Foster Parents

Well, not real parents, actually.

Puppy parents. Or dog parents. Or whatever little guy (or girl) needs a good home.

Dave and I have wanted a dog for a long time. We didn't get one when we were both working because our hours and commute had us away from home for over 12 hours, and that's just not fair to a dog. And since Dave's job future is uncertain, we can't completely commit to a dog of our own (even though we hope that he'll be working from home at least part-time when he does go back to work), we found a great organization that we had to be involved with.

All Dog Rescue is an all volunteer non-profit organization dedicated to the rescue of Massachusetts' dogs in need and matching each with appropriate and responsible owners. They find dogs from shelters or who have been surrendered by their owners, and put them in foster homes until they can be adopted into their forever homes.

We are really excited to get involved. Not only will we be saving the dogs we foster, but we'll be creating space in shelters for other dogs. Plus we'll get the joy of having a pup in our lives. And it's good karma.

We submitted our application, had a phone interview and a home visit, and are approved for taking in foster dogs. So now we begin the waiting game. The organization has a group of evaluators that go to shelters every once and a while to evaluate dogs and determine if they are suitable for fostering. Once they find a dog that's passes the evaluation, we get to meet it and see if it will be a good fit for our home. And then our journey begins.

Hopefully in the next few weeks they'll evaluate some dogs and we'll have a new little friend in our home. And I promise that once we do, I'll post pictures (and encourage you to adopt your next friend).

Boobies In My Face

No, there aren't pictures.

And the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

I've been holding back on you. A few weeks ago when Dave and I came back from Mike & Donna's wedding, we ended up having a few friends over that night. Our friends Barney and Robin were visiting with our other friend, Lily (yup, changed all their names). We told them they could all come over and hang out, thinking we'd get something to eat.

We were sitting around, talking and drinking beer, and please do not ask me how the topic came up, but Robin commented that she had never been to a strip club before. Lily, who at one point in time worked in such an establishment, offered to take her to one. Barney of course thought this was a good idea, as did Dave. So they started planning when to go, deciding the following weekend would be a good time. I looked at Dave and said we couldn't do that because we had dinner plans that night, for our first anniversary.

Barney: That's perfect! What a better way to spend your anniversary than at a strip club! (Laughter followed.)

Me: Actually, it probably would. True story: That's what my parents did on one of their anniversaries--went to dinner with friends and then to a strip club.

No lie. And I'll bet they'd tell you about it if you asked.

After some more conversation, and realizing that only one person had to be at work the next day, we decided that there's no time like the present, and hopped in the car. Well, actually, I changed clothes, and then Robin and Lily got made at me for changing to so I had to lend them clothes. And shoes. And then we got in the car and drove to, um, Centerfolds.

We get there and the sign says "50 hot chicks and 3 ugly ones" so we know we're in for a good time. Since Lily knows the bouncer, we get in for free. Since she knows the bartender, our drinks are cheaper than $10 each. Good to know people.

Robin is visibly disturbed from the moment we walk in, so of course after we get our drinks and dollar bills, we take a seat up front by the stage. Not that it's difficult since there's barely anyone there (it was a Sunday night). In Robin's defense, skeevy doesn't even begin to describe this dive. It's just awful. The decor lost it's mojo at least 30 years ago, and it just feels...dirty. And not in a good way.

The sign outside about the 3 ugly chicks is not false advertising. These girls were...let's just say, they didn't have the A team on stage. Or the B team. And I think the C team might have been on vacation.

These girls were ugly. And lacked certain "features" that one would expect in such an establishment. But that didn't keep them from trying. Even though they couldn't dance. But they tried. To heavy metal.

You know what's not sexy? Ugly chicks who can't dance pretending they have rhythm while heavy metal blares from the speakers.

Poor Robin, looking absolutely mortified, was a little surprised at the "exposure." So of course we tried to buy her a private dance. Lily attempted to find someone who wouldn't make Robin cry, but alas, none of those types of girls were dancing that night. So saved by the ugly chicks, we gave up on that idea.

Although at one point, one of the dancers told Robin she had nice boobs.

