At the sound of my name I looked up from where I stood contemplating the back of the latest novel being promoted by Starbucks. I scanned the crowd for a moment before settling on a face I hadn’t seen in several years – the source of the voice calling my name. In the half second it took him to make his way to me through the line I stood, shocked maybe, and scanned the face that was at once familiar and strange to me. So many things had changed about him, his hair peppered with grey, more lines around his mouth and eyes which somehow made him look handsome instead of old, he was heavier than I remembered but it looked good on him, gone was the mustache I secretly hated. His smile was the same though, slightly lopsided and fast, it used to be my favorite feature of his, reminding me more of the smile from a 10 year old boy looking for approval on something wild and crazy he had done than that of a respectable man of 40.
Conversation was awkward as we struggled to find something to say. We talked about my pending wedding, to the man I left him for. We talked about his marriage and pending divorce, his daughter. The man who swore he would never have children grinned like a fool when talking about the little girl who changed his life. “The only woman I’ll trust from now on”, he joked. I smiled. It was good to see him. We talked about what we had been doing in the several years since we’ve seen one another. I regaled him with stories of schizophrenic bosses, starting my own company, being unemployed and finally finding balance, of buying a house. He told me of his move from one career into another, his relocation to the city and decision to move back, being unemployed and finally settling for work that he swore he’d never do again yet pays better and more steadily than anything he’s had in awhile.
We moved from standing in front of the bar to outside, realizing that after the catch up was over there really wasn’t too much to say and yet hesitant somewhat to leave. We could each feel the strangeness in how someone we used to know so well could turn into a stranger in a manner of years. We laughed about how utterly wrong for each other we had been and yet how much fun we’d shared. I told him I was thankful there was never any bad blood between us at the end. He acknowledged that it had certainly been time to move on and joked about how he had “forgiven” me for finding someone more suitable before he did. It was a fun conversation, a friendly one. I remembered what I had liked about him before. I remembered why the choice, when it was presented to me, had been almost embarrassingly easy. He was/is a good man, just not the man for me.
As we said our goodbyes one of my co-workers walked by us and in to Starbucks. I caught her eye and the raised eyebrow. I’m not one to stand on street corners talking to strange men after all. We talked about getting together, an empty offer as neither of us offered updated contact information. I think we both realized that there isn’t a place for one another in the new lives we’ve built since we parted. A quick hug and wishes for a wonderful marriage for me and general good things for him and he walked away. As I stood watching him go my co-worker came out with her cup of coffee. “Who’s the tall, dark and handsome stranger?” she asked. An explanation would take too long. And really, did I know the answer? “Just someone I used to know”, I replied as we walked back into the office.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The easy path
I was having lunch with a friend the other day and the chit chat quickly turned to her favorite topic – her boyfriend and all the many things their relationship is lacking. Those of you who have been with me awhile know that I caution against constant bf-bashing. A caution that comes from personal experience I might add. I often wondered in my younger days why my friends hated my boyfriend so much when really all they had to go on was what I told them of how he treated me and I never shared the good things only the bad. Because when you are happy you don’t have a cause to call your girlfriends at all hours to share and dissect every meaning. You just are happy. But when things go wrong… Break out the speed dial.
For this particular friend, however much I would normally discourage this sort of conversation, I really feel for her and the situation she is in. She loves this man, he is for all intents and purposes, a good man. He isn’t mean, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t gawk at other women… He’s what I would call “a nice guy”. But she isn’t happy. He doesn’t support her the way she wishes he would, he isn’t affectionate, rarely says I love you. They are the best of friends and very close but there is something missing.
She has spent countless hours agonizing over this. He’s a good man, she loves him, he treats her well, but… There is always a but isn’t there? I honestly don’t know what the best course of action is for her, I would never presume to interfere in someone’s relationship. I did that once in college and it backfired. Big time. But that’s a story for another day. All I could do was listen and support her, tell her all the things she already knows.
But on my way back to the office from lunch I found myself still thinking about her and her situation, about how sad and discouraged she looked talking about it to me. I kept wishing I had the cahones to tell her that she should never feel ashamed of what she needs, if she needs affection she should be able to get it and not feel guilty about it. I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t settle for what she’s being given just because it isn’t terrible and because she thinks it should be enough. The truth is that, for her, it isn’t enough. She shouldn’t be afraid to be who she is, to ask for what she wants, and to share what she is feeling wholeheartedly with her boyfriend and not feel like she is being judged for it. To be told that she’s just “being a girl” and overreacting. Don’t even get me started on how much I hate that particular little misogynistic saying.
And yet, in her situation, would I stand up for myself? Or would I take the easy path? It’s an interesting dynamic… And I can’t stop wondering…
For this particular friend, however much I would normally discourage this sort of conversation, I really feel for her and the situation she is in. She loves this man, he is for all intents and purposes, a good man. He isn’t mean, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t gawk at other women… He’s what I would call “a nice guy”. But she isn’t happy. He doesn’t support her the way she wishes he would, he isn’t affectionate, rarely says I love you. They are the best of friends and very close but there is something missing.
She has spent countless hours agonizing over this. He’s a good man, she loves him, he treats her well, but… There is always a but isn’t there? I honestly don’t know what the best course of action is for her, I would never presume to interfere in someone’s relationship. I did that once in college and it backfired. Big time. But that’s a story for another day. All I could do was listen and support her, tell her all the things she already knows.
But on my way back to the office from lunch I found myself still thinking about her and her situation, about how sad and discouraged she looked talking about it to me. I kept wishing I had the cahones to tell her that she should never feel ashamed of what she needs, if she needs affection she should be able to get it and not feel guilty about it. I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t settle for what she’s being given just because it isn’t terrible and because she thinks it should be enough. The truth is that, for her, it isn’t enough. She shouldn’t be afraid to be who she is, to ask for what she wants, and to share what she is feeling wholeheartedly with her boyfriend and not feel like she is being judged for it. To be told that she’s just “being a girl” and overreacting. Don’t even get me started on how much I hate that particular little misogynistic saying.
And yet, in her situation, would I stand up for myself? Or would I take the easy path? It’s an interesting dynamic… And I can’t stop wondering…
Friday, February 08, 2008
The Song Remembers When
You know how a song can trigger memories? Certain songs will always put me in the company of certain friends, recalling memories long forgotten, remind me of the person I was. Mostly these memories are good, sometimes not, but all remind me of a piece of me. I think this is the hazard of having my iPod on random shuffle at the gym. The other night I mentally traveled over a dozen years or more…
First to come on in the memory rotation was Insensitive by Jann Arden . Ahhh… High School. My friend Kelly and I used to blare this song any time it came on the radio. In her room, in my car… where ever. The latest boy being serenaded about “vagueness in your eyes and casual good-byes” by us at the top of our lungs. High School boys being insensitive by nature, I thought I would never feel the heartbreak I thought I felt then. I was wrong. I wonder sometimes about Kelly also, my friend that I shared so much happiness and heartache with. I hear through the grapevine that she’s working, still living locally, and yet I find it hard to reach out to her. I suppose I am uncertain of my welcome, ah the drama of youthful misunderstandings.
Up next, the song that has been so often played over the last year you’d think I would remove it from my iPod entirely, Rhianna’s Umbrella. I apologize now if anyone gets that chorus stuck in their head from this post. Umbrella, eh, eh, eh. Back when the song was new(ish) my friend Cate and I had gone to a Chili Cook-Off with TheBoy. We heard the song on the way to the event and that was it – instant repeat. A bajillion cups of chili and way too many beers later, the song came on again, on the car ride home. Cate and I were drunkenly singing along when TheBoy informed us that we were crazy… There was no “umbrella” in that song. I believe he thought the lyrics were something along the lines of “you can stand under my arm forever”. Foolish Boy. Of course we then proceeded to find the song on his iPod and play it on repeat the entire 25 minute ride home, being sure to emphasize every time the word umbrella was mentioned. I’m sure looking back we were highly annoying but after a few beers? Eh… good times!
What About by Janet Jackson.. This album got me through my first year of college. I danced with a company at the local junior college and several of these songs were featured in the show. It was my “get ready to go out with the girls” album. Every song meant something to me. Especially What About. At the time I was dating my high school sweetheart still. Things were rocky and I knew he didn’t love me. Like a foolish girl I couldn’t seem to let go. Until I realized the truth of the words in this song. “What about the times you lied to me, What about the times you said no one would want me, What about all the shit you've done to me, What about that? What about the times you yelled at me, What about the times I cried, You wouldn't even hold me, What about those things? What about that?” I’d like to say I found the courage to leave him from this song. Sadly, that day didn’t come for several more years.
And then the infamous Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard. This song was my car’s anthem y’all. I would go flying around downtown, top down, sunglasses on, blaring this song at full volume and singing along at the top of my lungs. I wonder sometimes what people thought as a drove by, young blonde woman, hair flying, screaming about “pour some sugar on me, in the name of love!” Ah youth. I’m not saying I still don’t squeal like a girl and drag my friends out on the dance floor anytime it comes on… But I don’t play it quite as loud in my car any longer. No need for the neighbors to know exactly when I come and go. And that car has lasted me almost 8 years. We have a LOT of memories together.
Of course other songs played during my stint on the treadmill, these are the few that I am still remembering days later. It almost makes me look forward to going to a run again tonight. Where will I travel down memory lane? Will I be happy, nostalgic, angry at myself or at someone else?
What songs carry memories for you?
First to come on in the memory rotation was Insensitive by Jann Arden . Ahhh… High School. My friend Kelly and I used to blare this song any time it came on the radio. In her room, in my car… where ever. The latest boy being serenaded about “vagueness in your eyes and casual good-byes” by us at the top of our lungs. High School boys being insensitive by nature, I thought I would never feel the heartbreak I thought I felt then. I was wrong. I wonder sometimes about Kelly also, my friend that I shared so much happiness and heartache with. I hear through the grapevine that she’s working, still living locally, and yet I find it hard to reach out to her. I suppose I am uncertain of my welcome, ah the drama of youthful misunderstandings.
Up next, the song that has been so often played over the last year you’d think I would remove it from my iPod entirely, Rhianna’s Umbrella. I apologize now if anyone gets that chorus stuck in their head from this post. Umbrella, eh, eh, eh. Back when the song was new(ish) my friend Cate and I had gone to a Chili Cook-Off with TheBoy. We heard the song on the way to the event and that was it – instant repeat. A bajillion cups of chili and way too many beers later, the song came on again, on the car ride home. Cate and I were drunkenly singing along when TheBoy informed us that we were crazy… There was no “umbrella” in that song. I believe he thought the lyrics were something along the lines of “you can stand under my arm forever”. Foolish Boy. Of course we then proceeded to find the song on his iPod and play it on repeat the entire 25 minute ride home, being sure to emphasize every time the word umbrella was mentioned. I’m sure looking back we were highly annoying but after a few beers? Eh… good times!
