St. Patty's Day Pics

We went out for an after school/work cocktail to celebrate all of that green nonsense yesterday. I insisted that we get photos of our green attire. T looks so sweet-

until he took these. These are "in preparation" shots for me to get ready for my photo.

I'm taking off my sweatshirt...

I'm sitting all erect...

I'm showing off my whale sized blow holes and a clavicle that will cut your finger off.

I shan't include the "good" picture. It wasn't any better. I chided him telling him these photos were supposed to be for the blog, my online attempt to always look fashionable and cool. I think I've been quite successful with that endeavor, right? I mean, I post pictures like these.

San Juan, here we come!

I am a very happy girlie today. Trinity and I booked our little week long vacation this summer to celebrate one year of marriage. I suggested a trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico. He actually went for it!

I have been there. I traveled there with my original true love, C. Lo, back in August, 2008.

I am now returning there with my current true love, Sweet T.

I got a recommendation to stay at La Concha from the lovely Jessie @

www.gimleteyed.blogspot.com

She went to Puerto Rico on her babymoon.

Here are some lovely photos, courtesy of Travelocity.com

I did some research on the resort and found that it was featured in Architectural Digest. I grew up around this magazine, since my Nanny had a subscription and I always loved looking at the pictures of beautiful homes and places to visit. Nanny would have approved. After reading this article, I was sold!

La Concha Revival Hotels: architecturaldigest.com

An Indy Experience

Saturday was a beautiful day here in Naptown, the first sunny day in quite a long time. T and I embarked on an adventure. We started our morning at Midland Arts and Antiques, one of my favorite spots. He had never been there, and I have been numerous times to just wander. It is right downtown, and they have tons and tons of random antiques that I find fascinating. I love rhinestone jewelry and furniture from the 40's and 50's. Odd side note. There was a guy with what my sniffer detected to be a Starbuck's Chai Tea Latte. I may have followed him around a few kiosks inhaling deeply. This fact can neither be confirmed nor denied.

We then headed to Goose the Market. If you visit Indy, I highly recommend it. If you live here and haven't been there, then you're an idiot. Seriously, I die each visit. They make the most delicious gourmet sandwiches. It's really more like a market with top notch meats and such, but they also have a deli too. We love "The Goose" sandwich. I order mine without the prosciutto. Avoiding pork helps me to avoid looking like the customer pictured below.

Oh, snap!

That's T's sandwich and overly sweet cherry cola.

This is my old school glass bottle Diet Coke. 8oz. Perfect size for me! Goose also sells these marvelous oatmeal cookies. They were formerly my dessert of choice at H2O sushi, but they sold the recipe to Goose. They are dense, divine and decadent. I have no more alliterative words to describe them. Oh, they are now digested.

I must credit Trinity for our next stop. I am normally the tour guide, as a resident of now 8 years. He found this lovely place. Garfield Park is located very close to our house. It is an Indy park, but also has an amazing conservatory!

Here I am in the sunken garden area. There are lots of fountains, and it is beautiful. The conservatory is behind me.

More gardens. It was kinda like Versailles, only cleaner.

I enjoyed the warmth of the conservatory and this waterfall over the Koi pond.

This tree flowers with a powder puff plant. What, Horton, what do you hear? Do you hear a Who? The Whos of Whoville? What? I explained all of this to T and tried to convince him that Cindi Lou-Who was living on that plant. He didn't buy it.

Oh, Monkey boy, you so funny!

Prepare yourself. We then spent our Saturday evening at the Shamrock and Roll, starring the Naptown Roller Girls! Don't f with those chicks!

This is an entirely new culture. There were lots of emo teens in the stands. It was pretty fascinating. The skaters are tough and they wear really bizarre outfits. Most of them were wearing my high school volleyball buns with ripped tights and roller skates. This was hard for me to stomach. They had names like Fonda Kiknbutz, Slammy Faye, and Kickabroad Crane. I enjoyed these clever monikers. I came up with "Betsy Bruiser-gets 'em, doesn't give 'em." T didn't think this would fly. I would not be a contender. I can't roller skate, plus aggression isn't my style. Neither are ripped panty hose and hot pants.

Oh, Easter Bunny

I have been willing the weather to turn warm. My Jedi mind powers have proven unsuccessful thus far. We have had tons of rain in the Hoosier state. I often ponder why I still live here, with the lack of overall excitement and not so great weather. Then I remember that in winter, Santa Claus lives close by, in the spring the Easter Bunny is a happy resident, and in June the birthday fairy visits.

Santa Claus/Easter Bunny/Birthday Fairy=Bob and Jane

My parental units living in close proximity equals joy for all. I submitted an idea for my Easter basket to my Mama Bunny earlier this week. Nothing too expensive, just a little fun. I sent her a message via Nordstrom asking for a little Philosophy Sugar Chick love. She responded with a very clever email.

"Didn't you know? The Easter bunny now sleeps next to you every night. This one is retired."

What?

Oh, now woe is me, peeps. That's a funny pun, sort of. Peeps, like the Easter candy! I hate those, by the way. Marshmallows suck, unless they are baked into Rice Krispie treats or are melted on a s'more of deliciousness.

I started making a list of things I'm currently stalking via the world wide web. My honey bunny can get some ideas, which I'm sure he will surely ignore.

How about these lovelies:

Tory Burch sunglasses

I will attempt to tell him the T stands for Trinity

sugary fabulousness that I don't have to eat

a new straw lid, as my husband calls hats

a flattering one piece bathing suit

I may be making the transition to a oner

I don't think I'm fat, just old

Lastly, a total random wish/desire that can't go into my Easter basket because it would just melt, proving that I'm an idiot and making a total mess.

