Southern

The Advent Wreath

Posted on by Megan

The season of Advent is upon us.

It’s the time of year when families around the globe, who observe the liturgical calendar, gather in preparation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus at Christmas.

A time where families gather in church fellowship halls to build their own Wreath, which they will place prominently in their homes and light as a family throughout the weeks leading up to Christmas.

A time for Joy, Peace, Love and Hope.

A time when parents are full of joy because their children are able to light the candles of the Wreath in an environment of love and peace. Or, in the case of my parents, hopeful that their daughters would light the candles in an environment of love and peace.

You see, one year my sister and I weren’t so, um, loving or peaceful during the lighting of the candles. In fact, we had a bit of a tiff over whose turn it was to read the devotional and whose turn it was to light the candles.

And this tiff?

Well, let’s just say that in ended in a – ahem – well lit Advent Wreath.

As in, we set our family’s Advent Wreath on fire.
image via Jer86 on Flickr

White Elephant

Posted on by Megan

One of my old teams at work held a gift exchange at Christmas. The idea was that half of us would bring white elephant gifts and the other half would bring nice gifts – while staying within a budget of $20. I was tasked with bringing a white elephant gift and decided it would be best to look at local “junk stores” and flea markets to find the perfect gift. I spent hours looking before hitting the white elephant jackpot.

High on a shelf hidden amongst lots’o’junk, I saw it. The PERFECT white elephant gift. A HUGE figurine of a carousel horse, I’m talking at least 3 feet tall and 3 feet wide. It was painted in pastel shades of pink and purple, had fake pearls stuck all over, glitter accents, tulle wrapped around the base and neck, and a fantastically shiny gold pole going up the middle, along with a gold horn on its head.

It. Was. Ugly.

And, because it was so huge, finding a way to wrap it that made it look like a nice gift proved difficult, I had to creatively tape boxes together before gingerly wrapping it up and topping it with the prettiest bow I could make.

The next day, I hauled it to the party, and placed it in the gift pile. I was beside myself with excitement to see who would be the lucky recipient. We drew numbers to see in what order we would pick (or steal) our gifts and the fun began. About mid-way through, someone finally picked my gift, opened it carefully, and looked shell-shocked when they realized what they had just received.

It. Was. Classic.

Then they wanted to know who in tarnation brought the gift and why.

I explained, through fits of giggles, that I spent hours at all the various junk stores and flea markets in town looking for the perfect white elephant gift, and when I saw the unicorn I had to have it – because it was just so ugly and no one would possibly want it. Just as I finish my explanation another co-worker excitedly pipes up and says, “My sister loves unicorns. She collects those figurines!! She’ll love it!” Inevitably she steals the white elephant gift to regift to her sister.

And me? 2 years later, I’m still working on pulling my foot out of my mouth…

Thank You

Posted on by Megan

Dear Faithful Blog Readers,

[all 3 of you]

In the spirit of Thanksgiving – thanks!

Thanks for falling for my shameless self-promotion via Twitter and Facebook. Thanks for reading my senseless southern ramblings. Thanks for commenting on, sharing, and retweeting posts you enjoyed.

Thanks for allowing me to be myself through my writing.

I can only hope that my blog provides you with a glimmer into my life as a mid-20s, born and bred, Razorback-obsessed, Southern gal, while educating you on the art of cheese dip, bringing a smile to your face, and, above all, giving you a laugh when you need it most.

Thanks for your loyalty. Because of you, in just 11 short months, my lil’ old blog has had 2,213 hits.

I guess you really do like me!

 

 

 

Confessions of a Real Housewives Addict

Posted on by Megan

Full disclosure?

I’m addicted to the Real Housewives franchise of reality television.

As in, you say Orange County and I still shed a tear over the breakup of Jo and Slade. New York City? I immediately think of the crazy catwalk Ramona did in a fashion show. Atlanta? I think of the dysfunctional relationship of Kim and Big Poppa. New Jersey? Someone needs to get Danielle a straight jacket. Beverly Hills? The home of $60,000 children’s birthday parties. D.C? The party-crashing Salahis.

This obsession for the RH franchise is pointless, but it’s like a trainwreck, I. Can’t. Stop. Watching. Unfortunately, the effects of RH last much longer than the 1 or 2 hours it’s on each week. Take, for instance, this summer when my family drove through Georgia en route to Kiawah Island, South Carolina. We pass through Atlanta and the only thing that goes through my head is Don’t be Tardy for the Party.

