So, ever since I gave up sugar and flour (a la “Intervention”), I have had these amazing dreams where I am able to eat something absolutely delicious like chocolate cake or a brownie or a cookie and not overindulge to the point where you find me in a corner, slathered in chocolate and shaking from sugar shock (which is what happens in real life. More or less).  I know it can’t happen in real life, but that’s why dreams are amazing.  My good friend, who has also given up flour and sugar and also has these kinds of dreams, says these dreams are better than dreaming about s-e-x.

But now, my dreams seem to be catching up with reality.  To an uncomfortable degree.

At first, I would eat the illicit ingredient and then feel guilty.  I would be incredulous and oh-so-sorry.  But at least, in my dream, I got to enjoy the contraband cookie before feeling awful.

And then it happened.  My dreams turned on me.  The other day, I dreamt that I was at a family function and there was a delicious birthday/special occasion chocolate cake.  And I was going to eat it.  And it was going to be sooo yummy.  But, then, of course, in my dream, I started to feel guilty.  I don’t eat sugar, I told myself in the dream, but this is a special occasion — just this once, it will be fine.

[This is when it went awry.]  So the time comes to eat the verboten flavors and I say — in my dreams, mind you, where I am allowed to eat whatever the fuck I want to eat without repercussion — “You know, I won’t have it, I don’t eat sugar, I’ll just have some decaf” (which is the treat that I allow myself — decaf with Splenda and cream).

WHAT?! Since when are my dreams on a diet?!  It’s like dreaming that you’re about to make out with RYAN GOSLING and then saying, “Oh, wait, Mr. Hottest Man Alive No Matter What People Magazine’s Crack-Smoking Editors Say — I’m married.”  No.  NO.  NO.  You don’t DO that.  It’s RYAN GOSLING.  And this is a DREAM.  Suspended reality.  You make the fuck out with Ryan Gosling is what you do.*

Ugh.  Since when are my dreams such rule-followers?  Not cool, subconscious.  Not cool.

*Honey, you’re probably not reading this since you never read blogs, but in case you are, I’d probably make out with Ryan Gosling if this ever happened in real life.  Loveyameanit.


So, it’s just your average Thursday night.  I’m hanging out, watching a little House Hunters/House Hunters International (shut up, don’t judge me) and winding down after a long day.  Jed’s hanging out at a neighbor’s house, doing his guy thing.

All of a sudden, I notice a LARGE thing flying around the bedroom.  My first thought, “Holy cow, that is a LARGE moth.”  My second thought, “Holy SHIT that is a BIRD.”  My third thought? “Oh dear god, please don’t let that be a rabid bat.”

My next step?  Calling Jed.  From under the covers. “Jed, you need to come home right now.  There is a BIRD flying around our BEDROOM.  Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.”

Jed, laughing, “Flong, are you serious?  Are you sure?”

Me: “Led, get over here now.”

Jed: “Flong, just open the door or something.”

Me: “Led, I can’t, I’m too scared.  I’m under the comforter.  Come over here now.”

Jed, laughing more. “OK, flong.  I’ll be there soon.”

10 minutes later, I’m still under the covers, occasionally checking to make sure bat/bird thing really is as big as I think it is and is still flying around the room.  It is.  On both accounts.

Oh, but the bird’s also started swooping towards the bed.  Like, swooping.  Towards the bed.  Where I am.  Are you fucking kidding me?

Another call to Jed — where the hell is this guy?  He’s literally like 400 ft away at our neighbor’s house — it shouldn’t take 10 minutes to get home.

Me: “Led, where are you?”

Jed: “Flong, I’m making a tool”

Me: Who is this guy?  MacGuyver?  It’s a bird, not an avalanche, that I need rescuing from.  “Led, you need to get over here.  Now.”

Jed: “OK, coming.”

Me: patiently waiting until I FINALLY here the front door open and what sounds like about 14 of my male neighbors enter the house.  Hard to tell from under the duvet, but I’m imagining something out of Beauty and the Beast when Gaston gathers the townspeople to kill the beast.  Only, in this scenario, the beast is actually bad and not some heartwarming prince who just needed to learn a lesson in appearances.

Out of the corner of the duvet, I see a lacrosse stick being waved.  Really, Jed?  This is the tool you were preparing?

Jed and neighbors, “Oh, it’s a bat.” “Definitely a bat.” “Not a bird, it’s a bat.”  Excellent.  A [potentially] rabid bat.  In my house.  On the same floor as my infant son (who, thank god, was in his room with the door closed).

Then all of a sudden, I hear lots of cheering, quick movement down the stairs, and general hoopla as the front door is opened and slammed.

