Fun with Friends in New England

James and I are blessed with friends, and even luckier that our friends choose to live in cool cities because it means we get to travel! A couple of James’ besties live up in Boston, and we’ve made two wonderful trips up to New England to visit the past few years. (We visited my bestie, Audra, the last trip to Boston, but now that she and Dustin are back in Oklahoma we need to plan a visit to the Sooner state.)

This past weekend was one of those trips, where we spent some time with Adrian and the Pfeifers up in one of our nation’s oldest cities. It was two very different settings, between the first two nights with bachelor Adrian and the next nights with the Pfeifers and kiddos. Obviously each night was a ton of fun, and offered us, a couple of old married folks, lots of variety.

Friday night we all worked out of Adrian’s townhome, with each of us three consultants taking a level of the house, talking loudly on conference calls and fiercely typing on our laptops. It was there that I got the good news of my promotion to Manager (yea!) so there was reason to celebrate! Good food, good drinks, some classic Boston nightlight – a very nice way to spend our Friday night.

James had a little too much fun on Friday night, so he needed Saturday AM to recover. Adrian and I spent the morning wondering along Newbury, where I tried to resist the $200 Cole Haan pumps calling for me down the street. After James had rallied a bit, we made the trek out to the burbs (well, sort of, it was only 10 minutes from downtown!) where we experienced instant envy of the Pfeifer’s new house. Such a beautiful home for such a beautiful family.

Jeremy and Jen have the cutest two children, who are deceptive little boogers because they convince you that kiddos aren’t really that hard. Simone is the most polite, charming little gal, and little Alex just melted my heart. They provided WONDERFUL photo opportunities, and I played the part of visiting paparazzi all weekend.

Patriots fan

Handsome little devil

Sweet little gal

Puzzle Fun!

Jen and Jeremy are always fun to hang out with, and they convince you this whole parenting thing is easy as pie. We had some “grown-ups only” time on Saturday, and then on Sunday they took us to Kennebunkport to enjoy the water and the seafood. James and I also got to cross two states off our list: New Hampshire and Maine. There is not much in NH except for discount liquor, which I guess is enough to make people flock to this tiny state.

Maine, on the other hand, was a real beauty.

You can’t go to Maine without eating lobster, so James and I followed the rules and got a lobster roll (me) and a stuffed lobster (James). Delicious!

Good Friends

Hot Mama

And then this woman who was older than dirt started walking, table to table, to promote her wild blueberry pie that was on the menu, bragging that she made this pie for the Bushes when they were visiting. Well, I was impressed - it was so darn good that I almost promised to vote Republican in the next election if she would give me the recipe!

Such a lovely weekend, with lovely friends, and memories that James and I will never forget.

Windblown Newlyweds

A Momentary Fling

Confession:  I am cheating.  Cheating on my longtime hotel brand, Marriott. Despite being an ubber premier level that is not even advertised and entitles me to all sorts of goodies;  Despite having one of those special black membership cards (just like in Up in the Air); despite the fact that I receive personalized Christmas cards from multiple Marriott hotels that know me well enough to say when I approach the counter "hello Ms Kerr...oh, I forgot, Ms. Sasser"....despite all of this, I have not been feeling the love from the St. Louis Marriott West the past few weeks.   I took the time to provide my gentle thoughts in a survey they so kindly sent before breaking down to wrote them a nastygram with all my complaints.  After nothing, I canceled my reservation 1 hour before check-in to switch to another hotel.

Here was my mistake.  I left a bad situation and moved over to nothing less than the Four Seasons. Now, this is the Four Seasons in St. Louis, but it's still the Four Seasons.  It's still over-the-top luxury and uncompromised service.  (It's also an all-night smokey casino filled with thousands of Midwesterners hitting the slots, but you overlook certain things.)   They are everything the Marriott has NOT been these last few weeks.  I've been comparing it to going out on a date with a hot, handsome hunk while on a break from your deadbeat boyfriend.  How can you ever go back? 

Let's start with my room:  beautiful view of the arch, huge flat screen, and lovely bed.  The products?  L'Occitane.  But the best part is the bathroom.  The waterfall shower and the deep tub and the fluffy bathrobes - those are nice.  But what takes the cake is the TV in the mirror.  Yes, that's right, a TV in the mirror!  This way you don't have to miss a minute of the morning news programs while doing your make-up.  You can catch up on a Matt Laurer interview while waiting three minutes to rinse out your conditioner.  It is genius, and most definitely going on the checklist for the future Sasser dream home. 

