Bye, Blogger....

Photo courtesy of http://www.ed2010.com

I'll miss you, I really will. Even though, I've been a lackluster blogger these last couple of months, we really had a good thing going. Don't be sad though, it's not you, it's me. I know, I know, that's such a crappy "break-up" line, but well, it's true....mostly.

See, I just gave my website a makeover, and integrated a blog into the new site.
I really wanted to keep using you, but I had to switch over to Wordpress.
It's all Go Daddy's fault. Yeah. They don't offer you as one of their platforms.
I had no choice, I swear.
Oscar made me do it.

Can we still be friends?
Okay, okay, I understand. At least we'll have our memories.

P.S. Come visit, over at my new home!!

Celebration

Baby Chloe at CHOC the day we brought her home. She was so tiny, only five pounds.

It's exactly midnight, July 29, 2009, as I type this.
It's just another day to many, but it's a day of great significance to me and my little family.
Six years ago today, our Chloe came into the world.
SIX YEARS. I cannot believe it.

Sabrina and Chloe, first day home.

You may be thinking, "Yeah, yeah, it's your kid's birthday, big deal.."
But, you see, it is indeed a BIG deal. Huge.
It's a big deal because when Chloe was born, we didn't know how long she would be with us.
She was born with medical issues, lots of them.
We didn't know there would be any problems with her health, beforehand, and were caught completely by surprise.

Parenthood is already a roller coaster ride, but for parents of children with special needs, it is doubly so. I have never been a fan of surprises, but the situation that we found ourselves faced with, ultimately brought out our best.
Our support system has been phenomenal. To all of you, my heart is filled to the brim with love and gratitude. You will never know how much, truly. You mean the world to us.

Chloe's is one year old here. What a cutie pie!

As I look at my sleeping baby (well, six year old, not really a "baby" anymore), I am awed at all she has accomplished. If you know her, you know, that it's been a long journey, but an amazing one, an eye-opening one, a cathartic one.

I am blessed to have been given the opportunity to raise this little person.

Happy, Happy Birthday Chloe.
Here's to many, many more.

My big girl.
Having lunch at Shoreline Village last week.

Summer Lovin'

A Margarita made by my brother-in-law Bruce, heaven in a glass.
(Photo taken by and borrowed from Monica)

The summer is flying, flying by crazy fast. It's already July, soon it will be August, and then September, which means time for the little people to go back to school...though Sabrina is already itching to go back...nutty kid!

There are lots of things I love about summer, as it's slowly evolving into one of my favorite seasons.
Okay, so lets see....summer love is:

Backyard BBQ's
Running through the sprinklers
Frozen yogurt with mini M&M's
Nana's Potato Salad
Blue skies
Slip 'N Slides
Margaritas with extra salt
The smell of Sunscreen

I love summer! Hope you're lovin' it too.

LOL

Sabrina and I have an agreement.
She's allowed to have fast food once a week.
It started out as Fast Food Friday, but I have since thrown caution to the wind, and let her pick whatever day of the week she wants, to have fast food.

Last week, we were pulling out of the drive thru at Carl's Jr, when I glanced at the girls in the rear view mirror, and happened to catch a glimpse of Sabrina examining her arm.

"Sabrina," I said "How many times do I have to tell you to put lotion on your arms?"
"You really need to put lotion everywhere," I continued. "I tell you that ev-..."
"I know, I know," she interrupted me, "I have dyslexia!"
"What?" I said, confused.
"Sabrina, do you even know what dyslexia means?"
"Of course I do!" she said exasperatedly "It means I have really dry skin!"
After a couple of seconds of silence, I erupted into a fit of giggles so fierce, I almost had to pull over to avoid getting into a car accident.
"Mama, what is so funny?" she demanded.
After I caught my breath, I said "Sabrina, you don't have dyslexia, you have eczema!
"Oh," she said "That's what I meant, eczema."

When the giggles finally died down, I explained what dyslexia was, and told her that I wasn't laughing at people that have dyslexia, it was the confusion between the two words, that got me going.

LOL indeed. I haven't laughed that hard in years.

A Melange of Sorts

First of all, I have to say this gloomy weather is killing me.
I am usually digging the gloom, but since June is reaching it's middle point, my brain is seriously confused. I mean, it's supposed to be warm, sunny even, umm, you know, summery.
No, luck though.
It's been overcast and rainy going on two weeks now, with no end in sight.
Oh well, another excuse to fire up the 'ole oven, and bake with abandon.

