Jorts, Cargos, and Gel... Oh, My!

Alright, let's talk men's fashion. As I've mentioned before, my knowledge about fashion does not come from years of studying at a prestigious institute. It simply comes from common sense, clearly something that is hard to come by.

I would like to point out a few "no-nos" for men. If you dudes want a date, or to keep your dignity, you will listen and take notes.

Jorts. Not okay. These are jean shorts. Now, for toddlers and elementary school kids these things make sense. They are great to play in the mud and wade in the creek. However, adults should no longer be partaking in these activities, leaving jorts to be no longer an acceptable piece of clothing.

Looks like a dad coaching little league. Now, is that what you want to look like?

Cargos. I know it gets hot, and men need to air out their hairy calves. Cargo shorts are the way to go. There are plenty of colors for every man's individual taste. When these cargo shorts become cargo pants, we have a problem. It just looks plain silly. So stop it... please.

Maybe I can keep my lipgloss in his pockets??

Hair Gel. Last I checked, most men left their greasy hair back in middle school. However, not every man got the hint. A little bit of gel on a special occasion can really spruce up a hairdo, but when hair is drenched in gel it looks plain disgusting. Also, when hair hits a certain length the gel gets put back in the bathroom drawer until your barber gets ahold of your head.

Grrrr-oss

I hope this helps boys. If all else fails, consult a female with style.

Itsy Bitsy Bikini

Sometimes I wonder if people look at themselves before they leave the house. I’m not saying I look fabulous all the time, but I at least cover up and fuff my hair. I heard the other day that one in three women won’t leave the house without makeup on. Apparently these women don’t live around me, because I see plenty of women looking… scary.

I realized that this is not just an “Iowa thing” after reading this article. To sum it up, a woman in Oregon was asked to leave a Wal-Mart after exposing too much skin as she strolled down the isles. Her itsy bitsy bikini was too revealing for management and customers alike. People had a lot to say based on the uproar of comments.

Obviously it is not the most flattering “outfit” this woman could have slipped on, but I’m just going to assume that she was extremely hot or looking to get her tan on.

I wouldn't feel comfortable exposing so much skin in public. I would say this woman was feeling a little too comfortable. People are getting so obsessed with comfort. I don’t think we need to be strutting around in stuffy polyester pants, but I do think we should cover up the necessary body parts. Stretchy pants and oversized t-shirts are taking over the world. This epidemic needs to end. If I see one more XXXL Looney Tunes t-shirt, I may vomit.

So please, Oregon Lady, save your itsy bitsy bikini for your kiddie pool in your backyard. 

Life Is A Highway

Summer is travel time. People are taking vacations and heading to the lake for the weekend. Boating and sightseeing seem like carefree activities… key words: seem like.

Ahh… there’s nothing like the open road, right? Jump on the highway and set the cruise. Until you see a group of cars up ahead with their break lights on. Cruise interrupted. Grrrr…

So if life is like a highway, then are traffic jams the nuisances in life? Traffic jams are the rained out baseball games, keys locked in the car, and spilled ice cream.

If life is like a highway, then where can I set the cruise? Cause I’m ready to just coast for a while. Is that too much to ask for?

Loungin'

Every time I walk into a Von Maur, I receive the best of the best. Friendly and knowledgeable sales clerks along with quality products leave me with an empty wallet, but a full bag.

The other day when I was passing through the department store, I stopped in the ladies’ lounge. As I walked through I got to thinking, who “lounges” in there? Don’t get me wrong, I love Von Maur, but I’m not about to hang out there… at least not in the restroom.

I’ve been to department stores with elaborate lounges. I understand that these can be used for nursing mothers, but beyond that I am a little confused. If I’m tired of shopping, I leave. I don’t just take a break in the ladies’ lounge. I would rather pop a squat near the piano, so I can listen to an old lady play a soothing version of “My Heart Will Go On.”

I appreciate the gesture, Von Maur, but I think I will continue my loungin’ on my sofa at home.  

Bare Necessities

Air. Water. Shelter. Food. These are the bare necessities. Of course, Maslow added to these when he created his hierarchy of needs. But, what did he know??

I would like to propose that a few more essentials be added to this list of bare necessities. These are a few elements in my life that I cannot live without.