What About by Janet Jackson.. This album got me through my first year of college. I danced with a company at the local junior college and several of these songs were featured in the show. It was my “get ready to go out with the girls” album. Every song meant something to me. Especially What About. At the time I was dating my high school sweetheart still. Things were rocky and I knew he didn’t love me. Like a foolish girl I couldn’t seem to let go. Until I realized the truth of the words in this song. “What about the times you lied to me, What about the times you said no one would want me, What about all the shit you've done to me, What about that? What about the times you yelled at me, What about the times I cried, You wouldn't even hold me, What about those things? What about that?” I’d like to say I found the courage to leave him from this song. Sadly, that day didn’t come for several more years.
And then the infamous Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard. This song was my car’s anthem y’all. I would go flying around downtown, top down, sunglasses on, blaring this song at full volume and singing along at the top of my lungs. I wonder sometimes what people thought as a drove by, young blonde woman, hair flying, screaming about “pour some sugar on me, in the name of love!” Ah youth. I’m not saying I still don’t squeal like a girl and drag my friends out on the dance floor anytime it comes on… But I don’t play it quite as loud in my car any longer. No need for the neighbors to know exactly when I come and go. And that car has lasted me almost 8 years. We have a LOT of memories together.
Of course other songs played during my stint on the treadmill, these are the few that I am still remembering days later. It almost makes me look forward to going to a run again tonight. Where will I travel down memory lane? Will I be happy, nostalgic, angry at myself or at someone else?
What songs carry memories for you?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Introspection
I heard that you called recently. I knew by the halting way she said “you’ll never guess who called me” almost as if she wasn’t sure she should tell me. I felt the bile rise in my throat, body heat seeming to simultaneously drain from my face and leave my chest burning, the unwelcome (unnecessary) tears spring to my eyes, all before I ever heard who, you, had called.
I hate that news of you still affects me that way. How just the thought of you, rising unbidden to the forefront of my mind can make me feel… unhappy, insignificant, unloved. The grown woman in me knows that I am none of those things and yet… I am. I hate that I am the poster child for how a woman can grow up to be relatively well adjusted without the influence of a father. I hate that people come to me for comfort when their own fathers fail in to live up to their expectations. I had no expectations. And somehow you failed to live up even to that.
So I’m getting married. I know you now know. I was relieved that you didn’t ask for details (knowing I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, have you there) and at the same time bitterly disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly had no intention of inviting you, a complete stranger, to share in one of the happiest and most intimate days of my life. And yet, I feel the lack of your presence – if not of your presence in particular than a missing element.
You should know I don’t grieve for your absence the way I once did. It’s become more of an ache, something that lingers under the surface, barely noticed for the most part. You should also know that while I have not had the proper love of a father, I have had other men who love me as a daughter and express their joy in having me in their lives. You should know that I still miss you. You should know that I want you to stay gone.
I am relieved to be ridding myself of your name. I’ve been your daughter in name alone for longer than you ever were a father to me. Maybe then, once I no longer have that last lingering tie to you, I will feel free. Maybe then I will cease to think of you, to wonder about your life. The life you chose in place of me.
I found your address on the internet. In a moment of weakness I looked. I’ve had it for almost a year. I have debated about sending you a letter, wondering alternately if it would have any impact other than making your new family angry at the reminder of my presence. Sometimes I want to do it just to make them angry, to share some of this hurt with them. I’ve fanaticized about flying out there, of driving by your house, of having you glimpse me from a distance. Would you know me? Or would there be only something vaguely familiar, something you can’t quite put your finger on?
I resent that you still call her. I know you explained to me how she was the love of your life, how you regret getting divorced, how you were glad to have me as a last link to her. I know that you told me those things but know that I do not, or can not, accept them. Because believing those words you spoke so long ago only enforces what I am to you, nothing.
I hate that news of you still affects me that way. How just the thought of you, rising unbidden to the forefront of my mind can make me feel… unhappy, insignificant, unloved. The grown woman in me knows that I am none of those things and yet… I am. I hate that I am the poster child for how a woman can grow up to be relatively well adjusted without the influence of a father. I hate that people come to me for comfort when their own fathers fail in to live up to their expectations. I had no expectations. And somehow you failed to live up even to that.
So I’m getting married. I know you now know. I was relieved that you didn’t ask for details (knowing I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, have you there) and at the same time bitterly disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly had no intention of inviting you, a complete stranger, to share in one of the happiest and most intimate days of my life. And yet, I feel the lack of your presence – if not of your presence in particular than a missing element.
You should know I don’t grieve for your absence the way I once did. It’s become more of an ache, something that lingers under the surface, barely noticed for the most part. You should also know that while I have not had the proper love of a father, I have had other men who love me as a daughter and express their joy in having me in their lives. You should know that I still miss you. You should know that I want you to stay gone.
I am relieved to be ridding myself of your name. I’ve been your daughter in name alone for longer than you ever were a father to me. Maybe then, once I no longer have that last lingering tie to you, I will feel free. Maybe then I will cease to think of you, to wonder about your life. The life you chose in place of me.
I found your address on the internet. In a moment of weakness I looked. I’ve had it for almost a year. I have debated about sending you a letter, wondering alternately if it would have any impact other than making your new family angry at the reminder of my presence. Sometimes I want to do it just to make them angry, to share some of this hurt with them. I’ve fanaticized about flying out there, of driving by your house, of having you glimpse me from a distance. Would you know me? Or would there be only something vaguely familiar, something you can’t quite put your finger on?
I resent that you still call her. I know you explained to me how she was the love of your life, how you regret getting divorced, how you were glad to have me as a last link to her. I know that you told me those things but know that I do not, or can not, accept them. Because believing those words you spoke so long ago only enforces what I am to you, nothing.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Wedding Planning Update
I think I am finally getting into the swing of this whole wedding thing… I’ve accomplished more in the last month than I have in the 4 months or so we’ve been engaged!
Save The Date cards printed and mailed – check
Flowers decided on and ordered – check
Wedding dress purchased – check
Bridesmaids’ dresses purchased – check, check
Photographers met with = 2
Photography contract signed – check
Caterers spoken to over the phone / e-mail = 3
Caterers I’m planning on meeting with in February = 2
Shoes purchased for wedding dress – check (with the added caveat I might find another pair I like more – I reserve that right since I have a minor obsession with shoes)
Stores registered at = 3 (this is a work in progress)
Hotels contacted about group rates for guests = 3
Hotels actually giving us a group rate = 1
Wedding website up and running – check
Wedding cakes sampled (courtesy of my soon to be MIL) – check (also, yum!)
That doesn’t even include the things we’re still working on including the Hawaiian shirts for the groomsmen and a new suit for TheBoy. Areas yet to be tackled include the honeymoon, the timing of which depends greatly on another wedding we are attending in the fall. But all in all I’m happy with my progress.
Save The Date cards printed and mailed – check
Flowers decided on and ordered – check
Wedding dress purchased – check
Bridesmaids’ dresses purchased – check, check
Photographers met with = 2
Photography contract signed – check
Caterers spoken to over the phone / e-mail = 3
Caterers I’m planning on meeting with in February = 2
Shoes purchased for wedding dress – check (with the added caveat I might find another pair I like more – I reserve that right since I have a minor obsession with shoes)
Stores registered at = 3 (this is a work in progress)
Hotels contacted about group rates for guests = 3
Hotels actually giving us a group rate = 1
Wedding website up and running – check
Wedding cakes sampled (courtesy of my soon to be MIL) – check (also, yum!)
That doesn’t even include the things we’re still working on including the Hawaiian shirts for the groomsmen and a new suit for TheBoy. Areas yet to be tackled include the honeymoon, the timing of which depends greatly on another wedding we are attending in the fall. But all in all I’m happy with my progress.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Puerto Vallarta
We arrived in Puerto Vallarta after a sleepless night spent either in the air or waiting for our connecting flight in the International Airport in Mexico City. Neither place was conducive to sleeping but we tried. After procuring both our luggage and a taxi cab we finally made our way out to our hotel. Riding through the hotel district and then the marina area we both had our car windows rolled down and were enjoying both the warm sunny weather and the fact that we were blissfully free from any responsibilities for 5 days. Paradise!
Our hotel was located just at the beginning of the downtown area and the Malecon (boardwalk). After some initial snafu with our room (the first one they assigned us had one tiny window that overlooked the interior of the hotel and was very dark and dreary) we settled into our ocean view suite overlooking the swimming pool and bar area. The waves crashed just under our balcony it seemed and literally I could have thrown something from our room and have it land on the sand. We slept with the sliding glass door open every night and enjoyed several beautiful sunsets on our balcony.
The first order of business that first day was to wander around and get the lay of the land. We left our hotel and wandered in the direction of downtown, taking note of which taco stands were busiest and generally enjoying our new environment. First order of business? $1 Pacifico beers over looking the ocean along the Malecon. It was heaven. We wandered some more and found a wonderful little taqueria where the owner was friendly and helpful. He practiced some of his English on us and I dusted off a few rusty sentences in Spanish. 6 tacos, 4 Pacificos, and 2 tequila shots = right about $7. Gotta love Mexico!
We fell into an easy routine. I would wake up in the morning about 9:00 am and slather my lily white self with SPF45 and head down to the pool with my book for a couple hours until I felt TheBoy had slept long enough. We would then shower and head out in search of some breakfast. The afternoons were spent poking through shops and spending time in the flea market. We almost always found a screaming deal on Happy Hour cocktails, once involving a real coconut which was split open for us after the drink was gone and sprinkled with salt, red pepper flakes and hot sauce – it was divine! We would head back to the room to watch the sunset either from the pool area or from our balcony and then change and rest up for dinner. Dinners were cheap, several great little taquerias were within steps of our hotel. We would often stop for a late-night snack at one of the taco trucks that stayed open all night.
We didn’t do anything touristy. No tours of Tequila. No whale watching. No snorkeling. No booze cruises. What we did do was relax and defrost our frozen, soggy selves from the gloom that always accompanies winter for me. We spent time together just laughing and enjoying each other’s company. There was no talk of the wedding (except for the occasional vendor asking if we were honeymooners or “jus practicing”). No jobs to stress over. No home projects to consider. It was truly the best vacation I think I have had in ages. No agenda. No worries. Just fun.
Our hotel was located just at the beginning of the downtown area and the Malecon (boardwalk). After some initial snafu with our room (the first one they assigned us had one tiny window that overlooked the interior of the hotel and was very dark and dreary) we settled into our ocean view suite overlooking the swimming pool and bar area. The waves crashed just under our balcony it seemed and literally I could have thrown something from our room and have it land on the sand. We slept with the sliding glass door open every night and enjoyed several beautiful sunsets on our balcony.
