Side effect

So, I've been hinting and teasing about how I need to start exercising more regularly and blah blah, but besides half-assedly using my stepper a couple of times a week for no longer than 35 minutes at a time, I haven't done shit to change anything. And then something very unpleasant happened this morning.

I was getting dressed for work and put on a clean pair of cute cuffed capris I hadn't worn in a few weeks due to lack of laundry doing. And they were tight. Not only were they tight, they were damn-near impossible to button. Full disclosure: these are my fat pants. But considering I was already running ridiculously late for work and hadn't really planned out any other clothing options, I made do - took a hair band and did the maternity pants trick of looping it through the hole and securing it around the button twice like I was three months' preg. Add to that a long button down shirt (which I noticed gapped at boob level)(which I HATE) and off I went. Somehow I managed not to have a crying fit/nervous breakdown. Not sure how, because damn, I am Not Happy about this.

Obviously things haven't been going the best over the past few (six) months or so. And considering I've made great effort in trying to be the healthiest I can be, you'd think this wouldn't be a problem right now. But between quitting smoking, not drinking anything alcoholic or very much caffeinated and carbonated and not being able to pop a pill whenever things get a little rough, food has become my way of medicating. I don't know why I thought I was immune to this type of behavior, considering things I've done in my past.

Very ironically sex is high up on the priority list lately, so it's not good that I am in no mood to be naked in front of myself, let alone Brian. Not that I've ever been the type to lounge around sans clothes anyway, but right now? Even with with lights out I'm nowhere near comfortable. Not good. It's easy to avoid looking in the mirror, not so easy to keep avoiding other things.

But it's not just sex; being like this is affecting every aspect of life. I would no sooner accept an invitation that would involve getting into a bathing suit right now then I would to go take a tour of Auschwitz. Hell, I wasn't fond of wearing shorts when I weighed 105, let alone right now. And hey, have you noticed - it's summertime. This past weekend we almost went to visit his brother's family who have a pool and spend most of their free time at the river. In bathing suits. I was sadly very relieved when the landscape job opportunity came up so that we couldn't go. But I'm planning a trip to Florida in the near future. We're doing the beach house thing with his family again this Labor Day - the one year anniversary of the first time I saw our sister-in-law in her new boob job and bikini. None of these activities are at all attractive to me right now. But neither is hibernating in the house for the next three months. So that means it's time to get off my ever-expanding ass in a serious way and do something the hell about it.

That 30-Day Shred dvd I've talked about for months? Is now in the dvd player, ready to go. Tomorrow when I go to the grocery, there will be no tough decision regarding what flavor of Breyer's we'll be eating for the week. There will however, be much less fun food purchases instead. But that's okay. Because regardless of what's going on with the baby situation or the money situation or whatever else is stressing me out at the moment, not fitting into my clothes certainly can't be helping matters.

I've usually been pretty good at recognizing when the time has come to stop bitching and start actually doing something. And holy hell, that time is now.

Oy - tonight we'll knosh until we plotz

Yiddish words are so much fun.
Well the day is finally here - tonight is the church Passover dinner, which is sure to bring the laughs. I guess it's sort of a big deal to me as well, as I feel we've come a long way from when I felt like the black sheepess of the family, with their oldest son living in sin with a Jew and all. From when the first time I ever visited his mom and George's house and noticed a book titled "How to Lead Your Jewish Friends to the Messiah," displayed surreptitiously on their coffee table. Back then there was a lot of tentativeness from them, with conversations like this:

Iris: I'm sorry if you can't eat this Kim ("Kee-yim,") but I put bacon in the potato salad
Me: That's okay; I'm not a practicing Jew and I love pork.
Iris: Well, I made a ham too; is that okay?
Me: ...

and

George: What tribe in Israel does your family descend from?
Me: I didn't know they had tribes in Israel, so I have no idea. Leviticus?

(Brian later confirmed there are indeed tribes that Jews come from and what's sad about that is he has a lot more knowledge of Judiasm than I do, thus he makes me look bad.)

I'm sure there's potential for some awkwardness tonight as well however, as George has little to none in the social filters department. I can picture him introducing me to people repeatedly and gleefully telling them I'm Jewish. In fact I know he will. Sort of different but also similar, a few weeks ago they had their next door neighbor over for Sunday "dinner." (I will never say that without quotation marks). When he introduced us, George told the guy I used to live in upstate New York. This guy is from Michigan. From what I can tell, Michigan is a long way from New York so I wasn't quite sure how to respond and neither was the neighbor. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, except maybe we're both Yankees in George's mind and so there was potential for bonding? Also please note I lived in New York the first five years of my life and then lived and grew up in Florida. I guess he saves that part for when he introduces me to anyone from anywhere in the south. But I'm already prepared for the weirdness tonight, so no problem. I do wish I had this shirt to wear tonight though:

Not that any of the Baptists would get it. Catholics would, because like Jews they are very wise in the ways of the guilt. I always say the only difference is Jews are born with it and Catholics have to go to school to learn it - ZING! I crack myself up.

