Category: happiness

Today was a fairy tale

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Here is some of the deliciousness I did…
*went for a lovely morning run in the lovely 70 degrees
*hung some tres chic sheer purple curtains
*ate a chocolate cupcake
*thought about painting a new accent wall
*bought three pairs of shoes (two are REPLACING two pairs I’ve been wanting to throw out, so it’s actually only one “new” pair. You catch my logic?)
*read a big chunk out of my book club book
*wore glittery eyeshadow
*ran all my errands with the sunroof open
*watched two episodes of “Being Erica”
*bought an uber-cute dress I’m going to wear the crap out of this fall
*finally got that hide-a-key thing settled
*ate my first turkey burger at Mooyah (the skin-on fries were the star of the meal, however)
I’d call that one huge successful Labor Day.

Today was a fairy tale

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Here is some of the deliciousness I did…
*went for a lovely morning run in the lovely 70 degrees
*hung some tres chic sheer purple curtains
*ate a chocolate cupcake
*thought about painting a new accent wall
*bought three pairs of shoes (two are REPLACING two pairs I’ve been wanting to throw out, so it’s actually only one “new” pair. You catch my logic?)
*read a big chunk out of my book club book
*wore glittery eyeshadow
*ran all my errands with the sunroof open
*watched two episodes of “Being Erica”
*bought an uber-cute dress I’m going to wear the crap out of this fall
*finally got that hide-a-key thing settled
*ate my first turkey burger at Mooyah (the skin-on fries were the star of the meal, however)
I’d call that one huge successful Labor Day.

Florida Love

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The Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

No. Let me be more specific…

South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

The sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.
 
My sister’s tiny one-bedroom beach condo on the sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

Me…stretched out on long, turquoise beach chair, still soaked and panting from swimming past killer undertow of last night’s storm, umbrella shading upper body from sun, lingering taste of red velvet cake, surrounded by the chicks (sister, friends and baby), dreaming of upcoming bike ride into Seaside outside my sister’s tiny one-bedroom beach condo on the sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

 (Plus…Sister and Baby C performing “Baby in a Ball” = Countless hours of fun.)

Florida Love

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The Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

No. Let me be more specific…

South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

The sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.
 
My sister’s tiny one-bedroom beach condo on the sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

Me…stretched out on long, turquoise beach chair, still soaked and panting from swimming past killer undertow of last night’s storm, umbrella shading upper body from sun, lingering taste of red velvet cake, surrounded by the chicks (sister, friends and baby), dreaming of upcoming bike ride into Seaside outside my sister’s tiny one-bedroom beach condo on the sugary-white sands of Seagrove Beach, Florida on Highway 30A along South Walton County on the Gulf of Mexico is my Disneyland.

 (Plus…Sister and Baby C performing “Baby in a Ball” = Countless hours of fun.)

High rollin’ with the homies

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And now for a bit of drama…

Boss: Mary, thanks for organizing the meeting today and setting everything up. You’re a perfect champ.

Mary (looking down distractedly at nails): Yeah. Sure.

Boss: Did you make dinner reservations for our group?

Mary: Uh-huh, at–

Boss: Change of plans. We’re going to Del Friscos.

Mary: …

Boss (when my silence stretched on for too long): Want to come? (Then he busted out laughing. Of course I wanted to come.)

Aaaaand….scene.

I’ve never been to Del Friscos Double Eagle Steakhouse. I can’t afford it (and apparently, neither can my dates!). But Boss did bring me a slice of their (in)famous Lemon Doberge cake for my birthday a few months ago. Ever since then, I’ve been rather smitten.

But enough talk. Let’s get to the food.

We started out with crab cakes and shrimp. Pretty normal for a steak house, yes? However…I’ve never tasted such crab cakes. Flaky, chunky, and with all kinds of surprise, delicious bit. And the shrimp. Hello. Three different kinds of marinade–I didn’t even know what I was eating, honestly, but it was wicked delish. And dig that crazy baby fork!

Next up was the heirloom tomato and mozzarella salad. This picture doesn’t show the sheer size of this pup. The sliced tomatoes were the size of a softball as was the mozz. And with sprinkled bacon on top? Get out! The entree came next. I went for one of the specials. I can’t remember what it was called exactly, but the gist is medallion steak, three wee filet mignon, each prepared a different way: peppercorn, oscar-whatnot and…something else. I don’t even remember.

We had some sides too. About five. Most notable was the lobster mac and cheese. To. Die. For.

And best for last. (Drum roll…) The Lemon Doberge cake. This is my second experience and it did not disappoint. I think there was some bread pudding and cheesecake too, but who as time for that?

Mary got all the leftovers, too. I think Boss told everyone I was poor. I’m spoiled a bit. I know.

High rollin’ with the homies

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And now for a bit of drama…

Boss: Mary, thanks for organizing the meeting today and setting everything up. You’re a perfect champ.

