Why I love being married...

...much more than dating.

1. I get to shave my legs less frequently. Not like, it's-winter-let's-grow-out-our-fur-coat-for-warmth kind of less frequently, just not everyday. It's a pain in the ass really. All the bending over and lathering up and balancing on one foot. Are we circus monkeys or something?

2. I can eat my In & Out grilled cheese as messy as I like. Yeah so what if I like to line my grilled cheese with 2 packets of ketchup and a stack of french fries inside. So what if it becomes a drippy mess. I can lick my fingers and make slurping noises if that's what it takes to enjoy my meal. Because when I look to my left, there's my husband, his face is covered in IN & Out goodness and his lap mat is a savior. We smile, and say just that...I love you. 

3. I don't have to "watch my language." I'm a very well behaved date. Well, WAS a very well behaved date. Manners, politeness, cautious swearing. But soon there after, I loosened up and revealed my true self and guess what? My husband didn't run. He actually still liked me. So much so that he married me. So now my lips flow freely with whatever my spirit is moved to say.

4. I dont have to order salads and water when we go out to dinner. I can order actual food. I don't have to pretend to be that super healthy skinny girl. Now when we go out to dinner, we order just what we like. We have no fear of the judgements of eachother or of the effects of digestion two hours later. Which brings me to number 4. 

5. I'm not afraid to go to the bathroom, #2. It is what it is. At some point you just get over it and realize you can't keep denying that as a woman you don't...i'm dreading saying it...poop. My intestines and my stress level thank me greatly for the acceptance of being human. And my husband for never saying anything like, "Oh my gosh you poop? Ugh I only date girls who don't do that. You are so human! You mean you can't just not do that?" Which apparently used to be my fear. Frightening I tell you, the things that go on in my head.

6. I become smarter and gain worldly knowledge. No that doesn't stink of sarcasm. [Or does it?] I now have a deep understanding of the recruiting, ranking and occurrences for most University of Michigan sports. I can now quote The Simpsons. My inner-geek has been released with our kindred love of superheroes. It once only existed because I loved RDJ as Iron Man, now I have a well rounded appreciation and adoration for all super heros. 

So, I guess what my head-shakingly-sappy self is saying is, it's pretty fucking amazing to be able to just be me. I'm so imperfect it's ridiculous. Not having to hide all of those things [from my husband at least] is a pretty sweet deal. 

6 Months of awesome. 

05.07.11

being a woman

We have over 30 pillow cases. Seriously. Why? Will there ever be a point in time where I've used all 30 of them before doing the wash? Or will those uglier ones, or the ones on the bottom of the pile forever be neglected and unused? I spent an hour, very precisely folding those pillow cases to fit into our new (narrow) linen closet.  And then I spent the next hour figuring out those damned fitted sheets. Right as I was envisioning some invention that helps you fold a fitted sheet with the ease of a flat sheet, i had done it! And I must say, I exceeded my own expectations. Laying it out on the bed, taking those crinkly elastic sides and folding them over until it had a square shape and then folding it from there. Beautiful. My old method included a couple of folds and then just rolling the entire thing into a ball. The new closets don't have space for 6 balls of fitted sheets so I had to stretch myself and unveil new strengths in my repertoire of a domestic woman. Ha!

Speaking of woman, we were out to dinner last night and I walked into the bathroom and there was a full length mirror and I saw myself walk in and thought "I am a woman!" Which was quite empowering, since up until that point I'd been grumbling to myself about some of the weight I've gained. I'm not fat or over weight whatsoever, but the fact is, I have gained some weight. But I saw myself in the mirror, with my curves and realized, I'm a woman. I'm not that skinny little girl anymore, and it was suddenly all okay with me. I am staying healthy (really I am), and I definitely want to be more active, but what the hell, I'm a woman. I am allowed to have hips and thighs and all that goodness. So there it is. My husband will be relieved, he's been unmoving in his constant "I love all of you! You are amazing and beautiful just the way you are!" as I sadly groan about my love handles while slurping down that oreo shake. Love of my life that guy is, pretty freaking awesome. 

