It's Fall, Y'all (Now Act Like It)

Monday was officially the first day of fall, marking the beginning of my favorite time of year (fall through Christmas, specifically, and if you know me at all you know I've got the wreaths and decorations to prove it). Everywhere I go, people mention how ready they are for fall, what a welcome change it will be from this sweltering, sultry season we have been in, and I couldn't agree more. If they say spring has sprung, well then fall has fallen, and my simple request to our dear friend Mother Nature is this: act like it. And if you need proof that autumn has arrived, let me present you with some evidence.

I've got my front door all dressed...

This cutie is on the hearth...

And when Little Debbie tells us there's a holiday, we believe it.

Even the grocery stores are gourd-geous this time of year.

So why is this my forecast? Hmmm?

Yes, Mother Nature, I'm talking to you. We've put away our swimsuits, our white jeans, and our strappy sandals (well, I hope you have and if not, consider this a friendly reminder) and now we just want you to hold up your end of the bargain. We will give up the watermelon and tomato sandwiches and lightning bugs if you will just quit being a hussy with this weather situation. Admittedly, it's pretty much always hot in the South--why, we're used to running our air conditioner on Christmas Eve from time to time just to be able to wear our ugly Christmas sweaters--but my weatherman has already lamented that our weather here in Charlotte is about ten degrees above the average for this time of year.

Can't you let us drink our pumpkin spice lattes without having to sit on a block of ice while doing so? We want to make s'mores over a crackling fire, not just by holding them over the heat rising from the sidewalk. Our pumpkins are baking themselves into pies on their own, for Pete's sake. Devoted football folk are having to rig up box fans at the tailgate, just to keep everyone from completely melting before kickoff. I'm begging: give us a break. We've got sweaters and boots and scarves to think about. It's fall, Mother Nature. So put on your flannel and act like it...and while you're at it, pass me one of those Little Debbie pumpkin delights to go with my latte. It's the season, after all. Cheers to fall, y'all!

Bless our hearts.

Celebrating Clint: 43rd Year Edition

A lot of good things happened in 1976: Steve Jobs formed Apple Computer, Nadia Comaneci won three Olympic gold medals, the movie Rocky premiered, ABBA hit number one on the charts with their song Dancing Queen...and Clint Stancil made his entry into the world. Sunday marked 43 years since that auspicious occasion, so naturally, we spent the weekend celebrating.

Last year, hurricane Florence decided to elbow her way into our birthday plans, and we spent most of Clint's special day without power. With that fiasco in mind, and after just moving into a new house, it's not surprising that the birthday fellow asked--okay, begged--to keep things relaxed and low key this go 'round. He's a man of simple tastes, and all it really takes to create a celebration is good food, good drink, and maybe a jaw-droppingly large flat screen television.

We began with the purchase of his main gift, the TV. After spending an evening in Best Buy surveying our options, we settled on a television just slightly smaller than a movie theater screen. I'm kidding (sort of), but he did choose a 65-inch wide screen...which is kind of amazing when I ponder the fact that I am only 64-inches tall, in all my statuesque glory. The Geek Squad came Saturday morning to install that beast, and suddenly we are seeing our shows in a whole new way (as my friend John pointed out, watching Days of Our Lives at lunch every day now feels like being on set).

As he keeps reminding me, there was still space for an even larger TV,
so this one was a "compromise." 

Around midday, I pulled the birthday boy away from his new electronics and we headed out for a festive early birthday brunch at The Crunkleton here in Charlotte. The food was amazing, and thank goodness there are no calories in birthday treats, because we ate to our hearts' content. The Crunkleton also has an extensive list of creative cocktails, so after we finished our meal, we sat and sipped the afternoon away. We haven't had a half hour of unscheduled time in the last few weeks, so a little downtime was a gift for both of us! Anxious to get back home to watch more of that TV, we spent Saturday night cheering on the Clemson Tigers and relishing a little relaxation for a change.

Birthday brunching.

Our first dish was the fried chicken biscuit with pimento cheese topped with an egg.
And that square of deliciousness? Baked cheese grits. Pure bliss.

This one is "eggs in purgatory;" poached eggs in a spicy tomato saffron broth with avocado crema and grilled bread. The name says purgatory, but it was heaven!

And this. This is probably the best Bloody Mary I have ever had.
Cheers to 43, Clint!

And of course, there was cake.
Clint's a fan of the classics, so he requested a Dairy Queen Heath Bar Blizzard cake.

