britt skrabanek – Page 18 – Britt Skrabanek

Dear Diary

For some reason when I get sick, I yearn for simpler times. Often there are only two things that can heal me: classic movies and keepsakes.

Audrey Hepburn reminds me there is still grace and beauty beyond my tangled hair, raw nose, and the pile of snot rags which strangely joined forces to become a second blankie.

Photos and old letters soothe me with their portrayals of youth and memories, so I can forget my phlegm-filled sorrows.

Last week while I was playing Britt Sniffles, I plunged into the bottom of my messiest closet and busted out my dusty box of journals.

OK, fine. They were diaries, alright?

As entertaining as my angsty, whiny, and heart-broken stack from my late teens/early twenties is, I’ve decided to share tidbits from my very first diary.

Aw, Britt.

(I know. I know.)

I’m a little unsure of the year, possibly 1990-1991. The Hula girl pic below is from the Britt era in question. For the sake of easier reading I fixed up some of the spelling errors, but I left the emotional quality intact.

Happy reading!

FEBRUARY 13

Dear Diary,

Today I got my first spiral perm. The perm took three hours. It was worse than I thought it would be.

JUNE 3

Dear Diary,

Today I did a Hawaiian dance. Before I danced, I ate. Then I danced, but I kind of messed up. I was lucky I was at the end of the line.

JUNE 5

Dear Diary,

Today I saw Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It was a funny movie. It was also exciting.

OCTOBER 10

Dear Diary,

Today I whispered into Jeffrey’s ear…I love you. Then he said…what? So, I said it again but everybody in class heard me. I was embarrassed.

OCTOBER 15

Dear Diary,

Today was kind of an exciting day because I turned in my soda cans. I got fifty-three cents. So now I have forty-two dollars and fifty-eight cents.

OCTOBER 16

Dear Diary,

Today I learned how to do headstands and cartwheels and I was outside a long time with my friend. It was fun.

OCTOBER 22

Dear Diary,

Today I asked my dad to give me some words to look up. He gave me nine words and I looked up the nine words.

OCTOBER 24

Dear Diary,

Today we had burritos, salad, and milk. My lunch was good.

OCTOBER 27

Dear Diary,

Today at my reading class we had a test. I really don’t know if I got all of them right. I hope I did.

Oktober Silliness

Back at the end of July, I had a convo with my blogger pal Juliann from Browsing the Atlas when she posted Weekly Photo Challenge: Masterpiece and covered the exquisiteness of Beijing roofs.

Juliann has a thing for choosing one focus for her photography as she globe trots, and I thought this was a rad idea.

Then, I remembered the time I did the same and focused on one pivotal representation of my surroundings.

The majesty, the colors, the architecture of….Lederhosen.

Some years ago, Mr H, my awesome sis-and-law and her hubby, and myself traveled to Fredericksburg, Texas (kind of the middle of nowhere) for Oktoberfest.

We always wanted to go to Munich for the real deal, but right in our Dallas backyard – not really, since everything in Texas is monumentally spaced out – was our very own Tex-German shindig.

Cute old couple alert! It’s a little blurry, but he danced with his hand square on her ass the whole time. That’s love, right there.

Umm…there’s a beer on your head.

I wasn’t expecting a lot, but it was pretty damn fun! A little too much fun, perhaps. We blame the beer for “sultry”, gender-bending moments like this…

That cold, frothy elixir turned the four of us into a team of misfits with one obsession…besides where to get our next beer.

We dared each other to get the best shots of Lederhosen, creeping up on unsuspecting, costumed dudes and snatching the best pic. Mind you, this was before phone cameras were any good.

It was risqué. It was silly. It was awesome.

First we have a distance shot of our unsuspecting Lederhosen subjects, Herr Rot and Herr Weiss…

A little closer…

Then, the money shot…

Guess they weren’t meant to live happily ever after. Herr Naked Legs stole Herr Rot away…

In the end, Herr Gelb stole the show with his manly stance and edgy variety…

Hey, I warned you that this was Oktober silliness, nothing more. Hopefully you had some laughs. If not, please drink a big ass beer then read this again.

Find your own Oktoberfest (here are a few big ones in the U.S.) and marvel at some Lederhosen. You’ll love it.

Any silly Oktoberfest stories out there?

There’s a shelter when I get home.

Lindsey, a very amazing friend of mine (hey, sweet love), shared this fantastic video on Facebook today. And I almost didn’t watch it, because I was scanning my feed after a long day at work, my eyes half-open, my brain half-fried.

But, she said something that made me change my mind: “If you do nothing else today, watch this.”

Although this came out in 2010, I had never heard of Storycorps’ “Danny and Annie” before. I have to say that Lindsey was spot on, and as those close to our hearts always seem to know, I needed to watch this today.

I don’t usually have bad days. I consider myself a joyful person the majority of the time.

