Popcorn for Breakfast!?

How early do movies theaters open where you live?

I discovered this weekend in the 'burbs that crowds of people are taking their bed heads to the big screen before most restaurants even serve brunch! Who knew?

Apparently ALL the people where we live, because the theater was PACKED! I counted more than 100 people in the ticket lines outside - before 10am...including this scruffy, sleepy guy.

Last Saturday, Dan + I set out to see "our" movie, The Descandants. Turns out, not only did we fail to score a ticket to walk carpets with Clooney, but we couldn't even buy our way into the sold-out 7:15pm showing at the mall. What can I say? We're power players.  

Because I'm sort of a snob when it comes to my Sunday afternoons and evenings (I like to be home, hunkering down for the week ahead) the afternoon showings the next day didn't appeal much (and they competed with someone's need to watch football). A quick check to Fandango, however, would reveal that the movie was playing at 10:15 - A.M.

That gave us just enough time to roll out of bed, and be back at the mall...

Popcorn for breakfast!

It is bad enough that in my mid-30s suburban life going to the movies is sort of all the nightlife I have, but now...I can easily see it transitioning into a morning event.

It's so much cheaper: $12 for two people - that's high school dating in the 1990s prices! Plus, you can be home and back in stretchy pants by noon!

Obviously this is new to me, but have you ever morninged at the movies? Or...is this yet another trend that I've slept through - literally?

Give a Little More Than Thanks

On Saturday, Dan and I had signed up to volunteer at a local food bank - but there was not enough food donated to even use the help of volunteers! Can you believe that?

The weekend before a big holiday, especially a food-centered one like Thanksgiving, is typically a busy time for charities that feed the hungry. We were ready to help unload boxes, separate the corn from the green beans. On Friday afternoon, however, the food bank called and said, Thanks, but...we don't need you. 

The Washington metro area is home to our  country's highest earners and even when the job market was at its worst, D.C. was still rated as one of the best places to look for work. That's why I was really shocked to learn a food bank in our area hadn't received enough food - on the week before Thanksgiving!!!- to even warrant volunteers.

On the weekends I always watch CBS Sunday Morning - it's my all-time favorite morning news magazine and the theme of this week's show, in advance of Turkey Day, was food.  There was a story on how hunger has come to Easy Street . Forsyth County in Georgia - the wealtiest county in its State, the thirtheenth wealthiest place in the U.S. - is also seeing an uptick in the patrons of its food bank.

If food banks in places where most people do earn decent livings are struggling, that means that food banks everywhere are likely hurting.  Keep that in mind as you're shopping this week and the rest of the holiday season. If your grocery store has promotions to buy a box of pre-bagged food to be donated, or even a cart where you can toss in a few can goods....if you can, do it. When you consider charities to support at Christmas time, think of your local food banks - I think every little bit really will matter right now!

Because we couldn't give our time this weekend, Dan and I have to decided to make a donation to a food bank in our area. I'll be inclucing  the sponsorship from last week's paid blog post with what we give, and for every comment left on this post, telling me about (or linking to!)  your favorite charity or what you're doing this holiday season to help your community, I'll add an extra can good to take to the food bank.  

I think it's always enough to just be grateful for what we have in life, but if you can give a little more than thanks this week, this holiday season...then find a way to do that, too!

The Contrition Before the Storm...

The Eastern Seaboard, as you know, is bracing for a hurricane.

I, on the other hand, am bracing for a little party I'm co-hosting Saturday. As my friends know, when I party plan, it tends to be a storm in itself....

Last night after work I make a stop at Target and Trader Joe's, not for batteries or water, but party stuff.  Priorities.  My fellow 'burb neighbors, however, only have Irene in mind.

Around town things are just insane: cars lined 14 deep getting gas, check-out lines so long you think it's Christmas, and not one box of mini vanilla ice cream cones to be found at TJ's. You just do what you have to do as emergencies near, I guess; buy chocolate, instead.

At Tar-jay, I'm paying and chatting it up with the friendly cashier. I report all the pre-storm madness I've just witnessed, then begin to editorialize a bit: I mean, why wait half an hour to get gas? Where are these people going anyway? It's just going to rain hard, we'll all stay home and watch movies, right? I heard in Virginia the Target is already out of water! Seriously?

