So, yes, it’s Valentine’s Day. Which is not really a huge deal in our house, as our wedding anniversary is in January and our dating anniversary is in March, and…eh. It’s a nice excuse to decorate the house and have something fancy for dinner, but that’s really the extent of it.

Well, I did get Jeff a car:

So, there’s that.

But really, our big day is tomorrow, when this child may or may not decide to reveal what sex he or she is at the big ultrasound appointment. Truth be told, I am far more concerned with knowing that it’s still alive in there (because sometimes, I am paranoid and doubtful) and has all of its organs and limbs where they should be. I guess we’ll see.

For the record, I am thinking it’s a girl. Jeff is still convinced it’s a boy. There’s no formal bet, but since I know that I’m right, I should probably look into making one. (On the other hand, I have a 100% track record for being dead wrong when it comes to guessing. So…there’s that.)

As for the old wives tales, here’s the breakdown:

• Carrying low, so it’s a boy
• Fast heartbeat (over 140 bpm), so it’s a girl
• Craving sour things, so it’s a boy
• Craving citrus, so it’s a girl
• Not breaking out, so it must be a boy
• Horrible, awful morning sickness; clearly a girl

So obviously, we are having a girl. Or a boy. I used to think people were just being insincere when they said “As long as it’s healthy, I don’t care,” but I am pretty much thinking as long as we actually get a baby at the end of this? I’ll be pretty happy.

Your guesses, however, are more than welcome! (You’re probably better at it than I am.)

UPDATE: I do, in fact, retain my title of being 100% wrong on baby sex guesses. We are having what is undoubtedly and unmistakably a boy.

I am on the twitters so often these days that I sort of forgot that I do, in fact, have a vehicle for sharing things that require more than 140 characters.

(Klout claims that I am influential on both Tim Tebow AND the Philadelphia Flyers, which I think says less about me and more about Klout’s reliability, but I would like to think that both things are true, regardless. And that thanks to my obscene amounts of influence, carefully wielded, the press has stopped talking about Tebow all the time and Flyers fans, as a species, have gone extinct.)

Anyhow. Since I last bothered to write anything, I have mostly been growing a tiny human who (provided all goes well) will be joining our family in July. Or maybe August, depending on whether she* takes after me, who is always on time, or her father, who has never met anything he couldn’t find a good excuse to be late for. There has been lots of throwing up (oh, so much throwing up), weird cravings (one of which required a long drive to Magic Kingdom for a Dole Whip, because WHY NOT), and endless questions to my internet lady friends who are, thankfully, far more experienced at all of this than I am.

(Related: I think I may just ship this baby off to Arwen or Jonna once it’s born. Because, let’s be honest, they will be doing most of the raising/keeping me sane via internet anyhow. And Lord knows neither one of them has her hands full as it is anyhow.)

I am now firmly in the second trimester and enjoying things like maternity jeans (no sarcasm here. I <3 my maternity jeans. I even love my maternity jeggings, which 6 months ago I would have said were the most ridiculous thing ever.), my body pillow (a Snoogle, which is my new BFF), and having a new frozen yogurt place open right next to our grocery store**.

Life is good. It really is.

*Note: We do not actually know said tiny human’s gender yet, but I and everyone else in the world are fairly convinced it’s a girl. We’ll find out, pending baby’s cooperation, of course, on 2/15.

** Also, ignoring the dire internet warnings that every FroYo place is a giant serve-yourself helping of fruit-topped listeria just waiting to kill you.

I want every football coach to be Eric Taylor. A winner on the field, yes, but more importantly, a leader; a molder of men.

I want to believe that, even at schools like my own alma mater where football is king, and the coach is — at least in the eyes of most of the public, the student body, and the alumni base — a leader far more visible and important than the university’s president, people will do the right thing when confronted with atrocities. That the bystander effect will not apply. That when something horrific happens, it will be stopped and the machine of college athletics won’t keep on churning, based on someone’s win/loss percentage, their team’s current ranking, or their tenure at an institution. That those involved will do the right thing, and not just close ranks and protect their own.