Apparently, the trend for Real Housewives turned [bad] singers has continued. Countess LuAnn, from New York City, released Money Can’t Buy You Class this spring and Danielle, from New Jersey, released a collaboration with Lori Michaels aptly titled Real Close this summer. Fortunately, though not all the housewives are wannabe recording artists. Kandi, from Atlanta, was a member of the group of Xscape and is a Grammy-award winning singer/songwriter. She released Fly Above last fall. So there is some street cred mixed in.

But it’s not just my music collection that’s seen the effects of RH…

This obsession has also influenced what comes out of my kitchen, thanks to the Skinny Italian cookbook by Teresa Giudice, from New Jersey. While she’s most notably known for table-flipping in the general direction of Danielle and shoving Andy Cohen down during the reunion special this past season, she’s also a “writer”. Who knew?

I picked up the cookbook during a regular Barnes & Noble browse with Adam as a joke, just to make him uncomfortable as we meandered around the store. Then, I started looking through the recipes. Oh, the recipes. My mouth was literally watering as I read through the ingredients for each dish. I was all “Adam! Look at this!”, “This sounds amazing!”, “OMG I HAVE to make THIS!”. Begrudgingly he took a look, and, to my surprise, said “That does sound good!”

Of course, then I HAD to buy the cookbook and I’m so glad I did. So far I’ve made 3 dishes/sauces from it and all of them have been exceptional, but my favorite is the Arrabbiata (or Angry Sauce) for pasta.  It’s spicy, but not light your tongue on fire. It’s got a great flavor depth to it and tastes even better the next day as leftovers.

Arrabbiata Sauce
from Skinny Italian

Ingredients

  • 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/2 medium onion, chopped
  • 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  • 1 tsp crushed red pepper
  • 3 1/2 cups Basic Tomato Sauce (recipe below)
  • 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
  • 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

Directions

  1. Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat.
  2. Add onion and garlic and cook until the onion is translucent. About 5 minutes.
  3. Stir in red pepper.
  4. Stir in Basic Tomato Sauce, lemon juice, and pepper.
  5. Bring to simmer.
  6. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, uncovered, until lightly thickened. About 15 minutes.
  7. Simmer up to 40 minutes, the longer it simmers the hotter the sauce.
  8. Stir in parsley just before serving.

Yield: approximately 3 3/4 cups, enough for 1 lb pasta

Basic Tomato Sauce
from Skinny Italian

Ingredients

  • 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  • 28 oz can of tomatoes, crushed or diced in their juices
  • 1/4 cup tomato paste
  • 2 tbsp fresh chopped basil

Directions

  1. Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat.
  2. Add tomatoes and tomato paste. Bring to a boil.
  3. Reduce heat to medium-low and add basil.
  4. Simmer for about 10 minutes to blend the flavors.

Yield: approximately 3 1/2 cups, enough for 1 lb pasta

Give Thanks!

Posted on by Megan

Turkey-induced comas.

Seconds [and thirds] of a bubbling hashbrown casserole.

Buttery rolls.

Pumpkin Pie.

Pecan Pie.

Apple Pie.

Thanksgiving is upon us and I can’t be happier. Surprising as it may sound, it’s not the food that I look forward to most about Thanksgiving, it’s the time spent with family and friends. The time after the paper plates are put in the trashcan (Don’t judge, we have about half as many dishes to wash compared to you because of this), when everyone is recovering from a meal filled with boisterous laughter and staring in silence at a table covered in shellacked decorative vegetables.

It’s this time when everyone is quiet and together that I value the most. Even though our quiet time together may not last long and there’s still games to be played, it’s at this moment every year when I realize just how lucky I am. I have a family who loves and supports me and friends who laugh with [and at] me. I have a belly full of good home cooking and a smile on my face. I wish we could all be so lucky.

There’s a tradition in my family every Thanksgiving, and I’m sure it’s common among other families, where we go around the table and say what we are thankful for. What great perspective it gives us every year, to remove ourselves from the hustle and bustle of our busy lives and just give thanks. It’s magical.

One year [though no one else in my family remembers this, so who knows if it actually happened or if I had a random dream that I confused with reality] someone went above and beyond the typical “I’m thankful for_____” after dinner spiel.