Her head tilts to the side a little and she shrugs her shoulders as she tells me, in what I finally hear is a very sweet Southern drawl that, "Well...I'm from Louisiana, and I was there for Katrina. {This is the part where I want to run} I didn't expect to be under five feet of water, but the next day, I was...and there was no where to get gas. I couldn't just stay at my house. So...it really doesn't hurt to be prepared."

I want to hide under my cart. I apologize a zillion times, tell her how right she is, how silly I am, how to this day my mom still yells at me for never being fully prepared for anything, waiting always 'til the last minute to make things happen. Here I am two days (not my usual two hours!) before a party checking things off my list; I think I am really on top of things, but nope...I'm  just flitterin' about, as always, foot in mouth.

After countless I'm So Sorrys, I finally tell the lady I am from Tennessee. It's true that when Southerners meet each other outside the bounds of our region, there's an instant bond. In fact, the farther from home you are when you meet another Southerner, the greater your connection will be. My touting Tennessee is, admittedly, a last ditch effort to hope Southern charm can compensate for my contrition, as if  even just a little proximity to Louisiana might just wipe out this embarassment made in Maryland.

"Oh you are," she asks, "I miss the South sometimes up here, do you?" I tell her that I do...that I love hearing her pretty accent, that I am sorry, again, for being all worked up about storm prep, something about which I clearly know nothing.

"Oh, it'll be fine, you'll be fine," she promises, "but really... it wouldn't hurt to just fill up your car."

I'll be doing that today...no matter how long the line.

Can A Marriage Survive Without Borders?

Book lovers 'round the country are sad to see Borders closing, and I'm certainly among them. 

My cousin put this photo on  Facebook. Our family always has had a flare for the dramatics.

I've always loved roaming the isles of any bookstore, or piling a table full of magazines while sipping on something frothy at Borders Cafe. The Borders in my 'burbs is less than a mile from my house, so since I know no one in my neighborhood, it's truly become the friend on whom I call when times are lonely and tough. 

If Dan is working from home and needs quiet, I go to Borders. 

If Dan is out with the the guys, and I have no plans with my friends,  I go to Borders. 

And, always - always - if Dan and I have a little spat, Borders is where I go to simmer down. 

When news broke that Borders was closing, Dan joked, What are you going to do? You'll have no where to go when you're mad at me!  

Can a marriage survive without Borders?  I guess we'll soon find out.

Miranda Lambert Concert

County Road 233 ran through the 'burbs this weekend, and Dan and I took a spin on it.

Miranda Lambert played a shower at Merriweather, the hands-down best attraction of the 'burb town where we live. It's a great venue for seeing a concert!

I've been a Miranda fan since she was on Nashville Star, and I introduced Dan to her music when we first stated dating. Since then, she's become his official celebrity girlfriend, and his crush on her is pretty intense.

There's no crazy theatrics at Lambert's shows - just a small video screen. Like old school country greats (Dolly, Willie to name a few I've seen live) Miranda just starts her show by walking on the stage with her guitar and singing.

She did bring out the girls from her new band, Pistol Annies. They played a few songs that are really fun, and I enjoyed this part of the show the most, actually...

Up next for summer concerts - DOLLY.  That's next weekend, and I can't wait!

My Naked Neighbor

Don't go thinking I'm some kind of Peeping Tom. I am not. Even if I was, though, out in my 'burbs, I wouldn't even have try...

My neighbor likes to cook in the buff. No lie. He lives alone, keeps always to himself, so if that's his thing, who am I to judge? My only thought is this: he needs new blinds.

His have a small break. It isn't huge, and even if he wore JUST an apron it'd be fine for the most part, but the breach in the blinds is big enough to know that when I see buns, it's not because he's cooking hamburgers. And when I see a weiner, it's well....you get it: not hot dog night.

He starts his supper about the time I pull in from work every night. The first time I saw {all of} him I was, admittedly, a little phased. I told Dan. He didn't believe me. Like I'd make up a naked neighbor?! It wasn't too long, though, before an innocent run to the mail box for Dan turned into....a peak at the male box. Oh yes. Now he believes me.

