Homecoming Post 9: Living Single

Let's go back to fall of 2003. My grandma, mom, aunt, and I stood to the side as one Lauchland Roberts carried my stuff to my dorm room at Katherine Drexel Hall. I was openly ogling this man as he, and this is not an exaggeration, carried my mini fridge to my room with one hand. He had pretty dark skin and had an earring in his ear. A boy with an earring. That was very hot to an 18-year-old me. Today, I see a young man with an earring in his ear and I clutch my purse and cross the street.
After everything was moved in my grandma summoned me outside to speak to me privately. She had been getting on to me all day because I'd had an attitude all day. I figured she was going to say something to me for staring at Lauchland. And she did...sort of.
"I saw you staring at that boy."
I said nothing.
"You know, most people find who they are going to marry in college," she continued. I squirmed, nervous that my ultra-conservative grandmother was going to say something about sex or condoms. "So, get your work done, but be aware."
"Aware?" Was she trying to tell me to marry Lauchland? I'd only known him for twenty minutes, but done! I mean, he had an earring!
My grandmother, who was nothing if not prepared, knew I would need a little help getting the attention of these potential suitors. So, she let me know that she had packed me a Ziplock bag of foam rollers and some Blue Magic Hair Grease in my trunk. Seeing that I had micro braids at the time, I had no intention of using those old-school rollers or that hair grease. But I smiled and nodded. Not for nothing, I would later serve on a homecoming committee for Lauchland's girlfriend at the time who happened to be Ms. Xavier. I used to wonder if she rolled her hair and if that was how she got Lauchland's attention. Maybe, maybe not. But she's married now and I'm not. Draw your own conclusions.
Obviously, I didn't take my grandma's advice which was why I had anxiety about attending homecoming. I was afraid that I was going to be the only person there that was single. Social media had led me to believe that everyone from my class was hitched with kids, living The Cosby Show life. However, upon arriving at school, I realized that ten years after graduation, life for many of us gals is less like The Cosby Show and more like Living Single.
All my single friends at homecoming looked amazing. They are all a lot of fun and have cool jobs. They look really cute in dresses and they smell really good. They like to dance and they travel the world. These are the super dope girls! It baffles me as to why they are single. They are babes! Bosses! And they all seem to be enjoying the frick out of life.
It wasn't until I hung out with these girls, twerking on the stage barefoot at The Masquerade, that I realized that being single isn't scary, but the rate that time is flying is. Ten years have felt like ten minutes! It could have easily have been junior year! I don't want to take a nap, wake up ten more years from now, and be in the same romantic situation. If I understood the concept of time when I was 18, I would have done as grandma suggested, I would have been more "aware". Who knows? Maybe I could have snagged one of those hot nerds from the engineering department.
Here in Atlanta, so many of the single women in my life are taking active steps to no longer be single. They are exercising because men like fit women. They are repairing their credit because men don't want a broke woman. They are going to shrinks to work out their childhood stuff because men don't like angry women. For me, all this legwork sounds exhausting, and I haven't seen proof that it works. The most I am willing to do at this point in my life is put my hair up in some foam rollers.

Homecoming Post 8: Kappa Krush part 2

Listening to Kappa Kakes talk to my friend at the Kappa tent during the homecoming tailgate was taking me from 0 to 100 real quick. My feet were hurting. I was thirsty. I wanted to sit down, and my hip was sore from falling in the club the night before. I was tired and I could feel myself getting crabby like a toddler, and watching Kappy Kakes' hazel eyes twinkle in the sunlight was, for some reason, pushing me to the edge.

Bored with their conversation, I turned my head to the right to give my nerves a break and there he was: Kappa Krush. While his frat brothers were serving food, taking pictures, and flirting with their fans, he was the cheese that stood alone, dancing excitedly with himself. But that wasn't the right time to approach. I had a plan.  

Yes, I had a plan. And just so you know, from the jump, this plan was full of holes and destined for failure. But, on the way to New Orleans, I had begun to think of all the guys I had liked in school that I hadn't told out of fear of humiliation. Now, they are married to chicks that aren't so beautiful that they couldn't have been me. The ones that sting are the guys that married fatties! Talk about missing the boat! Now, let me be clear, I in no way thought that Kappa Krush would be into me. Not even a little. But for some reason, I was determined to move forward with my plan. And my plan was simple: to get a hug. 

