7 Bottles of BBQ Sauce and 14 Bottles of Salad Dressing Challenge - Week 1

In the 6 years we've lived in our (small) humble abode, I've done very little organizing and re-vamping. I don't exactly know why - perhaps due to lack of ideas, motivation or most likely, energy and desire. I'm pretty embarrassed to admit that I just never really noticed how small this place is and when we started re-doing the living room a few weeks ago, I noticed how poorly I've been utilizing what little space we've got. It started with the new TV and entertainment center which was configured completely different than the old one; forcing me to put away copious amounts of picture frames and giving away a lot of my treasured books. My biggest victory was getting Danny to throw out that dreaded coffee table.


There's lots more to be done, though and I plan on tracking it right here on Little Miss Bloggy. Every Sunday, I'll post a new organizing project I've taken on in my home. Friends, I challenge YOU to do the same. On your own blog, post pictures about your organizing project and come back here to leave a comment to share with the class. (Don't forget to link to this blog so your readers can participate.) Not convinced? It'll be fun, I swear!

With that said, I present to you: MY PANTRY! I've spent two days organizing this tiny space in my home and man, I'm tired.

Before:





After: (Feel free to oooh and ahh)



Because I'm brave, I'm going to give a shelf-by-shelf analysis of the pantry's contents. (See, I told you it would be fun.)


The top shelf contains appliances I never use - sandwich press, Magic Bullet and hand mixer and extra light bulbs and cooking oils. Through this process, I found that I've purchased a lot of unnecessary foods - such as four bottles of olive oil.


Here's what I call my "baking" shelf. It contains baking needs and Danny's U-Bet chocolate syrup straight from Brooklyn, Baby.


What's with all the tomato sauce and paste?


My favorite shelf - the snack shelf. The 3 bags of dried pineapple were purchased on purpose in hopes that I'd snack on those instead of M&M's.



I'm going to officially call this the "condiment & cans" shelf but what I really mean is: Holy Shit Why the Fruck Do We Have 7 Bottles of BBQ Sauce and 14 Bottles of Salad Dressing?


You can't see it because it's hidden behind the giant Costco size box of Ziploc bags but there is a small bucket for Danny's crap. This is where I require he leave his balls when he enters the house.


What's your project this week? Leave a comment and let me know!

Sincerely 'Fro Me to You - A letter to my 14 year old self

Learn more about this Blog Carnival by visiting Kristen at We Are THAT Family. Read my entire archives of Sincerely 'Fro posts by clicking here.

Dear 14 year old self,

First, your make up is fabulous, the black lip liner combined with the black roots really completes the look. And isn't that your mother's shirt?

But in all seriousness, allow me to give you some pearls of wisdom, 12 years later. A sort of "if I knew then what I know now" fantasy.

I promise that you are smart and will learn to be good at things, including learning. Don't be too rough on your teachers, they really do know what they're talking about. The awkward phase you think no one understands? It's happening to all of your friends, too. The sadness you feel deep in your gut is depression; tell someone and see a shrink now while you're still covered by government health insurance. Enjoy these acne-free years of your youth because just when you get cocky about having wonderful skin, you go and get knocked up and your skin never does go back to normal. And speaking of skin, you're gorgeous, dahling. Skip the pancake foundation, mmkay?

I'm going to tell you something that you really need to listen to because your failure to do so will lead to a lot of years struggling in this department. Those people you think are your friends? I swear to God they're not. They spend hours hacking into your aol account and spreading horrible rumors and excluding you on purpose. You will cry so, so many tears over these girls and they're not worth it. It will take you a long time to get over them and even 12 years later, your experience with them will impact your ability to make female friends. Besides, you're prettier than them and when you're all in your mid 20's, you're the only one not living with parents.

About boys. While I understand it's fun to write Mrs. Block on every single surface you come across, that boy is not the man of your dreams. In fact, in 2 years, he will break into your house while you're on vacation and steal everything you and your family owns. And PS - he turns out to be a drug dealer. The man of your dreams is going to come to you in the funniest way and you won't even have to wait that long for him. He's going to be unconventional and old but you're going to love him the second you meet him.

Be nicer to Mom. She tries her best with what she has and when you're an adult and have children of your own, you're going to realize how much she loves you. And don't worry - you don't turn out anything like her, I swear. Say thank you to Tony because you're going to say goodbye to him one Thanksgiving and then he's going to die and you're never, ever going to forgive yourself. Don't get so annoyed by Grandpa, in a few years, you're going to be so charmed by his quirks. You're going to get a sister who loves you unconditionally and is so cool.

