Guess what? I'm FULL

Can you hear it? Shh. That- there, the faint whispering. That's right, it's the sound of bargain shoppers everywhere mopping up there piles of drool while they pore over the ads for this weekend. BLACK FRIDAY IS UPON US, MY FRIENDS, and like a soldier headed into battle, I am prepared for the greatest holiday of the year, just four short days away. Ahhh bliss.

I honestly don't know which I'm more excited for- Black Friday, or having my whole family here for Thanksgiving. Ah, who am I kidding, we all know the answer to that.

But I truly am excited to host my mom, dad, brothers, and Meg in my home-away-from-hometown. Except I'm not really hosting because we're actually staying at a house in the mountains, and my mom is bringing enough food to keep a ten-person family full from now until Christmas.

That's the problem with my mom and me, we're both 'hosters'. I am exactly like my mother in a frightening number of ways, including but not limited to: our penchant for sobbing at episodes of Extreme Makeover Home Edition, our love of a good bargain, and keeping snacks in our purse. I have been buying/cooking/baking like a madwoman the past few days, certain that the only thing standing in the way of lasting happiness for our family this Thanksgiving is 12 boxes of wheat thins and more varieties of cookies than Mrs. Fields has to offer.

Unfortunately, mi madre is doing the exact same thing, except to an even greater extent because she has some 30+ years experience on me. We've been firing emails back and forth for weeks with menu plans, ingredients stocked, food ideas, etc.

Luckily, I am physically, mentally, and emotionally prepared for Thanksgiving Fiesta 2009, as we pre-gamed it at Craig's last night with a ham dinner set on an air hockey table covered in a 'tablecloth' of a fitted sheet. Bachelors. Despite the somewhat, er, un-traditional setting, we had some AMAZING food and we all stuffed ourselves. Sarah, Margaret and I all came home and totally coma-d out at 10 pm.

So, my stomach is now ready for multiple varieties of banana breads, cornbread stuffing, and a liter or two of wine. Happy Thanksgiving, Internet. May your turkey be plentiful.

Playing Anthropologist

Last night, Alycia and I, both northerners by birth, played the Jane Goodall of the south, and slipped on down to the Blind Horse Saloon for their songwriters showcase concert. When Alycia emailed me about the show last week, I assumed it was going to feature a few local bands, since the tickets were FREE.

Uh, not quite- turned out to be Josh Turner, Kellie Pickler, Bucky Covington, and Joe Nichols. They were all AWESOME live and we had a blast, even though there were some 1400 people packed into a slightly oversized bar, and the tallest woman in the human race was, of course, standing directly in front of us. Get to the back, Amazon woman. You look better in me than jeans, I should get front row privileges. Trade-offs.

Some thoughts, post concert:

• I've always acknowledged that Josh Turner is attractive, but up close and personal, he is SO. CUTE. And his voice- ahhhh. It reminds me of a certain extremely tall, deep-voiced, old camp friend of mine that I used to drool over every time he sang. There's just something about a man with a baritone- I'm a total sucker.
• Kellie Pickler has some anger issues she needs to work on, I think. I realized that most/all of her songs have to do with revenge on ex-boyfriends. "Red High Heels" - about going out all skanked up to show the ex what he's missing, "Best Days of Your Life" - the 'you may have a new girlfriend now but you spent your youth with me and you can never get that back muahahaha' song, and perhaps the creepiest of all "Rocks Instead of Rice" - about crashing her ex-boyfriend's wedding and wishing she could throw rocks at them instead of the more traditional rice. On one hand, I say "PREACH, girlfriend. I feel ya." but on the other hand, maybe look into some therapy sessions, Kellie. You can afford it now.
• Am I the only one who thinks the name 'Bucky Covington' sounds like a rip-off of Billy Currington? It's like the name you would use for a really bad cover-up, like if Billy was trying to get advice from someone- "See I've got this friend, let's call him, uh, Bucky Covington. Yeah, that's right. And see, this "friend" has a huge crush on a girl..." Don't they make stars change their names all the time? Wouldn't you think Bucky would fall into this category? Also, as Alycia pointed out, with names like 'Bucky' and 'Rocky' (his twin brother- I'm not kidding), life doesn't really set you up with a lot of options. It's pretty much either car maintenance or country music. You don't meet a lot of bankers by the name of Bucky.
• Joe Nichols was just plain good. He has a normal name, he's moderately attractive but nothing to write home about, and his songs don't suggest the need for intensive counseling, so what else it there to say? Sing on, Joe, sing on.

With drinks under $5, it was all-around a great evening- the fact that we almost got involved in a brawl on the dance floor was just icing on the cake.

Blitzkrieged at Sabroso: An International Affair

Saturday morning is far and away my favorite time of the week. There is nothing like waking up a little 'late' (around 9 am) and spending the subsequent hours drinking coffee, cleaning and reading lazily. This particular Saturday morning is a gorgeous one and I feel sorry for all those who, whether by geographic placement or sleep patterns, are not getting to enjoy it as I am now.