Getting a hug from a Kappa is like taking candy from a baby. They literally hand out girl hugs like free clinic brochures. But I felt like it would be suspicious to just show up at their tent, among all those wet and wavy freshman girls, looking for love. 

Plus, I'd had the same vision for our hug for the past thirteen years. It would take place at a club. "Flex" by Mad Cobra would be playing. We would float to each other and I would fall into his arms as the club applauded. Then, a magic carpet would come, pick us up, and take us somewhere sacred and special, like the Waffle House. #allstarwithgrits

However, by that night I had talked myself out of the plan. I had decided against going to the party at Metro and instead wanted to stay in bed and watch some Law And Order SVU reruns. Then my roommate for the trip, Dizzle, came back to the room TURNED UP and told me that we were going. She had a fantasy she wanted to play out herself which included me, her, and all of our friends dancing to "Wipe Me Down". 

So off to Metro I went with a very, very lit Dizzle. And I ran into a ton of guys from the crush list. You know, the all-stars: Number 5, BobTheBuilder, Cardio Cutie, TheMartin. But, by the time the DJ had gotten to the Houston mix, I was too tired to do The Southside. I decided to Uber back to the hotel. Before I left the dance floor, I stood against the wall to put my shoes back on only to see that I was standing right next to Kappa Krush. 

Isn't it funny how things work out? He was just standing there, looking out onto the dance floor. 

"Hey!" I spat, a bit too loudly, even for the club. 

He looked down at me. "Oh hey."

I then proceeded to receive the most lack-luster side hug I had ever received in my life! I don't know what I had expected a hug from him to feel like, but the club definitely didn't break into "A Whole New World" from Aladdin. It lasted three seconds and then he walked away. A crush thirteen years in the making folks! I felt like someone had let the air out of my balloon. 

I spent the rest of the night crashing the VIP section of some very hot, hot, hot Deltas. Talking to them took my mind off of the stupid expectations I had put into a crush on a man that didn't know me from Adam. It can't possibly be healthy to live this deep in a fantasy world, could it? All that time I had spent daydreaming about boys that didn't give a shit I could have put into finding a real man that gave real hugs. I decided then and there I needed to come back to life, back to reality. 

The reggae mix came on and I turned my head to see a very drunk boy from my class slow winding with himself, laughing at himself while he sipped on a drink. 

"Having fun?" I yelled at him. 

He smiled and nodded, boy twerking to Wayne Wonder. 

Being dorky like that will get you put on the crush list...#SigmaSauced

Homecoming Post 7: 33 and Me

I will be 33 in less than a month. Believe it or not, I had almost forgotten, until I went to homecoming and remembered that once upon a time, I used to walk up and down the campus multiple times a day. Up stairs and down stairs. Across the canal and back again. Oh to be 19, because on the verge of 33, all I wanted to do was sit down someplace and take a nap. Yes, homecoming taught me somethings about myself as an old woman. Below are some points.

I can party...just not all night
When I was a sophomore, me and two of my friends decided to literally stay on Bourbon Street from dusk until dawn. We stayed at the club until we were put out for falling asleep on the stage at around 7am. I don't know why we would do something that stupid. During homecoming, I felt like I was winning, leaving each party promptly at 1:30am. I can't be cute if I don't get enough sleep. Which brings me to my next point.

I have a bedtime

Yes, I am in my 30s with a bedtime and I don't care how much of a lame that makes me. I. Need. My. Rest. Thumbs up to the hotties I saw on campus who I saw at the club the night before who left after me and were still cute in the morning. I know I make being cute look easy, but it ain't. It's a delicate combination of water consumption, fish oil tablets, and sleep that is keeping me alive and pretty. 

I hate shoes 

Once upon a time, I would be be uncomfortable on purpose just to be cute. Tight skirts and dresses. Yass girl, I tried it! Not today. I may be able to tolerate uncomfortable clothes, but not shoes. When my feet hurt, I have to kick my shoes off. In the grocery store. In church. At the club. I can not stand to be in shoes. My feet have to be free! I enjoyed being barefoot at the club all of homecoming until I saw some little shit taking a picture of my feet. I'd like to say this made me put my shoes back on. It didn't. 

I think all men are fine 

At the tailgate, everyone guy I saw looked good. They all looked young. They all looked buff. They were all hotties. After having a who's cute powwow with friends, I was informed that I must have been seeing things. They are all fat, not buff, and were definitely hotter in college. I disagree. They have all aged like fine wine to me. Those advanced degrees have done their bodies good honey! 

