Peep dis

the Skimm- a sorority girl turned Wait, work is for like-ever? ‘s dose of news.  It def leans left, but just log on Fox News for 8 seconds and you’ll be properly aligned. They shoot you an email every morning with manageable paragraphs (Lezbe honest, I only read the captions of pictures in Us Weekly). The writing is witty, and they link you to the real story if you REALLY want to expand your mind. Nope.

Archetypeme.com – you take a quiz (like most things of interest to me… Hi, I’m 7) which is kinda personal/kinda oogie. Basically it felt like a small therapy session. After you answer about 10 questions, they tell you the top “archetypes” that define you. Heavy, huh? I ended up being 35% Athlete (HEY-OOOO!), 34% Caregiver (Wait, what? I care about people?), 20% Creative (I’ll take it), and the rest divided between like 7 other archetypes. Your homepage gives you articles based on these traits, and you can select the ones that truly pertain to you to make your own board. I was skeptical of what Freud behind the computer said I was, buuuuuut it’s pretty dead-on. Athlete= new playlists, workouts, food trends (DUH) Caregiver=tips for home entertainment, cooking, mom stuff (meh, 2 out of 3 ain’t bad), Creative= DIY’s, celebs, fashion (yep, yep, yep).  

True & Co.

I’m sorry,  I lied, I’m here now. Still friends…? Friends.

I hate bras. Like hate them. Wires, loose straps, back fat. Ugh. If it wasn’t completely inappropriate, I would free-boob it all over this damn town. CVS, Walgreen’s, 7-11, and any drive-thru are perfectly acceptable braless establishments in my book, but I draw the line at the grocery store.

Omg BREATHE mother.

When I do strap them in, I have a select few that make the cup... HA! 

1. The Coobie Bra. Found this gem at a boutique in Newport, RI (yes I just wanted to name-drop Newport). It’s like a feminine sports bra with straps you can criss-cross, one shoulder, you get it, you’re not a moron.  It has a little padding, but I hate padding, so I pulled it out. To each his own. The padding is probably there to hide the THO, but I’m sorry. If Jennifer Aniston allegedly had a surgery to where she has permanent THO, it is CHIC AS HELL. Only other con to this bra is that it doesn’t cut very low, so you often have to rig it with a safety pin to dip it down. Thank you for the opportunity to let you all know just how white-trash I am.

2. Hanky Panky Racer-back Bralette. (Thanks, Erin!) Most of you know I’m a sucker for a good racer-back, so this is a given. Even I know you can't wear a racerback with everything, so I’d say that’s the only con.

3. The point of this post. I stumbled uponTrue & Co. via this blog. I took the quiz like 22 times before I actually bit the bullet. It asks you thinks like Which way do your breasts naturally lie? I don’t typ look at those fat sacks, so I sent it to Crawford to see his opinion. His response, “This is a trap. Not answering.” More questions about your favorite bra, your size, how does it fit you, where does it pinch, sag, fall off, etc. After the quizzie, they pick 2 bras for you based on your answers, and you scroll through a bunch of different ones and pick 3 more. That’s 5 total, peeps. You pay a $45 deposit, they ship you the brassieres, you might like them all, or you might return them all. I only liked one, so they refunded me $7, and I will use it to buy booze. No underwire, no padding, still gives you some lift, criss-cross straps, and a partridge in a pear tree. Check it out!

 

 

 

 

It's beginning to look a lot like... WEDDING BELLS!

So beyond distracted.

Giddiness upon waves of stress upon waves of more giddiness upon waves of intense pain in my teeth... Oh wait. That's because I did white strips today. Naturally, I went for the biggest bang for your buck (i.e. the most extreme for the shortest amount of time, duh). Even so, if I knew the Target special was going to require hydrocodine to counteract the pain, I never would've gone there. Or wait... yes, yes I would have.

MC: heeehee hooo hoooo oouchieee oww

C: You know those are terrible for you teeth, right? My dentist told me that last time I was there (Insert tone of judgement because he knows I avoid the dentist like the plague- I have "good teeth genes" ok!- Insert my tone of judgement because he goes to the dentist 6 times a year... These opposing forces, L's & G's, are why we work. Can I get an AMEN, Paula?)

MC: Well I'm still doing them.

WHY must I be a defiant 6 year old at any.given.moment? Not sure. But guess what? We got our marriage license today!! This means it's the Dental Expert and the 6 year old FO' LIFE come next Saturday... Welp that certainly sounds like a headline for the Enquirer. 

Mom gets here tonight, sister gets here Tuesday, and the festivities begin on Thursday!!!  Aside from my breakdown every time I refresh the weather.com 10-day forecast (it says RAIN! wahhhh, it says SUN!, they're lying), I am loving the timing of our wedding. I certainly couldn't survive as a bride-to-be with the holiday treats all up in my thighs at any given moment. I salute you, January brides.  

Sorry for the lack of posts, I know you've all been inconsolable. I promise to be back in action post-honeymoon. Next time you see me (hear me?) I'll be Mrs. Double Name Gupton!

Hook 'em!!



That is all.

Tracy Anderson + Gangam Style

Have y'all heard of Tracy Anderson? Gwyneth swears by her, and I have a bit of a girl crush on both of their killer bods. True to form, I'm burnt out on just about every workout I've overdone. Running is the only thing I consistently go back to, but my knees and shins and hips are quickly resembling those of an 86 year old. Sad, but true.