The other night, Sabrina casually mentions that the 4th/5th grade "Hoedown" is coming up, and would I be so kind as to pick up a "few" things at the market, you know, our contribution to the party.

"Coming up?" I ask, "What does that mean exactly? When do you need to bring this stuff to school?"
She looks away from my piercing death stare, and mumbles,
"Um, let me go get the note."
She hands me a crumbled piece of paper, and as I'm reading it, I notice the deadline to bring in hoedown items is today.
"Sabrina," I say "When did you get this note? The deadline was today."
"Oh," she says quickly, "It's okay, Mrs. V. said we could bring stuff in tomorrow too."
"Well, that's a relief," I say sarcastically.
Then she adds, "Mama, do you think you can make me some of those jeans with the patches, and a cowboy shirt?"

Okay, I love my kid, I swear, but this is Wednesday night, and the hoedown is Friday.
I am many things, but I ain't no miracle worker.
Not to mention, I have been working like a dog on a wholesale order I need to deliver soon.

I promptly tell her she's crazy, and there is no way I can produce an outfit with such little notice.

"Okay mama," she says in a sweet and gentle tone, "I understand."

Can you say, "bad mother"?

I of course, buy the hot dogs and lemonade for the hoedown, and proceed to descend into the realm of guilt, where even the best of mamas end up occasionally.

Yesterday afternoon, giving in to my guilty conscience, I attempt to produce a "cowgirl-ish" outfit for the hoedown.
I have to say, the fact that she would even want to wear an outfit made by me (she is almost ten, which says it all), is a victory in itself, and well worth the extra effort on my part, to sew it all at the last minute.
She looked adorable, and was so grateful, that I really felt like a heel for my initial reluctance.

Here's my girl:

Bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Love the jeans.

Ready to get down at the hoedown.

On another topic entirely, I have to give some props to Oscar for his transformation of my fabric cabinet. In a nutshell, I got the cabinet from Monica, who graciously gave it to me gratis.
It originally had glass panels, because I believe it was intended to be used as a china cabinet.
I kept the panels for quite some time, but since I used it to store my fabric, which most of the time, was not a pretty site, I longed for a solution that would keep everything inside, hidden.
I tried papering the glass, which was okay, but I didn't like it as a permanent solution.
Mirrors? Antiqued mirrors? It was brilliant, but I continued to drag my feet.

Recently, I asked Oscar if it would be possible to put beadboard in place of the glass.
"Sure," he said "No problem."
No offense to my lovely husband, but sometimes "projects" take a while to get done around here.
To my delight, a week later, he completed this project for me, and happily, I might add.

Here is the cabinet in its various stages of metamorphosis:

The original glass.

The papered glass.

The new and improved cabinet, with beadboard panels.

Ooh pretty.

Love the birdies.

One more birdie in flight, and check out those boss rose knobs.

I think it turned out well. You?
The knobs are from here, and the birdies, from here.

It's Friday, yay!
Enjoy.

Please forget the lyrics.

(pic borrowed from LadyGaga.com)

A couple of weeks ago, Sabrina, Chloe and I were watching Dancing with the Stars, the finale.
Sabrina is crazy for that show, and by default, I guess I am too, a little.

My favorite part though, is the results show, mostly because of the guest appearances by some pretty cool singers/artists, whatever they call themselves these days.

Anyway, the DWTS (as it will hereafter be known) finale was no different.
Lady Gaga was on.
Okay, I have seen her perform here and there, even live (although at the time I hadn't heard of her, and since she was one of the opening acts for New Kids on the Block, her performance was lost on me anyway).
I'm not sure whether to love her or hate her...until the DWTS performance.

She sang two songs, I'm not sure if the first one was "Puh-puh-puh-puh-poker Face", or "Let's Dance" but no matter, since it was the second song that won me over.

"Let's have some fun, this beat is sick
I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

I thought nothing of it, only that it was a mighty catchy tune, and the girls agreed with me.
Well, not Chloe so much, but she's only five, and still worships Barney, so what does that tell you?
Sabrina thought Lady Gaga, and the "Disco Stick" song were awesome.

The next day, as Sabrina re-watched the DWTS finale, for like the fifteenth time, Oscar happened to be in the room, right as the delightful Lady G was doing her thing.