So the three ugly chicks did their sets, and the DJ announces Molly coming to the stage.

Me: What kind of stripper name is Molly?

Dave: I dunno.

Me (Looking up as Molly takes the stage): Oh, she's cute! That's the kind of stripper name Molly is!

And she was. I guess we were back into the hot chick rotation. And she had the appropriate assets. And she could dance. So of course, I put up dollar bills in front of Dave and I and she came to dance for us.

Molly (mind you, she's dancing for this entire conversation): Hi guys!

Me: Hi, Molly!

Molly: Are you guys having a good time?

Dave and I both nod yes.

Molly: Good. It's like couples therapy! I don't know if it works for everyone, but it works for me!

Having no other response to that kind of statement, we laugh. Because really, what would you say? No, seriously, I want to know what would you say?

Molly to me (squeezing her boobs together): Go ahead, mama.

Yup, I put the money between her ta-tas.

After Molly finished her set, we decided to leave. In part because we'd been there long enough for Robin to say she's been to a strip club (hey, you keep saying you want to be bad ass). And in part because Mya, the next dancer to take the stage, was delayed in getting to the stage and then stood there with her arms crossed giving the DJ a surly look since he didn't have her music ready. I'm not sure anyone wanted to see how that was going to end.

Robin told me I couldn't blog about this. So I didn't. And then I decided that I'd just change her name for the story, because this was worth telling.

We left, got some food, went home, and ended our night. Totally not what I'd expected to be doing after traveling almost 6 hours to come home from a wedding, but it was a good time. And pretty funny.

And makes me want to tell Robin she has nice boobs next time I see her.

Open Letter to the Women of Boston & Cambridge

Dear budding fashionistas,

No.

No one wants to see that. No matter how skinny you are.

Last spring on TLC's What Not To Wear, Stacy London and Clinton Kelly did no less than 3 shows featuring women from the Boston area. I was surprised that they had devoted so many episodes to one region, but for these women, it was necessary.

Clearly, however, not enough of you were watching.

Each spring and each fall, the trends hit the stores and being that Boston has an inferiority complex to New York, the trends hit the streets in an attempt for the locals to feel relevant and just as hip as their Manhattan counterparts. Regardless of whether or not it makes sense. Would I prefer to wear a cute wool coat in the winter with a fun hat and fluffy scarf? Yes. But I live in reality and since I don't want to freeze my fanny off, I don a ski parka with a hood and more layers than anyone should reasonably be expected to stack on.

Speaking of fannies, that brings me to my issue for this fall: leggings.

I am not opposed to leggings, per say. I am however opposed to leggings when worn in place of pants. Leggings are similar to tights in that they are warm and adorable with the right outfit. And in that if you don't cover your hiney, you'll look like your forgot something. And that something is PANTS!

I'm not alone here. In an unofficial informal poll of friends, it was unanimous that leggings require some sort of upper body clothing with enough length to cover your derriere. Further, In Style magazine, in a recent article titled Wardrobe Transformations posted on MSN.com, noted the same thing.

It's hard for anyone to get away with flashing this much behind. You'll end up looking as though you forgot your skirt.--In Style

So, to the young woman working at the Aveda Salon in Harvard Square and the student walking across campus: Stop. Return home, put on a skirt or a longer top, and then go about your business. Because the next time I see this:


I'm going to stop you and say, "Excuse me, but I think you left your pants at home because I can see your cheeks."

Not Necessarily As Planned

This weekend Dave and I didn't have any specific plans or events on the calendar, which was nice. Instead of rushing around to all different places, we would just go on a whim and do whatever.

Except I'm Type A and crazy and still need to have plans for our unplanned weekends.

Earlier in the week, my friend Cindy and I exchanged texts and decided to get together for Happy Hour on Friday night, with our guys. Friday afternoon I texted Cindy to confirm and she wasn't sure. Being the beginning of Halloween season and being a costumer, she had people coming over for fittings that evening. Little did I know that as I was on my way home, Dave also texted to confirm with Cindy. Communication FAIL. Regardless, Cindy ended up having a longer fitting than she expected, which was fine with us. We ended up staying in and watched the new Alice and Wonderland (not bad, very dark, but not a bad version of the story).

