South of Reason

New Year's Resolutions 2012

2011-12-31T18:08:00.000-07:00

2011 was an amazing year. It was the year of my child, the little bear cub who stole my heart and made everything else in life irrelevant. It was the year we lost the championship in my first season as a head lacrosse coach. It was the year my family became the most important thing in the world to me.

Last year I did pretty well on my 12 New Year's Resolutions. In the summer I kind of dropped the ball (I got a bit distracted with snapping 100,000 photos of my child on my phone and then boring people to pieces with them), but for the most part, the sentiment was there. This year I have 12 New Year's Resolutions again, one for every month. The rule I have for myself is that if I like the resolution, I can keep it, if I don't, I can drop it, but only after the month is over. It takes the pressure off nicely. So here goes.

1) Reduce. In January, I'm going to go through all the closets, attic, and basement of the house, and get rid of stuff we don't need or use. I will donate those items to Goodwill or consign them at a local shop in town.

2) Reuse. Notice a theme here? In February, I will not purchase anything new (except for food, because to do otherwise would be gross). All purchases will be gently used or off Craigslist. If I need to buy a gift or something, then I will either try to make it (ha) or buy local from a shop in town.

3) Create a memorable 1st birthday for my kid. No bouncy castles or inflatable jousting rings, and no one's going to be jumping out of any cakes, but I'd like to blow it out for the little guy.

4) Healthier Eating Decisions. This means no more cookies in the dining hall. At least for the month. Or Lent. Ugh, either will be really hard.

5) Learn Tagalog. In September, we were all given access to Rosetta Stone to learn a new language. We picked Tagalog, my parents' native tongue, but have yet to access it. I hope in May we find some time to do that before we make another trip home.

6) Write another children's video pilot. I need to get off my keister and just get this done.

7) Explore our state. I've given this state a ton of grief, but I need to do some exploring to really get to know it. Hiking trails, biking trails, and long drives north into small towns and villages are on July's agenda.

8) Date Nights. In August, I'd like to attempt a few Date Nights, elaborately planned, to make the hubs feel special. He's done a lot for me lately, and I think he ought to be celebrated.

9) Organize. This mainly pertains to 3 areas of the house: the office, the kitchen, and the sideboard in the dining room where all the unopened mail seems to reside.

10) Half Marathon. I know this was on last year's list, but my half marathon got snowed out this year, so I get to have it on my list again since we have free admission to the race in 2012.

11) Stay ahead of the mess. This actually is more referring to the laundry, and our tendency to get behind on laundry when school starts. The kitchen and dining room get pretty bad too, but the laundry will be the main focus of November.

12) Find a Happy Place. No, I don't mean Target. This means to find some inner peace with what's going on in life. Taking a meta-moment. Finding some zen amidst the chaos. So if the world does actually crumble around us like everyone's saying, at least I'll be with my family, and I'll be happy.

That's it. So long, 2011. I'm off to play Mommy Shorts' genius New Year's Eve Newborn Parent Drinking Game.

The Age of Discovery

2011-08-19T19:12:00.001-06:00

It's pretty amazing how much these little infant sponges soak up in six short months. At three months, G gave us his first smile. The month after that, he giggled hysterically at some nonsense his father was spouting. During month #5, he mastered rolling over in both directions, breaking out of the Miracle Blanket, and my favorite discovery of all: he has found his hands. He stares at them in front of his face like mystical creatures from another planet.

Tonight I saw him reaching for his toes and pulling them up, gymnastics-style. What will tomorrow bring?

The best moments (apart from the cuddles, smiles, and giggles) are the moments when I can see myself in him. That probably sounds narcissistic, but for the past few months all I've heard is, "Oh my goodness, he looks exactly like your husband." So seeing myself in him is a good thing. Even if it happens when he is sporting what I like to call my WTF face.

It's uncanny.

Reality Bites

2011-08-18T09:53:00.000-06:00

Three short weeks, then it's back to work I go.

This summer has been nothing short of blissful. I have loved having my little extended maternity leave, which included taking the spring term off and then having the whole summer to hang out with my little nugget. Though I will be the first to tell you that I couldn't be a stay-at-home-mom, that I'd probably go insane, I am probably going to cry (and no, not a little teardrop down my cheek, but a snorting, noisy, inhuman ugly cry that was captured beautifully as I stumbled down the aisle at my sister's wedding) when I have to go back to work.

Don't get me wrong. I love my students and I love teaching. And we even hired an extraordinarily capable nanny. But I am a control freak and I don't like change. So this September is a recipe for disaster.

I'm watching my little nugget sleeping via video monitor now (probably a +7 on the Control Freak Scale) with his little diapered butt in the air, on his stomach (eeek), and I can't believe I have to give this up in 3 weeks. Sure, I'll get some quality hangout time in the afternoons when I'm not coaching, or on the weekends, but our days as we know them are going to change dramatically. And (GASP) what if he likes the nanny more?!?!

Of course that bit is a little self-indulgent and I know better. Children can love caregivers in addition to loving their parents. But I don't like the thought that I might miss stuff. Like his first word -- what if he says it without me?!?!

Ok. Vent over. Back to reality in 3 weeks, it's gonna come whether I like it or not.

When Target Sees Me, It Just Sees Dollar Signs

2011-08-16T08:30:00.000-06:00

***Disclaimer: Everything you might have thought about me might go in the garbage after you read this post.***

Target online shopping is like an old high school crush. Whenever you see it, whether it's at the old diner everyone used to hang out at after school, or in a bland hotel ballroom wearing a nametag ~~with his hot senior photo on it that you used to kiss before bed~~ ... oops I've said too much. Where was I? Oh right. Whenever you see that old crush, you remember all the good stuff. The warm fuzzies, the head jerk hellos in the hallway, or the time he teared up and gave you a look of "Break a leg!" before opening night of the musical. (No, he wasn't just itching his eye, Pessimist. And yes, I was in a high school musical.)

But you only remember the good stuff. You forget that he basically ignored you unless he needed help with his homework, or wanted you to do it for him. Or that he told his friends that you farted in drama class, even though he was the one who dealt it. Or worse, you forget that on the last day of school, you asked him to sign your yearbook, and he said no.

Target online shopping is a little like that. Because you can find all these cool deals, marked in red with a little cross-out through the old price, and you feel like a giddy schoolgirl again as you load up your cart with discounted Pottery-Barn-lookalike dining room chairs.

I have to back up a little bit, and tell you first about my new dining room table. It is gorgeous. It is from Pottery Barn, it seats 8-10 people, and it is, finally, a big girl's dining room table. And I got it off Craigslist for $135.

Note that there are NO CHAIRS. Those white ones in the back of the photo got sold with the old dining room set about a month ago. So we have been sitting on metal foldout chairs for the past month.

Enter Target online shopping/Old high school crush.

I ordered the chairs on 8/12. Target promised them by 8/22. Guess when they're coming? September 2.

I know what you're thinking. Suck it up, get over it, this is clearly a first world problem. Yes, you're absolutely right. But why didn't I learn my lesson about Target online shipping the first time I had issues, when I ordered these cute moccasins because my pregnant feet had swelled up an entire shoe size and I couldn't wear anything but flip flops in February? Those moccasins -- they never arrived -- because Target online shipping was a NIGHTMARE. They pushed back the delivery date again and again -- until I finally canceled the order, because my kid was probably going to be approaching his first birthday by the time they arrived. It was a total pain in the ass. It was my high school crush, in the parking lot, telling me, Sure, I'll go off campus to lunch with you sometime.

Those chairs are going to arrive Sept 2. I'm going to fall in love with them, even though they were almost a month late and my butt will be sore from sitting on folding metal chairs. And then, one day, not too long after that, I'll go back on Target.com looking for love.

What I've Learned in 5 Short Months

2011-08-03T14:54:00.000-06:00

My son will be 5 months old tomorrow. In order to stay true to my pledge of doing 15 minutes of writing a day, I'm going to lead off August (45 minutes today because I missed the last two days) with a post about what I've learned in these last five months.

1. I have never been happier to be part of a team. I don't know how single moms do it. Honestly, my hat goes off to all the single moms out there. My husband may not know how to fold our stroller, but he's been the best extra pair of hands a girl could ask for.

2. 6am is the new 9am, and 9pm is the new midnight. I've always felt that sleep is overrated. (Ha.) When I was single, I probably slept until 11am every weekend. I remember, on multiple occasions, oversleeping a brunch that ended at noon. But the first time that my child made it to 6am -- that felt like the best sleep I'd had in years.

3. There is such thing as useless baby gear. There is so much crap out there on the market. Some of it I couldn't live without, some of it I unearthed at the bottom of a diaper bag or behind a cabinet months later. I loved my rock n' play, the bouncy seat, the snap 'n go stroller, the video monitor, and I probably could have been a spokesperson for the Miracle Blanket (even though I didn't know how to work it until he was probably three months old). But the Iztbeen Timer? I probably used it twice before it met an untimely end at the bottom of my pump bag. When G was first born, I was desperate to have it. I mean, the thing (supposedly) kept track of everything! Feedings! Naps! Even Poops! But then I would forget to reset it, and it would say I had not fed the kid in 14 hours, or that he had not pooped in 7 days. Or I would push the wrong button, reset something, and my little new mom mind would go berserk. Our parents never had Itzbeen Timers. They had clocks, and we have clocks, and they work just fine.

4. My kid might think his name is Monkey. Or Bug. Or Muffin, Nugget, Nacho, Peanut-Butter-and-Jelly-Sandwich, or [Insert-Food-Nickname-Here]. We are about to enter the minefield that is language acquisition. This means no more swearing, no more name-calling (see the "Mommy is a Poo-Poo Head" Incident of 2003, when I taught those choice words to my nephew, for which my sister thanks me every day), and more importantly, calling him by his name. Which is really hard at the moment, since he is as edible as any food and is really my little Bug-bug.

5. You poke the Baby Bear, you get a Mama Bear claw to the face. Prime example: we are sharing a condo with my best friend this weekend for a lacrosse tournament, and another player had emailed her wanting to crash in the spare room for the night. I didn't care, so I said that was fine. Then she found out that I was bringing the baby, and cancels, saying she doesn't want to spend the night with a 5-month-old. Never mind that her room would be two floors down from our room. My response? "G is the bomb. I hate her." Now, she may actually be a very nice person, but I don't care. Bottom line? If you don't want to be around my kid, I have no reason to want to be around you either. (Oh, and she's not going to get any passes from this Mama Bear, I can tell you that much right now.)

Poetic Justice

2011-07-19T19:35:00.000-06:00

Last week, my husband came home with an iPhone. For those of you who know us, you already know this is ridiculous. (He has trouble figuring out which remotes turn on the TV.) I'm the technie in the family, and I was furious. I refused to help him program his contacts in as an act of protest, one which failed miserably when he grew panicked at the thought of doing every single one of his 300+ contacts by hand.

Last week, he also lost his wallet. He searched everywhere. In his office, in the car, in all the rooms of our house, even under the porch. He even went so far as to believe he'd been pickpocketed. From a quick check of our accounts, there had been no activity on his cards for a week, so I was sure that it was somewhere safe.

This lost wallet was driving him nuts. He was beyond stressed about it. It kept him up (until 9:30pm) at night. Tonight, he made a bold declaration. "If you find my wallet, I will get you an iPhone."

Almost 30 seconds after he uttered this phrase, I glanced down and caught sight of his worn black wallet wedged between the bed frame and the mattress. (He had already torn the bedroom apart looking for it. Twice.)

Looks like I'm gonna get that iPhone. Victory is mine.

Nice to Meet You ... Three Weeks Early

2011-03-18T12:52:00.001-06:00

I honestly thought I had lost control of my bladder.

I had heard that happens in pregnancy, you know. You sneeze and pee your pants. It's happened to a bunch of women I know. They even had a name for it: snissing. Sitting in front of the TV getting ready for Modern Family, I thought I was snissing. Minus the sneeze.

I called my sister-in-law. "Am I peeing my pants or is my water breaking?" I asked her. She told me I should get some overnight pads, just in case, and call the doc. I glanced at the clock. 8:55pm. In this town, I didn't have a prayer of finding a drugstore open.

Rite-Aid was just about closed for the night when my desperate husband thought he'd be a hero and pound on the glass doors, shouting, "I NEED PADS FOR MY WIFE!!! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!!" In a small town like this, no way was that completely embarrassing. We were turned away, padless.

The doctor on call told me to come in to the hospital to get checked out, and so we grabbed our phones and a computer and headed out the door. Bag for the hospital? No such thing in our house. Carseat installed? Um, nope. I was that convinced that they were going to say something like, "You should really try to hold it better," and send me off with a pack of Depends.

Imagine the look on my husband's face when they said they were admitting me.

I didn't sleep much that night. They had to check my blood pressure every hour and I was panicked, too. Good combo. Plus they came in and stabbed me with an IV so hard I screamed "FUUUUUUUUU$#@" but apparently, not loud enough because my husband was still snoring away. I smacked him awake crying. "Huh? Is the baby coming?" he mumbled, disoriented.

