What's for dinner?

Husband: We only have one chicken cordon bleu left.
Me: Really? Crap! What are we going to eat then?
Husband: We could split it...
Me: That won't be enough...
Husband: We want to lose weight anyway. We could have some tissue paper with water on it for a side dish!
Me: Yeah! If it was brown tissue paper it would be just like chocolate pudding. This will be a fun game to play once we have kids. Green can be salad, always water dressing though.
Husband: That will last for about two weeks...
Me: Why?
Husband: Because then our kids will be dead from us feeding them nothing but tissue paper.
Me: Oh. right.

Husband: I want soup for dinner.
Me: Let's go to the store and get you a can.
Husband: No, I want to go to a place where the soup is made already.
Me: You hate Panera.
Husband: I didn't say Panera.
Me: Okay, then where else has soup??
Husband: I was thinking Panera.

(leaving Panera, $17 later...)

Husband: I hate Panera. I wish we would have just gone to the store and bought a can of Progresso.
Me: I suggested that.
Husband: No you didn't...

Dearest mom: Don't buy me anything at Odd Lots

I remember when I first met my husband I looked behind his couch (because you never really know a man until you've look behind his couch). I found ink pens, crumbs, dust, an empty Cheetos bag (of course!) and lots and lots of odd and sundry items still in tissue paper. The one that really struck me was a plaid farmer flannel. My husband, and at the time some guy from grad school that I was shagging on a regular basis, has never struck me as a flannel kind of guy and never.never. wears plaid (or paisley).

Me: What the hell is all this shit behind your couch? Are these presents for someone?
Him: No. They're random gifts from my family.
Me: for what?
Him: Christmas, Hanukkah, Easter.. I don't frickin' know.
Me: Are you ever going to wear any of this stuff?
Him: What do you think?
Me: Well you should at least give it to a gay and lesbian shelter or something.
Him: I wouldn't want to offend them.

Come to think of it, I have no idea what happened to those items but if you ever see a badly dressed gay man (or well dressed lesbian) in Columbus, they may be wearing his Hanukkah gift.
Now, my parents were also offenders up until about two years ago when I told them that husband doesn't have a job, we barely see each other, we're both exhausted all the time and if they want to spend money on us they may do it in two ways 1) cash. 2) gift cards. I actually said it more like this: "Mom quit getting us shit we don't need. We're on the balls of our ass here and could really just use a free night out." They actually listened although I did get a ceramic cat from my mom last year with a really long tail that is apparently used to store rings. Harleigh couldn't bear the competition so ring-tail cat had to go.

Husband isn't as rude blunt disrespectful forward as I am, so he has yet to tell people that our deepest desires are monetary in nature. I know (I know!) money/gift cards are impersonal and unfun, but it really is what we want most. (Case in point, last year a riot broke out at our work "holiday" gift exchange over a $5 Starbucks gift card. I'm bringing one this year just to see if my boss will slap the accounting lady for it.)

Fast forward to two days before Thanksgiving when we received a giant fruit cake in the mail with a note and directions: must be refrigerated.

Me: What is that huge tin in the fridge? I was keeping it cleared out for Thanksgiving.
Him: A fruitcake. Don't ask.

Don't get me wrong, my in-laws are totally sweet and thoughtful and I'm sure that was the most expensive lump of fruit filled cake that one could buy...BUT we were about to see them, spend a wonderful holiday together, and the last thing we needed was celebratory baked goods.

FIL: Did something come in the mail a few days ago?
Me: Yes, yes, thank you for the fruitcake. It's in the fridge.
FIL: I love that fruitcake. I even have some bourbon in the car to go with it.

[Now, please don't read into the last sentence and assume my dear Father-in-law is a flask-toting alchy, but he does love good bourbon...and apparently fruitcake.]

On the second day of their visit we had this conversation right after I finished telling my MIL how I hate those little bits of fruit that my mother bakes into her famous Swedish Christmas Bread (oops!).

MIL: Brutal honesty question.
Me: {crap!crap!} Yes?
MIL: Do you two even like fruit cake?
[in tandem] Husband: Suuuure. Me: No.
MIL: See David, I told you that was an antiquated gift and their generation doesn't like fruit cake.
FIL: Well I do! Can I have it?
Me: Yes! Of course you can have it. We were happy you thought of us.

Apparently fruit cake went out like 8-track tapes and is not a delicacy enjoyed by the X'ers or Y'ers or whatever alphabet generation we fall into. The bottom line is...we had a breakthrough. That, and the fruitcake is no longer in my fridge. Happy. Day.

Trippin' on Tryptophan

Thanksgiving is almost here and anticipation is rising in our corner of the universe. We are cooking Thanksgiving dinner for the first time this year. We’re actually cooking it by default because my mom is out of town. So I am in charge of feeding my dad, brother and in-laws. Um. Yikes. Husband doesn’t even like Thanksgiving food that much and thinks all the hype over one meal just so family can pass out afterwards is pointless. I mean, they could just drink some tequila shots and essentially get the same effect with way less effort on my part. Right?