Obviously (and horrifically so), that’s just a fairy tale. As a friend’s husband said yesterday, until now, Joe Paterno WAS Eric Taylor. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose; We Are Penn State.

There is a difference between a school like Penn State, (or Oklahoma, Nebraska, Alabama, Notre Dame, Ohio State, or USC) and most universities. Yes, 120 schools have Division 1A (sorry, “FBS”) football teams. Yes, football matters at most schools that play. But there is a handful of elite programs where the football program is a monster unto itself, where in reality, the coach doesn’t answer to the administration as long as they’re winning. Where matters are handled internally, because that’s just how it is. Where when the coach says something’s to be done, it’s done and when it’s taken care of, it’s taken care of; end of story. We’d like to think this extends only to the criminal activities of players, often excused and minimized as “boys will be boys”; where the concern is focused not necessarily on the crime that’s been committed, but on the eventual effects the NCAA sanctions might have on the almighty program, which is to be protected at all costs.

Clearly, that is not the case.

None of this is to take away from the victims of Jerry Sandusky, or the heinous, horrific, unspeakable, unimaginable crimes the man committed. Yes, those are the central issue here. Yes (YES), he is the cause of all this. Yes, he will (AND SHOULD) be judged — both on this earth and beyond it, where he is sure to get exactly what he deserves. Those children (CHILDREN. MY GOD.) are who we should be thinking about; they and their families and friends are the ones we should be (and are) praying for, that God can alleviate — somehow, in some way — their suffering.

Still, there is a larger cultural problem at play; without which this situation would likely not exist (at least to this magnitude). When a GA would choose to back out of a shower where a CHILD –A YOUNG BOY– was being assaulted, not stopping it, but waiting, and calling his father to decide what course of action to take, likely because he felt his career was at stake, there is a problem. When a coach – essentially a CEO; one whose word is to be obeyed – chooses not to take responsibility, but passes the buck, never follows up, and assumes that’s okay; it is where his ethical obligation ends, there is a problem. When an administration will minimize criminal actions for, ostensibly, the good of the university and the program over the safety and well-being of young children and when fans identify so strongly with a coach — who knew that there was something going on and did not take action — and a program that they will riot and defend them because, after all, that program is an extension of themselves, there is a problem.

I don’t know whether this culture is the foundation or the result of other oft-dissected problems with “amateur” college football, where young men and their bodies are torn down, chewed up, and spit out for a scholarship which may or may not actually support them as they earn millions of dollars for their institutions, and billions for the media, other companies that trade on their achievements on the field, and the NFL, for which they are essentially a farm league. When something is that big and that valuable, those involved do what’s needed to protect it, and their positions within it, at all costs.

I would like to think that, had this happened at Oklahoma, my beloved alma mater and the backdrop to innumerable wonderful memories — many of them, of course, centered around the football field — I would be able to step back from the situation and hold the feet of those responsible to the flames. That I would be able to separate my love for an institution and my time there from the absolutely disgusting and beyond reprehensible actions of a few. I hope so, because the traditions I value and the game I so enjoy is not the actions of  a few men and their moral failings passing the buck and protecting their own at all costs, and I don’t think the Penn State that many are mourning right now is, either. These leaders, who were supposed to be molders of men, failed. Beyond miserably. But the University itself, the parts that its students and alumni hold most dear, did not.

Penn State is not the unspeakable crimes Jerry Sandusky committed. It is not Joe Paterno, who walked the sidelines, but after 46 years turns out to not be a leader at all when it really, truly counts. It is an institution that will continue to exist after this week, and the young men who put on those blue jerseys and play their hearts out, whether it be for a scholarship, for love of the game, or for a chance at the next level will play this weekend. Things will go on. But a culture that allowed this big of a cover-up (and I fear that this story is not over, that there is still more to come out) has to change. They were Penn State. They still are — but hopefully, to say the least, things will be different now.

They must be.

Jeff accidentally took my iPod out running with him the other day. The resulting aftermath is why smart people don’t have the same color nanos.

Now, to be fair, he did select the playlist called “Cheesy Workout Songs.” Still, apparently, my taste in workout playlists is suspect enough for me to never hear the end of it. Now he’s playing half of these songs while I’m trying to unload the dishwasher or fold laundry, to “inspire me”.