The next morning they started me on Pitocin around 8:00am. The contractions were manageable; we watched a few episodes of Modern Family that I happened to have in my bag. But by 5pm I had barely progressed to 2cm. At 7pm they told me to get something to eat and stopped the Pitocin. We would try again the next day. But the same thing happened the following day -- Pitocin at 8am and the contractions got more intense. By 11am I asked for the epidural, and they were a breeze. We watched TV and hung out, and I was sure I was going to progress a lot more. But at 3pm, I had not dilated any more, and the baby was still really high. C-section was the only way to go, since my water had been broken for over 48 hours.

I cried. I was disappointed, but in the end, Grant was out within 5 minutes, and they were stitching me up and sending me on my way. My favorite part was when the doctor announced, "Here she is!" and I said, "It's a girl?!?!" A momentary awkward silence followed, then I heard, "Oops, nope, it's a boy!"

24 hours of labor and 1 C-section later, welcome to the world, my 5 lb, 14 oz. little nugget! And you know what? I wouldn't have changed a thing.

My Oh Sh!t Moment

2011-03-11T18:45:00.001-07:00

The way I found out I was pregnant gives new meaning to the word "accident."

The hubs and I had tried to get pregnant a thousand ways to Sunday for over a year before I completely gave up in the spring of 2010. I honestly thought it just wasn't in the cards for us. We started looking into adoption, infertility clinics, I had started getting testing done because I was convinced I couldn't have children for some reason. When we moved into our new house in New Hampshire in the summer of 2010, pregnancy was the last thing on my mind -- I was out of a job, my car had just been wrecked, and the hubs had just started his new job. It was the anniversary of our first date though, and the hubs and I celebrated by going for a hike. Once we got back I headed for the shower; I was looking for shampoo, which was still packed in a box marked "Bathroom" somewhere. Instead of shampoo, I found a single pregnancy test.

I was still not in a good place mentally about getting pregnant, and truthfully, I didn't want the damn test in my house, mocking me from behind the bathroom mirror. I found the shampoo, unwrapped the stick and peed on it to get rid of it, so that at least I could throw it out used. Then I hopped in the shower and forgot about it.

When I got out of the shower, I saw this:

I almost fell out of the tub.

And because we didn't have the box, I had no idea what I was looking at. I ran downstairs, still wrapped in a towel with soaking wet hair, and I googled "positive pregnancy test."

A million images came up, but I had to go to the e.p.t website for the instruction booklet. Which said, in fact, yes, I was pregnant.

Stunned silence is what followed. My heart pounded. I told the hubs to turn off the Sox game for a second, and I showed him the test. His jaw hit the floor. "Is this what I think it is?"

I remember that moment as the day everything turned on a dime. Everything looked and felt different to me. It was the beginning of an amazing journey.

Approximately 36 weeks later, my little bear cub showed up early.

And we couldn't be happier.

5 weeks to go, and the nursery is done!

2011-02-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

Hooray! My binge shopping sprees and 3-hour Target runs have finally come to a close, and my Amex can breathe a little easier after all that swiping. Here are some pics of the nursery, and a bonus belly shot...

This is me at 21 weeks, 28 weeks, and 34 weeks. Crazy when you look at the comparisons with the same shirt! Grow, baby, grow!

bump pics - week 30

2011-01-15T12:02:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling pretty good (knock wood) for 30 weeks. I slept until 10am this morning, got up and went cross country skiing with the hubs, and now I'm hunkered down with grading until childbirth class tonight. Our first class was pretty interesting; I especially loved the part where the hubs declared he also intended to practice his Kegel exercises and that he would make sure I did my "eugina" breaths (rhymes with lady parts) over the weekend. Never mind that they're called ujjayi breaths.

I am really dreading the last two months of pregnancy given that everything I've heard from my friends so far is how awful it is. They don't sleep, they get bad heartburn, there's the whole stretch-mark thing, and they're generally uncomfortable and want this baby OUT. I've been pretty thankful that the little bebe has been good to me, and I'm hoping he/she plans on staying good for the next 7-10 weeks.

For fun, I took a couple of self-portraits Van Gogh style with a mirror.

30 weeks today!

But my favorite pic so far, that I think deserves a frame in the nursery, is the one where Matt sneaked in for a mini photo shoot.

Daddy's so excited!

12 New Resolutions

2011-01-12T13:15:00.000-07:00

I'm a little late with this New Year's post, but I wanted to share my 12 New Year's resolutions with you for 2011. I do resolutions a little differently than others -- I do one for each month of the year. This is because I have New-Year's-Resolution-ADD, and I can't really stick to one resolution for the whole year. Depending on whether I like it or not, I can choose to stick with it for another month after that first one is over, or I can drop it like, well, a bad habit.

Last year, my New Year's resolutions included a month of bikram yoga, a month of vegetarianism, a month of taking the stairs everywhere (no elevators or escalators allowed), a month of trying a new recipe for dinner every week. That sort of thing. I have to say, I dropped the ball around June. See below for the ultrasound pic.

This year, with the kiddo on the way, our resolutions (read: priorities) took on a little different flavor.

Here they are, in order of appearance:

January: Make healthy choices in the dining hall / learn to XC ski. This is because now that we've moved back to a boarding school, I can choose to have Lucky Charms with every meal if I want. So I need to make better choices. Oh, and I made my husband spend a bundle of money on XC skis because I was whining about how I couldn't run anymore now that I was knocked up.

February: Meta-moments. This is a concept having to do with emotions -- it's kind of like an emotional time-out. I can get pretty heated over things, and my temper/reactions can be ugly, so I'm going to try meta-moments on for size in February, see if I can't develop my emotional well-being.

March: Obviously this has to be, get ready for the baby. Whatever that means.

April: Go on 1 date a week. Realistically, this will probably be a success if we can manage 1 date in the month of April with a newborn. But we'd like to give it a try. And it doesn't have to be a dinner out or a movie, necessarily, but it's about carving out some evening time to spend without laptops, tv, or anything easily distracting.

May: Pilates. I'd like to try to get back into it.

June: Fruits and vegetables at least once a day. There are three meals, I have to be able to get good things in during one of them.

August: Read a book.

September: 1 dinner at home during the week. Like I said, we eat at the dining hall way too often. We're going to try to live like normal people do and make a meal at home. This may require turning on the stove, or checking to see if the oven still works.

October: run a half marathon. 5 months post-baby, is it possible? We shall see.

November: organize financials. This includes setting up a college fund for junior, figuring out what the hell our retirement accounts are doing, reconfiguring a savings plan. Oh, and life insurance - we should probably figure that out too.

December: volunteering. This is a carryover from last year. I wasn't able to do too much of it this year, but I am proud to say I organized the freshman class's food drive before Winter Break. That counts for something.

Do you have resolutions? What are they?

Black Friday Highs

2010-11-30T15:59:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows I have a shopping problem. But it's not just any shopping problem. I cannot say no to a great deal.

It really comes from childhood, as most abnormalities do. Whenever I went shopping with my mom, if I wanted her to get me something, she would always reply with something like, "Wait until it goes on sale" or "Is it on clearance?"

Those magical red tags really did a number on my psyche. Everything in my life -- our house, my car, the clothes off my back -- was purchased at an incredible deal. I think if I pay full price for anything, I break out in hives.

Buying stuff for this kid on the way has been no exception. When we went into Babies R Us for the first time, we nearly went blind with all the options and everything we would have to pay for. Like strollers, for example. Did you know they were made of gold? I mean, why on earth does a jogging stroller cost $500? Does it do the jogging for you? We played with the scanning gun, pushed some strollers around the store for fun, but we were not sure if we were ready to part with that kind of cash. "I'll just carry the kid everywhere," Matt declared, and for a while, I was ready to, too, so we walked out empty-handed.

Flash-forward to Black Friday/Cyber Monday. I went with my sister-in-law to merely browse the Black Friday sales, and I came home giddy off the fumes of a purchase of one of those fancy Canadian gliders for 50% off. And after the floodgates opened, I couldn't stop myself. For on that gorgeous Cyber Monday, there appeared, shimmering in all its golden glory, the image I would probably hold in my head to get me through the intense pain and hours of labor:

And there, innocently written next to the picture of the BOB revolution, was a price. With a red slash through it. Cue the Hallelujah chorus.

I swear, all I need to be high on life is my American Express card.

ok, this has been a little ridiculous

2010-11-17T13:21:00.000-07:00

In May of this year, my life looked really different. I was working in Boston, commuting two hours in a beat-up Toyota, I was a homeowner in a different state, and my husband was slaving away in a job that I was sure was going to kill him.

Then June happened.

The hubs got a new job. In New Hampshire. It came with a house.
I got laid off. Bye bye puppets.
Someone rear-ended me into another car on the Pike, and my Toyota was totalled.
We rented one of those huge Budget trucks, shoved all of our belongings into it, put the house up for rent on Craigslist, and drove away. I cried the whole time, even though I hated the state of Connecticut and I spent most of my time living there anxious to leave.
We bought a Forester to replace the Toyota.
I spent about two weeks on unemployment, then I got two new jobs.

And before the month was over ... well ...

So you could say we've spent the fall trying not to die of shock.

S$#t my husband says... Napa Valley version

2010-08-12T12:26:00.000-06:00

The hubs and I decided to rent a couple of electric bikes from Change of Greenery in Napa, this new company that provides the perfect kind of bike for Napa - one with a lithium ion battery for powering the engine when you're tired (or drunk). So I was definitely up for a 30-mile bike ride that included 6 wineries, 1 with all-you-can-eat flatbread pizza.

Between mouthfuls of pizza, Matt took the time to appreciate his food, something he rarely does at the speed he eats. "Everything in Napa is organic, huh? Like the cheese is right from the cow's butt."

Uh, yeah.

We also took the time to act civilized and dress like adults, a far cry from the ratty t-shirts and sweatpants I'd been sporting most of last month. Which led to the following observation by my hubs:

"This is a strange shirt you have on. It's like a shawl and a sweater. (thoughtful pause.) Is it a shetter?"

Lastly, we went to eat at Bouchon, an amazing Thomas Keller restaurant in Yountville. Matt was pretty surprised at the amount of food served to us at this gourmet restaurant -- usually he leaves hungry from places with high price tags. He grinned at me when my enormous plate of steak frites arrived and when he held up his hand, then realized I wouldn't high-five him back, I heard him speak softly to himself. "Oh. No high-fiving in this restaurant, right? This is not Red Robin, Matt."

Uh, yeah.

Wow, I am so sorry.

2010-07-15T16:05:00.000-06:00

To my two readers, I owe you an apology. I haven't been this delinquent in a LONGGGGG time. Life is busy. We moved. I got laid off. Matt switched jobs. I got a new job. Did I mention we moved????

June's resolution was supposed to be a month where we explored our state by bike. Then we had to move to a different state in under two weeks. June resolution abandoned.

July was supposed to be a month where we did a different hike in New England every weekend. But after the move, I didn't want to go near the car. July resolution abandoned.

July's new resolution is to stop swearing for a month. Two nights ago I got stung by a hornet and a piece of our guest bed dropped onto my foot while we were reassembling it. I'm not doing well with July's resolution.

There were some really good moments in the last month. My sister and her family came to visit and we spent almost all of our time either at the beach or at the window of the ice cream stand. Two major reasons why I agreed to move to our new hometown. I did cry a lot when we left Connecticut, even though I hated the state from the beginning. It got to the point where Matt actually asked me, "Why do you cry all the time?" right before he ducked a flying shoe.

But things calmed down. We moved in the dead heat of summer, and my sweaty father-in-law had no problem sliming the couch when he was done. We went to a wedding, where we met a really fun couple. The wife was from Colombia, the husband from Massachusetts. We asked him if he knew any Spanish, since his wife's whole family did not speak any English. "I only know one phrase," he replied. "Those drugs are my wife's drugs."

And we were back to logging life's little moments.

Drunky McDrunkerson

2010-06-04T06:33:00.000-06:00

Between my wacky friends and my wackier husband, there are a lot of funny things flying out of people's mouths these days. Last Wednesday I went to my friend Darcy's 30th birthday at a wine tasting in Somerville. We paid our $11, went down to the basement of a local liquor store, where two guys in their twenties attempted to wax poetic about the different wines of Greece and California, the two random regions featured that evening. One thing I forgot though -- drinking wine on an empty stomach for me is the quickest way to morph into that girl we all know too well, Drunky McDrunkerson, who says some of the darndest things, like:

"I don't take wine advice from a guy in a t-shirt and blazer. I don't care if he's the head of the company. I don't care if he's the head of North Korea."

or ...

"You look almost exactly like this girl I knew in college. I hated her, but you seem nice."

When we finally got some food, Drunky seemed to disappear, but she came back for one final appearance during dessert:

Ruth: "Were you just blowing on your cannoli?"
Drunky: "Yup. I was. No idea why I thought it was hot."

Oh, Drunky. I can always count on you for a laugh the day after.

May = Mayhem

2010-05-21T16:01:00.000-06:00

May has been insane. I completely missed April, where ballroom dancing was that month's resolution, so we stretched it into May. Then I went on tour with the Lions for the last time, as I am about to get laid off mid-June. Then I got sick. Twice. Then some girl rear-ended me on the Pike, and I came away with bad whiplash and a Corolla sandwich. It's been a rough month.

Certain things have kept me going. Semi-daily phone calls from friends and my sister. Screaming whenever the camera is on Baby Lily on Modern Family. My crack pipe.

