Well you guys....

I was out last night, past my bedtime. And this morning I have come to the conclusion, that once you hit a certain age, the time of night starts to work a lot like "dog years". So, I arrived home at 12:02 am (as per my Uber receipt, aren't I responsible) but that is like 3:02 am in "late 30's years". So, I am tired as fuck today, feel slightly dizzy, very thirsty, and I have to keep myself and two other humans alive. It's going to be a long day. But I started my day out, the same way I do every day. I wrote in my little daily memory journal (thanks, Mo!), but I didn't bother setting the bar too high, as you can see. Everybody needs a day off here and there.

What's to drink....

The place we went last night had a bunch of signature cocktails, so since I have this important job of being a "professional blogger", I decided it was my duty to try one. I'm working hard for the 6 of you reading this. Anyway, I saw this one on the menu and was like "I like grapefruit, I LOVE peach, I LOVE white wine, orange juice AND prosecco. How can all of these lovely things be in one drink". Well, they are, and they are fucking delish together. Next time you are in Jersey City, stop by Porta, and order up one of these babies. Cheers!

What's to eat....

I absolutely cooked a new recipe earlier this week, that I totally intended on sharing with you guys. It was a chicken breast that I basically put pizza toppings onto in the hopes that it would be a healthier option to actual pizza, and curb my craving for pizza. It was and it didn't. It looks better than it tastes, was the general consensus.  So, I say fuck it, and bring to you ACTUAL pizza. This was what we ate last night. I take my pizza seriously, and last night was no exception. There was pizza with shrimp, pizza with fancy squash blossoms, plain pizza, pizza with salty cured meat (add salty cured meat to anything to make it taste good...except maybe that chicken breast). We ate it all and I don't regret a thing. I may not be singing the same tune when I'm hanging out in my bra and underwear bikini at the town pool. Actually, scratch that, the pizza baby I currently have in my belly was totally worth it. Pizza usually is. Thank you, Porta in JC.

Pizza with all sorts of shit on it that is so much better than the chicken I was going to post.

Working on my (mental) fitness....

It occurred to me a few days ago, that while I do an awful lot of yapping about this and that, I could spend more time saying thank you, and verbalizing the good stuff I think about people. Don't get me wrong, I don't consider myself to be ill-mannered (foul mouthed, perhaps) but I do have a lot of thoughts that I don't necessarily come out and say. This is probably going to amaze my husband, as it is a common practice for him to have to POLITELY ask me to "please stop talking" (most commonly occurs after wine). But I digress, I think everybody could stand to come out and and spread a little love, if you will. I'm going to start with this, Mom (Mams), I do not know how you raised DOUBLE the amount of children I am raising, and didn't lose your God damn mind. This job is tough, in so many ways, and you did it, and you continue to do it so well. Thank you, Mams. I love you.  See, that wasn't so hard. Although I'm a little weepy, and feeling like I need to throw a random "f" word in for good measure, but my Mams hates my cussin', so I'll keep that for next week. Go say thank you, or something nice to someone. Let's not act like a bunch of animals, well, not all the time.

Wishing you ALL of the Good Stuff. 

XO

Tara 

P.S. Happy birthday, Talia. You bring so much joy into my life. I look forward to many years of NYC in the fall and LBI in the summer:)

Is it just me....

Or is the summer FLYING by? I'm coming off a fun week that consisted of a Coldplay concert, then a few days in Wildwood with the kiddos and my BFF, Talia. I feel like the summer is moving at full speed and I just want it to slow down, just a little. I'm going to try and remember this feeling in late August, when I'm basically pulling my hair out, trying to refrain from killing my kids, while preventing them from killing each other, and counting down the minutes until school starts. 

What's to drink....

Picture this scenerio, you drive you and your 2 incredibly excited kids all the way down the Garden State Parkway to Wildwood, NJ.  You spend the day on the beach, in the most perfect weather, with them looking over at the boardwalk, and talking incessantly about all the rides they MUST go on. They have a plan, first this, then this, then that, again. You go back to the hotel, get ready, head out to take on the rides and out of fucking nowhere, an apocalyptic storm comes barreling through. You run for cover, making sure that the place you're rushing into to avoid being struck by lightening, has a liquor license. This part is important, because the children are going to be rip-shit pissed off about Mother Nature deciding to screw us all. And they are. There are frowns and whining and complaining. There is only one thing to do, immediately go and get yourself one of these. Order 2, actually. 2 is better than 1. Creepy kid photobomb optional. Cheers.

What's to eat....

There is nothing to eat. There are a few reasons for this. 

Reason 1: I ate everything there was to eat. Between concert food and boardwalk food, there is nothing left, because, as I said, I ate it all. 

Reason 2: I just got back from 2 days of vacation with my kids and there is no fucking food in my house. How is it that I'm gone a few days and this place looks like I haven't shopped in a month. What's that phenomenon about? Whatever it is, it's bullshit. And I'm not going to the food store.