We'll probably join them at church on Sunday as well to celebrate Easter. I gots to have all my bases covered, yanno? Plus I've always loved Easter. Which side are you on as far as Cadbury vs. Reese eggs? For me it's Reese's all the way. (I'm sure Heather will pick Cadbury because she likes being ornery that way with me, hee hee!)What the F is up with that yellow shit in the middle of the Cadbury? I know it's supposed to be yolk, but EWWWW. And if the white stuff is marshmellow, well then I hate marshmellow so there you go. Sister developed a little problem with Peeps a few years back and I'm not sure if she's yet to be able to be in the same room with them again without gagging, but again no marshmellow for me. I will roast them and hand them to you all day long but I refuse to put a black charred sticky sugar blob in my mouth hole ever. They are acceptable in Rice Krispie treats and that is all.

And for now, that IS all.

First rule of fight club

Anyone who's been in an intimate relationship knows that every once in awhile there's going to be an altercation. If you live in the south, you might know it as a "fuss," a "flap," a "scrap," or a "ruckus." Whatever you want to call it, we had one last night and oh mama, it was a doozy.

Keep in mind I wasn't having the best day by any means anyway. Heh, I'm already getting defensive and no one's even said anything yet. That's funny. But seriously - shit day. He'd called shortly before I left work to let me know he might be a little late getting home, as his uncle and cousin got stuck out in the woods while turkey hunting and he was going to help them get out.

Jesus, if that's not the most redneck sentence I've ever written in my life.

But that was fine; I went home and to calm down I took a brisk walk, then started gathering up sticks in the yard for the fire I was so looking forward to having later on. I'd just started seeing the glimmer of a good mood begin when Crazy (my mom) called. Oh hell, here we go. She'd sent me a book in the mail, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to talk to her, but I was figuring on waiting another few days. For the next twenty-six minutes I listened to her passive-aggressively bitch about everything that had gone on since the last time we'd talked. I should've known better than to ask about my niece's birthday party - you'd think I'd have learned by now not to venture any deeper than the most surface of topics. Thank God Johnann called which effectively got me off the hook. Gotta go, Mom; I'll call you in a couple of days. And by days I mean weeks. Johnann's timing couldn't have been any better, and venting to her everything Crazy had just said brought my blood pressure back down to a safe level.

While I was on the phone with her, I prepared a fabulous broccoli casserole I thought would go great with the steaks we were marinating for dinner. When all else is sucky, food does wonders to cheer me. And if I do say so myself, this was the best broc casserole I'd ever produced. Not that it mattered.

He didn't get home until after 11:00.
He wasn't exactly drunk per se, but if a cop had pulled him over, he'd probably be in some trouble right now.
To say I was not pleased is to not give me the credit my ballistic nature deserves.

He came in, smiled at me and gleefully walked to the kitchen, saying Dinner smells great! He either didn't see or ignored my glowering in his direction and proceeded to get himself some broccoli, not noticing (or should I say caring) there was no steak to go with it because cooking the steak was supposed to have been his job. It's not like I'd even asked; he had offered. When his super Spidey senses finally picked up on the fact I was PISSED OFF, his entire face changed and he realized as Britney used to say, Oops I did it again.

But let's get this out of the way. He's by no means a bad guy. This isn't something that happens very often. In fact it's been so long since it has happened, I think it caught me by surprise. In my head, yes we're both stressed the hell out and sort of on edge, but in a weird way it's brought us closer together. I don't expect never to fight; in fact if that happened again it would scare the hell out of me, because we didn't fight for a long time right before our marriage imploded - because we weren't giving the relationship enough time or energy to fight. Scary. So yes - every so often, at least with us, there is going to be a blow-out. Excuse me, a squabble. Whatever! I guess I was just disappointed it had to be on the night of a poop-ridden day when I'd tried to make it a nice night. Tried and FAILED LIKE A BITCH!

When we fight, I'm the yeller. I'm the thrower of things and the caller of names. I'm not proud of this, I'm just admitting it. He rarely raises his voice and the only time he's ever called me a name is admittedly when I had just thrown so many obscenity-laced words his way, it would've been weird if he hadn't. I hate getting to the point where you say shit that causes you to cringe the next day after you've had time to calm down. I wish there was a way to check myself (before I wreck myself) in the moment so that I could control that a little better. It's fine to try and work on it, but in the moment all rationale goes right out the window for me.

But I'm not one of those wives who will ever bring the pillow and blanket out and throw it on the couch for him. No. I will always be the one to abandon the bed. Not that it's happened very often either; I'm pretty sure this is only the second or third time ever, but there's no way I'm sleeping in the same bed when I'm that pissed off, because it never fails that we'll wake up cuddled up. And OH HELLS NO, that was not going to happen last night. Besides, as shitty as our mattress is, the real punishment is for the person sleeping in the bed. Me and the doggie were perfectly fine on the futon in my closet room, though it would've been nicer had I thought to turn on the heat since we froze all night.

Today he called twice before I picked up my phone to talk. He told me he felt bad about everything but the worst thing was that I'm pretty much the only thing he's happy about right now, that I'm his biggest source of comfort and support and the fact he did something to upset me that much made him feel like shit. I know he means it. And that was the exact right thing for him to say to me so that I was able to let go of the last little piece of anger I'd been stubbornly clinging to. It also allowed him to tell me this piece of news: it's snowing in Atlanta right now.

