Tag Archives: Wine

Embracing Change

23 May

I laid in bed at 3 am thinking about this post and wondering exactly what I was going to share. I wanted the post to be upbeat because I went to bed telling myself I was turning over a new leaf, making some much-needed changes after the last month caused my life to spiral out of control.

I already have some big changes on the horizon. I hate change. I’m not sure that anyone really loves change, but I truly despise change. Change gives me anxiety. I need things to just mosey on along…it’s not to say that I’m boring…I just can’t deal with a lot of uncertainty.

I like my routine. Sure I kick back on the weekends, but I’m kicking back with my family and my friends and in my home in the town I grew up in. Let’s just say I’m not usually a fly by the seat of my pants type of girl…in Mexico with cocktails maybe.

Yesterday I got the rug pulled out from under me in a change I never saw coming. I had an inkling something was going on, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. When I was given the news I can tell you I never in a million years expected to hear the words I heard.

I would have believed his words … “by the way I’m pregnant” … or gay … or in love with you before I would have ever expected what I actually heard.

I was completely shocked.
I was hurt.
I was angry.

Between these two life-altering changes I sat stunned thinking how life as I know it would never be the same. My world was falling apart in front of my very eyes.

And then I burst into tears.
I had a breakdown.
A complete breakdown.

I needed to escape. With black mascara running down my face and red swollen eyes I escaped the only way I know how. I mean other than running off to Vegas to perform in Peep Show, like I once said here.

Bridesmaids Wiig

I escaped to the bottle. I drank and drank and watched Bridesmaids and drank some more and tweeted a bunch of ridiculous crap including telling Donald Trump that just the name Anthony Weiner alone makes me laugh.

Photo courtesy of blog.theregularguynyc.com

Photo courtesy of blog.theregularguynyc.com

Thankfully before pulling an Amanda Bynes I passed out but not before telling my therapist that Botox would fix everything.

Photo courtesy of usmagazine.com

Photo courtesy of usmagazine.com

I’m not sure if I thought I would wake up and life would have magically returned to the way it was before, a month ago, when I was happy and calm and life was good.

Instead I just woke up with ass breath and a headache. My insides still ached as much as before.

I decided on a long walk thinking the sunlight and breezy air may calm my heightened anxiety. And I lost it again. I felt lost myself despite having walked this path so many times.

I walked to the train station and sat to watch the trains pass by. I thought about the passengers on those trains. Were they happy? Sad? Were they lost like me?

For two seconds I felt this urge to jump in front of the train. As it drove by big and loud and windy I thought ‘what if I actually jumped?’

I think I felt God there with me. Despite feeling abandoned by Him I felt his hand on my shoulder; watching me, calming me.

I started to scold myself – sure your life is completely falling apart, sure it will never be the same, but there is one person who will fall apart without you. My kid. It is my job to protect her and keep her safe. I can’t have this kid growing up thinking I wasn’t strong enough and brave enough and that I left her.

Get it together! I yelled at myself in my head. No, I wasn’t a crazy bum sitting at the train station yelling at myself though I’m sure I looked the part.

courteney-cox-big-joeIt’s a PMDD week so certainly all my feelings are exasperated this week, and I am struggling to deal with feelings of loss, abandonment, uncertainty and fear. For the last month I’ve been using Cabernet as a coping mechanism. I was like, Oh, it’s OK, that’s what Brandi Glanville did. #celebrityadvice

Obviously it hasn’t helped.

I finished my long walk thinking about some changes I need to make:

1. Focus on Eva
2. Be nice to myself
3. Continue running
4. Stop the negative thinking
5. Stop drinking (for now)*

I’m strong, independent and perfectly capable of getting through the hard times with hopes of good on the other side. And even though I’m not capable – right now – of seeing the bigger picture I don’t need to drown myself in red wine (for now)*.

God is strengthening me, and I don’t know why, but there is a why and I will continue to believe. I have put my faith in God because that’s all I have left.

*Don’t worry, I’m not going all sober on you guys…just for now while I get through some tough times ahead. I promise there will be more drinking and tweeting. :D

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Don’t Know What To Say….BINGO!

7 Mar

I heard this joke on the radio…and thought it was hilarious. Here’s my attempt at the joke…after a couple glasses of wine. LOL

Snapshot 1 (3-7-2013 11-12 PM)Bingo

What joke makes you crack up – but no one else seems to get it???

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Jlee’s Review – The Banana Diet

22 Feb

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I would say about once a year I decide to tighten my belt. Or um loosen in this case because my True Religion jeans don’t fit. Same thing happened last year – remember 5 Days of Insanity?

I think it has something to do with winter and needing a little extra padding. I tend to hibernate in the winter – after all I just admitted to watching 5 hours in a row of Bethenny Ever After – and during the holidays I always loosen up a little bit. Instead of one cookie I eat 10. And now here we are…approaching spring…and the other day I button my True Religion jeans (that barely even made it over my ass) and I’ve got this role hanging over my pants.

I looked in the mirror completely disgusted. “What is this?” I asked my husband.

“What?”

“This!?!” I say while squeezing the roll. “You don’t SEE this?!?”

“I think you look pretty damn good,” he says, giving me the eye.

While I do appreciate that, deep down no matter what your size you know what is acceptable for you. And barely zipping my True Religion jeans is not acceptable for me.

I’m thinking this is going to turn into a yearly thing….approaching spring feels like a good time to hit the reset button. Start fresh. Regroup. Time to remind myself that moderation is key and blah blah blah.

So I Googled ‘Japanese diet’. I seriously did. I mean the Japanese are skinny right?

I even Googled ‘fat Japanese person’ just as a reference for this post and look what I stumbled upon…Fat in Japan? You’re Breaking the Law, though I don’t know if this law is still in effect?

Deciding the Japanese diet probably wasn’t for me I decided on the Banana diet.

Photo courtesy of truththeory.com

Photo courtesy of truththeory.com

Here it is:

For 3-4 days you eat 3-5 bananas/day combining them with 3-4 cups of low-fat milk. If you’re not a big milk drinker you can drink almond milk.

Quick side note: I’m obsessed with almond milk. I started drinking it about six months ago. I don’t drink a ton of milk, and this milk never goes bad. It lasts forever. If I buy a ½ gallon of almond milk at about $4 it will last me for two weeks. Plus it has fewer calories. Win-win!

You can also eat your banana with plain yogurt. You can eat the banana and the yogurt separately or you can blend one banana with one cup of milk and/or yogurt to make a smoothie.