Reason 3:  I'd rather stick a hot poker in my eye right now than go food shopping. So, there's just nothing to eat. My kids are getting stale crackers, old cheese, and some fruit for dinner. If they complain, I will go bat shit crazy. I am going to make due with a 1/2 rotten tomato, 4 oz of wine, canned tuna, and some over ripe bananas. If Tommy complains, I will stab him. I'm kidding. Kinda.

Working on my it won't always look the way you want it to....

I've written about this before. That some weeks don't pan out the way you want them to. I have a tendency to get very overwhelmed, or frazzled, as my loving husband so LOVES to say, when he walks in from work, and I am on the couch with a dead look in my eyes. "You look frazzled", he says. Just a side note, let's put this on the list of things NOT to say if you're looking to get laid. Anyway, back to it, I think I get overwhelmed because I'm a bit of a control freak. I want things to go a certain way and when they don't, the shit hits the fan. I don't want to be so rigid, I'd like to be able to sit down and watch a show with 3 random socks (WHY THE SOCKS!!!!), a food wrapper, an empty cup, some random dirt, 2 pairs of shoes, a foam roller, and a spoon on the floor, but I just fucking can't. I can't do it. But I can try and be a little easier on myself when the laundry is backed up and there's no food in the house, because it's probably, most likely, for good reason. So, I'm going to go a little easier on myself about not getting my blog out "in time" (like I have a strict deadline over here), having 17 loads of laundry to put away, and not worry so much about the house being messy, what I am going to cook for dinner the next few nights, and instead I'm going to bring my kids to the pool. But you can bet your sweet ass I will not sit down at the end of the day amid a bunch of squalor and be able to relax. You can also bet your sweet ass there will be at least 1.5 to 3 pairs of socks on the floor. At any given time. Until I clean that shit up. It won't always look the way you want it to. 

Wishing you ALL of the Good Stuff. 

XO
Tara

P.S. I started the day being woken up by the sounds of the garbage men in the street. I realized it was Friday, and I hadn't put out the garbage and recycling, or reminded Tommy to do so, either. I sprang from my bed, screamed "fuck", sprinted downstairs, and out the front door (bra-less and flopping), determined to hold onto my bitties (yes, bitties, as in small titties) and get the garbage out. That is until I opened the door, and saw it was the street cleaners, and today is Thursday, and my garbage men come Friday. Tommy was home to witness this. That is all.  

This has been one of those weeks....

where every day feels like "tomorrow's Friday". My garbage goes out on Thursday night and I went to put it out last night (Wednesday night). Thankfully, I realized before I started, or the neighbors would have thought I had one too many glasses of wine. We'd hate to have that. Tommy (my husband, Tom for short, when he's being an asshole) has been working a lot and my son, Patrick, has been missing him. Last night I say, "don't worry, buddy, tomorrow's Friday, and the weekend will be here, so Dad will be home". He was like "lady, you're a total fail at Mom, it's only Wednesday".  He didn't say that exactly, but he wasn't pleased with my confusion.  There's more, but I don't need to bore you with all the near misses. Thank God I was able to pull myself together to get this VERY important blog post out in time. All 6 of you are saved. And now you know it's Thursday, too. Unless you're reading this on Friday, in which case, you're fucked. 




What's to drink....

Me and Kim go way back. I have brought her many places with me, including a case of her to Long Beach Island, last year, when none of said case made it on the return trip off the island. In my humble opinion, she is best served in a red solo cup, with a ton of ice, and best drank (is that a word) illegally, discreetly, while sitting your ass on a beach chair on the NJ shore.  Cheers!

Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc 

What's to eat....

Honestly, I had a bunch of shit in my produce drawer that I had to use. So I did this. Listen, a frittata is not going to be as good as it's cousin, the quiche, so don't go comparing the two. Stacking anything up against pie crust is bullshit. Nobody wins against pie crust. Regardless, I think this came out pretty good.

What to do with all this shit frittata

-Heat oven to 350 degrees

- Mix 8 whole eggs and a splash of milk

- Salt and pepper to taste

-Spray a large oven-proof skillet with non-stick spray

-Heat over medium heat

-Add egg mixture and let cook for 2-3 minutes, until it starts to settle a bit

-Add all the shit you have in your produce drawer

-1 cup roasted red pepper

-1 cup roasted eggplant

-2 scallions, chopped

-1 tbsp Pecorino Romano cheese

-Move frittata (carefully) to oven and cook 10-15 minutes or until set

-Top with basil that you no longer have to steal from neighbor because your Mom bought you some of your own.

Working on my laser hair removal....