 

Enter Tracy's Metamorphosis.

 

 

You take a little online quizzie- who doesn't love a quiz? And it analyzes where your body tends to store fat and/or gain weight. Based on that analysis, you are prescribed the workout set that is specific to your shape. It's about $90, but with that comes a plethora of DIFFERENT workouts, specifically targetted to YOUR ass. And hips. And thighs. Each varying mat workout begins with the same dance cardio routine, which brings me to the real point of this post.

 

Y'all. Homegirl stole my dance moves. Jumping around, kicking her legs, aimlessly bounding... ring any bells? Yep. 30 minutes of straight bouncin' around, calling it dancing. Pretty much my Friday & Saturday nights in a nutshell. So clearly, I LOVE IT! I suggest putting your own music to it after you do it one time. It goes amazingly well with Gangam Style. On repeat.

 

In Loving Memory of Greta 1/22/2009 - 9/26/2012

Most of you know that I hardly ever called her "Greta," so the title might seem almost comical. Among countless other senseless nicknames, she was my Teetsie, my RuRu, my Shushie, The Girl. I remember the day we got her like it was yesterday. We showed up to the Swissie Compound, complete with dog mansion to match the breeders' mansion. We heard the "aRU-RU-RUuu" bark before we saw the gentle giants, and I remember saying to Crawford, "Those are the male dogs... right?" Sure enough, they were girls and one was Greta's mama. Once we got the all-clear from the protective breeder, we had that sweet baby in our arms. I am using the term "baby" loosely, because she was not your regular sized 8 week old puppy... She was already heavy to carry. Gosh I would give anything for that day.

Her size was not the only "non-puppy" thing about her. Her demeanor at 8 weeks to the day she left us was that of an 18 year old precious lug. Not much excited her. Except for Crawford. I always said that if I walked in one door with a huge slab of raw meat and Crawford walked in the other, she wouldn't even glance my way. She loved him SO much. And for good reason! That man would do anything for her... and he did.

There are so many things I will miss. That face. Such a precious, puddin' face. Those brown dots above her eyes, or her eyebrows I guess, were my favorite part. She was so striking! Her eyes held so much more wisdom than she every fully revealed. It was like she knew secrets... Her coat. I will miss that soft fur with every inch of my being. Her presence. Her calming, soothing presence. Going on walks. I will miss the way she knew we were going on a walk anytime a plastic bag was rustled. The way she would put part of the leash in her mouth and tug it like it was actually her walking Crawford or me. That is a great way to look at it honestly. She took care of us, just as much as we took care of her. She held us up!

Everyday life will be the toughest. We already feel it. Now it doesn't matter if we forget to put the trash can on the counter out of reach or if we leave tennis shoes and socks on the ground after a run. We don't have to put a chair on the couch or close his bedroom door to protect it from Greta hair. Saving trash bags, keeping towels in the car, and putting her leash in a spot the other will find it... All these little habits we are so conditioned to do just don't matter anymore. 

 

I think that's part of what God and Greta want us to see too... All the things that simply don't matter. Whether the burlap is frayed enough for our wedding tablecloths, whether or not it will rain that day, whether my nail color is too summery (ha)... Doesn't matter. Love matters. Being kind matters. Being authentic matters. We gained another clear perspective as well: We can't wait to go to heaven. This world is so full of pain, and with Jesus there is no pain. Don't get me wrong, our lives on earth are amazing and we are beyond thankful, but they don't compare to what is waiting for us!

 

Thank you, Greta for strengthening our love for each other and for the Lord. We will miss you every single day... You're the Best Girl, and now you really are our Angel. We celebrate your life!!!



St. Tropez Mousse

I'm Mary Clay, and I'm a bronze-o-holic.

Hiii, Mary Clay.

Most children grew up with their mothers harping "Sunscreen, Sunscreen, Sunscreen!!" Allie and I grew up with a mother harping "Tanner, Tanner, Tanner!!" Love you Mom, but it's true :) I left the tanning beds behind in college- for the most part- I confess I've been like 5 times over the past 5 years. Don't judge... I can feel you judging. I loooove laying out, but let's get real, it's not doing my skin any favors. I got super into Versa Spa for a good 2 years- like going every Friday morning of my LIFE, and while I learned from the expert Emily :) of how to make this work for me, in the end the monthly charge of $80 was taking a hunk out of this budget. Not to mention... This conversation happened while Crawford and I were on a run (of all times) about a year ago:

C: Hey, we need to talk about something. I've been wanting to bring this up for a while now.

Me: (GULP. Welp. This is it... At least we're running... I can run home and cry. And eat ice cream).

C: Your spray-tanning. I hate it. It smells and it doesn't even look that good.

Me: (That's as bad as a break-up!!!!!!!!!!!) Well it's not stopping... I am not stopping it!

C: But you look great as you are! Without that shiz all over you!

Me: YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ME WITHOUT A TAN, SO HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW??!

Notice I said this convo was about a year ago... It took me another year+ to realize he was right (and/or to listen to this request... so sor, sor). Long of the short, after Versa, Mystic, actual sprays from a person, and countless creams/gels/younameit, I've found the end-all, be-all, tan-savior of all-time!! Thank you, Benna, for pushing me to buy the St. Tropez Mousse and Mit.

