Well the other day I had a revelation. Of course, this thought isn’t new to me. However it hit me so hard the other day, I was stopped in my tracks.

I need to get control. Not over people. Not over things out of my control. But with things that are 100% in my control.

• spending – I buy whatever I want, without any thought to cost
• eating out – I eat out most days for lunch and several nights a week for dinner (this doesn’t help my calorie intake or my spending)
• imbibing – I drink frequently (1-2+ glasses of wine every night!)

These are all things I have set limits on before and done successfully. But for some reason they all feel like they have spun out of control recently.

And by losing control over these things, I seem to have gained everything (mostly bank fees and weight). I don’t want those things!

So here’s to getting a grip on my life. And I started last night…by eating homemade, healthy soup (Don’t freak out. Yes I cooked!  And yes it was fabulous.), skipping wine and not spending money to eat out.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I plan to still eat, drink wine and spend. But in moderation. For example, I don’t need to have a glass of wine EVERY night. I can drink it several times a week and still feel okay. I also plan to still spend money. I make it. I can spend it. But I need to put some limits on how much I spend. I have lofty long term goals, like living as a rich person when I retire, and this takes some restraint now. I plan to eat out, but not everyday at lunch and most nights at dinner. I will force myself to cook at home and/or bring a lunch to work.

Wish me luck!

What things do you have to limit in your life?

A few weekends ago, I went to Napa Valley. This is my heaven. I love Napa. This love affair began when I was in college and dating a wine master. We spent a gazillion weekends up there. But since I moved to Utah 15 years ago, I’ve only been back to thearea a few times. Napa mixes all the things I love: wine + mild temperatures + sun + wine + friendly people + green + beautiful estates + wine+  magnificent food + everything Napa Valley.

In an effort to combine Wino Wednesday and Wordless Wednesday, you can experience my trip with pictures and very little text. I love that I can have solid justification for not putting too many words in this post. I’ve not been in the mood to write much lately.

So the story goes like this…

I took a large suitcase with lots of extra room to bring back wine. Found a place that shipped it to me so didn’t need the space in the end. I had a morning flight and started my day with vodka and cranberry juice. I’ve got to stay healthy! Vitamin C, people.  

I flew in to Sacramento airport. I love their baggage claim area. Crafty for that town.

The view from our villa was awesome. There were cows grazing in the hills behind us. The cows are the black spots. Me soaking up the sun first thing Saturday morning. It felt so good. Don’t mind the natural look, but I had just rolled out of bed to enjoy this.

First stop on Saturday, where I fell in love, was Gloria Ferrar. Just to be clear…I fell in love with the amazing sparkling wine. We went to several other wineries, but I got sidetracked and forgot to take photos.

Gloria Ferrar was so impressive, we went back on Sunday. I kept my champagne Sunday tradition by enjoying a few more glasses of bubbly. Which were served to us. While sitting in the sunshine. And looking out at the amazing view.

On our way out of town, I fell in love again. This time with a vineyard on the hill.

And this is my story.  And this is how it left me…

Super happy with a smile that can’t get any bigger.

Blue skies. Sunshine. Vineyards. Bubbly. Love. This makes me happy.

What makes you happy?

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Of course, I love any day in my weekend. However I have started to love Sundays the most. It is my free day. I try to take care of all my errands and chores on Saturday so I have the entire day on Sunday to relax and do whatever.

And here are what my Sundays are for…

• Sun (or snow in the winter).
• Champagne
• Sheets, clean ones
• Sunkissed tan skin
• Celebration – of life, love and all good things
• Settling down – after a blissful weekend and charging up for the week ahead
• Soaking in the hot tub
• Showering in the evening – before slipping into my clean sheets
• Sexy, sensual and silly – enjoying all things which are that
• Shows – it’s one of my favorite nights to catch up on my DVR’ed shows
• Skin – keep it bare with no makeup
• Sag – NO BRA day, of course, mine don’t sag any more

So here’s to the best day of the week. Sunday. Cheers. *clink*

]]> http://www.offthechest.net/2010/03/21/sundays-are-for/feed/ 0 http://www.offthechest.net/2010/01/25/painting-is-fun/ http://www.offthechest.net/2010/01/25/painting-is-fun/#comments Mon, 25 Jan 2010 17:00:56 +0000 Susan Mercedes http://www.offthechest.net/?p=5425 It all started with them…

Yes, two kids. One is Elle. The other is her best friend. They are working on painting corks. They are crafty kids.