(I would be lying if I said it didn’t kind of work, but it’s still ridiculous.)

Maybe (okay, totally) I tend towards the cheesier end of the spectrum, but 70s and 80s music makes me run faster and jump higher. Call it aural PF Flyers, I guess. He thinks it’s super lame, I think it’s epic.

Anyhow, because someone intimated that I wouldn’t ever show this to another human, I present to you, the internet, my favorite workout playlist:

1. Sirius – Alan Parsons Project
2. Holding Out For a Hero – Bonnie Tyler
3. You’re the Best - Joe Esposito
4. You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’ – Judas Priest
5. Carry on Wayward Son – Kansas
6. Panama – Van Halen
7. YYZ – Rush
8. Black Betty – Ram Jam
9. Song 2 – Blur (Seem out of place? Sort of, but it was the Pens’ goal song last season. It works.)
10. Crossroads – Cream
11. King of the Night Time World – KISS
12. Enter Sandman – Metallica
13. Don’t Stop Believing – Journey (I know, I associate it with the Red Wings, too. But it’s so good.)
14. Eye of the Tiger – Survivor
15. Real American – Rick Derringer
16. The Final Countdown – Europe (No, I can’t listen to it without thinking of Gob Bluth, either.)
17. Renegade – Styx

Embarassing? Maybe, but I think it’s actually pretty awesome. And you know you want a copy.

What’s on your workout playlist lately?

When I find good things, I like to share them. These are a few good things I’ve found over the past month that you might like, too:

Kailey’s Apple Pie and Pumpkin Spiced Pecans

You know those nut stands that sell glazed almonds and make the entire state fair/mall/theme park smell like warm buttery vanilla goodness? These are those — but exponentially better. Crunchy and sweet, but they actually taste like an apple pie or pumpkin spice goodness. I’m throwing these in oatmeal, on salads, and just eating them straight out of the bag because, well, I can’t stop. They’re that good.

Cooking Light’s Soy and Cola Braised Pork Shoulder

Oh my heck, this is good stuff. Goooooooood stuff. Sweet and spiced and asian-y and barbecue-y…just do yourself a favor and make it. As a bonus, it’s as easy as it is delicious. I added a few thai chilis to the braising liquid to spice it up a little, and I can highly recommend doing that, as well. We liked it best as a filling for lettuce wraps topped with some quick and spicy asian pickles (I only use one cucumber and add in some radish, carrot, and onion.)

Kendra Scott Jewelry

I love jewelry — enough that I don’t buy it for myself unless I’m on vacation. (Why? Because then everything — in addition to being awesome — has a story that goes with it. And it’s much more fun to say “Oh, these? I got them when I went to (someplace exotic, or at least not here)” than “Oh, these? Target.” (Note: this has not kept me from buying things at Target when I’m traveling, so it’s not entirely foolproof.)

Anyways. Kendra Scott is one of my favorite jewelry designers and her flagship store just happens to be in Austin, so of course I had to drop in and walk out with far more than I should have. Not only is her jewelry gorgeous, but lots of it is customizable, making it easy to find just the right something you (may or may not) need — whether that’s something for game day or just to dress up jeans and a t-shirt. The Darby earrings (pictured above) are my new favorites, but I also came home from the Blathering with a new pair of Danielles and Anitas (which I can’t find in a linkable format, but I promise they’re cute.)

Pineapple Upside Down Cake Martinis (Pinnacle Vodka)

I love, love, love Pinnacle’s Whipped vodka. (If you aren’t familiar,it’s whipped cream flavored vodka. Yep. Let that one sink in for a while, because not only does it exist, it’s delicious.) A friend recommended their cake-flavored version and Oh My Goodness, do I have a new favorite drink. It is girly and sweet and dangerously easy to forget how many you’ve had — just mix pineapple juice, a splash of sprite, and a fairly heavy-handed shot of cake flavored vodka. Add in a cherry. Thank me later, or invite me over to share. If you want to get fancy, a caramel/brown sugar rim would be an excellent way to do so. These are millions of miles better than the vanilla vodka/grenadine/pineapple juice version, and just as simple. (There’s no pretty picture of the drink because even though we were gifted with gorgeous glassware for our wedding, I usually drink out of a tervis tumbler, which, while practical, isn’t exactly photo-worthy.)