 

Y'all. You can see exactly where it's going on your bod, and it's instantly bronzing- ie no waiting around for 5 hours to see it. It does not smell badly, is not streaky, the mit keeps your palms oompa-loompa free, and it dries SUPER fast. Also, you're not sticky or wary of any clothing being ruined! It lasts for about 4 days, but you can layer more onto it without looking like a melting caramel cake. Annnnd, most importantly, it has C's stamp of approval. His words: The color is much more natural, and there's no smell. Win. WIN. Sephora sells it, so get your pasty booty to a store near you, asap.

TEXAS v. OLE MISS

SUPER PUMPED for this weekend. This will be the first time in FORTY-SIX YEARS that Texas plays Ole Miss. I'm not gonna lie, this has been the pinnacle of Crawford's and my relationship for the past 4.5 years. Some might say marriage, starting a life together, popping out babes... nope. Football game featuring our respective Alma Maters.

Y'all, The Grove! This thing is the epitomy of all things COLLEGE and FOOTBALL. I might not ever come back.

Annnnnd naturally, with something this monumental, comes outfit anxiety. Several things making this difficult:

1. It's Tuesday. We leave on Thursday.

2. It's post-Labor Day, and we will be in the heart of the South where Labor Day rules are real rules.

3. It's going to be 85 during the day, but the game isn't until 8:15pm... when it will be 60 something.

4. Ole Miss girls dress up like it's prom.

Option 1:  

i.e. What is happening because I didn't get my shiz together... in 4.5 years of anticipation.

Option 2: 



If I was rich and did have my shiz together, this would be the outfit.

Leeeeeet's be honest here though, totes won't matter! Cannot freaking wayyuuuuut. PS I used Polyvore for the first time to make these outfits. Yes, I know I'm behind, but it was really fun.

Extremely Embarrassing

My Week in a nutsheel:

#1. As this man is speaking on the Republican National Convention:

I ask Crawford if that is Ryan... He doesn't speak to me for a solid 10 minutes. #idiot #usweeklyisntnews

#2. I search high and low for "easy" cookies to bring to a friend's ranch this weekend. I opt for easy White Chocolate Ritz Peanut Butter Cookies. I jot down ingredients, the gist of the recipe, and I go to town. I don't cook a lot, but in the words of my Mom "I'm pretty good at entertaining dishes." So basically, this should be my forte, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Exhibit A

 

 Peanut butter sandies anybody?! Gosh, this IS easy.

I remember the recipe said to melt the chocolate in the microwave, but I I use a double boiler because that's the only way I've ever melted chocolate. (Basically I am on my high horse... Microwave? Psh. Amateur hour.) So the white chocolate chippies are melting away, and it occurs to me that I do not understand how in the world something that thick could coat these little sandies without absolutely scalding my fingers. (No, tongs never entered my mind, but this was truly so thick they wouldn't have helped). Crawford is about to take Greta on a walk and notices that I am about to need a trip to the ER for 3rd degree burns, so he aborts the walk. Long of the short, this is what happened.

Exhibit B

Doo doo iced crackers with me yelping Owww! Hot! Like a 2 year old. (Notice the blurb of chocolate... I obvs still eat one of them).

Not yet defeated, I decide that melting them in the microwave is probably a better route? (Tail between my legs). I remember the recipe said to stir every 30 seconds, but that gets really old, and nothing is happening, so I let it reallyyy get going for 2 minutes. Herein lies the result:

Exhibit C 

In sum, this morning I do a little research, and here's the BLARING problem: I should've gotten "white almond bark" rather than actual white chocolate. I know you're saying DUH to the computer screen if you're even still reading, but I can be quite literal when it comes to new things, and these were called "Easy White Chocolate Ritz Peanut Butter Cookies." So, if anyone wants some Ritz PB Sandies... you know where to get them. I contemplated bringing them to work until I remembered we don't have recess or nap time.

#3. Crawford asks me what brass instrument I would play if I could play anything... I say the harp.

BB Cream... A Secret Society?

I originally ran across bobbi brown's BB Cream in the latest issue of DFW's Indulge Magazine. After telling a fellow bobbi lover about it (sup, lanyl?), I assumed the "BB" was just a play on bobbi brown. The blurb essentially dubbed it as a one-stop shop for your face. We're talking moisturizer, primer, foundation, sunscreen. What more do you need in life? As intrigued as this product whore was, I decided I was happy with my current foundation, and if you read the last post (there are only 6 of you, please fake it that you read the previous post), you know how much I love my moisturizer with SPF.

Well.

This was before I realized that half the world- literally the entire Eastern Hemisphere- has been on the BB train for years. Hello, loop, it's been a while. This stuff is everywhere! Garnier, Clinique, Smashbox, and many, many more have been touting this stuff as THE product for a while now. It has its own wikipedia page for crying out loud! As I said, it originated in East Asia, and the "BB" stands for Blemish Balm or Beauty Balm (among other monikers). So judging from the "blemish" half of this equation, I'm assuming it helps with pesky pimples as well? Has anyone tried this? Are you all out there BB'ing it up and I don't know it? I've never felt so alone. I think I might try the Garnier first, since it's only $12.99!! Stay tuned.

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

Rodan+Fields Dermatologists

I've never had bad skin per se, but I definitely am not one of those people (ahem, Abbie) that has complete strangers tell her how perfect her complexion is... and then they ask me if I'm her mom. Twice. This has happened twice.