The first order of business that first day was to wander around and get the lay of the land. We left our hotel and wandered in the direction of downtown, taking note of which taco stands were busiest and generally enjoying our new environment. First order of business? $1 Pacifico beers over looking the ocean along the Malecon. It was heaven. We wandered some more and found a wonderful little taqueria where the owner was friendly and helpful. He practiced some of his English on us and I dusted off a few rusty sentences in Spanish. 6 tacos, 4 Pacificos, and 2 tequila shots = right about $7. Gotta love Mexico!
We fell into an easy routine. I would wake up in the morning about 9:00 am and slather my lily white self with SPF45 and head down to the pool with my book for a couple hours until I felt TheBoy had slept long enough. We would then shower and head out in search of some breakfast. The afternoons were spent poking through shops and spending time in the flea market. We almost always found a screaming deal on Happy Hour cocktails, once involving a real coconut which was split open for us after the drink was gone and sprinkled with salt, red pepper flakes and hot sauce – it was divine! We would head back to the room to watch the sunset either from the pool area or from our balcony and then change and rest up for dinner. Dinners were cheap, several great little taquerias were within steps of our hotel. We would often stop for a late-night snack at one of the taco trucks that stayed open all night.
We didn’t do anything touristy. No tours of Tequila. No whale watching. No snorkeling. No booze cruises. What we did do was relax and defrost our frozen, soggy selves from the gloom that always accompanies winter for me. We spent time together just laughing and enjoying each other’s company. There was no talk of the wedding (except for the occasional vendor asking if we were honeymooners or “jus practicing”). No jobs to stress over. No home projects to consider. It was truly the best vacation I think I have had in ages. No agenda. No worries. Just fun.
Friday, January 04, 2008
I am a terrible blogger.
I know this. And I would use the excuse that things are hectic around the holidays but I know it’s no good since many of my favorite bloggers ALSO were busy during the holidays and yet they all managed to put up some posts. What can I say?
"Hi, my name is Tiffany and I am a bad blogger. Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last post."
Ha! Aren't you glad you're reading this? Ahem.
On the wedding front I finally decided to pull my head out of the sand and get some planning done… Save-the-Date cards have been ordered and should arrive early next week. Guest list is intact for the most part. I have my dress. The girls have their dresses (or have ordered them at least). I have been playing phone tag with a couple photographers. I have a consultation call scheduled for flowers. TheBoy and I ordered the knife we are cutting the cake with.
What is left on the list? Deciding on decorations, choosing the Hawaiian shirts for the guys, buying TheBoy a new suit, invitations, catering, music, honeymoon and… I’m sure about 52 million other things I haven’t thought of yet. This wedding business is really stressful y’all! I thought I would love it since it’s basically just a big party and I LOVE throwing parties but… no. I do enjoy sticking it to the wedding industry as a whole though. :D I didn’t buy a “wedding” dress, the girls are not wearing “bridesmaid” dresses, and so on. Seriously, if something has the words “wedding” or “bridal” attached to it the prices go up 10x!
Also, in the midst of the largest storm to hit CA in several years TheBoy and I scrapped our plans for a mini-vacay/road-trip over his birthday weekend and impulsively booked a trip to Mexico instead. That’s right. This time next week I will be lying on the beach, drinking a cocktail with a cute umbrella in it. Most importantly I will be warm. I really hate winter y’all. I think there might really be something to that whole seasonal depression thing. I’m just saying.
"Hi, my name is Tiffany and I am a bad blogger. Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last post."
Ha! Aren't you glad you're reading this? Ahem.
On the wedding front I finally decided to pull my head out of the sand and get some planning done… Save-the-Date cards have been ordered and should arrive early next week. Guest list is intact for the most part. I have my dress. The girls have their dresses (or have ordered them at least). I have been playing phone tag with a couple photographers. I have a consultation call scheduled for flowers. TheBoy and I ordered the knife we are cutting the cake with.
What is left on the list? Deciding on decorations, choosing the Hawaiian shirts for the guys, buying TheBoy a new suit, invitations, catering, music, honeymoon and… I’m sure about 52 million other things I haven’t thought of yet. This wedding business is really stressful y’all! I thought I would love it since it’s basically just a big party and I LOVE throwing parties but… no. I do enjoy sticking it to the wedding industry as a whole though. :D I didn’t buy a “wedding” dress, the girls are not wearing “bridesmaid” dresses, and so on. Seriously, if something has the words “wedding” or “bridal” attached to it the prices go up 10x!
Also, in the midst of the largest storm to hit CA in several years TheBoy and I scrapped our plans for a mini-vacay/road-trip over his birthday weekend and impulsively booked a trip to Mexico instead. That’s right. This time next week I will be lying on the beach, drinking a cocktail with a cute umbrella in it. Most importantly I will be warm. I really hate winter y’all. I think there might really be something to that whole seasonal depression thing. I’m just saying.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Food!
I’ve been feeling lately like my whole life is in upheaval mode, with the move and the constant commuting and trying to fit in the gym five or six days a week, there really isn’t much time for me. Also, I’ve been struggling with the feeling of being isolated. I forget that when there is no traffic we’re only a 40 minute drive away from our friends, because I sit in traffic everyday coming home and it just feels SO FAR AWAY. I also HATE winter. HATE HATE HATE. I hate the cold, I hate that it’s barely light when I leave for work and twilight (if I’m lucky) by the time I get home. Seasonal depression makes a TON of sense to me.
So in the interest of maintaining my sanity and having something to focus on other than the dark and cold and far away-ness from my friends I’ve been trying to get back into cooking. Most of you know that I used to cook, A LOT. I sort of lost interest in my tee-tiny apartment kitchen and gradually stopped trying new things and experimenting, relying instead on the same few recipes that I knew TheBoy loved. Occasionally I would cook something fancy, when we had company or it was a special occasion, but truly it’s been forever since I actually cooked for the simple joy of cooking.
But the other night I made THE MOST AWESOME THING EVER.
**********
Grilled Chicken with Creamy Grits and Shiitake Mushroom SauceFor chicken1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
1 small fryer chicken (about 3 pounds), quartered
For sauce
1 cup beef stock or canned beef broth
1 cup chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 ounces thinly sliced pancetta, cut into matchstick-size strips (about 3/4 cup)
8 ounces fresh shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, sliced (about 3 cups)
3/4 cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon thinly sliced fresh sage leaves
For grits
1 1/2 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
1/2 cup whipping cream
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
1/2 cup quick-cooking grits
Make chicken:
Mix oil, garlic and rosemary in 13 x 9 x 2-inch glass baking dish. Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper. Add to oil mixture; turn to coat. Cover and refrigerate chicken at least 4 hours or overnight, turning occasionally.
Make sauce:
Boil both stocks and wine in heavy medium saucepan until reduced to 1 cup, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat.
Cook pancetta in heavy large skillet over medium-high heat until crisp and golden, stirring constantly, about 3 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer pancetta to bowl. Add mushrooms to same skillet and sauté until golden, about 4 minutes. Add stock mixture and cream to skillet and simmer until reduced to sauce consistency, about 5 minutes. Mix in pancetta and sage. Season to taste with pepper.
Meanwhile, prepare barbecue (medium-high heat). Remove chicken from marinade. Grill until cooked through, turning occasionally, about 30 minutes.
Make grits:
Bring stock, cream and butter to simmer in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Gradually whisk in grits. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook until grits are creamy and tender, stirring occasionally, about 6 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Spoon grits onto plates. Place chicken atop grits. Spoon sauce over; serve.
**********
The only changes I made were that I didn’t grill the chicken (we’re out of propane) and I didn’t use a whole chicken. I substituted bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (since I had them in the freezer) and I roasted them in the oven at 425 for about 20 minutes and then broiled them for a few minutes to get the pretty color. Also, I wouldn’t waste your money on shiitakes since the sauce is fairly overwhelming with the pancetta and broth reduction and cream. If you really like the flavor of shiitakes make something else, I’m just saying. I used a combo if white and cremini mushrooms. Much cheaper, still tasty.
Other than those changes I followed this recipe to a t (which I NEVER do but it got such good reviews I thought I wouldn’t mess with it). Y’all. Those grits are like the best I have ever had! I now have a new stand-by recipe. SO GOOD. And the sauce was so rich and creamy. Mmm… Not waist band friendly by any means but sometimes a girl just needs a full fat meal. And a half box of lactaid. :D
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Germy germy
Y'all. I just woke up from one of those dreams. You know, the kind it isn't polite to talk about on the internets? I rolled over in bed but instead of seeing TheBoy's sleeping form I was confronted with the kleenex box and a pile of tissues. Then it hit me, oh yeah, I feel like crap! Also, of course TheBoy wouldn't be home (though I could have sworn it was his job to attend to my every need! no?), its a Tuesday morning and normal people go to work on Tuesdays. People with 102 degree temperatures and wicked sore throats do not.
I am maybe the world's worst sick person. I hate being around sick people, a fear that keeps me out of the doctor's office except for dire emergencies of migraines or when she's holding my prescription refills hostage. You know. So I would never in a million years admit to being sick if I didn't have to, and I can be as stubborn as a three year old on this. I'll admit to feeling "tired" or "cold" but never sick. I can go weeks like this. Case in point - last year I ignored the "touch of a cold" I had for so many weeks I ended up in the urgent care with Pneumonia. I'm just saying is all.
Sometimes my body takes matters into its own hands (er... so to speak) like it did yesterday afternoon. I have been feeling "tired" and a little "not well" for a couple weeks now but being the trooper that I am (in denial) I still have maintained my active schedule with the house and the commuting and all that. Until yesterday. All day at work I wasn't feeling right. On the way home I made TheBoy stop to get me a Red Bull since there was painting to be done and I couldn't let a little tiredness get in the way of an organized kitchen!
I should have known by the fact that I was unreasonably cold given the outside temperature, I maybe should have guessed by the headache I couldn't kick, or maybe the increasing soreness to my throat which was not going away despite all the water I had drank. But no, it wasn't until it was about 8:00 at night when I burst in to tears (hello three year old) for no apparent reason - "I don't know why I'm crying - I just don't feel good!" - that I had to admit, maybe, I was sick. Of course that Red Bull didn't help, and laying in bed wide awake at midnight with a fever and a wicked sore throat does nothing to improve the temper. I. HAD. STUFF. TO. DO!!!
My body and I disagree clearly. But today I'm trying to be the responsible adult and have resigned myself to a day of internets browsing and reading in bed. Me, the kleenex and the cat. I've justified it to myself because the only thing I hate worse than going to the doctor's (because there are SICK people there) is going into work only to hear the sniffles of a co-worker a few cubes over. I've been known to leave my bottle of Purell on someone's desk while they are in the restroom. I mean really? Can you just keep your germs at home and not bring them to work where they are recirculated through the entire building courtesy of the central air system? That'd be super.
