Tag Archives: florida

Relocation: One Penske Truck at a Time

Oh hey guys. Sarah here. Sorry it’s been a while, but things have been pretty crazy with the move back to the Midwest. If you’re thinking to yourself, how crazy can it be just loading your life into a truck and driving it 16 hours? Well, if you want to go ahead and grab yourself a 5 hour energy and a Red Bull, I’ll tell you. And don’t skimp on the good stuff. No amount of coffee will be enough for this ride.

Let’s start back at the end of August. The sun was shining and a yet-to-be named yet storm system was gaining strength out in the Gulf just in time for us to pick up our first Penske truck from the local dealer in Sarasota.

And then, as if Sarasota was showing it’s emotion at our leaving, the rain started to fall. Hard.

As Matt waited for the truck to arrive in the rain, I headed back towards the house to meet the movers, pausing briefly as I drove through an already flooded road just outside the Penske lot.

Timestamp: 7:30 a.m. on Wednesday, August 31, 2016.

Per the advice of Brock at the Sarasota Penkse (let’s go ahead and name each one by location for future clarification purposes), we waited to pick up the car hauler until after the truck was loaded. That meant 3-4 more hours of rain before we had to drive a moving truck and a CR-V back through the flooded road, which was now a full-on river.

Should we have seen the signs we were set for an adventure when we were blocked by floodwaters at the only road that would lead us to Penske?

Or perhaps when they told us the trailer we rented wouldn’t fit on a 22-foot truck and we’d need to swap it out for a different one before we even left? Perhaps. But we documented our exit from the Sarasota Penkse with a hopeful smile as the weather guy reported that I-9 was now a Tropical Storm projected to make landfall as Hurricane Hermine near the panhandle of Florida by Thursday.


We’ll be on our way to Tennessee by that time, we optimistically thought. 

We were just north of Ocala when this happened.

And if you’re asking yourself, well how far did you make it before the first truck broke down?

This far.


A mere two hours in the rain to a truck stop just north of Ocala.

And unfortunately that’s as far as we’d make it for a few hours. Lisa’s husband, or brother or ex-husband informed us that we were not going to make it far with this particular sounds like its going to die, floor boards are melting my feet, jerking, shaking, AC and radio shorting out truck that is currently packed to the very edge with all of our belongings.

Now the good news is we were just 10 miles away from the Ocala Penske where they informed us that they had another truck of the same size waiting for us. We could spend the night in Ocala or they could call another set of movers to come over that night and ‘swap the load.’ We opted for the latter to try stay ahead of the storm, still hoping to make our reservation in Atlanta that evening.

Here’s a snapchat snapshot of what followed:

So they swapped the load and we set off for Atlanta Wednesday night but only made it as far as Valdosta to sleep for the night. The truck seemed better but as we set out Thursday morning, we ran into similar problems around Macon. After a brief stop at the Macon Penske dealership we were told nothing was wrong with Truck #2 and on we went.



By this point I was googling Penske dealers out ahead of our drive and basically calling them to tell them we were coming. Just before the mountains on Thursday afternoon, we made a call into the Dalton, GA Penske and told them we were bringing our second truck in for service as there was no way we were going to make it through the mountains with it.

I’ll never forget the look on the lead mechanics face when he came into the break room and gave us the news as if we were getting a terminal diagnosis from a physician.

Unfortunately we’ve seen this issue on a lot of these trucks before guys and it’s not good. It looks like this truck was just serviced for the same issue a few months ago and they didn’t fix it. It’s not good guys. It’s at least a 4-day job. But you came to the right place. We are the place all of the other dealers bring their trucks because our technicians are diamond certified. 

And then he said the words that became oh-so-familiar to us so quickly.

Guys, we’re going to have to swap the load. 

Why don’t you go enjoy a nice dinner on us while we see about getting the movers here. 

And then he said the words that would save us for the rest of the trip.

We’re not going to give you another 22-foot truck. We’re going to tow a new 26-foot truck down from Chatanooga. It has air brakes and less than 17,000 miles on it and should be a more comfortable ride for the remainder of your trip. 

So we went and enjoyed a nice dinner at Chilis and tried to find humor in the last two day’s events.

Timestamp: 9:00 p.m., Thursday, September 1, 2016

Timestamp: 8:00 a.m., Friday, September 2, 2016


Our new truck was amazing and we finally made it to St. Louis Friday evening, just a few days later (and a few more swapped loads) than we originally planned.