AND DAMMIT, THAT MAKES ME ANGRY ALL OVER AGAIN!
Just kidding. Today, despite getting some very upsetting news about a dog I'm almost related to (can't talk about that now), I'm doing good.
And really, that's all I ever want to be.

Insert witty title here

Coming soon! (Or a week from Thursday) The Baptists attempt to do a Passover sedar! Oh, if only you knew how much I am looking forward to this, but I guess now you do. So far all I know is this: they gave certain Jewish recipes to certain Baptist peoples from the church (including Iris, who's gonna rustle up some potato kugel action, which is sort of the Jew version of hash brown casserole) and they think just because it's Jew food, they're supposed to call it "kosher." I let Iris know this was dead wrong the other day, because what kosher really means is food that was prepared in a kosher kitchen, which means the dairy stuff is separate from the meat stuff - two different refrigerators, for real - and also that the ingredients have been blessed by a rabbi before they are packaged up.

I don't think she appreciated my input, but whatever. Shit's not kosher! Haha, that was funny. To me. But the potential for comedy is going to be endless at this shindig and I love comedy. Especially the unintentional kind. Brian was like, Is baked chicken Jewish, because I didn't think so. No, not exclusively, but it is a very safe choice when you're talking in terms of a bunch of weird food most people will be leery of. At least they'll have baked chicken (which I will skip) (unless they totally screw up the Jew food).

Whenever I go to the doctor now, as I'm getting ready to get half naked the nurse tells me as she's leaving the room: "I'll be right back; you know the drill." Yes I do, especially as it pertains to the fact I'm about to get drilled in the privates yet again. I can't think of an appropriate and/or funny enough way to tie this weak pun together and I'm afraid the opportunity will pass before I think of one. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Well, but anyway this morning. Doctor's office. I was pretty excited about the fact I've been tanning and while I'm not yet close to being tan, my legs are no longer translucent/glow in the dark. Also, I'd given myself a professional-level pedicure the other night, so I'm thinking those things, along with my usual groom 'n shave routine - this nurse is in for a visual treat today! Finally! What I didn't take into account when I left the house in sandals and capris was the fact of it being fifty degrees outside. Sucked. Goosebump city. Not to mention, as I was hoisting my bidness up to the edge of the couch thing and into the stirrups again, I remembered my still-prickly bright pink sunburnt ass. I hoped it would not be visible to her. Too late now.

The verdict: This time instead of two follicles the drugs produced four. So along with Ollie and Lolly, we now also have Molly and Polly. You know it. Does this bode better for my chances this time? Say like, if two follicles produced zero babies, four might produce one? I don't know, nor am I going to do any mad Googling this time to support or discount my hopes and wishes. That way madness lies and I'm not in the mood to be a crazy right now. All I know is, four follicles, still somewhat small, a few more days of shots and then Second Try. Either way, Brian is now a certified pro at giving me shots in my (almost tan!) fat roll, so that's a plus.

Later today I have the choice of going with him to visit his cousin, cousin's girlfriend and their baby all of whom are up from Florida. This is a dilemma. I like the cousin a lot, but the girlfriend nearly drove me over the edge the first and last time I met her. I wrote about it. She's the one who stared at my wedding ring for a minute then asked, "How big is your ring?" (Shari, remember when that crazy girlfriend of Forest pretty much said the same thing to you then asked you if she could try your ring on? Awkward.) I'm almost tempted to go buy a ridiculous big fake ring and seriously blow her mind. The one who after being here for a day decided that this place is full of nothing but rednecks and idiots, unlike Fort Myers, Florida where she lives - and if you knew Fort Myers, Florida like I do, you would realize the absurdity of that statement.

From the way she talked and acted, she's one of those people who are constantly keeping score on who has what, etc. and now that she has the one thing I want more than anything (a baby, just in case you're still paying attention), I don't know if I can bring myself to act pleasant around her like I barely did last time. Petty and foolish? You betcha. Catty even! Would I have a totally different attitude if I was pregnant right now? Well but of course I would! I'm just trying to keep it real, yo. I can be honest with you, right? I'm not always the pure and innocent lovely girl you think I am and this girl brings out the nasties in me. So I should probably skip the visit today is what I'm thinking. Brian thinks I'm being silly. Perhaps. He's probably a little pissed too, considering I just told him I wasn't sure if I would feel like going visiting later, though I didn't elaborate as to why. Oh well!

Uhhhh, I think that's all for now.

I'm complicated

This morning I realized I didn't pick up my next baby-making prescription last night like I was supposed to. It's pretty bad when you're trying so hard not to focus on what you can't help focusing on you end up focusing yourself right out of what you're supposed to do. That made a lot more sense in my head.

So I raced out of here and drove quickly to the Deathstar. I figured it wouldn't be too bad at 10:30 on a rainy weekday morning. Silly me. But only one person was ahead of me in line, so not too bad. Until that person left and two women walked right past me and up to the counter with nary a backwards glance. I've had a lot of near fist fights at this store, but this time I could literally feel my blood pressure rising. The person behind the counter either didn't notice or just pretended not to, so when they were getting ready to leave I said loudly enough for her to hear, "I know your time is more important than ours, but maybe next time you should stand in line like everybody else." The people behind me were like, "Yeah!" and the two women in their cheap weaves and nasty sweatsuits mumbled some shit under their breath then one smiled and said "Have a blessed day!" all sarcastic-like. I said, "Thanks; you have a cursed day," and everybody laughed, which was awesome. Normally I wouldn't have said anything then come up with all the stuff I should've said for days. So far my only regret is not saying, "Are you SURE you want to cut in line at the pharmacy??? You could be depriving a crazy person of their meds and that's not ever advisable."