I am maybe the world's worst sick person. I hate being around sick people, a fear that keeps me out of the doctor's office except for dire emergencies of migraines or when she's holding my prescription refills hostage. You know. So I would never in a million years admit to being sick if I didn't have to, and I can be as stubborn as a three year old on this. I'll admit to feeling "tired" or "cold" but never sick. I can go weeks like this. Case in point - last year I ignored the "touch of a cold" I had for so many weeks I ended up in the urgent care with Pneumonia. I'm just saying is all.
Sometimes my body takes matters into its own hands (er... so to speak) like it did yesterday afternoon. I have been feeling "tired" and a little "not well" for a couple weeks now but being the trooper that I am (in denial) I still have maintained my active schedule with the house and the commuting and all that. Until yesterday. All day at work I wasn't feeling right. On the way home I made TheBoy stop to get me a Red Bull since there was painting to be done and I couldn't let a little tiredness get in the way of an organized kitchen!
I should have known by the fact that I was unreasonably cold given the outside temperature, I maybe should have guessed by the headache I couldn't kick, or maybe the increasing soreness to my throat which was not going away despite all the water I had drank. But no, it wasn't until it was about 8:00 at night when I burst in to tears (hello three year old) for no apparent reason - "I don't know why I'm crying - I just don't feel good!" - that I had to admit, maybe, I was sick. Of course that Red Bull didn't help, and laying in bed wide awake at midnight with a fever and a wicked sore throat does nothing to improve the temper. I. HAD. STUFF. TO. DO!!!
My body and I disagree clearly. But today I'm trying to be the responsible adult and have resigned myself to a day of internets browsing and reading in bed. Me, the kleenex and the cat. I've justified it to myself because the only thing I hate worse than going to the doctor's (because there are SICK people there) is going into work only to hear the sniffles of a co-worker a few cubes over. I've been known to leave my bottle of Purell on someone's desk while they are in the restroom. I mean really? Can you just keep your germs at home and not bring them to work where they are recirculated through the entire building courtesy of the central air system? That'd be super.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Everything and Nothing
I FINALLY have my ring back. I swear I was without it almost as long as I was with it. It feels strange all over again. I was just getting used to the damn thing! Also, it’s official… I have the world’s teeniest fingers. We had the ring re-sized to a 4.25 and it still slides easily over my knuckle! But it fits WAY better y’all. I no longer am afraid to wash my hands for fear it might go sliding down the drain and I doubt I could fling it across a bar now, much to TheBoy’s relief I’m sure.
I think TheBoy and I are going to try and get a little engagement celebration time in this weekend because even though we’ve been engaged almost a month I still can not seem to bring myself to be properly excited about it. I even had the full on girl freak out cry fest in the car on the way home yesterday evening. Poor guy. It just seems like with all of my other friends who have gotten married there were lots of excitement and parties and congratulations and so on and with us… its more like, “oh, great news, about time” and that’s it.
And the worst part is that I totally get it! Because I sort of feel the same you know? It’s not like we sit at home and giggle to ourselves because we’re SO EXCITED we’re engaged. It’s more like something that was missing has finally snapped into place. But I guess deep down in some previously unacknowledged place I really would like to have some excitement and congratulations and parties. Because it just doesn’t feel… real. I guess. Anyway, maybe I’ll feel better once TheBoy and I have had a little mini-celebration. I certainly feel better now that I have my ring back! :D
I think TheBoy and I are going to try and get a little engagement celebration time in this weekend because even though we’ve been engaged almost a month I still can not seem to bring myself to be properly excited about it. I even had the full on girl freak out cry fest in the car on the way home yesterday evening. Poor guy. It just seems like with all of my other friends who have gotten married there were lots of excitement and parties and congratulations and so on and with us… its more like, “oh, great news, about time” and that’s it.
And the worst part is that I totally get it! Because I sort of feel the same you know? It’s not like we sit at home and giggle to ourselves because we’re SO EXCITED we’re engaged. It’s more like something that was missing has finally snapped into place. But I guess deep down in some previously unacknowledged place I really would like to have some excitement and congratulations and parties. Because it just doesn’t feel… real. I guess. Anyway, maybe I’ll feel better once TheBoy and I have had a little mini-celebration. I certainly feel better now that I have my ring back! :D
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Throwing Stones (or how I almost became un-engaged)
As I was getting ready to leave work last Friday a friend suggested that I have a “glass or three of wine” over the weekend. Now I’m not sure if by “weekend” he meant the ENTIRE weekend or just that evening but… Being the good friend I am I took his words to heart and when the invitation for happy hour to celebrate a co-worker’s birthday arrived I promptly accepted.
AND I had my three glasses of wine. Or that’s as many as I’ll admit to anyway now that I know my mom reads this here blog. Hi Mom! Love you!
Ahem.
Let’s just say many, many hours passed and general good times were had by the birthday boy and all in attendance. There was laughing, there were stories told… And you RF’s of Tiffy KNOW how I get when I tell stories when there is wine involved. I should have been Italian I tell you what. Arms go flailing and there are re-enactments, sometimes I use voices. I do LOVE telling a good story.
I just realized that at this point in the story we need to have a little tangent. Hi, welcome to my disjointed blogging!
So when TheBoy and I started looking at rings several months ago every where we went we had my finger sized. We heard pretty much the same thing at every store. I was either a 4.75 or a 5 but I should go with a slightly larger size since a) I wanted a thicker band and b) once you get the engagement ring on with the wedding band the rings feel tighter together. Fair enough. So when it came time for TheBoy to order my ring he ordered it in a size 5. He proposed, I cried, we laughed, and I have been happily wearing that ring ever since.
Well except the ring was a little looser than I thought it ought to be. I mean it slipped quite easily over my knuckle. Also? It spins. Like all the way around my finger so that I am either wearing the stone between my ring finger and pinky (which is SO comfortable) or the stone is pointing in at my palm and I have nothing but a plain band showing on the outside. The later of those two things is very uncomfortable if you happen to sleep with your palm cupping your cheek. I’m just saying… People might tease you for having a square indent on your cheek.
So, after conferring with the interweb and many girlfriends I took myself and my loose, spinning ring over to the jeweler across the street from my office last week to see what could be done. I originally thought I would just have those bumps put in the bottom of the ring like Michele had in hers to stop the spinning. The lady there called them speed bumps which made me laugh. So the first thing she did was size the ring. I informed her it was a size 5, which she smiled at and sized my ring anyway. Guess what? Size 5.25. Actually she said it was BETWEEN a size 5.25 and a 5.5. Either way definitely not a 5. This was our first problem.
Clearly sensing that something was wrong here, or that I had no freaking idea what I was doing, the woman next decided she should measure my finger. You know, just to see. Y’all. She whipped out her little ring keychain looking thing and started slipping rings on and off my fingers like a maniac (clearly not her first time!) finally stopping trying to decide between two sizes. The tighter of the two was a size 4 and the looser a 4.25. I actually pulled that little key ring thing out of her hand and squinted at the sizes to make sure myself. HOW COULD THIS BE? Anyway, even if you guys are not math whizzes you can figure out that a size 5.25+ ring does not fit well on a size 4.25- finger. No wonder that damn thing was spinning.
So the speed bumps were clearly not the answer, the ring would need to be re-sized. The jeweler across the street quoted me a price but mentioned that if my fiancé (!) wanted to take it back to where he bought it they would probably re-size it for free. As soon as I got back to the office I called TheBoy and informed him of the ginormousness of the ring and the teeniness of my fingers, to which he was surprised about the ring but not the fingers. And yes, he said, the place he bought the ring did say they would re-size it for free. Of course being the typical girl I am, I wanted to keep the ring just a wee bit longer so I told him we’d send it in “later” since it hadn’t really been THAT much of a problem.
So fast forward to last Friday night and my co-workers birthday and my glass or three of wine. And the stories. I was standing out on the patio talking to a friend about… something. Something that required hand gestures clearly, when all of a sudden I felt a strange lightness on my hand. OMG y’all the ring had gone flying! I immediately stopped talking and started peering into the dark shadowy puddles in the direction that I thought the ring must have gone praying to see something sparkly. Talk about insta-sober! About 42 hours later (or maybe 15 seconds, who knows) the guy I had been speaking with tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and there he is, HOLDING MY RING!
Y’all! I snatched that thing up so fast you’d have thought it was the last piece of food on a buffet line. No sooner had the words “Thank GOD, Please don’t tell TheBoy, he’ll KILL ME!” come out of my mouth then up pops that darn boy. Man if he doesn’t have the world’s worst timing. I may or may not have mentioned my less than stellar fibbing abilities before on this here blog? Well let’s just say they are NOT improved by wine. So of course I had to fumble through the whole story, trying to laugh it off.
“Ha Ha, I was just standing here and the ring FLEW off, but then co-worker found it over there by that empty keg, isn’t that HYSTERICAL?!?!? Honey??”
Ahem.
The ring went back to the jeweler to be sized first thing Monday morning.
AND I had my three glasses of wine. Or that’s as many as I’ll admit to anyway now that I know my mom reads this here blog. Hi Mom! Love you!
Ahem.
Let’s just say many, many hours passed and general good times were had by the birthday boy and all in attendance. There was laughing, there were stories told… And you RF’s of Tiffy KNOW how I get when I tell stories when there is wine involved. I should have been Italian I tell you what. Arms go flailing and there are re-enactments, sometimes I use voices. I do LOVE telling a good story.
I just realized that at this point in the story we need to have a little tangent. Hi, welcome to my disjointed blogging!
So when TheBoy and I started looking at rings several months ago every where we went we had my finger sized. We heard pretty much the same thing at every store. I was either a 4.75 or a 5 but I should go with a slightly larger size since a) I wanted a thicker band and b) once you get the engagement ring on with the wedding band the rings feel tighter together. Fair enough. So when it came time for TheBoy to order my ring he ordered it in a size 5. He proposed, I cried, we laughed, and I have been happily wearing that ring ever since.
Well except the ring was a little looser than I thought it ought to be. I mean it slipped quite easily over my knuckle. Also? It spins. Like all the way around my finger so that I am either wearing the stone between my ring finger and pinky (which is SO comfortable) or the stone is pointing in at my palm and I have nothing but a plain band showing on the outside. The later of those two things is very uncomfortable if you happen to sleep with your palm cupping your cheek. I’m just saying… People might tease you for having a square indent on your cheek.
So, after conferring with the interweb and many girlfriends I took myself and my loose, spinning ring over to the jeweler across the street from my office last week to see what could be done. I originally thought I would just have those bumps put in the bottom of the ring like Michele had in hers to stop the spinning. The lady there called them speed bumps which made me laugh. So the first thing she did was size the ring. I informed her it was a size 5, which she smiled at and sized my ring anyway. Guess what? Size 5.25. Actually she said it was BETWEEN a size 5.25 and a 5.5. Either way definitely not a 5. This was our first problem.