I've given up working out, I've taken up heavy eating. June should be fun, what with swimsuit season and all.

if you can't say anything nice, say it in a text

2010-04-21T08:18:00.000-06:00

As many of my reader(s) know, I gave up desserts for Lent. This included cookies, which was very difficult work, given that Lent started around the time I bought three boxes of my favorite Girl Scout cookies, Samoas. They used to be called Caramel Dee-lites, for those of you from Troop 246 in Palo Alto circa 1987, and every year I look forward to the time when I can buy boxes of these delicious little treasures.

So I stashed away my boxes, informed my husband of my intent to eat them after Lent and that we would enjoy them after Easter together.

That Easter Monday I went looking for my three boxes. Guess what I found? Only one box remained, opened, with five effing cookies left.

I did what any normal, rational wife would do. I picked up my phone and pounded out the following text to my dear husband.

"I found the rest of the cookies. You're a dead man."

finally, a diagnosis

2010-04-06T08:51:00.000-06:00

I have finally found a word for what my husband suffers from on a daily basis.

Seriously, where are the hidden cameras?

2010-03-29T19:24:00.003-06:00

Tell me something. If your husband announced that he was going to give himself his routine two-week haircut, and comes out of the bathroom 20 minutes later and sheepishly announces that he was curious about Steve Carell's chest hair look in 40-Year-Old Virgin and thought he'd try something, but he stopped partway through because, well, it just "didn't look right," what would the look on your face be?

Dominican Highlights

2010-03-24T20:34:00.003-06:00

We went to the Dominican Republic for a week. It was a GREAT week. Top 3 highlights:

1) the cab driver from the airport had a landline phone on the floor of his minivan. It wasn't even an old satellite phone; it looked like he had taken it from my office and jerry-rigged it to the beige carpet by the console. On the way to the resort, it rang. I feel like if we had looked underneath the car we would see hundreds of feet of phone cable trailing behind.

2) there are no clocks in the DR. At least none in the resorts we visited. Kind of like the opposite of the no-windows-in-a-casino effect.

3) The hubs made everyone call him Mateo. Even the US customs officers.

February Resolution Complete: 36 vegetarian meals

2010-02-28T08:06:00.002-07:00

I'm proud to say that with today's meals (one of which includes my all-time favorite Spinach and Garlic burrito from Bueno y Sano in Amherst) I will have completed the February Resolution Challenge of doing 3 days/week of vegetarian meals.

Some of my favorites:

curried cauliflower & potato soup
mushroom risotto
veggie scramble wraps
shiitake mushroom, carmelized onion & red pepper pesto pizza

Unlike my Bikram Yoga challenge in January, I think I'm going to opt out of continuing for the month of March. I'm not sure it did too much for my numbers on the scale, but this is probably because some of the meals included unheathy sodium bombs like Simply Asia sesame garlic noodles, or Super Bean & Cheese burritos from Anna's Taqueria.

March's resolution? I have to take the stairs. All. The. Time.

We'll see how this goes.

After much deliberation...

2010-02-24T17:33:00.002-07:00

I have given up desserts (brutal!!!) and swearing (necessary).

I'm not doing so well on the swearing. And yes, Cadbury mini eggs count as dessert. And yes, it's killing me.

The hubs has given up Diet Coke. The other night at dinner, we had a "Lent Starts Now" moment (4 or 5 days after the actual start of Lent) where he drank his last glass of Diet Coke and I pounded the rest of the chocolate chip cookies in the house. He all but screamed when I dumped the rest of the 2-liter bottle down the drain, but I felt it was only fair since I was out of cookies, and since I knew he was going to sneak the Diet Coke anyway after I left for Boston this week.

Thank you, dear readers, for your suggestions. And for your willingness to reveal yourselves as readers without too much embarrassment. I will try not to let you down.

Lapsed Catholics and Lent

2010-02-19T08:25:00.003-07:00

Ok, I'm not really that lapsed -- I do attempt to go to church more than just Christmas Eve or Easter -- but I'm lapsed enough to forget that Lent starts in February and that I have to give something up, AND eat no meat on Fridays. This last bit is difficult enough, but when you compound it with the fact that I'm already going 3 days a week veggie? Argh.

I rediscovered my journals from 2002-2004 (let's call them my "gray" years) and it turns out that despite the idea of Lent is to make a sacrifice by giving up something, I completely ignored that and gave up (in no particular order) dating idiots, swearing, cookies, working out, and "men in general" for Lent in the past. (Well, cookies WAS a sacrifice). Those were bad times. And I was a bad Catholic then, too, because further reading in my journals proved that I had not given up dating idiots until 2005.

So ... what to give up this Lent? Hmm.

I ran through the list in my head of the bad habits I needed to break. Coffee. Shopping at Target. Shopping anywhere, for that matter. Excessive amounts of refined sugar (who doesn't hear the Cadbury Mini Eggs calling to them in the CVS aisles? How do they know my name?).

I'm going to leave it up to my reader(s). Leave me a comment below, and tell me what I should give up. There may only be one reader out there, and it might just be my sister. Or Blythe. (I'm pretty sure my mom doesn't read this, as she just learned how to program the VCR.) So I leave my fate in your hands.

Vegetarian Week 2

2010-02-16T16:39:00.002-07:00

I thought it would be smart to go veg right before our DR vacation in March ... until I met Simply Asia boxed noodles. I made an unpleasant discovery as I was cooking them this evening ... those little boxes have 2100 mg of sodium, which I'm pretty sure is enough sodium to launch a small hamster rocket into space.

On the bright side, I'm pleased to report that unlimited wine consumption is still considered vegetarian, and on some levels, counts as a serving of fruit.

Juilliard

2010-02-09T06:20:00.002-07:00

I was sitting in traffic this morning, explaining the general storyline of "The Soloist" to my husband, when he suddenly interjected: "I think I could have had a shot at Juilliard."

I almost spit out my coffee. "For what?"

"Dance. Ask anyone who's seen me at a wedding. Ask Aunt Joanie."

For the record, at his sister's wedding, Matt spun his 76 year-old Aunt Joanie, lost control, and dropped her on the dance floor.

Resolution #2: Go Vegetarian 3 Days a Week

2010-02-04T17:59:00.005-07:00

Resolution #2 may seem a little random to you, especially since you may have seen me at a barbeque or a local rib/wing joint stuffing my face. Well, here's the deal.

I wanted to go full-on vegetarian for the whole month. My husband wailed in protest. "Don't you know it's National Meat Month?" (It's not.) Anyway, I didn't want to cook two different meals every night for dinner, so I resolved to try vegetarianism for three days a week -- the three days I live/work in Boston.

Why vegetarianism? Because I learned while doing a web interview with Jason Karas, the founder of the website Carbonrally.com (which I'll post below), going vegetarian, even for just part of the week, actually has an impact on the environment!

I had no idea that consuming meat was an energy-drain for the environment, and I thought I could definitely try going meatless for at least 2 days, so thus Resolution #2 was born.

This week's menu:

Breakfasts: oatmeal / vanilla yogurt with granola / egg & cheese sandwiches
Lunches/Dinners: mozzarella, tomato basil sandwich with balsamic vinaigrette / bean & corn "salad" over wild rice

Here's the quick and easy recipe for the bean & corn salad that my good friend Jen taught me:

1 can black beans
1 can whole kernel corn
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 bunch of green onions, chopped
1 tsp olive oil
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 cup wild rice

Cook the rice separately according to the package directions.

In a saucepan, saute peppers in the olive oil. Then add cans of beans and corn. Then add the green onions on top, along with cayenne pepper to taste.

Ridiculously easy, vegetarian, and delicious when served over the rice. I always add a little hot sauce because, well, I don't eat anything without hot sauce.

Good thing I'm not going veggie for Super Bowl Sunday! Mmmm buffalo wings....

Video is from www.wgbh.org

Bye Bye Bikram, Hello Veggies

2010-02-02T13:19:00.004-07:00

My January resolution is over: all told I went to 7 Bikram Yoga classes last month.

Highlights:

I finally did part of Toe Stand pose, which almost killed my knee but I still did it. This is what Toe Stand looks like:

By the last class, I could also do Camel Pose, which made me want to hurl a little bit but I did it anyway!

Lowlights:

*Need I post Mr. Robert's speedos again? Props to him for having six (count 'em, six) different pattern varieties.

*I almost threw up twice. Apparently that is totally normal.

*This is more of a half highlight, half lowlight: my jeans fit way better and my body felt tighter, but then I went to Mississippi for four days and ate my weight in fried chicken.

My all time favorite pose:

Savasana is also called Corpse Pose or Dead Body Pose. Ahhhh. Concentrate. Meditate.

February is Vegetarian Month. The resolution? 3 days of Vegetarian Meals per week. Challenge accepted!

Bikram Fun Facts

2010-01-26T06:23:00.002-07:00

As learned in yesterday's class:

1) Drill sergeant Robert may have smoked a little ganga before class. I suspect this because he was particularly bumbly when it came to words, or basic things, like counting.

2) You are not supposed to leave class to go to the bathroom. If you do, you get chastised in front of everyone like a third grader.

3) When it rains, like it did yesterday, the classroom gets really humid. Like disgusting humid, to the point where you feel like if you were not afraid of getting chastised like a third grader, you might throw up.

4) There is a pose called Wind Relieving Pose, which does not "relieve wind" as well as preparing to go into Tortoise Pose. I, and the poor new guy behind me, learned this the hard way. Sorry, new guy.

Bikram Yoga Confession #4

2010-01-21T13:01:00.003-07:00

My instructor the drill-sergeant? He wears tiny, TINY shorts. Like ball-hugger tiny. And he has them in different patterns, all the same, ball-huggy size. They look like this:

It's completely distracting.

The first class, I thought to myself, "Ok, must be a laundry day or something in his house." But then I went to another class, and then another. And I realized that, in no uncertain terms, was this an accident.

And this is reason #4 of why I can never go back.

Bikram Yoga Confessions

2010-01-20T13:55:00.003-07:00

I went to my third Bikram class last weekend when I was feeling a little run down and sick, and it did temporarily make me feel better, though I am home sick today and down for the count. I was surprised to see that I could grab my toes for the first time in ten years, and I was able to hold the tree pose without crashing into the wall. I prefer the back corner of the room, between heating vents, and nearest the door so that when the drill-sergeant instructor goes out occasionally (and leaves us stuck in rabbit pose or something crazy like that), I can get a brush of fresh air as a small reward for staking out the best spot in the classroom.

But as much as I'm enjoying this resolution, I have some confessions to make.

Confession #1: I don't think I can afford to continue after my 30-day membership expires. Bikram yoga runs about $15-18 per class, and it's way more expensive than my gym membership, which I have comfortably ignored for the last 6 months at $10 a month.

Confession #2: I didn't think I would like it, but I actually do. And when I can do a pose after not being able to do it before, it feels good. But there are some very, very weird people who do yoga, and they are in my class, and they scare me.

Confession #3: I totally did it to buy new workout clothes.

Voicemail

2010-01-13T13:27:00.002-07:00

My husband leaves me three different kinds of voicemails. The first is a normal, lucid voicemail, "Hi, it's me, call me back, bye" kind of thing. It's the other two that leave me laughing so hard I get tears in my eyes.

The "Movie Quote Sign-Off" Voicemail:

"Hi, it's me. The dog got out of the crate and got into the food bag. I'm really sorry -- I must have forgotten to latch the crate. So... sorry you're going to come home to a mess. No excuses - play like a champion."

The "I'm completely distracted by something else and I don't remember who I called" Voicemail:

"Hi honey, it's me, I, uh ... [forgets who he called]... It's Matt (sometimes he gives me his full name)... I, uh, I'm in the office ... returning your call. [long pause, trying to remember, yells into the background, "Yeah, Ray, I'll be right there!" amidst screaming kindergarteners] Uh, hey, so you can reach me at (leaves his office number) or on my cell at (leaves his cell number).... Thanks. Bye."

Resolution #1 Update: Bikram Yoga Class

2010-01-10T16:44:00.004-07:00

I went to my second Bikram Yoga class this weekend -- my first at the studio near our CT house. I bought one of those introductory specials: $30 for 30 days of unlimited classes. This satisfied one of my requirements for classes: that they be cheap enough for me to go for the whole month without breaking the bank -- and even if I only made it to 5 classes, I could live with $6/class for the month. Call me cheap, but I refuse to pay $18/class, which is what the studio normally charges.

The studio was set up in a strip mall in one of those commercial spaces that most definitely used to be an insurance company, and the heat was cranked to about 90 (which was another requirement for me since the other studio I tried out was not hot enough to break a sweat). A man wearing tiny black spandex took my money and asked if I had done Bikram yoga before, and I thought that meant, had I done yoga in a hot room before? to which I answered "yes" confidently -- but did you know that Bikram yoga and sweaty yoga is not the same thing? The look on the spandex man's face told me clearly: Duh.

The man in black spandex was a cross between a drill sergeant and an auctioneer -- barking orders and then listing the things we should be doing with the poses in one breath. There were lots of beginners, and lots of people taking it WAYYY too seriously, and folks in between. In front of the instructor was a young, lithe gentleman in what looked like boxer briefs, and I tried not to giggle and stare when he was able to put his legs over his head.