I’ll be back for part two where we unpacked boxes and found out how much of our stuff broke in the aforementioned load swapping.

And if you are wondering whether we would ever use Penske again after three trucks and as many days of moving, the answer is maybe. I don’t plan on ever moving ourselves again so that shouldn’t be a problem, but I will say their roadside and customer service made up for the crappy line of 22-foot trucks they acquired.

Until next time!


Seasonal Changes

Pop quiz.

Where’s home to the one of the most successful franchises in baseball and soon two Zalewskis and a Finnegan Murphy?

Hint for Cubs fans: they have 11 World Championships so Chicago is out.

Site of the 1904 World’s Fair.

The first American city to host the Olympics.

Hometown to Jackie Joyner Kersey, Maya Angelou and perhaps most importantly, hip-hop artist and new country breakout, Nelly.

Batter up. The Zalewskis are taking our talents to St. Louis this fall.


But why on earth would you leave Sarasota, home to the best beaches in the country, year-long sunshine, arts, culture and the most laid-back dress code you’ll ever encounter?

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Decent Wednesday evening.

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A. Because we really miss gray winters and snow

B. Because alligators, fire ants and Trump supporters

C. Because we just love everything that goes into packing boxes and moving across the country

D. Because we were offered an earlier-than-expected opportunity to finally put down roots in a community we love, closer to friends and family and just in time to enjoy the best season the midwest puts on each year (insert all the I love fall hashtags here).

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If you answered “D” (with a sprinkle of “B”) you’re correct.

And while we are sad to leave Sarasota and everything never having to wear coats and closed-toes shoes has to offer, we know this is the right move for our family in the long run.

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Besides, since the Rams left town we won’t have to worry about standing in our driveway doing the SuperBowl Shuffle every Sunday.

You may be asking what our only sits under the AC vent, lover of the beach but not the water, greater swiss MOUNTAIN dog may be thinking about heading back to the midwest?


Well, he loves car rides and cooler temps so we can only imagine he’ll love it as much as we think he will.  

There’s at least one family member who will be pumped for a snow again after 3 years of 80-degree Decembers.

So that’s that. A little life update for you. My apologies for only using the blog for the occasional recipe and huge life change announcement.

You can rest assured that as soon as I come to grips with the fact that we just moved into a new house 4 months ago and have to do it again in less than 5 weeks, I’ll be back with more of the good stuff.

Until then we’ll be soaking up all of the sunsets and August humidity we can before heading back “home” this fall.

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On snowbirds

What if I told you that all of the defensive driving you learned over the years would finally pay off? All those times your mom reached for the steering wheel, pumped her imaginary brake and claimed we were all going to die when you turned 15. All those years navigating around ‘tourists’ who swerved anytime they heard a Chicago cabbie honk in the loop?

Well I’m here to tell you that it’s all been leading up to this moment.

Season has officially begun in Sarasota.

Yes folks, the snowbirds are back.

How do I know, you ask?

Well besides the increased frequency of observed recreational vehicles towing sedans with Ohio license plates and two-to-four beach cruisers adorning the front grills along 75 south, one can safely assume that in the two weeks following Christmas, the majority of seasonal residents have escaped the cold and ventured south for the winter (here’s your first bird reference of this post).

I, on the other hand, mark the official start of season at the date and time in which I witness my first old lady cross 5 lanes of traffic to make a left turn against a red light and somehow make it through without a scratch, dent or any awareness that the aforementioned event happened.

In this case it was 5:24 p.m. on Tuesday, January 12th.

Speaking of snowbirds, we actually had a woman walk into the office the other day and ask where along the Bayfront she should go to view the snowbirds she kept hearing about.

True story.

sarasota, florida, palm trees, lakewood ranch,

I don’t know why we call them snowbirds. Squirrels seem like a better fit to me. You see like squirrels, (for those of you living in the city, squirrels are the small gray or brown rodents you may remember scurrying across the Quad in college) older generations manage to narrowly escape death by car far more often than most other creatures. Red lights. Roundabouts. Every single lane at once on the road. This is where you’ll find them most frequently.

But they shouldn’t be completely categorized as a nuisance. Instead, here are just a few reasons we should be thankful for snowbirds this season.

  • They teach us to slow down. Literally. It took me 4 minutes to walk from the entrance of the gym to the locker room because I felt too guilty to pass the sweet old lady in front of me Saturday morning.