Clearly sensing that something was wrong here, or that I had no freaking idea what I was doing, the woman next decided she should measure my finger. You know, just to see. Y’all. She whipped out her little ring keychain looking thing and started slipping rings on and off my fingers like a maniac (clearly not her first time!) finally stopping trying to decide between two sizes. The tighter of the two was a size 4 and the looser a 4.25. I actually pulled that little key ring thing out of her hand and squinted at the sizes to make sure myself. HOW COULD THIS BE? Anyway, even if you guys are not math whizzes you can figure out that a size 5.25+ ring does not fit well on a size 4.25- finger. No wonder that damn thing was spinning.
So the speed bumps were clearly not the answer, the ring would need to be re-sized. The jeweler across the street quoted me a price but mentioned that if my fiancé (!) wanted to take it back to where he bought it they would probably re-size it for free. As soon as I got back to the office I called TheBoy and informed him of the ginormousness of the ring and the teeniness of my fingers, to which he was surprised about the ring but not the fingers. And yes, he said, the place he bought the ring did say they would re-size it for free. Of course being the typical girl I am, I wanted to keep the ring just a wee bit longer so I told him we’d send it in “later” since it hadn’t really been THAT much of a problem.
So fast forward to last Friday night and my co-workers birthday and my glass or three of wine. And the stories. I was standing out on the patio talking to a friend about… something. Something that required hand gestures clearly, when all of a sudden I felt a strange lightness on my hand. OMG y’all the ring had gone flying! I immediately stopped talking and started peering into the dark shadowy puddles in the direction that I thought the ring must have gone praying to see something sparkly. Talk about insta-sober! About 42 hours later (or maybe 15 seconds, who knows) the guy I had been speaking with tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and there he is, HOLDING MY RING!
Y’all! I snatched that thing up so fast you’d have thought it was the last piece of food on a buffet line. No sooner had the words “Thank GOD, Please don’t tell TheBoy, he’ll KILL ME!” come out of my mouth then up pops that darn boy. Man if he doesn’t have the world’s worst timing. I may or may not have mentioned my less than stellar fibbing abilities before on this here blog? Well let’s just say they are NOT improved by wine. So of course I had to fumble through the whole story, trying to laugh it off.
“Ha Ha, I was just standing here and the ring FLEW off, but then co-worker found it over there by that empty keg, isn’t that HYSTERICAL?!?!? Honey??”
Ahem.
The ring went back to the jeweler to be sized first thing Monday morning.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Details, details
So. Heh. You guys are probably wanting some details and stuff huh? Like HOW we got engaged and WHEN and all that fun stuff? And also, like how the heck did this come about from the man who swore he’d never get hitched? Or along that vein, now it might all make sense why TheBoy and I bought a house together when I swore I wouldn’t so long as we weren’t married. Ahem.
So, let’s see… Around the time of our six year anniversary last June we started that same old conversation again about buying a house and THE FUTURE and so on and so forth. Only this time it had a slightly different ring to it. I’m not sure if it was the SIX YEARS or if it was the feeling of OMG we really should be homeowners or what but something was slightly different. Anyhow, to make an incredibly long, L-O-N-G, story short TheBoy finally conceded that marriage WAS a logical next step and I agreed that I would begin to look at houses. The rest, as they say, is history.
We began sort of looking at rings here and there and trying to figure out what sort of wedding we wanted. In August when we joined my parents in Lake Tahoe for a week we positively fell in love with being up there and realized that we are never happier than we are when we are at the lake. However, since we couldn’t possibly host a wedding on our ski boat, and Lake Shasta not exactly being a desirable vacation destination (Redding, CA is sort of… redneck, even for me), we started to look around more closely at the beautiful Lake Tahoe.
We fell in love with the first boat we set foot on and luckily for us our 7 year anniversary is a Friday next year AND the boat happens to be available for charter that night. SOLD! So we put a tentative hold on the boat / date that very day, BEFORE we were even engaged. TheBoy and I have never been anything but unconventional y’all. Cart before the horse and all that. I mean we are the couple who moved in together a mere five months after beginning dating, he quit college y’all! We had our first apartment alone by our first anniversary and have been trucking along quite nicely ever since. It seemed perfectly reasonable to plan our wedding before being engaged.
We had begun looking at houses before leaving for Tahoe but had been having some issues getting all of our financing in line. However, shortly after returning home (or right before we left I can’t recall) we found out we were all approved and we were ready to go. Once that green light flashed it was basically a blur. We put in a bid on a home we had been eyeing for months and was accepted with a two week close the next day. Ya’ll pretty much know the rest of THAT story. When we moved in we received two bottles of rather nice champagne as house warming gifts, one from our realtor and one from TheBoy’s mother. The one from our realtor we opened right away and the other was just sitting in the fridge waiting for a night that didn’t involve take-out or sweating or… something.
A couple weeks ago, September 14th to be exact, TheBoy and I got home from work and changed into our typical gruddy work on the house outfits. Y’all may recall this was the beginning of the painting of the house weekends. No? Well trust me. Anyhow, TheBoy opened the other bottle of champagne! I found this a little odd, celebrating painting, but I do love champagne! Really, there isn’t a great romantic grand gesture story… He asked me to marry him over some fantastic champagne, in the kitchen of the house we own together. I cried, as I am prone to do. He laughed at me, which he is prone to do. Then I laughed. We called our parents, ordered a pizza (which I now call our “engagement pizza” every time we order it) and started taping off walls.
It was… perfect. And I am perfectly happy.
So, let’s see… Around the time of our six year anniversary last June we started that same old conversation again about buying a house and THE FUTURE and so on and so forth. Only this time it had a slightly different ring to it. I’m not sure if it was the SIX YEARS or if it was the feeling of OMG we really should be homeowners or what but something was slightly different. Anyhow, to make an incredibly long, L-O-N-G, story short TheBoy finally conceded that marriage WAS a logical next step and I agreed that I would begin to look at houses. The rest, as they say, is history.
We began sort of looking at rings here and there and trying to figure out what sort of wedding we wanted. In August when we joined my parents in Lake Tahoe for a week we positively fell in love with being up there and realized that we are never happier than we are when we are at the lake. However, since we couldn’t possibly host a wedding on our ski boat, and Lake Shasta not exactly being a desirable vacation destination (Redding, CA is sort of… redneck, even for me), we started to look around more closely at the beautiful Lake Tahoe.
We fell in love with the first boat we set foot on and luckily for us our 7 year anniversary is a Friday next year AND the boat happens to be available for charter that night. SOLD! So we put a tentative hold on the boat / date that very day, BEFORE we were even engaged. TheBoy and I have never been anything but unconventional y’all. Cart before the horse and all that. I mean we are the couple who moved in together a mere five months after beginning dating, he quit college y’all! We had our first apartment alone by our first anniversary and have been trucking along quite nicely ever since. It seemed perfectly reasonable to plan our wedding before being engaged.
We had begun looking at houses before leaving for Tahoe but had been having some issues getting all of our financing in line. However, shortly after returning home (or right before we left I can’t recall) we found out we were all approved and we were ready to go. Once that green light flashed it was basically a blur. We put in a bid on a home we had been eyeing for months and was accepted with a two week close the next day. Ya’ll pretty much know the rest of THAT story. When we moved in we received two bottles of rather nice champagne as house warming gifts, one from our realtor and one from TheBoy’s mother. The one from our realtor we opened right away and the other was just sitting in the fridge waiting for a night that didn’t involve take-out or sweating or… something.
A couple weeks ago, September 14th to be exact, TheBoy and I got home from work and changed into our typical gruddy work on the house outfits. Y’all may recall this was the beginning of the painting of the house weekends. No? Well trust me. Anyhow, TheBoy opened the other bottle of champagne! I found this a little odd, celebrating painting, but I do love champagne! Really, there isn’t a great romantic grand gesture story… He asked me to marry him over some fantastic champagne, in the kitchen of the house we own together. I cried, as I am prone to do. He laughed at me, which he is prone to do. Then I laughed. We called our parents, ordered a pizza (which I now call our “engagement pizza” every time we order it) and started taping off walls.
It was… perfect. And I am perfectly happy.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Before and After (Office and Master Bedroom)
Not that I want to detract from the news below... So scroll down if you haven't read our BIG! NEWS! yet.
But. People keep asking for pics of all the work we are doing at the house. Which at this point consists mainly of sheet rock and painting. But whatever. So I took a few pics last night of the two whole rooms we have that look even remotely presentable. Meaning they have furniture in them that is supposed to be there. IE: beds in the bedrooms and so on. Please disregard the overall messy look. Normally I am a neat freak and AR house keeper but there is construction going on.
So this is the smallest of the three bedrooms and it immediately got dubbed the office. Oddly it was the first room we focused on. (For those of you who don't know TheBoy and his eleventy-two billion computers that was slight sarcasm.)
Office before with dreary white institutionalized walls and boring white carpets...
Office after. With $200 Costco bookcase and $60 Craigslist desk to replace the one that met an untimely demise during the move but would have been far too large for this teeny tiny room anyhow. Don't mind the laundry on the rocking chair... The closet it belongs in is still under construction and I can't get to it at the moment. Ahem.
Master bedroom. By my vote (demand) this was the second room that had to be finished. I was tired of climbing over boxes and through plastic to get ready for work every morning. Also? Not having blinds on the windows makes getting dressed just THAT much more exciting! Don't you agree? You can't tell from this picture but it's actually fairly nice sized AND it has it's own master bath. It may resemble a postage stamp... But it's still a master bath!
I tried to break the after shots into two to give you a better idea of how spacious the room is. This is with my back to the closet looking at the bed, bathroom on the right. Coincidentally, we're thinking of painting the kitchen/bathrooms the color of that duvet... Just thought I'd share.
This is standing in the door way looking in to the room bed on the right, closet on the left just out of view. Also, in case you are wondering... All the rooms are this beige-y, pumpkin color (living room, bedrooms, hallway) except the bathrooms and kitchen. Well actually the kitchen is currently this color but as I mentioned before it blends a little to closely with the color of our oak cabinets and I hate it so I'm hoping to rectify that this weekend with a nice brick red.
But. People keep asking for pics of all the work we are doing at the house. Which at this point consists mainly of sheet rock and painting. But whatever. So I took a few pics last night of the two whole rooms we have that look even remotely presentable. Meaning they have furniture in them that is supposed to be there. IE: beds in the bedrooms and so on. Please disregard the overall messy look. Normally I am a neat freak and AR house keeper but there is construction going on.
So this is the smallest of the three bedrooms and it immediately got dubbed the office. Oddly it was the first room we focused on. (For those of you who don't know TheBoy and his eleventy-two billion computers that was slight sarcasm.)
Office before with dreary white institutionalized walls and boring white carpets...
Office after. With $200 Costco bookcase and $60 Craigslist desk to replace the one that met an untimely demise during the move but would have been far too large for this teeny tiny room anyhow. Don't mind the laundry on the rocking chair... The closet it belongs in is still under construction and I can't get to it at the moment. Ahem.