Mary (looking down distractedly at nails): Yeah. Sure.

Boss: Did you make dinner reservations for our group?

Mary: Uh-huh, at–

Boss: Change of plans. We’re going to Del Friscos.

Mary: …

Boss (when my silence stretched on for too long): Want to come? (Then he busted out laughing. Of course I wanted to come.)

Aaaaand….scene.

I’ve never been to Del Friscos Double Eagle Steakhouse. I can’t afford it (and apparently, neither can my dates!). But Boss did bring me a slice of their (in)famous Lemon Doberge cake for my birthday a few months ago. Ever since then, I’ve been rather smitten.

But enough talk. Let’s get to the food.

We started out with crab cakes and shrimp. Pretty normal for a steak house, yes? However…I’ve never tasted such crab cakes. Flaky, chunky, and with all kinds of surprise, delicious bit. And the shrimp. Hello. Three different kinds of marinade–I didn’t even know what I was eating, honestly, but it was wicked delish. And dig that crazy baby fork!

Next up was the heirloom tomato and mozzarella salad. This picture doesn’t show the sheer size of this pup. The sliced tomatoes were the size of a softball as was the mozz. And with sprinkled bacon on top? Get out! The entree came next. I went for one of the specials. I can’t remember what it was called exactly, but the gist is medallion steak, three wee filet mignon, each prepared a different way: peppercorn, oscar-whatnot and…something else. I don’t even remember.

We had some sides too. About five. Most notable was the lobster mac and cheese. To. Die. For.

And best for last. (Drum roll…) The Lemon Doberge cake. This is my second experience and it did not disappoint. I think there was some bread pudding and cheesecake too, but who as time for that?

Mary got all the leftovers, too. I think Boss told everyone I was poor. I’m spoiled a bit. I know.

Moondoggie

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Heaven help me.

The IT guy two floors down looks just like James Darren. Seriously. Just like him! We passed in the hall a few minutes ago. As our eyes met, I felt on the verge of a very Gidget-esque giggle-and-blush. So I came back to my desk and played this video.

Hmm…I have the feeling my computer might be having a sudden “techical difficulty” very, very soon. Would it be too weird if I asked Moondoogie–I mean IT Guy–to sing for me?

Oh gee. Like, wow!

Moondoggie

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Heaven help me.

The IT guy two floors down looks just like James Darren. Seriously. Just like him! We passed in the hall a few minutes ago. As our eyes met, I felt on the verge of a very Gidget-esque giggle-and-blush. So I came back to my desk and played this video.

Hmm…I have the feeling my computer might be having a sudden “techical difficulty” very, very soon. Would it be too weird if I asked Moondoogie–I mean IT Guy–to sing for me?

Oh gee. Like, wow!

Best. Review. Ever.

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Back in February, I attended my first writers’ conference. While there, I learned a great many things and met several other novice, struggling, starving authors. One in particular. (For this blog, we shall call her “Bridget” since she’s both British and fabulous.) Bridget and I have exchanged query letters, chapters and many-a woeful email about the loves and cruelties of writing.

Presently, we have the first 100 pages of each other’s manuscripts. (Bridget is a YA writer and her book is amazing, so creative, a cross between “Percy Jackson” and “The Hunger Games,” with time travel, a hot archeologist intern and the heroine’s hand-to-hand combat lesson taught by a nineteen-year-old Achilles. Not bad.)

Yesterday, Bridget emailed, updating me on her progress, ending her message with this:

“I am half way through yours and…I have to say, I love your book so much…and your sense of humor…it makes me want to move in with you! So you might want to start your publishing career being cagey about where you live or I foresee stalker fan-girls hanging around your house.”

Every budding author’s dream: The potential of being stalked. Seriously, is a better “review” even possible?

Best. Review. Ever.

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Back in February, I attended my first writers’ conference. While there, I learned a great many things and met several other novice, struggling, starving authors. One in particular. (For this blog, we shall call her “Bridget” since she’s both British and fabulous.) Bridget and I have exchanged query letters, chapters and many-a woeful email about the loves and cruelties of writing.

Presently, we have the first 100 pages of each other’s manuscripts. (Bridget is a YA writer and her book is amazing, so creative, a cross between “Percy Jackson” and “The Hunger Games,” with time travel, a hot archeologist intern and the heroine’s hand-to-hand combat lesson taught by a nineteen-year-old Achilles. Not bad.)

Yesterday, Bridget emailed, updating me on her progress, ending her message with this:

“I am half way through yours and…I have to say, I love your book so much…and your sense of humor…it makes me want to move in with you! So you might want to start your publishing career being cagey about where you live or I foresee stalker fan-girls hanging around your house.”

Every budding author’s dream: The potential of being stalked. Seriously, is a better “review” even possible?