According to the website this 3-4 day banana diet will help you lose 6 pounds. Not only do I have about 5 pounds to lose but I also have to get my appetite down – it’s like I’ve been starving all day every day for the past 2-3 weeks! – and clean out the processed foods. Way too much pizza and take-out lately.

They also have a 7 day diet menu featured on their website.

I opted to do the 3 day diet, but I did it for 4 days.

Here is my experience:

silkDay 1: Day 1 was an absolute breeze. While I can’t completely skip coffee I did decide to detox from Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for four days while on this “cleanse”. I did make a small coffee in the AM but instead of cream I added almond milk and 1 tsp of sugar – which for me is intense. My coffee is like dessert…cream, sugar, the whole nine yards.

I ate four bananas throughout my work day. I started at 8:30 AM and timed my eating out until 4:30 pm to eat 1 banana and drink 1 cup of milk every 2-3 hours. I was feeling pretty good!

When I got home I made a banana smoothie. I blended my 5th banana, 1 more cup of milk, plain Greek yogurt and a handful of ice. It was pretty delicious!

Throughout the day I sipped on water and Green tea.

Yes, I was hungry, but as I said above I’ve been hungry regardless of what I’ve eaten for the past 2-3 weeks. So before even when I was actually eating I was still starving. I went to bed feeling content and good about myself, whereas the last week of binging has left me going to bed feeling very blah.

Day 2: Day 2 I woke up feeling hungry. Not a good start. I sort of had the shakes too. I made my coffee at home with almond milk and skipped the sugar. I walked in the office at 7:59 and ate a banana.

I’m not going to lie. Day 2 was a struggle. Day 2 I thought about breaking down and getting Dunkin Donuts iced coffee and knew that would get me through. And then I reminded myself that is what heroin addicts say.

In an effort now to just prove a point to myself that I can go four days without DD I decided to stay firm. I mean, for the love of God, there are Americans overseas fighting a war, and I’m having a breakdown in my office about not having Dunkin Donuts iced coffee? Good grief.

At noon I broke down and ate a hard-boiled egg. In the 7 day version you are allowed to eat hard-boiled eggs. I figured it was better than breaking down completely and getting a Big Mac. I also chugged 1 cup of milk in 4 seconds flat. I set down the cup and wished it was a glass of red wine, but oh well. On Friday I plan on getting hammered. On iced coffee and wine.

For dinner I ate my banana smoothie plus I indulged in a bowl of lettuce. Not salad. Lettuce. Just lettuce. In a bowl. It’s actually not very good.

I was really aggravated and crabby all evening. My husband yelled at me to not take my hunger out on him. I yelled at him to not talk to me because he is annoying. I went to bed at 8:30 PM relieved to end the day.

Day 3: I woke up feeling not as hungry and in better spirits. I put on a pair of jeans – tight! Ugh! – and decided this is a good thing seeing as though my jeans are still tight.

I made coffee at home and managed to hold off on my banana and glass of almond milk until 8:30 AM.  At noon I ate a hard-boiled egg.

I think it’s weird that I don’t feel that bad….I felt pretty energetic and happy. I just wished I could go get Dunkin Donuts. What does this say about me? I find it slightly alarming, but my husband says it’s the hunger talking. I’m not hungry, per se, but I’m really sick of eating the same thing.

I keep reminding myself that I only have one more day to go. I will take pride in successfully taking off 4 days of DD to get myself in ‘check’…Four days of remembering what it feels like to view food as gas for your body as opposed to the luxury of eating…

I definitely felt the best on Day 3. I even made it to the YMCA and signed up for a bootcamp class. I did totally suck in bootcamp. I think of myself as a somewhat in shape person so I’m not sure if I’m just not as in shape as I thought or if it was the fact that I am consuming fewer calories than usual. Either way, I did complete bootcamp and felt pretty damn good about myself!

When we got home I sat with the Chiquita to watch the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She ate her goldfish, and I snacked (1/3 cup) on nut and berry mix from Trader Joe’s. It was quite tasty.

I slept like a rock.

Day 4: I woke up feeling like it should be Friday. It should be my Dunkin Donuts day. Ugh. I seriously have another day of this?

I don’t feel that hungry, but I’m just so over this…

I remembered I have an event tonight. I will have to attend without eating or drinking. I will stay strong and do it because I’ve come this far; I’m not bailing now.

I sipped Green tea after my first milk and banana combo. For lunch I had a hard-boiled egg again. The hard-boiled egg has been a nice addition to this diet. I did also snack on my Trader Joe’s nut and berry mix. I told you, I’m losing steam, but I am staying strong.

TunacharlieMy uncle told me that he has heard of a modified version of the banana diet from a friend who is a nutritionist/body builder. He said that when his friend is in competition mode his diet changes to a banana/tuna diet. I think this actually doesn’t sound that bad but remember I make my tuna with mayo, mustard, celery…I don’t think I could even eat plain tuna without gagging. It doesn’t help that I have a fish phobia. But, something to think about if you like tuna.

Reminds me of the dude I worked with in high school who ate plain tuna in the can every single day. We called him Tuna Ass Breath Man. To this day I still call him Tuna. LOL

I continue to repeat in my head: Just get through today to have Dunkin Donuts tomorrow. What kind of sick obsession is this? It’s worse than my obsession with Juicy Couture. Or Giuliana Rancic.

Day 5: I made it. I know you’re wondering if I ate or drank at last night’s event, and I’m happy to report that I didn’t. :) Shame on you for doubting me! I did, however, attend with an 8 oz. coffee. I figured if I had the coffee taste in my mouth I’d be less likely to falter. My coffee was made with almond milk and 1 tsp. of sugar. I stuck through to the end.

This morning I pulled in the Dunkin Donuts drive thru excited to get my iced coffee. I’d been debating on my ride over if I should get it with skim milk or cream. I opted for skim milk. It’s not the same, but wasn’t bad and if felt great to take the first sip.

DD

When I got to work I even had a banana.

I feel great. :)

Some common questions:

1. Aren’t you constipated?
Nope! My poops have been plentiful!

2. Are you really eating only bananas?
I am really eating everything I described above.

3. Aren’t you getting sick of bananas?
Fuck yeah.

4. How do you feel on the banana diet versus the juice cleanse?
I feel a lot better on the banana diet then I felt on the juice cleanse. On the juice cleanse I was very sore. I felt sick and lethargic. I had the shakes and diarrhea. I had headaches. I was a mess. On the banana diet I feel pretty good honestly! I really just can’t get over how much I miss Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. I’m convinced they put drugs in it because I am drinking one small coffee (8 oz.) per day with almond milk and lite or no sugar so it’s not like I’m not drinking any coffee at all.