Husband and I like to do our part to feel like we’re contributing to the greater good. We changed all of the light bulbs in our house to the squiggly efficient ones, buy American cars, recycle paper, plastic and glass, bag our groceries with burlap reusable sacks, voted for change and try to contribute to small local businesses whenever possible. We were pretty excited when Heidi told us there was a local turkey farm, and mr. turkey has been the center of a heated debate for over two weeks now.

The Great Turkey Dilemma of 2008: buy a pre-cooked turkey? Buy a frozen turkey? Brine the turkey? Buy a fresh turkey? Roast and baste a turkey? Cook the turkey in a bag? Screw it all and get a ham?

Yesterday afternoon we finally came to a consensus. We will buy a turkey from the local farm, brine it, and cook it in a bag. We were both tickled about our choice, even though we are spending WAY more on it than we’d hoped. Husband called up the farm and they said if he got there by 5:30 we could still get in on the some local holiday bird. There were lots of reasons to be happy for this purchase, yay food, yay buying locally but this is the one husband expounded upon last night.

Bowman Landes Farms: Our free range turkeys are raised in the open air and sunshine without antibiotics, and are vegetable fed.

Husband: I’m glad we got this turkey – it’s way better than some turkey that ate pooh odd and sundry remains of his fallen comrades.

Also according to the website, these little sunshine gobblers barely make it to their half-birthday. I think husband was was little disappointed that it wasn’t a kill-it-yourself farm, like build-a-bear, only for dinner. Much to his surprise the turkey was already dead when he got there. I came home last night not only to our new dinner pet but also to LOTS of turkey items: smoked turkey meat, oven roasted turkey meat, and turkey sticks. So we ate the turkey sticks for dessert and much to our delight they tasted like cold hot dogs.

Tonight I have to clean the house before company comes – the shit stains in the toilet are a little much for house guests. Wish us luck on Thursday - we’re really excited. The turkey plucked from our proverbial backyard will be the center of attention, served with a side of turkey sticks and tequila.

**For thematic purposes and aside from the fact that I rambled on about how Sarah Palin gets too much press, this video was just too funny/creepy/awkward/horrible to pass up.



Oh and THIS is ridiculous too.

My Favorite Things Edition - #2

I can't believe it's Friday again, whoopee! I am also so happy I get to share some of the things I heart today.

Monday's are a total snoozer it's the beginning of the week and Friday is nowhere in sight. Husband and I have found something to look forward to on Mondays... BIG BANG THEORY!!
First off, the intro song (by Barenaked Ladies) is a treat. Don't fast forward the TiVo until after the song (much like Scrubs). I started watching BBT last year because Sheldon reminds me of a v-card toting evangelical that I "dated" in college. The show is genius - in that it provides the nerd comedy that makes my heart swoon and it consults physicists and astronomers to provide out of this world facts and equations which add depth to the dialog. Bottom line, I heart nerd love. (AND AND last week Sheldon told Penny he disconnected her Internet so she can't get online talk about things she hearts - check it out below!)


Watch CBS Videos Online

I almost always plan ahead and have all of my holiday shopping done by Thanksgiving. Not.This.Year. Actually, to date, I have only bought two presents (mostly on account of being broke) If you are like me and trying to come up with ideas here are two of my favorite products. One's a save and one's a splurge!


SAVE! St. Ives Mineral Therapy Lotion
Neutral scent - Big Moisture!
Holistic-sounding buzzwords aside, this is a great product. It offers up a thick creamy lotion that goes on smooth, dries quick and lasts all day. One of my favorite winter products! Price Tag $4.99 for 13.5oz! Find it at Wal-Mart or Target.


SPLURGE! Bare Essentials Buxom Big & Healthy Lip Polish
I went overboard when I started using Bare Essentials (which I also heart!!) and somehow this tube of gloss ended up in my bag regardless of its $18 price tag. The color 'Bianca' is my fav and it has lasted me over SIX months. Find it online or at Sephora. It.Is.Awesome. Just ask my husband!
Me: Sorry babe, I can't kiss you this morning, I already put my lip gloss on.
Husband: It is the kind that makes my lips all shiny and tingly?
Me: Yes...
Husband: Kiss. please.

And last but not least, I heart laughing out loud at my desk like I did this morning when I watched this. January 20th can't come soon enough...

If grandma says it's playgirl than it is.

True. Story. Something are so funny you just have to be there. Sunday brought one of those moments that comedians couldn’t think of in their wildest dreams, nor could they recreate.

They can’t recreate all of the instances husband and I have insinuated that my brother is gay.

They can’t recreate the innocence that is my grandmother.

They can’t recreate the atrocious sight of my brother’s bathroom littered with shower scum and trashy periodicals.

But I can try to recreate the laughter that came from the bottom of our bellies during dinner.

Party of Seven: Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, Husband, brother and gorgeously attractive wife (me!). Proud family sits down to dinner at a round table in the back corner of Macaroni Grill. Brother opens graduation cards as we await our appetizer.