So...who wants to come over for dinner {heehee}?!

 

A Bicycle Built For...

 I'm thinking about buying a bicycle this weekend.

When we were down at the beach, cyclists kept catching my eye. And, I keep seeing how cute my friends look pedaling around....

Jenni is extra "Speedy" on two-wheels, isn't she?

Monty was clearly born to ride.

Photo-ops, though the above are pretty presh, arent  the reason I have bikes on the brain. I'm trying {yet again!} to find hobbies {because reading, writing and wine tasting don't produce real calorie burn} that will help in my efforts to slim down. I need fun exercise. I think a bike is the way to go.

If I still lived on Capitol Hill, I wouldn't need my own bike. D.C. has a really great bike share.

But, alas, I live in the 'burbs. Still...all of my town is connected by trails and greenspace, so...biking would be a fun way to squeeze in some exercise without having to slow down traffic the way some DC bikers do morning and night during the middle of rush hour while pulling small children behind in bike trailors WTF! often do. In my head I'll ride on the weekends to my nail place. When Dan's grilling and we realize we need an extra ear of corn, I'll just hope on my cruiser and head to the store. I'm not aiming to Livestrong or anything, so don't think Lance Armstrong. Think...active, happy, stylish lady from a tampon ad.

Minus the socks.

I need a bicycle built for an out-of-shape 30-something that doesn't require any fancy gear changing, but comes, preferably, with a basket.

Tales From Zumba - The Cargo Shorts Guy

I've been to a couple of Zumba classes lately, and I must start sharing some stories because what happens during these 45-minute segments of cardio are a tad off-the-wall. If I could sneak in a camera Tales From Zumba could be a blog in itself.

photo credit - here

If you don't know what Zumba is, it's like Dancing with the Stars meets a Beyonce video.  There's lots of box-stepping, hip thrusts and even arm shimmies. It' a full on dance routine, and even a little sexy/grindy at times.

When I first started going I took great comfort in the fact that most of my classmates were just average people - no Fly Girls or Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader-types. This made me feel so much more comfortable in my own, cellulite-dotted skin.  Before taking a class in a studio with mirrors, I actually thought I still had my high school cheerleader mojo; I don't. But that's another story...

photo credit - here

I'm oddly private and self-conscious when exercising anyway, so I stand at the back of the class. After all, it's not 1994 anymore. At the front of the class, however, is this white man, probably mid-40's. He's not totally without rhythm, but sporting a t-shirt, tucked into his belted cargo shorts that hit past the knee and stark white tennies, socks pulled mid-shin...well, let's just say he's no Drew Lachey. Still, at my 'burb gym, anything goes, even cargo shorts which I think are the biggest crime of fashion ever (even though I know men, Dan included, love them and I'm told by fashion forward male friends that they are once again "in").

Love the man. Hate the shorts.

Shorts aside, this guy is out of place only because he's one of maybe 3 men in a class that's mostly all women.

So, he's dancing away and I'm thinking, Good for him. Until....he starts turning around, facing me, and the rows of women behind him. From ear-to-ear, he's grinning. He's also chomping on gum. In an instant, he goes from a case of Bless his heart for trying to just kind of pervy. If you want to watch everyone, go to the back row, right?

But it gets worse....he starts partnering up with a girl directly  behind him. He's close to her now...like at a Catholic school dance the nuns would be intervening. He's just short of being the J-Lo to her Marc Anthony, Idol Final 2011. Not kidding. Bless her heart.

I feel for this woman; I am SO distracted just watching from a good 15-feet away, but she's surely feeling his sweat. He does this the ENTIRE class, moving from one victim woman to another. He'll work out facing front for a while, like every normal exercise class attendee in the history of the world, but then boom, he turns around to face the class again....grinning, chomping, sweating.

I lose my ability to concentrate on the instructor because I'm mentally preparing what I would say if Cargo Shorts guy starts to Zumba up all the way to the back row. 

Now, I could be wrong - it's been years since I consistenly darkened the door of a gym - but this is not normal behavior, especially in the 'burbs, for communal cardio, true?

Party Animals

This is what a Saturday night watching House Hunters gets you...

...living the wild life out in the 'burbs.

