I Might be Psychic…

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On recent Saturday mornings, I’ve been waking-up, grabbing my phone and immediately searching for sectional couches on Craigslist. We moved into a new house in August. Since then I’ve become obsessed with the idea that the only way our living room will be perfectly configured and livable is with the addition of a sectional sofa. Unfortunately, sectionals are super expensive new, so of course I turned to my old pal Craig. My general consensus after a few months of searching was that any sectional that was in our budget must be plaid, pleather, microfiber or just plain hideous.

As I browsed options Saturday morning, I found an ad for a yard sale that mentioned a sectional. There wasn’t a picture, but I was inexplicably drawn to this sale. So much in fact, that I hopped-out of bed (usually at that early hour of the morning the only place I’m hopping to is the bathroom) and threw on clothes. I was ready to go. Micah, completely confused and wondering why I was buzzing around the house at 8 am like a maniac while berating him to hurry-up and get with the program, agreed to escort me on my mission.

We arrived at the yard sale, and as we walked-up I scanned the items looking for it. No sectional to be found. No wait, what’s that??? I had to get a closer look so I bee-lined it toward what appeared to be….EXACTLY WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR. Tripping over boxes and pushing other yard salers/potential sectional buyers out of the way, I finally made it the few feet to my destination.

I kept my cool (for the most part), but quickly realized that the guy was hell-bent on getting a certain price and in fact, had been pimping out the sectional all morning. I presented an offer, but no deal. He took my number to give me a call later that day if he reconsidered. And miraculously, I didn’t do something completely within character such as dramatically throwing myself on the sectional in an attempt to thwart would-be buyers, upping the offer until I paid wayyyyy more than it was worth, or driving around removing all signs directing sectional buyer competitors to said yard sale. Nope. Nothing crazy. I left the matter in the hands of Fate.

And I managed to enjoy the rest of my day. Typically, my brain would be on overdrive trying to figure out how I was going to make it happen. Somehow, I just knew it was meant to be. And later that night, I got a call back. The guy was ready to negotiate. Voila. The sectional was mine. And I learned a valuable lesson about myself. I just might be psychic…

Ahhhhhh, bliss. No microfiber, pleather or plaid in sight!

That One Time I Brushed My Teeth With Lip Gloss.

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It was on a camping trip. (That one time I brushed my teeth with lip gloss.) It was a girls’ camp-out and we’d spent the night chatting, laughing and enjoying some drinks. It was late by the time the party wound down and we scattered off to bed. I had one more thing to do before I crawled into my sleeping bag. I had to brush my teeth. I did not relish going to bed with a layer of scum from snacks, drinks and camp fire on my teeth. I found my bag in my darkened tent (my headlamp was out of batteries so I could barely see) and rifled around until I found my travel toothbrush and toothpaste. Ah-ha! My dentist would be so proud. I wet my toothbrush and spread an ample amount of toothpaste onto the brush. I began to vigorously brush, feeling pretty smug that although I was exhausted and maybe a tad tipsy, I still had my wits about me. My first thought was that the toothpaste had a weird texture. My next thought was that the toothpaste had a very unique taste. Almost like…my brain struggled to catch-up and identify the taste. Lip gloss???? Gahhhhhhh. What the heck????? Yep. Somehow in the dark the lip gloss tube felt very similar to the toothpaste tube. One ruined toothbrush and some very soft gums later, and I certainly was not feeling so smug!

Ok. Clearly, you can see how this happened???!!

If You Can’t Eat Your Fruit…

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DRINK IT!

Yum. My only regret is I didn’t think of it sooner. All that wasted fruit…

I like to buy fruit. It’s tasty, healthy and especially refreshing on a hot summer day. Even so, I can never seem to eat it before it goes bad.  This time it was a baby watermelon. I had it with breakfast, shared it with friends and randomly grabbed pieces throughout the day; but the bowl still remained entirely too full for my liking. I knew that if I didn’t take action soon, the watermelon would be another food casualty that I’d find weeks later shoved to the back of the fridge, covered in a scary mass of mold.

And that very well might have happened, had I not had a brilliant idea. (Yes, it happens once in a great while.) I would make the most delicious, refreshing, summertime libation EVER. I found a recipe that even incorporated peaches (amazingly enough I had a wayward peach that was on the verge of becoming it’s own interesting refrigerator specimen and a bottle of rum that had been fermenting for over a year), and an idea became a refreshing drink. Fruit, booze, ice, blender, DONE. Cheers!

Happy Birthday, MeMa!

