When We're Bored

No Lu dogs were harmed in the making of this video.

Just for the Record

I'm pretty sure my yoga teacher yelled at me today.

Well, at least it would be yelling in a normal person's voice, but his version was a yoga yelling voice.

Even though it was calm and quiet, I'm fairly confident if my yoga instructor was not all zen that it would have sounded much more intense.

Apparently in the Bikram Yoga world you cannot skip 4 days and then decide to come back and everything be peachy.

I know this from experience, when I had to sit out during 3 or 4 poses today. (I felt like such a rookie.)

And to top it off my yoga man yelled, okay fine, he calmly said after class, 'Brooke, why do you keep doing this yourself? You come in and get good and then you stop coming. '

Excuse ME mr. yoga man, but maybe I have a life beyond your zen world and maybe I want to binge drink once in a while which means I can't make it in on Mondays and maybe sometimes I like to sleep in past 5:30am, because 'The Bachelor' was THAT good the night before and I totally didn't see him kicking off 4 desperately crazy scantily dressed bachelorettes instead of just 2! Really, who saw that coming, I mean who?!

Okay fine, maybe he is right. I need to focus more on my yoga practice and stop half-assing it. (Ear muffs Mom and Dad, or...blinders?)

So my new goal is, instead of attending yoga class 3-4 times a week, I'm going to aim for..lord help me...4-5 times a week.

Maybe with a few less booze fests and a few more yoga sessions I won't run and hide at the sight of a swimsuit come summer.

And maybe I can avoid being reamed out by the yoga man..

I kid, I kid. Understating was never one of my strong points.

The Men in My Life Would be Proud

This morning as I was driving home from Yoga, someone cut in front of me at the stop sign, when it was my right of way.

As much as I wish yoga would cure road rage, it does not.

As I followed behind the offending car, I noticed he had a 'Red Sox' license plate.

And I said out loud to myself, 'OF COURSE he's a Red Sox fan'

Pretty sure the men in my life would be proud.

Why You Should Have a Brother

This is my brother.

Not really, but everyone tells me he looks like Taylor Lautner. (From Twilight if you live in a hole in the woods somewhere). I thought it was a compliment but Kev's words were 'that nose is killer'.

This is really my brother.

Okay, okay this is Matt Damon, but people tell me he looks like him too.

This is my brother. For reals this time.

Isn't he cute? He has a lovely girlfriend but if that doesn't work out I already have a wait list for a few of my girlfriends. (Kidding Kimmy!)

Everyone should have a brother for the following reasons:

1. Who else will forgive you for stuffing his mouth with socks when he was little?

(I admit, I still torture him sometimes)

2. When you don't have a girlfriend available to give you an opinion while dress shopping, he will pull through. Really.

3. He won't think it's weird when you ask him if he thinks you have gained weight each time you see him. (Hey, he was honest in college.)

(Pretty sure this is me making him pinky swear I didn't get fatter)

4. He reminds you that you are old when you won't pick up the phone because it's 9:30pm and you are going to bed.

5. He thinks it's okay when you ask if he has any zits you can pop, and he let's you.

6. He likes to do interpretive dances with you in the car to random songs on the radio.

7. He will give you unbiased boy opinions. ('Just leave your hair brown already!')

8. You can live vicariously through his youth by calling each week to see which frat parties he went to and what the cool music is to listen to these days.

9. He will drive to pick you up from the airport where you found the cheaper flight even though it's two hours away. He will also stop to find you the boiled peanuts you've been jonesing for on the ride home.

10. You feel special when he opens up to you about his life. Most likely not because you are the only one he will talk to, but because you are the only one who is persistant enough to ask him 20 questions about each topic until he finally gives in and spills the beans.

11. He keeps you grounded by reminding you that he is better looking and funnier than you.

For these and countless other reasons you should have a brother. If you don't, go out and get one! They're really fun.

Love you poopface.

Vermont

We had an amazeballs time with our friends in Vermont this weekend.

Friday we drove up with our friends Jim and Lexi (Happy Birthday Lex!) and the lucky lady got to have an Applebee's 'Two for Twenty' for her birthday dinner. Don't feel too bad for her though, she also got a stellar David Yurman ring from her boyfriend Jimbo. (Way to go buddy!)

When we arrived at the Vermont house we were greeted with good friends, a ridiculous amount of booze and a huge fire. Heaven! We all stayed up as late as we could and funneled down to bed. Jim and Dan had some different plans though and ended up going sleep at 5am. Not without waking everyone in the house up a few times in between though.