Tracking Santa

Correct me if I'm wrong....but the Macy's Parade Santa is THE REAL Santa, no?

All the other Santas you may spy between now and Christmas, why, they are just Santa's helpers...elves who have graduated to the top tier of elving!

If you're into tracking the Big Guy - and let's be honest, who isnt?? - then you'll be glad to know he's already arrived on the East Coast!!! Surely between now and Christmas he won't make the return trip to the North Pole? Oh my, the jet lag...

If you haven't heard, Macy's is taking their parade Santa, the Santa of all santas, on a world tour, and where else would he stop but The 'Burbs?

This weekend I was leaving the mall when I saw snow (of the ticker tape variety), heard a marching band and then looked up to see the man himself walking in Macy's as I was walking out... It was sort of magical!

Check here to see if Santa Claus is coming to your town!


 

Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen

Remember just a few posts back when I bragged about how I had my home all tidy?  Here's a peak at my sofa right now, littered with last week's laundry.

It was folded all nicely on the bench/coffee table, but well, last night we had to have a place to eat our take-out Longhorn Steakhouse Friday night 'burb dinner, so to the couch it went. Yes, taking it upstairs right then and there would have been too much.

A few thoughts (other than Ha. Haa. HAAAAA!) come to mind:

• Martha hates me.
•  I hope no one knocks unexpectedly (unless it's the UPS man brining presents I've ordered) this weekend for a visit.
• I hope my Spanx are somewhere in that pile 'cause I'll be needing them all weekend.
• You're laughing at Longhorn, aren't you? It's the 'burbs people...that's how we roll.

Sniffing Out the Perfect Tree

Hound dogs are animals known for the ability to sniff out something specific. So, when it came time to search for the perfect Christmas tree, it only made sense that Chloe lead the hunt.

Except...if you know our beloved Diggers well, you know she's a tad introverted. You know her social anxiety is high. If dogs could take Xanex we'd replace her Beggin' Strips with pills. As a result, she rarely leaves her house.

Where she lacks in confidence, however, she compensates with a keen ability to read people - especially Mr. W and me.

She knows if we grab boots or tennis shoes the odds of her getting leashed for a nice walk is high. So, when the Uggs were pulled on and the Newbies laced up this weekend, she just assumed we were outfitting ourselves to serve her needs.Cue the tail wagging and the melody of her howls. Even if you're a cat person, the cuteness of it all will break your heart! 

She didn't realize we were heading off, without plans to bring her, to the grocery store parking lot suburban version of a Christmas tree farm - the same place where we bought a tree last year, where I swore in the name of Clark W. Griswold I would never return. I prefer a sprawling, country farm where Mr. W hauls his own saw and I pretend for the day that I'm Laura Ingles, but alas...we're getting old and lazy and well....back to the 'burb lot we went. Don't judge.


Only this time...we took the dog.

Just like all the J Crew-looking families in the country with their pedigree labs do, we took or bow-legged, smelly, scared-of-her-shadow basset hound with us to select a Christmas tree.

We did this because telling a dog who thinks she's about to escape hours on end of watching football and bad Hallmark channel holiday movies.....

Wake me when it's time to act like my kind

that she's isn't leaving the house to pee on trees is like telling me that I won't be able to see Smoky Mountain Christmas on TV this December - it's just hurtful and wrong.

I'm happy to report that, save doing some business in the middle of the "forest", Chloe was a real trooper.  She sniffed out this beauty of an evergreen...

then proceeded to pout the rest of the day when I dedicated my time to decorating it....and not rubbing her belly.

Hostess with the Most Mess

My friend Virginia is arriving today, and I'm very excited to see her...and to host her!  

She wants to give up a night down in D.C. where she used to live, and where all her other old friends still do,  to come stay with me all the way out in the 'burbs, which flatters me so much.   This so rarely happens when people come to visit Washington because, well,  everyone has seen a Wal-mart or 23,423 in their lifetime. Virgina is a great friend, though. She'll want to see where I take my dry cleaning, get gas, shop for groceries and could work-out if I actually went to the gym where I pay for a membership. That's just the kind of friend Virginia is, and I love that about her so much.