Master bedroom. By my vote (demand) this was the second room that had to be finished. I was tired of climbing over boxes and through plastic to get ready for work every morning. Also? Not having blinds on the windows makes getting dressed just THAT much more exciting! Don't you agree? You can't tell from this picture but it's actually fairly nice sized AND it has it's own master bath. It may resemble a postage stamp... But it's still a master bath!
I tried to break the after shots into two to give you a better idea of how spacious the room is. This is with my back to the closet looking at the bed, bathroom on the right. Coincidentally, we're thinking of painting the kitchen/bathrooms the color of that duvet... Just thought I'd share.
This is standing in the door way looking in to the room bed on the right, closet on the left just out of view. Also, in case you are wondering... All the rooms are this beige-y, pumpkin color (living room, bedrooms, hallway) except the bathrooms and kitchen. Well actually the kitchen is currently this color but as I mentioned before it blends a little to closely with the color of our oak cabinets and I hate it so I'm hoping to rectify that this weekend with a nice brick red.Clearly the walls need art and finishing touches have not been made. Also, a thorough cleaning is in order. But you get the idea.
This concludes our tour. :D
Hell Hath Frozen Over
And in case you missed that...
Yeah. So. Um... That's sort of my big announcement. TheBoy and I are making it official. We're engaged. And I know I owe you all lots of details and stuff. No it didn't happen last night (though those pics are from last night). I had to tell all the RF's first though cause I was afraid they'd be slightly miffed if they read about it first on the internets. So I apologize for keeping this from y'all. And it's sort of why my posting has been a wee bit... stilted for oh... MONTHS now!
But yay! Let the celebrations begin!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Crazy Eight
So I got tagged with this eight random facts and/or habits thing back in May. I am totally on top of the ball people. Shut up. But better late than never right? Luckily for you though, dear readers, because I waited so long many of you have already done this so I tag… no one! Of course if you feel like doing it and haven’t consider yourself tagged by all means.
I’m mildly afraid to do this meme actually… But here goes. And remember you all have to love me regardless of what you learn here. I am a good person no matter how crazy I may be! I swear!
1) I have a routine for everything. I am not sure if this is because I am OCD or because I am particularly forgetful but either way, breaking the routine upsets me. For example, showering. When I get in the shower, the first thing I do is wet my hair. Then I wash my face. Twice. Then I shampoo my hair followed by conditioner which sits while I wash. I shave my legs (yes, every day, sorry ladies) then I wash the conditioner out. Then if I have time I just stand in the hot water for awhile before getting out. If I take any one of these things out of order I will forget something. Also, when we moved to the new house TheBoy put the shampoo and conditioner on the opposite sides of the shower rack thingy than they were on in the old apartment. This caused a lot of wasted conditioner as I reached for, and dispensed, the WRONG product from the RIGHT side for a week at least before I had the presence of mind to switch the bottles. That is a true story.
2) I heard on Oprah that the correct amount of time to wash your hands is the time it takes you to sing the Happy Birthday song. So I do that now every time I wash my hands. It is embarrassing when I forget and start singing or humming out loud. In the public restroom. I’m just saying. Also? Somehow I got it into my head that it was the hot water not the soap that makes your hands clean so sometimes I scald myself when I am washing my hands. I think this is why I am addicted to hand lotion.
3) I think I’ve mentioned this one before but it’s amusing so it bears repeating. I count things. Like how many steps there are in the parking garage outside my office. Or how many steps it takes me to get from my car parked in the free parking out in the back forty to my office downtown. Usually this counting occurs in the typical dance or cheer fashion (1,2,3,4 - 2,2,3,4 - 3,2,3,4) or (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 - 2,2,3,4,5,6,7,8) etc… I also have been known to count lines in crosswalks and other such items when bored. But mainly it has to do with steps or stairs.
4) I am obsessed with food. Ingredients, calories, the newest thing. You name it, I have to know about it. Now. I read the back of boxes for the ingredients and nutrition info. I’m sure this drives people crazy but I CAN’T HELP IT! I’m notorious for looking up the ingredients and calorie information of restaurant food online. I really got into the chemistry of food a few years ago like WHY food reacts the way it does to certain things. I’m always interested in new ingredients and stuff when I see them at the farmer’s market or read about them in the numerous newsletters and magazines I subscribe to. And now that I have a decent kitchen I can’t wait to start cooking again. So exciting!
5) Growing up I switched schools every two years until high school. At which point I’m pretty sure I begged to be able to complete all four years at the same school. I don’t remember Kindergarten but I was in Mississippi with Jim for 1st grade so that was one school. Then I went to a different school for 2nd grade and maybe 3rd. I can’t remember if I switched to the next school in 3rd or in 4th but I know I went to the same school for 4th and part of 5th and then off the next for the rest of 5th and 6th. Then I started yet another school for 7th and 8th before FINALLY landing in high school where I stayed all four years. I think this affected me in college because even though I still have no B.A. degree (I do have my A.A. though) I’ve been to SIX colleges!
6) I STILL don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Despite having been in the same industry for a decade, I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t something else out there for me. And it’s not so much that I don’t think I want to be in this industry, I think it’s that I want to take on a more challenging role within this industry. Or maybe I want to change industries. I don’t know. I am totally conflicted y’all. I just feel like I should be more… passionate? Something.
7) I do crazy things in the car. Like rehearse conversations with people complete with multiple responses and reactions and then my possible responses and reactions. I also sing. Loudly. Even so I mock other people who act crazy in their cars. I’m looking at you Mr. Nose Picker Man. Or the guy who pulled up next to me yesterday singing totally off key to Michael Bolton with the windows down. I’m thinking Michael Bolton is a windows up kind of music. I’m just saying is all. The fact that I recognized the song as Michael Bolton is a moot point and shall not be discussed.
8) I am a girl of instant and overwhelming emotions. For example, I can go from wide-awake, life of the party to passed out asleep in about 1.2 nano-seconds. Also, I will swear up and down I am not hungry only to be ravenous moments later. And if I do not eat immediately upon becoming aware of the hunger? I will become nauseous and ill and thus unable to eat. It’s a viscous cycle y’all! In addition to these charmingly annoying traits I tend to get bored easily. So while watching a movie might have seemed like the BEST. IDEA. EVER. twenty minutes ago I now want to go play pool. Y’all I have maybe the world’s most patient friends.
I’m mildly afraid to do this meme actually… But here goes. And remember you all have to love me regardless of what you learn here. I am a good person no matter how crazy I may be! I swear!
1) I have a routine for everything. I am not sure if this is because I am OCD or because I am particularly forgetful but either way, breaking the routine upsets me. For example, showering. When I get in the shower, the first thing I do is wet my hair. Then I wash my face. Twice. Then I shampoo my hair followed by conditioner which sits while I wash. I shave my legs (yes, every day, sorry ladies) then I wash the conditioner out. Then if I have time I just stand in the hot water for awhile before getting out. If I take any one of these things out of order I will forget something. Also, when we moved to the new house TheBoy put the shampoo and conditioner on the opposite sides of the shower rack thingy than they were on in the old apartment. This caused a lot of wasted conditioner as I reached for, and dispensed, the WRONG product from the RIGHT side for a week at least before I had the presence of mind to switch the bottles. That is a true story.
2) I heard on Oprah that the correct amount of time to wash your hands is the time it takes you to sing the Happy Birthday song. So I do that now every time I wash my hands. It is embarrassing when I forget and start singing or humming out loud. In the public restroom. I’m just saying. Also? Somehow I got it into my head that it was the hot water not the soap that makes your hands clean so sometimes I scald myself when I am washing my hands. I think this is why I am addicted to hand lotion.
3) I think I’ve mentioned this one before but it’s amusing so it bears repeating. I count things. Like how many steps there are in the parking garage outside my office. Or how many steps it takes me to get from my car parked in the free parking out in the back forty to my office downtown. Usually this counting occurs in the typical dance or cheer fashion (1,2,3,4 - 2,2,3,4 - 3,2,3,4) or (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 - 2,2,3,4,5,6,7,8) etc… I also have been known to count lines in crosswalks and other such items when bored. But mainly it has to do with steps or stairs.
4) I am obsessed with food. Ingredients, calories, the newest thing. You name it, I have to know about it. Now. I read the back of boxes for the ingredients and nutrition info. I’m sure this drives people crazy but I CAN’T HELP IT! I’m notorious for looking up the ingredients and calorie information of restaurant food online. I really got into the chemistry of food a few years ago like WHY food reacts the way it does to certain things. I’m always interested in new ingredients and stuff when I see them at the farmer’s market or read about them in the numerous newsletters and magazines I subscribe to. And now that I have a decent kitchen I can’t wait to start cooking again. So exciting!
5) Growing up I switched schools every two years until high school. At which point I’m pretty sure I begged to be able to complete all four years at the same school. I don’t remember Kindergarten but I was in Mississippi with Jim for 1st grade so that was one school. Then I went to a different school for 2nd grade and maybe 3rd. I can’t remember if I switched to the next school in 3rd or in 4th but I know I went to the same school for 4th and part of 5th and then off the next for the rest of 5th and 6th. Then I started yet another school for 7th and 8th before FINALLY landing in high school where I stayed all four years. I think this affected me in college because even though I still have no B.A. degree (I do have my A.A. though) I’ve been to SIX colleges!
6) I STILL don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Despite having been in the same industry for a decade, I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t something else out there for me. And it’s not so much that I don’t think I want to be in this industry, I think it’s that I want to take on a more challenging role within this industry. Or maybe I want to change industries. I don’t know. I am totally conflicted y’all. I just feel like I should be more… passionate? Something.
7) I do crazy things in the car. Like rehearse conversations with people complete with multiple responses and reactions and then my possible responses and reactions. I also sing. Loudly. Even so I mock other people who act crazy in their cars. I’m looking at you Mr. Nose Picker Man. Or the guy who pulled up next to me yesterday singing totally off key to Michael Bolton with the windows down. I’m thinking Michael Bolton is a windows up kind of music. I’m just saying is all. The fact that I recognized the song as Michael Bolton is a moot point and shall not be discussed.
8) I am a girl of instant and overwhelming emotions. For example, I can go from wide-awake, life of the party to passed out asleep in about 1.2 nano-seconds. Also, I will swear up and down I am not hungry only to be ravenous moments later. And if I do not eat immediately upon becoming aware of the hunger? I will become nauseous and ill and thus unable to eat. It’s a viscous cycle y’all! In addition to these charmingly annoying traits I tend to get bored easily. So while watching a movie might have seemed like the BEST. IDEA. EVER. twenty minutes ago I now want to go play pool. Y’all I have maybe the world’s most patient friends.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The Saga of the Couches
Listen my children and you will hear… oh wait, wrong story. Yesterday was the much anticipated and eagerly awaited day that TheBoy and I were scheduled to pick up our beautiful new couches. So, you might ask, did I spend last night lounging around drinking wine and otherwise enjoying my new sofa and loveseat? No. Indeed I did not. Let me explain.