Brother: Thanks for the checks everyone, I needed the funds!
Grandma: Speaking of checks, you should keep better track of them, there is a check in the bathroom.
Brother: What?
Grandma: In your Playgirl magazines.
My mom: What Mom?
Grandma: Well I was thumbing through the magazines looking for something that I could read, and in between the Playgirl pages I saw a check for $122.00. You should take that out of there, if that stack of magazines goes in the garbage – you’ll be out a check.
[husband and I are practically on the floor dying]
Me: Grandma, don’t you mean PlayBOY?
Grandma: Oh no, I saw PlayGIRLS.
Husband: [tears streaming] Oh my god, this is funny for SO MANY reasons.
Brother: Grandma, there aren’t any PlayGIRLS in there – they are PlayBOY. Play...BOY! I forgot about that check though – I must have opened up my mail in there. Thanks for reminding me.
Grandma: Playboy, Playgirl whatever. Just don’t go losing a check!

{in Grams defense, I am sure because she saw naked girls she assumed the name was Play GIRL - IT IS confusing when you actually think about it}

Can you see my 85 year old grandma flipping through my brother’s nudie magazines while dropping the kids off at the pool?

Brother keeping stacks of porn in the bathroom of my parents house = classy
Vision of Grandma, knickers down, hoping for a Good Housekeeping amongst stacks of naked = hilarious
Grandma inadvertently implying that my brother looks at gay porn = PRICELESS

Beans Beans the musical fruit

Conversations with my husband

Me: Cooking makes me so nervous, I need to keep practicing.
Husband: Cooking isn’t hard, you just need to keep at it.
Me: I love my mom’s cooking; I want my kids to think I’m a good cook.
Husband: They will. All kids love their mother’s cooking.
Me: How do you know?
Husband: Because in high school I had a friend who loved his mothers cooking.
Me: So?
Husband: …then I ate at their house. Worst food imaginable. So like I said, everyone thinks their mothers' cooking is amazing.
Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

So, many of you know I’m working on my cooking skills and I am always interested in new (easy) things to make. I found a recipe for Black Bean Chili online and made it for dinner last night – it was GREAT. It was thick and full of flavor – perfect for a fall evening or tailgate party!

I served it with Fritos but you could class it up a bit and serve topped with cilantro and a side of whole wheat toasted pita.

It makes a LOT so after dishing out leftovers for lunches I froze the rest. Husband had two bowls and tried to eat half of mine!

DISCLAIMER: In our house, black beans and ground turkey make for a gas-tastic night. Serve with a side of gas-X

Fantastic Black Bean Chili

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound ground turkey
3 (15 ounce) cans black beans, undrained
1 can or frozen corn
Sprinkle of cumin to ground turkey
1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
1 1/2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon dried basil leaves
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 small can of green chilies (optional)

1. Heat the oil in a large heavy pot over medium heat; cook onion and garlic until onions are translucent.
2. Add turkey and sprinkle with cumin, stirring, until meat is brown.
3. Stir in beans, corn, tomatoes, chili powder, oregano, basil and vinegar.
4. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 60 minutes or more, until flavors are well blended.

The great pun-kin

Can you believe it’s almost Halloween? I think fall and Halloween are so much fun. I love everything about Halloween, except the scary. I love orange and black [my Alma mater colors], I love cats and pointed hats, I love dressing up and colored leaves, I love honey crisp apples and warm spiced cider. I love cool weather and hooded sweatshirts – I love comfort food and comfy socks. I love October.

Husband and I picked out our pumpkins [which somehow I manage to always pronounce pun-kin]. One big, round orange palate for each of us to carve into frowny or smiley illuminations. I even picked out an extra one that was grayish-green and technically a gourd not a pumpkin, and as we loaded our groceries and round fruit of an annual vine into the car, I began to get excited.

Me:I love fall and Halloween! When we have a kid I am going to dress them in cute orange and black jumpers that say things like “I love my mummy” every day of the month. We will go to the pumpkin patch and make costumes and decorate the house. I can’t wait!

Husband: You’re going to be bummed when our kids don’t like Halloween as much as you do.

Somehow I'm not worried. That’s thing about loving your kids, if you make something a memory - it will be special forever. When I was a little girl, my mom would stay up nights before Valentine’s Day making homemade chocolate hearts and lollipops . She would carefully wrap them in pink, red and silver foils and on Feb. 14th we each woke up to a basket of goodies, handmade with love. My dad would put a rose on my bed with a note written in his own scribbly font that said, “You’ll always be my little valentine." Those moments became memories and years later, I realized that my parents put Valentine's Day on the map for me, in a special way that no boy could ever match.

Last night, Husband and I picked out the pumpkins as part of our tradition. Building traditions, even just the two of us, gives me a glimpse of how amazing our life and family will be. Since we bought our house, Halloween has been a special time for us. We decorate our front porch into a scary, spooky wonderland that has left many a princess crying in the driveway. We think up silly costumes and hand out candy to every goblin on the block. Just before beggars night, we choose pumpkins and invite friends over. BYOP - Bring Your Own Pumpkin Party, as we like to call it. On pumpkin night, we simmer a big pot of cider spiked with dark rum and all of the best spices. We each carefully plan out our carving masterpiece and share knives around the plastic-covered table. We toast the pumpkin seeds with garlic salt and a hint of cayenne pepper and I can almost taste their zesty crunch. Afterwards, we light the pumpkins and sit by the fire pit pushing browned marshmellows between chocolate and graham crackers.

Husband and I are ready to embrace October sunsets with snuggles and smores. And our love story most definitely includes a few large-fruited autumn squashes. The smells and warmth of our fall evenings fill the night and I cannot think of a more comforting place to be. In that memory. In our tradition.