Saturday the athletic overachievers went skiing, Jim and Dan went searching for a bar (huge surprise there) and the ladies headed to the outlets for some shopping. We tore it up and ended up with some stellar loot, followed up with a delicious lunch at a local deli.

By then it was 4pm and time for happy hour. Love this place! We met everyone back at the house and shared our stories for the day while we drank some booze and ate some appetizers.


Then we ventured off to dinner at the Old Mill Tavern.

We had a group dinner here last year, and were super excited to go back again. It's a perfect Vermont setting with dark wood, old ski's and a huge fire where they let you roast marshmellows after dinner by the bar. It's only opened three months out of the year and everyone orders huge steaks and eats so much we have to roll each other out of the restaurant.



We had the same waiter as last year and he graced us with his hand fart rendition of 'Sweet Home Alabama'. True talent.



The night ended back at the house by the fire and this morning we all got up and ate a huge breakfast prepared by the Hubs.

There is nothing much better than good friends, a new setting and copious amounts of food, alcohol and shopping. Life is good.

British Robot

This weekend is The 2nd Annual Ski Weekend up in Vermont with our friends.

We are uber pumped about it.

Everyone sits by the fire, eats food and has a few too many cocktails. (Oh yah, some people fit in some skiing too)

Whenever I have had a few too many cocktails, two things are likely to follow.

1. A British accent. (Formerly it was French but I have since crossed over, probably because I only knew how to say Zut Alors! and Huh HUUHHH in the back of my throat). Luckily this happens to a couple other girls in the group too. Cheyney quotes Harry Potter, Susan does an Irish accent and I just throw out the word 'bloody' a lot.
I'm pretty sure we annoy everyone else in the group, but by that point we are in our own little world and don't care much.

2. Next, and this is a new one, I will bend my arm back and forth to mimic the first part of 'The Robot' dance. You know the one. If you don't, hold your arm out to the side and then bend your elbow to drop your forearm down and then back up. Repeatedly. I am not lying when I tell you I have ZERO control over this. I must have been predisposed to too many 80's videos as a child. Irrevocably, the arm goes up without my knowledge and then I take a word or phrase from the conversation I am immersed in and say it over and over in time with my robot move. Most recently it was 'Savannah, Georgia'. Why? I don't know, but this move is a part of me now and I need to find a way to stop it.

You may be thinking stop drinking in your head, but let's be realistic here. Could a little fake British accent or robot arm move hurt anyone?

I think not.

Slightly embarrassing? Yes, but there are worse things I suppose.

We are off to VT after work. I will be sure to give you a full update when we get back. I heard through the grapevine the Burberry Outlet is having 70% off. Yes, Please, and Thank you.


Oh yes, there is shopping. There is alwayyys shopping.


Have a bloody fantastic weekend! xoxo

Hair Nazi

So, I used to go to DAWWN (say it like chick from 'The Nanny') from Brooklyn to get my hair did.

I have been going to her since the first highlight graced my virgin head, probably around age 15.

Dawn held the responsibilities for all of my hair do's up until now. Short, long, brown, red, blonde, front bangs, side bangs, prom hair, wedding hair. You get the idea.

I coined her the name, 'The Hair Nazi', and for good reason.

Dawn doesn't take any shiz.

She is not concerned with making sure you are entertained in your chair, and she doesn't care if you are having a good day. If she feels like talking to you, she will. If she doesn't, she won't. She will let you know if you haven't been taking care of your hair and give you her opinion if you have an idea she doesn't like (In life too, not just the hair world).

Seriously, some people are scared of her and won't go back.

Others are still scared, but she does such a great job, put on their brave face in the name of lovely hair.

Moving to Connecticut, I lost my 'Hair Nazi'.

I recently called a new hairdresser, because the first girl I tried, didn't know how to NOT put red in my hair. I gave her two tries.

Saturday I tried out the new salon closer to home.

Ahh the excitement of possibly finding a new 'Hair Nazi' soul mate. I told her I wanted my brunette color, (hide the grays...the horror) and put a few caramel colored highlights underneath. This is how it turned out.




Truly, I have two huge chunks of white blonde on both sides of my head so when I pull my hair up in a pony I look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I'm not exaggerating. This picture looks better than mine.

And don't forget the ginormous chunky highlight on the top of my hair too, so there is no way of hiding any of the hideousness that is now a part of my head.