I no longer have an alcohol tolerance 

Club night one: I had an amaretto sour, heavy ice. Club night two: I had a Ciroc and cranberry that had me sweatin'! Club night three: I crashed someone's VIP and got some cranberry juice. The moral of the story: my drinking days are over. I have lost a taste for alcohol, and the little bit that I do drink nearly knocks me off my feet. #byebyehandgrenadedays

I turn 33 right before Christmas, and I suspect as my 33rd year goes on my list will get longer. And I don't care, another symptom of old age. 

Homecoming Post 6: Kappa Krush pt. 1

I don't know what you were doing in college, but I was pretending to study, looking for anyone, ANYONE, to do my hair, and nursing crushes on numerous young men that had no idea who I was. The list of loves was so long that I couldn't even keep track. It didn't take much to get added to the list either. A guy could have brushed past me in the bookstore, looked at me briefly on his way to looking at someone else. Guys would fall off. Guys would would get added. I mean, it was really unreal. I remember all of their faces, some of their names. But no crush is as clear in my mind as the crush I had on Kappa Krush.
Like most guys on campus, I had no idea who Kappa Krush was until he crossed. I had seen him around, but he was pretty unremarkable. I had taken note that he was taller than me, but other than that, he was not on my radar. And then came the Neophyte Show. I sat on the bottom bleacher on the right side of The Barn with the homies, enjoying the show. But when it was time for The Kappas to come out I sat back and yawned. Never been a Kappa fan. I found them ALL to be irritating, and I was not surprised that they were crossing literally every boy that had irritated me since I had arrived on the campus...except the tall boy.
"Hey, it's the tall boy," I told my friend. I remember thinking that it was stupid that they put a disguise on him because it was so obvious who he was. And after he took off his mask, I watched him adorably fumble through their entire routine. The boy was tone death. A fact that I knew he knew because I could see him counting his steps as he did them. How sweet! Nerdy things like that will get you added to the crush list...
I told friends that I had a crush on this guy, and they didn't play along with it like they did with my other fly-by-night crushes. They all gave me very, VERY negative feedback. I think that they were afraid that if they didn't bash him, I may do something stupid, like tell him. These were the same friends that had witnessed the nightmare that was me writing basketball player Tim Green a literal four-page love letter, spraying it with Victoria Secret body spray, sealing it with an ACTUAL KISS, and putting it on the windshield of his truck. Luckily it was retrieved and he never knew about it. I was warned that if I so much as hinted at this crush as I had with Tim, I would be publicly humiliated by ALL of the Kappas- the bald one, that one that sang, the one that dated the AKA, the one with the big eyes, the one who wore the shades, the one with the green eyes. ALL. OF. THEM. I didn't put it passed a boy to be mean to me. Just that last year I had been attacked by the entire basketball team (a post for another day)!
But then I had an interaction with Kappa Krush.
I was in the bookstore with my bisexual homegirl and we were standing behind him in the checkout line. She was going on and on about a girl that wouldn't get the point about their relationship being over.
"I don't get it," she said. "She won't leave me alone."
"Please. You used that girl like a moist towelette," I said, rolling my eyes.
Kappa Krush turned around and laughed. "That's a new one," he said, then went on to ring up his stuff. I could feel my friend tense up. She knew he was on the list and how little it took for me to go overboard.
"Do we need to talk about that?" she asked as we left the bookstore.
"About what?" I asked while thinking, About the fact that we're getting married?! I literally skipped back to the dorm, happy that Kappa Krush, as I had suspected, wasn't a complete douche like the other ones. He was nice!
Now, fast forward to last week at the homecoming tailgate and what would become the end of my 13-year delusion.

Homecoming Post 5: Clay and the Baby AKA

I wasn't on my feet for 20 minutes during the homecoming step show before my feet started to hurt. You see, I wear really cheap shoes with no arch support. So I copped a squat in front of the University Center to rest and watch the crowd. While I was doing so, an adorable little AKA took a seat next to me. She too was experiencing foot pain from walking up and down the campus in high heels. We got to chattin', me and this adorable 20-year-old junior (let's call her Adorable), and I decided to impart some wisdom to her. I decided to tell her the things that no one told me when I was a young woman at Xavier. 