Saturday was supposed to be partly sunny and a little over 70 degrees. We had "planned" on going to use the paddle boats our city's rec department had made available at a local pond, but since we are in New England, partly sunny and 73 degrees really meant mostly cloudy and 67 degrees. Not ideal pond weather. We did pick apples at a new (to us) orchard and got some wonderful Macintosh apples.

Sunday was a much better day, with the sun shining early. After catching up on all the pregame football action and confirming that no, I was not going to get the Steelers game this week, we decided to head up to those paddle boats. Dave has a remote controlled boat (and I have a little RC jet ski), so we decided to take those to the pond as well.

When we got to the pond, it was rather peculiar as there were no paddle boats nor any teenagers to facilitate them, as we had seen earlier in the summer. Bummed, we walked back to the car to get our little boats. Walking past the informational bulletin again, I noticed a sign for the paddle boats. And the line that said "Reservations required by 3:00 pm on Friday." (They only run the boats on weekends.) Being that our town doesn't actually have all it's ducks in a row, this was not something mentioned on their website, with the rest of the rec department information.

But at least we had our little boats. Dave bought me my jet ski when we first started dating and I had recently ridden a real jet ski for the first time. I had shared my experience with Dave and asked him to buy me one. He said sure (like any good new boyfriend should) and got me this:


It's great for the pool, and we even ran it on a lake. It's super slow and pulls to the left, but I like it. When we take it to the pond and there are dogs around, they get a kick out of chasing it.

Dave, of course, has a more "robust" boat. It's pretty fast and the dogs around the pond love it. It makes much more noise than mine, too.


We spent a little bit of time running our boats and enjoying the great weather.

Unfortunately, our afternoon ended suddenly when Dave hit an underwater rock and a piece of his boat's propeller was damaged. He says it's easily fixed, though.

When we got home, we watched some more football (I heart the Jets this week), and started settling into our fall routine of football, couch dwelling, and good slow cooker food (I made roast beef and apple crisp). And I almost completed a big crochet project (sorry, it's a Christmas gift, so you'll have to wait to hear about it).

Now, if only we could get the Steelers games instead of the stupid New England games, we'd be all set.

It's All a Fantasy

Fall has arrived in New England. The air quickly turned crisp and cool, it's raining again, and the apples are ripe for the picking. And of course, football season has commenced. Although I have to deal with stupid Patriots fans (this news story is a perfect depiction of fans as they justify leaving the games early), I also get to beat up on people in Fantasy Football.

It took a while for me to settle on a team name, but in the end I took a slight branching out from my ninja obsession, but still incorporated the theme, thanks to one of my favorite blogs, Sleep Talkin' Man. I settled on Fashion Assassins. My logo is:

I might not change this all season, I love it so much!

As the commissioner of the league, you'd think I'd be good. Not so much. The last two seasons I finished 10th out of 14 teams. This season we have 16 teams, so I figure if I still finish 10th, I've improved. My draft was less than stellar, because although I ended up with the Steelers' defense and Cardinal Larry Fitzgerald, I also ended up with Jeremy "Most Overrated Tight End Last Year" Shockey and, gulp, Bengal's quarterback Carson Palmer.

Week one had me matched against John, my friend Rachel's husband. Now John knows sports and football. Rachel, well, she calls fantasy football it fairytale men and ranks her draft based on how cool or funny the players names are (shocker that she has T.J. Houshmanzadeh). I was a little nervous going into the matchup since John was projected to beat me by at least 20 points.

Of course, then the most terrible opening weekend in the NFL happened and a lot of the games were crap. So despite John getting 41 points from Arian Foster in the Texans win over the Colts (???), I won! The final score was 144 to 137, but I was sweating the whole time. The lead kept changing on nearly every play, and since John had players in both Monday night games, I wasn't completely convinced I had the win.

And now I'm first in the league.

