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Poppin’ the Giveaway Cherry

***THE WINNER HAS BEEN RANDOMLY CHOSEN!***

This giveaway is no longer accepting entries.  I used random.org to select the comment number of the winner, and the winner is:

Rebecca! (Who likes a Pinot Noir.)

Thanks to those who participated — I wish I could send plant nannies to all of you!

This morning I promised a surprise, so here goes.

Today, I was shocked – shocked – when I went to the Domestiphobia Facebook Page and saw that 100 people like it:

I mean, seriously?

I don’t think I could name 100 people who like me in real life.  So the fact that you come to this site and read it and maybe actually even get something out of it from time to time, really – and I mean really – means a lot to me.

It’s a better feeling than successfully making coq au vin.  It’s a better feeling than tiling your own backsplash.  It’s definitely a better feeling than breathing in capsaicin.  And it might even be a better feeling than intentionally falling headfirst out of a Cessna Caravan.

Wait, that’s a lie.

I’m pretty sure there’s no better feeling than jumping out of a plane.  Or maybe I should say, there’s no feeling like it.

Anyway.

To celebrate this little milestone (in addition to attending a wine tasting for employees at the bar tonight, because we all know that free wine = good times), I’m doing 2 things:

1)  Announcing that Domestiphobia is now on Twitter.  I created the account about 3-ish weeks ago and still don’t really know how to use it.  But if you’re on Twitter, and you happen to want to “follow” me, it might encourage me to… I don’t know… actually figure out what I’m doing over there.

2)  Conducting a giveaway.  (Is conducting the right word?  Hosting?  Having?  Doing?  I think I’m losing my mind.)  That’s right, my friends – I’m going to give something FREE to one lucky commenter.

Just what are you giving away? you might ask.  Because I know what you’re probably thinking.  You’re probably thinking, I bet she’s giving away a crappy coupon book for free hugs or that old dishwasher she can’t get rid of that’s been sitting in her garage for the past 2 years.

And to that, I say, What the hell is wrong with a coupon book for free hugs?!  Seriously – mine usually go for like $5 a pop.

And while I still think the hug thing is an excellent idea – especially because I’d likely get to travel somewhere new and interesting just to deliver said hug – the giveaway is more along the lines of the dishwasher option in the sense that I’m getting rid of something I’ve had sitting in the closet for quite some time and never got around to using.

Plant Nanny for Wine Bottles

No, I’m not giving you a bottle of wine.  Like one of those would sit in MY closet unused.

Remember when I bought these Plant Nannies to use in my garden?  Well, I never opened one of the boxes, and at the rate my last garden was destroyed by termites, I’m thinking it might be a long while before I use them again.

So today I’m giving away my last box of (4) Plant Nannies!

Plant Nannies

Oh, yikes.  That sounded a lot more exciting before I typed it out.

Is this a crappy giveaway?  If so, I’m sorry.  I’d love to give something more extravagant, but I’m unemployed, people.  So you’ll take my ceramic plant feeders and you’ll like ’em.

And you don’t need a garden to use them.  In fact, they work great in pots as well, if you just want to try your hand at growing one plant at a time.

Wine Bottle Plant Nanny

See?  They make your plants look like winos.

Which is really pretty hilarious.

And if you actually take the time to remove the labels from the wine bottles, it can look quite pretty.

Wine Bottle Plant Nannies

But I think we all know I like to do things half-way.  ‘Cause that’s how domestiphobes roll.

So anyway.  If you win these totally awesome nannies for your plants (because all nannies should feed their kids wine), you can go get all stinky in your garden and grow some beautiful and/or delicious greens to make your life a little better.

And speaking of stinky readers, maybe that coupon book of hugs wasn’t such a good idea.

No offense.

The not-so-fine print:

1.  I’m really really sorry to my international readers, but Justin will only support me shipping this within the continental U.S.  You see, until I’m actually making money, he’s not that thrilled with me giving ours away.  Which, dammit – makes sense.

2.  To enter, simply leave a comment to this post telling me what kind of wine (if any) you prefer.  Chardonnay?  Sweet red?  Boxed?  With some fava beans and a nice chianti?  And if you don’t drink wine, why the hell not??  (Allergies, pregnancy, and legal age limit are the only real excuses I can think of.)

