My Name is Andrea, and I'm Addicted to FOOD

 

Good-bye fair food, hello fast food.

 

 

I started a weight loss challenge with a friend this morning.

 

$50 is on the line.

 

I'm not sure how my fast food addiction will factor into this.

 

I don't diet. It's a 4-letter word I'd rather not use.

 

I already had three mini crab cakes and a chocolate molten something-or-other during lunch with a friend today.

 

Off to a great start.

 

As a matter of fact, my life is so center around food that I bribed my husband a big dinner if he would set up my treadmill in the basement.

 

I would rather workout than deprive myself of all the bad things in life.

 

At least someone in this family can look svelte while downing a big ol' juicy burger from Wendy's.

 

That man never gains a pound.

 

He eats to live. I live to eat.

If I were liberal, I would sue the fast food industry for making me fat.

 

I mean, it's not my fault.

 

Okay, whatever, it is.

County Fair Time

 

That time frame spanning from shortly before Thanksgiving to New Year's Day is my favorite of the year.

 

Decorations are up. The kitchen smells like Christmas candy. And even the grumpiest of people are in a slightly good mood.

 

But the second best time of the year?

 

Duh. It's the county fair.

 

When I first moved here, I was slightly sad that the county fair here wasn't nearly as big as the fair I grew up with.

 

But then I got over it. And now I'm in love with it.

 

 

I entered a couple of aprons again this year.

 

Managed to get first on both.

 

But since it's hard to see what they really look like under the display plastic in the sewing department...

I enlisted the help of a model over by the show barn.

 

He does that apron justice.

 

He then informed me that, as a good wife, I should greet my husband at the door with nothing but an apron on every evening.

 

Which would be fine ... until I turned around and gave my husband a puke-worthy view of my backside.

 

Ewwww...

 

I also entered in a machine applique project.

 

A cute little baby boy in Missouri is getting this burp cloth.

 

Not quite sure what this is. I just slapped some flowers and ribbon on a towel and entered it.

 

Gotta be honest, I whipped that thing out at the last minute.

 

I have no idea what I'm going to do with a white flowery tea towel.

 

Can you say not practical?

 

As usual, I indulged in my yearly week of heart attack-inducing meals.

 

We ate lunch and supper at the fairgrounds everyday.

 

I don't recommend eating a whole order of fried Oreos by yourself. Especially not right after downing a hot dog and nachos & cheese in a record five minutes.

 

Yack.

 

I'm not quite sure what's going on in that picture.

 

Something about a jet engine propelled 3- or 4-wheeler setting a car on fire.

 

It just looked like something I should take a picture of.

 

Hands down, Karaoke night was a hit.

 

I had never been to Karaoke at a county fair before.

 

But let me tell you, it's not to be missed.

 

You've never heard Conway Twitty quite like this.

 

And this little girl was my favorite part of the whole fair.

 

I tried to buy her, thought I almost had her, but then her owner starting having second thoughts. I think he's pretty attached.

 

Not gonna lie, I got a little over anxious and already went to Tractor Supply and bought everything I would need to bottle feed her and raise her until she was ready to go to pasture with the other cows.

 

And it's possible that I already named her.

 

Indie Mickey.

 

Independence (or Indie) because she was born on the 4th of July. And Mickey after the guy who owns her.

 

I'm not giving up on this one.

Don't Mind if I do...

Because these are the things heaven is made of.

You have no idea how life-altering it was when I realized the little store a few miles from the farm carries Snickers ice cream bars and single-serve wine.

Or double-serve in my case.

Don't worry, no drinking and driving here.

Just drinking and farm wifing.

On occassion.

No earlier than 4:00 pm.

Usually.

For the Love of a Farmer

I started today with long, beautiful, natural fingers nails.

Thanks to the small fortune I spent on a 483-step home shellac kit, complete with over-priced LED light, I was able to strengthen and grow out my real finger nails for the first time in my life.

No more trashy acrylics.

Then I opened my big fat mouth and offered to help my husband.

And now I am ending the day with hot pink nubs.

My nails are now so short, the sensitive nail bed underneath that has never even been exposed to air is out in the open.

Owweee.

Thelma and Louise

Say hello to my little friends.

Two baby deer have made the yard around the farm shop their playground this summer.

When they first started coming, they were so teeny tiny I couldn't believe it.

They are much bigger now, but still have their adorable little white spots.

They are skiddish and won't let me near them.

But I did manage to get a couple videos of them playing the other day from inside the office.

Meet Thelma and Louise:

Thelma is a little spunkier than Louise.

Louise is pretty easy going, she just follows the nutjob that is Thelma all around the farm.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm a Thelma.

A crazy, spunky, nutjob who bounces about with no real plan in mind.

Peach Pie and Sweet Tea

I've been filling in at my old TV station this summer and I think my husband is feeling a little neglected. So when he made a request a few weeks back, I agreed.

Let's be honest, it was more of a demand than a request.

He said, I need you to make sure there is always pie and sweet tea in this house.

That's what he said, verbatim. Because that's how he talks when he's feeling all manly and making demands.

So for once, I let him feel like he got his way.

And I've been a peach pie-making mofo ever since.

And now that apple season is starting, I'll will turn into an apple pie making fool.

 That is, until last night. When he changed up his demands a little.

I'm going to need you to do a cobbler every other week. And the occasional crisp, too.

Oh get over yourself, dude.