I’m a pretty girl … I’m a pretty girl

Oy. The things I do for you all. Seriously, I have been hard at work, people, providing great beauty tips for YOU.

And because I can’t expect you to magically know where I’m providing these pearls of knowledge, these absolute gems of beauty-related insight, I’m putting it all together here for you. You’ll have to imagine the neat little bow (it’s pink. and pretty.).

• Yesterday, I took lots and lots of pictures of my eyes so that you, too, can have the sexy, smoky-eyed look of your dreams. Head over to BeautyHacks for that.
• Last week, for Fit Beauty, I tried out a seemingly-ridiculous Hannibal Lecter-looking mask. Um, yeah, you should probably read that one (even though I didn’t provide any pictures of me wearing it).
• And, last but certainly not least, I did a tutorial for the lovely Sarah at the interweb’s most fabulous hair site, Hair Thursday. Seriously, I could not have been more geeked out and excited when she asked me to do this, and while I tend to cringe when I hear my own voice on video, I think, in general, it went pretty well. Check it out and leave me some love!

Come out, come out, wherever you are

There are a number of reasons I hesitate to call myself an “adult.”

I might be staring down 30 (not that I think 30 is so old, but come on now; nobody talks about those 30-year-old kids), but I don’t really feel very grown up most of the time. Except when I’m paying bills or buying Grown Up Stuff like mattresses and life insurance.

It might look innocent, but something wicked this way rots. GAH.

I definitely don’t feel grown up when it comes to things around the house. (Even though I now live in a Grown Up House.) Take, for instance, the refrigerator. A smell is coming from it. It’s hard to describe. It smells pungently ripe, and angry. And I’m terrified.

It could be one of a number of things. You see, if I catch something just as it’s about to go bad, I’m great about trashing it or composting it. But, if it’s past the almost bad stage and gets into the sweet baby jebus WHAT is that? stage, I’m more likely to hope the Tupperware does its thing and holds the stink in until someone else takes care of it. And, you know, since he’s the only other person living here, that other person is probably going to end up being my husband. (Hey, he knew what he was getting into when he married me. DON’T YOU PITY HIM.)

Unfortunately, some piece of Tupperware (well, probably bargain Tup-r-wear or something) isn’t holding up its end of the bargain. The smell is not even contained within the fridge anymore — the entire kitchen is affected. I’ve avoided the kitchen as long as I can (this lady likes to eat, folks), and my husband won’t be home until the end of the week, so it appears I’ll have to Grow Up and Do Something. Ugh.

It might be the tempeh from a few weeks ago. And I think I lost an onion or two recently. Yikes, that cucumber looks really bad. And while the Gorgonzola cheese didn’t smell all that unstinky to begin with, it looks like it could give a teenage football player’s jock strap a run for its money right about now.

I’m off to put on nice underwear so that when the authorities find The Lady Who Died From Cleaning Out Her Rotten Ass Fridge, my mother won’t have to be embarrassed that her only daughter was found wearing old undies.  (Also, if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days, send over the authorities, would you?)

Don’t you forget about me

The death of John Hughes brought with it a flood of memories for millions. Who among us didn’t try to do the lipstick trick? (Turns out it doesn’t work so well when your cleavage consists of a training bra stuffed with toilet paper.) And it’s hard to find someone my age (or five to 10 years older or younger) who doesn’t have an important adolescent memory closely tied to one of his movies.

While some of those memories are sure to be happy, some are certain to recall pain. But at least we have them. Not everyone does.

Grandma Sara and me at my high school graduation open house, 1998.

When I was in sixth grade, I remember getting so annoyed with my Grandma Sara for asking me whether I had homework multiple times on the way home from school. “God,” I thought, “why doesn’t she just listen and pay attention?”

A few years later, after she’d been officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s but was still well enough to live on her own, I remember being frustrated that she’d forgotten to make the pie for Thanksgiving. She made the best pies, and when I’d asked her whether they were done (as a helpful reminder — I wasn’t a completely terrible child), she assured me they were. People with Alzheimer’s sometimes tell you what you want to hear, not even realizing that they’re lying.

