3 Olive Martinis

One of the things the Hubby and I enjoy is perusing our local thrift stores for interesting finds. So much of the time we run into junk but every once in awhile we discover a real treasure. We’ve found materials for use with our jewelry design business and interesting home décor items among other things. Recently we stumbled upon an old silver drink mixer/pitcher. It was different than the modern style because it actually had a pouring spout and a handle, unlike today’s cocktail shakers. It was very tarnished and didn’t look like much but we thought we’d found a great deal and bought it. The Hubby polished it up when we got home and it looked great!

Fast forward to last night. The Hubby was arriving home late from a business trip. As a special welcome home I thought I’d mix up a batch of martinis; his favorite cocktail lately. Naturally I decide to use the new pitcher. After carefully mixing the ingredients and proceeding to shake the contents I quickly discovered why this thing ended up at the thrift store in the first place. Apparently the lid, which fools you into thinking it actually holds the contents of the pitcher back, allows liquid to escape through the side where the spout is; a genius design right there. So, I now have alcohol shooting out the top and all over the bar. But wait, there’s more. This thing all of a sudden breaks apart, the lid flies off, the top comes apart and I drop the pitcher. Now there’s ice cubes and gin all over the floor and at this point there was more than a little swearing. After mopping up the floor and picking up all the ice cubes I decided to haul out the ingredients again and mix up a new batch in my old, boring cocktail shaker. When the Hubby arrived home I believe his comment was something to the affect of; “what happened at the bar and why do you smell like gin?” “Just drink your martini”, I said.

Spring, Pedicures & Toddlers

Spring has sprung around here. I adore this time of year when I can see blossoms on the cherry tree, little leaves springing up on the grapevine and the promise of some afternoons ahead lounging outside. It’s this time of year that I am so happy to get out of my winter shoes and boots (I actually hate wearing socks and enclosed shoes) and get into my sandals and flip flops. Naturally, this requires a pedicure. Thanks to the economy and a little thing we like to call “cutting back” I do all of these at home now.  So, in anticipation of setting up shop for my pedicures the Teenager got me a footbath for Christmas. I was excited to use this thing for my first pedicure of the season. I set it up, filled it with water and stuck my feet in and the little guy wanted to know what I was doing. When he saw the whole soaking my feet routine he wanted to do it, of course. It was all Daddy could do to hold him back while he was taking off his little shoes and socks and attempting to jump in! But the cutest part of this scene was when I was done with my pedicure he said; “Mommy! I wuv, purple, it’s my faborite color! I want purple toes, too!”

It’s My Birthday- I’ll Eat Fries if I Want to

Yes, it’s true. This day rolls around way too fast for me. Although my “official” B’day celebration will not be until later in the month due to scheduling issues, the little guy wished me Happy Birthday this morning in his own cute, now able to talk, voice. The day did not get off to the greatest start because as I was getting ready I bent over and ripped my pants. My new pants. On my Birthday. On my Weight Watcher’s meeting morning. The irony is not lost on me.  There have been some other unfortunate, ill-timed incidents which I won’t announce over the Internet, but suffice it to say there’s nowhere to go but up.

So, after picking up the little guy I did something I almost never do. I went through the Mc Donald’s drive through. Hence, the title. But I’ll have you know I was pretty restrained, despite the “holiday”. I had a grilled chicken snack wrap and a small fries. Compare that to what I would normally have; a Filet O’Fish and a large fries. With Fry sauce.  Now I’ve lost readers in 49 states and several countries with that last line. If you’re from Utah or Mormon (or more to the point, a Utah Mormon) you know exactly what I’m talking about. For those of you who’ve never heard of this condiment, fry sauce is mayo mixed with ketchup in proportions that make it a coral-pink color. Back in the day as a new Utah resident from California I was intrigued when I learned that Utahn’s must have their “fry sauce” with fries. When I heard what it was I thought it sounded gross, mostly because it reminded me of thousand island dressing (though without the chunks). Then I tried it and I was hooked. I swore I would not get caught up in “their crazy culture”, (like saying “squoze” and “Oh my heck!” ) but I did. I have to admit it. You see in Utah, at McDonald’s and other fast food places they actually have fry sauce already made and available; that’s how much people use it. Here in CA we have to make our own. But I figure when you rip your pants it’s a really good idea to skip the fry sauce.


Today was one of those lovely “Spring Teaser” days. We get these every year; it suddenly warms up to make us think Spring is going to kick in and then we get another week or two of cold weather. We took full advantage of the great weather by taking a drive to a couple of our favorite little nearby towns. After lunch little guy got a chocolate milk, one of his favorite “treats” when we go on a outing. We had a great time strolling around a couple historic towns, browsing antique stores and the Hubby even scored some beautiful old silverware pieces with a fabulous pattern. (Which means watch the Draga Designs site for more jewelry to be available soon!)

On the way home the little guy was kind of complaining. We tried to ask him what was wrong and he couldn’t seem to tell us. We assumed it was because he hadn’t had a nap and with today being the time change we figured that was good because he’d be going to bed early. Then my mommy intuition kicked in and I told the hubby to pull over. I suggested he take the little guy out of his car seat and just as I was about to tell him not to hold him too close it was too late. Apparently the chocolate milk and windy road was a bad combination and he lost it. All down Daddy’s shirt. The good news is the Hubby listened to my warning and we avoided the whole "car barf routine" which involves completely removing the car seat cover to be washed and air dried, scrubbing everything down and in general a major operation (which we’ve done more than a few times.) Little guy seemed to be fine after this episode though I must say the ride home with Daddy and his shirt was less than pleasant. (It never occurred to me to keep extra clothes in the car other than for the little guy!) We were all very glad to get back home.

Creative Parenting: Time Out on the run

Yesterday while out and about with the family we decided to stop for lunch. We headed to a fairly large, family friendly (aka plenty loud anyway) type of place. While waiting for our food we noticed several other families with toddlers all around us. One family caught our attention when their little girl, who was sitting in a high chair, was having some sort of issue and was crying and generally carrying on the way toddlers do. Then the Dad did something that had never occurred to us. He stood up and turned the highchair around with his daughter in it so her back was to the table and she was looking out onto the whole restaurant while crying her little eyes out; sort of a time-out at the table. Several of the other customers with little ones looked to see what was going on and in an “aha!” moment we all started laughing. We thought this was brilliant because as her entire family ignored her and the rest of the restaurant was amused by this scene the little girl decided she really didn’t need to keep crying. In no time she let her family know she was done and they turned her around, hugged her and went on with their meal. The hubby and I thought this was really creative parenting and in fact I think hubby wanted to go shake his hand and buy him a beer for his creativity. He also mentioned he sure wished he’d thought of this himself a couple years ago.