1. I told her that if she didn't want to wear heels every day, she didn't have to, no matter what her prophytes said. I reminded her that she bought her letters outright, and if she wanted to attend the rest of the homecoming events in house shoes or a worn pair of Chucks, she could. I actually encouraged her to. Your college years should be partially dedicated to challenging the system. 
2. I advised her not to be a whore. I know that it is no longer PC to slut-shame, but that if she could help it, she should keep the mileage low on her jayjay. She doesn't want to get to 30 and need a trade in. 
3. She said that she didn't have a boyfriend, so I told her not to sweat the guy she likes that may not seem interested. I guaranteed her that at her ten-year reunion, he will be depressed and divorced and ripe for the picking. Patience wins the race!
4. I told her about Jasmine, the scary AKA from when I was a freshman. She made everyone's butt cheeks clench whenever she came around. I asked her to stay sweet but do not let the legend of Jasmine die. #remembertheculture
5. When I was a student at Xavier, I tried to attend everything because, when I didn't, everyone talked about what I missed like it was the best thing ever. So I let her know that there is always another party or event to attend and to not be afraid to miss out. She can stay in her room and give herself a facial or do her toes. There is always next weekend. 

And we chatted about other stuff. I told her about the time I sat on the AKA bench beside St. Joe to rest my feet after a failed attempt to walk to class in heels. An AKA came over and talked to me for about five minutes before telling me to get up. She didn't move until I was successfully limping off to class. LOLs, that's one of my favorite freshman moments.

I felt good afterward, unloading all my knowledge and experience on Adorable, but if she is anything like me, she will forget everything I said and make her own mistakes. This is the beauty of being young. 

Homecoming Post 4:The Hot Girl Rule

Let's go back to the night that Ashley the Rude flipped her hair in my face. Shortly after I recovered from that indignity, I saw THE Donnalyn Parriwinkle. I'm going to be honest: I am a fan of Donnalyn Parriwinkle, even though I am positive she doesn't know my name. I'm honestly quite interested in knowing what she thinks my name is. I bet you it's Debbie. I have been told that I look like a Debbie.
I saw Donnalyn for the first time my freshman year at a basketball game. She was talking pretty loudly in my ear to some guy, and I turned around to say something mean to her and was taken aback by how hot she was. From that point on, she was kind of always on my radar.
So again, lets go back to moments after the hair flip that, somehow, Ethan just happened to miss. We were talking when Donnalyn, followed by a fembot army, marched into the club like she owned the place.
"Donnalyn!"I yelled.
She didn't hear me, but her friend did and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and I called her over. Moments after I did it, watching her walk over to me, alarms when off in my head. "Abort! Abort!" I was thinking in my head. I didn't want to be seen anywhere near this girl! She looked entirely too hot!
Before I left the hotel, I thought I looked cute. I had on a long maroon tunic and a pair of black leggings with my cream jacket. Looking back, I looked more like a stay at home mom going to pick up her twins from pre-K. As I packed for homecoming, I just threw the stuff I normally wear in a luggage. I forgot how cute these XU girls are at all times! This chick had on a fishnet blouse and a brassiere! YES! A fishnet blouse and a brassiere!
We greeted each other and it became incredibly evident, even though she was being polite, that she had no idea who I or Ethan was.
"Can I take your picture?" I asked. I was committed to taking hundreds of homecoming pics to blog with and post later.
"Sure, let's be in it together," she said with a smile. But I knew what she was doing. She was implementing the Hot Girl Rule.
Just in case you didn't know it, unless it is a selfie, hot girls have stopped taking pictures alone. They don't know what you are going to do with them. You being in the pic with them ensures that you don't do anything stupid with their likeness. What she didn't know is that I have my own Hot Girl Rule. I refuse to be photographed with them ever.
"I will take the pic," said Ethan the Clueless.
So there I stood, ten times fatter and taller than Donnalyn, smiling for a picture that I knew was going to be bad.
After the pic, Ethan, Donnalyn, and I huddled around my phone and looked down at the worst picture I have ever taken.
"Oh my God! I look terrible!" I cried, mortified.
"Yeah," Donnalyn said, looking down at the pic. "When you show people, just tell them that you were drunk."
Drunk. Right.
I work from home and I have gotten in the habit of being super casual at all times. Seeing my peers in jumpsuits and skirt sets and dresses with holes in the sides reminded me that I am too young to fall all the way off, even though doing so is sooo comfortable! It doesn't hurt to put forward some effort once in a while. I mean, even Ethan had on a bow tie. Next year I will do better. Not fishnet better. But better.