I'm not sure how I'm going to leave this place tomorrow only to return to the Marriott next week.  I haven't received the apology I've been hoping for or the extra Marriott points that I've been expecting.  But, I guess I did get a momentary fling.  That's gotta be worth something. 

All the Single Ladies

Unless you’re a consultant, it’s really hard to describe the relationship that you have with your coworkers. I know that people in other jobs are close to the people they work with, but consulting reaches a whole new level because you actually spend more time with these people than your own spouse. Actually, let’s back up – if I didn’t have such wonderful consulting teams over the past years I wouldn't even HAVE a spouse! James and I first met while on a project together in Albuquerque, NM, and grew so close – as friends, folks, nothing else until the end of the project – because we spent so much time working and socializing. We had more consultants at our wedding than a PeopleSoft conference, and mostly because they’re now who we consider our good friends.

It’s true that I eat more meals with these great people than without, I’ve traveled to more cities and countries with them than my own family, they know what I’m buying online way before James questions the transaction on the credit card, and they have in-depth experience with my food anxiety and know that they can’t ask to share with me or get away with an insufficient number of appetizers. I won’t sugarcoat it - the people on my current project team rock. I will choose to remain friends with these people long after the client has realized all the goals that we’re helping them to achieve with our blood, sweat, and tears. We may all live in different cities, but consulting friendships know no boundaries.

Our beautiful bachelorettes!

And when there is a celebration to be had we make sure we do it up right. Traditional “going out’ nights (i.e. Saturday) can’t apply when your friendships are bound by the 3-4-5 model. This week, we hosted a little bachelorette party for two very special brides-to-be on our team, Jen and Diksha. Considering the fact we had a client attending, and we had boys attending, and it was a Wednesday night, the party did not reach the epic proportions as, say, my bachelorette party in Austin last August. (When I can find some Mom-proof photos to share, I will have to blog about THAT night, one of my most favorite nights.) But I trust that Jen and Diksha’s gal pals in their respective home cities will do it up right, with inappropriate items taped to their veil and perhaps a “male entertainer” or two. (Just kidding.)

The night started out at a yummy tapas place near downtown St. Louis. Tapas restaurants usually make me nervous (see related comment above to my “food anxiety” about not getting enough to eat), and I go into primal mode and try to hoard food from the tiny little plates as they pass by. Fortunately this group knows that we better just order 2 – 3 plates of everything off the menu, so I am quite comfortable sharing this fabulous Spanish fare with them. (True story – I guess my accent causes “tapas” to sound an awful lot like “topless”, so some attendees were horrified when I told them we were starting the night at a “topless” place for the bachelorette party. Quick clarification followed!!)

After gorging ourselves on bacon wrapped figs and fried garlic and queso de cabra (to name a few dishes), the gals got a little “bridal survival” kit of goodies (including mini liquor bottles) and then a flashing tiara that was mandatory head gear for the night. All of the party had on beads to make sure everyone realized we were with these fab bachelorettes.

A subset of our good looking project team

The next and final stop was a bar named Big Daddy’s (no joke), located in what appeared to be a somewhat sketchy area of St. Louis (but then again, what part of that city does not have some sketch to it.) Big Daddy’s offered bottomless cups to the ladies for $5, plus other sorts of drink specials – all of which adds up to a low bar bill but a disastrous morning after. Perfect place for the party.

Long before anyone else was moving our group had hit the dance floor and was rocking out. It helped that the DJ was playing a good mix of 80s, 90s, and the 00s, including some songs that were older than our young intern. We didn’t refrain from teasing him about this, because it’s just part of the fun of having someone 21 years old on your team.

The Atlanta HRSD Crew, including our intern

When it was all said and done, we had danced off all the calories from our tapas, enjoyed some spirits, and (hopefully) gave the gals a fun “single ladies” night to remember – even if it was just a normal work week. Some guy at Big Daddy’s was totally confused and said “why, WHY, are you having a bachelorette party on a Wednesday night [insert judgmental look]?” All we could say was “we’re consultants, this is our life, these are our girls, and sometimes these things just have to go down on a Wednesday”.

Love this gal.

Where do our weekends go?