The following month, I tried to get out of going to her apartment because OH MY GOD, if I had to hear that poinsettia story ONE MORE TIME I would definitely die (in the way that teenagers often die). Yes, Grandma, I know they used to be all tall and spindly and kind of ugly, and you’re right! Now they’re so lush and full and beautiful! It is amazing.

I would give anything — ANYTHING — to hear that story from her one more time. Or any story, for that matter.

Grandma Sara has been in a nursing home for the past eight years and has dealt with Alzheimer’s for close to 18. She can no longer put together a sentence or tell us what she’s thinking. At 90 years old, her physical condition remains mostly good, but mentally … she’s mostly gone. On rare occasions, she’ll light up for a second when she sees one of us. Whether she recognizes us or is just happy to see a smiling face, it’s impossible to tell. She hasn’t responded in a way that makes sense to anything I’ve said in years. Mostly, she just tries to be polite to these people who come and sit with her. Sometimes she laughs, sometimes she’s weepy. We never know why — we’re just thrilled when we visit on a good day.

This is a woman who used to put on lipstick to get the mail. She had her family convinced she liked the wings of the chicken best because she knew everybody else liked the other parts better. One time I asked her if she’d ever sworn in her whole life, and she responded, “Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve said, ‘Oh, hell,’ once or twice.”

She made the best cookies and pies, as well as the most beautiful formal gowns for my mom’s high school dances, and she took care of me after school for years (always making sure I had a snack). I taught her to shoot baskets, but never took the time to let her teach me how to sew.

Yuki has raised a lot of money in past years. She's not too keen on the UF mascots, though.

On October 24, I’ll be walking in the Gainesville Alzheimer’s Memory Walk in her honor. I’m looking for people to walk with me — if you want to raise money, great. If you just want to show support, that’s great too. I’m also taking donations — you’ll see a small button over to the right if you want to donate online, or you can contact me if you’d rather do it in another way. Or, if you just want to share a story about how Alzheimer’s has touched your life, I’d love to hear that, too.

**Ed: I forgot to mention that anyone who lives in the area and wants to donate or become a part of Team Go for Grandma is TOTALLY invited to a par-tay at the Seymour residence following the walk. There will be food and booze — what more do you want?

We have a winner!

I had an amazing weekend with the lovely folks at Tropicana (and don’t worry, I’ll be writing plenty about it in the days to come). In fact, I was so busy that I didn’t have a chance to select a winner of the Tropicana fruit and juice basket until today!

I wish I could send delicious, healthy deliciousness to all of you, but, alas, there can only be one winner. Congrats to clarecd, who said, “Papaya is one of my faves. But there’s nothing like a nice, cold glass of OJ in the morning!” I’ll contact you shortly to get your address, and then you’ll get your yummy, yummy fruit basket. Whee!

There will be much, much more to come, but for now, I’m going to sit back and enjoy my fermented grape juice and pretend that dinner will make itself. (Shut up. You don’t know unless you try.)

But wait, there’s more! The BlogHeriness never ends

You might be under the impression that, at last weekend’s conference, all I did was eat and drink and laugh. And while that truly comprised a huge portion of the weekend, I was actually really busy. I swear!

Watch out, women drivers

On Thursday, I attended the Ford What Women Want event, where we learned a lot about Ford’s efforts toward sustainability. I’ll write more on this at GreenDaily, but I have to say I was amazed and impressed. They’re working to reduce emissions and waste from start of production until well after the car is in our hands, and they’re using incredible new technology to create new fabrics that get rid of the need for nasty chemicals and plastics. Awesome.

(Plus, they let us drive around some phat cars — one had a refrigerator inside. Can anyone say tailgate? Actually, no, they can’t, because everyone else was a mom and excited about the juice box possibilities …)

With Jessica in front of the car that HAD A FRIDGE. I want.

