Mixer & Mingle Fridays: Cuke Mules

My daddy once taught me you've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything.

Ok, so it wasn't actually my dad, it was Aaron Tippin but still. Country boys know what's up.

It was brought to my attention that I've become the biggest advocate of cucumber vodka. (Cuke for president!) I can't help it. It's like the weird ginger kid on the playground that no one wants to play with. It's like the yellow crayon of my world. So, I invited it to come mingle in my cocktails last year, and then I accidentally went and fell in love.

Originally it was Effen Cucumber Vodka + Lemonade. But then this year, Moscow Mules became the IT drink, and one local eatery slipped some cuke vodka into my copper mug and sent me into a tailspin. Heels over head doesn't even describe this drink for me.

Sadly, I place things like paying my electric bill as a higher priority than buying $20 copper mugs for my home, and my cocktail suffers (argue all you want, the mug for sure makes it taste better) but a mason jar full of Effen Cuke, ginger beer and lime makes my speakers go boom boom.

Try it. You'll like it. Everyone's doing it.

(Not a sponsored post. Just confessing my love for the common good of all society) 


myth vs reality.

Every year in Indy we host an event that causes hundreds of women to flock to our city center, perked, plumped & ready to mingle....

The Firefighters Convention. 

Thousands of firefighters venture to our great city for a weekend of... well, really, hell if I know... conventioning. 

I know what you're thinking... 

So my girlfriends and I headed downtown on Friday night for tapas, cocktails, and debauchery. After a homeless man hobbled into the restaurant, plopped himself down on a barstool right next to our table and passed out/died (? who really knows), we weren't sure how the rest of the night was going to unfold. However a few of the paramedics who rushed to his aid weren't bad eye-candy so we couldn't be all that mad. 

Sadly, as the night progressed we realized there was not a single oiled up man in sight. No eight-packs, no bare chests, no shirtless, suspendered men saving kittens.

All we got was a group of hicks from North Carolina who swarmed our patio table telling us they "saw all us ladies long hairs and just had to stop and say hi" in the slowest southern drawl I've ever heard. 

You win some, you lose some. 


Been around the world (na, na, na)

Last year, post #PopGoesMyLung, when I was still bedrest-ridden at my parents, LT helped me out with a project I had had in mind for a while.

LT. Ha. There's a name we haven't heard in a while. I'll say his help on this was appreciated, and leave it at that. 

I found out the mileage, as a crow flies, to each passport stamp I've gotten and painted them on these pieces of deconstructed pallet. And then threw them in a box and they sat in my closet for 12 months.

My parents were over helping me do some yardwork when my mom brought it up. To be honest, I had sort of forgotten all about them. So we drug em out, laid em out, let my dad dig a post hole, and busted out the Makita. 

Less than an hour later, I have brand new yard art that I absolutely love. The only down fall is that I am already 4 signs behind, for the places I went in Australia!

I can only hope that my biggest problem in the future is needing a bigger pole because I've run out of room!


Hop on my back, she said... it's a great idea, she said

They say a picture's worth a thousand words... so I'll just leave this sequence below for your enjoyment

Friday night we went out to the local beer garden to celebrate one of my best friend's birthdays. Suddenly, being the gal who never passes up a piggy back ride turned into my demise. The bruises don't look nearly as cute as the photo of us laughing hysterically above.


In avoidance of becoming the crazy cat woman.

I remember reading in a magazine once that you should always have at least one living thing in every room of your home.

13 cats seemed a little extravagant (closets not counted), and we all know I'm not ready to board the baby train to Duggar-ville, so plant life seemed like the most logical (and sane) alternative.

They also suggested fish, but I prefer my finned friends in the pescetarian sense.

All that aside, over the years I've slowly started flexing my green thumb. Most of the time, the green turns brown and eventually makes it way to a landfill, but I've managed to keep a whopping seven plants living thus far, and just acquired at least 5 more this weekend that I daintily moved into their new terra cotta homes. And by daintily I mean I dropped and shattered one pot, and repeatedly cussed out the cactus as I attempted to transplant it. I'm such a delicate ladylike specimen.

One day I'll have a blossoming home so glorious it'll join the ranks of these beauties. And maybe even a few still-living potted plants outside as well. Set your goals high, my friends.