Cardiac Hill


The time has come. Time to bust out my A-game. No more excuses, no more whining. No more leisurely walks to the beach while chatting up SAJ or my mom via cell phone. Time to take on Cardiac Hill.

Cardiac Hill is a stretch of gradual incline behind my neighborhood leading from the beach to the houses up in the hills. Cardiac Hill is not for sissies, yo. Especially if you are pushing a 23-pounder in a stroller, which at mile marker .435 begins to feel like pushing a mahogany credenza up Mount Kilimanjaro.

But it’s time, peeps. And how do I know? Well, just ask these bermuda shorts. They relayed the message loud and clear yesterday while getting my Fash-On at Old Navy.

**side note** – Old Navy. Um, not a place I usually frequent for attire, but BY GOD PEOPLE, the new “longer” cotton tanks?! GENIUS, I say. GENIUS! And of course, these and these for Wito. Oh, who am I kidding? I LOVE Old Navy! I’m a mother! Coming soon – holiday sweatshirts and a FUPA!

My sister called a couple of days ago telling me I must purchase their new Bermuda shorts. So cute with wedges, so cute with flats, etc. And unlike most of you, I am a huge fan of Bermuda shorts. I think they can be very chic with the right accessories and of course, the right body type (i.e. – mine, PRE-pregnancy). I tossed Wito in the car and made my way. When I arrived, the shorts were directly in my line of sight, all colorful and just begging to be tried on. I grabbed a couple of pairs in several sizes and made my way to the dressing room.

I enjoy employing the try-one-size-larger-to-help-build-the-ego method when trying on clothes. Then, I can pat myself on the back when they are hanging off my hips. I chose the TOSLTHBTE pair of shorts and pulled them up my calves, knees, thighs, hmph. Hmph. They just were not wanting to button. Or zip. That’s funny…they must have been improperly labeled. After all, these shorts were the size I wore in college when a typical dinner consisted of a large pizza and 6 pints of Killian’s Red. So, I called to the headset person and had them bring me another pair. Same thing. What the fuck, Old Navy? I know you’re el cheapo, but let’s try to get some size uniformity here! So I left sans Bermuda shorts, but with thoughts of sending Old Navy Corporate Headquarters a letter addressing their sizing issues. “Like, get on the same page with the American size chart. DUH. Love, Whoorl.”

And then my sister called. And informed me that her normal size fit just fine. Just fine! And then I swallowed the extremely bitter pill. I have 5 (maybe 6. Fine, 7.) pregnancy pounds still lurking on my body and by GOD, they have to come off. Right away. I have upwards of 10 pairs of fabulous jeans and none of them fit. NONE. What’s a girl to do?

I’ll tell you. For starters, I drove back to Old Navy and bought two pairs of the too-small shorts. They WILL fit in the near future thanks to my new friend and nemesis, Cardiac Hill.

Oh yes, that’s right. Cardiac Hill.

If you happen to be in my neighborhood and see a green Bugaboo careening down the sidewalk, Holla! I’ll be the comatose lady a quarter-mile up the hill.


Beauty Junkies Unite! Uh, Again!


The lovely Stacy of Jurgen Nation has taken over torch-carrying duties. Many more product recommendations can be found here. Plus! Drink Recipes! I knew I loved her for a reason…

Never fear, many more lists are coming in the future. Would you expect anything less from a list-making prodigy?

*I’ve also created a new category named I love hair and makeup where you can easily reference all of your fabulous recommendations. You know, if you feel the need to pay a visit to Sephora. For the twentieth time this month. I’m just sayin’.


Whoorlito – 7 Month Update


This morning, I noticed in the Nabbalicious Margarita Recap that she mentioned “Tales of Wito’s adorableness are no fib, either. In fact, I think Whoorl totally underplays how cute he is.” Um, is that like an INVITATION to boast and spew forth all things Wito? My precious, old soul Wito?

Sounds like it to me, and how appropriate that it’s time for an update.


I chose this photo because it accurately represents Wito 95% of the time. Just taking it all in…intently curious, yet calm. It’s challenging coming up with words to describe his personality, but ones that come to mind would be:

Happy. Peaceful. Mellow. Extremely observant. Intense when excited. Is this an ad for a dating service?