5. Would you do it again?
Absolutely! It gave me a great sense of accomplishment in addition to the reset my body needed. It’s also cheap and easy to do – just buy some milk and bananas.

6. Did you lose any weight?
I’m honestly not sure. I don’t weigh myself. I have to try on my True Religion jeans this weekend. What I can tell you is that I feel great. I feel not only a sense of accomplishment but my body feels great! My stomach looks smaller, my pants fit better today and maybe I’m just in love with myself today but I honestly feel like I even look better! I highly recommend this diet!

Please use the comments section below to tell us of any outrageous diets you’ve tried!

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Erotica and a Batman Costume

4 Feb

draft_lens19493882module159273265photo_13376893000_a_Nothing in my life is ever normal. What is normal? I don’t know, but seriously, ask my friends. They always tell me how much drama I have in my life.

I’m like a Real Housewife except I don’t want this drama! I’m not on a reality TV show, I’m not rich and I’m just not that exciting.

But drama always seems to fall into my lap. Maybe it’s because I’m sensitive? Or reactive? Or Italian?

Some time ago I took on a writing coach. I wrote briefly about him; how I felt so professional cool saying “my writing coach”. My relationship with my writing coach was short-lived.

Let me start at the beginning.

I found him on Craig’s List in August. We agreed to meet at Panera Bread. I did check him out and he seemed legit.

He texts he’s running a bit late.
I text: I am here, seated right when u come in, pink laptop :) [side note: you know I have a pink laptop.]

He comes in a bit flustered and doesn’t look anything like I had imagined, but really how often does that happen where the person looks exactly as you envisioned?

He apologizes for running late. “I wanted to catch a ride with my mom, and I had to wait for her to put her make-up on.”

Wtf.

“Um…OK,” I respond; wondering things like does he have a car? Does he live in his mother’s basement?

My second thought was: I’m pretty sure he’s gay. Which is fine. You know how I love the gays.

We get to work, and I have to say he taught me many great things worthy of my money for that afternoon. By the end I was even fond of him.

At one point his mother came up to our table. She was this adorable tiny older lady. She reminded me of a Golden Girl. She was definitely a Blanche. Her make-up was flawless. Her silver hair was pulled up in a beautiful bun with wispy pieces falling by her eyes. I thought, Wow, this is what I’m going to look like when I’m old! No running around in curlers and robes for me…

He introduces me. Mom and I shake hands and she eyes me telling me its soooo nice to meet me. Emphasizing the so.

“Very nice to meet you, too.”

I wondered what she was thinking. Probably that I’m a nice and pretty girl and she wished her son would take a liking to me. Everyone loves an Italian girl!

We wrap up and agree to meet again.

The next day, Sunday, he texts me: nice meeting you! Did you sign into LinkedIn yet?
Me: You too! No :( I can’t get anything done at home. Will try to tonite or tomorrow.
WC [Writing Coach]: Ok! Wrote all weekend…tired but in a good way.
Me: Awesome! Good job! :) I’m jealous.
WC: Need 500 word by tomorrow 9am!! An early morning writing session, I think! ;)

And that’s how it began.
Numerous texts and emails back and forth. I sent WC a couple chapters of my book. He loved what I had but also gave me constructive criticism. I was beyond thrilled. Like the time I was interviewed and suddenly saw myself at the Oscars, my mind again went racing.

He was like the perfect BFF and I’ve always wanted a gay BFF, I mean, all the celebs have one! So I started referring to him as my GBFF. I’d send my girls an email: So GBFF is home watching All My Children right now. Oh my God, he’s soo gay, and I’m soo lucky to have a gay BFF!

Every girl needs a Stanford!

Every girl needs a Stanford!

The girls were equally excited because when you’re married there is nothing better than a gay BFF. You have someone to shop with, you get a man’s opinion on your shoes/outfit/hair/make-up and yet there is no drama – you don’t have to worry about any sex happening. They are always painfully honest but without getting into trouble. If your husband told you that you should put more Vitamin A on that stretch mark you’d probably break his face. But, if your GBFF tells you – OMG, you better fucking listen!

I mean, it’s seriously perfection.

The texting fun continues – and I love that it’s all so innocent! I mean, he’s my GBFF right?!?

WC: Clearing my desk for labor day weekend—getting up early—coffee, writing, pool and reruns of murder she wrote
WC: Plus shopping!
Me: Sounds perfecto!
WC: Writing now & watching general hospital…jax is back in town!
WC: Ha ha!

[I mean, dude is totally gay right?????]

The girls are pressing me for what GBFF looks like. They are imagining Bethenny’s wedding planner.

bethenny-getting-married-hero-bridal-tips

This is when shit gets weird.

Me: BTW are you on FB?
WC: No…LinkedIn is enuf!
WC: Do you want me to look you up?
WC: On Fb?
Me: Lol! [FYI, if I ever don’t know how to respond to a text I write LOL, so if you know me and get that text from me….ummm….I don’t know what you’re talking about.]
WC: Naked, drunk or other compromising pics?
WC: :)
WC: Like Prince Harry!!!

[I’m reading the first text, then the smiley face, and thinking wtf, where is he going with this? I’m so confused. Then when he follows up with Prince Harry (who had just had the naked Vegas scandal) so I was like OMG, of course GBFF has seen Harry’s toosh!]

Me: lol lol no! [Still a bit confused]
Me: My friends wanted to see a pic of my “writing coach”.
WC: Check your email

[WC sends me an [financial] article he was interviewed for which included a picture of him.]
Me: :) great article! Wayyy over my head! Nic pic too!!
WC: Of course I can do the “tee-shirt, jeans and clogs with messy hair and stubble”, if that’s what the “client” wants—what are your girlfriends “into”??

[Ok, What. The. Fuck. I don’t respond because I’m like really confused at this point. My brain is going – wait, is GBFF not gay? I’m really confused right now. 10 minutes later – with no response from me – WC texts.]

WC: Just joking!!!

[Here’s me…Phew…he’s only joking! But still a little like wtf I respond Hahaha instead of my usual LOL for ‘seriously what the fuck are you talking about’.]

Me: Hahaha!
WC: If the “client” wants me to look ½ way between a vampire and a fireman, well, I think I can do that too…

[OK what is with all this quoting of “client”….what is going on right now? Now I’m freaking out. I’m perspiring. I don’t think GBFF is gay. I run to the bathroom. I email the girls. We are all in agreement that shit just got weird. Really weird.]