Jed runs back upstairs.  “Did you see that?! Davis* just grabbed the bat with the lacrosse stick, cradled it, and ran and threw it outside.”

Right.  He grabbed the bat with the lacrosse stick, cradled it like it was a mothafuckin lacrosse ball, and threw it out the front door.  Holy cow.  AMAZING.  Davis is my new hero.

And I still have no idea how that flying vermin got into my house.  None.

My life is ridiculous sometimes.

Bat has been dramatized.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the neighbor who I didn’t ask about before sharing this story

So, I have recently given up flour and sugar.  Recently as in about a month and a half ago.    And normally, when I tell people that I gave up sugar and flour, the first thing they say is either “How did you do that?” (see editorial note) or “So what do you eat?”  Which I totally understand because, in case you haven’t noticed, sugar and flour are in everything.  Like, everything.  So, I tell them the truth: essentially, I make all of my food.  I buy very little that is pre-made and, if it’s pre-made, I don’t eat it if sugar or flour is one of the top 4 ingredients.

And one of the coolest things I’ve noticed (aside from the fact that I am no longer crazy and that I feel amazing) is that my refrigerator has taken on a new level of Zen.  Like, I open it, and there’s real food in there.  And I want to eat the real food — I don’t want to grab the crackers in the cabinet or the ice cream in the freezer.  And I make up the craziest concoctions of food that I would have never thought to eat together before but that are so delicious now.  It’s like my eyes have been opened to this whole new world of real food.  Plants.  Animals.  Simplicity.  It’s amazing.  

And, so, I am so excited that my refrigerator has taken on a new level of organization and Zen.  Oh, and I now mostly eat all the vegetables that I buy at the store each week instead of just letting them turn to a nasty liquid science experiment in the crisper drawer.

And I feel free.  And it feels so good.


(Editorial note: People are so amazed when I tell them this, but it’s really less amazing when you take into consideration that I have a problem with sugar.  Like, a Prob.Lem.  Like, a they tried to make me go to rehab and I cried no, no, no type of problem.  So, yeah — sugar is no bueno for this chica.  And while I’m at it — sure — lump flour in with that, too.)

So, some of you may have noticed that I’ve been decidedly absent for the past – oh – 14 months or so.  And I’m sorry about that.  But let me give a little explanation.

I somehow managed to get pregnant, have an excessively stressful pregnancy where I literally could not talk about it with most anyone (even when I was obviously pregnant), and then have the most amazing baby ever.  He’s delicious.  Like, eat him with a spoon delicious.

OK, so let me back up a minute.  My pregnancy.  I got pregnant in mid-January 2011.  So, I knew during my last few posts that I was pregnant.  And at first it was like, OK, I can handle it.  And then it was like, ohmigod, I can’t write a blog and be pregnant.  Like, somehow in my crazy pregnant brain, I couldn’t fathom doing both.

And my pregnancy.  It was stressful.  After losing Wilson, I just had so much fear.  And anxiety.  And anger.  I couldn’t talk about it with anyone.  Like, even my closest friends.  I felt like no one understood, except for the few friends I’d met who had lost babies, too.  And it got to the point of ridiculous.  Like, I was clearly very pregnant and I would get pissed at people who asked me about it. Imagine the following scenario:

Me: paying for groceries, clearly very pregnant
Grocery store clerk: “When are you due?”
Me (in my head): What the fuck is wrong with people? That is sooo rude.
Me (out loud): “Soon”
Grocery store clerk: “Is this your first?”
Me (in my head): Oh no she DI-IDN’T.  How intrusive.  Clearly I don’t want to talk about this.
Me (out loud): “No.”
Grocery store clerk, smiling: “Oh.”
Me (in my head): People are soooo insensitive. Oh, and she’s putting my raw chicken in the same bag with my cereal.  F this store, I’m never coming back.

So, yeah.  It was nuts.  I was nuts.  And I’m not really sorry for it because it was just where I was at the time.  But I can recognize that it’s not where I am now, and I’m thankful for that.

But August 2010 – September 2011 was rough.  Like, impossibly rough.  Like, I don’t know how I made it through alive and I’m pretty sure I did not make it out unscathed rough.

But I learned a lot.  And I’m still learning a lot from that time.  And from losing Wilson.  And now I have an amazing and perfect baby boy.  And he’s got the best smile and he just warms my heart in a way I have never experienced before.  And I know that losing Wilson has made me a much better parent than I could have ever been if I hadn’t lost him.  And that doesn’t mean that I would’ve been a horrible parent and so I had to lose Wilson so that I wouldn’t suck.  And that doesn’t mean that parents who never had to lose a baby don’t know what they’re missing.  It just means that I recognize that I got a gift from Wilson.  That I still get gifts from Wilson.  And that now Wilson gets to be an older brother and a part of our family’s heritage forever.