Scenario One: Getting pedicures, relaxing, biggest care is what color to pick when Abbie's lady points at me asks her... "This your mom?"

Scenario Two: Abel's on the Lake after a Texas loss last year (weird, I know), and Douchey McDouche is hitting on Abbie. He turns to me and says, "I'm sorry, Lady, but your daughter is hot."

Kill me.

Point being, Abbie has perfect peaches and cream skin, and my skin has now gone from "not bad per se" to holy balls I look like The Crypt Keeper in a matter of sentences.

What was my point? Oh right. This skincare line is amaaaaaaazing!!! And clearly I need it. A sweet friend sells it on the side, and after clicking her gchat status with the product site, she sold me. (Thanks, Emilie!) I am 6 weeks in, and I can certainly tell a difference. I went for the Anti-Age Regimine (if you even make me repeat why), and it is a 3 step system that you use morning and night. All of the steps are labelled very clearly, so that helps. Unlike the 4 step nail buffers you buy at CVS that come with directions that you always throw away because you're sure you'll remember, then the next thing you know, you're shining your nails before you use the rough part, and everything just seems like a huge waste of time. Like reading this blog.

omg medicine please. someone.

Ok, so Step 1 is this awesome exfoliating Daily Cleansing Mask that makes your skin feel soooo squeaky clean. We're talking like you have gotten every last bit of dirt and makeup out of every last pore. I know what you're thinking, Wow, that sounds like a mask/scrub that an extremist (hi!) would reallyyy get into, but it seems a little harsh, right? A scrub/mask twice a day? Well, it magically isn't! My skin is more hydrated and smooth than it has been in a long time. Stay with me though. Step 2 is the Pore Minimizing Toner with a light smell, and while that's drying I typ put my eye cream on (I have not bought the R+F eye cream because I love my bobbi brown, but I might get crazy and switch over once it runs out). After the toner is dry, you put on the Step 3 lotion specific to day or night. In the morning, you put on the Triple Defense Treatment (i.e. the one labeled "am", unless you are Allie, and you work nights. In which case, my mind is BLOWN) and it has spf 30 in it, is not too greasy, nor too wimpy. The Overnight Restorative Cream for night time (duh) is the JAM. It makes you feel like a goddess with supple, glowing skin right before you go to bed and only your dog or your significant other that is more interested in Breaking Bad sees you. Le sigh.

A few notes: My skin is super sensy to new products, and this did not break me out. I will say that it brought impurities out in the first couple weeks, but it was not like a full on pizza party, and they have since subsided. Also, it is not cheap. However, for $193, you're getting at least 2 months worth of products that truly make a difference. So, there ya have it!

Love,

Mom

The Dukan Diet

I attempted the Dukan Diet because Kate and Pippa were rumored to have done it.

"If Kate and Pippa jumped off a bridge, would you?"

Yes. Yes I would.

"If Kate and Pippa smoked crack and pulled out all their hair, would you?"

Why, Yes. Yes I would.

Ughh, if Pippa and Harry could just make it work, the wheels would be OFF.

And that, ladies and gents, is how to get flagged as a potential stalker threat to the royal family. You're welcome.

Perfection.

Back to it...

Dukan. It works, I'll tell you that much. There are 4 phases, but in true Mary Clay fashion, I was hardcore until a little over halfway through phase 2... and then I fell off the wagon.

In a nutshell:

Attack phase: Eat ONLY protein, excluding obvious fatty meats (duck, ribs, sausage... geez now I'm drooling), fat free dairy, and the obligatory 1.5 Tbsp of oat bran for anywhere from 2-10 days, dependent upon what Dr. dukan prescribes for your particular weightloss plan.

Cruise Phase: Introduce vegetables to your diet, but only root vegetables. No legumes (again, sorry La), no starchy potatoes or corn, and carrots and beets in lesser amounts because they are higher in sugar. Also, you up your oat bran to 2 Tbsp a day in this phase. You can alternate veggie/protein/oatbran days with protein/oat bran days (a la the Attack phase). OR you can eat v/p/o five days a week and p/o the remaining 2. (There are a couple other forms of alternation of v/p/o and p/o, but you get the gist... you better, because I'm over explaining this).

Consoldation Phase: Introduce fruit, bread, fattier cheeses... In my opinion it gets far too technical here, and you're bound to become obsessive and crazy. (I know nothing about that).

Stabilization Phase: You can eat what you want, in moderation (I know nothing about that- no really- nothing), while still maintaining the oat bran (up to 3 Tbsp at this point... mmm) and having a Protein Only Day on a consistent day each week. (Doc suggests Thursdays. Why? No idea).

As for liquids: Coffee, diet drinks (which I think are TERRIBLE FOR YOU), unsweetened tea, and water... No alcohol. Pssh, yeah right.

Ok I'm tired of talking about this, and anyone still with me is tired of listening. News flash: if you STOP eating ALL carbs (except oat bran... Im sorry, wth? This is a cult. I need to be committed) and virtually all fat- you WILL drop weight. Like realllyyy quickly. That said, spending one night knee-deep in a bag of Doritos, a loaf of bread, and some Oreos covered in peanut butter (I know nothing about that), and you're back where you started, plus 8 lbs. If you're still interested (seriously?), visit the website for the official rundown and/or read the book (Yep, I read that too). Clearly, I did get pretty into it for the time I did it, and it heeded results. However, it all comes back to that "I'm not having fun, and I'm not that fun to be around" feeling... which is, well, not fun.