Because I have no idea what to say I finally respond: Did I offend you? I’m confused.

WC: No! I’m joking! I sometimes feel like a male hooker when I tutor—like you…you’re a hot housewife…I come in and you pass me cash…we have our talk…
WC: I move on to the next…I feel like a “high priced call girl” at times. My guy friends are envious of my job.

[If that shit doesn’t have you going wtf….]

WC: Just a joke! Like asking “what’s your genre?”
WC: Some of these ladies are into erotica so then I guess I dress like a fireman or something for them…and I read their “stories”. What a job! :)

OK, let this “hot” housewife get this off my back. I’m gonna get ghetto here, so imagine me saying this in my black girl voice.

images

Who in the fuck do you think you are calling me 1. A “hot” housewife like that’s all I am, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I am a full time office manager.

2. I did not write a “story” – I wrote a fucking novel and this fucking novel is going to sell and get turned into a Lifetime movie complete with Rob Lowe playing the antagonist and a “hot” housewife – Katie Holmes anyone? – playing me.

3. I am not sitting in a basement writing some make-believe erotica story because I am some bored housewife looking for attention and desperately craving sex. Further, please repeat #2, I did not write some little fucking story…I wrote a book mother fucker. This book is going to be a best seller. Fucking Oprah is going to be talking about this shit.

4. Dressing up in Batman, fireman costumes and reading these stories, what the fuck are you talking about? This is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard! I’m beyond confused right now and a little a lot offended.

Adam West was kind of hot....

Adam West was kind of hot….

5. This is serious shit to me. I did not hire you because I was looking for anything other than help with my writing. I never in any way suggested otherwise.

6. Maybe this is a game…to him and his mom….maybe they scour Craig’s List looking for attractive young girls to take advantage of! They wanted to lure me to their home and kill me, Oh my God! Like the Bates Motel!

7. I’ve never felt so demeaned in my whole life….I finally say as I break down in tears.

No more ghetto, I’m actually crying and saying how serious I am about my book, and now I will never know if he even really liked my book or if the whole time he was just trying to get in my pants dressed up as fucking Elmo or some shit.

I traded a few texts with WC after, but knew I could never trust him again. I’ve not searched for another writing coach, and I’ve not worked on my book after that. I know I need to get back to it and not be dramatic and feel sorry for myself, but the whole experience just left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Like who the fuck does this happen to, I don’t even get it?

My friends and I did have a laugh about it while sipping cocktails as my girl said, “When don’t you have drama? That’s crazy!”

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All Hail the Paci Fairy

29 Nov

With the Chiquita coming up on two and a half we decided it was time to lose the paci. Unfortunately she wasn’t having it. She wasn’t having one second of it. In fact, she started throwing these terrible fits in order to have her paci. When I asked to take her paci from her she’d take one last suck like she was taking a drag on a cigarette.

“This is an addiction!” I exclaimed.

We had planned to break her of it over Christmas break as my husband and I are both off work over the holidays. It was getting so bad though – she literally threw herself on the floor in a blind rage screaming “Paci!!!!” like I was the evil stepmother taking away her glass slipper – that I said to Hubs, “Enough is enough. This kid is more addicted to this paci then my Uncle Frank is to Heroin.”

We decided that was it. Time to go cold turkey.

Well, first after this crazy outburst I looked at the kid and screamed, “Get up right now or I’ll throw that paci in the garbage and you’ll never see it ever again!”

I have to say she did get her little ass off the floor pretty fast and wiped those big crocodile tears from her red eyes. She knows when Mama is ready to lose her shit.

Like a band-aid we decided we just needed to rip it off in one quick tear. That’s it. No more paci.

I was prepared for the kid to freak. I anticipated a really bad weekend and even invested in booze for the occasion.

And then the Paci Fairy was born. We had kicked around the idea of Santa taking the Chiquita’s paci to give to another little boy or girl in need and she kept saying, “Ho-Ho paci, no.”

Afraid that she would end up hating Santa as I do, remember the birth of Bad Mom, and knowing we couldn’t wait that long I checked out the Circle of Moms website and saw that other mothers were enlisting the help of the Paci Fairy. Much like the Tooth Fairy takes your tooth and leaves you money – change when I was a kid, but $5 bills now from some of my friends? – the Paci Fairy takes your paci and leaves you a present….

A really cool present that the Chiquita had been asking for FOR MONTHS!

Friday night when the Chiquita fell fast asleep Hubs and I tip-toed into her room to confiscate paci expecting it had fallen from her mouth. Nope. Paci was safely inside the Chiquita’s mouth. We looked at each other. Do we pull it out? What do we do? It was getting late, and I knew I wasn’t going to make it much longer. The second I got into bed and started reading US Weekly I would pass out.

I whispered, “You gotta take it!”

He whispered, “I don’t know if I can do it!”

“Just do it, rip the band-aid off!” I yelled in a whisper, desperate for this madness to end.

He gently grabbed the paci from her little lips and pulled it free.

We stood there holding our breath.

She took a deep breath and then made a sucking motion with her little mouth.

“Ohhh!” we mouthed and smiled at each other. We did it!

The next morning Hubs was at work when I woke up with the Chiquita. She said, “Mama, paci?” and motioned her hands ‘what the heck’. She had torn apart her bed looking for it.

I picked up the present and said, “Oh my gosh! Look! The Paci Fairy came!”

She looked confused. I had set her up for this a few days prior…the Paci Fairy comes, the Paci Fairy will give your paci to another baby who needs one, the Paci Fairy will give you a cool present…

“Cool!” She had responded until she realized the Paci Fairy takes her paci. Then she said no, she didn’t want the present.

When she opened the present she yelled, “DREAM LITES!!!!”

You can imagine my aggravation when I couldn’t unscrew the back battery compartment because first I couldn’t find a screwdriver; then I couldn’t find the right screwdriver. Meanwhile I have a 2-year-old bouncing around me begging for the Dream Lites.  I ended up having to use the plug until Hubs got home and handled the man duty of unscrewing the back cover.

I was shocked that the Chiquita only asked for paci a handful of times over the weekend. I would nicely remind her that the Paci Fairy gave her Dream Lites and did she want to give Dream Lites back? When she responded ‘yes, paci’ I chose another approach.

“You are a BIG girl, and you helped a baby today by giving her your paci! I’m so proud of you! Let’s play with your Dream Lites!”

“OK Mama!”

Wow, maybe I’m actually doing some things right. :)

Enjoy some pics:

“This is cool!”