May I annoy you and brag a teensy bit? I promise it will be short. He is such a pleasure to be around. SUCH a pleasure. He loves to “talk” on the phone to my parents and sister and is currently lobbying the Olympic committee in hopes of adding The Jumperoo as a winter sport. He rarely fusses, cries maybe once a week and sleeps like a champ. The child hasn’t slept less than 12 hours at night in months. Literally. D and I were trying to remember the last time he woke up in the middle of the night and I think it was 3-4 months ago. These types of things make a lady very happy. Maybe his size has something to do with it…did I mention Wito was 22 pounds and off the charts for height at his 6-month checkup?! The boy is mammoth.

And yes, we all know what is going to happen tonight since I actually published this paragraph to the world. The Braggy Blog Phenomenon. This coupled with the upcoming developmental changes might have me eating my words, but up until this point, he has been nothing short of an angel.

And that’s why I have to say, regardless of what happens in the future, Wito deserves to be acclaimed today. I am so proud of him. It’s not about about whose child is cuter or funnier or developmentally superior, it’s about the bliss we experience in their presence. Right, my bitches? For me, it’s the calm (yes, calm) he brings to my frenzied mind. And okay, he’s fucking CUTE. I feel like most of this blog revolves around my irks and whatnot, but today, I can confidently say I have no irks with Wito. **Cliche Alert** He is such a blessing and I’m so lucky.

But SHIT kid, I’m running out of material. Could you help me out, yo?



Let’s Start at the Beginning


The past week has been full of entertainment. Full of friends, family, travel, semi-birthdays and such. Today, however, I don’t think I can even delve into to my Oklahoma excursion before paying proper respect to my (formerly blog but now real-life) friends Darren and Nabbalicious.

You all read Darren and Nabbalicious, right? Of COURSE you do, Whoorl don’t raise no fools. But if for some reason you don’t, I don’t think we can be friendly anymore. Peace be with you.

Now leave. Seriously.

Wait, come back! Hello?

The three of us decided over email to meet during their visit from the East Coast. They are planning on moving out to LA in the future, so I immediately decided to get them down to the beach and put the hard sell on my neck of the woods. We planned for a Monday lunch date because I was leaving for Oklahoma early the next morning and of course, needed to spend the afternoon and evening obsessively packing and mumbling to myself.

I normally do not plan anything the day before I leave for a trip. You see, we don’t want to disturb Whoorl’s harmony and balance with the world. We like to slowly and effectively complete the following tasks.

1) Creating the packing list. Written list for baby. Written list for Whoorl.
2) Re-write the packing list to combine previous lists; including color customization and placement.
3) Fold clothes using tissue paper to prevent creases.
4) Pack bag.
5) Rearrange packing.
6) Check weather reports for possible travel snafus.
7) Practice holding baby, taking off shoes and folding down the stroller with one hand. Whoorl does not want to hold up the security line at the airport. Practice until tasks are complete within 10 seconds.
8) Calculate amount of formula needed in diaper bag if flights are canceled, earthquakes shut down airport, or get lost in a snowstorm.
9) Sit on bed and stare at luggage.
10) Lather, rinse, repeat.

I know what you are thinking…”How can Whoorl be so laid back?” I don’t know, people. It’s a gift. However, might I inform you that Wito completed his 14th flight in 7 months without ever having a meltdown. Coincidence or the work of a planning genius? (dun-dun-DUNNNNNN)

So, against my innate tendencies, I scheduled the lunch. I figured if anyone understood my packing issue, it would be Nabbalicious. Have you seen this? It’s like heroin in my veins.

We met around noon, grabbed some lunch and strolled down to the beach. On our way back, Darren and I discussed favorite beers, which led to all sorts of alcohol tidbits and my famous recipe for margaritas.

And you can guess what happened next. A little bit of this:


And a little bit of that:

photos courtesy of Darren and Nabbalicious. Have I mentioned Darren and Nabbalicious?

And a little bit of calling my husband at work several hours later sounding something like this:

Whoorl: D! Baaaby! I looooove Dawrrren and Nabbi! We’s besh fwreends! I make the tashiest mahgereetas! I shoould thow down with Booby Flay!

D: Wow. I take it you’ve made lots of margaritas.

Whoorl: Who knows?! I made new fwreends! Nabbi’s sho pretty and Dawrren’s soooooo funny and tawl! Is it dawk outschide? When you comin’ home, baaaby?? Rawrrrrrrr.

D: Um, are you ready for your trip tomorrow morning?

Whoorl: Huh?

Two lessons to be learned, cronies. First off, do not plan a “quick” get-together with amazingly cool people such as these two when you have shit to do. And secondly, everything always falls into place. Relax, will ya?