Unlike me, she is also very tidy and organized. If I were going to visit her house, she would never spend the eve of my arrival in a state of panick.

Last night after two stops - one to pick up dinner, another at the grocery - I got home from work around 7:30 (aka, just in time to see all of Access Hollywood).   After dining with Mr. W + Billy Bush, so began at 8pm my efforts to get my place ready for Virginia. For most of you together-types who get Real Simple in the mail, that would mean throwing some flowers in a vase, whipping up some homemade muffins and fluffing the pillows on the couch.

For me it meant:
Ask Mr. W if he just wanted to spring for a hotel room for me + Virignia tomorrow night.
He said no, therefore....

• Promise to never complain about wathing NFL football if Mr. W would please steam clean the carpets; he did
• Clear my summer clothes off the guest bed
• Change the sheets on the guest bed
• Clean 2 bathrooms
• Mop the kitchen floor
• Unload dishwasher
• Load dishwaher
• Unload dishwasher again
• Do a load of towels
• Hide what clutter remains on the sofas, steps, hall entry table and floor in the office or the basement
• Lock office door so guest cannot see everything hidden inside it
• Lock basement door so guest cannot see everything hidden inside it
• Go to bed around 11:30 telling self I will wake at 5:30 to continue what was not done before leaving for work
• Snooze until 7, beg Mr. W who gets home well before I will, with Virginia, to do what I failed to do become I will never be Martha

Sure I could have done some - even all - of this on Sunday instead of lounge on the couch all day watching Broadcast News. But I didn't; in addition to being a lousy housekeeer, I'm also a procrastinator.

I burned some yummy smelling candles for several hours last night, in hopes of masking the stench of basset hound to which my nose is totally immune, but I fear sends others into a dry heave. The guest room awaits with a few happies for Virginia because when you fear there are hostels more inviting than your own home, one tends to really overcompensate...

While I wait with tons of excitement to see my friend, and show her my life in the burbs...I hope desperately that she does not judge me for being a mess not open a closet door and get struck with a flying object. That would make for a great blog story, but a very unwarm welcome.

No Plans Weekend

It's rare that I have a weekend with nothing on the books, so as last week came to an end with no Saturday or Sunday plans, I quickly blocked off the days for stealing time at home....just me, Mr. W and Chlo Ella Diggers.

We slept late...and then took naps.

I worked on a picture project I will show + tell you about soon...

I read Dune Road by Jane Green. It was just kind of eh to me...and I usually enjoy Jane Green books.

The Dubs + I had a date...

We enjoyed margaritas + Mexican food at a yummy new place we discovered. It's - where else?? - in a strip mall but feels a little like Rosa Mexicano. Then, in keeping with our sodium theme, we went to see the new Angelina Jolie movie....

Salt was pretty entertaining if you are into totally far-fetched action movies.

While Mr. Dubs likes a salt-rimmed marg...

I'm a no salt girl.

Like the rest of you, I stayed up late on Sunday for the return of everyone's boyfriend, Don Draper.

I know it's Mad Men style to start slow and wrap viewers into the storyline...but I was a tad underwhelmed with the first show...

This weekend felt long, relaxing and productive. Monday is feeling long already...but not at all in the good way that this weekend did...

Now, I'm clearly rambling, rambling, rambling into the new week.

Summer in 3D

It had to be done....

It didn't matter that it was a weeknight. It didn't matter that I've had a back spasm from a pulled muscle all week. It didn't matter that I have seen more live Kenny Chesney shows over the last 15 years or so than I can count.

With Jenni and the Scotts in 2006 ( Mr. Taylor Made is rocking a backstage pass)

As a native East Tennessean and a long-time, loyal fan of The Ches, I had to see Summer in 3D .

Last night, I dashed out of work and prayed to the traffic gods for an easy commute. They didn't listen. But, by the 7:30 showtime at my favorite 'burbs theater, I was seated and spec'ed.

Afterall, Kenny Chesney isn't touring this year, so there will be no themed tailgate, no gathering of mine and Mr. W's besties....

Tailgating with Kim and Dave in Baltimore

... to kick off or close out another summertime with cocktails and a menu inspired by song lyrics.

