This Blog Has Moved!

Hey peeps!

This blog has packed its boxes, turned in the keys, and moved out of its little starter apartment!  Don’t worry—Adventures in Tralaland is moving on up, definitely not out.

Come and check out the new blog digs at

I won’t be posting on here anymore, so please update your bookmarks and Google readers (or just subscribe directly from the new site).

Come check it out and help me give this new spot a good housewarming.  I’ve already warned the neighbors, so we can party it up big-style…

Your Chica

The Lazy Sunday Taskmistress: Reporting for Duty

For once, you may find me all wordless–or rather, as wordless as I get.  You see, I’ve been tinkering away at something really big (hint:  it involves the blog!) and have spent way, way, WAY too much time attached to the trusty Toshiba over the last few days.  It’s totally zapped my powers of speech.  Unbelievable, I know.

Worry not, though:  I managed to live a little, too!

Here’s the abbreviated, almost-wordless take on the weekend:

Hunkered down for the heavy rain on Friday

Went out for a post-rain Friday night movie and snack of beer and potato wedges

Hoped against hope for disappearance of ominous clouds on Saturday

...Because I spent Saturday at the Caribbean 20-20 Cricket final

Cheered as Trinidad won third place and eliminated Jamaica

...And witnessed Guyana winning the final against Barbados at midnight, which set off a storming of the field by Guyana supporters

Ate a fittingly-late Sunday brunch chez my table--southwest scramble with avocado salsa and tex-mex cornbread

Performed the inevitable weevil check of the dry pasta before dinner--'tis the season for bugs

Dined on pasta with eggplant sauce, sauteed plantains, avocado slices for dinner

See?  I can be quiet sometimes… only sometimes.

The Lazy Sunday Taskmistress: Reporting for Duty

It’s so funny how you can do the exact same things in two different places.  The outings and errands remain the same, but the locale, obviously, is so very different.  What I mean is that this weekend could have happened in Buffalo, though I guess I wouldn’t have seen palm and coconut trees during it.

It was a very normal homey weekend, the kind I’d been really missing.

There was a fun visit to Bhagwansingh’s, our big homewares store (my Home Depot has a much cooler name, clearly!) for a rake, a shovel, a toilet seat, and a flashlight (no, I don’t plan on hitting someone over the head with a toilet seat then threatening them with a rake to make them dig a hole in my backyard by flashlight–but it is a good idea, in theory).  After which came a fun visit to the plant store in search of a Bajan cherry tree (which we did not find there):

There was a stop for some fast food, Trini-stylie–doubles, of the kind a girl watchful of her figure can enjoy and delectate once every blue moon if she has any intention of baring a six-pack at Carnival:

You ask for your doubles here...

And 2.5 seconds later you're eating this pile of chickpea goodness

There was the inevitable doubles-induced nap with baseball (and later, cricket) in the background, plus dinner and an outing to the movies (Toy Story 3), followed by the usual beer, though I sadly had to give the 3-D glasses back before I had the beer.

And, on Sunday, there was plant-purchasing and fruit and vegetable loading-up at the Sunday market, followed by brunch and plenty of quality online reading and online dress-stalking.  I need a dress for a party at ours in a few weeks and I have a wicked plan to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and make the dress out of some red curtains in a manner like so:

The Anthropologie Graphical Dress--be still my heart

After which we had a very lovely get-together for tea and chat in our neighbor’s garden, for which I wore an appropriately-themed flowery skirt:

Skirt by me (dress refashion), top by Old Navy, sandals from Target--very predictable, I know...

The only thing that could have improved my weekend?  Not having a knee twinge/ache.  I know full well that I may possibly have come from a nutty home Zumba session, but I’d rather believe it came from a nutty kitchen cleaning session.  I’d rather be allergic to cleaning than to Zumba.  I’m now off to apply ice and feel silly about it and hope that the Zumba gods aren’t punishing me for appropriating their thang.