And my heart didn’t magically stop hurting when our baby was born.  But it was able to start healing in a way that I didn’t think was possible before.

So, I introduce to the world (OK, to the blogosphere, because he’s already been introduced to the real world for about 6 months now):

Lawson Christopher Kennedy

Born: September 16, 2011

Lawson, on day two of life.

OK, so fast forward six months and you’ve got some really ridiculous cuteness.*

He has a duck bath. A duck bath. Come ON.

The quality on these photos may not be the best because they were all (yes, that’s right, all) taken with an iPhone.  Trashy, considering I made my husband purchase a Nikon D40 back when I was barely pregnant with Wilson.  But damn that iPhone takes good photos, huh?  Oh, no, wait — that’s just the subject.  Heehee.

Oh, and one last thing — his name is Lawson, but we call him Whams.  Because in our house, your given name is merely a suggestion.

Anyway, that’s all for now.  I hope it’s a fair enough explanation.  If not, that’s OK, too.  But that’s all I got.

Anyone else have anything exciting happen to them in the last -oh- year or so?



*I may be partial.  I get it.  I know.  It’s OK.

**Also, I was only going to do one current photo, but I mean, how am I supposed to limit his cuteness to one photo?  Clearly five is barely sufficient.

So, I love the Bachelor.  I watch it every season.  I love the Bachelorette, too.  I watch that every season as well.

If you’re a Bachelor watcher, you know that this season has brought back Brad — the hottest bachelor to date.  Oh, wait — I’m forgetting Jake Pavelka.  Oh, wait — no, I’m not.  (Don’t even get me started on Jake choosing Vienna — it became like a train wreck that was SO HARD to watch after mid-season, mostly because I read on Reality Steve ahead of time that he was choosing her, although that didn’t stop me from watching.)

Anyways, so we have Brad Womack.

Pretty hot, huh?  Yeah, I thought so.

This week’s episode was episode #5.  And I just have a few observations I want to share.  Some are more “shock and awe” observations and some are “should you ever find yourself doing this on national television, expect a lack of respect from the general public”observations.

1.  I’m starting to have feelings for Michelle.  And they’re not just physical.

I know — I’m just as surprised as you.  It’s shocking.  I hated that girl.  But, the farther along we get in the season, the more I’m realizing that he’s both not going to choose her (phew) and she’s really funny.  I don’t know that she means to be, but she is.  holla

2. These girls should know that talking poorly about the girl getting the most attention on the date is a career-limiting move.

C’mon, guys — Emily lost her fiance and then found out she was pregnant with his daughter, whom she is now raising on her own. Being jealous of her is really trashy.  REALLY trashy.

3.  And this is kinda related to #2 — I really dislike that Allie girl. Something about her “so the girl with the most problems gets the most attention” statement just hit me wrong.

Also, when Allie goes, “we’ve all been through things,” I thought she was maybe being a little dramatic.  Yes, Allie, we’ve all been through things, but not all of us have lost our fiance and then had to raise our child on our own. Really?  Like, are we really having this conversation?

It’s OK — I think Allie’s got one episode left.  Maybe two, if she plays her cards right.  Then it’s straight to trashy hook-up parties that are Bachelor/Bachelorette reunions.

4.  No matter what the producers try to get out of you, do not cry ugly tears on TV.

So, we’ve all done it.  We’ve all cried those big, ugly horse tears that make our eyes swell and our noses turn red.  And we’ve all done it over a guy that we thought was The One, despite the fact that it’s really obvious to everyone else in the world that he wasn’t really that into us.  So,  yeah — I feel your pain, ladies.  But STOP THE MADNESS.  You’ve gotta stop crying like this on TV. Sure, you’re sad.  Maybe you’re devastated.  But you’ve got to hold yourself together.  If not for you, for your next boyfriend.

So those are this week’s observations.  I’ll try to post more next week, but I may not have really good ones.  These were just my thoughts from this week, and I had to share.

PS — Ashley S, I really liked you.  REALLY.  But hint: maybe lose the HUGE stuffed bear before getting into a serious dating relationship — I’m thinking that could throw off your chances of seeming ready for an adult relationship in the future.  Just sayin.  And I’m only just sayin cause I love you.

PPS — Ashley S, hope to see you on The Bachelor Pad 2 this summer.  (Oh yeah, I watch that, too.  HOLLA.)

The Friday before last, I went to see The Legwarmers, an 80s tribute band, at The National, which is this AWESOME music venue in Richmond.  So, 80s tribute + great music venue = whopping good time.  But wait… there’s something missing…

Oh, this guy.