This is what was left for the Chiquita from the Paci Fairy.

The Paci Fairy even left a letter!

Still loving Dream Lites!

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The Joy of Growing Up Italian

12 Oct

My future BFF is an Italian-American!

I did not write this, but I wanted to share it with all of you. I tried to search online to see if I could find out who had written it. Someone in my family gave it to me — typed and stapled sheets of paper. I can’t remember if it was my mom or one of my aunts. I found it in a drawer when I was recently cleaning my office and smiled at the memory of someone giving it to me. They were always reminding me that I was Italian.

I never did find the author, though I found a similar version on this website: http://www.great-chicago-italian-recipes.com/the-joy-of-growing-up-italian.html

Even though my great-great grandparents came to Chicago from Italy, which makes me like a 4th generation, we would always celebrate our heritage and eat feasts at my great grandparents’ house in West Chicago. My great grandma lived until I was in college, but boy do I regret not knowing her better. I think of her often, and I miss her.

Some of my favorite memories of her include her saying: one, two, tree; calling the refrigerator ‘the frigidaire’; and her joyous and infectious laugh. She was the most remarkable person I have known.

—

I was well into adulthood before I realized that I was an American. Of course, I had been born in American and had lived here all of my life, but somehow it never occurred to me that just being a citizen of the United States meant I was an American. Americans were people who ate peanut butter and jelly on mushy white bread that came out of plastic packages. Me? I was an Italian.

Ummm…I don’t look like this.

For me…as I am sure for most second generation Italian-American children who grew up in the 40s or 50s, there was a definite distinction between US and THEM. We were Italians. Everybody else – the Irish, German, Polish, Jewish – they were the “MED-E-GONES.” There was no animosity involved in that distinction, no prejudice, no hard feelings, just – well – we were sure ours was the better way. For instance, we had a bread man, a coal and ice man, a fruit and vegetable man, a watermelon man, and a fish man; we even had a man who sharpened knives and scissors who came right to our homes or at least right outside our homes. They were the many peddlers who plied the Italian neighborhoods. We would wait for their call, their yell, their individual distinctive sound. We knew them all and they knew us. Americans went to stores for most of their foods – what a waste.

Truly, I pitied their loss. They never knew the pleasure of waking up every morning to find a hot, crisp loaf of Italian bread waiting behind the screen door. And instead of being able to climb up on the back of the peddler’s truck a couple of times a week just to hitch a ride, most of my “MED-A-GONE” friends had to be satisfied going to the A&P. When it came to food, it always amazed me that my American friends or classmates only ate turkey on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Or rather, that they ONLY ate turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Now we Italians – we also had turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce – but only after we had finished the antipasto, soup, lasagna, meatballs, salad, and whatever else mama thought might be appropriate for that particular holiday. This turkey was usually accompanied by a roast of some kind (just in case somebody walked in who didn’t like turkey) and was followed by an assortment of fruits, nuts, pastries, cakes, and, of course, homemade cookies. No holiday was complete without some home baking; none of that store bought stuff for us. This is where you learned to eat a seven-course meal between noon and 4 pm, how to handle hot chestnuts, and put tangerine wedges in red wine. I truly believe Italians live a romance with food.

Speaking of food – Sunday was truly the big day of the week! That was the day you’d wake up to the smell of garlic and onions frying in olive oil. As you laid in bed, you could hear the hiss as tomatoes were dropped into a pan. Sunday we always had gravy (the “MED-A-GONES” called it SAUCE) and macaroni (they called it PASTA). Sunday would not be Sunday without going to Mass. Of course, you couldn’t eat before Mass because you had to fast before receiving communion. But the good part was we knew when we got home that we’d find hot meatballs frying, and nothing tastes better than newly fried meatballs and crisp bread dipped into a pot of gravy.

Yum!

And YUM!

There was another difference between US and THEM. We had gardens, not just flower gardens, but huge gardens where we grew tomatoes, tomatoes and more tomatoes. We ate them, cooked them, jarred them. Of course, we also grew peppers, basil, lettuce and squash. Everybody had a grapevine and a fig tree and in the fall everybody made homemade wine, lots of it. Of course, those gardens thrived so because we also had something else it seemed our American friends didn’t seem to have. We had a Grandfather!! It’s not that they didn’t have grandfathers, it’s just that they didn’t live in the same house, or on the same block. They visited their grandfathers. We ate with ours and God forbid we didn’t see him at least once a day. I can still remember my grandfather telling me about how he came to America as a young man “on the boat,” how the family lived in a rented tenement and took in boarders in order to help make ends meet, how he decided he didn’t want his children, five sons and two daughters, to grow up in that environment. All of this, of course, in his own version of Italian/English, which I soon learned to understand quite well.

So when he saved enough, and I could never figure out how, he bought a house. That house served as the family headquarters for the next 40 years. I remember how he hated to leave, would rather sit on the back porch and watch his garden grow, and when he did leave for some special occasion, had to return as quickly as possible. After all, “nobody’s watching the house.” I also remember the holidays when all the relatives would gather at my grandfather’s house and there’d be tables full of food and homemade wine and music. Women in the kitchen, men in the living room, and kids, kids everywhere. I must have a half million cousins, first and second and some who aren’t even related, but what did it matter. And my grandfather, his pipe in his mouth and his fine mustache trimmed, would sit in the middle of it all grinning his mischievous smile, his dark eyes twinkling, surveying his domain, proud of his family and how well his children had done. One was a cop, one a fireman, one had his trade, and, of course, there was always the rogue. And the girls, they had all married well and had fine husbands and healthy children and everyone knew respect.

He had achieved his goal in coming to American and to Chicago, and now his children and their children were achieving the same goals that were available to them in this great country because they were Americans. When my grandfather died years ago at the age of 76, things began to change. Slowly at first, but then uncles and aunts eventually began to cut down on their visits. Family gatherings were fewer and something seemed to be missing, although when we did get together, usually at my mother’s house now, I always had the feeling he was there somehow. It was understandable of course. Everyone now had families of their own and grandchildren of their own. Today they visit once or twice a year. Today we meet at weddings and wakes.

Lots of other things have changed too. The old house my grandfather bought is now covered with aluminum siding, although my uncle still lives there, and of course my grandfather’s garden is gone. The last of the homemade wine has long since been drunk and nobody covers the fig tree in the fall anymore. For a while we would make the rounds on the holidays, visiting family. Now we occasionally visit the cemetery. A lot of them are there, grandparents, uncles, aunts, even my own father.

