SnoBloggery

#9 - Costanza's

Per the request of my longtime friend Katie, I tried a half ice cream - half coconut. Poor Katie lives in Seattle where snoball stands are nonexistent. Also in Seattle, they call a Coke "a Pop," which is almost as bad. Plus, the weather forecasters there often refer to something called "sunbreaks," wherein if you're lucky, the sun just might poke through the dreariness for a split second and make you realize just how bad you want to move back to Louisiana. Come back Katie!

Sorry. Enough Seattle-bashing for now.

This particular flavor combo was new to me, but was really delightful. Could have used a bigger ratio of coconut to ice cream, but that's just a personal preference. I go to Costanza's fairly regularly because it's on my way home from work. There is ALWAYS a line of people outside, which I've come to realize is a sign that you're gonna get a decent snoball.

What are your favorite snoball syrup combinations? Inspire me!

My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday

Today. May 3rd. Marks the date of my birth. Thirty years ago. THIRTY. Three whole decades.

I was asked this weekend if I was dreading the big 3-0. To tell you the truth, I haven't been. And I'm not freaking out now that I am. Officially. THAT age.

Honestly, 25 was the age that really hit me. In the face. Hard. I was at the grocery store buying candles for my own birthday cake (which is depressing in and of itself). Not sure if you've ever noticed, but birthday candles come in packs of 24. I was 25. Which meant I needed 2 packs of candles. FORTY EIGHT candles. I had graduated to the same candle bracket as a 48-year-old. Gone were the carefree days of simply one pack of candles! Also gone were the days of someone else taking care of the birthday candle buying, but that's a whole different issue.

Later on that year, I saw a billboard advertising the 25th Anniversary of Popeye's. Great, now I'm the same age as fried chicken.

It probably didn't help that at age 25, I was a few steps behind where I thought I'd be at that age. Sure, I had scored an awesome husband, but I still hadn't completed college or bought a house. I thought I'd surely have done both by then. After a whole quarter century! Then Katrina came and well, nothing really throws your life plans off track like a natural disaster.

Here's the good news. I made it to 30. And I'm happy about what I've accomplished thus far. Here's a recap of the past decade of me:

2000 - dropped out of LSU, planned my wedding, married the one and only Stewart Alexis

2001 - moved to Washington, lived on a military base, bought AUSTIN, bought AUSTIN a new $3,000 leg, cried when AUSTIN ate the whole roll of film that documented Stewzie's first year as a married couple

2002 - bought Black Betty, was voted Employee of the Year, moved back to Louisiana, readjusted to heat and humidity

2003 to 2004 - worked, saved, had my purse stolen by crackheads, missed Stew a lot (he worked offshore)

2005 - went back to college, paid for it myself, continued working full time, turned 25 along with a 2 piece, white meat, spicy, with a side of dirty rice, a biscuit and a red drink, got Katrina'd, lived in Arkansas for a month with 9 dogs and a whole mess of people, came back home and removed my neighbors' carport from our backyard, got a new job

2006 - went back to college (again), got a 4.0, kept working, paid off Black Betty, became an Aunt

2007 - kept my 4.0 streak alive, started househunting, kept working full time

2008 - bought a house, renovated it every night for 9 months, kept my job, my husband and my GPA but lost my sanity, EARNED my degree and finally graduated

2009 - learned to relax, thanked my husband, went public with my snoball love affair, started Stewzie

2010 - had a crazy dream that the Saints won the Super Bowl, realized it wasn't just a dream, dressed like a toothless hillbilly not once but twice, then turned THIRTY

Whew.

This is just a tiny percentage of the ups, downs, and in betweens of the past 10 years. If you are the one who created the above, good or bad, THANK YOU, I am truly blessed. If you have been a part of any of the above, good or bad, THANK YOU. If you weren't a part of any of the above, THANK YOU, because you're reading this now and that means you're a part of today. My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday. The first day of the rest of my life.


"Time and Tide wait for no man, but time always stands still for a woman of thirty." - Robert Frost

The Austin Chronicles - Part 4

You ever have one of those moments where someone says something seemingly innocent and insignificant, but later on you realize those words were the most profound statement EVER?

Yeah, well that picture up there reminds me of one such moment.

Back in August 2001, Stew and I were living in Washington. State, not D.C. We selected a local breeder and drove out to Puyallup (pronunciation: pew-al-up) to go select our brand new, 6-week-old Chocolate Labrador Retriever puppy (translation: money pit). Everyone had told us to choose the puppy that runs up to you and wants to play, because that is a sure-fire sign that the puppy will grow up to be vibrant and full of energy (translation: a combo plate of hyper and stubborn. with a side of crazy). Sure enough, one cute little brown furball wobbled right up to us and started licking my hand and chewing my thumb (translation: Pick Me!). I scooped him up, he snuggled up to my neck and I. Was. Sold. The breeder's young daughter exclaimed "That one's named Buster. Cause he'll bust your house up!"

Pause for a moment to let that sink in. Because I should have. And didn't. However, Little Buster (translation: Austin) had already stolen our hearts. And our common sense too, apparently.

On our way back home, we stopped at the pet store to pick up some last minute essentials (translation: stuff we forgot to buy BEFORE getting a dog). We browsed through collars and leashes and toys for a few minutes until Austin spied an employee tediously stacking VHS tapes (it was 2001, remember) to display on the end of the aisle. Austin jumped straight out of my arms and proceeded to haul his tiny, 10 lb. body right towards the 4-foot-tall tower of videos. At NASCAR speed. I yelled his name, "AUSTIN!" (translation: stupid move on my part because the poor dog probably still thought his name was Buster). I rounded the corner just in time to witness him plow right through the display and send 300 video tapes crashing to the ground all over the place.

The kicker? Those videos were DOG TRAINING VIDEOS (translation: irony. and shame).

We purchased one out of necessity (translation: guilt) and sadly it didn't teach us how to prevent Mr. Buster Brown from eating the baseboards off the wall. Or to poop standing still. Or to stop eating Irish Spring Soap. That would have helped. However, with the aid of that video, Austin can now sit, lie down and stay, all by commands given via sign language (translation: cool party trick).

Moral of the story: Pick the fat, lazy puppy who pays no attention to you. Then have his teeth and legs removed just in case.