I plan on going back and getting my money's worth, and I plan on sticking out this resolution, no matter how weird the people in class are or how awkward I feel if I'm not taking it as seriously as they are. Hopefully there's some kind of payoff to doing it -- I'm a little sore in weird places, but that's about the only payoff I'm seeing. Maybe the payoff will be in the form of $12 Old Navy yoga pants? So far the best thing that has come of this resolution is all the new cute workout gear...

embrace the curl

2010-01-09T19:45:00.004-07:00

For years, my friend Blythe has been telling me to stop fighting my curly hair. Well, today I stopped fighting. She took me to Devachan in NYC, forbid me from throwing my hair back in a bun for a whole day, and held my hand while I attempted to embrace the recessive gene that had given me curls.

Here are a few before pictures (my miracle worker stylist was Melanie):

And 2 1/2 hours later, the big finish:

Well? Whaddya think?

you can't make this stuff up.

2010-01-05T09:54:00.003-07:00

Last Sunday, I put on my earphones, cranked the iPod up on the Glee soundtracks, and had myself a little sing-a-long while I washed dishes.

Last Sunday, at approximately the same time, Matt accidentally connected to his boss on Skype and walked away. They got a top-of-the-lungs, use-the-egg-whisk-as-a-microphone, a capella version of "My Life Would Suck Without You."

1 New Year's Resolution Every Month

2010-01-04T07:45:00.008-07:00

Happy 2010!

To celebrate the new decade, I'm going to try a different New Year's Resolution every month.

Is that a wacky idea?

Here are my rules: Pick 1 thing as your resolution, and COMMIT to it. No excuses. If I like it, I keep doing it. If it's not working for me, I have to stick out the month before I can drop it.

January's resolutions (I have two because I did one yesterday and it's too awesome not to be one):
1) "$0 interior design remodel"
2) do 1 month of Bikram yoga.

Goal #1: cleanliness and better room flow breeds sanity, I'm sure of it.
Goal #2: flexibility, practicing focus, breathing, and inner Zen, and finding the best yoga class that won't break my bank.

Below is the before picture of the living room yesterday before I started watching HGTV.

See the mess on the table and that bottle of 409 sitting on the ledge? That was my first attempt at cleaning. It sat there for 2 days.

This is after -- WAYYYY BETTER!!! I love how much more space we seem to have!

Hello, cute dog in the corner.

I did not stop at the living room. I went a little nuts in the kitchen:

Note that the corner of the kitchen used to be crammed with re-useable shopping bags stuffed into corners, and general clutter everywhere. Now they are hanging *organized* on an IKEA pot lid rack I got from the free table at work!

Ahhhh organization.

Then I went into the bedroom, and went bonkers.

That leaning shelf used to be in the living room where the TV is now, and the dresser used to be against the wall. Heavy lifting but now it looks like we have wayyy more space!

Cost of 3 room "remodel"? $0!!!!!

Resolution #2 update: I went to a 7am "hot" yoga class this morning. It was only an hour, it was tepid at best, and I was nowhere close to the sweatfest that was the class that my friend Charlotte took me to in Boston. I'm going to try a different studio on Friday in CT ... otherwise I'll hit up the Cambridge sweatfest again....

Nothing like the holidays

2009-12-31T09:52:00.004-07:00

I love the holidays. Even though they come with their fair share of stress, they also come with those little unforgettable moments that we never saw coming. We spent this Christmas at my sister's house in Seattle with her three amazing kids, having hug contests, playing football in the street and pickle in the backyard, eating and drinking way too much. Matt went so far as to inform me: "It's all about moderation. See, I could have had five sandwiches today, but I only had three."

And now, it's on to 2010. What a decade it's been. This is the first decade where I'm really happy with the highlights, instead of a little embarrassed by them. Granted, the highlights are more like "got married in Monterey" instead of "got my braces off" or "got into the sixth grade talent show by writing a soap opera" (um, who does that?) but they are highlights nonetheless.

In 2000, we were preparing for Y2K, college graduation, eight long years of Bush, and entry into the "real" world.
In 2000, I wanted to be a pediatrician, living in California, married with four kids by 2010. Then I nearly failed college biology and got an A in English -- bye bye MD.
In 2000, I went to an interview for management consulting and fell on my face. That was God telling me I was not meant to be a management consultant.
In 2000, my grandmother died, and I am still not over it.
In 2000, my niece Alex was born, and I held her when she was seven minutes old. It changed my sister and me forever -- we went from a relationship of one or two requisite phone calls a month to absolute best friends.
In 2000, my college boyfriend broke my heart, came back on his knees begging for another chance, and broke my heart again a month later. I decided to run and hide from the world at a little boarding school in Millbrook, NY, and it completely changed my life.
In 2000, I wanted to change the world. In 2010, I'm still trying -- one puppet at a time.

In 2010, the snow is falling outside our home in Connecticut, my husband is curled up with the dog in front of a college football bowl game and singing Miley Cyrus, I'm cutting a new puppet video for children's hospitals and trying not to make God laugh by planning for 2020.

happy holiday party

2009-12-21T18:52:00.002-07:00

I am a sucker for holiday parties. Last Saturday we threw our 2nd annual holiday party/toy drive to benefit underprivileged kids of Central Connecticut. Despite an impending Nor'easter that was supposed to dump a foot of snow on us, we went on with the party. Some highlights:

1) Matt made our next door neighbor's four-month-old baby, Andrea, giggle when he played with her. It was the cutest sound I had ever heard. Later, Matt looked at me triumphantly and said, "I made that baby laugh. Probably because I'm the first bald person she's ever seen."

2) To thank our guests for contributing to the toy drive, I had a series of funny door prizes, including a foot-long shrink-wrapped Hillshire Farms sausage. The joke was totally lost on the three-year-old who won it, but he carried it around proudly like a baseball bat the entire night.

3) Sunday we drove downtown to drop off the toys. Matt was feeling the effects of the gingerbread egg nog spiked with Baileys and before I knew it, he rammed the car into a snowbank at a red light, threw open the door, and left every appetizer he ate in the middle of the intersection, just as the good Christian folks were exiting church. Just a typical Sunday morning ... in 1998...

Black Friday

2009-11-27T08:16:00.002-07:00

I always dread Black Friday for some reason, all the hype and the buildup, all the crazy people in tents outside Best Buy and Wal-Mart, hungry for the big sale. But truthfully, I am no better than the crazies.

Today I woke up, poured myself a cup of coffee, and opened my computer to check email. Big mistake. 15 different emails from retailers everywhere, claiming to have the deal-of-the-century I didn't want to miss.

Something you should know about my genetic code -- my family is in possession of a rare, sometimes costly, shopping gene. But we don't just shop. We have a crazy bargain-shopping gene. My mother has been known to sniff out outlet malls from 50 miles out. My aunts storm malls on Black Friday like a trained militia. My brother-in-law told me and my sister that we were "our nation's very own stimulus package."

I don't know what it is about a bargain for us, but it must be something to the equivalent of a runner's high, because I can't stop myself. And it's not just on days like Black Friday. Every time I go grocery shopping I grab the receipt and look to see how much I would have spent had I not used my little frequent shopper card. On routine trips to Target and Walmart, those red tags, prices with black marker lines through them, yellow CLEARANCE signs call to me -- I zip to them like a moth to a flame.

Knowing this about myself, I made a point to wake up late, to not get dressed or venture out to the shopping centers. But I still managed to spend $200 before breakfast.

See, I saw that Apple was having an online Black Friday sale and I needed Microsoft Office, and they had knocked it down to $98 from $150. So of course I bought that. I should have stopped there. But then I went over to crateandbarrel.com like an idiot and bought a stainless steel saucepan, a dish towel, and a Wusthof santoku knife I have been lusting over for months. Free shipping. 50-70% off. These words are as special to me as "I love you" and "Marry me."

I'm off to hide my credit cards now. But I'm just gonna check out Amazon and Bestbuy.com first.

When You Least Expect It ...

2009-10-15T13:13:00.002-06:00

... you will catch your not-really-a-dog-person husband in a heated conversation with the dog.

Memphis escaped out the back door on Sunday when Matt was grilling, and neither of us noticed she was gone until we tried to call her for her dinner and there was no response. I freaked out, as night had fallen already, and it might be near impossible to spot my black and brown little beagle. I jumped in the car and started yelling out the window. Thankfully, she didn't get very far, and I caught up to her in a neighbor's yard down the street.

I couldn't help being mad at the dog, so I left her with Matt upstairs while I went to check on the laundry downstairs. That's when I heard Matt talking. I thought he was on the phone at first, but then I realized he was giving the dog a lecture.

"You made her very mad," I heard him say. "You have it so easy! I have to put away the dishes in the right place, take out the trash, make the bed even when she's not here, just so she won't get mad at me. All you have to do is stay in the house!! How hard can that be???"

The Power of Positive Reinforcement

2009-10-13T09:55:00.002-06:00

Last year, about this time, I was going nuts trying to get the hubs to put the dishes away in the right place. See, everything in our kitchen goes in a certain area (as I imagine most kitchens are organized) and dinnerware lives on the first shelf in the cabinet, where I can reach it, or else I'll starve. Well, Matt was throwing dishes above the stove, in with the food, in that drawer under the oven, you name it. I was at my wit's end. I nagged, I screamed, I cajoled, and nothing seemed to work .... until I read in the NY Times an article about a woman who was a former animal trainer, who trained her husband to put his pants in the laundry basket through positive reinforcement. No nagging, screaming, or crying, just a "good job" and maybe a cookie when he did something she liked.

BRILLIANT.

Last night, we had a breakthrough.

On Sunday, I was watching him put the dishes away, and every time I saw him put a dish in the right spot, I took out an ingredient for chocolate chip cookies.

"Are you making what I think you're making?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, you're doing a great job putting away those dishes, I thought maybe it might be a good idea."

He got so excited he started mopping the floors without prompting.

Then I said, "Ugh, the deck is covered in leaves, and I think we should put the patio furniture in the shed. Think we can do it before the Pats game at 4?"

He nearly fell to the floor. "You want to watch the Pats????" He looked at the clock. 3:30. And sprinted outside with a broom.

I love my life.

wow, long time no see...

2009-09-30T07:36:00.002-06:00

I have been absent for a while -- being busy at work = zero time for writing. I had one of those 2-week long, 5-city trips where I would wake up and not know where I was. At one show I said, "Hello, Toledo!" when I was in fact in Cleveland. That kind of thing.

One thing that has mystified me of late is my hubby's penchant for white lies. It's not really a penchant, I actually think it's kind of funny, because he's a horrible liar. It's not in his nature. For example - yesterday, I went to get my jacket because it was cold out, and I found a black fleece with his school logo that I hadn't seen before, hanging in the closet, size XS. "Is this for me?" I said, trying it on. "It's great! When did you get it?"

He paused for a second. "Uhhh, school store, they were having a 40% off sale. Happy Labor Day."

We went about the day, and it wasn't until later when I noticed a couple of stains on the front, like a small coffee spill and some dirt. I shrugged it off until I unzipped the jacket pockets and found an empty banana taffy candy wrapper.

School store my ass.

It took a good 15 minutes of "I won't be mad, just tell me where you got it... did you get it in the school lost and found?" to learn that Matt could not for the life of him figure out how that jacket had ended up in the closet, but that it seemed to make me happy, so he made something up and ran with it.

He gets caught like this often.

My favorite story of him getting caught like this is when I asked him to give me his opinion of a short story I had written that I was planning to take to my writer's group for feedback that evening. Just before I went to the meeting, I asked, "What did you think?"

There's that long pause again. Then, "It was good. I liked it."

The pause gives him away every time. That, and his voice goes up an octave. I decided to play a little bit.

"Oh really? What did you like about it?"

"It was really interesting. It kept me interested."

Like shooting fish in a barrel at this point.

"Did you like the part about the monkey?"

His face brightened. A nugget he could hang on to. "Yeah. What was that all about??"

I smacked him with the pages of the story and walked to the door. "The story was about a soldier in Vietnam, nutbag, maybe you should read it sometime."

babyland

2009-08-10T15:58:00.002-06:00

No, I'm not pregnant. Sheesh!

But our friend L.S. is (or, rather, it's now the hip thing to say "they're" pregnant, but I REFUSE), and she and her hubby were over the other night for drinks. The hubs inquired about the state of the nursery.

Hubs: "So where's Babyland gonna be?"
L.S.: "Babyland?"
Hubs: "You know, where you're gonna put the kid."
L.S.'s husband: "Babyland?"
Me (to Hubs): "They'll put it next to Space Mountain and Tomorrowland, obviously."

new vocabulary

2009-08-06T07:20:00.003-06:00

The hubs and I went out on a date last weekend, which we haven't done in quite a long time. I got dressed up, which, not surprisingly, I haven't done in quite a long time. But in my strappy dress in the middle of July of this lame-weather summer, I shivered a little. Hubs noticed.

"Did you bring your showel?" he asks.
"My what?"
"Your showel. You know, for your shoulders?"
"You mean my shawl?"
"Oh right. Yeah. Your shawl. Whatever."
"Showel - is that like a cross between a shirt and a towel?"
"Yes. Exactly."

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? We could make millions.

and suddenly, i'm 5 again...