MacBook. Ahh… how I love this computer. She sits contently on my lap. She rarely complains; only offers me a wealth of useless information whenever my heart desires. Not to mention, she is the means to my writing. Mackenzie Macbook. She’s a beauty.

Running shoes. Nothing better than lacing up my bright blue Mizunos. They help me glide across the trails while jammin’ out to the latest songs on my iPod. My twinkle toes would not be possible without the help of my trusted footwear.

Blackberry. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I don’t love my phone. When people say, “I don’t even really care if my phone is on.” I would like to kindly respond by saying, “Yeah… right.” I wait for that little red light to blink on my phone telling me I have a text message, email, Twitter mention… just anything! I love my phone, and I’m not afraid to say it. So, there.

This list should not be static. We can all contribute to the bare necessities of life. Air. Water. Shelter. Food. Macbook. Mizunos. Blackberry. Sounds about right, don’t cha think?

Nothing Diet About It

My dad has always told me, “Everyone has a vice.” We all have something that we just can’t resist. Some people have boxes of shoes under their bed, while others indulge in double stuffed tacos from Taco Tico. Whatever it is, we’ve all been there. Now it’s time for me to disclose my weakness.

Are you ready for this???

Diet Dr. Pepper. Yum-o. There really is nothing diet about it. As soon as this stuff hits my tongue, I go to a new place. This place is called heaven.

23 Flavors = Complete Bliss

Fountain soda was made for me. I’ve done my detective work, and I’m pretty sure I’ve found every gas station and restaurant in the Cedar Valley that offers Diet Dr. Pepper. My heart skips a beat when Kwik Star offers a 79 cent 32 ounce fountain pop. That Big Buddy will always be my biggest, bestest buddy.

The icing on the cake came when Diet Dr. Pepper came out with this hysterical commercial….

Peace out… I’m thirsty.

Knock Your Socks Off

Tube socks. Wool socks. Short socks. Toe socks. I’m starting to sound like a Dr. Suess book. But in all honesty, have you ever thought about the importance of your socks? There is nothing worse than a thin pair that leaves you with blisters, or a pair too small that slides down your foot. Without this protection, the dogs are sure be barkin’.

I’m a pretty big fan of the Nike Dri-Fit socks. I’m actually a pretty big fan of any clothing that has the beautiful little swoosh on it. My brother has asked before if Nike sponsors me. While I’m currently without a sponsor, I am more than willing to change that. So if someone from Nike is reading, just think about it. I’m open.

There is one part that confuses me. These socks have an “L” and “R” to distinguish which foot I slide the sock onto. I suppose this would make sense if I was a toddler, but I’ve been dressing myself for quite some time now. And, might I add, have been doing a pretty good job at it.

Really the only reason I make sure to place these babies on the correct foot is so I don’t look silly sitting in the sauna with the old dudes at the Rec. I don’t want them to make some sly comment about not knowing my left from right.

What I really would like to know is, what happens if I switch them around? Will I start to walk lopsided? Will I run into walls? Maybe my feet will have a mind of their own and begin walking to foreign places. All I know is that I’m not about to risk it. I am keeping the “L” on the left and the “R” on the right. That’s what makes the world go round. 

If You Give a Girl a Dance Floor

Why is it that dancing and singing make people so uncomfortable? I’ll be the first to admit that I am not an expert at either, but I am not afraid to belt it out or shake my tail feather. It’s all part of the fun, don’t cha think?

Last night I was with nearly fifteen girls as we celebrated my best friend, Katherine’s bachelorette party. For the most part the girls all knew each other, but there were a few new faces. Needless to say, it took some time to get every girl back to her comfort level.

Most of my experiences hanging around a large group of girls consist of this: talk, talk, talk… and then a little bit more talk, talk, talk… Let’s just say there is not a lot of listening, and a whole lot of chatter. I’ll never understand why women feel the need to talk over each other. However, I’m just as guilty.

Now listen closely. Here’s the trick to a successful evening with the ladies. Dance floor. That’s right. If you give a girl a dance floor, she’s going to have to dance. If you get a girl to dance, she’s going to have to sing. Dancing and singing = pure fun. Good luck.

Not-cho Nacho

Have you ever noticed that the appetizers are merely the same at almost every sports bar? Cheese fries, wings, cheese balls, and fried vegetables (how’s that for an oxy-moron?). Among these “food staples” is the giant plate of nachos. If you ask me, this is where the debating begins. Who really does have the best nachos?