Needless to say I have another hair appointment today with a new salon who hopefully will have a clue of what they are doing.

I miss my Hair Nazi. If you have one, hold him/her tight and never let them go.

Happy Birthday Pops!!!

For those of you who don't know, a very important man was born on January 20th. A hollywood actor? Famous Athlete? Former President? Nope!

This man, my Dad, was born today and he is THE BEST Dad in the world. No, really. I hate to break it to you but if you aren't my sister or brother I am sorry to say that your Dad comes second best. While he is a stellar role model, legendary basketball coach, manners king, and a man of true faith, I would like to share with you the real reasons why I love my Dad so much.

1. I get my silliness from him. Ever since I can remember, my Dad will serenade whoever is in the house, whether it be his family, the dog, or I am pretty sure just himself, by constantly singing 'I've been dreaming of YoUoUoUoUoUoUoU!!!!!' Insert opera voice for the word YOU. There are no other words to this song and it never changes. I don't know if it's actually from a real song or he just made it up one day. I will have to ask him. One thing is for sure, it cracks me up.

2. Whenever he gets excited about something, he rubs his hands together really fast as if to warm them or start a fire while opening his mouth to get the full effect. This is known to be contagious and is crucial if you are ever doing a Dad impersonation.

3. He has lived in South Carolina for over 30 years but still pronounces words that end in 'ER' with 'A'. Example: "The Yankees are the best team EVA!!" or "KA, whats the mattA?!"

4. He gets mad at our yellow lab Cody for drooling but can be found in the mornings eating his cereal with his right hand and feeding her with his left, followed up by dabbing her mouth with a napkin.


5. His favorite team is the Yankees and he is NOT afraid to show it. Just call his voicemail, check out the floor mats in his car, his licence plate, look at our entire upstairs loft, watch him wear his flipflops, tie, santa hat, sweatshirts, hats,checkout his keychain, bobblehead on his dashboard and most likely even his underwear. The man is a diehard, and I mean diehard fan. I dare anyone to try and trump him on his fan status or disagree that his team is DA BEST Team EVA.

(Case in Point)

6. Everytime he sees my dog Lulu, he will no doubt yell, "Her breath could take the paint off the walls!"

7. He likes to to put his arm around you and squeeze your side where it's extremely tickilish as well as the top of your kneecap which sends you into spasms. When you scream, 'DAAAaaaadd!!!', he then looks at you asks, 'What?'.

8. The man can clear the room with the words, 'Who wants to play Racko?!'

9. Whenever my Dad is on vacation, you and everyone around him will always know. How, you ask? He will randomly throw his arms straight up in the air and shout, 'I'm on Va-CATION!!!!'

10. My dad can fall asleep anywhere and at anytime. Truly, there are collages dedicated to pictures of him falling asleep...during movies, at parties, sitting straight up or lying down. Doesn't matter.

(Example A)

(Example B)

11. My dad knows EVERYONE. He is like the Mayor of Hilton Head, but not. As far as I know he has no desire to ever hold public office but I have no doubt in my mind he would win. We have been on cruise ships and even at the top of a mountain and somehow my dad managed to know someone.

12. The man is a bargain shopper. He LOVES finding deals and then showing you what he purchased followed up with the question, 'How much?'. Then you have to guess what he paid for the sale item which gives him great joy when you guess over the actual amount paid. I think he gets more excited about this game than the the actual item.

13. His favorite word is AWWesome!

He is the best man I know and I love him with every fiber of my being.

(Did I mention he is handsome too?)

Here's to you Dad, the world wouldn't be the same without you.

Love, your Maniac

True Love

What is True Love?

True love is getting a call at 8:30 this morning from your wife and having her tell you she got pulled over for her expired licence plate that you have been telling her to get changed for the last 3 months and instead of getting angry, you comfort her and tell her not to worry and to please stop crying because things could always be worse.

True love is when 5 minutes later your wife calls you back to tell you that the police woman will not let her drive her car back home the 1 mile and instead a tow truck has to come and tow her expired licensed car that you have warned her for the last three months that they would take from her,if she didn't go to the DMV ASAP and you leaving work to pick up her up and drive her home.

True love is then not going back to work, to take your criminal wife to the DMV since she doesn't have a car to drive, to try and get a Connecticut driver's license (which she still hasn't done either) and hopefully a temporary registration, so she actually has a car to drive until she can get her new license plate.

