I woke up the other morning with a monstrous headache that felt like my eyeballs were somehow burying their painful way into the back of my skull, and my sweet but medically minded husband diagnosed me on the spot: caffeine withdrawals. We’re out of coffee, here at the Beekman residence, and my gosh we’ve only been without coffee for one day and just like that, eyeballs. into. skull.
Which tells me that I maybe/possibly/very probably drink too much coffee. Too often.
So I decided to slowly transition my way into the realm of tea. Herbal teas, teas with very little to no caffeine, loose leaf tea. I even bought a fancy steeper to do soooo much steeping in my spare time and tell people whenever prompted, “Yeah. I steep. What of it?”
And oh my gosh TEA, you guys. Loose leaf teas! I’ve been drinking this peach herbal tea from Teavanapartly because it makes my apartment smell like a peach tree and most definitely because it tastes like these last few golden days of summer. And ever since I’ve been avoiding my eye contact with my coffee pot. As if I’ve committed some kind of morning-drink adultery. I’m not cheating on you, my Mr. Coffee maker. I just need a little break. Some time apart. It’s not you. It’s me. Really. And my horribly unhealthy addiction to the rich goodness that is your early morning French Roast.
So loose leaf tea! My new, early-morning jam and autumn resolution (see my “I’m super serious about this” loose leaf tea tumbler in photos above). And I recently ordered a few ounces of Teavana’s Pumpkin Spice Brule loose leaf tea (find it here on sale!) because fall is fast approaching, friends. And I mean to continue complimenting this comfy plaid top from Old Navy with a hot thermos of spiced tea leaves.
You can shop this look below! And your favorite tea flavors?! GO!
Darrin and I spent yesterday afternoon downtown at Brit’s Pub watching our beloved team Arsenal tie with Liverpool for their third Premiere League match. We found ourselves a corner table, ordered a side of “chips” to share, and imagined that we were somewhere in downtown London for the 90+ minutes of the game. Minneapolis’s blustery and overcast weather sure enhanced our imaginations. And these oxfords I found at Nordstrom Rack seemed to fit into our pretend English scene quite nicely. I was feeling all inspired throughout the game to soften my Minnesotan Rs, order a cup of Earl Grey, and drop a few “Cheerio!”s randomly throughout the match. But I refrained (much to Darrin’s relief), and kept somewhat quiet. We were surrounded by a surprisingly large number of Liverpool fans anyways. Wouldn’t want to start a late-afternoon rumble. Who knew Minneapolis was a hotbed for Liverpool lovers?
You can shop this sweet Old Navy dress below! And I found a pair of oxfords that look exactly like my pair from Nordstrom Rack. And they cost less, which has got me feeling all kinds of why-did-I-impulsively-buy-these-sort-of-over-priced-oxfords regret.
Monday! The start to the last full week of August, and Darrin and I feel like we’ve spent most of August trying to figure out how July went by so fast. And now BAM. September. Like a cold smack of wind the face (see photo above).
But onward and upward, as they say. Here are a few less-than-graceful moments!
Learned last week that my shoe size for new indoor soccer shoes is a YOUTH SIZE 4. Which, much to my embarrassment, isn’t even the largest youth size available. We went to a local soccer shop to find me a pair of new shoes, and Darrin did all he could to keep from majorly LOLing as the owner suggested I try on a few youth sizes. And what do ya know, the goll darned things fit my apparently child-sized feet perfectly. So we bought them. And I strolled out of the store feeling the pangs of my wounded adult pride.
In an incredibly stupid domestic moment, I rubbed my eyes soon after chopping two jalapeno peppers the other night and immediately felt like my eyeballs were melting off my face. I tried to rinse my eyes out underneath the sink, but keeping your burning eyes open beneath a faucet of powerfully running water is much more difficult in practice, so I bolted to the bathroom, hopped into a cold shower, and pried open my eyelids until the sensation of molten lava seeping into my eye sockets had passed. Those damn peppers don’t mess around.
Darrin took me to my very first NFL game the other night. We bought a tray of cheese curds, found our seats, watched the first quarter, and then were promptly told to immediately seek shelter nearby because of an incoming storm. We were drenched with rain as were herded out of the crowded stadium, eyed the bright bolts of lightning above us with suspicion, and decided that it was best if we just went home. So. My first NFL game! We’ll see if we can make it at least until half-time at the next one!
Speaking of sports and teams and the things of that nature, Darrin and I have come to the conclusion that we might be a plague, a curse, a bad omen for the teams we choose to support. When we were at the rainy Vikings game the other night, the team was losing; when we left, the team finished the game after the rain delay and won. Last year, our adopted soccer team the Seattle Sounders were one of the best teams in the MLS; this year, once we started diligently watching and cheering for them each game, they’ve been playing horribly. And are currently tied for last place. We’re the black cat, the shattered mirror, the red sky in the morning that should cause these teams to take warning. I told Darrin that maybe we should start cheering for our teams’ enemies: the Packers, the Timbers, the Blackhawks, anybody besides the Timberwolves….but Darrin just couldn’t do it. So. We apologize for any future bad luck, Minnesota sports (and the Seattle Sounders). It’s really not you. It’s US.
My not-so-baby of a baby sister is moving back to college this morning to start the last year of her undergraduate career. We said our goodbyes last night and thought that we might as well snap a handful of sister selfies to document the occasion. Because that’s what smart phones are all about, Charlie Brown.
It’s kind of amazing being adults with these two siblings of mine. Their smiles are my chicken soup for the soul, and what kind of woman would I be today if they were sisters to “someone else”? A sadder one. With a smaller wardrobe selection.
So kick some academic butt, Sophia Joan. Then get your butt back to Minnesota.