A Hair Affair

After cruising around with Ford, I headed out to a little boutique called Sparrow, where some lovely women were gettin’ their hair did (plus, the salon was serving champers and cheese — score!). It was an amazing salon, and I have no doubt that, if I lived in the area, that’s exactly where I would go. It’s a beautiful old barbershop, and it’s updated enough to be modern, but retains enough of the original to be oh-so-classy.

Bottoms Up

I wouldn’t have minded spending more time at Sparrow longer if it weren’t for the fact that there was a cocktail party that night, and holy moly, I met so many people that I actually ran out of business cards (not entirely, just out of the ones I’d taken for that evening). This was the first of the incredibly late nights, ending with a cheesy enchilada at, uh, 2:30am? But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been moving the next morning without it.

Susan and Cat -- two of my favorite people, and not just on the Internet.

YTBA, represent!

Due to my predilection for cheesy goodness (see above: cheesy enchilada in the wee hours of the morning), I don’t have the flattest tummy. So, when I was asked to be a Yummie Tummie Brand Ambassador at BlogHer, I didn’t hesitate to do a cartwheel and spell out HELL YES with my pom poms. I already had the strappy tank, but at BlogHer, I tried out the boyfriend tank. It’s shapewear, but it’s comfy, and it’s actually okay for people to see the top and bottom, so it’s perfect for layering. And for hiding an enchilada belly. (Oh, and because I did SUCH a great job as a YTBA, you’re totally eligible for a 30% discount if you order by August 8 and use BLOGHER30 as your code. You’re welcome.)

Suave and Degree Party at The Wit

You know how, when you were a kid and you imagined a cocktail party, you had a distinct image in your mind? This party was exactly my image. Stylish couches, amazing views, fun music, a fireplace, delicious food, wine and cocktails. Oh, and the company wasn’t so shabby, either.

Susan, Whoorl, Metalia, me, and Chris getting ready to take shots. Yes, really.

But seriously, this was low-key done right. The time flew and we all had an amazing time. Perfection.

MamaPop Sparklecorn Extravaganza

Yep, those are glowsticks. When aren’t they a perfect accessory?

If two out of those three words don’t make sense to you, don’t sweat it. Just know this — those MamaPop folks? They know how to throw a party. The music was great, particularly the excellent selection of Beastie Boys, and the dance floor was hopping. When it was over, a bunch of us ended up in my hotel room for 3am pizza. Good lord, no wonder I need the Yummie Tummie.

BowlHer, CheeseburgHer, I’m a BoozHer

Saturday night had several more events. A cocktail party at the hotel (natch), then BowlHer, a party at which they handed out hot pink boas at the door, so I immediately knew it was my kind of place. Unfortunatley, said boas turned out to be wicked itchy, and only beer was free, not wine, so we didn’t stay as long as we might have.

Another party, the CheeseburgHer party, was happening back at the hotel, and you know, when you first go to college and you go to that house party that’s all whoa? Yep, this was a bit of a flashback to that. It was packed, and hot, and there were cheeseburgers abounding. I made a loop through and headed down to the lobby bar.

The evening, and hence the weekend, ended quietly. Surprising, considering the insanity that had gone on every other night. We all made our good-byes at a reasonable time and there were no crazy late night snacks. I did, however, find I was a little tipsier than I thought when I tried to finish packing my suitcase. That’s a job best done stone sober.

Tomorrow morning, I’m off again to Chicago, this time for a Tropicana event (have you entered to win a fruit and juice basket from them yet?). I don’t anticipate the weekend being quite so wild, but I’m hoping to have just as much fun with it.

Wait, THAT wasn’t there last week (plus, a healthy giveaway!)

I might have overindulged a wee bit this past weekend. There were parties and hors de ouvres and late night food runs and glasses and glasses of wine. And although I’ve been getting in some good runs, I’m still feeling the effects of letting my guard down for several days in a row. Effects like some extra belly that definitely wasn’t there last week.

To add to that, because Jared and I have both been gone, we don’t have much in the way of food in our house. I think there’s an egg in the fridge, and fortunately, there was a bag of goldfish in one of the swag bags I brought home, but not much else. Oh, except for THIS:

This Tropicana gift basket could be yours! Well, not THIS one, because that would be gross, but one very similar.