True love is waiting, patiently behind the flamboyant man with the gold hoop earrings and fur coat, and instead of complaining, calling her car company to see where the documents she has been waiting in the mail for are, so she can obtain a new license plate, but has been too lazy to pick up the phone to check on herself.

True love is not banging your head against a wall and instead stroking your wife's hair while she sobs as the DMV supervisor tells her she has too many names, they don't match up to her documents and even though she thought she could change her middle name to her first name on her passport and the DMV would be cool with this, that the passport is actually not valid and therefore she cannot obtain a license OR a temporary registration let alone an actual up to date license plate.

True love is then realizing now your wife has no car to drive and that defaults you as her chauffeur until she gets her shiz together.

True love is getting back in the car and trying to keep your sanity when your wife starts crying again because she realizes the number they gave her for the Office of Vital Documents to obtain her birth certificate (to name another thing she doesn't have) is to South Carolina as she requested, but is wrong because she forgot she was born in Savannah, Georgia.

True love is calling your parents to ask if your delinquent wife can borrow one of their cars since she cannot drive her own and then deciding she is too upset to operate a motor vehicle and instead you take her back to work, but not without stopping to get her a turkey sandwich and a gigantic cookie to make sure she has some food at work.

True love is then not returning to your workplace right away because you know your wife doesn't have a car and will be panicking about letting her dog out even though both of you know if the dog really has to go she will just relieve herself wherever she pleases in the house, and then going to let the dog out anyways.

True love is surprising your wife with a dozen roses after you pick her up from work with a card that reads, 'To my loving wife, whatever your name is.'

True love is my Hubs.

Thanks for being married to me.

Love,
Your irresponsible, criminal, lazy, delinquent wife.

The Bachelor

Last night when the Hubs and I were watching 'The Bachelor' (not his choice)

We tried to put ourselves in the same scenario and decide how it would work out.

We decided that my big dark secret (instead of being divorced or having a kid, like two of the contestants) would be that I have a small Chihuahua at home that has ferocious breath and that if he wanted to choose me, he would have to tolerate and love that breath for the rest of his life.

We also tried to determine how I would get his attention as the Bachelor and set myself apart from the other 24 contestants.

We came to the conclusion that I would most likely walk up to him, twist both his nipples and yell 'TUNE IN TOKYO!!'

Just like I do in real life.

If that doesn't get you a rose, I am at a loss for what would...

SSHHHhhh

Don't tell anyone

but the Hubs and I are playing hooky today.

If anyone asks.

The Hubs is working from home




and I developed a horrible stomach bug.

Sometimes you just need to play hooky.

And go see Avatar.

Prosecco Time

My favorite way to unwind after a long work week is with a glass of this little gem.






Usually bubbly is saved for special occasions.


But I say everyday is a special occasion.


After all, you did make it through another work week. If that is not reason enough to celebrate, I certainly don't know what is...

Just So We're Clear

Do not talk to me about how cold it is where you are

unless

It's normal to consider 35 degrees warm

(Serious, people were in t-shirts today.)

or

You consider the temperature going up a whole whopping 5 degrees, a

I can't even say it

a 'heat wave'.

Truly, those words came out of someone's mouth today.

As in, it's going to be 40 this weekend, it's like a heat wave! (Insert excitement here)

Ladies and Gents

want to know the scariest thing?

I too, thought it was warm out today and rolled my window down in my car at lunch.


This southern girl's blood must be thickening.

Hellloooooo Lovvvvaaaahh

Isn't she pretty?



I may, or may not have purchased this lovely bag.



If you are my Hubs.



I did not.



If you are a female in my life.



I certainly did!

(It's okay, she was on sale! And begging to come home with me....)

Simple Things

I have found in life that it's the simple things I get most excited about.

1. Waking up on a Saturday, realizing you don't have to go to work and having your dog roll around on your neck.

2. When Starbucks comes out with their holiday flavors. (And then finding the same flavored creamers at the grocery store). Eureka!

3. When the Hubs meets me at the grocery store after work, even though he doesn't want anything, just because he knows I like the company.

4. Hearing your favorite song on the radio even though it's way past it's prime. ('In Your Eyes', by Peter Gabriel anyone?)

5. Finding that your favorite warm socks are clean.

6. Receiving that humongous David Yurman ring you have been lusting after.
Kidding! Kidding! (Smokey Quartz)

But lately, the simplest thing I crave, I can't get.

That is, until I see my sister again.