For James and me, weekends are very precious. They are the only time that we are home together, and we have to cram in all the “normal” stuff people do within a week in 2 short days. This includes weeding through 5 days worth of mail, two back-to-back sessions with our personal trainers, buying just enough food at the grocery store to last the weekend without leftovers, and a mandatory Target run that, somehow, always costs $50. After our years on the road (11 years for James, 5 for me), we have got the weekend errands down to an art form.

We also want to use the time to see our Atlanta-based folks, of course. We need them to remember that we are more than just an email address, cell phone number, and Facebook page. This weekend was all about friends and family.

On Friday night we had over Anna and Justin, who I will forever call Scoot because that’s the only name I knew him as for a year. James grilled some excellent sirloin filets, and proved that lean meat can be quite tasty off a grill. (This is specifically for my father who turns his nose up at any red meat lacking a certain amount of “marbling”, i.e. fat.) We also had grilled asparagus and baked mac-and-cheese . But my real pride-and-joy was the homemade peach cobbler, straight from last month’s Southern Living. Two things almost kept the cobbler from ever reaching the table: first, it takes AGES to peel 15 peaches and I almost gave up several times. Southern Living needs to start rating their recipes, from “easy cheesy” to “real pain in the behind”. This one was definitely the latter. Another (almost) disaster was when the filling bubbled over onto the flame of my gas oven. Just a little fire and a little smoke and a frantic husband, but I got it under control.

The four of us ate about an 1/8th of the cobbler, and then I – without shame - left a spoon in the dish and took a bite every time I went in to the kitchen all weekend. I estimate that, in total, I ate about a third of that darn thing. Just trying to get in those recommended fruit servings.

On Saturday, James and Michael spent the day laying new hardwood floor in Michael and Kellee’s condo. My husband is quite the handyman, having gutted and redone our entire condo (with the help of Michael and a couple of guys who used to leave me love notes in Spanish – long story.) No one asked for my help on Saturday, mostly because the extent of my handiness is reminding people of the “lefty loosey, righty tighty” rule. So I got to spend the day ironing the linens (yes, I do that, I’m not entirely sure why), watching hours worth of food network, putting air in my tires – BY MYSELF – and working on the baby blankets for all those with early Fall babies. (There are quite a few, and James now calls our condo the “little sweat shop”.)

Sunday night we celebrated James’ brother’s birthday. Chris turned the big 2-9, and we celebrated over some famous birthday cake. Ms. Leron (James’ mom) and Aunt Wyllene (James’ aunt) always make our birthday cakes from scratch, and everyone has their own specific flavor. We were all happy with Chris’ choice. Chocolate-on-Chocolate is never a bad idea, especially when you throw on some ice cream (and a side of peach cobbler that I was still trying to force on people). A great way to end the weekend, as there is nothing I love more than family, friends, and buttercream frosting.

Why I love Delta

Since the move to Atlanta, I have switched my loyalty to Delta – more out of practicality than actual desire to board a Delta plane each week. Both James and I have been avid Continental supporters, but we must face reality that 1) we live in Delta’s main hub, 2) Continental has gone downhill since the days of Gordon Bethune, and 3) the recent merger United will probably strip away the last bit of self-respect that Continental had left.

I’m one segment away from Platinum already this year, and this will most certainly increase my fondness of the airline due to the increase in perks, like more upgrades. The First Class snack tray includes Sun Chips and Twix, both of which would rank in my top 5 favorite junk food items. It’s an excellent day when they tell me “miss, you can pick two”.

Delta flight attendants are also OLD SCHOOL. Some of these women probably started on an Eastern Air or Pan Am flight back in the 60s, although it’s hard to tell with the amount of work they’ve had done. These flight attendants – heck, we’ll even call them “stewardesses” since they’re so old school - also humor me because of how they choose to respond to situations: with attitude and more attitude.

Take my Monday night for instance: one of those travel days that make you question your entire career choice if you're a consultant. I arrived at the airport around 5:15 for my 7PM flight, mostly because I had a 6PM call and needed to find someplace decently quiet to actually conduct some business before getting on the plane. As I got to the security line, I heard them announce a complete groundstop due to weather. I went on to the Delta club, only to learn my flight was cancelled. The nice club attendant put me in first class on the next flight at 9:45, which meant I had a few hours to kill. I got some cardio in by walking back and forth from the A to E terminals, went to the International terminal for dinner because they have better food, hung out in different Delta clubs just for fun, and then began to lose some patience as my flight went from 9 to 10 to 11PM.

