As today is the last day of the month, I have now completed the 30-day photo challenge. These are the shots from the last 12 days. I think I’ll unofficially follow another challenge for next month. It’s fun to have a daily assignment and it gives me a reason to use my iPhone camera every day.
Can we all just agree to ignore the expert’s definition of “sleeping through the night?” In what world can sleeping for five straight hours be considered sleeping through the night?! If my baby goes to sleep at 8:30 p.m. and wakes up at 1:30 a.m., who would have the audacity to refer to that as anything other than her “sleeping for five hours?”
This drives me nuts every time I come across it in the parenting manuals I’ve read. So the doctor asks, “Is she sleeping through the night?” and I have to get clarification as to whether she’s using that phrase in a technical way or in a real world way. This proposed change in terminology seems completely reasonable, no?
I should note that I’m no foodie nor can I really cook or bake. But aside from the amazingly creative cookies below, these food & drink pins are commensurate with my skill level. Bon appetit!
Piñata cookies. These are waaaaay too much effort but they are pretty darn impressive!
Beet, arugula & goat cheese grilled cheese sandwich. I. am. salivating.
Vanilla pear vodka cocktail. If we don’t have vodka, I’m buying some tomorrow.
Nooooooo! I guess that trip to California last week and paying less than close attention to what I ate this week took their toll – I am up 1.2 pounds from my last weigh-in. If memory serves, this is my first weight gain since the beginning of the year. On the one hand, I lost weight for nearly four straight months (yay, me!). On the other, I am now seven pounds from my goal weight, putting it just that much more out of reach (boooooo!).
Time to recommit and maybe even throw in some regular exercise. After all, I do have that fancy gym membership. It’s not that I don’t like the act of working out. When I had my 6 a.m. workout group in Sacramento, it was convenient and easy to motivate. It’s having to get to the gym (in the middle of the day) and then doing it all on my own that are the major obstacles.
Seriously, learn the difference. I’m not a total grammar and spelling nazi. I definitely struggle with who versus whom and I would wager that a good copy editor would have plenty to complain about [example] as to my own ramblings.
But it is not difficult to distinguish between there, they’re and their. Or your and you’re. Or then and than. I’m embarrassed for you. Everyone is entitled to a typo now & again. But when I read your posts, updates or tweets it is very distracting. So please, I’m begging. Because…
Let’s pretend it’s yesterday.
So, last week while we were in California visiting friends and family, my mom, the baby & I made a trip to the mall. The purpose of the trip was ostensibly to show my mother what types of clothes (pattern, style, color) the husband & I like and don’t like for the baby. We did that, but spent most of the time in J.Crew shopping for moi! Getting so close to my goal weight has me giddy and in shopping mode. I tried on this awesome silk dress, which I intend to style just as in this pic – navy blazer & pearls – with nude heels, in my regular size 8. (I normally wear an 8, sometimes a 6, and when S-M-L, usually a medium.)
Now, I have broad shoulders (and a wide-ish torso to match). I cannot tell you the number of times that I was asked as a teen whether I was a swimmer; I did not take this as a compliment at the time.
The dress was snug across the chest, under the arms. So I reluctantly tried on the 10. Great fit. So I had a little talk with myself. “Regardless of the number on the tag, it will look best. And certain things, such as dresses, require you to size up for your shoulders/torso. Sharyn, it’s just a number.” And I truly bought into this, which I think is a good attitude. Besides, paying too much attention to the number is ridiculous and, quite frankly, unreasonable, as there is no standard sizing (as evidenced by the fact that I have S, M and L items in my closet, 4s, 6s, 8s, etc.). Finally, nearing the midpoint of my 30s, I can get over the sizing thing.
And so it was. Until today. I received a Banana Republic order in the mail this afternoon, which included a chambray button-down shirt* in size 8. Whoa, way too tight across the chest – it didn’t even button. Took it back to the store expecting to exchange it for a proper fit in a size 10. Whoa, still way too tight across the chest – barely buttoned. Okay, I thought, I could get a 12. Hell. No.
So much for my good attitude and reasonableness.
* Just read the shirt’s product reviews and there are several complaints about the shirt’s poor sizing, including one from a girl who says she is usually a size 6 or 8 and had to go up to a 12. It’s not just me.
It’s that fantastic time of the month again when my box of Citrus Lane goodies arrives on the doorstep! This month was full of bed and bath time treasures: a little bedtime reading, a dragon washcloth puppet, hand soap, stackable cup bath toys, baby – oops, kiddie – toothpaste* and a mini treat for mom. Not quite as awesome as last month’s box, but still a treat to find upon our return from our week long trip to California.
Which reminds me… No weigh-in this week, as I was 2,721 miles from my bathroom scale on Friday morning.
* I got an email last week letting recipients know that they accidentally sent kiddie (ages 4 & up) toothpaste in some boxes instead of baby tooth gel. They are sending out the appropriately-aged item within the next week.
In the summer 2009, Ray and I got married in the Napa Valley at Tra Vigne in St. Helena. On our recent trip to California, we returned to the scene of matrimony (my husband protested my referring to it as “the scene of the crime”) and took an updated picture with the baby.
After a light, late lunch at Tra Vigne (I had a most delicious asparagus soup) and a quickie photo session, we headed over to the Silverado Trail to pop into Mumm. It’s not a trip to the Valley without a glass of champagne. Oh, excuse me, “sparkling wine.”
Schramsberg remains my favorite “House of Sparkling Wine,” but I would never turn up my nose at a tasting at Mumm, Chandon or Domaine Carneros.