"Let's have some fun, this beat is sick
I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

Sabrina was also getting her groove on, belting out the lyrics, at the top of her lungs.
"I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

Oscar looked at me, his eyebrow raised, and whispered under his breath,
"We can't let her keep singing that."
I quietly whispered back,
"Oh?"
"Well. you know," he said, "It sounds dirty."
"What do you mean?" I said, still oblivious to the reason for Oscar's mortification.

Boy, am I slow.

"Oh crap, " I said, "Disco stick, that does sound bad."
I'm sure our minds didn't mean to take a naughty turn into the gutter, it just happened.
Don't judge me.

Our worries were in vain however, since the next day, Lada Gaga and her now notorious song were quickly forgotten, as Sabrina's main concern shifted to what the school cafeteria was going to serve for lunch.

Until today.

Chloe and I picked Sabrina up from school, and as I was fiddling around with the radio stations, I heard the song, that apparently we all had been longing to hear...

"Let's have some fun, that beat is sick,
I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

"Let's play a love game, play a love game,
Do you want love or you want fame?
Are you in the game? Doin' the love game."

"Mama, I love this song!" Sabrina exclaimed
"Uh yeah, me too," I said "It's called Love Game."
"Really?" Sabrina said, "I just call it Disco Stick."

Sweaty Summer

I love this picture.
When I see it, I definitely think of Summer, not sweat.

It's almost June, which means that in twenty-two short days it will "officially" be summer, though most people mark summer's beginning as right after Memorial Day.
Either way, summer.

Don't get me wrong, I love summer.
Longer days, warm weather, the sun.
It's all good.

The problem is, that along with the heat, comes the sweat.
I have the very unfortunate problem of being a "sweat-er"
No, not a sweater, like the kind you wear, but a "sweat-er," as in one who sweats...a lot.

I don't know why, but I have always had this, um you know, issue.
It's pretty embarrassing, and it gets worse if I am particularly stressed out.

Example:
I am getting ready for a _________(fill in the blank with an important event here).
Wedding, birthday party, confession, you name it.
It never fails. As soon as the adrenaline starts flowing, so does the sweat.
Once those initial drops start to make their way down my face/back/whatever, I try to relax, deep breathe, think of something or someone, like my fantasy boyfriend Michael Buble.

Nothing works, and I'm doomed to ride out the sweaty wave, until it subsides on its own.

So, what to do?
After lots of analyzing and research, I've come up with a brilliant solution.

Crank up the A/C full blast, and strip down to the bare minimum, while employing deep breathing techniques, and a Michael Buble fantasy.

Relaxation will ensue, and the "sweats" will be no more.
Standing in front of the open freezer door, with a spoon, and a giant pint of ice cream work too.

Ahh summer, can't wait.

I Feel Pretty

Me and Monica on my birthday, at the very end of our Disney day.

Smart.
Pretty.
Hot.
Cute.
Beautiful.
Sassy.
Sweet.
Kind.
Generous.
Sexy.

There are many words we can use to describe ourselves.
The way we see ourselves.
The way we think others see us.

As girls...women, we are always climbing the slippery slope of self-confidence and self-doubt whether we admit it or not. It's true.

I'd like to think that I am not defined by the too dark shade of lipstick I choose to wear, or the "cutting off my circulation" jeans I'm too lazy to change out of.

Don't judge me if I pick up my kids from school today, wearing sweats and an
"I Love Bear Hugs" tee shirt.

Don't make assumptions about me, if I have my hair in a ponytail or happen to have a zit (or two) on my chin.

Those things do not define who I am.
They are just incidental things, things that happen on a sometimes daily basis.
Things, I am okay with.

Sometimes I have a great hair day.
Sometimes my skin is almost totally clear.
Sometimes my "skinny" jeans are my "these fit me without having to hold my breath" jeans.
Sometimes I eat salad and feel good about it.
Sometimes I don't.

There are so many cool and uncool things about being female.
Today, I choose to embrace the cool parts.

Like, Omigod, I'm so sure!"

I am a big fan of words.

I like writing them, speaking them, reading them.

I especially love the generational slang that I've spoken and witnessed over the years.

I was born in 1975, and grew up mostly in the eighties, so there was a lot of this...

"Um, like yeah, that's totally awesome!"