All the places you can’t go, all the things that you can't do

Me: Wind and electricity don’t go well together
DH: Electricity doesn’t go well with much of anything.

Ten hours with no power makes for a pretty boring day/afternoon/night. After a better-than-last-week morning with the 4th graders, my darling husband and I put together an ambitious list of “to-do” for the afternoon. Beginning with a lunch date and, ending abruptly, with a lunch date. Dorothy and her house were nowhere in sight but the wind vs. trees vs. electricity was interesting. After making our way through traffic, where the concept of a 4-way stop at dark traffic lights is apparently a silly rumor [damn evangelical Republicans!] we rented a movie [okay dumb] and went home. We got through about the first horrible 45 minutes of Baby Mamma and then NOTHING. It was officially an adventure.

I remember in second grade we lost power and our teacher brought us to the back of the classroom, near the sink and the emergency light, where we played telephone for hours. Not just regular telephone – flashlight telephone. The person who was telling the secret got to hold the flashlight. We were so sad when the lights came back on.

When I was little, my mom would make power outages an adventure too. We’d all scurry around the house gathering up candles. My brothers and I would make a blanket fort and we’d hide out until the power came back on.

Last night we were bored out of our minds. Apparently power outages are way more fun when you still pee your pants. Everything we tried to think of…required power. Surf the net – power. Read a book – power. Vacuum – power. microwave popcorn - obviously. Showers and grilling do not require power. While I fumbled in the dark with the shampoo, husband grilled up some chicken and a can of baked beans. We plugged our can opener into a battery back-up to open it [note: for emergencies buy manual can opener] and cooked our beans in a cake pan on the grill. Camp style! So dinner was over, sun was down, and again we had nothing to do. My mom called from their Puerto Rican vacation and offered up the following advice, “Well guess you’ll just have to have some sex!” [creepy, but it’s my mom] And, although my husband is amazing in bed [holla!] his skills alone cannot fill the void in a 600 minute power outage. So, needless to say we had 530 minutes left with nothing to do.

Me: If I lived alone I would be SUPER creeped out right now.
DH: Really? What would you do?
Me: Probably get in the car and keep driving around until one of my friends let me come over.

[later, 9:30pm]
Cell Phone: ring!ring!
Me: Hello?
Heidi: I’m scared at home so I’m driving around in my car.
Me: What!? Come over!
Heidi: I thought you guys might be in bed.
Me: We are, there’s nothing else to do. Seriously, it’s fine, come over!

Me: Heidi is scared. She’s sleeping here tonight.
DH: Wouldn’t she want to go somewhere with power?
Me: Nope, just people.
DH: We only have one flashlight and I called it.

[note: for emergencies buy another flashlight]
[note: for emergencies buy unscented, utility candles or your entire house will smell like the Yankee candle store and you will want to throw up.]

Every baby's vote counts!

Yesterday was a beautiful day, amazing! DH and I spent the day together. Mostly running errands - but together none the less. We had to buy a baby gift for a shower we are going to this afternoon. This conversation transpired:

Scene: Two gorgously attractive married people pull into the parking lot of an overpriced baby retail establishment. Attractive wife it excited to visit this store for the first time and strapping husband looks less than enthused.

Him: So why is it that Toys R Us sells Toys, but Babies R Us doesn't sell babies?
Me: Because that would be illegal.
Him: Well I still think it's weird. Have I ever told you that before?
Me: No. And if you did, I blocked it out.

dance around the room, dance around the room!!

Caution: What I am about to describe might make you cry and will definitely make you raging mad. Be warned.

I’ve decided not letting someone sit with you at lunch should be a federal offense. Penalty: Death. Yesterday was DH’s birthday, his 30th birthday, mind you. He is on rotation in a big giant hospital and had just enough time to grab some afternoon nurishment. This was the scene of the crime:

Gorgeously attractive [and married] birthday boy walks into cafeteria with tray of odd and sundry items including soft serve from the ice cream bar. He sees two fellow students, very average-looking girls, sitting in the cafeteria also having lunch.

Boy: Hi! Can I sit with you?
People I want to kill: Well, no. We’re about to leave anyway.

So he goes and sits at a table alone 10 feet away. Not FIVE MINUTES LATER another boy [who was not a BIRTHDAY boy] asked said assholes if HE could sit with them… AND HE DOES. Better yet, they don't leave!! Meanwhile my birthday husband eats lunch alone in the cafeteria.

When I was 16, I was suspended from high school for fighting in the cafeteria. When I was 17, I was suspended from high school for trying to hit a girl with my car. I also got two detentions for telling a history teacher that I was probably way smarter than she was, just not in history. My questions to you, dear internets, are these… 1) Can you get suspended from work? And 2) does anyone have a shitty car that they don’t mind getting a little blood on?

And, and, when the officer tries to arrest me, I will tell him the story and the jury will acquit me. Kind of like that woman, who killed her pastor husband, spent like three months in jail and got her kids back last week. Jury’s verdict: he had it coming to him.