The holidays have changed too. The great quantity of food we once consumed without any ill effects is no good for us anymore. Too much starch, too much cholesterol, too many calories. And nobody bothers to bake anymore – too busy. And it’s easier to buy it now and too much is no good for you. We meet at my house now, at least my family does, but it’s not the same.

The differences between US and THEM aren’t so easily defined anymore, and I guess that’s good. My grandparents were Italian Italians, my parents were Italian Americans, I’m an American Italian, and my children are American Americans. Oh I’m an American all right and proud of it, just as my grandfather would want me to be. We are all Americans now – the Irish, Germans, Poles, and Jews. U.S. citizens all – but somehow I still feel a little bit Italian. Call it culture, call it tradition, call it roots, I’m not really sure what it is. All I do know is that my children have been cheated out of a wonderful piece of the heritage. They never knew my grandfather.

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I’ve Got Friends in Low Places

30 Aug

Or high places rather. Remember, I’m the future BFF of Giuliana Rancic. I’m not messing around here. I only hang with people who are going places. And one of those people who is going places that I had the opportunity to meet – omg and he’s so cute – is recording artist Anthony Snape.

On Saturday my friend traveled with me to the boondocks of country-living to attend a private tent show at my boss’s home featuring Aussie native Anthony Snape.

My boss and his wife became acquainted with Anthony when they attended a Tommy Emmanuel concert late last year. Anthony has performed hundreds of shows in the United States as Emmanuel’s opening act.

Not only were they blown away by his talent, but my boss and his wife were able to meet the newcomer who has received many awards from the Australian press, including Acoustic Artist of the Year and Best Pop Artist. They have both called Anthony down-to-Earth and kind-hearted, and they wanted to share Anthony’s talent with their family and friends.

So, Neil’s wife went to work trying to finagle Anthony to travel from Nashville, where he now resides since leaving Australia several years ago, to Illinois. When my boss started planning for the event I was like omg, I’m sooo in! I love backyard get-togethers, I love beer, and I love music.

My friend and I made a day of it – she picked me up while Hubs stayed home with the Chiquita. And before you feel bad for him, remember, he’s not a social butterfly so he didn’t really want to go. Which works out fine for me, I figured I’d have more fun with my friend anyways. :)

Goofy girls

Friend and I then went to McDonald’s for Sweet Tea and got on the road to make the hour plus drive to my boss’s country home. Everyone loves a road trip out of the city!

When we neared my boss’s house we passed the road we were supposed to turn on – Budd Road, lmao, Buddddddd – TWICE. Yes, not once, but twice. Wtf were we doing? Two chicks on the road; we felt like Thelma and Louise, in the beginning when they first took off and were hot, not the end when they were sweaty felons running from the law. That movie actually depressed me at the end. Third times the charm and we finally found Budddddd Road. Only in the country would they have a Budd Road.

We were sort of intimidated when we showed up. I don’t know why, I guess I was because I don’t really never socialize with my bosses too much outside of work. I’m pretty sure they know I’m crazy (they often refer to my ‘Italian temper’) and they think I’m an alcoholic (sorry I like wine!), but I try not to subject them to that. You know, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Plus Friend is sort of on the crazy side, too, so this could go one of two ways. I hope one doesn’t end up with me fired.

We pulled our cooler full of Hoegaarden and LaCroix (must-have!) up the driveway. As we walked towards the garage we saw the big orange box. Holy cow, my boss even got a porter-potty for the occasion! So official.

Side note, I did pull Boss aside and request to use the powder room because “I have to like touch up my make-up and stuff.” [high-maintenance, I know]

But the real reason was just because I hate porter-potties. I can’t remember the last time I used a porter-potty. Oh, I do remember. It was when the Chiquita was 2 weeks old and we were walking home from the Cellar Door park. Long story short I had to go soo badly, but I couldn’t fit the stroller inside. Wtf. So, here I am squatting over the plastic toilet seat while I hold up my dress and hold open the door so I can see the Chiquita. This is a true story. This is why I hate porter potties. Well, that and the smell, the lack of toilet paper, the lack of hand sanitation (i.e., soap and water, not those ridiculous hand sanitizers). Now that I think about it, porter potties should be destroyed.

OK, I just went off on a tangent there.

Official Guest Tag

So Friend and I get settled in (we even got these groovy tags to wear), crack open a Hoegaarden with freshly cut lemons (I don’t half-ass anything) and sit down to take it all in. We talk with this very hot and cool chick that we desperately want to be friends with, but who also is a country dweller so that will probably never happen. And her husband was a bit of a tool.

When the show started a bit later we didn’t know what to expect. Anthony performed under a large tent and we excitedly took seats near the back. You know, so we could get up for refills or bathroom breaks without disturbing anyone. We’re very polite.

I’d also like you to know we were very well-behaved, and only did I have one ‘moment’ where I tried to get my boss’s wife to do a shot of tequila with me, luckily she declined, and oh yeah another ‘moment’ of trying to hook Friend up with a man from my boss’s “geek group” by shouting “Oh! Friend needs some computer work done!” which left her actually speechless and praying for a distraction. Even Boss looked at me like, STFU. Oops. I love it.

Back to the show, it was a beautiful summer afternoon, warm and breezy, and when Anthony started to croon the whole crowd was in utter amazement. He played the guitar – and the ukulele – with such ease, yet he also had such warmth with the crowd.

Playing the ukelele…he’s hot

He’s not…

He shared anecdotes of each song and of his decision to come to the US. He told us of his song being played on the popular show The Biggest Loser and how he was so excited, but then when he found out the name of the show he was like – uhhhhh, how am I supposed to promote that? By the way, in addition to The Biggest Loser, his songs have also been featured on General Hospital and ABC News.

Following the show he mingled with the party guests – and we snapped this pic with him! – and he signed autographs and answered questions. And what was so cool was that he was just as delighted to be playing for us as we were to be meeting him and hearing him sing.

I am definitely now a fan and I urge you to check him out!

Website: http://anthonysnape.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/anthonysnape
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@anthonysnape
Instagram: @snapeshots

Also, listen to my favorite Anthony song – the Instagram song! [Actual title: Pictures] I just went to sign up for an Instagram account so I could follow Anthony and share some pics with my readers, and I sadly just discovered that you can’t get Instagram on a Windows phone. :( Hopefully soon!

Check back for more info on Anthony – I am hoping to twist his arm into being our next “Get to Know” featured on Jlee’s Blog! Also, my boss’s wife is trying to get him to perform this winter in Chicagoland. Stay tuned!