A girl's definition of fun: (universal adj) can be used to describe anyone, anything, any action, any feeling, any emotion, any awkward silence, any embarrassing moment, any outfit, any fleeting vocabulary word.
ex: She is so fun! That top is so fun! Are you having fun? OMG this is so fun! I had fun. How on earth did you not have fun?


In other FUN news, we have our first shower/engagement parties this weekend!!! Giddiness.  

MC's Must Sees (You see what I did there...?)

Contrary to what this title might insinuate, I'm not very good at going to the movies. For all 5'2" of me, I can never seem to get comfortable. However, at the Movie Tavern, they have little tables that swing in front you for your food (obviously). I recently found that pulling the table toward me and draping my legs over it brings pesky theater comfort to a more bearable level. At the last movie we saw, Crawford leaned over to me mid-adjustment and begged, "What is wrong with you?" Due to this discomfort issue, my inablity to pay attention, my love for the pause and rewind buttons, and the fact that any given theater is almost always 58 degrees max, I can count on two hands the movies seen in the past 5 years. All of that said, we watch the heck out of some series. You could call me a Sage on Series...? Serious about Series...? Seriously, Shut Up. Ok.

Downton Abbey.

The clothes, the accents, the decor, the dramaaaa, did I mention the clothes? Swoon. Set on a fabulous Estate in Yorkshire just after the Titanic sinks in 1912, the heir to the Downton fortune (well not technically, because the real dough comes from the American mother, but I digress) is in question since the only children of the Lord and Lady of the house are 3 women. And the thought of a female heir- ohh the very idea! I most empathize with Lady Mary (one name) because she is the eldest and by far the most self-consumed. The plot follows her love life most closely, and she is utterly stunning- again with the empathy. All these people actually do is get dressed for dinner and mill about the Estate while the servants wait on them hand and foot. There is a parallel of sorts between the love stories and evil plotting of the servants' quarters and their employers residing upstairs. The grandmother and matriarch of Downton is the Countess of Grantham, played by Maggie Smith, and she is hilarious. She says things like, "What is a weekend?" and looks utterly repulsed when a "job" is mentioned. While I assume mostly female viewers, the history and lifestyle indeed appeal to the masses. Season 3 begins in early 2013. I don't want to give too much away, so just trust me and cue it up on your Netflix. Like now. GO!

Lady Sybil, Lady Mary (<3), and Lady Edith

Paleo

I went on a really intense 3 week commitment to Paleo. (insert sarcasm font). However, it was so intense that I made Crawford's birthday cake paleo-friendly. I'm sorry, wth is wrong with me?

Happy birthday, honey! Here's a delicious gluten-free, wheat-free, dairy-free, all-organic chocolate cake! mmmmmmmmm. 

It scares me how much of a freak I am sometimes. Anyway, as selfish as this birthday experiment was, it actually tasted reallyyy good. In case you're interested in making someone special's birthday about you:

Recipe and pic via  

Ok back to my point. Paleo. I think there is definite merit to the principles behind it. The basis being you eat as if the agricultural revolution never happened. i.e. no wheat, dairy, gluten, oats, legumes (meaning no beans or garbanzos, lauren :), or anything processed because these foods spike insulin levels and lead to that I can't stop eating this! feeling. (I know nothing about that feeling). There are several other arguments to this lifestyle, but I pretty much tune out whenever anything remotely scientific enters the picture. My sister is a nurse, and I am Charlie Brown listening to adults when she uses even the simplest medical terminolgy. I digress. The bulk of your diet is heavy on meat, a little less on veggies, much less on fruit, and varying degrees of natural fats (i.e. avocado, coconut oil, evoo, nuts- except peanuts) dependent on your weight loss goal. However, the Paleo community gets a little wary of those seeking the "lifestlye" as a diet... because it's not a diet... it's a way of life. Anyway. I read Robb Wolfe's A Paleo Solution, and I got a lot out of it. For 3 whole weeks. I'm ridiculous. One noteworthy tidbit I did learn is to cook with coconut oil- amazinnng. Apparently it's less toxic than evoo when you're cooking at high stovetop temps. (Still use evoo for the oven though, it works much better). Also, Crawford strongly dislikes coconut, and he can't even tell when I cook with it. muahaha. Long of the short, I realized that while eating like this DOES make you feel really good, and I definitely felt myself de-bloat quite a bit, it's just plain not fun.

Oh, thanks for having us over for dinner! Oooh... that meat was cooked near the buns? Eh, sorry, I'll have to pass. Just give me the celery. No hummus either, but thanks!

Call me weak, call me crazy, but I can't live like that. Not fun for me, not fun for the people around me. This is my personal opinion, and I truly respect anyone's ability to adhere to Paleo... but I simply love eating late night and drinking real beers entirely too much for it. Said the 20 year old frat boy.

The Cooler Cleanse

I did the Cooler Cleanse shortly after I started my new job. More specifically, I was less than a month in, and I not only had a huge box over-nighted to the mailroom, but I also occupied an entire drawer in the community fridge with these (and other) numbered gems:

Who's new girl? I dunno, but she drinks juice all day.. AND she took up a whole drawer??! 