So, 11:30PM….all of us poor souls trying to get to St. Louis are standing around the gate, waiting for a shred of hope from the “nice” Delta ladies keeping guard of the door. People were restless, vacationers looked weary, kiddos were crying…things started to get a little tense. Delta choose this moment to make an important pre-board announcement.

“Ladies and gentleman at the gate waiting for Flight 302 to St. Louis, I need you to do me a HUGE favor [sarcastic tone] and take a look at your boarding card for a seat assignment. Yes, folks, you need a seat assignment to get on this plane. A friendly reminder, if your card says ‘seat not assigned’, this means [yelling] YOU DO NOT HAVE A SEAT ASSIGMENT. You are on STAND BY. If your card says 4F you have a seat. If it says 15B, you have a seat. If it says “seat not assigned”, YOU DO NOT HAVE A SEAT.”

And then…my favorite line:

“If you are on STAND BY, then you need to STAND BACK”.

Priceless. The only thing that would have made this better is if they would have chosen to throw in an obscenity, such as “STAND BACK, b****h”. Ooooh, that would have made my night and guaranteed a much funnier post (and strongly worded letter to customer service). But, I guess even Delta has some limits as to how far they will go.

"We're here to pump (clap) you up!"

So, I think I'm in good shape, right? WRONG! There is nothing like a new personal trainer in your life to humble you and remind you of muscles that you forgot even existed.

I think that, taking the average America population (which is a low starting point, honestly), James and I are pretty healthy. James has done a great job of getting back back in shape after what he fondly refers to as "the fun years". Chicken wings and Jack Daniels do not a healthy diet make, but he's really gotten lean and mean and is back on the health train. I cook very well at home, although I still cook with a little butter because I'm Southern and it's what we have to do. Don't ask me why - I don't make the rules.

I ran my first half marathon this past Spring, sporting my Vibram Five Fingers, of course. I plan to do another one soon, but my training is severely limited by this Georgia heat. When it's cooler than 80, I will start my training again, in plenty of time for a nice, cool run in November or December. (Those running a race in September are just plain crazy.)

The ING in March (holding a homemade sign, from James)

So, this leads me to our personal training adventure. Since it's too hot to run outside and we feel we've reached a plateau in our workouts, we turned to personal training as a boost. We meet with them 2 days a week, which is PLENTY. Geez Louise, those folks can be intense. I'm having trouble today mustering the strength in my abs to even cough.

It's my own fault, though. When asked what my goals were I said, vainly, "Six pack abs before I have a baby and my body goes to pot." I think that is totally reasonable, and what most people who coyly say, "oh, you know, just to be healthy", are actually thinking.

We're on Week 3 of personal training, and I think I've noticed a little added strength when I hoist my suitcase up into the overhead bin each Monday and Thursday. The six pack is still yet to come, but, hey, you have to have goals, right!?

The Cairo Crowd

Last night we had some of the Cairo Crowd over for dinner. Cairo, pronounced like the syrup (Karo) and not like the Egyptian city, is James' hometown and where all the boys were born and raised in South Georgia. It's impossible for 2 or more of them to get together without it turning into a "remember when" session or a "did you hear about so-and-so" update. And now they've got spouses and mates who get to sit around, hear their stories, and pray to God that they got all that Cairo craziness out of their system. But these people and friendships are so special, and if you're not from Cairo you can't help but be a little jealous of what they share.


The dinner menu was fabulous, if the chef can say so herself, and on the healthy side. We started with a little Bruschetta and grilled crostini, and of course there is a story behind this. James has requested Bruschetta, but I was making everything else from scratch and wanted to "cheat" with the pre-made stuff. So, I sent out my husband with instructions to "bring back Bruschetta". He brought back tomatoes and basil, and a recipe he found that "looked easy" and included parboiling the tomatoes. Needless to say, he got the cold shoulder for a while as I hurried to chop, chop, chop all the ingredients and prepare the appetizer, just as guests started to arrive.

I also fixed a lighter lasagna (yum), and a homemade angel food cake with chocolate ganache on top. Delicious. Of course you can't have Italian without red wine, and we had plenty of red wine. :)


One-by-one the non-Cairo mates started to fade, and it was only the Cairo boys left up, talking and joking and carrying on about people from back home. I washed dishes after dinner, before going to bed, and again this morning when a woke up. (That's about how often I ate a piece of the angel food cake, too.) You know people were having fun when all your red wine, short highball, and tall highball glasses are dirty...and I have several sets of each. Boys will be boys (wink).