Last night, Sarah, V and I quenched our Mexican cravings at Sabroso, which ended up being really good except for two minor, er, incidents. We got there around 8 and toward the end of the meal, they were already vacuuming around our table and putting chairs up. Um... what? This was not the Country Cafe we were dining at- it was a full-fledged Mexican restaurant... on a Friday night. Do you really shut down at 9pm?

Secondly, as we sat there post-meal, letting our food (and drinks) digest, our waiter came up and asked how we had liked our margaritas. We responded that they were quite good, and with an impish smile he said "How about some shots, eh? Shots on the casa?" We politely declined (however counter-nature it was for me to turn down free alcohol), explaining that we were sobering up for the drive home. His smile grew as he said "I have a car outside- I drive you home!"

We left very shortly after that and as we were getting into the car, I asked my companions, "Just to be clear, that guy did just try to get us drunk and take us home in his sketch-mobile, right?" They confirmed the events that had just conspired and we took off for Barnes and Noble, which apparently stays open later than the fine dining establishments of the south-of-the-border variety in this town, and soaked up the literary goodness for the remainder of the evening.

The most hilarious book I stumbled upon was Drunk, an illustrated dictionary containing some 3000 synonyms for the title term, my favorite being the classic 'blitzkrieged'. Not sure how a military term from one of the most horrific wars of our time came to describe the state of being saturated with drink, but the German in me likes it.

Wined and dined. Mostly wined

For some reason, I've been on a major Disney music kick at work lately. It's got me really craving a good Disney flick, so I may have to remedy that with a little Mulan or Hercules this weekend. Or Moulin Rouge. Really, I just want to watch copious amounts of singing and dancing. Is that so wrong? Millions of Glee viewers would say no.

Busy week. My eighth-graders are getting confirmed tonight and I know I'm going to cry. We had rehearsal for them on Tuesday night and I had a total 'mom' moment (to add to the hundreds already in my holster. If I ever write a memoir, it's going to be called "You look like a mom: My life as a twenties-something"). One of my girls is carrying up the gifts and I asked her if she was doing it alone. She replied that she wasn't, pointed to a boy in the pew behind us and said "he's taking them up with me. But I don't know him." And I found myself, as though having an out-of-body experience, reaching over and tapping on the young boy's shoulder, asking his name. "Uh, Brendan" he told me with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Well Brendan" I said, "This is Victoria. You two are taking up the gifts together." I turned triumphantly back to Victoria, who greeted me with a look that was a mixture of horror and gratitude (he was a cutie) and it was at that moment I realized I am 45 years old.

If my mom or dad ever did that to me, and trust me, I am not short on those experiences, I would cut off all communication to them for... well a long, long time. I am so far removed from the awkwardness of 8th grade that I actually relish in embarrassing them beyond recovery. It's times like these that get me pondering life's big questions, like "Who am I?", "Why am I here?" and "When am I going to start shopping exclusively at Christopher and Banks?" Time flies, my friends.

Speaking of friends (lame segue, I know), I spent last evening with a few of my favorites at Sassafras, who has half price bottles of wine on Wednesday nights. Um. Yeah. To the good people at Sassafras, I say: THANK YOU for combining what are possibly my two favorite things in the universe besides sandwiches- wine and bargains. It is indeed a joyous time in which two such wonderful and sacred things have occasion to overlap in the ven diagram that is my life.

But seriously, Sassafras, you have my heart, even if it does take me at least three tries to spell your name correctly. We had this fantastic red zindandel (Who knew that was a thing? Certainly not the girl who frequents Green's Discount Beer and Wine) and we got the whole high-class experience, which we were totally not used to, a fact that became quite apparent when our server presented the bottle to Alycia and she was like "Uh...yeah. Looks good. Nice label."

We also shared their blue crab and pepperjack fondue nachos and a plate of fried green tomatoes. Have I ever mentioned that I love living in the south? They'll fry anything you can grow in a garden down here, and a lot of things you can't. It's a beautiful thing.

In any case, I'm pretty sure a tradition was born last night. Sassafras has a really neat atmosphere (it's in a converted church, and retains a lot of the original architecture, including stained glass windows) and I am pretty much powerless to resist the lure of a delicious $4 glass of wine and deep-fried vegetables. We will doubtless be back. Like maybe tomorrow. Like maybe tonight. Like maybe... er, gotta go.

Halloween Recap 2009

You know what they say... the more things change, the more they stay the same, right? Here's some Halloween-y proof for you.


I just can't decide which version of Minnie-me is cuter.

So, in the name of telling sick-ness to shove it, I had an extravaganza of a Halloween weekend, complete with two costumes, apple cider, and samples of pumpkin spice coffee from the Harry and David Outlet in Gaffney. And speaking of pumpkins, how cute is this one??


But all the disney-ness and adorable gourd-babies paled in comparison to my crowning achievement of the weekend: dressing up as Kanye to surprise Craig as Taylor Swift.


Let me tell you about what putting half a stick of eyeliner on your jawline will do for your feminine confidence. Pretty much nothing.

In any case, I'm feeling much better, so maybe there was something in the facial hair. But probably it had more to do with the 8 consecutive hours of nothing-ness I did on Sunday. It's days like that where I still relish in being out of school. No catching up on studying Sunday nights for me! Thank God for adulthood...