So cool it's scary. To summarize:

Day One: This is awesomme!! I feel so healthy! Everything tastes so good! Yummyyyy green juice! I LOVE YOU! This is so easy... who needs to chew? I sure don't. Calorically it's a decent amount and with the final "juice" being about 50% of said calories, it is enjoyed as the delicious straight-up milkshake it tastes like. Meaning: I am truly never hungry all day! A juice every 2 hours to total 6 juices a day? Easy-peasy.

Morning Day Two: Still going strong until about 11am. I'm In my boss's office (juice in hand, duh, I have no shame), and I can...hardly...keep...my eyes open. It was pretty much how I picture Katniss when she gets stung by the Tracker Jackers. For those non-HGers (sorry for you) imagine calculus class taught by a french guy with a thick accent after a late night out. There. OH and I'm freezinnnnnnng. Like all day long, shiverinnnnnnnng. At my previous job I had a tye-dye snuggie I would bust out in that freezer of an office but I'm new here, remember? There's a reputation to uphold... ha.

Evening Day Two: Oh, hello Mary Clay the DEVIL. Nice to meet you.

Day Three: I JUST WANT TO CHEW. And not gum- I try to adhere to the strict guidelines (read: extremist), so I gag down the doo-doo green drink. I hate you! I try to imagine life with a knife and fork. This attitude pretty much continues until about 3pm when suddenly.....  "I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLLLLD, LOOKIN' DOWN ON CREATION" (That means YOU - PEON that actually eats their food... ew).

I know this girl looks exactly like me, but it's not.

Pic from this adorable blog : Could I Have That

My skin is dewy, my hands are more moisturized than I've ever seen them, and I just feel so good! I'm looking forward to tomorrow's meal, but genuinely, genuinely glad I did this. Would I do it again? Heck yeah... But not for a long, long, long time. The no coffee thing was definitely tough, but I'm glad to know I actually can survive without it.

Word of advice: Don't do this cleanse prior to a wedding weekend. (As if that's even possible these days). I 100% negated every morsel of goodness those 3 days did me... Innnn about 8 hours.

Where have you been all my li-i-i-iiiife...

Rihanna- I'm right here.

If you read the About, you'll understand the hiatus. I'm so sorry dear blog, but it appears I grouped you into the "things I inevitably drop" category, and it wasn't cool. In my defense, Crawford proposed not long after these first posts (Yippee!!!!!!!), so I must admit I cheated on you with the following:

www.pinterest.com
www.stylemepretty.com
http://lover.ly/
www.etsy.com

There were countless others, but I promise they meant nothing to me except 2,983,649,265 ideas and inspiration. Also, a special thank you to the gals of GG2k12 for encouraging me to get back on the horse and for laughing at me even when I'm not funny. Which is hardly ever.

I will give a brief re-cap of Day 3 in Chicago, and I promise it actually will be brief, because I hardly remember anything. Except this:

Pequod's. Go there. Do not go to Gino's East or whatever the other super-touristy places are. Go HERE. PS I quite like the Ole Miss junkie with his Horns up, don't you?

and this:

Wrigley. Amazing. The Cubs lost (err choked) and it was still so much fun!! That said, the first thing I sassed when we walked in the stadium was, "Gosh, this is small." Brat. (GO RANGERS!) After a minute of puffing out my Texas chest (and fluffing my Texas hair?), I realized the charm of this old school staple. No Lil' Wayne playing before they bat, no racing Ozarka dots, no obscene 2 foot long hot dog (can't wait to try that btw), just the good ol' fashioned organ and fans that all knew each other by name. No seriously. It felt like high school! It was so apparent that this is just what they do on Saturday... and every other Saturday before and after this. In fact, they do it so often there is simply no reason for them to even watch a play, much less the game. (Said the girl that has mastered the art of "watching" a sporting event with my girlfriends... ie "OMG, your hair looks so good! I love that top! Do you need to go to the restroom? I'll get more beers." All while angling toward each other in a position that is physically impossible to pay attention to anything other than each other... and most importantly to the gal with the greatest gossip).

and finally this:

Goose Island. We made besties with a couple guys from Bahhhh-ston and a kind bartender that lead us to Pequod's, all while we enjoyed delicious homegrown brews. If another opportunity presents itself to visit Chicago, I feel confident we will jump on it. Such a friendly, lively, and flat-out fun city. In a nutshell, it is the small town person's big city. (Yes, I came up with that all on my own!) Until then, I hope to post more consistently about my various antics and latest obsessions.


Speaking of HOPE and Chicago, Crawford's precious cousin Strother (prounounced Struh-ther) is headed to the Windy City, Lord willing, in the next week or so. If you get a free minute, check out this little superstar's website: www.strotherstrong.com

Chicago Day 1

I can't decide the best way to describe our first day in Chicago. Considering the first post was rather long-winded, I thought of just doing a series of pictures or possibly a list of "Highs and Lows" of the day... Wait, yeah we'll go with that. Also, I did go to first grade and I do know that 2 comes after 1, but herein lies the post about Day 1 in Chicago... AFTER Day 2. It's weird, I know. Try to keep up. (Read: I don't know how to put this one first, I'm new here!!)

Bad (funny) news first. I can't even call them "Lows" so I'll call them "Typicals"...