Obligatory disclaimer: These are all my own opinions, none of these companies/people/things are compensating me in any way, shape or form.

So, the Blathering. Undoubtedly at this point, you’ve read recaps that are funnier, more insightful, and just plain better than mine, but you’re here now and you will read mine and like it.

(One thing people learned about me this weekend: I am maybe a little bossy.)

My nerves almost got the best of me on the way to the airport.

I don’t know these people, I’ve only met one of them before and have not seen her in over a decade, very few of them have a clue who I am, and clearly no one would notice if I just didn’t show. They would probably have more fun without me! I would really be doing them a favor if I just stayed home! Yes! I will be a hero and avoid ruining everyone’s weekend by being a weird wallflower by just not going…oh, hey, I’m at the airport already. Hmm. Might as well show up. When everyone hates me and kicks me out of the parties, at least I’ll be in Austin and can drown my sorrows in migas, tacos and Shiner.

So I went, because I was already at the airport and was going to get charged for parking either way, and it was more than worth it.

There is a peace that comes with being among your people, and when it washes over you in an Applebee’s on a Friday afternoon as you barely even touch your salad because you are laughing so damn hard with people you’ve literally just met* (awkwardly, of course — as is my preferred style — in the lobby of a Hyatt Place), it is a powerful thing.

Somehow, the weekend just got better from there. Reconnecting with Tara, who is as strong and smart and funny as they come, finally (finally!) meeting Jennie and feeling like I’ve known her forever, hearing Emily‘s stories in person (as funny as they are on the internet, they are exponentially better when acted out in front of you), trying on the world’s best 80′s cocktail dress as Temerity Jane tweets pictures of you in it before you can even run back to the dressing room, holding ‘s Regan‘s adorable, perfect baby girl, falling a little bit in love with Sarah, Elsha, and Miriel, getting all fangirly over Jonna, spotting #theblatheringhooker in the hotel lobby with Andrea and -R-, marveling at A’Dell‘s planning and hosting abilities, enabling Miranda in developing a new jewelry addiction (confidential to Miranda’s bank account: I am so sorry.), talking hockey and everything else in the world with Jen, spotting houndstooth on South Congress for Sarah and Julie, kind of wanting to be Natalie (even with her neighborhood’s chicken problem), being uberjealous of Lauren‘s amazing hair, Katie sitting there and quietly taking it as I harangued her about her distant relative-by-marriage while she was trying to eat her salad, discussing all things Mike Leach with Becca, perfect hugs from Christina (who I would like to hire as my personal accessory buyer), nearly spitting my drink out laughing with Kristie and Manda, and, and, and…I could write 2000 words and still not get to everyone. I loved every minute, every woman there, and hate that it had to end.

I came home with an even worse case of baby lust than I left with (even after the pregnancy & newborn horror stories — and lo, there were horror stories), an extra five pounds of queso & cupcake weight (WORTH IT), a purse full of Canadian candy (that totally perplexed the TSA guy), a renewed love for Austin (as my long-distance relationship with Texas continues), and most importantly/best of all, the beginnings of what I know are going to be some incredible friendships.**

I can not wait for next year.

*Many of whom were warned not to talk to strangers, before boarding planes to go to another city to spend a weekend doing exactly that.

** I also came home with a $168 speeding ticket that I got on my way to the airport, but that is slightly less fun. Austin, I love you, but we need to talk about your idea of a lovely parting gift because I have to say, while something personalized is always appreciated, you’re still not quite hitting the mark there.

I’m headed to Austin on Friday to attend The Blathering, and I could not be more excited (and, let’s be honest, nervous) about the whole thing. It is weird to go to another city to meet a bunch of people you only know from reading their blogs and talking on Twitter*, but it is, I think, the good kind of weird. It is probably weirder to do it for the second time in two months. But some of those awesome ladies from September are ones I met for the first time almost 10 years ago in Austin, because we all had online journals and posted on the same message boards. Plus ça change…

Anyhow. Everyone else is doing a “13 things you should know” entry. I am nothing if not a bandwagon-jumper, so here goes.