There are a few things that can really make or break good nachos.

Cheese. I am not a fan of queso. A good plate of nachos needs the real deal. I’m talking straight from a dairy farm cheese. I don’t need processed runny “cheese” to dip my chips in, thank you.

Chips. The best plate of nachos has homemade chips. I know these are generally fried, but the just taste sooo good! I can settle on just a typical Tostitos chip, but as long as I’m dreaming, homemade it is.

Veggies and Beans. Load. It. Up. I like "the works" on my nachos. I’m talking black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, green peppers, and anything else that catches my eye. All I can say about veggies is: bring 'em on.

Salsa. This is where nachos win me over. There is nothing better than a fresh pico or salsa. Yummy in my tummy. Fresh veggies chopped up and sprinkled on top of a lovely plate of nachos is just plain scrumptious.

If I order a plate of nachos with all of these critical ingredients, all I can say is it’s not-cho nacho. So paws off. 

No More Drama

People are constantly saying, “I can’t stand drama.” Or “I just want to stay out of the drama.” These are probably the same people that are watching “The Real Housewives” and “The Bachelor.” Reality TV is based on drama, and viewers are eating up every bite of these people’s messed up lives.

This blonde from "The Bachelor" must have missed out on the rose during "the most dramatic rose ceremony ever."

I’m here to tell you that I love drama. I am an avid watcher of “The Real Housewives.” My TV always seems to find itself back on Bravo and E! TV. I just can’t help myself. I mean, who doesn’t want to see girls yanking on weaves and tossing wine on silk couture?

Teresa from "The Real Housewives of New Jersey." Freak out much??

However, I must clarify. I love drama only when it doesn’t involve me. I have to admit, I even kind of like it when my friends have drama going on it their lives. Just enough to stir up the pot, not life-changing altercations (I have a heart, ya know.)

There is one part of drama that confuses me. People always assume that women are at the root of all the drama; however, I have found this to be untrue quite often. Dudes love drama just as much as chicks. It’s like they strive to find one-liners that will cause a ruckus among women. Little devils.

So next time you find yourself in the midst of drama, consider the source. The bachelor?? Or the bachelorette??    

The Infamous Question

“How are you?” is a polite question asked numerous times a day. Typical answers include:

“Good, thanks.”   Interpreted: I don’t want to talk about it. Leave me alone.

“Busy.”   Interpreted: I’m important. Leave me alone please.

“Tired.”   Interpreted: I’m crabby. Leave me alone please.

Busy, tired. Busy, tired. Blah, blah. Blah, blah.

Newsflash: Everyone is busy and tired. You are not special if you are busy or tired. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

Lucky for you, I have a cure for both of these annoying side effects in life.

Busyness. If you have a hard time keeping meetings and obligations straight, there are two solutions. First off, buy a planner. These are notebooks that have daily, weekly, and monthly calendars in them. They can be purchased at your local bookstore or even Target. The second solution is to hire an assistant. If you can’t afford to do so, then you probably don’t need one. If all else fails. Take something off your plate and stop complaining.

Tiredness. So many people resort to caffeine fixes when they are tired. Coffee. Soda. 5 Hour Energy. Red Bull. Well, there is one solution that always works. Are you ready for this? It’s called sleep. I know, I know. It’s a crazy thought, but it works. I find when I am feeling sleepy, it’s best just to go to bed.

Next time someone asks the infamous question, I dare you to answer, “Great, balanced, and well rested. Thank you.” 

Upgrade U

I’m a car girl. I grew up “car shopping” with my dad on Sundays, and rubbing down our family vehicle with turtle wax. You know the routine: “wax on, wax off.” We can all thank Karate Kid for that one.

During our visits to the car dealership, Dad and I would dream about future cars and talk about the practicality of the others. My first full-time job was working at an advertising agency that worked specifically with cars (most of you would consider this junk mail… and I’m okay with that). I started seeing SUVs and Duallys in my sleep. Most people count sheep; I was counting Chevy S-10s.

My dearest vehicle was brought to me in high school. It was a sage green Leganza Daewoo, and boy was she a beauty. She had leather seats and a sunroof. I could whip her around corners while belting out “Hey Ya” by OutKast. I was living the dream.

And every good car owner knows the importance of naming that special vehicle. Well, my Daewoo was given the name “Shabooboo.” Don’t be jealous.