One last piece of advice I want you to really pay attention to is this: stop growing up. You get to be a grown up eventually and really soon so live in the moment and just be 14.

Oh yeah - and take more pictures because in 12 more years, you're going to write a blog where you post old pictures of yourself and you're not going to have nearly enough photos to go with all the stories.

With love and concern,

Yourself 12 years later

The man, the myth...

And the legend of El Cheapo.

I really, really love my husband. In our relationship, we broke all the rules and defied all odds of lasting; especially in the presence of those who wished we'd fail. I have fallen in love with this man so many times over the past 10 years that often times I have to physically place my hands on his being to remember he is real.

With that said...(Danny, you may want to stop reading right now.)

My husband is infamously cheap and I don't even mean in the-sitcom-"isn't he so cute"-way cheap. I mean, the man hates to part with money like an 8 year old hates to part with lip gloss. Unless it's something for himself. When it's something he needs, there's always a way to justify a very expensive purchase; just look in his closet, jewelry box, DJ Diaper Bag and secret drawer ("tax write-offs"). That's not to say that he doesn't spoil both Olivia and me to no end but believe me, it's not easy for him. I've never gone without a single want, let alone a need, during my entire life with him and we already know how horribly Olivia is spoiled.
As we all know (because I won't stop squawking about it), we are trying to have a baby. And we have no immediate plans to move. And we only have 2 bedrooms. And we outgrew this place two point 3 seconds after we moved in. But! I! AM! DETERMINED! I've started purging and organizing and planning on how I'm going to make this work.
Unfortunately for my dear, sweet husband, this is going to require spending money. Way more money than he thinks we're going to spend; at places that make me swoon like Ikea, The Container Store and The Target. There's new dressers I'm going to buy for Olivia's room, a set of cubed bookshelves (like the ones found on Jon & Kate + Eight) and endless amounts of buckets, baskets, containers, oh my!

I'm haven't exactly figured out my approach but as a starting point, he bought a new TV. Then again, I did make him get rid of his beloved coffee table in exchange for a microfiber storage ottoman and decorative tray.

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped and turned upside down...

Once, after the 100th episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, they showed how the whole cast and crew celebrated with a big ass cake.

I cannot offer you a big ass cake but in honor of my 100th blog post (this one is #92), I'm going to play a game. Submit your questions to me: funny, odd, personal, etc and I will answer them to the best of my ability. I assure you that no question will be too bizarre.

To participate, leave your question in the comments section of this blog. On the day of my 99th post, I will post a follow up #100 with all of your questions and answers.

And tell your friends! Because what fun will it be if it's just my sister and Kim asking me all the questions - they already know everything!

Why I Blog Answer

There has been a theme going around in the blogsphere (blogosphere?) these days; Why I Blog? I've come across too-many-to-mention posts about this and y'all know I don't like to be left out of these kinds so here's my version. It's deep, yo.

During 6th grade part deux, I was blessed with an English teacher - the only teacher - who believed in me. I stayed with her throughout the rest of middle school, one year as her "aide" and another year when she was yearbook advisor. She had a serious impact on my education and was the first (read: only) one to tell me I had a writing talent. I think that comment was found on an essay I wrote about why it's bad to do drugs. (Which, only a couple of years later, would prove so, so ironic in my life.) Before Ms. Weiner (swear to God), I thought I was never going to be good at anything, especially in school but thanks to her taking the time out to build my confidence, I did what any 13 year old girl would do. I wrote really, really bad poetry. I wrote poetry to boys I liked but dissed me, I wrote poetry to girlfriends about girl power (very Spice Girl-esqe) and I wrote poetry about what a horrible, sullen life I had and left it out for my mother to find.
Somewhere between 6th grade part deux English class and raves and ecstasy in 9th grade, I forgot I was smart. I rediscovered my intelligence by watching the news when I was pregnant with Olivia and I was convinced at that time that I'd been dealt a really bad hand. All this intelligence and a baby to hold me down - what a shame. Then Olivia was born and I was swept off my feet by loving her and busy rebelling against the "babies having babies" stigma and I forgot my smarts again.
My creative time between then and around 2006 was filled with writing proposals to replace computer room air conditioning units and faux-lawyer letters on behalf of Danny and his band. Then I joined myspace (classy) and discovered their blog section; immediately intrigued, I started reading other people's blogs and shortly thereafter, decided I would write one myself. My early posts are really bad, in my opinion, except the one I wrote about my sister; which I only think was as good because it was the first time I wrote from my heart. (Bad 6th grade poetry excluded, of course.) Myspace blogging became an obsession; I evaluated every minute of my life in blog terms: would this be funny, how could I write this, etc. There is a time frame of almost 1 year where there are no posts on my blog because I forgot about me; I completely dove into the needs of everyone else (as do most other moms). There were several months of depression that probably should have been medicated but wasn't and before long, I was ok.