You rock in spin class, Gloria!

  • They remind us that every day is Saturday when you’re retired.

Check out Suzie and Bob over there just hammering 2-for-1 Martinis at Bonefish on a Tuesday.

  • They get your children safely across the street, they drive cancer patients to treatment and they fill important jobs that make an economic impact on the region.

Perhaps Phyllis can make the best recommendation for a ‘supportive’ bra at Victoria’s Secret, given her years of experience and eagerness to not let gravity get her down. 

  • And they make sure all that defensive driving you practiced finally has it’s shining moment while going 75 miles an hour on the Interstate.

You are of course going 75. George? He’s going 40.

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The year of the alligator

I fielded some requests over the holidays to get back to blogging. And while it’s never my intention to go on a blog hiatus, just like skipping a few workouts, sometimes its hard to get back into the swing of things after some time off.

It’s a good problem to have, being too busy to write witty posts about how busy you are, yet keeping in mind that many of your readers have small children so your version of busy is likely laughable to them. You can see then, how one might get overwhelmed with where to start back up. But like pulling off a bandaid after you burned yourself for the fifth time with your stupid curling wand, sometimes you just have to get back to it.

It’s kind of weird, starting off 2016 without any sort of resolutions or big goals. It’s normally around this time when I tell myself I’m going to read more (never do), get organized (Finn just ate another pair of my pajama shorts), and pre-plan out our meals for the week (does anyone actually do this?).

So instead the normal resolutions, I’m focusing on faith and contentment with the hope that this strategy provides me more time to share fun, mindless updates with you. I think we all know those are more enjoyable to read than the deep philosophical journey of a newlywed couple living in paradise with a super needy giant dog anyway.

But before we get into the fun, mindless stuff, I’d like to share with you the way in which our family rang in the new year, which started out quite opposite of fun and mindless.

alligator, florida, front porch, lakewood ranch,

They say you’re supposed to call upon alligators when you’re in a crunch emotionally, or are unclear about how to heal yourself, or if you’re having disturbing dreams. They say these creatures strike clarity into our lives when we call on them.

alligator, florida, front porch, lakewood ranch,

Well I can assure you that neither Matt or I ordered up any clarity, but nonetheless we ended up with about 6 feet of it at our front door New Years Eve.

Growing up in the midwest, when you heard scratching at your front door in the middle of the night, you assumed one of two things as the culprit: opossum or raccoon. Small chance it was a tee-peeing teenager or drunk college student, but most of the time a mammal was to blame.

So imagine our surprise circa 2:30 a.m. when we heard a scratch at the front door followed by a loud baroo from our good at watching not so great at guarding Finn. It’s normally at this point when you open the front door to see what the commotion is about. Fortunately for all of us, Matt was in charge of checking it out and noticed what he thought was an armadillo out the front window. We’ll leave my habit of not latching the front door for another post, but I think we can all agree it’s a good thing I wasn’t the last one to let the dog out that night.

The remaining hour or so was spent graduating from shock, awe and perspiration, to feelings of concern and general empathy for what seemed to be a very dumb alligator who managed to get stuck on an open porch just steps away from the exit. You know you’re an animal lover when you feel sorry for something with little to nothing ahead of it on the food chain.

Sure we’re familiar with alligators having spent the last two years in Florida, but none daring enough to knock on our front door nor one so eager to start the New Year’s party a little early.



So while Matt observed our new friend, who I named Amelia in an effort to make her less threatening, knowing full well that only a drunk dude would attempt to make a break through the small fence posts instead of the clearly marked exit, I called a wildlife rescue number half-expecting them to laugh us silly midwesterners off the phone.

Thank you for calling Florida Wildlife Rescue. If you have an immediate alligator threat, please press 1.

(giggles uncomfortably and presses 1)

Within 20 minutes, an alligator trapper was in our driveway and Amelia seemed to have made his or her way back to the pond behind our house. Matt later informed me (now holed up in the back bedroom hiding the bait) that the trapper had little more than a flashlight in hand and a Joliet area code.

It’s not uncommon for them to try and come into your house if you have a dog.

He says.

(picking my jaw up off the floor)

No way. 

I said.

alligator, front door, swiss mountain dog, florida

Ladies and gentlemen of the Home Owner’s Association, I’d like to submit the above photograph as evidence of this crazy alligator’s attempt to enter our residence on the eve of New Year’s Eve 2016. 