It was a sad day when my dad decided that we needed a bit of an upgrade. We shuffled around vehicles and I ended up with my parents’ Chevy Malibu. Don’t get me wrong; this is a nice little car too. The heat and air conditioning are spectacular, which is especially appreciated. However, I will always have a special place in my heart for my Shabooboo.

Next upgrade? 2011 Range Rover Sport. I’m not picky on the color (pearl white??). How cute would I look in that?

I'll Be Your Honey Bee

Gullible is written on the ceiling. Did ya look?

I love reading about exercise and healthy eating. It’s not surprising that people seem to have “new research” to back up their information. It is often difficult to determine myth from fact. Should I drink diet soda? What are the advantages of eating organic groceries? And what the heck is trans-fat?

The information overload causes great confusion for everyone.

White. Wheat. Multigrain. Honey Wheat. Bread, bread, bread… Which should we be spreading our peanut butter on?

I ask customers at work if they would like their pizza on white or honey wheat dough. Over half the time they say, “Oh, I better be healthy and go with the wheat.” Okay. It’s honey wheat dough, which means it made with honey. Honey is pure, “natural” sugar. In addition, they are given a honey bear to douse it with even more sugar.

Don’t get me wrong; this pizza is where da bomb (yeah, I said it). I eat it, but I don’t pretend to that it is healthy. I’m sorry, but if you are going out to eat at a sports bar, healthy is not your intention. Don’t expect us to have a gluten free menu or Weight Watchers points listed along side the sandwiches. So don’t ask.

However, splurging every once in a while is important. Go ahead and have some honey wheat dough on your margarita pizza. Life is about living… honey ;-)

It's Love

Something amazing has happened to me in the past few weeks. I’m sure you can tell by looking at me. There is a definite spring in my step. I’m sure you are all wondering, “Why, Anna, why?”

Well, I finally discovered the best hairspray on the planet. That’s right. The whole entire planet. Let me introduce to you… 

Kenra Volume Spray 25

I love big hair. I love teasing combs (I only have four different kinds). I’m not a huge fan on the Snooki bump, but I do love some solid volume on my head.

I used to just stick with the cheaper Tresumme Extra Hold; but I’m telling you, Kenra is worth the extra buck. When I spray Kenra on this mane, I feel like I can move mountains. While I’m moving these mountains, my hair is right in place. Even in the dog days of summer, my hair has got the greatest hold I’ve ever experienced. This is the real deal people.

Skimp no longer on hairspray. Go get yourself some Kenra today.

Disclaimer: I would like to thank Ashley for this beautiful new relationship with Kenra. 

With One Headlight

It drives me nuts when things don't work. I enjoy following the rules. Messes are not my thing. I don't generally lose anything. I actually can't sleep until things are put away in my bedroom. Some may consider this a form of OCD. I call it being orderly :-)

I have to confess, I have been putting something off. That's right. This girl has a headlight out. And the thing is... it's not a new problem. This darn headlight has been out for most of the summer. I know. I'm terrible. Especially since it takes a small bulb that costs less than $10.

I've been cruisin' around in my Chevy Malibu with the attitude that I'm invincible. Until last night. Well, I finally got pulled over by a lovely female cop. Luckily I had all of my current information, and it didn't turn out to be more than a warning.

"But me and Cinderella (my friend Ashley), We put it all together. We can drive it home, with one headlight." Thanks to The Wallflowers for that one.

Needless to say, it's time to get this baby fixed. So, on today's agenda: doing a little bit of girl wrenchin'.

You Can Call Me Autumn

Whenever I go shopping, I am immediately attracted to dark colors. My closet seems to be full of gray, black, and charcoal. If I feel crazy, I move towards blue and periwinkle. My mom praises me if she sees my in salmon or magenta. Truth be told, those colors belong only on my nails.

I will never wear red. So don’t even bother. I’m not a red head, so you won’t see me in hunter green. Sage is one thing, but jungle green should stay in a Crayola box.

This led me to do a little bit of research. And by research, I mean online quizzes. What colors should I really be wearing?

Turns out I’m an autumn. I’m “fiery, earthy, golden, and natural.” Next time I hit the mall I am supposed to “think of a beautiful autumn landscape.” Hmmm. Not sure how that’s going to go over.