Not to mention these two inconsiderate cyborgs are going to be doctors! Compassion? Caring for others? I’m sorry completely average looking girls, but you are lacking requirements #1 and #2 for doctordom – please go to the end of the line for your punch in the pie hole. This was one of those things, that if it happened to me… what-ev. But, when it happens to HIM… I’m a newlywed on a rampage. I also have a pretty pissed off mom and a couple of hard core friends who think that making someone eat alone on their birthday deserves the biggest whoop ass this city has ever seen. True Story.

It’s a good thing 20 friends, the in-laws, a TON of food, and rock band could make up for that no good, very bad, day. There are lots of leftovers and the band is touring at a household near you, so call for tickets.

All you need is some really old corning wear and a post digger!

I thought of a funny story, although I cannot take credit for it. It happened when we were at our after wedding reception thingy in rural Kentucky. Actually quite few funny things happened there. We arrived at the outside picnic and there was a lot of hustle and bustle...

Lady: Oh don’t worry, we just killed the snake.
DH: A snake? [looking over at me as I try to get back into the car]
Lady: Yeah a big ‘ol Copper Head. Don’t worry, they’re only a little poisonous!
DH: Um, yeah, the most deadly poison ever.
Lady: Well don’t you worry, we killed it.
DH: With what?
Lady: Well I like to use a hoe(sp?) but today we used a post digger. Head went one way, tail went the other!
DH: You just killed a Copper Head with a post digger?
Lady: Yep!

(later)

Lady: Oh and don’t you mind those pink panties hanging over there on that fence.
DH: What?
Lady: Yeah, over there on that white fence, pink panties, THONG ones actually, from Victoria’s Secret.
DH: …
Lady: Well, I told you my sisters’ dogs are a mess. One of them dogs decided to eat those pink panties and wouldn’t ya know, the next day, they came back out – IN ONE PIECE! Yeah, my sister, she just pulled ‘em the rest of the way out and hung ‘em on that there fence. It’s kinda gross if you think about it, just letting some nasty old panties with shit all over them sit on her fence. But whatever. Can you see them?
DH: Um, yes, I think I can see them from here.


Did I mention that a 90 year-old lady gave us a corning wear dish with four inches of dust on it? The 10-year warranty on the box said it expired in 1998. We also received a used Christmas plate, an ugly bird house, two salad bowls and some doilies with fruit embroidered on them. I can see some re-gifting in our future!

Where in the world is Juan SanDiego?

I'm a new woman. I changed my name. I dropped my middle name, made my maiden name my middle name, and added the new last name. Apparently this is a hard concept for people to understand. I received my new ATM card and it has my first name, my old middle initial and two last names. Even though I signed the papers – exactly – how I wanted my new name to read. AND online it says my old name, and I can’t access half my accounts!? What the hell?

Speaking of my new name, my new SS card came in the mail yesterday. How does my brand new card already look icky and dingy? It’s like this used, crusty paper that they print them on. I think they want the cards to look “vintage.” I always thought my card looked like that because it was SO OLD. Guess not. Anyhow this is how the conversation went.

Scene: Two gorgeously attractive married people are home from work and sorting through the mail. Wife and Dear Husband converse:

Me: I got my new Social Security Card
DH: ...
Me: Will you put it in the safe for me, I can’t reach
DH: [opens the envelope and looks at the card] SUCCCCKER!!!
Me: Why I am a sucker?
DH: For marrying ME!

Life has been crazy since we got home from our honeymoon.

Sunday morning July 20 10:30am
Me: DH! DH! Are you here?
DH: Yes
Me: Why didn’t you say goodbye to me before going to the airshow?
DH: I didn’t go to the air show, I’m still here.
Me: Why are you still here?
DH: Do you really want to know?
Me: Yes…
DH: Our basement is flooded.

Monday morning July 21 7:00am
Me: [sits up in bed] Is everything okay?
DH: Do you have the receipt from the ATM withdrawal we made in Mexico?
Me: Yes, It’s on the TV. Why?
DH: Do you really want to know?
Me: um.. yes…
DH: Someone stole all of our money.
Me: What you mean someone stole our money?
DH: Someone got our ATM # in Mexico and drained our bank account. We have negative thirteen dollar and fifty six cents
Me: Shit.

So on Sunday DH and my dad sucked water out of our basement and Monday we spent at the police station and the bank. Apparently there was a skimmer device on the ATM in Mexico that takes a scan of your number and pin. They can then make a copy of your card and use it to drain your cash. The bank has to go through a fraud investigation and then we “should” get our money back. In the meantime – we’re poor, well poorer than before, and Juan is running around with our bill/wedding money.

DH: You know what the worst part about this is… I bet that person who stole our money is not using it for noble causes.

We can all hope that some entrepreneurial Mexican is spoon feeding chickpeas to homeless babies with our money. At least that’s what we’ll tell ourselves…

Did you hear that call? What? Do I fear that ball?

This is my last day of work until after the honeymoon. I am totally swamped [for serious, shouldn’t be writing a blog] and it just hasn’t hit me yet that I don’t have to come back to this bullshit for three whole weeks.