It's all just a rouse, though, because I'm sure it won't last. There is no possible way for me to keep it up. This weekend I play my friend Loni's husband, Jason. I saw him the other day. He told me he hates my league because Loni drafted Peyton Manning and got a bazillion points from him, even though Peyton's team lost and Jason's quarterback is crap (he's got Joe Flacco/Falco). But when he realized he and I were matched up this weekend, he changed his tune, promising to bring the pain.

We'll see. I'm projected to lose by 12, but for me that's not definitive enough. Our quarterbacks go head to head, although my Steelers defense plays in Tennessee this Sunday, while he's got New Orleans D playing San Francisco. So, who knows? All I can say is I'm so glad football's back (even if I lose).

But I'm Not Old

Since I started this blog about being 30 and taking on a new perspective of my life and what I want out of it, it never really occurred to me that 30 is that age where you start to become "old." I mean, 40 is the new 30, right? I didn't have a crisis and I embraced turning 30, feeling young and vibrant, and not at all mourning the loss of my youth.

And then I went to my annual physical.

Let me start of by saying in the past 8 years or so, I've increased my frequency and enjoyment of physical activity. Growing up I hated gym class and sports. Sweating was for losers and unless someone was chasing me, I wasn't interested in running. I did like to swim and was on the team throughout middle school, getting sidelined by an injury in high school. And frankly, I wasn't athletic enough to want to come back from the injury.



Throughout college I would work out some; going to the gym on an infrequent basis to torture myself on the elliptical, never quite figuring out what I was to do with the free weights. But after college, I joined Curves and something clicked. I started enjoying my workouts, looking forward to them, and was very happy with the physical results. Eventually my schedule made it difficult for me to get to a gym to work out, so Dave and I bought an elliptical machine for the basement and a piece by piece we've created a pretty fantastic home gym. We have a weight bench, free weights and bar bells, medicine balls, a Bosu ball, resistance bands, a full stereo and Dave even hung the TV on the wall so I can catch up on my TV shows from Netflix. I'm a few seasons behind on Grey's Anatomy, Lost and 24, but learned if I do 30-45 minutes of cardio, I can catch up pretty quickly. And the stereo allows me to indulge my secret hip-hop/gangsta rap fetish during strength training.

For those of you still wondering what a Bosu ball is.

Since the basement floor is concrete, we even bought the foam gym flooring to put down and I've got several yoga mats that I work on. But prior to the wedding, when I was in complete buff bride mode, I bought Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred and started going all out with the intense workouts, which includes a lot of plyometric (jumping) training. The result was exactly what I wanted (I was in, fact, a buff bride). So this past year, when I put on a few extra pounds, I went back to what I knew worked.

Hmm, I don't remember my knee hurting like that last year. How come it only hurts the day after I jump around on the basement floor?

Crap.

I'm old. And possibly busted.

I just wanted to be the new hotness!

(10 points to anyone who gets that reference.)

The good news is that I didn't break myself. My doctor say my knee is fine and that I certainly didn't do any damage. But if I continued to jump around on a concrete floor, it could be bad news. Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

So I haven't jumped around in the basement for about two months. And guess what? My knee doesn't bother me anymore. Imagine that.

While I'm a little disappointed that I literally can't do the things I was doing a little more than a year ago, I definitely don't want to injure myself and am glad I paid attention to what my body was saying. So it's back to the elliptical and static strength training for me.

So lessons learned. 1) I'm old, whether I like it or not. 2) If it hurts, don't do that. 3)Relish what I can do, so I don't have to mourn the loss of my youth when I'm 40.


You get extra LOLcats today since I skimped on the photos. And I thought these were funny.

Wedded Bliss

This weekend, my husband and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. It's funny, so many of our friends commented how they couldn't believe it had already been a year. Dave and I pretty much couldn't wait for the year to be over!

They say your first year is your hardest, and I think we were dealt some pretty difficulty challenges these past twelve months. Between Dave's back injury and losing his job, and me taking a temporary pay cut in order to gain some sanity in our lives, coupled with my dad getting hit by a car, my mom changing jobs and having surgery, and all the stuff going on with friends and people close to us, this year has not been easy. We toasted to a Happy New Year, hoping that the next twelve months (and the many years to come) will be easy in comparison. In fact, one of the biggest things I'm looking forward to this year is spending Christmas with Dave, something we couldn't do last year since he was injured and couldn't travel with me to Pittsburgh. (I had to go--children were counting on me.)