I guess all along I thought I was a winter. Apparently they are more “intense and crisp.” They “receive compliments in bold shades, black and white.” Doesn’t that just sound much more exciting than “earthy” and “golden”??

Or how about summer. They are “delicate and understated.” That’s pretty appealing too. Who wouldn’t want to look “calm and in complete harmony”?

Lastly, spring is supposed to select colors that “look as if they are bathed in sunlight.” Oh, how I love that description.

Next time you find yourself in the mall, shop by seasons. I will be dreaming of an autumn landscape (and probably purchasing a new charcoal top). 

Enter the Mind of a Blogger

Since I have been blogging for a month now, I am going to take the liberty of calling myself a Blogger. So, enter the mind of a Blogger…

I will not to try and explain to you what goes on in my big brain located in my little head. It’s way to complicated. And by complicated, I mean enlightened, creative, and brilliant. This baby is tickin’ 24/7. There are so many thoughts and ideas bouncing around. It’s exhausting to be me.

Ever since I started producing a blog post each day, my mind has gone crazy. It’s Anna’s brain on speed. Wowza!! Everything I say and do is a possible blog topic. The other night I was watching a Beyonce concert on TV (A-MA-ZING), and I wanted to write about her hair, her lyrics, her costumes. That is one talented lady!

I go to Hy-Vee and want to write about cereal boxes. I see a Ford F-150 and I want to write about tires and tailgating. I’m folding my laundry and I find myself considering towel folding as a blog topic. That’s right folks, I’ve gone blogging mad.

So in order to cure this addiction, I have decided I need an iPad. That way, I can document all of these thoughts as they enter my brain. That’s where my (6) followers come in. Any donations towards the purchase of an iPad for Anna will be received with much gratitude. 

She's Got the Rhythm

I am not the most coordinated person in the world. I bump into tables, stub my toes, and clunk my head on desks. I'm just your average clumsy person waking up with scratches and bruises.

Last spring, my gym started offering Body Combat. There were a few difficult combinations and kicks that took a while for me to get used to; however, I was not alone. The fast pace, constant cardio was a challenge for nearly everyone. I was a little discouraged, because I felt so uncoordinated. Of course, with time it has gotten much better.

After observing and comparing myself to fellow classmates, I realized that some people have the rhythm… and some have the blues.

I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I still confuse my left and right (don’t act like I’m the only one). I still place my right hand over my heart just to be sure. Yet, in the end... I’ve got the rhythm.

It never fails. There is always someone in class that has a left lead while everyone else has the right. When we are all doing jumping jacks, there is usually someone with her arms up while everyone else’s are down. I don’t get it. We are all staring at a giant mirror that stretches across the entire east wall. Don’t they see that they are off?

But then I remember. Not everyone has the rhythm. And that person really has the blues.

Can't Fight the Moonlight

Kids are crazy. I’m not sure there is a better way of saying it. They are completely unpredictable. They have worse mood swings than any 50-something-year-old woman entering menopause.

Adults try to figure out the madness, which to me is even more ridiculous. Too much sugar in their Kool-Aid. Too much “Dance, Dance Revolution” on the Wii. Too many preservatives on their fruit. Really people??

Then adults try to prevent the madness. Teach them “self-calming” behaviors. Impose “quiet time.” Change their routine or diet. Replace fruit roll-ups and Twinkies with whole-wheat toast and peanut butter. Sounds like a pretty thrilling childhood, huh? Man, I wish I had grown up eating hummus and pita chips.

It’s even better when adults blame the weather. “Must be a storm coming, because my kids were bouncing off the walls!”

Or the sky. “I knew there was a full moon when Susie cried while reading Cat in the Hat."

Truth be told, we cannot blame anything. It’s called "being a kid." It happens to all of us. Everyone survives this “being a kid” business. We all turn into crazier adults.

Until then… we can’t fight the moonlight. 

The Life of a French Poet

I’m pretty notorious for my restless behavior that turns into mindless “errands” around town. Many times I don’t need anything or even buy anything. I simply like to get out and see what is going on.

Well, apparently there is a name for this “wandering around without a purpose.” Bumbling. While this sounds a little silly, I kind of enjoy it. Bumblers slow down their tempo and soak in the day one moment at a time. They are not obsessed with busyness and being places at certain times. Instead, bumblers make an effort to take it slow.