"Have a blessed day" - It seems as though that is a very popular saying around here and I hear it a lot talking to DSS employees and day care staff people on the phone. I'd never heard this until we got back here - is it a southern thing? Is it a new development in phony social niceties? Because I'm not kidding when I say the way most of them say it sounds more like "Fuck the fuck off." Have a blessed day. Stupid asses.

Or maybe I'm just looking at it wrong and it really is a nice sentiment, but my nature prevents me from thinking that way. Along those same lines, sort of, is a new list I've started (shocker). It is called Things I Should Like But Don't. This is what I have so far:

Massages - Sister and some of my friends LIVE for these things. For Sister who is a court reporter, a massage is a rare treat she allows herself when her back is at its breaking point and she feels this has helped her a great deal over the past few years. Our friend Jen is the same way and tries to schedule herself one once every couple of months. She thought she'd be nice one weekend while visiting and treat me to one as well. I think I've written about the experience before, so suffice it to say it felt like we became characters starring in a Stephen King novel and I was way more stressed and knotted up afterwards than I ever was before I'd experienced it. Never again. If I wanted strangers to touch me with my shirt off, I would have become an adult entertainer.

Pedicures - Again, strangers touching me, not a fan. I'm very ticklish and don't like people touching my feet. I also have a great disdain for people who speak in other languages (in this case mostly Korean) to each other in front of me and my friends. You KNOW they're talking shit and laughing because they're doing it RIGHT IN FRONT OF US! I do like the massage chairs you get to sit in though. I'd much rather have a chair massage me than a person - I wonder what that says about me.

The Twilight series - I've tried, I really have. Now I'm stuck in the middle of book two just like I was with the last one. It's not like I don't like the idea of hot, sparkly vampires, it's just that the writing is SO BAD. I'm sorry! I know I'm in the minority here and I doubt Stephanie Meyer will lose any sleep over my criticism. She can't hear any criticism from atop that big pile of money she now lives on. I am planning on watching the dvd though, if only to sit in amazement over the fact that Edward the vampire used to be Cedric Diggory, friend of Harry Potter. Plus, the hotness.

Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches - I know, I must be a communist. I can handle peanut butter with other stuff (like chocolate) but jelly can go straight to hell. Yeesh!

Baths - The other night Brian was taking a shower and the showerhead fell apart, causing a small but significant watery mess all over the bathroom and he now knows what it's like to bathe under a waterfall. The next day I took a bird bath (thank you Shari) or a whore's bath (thank you Heather) in the sink and prayed he'd be able to get something to fix the shower that night. Luckily he did, therefore allowing my bath abstinence to continue. A lot of people love them and say it's completely relaxing and for them I'm sure it is. Me, I have trouble relaxing when I'm clothed and dry, let alone naked and wet (yes, issues). I've even tried reading and still just can't get into it, thinking about sitting around soaking in my own dirt. Even bubble baths leave me feeling like I need to shower off all the sticky shit afterwards. I know. I'm strange.

Self check-outs - In theory these are great and I was very excited for them at first. It is fun scanning and bagging stuff, but now it's mostly just me getting stuck behind the asshole who has a ton of shit and who ends up needing the assistance of one of the store's employees so the whole time-saving idea is nonexistent. I'll use them if I have one item and no one is in front of me but other than that, no thanks.

Beaches - I know, right? Why don't I just move to Alaska (please?) and live in an igloo! I will admit we had a great time last Labor Day on a beach family weekend but that was mainly because it had been so long since I'd been to one, it was somewhat of a novelty again. Plus his dad had rented a badass house for us all and we ate and drank a lot. And I got to take a long bike ride. I still really only enjoyed the actually sand and water part of it in the early morning and at dusk. I think this has to do with growing up in Florida and under my parents' rule being forced to spend many beach days without having any choice in the matter. I've also gotten sunburned badly enough so I briefly considered suicide only to make the pain stop. Lakes and rivers are cool, mountains are the best, but beaches are best left for those who tan easily and/or know how to surf.

Okay, well now I've just confirmed what you've been thinking for awhile anyway, that I'm weird, so I'll stop right here. Believe it or not I am very fond of a lot of things too, one of them being quittin' time. And since it's about that time, I am o-u-t, OUT!

Runnin' down a dream

I would haaaate to be a bodily function system in my body right now. No ciggies for almost three weeks. A scant amount of caffeine. No sedatives. My weight in Now & Laters (I don't eat the cherry ones though). I'm actually really surprised I haven't suffered headaches, toxic shock or simply folding up into the fetal position while my body takes leave and says I quit this bitch. I wouldn't blame it if it did.

I also gave up something else - American Idol. They got rid of the only people I liked, like they so often do, so good-bye for another year Paula, Randy and Simon. I'm relieved to have my life back for another year. Of course I've replaced that with a late-devloping obsession with 24, but at least that show is cool. I love Jack Bauer. I wish I was Jack Bauer.