We received a thank you card in the mail. This wasn’t just your run of the mill “Thank you for ____ gift/gesture” card; it was a card thanking us for everything we had done in the last year that had impacted this person. From a smile or hug to a gift and everything in between. Everything they could think of to give thanks that year involving us was meticulously written in the card. I don’t even remember if they sent this card at Thanksgiving or some other time during the year, but it left a lasting impression on a middle school-aged me.

Imagine what the world would be like if we all had time to send a “Thank You” card to our nearest and dearest thanking them for everything they did for us in the last year.

True Life: Procrastinating Grad Student

Posted on by Megan

I came across a post I wrote several years ago for a short-lived collaborative blog with some friends. I’m now in my fourth semester of grad school (I took a break after my first semester to figure out what degree I really wanted) and while now it’s more DVR and needlework distractions than construction projects, apparently I’ll never learn NOT to procrastinate…

{Comments in brackets are my additional thoughts, 3 years later}

As most of you know, I began graduate school this semester and I’ve noticed some things about me and school have not changed. I still thoroughly enjoy procrastinating and the [seemingly] free time it affords me. Here’s a glimpse into one such night:

Monday night, 6pm: Opening the door to my apartment trying to remember what TV shows premiere that night. Oh yes, Chuck…AND The Bachelor…AND Dancing With the Stars. Awesome! I can get my reading done for class tomorrow during the commercial breaks and still enjoy the shows.

{I have no idea how I managed without a DVR back then. PS: I only watched Dancing With The Stars that season because I had recently purchased the show’s first workout DVD and was a bit smitten with Maks}

8pm: Chuck ends, first episode was really good…I might have to add this to my weekly lineup.

{Chuck didn’t stay in my lineup for long}

[hand drops highlighter, picks up remote, and clicks over to ABC for the end of Dancing With the Stars] Since I haven’t fully entered the 21st century yet I have to watch the shows live, gasp, I have no DVR. So sue me. I pick up my computer off my coffee cubes [not to be confused with coffee table] and begin to surf the internet. I needed a study break anyway.

{Still have the coffee cubes, still use the computer, now a MacBook, while I’m watching TV}

8:15 pm: What was it that I told Mom I needed this weekend? Oh yes, that’s right a black bookshelf, preferably one of those nifty little leaning ladder ones, to put in my bedroom. [fingers type walmart.com in FireFox] YES!!!! Wal-Mart has one for $39.99, perfect!!!! [fingers type bank’s URL to check balance] YES!!!!! I have money, I can go buy the bookshelf. [Body proceeds to get up off the couch and walk toward the door, purse and keys in hand]

{Now, it’s been 2 years, at least, since I’ve shopped in a Wal-Mart}

8:25 pm: I pull into Wal-Mart’s parking lot and head towards the furniture, pushing my buggy as I go. Dang! That bookshelf isn’t at this Wal-Mart. Determined to find something I like I press on.

8:40 pm: Find another bookshelf on sale for $20. [SALE = music to my ears] I embark on hoisting the 75 lb box into my cart by myself. Phew. Now I just have to get it into my car.

8:50 pm: Pull into my Apartment Complex and begin to pull 75 lb box towards my apartment door.

8:51 pm: [after getting 3 feet closer to my apt from my car] pant, pant, pant. Why did I think this was a good idea?

8:55 pm: Sigh. How in the Samhill am I gonna get this 75 lb box upstairs to my apartment by myself?

8:57 pm: Nice neighbor boy sees me struggling from his balcony and offers to help. Thank you Lord.

9:00 pm: Bookshelf is finally in my apartment. Construction commences!

9:20 pm: I’ve unloaded all pieces on top of my bed and begin to hammer and screw away until this monstrosity is complete.

9:25 pm: Why?!!?!?!!??!?!?!!?

9:40 pm: Bottom half is completed. Top half is gonna be a booger.

9:50 pm: Why?!!?!?!!??!?!?!!?

10:25 pm: Top half is attached to bottom half and now I have to turn the bookshelf over and attach the back.

10:27 pm: The pieces aren’t even…they don’t match up…argh. Maybe if I flip them around a bit…no…ARGH!!!!!!

{This reminds me of a similar construction project I embarked on with my friend Mandy. It involved a coffee table from IKEA and, 3 months later, it still has no drawers}

10:30 pm: Why do I have to put the back pieces on crooked? I hope this doesn’t look tacky when I’m done.

10:40 pm: 40 long minutes, a crooked back, and a small section of damaged drywall later the bookshelf is in place!

10:45 pm: Is this bookshelf crooked?!?!? DANG! I’m not taking it apart, it’s gonna have to do.