2009-07-27T20:00:00.002-06:00

...mostly due to the fact that I've developed swimmer's ear in my left ear and pinkeye in BOTH eyes. Kick me in the face.

A while back I found some nice black triptych frames to put my nieces' and nephew's pictures in. My sister won a professional photo shoot for the kids and turned out some really beautiful pics. I left the frame on the bookshelf near where I wanted to hang it and forgot to put the pictures of the kids in ... actually, I just plain forgot about the frame.

That is, until my husband happened to pass by the frame sitting there, nearly forgotten. He pointed to the bottom picture of a girl lying in a hammock, hands behind her head. He looked at the picture long and hard, as if trying to place this happy-go-lucky college co-ed who had modeled for the frame's inset. Finally, he gave up. "Honey, who's that? One of your friends?"

I could barely point out the shrinkwrap while convulsing in laughter on the floor.

That, my friends, is the critical difference.

2009-06-10T16:09:00.003-06:00

As I'm driving to work this morning, Matt calls. "What are you doing?" I ask. "I have an all-faculty meeting," he responds glumly. I perk up. "Ooh, what's on the agenda? What are you going to talk about? Are you going to propose the revision of the PE curriculum?"

I can hear him sighing over the phone. Finally he says, "See, there's the difference between you and me. You go to a meeting like this, and you're thinking, how can I contribute? What's everyone going to talk about? Me, I'm thinking, I wonder if they'll have danishes, and how many can I eat before someone notices?"

Our New Addition and a Quick Laugh

2009-05-28T07:43:00.007-06:00

Introducing the newest member of our family, Memphis the dog!!!

She is just the sweetest little thing!!!! I never thought I would be one of those people who's obsessed with her dog, but here I am, four days in, and I am definitely obsessed with my dog. Matt was convinced she'd add nothing but stress to our already complicated lives, but in fact, it's the opposite... she actually makes me want to be in Connecticut, which, in and of itself, is an amazing feat.

On another happy note, I have been thinking about what makes me laugh in times of great stress, when nobody wants to think about anything heavy or even say the word "recession" or "budget cuts" or "unemployment" out loud, when I'm having nightmares about being laid off... here's an SNL oldie but goodie - hope everyone gets a quick laugh.

Mike Myers as the Hyper Hypo

Sure you did, hon

2009-05-20T18:52:00.003-06:00

Matt: "You're just mad because I'm an English major, and you're an English major ..."
Me: "Oh please. You took a few classes and now you're an English major. You couldn't even name a British author the other night!"
Matt: "I could too!"
Me: "Ok, name one."
Matt: "Thoreau."
Me: "He's AMERICAN."

Thanks for the reminder, Practice GMAT

2009-05-11T07:53:00.002-06:00

In the last couple of months, I briefly entertained the notion of going to business school. I was actually serious about it for a while. I looked at school websites, talked to a couple of former business school grads, even made mention of it to my parents. But after the practice GMAT I took last Saturday, I can safely say that business school will not be in my future. It was pretty ridiculous of me to even think about it for as long as I did.

Basically, Saturday's practice test told me what I have already known my entire life: I am really good at English, and I am dumber than a donkey at math.

The results even took it one step further and kicked me twice in the shins by telling me where exactly my math weaknesses were. Arithmetic and Problem Solving. Sure, I got the probability and geometry questions right. But arithmetic and problem solving? I had a flashback to a parent-teacher meeting at Nixon School in the 3rd grade, where Miss Bekowies told my mother: Melissa's math weaknesses are word problems and rushing through her arithmetic which leads her to make mistakes.

So apparently, I have not advanced mathematically since the 3rd grade.

Which, in the long run, is okay by me. I got this far, didn't I?

I think once you're past the age of 25 and the cobwebs are firmly in place on the math skills section of your brain, standardized testing should be waived. Or it should be a rule that you be allowed to slap the guy administering your practice GMAT if he is obviously trying to suppress a snicker as he hands you your score.

Don't forget the lyrics

2009-04-29T04:38:00.002-06:00

In the same vein as my hubby's rendition of Lady Gaga, my niece Tory, age 2, sings her own version of Mary Had a Little Lamb, which goes: "Mary had a little man, little man, little man...."

mrs. fix-it

2009-04-27T20:03:00.002-06:00

Gender roles have definitely flip-flopped here in our household. Today, manly-man Matt made his "secret marinade," which consists of BBQ sauce, a little bit of garlic and mustard powder, and a half can of Bud Light. (I'm convinced the Bud Light got in there by accident.) And little ol' me? I fixed the sliding screen door to the deck. Matt tried for about 15 minutes to reattach it, then gave up and leaned it against the wall so that maybe whoever was wandering by might have a crack at it if they felt like it. I got sick of looking at it, walked over, prodded it a little, and, with a little nudging and shifting with a flathead screwdriver -- voila! -- fixed!!

Matt took one look at the door sliding beautifully back and forth, then said, "Thanks hon, I think my balls just shrank a little bit."

Overheard in the house...

2009-04-22T09:12:00.002-06:00

Me: "Can we watch the Blockbuster movie we got tonight?"
Matt: "Oh yeah. What's it called again? ... Read. Reading? Read It. Read Me? Reading Rainbow?"
Me: "The Reader."

And sometimes he sings Lady Gaga in the shower....

"I've had a little bit too much
All of the people start to rush
La la la la dance, da da da da da da
Where are my keys I left them home"

???

don't be like this guy

2009-04-08T14:27:00.003-06:00

I knew this day would come.

Today, I noticed that someone defriended me on facebook.

I am stunned.

See, I'm sure defriending happens all the time. We friend someone, then think twice about how much we are really friends with them, and then later defriend them. But this situation is different. This guy defriended me because he is mad at me.

I really thought this person and I were close. He invited me to dinner with his family. I gave his kid presents for his birthday and a heck of a lot of attention. We've worked together, traveled together, and all very recently, I might add. But then, something happened. I can't really go into details, but let's just say a phone call or email to me would have been sufficient. De-friending me? Immature and a little bit extreme.

When did we start quantifying our self-worth on facebook? When did we start using facebook to express, however passive-aggressively, our frustrations, our hopes, our emotions? I saw a status of an ex-student of mine the other day, and it was basically a message to her recently-ex-boyfriend that she is a mess inside and she quoted a sappy song that basically says "please come back to me." I hate that facebook has done this to us, it has made us counter-productive, passive-aggressive, incommunicative ... well... assholes.

I don't know how to fix this. I don't have a solution. But, bottom line? If you have a problem with me, please call or email. Don't take it out on my profile.

I will leave you on a happier note with this recent gem from a conversation with my husband:

Me: "Guess what? C and B just bought a house!"
Matt: "Oh wow, that's great!!"
Me: "You know why they bought that particular house? Two words."
Matt: "Baby?"
Me: "That's one word."

(note - the two words are: granite countertops) -- nice job C+B!!

direct quote

2009-04-06T13:16:00.001-06:00

Email to Matt this morning:

"Don't forget, you promised to do laundry while I'm in Boston this week"

Matt's reply:

"I AM LAUNDRY"

Unicorns

2009-03-26T09:21:00.003-06:00

Today we're going to talk about unicorns.

Last night I met the neighbors across the street ... my roommates wanted to go over and hang out, plus they were grilling so it was a bonus. And they have great wine over there. Not the two buck chuck we were used to drinking. Free food, I don't have to cook, and good wine? A no-brainer.

The topic of discussion quickly turned to dating, as I found myself the only married person in the room and possibly the only one who had hit her thirties. The guys were talking about their dating experiences, the online services they were using, the weird girls they had met during their time in Boston, etc. When I asked one of them about the kind of girl they were looking for, he said, "I like green eyes. And mocha skin."

Now, I'm no geneticist, but I'm pretty sure that's a very rare physical combination, unless you allow for colored contacts. Like Unicorn-rare. And I told him as much. I didn't want to piss him off, just kind of ... open the windows a little bit. Which got me thinking ... if you are constantly looking for the Unicorn, do you pass up amazing Stallions and Thoroughbreds in the process? Or is it realistic to imagine that people find their Unicorns all the time, which means they're not really technically Unicorns?

I'm confusing myself.

But if you have green eyes and mocha skin and you're single and you are looking for someone who doesn't really like cleaning, watches cartoons, and makes a mean cheeseburger, call me immediately, because I may have just found your Unicorn ...

3 Weeks Without Posts? Inexcusable.

2009-03-23T14:21:00.003-06:00

Or maybe I'm just catching up on sleep.

Actually, I went to Mexico with the hubs. No Blackberry, no email, no facebook. Just the windows open on our 19th floor hotel suite and the sound of crashing waves.

So there.

It's not like nothing funny didn't happen in the weeks leading up to our week away. There are definite post-able items waiting in the wings. Like my mom's hurried voicemail two hours before I was to leave for a month-long trip to Mississippi:

"Hey honey, it's Mom. I was wondering if you could get something for me while you're in Mississippi. It's a special kind of hot sauce. You may only be able to get it in Mississippi, I can't find it anywhere. I think it's called Frank's Hot Sauce. Okay, have fun!"

I opened the cupboard, removed the bottle of Frank's Hot Sauce I had just picked up from the local Stop 'n Shop in Connecticut, and made plans to ship it home.

And there was also the incident with the little schoolgirl kilt I bought with my friends Jen and Peter while I was in Mississippi. We were celebrating Hawaiian Pirate Kilt Day on set that Friday, and the two of them talked me into buying this little Britney Spears kilt that made me look like I had missed the Catholic school bus.
Don't I look thrilled to be wearing it? It's so me.

"Come on," Jen said. "Matt will love it."
"Oh, yeah," Peter agreed. "You have to take it home for him."

So I did. And when I told him they had insisted he would love it, he took one look at it, shrugged, and said, "Okay, but I don't think it'll fit me."

Two Quotes

2009-02-26T17:51:00.002-07:00

First - a sentence you never really hear in the real world...

A conversation between me and my friend Jen as we were taking a break from working with the Bolivian Chicken puppet on set:

Jen: "Oh my God! I think I see your first white hair!!!"
me: "Where? Where? Get it out! Get it out!! Pull out the f$#@ing thing!
Jen: "Oops. Nope. False alarm. Just a chicken feather."

Second - my husband the romantic....

Matt: "I've loved the Red Sox since I was four years old. I've loved watching SportsCenter since I was seven. I've only known you since I was 27, and I love you way more than either of those things."
Me: "Do you realize you just grouped me in with the Sox and ESPN?"

Occupational Hazards

2009-02-03T13:03:00.002-07:00

Sometimes on these children's shows I work on, I get to puppeteer body parts, like ears, tails, right hands, lower extremities, what have you. And I NEVER get a mic. (for obvious reasons.) But that all changed yesterday, when I got a mic for the first time on camera, and I got to puppeteer a chicken who receives a pointer as a gift from one of the lions. It took me less than a minute to poke myself in the eye with it.

Living With Funny

2009-01-27T12:41:00.002-07:00

I write about the hubs a lot. Maybe you guys are thinking to yourselves, "What is this, some kind of Matt Glorification Blog?" If you guys are longtime fans of this blog, you'll know that the purpose of this blog was to record moments of hilarity and ridiculousness that occurred in my life. And if you're longtime fans, you probably know that currently, nearly 95% of hilarity and ridiculousness is generated from the man I married. Seriously, you can't make him up. I give you three examples, all occurring in the last 24 hours, of why it's fun to live with funny.

Example #1: Division of Labor

When it comes to toilet paper, he struggles. This morning, he made a big show about how there's an empty roll on the rack. I was in the shower, so I told him where the new rolls are. I came out of the shower to find the empty roll back on the rack.

Example #2: His Intellectual Side

"Slumdog Millionaire is definitely my favorite movie of all time. I mean, next to Die Hard 2."

Example #3: He's Romantic

Last night, just before we were about to go to sleep, and he leaned over and said, "Make a wish." He held out his hand, where I expected to see an eyelash. It was a chest hair.

it's about time

2009-01-20T09:13:00.004-07:00

I can't believe this day is finally here. I think about all the people who never thought this day would come, and the ones who saw it might be possible -- the people pinned to brick walls by firehoses, four little girls in a church basement, nine high school kids climbing the stairs to their new high school. I think about how it means so much more to people than just replacing a president who is dumber than a saddle, although that's a pretty nice perk too. People are flooding the Mall in Washington, D.C. for this occasion, including one 105-year-old woman who refused to stay in her nursing home and miss this event; they cram into the little plastic chairs and they freeze and they hope.

I don't think I can remember a time when hope flowed through this country as deep as the rivers that divide it. Even in the midst of the grayest of times, Barack Obama seems to instill in us a feeling of confidence, a feeling that we may get what we were promised. It's refreshing to find that kind of faith in a leader, one I can feel might just make the right kinds of decisions for once, one who has our best interests at heart, and one, for the first time in eight years, I don't think I could beat at Scrabble.

Freshman English and Pop Stars

2009-01-12T15:37:00.003-07:00

Last night, Taylor Swift's song "Love Story" got stuck in my head. It's a catchy melody, and it gets stuck quick. There's a verse that goes:

"Romeo, save me, I’ve been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head, I don’t know what to think
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring
And said marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad, go pick out the white dress
Its a love story, baby just say yes..."