I started back with Twilight the other day, out of sheer annoyance, and the fact I didn't feel like starting another new book with this one being left unfinished. I'm almost done with it, soon to start the second one. Kristen, you were right - it got a lot better right after they were in the meadow. I'm very encouraged by the fact there are actually some bad vampires coming around. And I'm pretty psyched to be honest, that my reading it again coincides with the movie coming out on dvd March 21st. I didn't even plan that.

What's even funnier is the fact that our friend Princess of Darkness bought the entire series of books from Amazon, which I happen to know cost her around $45 (I know because I just looked it up) because she knew nothing about the books being for young adults or being romantic in any way - she just heard the word vampire and figured she needed to have it. Every time I read a mushy part, which is every third paragraph, I picture her reading it and cursing the day Stephanie Meyer was born. It makes my reading way more enjoyable. I guess she can afford such things, as she's moved back in with Drunky the Asshole Boyfriend. It was only a matter of time and we all knew this. Poor Princess; she'll never learn.

I used to have a ton of birthdays to celebrate this week: Jen's is today, Delorme's is Friday and Jody's is the 15th. Lucky for me, I only now have to worry about Delorme's - hey, it's a rough economy out there. I did send Jen a good card though. I'm looking forward to celebrating his this Friday, the lucky 13th. I won't be drinking, but I will be picture-taking. Greek night. I'm frightened.

My Florida trip has finally been finalized; what a relief. I cleared it with work which was the main thing stressing me and my aunt Jew-guilted me into spending the night with my cousin instead of with Annette. She was sort of right though - I wouldn't have gotten to see my family otherwise and as wacko as they are, they are still mine. Just the thought of being with my baby niece again is giving me the heaves. And I should be hitting Orlando around this time, two weeks from today, yahoo! Oh. If anyone from here wants some fruit and/or vegetables, let me know. I'm passing by that crazy produce stand Kristen and I stopped at a year ago, the one where we bought a flat of strawberries that were the size of apples. Sadly, I'm only stopping there on my way back up here, because it just happens to be on that side of the road right before I get on I-10. Kristen, put your order in when you get a chance and don't worry about the damn money. I'll be excited too to visit Avatel. I'm shocked it's already been a year since Lisa passed. Unbelievable.

So the next week or so should be good. They might end up being REALLY good, but you know - it's still too bastardly soon to tell.

Mystery! Intrigue! Laziness! Presents!

With the dog hurting himself last weekend, my dreams for a family roadtrip on my birthday were squashed, just like last year when I met my friend Jen in Savannah instead of going north to the mountains. Is there some evil force keeping me from seeing over an inch of snow? It's starting to look that way. But I didn't want to leave him with Brian's parents again (since-that's-who-he-was-with-when-he-hurt- himself-not-that-I'm-blaming-them-but-you-know-what-I-mean) and taking him with us was in the original plans but he's still limping, I decided staying home was the only option. It was still a nice day.

Brian had to work in the morning, so I slept late. He came back bearing gifts and those gifts were a bunch of dvd's he knew I'd love and a little exercise gadget I've been wanting, one of those calorie counter things I keep seeing on The Biggest Crybaby. I guess he's taking me seriously when I tell him I'm starting to exercise again. He's always been an optimist that way. He also brought home burgers, fries and Cokes, which is my favorite birthday lunch.

We watched Baby Mama, which was better than I thought it would be - surprising. Tina Fey is genius at portraying the late-thirties baby obsession that takes over while you're not paying attention. In one scene she's in a crowded elevator with a lady holding a baby standing in front of her. She reaches out and touches the baby's hand and then secretly sniffs the baby's head; kind of creepy and totally real. Brian looked at me during the scene and I said, Yes. That shit is REAL. He then asked me what was up with her since her character on 30 Rock is also trying to adopt a baby and I told him she's fine; she's married and has a baby in real life. Because I probably know a little too much about her, but it comes in handy for situations like that.

I checked my email that evening and found out work had been trying to get ahold of me but my voicemail box was full. Oops. A lot of people had called and text'd (what is the past tense of text, dammit, becaused "texted" looks stupid) to leave me birthday messages and that made me very happy. But apparently someone had sent flowers to me at work, not knowing I wasn't going to be there yesterday. Was it you? I can't figure it out. They stored them in the cold supply closet for me to help keep them from wilting, but I'm going to take a ride over there today and get them so I can bring them home and stare at them. I like flowers. And I can't wait to find out who sent them!

My friend Johnann sent me a bunch of books from my Amazon wishlist that I've plowed through while still avoiding Twilight. Even so, we're planning a Barnes & Noble date today, as one can never have enough books; I need to buy one for Brian for V-day as well. Annette always gets me Office-related merchandise, but this year she decided to cover all the shows and got me a cool (literally because it's the kind you stick in the freezer so it can keep your drinks cold) mug with the NBC logo on it. She and I are proud Peacock geeks. Before we had cable, NBC was the only channel we could pick up and I was frighteningly fine with that, since that's what 90% of the things I watch are on. I know Heather was naughty and is sending me a birthday box and unlike the one I sent her, I'm sure everything she planned on putting in it will be in it. Does anyone know where four bottles of OPI nailpolish could have run off to, because THEY WEREN'T IN HER BOX AND I DON'T HAVE THEM EITHER. Ahem, sorry. That is the kind of mystery I don't enjoy. And of course my mom sent me a Walmart gift card, because she knows depending on our finances, I'll either spend it on something for myself or on groceries, which also counts for myself. A grocery trip without worrying about over-spending is a very exciting thing to me. I am easily pleased, which makes for a lot more fun and a lot less disappointment in life.