And a big thanks to Anthony Snape! We had a wonderful time and were so honored to meet you and be a part of such a fantastic show.

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5 Days of Insanity: Part II

24 Aug

Today’s post comes to us from one of my good friends. Even though she read my review 5 Days of Insanity she was still crazy enough to give the cleanse a shot. :) She was kind of enough to share her experience with us.

In case you don’t recall my own experience with 5 Days of Insanity…in March I did a 5 day juice cleanse courtesy of A Choice 4 Life. I will provide the information at the bottom of this email in the chance you would like to try it out. Please enjoy my friend’s take below…she is very witty and you will be rooting for her to make it through to the end!

I decided to start my cleanse on a Monday, because I felt like I could enjoy the weekend, and then hit the grind at the beginning of the week. I admit I overindulged the weekend prior, knowing I was doing this cleanse and feeling like I was going to prison, I ate everything I could think of, and drank a bunch of wine too. Why not, I am hitting the reset button! Maybe not the best idea…maybe not even a good idea.

Day 1-I wake up starving, due, I suspect, to my overeating/drinking on the weekend. Also, I already have to go to the bathroom and I haven’t even started the cleanse yet. Ok, focus, get the mixes going, drink up and eat some of the fruit I got at Whole Foods the day before. And wait, I have to drink all 64 oz of this juice? Per day? I must have read that wrong! They give you choices of juice and you can either do 1 juice per day, or mix/match so I decided to mix it up. Ok, I grab my Cranberry juice and head to work, which is just upstairs since I am lucky enough to work from home (but am I lucky? I feel like the fridge and pantry are calling my name, taunting me). Meanwhile, I am working and starving. I complain to friends. They give me support and tell me I can do it. It’s the FIRST day. Decide to take a lunch break, and head to Trader Joe’s to try to find more variety, what else can I eat? I need to find something. I get a few more fruits, and decide to add in some low salt cashews because my body is craving salt like there is no tomorrow, and cashews are a fruit, yippee. I also grab some tomatoes, because well, they are the forgotten fruit. Wait, uh oh, I have to go to the bathroom at TJ’s…nice. This coming from a girl who has a fear of going to the bathroom in public places. Oh well, duty calls. Later, back at home, my husband makes fried shrimp for dinner, and I cut up my tomato and admittedly sprinkle with a little salt and pepper, because I can’t help myself. I eat this tomato like it was a Chicago deep dish pizza. Now we decide to watch TV and there is nothing on, so we decide to watch ‘Around the World in 80 plates’. A cooking show (I am a glutton for punishment). Finally head to bed at 8:15pm, but cannot sleep. The stomach pains kick in and I toss and turn, and for some reason Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville keeps running through my head, “searching for my lost shaker of salt…salt, where’s my Goddamn salt!?!” I think to myself, there is no way I can keep this up, I am quitting. Finally sleep comes at 12:15am.

Day 2-My generous husband let me sleep in and took care of our 1-year-old daughter. I slept until 8:15am and thought, ok, just gotta get through 12 more hours until I can go to bed at 8:15pm again. But wait, I am feeling better, less hungry and the stomach pains are gone. Yay. I think I can really do this. Grapefruit for breakfast and I even go for a short bike ride in the morning and today I am not very hungry.  That was at 10am. It’s now 4pm and I am once again starved and wishing I could go to bed now. I am cooking dinner tonight for my husband and my Mom. I love to cook, so this will give me something to do to kind of get through the evening, and I decided to make them pork chops since I hate ‘em and they love ‘em.  But at this point, I am actually thinking I might devour a pork chop tonight if I could. I am having a tomato and a little bit of cucumber. I know most people don’t see these as fruits, but they are, and I need them. I am sooooo sick of sweet! Head to bed around 8pm again and cannot sleep! Insomnia like I have never had it before. I toss and turn and watch TV and nothing. I decide to watch Pride & Prejudice, as though I love the movie, it moves rather slow and period pieces have a way of putting me to sleep, but no, I watch the entire movie. I finally, finally fall asleep at 4am, only to wake to my 1 year old’s needs at 7am.

Day 3-This is the day I must refer to as zombie day. I can’t really remember much of it, due to no sleep, no food and really nothing to live for. I begin to identify with the guy in Florida who ate the face off that homeless person. I start to do things that make no sense. I take the dog out, then I unhook him from his leash while he is still outside. I back out of the driveway full speed into my garbage cans. Should I even be driving? Is this cleanse really worth turning into this zombie-like state. At least one positive thing, I realize I need to cut any juice and fruit intake no later than 5pm, because I am positive all the sugar is what is causing the sleeplessness. Tonight, bed at 7:30pm and I do manage to fall asleep!! Not all night, but I call it a win.

Day 4-While I am getting ready for my day, I stare in the mirror and wonder how I can single-handedly destroy the entire fruit population on the planet. I quickly remember that fruit=wine, so I abort this plan, and get ready to begin another fruit filled day. OMG, I cannot wait for a glass of wine!! This thought actually gets me through the day, as I begin to tell myself I know on Day 5 I am going to cheat and have a salad of some sort AND a glass of wine. Wine is fruit anyway, I rationalize.  Day 4 really doesn’t count, because all I am thinking about is Day 5. Oh, and why am I so sore? Everything hurts and I am moving really slow. Maybe it’s the lack of protein? I can’t wait to eat again.

Day 5-Can barely get out of bed, and feel like I am 90 years old. Why? This can’t be normal. I text my friend who went through this cleanse, and she assures me yes, she too was sore as hell. Great. Ok, get through the day and then cheat at dinner, that’s my plan! Wait, I have to work, I can’t bear the idea of sitting at my desk. I don’t want to type, talk, email, or communicate with anyone. Ugh. I make it to lunch and I must eat something salty, so I have some peanuts. Peanuts are fruit too. There are a lot of fruits to be discovered when you are truly in desperate need. Then I basically watched the clock until dinner and we had planned on dinner out with my stepkids before my stepson went back to college. I suggest we go to dinner at 4pm…we compromise and go at 5:30pm. I do the right thing and order a salad, a house salad, very boring, but at this point to me, a feast. I also get a glass of wine. I feel I want to celebrate, I made it and I am proud of myself. The wine goes straight to my head and I get a nice little buzz and I am back in a happy place. Food & wine, it is what makes the world go round. Cleanse officially over.

Day 6 to present-I lost 7lbs officially from the cleanse. I have been making much healthier choices since and am now down 9lbs. I don’t know if I would do this cleanse again, only because I got so sick of fruit, it was too much. However, this cleanse must be better than the ones where you don’t eat anything, so maybe I would dare to do it again, but not for a long time.