There ends my go-me-go-being-a-woman rant. It's time for some ego waffles.

he even carried my purse all around italy. thats love. thats a man.

well that sucked

So I'm going to cut right to it. I faced my biggest fear [slash] worst nightmare last night. My husband had me come along to visit with some old friends. Before leaving I told him my stomach was feeling off. So there I am, at someone else's house, feeling like hell was being shoved through my intestines. I was dizzy, hot and was going between nausia -- which I have no idea how to spell -- and stomach cramps.  I thought I'd use the restroom to go pee and relieve some pressure in that stomach region. Well my body had other plans and next thing I know, I have no control, I am panicking and going between running the faucet, flushing multiple times and spraying febreeze down between my legs into the toilet. You know, just in case.

It was hell. and it was an absolute first. I have never (forgive my absolute shame and immaturity) gone #2 in someone elses house. Seriously. It's just something I don't do. It's like...against my morals or something. It's a horrible thing, that though we all do it, we don't want it to be acknowledged.

So there I was, the deed was done and I felt like i usually do after an hour long hike. Exhausted. And then it hit me, the four of them are right outside this door. I dont know if they heard the incident that just occurred--the flushing and water running. I dont know if they are wondering why i had been in there for over 3 minutes. I dont know if my panic was apparent. So, in my quick thinking, I brilliantly pulled out my phone, walked out of the bathroom pretending to talk on it....because, oh of course, thats why I was in there for so long, I was talking on the phone, in the bathroom, right....and then smiled at everyone and pointed at my phone and walked outside in that sort of "sorry, i've got to take this call" kind of way. Immediately there after I did actually called my mom, relived my horror and, because I am my mother's daughter, she fully sympathized with how horrible it is to have to be in that position. Thanks mom, you sure know how to make a shitty experience better, pun very much intended. We chatted about life and work and poop for about 15 minutes and then I knew I had to re-enter the house. I came in smiley and happy, because I seriously was feeling so much better on the physical side and saying "oh my mom says hi!" even though, she really only knows james, but that always seems to make up for abandoning a social gathering for 20 minutes if you come back with a message like, "oh she says hi!"

People are getting ready to leave and I whisper to my husband "go to the bathroom before anyone else." He, fully oblivious to what had happened, says "I dont have to go, I'm all good." Until I look at him and say "I was in there last, please go make sure the area is clear and all evidence has dissapeared." And so he did, he said everything was fine. My husband, my hero. And then we left and I told him the whole story and he felt bad, saying that when I said my stomach didnt feel well, he just thought i was "airy" and fully reassured me that no one had a clue. I love being married.

Arch Nemesis

I'm a big fan of superhero's and awesome things like Harry Potter, so I tend to look at things in life that challenge me, or that I dislike for the discomfort they give me as an Arch Nemesis. I think it's a quite respectful term. Trust me, I could (and have) call it much worse, but instead it gets the mighty title of ARCH NEMESIS. Now, though I may seem brash and at times grumpy, I'm seriously not. I only have 2 of these Arch Nemesis -- that I can think of in this moment -- Stairs & Public Restrooms. 

Stairs. I am young, in good health, and for whatever reason, stairs are the end of me. They exhaust me, they cause my legs to throb and my heart to race. I don't know if it's something about the up and down movement of climbing stairs, or the steepness, or fact that they seem to go on forever, but stairs are a bastard. Whether its a flight of stairs in the house or a hill of stairs at Runyon Canyon, I have not made friends. I don't appreciate them. I respect that they make me feel weak and helpless. I respect that they are somehow ripping the soul out of me like a dementor, with each and every step. I respect that they make me feel like i'm old and overweight with a heart condition- as if I am climbing them with a twinkie and a cupcake stuffed in my face. I do not appreciate stairs.