• I can be a little slow to warm up in big group situations. I’m not shy (as you will undoubtedly see) and I’m not trying to be rude, but it can take me a little bit of time to feel brave enough to jump in. That said, once I’m comfortable, I am…a little loud.
• I will forget your name. Multiple times. I’m sorry, I really am. But it’s going to happen. I am absolutely terrible with names.
• I will have a rental car, am not a horrible driver and would be more than happy to give you a ride, but it has been a while since I drove around Austin, so be prepared to maybe get lost. Or do lots of yelling while we all try to use phones as a GPS.
• I love college football, am a diehard Sooner fan, and will probably check the score of the OU/Texas Tech game about a billion times. (If you see me muttering and cursing at my phone on Saturday night between about 7 and 10? That is most likely why**.) I am MORE than happy to talk conference realignment (UGH) and am also fluent in all things SEC. I would be thrilled to discuss the relative merits of Auburn vs. Alabama, tell you stories of the jorts I have seen at UF games (orange and blue camouflage, to start with), and probably make fun of LSU a whole lot because I still hate Les Miles from waaaaay back when he coached up in Stillwater.
• I am a little bit self-conscious right now, having just come back from a cruise where I ate All The Things (How could I not? They made eggs benedict on waffles instead of english muffins! I could order 3 appetizers as my dinner!), so now I feel kind of gross and none of my jeans fit all that well***. (Getting to a point where you only want to lose another 10 pounds or so is great. The aftermath of going on vacation and undoing a lot of hard work is…not.) I have not had a good haircut since moving to Ocala. (I have had one okay cut and one terrible one, though. Living in a new place is fun!)  Also, I am a little bit in love with Erica’s dress and am now doubting my decision to wear this and some boots on Saturday night.
• Related to the above: I have packed and unpacked and repacked a million times already and will probably do it a million more before I leave on Friday. I am tempted to just shove everything I own into a suitcase, weight limits be damned.
• While I grew up in a red state and now live in the reddest part of a swing state, I am pretty damned liberal. I would be happy to talk or not talk politics with you, but I am more interested in political strategy and machinations than issues of the day (except for tax policy. I loooooooove tax policy. Let’s talk about how 9-9-9 is regressive and horrifically impractical!), because at this point in my life, you’re probably not going to change my mind (Lord knows my Reagan-loving husband has tried…) and neither am I yours.
• If the “I loooooooove tax policy” didn’t tip you off, the R2D2 text message tone on my phone probably will: I am a big dork. Especially when it comes to comedy, food, sports, and television.
• I intended to do the accent vlog, but haven’t gotten around to it, so here you go: I have a pretty broad neutral midwestern accent, until I have my third beer, after which you can very clearly tell I’ve spent the last 17 years in the south.
• Being on time is important to me. I am Not Late For Things. I am also kind of a Type-A planner, and always want to know what is happening next. Not because I’m not enjoying what’s going on right then, but because I get very anxious if I don’t know what the plan is.
• I would like to hold your baby. We’re working on our own but apparently these things can take time, and I am a little baby crazy right now. I will give him or her back, I promise, but man, there is nothing better than baby cheeks. Except for baby feet. And baby thighs. And..I’m done. You get it.
• I will rock some karaoke. Seriously. My co-workers and I used to go every single Wednesday night, and it was awesome. (Um, for us. Probably less so for the tourists in the bar [because of course we went to a bar in a touristy part of town; it's so much better that way] who were just trying to have fun in Orlando or relax while at some lame convention and instead were being subjected to drunk people taking their parts in Love Shack WAY too seriously.)
• I am SO looking forward to meeting all of you. This weekend is going to be amazing.

*Well, to be truthful, I have met one person who will be there: Tara and I went to high school together. But it was high school, and while we were acquaintances, we didn’t run in the same circles. I’m sure that had it not been high school with all of its attendant insecurity, drama and weird social stratification, we probably would have been friends — but it was, and we weren’t. Also, I was a big old self-involved jerk in high school, so it’s probably for the best. Regardless, I am SO looking forward to meeting her all over again and getting to know her as an adult!