When my sister gives you a hug, she doesn't let you pull away as soon as you start to.
She just holds you tight as if she is taking in the moment with you in it.
I don't know if she even realizes she does this. But it is one of my most favoritist things about her.

(Isn't she pretty?)


That, and her infectious laugh that makes me laugh so hard my nostrils flare (it ain't pretty). Even if I don't think what she thought was funny.

Miss you sister.

Addiction

I have to come clean.

I have an addiction.

It's worse than dropping me off at a shopping mall...or a bakery.

Well...that might be pushing it.

I am addicted to

Sugarless Gum.

Why can't I stop? I banned it from my life until the Hubs left a pack in my purse.

I think I am on my 8th piece, and I have no intention of stopping.

This cannot be good for you.

It has to stop.

I just can't get enough of that minty flavor that bursts from each new piece I pop in my mouth.

Do you think there is a GCA? (Gum Chewer's Anonymous?)

If so, I need their meeting schedule.

Stat.

While we are at it, I am also addicted to bad reality t.v. such as The Bachelor; On the Wings of Love (how about that psycho Michelle?), and currently Harry & David's Moose Munch. But that is for another time and place.

Mom, you can breathe a sigh of relief now.

New York CiTAYY???

Remember that Pace Salsa commercial?

You don't?

Ok.

Nevermind.

Let's move on.

This weekend the Hubs and I went to NYC for a little work and a little play.

Friday night we were invited to dinner at, ....let's call them the 'Richie's'. We were invited to the Richie's apartment located on PAHHKK Avenuuue. (Insert snooty voice here.) Let's, just say it was fancy. The kind of fancy where you check in with the door man and their housekeeper Sofia happens to be coming back from walking the Richie's dog and escorts you up the private elevator to said fancy apartment. Ahh to live on the other side. The Richie's were extremely nice and we had a great meal...prepared by Sophia. The housekeeper. Who lives with them. Am I painting a 'fancy' enough picture of the the 'Richie's' 'apartment' yet?

Anywhoo, after the work dinner was over, the Hubs and I decided to let loose and we were recommended a hot spot from Stratford (The Hub's best friend), who also let us stay at his apartment, as he was out of town in Miami. Free place to stay, woot woot! For the record, Strat's apt. was not too shabby either.

We went here. The Tribecca Grand.

There is a bar called the Church Lounge (I'm assuming because it's located on Church Street...just a hunch)

We had a couple glasses of wine, a couple snacks and watched the people across from us make out with each other. We had a lot of fun. And then the bill came. And then we remembered why we don't live in New York.

Saturday we met Adam and Elizabeth for lunch.


Adam and the Hubs went to college together and I am convinced Elizabeth and I would be bestie's if we lived in the same place. We went to a place called Murphy and Gonzalez for lunch. Half mexican, half irish pub. Only in New York. We had a great time catching up them. But then, it was time to shop.

I had already scoped out where Zara and Club Monaco were located and I was ready to get my shopping on .

That is, until every person in New York decided to have the same plan.

Honestly, it takes a lot for me to not be able to shop, a lot. Truly. A lot. Did I mention a lot? And I couldn't do it. Way too many people. The Hubs was shocked. He also knew I was bummed. And if shopping doesn't work, he knows, sweets usually do.

He suggested we go to Billy's Bakery.

We spotted it the night before on the walk home from Tribecca Grand.

(how dreamy is this place?)

Let's just say. Heaven on Earth. My vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting cured my shopping letdown.



Happy Again.

After our Billy's Bakery experience, we decided to head home.

Sunday, we relaxed and watched football with our friends Lexie and Jim. As much as I love New York, I was happy to be home in Connecticut. With it's reasonably priced housing, uncrowded stores, and normally priced booze, I think I am happy right where I am.

Meet Lulu

Aka- Lu, Louis, Lucifer, Louey, Cutest dog ever, etc etc.

I figured you should get to know half the namesake of this blog.

Lu can be known for the following reasons. Her minty fresh breath (this may be a slight exaggeration), her 'happy dance' when she greets you at the door which consists of her dragging her stomach across the floor with her two front paws and her hind legs sticking straight out, her frito-smelling paws (love them!) and a general ability to make you smile again after another miserable day at work.

Her days consist of her horrible, evil, mother dragging her out from under the covers to go outside to the bathroom on chilly mornings in the winter, as well as at lunchtime and before bed. In between those dreaded outside bathroom breaks, she can be found, lounging, sleeping, eating, playing with her 'baby', and sleeping some more.