Today I gave FI the afternoon off from wedding planning. He is going to a Reds/Indians game with my dad. The FOP is taking a group of cops/guests on a road trip to Cleveland. I think FI will be safe with a bus full of drunk cops. This was not as generous of me as you may think. My mom called last night and it went like this:

Mom: Dad is upset, both boys [my brothers] bailed on the father-son baseball outing
Me: Oh no! Dad already paid for those tickets and he’s been talking about it for months.
Mom: Tell me about it. Dad was going to ask FI when he was at the house picking up the truck today, but he seemed really frazzled and Dad didn’t want him to feel guilty for saying no.
Me: Yeah I think wedding planning is getting to him. So what’s Dad going to do?
Mom: Uggh, he said he was going to just not go to the game. So even though he didn’t ask me, I said that I wanted to go with him.
Me: You hate baseball.
Mom: I know, it’s sucky, but I felt so bad for the guy. I think I’ll just bring a book and read.
Me: You can’t read a book on a boosing bus or at a baseball game. Besides that will hurt his feelings – you will have to act like you are enjoying yourself.
Mom: They are leaving at 3pm and not getting back until midnight. I don’t even drink beer!
Me: Well you might have to tomorrow.

So since we are getting married in ONE week – I guess FI should have some Father-In-Law time. The only problem is FI understands only about 30% of what my dad says [a case of lingering NY accent topped with horrible mumble mouth] and Dad only hears about 30% of what FI says [50% if he has his hearing aids in – my dad lost his hearing from shooting guns for the last 27 years]. This has made for many amusing conversations over the past five years and my mom usually translates what my dad says for FI. But, thanks to me, mom will be at home reading a book in peace and Dad and FI will have to make do. As long as the topic of conversation is beer, baseball or cop stories – they should be just fine. If the topic slips to politics, religion or sex with your daughter... we might have a problem on our hands.

sweetie, don't twirl your sparkler too close to the chocolate fountain.

So sorry to choke everyone up yesterday during my engamentaversary blog. Now you guys know what I am like every morning when I’m driving to work and think about my wedding day!

We had lots of wedding meetings yesterday, FI did a great job putting the smack down on the hotel, we met with the temple, and the coordinator [hired solely boss our families around for the rehearsal and day of the wedding]. All went well, but our meeting at the temple was the most fun. The executive director at the temple is also the cantorial soloist for our wedding. He is actually punchier than FI, and we all get along swimmingly [except for when he referred to FI's wedding ring as a shackle!] The temple has been more than accommodating for us and so far the only thing they have vetoed is rose petals. The conversation went something like this.

Scene: Two gorgeously attractive people meet in a conference room with the temple secretary [a gentile] and the punchy cantor/executive director to discuss ceremony details.

FI: …and the aisle will be lined with petals
ED: real petals?
FI: let me rephrase that. Can we line the aisle with petals?
ED: real petals?
Sec: real petals might get ground into the carpet and be hard to clean up.
FI: Wait, no. Actually I was thinking of using blueberries… real ones. Would that be better?
ED: Oh yes! Yes, ripe berries will be perfect. Why don’t you hang chocolate fountains from the chuppah too?
FI: you read my mind.
Me: Our four flower girls can stomp on some of the blueberries and dip the rest in the fountain while dancing wildly in their white dresses.
ED: Exactly what I was thinking.
Me: We are also handing out sparklers to everyone so they can light them up and twirl around inside the synagogue like, “Happy Fourth of July!”
FI: ...and then we're having a bacon fight.
Sec: [looking scared and quizzical]
ED: Yes – wow this sounds more fun that your real wedding.
FI: It seriously does. Is any of that an option?
Sec: … How about silk petals?
FI: Okay, silk petals it is!

[Mind you, this was after ED said all of our readers had to be the same height or else he would pick my dad up and set him on a pile of phone books in the middle of the reading, so he could reach the mic]

I like the bacon fight idea the best, just to give it some jewy flavor. This was my favorite meeting yet. And it made me think about all of the reasons why whoever thought of having a chocolate fountain at a wedding was high on crack.

Just step over her, please.

Our wedding is in 14 days. That's exactly two weeks from today. Two weeks from right now I will be sitting in a chair having my hair and make up done. That is so weird. Last night after work FI and I... met with the florist, picked up my [perfectly fixed] dress, bought pads for my shoes, went and bought napkins and candle holders, met with the cake lady, fought in the car, and had our final menu tasting. Other than the fighting in the car [sheesh weddings are stressful] things went smoothly. Only 699 more things on the "to do" list..uuhg!

OH AND OH...KJ! GOT ENGAGED!! YAY KJ! Her FI, B, is best friends with my FI from high school. I have only met her once "in the flesh" [hehe, I've always wanted to type that], but through blogging, feminism and our love of stool softeners, we've become sisters. B is a groomsmen [not a bridesmate] - they will get a good little taste of wedding crazy when they come.

Advice for KJ:
1. Don't have Bridesmaids, if you want to keep a girl as a friend DON'T ask her to be in your wedding. OR ask your bitchiest friend and slap her in wedding rage and chalk it up to BM duty.
2. Don't spend lots of money on invitations - it's stupid. [Unless you're rich, then go ahead and shimmer paper your ass off]
3. Get EVERYTHING writing. We had to put it in writing last night for our caterer to put butter on the table!
4. If FI has an opinion [these will be few and far between] let him have his way.
5. Don't spend a shit load on the dress, it's not worth it. Wear THIS!
6. Don't go to an ESL seamstress for alterations.
7. Use THEKNOT message boards for advice, but do not participate in crazy rants.
8. Friday and Sunday weddings are WAY CHEAPER. [again, rich, don't worry about it]
9. Make lots of effort to include your [and his] moms,aunts, & gmas. Even small little things that you don't even think about [the moment you put on your dress] mean the world to them.
10. Elope.