You guys, I know I should probably write something about fitness, as the blog says "food, wine, fitness, and fun", but there is just so much other fun shit to write about first. A quick (boring update)..my chin ups still suck, I'm working on it.  I'm back at crossfit, I'm dying on the daily, but loving it. Ok, now onto the pursuit of being a hairless sphynx.  Over the course of time, women have gone to great lengths to be hairless. That sentence screams for a gross comment, but I am a lady and will move on. I am fully aware there are women out there that choose to keep their body hair, and I fully support these women, it's just not for me. So, after years of shaving, and sweating, and swearing through waxing, I decided to bite the laser bullet. Here's how it goes, much like a wax, you go into a (always boiling hot for some fucking reason) room, disrobe, and hop onto the paper-covered table.  They'll tell you the paper is there for sanitary reasons, but I know it's just there to stick to your ass once you start sweating profusely.  Your laser lady (or man, I guess, but thankfully I haven't run into that) will then give you a set of glasses to wear to protect your eyes from the laser ray that they will be shooting at your nether regions.  It is my firm belief that the laser girl should, at this time, also give you a bite block, but I haven't run into that yet, either.  Laser lady will aim her laser at your nether regions and fire away. This will feel much like a very thick rubber band that is being snapped onto your skin, and the rubber band is on fire.  There is this cool air that simultaneously blows at you with the laser so that does help, but mainly it's more rubber band on fire than cool breeze. Luckily, it's very quick, probably less than 10 minutes, and they give you breathers. I imagine this to be something like a safe word they use in S & M, but you and your laser lady can discuss before you start. I am 3 sessions in (all 6 weeks apart) and I am very happy with the results, thus far. You do have to stay on schedule for it to work, and you can't be tan...so plan on starting after the summer. I have been asked multiple times about "not having hair" when I get old. My only answer is that if a full bush becomes en vogue then I guess I'm screwed, but we can just put that in the IDGAFJ (I don't give a fuck jar) along with having stretch marks and wearing a bikini. And as for the pain, it really isn't THAT bad. The result outweighs the fiery rubber band. And as my Mom used to tell me, while putting those medieval, spiky curlers in my hair as a kid, and then making me sleep on them..."sometimes it hurts to be beautiful". No shit, Mams, no shit.

Wishing you ALL of the Good Stuff.

XO

Tara

P.S. Just FYI, it's way less expensive to get laser hair removal in NYC and it does get easier/less painful with each time you go. So the "on fire rubber band" thing will move to more like a minor electrocution or shock.  To your vagina. Nothing we can't handle. 

You guys, it's hot as hell....

and I realize that it's summer, and it's supposed to be hot but this is just beyond-fucking-ridiculous-hot. I live less than a half mile from the town pool, so we usually walk, but I was OVERJOYED that we had driven there straight from camp yesterday. That half mile seemed so daunting. That is until I got into the car, basically cow branded my daughter with her car seat buckle, and gave the backs of my legs a 3rd degree burn. Should've walked. The only injuries I would have risked doing so being severe dehydration, and thigh chafing.  

What's to drink....

Since we are in the midst of a heat advisory, we could all use something a little refreshing. This little concoction is an "exotic drink", as it comes all the way from Massachusetts. Story goes like this, my friend had her friend down to NJ from Mass. My friend tells me "this is what the signature cocktail of the weekend was". Then I make, and I love. You know you have good friends when their friends introduce you to a new drink without even having seen them. Thanks, Jess (sorry I missed you but solid work on the drink). And you guys, this stuff is organic, made from grapes, and is cucumber flavored, so it's totally super "healthy". Cheers!

 Hanson of Sonoma Cucumber Vodka

1.5 oz Hanson's Cucumber Vodka

Ice

Club Soda

2 tsp (or more if you like) Fresh Lemon Juice

Stevia (to taste)

What's to eat....

This is a brandsey new one that I tried out and loved. I wanted something light and healthy because I ate everything not nailed down over the holiday weekend and feel like a stuffed sausage with it being all hot and shit, so I paired up these guys. The shrimp is a recipe I found online, and the salad is one that I just made up, so it has no name. Super easy, light, refreshing, and definitely helpful with post-holiday-stuffed-sausage-status-blues. 

Honey Ginger Shrimp and Salad with No Name

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/83388/honey-ginger-shrimp/

Working on my what in the serious shit with female hormones....

This is something I am often pondering about because 1. I am of the female variety and 2. I often feel like varying degrees of shit, and I think it's hormone-related. I have come up with a mathematical equation that takes the days of the month, and subtracts all the bullshit hormonal swings and shifts that women experience to equal the number of days we actually feel GOOD. The answer, it's about fucking 3. 3 Days. Give or take 1 or 2 days. Here's the thing, I love being a woman, I'm not necessarily complaining about the bloating, mood swings, belly issues (I refuse to talk about the bathroom up in here), sex drive up, then sex drive in the dirt (like as in dirt nap, dead), acne (the cystic variety that I've acquired at 37), crying, cramps, more crying, etc. I'm just pointing out the obvious, which is that women are bad ass bitches, having to deal with all that crap.  Hail, hail to all my fellow females, may today be one of the 3 days of the month you don't feel like absolute dog shit.

Wishing you ALL of the Good Stuff. 

XO
Tara

P.S. God bless summer camp.  For real.