Out of the nest

I'm not exactly sure how this happened, but apparently I missed national peanut butter day.

*Gasp*

I know.

(As a sidenote, who the heck decides these national food holidays? What really makes January 24 national peanut butter day? But, I digress ...)

It's no secret that I love all things orange and all things peanut butter.

What's your favorite peanut butter item? Mine is most certainly Stewart's peanut butter ice cream. No other. The chocolate to peanut butter ratio is perfect.

A close second is the Reese's peanut butter egg -- an Easter tradition like no other for me that signals the holiday is coming like no other.

Alright, nobody panic.

I'm not ... er well, maybe a little.

According to The Associated Press, some data (OK, a lot of data) compiled by a University of Connecticut researcher known for his findings on red wine's health benefits to cardiovascular health was falsified.

Now, if you're like me, you might be worried about your alibi ... er, reason to raise a glass of our favorite vino.

But the team that conducts similar research at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York, told The Associated Press that researcher Dr. Dipak Das is not a major figure in the all-important field of wine-drinking-justification. (Subtext ... thank God!)

"The new allegations will not make a material difference to resveratrol [the ingredient in red wine that has shown to promote health] research, which is being conducted extensively around the world with encouraging results from many labs, Barzilai told the AP."

So don't be afriad to raise a glass of your beloved red wine and toast to our health. Cheers!

Seriously?

No, really, seriously?

Or, perhaps this would work better: <sarcasm>seriously?</sarcasm>

It's hard to tell when someone is trying to hint at sarcasm online. Typing doesn't quite convey my favorite time-honored art of passive-agressive joking and jabs, though I'd like to think you get my written sarcasm.

Well, have no fear, some font nerds are near ... and apparently ready to remedy that awkward moment when you send your boss an email hinting at sarcasm -- "you bettcha' I don't mind giving up all my holidays next year big guy!" -- and he doesn't get it. Gulp.

According to a recent blog post written by Maura Judkis at the Washington Post, some font fans are creating or proposing a "sarcasm" font. She says it looks "like a slightly-dopier Comic Sans" and doesn't seem too thrilled with this option. Judkis is more likely to go with funny-guy Dave Barry's option -- most likely a sarcastic one, at that -- a backwards italic with a left slant.

I prefer just straight up italics when I really want to make sure my sarcasm is noted, but might be up for a specified font for all of those times I find my words just dripping in sarcasm that I can't let go unnoticed. 

Would you use a sarcastic font, perhaps sarcastically? (Now, we're just getting confusing.) 

It's official. It's Christmas.

We finally (finally) have our tree.

After spending an entire Sunday driving around the greater Capital Region looking for what I now know is the ungettable-get -- note: an affordable, yet large and wonderful-smelling, real Christmas tree -- I finally gave in an forked-over a whopping $45 for Big Vick over here.

(As a side note, we -- er, well actually just me -- decided to name the tree Victor. I wanted something regal that conveyed a sense of its grand space-eating presence.)

Now, the ole' country girl in me who grew up watching her father cut down our family Christmas trees in the middle of nowhere for $15 cringes every time I think of the cold cash we handed over. But we were getting desperate.

The sun was starting to set and our last available weekend before my entire family descends on our house for Christmas was quickly fading away like our hopes of finding a cheap tree. We had just about given up when we drove past a West Sand Lake Kiwanis club road-side stand selling these beautiful local trees.

A huge sign next to the modest, yet great selection of trees, read, "All proceeds benefit local charities."

I looked at the guy. He looked at me and nodded. Sold.

We're happy to know that if we had to pay so much that at least it was going to a good cause and to our community neighbors who were more than appreciative of our purchase. Plus, I'm just going to tell my family to think of ole' Big Vick as their Christmas present from me and the guy.

No, really. That's it.

I kid, I kid.

Would you pay $45 for a freshly cut local evergreen this holiday season? Or are we plan crazy?

I've never been one for painted nails, (except for the occasional over-priced manicure/pedicure at your favorite mall salons) but this blog post by OliveCocoMag sent to me by an old high school friend really made me want to go searching for my half-empty bottles.

These newspaper-inspired digits are just what this online editor needs to brighten up her typing fingers, which are in desperate need of a polish-pick-me-up since the pale pink I've been rocking since my cousin's wedding weeks ago has just about chipped off.

Happy day-after-Thanksgiving-my-pants-are-still-way-too-tight Monday!

It's been a busy couple of holiday days, but I'm back at the grind and happy to report that my search for the perfect signature holiday dish is over thanks to two great reader-submitted recipes.

If you happen to run into my Gma on the street, please note that I told you this important piece of information: I got my flu shot.

It's a time honored tradition in our family come the first golden leaf that pops up on our Northeast trees -- the "did-you-get-your flu-shot-yet?" lecture over the phone.

"I will Gma, I will," I always promise her. And even though I've gotten a flu shot every year of my 27 years on this earth, she is always skeptical that's it's going to happen again.

(If you're not sure why you should get a flu shot this year, here's a pretty good Q and A from USA Today about its benefits.) 

And, even though I've had a flu shot 27 years in a row, I still get a little nervous, a little clammy right before the vaccine is administered. It's not the giant needle I hate (though, these things are scary right? Check this one out ----> ) but rather that gross pain that crawls down your arm as the vaccine is slowly injected. *Shudder*

It's been a busy few weeks.

No, really.

Thanks to a bachelorette weekend getaway, one awesome retirement party, and my favorite cousin's nuptials that required me to sport a surprisingly attractive watermelon-colored dress, I'm pooped.

Well, I should say "we're" pooped.