I also told KJ it would be great if one year from now a magical party with everything she ever dreamed of could just appear. IF I had a wand that worked, I'd bippity boppity boo you that as a wedding present [that and I'm cheap]. I know my party will be magical - but the yellow brick road is lined with blood, sweat and tears [and a mangled Philippino seamstress].

The sensory receptor is broken, you can try the backdoor.

This has been a crazy week. I picked my dress up from my [very Philippinio] seamstress Tuesday only to find out she had botched the job. Yes, you heard me correctly, my most coveted gown, she screwed it up. She was supposed to add a simple bustle to the back… instead added a b-dazzled pearly bustle. UM DO YOU KNOW WHY THERE ISN’T A SINGLE BEAD ON MY DRESS…. BECAUSE I HATE THEM! Then, and worse yet, she totally f’ed the back where she was supposed to take it out 1/2 inch at the top of the zipper! It looks like she stapled a “V” into the zipper! What?! I thought alterations were to be completely UNNOTICABLE! F, F, F and when I asked her why she added a b-dazzly bustle she said, “oh soooo pretty.” That’s all she said! And when I asked her why the back looked like shit she said, “no, no that what supposed to look like, good, it good. ” No ma’am, it's not GOOD IT GOOD, IT BAD, IT BAD!! So after getting nowhere with her, I spent $136 to have my dress F’ed. I now have to bring it to some nice little American lady this evening to see if she can fix it... in english. THEN, my dress was bought off another bride, so it needs cleaned. The cleaning company cannot take my dress until June 23 and well get it back to me on JULY 1ST! That’s cutting it close people! So although I have spent the last 48 hours in near tears, I regress. It is only a dress. No one but me will notice the Philippino shit job and hey, July 1st is better than July 5th right? Sigh.

I have filled almost every night between now and the wedding with appointments, and I approved the final copy of the program yesterday [man was that a bitch to write]. Now all I have to do is finish the other 199 things on my list and convince Bax and Heidi to come over and help me assemble, hole punch, and ribbon the programs. I have wine girls; you just can’t drink it near my programs.

In other news, FI takes the boards today [correction: Is taking them as we speak]. Last night he asked me if I had something special planned for him, “this is a really big deal for me, and for us”. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. I consider myself a very thoughtful person, but with a boss on my ass at work, on top of the wedding drama, ALL of my thought receptors a full – I spend most of my days trying not to cry and pound my fists in the wall. The specialness of this milestone indeed slipped my mind. Granted, every time I’ve planned something special for him he’s totally unenthused [like the surprise bday party I threw for him and it took him an hour to figure out why all of his friends were eating at the same place we were] but he was right, I should have planned something. I should plan something! I need to find a happy hour, hire a clown, get some fireworks, and ask the band to learn our song, “Drift Away” by Uncle Kracker. Why is this our song? I have no idea, it just is. But alas, I am at work, have to get that damn dress fixed tonight and I don’t know any clowns. I think I can find a happy hour and convince some people to join us. I’ll even be the DD. This IS a special milestone, I can’t even express it with a party or a card – I am SO PROUD of him and all of his hard work – I will have to wear something extra slutty to bed tonight… that'll do it!

sometimes your lunch might surprise you

Today, FI and I had our lunch date. And much to my surprise, I reached into my bag of carrots [not tricks] and pulled out a nugget. The carrots are already the midget kind [seriously how do they get like that?] and this little fella just popped right out. Now mind you, it was NOT just a piece of carrot, he was an entire carrot in himself with a front butt and a back butt. I wanted to name him Percival, but since Jennie named her imaginary penguin that, I was at a loss for names. If it was winter I would build a premature baby snowman and this little carrot would be the nose [or the penis if it was a boy snowbaby]. So with no name and no snow, my lunch culminated with my consumption of said carrot and of course that was the end.

It was so cute I made FI take a picture of it with his camera phone and I placed a piece of macNCheeze next to it for comparison [although the carrot is way cuter than the noodle]

This made me smile today, I hope it makes you smile [and if it doesn't you might be a heartless bastard who probably needs counseling, or maybe you just don't like carrots]

It's all the same to me

It’s Friday, thank goodness. Unfortunately I have a crazy busy weekend filled with not sleeping in, working at the gym, writing report cards for second graders and teaching my last Hebrew class. Oh and going to a Rascal Flatts concert and having my hair cut! It’s also mother’s day on Sunday, so I will be traveling to CBUS to visit my mom and will most likely eat at Olive Garden. Every birthday, mother’s day, and special occasion this is the conversation we have:

Me: Mom where do you want to go for [insert holiday] dinner? You can pick anywhere you want.
Mom: The O.G.
Me: But we went there last [four] year, seriously, pick anyplace you want.
Mom: I want the O.G.
Me: Okay.