It's hard for a southern pup to live in the cold, blistering north. The following is the process we go through 4 times a day.

First, I ask Lu if she wants to go out...

(Hey Ma)

Then she sees me carrying this.


(Don't make fun, it's her winter vest and the buttons come in really handy, you'll see why)

And then she does this.

(Oh no)

And this.

(what's that in your hand?)

And unfortunately I have to do this.

(so embarrassing)

and this.


(why me?)

Louey hates every. single. second.

(I hate my life)
(Did I mention her snaggle tooth?)

And after all of that.



THIS is where she chooses to go.

But.



How can you be mad at that face?

You'll Thank Me Later....

Bikram Yoga...otherwise known as Hot Yoga, Are you Friggin Crazy Yoga, I am going to Die Yoga or Shoot Me Now Yoga.

Not really, those are just things I have said to myself during class.

My Aunt Lisa and Cousin Liz convinced me to try it. They always know the latest cool things. They turned me on to Twilight(yes, I'm a fan), threading my eyebrows, told me about Brazilian hair straightening, and the three week manicure. They also go skydiving and to psychics, but I still haven't jumped on those bandwagons...Anywhoo, they told me three things about Bikram. 1. You will hate it 2. It will be the best thing you have ever done and 3. You will start to become addicted to it and won't be able to stop.

The first couple weeks I called with the following questions:
1. Are you crazy?!
2. Why do I feel like I have to vomit during class?
3. Can I still drink wine?
4. Is it normal to sweat that much?
5. Why can't I stop feeling like I am going to vomit?!
etc etc...

But it is official, I am no doubt addicted to it. It's the hardest and best workout I have ever done. I don't go to the gym anymore and try and get to class 3-4 times a week. Here are some things I can pass onto you:
1. You will sweat your ass off.
2. You will have so much energy, mental clarity, and be in such a good mood all day that you will call your husband and shout, "I LOVE YOU!" and he will say, "I love you too, good yoga class today aye?"
3. You too will become addicted and thank me later.

Here is the link to my Bikram Studio. If you don't live in CT, it still has a plethera of information and testimonials.

Click Here

If you try it you can call me and I will convince you that it's completely normal for the old man in class to wear that small of a pair of shorts.

Just so you know....

I'm kind of famous today.

How you ask? Let me explain.

This is my bestie Kristen...



I know, she is a beauty. And she inspired me to want a blog of my own. She is one of the coolest chicks I know for many reasons, including but not limited to:

A. Having the best wardrobe known to man
B. Always having THE best songs to listen to and reflect on
C. Creating her own catch phrase words such as 'murder' used to describe anything you are not looking forward to, or happy about. Example: Finding a parking spot at the mall today is going to be MURDER.
D. Always having super easy recipes that I even I can conquer and make it appear to party goers as if have a clue in the kitchen.
E. Constantly making me laugh.

Case in Point...Click Here!.

Love you Krit, thanks for the laugh!

My Niece - C.B.G.

Is this not the cutest kid you have ever seen in your life? If you said no, we can't be friends.

Sunday Funday

(Me and Lu)

Yesterday was a 'snow day' for the Hubs and I. Considering I grew up in South Carolina where there is no snow, unless you count the 'Great Winter of '87' where there was mayyybe 1/2 an inch, and that is stretching it, it's safe to say I grew up with no snow.
The Hubs and I put on our full snow gear, I had to improvise since I officially do not own said gear. We went out and played with the dogs, threw snow balls, and basically acted like 8 year olds. There is something about the snow that brings you back to childhood, or in my case lets you experience a whole new one. I don't know if I will ever tire of it, but let's not quote me on that since I am a rookie at this whole snow thing....

Resolutions

January 1st, 2010. Start a blog, check. What it will consist of or if anyone will actually ever see it is yet to be determind... The point of it is to somehow capture and keep a record of what goes on in my life, which I think is pretty fab, by the way. Not so fab however is my memory (could be the slight prosecco hangover as well but let's move on), a blog however keeps your memories in check. Photos, thoughts, randomness, most definitely bad spelling and inproper grammer but I will forgive myself because as of now, I am my only reader. So here is to 2010, my new blog, which this may be the only post, only time will tell. The good news is that I have already checked a resolution off my list and it's only 2:12pm on the first day of 2010. Not too shabby if I do say so myself...even with a slight prosecco hangover.