11:00 pm: OH CRAP!!!!! I had 50 pages left to read for class tomorrow….

{Back then, I actually had classes in a classroom. Now, thanks to the wonders of technology, I take all my classes online. It’s a sweet deal}

Tuesday Morning, 12:05 AM: Screw this [no pun intended], I’ve got to get up for work in 6 hours, I’m so done with reading. [arm reaches to turn off light] I’m sound asleep in 10 minutes.

So I ask you, why did I think that at 8:30 buying and constructing a bookshelf sounded like a good idea?

Oh, yeah! Because it was better than reading my graduate school articles.

Why I love to hate the Longhorns

Posted on by Megan

[or: Why you should never skimp on a statue budget]

Saturday night my dear friend Sarah IM’d me about a certain sports discussion board thread had gained her attention for over an hour.

Over an hour? Really?

I needed such a distraction because Adam had just left on a Transatlantic flight to Ireland and my thoughts have been known to go to the worst possible scenario when I have nothing else to think about. Plus there was this thing called grad school that I’ve been known to procrastinate. So with just over an hour until the Razorbacks schooled the Gamecocks, I clicked. And oh how happy I was that I did, because you just can’t make this crap up.

First, Sarah directed me to this: New Longhorns Legend Walk

Basically, directly behind University of Texas Co-Op a Legends Walk of the most legendary Longhorn athletes has been constructed.

Sounds grand enough, right?

Upon closer inspection you’ll notice that (based on the sport)  every. single. statue. is exactly the same, except for skin color. Same facial features even. And if you’re a basketball legend you’re lucky enough to look somewhat like Michael Jordan, and, in some cases, a white Michael Jordan. Or, if you’re lucky enough you might even get a wig! I mean, how awesome is THAT?

The discussion board thread that stole her attention for over an hour can be found here: UT Football, Basketball, Baseball & Golf statues behind Co-op

As you scroll through the 20 some odd pages you’ll see that people started creating Photoshop mashups of the statues in various scenarios, which got our wheels turning. Sarah and I started thinking of movie scenes, posters and pictures to put the statues in. I’d surprise her with a few ideas of my own and email my photoshopped masterpiece to her or she’d send me a picture link and I’d get to work on it, since she didn’t have Photoshop.

We continued this exercise all through the second half of the Razorback game and came up with what we thought were genius ideas. So genius in fact, that we found a similar thread on WooPig.net to post our creations on.

It’s possible that you don’t visit WooPig.net, or are too lazy to click through and find these lovely masterpieces. I totally understand, because who has time to find and read random sports discussion boards? Apparently Sarah and I do.

These Photoshop masterpieces deserve to be shared with the Interwebs.

At least in our opinion they do.

Before I share these, I need to say thanks to the UT Co-Op:

Thanks for funding the most hideous statues in the history of sports statues. This Hog fan sure loves an excuse to laugh at your expense. And yes, I’m fully aware the SWC no longer exists, but my parents raised me right.

OMG that there twister's gonna git me!!!

 

Run Away!

 

Why so serious?

 

Save me! Nutt's a'gonna git me.

Happy Halloween

Posted on by Megan

Confession: I’m not really a big Halloween fan. Mainly because I absolutely despise scary movies. Take for example the fact that Scream and Scary Movie (the movie that parodies scary movies) scare me. The whole obsession with horrifying ghouls and goblins and paranormal activity and haunted houses is lost on me. So yeah, I’m a wuss.

Since I am a past costume winner at the First United Methodist Church in my hometown [I dressed as a rockstar, complete with metallic Tina Turner-esque hair], I do enjoy the idea of dressing up as someone else. I just prefer that costumes involve cheerleaders, raggedy Anns, clowns, and ballerina princesses – not blood, ghosts, guts, or masks.

I like the Halloween innocence of bobbing for apples and participating in cake walks. I also enjoy pranks, as long as they aren’t played on me or, if they are played on me, don’t prey on my phobia of snakes or give me nightmares.

When you’re raised in a large 100-year old Victorian home it just seems to make Halloween easier to celebrate. The large front porch, the windows that sometimes rattled in the wind, occasional creaks when a door was opened…I’m sure it’s a Halloween enthusiast’s dream. I remember years of my dad putting on scary masks [somehow, when he put them on it wasn’t much different than his normal appearance. I kid. I kid.] and handing out treats while my mom had a spooky Halloween cassette tape playing for added effect. Later, they got even more into it, with jack-o-lanterns on the steps and spider webs stretched over the door frame. But, I think my favorite Halloween memory is the year my dad rigged up a ghost, which my mom had made from a white sheet and newspaper, with fishing line to mysteriously raise up in front of trick-or-treaters when my masked 6’8″ dad opened the spider webbed door.