As previously mentioned my wonderful mother purchased TheBoy and I a new sofa and love seat as a housewarming gift. To be precise, we ordered the sofa-bed and loveseat we had been eyeing at Jennifer Convertibles (in Mocha Micro Suede) and she is paying for them. We decided to go for the upgrade on the lifetime fabric protection guarantee for cleaning and replacement and whatnot. Given our propensity for wine drinking (and spilling, ahem) it seemed like an awesome idea! To save ourselves some $$$ we decided to pick up our new couches at the warehouse instead of having them delivered. This also helped off-set the cost of the fabric protection plan.
Now, to pick up the sofas we had to take a PTO day from work as the warehouse is only open two Tuesdays a month from 7:00 to 9:00 am. Luckily for us the warehouse is located in a town only a few miles from our new home. Since we had to have several other inspections done at the house anyway which could only be done during the week we figured we’d bite the bullet and take the time off to get everything done at once. Pick up of the couches was arranged, inspections scheduled and we planned on getting a lot of work done around the house.
Saturday morning we got a call from someone at the Jennifer Convertibles store where we bought the couches telling us there had been a “mix up” and that our couches would not be available for pick up at the warehouse on Tuesday. We were understandably annoyed by this news but called the woman back to see what other arrangements could be made. Originally they couldn’t tell us WHEN the couches would be available for pick up but they would deliver them (for a fee of course). We kept telling them no, that unless they would deliver them for free, and on a Saturday since we already had to take one day off work, we would go ahead and pick them up at the warehouse on the next available Tuesday. Much confusion and annoyance ensued. Managers were consulted. I believe TheBoy even threatened to call the corporate office to complain about someone’s customer service.
Finally, after WE had to call THEM back, TWICE (!), we discovered that our couches will be available for pick up on Tuesday October 9th. Not ideal since we already had everything scheduled for the coming Tuesday (yesterday) but whatever, two more weeks won’t kill us. Then in typical left hand not knowing what right hand is doing fashion, the warehouse called and left us a message on Monday during the day confirming our pick up for the following day. That small glimmer of hope was dashed upon a quick call to the store to confirm that no, our couches still were not available and yes, the warehouse people were idiots. Awesome.
So, there you have it. We STILL have no couches and are resigned to drinking wine and watching movies from the relative comfort of our pillow covered floor for the next two weeks. The good news is that we are 99.5% done with the painting in the living room, office, guest room, master bedroom and hall way. Yay! There are a few places that need some touch up but for the most part… finished! I’m hoping to start re-taping the kitchen this week/weekend so I can re-paint in there. AND our bedroom is pretty much finished off now except for finishing touches like art so now we have TWO rooms that are pretty much done. It’s almost like we live there y’all. Pictures soon!
As previously mentioned my wonderful mother purchased TheBoy and I a new sofa and love seat as a housewarming gift. To be precise, we ordered the sofa-bed and loveseat we had been eyeing at Jennifer Convertibles (in Mocha Micro Suede) and she is paying for them. We decided to go for the upgrade on the lifetime fabric protection guarantee for cleaning and replacement and whatnot. Given our propensity for wine drinking (and spilling, ahem) it seemed like an awesome idea! To save ourselves some $$$ we decided to pick up our new couches at the warehouse instead of having them delivered. This also helped off-set the cost of the fabric protection plan.
Now, to pick up the sofas we had to take a PTO day from work as the warehouse is only open two Tuesdays a month from 7:00 to 9:00 am. Luckily for us the warehouse is located in a town only a few miles from our new home. Since we had to have several other inspections done at the house anyway which could only be done during the week we figured we’d bite the bullet and take the time off to get everything done at once. Pick up of the couches was arranged, inspections scheduled and we planned on getting a lot of work done around the house.
Saturday morning we got a call from someone at the Jennifer Convertibles store where we bought the couches telling us there had been a “mix up” and that our couches would not be available for pick up at the warehouse on Tuesday. We were understandably annoyed by this news but called the woman back to see what other arrangements could be made. Originally they couldn’t tell us WHEN the couches would be available for pick up but they would deliver them (for a fee of course). We kept telling them no, that unless they would deliver them for free, and on a Saturday since we already had to take one day off work, we would go ahead and pick them up at the warehouse on the next available Tuesday. Much confusion and annoyance ensued. Managers were consulted. I believe TheBoy even threatened to call the corporate office to complain about someone’s customer service.
Finally, after WE had to call THEM back, TWICE (!), we discovered that our couches will be available for pick up on Tuesday October 9th. Not ideal since we already had everything scheduled for the coming Tuesday (yesterday) but whatever, two more weeks won’t kill us. Then in typical left hand not knowing what right hand is doing fashion, the warehouse called and left us a message on Monday during the day confirming our pick up for the following day. That small glimmer of hope was dashed upon a quick call to the store to confirm that no, our couches still were not available and yes, the warehouse people were idiots. Awesome.
So, there you have it. We STILL have no couches and are resigned to drinking wine and watching movies from the relative comfort of our pillow covered floor for the next two weeks. The good news is that we are 99.5% done with the painting in the living room, office, guest room, master bedroom and hall way. Yay! There are a few places that need some touch up but for the most part… finished! I’m hoping to start re-taping the kitchen this week/weekend so I can re-paint in there. AND our bedroom is pretty much finished off now except for finishing touches like art so now we have TWO rooms that are pretty much done. It’s almost like we live there y’all. Pictures soon!
Monday, September 24, 2007
A Moment of Truth
I have always said that a couple should live together before they get married. I know that not everyone agrees with that. Certainly my very conservative Pentecostal church friends did not. And now, after TheBoy and I have lived together for five and a half of the six years we’ve been together, I would say that even co-habitation DID NOT prepare us for home ownership. There is just such a marked difference between renting an apartment in which all the decision making abilities are taken from you and owning a property where every little detail is up to either you or your significant other to deal with. Let’s just say that the last four weeks have been a… learning experience.
For example, I think TheBoy has finally come to terms with the fact that I am really and truly OCD. Before I think he thought it was cute (oh there she goes counting the stairs again) but now? Now I think he wants to throw blunt objects at my head. But I can’t help it y’all! THINGS MUST GET DONE RIGHT NOW. Seriously. Unfinished projects around the house stress me out to the point where I am literally ill. Can you say migraines anyone? TheBoy on the other hand? He is perfectly happy to flit from project to project leaving a trail of half finished items in his wake. It’s enough to make ME want to throw blunt objects at HIS head. I’m just saying is all.
Also, for all my OCD and craziness I am a decision maker. If given options I will generally chose one and be done with it. I don’t second guess, I don’t agonize, I just… decide. And I am happy. TheBoy? He’s one of those… careful decision makers. He wants to research ALL the options and review the features and then think about it. After this rather um, lengthy process he will narrow down the options to a smaller group and then do some MORE research and review MORE options and spend some time negotiating price before going home to “think about it” for awhile. It’s enough to make a girl want to scream. And I think me trying to “rush” the decision-making process leads to feelings of either nagging or passive-aggressive behavior. Neither of which I am particularly fond.
It is amazing either of us have un-battered heads really. But all in all it’s been good. Really we don’t fight that often (with the notable exception of some doozies about us and our future) so its sort of refreshing in a way to know that we can fight and still be fine. We still love each other (even if we don’t particularly LIKE each other all the time) and we’re in this thing for the long run. AND our house is really coming along, even if I can’t get TheBoy to keep a paint brush in his hand for more than an hour at a time! I can’t wait for the day when the house is (mostly) finished and we can have people over to see all our hard work.
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go stock up on blunt objects…
For example, I think TheBoy has finally come to terms with the fact that I am really and truly OCD. Before I think he thought it was cute (oh there she goes counting the stairs again) but now? Now I think he wants to throw blunt objects at my head. But I can’t help it y’all! THINGS MUST GET DONE RIGHT NOW. Seriously. Unfinished projects around the house stress me out to the point where I am literally ill. Can you say migraines anyone? TheBoy on the other hand? He is perfectly happy to flit from project to project leaving a trail of half finished items in his wake. It’s enough to make ME want to throw blunt objects at HIS head. I’m just saying is all.
Also, for all my OCD and craziness I am a decision maker. If given options I will generally chose one and be done with it. I don’t second guess, I don’t agonize, I just… decide. And I am happy. TheBoy? He’s one of those… careful decision makers. He wants to research ALL the options and review the features and then think about it. After this rather um, lengthy process he will narrow down the options to a smaller group and then do some MORE research and review MORE options and spend some time negotiating price before going home to “think about it” for awhile. It’s enough to make a girl want to scream. And I think me trying to “rush” the decision-making process leads to feelings of either nagging or passive-aggressive behavior. Neither of which I am particularly fond.
It is amazing either of us have un-battered heads really. But all in all it’s been good. Really we don’t fight that often (with the notable exception of some doozies about us and our future) so its sort of refreshing in a way to know that we can fight and still be fine. We still love each other (even if we don’t particularly LIKE each other all the time) and we’re in this thing for the long run. AND our house is really coming along, even if I can’t get TheBoy to keep a paint brush in his hand for more than an hour at a time! I can’t wait for the day when the house is (mostly) finished and we can have people over to see all our hard work.
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go stock up on blunt objects…
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Update!
The painting has commenced! We spent the better part of the weekend taping and painting and cutting to our little hearts content. And I am proud to say that we are maybe about half way done. Doh! Who knew painting was so much work? But it is high on the instant gratification scale so I’ll let it slide.
There have been a FEW slight down sides to this whole painting business though...
~ Most of our furniture is currently outside on the kitchen patio. Granted there is an awning but… it’s supposed to start raining tomorrow. We need to get a move on y’all!
~ The paint color I chose (and LOVE LOVE LOVE) looks TERRIBLE with the oak kitchen cabinets. And since it’s easier and cheaper to repaint the walls than refinish or replace the kitchen cabinets guess what we’ll be doing? Right. Since we JUST FINISHED PAINTING AND ALL. TheBoy is THRILLED. :D
~ Plastic. Everywhere. I’m just saying is all.
Of course not everything has been bad. My wonderful, saintly mother did spend most of her Sunday helping me paint walls and my fantastic step-father, who happens to be an architect, has single-handedly torn out the hideous TV boxes and sheet-rocked the bedroom walls to make them appear more normal. In fact my parents have spent every day this week so far over at our house while TheBoy and I are at work doing little things at the house. I have maybe the Best. Parents. Ever. AND TheBoy’s brother is coming over Friday to see the house and maybe can be bribed into painting with some BBQ. Family rocks y’all.
Also? Remember how I mentioned we left our feather vomiting couch behind when we moved and had resorted to sitting on the floor which was so not the same when it came to relaxing after work with a glass of wine? Well my mother (see saint, above) bought us a new sofa and love seat as a house warming gift! So as of Tuesday TheBoy and I will be the proud owners of real grown up furniture! Yee Haw baby! I promise I’ll try to un-pack my camera download cord thingy and take some “after” pictures so y’all can see all the hard work we’ve done real soon.