In the 19^th century, French poets would partake in bumbling in order to slow down their thoughts. They called themselves flaneurs. Aimlessly strolling through the streets was a way to experience the city.

It is important to take each moment as it comes. Then we can worry less, and enjoy more. So next time I get poked fun of for running too many “errands” and bumbling around, I will say that I am just living the life of a famous French poet. Cia la vie! 

Tik Tok on the Clock

I love sunshine. I even love chirping birds. However, I don’t appreciate either at 6:37 a.m. So, if that business could hold off until 7:42 a.m. that would be lovely.

I’ve never been very good at sleeping in. In fact, I get excited if I sleep past 8 a.m. Any roommate I’ve had knows that I will have accomplished an entire to-do list before they roll out of bed. I’m not sure if this is a gift or a curse.

Gift: I’ve been blessed with an impeccable internal clock. This is not the kind of clock you buy at Target. This is a special ticker that is hidden somewhere in my brain. If I could locate it, I would set it a little bit later on Saturday mornings.

Curse: I’ve never been “fashionably late.” I don’t do too badly on the "fashionably." It’s the "late" that always gets me. I cannot be late if I try. I’m just not fierce enough. Can I buy fierceness at Target? I feel like it could come in handy sometime.

Until the day I learn how to sleep in, I will continue to be up with the birds. As they say, “early bird catches the worm.” The good news is that I have a lot of worms. 

Stick it to 'Em

Well folks, we have officially entered county fair season. How do I know? It’s sticky. Humid. Gross. Growing up, this was the indicator for rodeos, 4-H food stands, and ferris wheels. But, let’s get real; the real excitement lies in the food.

Iowans can smell a good pulled pork sandwich from a mile away. Give ‘em a side of slaw and a homemade brownie (a la mode), and there’s dinner. Now, this may be okay for a picnic or potluck. However, have you ever tried to walk and eat a pulled pork sandwich? Mighty difficult.

Introducing…

Food on a stick. And not just any food… EVERY food. Here are a few that are featured at the Iowa State Fair.

1. Chicken club on-a-stick
2. Chocolate covered peanut butter round on-a-stick
3. German sausage on-a-stick
4. Corn on the cob on-a-stick
5. Deep fried hoho on-a-stick
6. Deep fried hot dog on-a-stick
7. Salad on-a-stick
8. Hard-boiled egg on-a-stick
9. Meatballs on-a-stick
10. Deep fried Snickers on-a-stick

I wish this list was made up, but it’s more real than ever. I’m not sure it’s ever necessary to eat a deep fried hoho. So does putting it on a stick justify it? I would also like to meet the person who invented salad on-a-stick. What a genius.

Call me old-fashion, but I like my food on a plate. Even a napkin or paper towel is sufficient. Sticks are strictly for corn dogs, kabobs, and popsicles. Period.

A Case of the Giggles

Lack of sleep has many side effects for this girl. My eyes feel tired, cold sores appear, and I become a bit delirious. Yesterday I worked for 10 hours. It was a slow and steady day; therefore, it was hard to get into the swing of things. In other words, bring on the delusion.

It's not like I start hallucinating or falling asleep. I simply get a case of the giggles.

As "they" say, laughter truly is the best medicine. For a few simple reasons:

1. Whole body relaxation.

2. Boost in the immune system.

3. Triggers the release of endorphins.

4. Protection of the heart. 

(From http://helpguide.org/:)

A couple of my favorite giggle partners :-)

Now all of these things are great, but truth be told, giggling is just stinkin' fun! Creating memories and having a good time with friends is what life is all about. Work was full of giggling yesterday. Silly instances and inside jokes filled our conversations. It really makes for a great work environment (especially when we get our jobs done along the way). I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Have you gotten your dose of the giggles today??

Season Confusion

I’m not sure if y’all have heard yet, but… it’s hot. And also, it’s July. After putting two and two together, it makes sense why people are drinking water and turning on their air conditioning. Summer = heat. Period.

Summer also = tank tops, flip-flops, and teeny bikinis. This is where the confusion begins. I am all about trying to stay up with the latest fashions. I love all of the classic white, lace, and feather fashion trends right now. While I may not be sporting too many neon colors or animal print tanks, I still appreciate their existence.