3.  I will use some type of random comment selector thing to pick the winning comment.  All entries must be in by 4:00 p.m. Eastern Time on Wednesday, May 18th, 2011.  Once the winner is randomly chosen, I will announce it on this page and contact the lucky reader for a shipping address.

4.  This box of plant nannies has never been used.  I will pack them as cushily as I can, but I am not responsible for any that might break during shipping.  If any of them do break, I deeply, sincerely apologize.  And I’ll send you a complimentary virtual hug – no matter how stinky you are – to make up for it.

I Still Can’t Remember How to Write. But at Least I Have Pictures.

*If you don’t want to read this post in its entirety, which is completely understandable, you might at least want to skip to the end for an announcement.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Have you ever had a weekend that’s so utterly fantastic that you just can’t stand for it to be over?  And the beauty is that it was so great, you didn’t even waste any time worrying about the fact that it would eventually end.  Every millisecond was spent in blissful enjoyment – in the here and now – and not an ounce was wasted on worry or dread over its impending end.

Now that it’s over and I’m coming down from the high, I feel less sad and more satiated.

Dare I say?

Content.

Did you know that it’s constant worry that does that to us?  Worrying about the future and longing for happy times of the past takes our lives away, bit by bit, making us forget to just sit back and enjoy the ride.

I blame my recent lack of living in the present for the faint lines across my forehead and shadows beneath my eyes.

But the good news is that my eye crinkles can be blamed on laughter.

So I’m not a total loss.

And this weekend, I did enjoy the ride.  Thoroughly.  Friday was as relaxed as it gets, with nothing more than eating and dog-walking on the agenda:

Breakfast sausage casserole.  Recipe to come.

When it’s hot outside, we all could use a dip in the lake.

Saturday was Justin’s graduation day, and it was filled with wonderful friends and amazing food.

And wine.  Lots of wine:

I whisper-yelled, “Justin!” and they both turned around.  Guess which one’s mine?

Beautiful mother-to-be, Alaina.

My favorite would-be brother-in-law, Dirk.  And not just because he picked a great bottle of wine to go with lunch.

The Nice Guy, from Inside the Nice Guy doing his thang.

The Wine doing its thang.

The Street doing its thang.

Later that night, the steak also did its thang.  Mostly to my thighs.

(Dirk and Alaina bought a cow awhile back.  Then they brought like half of it – in the form of three 800 lb. steaks – to our house for dinner.)

Besides wrinkles from worry and crows’ feet from laughter, I’m sure I’ll have a few more lines to blame on my own stupidity for going to the beach and forgetting sunscreen the sun.  Due to a family emergency, Catherine wasn’t able to meet us at the lake yesterday.  We were bummed, but we reasoned that we are in a coastal state, and it’d be a shame for Matthew to make it this far without seeing the Atlantic Ocean.

So we grabbed a few necessities – towels, bathing suits, sunglasses, and of course cameras, completely neglecting the most obvious of beach-going accoutrements for pasty white Midwesterners, which is sunscreen.

(And kids, when it comes to sun safety, I don’t like to play.  No, I don’t find it amusing that I have a bow-shaped burn line on my back from the tie on my bathing suit top, nor do I find it amusing that I could die from melanoma. Fortunately, we all know I won’t have to worry about bow-shaped tan lines in Spain.  Only burned nipples.  Which might, admittedly, be worse.  So it’s safe to say I won’t be forgetting the sunscreen there.)

Aside from our lobster-like appearance, our impromptu trip to the coast inspired the elusive joy that travel-on-a-whim never fails to make me feel.  I was reminded that I don’t always need to fly far to experience a life less ordinary.

What is it about the beach, anyway?  I mean, it’s hot and dirty and I always end up with little sand mosaics embedded into my skin and we won’t even talk about the other pitfalls of sand ending up in places sand really shouldn’t be, but still we go and we complain about the crowds and we dig in the sand and we crisp in the sun just to experience that wash of awe when we realize we’ve gone as far as we can possibly go without a little help.

Or a yacht.

In a couple of weeks, I’ll be on the other side of that water.

Crazy, huh?

Speaking of crazy, Domestiphobia reached a milestone recently.  A milestone I plan to celebrate later this afternoon.  So.  If you’ve made it this far in this post, you probably, definitely, for sure want to check back later today for something I’ve never done before.

I realize I started this post by telling you to live in the present and not worry about the future, but you should probably forget all that because this is something to get excited about.