** There is also a Penguins game on at the same time, so there is a very good chance I will be cursing and muttering at that game as well.

*** This will not stop me from eating queso like it’s my job. I’m not really a dessert person, but I do love cheese in all its forms. Even (nay, especially) when that form is Cheez.

Not only is it OU/Texas week, where on Saturday the Sooners will cross back over the Red River with a win and the Golden Hat to prove it, but tonight, hockey officially starts again.

The thing about hockey is that it’s a long slog of a season starting in October, with the Stanley Cup Playoffs lasting well into June. (Unless you’re a Capitals fan, in which case the playoffs always end after the first round, so you’re done by early May.). The grind of the 82-game season is a feature, not a bug. Things can change radically between October and December or January and March, but you’d never really know that unless you watched. There’s something about the development that happens during the season — your team’s power play FINALLY coming together, or actually coming back from a third period deficit for once — that just feels like magic. You’re building momentum, chemistry, and cohesion. Then you get the playoffs, which are the greatest competition in sports. Skill comes to the forefront and it’s like a second season: every team steps it up, and the game becomes even more intense. As does the facial hair.

Plus, there’s the undeniable fact that hockey players are badasses. There’s no other sport where a guy will lose half of his teeth or break his orbital bone and get back on the ice a few minutes later.

On a football field, you spend more time during the game watching players stand around and move on and off the field (not to mention the refs moving chains and waiting for replay information) than you do watching the teams actually play the game — in fact, you really only get about 12 minutes of actual game play.  In hockey, you get 60 minutes. 60 full minutes of action, and unlike soccer, those 60 minutes are never boring. Unlike football, where the scoring situations are generally predictable, they can be much more surprising in hockey. Even in a low-scoring game, you get fast and skillful skating, big hits (Clean ones, please), and incredible defense and goaltending (I am not crazy enough to use my body deflect a puck going 80 miles an hour once, let alone 30 times a game, but I sure am glad that Marc-Andre Fleury is). You might even get a fight, if you’re into that.

You might even get to see a formerly beloved (well, sort of, underneath all of the Christmas sweaters, whore germs, and lack of effort in the past two seasons) player who went to a rival team during the offseason act like a turtle when someone else tries to hit him:

You’re probably not a fan of hockey. But you should at least give it a shot, because it really is the best game going. Besides, what else are you going to do during the week — watch the NBA?

I’m no Oprah (though, let’s be honest, I wouldn’t mind her cash), but I do have some favorite things and like her, I love to share them with people. Sadly for you, I can’t do that in the “EVERYBODY GETS A ________!” sense (unless it’s “everybody gets an e-mail! Woo!”), but I can at least force you to read tell you about what’s rocking my world right now.

(These are all my own opinions, none of these companies/people/things are compensating me in any way, shape or form. Seriously, 2 people read this blog. Why would they?)

Pilcro Stet Slim Straight jeans

Oh, these jeans. I have looked long and hard for my holy grail jeans, and these are them. Not super long (Which is a rare find since I’m only 5’3″), a non-gapping waistband, a high enough rise that I’m not showing everyone my ass when I sit down, slim but not too skinny, and just general all-around perfection. Perfect for layering with all kinds of stuff, and look good with sandals, flats, and boots. $118, which is a heck of a lot more than I like to pay for jeans, but seriously worth every single penny.

Slatkin & Co (Bath & Body Works) Leaves Scented Candle

As a rule, I don’t like autumn-y scented candles. I prefer clean, crisp scents like cotton and lemon and grass, not apples and cinnamon. Walking into places like Kirkland’s that are filled with potpourri and cinnamon sticks just about kills me, as does the ubiquitous fake vanilla candle scent. But, man. This candle surprised me in all of the best ways. It doesn’t smell like the musty leaf pile in your back yard that you never really raked up all summer and hoped would decompose, but somehow didn’t (just me?), but like a fresh cider donut and berries and warmth and all that is kind and good in the world. Plus, since it’s from Bath & Body Works, it’s not a $45 designer candle that you’ll feel bad burning beause it’s literally like lighting a pile of cash on fire (again, just me?). Your entire house will smell amazing and it will start to feel like fall — even if it’s still 90 degrees outside.