So you may be asking if it’s safe to visit us in this so-called paradise yet?

The answer is maybe.

While Amelia hasn’t come back on the porch since her initial attempt, we’ve seen her out back with her amputee arm waving arrogantly on a few occasions since.

alligator, florida, lakewood ranch, front porch

Matt also observed a fishing pole and noose wielding man out near the pond late last week but so far the only other news we’ve heard came via email today:

Hi Sarah,

There was another issue with an alligator. I am not sure if it was the same alligator. I am assuming it is because it was near your home. I have not heard whether they were able to trap it or not. I will see if I can find out.

So if you need us in the immediate short-term, we’ll be peering out the front window and sprinting between ponds throughout the neighborhood.

Happy New Year!


Cookies and Catch Up

Great news, guys. The Murphalewski Bed and Breakfast just wrapped four straight weeks of out-of-town guests. That means 7 midwesterners are entering the winter season a little bronzer than usual and many local restaurant staffers here in Sarasota are actually starting to think I have friends. It’s a win-win!

Now you may be asking if I’m glad the four-week rush is over. Truth is, I loved having our friends and family stay with us. Each visit came with a reminder of how blessed we are to have friends and family that love us enough to leave crappy weather behind and sit on the beach all day. We realize our location may benefit us this time of year but regardless, we appreciate the time and effort (and flight delays) spent coming to visit.

So what have I been doing with all my free time since the last houseguest left on Sunday? Baking cookies of course.


It seems like the only thing I have to show for the last 4 weeks, aside from the slightly increased body fat percentage, are pictures of cookies long ago eaten by co-workers.

It’s not like me to leave you hanging over a holiday weekend without some sort of ode to a sweet treat on the blog, but I’ve been sidetracked. You see, I’ve been trying to come to grips with the fact that our entire shopping district has been lit up like Rockafeller Center on Christmas Eve since October 24th. I’ve been wrecking my brain trying to figure out in what world this is acceptable but then I remembered a saying my dad always says this time of year.

You know, this might be the last nice day we have to put the Christmas lights up so we better get to it. 

Wait. I’m sorry. He usually waits until an ice storm is in the vicinity around December 20th to say that. And they still live in Illinois so…

So in spite of the extremely prematurely lit palm trees and unseasonably hot temperatures, I thought I’d share a few photos from the last four weeks to catch you up.




but how about that sweet lady in the background?

image imageimageimageimage



IMG_5484sugar cookies, royal icing, baking, breakfast at tiffany's cookies, bridal shower, dessert, tiffany blue sugar cookiesIMG_5482sugar cookies, royal icing, baking, breakfast at tiffany's cookies, bridal shower, dessert, tiffany blue sugar cookiesAnd now you know what my photostream looks like. I’ve got two weeks until Thanksgiving and our next visitors so if you need me I’ll be either running or napping in preparation. Happy Friday!


Of these things, I’m fairly certain

There comes a point in a thirty-something’s life in which the random things she’s heard, learned, experienced, seen, tasted and smelled over the first third of her life finally start to stick with her. After all, you rarely hear a twenty-something referred to as ‘set in his or her ways.’ No, this art takes years to perfect. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and call up your grandparents for a lesson. Don’t text them. Don’t email them. Pick up the phone and call them. Heck, by now your parents should be as set as a Ronco Showtime Rotisserie Platinum so you might as well ask them while you’re at it.

What was I getting at again?

Oh yes. Life lessons.

Up until this point, you’ve let these observations float in and out of your life without taking any ownership of them. Sure, you’re brand loyal to a degree, but you’re a millennial for goodness sake and you better believe that you are going to be flexible and adapt to the ever-changing world around you, right? Kind of like the way you’ve shifted every time Apple launches a new iOS or Facebook changes their newsfeed.

And then you turn thirty. And all of a sudden the phrases you use to utter in your 20s like pregaming or late night bars are replaced with let’s just have everyone over for a dinner party or do I have to put on real clothes or can I go in this? 

So today I present you a list of things I’m fairly certain of:

  • That I will never get all of my personal identification documents to have the same last name again. Ever. This weekend I nearly had to provide a retinal scan at The Gap to pay with a (new chip-encrypted) card that still listed me as Murphy because it sat in my wallet next to a drivers license that lists me as Zalewski. Meanwhile, my handsome yet mute in these types of situations husband waits patiently as I toss two debit cards, two credit cards and a blood donor card at our friendly cashier to prove I’m not a spy.