There have been a FEW slight down sides to this whole painting business though...
~ Most of our furniture is currently outside on the kitchen patio. Granted there is an awning but… it’s supposed to start raining tomorrow. We need to get a move on y’all!
~ The paint color I chose (and LOVE LOVE LOVE) looks TERRIBLE with the oak kitchen cabinets. And since it’s easier and cheaper to repaint the walls than refinish or replace the kitchen cabinets guess what we’ll be doing? Right. Since we JUST FINISHED PAINTING AND ALL. TheBoy is THRILLED. :D
~ Plastic. Everywhere. I’m just saying is all.
Of course not everything has been bad. My wonderful, saintly mother did spend most of her Sunday helping me paint walls and my fantastic step-father, who happens to be an architect, has single-handedly torn out the hideous TV boxes and sheet-rocked the bedroom walls to make them appear more normal. In fact my parents have spent every day this week so far over at our house while TheBoy and I are at work doing little things at the house. I have maybe the Best. Parents. Ever. AND TheBoy’s brother is coming over Friday to see the house and maybe can be bribed into painting with some BBQ. Family rocks y’all.
Also? Remember how I mentioned we left our feather vomiting couch behind when we moved and had resorted to sitting on the floor which was so not the same when it came to relaxing after work with a glass of wine? Well my mother (see saint, above) bought us a new sofa and love seat as a house warming gift! So as of Tuesday TheBoy and I will be the proud owners of real grown up furniture! Yee Haw baby! I promise I’ll try to un-pack my camera download cord thingy and take some “after” pictures so y’all can see all the hard work we’ve done real soon.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
101 Reasons Why Moving Sucks
1) There are still boxes piled in each of our bathrooms through which we rummage each morning looking for… something. A band-aid, some Advil, a razor blade. For some reason the bathrooms are the one room I have done little to no unpacking in.
2) We bought a bookcase (which was awesome) but we haven’t put it together or unloaded any of my many, many boxes of books because we don’t want to push it against the wall weighing a million pounds since we are going to paint.
3) On that note there are a lot of things that are sort of waiting for this painting business. Which we hope to do some of this weekend. But still. Also, before we paint we have some things we have to do… like a small amount of sheetrock. Vicious cycle y’all I tell you!
4) My new kitchen is literally twice as large as the one I had in our apartment. Literally y’all. Maybe bigger than that even. Yet somehow I can not seem to fit everything in cabinets or drawers. Like what the heck?!?!? Are there kitchen gnomes that come in the night time and shrink my cabinets while I sleep? Or did my kitchen gadgets and dishes multiply in route to the new house? I can not figure this out.
5) Everyone’s opinions, shared freely, about what we should and should not do to our house. I’m working on developing a standardized response. Something along the lines of “Ryan and I have already decided to do X and are very excited about it, just like you must have been when you did Y to your house”. I mean, I appreciate the concern and all but it’s not like we don’t know what we’re doing here.
6) Not having a couch. Now I will freely admit I am the exact opposite of a pack rat. I am all for de-cluttering and throwing crap away. In that vein I would also rather do without something than settle for something I hate but would work in the mean time. Like a couch. Our old couch was a disaster, stained, misshapen, vomiting down feathers… So we decreed – It will NOT BE MOVED to our new house. In the interim before we can buy another couch we’re doing without. But relaxing with a glass of wine on dining room chairs is just not the same. I’m just saying is all.
7) Not having time to exercise. Granted we’re doing plenty of physical activity between the moving and un-packing and assembling furniture, and Lord knows we’re getting sweaty enough over there in the heat. But it’s not the same as a good run. Or a yoga class. God I miss yoga. But first off I have no idea WHEN I’d go to the gym and secondly in an effort to save $$ we’ve decided to forgo un-necessary things for awhile. Things like cable… and the gym membership.
8) No laundry. Though our new house came with washer / dryer hook-ups it was sadly lacking the actual washer and dryer. We do have something awesome lined up (like WAY better machines than we could afford being loaned to us for the foreseeable future) but for whatever reason actually GETTING the machines is a pain. And the clothing situation is getting dire y’all. But I can’t seem to drag myself away from the house long enough to either go to a parent’s or friend’s house to do laundry or go to the laundry mat. There are just so many other things to do!
*****
Okay so maybe there aren’t 101 reasons. But I do solemnly swear I am sick to death of all this moving crap and upheaval. It’s a good thing we stocked up on the cheap wine before the move!
2) We bought a bookcase (which was awesome) but we haven’t put it together or unloaded any of my many, many boxes of books because we don’t want to push it against the wall weighing a million pounds since we are going to paint.
3) On that note there are a lot of things that are sort of waiting for this painting business. Which we hope to do some of this weekend. But still. Also, before we paint we have some things we have to do… like a small amount of sheetrock. Vicious cycle y’all I tell you!
4) My new kitchen is literally twice as large as the one I had in our apartment. Literally y’all. Maybe bigger than that even. Yet somehow I can not seem to fit everything in cabinets or drawers. Like what the heck?!?!? Are there kitchen gnomes that come in the night time and shrink my cabinets while I sleep? Or did my kitchen gadgets and dishes multiply in route to the new house? I can not figure this out.
5) Everyone’s opinions, shared freely, about what we should and should not do to our house. I’m working on developing a standardized response. Something along the lines of “Ryan and I have already decided to do X and are very excited about it, just like you must have been when you did Y to your house”. I mean, I appreciate the concern and all but it’s not like we don’t know what we’re doing here.
6) Not having a couch. Now I will freely admit I am the exact opposite of a pack rat. I am all for de-cluttering and throwing crap away. In that vein I would also rather do without something than settle for something I hate but would work in the mean time. Like a couch. Our old couch was a disaster, stained, misshapen, vomiting down feathers… So we decreed – It will NOT BE MOVED to our new house. In the interim before we can buy another couch we’re doing without. But relaxing with a glass of wine on dining room chairs is just not the same. I’m just saying is all.
7) Not having time to exercise. Granted we’re doing plenty of physical activity between the moving and un-packing and assembling furniture, and Lord knows we’re getting sweaty enough over there in the heat. But it’s not the same as a good run. Or a yoga class. God I miss yoga. But first off I have no idea WHEN I’d go to the gym and secondly in an effort to save $$ we’ve decided to forgo un-necessary things for awhile. Things like cable… and the gym membership.
8) No laundry. Though our new house came with washer / dryer hook-ups it was sadly lacking the actual washer and dryer. We do have something awesome lined up (like WAY better machines than we could afford being loaned to us for the foreseeable future) but for whatever reason actually GETTING the machines is a pain. And the clothing situation is getting dire y’all. But I can’t seem to drag myself away from the house long enough to either go to a parent’s or friend’s house to do laundry or go to the laundry mat. There are just so many other things to do!
*****
Okay so maybe there aren’t 101 reasons. But I do solemnly swear I am sick to death of all this moving crap and upheaval. It’s a good thing we stocked up on the cheap wine before the move!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Remembering
Six years ago TheBoy and I were still trying to adjust to the transition from “summer fling” to “holy crap this could really be something”. He had just begun a job in the area and announced to his parents his plans to NOT return back to college to finish his senior year. We were already making future plans.
Six years ago I was working as a licensed real estate assistant and buyer’s agent. I LOVED my job and was looking forward to a long career in real estate sales. I felt like I had truly found my passion, the thing I was meant to do in life. I was working up the nerve to talk to my bosses, the experienced real estate agents, about taking on more responsibilities to increase business for myself as well as the team.
Six years ago I had just run my first marathon ever. I was at the beginning of my love affair with running and spent numerous hours training on the treadmill at my complex and researching weekend trail runs in the area with friends.
Six years ago.
Six years ago I came home from an early morning run to the news that a plane had lost its way and crashed into a building in New York. By the time I was out of the shower and on my way to my open house there had been two crashes, and no one was talking about an accident anymore. I spent the rest of that day watching the footage on the news, reading about it online and listening to my radio. I cancelled plans with a friend for the evening and stayed home to watch the towers fall, again and again.
Six years ago I didn’t believe something that horrible could really have happened. Terrorism was something I studying in history class in college, something we discussed in the abstract in my international studies program, something I read about in the paper. I prayed that day, and for many days after, for the first time in years. I called all of my loved ones to make sure they knew how I felt about them. I said "I love you".
It’s hard for me today to realize that is has been six years since that day. I’ve spent all day watching TV and reading all the articles I can find, I watched those towers fall again. Sometimes I feel guilty, for moving on with my life, for putting what happened that day in the back of my mind, for forgetting the tragedy and the heroics and the strength so many people showed. I don’t want to forget.
It is easy to get caught up in the day to day living of life, the new house, spending time with friends and family and how truly awful Britney’s comeback performance was… But today I remember. And it motivates me. I remember how passionate I felt then, how motivated I was to do something, anything to feel like I was doing my part. I remember the fear, the anger, the frustration and the sadness. I hope you all remember also.
Six years ago I was working as a licensed real estate assistant and buyer’s agent. I LOVED my job and was looking forward to a long career in real estate sales. I felt like I had truly found my passion, the thing I was meant to do in life. I was working up the nerve to talk to my bosses, the experienced real estate agents, about taking on more responsibilities to increase business for myself as well as the team.
Six years ago I had just run my first marathon ever. I was at the beginning of my love affair with running and spent numerous hours training on the treadmill at my complex and researching weekend trail runs in the area with friends.
Six years ago.
Six years ago I came home from an early morning run to the news that a plane had lost its way and crashed into a building in New York. By the time I was out of the shower and on my way to my open house there had been two crashes, and no one was talking about an accident anymore. I spent the rest of that day watching the footage on the news, reading about it online and listening to my radio. I cancelled plans with a friend for the evening and stayed home to watch the towers fall, again and again.
Six years ago I didn’t believe something that horrible could really have happened. Terrorism was something I studying in history class in college, something we discussed in the abstract in my international studies program, something I read about in the paper. I prayed that day, and for many days after, for the first time in years. I called all of my loved ones to make sure they knew how I felt about them. I said "I love you".
It’s hard for me today to realize that is has been six years since that day. I’ve spent all day watching TV and reading all the articles I can find, I watched those towers fall again. Sometimes I feel guilty, for moving on with my life, for putting what happened that day in the back of my mind, for forgetting the tragedy and the heroics and the strength so many people showed. I don’t want to forget.
It is easy to get caught up in the day to day living of life, the new house, spending time with friends and family and how truly awful Britney’s comeback performance was… But today I remember. And it motivates me. I remember how passionate I felt then, how motivated I was to do something, anything to feel like I was doing my part. I remember the fear, the anger, the frustration and the sadness. I hope you all remember also.
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