Without a Hitch

For the 45 readers that follow my blog, you'll be glad to know that last night's dinner was a success. Our friends and my finicky husband enjoyed the meal I prepared. They also appreciated that I left out one key ingredient: rosemary. I omitted the rosemary because my husband just doused my rosemary bushes with toxic chemicals to try to save us all from the 3,768,421,092 mosquitoes living in the rosemary bushes.

Pressure Cooker

I love to cook! I would say that cooking is my favorite hobby. Tonight Wade's good friend, Hall, and his wife, Meg, are coming to stay with us. Normally, having dinner for good friends is a breeze. The catch with this set of friends is that Hall owns restaurants in South Carolina. So, the pressure is own to make something he'll enjoy, but will also kind of impress him (if I'm being perfectly honest).

Tonight's menu:

Assortment of cheese & crackers, crudites and hummus with pita chips to start
Lamb meat balls served over orzo as the main dish, along with roasted asparagus
Warm brownies with ice cream for dessert (Meg is pregnant, so I'm sure she'll appreciate a decadent dessert).

Wish me luck!

What a Loser

I see you out there. Holding your thumb and index finger to your head in the shape of a big L for loser. And that big L is for me. Seems I didn't know I was such a loser. Apparently, I have either no friends or just no friends that read my blog. I'm hoping it's that my friends are too busy with kids, husbands, work, dogs, having a life, cleaning, laundry, picking their toes or just watching Southern Belles: Louisville (if you haven't seen this show, I highly recommend it. It's a 30-year-old's version of The Hills set in the south...fantastic combination) because if not, then I am truly a loser. This is no mere speculation; this is the cold hard truth. The fact of the matter is that I have only had 41 people look at my (apparently pitiful) little blog since I started back in January. I know I promised you that the blog would not be that great or updated that often, but I at least thought y'all would glance occasionally. Know that I've had my second humbling experience for the day, I'm off to drown my sorrows in a glass of wine.

Sigh...looks like the wine will have to wait since I hear my little guy already waking from his nap.

Oh, the other humbling experience, you ask? Going to the mall and realizing how completely out of touch I am with fashion. Hey, at least I still care that I'm no longer stylishly cool, right? That has to count for something. And none of this fashion-talk has anything to do with the picture above. After all, that was a pretty hip sweater in 1986, and not just because Dr. Huxtable wore it.

Cooling Off

It's been hot the last few days. If it's hot outside, then it's hot inside because our tiny house has virtually no insulation.

So we head outside to beat the heat. Cole figured out the best way to cool off is with a water hose.

It may not look like it, but he loves it. He rushes to the hose every time we go out back.

Happy Summer!

Baby Boy

My dear, sweet baby boy. You are now 11-months old. That means just four short weeks before you are no longer a baby. I can't tell you how wonderful things have been since you arrived. The lack of sleep took some getting use to, but everything else has come naturally. You are such a sweet, happy, relaxed boy. You talk and laugh all the time. You have so many different laughs...squeals of delight when your daddy pulls into the driveway, giggle fits when we tickle your back and deep grunts when you see something new. All of them feel me with joy. I have to say this is the happiest time in my life. Your daddy is the most amazing father, which makes him an even better husband. We're lucky to have him. I am so blessed and grateful for my family. Thanks to you for joining us.

Love,

Mama

Rednecks

Being from the south, I'm use to seeing rednecks. In fact, I'm even accustom to hanging around rednecks. What I'm not accustom to are the rednecks from other parts of the country. Just last weekend I was driving from the beach to south Georgia, when I needed to make a stop. So, in the middle of some tiny town on some back country highway, Cole and I pulled into what seemed to be the most reputable restroom (and only one) in sight. Once I made my way back outside of the gas station, I noticed him...the redneck. He was standing outside of the gas station in all his glory. He had on basketball shorts and nothing else. He was holding an Old Milwaukee beer, while shaking his mullet free and rubbing his ginormous beer gut, all the while yelling across the parking lot to some other folks about getting home to Indianapolis. I so wanted to pull out my camera to take a picture because I know you don't believe me, but I promise it's true. The picture of my little redneck baby from yesterday will have to do.