And this morning upon sitting down to the computer, I saw a big red stuffed heart with sneakers on waiting for me - I'm guessing that had to be from Brian or I'm REALLY going to be mystified. I tell him every year not to acknowledge Valentine's, since I feel my birthday is the more important of the two holidays, but every year he gets me a little thing anyway. He's cool like that.

It's been a nice celebratory weekend so far; I hope everyone else's is too.

Party like it's 1989

The other night Kristen and I met at Ruby Tuesday's (salad bar!) for dinner to discuss plans for our mutual birthday party. It's going to be at her house on February 7th, a week before my actual birthday and a couple before hers. It's always fun planning party food and we've decided to go with heavy appetizers and a cheesecake birthday cake. Actually cheese is turning into a large theme, since we're also having cheese fondue and a cheese tray. In my opinion you can never have too much cheese.

I guess planning for this party must have gotten me thinking about get-togethers in general because last night I came up with a humdinger of an idea.

I'm still in contact with a lot of the friends I grew up with. Coming from a small town, we were a pretty tight-knit and incestuous group and through the magic of the internet, we've been able to keep in touch or find each other again if we'd lost touch at some point along the way. Now that Delorme and I live in the same area again, it's been fun comparing stories of old friends and what they're up to these days. So last night I proposed my idea to him.

What if we had a reunion. Not a class reunion, as there are other people who deal with those things and although I had fun at my 10th, I didn't make it to my 20th. I'm thinking more along the lines of a reunion for our crew, the group of fifteen to twenty of us who were tight right after high school. The age range is different, but I think we're all within five years of each other. He liked the idea and said what I was thinking, that he has the perfect house for a large-ish gathering of people. So now the little wheels in my head are squeaking away, thinking about the potential of this. Maybe sometime in the late Spring or early Summer, before the weather becomes unbearable? A whole weekend of fun activities could be planned and that would include things other than playing drinking games, though that definitely has to happen as well. Yeah. I like the idea a lot. I think between the two of us and with help from a couple of other key players, we could really make this thing happen. I'm loving the idea a lot.

The late eighties/early nineties was a really fun time period in my life. To be able to see the people who were a part of it would be pretty freaking magical. I'm determined to make this happen. And when I get determined about making something happen, I'm usually successful.

Roughin' it

We've spent the last couple of days out in the wind, rain, fog and mist on Lake Murray. Not exceptional camping and cooking out weather, but a lot of fun all the same. It was sort of a last-minute thing, a family gathering to see his dad and (new) stepmom who were up from Florida for a few days. It was a nice way to spend my last few days of freedom (sniff) before heading back to the reality of broken alarm clocks, annoying traffic, crazy co-workers and work itself. Seriously, I need to buy a new alarm clock today. No. Heather's tip: use alarm on cell phone. A much better alternative than to deal with something so annoying as going to a store today.

I come from a camping family, so last night's cook-out was fun for me. A lot of other people who were there were NOT used to a camp site, including the very overweight uncle who sat in his chair the whole time directing everyone on what to do and getting pissed every time someone had the nerve to differ on his opinion on how the campfire was to be maintained, the cousin who showed up in flip flops despite the 40 degree weather (when I asked if her toes were cold she said "No ma'am." THE HELL!), and the aunt who brought un-camp-like food which was difficult to cook. But other than that things were enjoyable. I made the worst potato salad I've ever made. I think I got a little heavy handed on the vinegar, damn it. Which totally sucks, because one of his aunts who was there is KNOWN for her potato salad and I could tell she was just being polite about mine. It was nasty. On the plus side, I figured out how to make a smore without using marshmellows, because marshmellows can kiss my ass. (Lori, you may remember our unfortunate marshmellow/taffy incident of 1979.)

Anyway, I took some pictures.


Here's some cousins and to the far right Brian's very in-shape stepmom. The woman is 54 and looks the same as she did twelve years ago, which is better than me. Always. You can see on the table the silver bowl of death, aka my tater salad, sitting there just waiting to suck.


Wouldn't it be cool if that was snow? It wasn't. It WAS however, very WET and COLD all DAY and NIGHT. I was glad to have the foresight to wear hooded coat, thick hiking boots and socks and mittens. I always congratulate myself on appropriate dress.


They had this cool wire thing that cooked burgers over the fire. Even though I don't know when I'd use one, I want one. Unfortunately in handing over the burgers to get ready to eat them, they were dropped onto the ground. Big Uncle John sighed dramatically, but the burgers were saved. I commended Brian's dad on not losing his shit. I'm pretty sure that was thanks to Canadian Club and Coke.


This picture is color, which shows how gray of a day it was. Cool view from our campsite though.


The same view, at dusk. I saw this and thought, "Wow, we spent the day at Camp Crystal Lake yesterday; I wonder if Jason Vorhees was there?"