On Sunday, or National Clint Day as I like to call it, the man of the hour wanted to sleep in (thank heaven for it, because the Stancils are tired, y'all). We made a birthday trip to McDonald's to grab a celebratory breakfast and stayed in our pajamas until lunch. I hope that means this next year will be one of leisure, but knowing us, I'm not counting on it. After lunch and the afternoon of futzing with stereo audio equipment and surround sound capabilities (yawn, but it was his birthday), it was time to open gifts. Now, that billboard size television was obviously the majority of Clint's present, but I did pick up a couple of surprises for him as well. The first time we came to see the house that we now own, the stagers had a coffee table book in plain view that we saw as soon as we walked through the front door, interestingly enough, titled "Clint." It happens to be about Clint Eastwood, but we thought it was so appropriate and clearly a God wink, that Clint Stancil fiercely wanted to own a copy of that book for himself. Ask, and ye shall receive. Pair that with a new Ric Flair t-shirt, and you are on your way to a prosperous 43rd trip around the sun, am I right?

Just a couple of quintessentially Clint birthday gifts.

We capped off the day with dinner at our favorite spot, Paco's Tacos & Tequila. If there is a better way to commemorate a birthday than tacos, chips, and salsa, I don't want to hear about it. We were stuffed after our meal, but our waitress surprised Clint with a huge piece of Paco's dulce de leche cake. It would have been rude not to eat (all of) it, so we dutifully wolfed down every single bite.

A little birthday fiesta at Paco's Tacos.

Much like Clint, it was a quiet, laid back weekend. I think it gave the birthday guy a much needed chance to relax and recharge, and hopefully made him feel appreciated and celebrated. 

Happy birthday to Clint, may your year be as large and commanding as your new TV!

Goodbye House, Hello House

We closed on our "old" house yesterday morning, the ending of an era. If I sound a little sentimental, it's because I am: we are saying goodbye to our very first house, the place we have called home for over fourteen years now. When I think of all the memories we made, all the home improvement projects and work we poured into it, and how much we truly loved living there, I can't help but feel a little sad to leave it behind. We spent Labor Day weekend packing everything up and when the house was completely empty and we left for the last time on Monday, I'll just admit it: I cried.

Goodbye, house! Thanks for the memories.

Now, go ahead and laugh at me because we only moved one and a half miles down the road! As a creature of habit who is highly resistant to change, I am incapable of going very far. I need to keep my grocery store and my McDonald's for weekend Egg McMuffin runs, after all. (As a little backstory, when we moved to Charlotte, our apartment was .8 miles up the road from our first house, so you can see that I refuse to move more than 5 minutes of drive time in any one relocation).

It's only been a few days, but we are getting settled in and trying to make things feel like home. As you may know, I live by the mantra "a place for everything and everything in its place," so organizing and figuring out where everything needs to go has been a big process. We are getting there, and it will probably only be a few years before we know what all the light switches go with and where all our belongings are (wink). Our new neighbors have been so welcoming--I even got a beautiful pot of yellow mums as a housewarming gift! We are also delighted to discover what a dog friendly neighborhood we are now in...well, Cotton, not so much, as he does not recognize the fact that he is actually a dog and prefers the company of humans instead. There is a little white bichon named Lily who lives across the street, and we have already enjoyed a morning walk with an adorable little schnoodle named Archie. 

I know everyone wants to see pictures of our new abode, but we are basically still in shambles. We haven't hung anything on the walls just yet (I'm waiting for my mom to come and give her blessing before we scar the place with nail holes), there are still a few boxes to unpack, and the rug that we ordered for our great room came, but in the wrong color. Nothing says welcome to our home like living on top of a 10x14 foot rug pad, am I right? I will update with more pictures once we get our act together, but just so you can visualize where I am and where the chaos has moved, here are a few snapshots of the new Stancil headquarters:

Mayhem manor has a new address!

My new kitchen; isn't she lovely? Obviously too pristine to get dirty with actual cooking.

His and hers vanities, a huge walk-in shower, and that bathtub.
I've got to buy some bubble bath.

A big fenced-in backyard for Cotton, and visions of a swimming pool in the future for Clint.

The king of the castle is making himself at home.

We are exhausted, excited, and ready to put our feet up and enjoy our new space. Poor Clint's honey-do list is as long as the Dead Sea scrolls, but I know we will feel at home here in no time. As always, the question I am asked the most is how Cotton is adjusting. He has the comfort of his trusty blanket, his two well-trained, doting owners, and plenty of neighborhood admirers already. He has been alternating bouts of energy and curiosity with periods of being grouchy and moping for his old house. Truth be told: all of us have been that way. As my friend Sylvia put it so well, it's time to close one wonderful chapter and turn the page to a brand new one. Goodbye, house. Hello, house.

Please update your Christmas card lists accordingly.