The other day I was wearing a summer sweater. I was sweating. In the summer. Wearing a sweater. You may be thinking, “Duh!” Part of me would agree. But the other part of me thinks, “Dang, it looked good!”

J. Crew = Love

I recently purchased a new summer scarf. No, my neck is not cold this summer. I haven’t been wearing it as a belt. I just love the texture and colors.

So, what’s next? Summer Ugg boots? Summer snowsuits? The worst part is that I would probably buy into it all. I would be walking around mid-July sweating profusely, but smiling because I was trendy. 

Grammar Rock

I understand that technology is the "wave of the future." It is ever-changing and impossible to keep up with. I know that using it in the classroom and business world is helpful and necessary. During all of these changes, words have been created and altered.

Does anyone know how to do it right?

Settle down, people. I know it's summer, and I don't plan to give you a full out grammar lesson today. However, I do have a few questions.

As social networking became more popular, new nouns entered our vocabulary. Facebook. Twitter. Myspace. Blogger. Email. Do you remember when these words did not exist? Then they slowing changed and became verbs.

How do you "facebook"? Have you been doing any "tweeting" lately? When is the last time you found yourself "texting"?

How do you explain to your grandpa what a "tweet" is? Do you find yourself speaking in Facebook lingo? For instance: "After he befriended me, I wrote on his wall." "OMG, she poked me!" Umm... what is a "wall" and how creepy is it that you were "poked"?

All in all, I love it. If it weren't for social networking, I wouldn't be able to write on this blog (and you would all be so very sad). The changes in grammar just plain rock.

There's No Crying in Baseball

As we move into July, the Iowa weather could not be more perfect. Summer nights are filled with lightning bugs, hot dogs, and, of course, baseball. Last night I got a taste of all three.

I sat in my trusty lawn chair, shades on, ready for a game. The visiting team stepped up to bat, and then it began... the chanting. “We want a hit (hit), hit (hit), hit, hit, hit....” and so on, and so forth. Now, I’m all about cheering. And to be honest, the chanting is fine... for a while. However, it kept on going like the energizer bunny.

That’s when the banging began. Aren’t we all so glad that the dugouts are sheltered with steel? When I was a youngster, we didn’t need protection. If it rained, we dealt with it (I probably cried). If it was cold, we put on an extra layer (I probably complained). And if it was hot, we sweat (and, again, complained). Dang, we were tough cookies back in the day.

So tough that we chanted: “We are the Angels, the mighty, mighty Angels. Wherever we go, people want to know, who we are. So we tell them, we are the Angels, the mighty, mighty Angels.”

"A League of Their Own" = Priceless

So, in case you were wondering, there’s no crying in baseball. But there is chanting in softball.

I Stand for Equality

I must have sounded frustrated on the phone with my Mom last night, because before hanging up these were her exact words: “Grab a bag of M&Ms and relax tonight.” Is this what it has come to? Do I turn to M&Ms whenever I feel crabby? Then I realized this is not the truth at all. I turn to M&Ms when I am crabby, happy, sad, excited… pretty much whenever I am breathing. Thanks, Mom :-)

The pretzel guys are my fav right now.... they are delicious with popcorn... just saying.

I think it’s important to say that I love all M&Ms. I do not discriminate against peanuts or almonds. I love the mini’s just as much as the premiums. The milk chocolate slides down my throat just as well as the dark chocolate. I truly stand for equality when it comes to these little suckers.

And sometimes my kitchen cupboard does a little something like this….

Fine, I'll have M&Ms for breakfast.

Wrenchin' and Fartin' Around

Good morning! After a weekend of sun, water, and a few cocktails, I cannot wait to get back into my routine.

Women sit around, sipping iced coffee, and try to solve the world’s problems… one man at a time. Whenever I question why a guy does something, my mom always quickly replies, “It’s the Mars and Venus thing, Anna.” Well my question today is: how many garages are on Mars?

Dad is always out “fartin’ around” in the garage. It is a single car garage, mind you. I will never understand why this guy….

Check out that smirk :-)

....has to spend so much time sweeping, waxing, mowing, and well… wrenchin’. It’s like a guy sees a tool kit and his mouth starts watering.

Also, what’s with the obsession with Menards? Apparently guys are constantly working on “projects” that call for air hammers and hole saws. Just wrenchin”… whatever that means.

All I know is that it seems they all have a little bit of this guy in them….