"Oh grotey, gag me!"

"Like, Omigod, that is so totally rad."

The words "like" and "totally" were such a constant part of my vocabulary, my parents probably thought it was all I was capable of saying.

Though "like" is now an infrequent visitor in my speech, I can't seem to ditch "totally."

Of course, the eighties were almost thirty years ago, and seem like the dark ages to the youth of today...like my Sabrina, who is partial to words like "chillax."

Me? I'm partial to words like "shenanigans."

As in..."Omigod, you guys need to totally stop your shenaningans, and just chillax."

Wedded Bliss

The new Mr. and Mrs.

It's Tuesday.
It's Cinco de Mayo.
It's also two days after my cousin, Araceli's wedding (she's on her way to Hawaii as I write this).

I arrive at the topic of this post.
CUPCAKES.
If you have had it up to here, with cupcakes, and all they represent, I heartily apologize.
I am just about nearing the point of needing a cupcake hiatus myself...

Where was I? Oh, Cupcakes.
Glorious cupcakes.

I am quite a fan, but have found that a really good cupcake, can be elusive.
I have spent countless hours in my kitchen, perfecting recipes, while slaving over a hot oven.
So, when Araceli asked me (or maybe it was my suggestion, my memory is fuzzy) if I could make her a cupcake wedding "cake" it sounded like a good idea....at the time.

I thought it would be a piece of cake.
Easy as pie.
No problemo.

As her wedding date approached, I baked cupcakes.
I baked some more.
We even had a cupcake dress rehearsal.
I was prepared, ready.

The problem is, that I have never executed such a task, and there is a big difference between thinking you are capable of doing something, and actually doing it.

The week of the wedding, I began to panic.
What was I thinking suggesting a cupcake wedding cake?
For the love of all things good and pure....her wedding day.
Kind of important.

Okay, okay, I know, it's just the cake, it's not like I was in charge of making her wedding dress or anything, but still.

The day before the wedding, I dragged my good friend Peggy, (who is married to my cousin Andy) downtown, to the flower mart. She was so gracious, as we wandered through what seemed like thousands of flowers, finally finding some that were deemed worthy of Araceli's wedding cupcakes.

On Sunday, the day of the wedding, I woke up bright and early (okay, it was like 10 o'clock, but the wedding wasn't until six...), and began baking.

I would love to say that everything went off without a hitch, but sadly, that was not the case.
I was nervous. I had stage fright. I forgot things, and almost really botched the job, over and over again.

About half way through, I finally snapped out of my my nervous, fumbling haze, and became a cupcake wielding machine.

Peggy called to see how I was faring, and politely asked if I needed any help...setting up the cupcakes. Normally, I am all about politely refusing help, because I'm just weird and stubborn, that way, but not this time.
There were alot of shenanigans involved in transporting the cupcakes to the wedding site, and in the whole "cake" set up, so I wasted no time in accepting her offer.

We arrived at the restaurant on time...which was a welcome surprise, and got to work.
It took about forty-five minutes total, and I have to say, was relieved when we were done.

I finally breathed...after awhile.
And the cupcakes...well they weren't too shabby.
See for yourself.

A view of the cake table, in the last bits of the afternoon sun.

The center stand. The cupcakes were Red Velvet with Cream Cheese frosting.

One of the cake pedestals.

Oh, and the cupcake consensus at the wedding was favorable, yay.

Amish Friendship Bread

A couple slices of the finished product.
I'm no food stylist or photographer, but take my word for it this is good stuff

I'm an average cook, but love to bake, and as far as I know, nobody has ever had to go to the emergency room after consuming any of my baked goods, which in itself, is a victory.

Recently, my brother-in-law, Bruce, gifted me with a "starter" batch of Amish Friendship Bread.

I have known Monica and Bruce for a long time now. I'm pretty sure I've received a "starter" batch of this bread at least once before, which I never saw through to the end....if I'd only known what I was missing.

So, I get this Ziploc bag full of goopy batter, along with instructions to make the bread.
It's a ten day process, which of course I thought was a crazy amount of time, but decided to give it a shot.

I got the batter last Saturday, and the ten days were finally up yesterday.
I waited until eleven o'clock last night to finish the bread (typical me), and since it takes an hour to bake, was up until 1:00 A.M.
I waited for it to cool, and helped myself to a slice.
My word, it was D.E.L.I.C.I.O.U.S.
Not exaggerating, honest.