That year? One kid was so scared he bolted off the front porch, through the yard, and back to his parents’ car. Without getting any candy.

Don’t Worry. Be Happy!

Posted on by Megan

There are constants in life that everyone, in one way or another, can say make them happy. Family. Significant Other. Friends. Co-Workers. Home. Those are the normal day to day things that always make me happy, but what about the not-so-normal things? The things that you take for granted or further explain why you are the way you are? Here’s 10 things that make me happy:

iPhone
It connects me with the world, specifically friends and family, on a daily basis. Shopping alone and need advice about whether to buy something? Send a text to a friend. Miss your long-distance boyfriend? Call him. Visiting home where your parents have disabled the Internet? Thank God for the connectivity. In short, my iPhone keeps me sane and keeps me happy.

Sara Lee Pound Cake
Growing up, I remember occasionally finding this delicious food in my parents’ freezer and feeling like I had hit the jackpot. Something about the slices of moist, buttery goodness, straight from the freezer gives me comfort. And don’t even get me started on scraping the foil pan once all the cake is gone… It’s a rare treat, but one I’m happy to indulge in once or twice a year.

Sweet Tea
I’m a southern girl through and through. What’s more southern that a tall glass of Sweet Tea? Nothing. Now, if only I had a porch swing…

The Cuddler
My dad is like any other dad, his gifts are always practical. I’ve received financial self-help/guidance books, eye glass cleaning kits, and illustrated stock market guides over my 26 years, but the gift that I love the most from him is this fleece blanket. It’s pre-Snuggie construction, providing a pocket for your feet, is long enough for 6’2″ me to stretch out on the couch and STILL be covered shoulder to feet in its warmth.

Jazzercise
I never imagined I’d become one of those people that would NEED exercise or miss it when they couldn’t attend. But in the last year, I have and it’s all because of Jazzercise. It’s provided me with stress relief, laughter, and, above all, strength.

Needlepoint
Needlepoint connects me to my past, reminds me of childhood weekends spent watching The Sound of Music at Ottie’s house while she made needlepoint stockings for new grandchildren. It calms me, clears my head, and gives me control for a brief moment in time. Simply put, it centers me.

My Apron
It hangs prominently in my kitchen and as soon as I put it on I feel like an Anthropologie wearing Julia Child. It’s been worn through countless batches of Crack Cookies, Peanut Butter Oreo Pie, and Creme de Menthe Brownies. Through Bruschetta, Chili, and Israeli Spice Chicken. And sometimes, I forget I’m in my apartment in Central Arkansas and pretend I have my own show on Food Network.

Wait, I probably shouldn’t have said that last part. Forget I ever told you.

Music
6524 songs. That’s my collection. Each song put there for a reason, even if the reason escapes me when the song plays for the first time in several years. Music makes me smile, distracts me when I’m working on busy graduate school work, and gives me a beat to which I can bop my head.

Not that I would EVER bop my head.

DVR
My DVR is one of the only things, human or otherwise, I have been able to count on consistently. When I turn it on I know it will answer and won’t ignore me, no matter the time of day. It is always available to me, even in the worst of times. It is programmed to know what I want and desire, and knowing those wants and desires are only a click away makes me happy.

Pictures
They give me a glimpse into my past, support that spark of recollection I have about a certain experience. They tell MY story. Knowing that story is available to me whenever I feel nostalgic makes me so incredibly happy.

Do You Wanna Dance?

Posted on by Megan

Middle School.

The most awkward period of everyone’s life. Marred by the burning desire to fit in and sit with the cool kids; the desire to please your parents, but be accepted by your peers. Easier said than done.

For example, take the 5th grade Christmas dance, where I decided it would be most appropriate to wear a sparkly gold sweater and velvet stirrup pants. Complete with matching purse and choker. Add to that my mom’s obsession of steam rollers, teasing, and hairspray and you got this…

I thought I was stylin’ and that all the girls would ask me for fashion advice. Looking back, I was clearly mistaken.