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This weekend one very classy lady had a birthday. She’s my grandmother, but since we’re all good friends here you can call her MeMa. So in honor of her special day, I dedicate this blog post to giving thanks for all that she has done for me over the years.

-Thank you for staying-up all night to sew me an Indian costume when I was in elementary school. I’m pretty sure that I was the envy of every kid that I encountered and that suddenly I was very, very popular.

-Thank you for letting me eat however much homemade bread (amazing) and peanut butter candies I wanted. (I must mention that the peanut butter candies were made in peanut shaped molds. I swear they tasted that much better because of the peanut shape) It’s nice to remember that at one time in my life I could binge on bread and candy without them living in my double chin and thighs guilt-free.

-Thank you for continuing to take me on outings even though I always managed to accidentally “forget” my wallet.

-Thank you for the little bit of craftiness that I possess. Don’t blame yourself. You tried to teach me your crafty ways.

-Thank you for providing a retreat when I was in high school and had yet another fight with Mom and Dad. It couldn’t have been easy to listen to me bemoan my terrible life and scoff that I didn’t even need parental guidance. There was a period of time this happened about one or twice a week. I applaud your patience and my adult self apologizes for the obnoxious teenager she once was. Now I’m just an obnoxious adult. Much better.

-Thank you for being supportive of my blog through emails like this…
I am proud of you. It was very creative. You are a mess. A very good mess. (Smart lady)

-Thank you for the times you gave me money in college and never asked for it back. (Or were you just betting that I’d get you back when I was all grown-up and rich? I’m still waiting for that day too.)

-Because it’s your birthday, I’m even gonna thank you for the grey hairs that are cropping-up like weeds in my brown hair. And I’m not sure if it has even been proven that grey hairs are genetic so this thanks might be misplaced. I’m gonna let you keep it anyway.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything!

I’ll forgive you for the grey hair thing if you give me your fountain of youth secret.

Bite of Bend

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A few weekends ago I attended an event called the Bite of Bend. It’s a weekend long festival in which the main draw would appear to be the opportunity to sample the cuisine of local restaurants. I’ve attended this event before and continue to attend because it’s free and I enjoy it. However, I’ve quickly discovered that my vision of cruising down the alley of food vendors sampling bite-sized, dollar priced tasters is not happening. Instead, a few food vendors offer small bites for a few bucks while the rest serve full-on meals. I am not there for a full-on meal from one restaurant. I am there to taste bite-sized portions from a variety of restaurants and to discover new places to eat around town. Yes, the free music, Top Chef cooking competition, and various other vendors are nice, but I am there for the food! Or rather was. Next year I will be there for something entirely different–the Northwest Spirits and Mixology Show.

I’d been deterred in previous years because of the $15 per person admission. This year I decided to investigate what I would get for $15. Turns out you get 1 free drink of your choice mixed by one of the professional mixologists (a cocktail alone can cost $15!)  flown in for the event, and unlimited tastings of your choice from a selection of 140 vendors. Plus, unlimited re-entry throughout the Festival. So, I went for it and had a blast! Instead of a Bite of Bend,I gulped sampled libations from a variety of western distilleries. I did an afternoon run through the tent and then went home for a nap. My head was swimming from all the drinks knowledge bestowed upon me by the generous vendors. We returned to the tent a few hours later for another go and to meet-up with friends. Good times had by all!

Conversations Around the Campfire

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This past weekend I went camping with a group of friends. As it grew colder and darker, we gathered around the campfire. The conversation took many random twists and turns until we settled on the topic of prostates. One of our friends had to leave early the next morning to help check people in for the free prostate exams her urology office was sponsoring at Dick’s Sporting Goods. My mom always said, “Never let them know how smart you are”, so I kept all my really smart comments concerning prostates to myself. For some reason the intelligent comments don’t come spewing out of my mouth with the same frequency as my ridiculous ones. Exhibit A-

Me with all seriousness: Well, thank goodness I don’t have to worry about that for awhile. Isn’t that something they recommend when you are in your forties?

Silence from the group. I sure know how to put a halt to a conversation.

Very helpful friend: Lauren, you do know you don’t have a prostate, right? Prostate exams are for men.

Me: Errr, of course. I mean, no. Well, yes. I mean, I guess I knew that. I must have just forgotten. I got caught-up in the moment. (I really should think before I speak)

At this point, the prostate conversation was up and running again. Granted a lot of the laughs were at my expense, but it was all in good fun. And within a few minutes, I redeemed myself by announcing that “Friends don’t let friends go unexamined”. After my earlier comments, this sounded downright genius.

And that’s what friends are for…