Saturday night we had reservations at Gibbet Hill Grill. We'd been there once before for a friend's graduation party and every once and a while would mention that we really need to go there for dinner. Taking advantage of a special occasion, we decided to go. When we arrived, the place was pretty busy, with a full dining room and filling bar area, as well as a wedding about to begin outside. The reception was to be held in The Barn, a separate building across from the main Grill restaurant. Our table was in the back at the windows, so I was able to see a little bit of the ceremony once it started. (We didn't crash this one either. Although we were appropriately dressed, alas we did not have a gift.)

Our waiter was great--very fun and attentive. And the food. Oh. My. God. I had been planning all week what I was going to have, doing extra workouts to accommodate all the yummy goodies I wanted. But words really can't describe it (not that I won't try!) Much of the food featured on the menu is grown either right on the farm or is local to the area. It's so fresh and the flavors are perfectly melded together with other fresh ingredients.


We ordered drinks, and looked over the menu, for Dave's benefit since I already had it figured out. Dave got a gin and tonic, and since I was getting steak and I am my mother's daughter, I ordered a Maker's Mark Manhattan. (And about halfway through the glass, I was finally able to taste the ice! I'm just saying, that was one drunk cherry, totally unfit to drive.)

As an appetizer, we ordered the Farmhouse Grilled Cheeses, made with local cheese and bread from a nearby bakery. This included a wonderfully sharp cheddar on a perfect sourdough bread, and a yummy goat cheese and roasted red pepper spread on a crusty french bread. They were gooey and warm and paired with a fresh tomato soup for dipping. Well, they called it soup, but it was really more like a thick marinara sauce in texture, but tomato soup flavor all the way. I could have licked the bowl, it was that good.

Dave had ordered a cup of New England Clam Chowder, which he said was perfectly creamy without being too thick. My meal came with a house salad, with all kinds of fresh greens, local goat cheese and a tangy chardonnay vinaigrette.

But really, we came to this place for the cow. And it was excellent. Dave had the Prime Rib Au Jus with garlic mashed red bliss potatoes and citrus-honey glazed carrots. I thoroughly enjoyed the Sirloin Steak Tips with a perfect baked potato. We figure they do a lot of wood-fired cooking there, because while the food wasn't necessarily smoky, there was a slight flavor to it that could only come from a wood-fired oven. The steak was so smooth--an intense flavor and a soft, butter texture. The most perfect steak tips ever.

Of course, I was celebrating and knew I was having dessert. I had a little bit of convincing to do for Dave, but he humored me and joined it. Gibbet Hill actually serves Milk and Cookies on their dessert menu (come on, how often do you see that?), and I pondered that option. Our waiter told us the cookies were Chocolate Chip and Oatmeal Cranberry, and I was almost hooked. Two of my favorites. But I decided against it because those are also two of my best cookie recipes and I wanted to try something unique. In the end it was Chocolate Pots de Creme with salted caramel, while Dave chose the Peach Crisp.

Ok, so I wasn't actually certain what Chocolate Pots de Creme was, but the waiter sold it by saying "silky smooth" and "chocolate" in the same sentence. It arrived in a mug and the top layer was smooth caramel, topped with just a little bit of cream. A-maze-ing. It was the silkiest of chocolate mousse, with an intense chocolate flavor, almost like hot cocoa in taste, paired with an oozing pool of caramel with a salted kick to cut the chocolate back a little. I could have licked the mug. And almost did. The Peach Crisp was huge, topped with almost two scoops of vanilla ice cream (the waiter told us later that he put more on it because he didn't think there was enough when he picked it up from the kitchen). The peaches were perfect and the cinnamon-y, nutty struesel topping was delicious.

We so rarely go out and get drinks, appetizers, and dessert with our meal, but celebrating "New Year's" seemed appropriate. We went home, snuggled on the couch, looked at our wedding album and digested.