I came home to this beautiful gift basket of fruit and juice, courtesy of Tropicana. I’m going back to Chicago for an event with them this weekend called “Get Your Fruit On,” and you’d better believe that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I mean, I love pizza and tacos, but a crisp apple and a juicy orange are pretty damn delicious, too.

Especially when it’s free!

You can win a gift basket of your own. All you need to do is leave a comment telling me what your favorite fruit or juice is. And, if you’re feeling particularly gracious, you can also include anything you’d like me to ask Tropicana while I’m there. Now get started — leave a comment and share this contest with your friends! I’ll randomly select a winner on Friday evening, at 8pm ET, so you have just a few days to enter. Get a move on!

So I went to this conference, and all I got was this lousy bunch of friends and some knowledge

I’ve started this post about 50 times. I’ve been reading posts about BlogHer all day long, and I’m having the hardest time addressing a huge issue — the swag and freebies that marketers sometimes throw the way of bloggers, particularly at a blogging conference. So I won’t, other than to say that, if you’re not blogging to share ideas and find a community — if you started a personal blog in the hopes of earning millions and getting free cameras or strollers or trips — you’re probably going to be disappointed, whether you’re a mommyblogger or something else.

I’m going to address something that impacted me, personally, far more and in a really positive way — the community I found at BlogHer.

Okay, so I’m not a mommyblogger for obvious reasons — I’m child-free. And, despite the fact that I write for a living, I’m not a terribly experienced blogger. I don’t have a huge following here on Jeez-o-petes, and that’s okay (although of course, it would be great to have more people here and more interaction, but that’s not why I do this). I’m in no way “blog famous.” And so, I was nervous — would people accept me into their groups? Would my online friends and coworkers still think I was funny in person, when I wasn’t hiding behind a keyboard and spending several minutes on my witty responses? Would the fact that I’m not the same age as most of them be an issue?

I shouldn’t have worried. I mean, yes, I had a few moments here and there of feeling like the new kid in the cafeteria. There were thousands of people there, and I was bound to lose track of the people I knew from time to time. And I dealt — when I felt too freaked out, I went for a run and came back refreshed. Or, I looked for someone with a similar look of panic and sat with them and made some wonderful contacts.

I was blown away at how willingly I was accepted into so many groups. I met, in person, folks I’ve known for a year or two, and pretty much all of them were exactly the way I’d imagined — funny, smart, and often with a drink in their hand. By the end of the weekend, I couldn’t believe we had all just met. And I definitely can’t believe I won’t see most of them for another year, at least.

And people I didn’t know before the conference were just as friendly and open. Many of them I was familiar with from reading their blogs, but they had no knowledge of me. It didn’t matter. We sat and talked and some of them stared at my cleavage (girls, if I find that bra for sale anywhere, I’ll let you know because trust me, it was all bra). We drank crazy amounts of wine, danced and laughed and took pictures, and ordered food really late at night as if we were freshmen in college. Only, when I was a freshman in college, it was a lot harder to make so many friends.

I get how the experience can be different and less positive for somebody who knew nobody coming into this. But as for me, it was nothing short of incredible. I networked without feeling like I was networking, I listened to people with an insane amount of experience, and I was inspired to be a better blogger. And maybe a better person, too.

Screw the swag. What I brought home was worth far more than you’re going to fit in a gift bag.

Cars and juice: What do you want to know?

(Alternate title: OMG OMG OMG I get to leave the house!!!!)

Over the next couple of weeks, my job has me traveling. I KNOW — the hermit will actually leave her office. Hope you were sitting down for that.

First things first: I’m going to BlogHer in Chicago, and seriously, people, I could NOT be more excited. I get to meet — IN PERSON — some of my favorite internet coworkers. There will be drinks and parties and probably even some hugs. Hugs that I’m already okay with.

I really, really hope you were sitting down for that.