Public Restrooms. F*ck! I absolutely have to gather all of my will power and courage to use a public restroom. The smell, oh my the smell. I was at disneyland yesterday, and it was a hot day! And I was drinking fluids so that I didnt get dehydrated, damn myself for trying to be responsible. But often, drinking fluids leads to having to use the restroom. When you're in 90 degree heat, about to wet yourself and can smell the bathroom 20 feet away from the door, it takes nothing less than desperation to proceed towards that bathroom, find a semi-sanitary toilet, pull your sweaty jeans down and hover 2 feet above that toilet seat.  For someone like me, with a very active bladder, this is an ongoing challenge. I don't know why it smells so bad. Why the smell lingers. Why humans can cause that smell. Why they dont have vents or fans or windows or air freshener. Except nothing is worse than stinky bathroom coated in stinky air freshener. I think public restrooms should have a back section for stinky people and a front section for normal humans. I guess in an ideal world, toilets at disneyland would smell like cotton candy, carmel apples and the ice cream parlor on Main St. One can wish. 

On a happier, less crappy note. It's been a great week, life is absolutely fabulous and I am so happy! We saw Cirque Du Soleil Iris, went to a farmer's market, went bowling. Good times with the Coopers. 

Oh yeah, and my amazing husband bought himself "The Father's First Year Baby Book" while at Borders. Yep, getting himself ready and we arent even pregnant yet. Well he bought that and Scene It Simpsons Edition. Perfect :) 

Carmageddon, really? Life goes on. and on. and on.

Carmageddon [kahr-muh-ged-n] noun: the overly dramatic uproar and panic over the temporary shut down of the 405 freeway from the 10 to the 101. 

Alright, so everywhere you turn there is something about..dun dun dun...Carmageddon. It's become almost entertaining. I heard the police on the news saying "treat it like a disaster," oh yeah and those $4 flights from Long Beach to Burbank, crazyness. There are cities in the midwest that have had tornados, storms and full on floods. Cities in the south that have faced hurricanes. Cities all over the world that have endured tsunamis and earthquakes. And here we are in Los Angeles, fussing over a freeway closure for two days. I get it, it's inconvenient, and it's "something" happening and like most cliche LA residents, we must make it more than it is, we must capitalize on it's happening. We saw shops with "I survived Carmageddon" specials and t shirts. It's become a thing. It's a noun known by all Angelenos. So to say the least, we are staying put at home on our side of town, staying update on street and freeway traffic via Facebook status updates.

Still packing. It feels endless. It IS endless. But the end is nearing and for that I see the light. On the bright side, I found a $100 Bloomingdales gift card that my father in law got me for Christmas. I decided to treat myself to a little shopping trip after my painful dentist appointment as it was right next door...why not, right? I am not a huge fan of shopping and I rarely splurge on a big purchase for myself, so as you could imagine, Bloomingdales isnt my usual place of perusal. It's nothing like Target. Love Target. But armed with a gift card, I went in willingly, with an open mind, though judging the $75 tank tops and $90 t shirts. I needed jeans, that gave me some direction. I found that they are in excess of $150- wtf. I looked at the sparse clearance rack of jeans, and found a great pair. The right darkness, soft,a great cut. But they were a size 29. I am used to being a size 7. Double digit sizes are a lot more depressing, but I get it, that's just the fancy pants sizes. Low and behold, I am a size 29! The pants I loved fit perfectly and flattered my..assets. They were originally $170 and I got them for....$85!!! A-mazing. And the most expensive single piece of clothing I have. I will not be enjoying spaghetti sauce, fruit punch, or ketchup while wearing these pants. Stains are not welcome.

So back to packing it is. Been moving boxes and furniture all day. Sweaty and stinky. I stink. Like balls. And even still, I went out in my white slip ons, my husbands michigan shorts, a random t-shirt and hair up to get cupcakes! It's our savior. It's our joy. It is THE only thing that would be worth going out looking all mismatched and smelling like balls. 

I understand your concern of my excessive cupcake eating. Don't worry, I've been running, I'm not 500lbs. 

And for my fellow people of great taste. Harry Potter 7.2 was fantastic. I cried, I laughed and I wished it never ended. I'm a huge nerd for it. Random story. I was at home depot with a cart full of packing paper and cardboard boxes and an older, awkward employee comes up and blurts out "do you want to see harry potter with me tonight?" Was hilarious, after I informed him that I was seeing it with my husband that night, I walked away wondering how he knew I was a fan of harry potter. Do i walk with the stature of a Gryffindor, do I ooze the essence of a Hogwarts student or do i simply stink of nerd? Whatever it may be, I am proud. 

ryan seacrest & cupcakes

Do you ever have those dreams that you wake up from, interrupting them right in the middle, wishing that it would have been able to keep going because it felt like it was all happening for real? I did last night. 