But they didn’t paint all the corks. And I kept providing the supplies. And by providing supplies, I mean drinking bubbly and saving the corks.

So it turned into this…

That’s me and my darling friend Courtney. Only difference between this picture and the kids above…we’re drinking bubbly while we’re painting.

Showing off our favorite cork character.

But we didn’t stop there. Nope. We created a village of cork characters.

Now I’m just worried that Elle will be furious that I finished this project. I’ll be sure to remind her that bubbly is my favorite beverage and I’ll provide her with more supplies.

I love bubbly!

Shocker! Right?

Best Sunday ever. My trash proves it.

Here’s the recipe:

Sunday without other obligations
Sarah
Wine
Oranges
Cloves
Cinnamon sticks
Lots of mulled stuff
Coffee mugs
Fully functioning liver

Put them all together and have fun. We did! Even though Sarah and I had to cook. We hate doing that.

Here’s the recipe for mulled wine.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Here I am with my darling friends…Donna and Amy. If you didn’t know, I’m the one on the far right. Please notice my unbruised and unscabbed arm. Trust me when I say this…my right arm, which is hidden behind Amy, looked exactly the same as the left one you see here.

At the wee hours of the morning I left this party to head home. It drizzled rain all day so the roads were wet. But being December and all, it was cold out.

As I get to my driveway, I think nothing of the wet looking cement. By the way, my driveway is the longest and steepest driveway invented. I’m one lucky fuck in the winter.

My Driveway

Halfway up the driveway my all wheel car loses all traction. My wheels are spinning. The car is sliding. I’m freaking out. The car stops. It is put into park.

I decide that I should get out of the parked car and walk up. I figure I can get my car in the fucking spring. Or at least wait until my snow removal guys pour some ice melt down.

Anyhow, please notice my boots in the first picture. Obviously I had them on that night. They are black leather, flat, English style riding boots. You know, the kind with the flat leather soles.

I step out of the car with my purse over my shoulder, my iPhone in my hand and my coat in the backseat of the car. Yes, I was wearing just that short sleeve sweater shown in the picture above as I step out into the freezing temperatures.

As I step out of the car, I hold on to the door. My phone drops to the ground. I helplessly watch it slide down the driveway.

Then it happened! CRASH!

My feet slid out from under me. I lose my grip on the car door. I drop to the ground using my chin to help break my fall. I didn’t plan to use that body part, but it happened. And it didn’t really help. I also used my forearms. Then the action began! I slid. Fast. Using only my chin, stomach, thighs as my sled.

After about 20 feet of tummy sliding, I decided to roll over to my ass. I mean, who only wants their front side soaking wet? Not me.

So I rolled over, continued this fun ride for another 20 feet and stopped right next to my iPhone at the bottom of my driveway.

Fucking driveway. You hurt my arm. And my ego.

No iPhones were harmed in the making of this dangerous and crazy comedy.

Deal: which one of us can log in more cardio from December 15th – January 15th

At risk: a $50 bottle of wine

Expectations: trainer plans to do 5 hours every week. (I committed to one hour every week figuring it would lower her expectations and make her feel like I’m not competition.)

Rules:

1. minimum time we can log is 10 minutes
2. heart rate must get to 140, or maybe that’s the number of characters allowed in a tweet. All I know is that I shouldn’t be able to carry on a normal conversation because I’m panting so hard.
3. trainer will text me every time she gets her cardio done

Update: I got a text today, she did 30 minutes of cardio. I did 0. Yep, that’s a zero. A big fat nothing.

One day into the competition, I feel defeated.

On another note, I’m looking for a fabulous $50 bottle of wine to buy. Recommendations?

I’m so fucking sad. And that is NOT an exaggeration.

It involves two of my favorite at home pastimes: drinking wine and using my laptop.

I drink wine from Riedel stemware. Mostly because it makes my wine taste better. And when you drink as much wine as I do, you have to buy the inexpensive stuff. Let me tell you, drinking inexpensive wine out of fancy stemware makes all the difference in the world.