Sunday, our actual anniversary, Dave's parent's came over to have lunch and celebrate with us. Dave and I popped a bottle of champagne for breakfast and toasted to a less chaotic year. After lunch with Madaline and Ernie, they gave us presents. A couple of entertaining dishes, since we have people over often, and a very special gift from Madaline.

Madaline is a quilter and an incredibly talented one at that. For our wedding, she made us this:


It's a king-sized quilt (her first) in beautiful colors. The picture doesn't do justice for the pattern or the quilt work she did, so trust me when I say it's gorgeous.

So I was quite surprised to open our gift yesterday and find this:


A beautiful "snuggling"quilt in our wedding colors. I swear, she picks the best fabrics. The border has hearts looped all the way around it and it's just lovely. Madaline commented that she didn't know our wedding colors when she started the bed quilt, so she had to make us another one! I don't think that was quite necessary, but it was very thoughtful.

So one year down, we spent the rest of the day watching football and it couldn't have been more perfect. I'm so lucky to have married such a wonderful guy that has been supportive and positive in a year that has been challenging and difficult. I think I'll keep him.

Orange County Choppers

When Dave and I drove down to Lisa's wedding in June, we took a different route than normal. It was much faster and gave us new stuff to look at. On the way home, I was driving and we were on I-87 in New York, about to take the exit to get onto I-84 and head back to Massachusetts. For some reason, I looked over to my left and saw a building on the other side of the highway.

"Gee, that building looks familiar," I thought as I looked back at the road. I looked at the building again, and exclaimed to Dave, "It's OCC! That's their new building! Want to stop?"

I did not crash the car or create any traffic violations. We took our exit, but couldn't figure out where to go to get to that side of the highway, so we just drove home. But we were excited at the prospect of stopping on a future trip.

For those of you who are wondering "WTH is OCC?", allow me to explain. OCC= Orange County Choppers, also known as the motorcycle shop featured on the hit (and newly renewed!) TLC program, American Choppers. Not actually interested in motorcycles, I was turned on to this show almost 8 years ago when Dave and I visited our friend Jesse for a New Year's Eve party (before we were even dating) and spent a few days with friends hanging out at his parents house. There was an American Choppers marathon and the boys beat the girls on choosing what to watch on TV.

I was hooked from the beginning. The designs on the bikes are phenomenal. And just seeing it go from paper to finished product is pretty impressive. Not to mention the family dynamic between the father, Paul Senior, and his two sons, Paul, Junior and Mikey. The personal interaction, sometimes volatile but often very funny, make for really good TV.

Needless to say, when TLC announced an end to the show this past spring, Dave and I were a little intrigued and mildly disappointed. For Christmas last year, I bought Senior's book Ride of a Lifetime for Dave. He loved it, and really gained a great deal (more) respect for Senior as a businessman.

And last week I found out that they renewed American Choppers. The bikes are just as awesome and the family plot thickens, what with Junior leaving the company (we saw that episode last year) and starting a competing business of his own. Oh, and Senior is suing Junior. (You can vote for who's side your on, too. I truly believe in Senior and what he has built, so I have to go with him. And I don't understand these people that are on Junior's side--seriously? Read the book!)

So, back to our drive home last Sunday, we decided that since it was the middle of the afternoon and I didn't have work on Monday, we might as well stop at OCC. We eventually found it (our GPS map is a little old, so we had to follow our, I mean my, directional instincts--I won!).


It was a great day, so there were lots of bikers around and people who generally had the same idea as us. We saw cars in the lot with plates from all over New England, Pennsylvania, Ohio and even one from Texas.

Inside, they have a great showcase in the windows of some of the best bikes they've built. I couldn't believe how huge some of these things are. Really big bikes. I have a whole new perspective of the work they do on the show.

Spiderman bike--they created webbing around the gas can and the wheels.

FBI bike (left) and New York Fire Department bike (right). They have this area set up so you can get your picture taken with the bikes. And the background is made up of patches from various emergency agencies from all over.

Lance Armstrong Foundation bike--pedaling not required!