EVERYONE was dressed in 80s garb, but this guy was my fave.  I mean, he took it to a whole new level.  Mullet wig?  Hells yeah.  Yellow tee with ripped off sleeves?  You know it.  Leopard print leggings?  You talkin to me?  And the punk girl in the black tutu and bright pink dance tights isn’t doing too badly, either.

And then there was us…

I tried.  My friend Kate succeeded.  The camera flash really washed out my outrageous eye shadow.  Pink, purple and -of course- blue.

The Legwarmers were great.  The National was crowded.  And — if I’m honest — the floors were a bit sticky.  Mostly because everyone was drinking beer and spilling it all over the floor.  And occasionally leaving it in the bathroom:

Bathroom stall find -- free beer!

Who doesn’t want a cup of beer left for them by the previous stall user?  Holla!

But, the real adventure of the evening came after Kate and I left The National.  We had to head west about 8 blocks to where Kate’s car was parked and it was a FRIGID 20 degrees out.  So, we hopped on the 2BNB bus, which is a free bus service that carries party-ers about town to prevent them from driving drunk (or, in our case, walking cold).

This was our first time on the bus and, I gotta say, everyone on the bus is friendly.  Everyone on the bus is happy.  And, for the most part, everyone on the bus is drunk.  Single ladies, as a hint, if you are looking for a semi-attractive man to take an immediate interest in you and share way too many life details in a short period of time, the 2BNB bus is where it’s at.

It’s a whole lot safer than driving after you’ve been drinking.  And it’s free.  And it’s a great way to meet new friends (even if you wouldn’t be friends if you weren’t all leaving a super-packed 80s concert late at night).

So that was our Legwarmers adventure.  It was fantastic. My personal favorite part of the night was NKOTB — the Right Stuff.  Dance was included.  I swooned.  It was like 6th grade all over again, but without the social stigma of loving New Kids (I had to pretend not to like them in 6th grade because liking NKOTB was not the cool thing to do in my elementary school).  Classic.


Jed and I never took a honeymoon.  We contributed a bit to our wedding celebration (in addition to our very generous parental contributions) and so essentially doubling our spend by planning a vacation right afterward didn’t seem like a great choice.

And now finally, almost 2 years into our marriage,we are taking our honeymoon.

Goals for our honeymoon:

1.  Be somewhere gorgeous — probably the Caribbean (for cost reasons, Tahiti is out, even though I would LOVE to go there)

2.  Be somewhere that doesn’t get super busy and/or have a ton of people.

3.  Don’t do a resort.  Nothing wrong with them — we’ve done them before — but it’s kinda hard to stick to #2 without #3.

So we are going to… Tortola.  What?  What’s Tortola?  Exactly. No one knows what it is.  We had no idea what/where it is before we started looking.  We basically started googling various Caribbean vacation ideas, then ended up looking at house rentals in the Caribbean, and eventually landed on a seemingly adorable little one bedroom villa on Tortola, which is a British Virgin Island.  It’s the busiest BVI, but none of the BVIs are really all that busy, apparently — in fact, they’re barely busy enough to have any books on the topic.  Supposedly, there’s enough to do (day trips to other islands, horseback riding, diving/snorkeling, along with plenty of shopping and restaurants, sans the high likelihood of a TGIFriday’s), without too many people.  Hopefully.  I’ll let you know.

Here are some pictures of the place we’re renting.  It’s a little greedy in terms of gorgeousness, but it’s kinda reasonably priced.

Our view

Our deck

Our hot tub -- enough jets to make The Bachelor jealous

Our living room

Our kitchen -- same living space as living room.

Side note: I am just now noticing that there’s no dishwasher.  Good thing I’m bringing Jed.  Of course, I just said to him, “uh oh — there’s no dishwasher” and he said, “well, we got a Flong.”  Perfect.  Glad we’re on the same page.

So, yeah.  That’s our villa.  We’re SUPER excited.  And we’re leaving soon, but according to the Today Show (and my mother and mother-in-law — marriage brings twice the mothers, so twice the warnings/worry), if I tell you when we’re actually going, you’ll probably rob our house while we’re gone.  At least one of you will.  Don’t lie.

But, I do promise to post ACTUAL vacation photos and full deets when we get back.  Hopefully lots of both.

A side note about this week — we had some unexpected family stuff come up, so I haven’t had the chance to blog everything I promised I would, but I WILL blog about the Legwarmers sometime this coming week.

Also, I may share my Grandma Flong’s amazing chocolate chip cookie recipe.  They’re the best chocolate chip cookies you will EVER eat.  If you cook them right.

Until next time… mahalo!  (wait… wrong island)