  Oh you have a Costco card? That will work just fine.

  • That there’s no way our dog proves my hypothesis about animals taking after their owners. Nope not our guy. So different, he and I.


  • That a landscape that includes pumpkins and palm trees will always be weird, but never having to wear socks will always be awesome.

  • That heckling is an art form maybe moms are just too sweet for it.

  • That if pumpkin obsession is a real addiction affecting basic girls everywhere, you can crown me pumpkin princess of autumnville. I actually felt a nervous swell when I realized I was down to my last can of pumpkin this weekend for a french toast recipe. And when my audible gasp was met with a side eye from Matt, I yelled, ‘there’s a shortage, you know!’ 

So I’ve got that going for me.

And because nearly everything I’m certain of this time of year relates to pumpkins, I’ll leave you with a recipe for pumpkin french toast sure to satisfy your cravings. That is, if you can get your hands on the limited supply!

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Pumpkin French Toast (recipe adapted from Cooking Classy)

  • 3/4 C almond milk (I didn’t have regular milk but by all means use it if you have it)
  • 1/2 C pure pumpkin
  • 4 large eggs
  • 2 TBL brown sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 tsp ground ginger
  • 6-8 slices multigrain bread (or challah or texas toast)
  • Butter (for griddle)

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Heat a cast iron skillet to medium heat. In a large bowl, whisk almond milk, pumpkin, eggs, brown sugar, vanilla and spices together. Set aside.

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Prepare skillet with butter. Dip bread into pumpkin mixture until saturated. Cook on both sides until browned, repeating butter before each slice.

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Serve with maple syrup or honey and dust with powdered sugar.

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Weekend recap: Chicago style

Historically I’ve not been the best at weekend recaps. Especially weekends that involve all of my favorite females in one room, baby snuggles and Chicago nights. I suppose it could be because recapping a weekend means it’s over and I have to accept the finality of it all. And just like knowing when to end conversations with strangers after several shots of tequila, I tend to have a hard time letting go.

You know what doesn’t seem to be have a hard time letting go once you turn thirty?


I hope you’ll forgive me if my sentence structure is off today. Earlier I blasted one of the walls of a cubicle while walking out of my office. And we’re not talking about my usual slight shoulder tap due to a clumsy streak that I’ve never seemed to grow out of, but rather a solid clavicle impact that left the metal frame ringing.

You’ll forgive me if I’m not myself today. My flight home last night was terrifyingly turbulent thanks to an apparently unavoidable line of weather. And the moment in which the pilot decided to bail on the landing about two feet above the runway was just a cherry on top. I feel like a well-shaken margarita, which isn’t very far off considering the amount of them we consumed Saturday night.

But it wasn’t a completely horrible travel day. I got expedited through security at O’hare yesterday and avoided bending over to take my shoes off, a perk I can only assume was given to me when the TSA saw the pitiful look of nausea on my face. And when I sought relief in greasy fast food in Terminal C, I was both pleased and disgusted to find a bonus order of french fries in my mighty kids meal. Pleased at the luck and disgusted because I could no longer stomach the idea of airport french fries about two minutes later.

It was thanks to an experienced pilot and a very calming ARMY sergeant seated next to me that our second landing was much more successful than the first (we actually landed that time) and that I now have a horrifying story to pass along to my future children and secure my newly developed fear of flying for another generation. I suppose I could accept the encouragement my future husband had for me when I text him what happened and he said, “Wow. Good for you. Now you’ve lived a little. Haha.”

And lived we did. Both literally and figuratively. We lived it up for all the new babies born who were finally spending a Saturday night alone with their dads, for a chance to get the gang back together and for a solid rendition of friends in low places at the best little karaoke spot in bucktown.











Super Spring Break

If you couldn’t tell from my overgramming last week, my nephews (and my sister) came to visit us to celebrate their spring break. Unfortunately I spent most of the week at work, but I’m grateful for the afternoons and evenings I spent brushing up on my toilet humor, identifying fire ant hills and avoiding getting jinxed.

Days were spent punching water spouts at the splash park and evenings cheating at mini golf. We even managed a second attempt at the beach since the first time was ‘too boring.’


On Thursday, we celebrated Jake’s 5th birthday the only way Jake prefers to celebrate, with superhero masks and store-bought cookie cake.

