Wine on Wednesday, beer on Saturday

To celebrate Jeff's birthday we went to a wine tasting. On a Wednesday. The wines weren't great, but the pours were generous. When we woke up Thursday, we really wished it was Saturday.

Thankfully, when Saturday arrived everyone was feeling celebratory again. An Oktoberfest celebration was being held at Fort Benning and we all wanted to honor our German heritage with large quantities of beer, brats and sauerkraut.

Here are some pictures from our eventful week.


Strangers kept dumping their empties on our table. How rude!


Aren't Jeff and I cute in our coats at Oktoberfest? You know what's not cute? Forty-degree temperatures in the South in mid-October.


Burrr. Lily and Morgan cuddle to keep warm at Oktoberfest.


Stefanie, who's from Connecticut, wore a jacket and scarf to Oktoberfest. Andy, who's from Georgia, did not. Stefanie was nice and warm. Andy was not.


A couple of German guys put down their steins to take a picture with Lily, me and Stefanie.


Lily borrowed my totally awesome gloves (which she laughed at until her tiny fingers turned to ice) for this picture with Andy.


Jeff "sneaks" into Sonya and Alan's photo after his birthday wine tasting. He's really sly.


Jeff rules his birthday a success and gives his victory cheer.


Stefanie and Andy pose for a nice photo. Jeff decided not to sneak in and refused to take a "nice" photo with his wife. He did make many inappropriate faces in photos, but the wife has deleted them.


Lily (pictured with husband Morgan) says we didn't drink too much, we just didn't eat enough. So true!


Alan shares Jeff's passion for real martinis which are only made with gin — preferably Blue Sapphire Gin. Sonya and I prefer a tasty pinot grigio or faux martinis made with vodka and fruity liquors.

Happy birthday, Jeff

Today is the 20th anniversary of Jeff's 21st birthday. I didn't know Jeff when he turned 21. He says this is a good thing. This makes me think 21-year-old Jeff was a bit immature.

Forty-one-year-old Jeff is the perfect combination of mature and immature.

He still jumps over the couch, but he doesn't spend all day napping on it.

He no longer considers HotPockets nutritionally balanced meals, but he isn't afraid to eat entire package of Oreos in one day.

He still likes his music loud, but he won't play the Beastie Boys nonstop.

He can still drink his friends under the table, but only does if he's not driving.

He prefers comedies, but he'll watch a romantic chick-flick.

Here's one of my favorite photos of Jeff with some friends and a Medieval Times' princess. Jeff no longer thinks he's king of the universe, but he still enjoys the royal treatment.

Crybaby seeks sensitive bachelorette

Mr. Nice Guy, Jake Pavelka, was chosen as the next ABC "Bachelor." (Warning: Here comes my shameless self promotion.) You can read more here.

Many women found Jake charming and sweet on the Jillian Harris season of "The Bachelorette," but I am not one of those women.

I found him to be a royal Mr. Whiny Pants. Call me old-fashioned, but I like my men dry-eyed. Jake was constantly sobbing over Jillian's lack of interest in his all-American, boy-next-door routine.

I don't know how the Dallas pilot is going to carry an entire season. Maybe instead of handing out roses, Jake can give tissues to his bachelorettes. That might be more useful.


Jake managed to hold back his tears for this promotional photo.

Does my husband like my hair?

I got my hair cut and styled on Saturday. It's not a dramatic change. A few inches were clipped and some highlights were added to cover the increasingly alarming number of gray strands that seem to have made themselves at home on my head.

When I went to work today several men noticed my hair makeover. Yes, men. Maybe the change was more dramatic than I thought.

It was strange. Everyone kept asking, "what does Jeff think?" Um, why would he care? Sure, my hair is shorter and blonder, but it's not like I shaved my head or died my hair purple.

I'm genuinely confused. Anyway here's a photo so you can judge for yourself.


Note to the DMV: I'm not driving. I'm just a passenger in a car that was safely stopped at a traffic light when I took this photo.

To grandmother's house we go

Jeff, Anne, Luke and I traveled to Boston last weekend for the Second Wedding of our friends Lily and Morgan. Lily and Morgan got married almost two years ago in Las Vegas before he deployed to Afghanistan, but Second Wedding was their "real" wedding. I think Lily is brilliant. Two anniversaries means two anniversary presents, right?

Since we were buying plane tickets to Boston, we decided to make our trip a bit longer and visit my grandma and aunt who live Worcester, Mass. We also went to a Red Sox game (to Jeff, an Indians game) at the famous Fenway Park.

We arrived in Boston on Thursday, checked into our hotel in Cambridge and decided to walk approximately 100 miles around Boston until we were too tired to move and collapsed on a train. The city is very walkable. There are several colleges downtown and one cute neighborhood leads into another cute neighborhood. We visited Paul Revere's house and saw lots of historic buildings which we affectionately labeled "old stuff." We had dinner at an Irish pub where Jeff ordered Irish Stew, I had shepherd's pie and Anne and Luke got chicken sandwiches.

Unfortunately, Jeff's Indians lost to the Red Sox, but we all enjoyed the Fenway experience. It's a small ballpark with a lot of character. We sat in wooden bleacher seats and stared at the green monster. Jeff stayed loyal to his Indians, but the rest of us were too cold to be concerned about loyalty. We bought Red Sox hats, gloves and sweatshirts. The South has turned us into weather whimps. Boston dwellers were wearing shorts. We were happy that ballpark vendors were selling New England clam chowder, but, of course, we opted for the all-American hotdog.

On Friday we went to grandma's house where we ate and ate and then ate some more. We had lunch at our Aunt Janet's house where we caught up on the family gossip and were introduced to a pet tortoise, Harry. For dinner grandma made turkey, potatoes, gravy, stuffing, peas, carrots and green beans with almonds. Dessert was apple pie and peach flan. Best of all were her delicious little cakes. Yum! We were completely stuffed. The highlight was listening to grandma's stories about her youth in Germany before World War II when her family moved to England to escape the Nazis. We looked at some great old family photos and laughed at our dad who was a bit chubby when he was a tot. Things were less funny when photos of junior-high Dawn with a bad perm were shown.

On Saturday we drove to Waltham, Mass. for the wedding. The ceremony and reception were held at a beautiful historic estate. The heavy morning rain forced the wedding inside the house, but it was still perfect. The bride was beautiful. The groom was happy. The food was delicious. The band was fun. And the bar was open. Everyone had a wonderful time.


Fenway Park welcomes guests with a street fair outside the ballpark.


The wooden seats at Fenway are full of character but not comfort. Unlike more modern stadium seats, the Fenway seats are not angled toward the in-field. Fans have to sit at an angle to see the diamond. From the height of the tunnels and the shape of the seats, it would appear that Americans were shorter and thinner when the ballpark opened in 1912 than we are today.


The green monster was too much for Jeff's beloved Cleveland Indians.


Jeff and Dawn cuddle to stay warm at the baseball game.


Anne, Luke and Dawn shiver at the Red Sox/Indians night game.


The rain stopped temporarily so Dawn and Jeff could pose for a photo outside the estate where the wedding was held.


Anne and Luke take a brief break from what they called "dancing."


Did I mention the wedding had an open bar?


Jeff, grandma and Dawn.


Anne, grandma and Luke.


Dawn, grandma and Anne.