It was a fun but long day. We were all happy to walk into the warm bright house last night. Some of us were more worn out than others.

Time to get our eat on!

And that, right there, is enough to make me thankful I'm not eating turkey this year. That right there is actually enough to make me consider becoming a tree huggin', Birkenstock wearin', pleather jacket and purse havin' VEGAN. I'm sorry - there is something about cold dead uncooked poultry that makes me get the heaves. I'll pay extra for boneless skinless chicken breasts any day of the week. Birds....ew.

And on that note, I've just found out they're letting us out of the cage RIGHT NOW, so it's off to the store I go. Pray for me.

Good news ladies - no cooking dinner tonight!

Imagine my surprise and delight when I found this today. As soon as I did I called Brian and the following was our conversation:
Me: Guess what! Today is National Men Make Dinner Day!
Him: Ha-ha.
Me: No, really! I just saw it on the internet.
Him: Sure. If you want me to cook dinner, all you had to do was ask.
Me: Well, I DO want you to cook dinner, but it's because of this holiday.
Him: (Telling his co-worker about the holiday and laughter ensues) I'll cook dinner. But NOT because of some stupid, made-up holiday.
Me: Fine. I still win.
Him: What do you want me to cook?
Me: That's up to you. I always have to make the decision about what we're having for dinner and that's the hardest part of cooking. Tonight is all you.
Him: Okay.
Me: But this morning I took out steak to defrost, so that's what I want.
Him: I knew I wouldn't have to make the decision.
Me: Whatever. I STILL win.

Don't get me wrong. Brian is really good cook and there are many times he makes dinner anyway. The cooking gene runs strong in his family on both sides and most of the time he cooks from instinct, following no recipe or directions. Over the years he's come a long way from his bachelor days of making fried flour (I swear to you; if you don't believe me ask him) and fried foods in general, and has expanded to roasts, sea food and many other delightful suprises. It has really only ended in catastrophe a couple of times, but I will say when he fucks up he does it in a spectacular way.

One time in particular he blames me for to this very day. Apparently I had the powdered sugar stored too closely to the flour and he mistakenly used the sugar to batter an entire mess of catfish he and his friend had spent hours that day catching out in the broiling sun. Sugar coated catfish is pretty much as disgusting as it sounds (I wish you could've seen our faces as we excitedly took our first bites), so that one goes down in the history books as a big fat Fail. I'd like to tell you that was the only Sugar vs. Flour incident, but sadly it happened again not long after that with some fried chicken he made. Not a violent person by nature, he reacted by tossing the sugar out the front door. At that point I decided it would be safer to remove the sugar from its cannister and hide it in the far reaches of the pantry.

Another time he decided to make blackened fish. Not realizing the term "blackened" is an actual blend of spices, he used nothing but black pepper. Before the fish was done cooking, the air in our kitchen was so acrid and toxic, we could barely see from our eyes watering so much. After I found out what he'd done, once I finished laughing, I bravely agreed to take a bite. I think the feeling finally returned to my mouth a few hours later.All kidding aside, he's a great cook and I'm going to stop teasing him now because I don't want him to happen to read this before dinner and then not cook for me. I normally don't like arbitrary, made-believe holidays, but I think this is one I can enthusiastically support. Join the fun and make your man make your dinner tonight too!

Seafood today and in the near future

It's been about a month since I've been to the inlaws' on Sunday, so I'm actually kind of looking forward to it today. Especially since she told Brian what's on the menu. It's definitely a southern thing and there are several names for it: Beaufort Boil, Frogmore Stew, Seafood jambalya, etc. It depends on where in the region you are, but what it boils (pun!) down to is shrimp, corn, sausage and crab all tossed in a big pot with water and seasonings and served with some kind of bread. It's a popular Lowcountry recipe and though I've been to Charleston and its surroundings many times, I've never gotten lucky enough to try it. I have hinted about it to my mother-in-law many times however, and I think she's making it mostly for me. See what happens when you stay away for awhile? I'm wiping drool off my shirt just thinking about it.

Which reminds me. Thanksgiving. Last year Brian and I decided to have our first ever turkey day by ourselves for the first time in twelve years. No family, no traveling. No dressing decently to spend an entire day eating with a bunch of people we don't know. They do Thanksgiving with his stepdad's family in some little town two hours north of here and I'm sorry, but that's not our idea of fun. We spend a lot of time with his family as it is and the holiday season even more so. Last year we told a little (big) white lie and said we were going to eat with my relatives who live in Hilton Head, about two hours away. It's a reasonable story, except we came close to getting straight busted when his mom stopped by earlier that week after I'd already bought our turkey and had it defrosting in the kitchen sink. I panicked as she was getting out of her car and hid the bird in the first and closest place I could think of, the dryer. I felt like I was guest-starring on a bad sitcom, but it worked. I made my first ever complete traditional Thanksgiving dinner and it came out great. Although holy shit that was a lot of cooking for one meal.