Homecoming Post 3: Meeting in the Ladies Room

Upon arriving in the fall of 2003 to college, I thought I was all that for about ten minutes. I was wearing gold hoops, a tall tee that made me look shapeless and wide-legged jeans. Then I saw the upperclassman girls and wanted to run back to my dorm room and crawl under the bed! They were all GORGEOUS! And they just seemed to have it all together. They were walking in heels and it didn't even look like their feet hurt. Their clothes fit properly. And they had on real makeup, not the lip liner and Carmax I was rockin'. I remember wanting to just walk among these glamazons, which would have been hard to do when they were wearing those super cute Timberland heels and I was wearing scuffed Reeboks. I just wanted to be grown like them.
Fast forward to last week. I was at a club in New Orleans feeling cute in a pink peplum top and animal print jacket. Then I walked into the bathroom and saw three women, each of them in red bottoms that didn't seem to be making their feet hurt. Their dresses were sparkly, their hair was flat ironed to perfection, and they smelled of Dove soap and Chanel Mademoiselle. Yes, they smelled like upperclassman girls. And, as if it was 13 years ago, I faded into the background, making myself invisible, just to hear the cool girls talk.
"I told my husband that I will support him getting his MBA, but I don't understand why he would get it now. He is making so much money already," Pink Sparkle Dress said.
"I know. My husband also wants to continue his education, but our son is about to start private school. I just don't think getting his Ph.D. right now would work," said Gold Sparkle Dress. "He's trying to squeeze pieces of our ten-year plan into our five-year plan and that gives me anxiety."
"I know!" said Blue Sparkle Dress. "It has to be about what is right for our family and what makes sense."
They all nodded in agreement. Man, even in the ladies room, they were adulting like crazy. And, just as I had years before, I just wanted to be apart of the conversation. I thought of something cool to say, which was going to be, "What does it matter? Aren't you all doctors?", but before I could say it, in Holly fashion, I did something else to get their attention. I sneezed.
They stopped talking and turned and looked at me blankly as they had in the past in the lunch line.
"Bless you," one of them said.
"Thank you," I replied.
They all threw their napkins in the trash simultaneously, then walked past me out of the bathroom.
I have to say, I am way more confident in myself than when I was at 18. But I wonder: even when you are as awesome as I am, do you ever stop wanting to be one of the cool girls? The together girls? Now I understand that I don't want to be them as much as I would like to take on some of their qualities. I'd definitely like to be more polished and seen as more serious. But unlike when I was 18, I am no longer willing to lose myself. So I smell like Caress and Bath and Body Works Body Spray I was given for my birthday? I don't have a husband in business school but I do have my own business. Maybe there is more than one way to be a cool girl. I'm banking on it, because I definitely don't ever plan to learn to walk in heels.

Homecoming Post 2: Sand to the Beach

My first day on the campus of my college, I saw a bunch of interesting stuff. I saw my old speech teacher, class of '97, drunk. This teacher introduced me to the guy that plays Basie Skanks on the show Greenleaf. I ran into one of my favorite nuns (I went to a Catholic college). But one thing that I found, well, interesting, was the number of my classmates that brought their spouses to the homecoming. Question: WHY ON EARTH WOULD SOMEONE BRING THEIR SPOUSE TO HOMECOMING? Is that not the prime example of bringing sand to the beach?

I mean, I really thought about this. Why would you bring your spouse, who most likely didn't go to the school, to your homecoming? They don't know anyone, and you are going to spend a chunk of your time (that could be spent drinking) introducing them to people that you yourself haven't talked to in years. I met a number of significant others who were all nice, but they seemed bored. I was bored for them. When I got tired, I took an Uber back to my hotel. You can't Uber back to Chicago or wherever you came from. 

Immediately, I thought that this had something to do with lack of trust. Husband comes with Wife because he doesn't trust her to come alone. Wife brings Husband because she doesn't trust him to spend time at home alone without her. So they stay bound to each other with invisible handcuffs, smiling all the while and being social, while keeping a watchful eye out for one another. This is possible. 

On the flip side, one may actually want to introduce their spouse to the life that they once lived at the college they once attended. They may actually find joy in introducing their spouse to their old friends and teachers. I would find no joy in this at all. In fact, it would annoy me, rehashing pieces of my past every fifteen minutes. 