It involved my secret crush, ryan seacrest. 

Dreams don't make a whole lot of sense but this is what I can remember from it for those that analyze dreams:

I was standing in a crowd, Ryan Seacrest walked by, I smiled and said hi. A few minutes later his assistant came back and pointed to me and handed me six slips of paper and said, you get to come with me and pick out six cupcakes. So I followed him, and remember there wasnt much of a selection. I chose six but when I looked back in my pack of six someone had taken four of them. So again I began choosing, there was a small chocolate and a big chocolate and i put those in. Then the next thing I know, I'm standing in this crowd and Ryan is in the distance, kind of on a stage and he smiles at me and I remember making a squinty face for whatever reason. Then the lady in front of him says "Okay, I'll take you, and you." Pointing at myself and some other unimportant person. Then walking toward the stage Ryan puts his arm out and says "I'll take Alex." As we crossover the stage he mentions that he lost a bidding war on ebay for a poodle which costs $300/month. To which I replied "Oh that's nothing for a poodle." WTF? Then we sit down at a table, and we have some sort of script of a play that we're going to have to read from -- to entertain the masses I assume? We end up chatting and we were about to take a picture together on my iphone when suddenly -- I am awake. Bahumbug! 

Anyway, goes to show what I think about --- cupcakes.

Random thought: these came up on image search, i LOVE them.

We hit up about six different places for sale this weekend with our realtors. It was about 120 degrees out. I was sticky and cramping, because oh yeah, I'm a woman who will be a baby carrier in the future because I have a f*cking period every month. Kill me.

this is how i feel right now. Fat, lazy, sore boobs. (i laugh every time I look at this -- I apologize to art snobs who dont think I respect the artistic beauty of this. She just looks like I feel inside)

That's right, houses. A couple of them had the owner, instead of their listing agent, show us around which is awkward as all hell. You have to keep in thoughts like "what is with this hideous tiling in the shower?" or "the smell of filipino food is suffocating me." or "is the floor meant to be sloping downward?" 

We saw the good, the bad and the ugly. Found a couple we liked, looking in different parts of town and started narrowing in on what we really want. It's an adventure, that's for sure. If only packing up and becoming nomads was a seriously easy thing to do. Commitment is difficult for me (except with my superhero husband. That was the easiest choice I've ever had to make!). We just signed a 6 month lease on an apartment so we have somewhere to live until we find a house. That 6 month commitment caused unbelievable anxiety and my patient and fearless husband had to talk some sense into me. That we aren't literally "stuck" there. I hate plans. I hate being stuck. I think I just hate people right now. It's the hormones, don't blame me. 

Spa in a couple days. Breathe. 

cleaning ladies...grumble

I love those restaurants that are just a certain guarantee that you'll leave feeling full and happy. Benihana is one of those places. We had dinner at Benihana and it was just fantastic. The many courses starting with onion soup, salad and then the food being cooked right there at your table calling for "Ooohs" and "Aaaahs." It's awesome, and for the neurotic paranoid individuals like myself, there's a comfort in seeing how your food is handled and cooked before you eat it. I frequently watch Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, which should explain that paranoia about the cleanliness of the food I'm putting into my body. Really what it comes down to is the fact that I should learn to cook..anyway..

our chef was about 40 years older than this guy

I watched The Terminal this morning, that Spielberg pic with Tom Hanks..um, I sort of love it. Tom Hanks is so..delightful, that's the word, delightful. What a nice way to start a lazy Saturday, with a russian guy stuck at JFK making friends with the janitor and food cart driver while a crazy Stanley Tucci (sp?) wants the worst for him. Aw the feeling of having hope in the world.  