I couldn't help it. The ex-English teacher in me was immediately resurrected, and boy, was she annoyed. I mean, did this kid finish the book? Does she even know the real ending? Did she even make it to Act III???

Damn teenagers.

Although, now that I think about it, it's probably not even about Romeo & Juliet. I think I have to stop being such a grumpy Masters-toting purist when it comes to Top 40 songs.

Holiday Highlights with the Hubs

2009-01-11T14:42:00.005-07:00

I need to celebrate my hubs in this post, because I just think he is the bee's knees. We used to give this award in college on my rugby team, to a player who we thought was just so great to have around, and made life so fun. So here are some reasons why my husband wins the "Bee's Knees" Award.

First, a story.

On our first night of vacation, we went to a holiday party at the neighbors and then went night sledding with all the neighborhood kids. It was really fun, right up until Matt borrowed a kid's sled. Because the sled was built for four year-olds and not ex-football players pushing 31 and 200 pounds, it snapped in half the moment he stepped on it. Whoops. Though we replaced the sled the next morning, I think we've become "those neighbors."

And here are a couple of sound bites from the last holiday season, courtesy of the Mr....

Trying to sound like he knows his indie films at the movie ticket counter:

"Can I get two tickets for Smugdog Millionaire?" Note: (pronounced "millionehh" due to the Boston accent)

Another beautiful illustration of who we are as individuals:

Matt: "Did you know that WWF is in Stamford?"
Me: "World Wildlife Federation?"
Matt: "No, (as in, No, Dummy.) the World Wrestling Federation."

On swimming laps at the YMCA:

Matt: "I think I'm getting really good. I think people are starting to notice ... they're staring at me all the time."
Me: "Maybe they're trying to figure out if you're drowning. Or why a grown man is wearing white spandex at a family pool."

a very good year

2008-12-27T09:46:00.002-07:00

Looking back on the last twelve months, I think it's safe to say that it's been quite a good year. I started a journal, the way I had every New Year's for the last five years, and I always start the first page with New Year's resolutions. 2008's resolutions revolved mostly around wedding planning, having fun, enjoying the process, and then there's some crack-smoking yammer about applying to Yale Drama School for playwriting. Um, that's not in the cards at the moment, I have to admit.

But the best page of these journals is the last page. At the end of each year in the journals, I used to write up a kind of scorecard about the year. Here's an example of the last day of 2002, when I taught at a rural boarding school and my love life was most often found in the toilet:

Alcohol units: far too many to count
Weight: 125 (decent)
Valentines: 4 (but all from faculty kids)
Hangover-free days: not as many as I'd hoped
Boyfriends: 1
Nice Boyfriends: 0
Ex-Boyfriends: 1
Notable moments: joined a gym, ran 2 5Ks, beat my dad at karaoke sing-off

Don't know whether to laugh or cry, do you?

Yeah, me neither.

A lot can happen in six years, though. Here is the difference between 24-and-hung-over and 30, flirty and thriving.

Alcohol units: a civilized few glasses of wine a week
Weight: 115 (YESSSS PRE-COLLEGE WEIGHT!!!!)
Valentines: 1 (gorgeous earrings from the guy I married)
Notable moments: great job, finished a half marathon, got married, bought a house, beat my dad at a karaoke sing-off

All in all, a pretty nice U-turn, and a very good year indeed.

Life Alert for 30-Year-Olds

2008-12-17T12:16:00.003-07:00

Last Friday, after I sent my ailing husband to bed with two Nyquil, I went downstairs to the guest bathroom/laundry room to finish the load I had started earlier in the afternoon. As I loaded the machines, I noticed that the curtain we use to hide the machines was unhooked. I stepped onto the toilet and then up onto the washing machine, smacking my head on the low ceiling.

"Ahhh! Mother%$#," I said to no one. Only the hum of the dryer answered me back. I reached up and re-hooked the curtain, then went to step back down onto the toilet. Only, I missed the toilet, a few inches to the right. As I plummeted to the floor, I realized I didn't even have time to scream. I hit the toilet with my left hip, and in trying to catch myself, pulled a shelf of towels and lotions down on top of me. My feet must have flown into the air behind me in a kind of half-flip, because when I looked up, the painting hanging over the washing machine was swinging wildly from side to side. "Owwwww," I groaned. I lay there on the floor for a while in a kind of half-fetal position, mustering a faint call up the stairs: "Maaaatttt."

The kid was in a Nyquil coma. I could have blown an airhorn and he wouldn't have heard me.

"Maaaaattt."

Only the dryer answered me back.

I lay on the cold linoleum floor, contemplating my options. Was I broken? No. Bleeding? Nope. Could I walk? Probably, but I didn't really want to. I felt like a three year old who trips and falls in public, then cries to see if anyone has seen his spill. When he realizes no one has, the kid usually picks himself up and walks away, or else he wails louder for attention. "Wahhhh," I groaned, knowing Matt was never going to hear me through the haze of his little green pills. I couldn't believe it. I had become my very own Life Alert commercial. I could see myself in front of a camera, delivering my tagline to the good people of Infomercial Land: "Life Alert - it's not just for old people anymore. Look at me, I fell off a washing machine."

no money, mo' problems

2008-12-05T16:58:00.002-07:00

Recently, along with the rest of middle- / working- / unemployed-America, Matt and I sat down with our budget and tried to take a look at what to cut. Out went our Blockbuster video membership, along with the Sirius satellite radio subscription which I'd gotten Matt as a Christmas present back in 2005. He claimed to love it and protested the cut, but when I went to look for the receiver, I found it lying on the floor of the truck. Buh-bye Sirius.

Matt pointed to a crumpled piece of receipt tape among the pile of last month's expenses. "What about this? What did you buy at Target for $120?"

I looked pointedly at him. "You said you needed thumbtacks."

He looked at the receipt. "Yeah, just thumbtacks. Not thumbtacks, a pair of penguin-shaped salt and pepper shakers, a pair of ballet flats, a basket for firewood, and an iPod shuffle."

I ignored him and turned back to the budget. He pointed to one line at the bottom. "You could quit the gym in Somerville."

"WHAT?!? And get ENORMOUS over the winter??? OUT OF THE QUESTION!!!"

That was the end of that, until last Thursday morning, when I was huffing and puffing away on the elliptical, reflecting on whether or not quitting the gym was a good idea. I was thinking how good this gym was, at $20/month, I never had to wait for a machine and I never had a reason to even think about quitting, it was so good. That is, until the large woman gasping on the treadmill in front of me let out a silent, deadly, population-decimating fart that sent me off the elliptical the hard way -- over the side.

I think I'm going to quit the gym.

it must be winter

2008-11-21T16:55:00.002-07:00

because today, I went to Banana Republic, and the girl working the dressing room said, "If you need another size, just let me know. My name is Stormy."

Then I went downstairs to Verizon Wireless to get my phone fixed, and a young man with a nametag reading "Hello My Name Is: BLIZZARD" got my text messages working again.

pretty nice little saturday

2008-11-18T08:45:00.003-07:00

This weekend I went down to NYC to hang with my friend Blythe from grad school. We had an amazing day, meeting up with friends from all intersections of my life -- friends from work, from my old work, from my former life. Some highlights:

1) While waiting for Blythe to show up at Macy's, I was attacked by a heavily-eyelinered, sparkly-cheeked tween wearing a skintight top that I have probably tried on thinking it was a skirt, and a toolbelt full of MAC makeup products.

2) We braved the Macy's shoe sale together. It was the closest I came to punching perfect strangers in the face. And the most drag queens I have ever seen since New Years. And, in a devastating revelation, Blythe ordered me to get rid of my old hooker boots, as they had been given the fashion death knell awhile ago, circa 1999, but I had just worn them to work last Tuesday.

3) We met my friend Heifer's new boyfriend at dinner. They came after the first round of apps, during which my friends Jen, Blythe and I shoveled food into our mouths like it was the dawn of a recession. Heifer and Tom ordered for themselves, and we were so involved in our conversations that Jen ended up eating their food by accident.

4) Blythe mistook my mole for a black bean and tried to brush it off my face.

All told, it was a perfect weekend, and it ended as all weekends with Blythe end, with a Bromski.

Three Totally Random and Unrelated Ramblings

2008-11-06T18:25:00.005-07:00

Story #1: Last night, my roommate and I spent an hour walking around to 20 different stores in Cambridge to find a paper with Obama on the front page. We never found one. Grrr.

Okay, that wasn't really a story, more of a gripe. Here's the real stuff.

Story #2:

The bridesmaid dress hunt for my friend's wedding continues. I am allowed to pick my own dress, but it has to be espresso-colored. First one made me look like a Grecian urn. A pregnant Grecian urn if you look at the mirror behind me.

Second dress would be great if I wanted to make a couple hundred walking Hollywood Blvd.

And the third, my personal favorite reject, fit beautifully in the front. The pleated satin back, however, made my ass visible from space. No pictures, because you don't need pictures when you can probably see my brown ass from wherever you are right now.

Story #3:

Today I tried to prank call my sister at work. It went a little something like this:

She answers. "Michelle [last name]."
Me (semi-disguised voice -- because I was only half-committed to the prank when she answered):
"Hello, Michelle [last name], I'm calling because I am really disappointed in all the ... um ... stuff you've been doing ..."

Then I kind of faded into silence. This was the moment I realized that my sister has had the same job for 7 years, and I have NO IDEA WHAT SHE DOES.

Forget this job, what the hell was her last job????

Then, when I asked what her actual job was, she got pissed and said she wasn't gonna tell me. I yelled, "I'm telling Mom!!!" and then I went off to Google her. And I STILL couldn't figure out. If anyone out there knows my sister, do YOU know what she does for a job???

Time to hang it up?

2008-10-14T19:27:00.003-06:00

Tonight, I showed up to my 4 v 4 women's basketball league feeling pretty good about myself. After all, the night before, I had held my own against some bigger guys at Matt's faculty hoops game and even dropped some impressive three-pointers in my husband's face. So who would have thought that anything would change tonight, especially after I was 2-for-2 in shooting in the first few minutes? I was feeling decent. Confident, even. I caught myself thinking, this is going to be a good game. And then my jump shot began to die a slow, horrible death.

For the next 36 minutes, I proceeded to chuck about 48 shots toward the rim. Clank. Bonk. Ka-thunk. Whoosh (that was an airball, the first of maybe four). Nothing. The well had gone dry.

You know the saying, "You couldn't hit water if you were standing on a boat"? Well, I couldn't even hit the boat if I was standing on it.

It is an otherworldly, existential (God, what am I doing here?) experience when the other team doesn't even bother to guard you because, well ... the boat thing.

I am determined not to hang it up yet, although, who wants to be the girl who's stayed too long at the party?

It's time to accept facts. I'm 30, I have three blisters and a charlie horse and I missed two wide open layups, but damn it if I'm not going to try to revive my dead athletic career next week.

Yes We Can

2008-10-02T08:24:00.002-06:00

I can't believe I'm about to do this, but I'm about to cut my last tie to my home state of California.

I'm going to register to vote ... in Connecticut.

Ew.

Just writing that made me shudder.

To me, Connecticut is a sty on the eye of the United States. It has the worst stigmas attached to it. I mean, try it out on your friends. Tell them you're from Connecticut. See what kind of face they make. Then try out other states -- they sound a hell of a lot better than "I'm from Connecticut" or "I live in Connecticut." Why? Because Connecticut has NO personality. Or if it does, it has the personality of that Prada-bag-toting, upturned-nose-bearing, cardigan-sweater-and-Brooks-Brothers
pants-wearing woman who got on the train in Greenwich and sat across from me last week. Ew. Ew. Ew. But seriously, try out a bunch of states on people. "I'm from Idaho." "I'm from Georgia." I'm from Delaware," even. Every other state in the Union has a hundred times cooler a personality than white-bread, bland as flour CT.

I've voted absentee in every election since 1996. I even overnighted my absentee ballot for John Kerry. But this time, as I watch John McCain (and more importantly, Sarah Palin) bumble and mumble through interviews and debates, I feel that something drastic has to be done on my end to take part in turning this country around.

I'm taking one for the team. I'm registering to vote in the lamest state of the union, and I'm formally taking my place alongside the sweater sets of Greenwich -- we now have something in common. (Retch. Retch.)

Of course, I half expect Barack to show up on my Connecticut doorstep and shake my hand, thanking me for making such a huge sacrifice and putting my country first and all that. Bah.

On November 4th, I will go to the polls for the first time. I'm about to vote in my first real election. In ... Connecticut. Oh well. Maybe someday we'll live someplace cool, and this will all be a blip on the otherwise smoothly paved road of my life.

In the meantime, though, if you need me, I'll be at Brooks Brothers, looking for a matching sweater set.

The Only Good Mouse Is A Dead Mouse, Part 2

2008-09-23T20:52:00.002-06:00

I swear to God they are stalking me.

I mean, I know we moved to the country and we are pretty much asking for a mouse problem, but COME ON. See, I had this problem years ago at my old apartment, and just when I thought I had shaken the problem, I had a face-to-face confrontation with one of them as I was getting a quesadilla out of the microwave.

"AHHHHHH!!!" I screamed. "MATT!!!!!!"

The little fucker scurried behind the microwave. Matt came running into the room. "What? What happened?"