More POWER!!!

Ladies: sip some coffee.... Men: find a garage... Make it a great day!!

oldies, but goodies...

Happy 4th of July!!! I just got home and showered up after a couple days at Richmond Lake in Aberdeen, South Dakota. It was a lot of fun! I've been blog brainstorming all weekend :-) I feel pretty guilty about taking a couple of days off from writing. I am heading out the door, but wanted to give y'all something to read. This is one of my old pieces of writing... trust me, it's a goodie! I hope you enjoy!

"I'm a Girl"

            I’m a girl. My long brown hair can be transformed into pigtails and braids. I use Barbies to create stories that take place in far off places where life is perfect. The jungle gym is my favorite place on the playground. I dress myself in pink overalls and Mary Jane shoes. I talk to myself. My imagination takes over reality, and I prefer it that way. Boys are stupid. They like trucks and bugs. I can’t stand it when they parade those slimy creatures in front of my face. Dis-gust-ing! I’m glad I’m a girl.

            I’m a teenager. My eyelids are blue, carefully lined with a complimenting navy blue Cover Girl pencil. Mom has just let me highlight my hair. Finally. I drive my own red Pontiac to school. It’s nothing special, but it’s better than the old beater that Tiffany drives. I’m on the dance team. I haven’t quite made Captain yet. But after a few summer camps, I will be sure to have the spot. My boyfriend’s name is Jake. He’s nice enough. More importantly, he’s hot. He drives a Jeep Cherokee, and man is it smokin’! All the girls are jealous, I just know it. Dad says I’m boy crazy. I say, he’s crazy. He just doesn’t get that I’m a girl.

            I’m an independent woman. After college, I got a job working at a publishing company. I get my nails done every Saturday after my weekly massage from Chico. Man is he a looker. Who wouldn’t want a rub down from a Mexican hunk? I live in a loft in Chicago. Banana Republic has become my favorite store, allowing my wardrobe to consist of pencil skirts and ruffled blouses. My happy hours include dirty martinis and sleek looks from men across the bar. My life is good. Mom is jealous. Dad says I spend too much. They just don’t know what it takes to be a girl.

            I’m a woman. I really felt like it today at the gynecologist. And I don’t mean that I felt “it”, as it that unpleasant metal thing they stick up my vagina. “This will only hurt a little,” my male doctor says to me. Please. Like he knows what it’s like. And, why does he ask me about the weather? After having my tits squeezed and pushed in every direction, I was ready to tell him to shut the hell up. I mean, who cares that it hasn’t rained in a week? Men. They piss me off. They just don’t know what it’s like to be a girl.

            I’m a lady. It’s what all females aspire to. I’m sitting at dinner with a friend. My new satin-trim sheath cocktail dress has been carefully accessorized to complete the look. A plate of fondue and great conversation with an old friend is my favorite way to wrap up the work week. A man buys me a drink. Maybe I like him. He says he is an entrepreneur and is wearing snakeskin loafers. He wants to go home with me. As I walk out of the restaurant alone, I remind myself that I am a lady. 

Knee High by the Fourth of July

I have lived in Iowa my whole life. As Journey would say, “I’m just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.” There are many misconceptions about small towns in the Midwest.

For instance, I don’t drive a tractor. Have I sat in one? You bet I have! Do I love Kenny Chesney’s tune, “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy”? Well, duh!! But, I’m proud to say that I zip around in a Chevy Malibu.

Also, we are not cut off from the latest trends. In other words, we get it. It’s not like we sew our clothes and cook beans over a fire at night. (Sounds kinda fun though).

We have nearly the same exposure to media, products, etc. I’m not saying that everything is at our dispense. The local yokel grocery store does generally carry light chocolate soy milk, but we also don’t drink it straight from a cow’s utter. Come on now. 

There are a few great things about small town life. First of all, people smile. They wave, and acknowledge your existence. It’s nice to feel like your presence matters.

Slow summers cannot be beat. Free reading while lying in the sun. Bike riding. Late night softball games. Catching fireflies. Staying out until after dark with the neighbor kids. Yes, these things really happen, and they are amazing.

It’s hard to believe that it’s already July. So I will ask you one question: Will the corn be knee high by the fourth of July??

 (Programming note: I will be out of town for the weekend with my friend Ashley. So excited to go boating in South Dakota... should be an adventure!)