The best part it she doesn’t even open the menu. She has a peach iced tea, salad, and chicken Parmesan with angel hair pasta. Actually neither of my parents opens the menu. They sit down, hand the menu back to the waitress and order chicken Parmesan. Sometimes my dad gets water, sometimes he gets iced tea and on a very huge splurge [usually when FI is with us] he will get beer [because you look cooler if your order a beer, duh].

Now don’t get me wrong, much of this routineaphile is genetic. I totally heart routine. I ate brown sugar oatmeal for breakfast everyday for ten years and then three years ago, switched to eggs and turkey bacon [it’s a protein thing]. That’s what I had this morning folks and eating the same thing for breakfast makes me happy. I, too, usually get chicken parm at the O.G., however, I usually open the menu and at least pretend to consider something else.

Me: Hmm, the trio sounds good and so does the chicken Marsala.
FI: so are you deciding between those? Good for you, why don’t you try the Marsala for a change.
Me: Hmm, they both sound really good.
Waiter: Hello Ma’am [yes I get ma’am, shit that makes me feel old] what would you like?
Me: I’ll have the chicken Parmesan with meat sauce on the spaghetti.
FI: Grrrr…
Me: Hey, at least I went with meat sauce this time!

In my defense, I said they sounded good, I did not say I was going to eat them myself. Salmon always sounds good too and but hate it and would never order it. I get the same thing at qdoba, at Logan’s and at Graeters too, respectively that is. I don’t think the chicken parm at Graeters would be all that good. Having kids might actually be a good thing for me. I hear routine is good for kids and I heart routine so in turn – I’m good for kids. Not to mention when I'm at Graeters I get cotton candy ice cream and so do all of the six year olds in line. AND at BW3’s I get mini corn dogs. Small hot dogs wrapped in crunchy corn bread…Nuff said. And no, I’m not pregnant.

My brother owes me a birthday present so he better cough that one up when I got home this weekend too. Yay presents!

I'd kill my Rabbi with a pork chop to be with your sister!

I have been incredibly overwhelmed with wedding crap lately. 8 weeks and three days left and I’m barely going to make it. Mostly details now, and my old strategy of setting it aside for a week or two and then coming back to it with a fresh outlook is out the window. The only thing that’s fresh these days is my attitude with the caterer. It’s funny to me how people assume you know how to do things, wedding things, like, write invitations, design a menu, write a ceremony. Shit the only thing I’m not doing is altering my own dress! I have never been married before – how the hell should I know what to write in an invitation? That would be like someone saying, “Oh you are having a rocket engine party? Why don’t you go ahead and put it together and then we’ll talk about how you want to display it” What? NO.

Today I saw a post on theknot from one of these crazy brides that continue to stalk the boards months, even years, after they are married. It said this:

I miss the process sometimes, but I will never forget how crazy it made me. It was like a ride a King's Island or something. I laughed. I cried. I was happy. I was terrified. I wanted to kill myself. I guess the more I think about it I'm glad it's over but …I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

What? Does she need a mental exam? Wow that made me want to off myself – so lets do it again! With the divorce rate these days and the obvious assumption that she’s nuts, she probably does have a good chance of planning again, but I am doing this once people. It took me 23 years to find this guy and I’m hanging on to him [not to mention he isn’t anywhere close to his maximum income potential.]

Weddings are just stressful in general. Even good old GW is struggling with wedding drama. I read this by the AP today talking about Jenna B’s upcoming nuptials [p.s. FI says that ANYONE named Jenna is an f’ing slut and proceeded to tell all of his friends I considered naming a kid that. They are now all texting me reasons why Jenna is a sluts name. I hate them]

Bush may be commander in chief, but outnumbered by three women - his wife and twin daughters - he hasn't gotten to weigh in much on the wedding planning.

"They're letting me spend money," Bush joked in February.

Bush played the role of broke father of the bride again in March, joking: "I had to face some very difficult spending decisions, and I've had to conduct sensitive diplomacy. That's called planning for a wedding."

I think this is the smartest quote anyone has ever transcribed from this man. Too bad he’s full of shit with a 400K salary, Halliburton kick-backs and a hand-job away from Exxon Mobile dividends. He can afford a wedding and an Aston Martin.

Well if we’re going to sum it up with the Bush-ism sensitive diplomacy – I’m gonna have to practice the sensitive angle when I tell my invitation lady to change the ugly font or I’ll swiffer wet jet her eyelids!

Is that... is that hair gel?

So a while back FI and I were talking about things you don’t want to get in your hair. We went on a cruise in 2003 and as I was eating breakfast my hair ended up taking a swim in a ramekin of syrup. What a mess that day was – we were disembarking and here I am holding up the line because I’m trying to suck the maple goodness out of my hair. I must have looked like a monkey grooming myself.

FI: Wow, that has to be up there with gum for the #1 thing you don’t want in your hair.
Me: well it’s up there…
FI: I thought gum was the worst thing a girl could get in her hair?
Me: nope.
FI: What? Shut up. Then what is?
Me: Fire.

After laughing his ass off FI tended to agree with that statement. So we came up with a list of things you don’t want to get in your hair…

1.Fire
2.Gum
3.Glue
4.Syrup
5.Liquid marshmallow
6.**other types of sticky white stuff

Slugs should probabably be on the list too, not because they are sticky, just because - well, they're slugs.