"THERE'S A MOUSE!!!" I screamed, but before I could get the whole sentence out, the little fucker scurried out from behind the microwave and jumped to the floor.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!" I screamed again, and turned to jump on a nearby chair. Only, it was already occupied. Standing on it, shrieking like a little girl, was my macho-facho, self-proclaimed "ass-kicker" of a husband.

I looked at him in disbelief. He looked down sheepishly. "It went under the fridge," was all he could say.

"I'll get the deathtraps," I said resignedly, and grabbed my keys off the counter.

Pass the Cookies

2008-09-04T13:36:00.003-06:00

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: I use a little bit of colorful language in this post.

Last week, I drove by the brand-spanking new LA fitness that has moved into the Bristol area (conveniently located next to the Arby's, ironically). I made a call to get membership rates now that I'm an official CT resident (don't remind me) and they said I had to make an appointment to physically come in and see the gym for myself. I figured, what the hell, I've got some free time on Sunday. So I went.

LA Fitness is a gorgeous gym. 20,000 square feet, a pool, racquetball courts, 2 floors of machines, and a full-length basketball court. It's really a sight. I had a meeting with "Ed the Manager" as he called himself, so I made myself at home on one of the plush leather armchairs in the entryway.

"Ed the Manager" looked like any other meathead in any other gym. Not a fitness god, mind you, but someone trying desperately to get there. He reminded me a little of the father from the Incredibles movie. Big chest, not a whole lot else. "Ed the Manager" shook my hand, and the first question out of his mouth was, "Is there anyone you have to consult in order to purchase this membership today?"

Wow. Did I just walk onto the lot of Fast Eddie B's Used Cars and Trucks?

The second thing out of his mouth was not a question but a statement. Or an order. Call it what you want to call it.

"Let's get your BMI."

Oh HELL NO, buddy. Ever had a BMI test? They are BULLSH*T. At the Health and Wellness Fair one winter at work, I gripped those little electrode sensor bars and the damn thing told me I was obese. OBESE.

This is a picture of the machine that told me I was obese:

And this is a picture of me "obese":

As you can see, I'm practically the size of a moose.

What I should have said was, "Let's do yours first." But I took the test anyway, thinking, how bad could it be? I've lost almost 10 pounds since the last time it called me "obese," plus I'm in better shape now. Bring it.

The BMI spits out a number: 27%.

Then he whips out a chart that tells me what the last little f*cking machine said at the Health and Wellness event at work. "See here," Ed the Manager says, smirking, "27% puts you between Fair and Poor."

BULLSH*T -- I almost yell -- but instead it comes out as a snort. "Um, that's ridiculous," I say, but Ed the Manager is already scribbling some calculations on a piece of paper. He looks at me squarely, and without any emotion or indication that he is joking, says, "In order to put you into the 'Good' percentage range, you would have to lose about 8 pounds."

WHAT????

The tour continued, with him making all kinds of sexist references to how much he thought I would like the yoga classes or the Aqua Jog class (meanwhile, I was seething and about to snap, "Just show me the goddamn basketball court, you wanker") and I finally left. But because I am the best person to have around 24 hours AFTER a critical moment occurs, I have only now begun to imagine scenarios of what I should have done.

I'll tell you where to put your eight pounds AND your little BMI scale, you chauvinistic sh*t-for-brains.

Preview

2008-09-04T08:05:00.003-06:00

Flower girls are my FAVORITE.

30, flirty and thriving

2008-08-27T09:23:00.002-06:00

I woke up this morning and that damn zit was still there, so I've come to the conclusion that maybe I'm not really 30, I'm probably 15.

Don't Know, First Time

2008-08-26T14:33:00.002-06:00

I read this gem of news in US Weekly the other day at the gym: Ralph Macchio, of Karate Kid fame, named his son Daniel.

Last Day of My Twenties

2008-08-26T10:19:00.003-06:00

Here's a recap of the decade:

Age 20: got an internship of a lifetime at Jim Henson, lived off Ramen and Spaghetti O's in a hole in NYC, got heart crushed by college sweetheart.
Age 21: graduated college, moved to the boonies of Dutchess County, NY, dreamt of film school but had no cash.
Age 22: taught English (though not well) to freshmen and juniors, coached basketball and softball, drank like a fish, fell off a picnic table at a faculty party.
Age 23: quit softball, picked up lacrosse, grad school in England, fling with British Marine leads to a dozen bad unfinished screenplays.
Age 24: fell in love again and got heart crushed worse than before. swore off all boys until age 30.
Age 25: went back to England for grad school, yet another disastrous fling with British Shakespearean actor (breaking Age 24's rule), discovered sticky toffee pudding during last week in England and nearly applied for British citizenship right then and there.
Age 26: finished grad school, moved to Boston without a job, landed a miracle job at a top-rated documentary show, said yes to a date with a football coach from a different state, something I swore I would never do.
Age 27: left documentary job for children's television show, bought a gas-friendly vehicle for the commute to see the football coach, did a triathlon, developed odd addiction to handbags and other accessories not previously interesting to me in my teens.
Age 28: dabbled in puppeteering, made a movie about a lost sock, ran a half marathon, said yes to a lifetime with the football coach from a different state.
Age 29: joined the technological revolution with a facebook membership AND a Blackberry, married the football coach, bought a house in a different state.

Tomorrow I turn 30, and there's not much to say about that except that it is the start of a new decade, and though it looks as though a lot has changed, I have a zit on my forehead that you can see from space, so maybe not much has changed at all.

No excuses, play like a champion

2008-08-19T19:54:00.004-06:00

I've been married for 10 days. My apologies to those of you who have waited patiently to change and shook their heads in frustration when they found it the same old crap as before.

This particular post is for my roommates. I live in a fantastic steal of an apartment with four other women who describe themselves as fun-loving, wine-swilling professionals with a penchant for a bar called The Druid.

Three of my roommates appeared in California for my wedding 10 days ago, taking the small seaside town where we were married by storm. Clearly the town was not prepared for their arrival.

Example:
One of my roommates went wine-tasting, forgot to eat, and went to a bar with the other girls and some of our guy friends. The topic turned to skiing. This roommate was so drunk that she didn't join the conversation about the different levels of ski trails (green, blue, black diamond) until 20 minutes after the conversation had ended, when she said to one of the guys, "Tonight's all about you, Stephen, getting off the greens." Then she wrapped her sweatshirt around his head in the shape of a turban.

Puppet gig(gle)s

2008-07-23T20:06:00.004-06:00

Sure, I look like a normal person, but what you don't know is that I'm actually a banjo-playing monkey in a group that's taking the nation by storm called ... wait for it ... the Dixie Chimps. Our slogan: will work for bananas.

Then I moonlight as a klutzy but loveable chicken during the photo ops. Those are my favorite moments, because I get to meet kids like Elliott from Northampton:

Too bad that photo makes it look like I'm trying to peck his head like a scene out of Hitchcock's The Birds.

I will try to track down a proper photo of me as either the chicken or the monkey ... but it's damn hard to grip the camera with those pesky wings.

Out of the Mouth of My Fiance

2008-07-17T14:09:00.002-06:00

Comes this magical gem:

"I always wanted to be a crocodile. Or a duck -- well, obviously a duck. But I always thought crocodiles were cool. Ooh, but maybe I would be a hyena. They rip lions to shreds. Maybe a hyena. A female hyena though, 'cause they can go right up to the males and take their food."

And I am as surprised as you are that he does not do drugs of any kind.

Potato, potato

2008-07-09T08:13:00.003-06:00

Actual conversation last weekend:

Me: "Can we rent Shawshank Redemption? It's one of my most favorite movies of all time!!"
Matt: "Shawshank what? Who's in it? I don't think I've seen it ..."
Me: "It's such a beautiful film. It's with Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman, and they're in this prison in Maine --"
Matt: "Oh yeah -- and they go out and kill all these people with machine guns, right? I think I've seen it."
Me: "Um ... no. "
Matt: "Oh, no wait ... that's Bloodsport."

Happy Shower Indeed

2008-06-19T08:39:00.001-06:00

Last Sunday, my mom and aunts surprised me with a bridal shower! I was shocked, but what was most hilarious was the way I found out about it. It was disguised as a Father's Day potluck, and about 2 hours into the potluck, as I was stuffing my face with my aunt's lumpia (mmm!!!! diet begone!!!), my phone rings. It's my sister.

Me: "Hello?"
Michelle: "HAPPY SHOWER!!!!!"
Me: "What?"
Michelle: (long pause.) "Wait. What are you doing right now?"
Me: "Eating. What are you talking about?"
Michelle: "Um, (long pause, I start cackling with laughter) can you put Mom on?"

I hand the phone to Mom, Michelle inserts foot in mouth.

Nice job, Golden Child :)

Waterworks

2008-06-06T09:08:00.003-06:00

Honestly, I have been a mess for the past month. I have crazy dreams, I am beyond stressed, and I can now do what I was unable to do in my high school play: cry on command. Well, maybe not on command, but I can probably do it if really want to mess with me.

Rough days turned into rough weeks, and it's becoming a rough month. Take my reaction to Matt's bachelor party, for instance. His friends surprised him with 20 (YES, 20) Red Sox tickets and a party bus to take them from Hartford to Boston. He is over the moon about it, he can hardly believe how wonderful his friends are being. My reaction? "CAN'T YOU GET A BUNCH OF STRIPPERS LIKE NORMAL GUYS???? THAT IS MY DREAM BACHELORETTE YOU'RE HAVING!!!!!" And I cried. A lot more than I'm used to crying.

I was, and still am, insanely jealous. I mean, I think he could have done anything, ANYTHING, short of getting caught with a hooker on a deserted highway, and I would have been more upset about the Red Sox game. That is how ridiculous I am.

Then, last night, I went to see the new Sex and the City movie with my roommates, and I held it together pretty well in public, but then I went home, I just completely lost it. And I realized that I had been teetering emotionally for a while now, and it's time to get a grip.

May I present to you my solution:

Just kidding. But it is definitely a last resort.

Reason Number 4,324,453

2008-05-27T20:25:00.002-06:00

Last week, Matt asked me to play on the faculty team in their softball game against the students. I told him I would, and he proudly bragged to everyone who would listen that I was a college softball star, that I was All-New England, blah blah blah. I wished he hadn't done that, but it was done. In the game, I proceeded to go 0-3 and commit 4 errors, one of which involved my glove flying off my hand with the ball in it. I was furious with myself and stomped off the field to the apartment. Matt's stuff was in the gym, so he went off to shower there and I was left to stew in my fury. And boy, did I stew. I considered hanging up the glove and cleats for good. I was totally embarrassed and thought I had blown the game for them. I couldn't help myself, I was convinced that this was the beginning of the end of my career as an athlete.

And then Matt arrived at the door, carrying a bag of my favorite Indian food from the restaurant down the street, and suggested that we skip the dining hall that night.

Bring on 8-9-08.

Layers, Part Deux

2008-05-19T14:55:00.004-06:00

Matt is determined to add layers. I posted about layers in a previous post and Matt is determined to get some. Recently, he claims to have added a "thespian" layer. I have had to remind him continually that it is not pronounced "thesbian as in lesbian". This stems from his recent casting in a student's one-act play, where he was given the non-speaking role of God's Maintenance Man Sal. He walks onstage between two angels, hands St. Peter a business card, and walks off. The kid who cast him told him he did so because "he walks like a maintenance guy," whatever that means.

Fast forward to Sunday, Pre-Cana at St. Gabriels. For those of you not lucky enough to be Catholic, Pre-Cana is a rite of passage for all engaged couples wishing to enter the sacrament of marriage. It's basically pre-marital religious counseling, where they tell you that God wants you to make Catholic babies after you get married.

One segment is called The Love Letter segment. You write a love letter to your partner, then go up to the church and have them read it, and you read theirs. I write a long, from-the-heart, together-forever letter that covers two pages. He essentially wrote a page, then turned the page over and wrote, "Ok, you just started on your second page, so now I have to write on the back to make this look as long as yours."

Keep trying for those layers, hon.

Who Needs Sleep When You Can Have Nights Like These???

2008-05-10T12:21:00.003-06:00

I have not slept in the last three nights. I am definitely one of those girls who becomes Captain Crankypants when I get under 6 hours regularly, and I am walking around looking like I got run over by a bus with honeymoon-sized bags under my eyes.

BUT, two milestones have occurred....

1) We submitted our first offer on a house this morning. I got no sleep last night because I spent most of it doing what I usually do before major decisions -- I was kneeling on the bathroom floor praying to the porcelain gods.

2) THE INVITATIONS ARE OUT!!!

Let the madness begin.

Tailspin

2008-04-29T19:50:00.003-06:00

I have 100 days. 100 DAYS PEOPLE!!!!

In the next 7 days, I have to:

a) decide whether or not to play in the alumni rugby game. I might get jacked up pretty badly since I haven't touched a rugby ball in, oh, maybe 9 years

b) redo all of my RSVPs, since the ones I had ordered are TOO SMALL TO MAIL. Finish the out-of-town bags, wrap up the insane DIY projects, seek therapy for a Michael's Craft Store addiction.

c) order up some margaritas, along with two plane tickets to Mexico.

Over the next 100 days, I have to:

a) combine the majority of two apartments into one. from two states to one.

b) trade in the truck for a hybrid.

c) have what is hopefully a kickass wedding.