The OCC version of Santa's Sleigh. I believe Senior actually dresses up and rides this bike to events where gifts are handed out to needy kids.

Besides all the merchandise and loads of TVs to watch episodes of the show, they have hallway you can walk down and actually see the shop and where they build the bikes and film the show. It was pretty cool to see. We may need to stop on a weekday to catch them during an actual build.

The lovable and plush versions of (left to right): Paul, Sr., Mikey, and Paul, Jr.


On our way out, I was still taking pictures. A nice guy asked if we wanted a picture of both of us.

The bike above the door is the Air Force bike.

We were really glad we stopped. The bikes are amazing and it was a cool little side trip into a little reality TV vice of ours. At least it's not complete trash and we learn a lot about motorcycles! And anyone who actually is into bikes should absolutely make the trip. They really are more than just bikes--they are works of art and each one is totally unique and absolutely original.

Putt U, Jagoff!

So remember when I said that the wedding on Saturday didn't start until 3:30 pm? Dave and I had some time to kill, so what else to do but find a mini-golf course!

We grabbed a local attractions guide from the hotel and found Putt U about 10 minutes from the hotel. With the slogan "Highest Degree of Mini Golf," we figured it would be a tough course and I threw down a challenge to Dave. Apparently the course hosted the national mini-golf championship tournament a few years ago. The winner did both courses in 87 strokes, which is the highest score a winner had ever won with. Yeah, tough course.

We got to the course and they actually have two different courses laid out. Not sure what the differences were, I asked the young woman at the counter, "I want to kick his ass, so which course should we go to?"


She laughed and explained the differences in the courses and Dave let me choose the Red course, which supposedly has less sand traps, but more water hazards.

And so began our morning. It was a great day, but a little breezy. The course was practically empty--only one other couple in front of us (about 3 or 4 holes ahead) and two or three other parties trickled in later, but we were all nicely spaced out so we could play at a leisurely pace. On our way out, I noticed many more people on the Blue course, but it was still pretty sparse.

The course definitely has a sense of humor. In addition to sneaky hazards and blind bumps and such on the actual greens, the signage was also rather amusing.


On the back of the scorecard, they list "Stuff you Need to know:" including "Shirts and shoes required (Slacks, Shorts and Skirts are also encouraged.)" Beneath that, they list "Other Stuff You Should Know:" which includes "Full house beats a flush" and "She loves you yeah yeah."

A few holes in and Dave and I were pretty close. On the fourth hole, I hit the water hazard and took a 6 on the hole since my capacity to remember how to play the game sunk in the water as well.


Another unusual thing about the course were the moving tees. On every hole, part way up the green, they had a red dot called the "Kid's Tee," which I thought was a nice feature. On most holes it was set past the first obstacle. A few holes also had "Normal" and "Pro" tees, depending on how much of a challenge you wanted.



By the end of the front 9, I was down by one. Not to be discouraged, I decided to regroup for the back 9. Dave teed off, and then it was my turn. From tee to pin measured 54 feet, and it was a curvy sucker with some interesting rock placement.

Well, I didn't get a hole in one, but I came close enough for Dave to get nervous.

Yup, that's my ball, and that's the hole. Sooooo close.

Unfortunately that happened more than I'd like to admit. It happened again on the 14th hole (Dave had to take a mulligan cause he didn't get it all the way to the top level on his first tee. Or his second tee for that matter.) And on several holes, I just missed the pin or popped out of the hole, thus incurring extra strokes right and left.

This picture does nothing for the incline on the 14th hole. Or the three-tiered levels to get up to the pin.

The scores were close and I was having trouble keeping track of who was ahead because it kept changing. The last hole was a long one, 97 feet, and I did crap off the tee. I bogeyed the hole and thought I was done for, since Dave made par. As we walked over to the 19th hole/ball return, I started doing the math. I had to add my score up twice because I couldn't believe it. I beat Dave by one stroke! He was so disappointed.

On our way out, we saw the young woman from the counter and she asked right away if I beat him. I told her I did, and she said, "Good job." I think being mocked by a 15 year old girl might have been more damaging to Dave than my gloating.