While I was in NYC back in October, I visited the flagship Apple store on 5th Avenue. I felt like a kid in the candy shop. I got caught up with the excitement and upgraded my equipment. Almost like when I got my new boobs. Let’s face it, I had boobs before, but I improved them with an upgrade. Trust me. They are so much better now. Oh right…back to the laptop. On that trip I got my new baby, a MacBook Pro laptop. I was using a MacBook Air that I love. But the upgrade in my equipment felt so right.

Well last night, disaster struck. And it involved my two favorite things (not my boobs).

Here’s a hint:

The picture shows a full wine glass on the table and my laptop on the ground below.

The disaster involves the two meeting.

Laptop got wet. Glass shattered. I cried.

Now I’m left with one less Chardonnay glass (which has been discontinued). And a MacBook Pro with a mousepad that no longer works.

And a broken heart.

I think I found the way to live life to the fullest. It involves Jello shots. In fact the entire plan revolves around them. Here’s how I’m doing it:

• Eat jello shots. Shut up, jello is food. In fact, jello shots are food and alcohol mixed.
• Carve cooking out of my life since I will skip all real food and replace it with Jello shots. This is helpful since I don’t cook.
• Have a constant buzz. Easy to do when I’m not eating real food.
• Enjoy long nails and healthy hair. Jello has gelatin in it which is great for nails and hair.
• Drop any extra weight. Hell, Jello shots are portion controlled. And I think I could even use sugar free which has no calories. Obviously I’d double up on the alcohol since I need calories to survive. Duh.
• I’d never be hungry. Mainly because I could eat anywhere since these little molds travel well.
• I’d be more environmentally friendly by never using my dishwasher. I wouldn’t be using any silverware or dishes. Just those little paper/plastic cups. Fine, I use the recycled ones.
• I will have a lot more disposable income since I won’t need to eat out anymore.

That's me passing out this life changing tidbit at a party. J-E-L-L-O shots!

Here I am after enjoying these tasty treats along with my partner in crime, @h0neyb (Melissa). We had too much fun!

(Second photo is really small and I have no idea why.)

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Now I’m being made to finish them both. Fuck I love my family.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Me: I need a cup of coffee before I hit the road.

Me: Well, I don’t want to be late to work, so let’s take it in the car.

Me: Good idea.

Me: I really should use one of those travel cups with a lid.

Me: But I like drinking coffee from my ceramic mugs. It tastes so much better.

Me: But I’m wearing an off white shirt and jacket today.

Me: But I don’t spill very often.

Me: Fine, I’m right, I don’t spill often and the ceramic mug is much better. I’ll take a sip before I start walking to the car lugging all my shit down a flight of stairs.

Me: Good idea. [filling mug]

Me: Aw, coffee is still to hot to drink. I’ll be fine with this full cup of hot coffee and I’ll hold it away from my off white jacket.

Me: Phew, almost down the stairs and to the car without a spill.

Me: I’m asking for trouble by thinking that.

Me: [outloud voice] Fuck!

Yes, I should have listened to that voice. I now have coffee on the sleeve of my off white jacket. Problem with listening to that inner voice which we all have…there are too fucking many.

I won’t even tell you what happened in the car. And yes, the word “fuck” was used twice.

At least it’s Friday!

I’ve got a question for you.

There is something I enjoy doing alone. Really enjoy it. On the flip side, I’d much rather do this with another person or even several people. It’s just better that way.

It’s drinking! I don’t mean when I’m on a traveling alone, because I enjoy drinking then. But I’m usually in a hotel bar chatting it up with others. Which really isn’t alone. And I don’t mean when I’m pouring vodka over my Cheerios in the morning. Wait…that’s silly. I don’t even like Cheerios.

So here’s my question to you….

Do you drink alone?

On a normal weeknight, I have a couple of glasses of wine with dinner. Then perhaps I’ll pour one more after Elle goes to bed.

If I have people over, I have a couple of glasses with dinner. Then an unlimited amount after dinner. Then more after Elle goes to bed.

Why is that?

Do you have a preference? Shall I clarify that I mean preferences when drinking. Because we all know that sex is better when we’re not alone.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Take this one: Your many hidden talents will become obvious to those around you.

Now spice it up: Your many hidden talents will become obvious to those around you in bed.

Spiced up version is much funnier and sexier. Right?

While in Vegas this weekend, I came up with my own additional phrase which can be added to almost any sentence. This is better because, let’s face it, nobody eats fortune cookies everyday.

My new phrase: like a hooker.