Chick-fil-a Banana pudding milkshake

Seriously, why must you tantalize me with your clever cow advertisements, spicy chicken sandwiches and waffle fries? Now a banana pudding milkshake? I will be needing a miracle suit after all for the summer.

Jesus Over Starbucks

It's Lent, peeps. That cherished time of penance for Catholics the world over. We can load up on extra guilt during this particular time. Oh, I kid. Seriously, I've always enjoyed Lent, starting with ashes on my forehead and ending with Easter, a truly miraculous holiday. I always try to give something up that I deem particularly unnecessary, which is usually enjoyable. I've given up cursing, chocolate, Diet Coke, etc. A few years ago I gave up my Starbucks Chai tea lattes. I found this to be incredibly challenging. I'm embarrassed to admit that, but recognition is important in recovery.

I've decided to go down that road again this year. I've got a bad habit, peeps. We're talking about 3 lattes a week. That's about $10 weekly. I refuse to admit that I'm into the caffeine. I think it's more the taste. We'll go with that.

I've shared my Lenten promise with my BFF Marinda. You know her.

Here we are wearing our BFF necklaces. It's official.

Marinda and I engage in the practice of brutal honesty with each other. We often preface our possibly unkind comments with "I don't want to hurt your feelings but..." then all gloves are off. It's like they do in the South when women talk smack about each other. As long as you start with "bless her heart..." you can say evil things without the risk of being catty. Anyway, I though Marinda would support my love for Jesus. Ah, no. Her words were:

"I love you Bets, but please no. Keep your Starbucks."

But why, I implored!

"Well, last time, you were kinda mean for like 6 weeks."

I now have a new goal. I shan't drink Starbucks and I shall remain kind. At least as kind as I usually am, which might be more appropriately described as "civil."

I told my favorite drive thru barista, Darryl, about my plan. Now you know I'm serious. I told him to shout "Ye love Jesus" if I attempted to come through the drive thru.

Now let's just hope I don't look like this woman in 42 days.

* I googled horned woman and this is what I got. Freaky, right?

The Night the Hair Band Stole my Chair

Last night a group of friends headed out for a few drinks to celebrate Jenny's birthday. She teaches with me and just had a baby like 3 weeks ago. We went to Cheeseburger in Paradise and became acquainted with this band. I think I'm safe to say they were a "Hair Band."

My, my they were a hoot. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. The one on the right was a nice mix of Keith Richards and Slash. Blondie was a combo of, well, Blondie, David Bowie and Dana Carvey's Garth character.

He was feelin' it big time. We're talking eyes rolled back, pursed lips, swiveling hips, the whole shootin' match.

Our table of lovelies was located conveniently in front of the Bobby Lee band. We were like groupies, but I will henceforth refer to us as Bandaids.

Trinity was a big fan. I think he is reenacting Gene Simmons sans full Kiss makeup. Speaking of my husband, he decided to approach Blondie Big Hair during a set break, slip him a fiver, and ask him to serenade the birthday girl.

This is where things took a turn for the worse.

Happy Jenny. Jenny looks happy.

Still happy. Trinity did not catch the 30 seconds that transpired right before this shot was taken. I think it was because he was laughing too hard. Picture it-Sicily 1942. Actually rewind a few seconds and imagine this scene. Bowie from The Labyrinth approaches Jenny. I am sitting next to her. There is an empty chair right next to me. I stand up to move to the next empty chair to make room for the crooner. As I plunk my whole body weight down, the singing sensation steals my chair for himself. Big girl heads downtown fast. On her heiney. In front of the whole bar. This only added to the excitement. Little man with hips narrower than my 4 year old niece pulls me up. I'm not sure how that physically happened because I believe he weighed 98 lbs. My Diet Coke and Malibu rum softened the brunt of embarrassment and concrete floor.

As an apology, he then performed for me.

Yay!!!! My tailbone and I applaud your performance.

The Chieftains

The family welcomed March with a little Irish fun. iBob, aka my father, bought tickets for all of us to see The Chieftains in concert. The concert was at the auditorium at Indiana University, my former happy place. I wasn't familiar with this lively band. They've been together for almost 50 years and they play traditional Irish music. Dad told me that they even tour with Irish dancers.

I immediately hoped for Michael Flatley-

he wasn't part of the act.

I forced everyone to pose as we headed to our seats.

Grab the program and smile for posterity. He's getting very accustomed to this.

Now don't go thinking that Chip and Katie weren't included in this event. They were invited, and Dad bought them tickets too. Somehow those two didn't think a 2 hour concert was worth the 5 hour drive.

What does one do with two extra tickets to an Irish concert? We invite along Patrick and Judith, since they are totally Irish. At least Pat is. His name is crazy Irish. I won't say it, lest there be stalkers. It's as Irish as Patrick O'Reilly, or Patrick O'Malley, or Patrick O'Something. You get the idea.

Sadly, I didn't get any pictures of Pat and Judy. They got raucous. They were clapping and tapping their feet along to the tunes. Although I have no evidence of their festiveness, I did manage to pull a few photos of their former shenanigans.

Exhibit A: Pat likes to party. I like his tie.

Exhibit B: Judy steps in. Pat starts doing the Carlton move from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I know you all get that reference. Pat might not.

Exhibit C: The Finnigans go wild. Mother Jane joins in.

Thanks, Dad, for all of the fun!