Double the fun

I've mentioned before our group's theory about how everything's better with bacon, but this takes it to a whole new level.

Let me introduce you to KFC's Double Down, which tosses aside that thing we call bread for a "bun" of two pieces of fried chicken enveloping pieces of cheese, bacon, and the Colonel's special sauce. (Sorry, Dad, I know your stomach is growling but you can't get one of these puppies in Illinois yet -- just Omaha and Providence.)

My favorite is all the articles (like this one and this one) that talk about how bad this latest creation is for you. Wow...a sandwich made of fried chicken, cheese, and bacon isn't good for me? Gee, tell me something I didn't know.

The interesting part of the story for me is that our good friend Kevin, part of this original "everything's better with bacon" crew, works for Yum! Brands in Louisville, which owns KFC. I am wondering if this was his idea. If so, I want my cut -- or at least a coupon for a freebie when this comes to DC!

Ups and downs

It's been a newsy week in our group of friends. We welcomed Braden Thomas (yes, he finally has a name) on Saturday and Sophia Jane on Monday. Sophia and family are doing well, though I haven't heard how big sister Anna is handling all this newness!

Unfortunately, this week has also come with its share of loss. Within this group of guys (and our friend Brigid), taken at the wedding we went to in Florida in April, two of them lost parents this week--one mother, one father. This has been the first death of any of our friends' parents -- and two in one week just seems unreal.

If nothing else, it makes you realize all you really have.

Five seconds of fame

I was on Good Morning America this morning...for about five seconds. Still, if you want to see it, watch it here.

Change of plans

With Chad out of town for five days, I have been finding plenty to keep myself busy. This morning, I intended to go to kickboxing with a friend, have brunch with my girls' group, head to the mall with Rachel, and then take Lucy to the park with my friend April and her dog Cooper.

There was a slight change of plans.

Kickboxing was great, but just four of us went to brunch. Then we went here:

Meet Baby O'Reilly, the newest addition to our group, who arrived this morning at 3:54 a.m. at a healthy 8 pounds, 12 ounces. (Baby Sophia is due any day, but the O'Reilly kid came a week early and beat her to it!)

His only name right now is "cute," but his mom and dad are working on that.

Wet & wild

Much like every night about that time, I got ready to take Lucy for a walk around 7:00. It was cloudy, but I checked the weather and the radar was clear. And, besides, it's practically been months since we had any decent amount of rain. Tonight would likely be no different.

So we headed out for Fort Ward, an old Civil War site that is now a park, about a mile from our house. On the way there, the air was really still. It was humid. I was hot. I was thinking about all the reasons why I'm ready for summer to be over, and telling myself it would not be so horribly bad if a nice little sprinkle cooled everything off and brought the breeze back.

We walked a lap around the park and then I took Lucy over to a big grassy area where I can let her off the leash and relinquish some of that unwavering energy by throwing a stick. Just as she set out on her first sprint, it started to sprinkle.

It started to rain.

It started to pour.

At that point, there were three options. I could find a shed or shelter to wait it out, run the mile home and just get it over with already, or embrace it. Those of you who know me well will be surprised that I just said, "forget it," chose option three, and we walked home in the pouring rain.

I shared a strange camaraderie with all of the other joggers and dog-walkers who had gotten stuck in this sudden summer storm. Just when I didn't think the raindrops could get any bigger, they did, so I looked up at the sky, felt God giving me a big "well, you said you wanted rain..." speech, and laughed all the way home. The minute we crossed onto our street, the rain stopped. Talk about timing.

Lucy and I would not be any wetter if you threw us in a swimming pool. But it was kind of fun!

Not their best "Self"

On Monday, I read an article about an interview with and cover shoot of former American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson in September's Self magazine. Clarkson, who has always had a love/hate/hate/hate relationship with weight, looked good and I remembered thinking she must really be working out.

So today I come to find out in another article that people are livid because her picture was retouched. And I don't mean "retouched" as in they took away a pimple and made her teeth whiter. I mean they Photoshopped the living daylights out of this picture, as is evidenced by the before-and-after shots. It reminds me of the brouhaha over Katie Couric's photo "retouch" a few years ago, also another brilliant example of "photojournalism" at work.

The magazine's excuse? Kelly's picture was "altered" to "make her look her personal best." What a joke. I guess even a publication that claims to embrace healthy lifestyles, eating right, exercise, and, well, "curves," still needs to sell magazines. And apparently Kelly was just too chubby for them. Glad I already canceled my subscription.

Here's to 35 more

I can never remember my parents' anniversary. I know it's somewhere around my grandma's birthday, but get confused on specifics. (I even blogged about it last year and got called out by my mother for having it wrong. Oops.) But anyway, today I knew for sure that today was their anniversary. Of course I forgot to send a card and being on a different time zone meant I was too late to call, but I did give them a shout-out on my Facebook status and I'd like to think that counts for something.

At any rate, today my parents have been married 35 years. They've produced four incredibly fun, accomplished, humble kids who love them very much. Three of them were home tonight to celebrate this monumental occasion with them (no I don't feel guilty about being "the one" who missed the festivities at all...).

I've written before how much I admire my parents. I'm not sure how people get their kids to become their friends, but somehow they managed -- or at least I think they did. (Then again, maybe this has just been a ruse all these years.)

Perhaps it's because I feel like they're my buddies, but I wish I could have been at their wedding. I know it was memorable -- especially that part where dad was late. (Mom acted surprised throughout my childhood when dad could never get anywhere on time -- but she should have known!)

Even though I missed their wedding, for...well...obvious reasons, I've been a part of their lives for 30 of those 35 years, which is something. Still, we're nowhere close to finished, folks. I'm rooting for 35 more!