Tips:

  • Buy the toilet paper with Aloe in it, and a lot of it. Plus wipes!
  • Place magazines in every bathroom in your home, even the one you don’t use because you will!
  • Cut your fruit and juice intake by 5pm to avoid insomnia.
  • Try to get a work out in on your 1st and 2nd day, as by day 3, you will lack the energy to do anything other than walk.
  • Warn your spouse or family member in advance that you will be useless for the week.
  • Add in nuts or tomatoes or anything that will help you get through the week.
  • Try to watch all your TV on DVR for the week, so you can fast forward commercials, the food commercials are killers!
  • Do not overindulge the weekend prior to your cleanse. You will only be making it harder on yourself.
  • Try to stay and think positive, and remember it’s for your full body health!

Here is the information you need if you are interested in trying this cleanse:

A Choice For Life, Inc.
10650 S. Western Ave.
Chicago, IL 60643
(773) 239-7740
http://achoice4life.com/

And if you have tried it please give us your feedback! :) Also a big thank you to my friend for sharing her experience with us! Love you babe!!xx

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#9: Deep Thoughts by Jlee

6 Aug

When I’m explaining my latest woes to my counselor I often wonder if she sits there thinking she’d like to invite me to her book club so that she and her [psych] friends can cage me like a monkey and “observe” me.

Please pass the wine bottle to me!

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Jlee’s Review – Intoxicology 101s Sangria

1 Aug

Alex at Intoxicology 101 did a wonderful guest blog for us on July 23rd which included two Sangria recipes. See it here if you missed it: sAnGrIa ~ A Party Favorite.

Here is an excerpt from the post: Because Alex knows I’m a wino he provided us with two Sangria recipes! I made an awesome Sangria yesterday for the Chiquita’s 2nd birthday, I will share the recipe and pics in another post, but I am anxious to try Alex’s recipe for a pool party I am having this weekend. I will provide my review of the recipe next week.

As promised here is my review of Intoxicology 101s Sangria.

Toxic.

Toxic as in I woke up naked at 8:30 pm wondering what the hell happened. Toxic as in I was banging on my bathroom door desperately trying to break it down as I knew I was going to be sick. Toxic as in four days later my stomach still isn’t quite right.

The only good thing is that out of four women two of us ended up puking. So, I ask you. What could take down two grown women at a pool party?

Alex’s Sangria. Damn him. It’s because he’s a Sux, I mean, Sox fan. Or because it was just that darn good.

I made Alex’s Spiked White Peach Sangria. Here is the recipe again:

  • 1 750 ML bottle Dry to Semi-dry White (I Use Pinot Grigio)
  • 3/4 cup Vodka (Or try Peach Vodka)
  • 6 Tbs frozen lemonade concentrate
  • 1 LB peaches, pitted and sliced
  • 3/4 cup Red grapes, halved (Seedless)
  • 3/4 cup Green grapes, halved (Seedless)
  • 1/4 cup Sugar

In a large pitcher, combine your wine, vodka, lemonade concentrate and sugar. Stir until the sugar dissolves. Go ahead and add in your fruits next. Refrigerate until chilled and allow the fruit flavors to blend in.

Now first off, I chose to make this Sangria not for the Vodka, but because it is a white-wine Sangria and that is what I had a taste for Saturday morning. But, secondly, vodka is a nice added touch.

I took the recipe to Dominick’s the night before yet I still managed to forget the frozen lemonade concentrate. Does anyone else do this? Wtf?! I had the recipe right in my hand!

Anyways, so I made his recipe exactly as it called for except in place of the frozen lemonade concentrate I used ginger ale. Alex says this recipe serves 6-10 depending on your crowd. I don’t know who Alex’s friends are, but I doubled the recipe for 4 gals. Maybe that was my problem?

Friends arrived and we had a nice display of food plus our yummy Sangria. We took some pics and celebrated another friend’s birthday (the other puker – lol) and all was starting out well. I’m not sure how quickly we finished off the Sangria, but let me tell you, it tasted soo good. My husband dubbed it: The Sweet Nectar of the Gods.

The Sweet Nectar of the Gods

It didn’t even taste like alcohol and we were cheers-ing away, laughing and telling stories and the ladies asked me to make a second – YES, a second! – batch. FYI, we finished the second batch. Holy shit, are we alcoholics or what?!?

I’m not sure where it all went downhill from here. Well, I mean, I guess I am. I brought the second batch of Sangria out. We cheers-ed some more. We took some more pictures. We talked about going to Mexico in January.

Making sure the Sangria didn’t drown.

Four hours later I woke up. Naked. With a bucket of puke next to me.

O. M. G.

What the shit?!?

I’m a 33-year-old mother! This should not be happening. This is so embarrassing! This is so immature. What would my mother say? Didn’t I learn from the Sangria and the water balloon incident? O.M.G. My counselor is going to have a field day with this!?!

I walk downstairs and Hubs says to me, “Well, you weren’t the only one that got it.”

I just stared at him. I’m not even sure I could speak.

What happened?

“It must have been that vodka in the Sangria. Jen, you like poisoned your friends. Coco threw up all over the kitchen sink and then passed out on the couch for three hours. The other two managed to survive it, both thanking their lucky stars. Could you imagine me having 4 women throwing up and passed out in the house?”

My husband laughed. Yes, my husband is a saint.

So, my review of Alex’s Sangria is such: FAS (Fucking Awesome Shit).

However, not recommended for pool parties or light weights. If you are going to drink this Sangria please don’t drink on an empty stomach or you will end up with projectile vomiting like Coco or waking up naked with a puke bucket like me!

Here is my friend’s review of the Spiked White Peach Sangria: (and note, she did not puke, but she is also not a huge Sangria fan): “Though some may call it toxic, if you’re a wine and vodka drinker this could be your new BFF!”

And as promised, here is the recipe for Jlee’s Sangria. (I’m calling it Jlee’s Sangria because this is my blog, however, to be truthful; this is not actually my recipe, but my friend’s, who shared it with me. Proper disclosures are always appreciated.)

Jlee’s Sangria

Jlee’s Sangria

  • 1 box of Franzia white wine
  • 1 2-liter of Sierra Mist
  • Lots of sliced fruit of your choice, but good with strawberries, peaches, lemons and limes

Prepare the night before in a large gallon serving dispenser (I bought mine at Sam’s Club). Combine your wine and Sierra Mist. Stir. Go ahead and add in your fruits next. Refrigerate and enjoy manana!

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