After ten days, and a ton of steps, I was beginning to think there was no recipe, Amish or not, worth all those shenanigans.

I stand corrected.

Try it, you'll like it...unless you hate cinnamon....then you won't like it (this recipe has lots of cinnamon, though there are other versions of it here).

I found the "starter" recipe here, but am going to re-post it, so you'll have all the instructions, handily in one spot.

Amish Friendship Bread Starter
**Important: Do not use any type of metal bowl or spoon for mixing. Plastic or glass will have to do...a wooden spoon is okay too.**

Ingredients:
1 pkg. active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water (110°F)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
1 cup warm milk (110°F)

Directions:
1. In a small bowl, dissolve the yeast in warm water for about 10 minutes. Stir well.
2. In a 2 quart glass or plastic container, combine 1 cup sifted flour and 1 cup sugar. Mix thoroughly or the flour will get lumpy when you add the milk.
3. Slowly stir in warm milk and dissolved yeast mixture. Loosely cover the mixture with a lid or plastic wrap. The mixture will get bubbly. Consider this Day 1 of the cycle, or the day you receive the starter.

For the next 10 days handle the starter according to the instructions below for Amish Friendship Bread.

Amish Friendship Bread
Again, no metal bowls or spoons for mixing and do not refrigerate.
It is normal for the batter to rise, bubble and ferment
Day 1: The day you make the "starter"
Day 2: Stir the batter
Day 3: Stir the batter
Day 4: Stir the batter
Day 5: Stir the batter
Day 6: Add 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup milk to the bowl, stir the batter.
Day 7: Stir the batter
Day 8: Stir the batter
Day9: Stir the batter
Day 10: Follow the instructions below.

1. Add 1 1/2 cups flour, 1 1/2 cups sugar, and 1 1/2 cups milk to the batter, mix well.
2. Measure out four separate batters of 1 cup each into four one gallon Ziploc bags.
Keep a "starter" for yourself (if you want), and give the other three to friends, along with a copy of this recipe. If you don't pass the "starter" batter to friend on the first day, make sure to tell them which day the bag is on when they get it. Mark the bag with a start date, and make a note of the dates and the corresponding action.

3. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

4. To the remaining batter add:

• 3 eggs
• 1 cup oil (or 1/2 cup oil, 1/2 cup applesauce)
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups flour
• 1 large box vanilla pudding
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

5. Grease two large loaf pans, and in a separate bowl mix 1/2 cup sugar and 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon. Dust the loaf pans with half this mixture.

6. Pour the batter into the two pans and sprinkle the remaining sugar mixture over the top.

7. Bake for one hour. Cool until the bread loosens evenly from the pan (about ten minutes).
Turn out onto a cooling rack. Serve warm or cold, and preferably with an icy glass of milk.

If you keep a starter for yourself, you will be baking every ten days.
If not, just enjoy your bread, and hope that some sweet soul will gift you with the batter again someday.

Excuse Me Ma'am, How Old Are You?

Sabrina, the tween.

I have a birthday coming up in a couple of weeks.

I used to really love my birthday. I'd look forward to it, relish it.

I'm not sure when the warm and fuzzy feelings toward the day of my birth, turned cold and un-fuzzy, but I would imagine it was after I turned t-h-i-r-t-y.

"Gimme a break," you may be thinking.
"Thirty is young, it's the new twenty."
Sadly though, I am inching closer to the big 4-0, rather than 3-0, which is slightly terrifying.

Drama aside, I don't really feel too much different than I did in my twenties.
I still think of myself as young, youthful, hip, even.

A couple of nights ago, Oscar, Sabrina, Chloe and I were watching Dancing with the Stars, Sabrina's favorite show (she's almost ten, what you would call a tween).

I am particularly hooked on Gilles Marini, the super hot Frenchman that is paired with Cheryl Burke.

I was watching him, uh, I mean them intently, and when they were finished dancing said,

"Wow, they rocked."

To which Sabrina replied, with a somewhat pitying look,

"Mom, no one says "rocked" anymore."

"Really?" I said, "No one says that anymore, since when?"

"Um, since like, forever," she said, just a little too smugly for my taste.

"Oh, well," I said "I still say that."

To which her response was an exaggerated eye roll.