Then I had to take off my hater glasses and really reflect: Holly, why would you bring your husband, if you were married, to your homecoming? I would do it for one reason and one reason only: TO SHOW OFF! I never had a boyfriend during my college days, so I would bring my husband and wear him like a cute purse, just to prove to my classmates (who, in reality, probably wouldn't care) that I could actually pull a man. And I would dress him up cute and take him to everything, posing for pics with him with my hand on his chest, the diamonds of my wedding ring catching the flash of the camera. Not for nothing, many of my old peers have some FINE husbands. I mean, really fun 8s out of 10s. 

As a single, thirsty homecoming goer, I will say that seeing people paired off helped me decipher who was attached and who wasn't. It also helped to remind me of the ultimate goal: to find a man of my own and start my own family one day. Seeing girls I knew when I was 18 married with a kid at 32 showed me that this is not only possible but ideal. I actually found myself fantasizing about what my husband would be like when I get one. I will tell you about him here. I'm totally not bringing him to homecoming. 

The Hair Flip

So I went to my homecoming, and shut up. I know that I said that I wasn't going to go because of the anxiety that I was having about it, but I have to say, it was a lot of fun and I am very glad that I went. For one, I thought that I would be the only single, fat person there. Not the case. And no one cared! Everyone was just happy to see everyone, and there was a good time had by all.
However, I am sad to report that some things about the people that I went to school with have not changed. Some of my female peers are still as terminally rude as they were ten years ago.
Once upon a time, about 11 years ago, I had a communications class with this girl named Ashley. I didn't know Ashley well, but I could tell by her attitude that she was one of those petite girls with long, flat-ironed hair that liked to flirt and felt like the world should revolve around her. During a study session, she referred to a male friend of mine that had just crossed Alpha Phi Alpha as fat multiple times. Number one: the boy was not fat. Number two: who uses the word fat so openly around a fat person? I tell you who: Ashley. Ashley the Rude.
Anywho, the first night of homecoming I found myself at a club for an alumni dance party. I was the first one there because I am old and punctual, and if my friend Ethan would not have agreed to meet me there, I would have gone home at 9:30pm. I mean, I really felt like a fish out of water. All I kept thinking was that the music was hella loud and that the young girls that were there needed to go home and change into something more appropriate.
Ethan got there as soon as I had decided to leave, and we stood at one of those tall tables and talked. In mid-sentence, I hear someone yell, "Ethan!" I turned around and who was it but Ashley the Rude. She is still just as cute as she always has been and had on this dope black sweatsuit. Her hair, as usual, was heat damaged to the side.
"Hi Ashley," I said, as she ignored me, stepped in front of me, and gave Ethan the warmest welcome I have ever seen in my life. I half expected him to pick her up, kiss her, and spin in a circle. They caught up briefly, and as Ashley motioned to leave, I said, "Bye Ashley." Homegirl didn't turn around, she simply flipped her hair in my face and walked away to dance with her other rude ass friends. She left me there with a tight face, blinking profusely, in a state of disbelief.
That night, I didn't really dance. I had a good time watching the youngins twerk and hearing my favorite songs on good speakers. My feet began to hurt, so I stood barefoot, rocking side to side to Cardi B, eating ice out of my cup. But on the way back to the hotel in my Uber, I realized that there is some comfort in things not changing for better or worse. Ashley the Rude is still rude. I still hate standing at the club. My classmates still look good. New Orleans is still fun. It's nice to know that as the world kicks your butt, there is still a mislead girl in a tracksuit that will flip her hair in your face for old times sake. This, my friends, is the definition of comforting.

Thanksgiving Cocktails with Santa Margherita Presecco Superiore DOCG

If you are like me, you may need a drink during the holidays. Here are some yummy libations made with Santa Margherita Prosecco Superiore DOCG. 

Orange Cinnamon Blossom

INGREDIENTS

1 bottle of Santa Margherita Prosecco Superiore DOCG

1/2 lemon

1/2 orange

1 tablespoon honey

1/4 cup sugar

3 whole cloves

3 whole allspice

2 cinnamon sticks

DIRECTIONS

Rinse lemon and orange and thinly slice them, discarding seeds; quarter the orange slices. Put fruit in a 4- to 5-quart pan. Add honey, sugar (use the smaller amount if you prefer drinks on the tart side, the larger if you want a sweeter flavor), cloves and allspice.  With a knife, cut the cinnamon sticks lengthwise into thinner strips. Add cinnamon and 2 cups water to pan; bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat and boil gently for 5 minutes. Pour Santa Margherita Prosecco Superiore DOCG into hot citrus base and heat until steaming, about 8 minutes.  Keep warm over low heat. Ladle into heatproof cups or wine glasses.