Typicals:
The El Train. Although Day 2 proved otherwise, I really did study up on where to go, what to see, and how to get there, (promise!) and I felt I had a pretty good handle on how we should get from O'Hare to downtown Chicago. After landing at 10am, we hustled through the airport following signs for the train, got our tickets, and set on our way. Well, I did at least. I'm about to cross the last landing to get on the blue line, and um, Crawford...? While I was busy trying to blend in and act local, my travel companion was busy blowing my cover. He had some seriouuuuusss issues putting the little ticket into the slot and couldn't get through the gate. Turn it over! No, I mean flip it! No, the other way!! HILARIOUS.

Getting hustled. Jump off the train, bags in hand, and not a clue where to go, sore thumbs don't even begin to describe us. Well me, especially, in my STARK white sweater and my "transitional" outfit being 90% Spring, 10% Winter. (So much for looking local...) Anyway, we are heading in what we think is the right direction when Smiley McSmilerson stops us and says, "Ohhhh no, no, no! The James is THIIIIIS way." He points out all the buildings along the way, gives a one-liner about each and every one, and it's CLEAR he has taken us for fools. Well me, especially. We get to The James and he looks at us with puppy dog eyes and says "my 2 daughters" and "Cubs tickets" 187 times, and of course this sucker asks if he has change for a 20. Which of course he doesn't. So I give Crawford the same puppy dog eyes, he hands Smiley a 20, annnd then hands me a 20 minute earful. (Which I deserved 100%). I just hope Smiley actually went to the Cubs game with these 2 daughters and that's not code for a Mickey's and 2 needles. It totally is, I'm an idiot.

MOVING ON.

Thank goodness I left the white jeans at home.

Highs:
Chicago Art Institute. Unreal. Amazing. Everything and more. LOVED the Impressionist Exhibit- It's strange that a 27 year-old former Sorostitute would love Monet and Van Gogh... so unexpected, right?! The modern art prettyyy much freaked me out. Not modern art as in Jackson Pollack and... well... that's the only one I can remember- but "modern art" as in WHY are you making me watch a video of you, as I stand in a dark room, with freaky music, while you paint yourself in what can only be described as oil? FAVORITE (so the Highest High, if we're sticking with a theme here) were the miniature rooms!!! Exact replicas of homes in England and the US ranging from a formal dining room in London to a casual, open living area in California. The detail was impeccable. We're talking that if you crane your neck to see the furthest nook of a room, there is an intricately designed stairwell leading upstairs with the perfect amount of natural light highlighting its banister. UNREAL, I tell you!

The Gage. Our cute waitress from Terzo Piano*, where we ate lunch in the Art Institute (dangit, that's another high!), told us a nearby bar to checkout after perusing all the exhibits. It was right on Michigan Ave, had like 100 beers on deck, and the ambiance was just as a bar should be... Cubs fans tying yet another one on (Opening Day, hellooo) mingling with business men in fancy suits, dark wood accented with crisp shades of green, and a cool name: The Gage. (Sidenote: This reminds me of the college Drake that I ALWAYS pick in March Madness brackets, because I like the name... Relevant? Nope). After hours of wandering the Art Institute, our (my) feet hurt, and this was right on the money.

When you drink a Goose Island brew, you get these cool glasses. Goose Island is one of the very few

places in Chicago that brews and serves their own beers. Stayyyy tuned for more on GI!

The Violet Hour* Mayyybe the coolest part of the whole trip. A legit speakeasy in the eclectic, hipster neighborhood, Wicker Park. Even with the address, an iPhone, and a cab driver, finding the little gem was no easy task. I finally just opened a door that was painted into the graffiti on a wall (seriously, that obscure. and seriously, do I have death wish?) and we were in! High-backed leather chairs, lighting so dim we had to hold the candle to the menu to read it, and an all-around "we're not cool enough to be here" vibe that was intimate and awesome. Drinks were DELISH. I went with a vodka something or other... light and refreshing. So did Crawford. Until he remembered he was a guy and ordered an Old-Fashioned.

Pictured: Don and Betty Draper (I refuse to acknowledge Megan)

Pump Room at Public Hotel. After doing some seriouuuuus blog-stalking of any and every cute girl in Chicago that I could find, I happened upon Pump Room. Creepy? Probably. Resourceful? Definitely. This is the old hangout of Frank and the Rat Pack, and let me tell you, it exuded just that. The food was out of this world, and the only thing to match it was the atmosphere. Also, our waiter was so helpful! He wrote down the recipe for the roasted broccoli we were raving over, annnnnd he whole-heartedly supported our next move of the night- to the blues bar Kingston Mines**- so naturally I felt that we had a special bond over vegetables and shaking it. I distinctly remember him saying, "I'm from Chicago, and I still geek-out over Kingston Mines." Which brings me to...

Pump Room

Doesn't Crawford look like Michael Douglas here??? Oh wait, that's MD above him.

Kingston Mines** Two stages. Two dance floors. 2am closing? NOPE. 4am. In a nutshell, Mary Clay's heaven. The bands were INCREDIBLE. One band would play a full set on one stage, then they'd take a break, and the whole bar would get up and move to the other room of the bar with the other stage. The energy was HIGH, HIGH, HIGH, and we had an absolute blast. I truly couldn't think of a better way to end Day 1 in Chicago. (You can probably tell by this last tidbit why Day 2 started off so swimmingly :)

Happy.

*Thank you to Charlotte and John for these (and more) AMAZING recommendations!
**Thank you to Emily for the insightful article about Chi-town!