The bottom line is: I write because it makes me feel smart again. It makes me remember that I'm not just a paper-shuffler or a PTA mom or a Spacemen groupie. Of course, it's something all of my own; which is almost always a common denominator in she-bloggers. And there's the documentation part of it - I'll always have these archives to look back on the time when I was trying to conceive baby Scooter (ha), or was dragged into a lawsuit I didn't want to be involved in and of course, that beautiful time before Olivia was a snot-nose brat (wait, when was that?).

I'm someone who has something to say - even if it isn't always good or funny or thought-provoking or blog-roll worthy.

Worst $15 spent EVER

New OB/GYN: Hi Sophia, why are you here today?

Me: I want to have a baby...We're trying to have a baby.

Doctor: How long have you been trying?

Me: We haven't. We start on Monday.

:::crickets chirpping:::

Doctor: :::blink::: Um. Ok. So why are you here?

Me: :::nervous chuckle::: Well, see, I was 17 when I had my first child and she was unplanned, obviously. And um, I didn't know if there was a special "grown-up" way to plan and prepare to have a baby. I guess....I just wanted to do it all right and proper this time.

Doctor: Ok. How did you get pregnant last time?

Me: Possibly mind altering chemicals and definitely a lot of cheap beer.

Doctor: Sounds good. Try that. :::laughs::: Just have lots of sex.

Me: :::blink - blink - blink:::

Sincerely 'fro me to you - Prom 1998

Join me in this Blog Carnival courtesy of Kristen at We Are THAT Family. (Posted every Thursday.)

This is me the night of prom. Except it wasn't my prom (I was a Freshman) and it wasn't my high school (it was my high school's rival, in fact) and I didn't even know this dude. Remember when I told you about how hip it was to meet boys on aol chat rooms in the early/late 90's? That's how I met this fella. I can remember only these details about him: his name is John, he's Hawaiian, his dad was a cop (so not kosher for bad-girl me) and he did not have a date to prom. The story goes like this...

I went to a different high school than most of my friends because I was in a "magnet" program (for law enforcement - haha). Luckily, my very best friend was also in the same program which made it bearable but we missed our old friends. Spring of 1998 came and we mutually decided we weren't going to attend our own school's prom, instead we wanted to attend the rival high school's prom; where all of our other friends were. Except she (who'll remain nameless until I post a blog about her, too) made plans with people that I didn't like. I can't remember why I didn't find another group to go with but I'm sure it had something to do with my burning desire to make her jealous (I was never successful at that).

After a virtual-meeting in a local chat room, John asked me to be his date to prom. 3 days before prom. So I bought a dress ($12 at TJ Maxx), got my nails done (at the beauty school) and I vividly remember struggling for a long time with my hair. In my Reliant K car, I drove to John's house and there was a limo, another couple and all of these parents taking pictures of us. (I'm pretty sure that my mom didn't even know I was attending prom. My relationship with my entire family began to deteriorate around this time.) That's where this famous picture came from. The details of prom are very cloudy in my head - it almost shows like a picture slide show instead of a movie. I remember being very, very, very bored. And regretful. And sad watching my friends from the ballroom balcony while they danced and laughed without their shoes on. After prom, we went to Lake Worth beach and sat on the benches. It was unseasonably cold and John graciously gave me his jacket. Then he tried to kiss me and I asked to go home.

Two weeks later, John emailed me this (and more) pictures and thanked me for a wonderful night. I really felt horrible about John's prom.

Years later, while signed onto my old aol screen name, he IMed me. He was a cop living in Lake Placid and having a great life. I guess I'd already had Olivia and I remember how degrading he was to me about having a baby so young. Faster than I got knocked up, I forgave myself for ruining his prom.

Before that, though; just a few months after prom, I emailed that photo to Danny after chatting with him in another aol chat room (this bitch got around). He told me I was hot and asked who the fat guy was (pot: meet kettle). So - 10 years later, I'd like to apologize to John and thank him. If it weren't for that picture, I might not have hooked the man I would fall in love with at first sight, marry and have children with.

PS. In case you're wondering - yes, there are endless stories about boys that I met from aol chat rooms. And no, I will never tell them all.