Today was different. I was kind of in a funk, consumed by self-doubt, pesky worries, and just plain disheartened after a long week of grinding and juggling.

Yet at the end of the day…there’s love. Right there. Love.

I think all of us, from every speck on the map, can agree that love is this immaculate tint that covers our worlds, that turns life into a masterpiece, one radiating with color and soul.

This beautiful cartoon changed everything for me today.

There’s always a shelter when I get home. I am grateful for my husband and I can’t wait for him to hold me when he walks in that front door.

Mr. H, I write you epic love letters in my head every day. And I will continue to do so for the rest of our lives.

Press play.

Le Food, Le Drool

Ah, food. How you sooth me, energize me, and whisk my troubles away. How you bring me joy, fulfill me, and…

Oh, hello there! Sorry, I just went into a food love coma for a moment, but I’m back.

So, last week I chatted about our invasion of Montreal. Today, let’s talk food!!!

It’s no secret around the cyber world (this blog, my other blog, FB, Twitter) that I worship food.

So much that my idea of a shopping spree is going to our local Co-Op and spending without remorse. So much that purchasing our very first food processor a couple of weeks ago has made me insanely happy. So much that we even named said food processor “Bruce Lee”. He likes to chop shit up and he does it like a boss.

Anywho, one of the main reasons we gallavanted up to Montreal was for the food scene. There’s a lot of hype, saying it’s one of the food capitals of the world.

Was it the food orgy we were seeking? Um, let’s just say we’ve had better.

But, let’s also say that there was no possible way for us to eat at ALL of the restaurants there. I’ve never seen so many spunky cafes crammed together in my life. Also, we like to travel on a budget so we usually rock the apartment rental and cook a lot of our own food.

(A quick warning to budget traveling foodies…prepare yourself for the ultimate food tax at restaurants AND grocery stores in Montreal. You’ll be taxed twice and it will hurt your feelings when it happens.)

Anywho, since I just so happen to be married to the best chef in the world, there were many cozy nights spent on the terrace like this…

le plateau montreal — Our Stupendous Terrace in Le Plateau

One of the things we’ve learned over the years from the great Anthony Bourdain…when you first arrive somewhere, get your happy butt to the market. You will instantly connect with the people, culture, and pulse of your unfamiliar surroundings.

On our first morning, we took the Metro straight to the market. The Jean-Talon Market, mecca of grub.

jean talon market mushrooms — Mr. H Cruising the Shrooms

The French do three things brilliantly: cheese, chocolate, and bread. In other words, throw your healthy morals out the freaking window, ditch the skinny jeans, and indulge your ass off.

We received this cheese recommendation from a young fellow at the Jean-Talon Market, which was used in the terrace pasta above. It was creamy perfection and we ate it every day.

quebec cheese — The Cheese Wrapper (sorry, we ate the actual cheese)

We explored chocolate in many glorious forms…

jean talon market creperie marche — Slingin’ Crepes at Jean Talon Market

jean talon market crepe — Salted Caramel, Butter, and Chocolate Crepe at Jean-Talon Market

Juliette et Chocolat brownie and latte — Bananatella Brownie (Banana and Nutella) at Juliette et Chocolate in the Latin Quarter

There was a bar of chocolate called Caramel Crack from a chocolatier in the Plateau that was to die for. It was my kind of crack! (Sorry, no pic. We ate that puppy on the long road back home to Milwaukee.)

Lastly, we dipped a fresh baguette in a yummy tomato broth Mr. H fashioned to go with our mussels.

jean talon market seafood — Jean Talon Fish Market

Mussels are everywhere in Montreal. To save some bucks, we recommend fetching your own at the Jean-Talon fish market and enjoying them at your leisure.

In the end, Montreal is a fun romp for foodies who like the richness of French cuisine. Know that you’ll pay out the ass for food taxes, the chocolate anywhere will knock your damn socks off, and you’ll probably need to detox when you get home.

A Coach’s Lesson, in 6 Words

Happy Wednesday, fantastic friends! Just wanted to reblog this fun/inspirational piece from Eli over at Coach Daddy. He masterfully coordinates these “6 Words” posts, bringing peeps from all over together to dish out 6 words about various subjects. Along with yours truly, 50 other bloggers, readers, and strangers dished out 6 words based on the prompt “What’s one thing you learned from a coach?” Being that I grew up dancing, I added these six amazing words from one of my ballet teachers…24. “Forget everything, be true, just move.” Be sure to check out the rest of these one-liners for some mid-week warm fuzzies (and some good laughs) over at Eli’s place.

Just a dad ...

You can learn a lot from a coach.

Not all of it’s good. I remember a frustrated soccer coach who slammed his notebook to the turf after our team scored, then barked out the F word. Hayden, then playing U8 soccer, turned to me, mouth open slightly, and blinked several times.

I swear a light bulb illuminated above her head.

Thanks, coach.
Many other lessons are far less R-rated. Well, some.

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