Aside from the schmoozing and the chatting and the trading of makeup and talking about shoes, I’ll be doing some learning. The first bit of that will come courtesy of Ford, as I’m attending their What Women Want Vehicle Tech and Event. So, I’m coming to you — what do you want in a vehicle? I know what’s important to me — a vehicle needs to fit all of my stuff, plus two dogs. But, it needs to get reasonably good gas mileage and — most importantly — it has to look cool.

Now, let’s move ahead to the following weekend, when I’ll be heading back to Chi-town for another conference. This one is sponsored by Tropicana, and is much, much smaller. I’ll be accompanied by my friend, Fitz, and we’ll be learning about food, fitness, and sustainability. One of the things that I’ve had a hard time with regarding Tropicana is that I feel like juice is just empty calories — if I’m gonna drink my calories, I’d better at least be getting buzzed, you know? But they have some cool recipes using juice (which sneaks lots of great nutrients into your food).

But I want to find out what you want to know. Are you worried about any part of the juice-making process? Are you looking for a different product? What makes you choose one brand over another, and what would change your mind?

Talk to me, folks. I promise I’ll try to make it worth your while — stay tuned!

Diagnosis: Suburbanitis

I’ve never been a city girl — really, I’ve never even lived in a big city at all, although I do enjoy visiting them. And although I spent my childhood in the country (seriously, three dirt roads to get to my house, one of which flooded — often), I don’t think of myself as terribly country. So of course, it only stands to reason that I now am a total suburbanite.

We’ve lived in our cute little house in our cute little neighborhood for about a year, and it occurred to me that we didn’t know most of our neighbors. And I suspected there were some cool people living nearby — many were friendly enough to wave or say hello without ever meeting. Shoot, I’d had conversations with plenty of them while out running or walking the dogs. But, it’s like, then what? You’re outside and don’t have your phone. Do you just stop by to say hello sometime? It’s awkward.

So I decided to throw a party.

My neighbor Blair and I passed out flyers to every house in the neighborhood (around 40 — my ‘hood ain’t huge), and told everyone to bring a drink, snack, and chair if they wanted, and come on over that Friday night. We set up a tent in the front yard, I put on my pearls, put out some nametags and markers (they were cool, dammit!), and, lo and behold, we probably had 30 or 40 neighbors come by. And I was right — they were fun! We’ve hung out with several of them since then, and seriously, I just think it’s so cool that, as I’m running by, people will wave and say, “Hey Kristen!”

This has brought about something new, though. Now that I know these people, I care what they think about us. And if you’ve ever lived in a cute little neighborhood, you know it’s all about the front yard. I’d always focused on the back yard because that’s where we really spend our time, but last weekend, I decided to do some planting in the front. Voila!

Don’t get me wrong — most of that was there already. But, I added the yellow flowers on the left, the potted plants to the right of the walk, the hanging plant to the right of that, and a bunch of small plants in between all those short little shrubs, plus the red flowers (kind of front/center, but you can’t see them very well just yet). AND, I planted a cool purple pointy shrub in the back, toward the right. Aren’t you impressed with my mad gardening skills?

Mostly, though, I just wanted to get a picture up there now before everything croaks.

Asking the tough questions

Okay, internet, I have a major decision, and I’m just not sure what the right thing to do would be.

I had a pair of sandals. I bought them last summer at Macy’s (on sale) and I loved them. They went with just about everything, and were that perfect mix between casual and dressy that you just don’t often find. And, they didn’t make my feet scream, which doesn’t happen all that often (why do you think I generally stick to Reefs of All-Stars? For the look?).

I guess a visual would help:

Do you understand now?

Anyway, I broke them. I actually broke the sole in half (I believe this could have occurred when I wisely decided to wear them line dancing with my mom). And I was devastated.

But! I found them again, at Heels! There are just two problems:

1. You know, they broke the first time I owned them. How long will they last this time?

2. I know I didn’t pay that much for them the first time around.

But I love them. I’ll be kinder, gentler, more considerate this time around. Maybe the broken sole was totally my fault. (Do I sound like I’m in an abusive relationship or something?)

Help! What do I do?