like Dogpatch, USA is okay in my book.

I think at some point, PoFolks dropped the "Po" (perhaps out of being politically correct, or just in order to cater to not only "Po" folks, but rich ones too), and incidentally, they also dropped out of southeastern Virginia. Good news, though: There's a location or two right here in metro Atlanta.

I've been there a few times with David. Tonight we dined there with his folks and noshed on some delectable southern goodies. David had chicken 'n' waffles for the first time ever (I'm sure Gladys Knight's Chicken & Waffles restaurant in Midtown is miles better, but you know), and of course, topped it all off with the most decadent peach muffins in the whole world. No, really. It's a buttery, airy, fluffy treat that has real chunks of peaches in it - a delicacy so decadent that they simply must be serving these puppies in every dining room in Heaven. Boy howdy.

They sell the peach muffin batter at the restaurant, and last time we were there, I bought a tub of the stuff, only to remember: Dag nabbit, we don't have any muffin pans. Worry not; I used the ol' noodle and put the stuff in a cake pan instead. Wha-bam: PEACH CAKE. (Didn't buy any batter tonight, but there's always next time.)

And so, having just recently returned from such a meal, and as I'm presently chock full of peach batter and baked potato, I'm going to sleep mighty good tonight. Yessiree.

Let it be known

The Bosmas have finally made that extra nudge into the chasm of mass media. Yes, we have cable - a first since we've been married. It's all quite exciting, let me tell you.

And faster internet, too? LOOK OUT, WORLD.

Polyvore galore

Did you love playing with paper dolls as a kid? How about dress up? Are you a little upset that it's no longer socially acceptable to do so once you're past your childhood years?

Fear not, world. There is Polyvore.

I've been spending the better part of the afternoon toying around on this site's "Create" section and have pooled together lots of fun fashionista ideas. And, because I also delighted in a round of Show and Tell in my childhood when I wasn't dressing up Barbie, here are my creations:

How to get to Sesame Street

Like many American kids, there was a pre-education I received long before I ever set foot in a kindergarten class. That sort of knowledge-dropping, naturally, came from my parents reading books with me at a very young age (they'll swear to you I learned to read at age two; I'll tell you that I'm sure I memorized Hop on Pop and that's how I knew what words came next). And when they weren't reading to me, I was most likely getting my Sesame Street on.

Maybe it's because I watched a lot of that and The Muppet Show, but there's so much to love about Sesame Street. Kids learn letters, numbers, even a little bit of Spanish. They'll even listen to covers of Madonna songs that are thinly veiled PSAs to get kids to eat breakfast.

Yes, the Street was the bomb diggity in the late '80s and early '90s. It was long before Cookie Monster decided that cookies were only a "sometime food," long before Elmo was a merchandising, warm-and-fuzzy ticklish monster that now (I've heard) takes up like, half of the hour-long show these days. Yes, it was a simpler time when Katy Perry wasn't running around half-naked up and down the Street.

It was also filled with a few scant segments that would, for lack of a better description, scar you for life. Case in point: "Wet Paint."

I stumbled across this little gem earlier today whilst following the bread crumb trail of YouTube links of old Sesame Street segments. I don't remember much about "Wet Paint," save that for whatever reason, images of splattered paint against the back wall, combined with creepy Muppet feet stomping around in said paint splatters (because Muppets shouldn't have visible feet, doggone it), and distorted blood-on-the-wall fonts traumatized the bejeezus out of me as a small child. Imagine my relief when I read the comments on said video. It's safe to say that approximately 90% of the viewers were scared by this as a child. Why, Muppets? Why?

My aversion to the "Wet Paint" video confuses me in general, because I don't seem to mind Patrick Bateman splitting open Jared Leto's face with an axe. That could be because "Hip To Be Square" is a far better soundtrack than the overly synthesized "Wet Paint."

Anything out there that scared the heck out of you as a kid?