Chicago Day 2 (Day 1 Coming Soon...)

The rumors are true. Deep-dish pizza the size of a small planet, beer-guzzling Cubs fans more interested in the bottom of their cup than any double-play, the Magnificent Mile is just that- Magnificent, and if you don't know what you're doing... Just ask someone. Friendliest "big city folk" ever. Which brings me to the theme of Day 2 in CHI "If you don't know what you're doing..."

After a 3am bedtime, we knew a 9am arrival at the Willis Sky Deck was beyond ambitious. Rolling out of bed at 10:40 for our 11am brunch reservation, the day is already off to rough start. Charging down Rush St to make the 11am rez, (anyone who knows me knows I LOATHE being late) we be-bop into an EMPTY restaurant where I sheepishly admit to having a reservation. We sit down... it's lunch, not brunch. Our hungover hearts are set on eggs, so we decided to ditch the reservation.

OPH- too embarrassed to fully caption the name of the restaurant

BUT I'M STARVINNNNNNNNNNG...

Lark! Next door is a cute porch to a restaurant with a line out the door... but it seems to be moving quickly! Hey! I think we found a local hot-spot!! Things are lookin' up... Get in the door, read the menu of this so-called "Original Pancake House" and we sink yet again. Damn. DALLAS HAS ONE? No, actually Dallas has 3. UGH.  We then convince ourselves this HAS to at least be the "Original" Original, right? After we score a spot outside, waitress tells us the Original is actually in Portland. OK, we're over you OPH, but at least your food was decent, and we got a spot in the sun.

ONWARD! Cue the Seinfeld episode:

Soo should we check out the Willis Sky Deck? Hmm sure. Where is it? No idea. Wait- is that Rajan Rhondo?! CELEB sighting! (Apparently... I still have no idea who that is). Anywho, we look up to our left, very tall building. Hmm... is that the Willis Sky Deck? Embarrassed... We ask a man holding a Macy's bag if it is. (Because locals DEFINITELY shop at Macy's...). "Haha. Yeah, thaaas it." Laugh at what helpless tourists we are and walk over... Um, thanks buddy. This is the Hancock Building (in retrospect, we should've just gone up, but we were SET on the Willis). Deflated, yet again, something magical happens... WE SEE "CHICAGO VISITORS CENTER" AND AT 12:30PM ON DAY 2, MARY CLAY AND CRAWFORD GET A MAP.

From here you'd think we get it together... Nope. We do however find our way to the Willis Sky Deck. Never seen so many people in a line in my life. Ladies and Gentlemen, who knew that Good Friday at 1pm = TOURISTS EVERYWHERE??? More prepared tourists than we are (CLEARLY), but tourists nonetheless. Sooo, we scrap it. From here it just gets hazy with us deciding to do one thing, then scrapping it, deciding to do another, then scrapping it... All while wandering pretty much aimlessly. Sounds miserable? You would think! However, we see so much of the city on accident, get a LOT of exercise, and just enjoy each others' company. Especially when I say things like, "UGH. I don't knowwwwwwww! YOU figure it out." Then immediately question any judgment call made. Pout. Whine. Repeat. (You are so patient, thank you dear Crawford). We do get some incredible views of the Lake and a great picture of us with the skyline, all before I have my one good idea of the entire day. "Why don't we walk into that bike shop and ask them for a cool bar around here." 

Photo taken on the steps of the Field Museum... Chapter 17 in scrap, rinse, repeat.

Bike shop bro's pull through and lead us to the Wabash Tap, a charming dive of a joint with a delightful, Irish bar-keep named Mary (one name) showing the Masters on one TV and the Rangers v. White Sox on the other. Sierra Nevada is the beer of the day, and we are happy.

This is also where we meet _____, the nice man who gives us EVERY.DETAIL.EVER. about how to properly attend the Cubs game the following day. We're talking what time to wake up, breakfast spot on the way, trains & buses to take,  approximate temperature decline due to where are seats are, instructions to go buy long underwear, where to buy them... This guy is a straight up sage on Wrigley.  Whiiiiich is completely ironic because he is a huge White Sox fan. He also played baseball at Hahhhh-vard, has a keen sense of humor, and a strict 2 beer limit. So with his finale of advice to "drink beer" in order to fit in in Wrigleyville, I am instantly giddy for tomorrow.

Another long walk to the hotel to prepare for pre-dinner drinks with a view at Trump Terrace, a boozy shower, and a rushed cab ride to Trump... Sorry, the Terrace is closed. We do have a lovely bar area on our Mezzanine Level though! Nope. We want to SEE the cityyyyyyyy from up high, lady! Cab it to the Hancock. Think we've finally got it figured out... YET ANOTHER WINDING LINE. Give up. Go to a bar CMG's buddy suggests that is near our dinner reservation (Public House- very cool spot) and chalk it up as a loss in terms of "high-rise city views." Our RESERVATION (what a concept!) works out, the food at Hub 51* is delicious, and the drinks are even better. Of course I order GUACAMOLE in Chicago. It was superb though. Swear.

Hub 51

After finishing up, we look at each other and are spent. With our sights set on making our Saturday in Wrigleyville the BEST EVER, we end the funny, whirlwind of a day with peanut M&M's and a Peanut Butter Snickers bar. Annnnd scene.

*Thank you to Kristin and Bailey for this (and other!) great recommendation!