My latest grumble revolves around our cleaning ladies. Which I am so aware makes me sound like I'm oozing with snobbery, but let me make it clear, I'm really not being snobby. We have cleaning ladies who come once every other week and they do laundry, and detail cleaning like vacuuming and dusting. From the start I've insisted that we don't need them, but the Mr. said I might as well just accept the help to make my life easier. 

But the fact is, they have been making my life more difficult. I will defend my point with two specific incidences that happened this Wednesday. First, I like to wait until the dishwasher is full to run it, you know -- to save water and conserve energy and all that other happy planet stuff -- well, the dishwasher was nearly full when they arrived Wednesday morning, but what I later realized was that they unloaded it instead of starting it to wash. I found glasses in the cupboard with lip marks and plates with crumbs on them..it was horrible.  I had to scour the cupboards to find all of the dishes that were dirty and then rewash them. I dont know how they didnt notice the crumbs on the plates when they proceeded to put them away as if they were clean. Ugh. 

Secondly, this Sunday was our open house, and I decided to start a couple of loads of laundry so that dirty clothes werent sitting in the bedroom. We had to leave the house before I got a chance to switch the last washer load to the dryer. And then I forgot that they were in there [my bad]...you know how wet clothes sitting in a washer for three days smells? Not good, not good at all. I forgot I had left them in there until I went into the dryer to get something and realized it smelled like puke. Considering we arent anything like Charlie Sheen's hedonistic [drunk, puking] character on Two and a Half Men, I realized they had just taken those clothes that were sitting in the washer and put them in the dryer. Could they not smell them?? I mean really, how is this possible. So I asked them to rewash the clothes that were in the dryer, and I come home to find clothes in our dresser and closet that still smell like puke!! Apparently they put them back in the wash with no detergent and then dried them. Again, I have no idea how they didnt smell the situation that was going on. Which brings me to today, again scouring our closets and dressers for all the unclean clothing and doing it again myself. 

So to straighten out the loose ends of my rant, I have no problem doing my own dishes and laundry, I actually prefer it. But having the amazing husband that I do, he wants to make things easier on me by having hired help twice a month. But they make life more difficult and frustrating. Thats it, I'm done bitching, but tell me I'm not crazy and this is ridiculousness?!  Thank you and again I apologize for the uncharacteristic snobbery. 

I feel so responsible to brighten things up a bit, here's a video that we watch daily, it's that fantastic. You're welcome :) 

the things we find..

As mentioned a few days ago, the Mr. has sprouted a green thumb. He's been fixing up the backyard and the front, and yesterday I hear "Babe! Come look at what I found!" Expecting to see a chest full of gold medallions or a buried treasure map, I was quite surprised and totally geeked out about this natural history museum status discovery...

...okay maybe not museum status, we're guessing it's a squirrel. But I'm used to catching them like this...

Packing [slash] organizing inside the house -- which is my realm of duty these days -- has had it's own discoveries. I found a $100 Bloomingdales gift card in a purse I havent used in months, that I had suspected the cleaning ladies of taking. I'm horrible. I have also found myself becoming more and more sarcastic. But that's who I am -- a bit rough, a bit inapropriate, I guess much like a pirate, and all is escalated when we play Halo & Gears of War-- but anyway, I found these questions I think are really valuable to get you in a positive place and have really helped me, but amidst the task I think otherwise. 

"What am I most proud of in my life right now?" 

[The fact that I finished all those cheese and crackers from last nights meeting.]

"How has today added to the quality of my life?" 

[I am now that much more sore and ready to ditch everything just so I don't have to pack it -- well except for those mini Buddha statues that I love, oh and that sweater, and those vases...okay shit, I can't let go.] 

The weather is beautiful,  I want to be running through a field...naked...taking pictures of butterflies...chewing on grass...wearing a straw hat. Or..not, but apparently thats my stereotypical view of a hippy/free spirited/person nakedly taking pictures of butterflies while running through a field.

In reality -- which I am more and more often losing track of-- I want to be in a sun dress on a hammock with my husband and a glass of peach raspberry crystal light while snacking on Crumbs black bottom cheesecake brownie cupcakes. That is bliss.

Oh bliss I yearn for you.