Then picture that awkward, skinny, towering 11 year old version of me dying for the chance to dance with a boy. ANY boy. Instead of sitting on the sidelines watching every other girl dance only joining in when the Electric Slide or Macarena played. I was so desperate, in fact, that I decided to chase a boy around the dance floor until he agreed to dance with me. Yes, you read right. I CHASED him around the dance floor, in front of teachers, classmates, parents, and the DJ.

Not my proudest moment.

Rotary Phone

E.T. [can’t] Phone Home…

Posted on by Megan

Rotary Phone

When I was 4, I was put in the corner at The Learning Corner for not knowing my home phone number and while I don’t remember the actual events of the evening that followed, you can bet my mom [or maybe my dad] helped me memorize our number so that the next day I could proudly recite it.

Years passed and our  number was written on countless school permission slips, emergency contact forms, doctor’s files, college applications, and summer camp forms. There’s no telling how many times I’ve written my home phone number down. Later, after the advent of “Zack Morris phones”, I received my first cell phone and stored the number simply as “Home”. I placed it at speed dial #5, always knowing Home was just a press away.

My first year at college there were innumerable calls to that number, then as the popularity of cellular devices increased, my parents “joined the bandwagon” and their individual cell numbers became my preferred method of reaching them. I never stopped calling “Home” though, nor did I stop writing it on contact forms. It always stayed one key press away.

In December of 2008, my parents disconnected their landline. To them it was no big thing, but to my sister and me it was huge. Even though we have a home to go back and visit and “Mom” and “Dad” on speed dial, neither one of us can remove “Home” from our phonebook. Because, if we do, we’d be “Home”less.

Isn’t it funny that a number I was once punished for not knowing, is a number that I no longer have to know?

image via splityarn on flickr

Life List

Posted on by Megan

In my blog-stalking, I’ve recently noticed lots of “life list” posts or blogs and thought I should get on the bandwagon. One, because it’s probably a good idea to think about what I want to accomplish in this life. Two, because it’s a whole heck of a lot of fun to dream, isn’t it?

So, following in the footsteps of Walking the Long Road, Damn You, Little Rock and If You Ask Me here’s my life list.

  1. Go back to Prague and come home with crystal.
  2. Flip a house.
  3. Take a cruise in the Mediterranean.
  4. Gamble in Vegas (and maybe even win big).
  5. Buy a house and make it a home.
  6. Adopt a dog. [If it’s a Corgi name it Radar.]
  7. Read more classic literature.
  8. Watch all of Julie Andrews’ movies.
  9. Take the Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, Austria.
  10. Take my parents on a vacation.
  11. Trace my family genealogy.
  12. Make homemade ice cream by myself.
  13. Own a paperie.
  14. Take an autumnal trip through the New England states.
  15. Relearn how to throw pottery. [I was in elementary school the first time. Does that even count?]
  16. Travel abroad with Adam.
  17. Write a novel.
  18. Get aforementioned novel published.
  19. Visit Paris.
  20. Sit and sip in a Parisian Cafe.
  21. Win the lottery.
  22. Learn to surf.
  23. Visit all 50 states.
  24. Take a road trip through Tuscany.
  25. Have a street named after me (even if it’s just my driveway).
  26. Get my M.Ed.
  27. Update my blog on a regular basis.
  28. Resist the urge to change my blog address again.
  29. Visit the Storm King Art Center.
  30. Broaden my culinary horizons (aka find more foods I like).
  31. Learn to tat.
  32. Learn to crochet.
  33. Carry on the tradition of my Great-Aunt Lila and Great-Grandmother Mama Ward’s handmade snowflakes.
  34. Host Thanksgiving dinner for my entire family.
  35. Buy a real ironing board.
  36. Actually iron.
  37. Make fresh pasta.
  38. Get married. [once]
  39. Become a mother.
  40. Adopt a child.
  41. Find the most ridiculous items possible in a Dollar Store and share them with the world.
  42. Meet Meryl Streep.
  43. Go to the Ellen Show.
  44. Go snow-skiing in Colorado again.
  45. Volunteer with Ozark Mission Project.
  46. Grow a succulent garden.
  47. Attend the Olympics.
  48. Be an Olympic athlete. In curling.
  49. Go to the Oscars.
  50. Go to Wimbledon.
  51. Bowl a perfect game.
  52. Create a signature dish.
  53. Visit Nantucket.
Free graphics found on pugly pixel. Personalized by me.

Road Wars

Posted on by Megan

This morning I risked my life for a bagel.