A basket full of chicken and a big cold jug of sweat tea from last summer's concert pre-party

The movie is the best we - and about 15 other suburban Maryland loyalist (one in a cowboy hat, God Bless him) - could do!

I am not sure if I've ever mentioned it on the blog before, but I am a shameless, shameless Kenny Chesney fan. I have been from his early days... back when only the people in East Tennessee who listen to WIVK radio loved him.

Front row at Fed-Ex field with Jenni in 2005 - we watched a newly married Renee Zellweger dance side stage ALL night

I can say that a particular song isn't so great, that his jeans are too tight, I (and Jenni and Shannon, and Savanna) can mock his sometimes manufactured introspection, but if someone else does...well, it bothers me. So please don't let me hear you go anti-Kenny, or I will have to go all Holly Gleason on you in Kenny's defense. And with a tear in my eye, I will do it because, it's embarrassing the ways Kenny's songs and lyrics decorate my life:

 - I've used Back Where I Come From as the theme to my 10 year high school class reunion, and a black-tie gala showcasing Tennessee that I chaired here in DC

- When Mr. W and I say I Love You, most of the time we say "Sure Do Love You" as in "We sure do love you, thank you" (That's what - as Kenny loyalist will know - Kenny said on his first Greatest Hits album during the live performance of Back Where I Come From in Dallas

- My friend Jenni (pictured above) and I can communicate entirely in Kenny song lyrics - embarassing, but true....It amuses us.

Ravens Stadium show, Summer '08

When Kenny sings the taste of salt on the Carolina shore in the song I Go Back, it takes me back to my high school senior trip to Myrtle Beach.   The line in  Keg in the Closet goes, We skipped class just to pass the time, back in '89, but I always sing, "back in '99" becauase that's the year I graduated from the Univeristy of Tennessee.  I can't hear the line I sank my toes into that East Tennessee mud in the song Baptism without getting a lump in my throat.  The entire  Be As You Are album, even though it's all island songs, makes me recall cold, snowy, depressing days at the Capitol Hill Starbucks where I sat listening to Kenny's stories of warmer, happier places, over and over again; I was so over Washington during that year that I put my resume up on virginislands.com and was ready to trade in my Congressional badge for a cocktail waitress apron just to get out of town. Years later I learned a guy name Mr. W had also came "this close" to moving down Island after medicating to the very same music. We're certain if we hadn't met here, we'd have met in St. John, where we now vacation every year together. 

Living Those Songs somewhere in the Virgin Islands

I could go on and on (and on) with Kenny lyrics that parallel many moments in time for me, but I'll spare you; I'm sure by now you think I'm some cheesey, country cliche with too many straw hats. I know it's only cool to claim U2 music as your personal soundtrack, but...at my core, I'm way more Backwoods than Bono, and I've enjoyed enough culture from the President's Box at The Kennedy Center to embrace my roots without reservation.

Summer in 3D is a really, really good time.  The sapster that I am always tears up at Kenny concerts during certain numbers, and it was no different for this movie. If you've seen a Kenny show before, you will have a seat like you've never had, no matter how close to the stage you've been.

Pat Green as KC's opening act in Washington, DC

Is it backrow at the Bijou Theater with my sorority sisters the night Kenny debuted his first Greatest Hits album? No.   Is it front row at Fed-Ex Field? Not quite.

Still, it's a fantastic show. So, take it from a veteran Kenny concert go'er:

- Grab a bunch of friends (as much as I sure do love Mr. Dubs, I missed having Shannon and Jenni...and I may have texted them the entire time)

-Dress the part - cowboy hats, island wear, Tennessee Vols jersey (the movie shows that no matter where he plays -from San Fran to Boston-  Vol fans are present!)

-In the spirt of the song lyrics, sneak in a bottle of wine and two Dixie (or Solo) cups (Even in stuffy 'burbtown I heard some cans crack when the lights went down...)

But do not wait on Taylor Made to mail you a dvd of Summer in 3D to watch it at home - go see it in 3D, at the movies, where you feel like you can touch Kenny's boot. And if you grew up in Norris, Clinton or Powell, Layfayette or Cheatham County, Tennessee...go see this movie before it leaves theaters on May 2 because someone back where you come from made it big, really big...and that alone is worth the $9!