"Oh my goodness," I thought to myself. "Maybe I am old, or worse, un-hip."
A familiar feeling of dread came over me, you know the one.
It's the one you get when some well meaning young lad bagging your groceries, calls you "Ma'am."

I guess I could just embrace my impending birthday, with grace and class.
Let my hair go gray, without a care in the world.
Say words like "Rock" and "Cool" and "Radical" with wild abandon, while my daughter cringes inwardly at her "old" mother.

I have to admit, though, that I secretly enjoy watching Sabrina get riled up, when I sing too loud, or say something she thinks is kooky and old lady-ish.
I am also too vain to not cover up my gray hair, which thanks to genetics (and probably some stress ie:kids) happens to be way more than I deserve for my age.

So for now, I will continue making appointments at the hair salon for my dye jobs, and try not to go ballistic when the perky cashier at Trader Joes, asks if I need help out with my groceries.

Chick Flicks

I don't really know why I have them on the brain, but I've been watching alot of movies lately that I suppose, could be considered "Chick Flicks."

Now, I've never been one for horror movies, and I usually don't find myself watching many action films, unless, I've dragged Oscar to something like, um let's say Twilight, and I owe him a turn.

My favorites, have always been the ones that make me cry, make me swoon, make me laugh, and/or all of the above.

At the risk of seeming like a complete sap, I do enjoy the occasional psychological thriller, but only if I am not watching it alone, as I have an overactive imagination, and will be looking over my shoulder for days afterward.

So, I thought I would share my Top Five "girly" movie go-to's, guaranteed to chase away even the crabbiest of moods...you may even share my enthusiasm.


1. Dirty Dancing (1987).
Okay, you may be thinking, how totally cheesy this one is (if you are, stop it, that's crazy talk.), but you gotta love it. I mean, dancing, shirtless dance teacher, all that bumping and grinding...good girl falls for bad boy....It's a classic, really.
I just saw it again recently, and it still does it for me, just like it did back in 1987, when it was first released. Patrick Swayze, shirtless equals H.O.T.


2. Pretty Woman (1990)
I hadn't seen this one in years, and it was on Showtime last week.
So you can imagine my delight, when I discovered Oscar had TIVO-ed it for me.
I loved Julia Roberts in that movie, and Richard Gere, was of course, nice eye candy. I also got a huge kick out of seeing the giant cell phone he toted around during parts of the movie.
My favorite character has to be Vivian's friend Kit. One of my favorite movie moments occurs while Kit is waiting for Vivian in the "Reg-Bev-Wil" hotel lobby, and spots a conservative looking couple eyeing her curiously. "Fifty bucks Grandpa, for seventy-five, the wife can watch."
I laugh my ass off every time.



3. You've Got Mail (1998)
I really loved Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle, but this one remains at the top of my list, mostly because I love the contrast between their internet relationship, and their real-life one. There's also something to be said about a man who is so devoted to his dog, though I guess that could be good and bad. Another plus is the chuckle it gives me, to watch it now, because of the whole internet dial-up thing. Crazy how fast things become yesterday's news.



4. 13 Going on 30 (2004)
I know that this storyline is somewhat of a stretch (wishing dust), but come on, it's not a documentary, and who couldn't use a little wishing dust from time to time?
I was almost thirty when this movie was released, and I could totally relate to all of the eighties throwbacks, uh, since that was also when my formative years took place.
Mark Rufalo is a cutie-pie and has that sexy-smart vibe going on (which I like), and I thought Jennifer Garner was really endearing. My favorite scene is where they all do the Thriller dance, while at the big Poise magazine party. Thriller was the bomb, and I may have engaged in those very moves, a time or two.




5. Twilight (2008)
Okay, this one is a no brainer. I started reading this series right before the movie was released, and was instantly addicted. I'm not obsessed or anything though....really. I can stop anytime I want. I know these books are geared toward teens, and all, but I really loved them. I can't explain, without sounding incredibly lame, but if you've read them, you know what I mean.
The movie, though not as good as the book, is still worth a look (maybe more than once).
And Edward, well don't get me started, but let's just say, I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers....(although, technically he doesn't eat, but oh well, you get the point).

I know I said this was a Top Five list, but an Honorable Mention goes to another one of my favorites, Music and Lyrics (2007). Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant, are adorable together, though he is a tad older than she, which seems a little creepy, but Hugh is boyishly charming, and a little charm goes a long way in my book. I really love the movie's premise too, and that POP! music video has me rolling, every time I see it.