This year we're changing it up a little. Neither one of us is crazy about turkey and since we're making the rules, we've decided to have a turkey-free holiday. I'm sure the Pilgrams may have eaten it, but the one wild turkey I tried to cook (Delorme got into turkey hunting for awhile) tasted like earthbird seasoned with dirt. Delorme remembers vividly how that turkey tasted and after telling my dad all about it, a few days later I received in the mail a cookbook called How to Cook Wild Game. Everyone had a big laugh at my expense, but I showed them: I never cooked wild game again. Screw that. Should it come to the point the experts are predicting with the economy and the end of civilization as we know it, I am already ahead of the game by owning this cookbook.



Not that we needed to justify our rebellion for turkey, but Brian further reasoned the meal at Plymouth Rock probably included venison and sea food, so that's the theme we're going with. I enjoy stuffing, mashed taters, green bean casserole and biscuits all year round; I won't miss it that day. I used to work with a weird Statistics professor at USC and he once told me he and his wife always had lobster on Thanksgiving, every year. It was like their thing. At the time I thought "How sad." I guess I'm older now or else I too have gotten weird (I prefer the term "eccentric") because now that just sounds like a damn fine idea.

My blogging friend Laura and her family always have a lobster dinner on Christmas Eve but they do it up right and have them flown in from Maine, where she's from. That's what I'm talking about. She says lobster prices are going down right now too, so I have a small little pebble of hope in my heart that we'd be able to swing that as well. Lobster. There is nothing on earth I'd rather put in my mouth (yes I know - that's what she said). But either way there will be some form of food from the sea and no form of fowl at my Thanksgiving table this year. And if there do happen to be two big-ass lobsters delivered to my doorstep the day before, I know the perfect place to hide them should his parents stop by.

Four whole days alone with no obligations and doing whatever we choose - THAT'S what I call a holiday to be thankful for.

One small step for Kim, One giant leap for Kimkind

So here I was, happily on the second day of 2008: The Shrinkening, minding my calories, drinking my water and doing just fine. Then what happened was we had a new employee start today, and not that they do this for everyone, but they decided to have a getting-to-know-her lunch and that lunch involved pizza. From Dano's. Which sort of happens to be my 2nd fave pizza place (first place gets a shout out, Antonia's in Lexington, woo, Kristen, can I get an amen on that one?) in the greater Columbia area. Of course I skipped the lunch, without too much remorse. But then pizza fumes started drifting all the way down the hall, through the outer office, past Crazy's desk, over my divider-wall and straight up my nose.

I'm sure you're aware of what pizza smells like. Now, think about what it smells like when you're hungry yet know you're not going to have any? However, and here's the big news, the reason for this level orange alert the media, all-points-bulletin: I RESISTED. Yes sir, I did! I sat here and happily (miserably) feasted on my Crasins and Yo Crunch and big tall glass of tasty tasty Crystal Light-flavored water.

You're probably thinking: "Big deal, so you stuck to your diet on day two - what do you want, a cookie?" Well yes, fucker, as a matter of fact, that's EXACTLY what I want! Or an ice cream cone, or a candy bar or a freaking piece of pizza!

But I won't.

My body is a wonderland. And I won't be happy until it's back to normal.
In other news I'm leaving work at 2:00 today to go to the aforementioned eye doctor. I'm really looking forward to being able to see again soon.

And oh, I almost forgot: HAPPY OCTOBER!!! Yeah, baby! I feel a Fall poem coming soon...probably while I'm waiting to see the doctor. You won't need the rest of your seat waiting for my poetry, you'll just need the edge. ZING!

What's in a name(brand)?

It's that special time again, where I feel the need to share with you a product I am currently obsessing on. The above picture should clue you in on what that product is. Did I just end two sentences with prepositions? Is "on" a preposition? Oh, screw it - moving right along.

It was actually my mother-in-law who turned me on to these one Sunday when she added them into a salad. Of course hers was the generic version from Aldi's, because GOD FORBID she not find a way to promote that store during any given meal. I swear, they should pay her commission. But I loved them in the salad and the next time I went shopping I picked up a bag of the fancy Ocean Spray variety, which cost a whole .25 cents more.

I guess this is why they're rich and we're poor - I like to spring for the good stuff. Don't you try to tell me "Fruit Rings" are just as good as Fruit Loops or that you can't tell the difference between "Toasty O's" and my beloved Cheerios - I will smack a bitch.Sorry. But I'm still scarred from back-to-school shopping in 9th grade when I had to wear Hunt Club shirts by JCPenney instead of Polo by Ralph Lauren. Polo had the little horse and jockey emblem and Hunt Club only had the horse! What kind of bullshit is that! And no Keds for us, oh no - we had to suffer with PLAIN WHITE sneakers without the telling, all-important little blue tag on the back. God, the fashion flashbacks are enough to send me into a state of panic-shopping.

However, as much as I dislike off-brand products, I do admit I have an unnatural love for the names they come up with. Do you know how many versions of Dr. Pepper there are out there alone? I've seen the following: Dr. Perky, Dr. Popper, Dr. Bold, and Dr. Topper. And Mountain Dew? Why, you have your choice there as well with: Mountain Lightning, Mountain Yeller, and my favorite: Mountain Holler. The reason that's my favorite? I showed it to Brian once and he said, "Mountain Holler? What is that, some kind of redneck porno?"

And on that note, I will leave you because according to my fake Gucci watch, it's almost time to go home and whip up some Shake 'n Bake porkchops, Uncle Ben's rice and Jello No-Bake Cheesecake!