Yeah, I thought I'd be a GREAT idea for us to pull up roots in about a month, find another apartment or (GULP) maybe (WHEEZE INTO PAPER BAG) buy a house, move two apartments into that living space, trade our truck, buy a car, you know, the usual summer plans. Then I thought we'd get married too.

How's your summer lookin'?

"That Guy" and "That Girl" From Pickup Basketball League

2008-04-14T19:18:00.002-06:00

For the past three years, I've played in a relatively competitive co-ed basketball league. This is a league where equal opportunity for women means our baskets are worth 2 points and all male baskets are worth 1. I like it, because it means guys pass me the ball and I get to shoot from the locker room if I want. My team, who I found when I responded an ad for Craigslist one cold Christmas Eve, is pretty good. But I realized something very distressing recently -- two of my teammates are "that girl" and "that guy."

You know these people. "That girl" is the girl who bull-charges her way into the key, throws up a prayer and yells, "foul!" even if she hasn't really gotten hit. She calls "double-dribble" while she's on defense and tries to teach the other team the rules from the league website. I have tried very, very hard not to be "that girl," but I most definitely play with her.

And you know "that guy" ... he's the one who's best at rebounding because he takes up the most space. He's good for a bank shot off a rebound or maybe even a screen, but for some reason, he's always barking plays at you and hollering from the sidelines when he's out about how we have to pick it up on D. And here's my personal favorite -- today, not once, but twice, he called "three seconds in the key."

I have always said that I would retire when I was the worst player on the floor. I came pretty close tonight when our opponents went up by one with 10 seconds left and my teammate, in a desperation outlet pass, winged the ball off my butt as I ran down the court.

The Last Lecture

2008-04-10T09:59:00.003-06:00

Maybe you've seen it, maybe you haven't. But everyone needs to listen to Randy Pausch.

Make sure you close your office door before you watch it, so your colleagues can't hear you blubber like a lost child, like mine did today.

ps - this is the abridged version he did on Oprah. The actual hour-and-a-half lecture can be found here on YouTube.

Thank God Memphis Can't Make Free Throws

2008-04-09T09:38:00.004-06:00

Oh. My. God.

Matt and I just won this basketball pool with a huge group of people we don't know. Huge pot. I can hear our wedding budget sighing with relief. Seriously, I never win anything, so if you see pigs flying outside your windows, you know why.

Thank you, Memphis, for your seriously un-clutch free throw shooting. Thank you, Mario Chalmers, for your clutch three-pointer. Maybe we will name our firstborn Mario.

What's ironic is, our friend Brian, the one who convinced us to join the pool when we were about to balk, finished second.

Which means we will probably be buying him and his wife something nice for the baby with part of our winnings. Then we'll throw the rest into the wedding kitty and do the dance of joy.

Love you, Bri & Treg!

Swim in My Gene Pool

2008-03-27T07:42:00.004-06:00

Matt likes to say that my family is the kind of funny where you're funny and you don't even know it. If you've met my mom, you know what I mean. I remember once I called her on her cell and she mentioned she'd taken a fall early that morning -- off the kitchen counter. When I asked what she was doing on the kitchen counter at 6:30am, she seemed to shrug and reply that she was just trying to wash the windows. At 6:30am. On a weekday.

Because we all do that.

My sister also falls into the category of unknowingly funny. Here's an example. She and her husband are remodeling their house. Despite this, my sister spies a bag she's wanted in a store window -- it's marked down from $175 to $125. I don't know what it is about bargains in my family -- we take to them like moths to a flame and can smell an outlet mall about 50 miles away. But that red clearance tag triggers something deep and inherent in our genetic makeup, and we must have it, even if it is something we already own (we may need a spare!). Even if, in my sister's case, this bag becomes the fifteenth in her collection and the price tag is what prompts a bust through her credit limit and a quick phone call to the credit card company.

But, to her credit, she is a great shopper. She knows all the websites, all the coupon codes, all the secret deals. And yesterday, after I spent four hours (YES. FOUR HOURS. OF MY LIFE. I AM NOT GETTING BACK.) trolling the internet for a pair of shoes that matched an anonymous wedding photo I had glimpsed, I turned to her. She found them in under 25 minutes. For $35. Point. Click. Mine. Incredible.

Truly South of Reason

2008-03-04T09:02:00.003-07:00

I am having a bad week. Going into the office lately has been like Chinese water torture, mostly because my co-worker has taken charge of my boss's baby shower like it's the party for the next coming of Christ. Get this - the theme (theme?!? for a baby shower?!? I know, let's call it, HEY, I'M HAVING A BABY) -- the theme is "dainty tea party." I'm not kidding. Matt and I are going to a dainty tea party baby shower. Let's all throw up in our mouths together.

Basically the idea of the shower started out as, let's do a brunch thing. I'm like, YESSS, bring on the bacon and omelettes and home fries, coffee and orange juice. Matt even seemed psyched about it because there would be guys there, and I know he, like me, pictured lots of food. We had a meeting about the food the other day. Tea. Cucumber sandwiches. Scones. I volunteered to bring donuts, but I was nixed. I'm bringing a Box of Joe. That's my contribution. And Matt and I are going to hit IHOP before we go.

There's also the issue of the gift. Co-worker is furious that everyone liked my idea of pitching money in and getting a bunch of things rather than one big thing. We had a twenty-minute discussion about my boss's preferences for Pack 'n Plays that was, at the root of it, a power struggle. I wanted to rip my eyes out. That is twenty minutes of my life that I am never getting back.

And it's only Tuesday.

In other related what-the-fuck-is-up-with-all-the-angry-people news, my friend Blythe called in from New Jersey last night to report that two middle-aged women had gotten into a screaming match at her local deli counter because one cut the other in line. A screaming match. At a deli counter. With about a thousand f-bombs. God, I wish I could have seen that. But then I realize, it happens more than we think: i mean, are you kidding me???

Soccer Mom Rage

2008-02-25T08:46:00.003-07:00

Today, a soccer mom in her mid-40's driving a maroon minivan tried to cut me off on the Pike. When I wouldn't let her, she flipped me the bird, and held it up long enough to make sure I caught it in my rearview mirror. I smiled and waved. Now I have seen all the highlights Boston has to offer.

You and Your Damn Interrogations

2008-02-12T14:42:00.001-07:00

Next to "How's the wedding planning going?" and "When are you going to have babies?", the worst question we hate to hear is, "So what's going to happen after the wedding?"

That is a GREAT question. If I knew the answer to that I would probably cry with joy.

See, Matt lives in Hartford, CT. I live in Boston, MA. It's been that way since the beginning. We both have great jobs. His gives him FREE housing. Neither of us wants to make the three hour roundtrip shlep.

Matt is a teacher, and people at his job LOVE him. The parents often come up to me at school events and ask the dreaded question pointedly. All I hear is, "So what's going to happen next year, hmmm YOKO???"

I kid, because if Matt were to leave it would probably be the furthest thing from breaking up the Beatles, but it sometimes feels that way. But I can't just leave my job. I scratched and clawed for years to get the job I'm in now. And it's such a specific industry that you can't just pick up and find a job anywhere. So we're in an endless quandary of "What's going to happen after the wedding?"

These days, I hate this question more than "how's the wedding planning going," only because I've purposely sat on my ass and done nothing. Six months away, and I don't even know where my wedding planning binder is. It's a strange, freed bird feeling. And yet when I say I've done nothing, people's jaws drop, they want to shake me by the shoulders, my mom's head spins all the way around. But I've just hit a wall. A week from yesterday, I will have been engaged for exactly a year, and for now, the answer to all questions will be, "Whatever happens happens."

Priorities

2008-01-30T17:50:00.000-07:00

My future hubs has landed back in the doghouse. Here was the reason:

Sarah (roomie): Are you watching the Super Bowl?

Matt: Are you kidding? This is history being made! This is the biggest event of my life!!!

Me: What?

Matt: ... um...I mean ... EXCEPT FOR THE WEDDING. I meant. The wedding. Um.

Me: Go sit in the corner.

Wanted: Head Examination

2008-01-29T10:45:00.000-07:00

I need my head examined. I'm about six months away from dropping my life savings on a wedding, and I am NOT ACTING LIKE IT. Instead, I've been captivated for most of the month of January by this:

Does that look like something I PERSONALLY NEED BEFORE THE WEDDING????

Of course not.

But in my mind, I absolutely have to have this. This week, in fact.

I need to calm down. The problem is, I like big ticket items. Fancy stuff, techie geeky stuff. See, my sister will go on shopping sprees and buy a ton of different things. Maybe it's not what she needs, but she will buy a lot of it if the price is right. My shopping sprees (much to the dismay of my future intended) tend to be one big kick in the balls.

This camera will cost as much as our DJ. As much as the flowers. But I will make it mine. Oh yes, I will.

Know when it's time to quit

2008-01-16T13:40:00.000-07:00

Me: "Why don't you join Facebook? Then we could be friends!"
My older sister: "We're already friends, loser."

Addictions

2008-01-16T12:49:00.000-07:00

My family shops. It's genetic.

What's also genetic is not just the way we shop, but it's the way we get stuck on things. Like my father, who, for a long time, just couldn't say no to ebay. Or me with running shoes. I have about 10 pairs. Who needs 10 pairs? I hate running.

Or in my sister's case, accessories. Specifically bags and shoes.

First, she saw a bag in a store window. Then she found the same one online for $15 less. She bought it. Then she went back to the store window, decided she didn't like the one she bought, and bought another one. Two bags. For the gym.

That same week, on one errand to buy a birthday present, she pulled the car into U-Village. One present led to two pairs of shoes, a container thing from Storeables, a belt and a sweater at Banana Republic. Then she went and bought another pair of boots online from Target. Or, as my fiance likes to call it, Tar-getmesomething.

Which leads me to believe that the recession may be imminent, but my sister may just be the backbone of the economy.

What I Meant Was...

2008-01-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, my fiance is given to grand sweeping gestures of chivalry, like opening my car door or paying for my morning coffee, then he'll make a loud point to the rest of the world, like "AND THEY SAY CHIVALRY IS DEAD." Most of the time he says really sweet things. But sometimes, he just doesn't put his words in the right order. Like last night, when we were talking about the tiger who escaped from the San Francisco Zoo and mauled three people, killing one of them. It went something like this.

Me: What if the tiger jumped out of its cage and came after us?
Matt: I would try to get the tiger to take you and not me.
Me: WHAT?????
Matt: I mean -- what I meant was -- the tiger -- oops --
Me: Get out of my face.

This moment reminds me of a time early in our relationship, when we were discussing movie stars' beauty.

Me: Do you think Angelina Jolie is pretty?
Matt: I think she is WAY MORE prettier than you.
Me: WHAT?????
Matt: Wait, what did I just say? What I meant was --
Me: You know where the door is.

But I'm pretty sure we're still going to make it, after all that.

There's No Place Like Home...

2008-01-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

There are few things you can count on in life. One of those is my incredible, wonderful, pee-in-your-pants-funny family. Some highlights from our 10-day marathon visit to the family abode in California:

1) Getting wedding stuff over with. It was not without its blood, sweat, and tears, but we now have music to dance to and food to eat. Oh, and I have a pretty dress to wear. It'll go something like that. The funniest moment we had was trying to organize ourselves into two cars because for some reason my mother does not drive over bridges. WE LIVE IN A PLACE CALLED THE BAY AREA. BRIDGES EVERYWHERE.

2) Being guilted into running with my fiance. My house is on a hill, the street is a vertical drop, and the cross street is a sequence of five more hills. We did a loop. Every other morning I could be heard screaming, "OH MY GOD, I HAAAAAAATE YOU" as I made my way back home.

3) My mother, after nearly sixty years of sitting on the sidelines, agrees to play Monkey in the Middle with my 6-year-old niece and 4-year-old nephew. She is in the middle for over 40 minutes.

4) Midnight Dance-Off. In the living room, Matt and I wipe the floor with my sister and her husband with our new signature move, The Flying Eagle from Karate Kid.

5) We run out of beer after only three days because my brother-in-law and Matt are "just trying to survive."

6) I become a menace at Guitar Hero, Easy level.

7) Driving through Crissy Field, we glimpse a clear view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Matt spots Treasure Island underneath the bridge and asks, "What's that over there?" Four-year-old Zach pipes up, "Uncle Matt, that's Hawaii."

Emotional Rollercoasters

2007-12-14T11:01:00.001-07:00

This last week, I have been on an emotional rollercoaster, and I want off -- NOW.

Let me give you the most glaring example of what I mean:

Last Wednesday night, I cried my eyes out during Deal or No Deal.

That is not a typo. DEAL OR NO DEAL WITH HOWIE MANDEL.

See, this Filipino man named Efren was a contestant on the show. It was his second time appearing -- he had to finish his game. Previously, he had said that if he won money, he would go visit his mom and dad in the Philippines, whom he has not seen in two years, and who have not met his fiancee. Unbeknownst to Efren, the producers contacted his parents AND FLEW THEM IN FROM THE PHILIPPINES TO SIT IN THEIR STUDIO AUDIENCE.

Come on. Even the models holding suitcases were crying.

Then Efren opened the million dollar case and I sobbed like a baby.