It all started at the blackjack table. I had a pair of 8’s. That’s when I threw down another $50 and told the dealer,

“Yes! Let’s split those…like a hooker.”

In an effort to cheer on my table mates I’d add the phrase to common table side banter.

“You’ve got to hit that…like a hooker.”

“You’ve got to go down on that…like a hooker.”

Pretty soon everyone at the table was using the term “like a hooker”.

Well the fun didn’t end there.  Nope. Of course it didn’t. Not when vodka sodas were flowing and keeping me hydrated.

After hours of gambling and winning and drinking and even playing a little pool (which by the way my stellar pool skills paid off since I won at that too), the hooker theme continued. [Inserting a short hooker story now.]

We were riding the elevator. (<~ Oh, opportunity to add…like a hooker to that sentence. See how easy it is.) It was a crowded elevator. Very crowded. There was a woman on it who was wearing the world’s shortest leopard dress with obnoxious red fuck me stripper pumps and was clearly heading up to her mobile office a hotel room  to pay a visit to a man who was paying her to be there.

The elevator was dead quiet. All of us, except the slutty one, were in pairs. Nobody was saying a word. I leaned up into my friend’s ear and in my quietest drunk whisper I said, “I think she’s a hooker.” Smirks filled the elevator. I thought I said it quiet and because I was quite tipsy I didn’t notice the smirks. I only heard about them later. The response with a huge laugh was, “I think you’re right.”

Please note that you can use the term “like a hooker” for nearly anything. I have been. For example, I pounded my Zinfandel…like a hooker. And I licked my homemade coconut ice cream…like a hooker. I really did those things. I also really said those things.

So here’s to not taking life so seriously and enjoying the ride…like a hooker!

When I’m in Vegas I often say, “You aren’t allowed to use the terms woulda, coulda, shoulda because they are all filled with regret.”

I must say…I love Vegas. I love to gamble. I love free drinks. I love time at the pool. I love people watching. But that’s it. Therefore it is not a destination that is great to go, say when I’m married. Or at least it wasn’t back when I was married. We (husband and I, before we were exes) went once. It was a disaster.

So here’s the story. I gambled all day. Husband was attending a chef show thingy all day. Again, I was gambling all day and they serve a damn fine house wine at the Bellagio. Trust me on this one. It’s lovely.

I sat in the same exact chair all day long. I sat there through a zillion shift changes. I was doing okay gambling. Not winning big. Not losing either. Just staying even.

Hours later husband came back from conference thingy. He reminded me of our dinner reservations. He planned our entire trip around this dinner. It was a like a 15 course meal and every critic raved about every fucking course. My response to the husband, “I’m doing really well. It’ll only take me a few minutes to freshen up so I’ll meet you at the restaurant at our reservation time.” (<~ big mistake) Anyhow he went up to the room to get ready.

Time passed and I finally peeled myself away from gambling, ran up to the room to change and then raced to the restaurant. Probably forgetting panties…mostly because I was rushed and also I needed a diversion tactic for husband. These tactics don’t always work. Anyhow I got there before out table was ready. He was in the bar. I joined him, for yet ANOTHER drink. (Remember I was drinking chardonnay all day long). This time I indulged with a martini.

Finally we are seated. We get through a few courses and I realize something very important. I’m tired. Exhausted really. So I tip my head and take a cute little nap. Really though, I was sitting up the whole time. I just closed my eyes. But I also missed a few courses.

Finally I opened my eyes. I yawned and stretched. And I quickly realized husband wasn’t thrilled with dining alone. Or with me. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

We came back to the hotel room after dinner. Husband got into bed. I was no longer tired. Naps at dinner help.

As I glanced over at husband in bed I also noticed the clock. It said….11:11. It was a sign. So I bolted. Said I had to go gamble. Figured I was already “in trouble”. He was ready for bed. And I left the room.

In the casino I felt free. All alone I had a blast. And I won. BIG. HUGE. On the blackjack table.

The rest of the weekend was silent. I didn’t care. I gave him money for my portion of the fancy dinner. Hell it was only a fraction of my winnings.

Turns out…husband was pissed. Really pissed. So much so, it came up in counseling months later. And now we’re divorced. Not because of the Vegas disaster. But that trip didn’t help.

However what I did learn was that 11:11 is my good luck time. And that I should never marry a man who doesn’t gamble.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.