So far this year, Dave 1 - Colleen 2.

Congratulations, Mike & Donna!

Sorry for the lapse. Dave and I were away this weekend. We traveled to Bethlehem, PA, to attend Dave's cousin's wedding. The weekend before, Dave had gone to his cousin, Mike's, bachelor party in Atlantic City. Apparently it was a reasonably good time, but Dave is disappointed they didn't get into more trouble. Yes, at 30, my husband was the old man of the group, but also the biggest trouble maker. And he came home with at least one other woman's phone number. (He swears she gave it to him, unsolicited.)

But I digress. Wedding. Dave wasn't a groomsman, but he did escort Mike's mom down the aisle (Mike had escorted Dave's mom at our wedding last year), served as an usher, and read the scriptures during the ceremony. He was quite the busy guy. And since Mike forgot to tell him most of this, he only found out about it on Friday when we showed up at the church for the rehearsal. Dave's so easy-going and just rolled with it. And he did a great job on the readings at the wedding. Donna was walked down the aisle by her brother, which was special for her because they have such a close relationship. The rehearsal went fairly smoothly and was followed with a catered dinner in the church social hall. The food was pretty good, with New York-style cheesecake for dessert. This was definitely Donna's touch, since she's originally from Long Island.

Since the wedding wasn't until 3:30 pm on Saturday, we relaxed and did our own thing, then had lunch and got dressed to head over to the church. The weather was beautiful. Clear skies and sunny, with a nice breeze and not at all hot and humid like it has been for the last few months. It was a perfect day. We got to the church, probably too early, but Dave wasn't exactly sure. For me it was a lot of waiting in the pews. For Dave, it was a lot of waiting in the back of the church. Dave escorting his aunt, Jo (Mike's mom) to her seat at the start of the ceremony. The ceremony was lovely, performed by Mike's father (Dave's uncle, Jeff). I'm sure that was really special and you could see on Jeff's face that he was very happy. The ceremony went quickly and the couple had a bubble exit, which was cute. We stuck around for a little while to do some family pictures and then drove over to the reception hall. Unfortunately we took this picture while Donna was taking portraits. If we would have thought to get her in it, we'd have all the ladies that married into the family (left to right): Madaline (Dave's Mom), Annette (Dave's grandfather's wife), Jo, (Dave's aunt), and me.

The reception hall wasn't too far away, and very near the hotel. Despite our deepest protests, Donna and Mike are big Yankees fans (everyone has a flaw), and instead of table numbers they used Yankee player names. We were seated with Andy Pettitte (at least it wasn't Jeter) and a few of the groomsmen with their wives and girlfriends. They were a funny group and we had a good time.

Donna loves penguins like you would not believe. The girl has more penguin stuff than you can imagine, including the seat covers in her car. Someone told her that she was being mean by sitting on them when she drove, but she retaliated, saying that she wasn't sitting on them, she was letting them give her a hug. Only that kind of logic can describe this obsession.

Now, I knew this about Donna when I bought the cake topper for Dave and I. I wanted something a little bit different and found a seller on Etsy who makes all kinds of bride and groom animals. We looked at them together and settled on these penguins.
The penguin cake topper from our wedding last year. The seller added the pink details at my request to go with our wedding colors.

When Donna saw them, she just about lost it. Since Mike and Donna were engaged already (they were actually engaged before Dave and I), I knew what I needed to do.
Enhance: I contacted the seller and bought these for Donna last fall as a engagement gift. The seller added the navy blue details and even did the bouquet and veil flowers as daisies, Donna's favorite.

We had a pretty good time and did some dancing. Of course, for the limited amount of dancing we did, there is still one picture of me (and Dave this time, too) on the dance floor in a not-so-flattering pose. I swear, I could make an album of just awkward pictures of me dancing at weddings. It's as though it's my destiny. So of course I'll share. In our defense, the DJ was playing the Animal House version of Shout by Otis Day and the Nights.

We were so glad to be able to spend the day celebrating with Mike and Donna. We wish them the best and a lifetime of love.