Holiday Sangria

INGREDIENTS

1 bottle of Santa Margherita Chianti Classico Riserva

1 large orange, sliced

1 large pear, chopped

Seeds of 1 pomegranate

4 cinnamon sticks

DIRECTIONS

Add fruit to a large pitcher. Top with Santa Margherita Chianti Classico Riserva. Place in fridge for an hour before serving. Spoon fruit into glass before pouring wine. Garnish with cinnamon stick. Add ice to top (optional).

Lemon Elderflower Cocktail

INGREDIENTS

Santa Margherita Prosecco Superiore DOCG

1-2 ounce St. Germain Elderflower liqueur

2-3 drops Angostura bitters

Lemon rind (as garnish)

DIRECTIONS

Place St. Germain Elderflower liqueur into a cocktail glass and add drops of Angostura bitters. Fill glass with Santa Margherita Prosecco Superiore DOCG to mix. Top with twist of lemon.

Fall Faves!

My favorite thing about a season change is switching out my warm weather products for my cold weather products. I admittedly don't know if this is a real thing that women everywhere do, but I do it. And being the weirdo that I am, I REALLY look forward to it, lol. These are my favorite winter products.

The Zoya Party Girls colors are fabulous for fall and winter. The collection has it all: darks, warm colors, a cool blue, and metalics. The shades are ideal for any look you are looking to create for the holidays. Just so you know, that gold color on the end, Nadia, is me all day long come Christmas.

Zoya Party Girl Colors, $10 each

I have essentially been using the same soap since I was in high school. Many soaps dry out my skin are cause me to itch. But this Treets Traditions Revitalizing Ceremonies Foaming Shower Gel is light and nourishing and smells like magic! It's my new favorite shower treat.

Treets Traditions Revitalizing Ceremonies Foaming Shower Gel, $15

I know that there are many of you out there that say that using a hand sanitizer doesn't keep you from getting sick, but believe me when I say that I keep this Everyone Hand Sanitizer Gel with me at all times. People get sick and yucky in the winter and me and hand sanitizer are fighting the good fight against getting ill this season.

Everyone Hand Sanitizer, $5.82

Dark Spots

I tell myself that I am not vain, but I am. Oh, am I! I may not be one of those women who do those IG videos where they are making kissie faces into their phone cameras, but I am close, particularly when it comes to my skin.
My whole life, I have enjoyed a beautiful, creamy complexion. Even as a teen, when I had friends that had such bad acne that they were on prescribed meds for it, I coasted through my days zit-free. My twenties were also wonderful years for my skin. Now I'm in my 30s. Let's just say that things are a little different.
I AM GETTING DARK SPOTS!
Dark spots are a very common skin issue, but they are enough to drive a self-obsessed person insane!
I am so jealous of those girls that made the right decisions in life to get a job that gives them the insurance go to a top-notch dermatologist. Since I am not one of these girls, I have been Googling ways to get RID of these spots. For the next month or so, I will be washing my face with apple cider vinegar and lemon juice. All the articles I have read have said that this is a sure thing. And yes, lemons break me out. I know. But I will have to just drink tons of water to get rid of the zits. Getting rid of the spots are my top priority.
My grandma once told me that your skin is a gift. She died this year at 91, practically wrinkle and blemish free. So I guess I am at an age where I have to take my gift seriously. I will keep you posted on the results.

RECAP: Arts, Beats, and Lyrics

Art and hip-hop enthusiasts made history as the Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey Art, Beats and Lyrics national tour made its way home to Atlanta, serving as the first hip hop/urban event at the Mercedes-Benz Stadium. 
Among other art displays, an art installation by Charly Palmer, was displayed on an electronic LED board in the Art, Beats and Lyrics exhibition.  Patrons also got to enjoy cocktails from the Arts, Beats, and Lyrics sponsor, Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey. 

The Arts, Beats, and Lyrics crowd also got to enjoy a performance from the legendary rapper Rakim, demonstrating why he is recognized as one of the most talented and influential Emcees of all time.  

For information on Art, Beats and Lyrics please visit www.JackHoneyABL.com. (Photo by Kat Goduco/AB+L)