IMG_4663IMG_4664IMG_4669IMG_4670IMG_4671Friday we had a picnic at the beach and then spent the afternoon drop-kicking waves to cap off the trip. And is it just me or did we do so right next to a Nana lookalike? IMG_9943



We miss them already but we’re soaking up the quiet and resting up the busy months ahead.

The angry ants go marching

They say everyone is nicer in the south. And between the ‘bless your hearts’ and the homemade sweet tea, it’s hard to argue with them. But I’ll tell you one thing that’s not nice in the south. Fire ants.

Let me set the scene for you.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. 80 degrees and sunny. Finn and I had just come back from a trip to Lowe’s with a trunk full of mulch and flowers. Well the trunk was full of Finn and the backseat with mulch and flowers but that’s neither here nor there. Did you know you can bring your dog into Lowe’s with you? It’s good socialization for them so long as your dog does not have an affinity for wood products. If that’s the case, might I recommend avoiding the lumber aisles lest you want to spend the next 20 minutes worrying about splinters in your pooches’ nose?

Where were we?

Ah, yes. Bitchy fire ants.

When I was a kid I used to collect bugs. I collected rocks, wooden carved animals and neighborhood cats too but for the sake of this post let’s just stick with the bug catching. I had a net to grab them with and a special bug jar with the wire mesh on the sides and a nifty wood top that you turned to lock them in or let them free.

From lightning bugs to crickets, I loved trapping insects and watching them hop around while I got a closer look. Lightning bugs were my favorite except when they accidentally got stuck in the lid and you couldn’t get the smell off your hands. In the Midwest, ants represented everything from a gentle picnic pest to a topping for celery and peanut butter and a line in many a childhood song. And for the better part of the U.S., the title that we use to describe our parent’s sisters.

I never had a problem with ants and they seemed to like me too, those cute little harmless black ants.

So having this context in mind, imagine my surprise when the sweet little childhood pest I knew went rogue on me as I destroyed its home planted some beautiful flowers in our front yard Sunday evening.

gardening, florida, fire ants, flowers, lowe's

It started innocently enough. I was digging away at the ant hills using an old serving spoon when I realized that digging holes with a serving spoon may not have been the best idea (warning graphic finger blister photo below)

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But just as I was noticing the loss of skin on one hand, fire ant number 1 dive bombed the space between fingers on my left hand with his vicious little teeth. Further research would indicate he likely used some sort of stinger as well.

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But he did not act alone. I’m learning that they never do these mean little ants of the south. He tag-teamed with his buddy and nearly simultaneously got me in the same spot on my foot.

Go for the spot between her fingers and toes Archie*. That’ll teach her!

*names of the ants have been changed to protect their identities.

And teach me it did.

It taught me what it might feel like to be bitten by a mosquito, stung by a bee and touched by poison ivy all at once. And in the 48 hours that follows develop arthritic like symptoms in the extremities that were stung.

It taught me the importance of gardening gloves.

It taught me that a desperate 4 a.m. Google search will lead you to a concoction of baking soda and apple cider vinegar that can provide temporary relief.

fire ant remedy, apple cider vinegar, baking soda, fire ant treatment

It taught me how nice my ant friends to the north are. Shout out Midwestern ant colonies!

It taught me how my ring might fit if I’m lucky enough to carry a child in the coming years. Answer: very tightly.

It taught me the importance of having an adequate supply of Benadryl in the house.

It taught me a new way to use Matt’s whiskey rocks.

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And most importantly, it taught me that I’m going to need more than three bags of mulch, 8 flowers and several days worth of Benadryl to finish this war.

gardening, florida, fire ants, flowers, lowe's


until next time!


Caption This

It’s this little game I like to play when I’m running short on time but feel badly that I haven’t talked to you in a while. I call it caption this.

It’s simple really. In fact I don’t even force you to participate. I’ll do all the work for you.

You’ll see.

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Aloha Sarasota


They say couples start to dress alike after some time together. I wonder if the same thing could be said about how they smell?


Murf spotting in Naples

florida sunset, sarasota, florida, winter, sunset, palm trees

If this is winter, I don’t need to see spring

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I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me

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it’s a tie between #chamberlife or #liquiddiet


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this photo makes me forget about the bug I inhaled shortly after snapping it


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just putting the vibe out there ladies


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remind me again how the French stay so skinny?


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March lions are pretty tame down here


feeling nerdy with a side of renewed confidence for street sign visibility