Blow Blow Up Root Lift Concentrate

I have a ton of super baby fine, straight, straight, straight hair, which does not make for a lot of volume no matter what I try. (Because if it is out there, I have tried it.) Until now. This stuff RULES. It creates a ton volume, doesn’t weigh down or dry out your hair, doesn’t get greasy-feeling or flaky by the end of the day, and it smells good. Win.

Fran’s Specialty Foods Hot Olive Salad Topper

I discovered Fran’s at the Ocala Junior League’s Autumn Gift Market, which is the League’s primary fall fundraiser. You don’t really expect the food you find at a shopping event like this to be locally-made, preservative free, and this darn good, but it was, and everything in their booth was delicious. My favorite so far is the Hot Olive Salad Topper, a mix of 3 different olives, celery, onions, pepperoncini, jalapeno and cherry peppers all tossed in herb-infused olive oil. Similar to the olive salad you’d find on a muffaletta with some added spice, this stuff is good on everything; stirred into hummus, tossed on a salad, added to a sandwich or just poured over cream cheese and spread on crackers. I’m sad I only bought 2 jars, but we’ve still got red pepper pesto, hibiscus relish, and eggplant caponata to look forward to —  and we’ll definitely be ordering more.

Birchbox

Do you love samples? Or small things? And surprises? And makeup/beauty products? Then, my friend, if you are not subscribed to Birchbox, think about giving up 2 lattes a month and giving it a shot. For $10 a month (or $110 for a year) every month, like clockwork, you get a box in the mail with 4-5 (and sometimes 6, if they do a bonus) deluxe samples of high-end beauty brands. If you’re familiar with Sephora’s Beauty Insider program, these are similar samples to what you get for the 100 point rewards — except you’re getting 5 of them, and spending $10 total which includes shipping. The boxes can be hit or miss; there have been a few samples I didn’t love (some months go heavy on the perfume/hand lotion samples) , but good ones (Nars Orgasm Illuminator) are much more plentiful — and sometimes you end up with a full-size product thrown in, too (an awesome full-sized Zoya nail polish one month and a full-sized Stila eyeshadow another? Score.) Still, it’s a fun monthly surprise in the mail for not much money, and you might fall in love with a new product.

What are your favorite things right now?

I play in two fantasy football leagues. One is a (probably overly-) competitive league with a few guys I went to college with and some co-workers and friends we’ve picked up along the way. My other league is a decidedly less competitive couples league that Jeff and I have owned since its inception, with one of us taking home 3 of the 4 trophies handed out so far. (Well, figuratively, anyhow. We haven’t gotten it together enough to have an actual trophy. Yet.)

And, I know. Other couples run together or work out together (nope. We’re both way too competitive, and I will hurt myself trying to keep up with him), or cook together (also a no), or tons of other things. Our weekend activity of choice? Looong debates over finalizing our rosters, pros and cons of starting certain players, and not a little bit of smack talk. Thankfully, we only play in the one league together, or that might take up most of our week, too.

I had a GREAT draft in our shared league this year. Third pick (when I usually end up 8th or 9th; we draw out of a hat, not based on previous year’s final standings), and I had a pretty decent roster. I felt good. I felt prepared for everything except week 6, which was going to be a pretty rough bye week for me.

But then the season actually started, and 4 of my first 5 draft picks are either out for the season (Jamaal Charles), out for a while (Steven Jackson, though he’s a game-time decision this week) or banged up (Hakeem Nicks.). I had some foresight and picked up Dexter McCluster, who should get some decent touches, but I’m not all that confident in him yet since KC’s offense is atrocious on a good day.

I also drafted the Bears defense, which should have been solid, and I probably could have won my matchup last week even with Charles’ injury had they not had a craptastic day garnering me a generous 4 points. But they did, and I didn’t. So things are not going well.

I know it’s still early, but I’m already looking ahead to fantasy hockey. Maybe football’s just not my sport this year.