I woke up craving the cinnamon-y, sugar-y deliciousness of a Panera Bread Cinnamon Crunch Bagel. I got ready in record time – for a Monday – hopped in my car and headed to Panera.

Panera is relatively new in Conway and in a new development of both residential and commerical properties. [Which, by the way, is quite possibly the cutest little neighborhood I’ve ever seen.] This development has sparked the installation of some roundabouts and due to those roundabouts there is understandably some construction to navigate through. I’m okay with that, as normally it doesn’t cause that big of a delay.

But today, this is what I encountered as I approached my turn:

What you are looking at is a roundabout where the middle is blocked, making it impossible to make my left-hand turn to get to Panera. [Also notice there’s a curbed grassy median preventing me from just making my own turn lane]

Frustrated, I continued to drive a bit further as there is a second roundabout just up the road, it’s also new. Unfortunately, that roundabout was similarly blocked preventing me from making a U-turn.

This would be where I developed road Tourette’s.

I was bound and determined to make that left-hand turn and buy a bagel, so at the first opportunity I had where there was no longer a grassy median blocking me, I made a U-turn through an opening in the traffic barrels and into oncoming traffic narrowly avoiding a collision, but also starting a trend of 6 other cars making the same manuever.

I got skills. And I know how to use them.

At lunch I risked my life for a salad.

Now that my favorite Little Rock restaurant has opened a location in Conway, it’s pretty much become my regular lunch spot. To get there I take a series of side streets from work to get back to the aforementioned cluster-*bleep*. You’d think, since I’m making only right-hand turns this time it would be a breeze to get to ZAZA.

Well, you’d be mistaken, because this is what that same area looked like at lunch:

This time, the entire northbound road is blocked off. Not only that, what you don’t see is the madness I had to get through just to get on the road. The last 20 feet or so of the side-street I took was blocked off and had detour signs up. What these detour signs didn’t tell you, until it was too late, is that you were being taken to a coned off area that was running out of road; where making a right hand turn was virtually impossible given how close the cones were together and the narrow lanes of two-way traffic you would have to fight. You also had no option of backing up and turning around, because there was a line of cars in the same predicament as you.

As soon as I could make a left-hand turn, as it was much easier to make than a right, I bolted into the traffic then quickly made another left into a parking lot so I could finish my U-turn. And, wouldn’t you know it, I started a trend yet again. Skills.

I’m giving myself an imaginary pat on the back for being so resourceful when faced with adversity when I realize that the entire half of the roundabout I need to drive through to get to ZAZA is blocked. I do a quick scan for construction workers and equipment, of which there  is NONE, and bolt through a gap in the barrels just large enough for my car to fit through.

Which brings me to this question:

Seriously, “road people”. What possessed you to block the ONLY entrance to 2 of the newest hotspots in town with construction? Is it to test my analytical thinking skills? Is it a subtle hint that I don’t need to eat a bagel? No? Well then, maybe it’s your way of really testing my patience first thing on a Monday? Either way I deserve an explanation. stat.

Sunday Shares

Posted on by Megan

I was in a Cheese Dip Coma for most of Saturday, because I became a card carrying member of the Southern Cheese Dip Academy. Yep, that’s right, the Southern Cheese Dip Academy. It’s quite possibly my proudest achievement to date.

Even if I had to buy my way in.

This Cheese Dip Coma lasted into Sunday, but because Adam had to head back to Austin early this morning (9:30 is early for a Sunday, right?), I got an early start on Grad School work, in turn providing me with ample blog-stalking and random Internet-browsing time this afternoon. As a favor to my blog readers, all 10 of you (and that’s being generous) here’s a few sites worth sharing.

  • Bank Drive-Thrus – The Perfect Place To Needlepoint! – Noelle is a new IRL [In Real Life] friend that I found through Twitter over a year ago. In this post, she may or may not talk about me and the opening of the new Little Rock Anthropologie store. In reading this post, I may or may not have laughed like a hyena.
  • Recycled Magazine Flower Tutorial – This may be the cutest idea ever for old magazines. After Adam had the audacity to walk over to my side of the bed this weekend and then point out the amount of magazines strewn on the floor, it might be in my best interest to do something with them.
  • Unsuck It – Are you stuck in a corporate job with co-workers that use annoying buzz words as often as possible? This is the site for you.
  • Pugly Pixel – Graphics geeks like me will LOVE the free resources available to them on this blog. What are you waiting for? Go!