I have way more of these in my Chick Flick movie arsenal, but will quit while I'm ahead.
I suggest you grab some microwave popcorn, heavy on the butter, some Red Vines, and your remote, and enjoy several hours camped out in front of your television....exercise, schmexercise.

If anyone gives you any lip, just crank up the volume, and threaten to start reciting lines from one of the above mentioned flicks. Guaranteed to clear the room, fast.

Where the Heart is

A sweet vignette.

I've always loved houses, homes. I thoroughly enjoy visiting peoples homes, because there is usually so much of them in there.
The decor, the things that people surround themselves with, it all speaks volumes about who they are.

Lots of cookboks.

The front porch...a sleepy gnome.

I live in a small suburb in Southern California. My neighborhood and I have a unique relationship. I wasn't too keen on living here at first. When we moved here a few years ago, it was a move inspired more by necessity than choice.

Our home has undergone quite a transformation over the years, and still could use more, you know, always room for improvement, and all.

Home sweet home.

However, I have come to the realization that I really love my home.
There are many reasons why.

Our bougainvillea tree

The house is small.
It doesn't have any architectural details, or anything grand about it to speak of.
The neighborhood is not fancy, and the neighbors are not high-falutin' types.
The lawns are not perfectly manicured, and you don't see high end strollers, being pushed by moms in matchy tracksuits.

The backyard

What is it then?

The best way to describe my feelings about the house is simply a feeling of being Home, of knowing that this is where we were meant to be.

Sabrina

I hear the roosters crowing, and I think of Grandpa.
All the quirks of this place are what I have come to love about it.

Grandpa's milkbottles.

Sometimes, when I'm outside, and looking at the large expanse of our backyard,
I can't help but hope that if Grandpa and Grandma were still with us, they'd be proud.

A little piece of paradise.

All of these beautiful pictures were taken by the lovely Monica. Thanks sis.

What's in a Name?

Me and Osc

If you know me, in real life, or even online, you probably know, I am a fairly modest person.

In all aspects (mostly).

I came across this website today, maybe you've seen it, maybe you even check it out on a regular basis. I guess I'm behind the times or something, because it's a first for me.

Urban Dictionary.
H.I.L.A.R.I.O.U.S.

I have to say though this is my favorite definition.
For obvious reasons, because well, you know, my modesty and all.

Here Comes the Bride...

The Pretty Bride-to Be

I must have been a party planner or even a party girl in one of my previous lives.

I love to plan parties.

Birthday Parties, Holiday Parties, Baby Showers, Bridal Showers...
I could seriously plan a party for almost any reason.

After Chloe was born, I found myself lacking a key element in party planning, t.i.m.e.
The party gene was wiped out completely for awhile, but has slowly come out of hibernation over the last couple of years.

Lucky for me, my cousin Araceli is getting hitched in a mere five weeks.

Since she is sweet as can be, and really more like a sister, I (actually my mom and I) graciously (since I'm such a great hostess and all) volunteered to host her bridal shower.

I started my planning fairly early (which is rare for me), and ordered some totally awesome invitations from the super nice and really talented Vanessa. Her shop is chock full of some really cool paper goodies. Super reasonable prices and the best customer service.

Since I am so, umm, shall I say "particular," I kindly asked if she would make some labels, inserts, and even Thank You tags to match. This is the invite I chose for Araceli's soiree.


Pretty, huh?

My mom was kind enough to host the party at her casa so, my job was mainly to decorate and bake like a whirling dervish.

Here's the Party Table. Lots of cookies and sweets.

My favorite half of the table. I fashioned a tablecloth out of Heather Bailey's Pop Garden.

Araceli's favorite cupcakes. Red Velvet.
I found those vintage bride and groom picks on Etsy.

Aren't these roses gorgeous? Wow, gotta love Costco.

And look at these babies...they'll put any fancy flower shop's flowers, to shame.

Party Favors.
You can kind of see the matchy Thank You tags.

Araceli and her mama.

The ladies enjoying the gift opening.
There's my mama in the glasses.

Ina Garten. Love her.
Time to break out those new pots and pans, girl.

Me and Ara.

I have to say, it was a lovely shower.
Appropriate, for a truly lovely person.