My Big Mistake and How Zooey Deschanel Saved Me

I really blew it last weekend.

Here's the thing.  I'm never going to tell you a story about how I fought with someone and how it was all their fault and how I was completely blameless.  The truth is I have a big mouth.  Even if I hadn't started the fight, I want to finish it.  And even when I don't want to finish it, I've certainly said something to continue it.

I guess last Saturday I wanted to fight.

First I got up early and decided to go Christmas shopping.  I kissed Hubby good-bye at 9 AM while he was still in bed.  He asked when I would be home and I told him that I would be home for lunch.  I went on my merry way and knocked out some serious Christmas shopping.  Just after 1 PM, I headed back to my car and started to head home.  At 1:23 PM, I noticed that I missed a call from Hubby at 1:14 PM.  I thought, "Oh, he must be getting hungry. I'll call him real quick and let him know that I'm on my way home."  When he answered, I could hear a lot of noise in the background.  When I asked where he was, he told me that he went out for lunch because he was tired of waiting for me.  Tired of waiting for me?  It took me nine minutes to call him back.  Well, I was pretty pissed and I ended up hanging up on him (I'm also not the most mature fighter).

My issue with that was that he didn't call me at 1:14 to see where I was.  He called me to tell me he was going out to lunch even though I told him I'd be home for it.  He doesn't think about how I'm not telepathic and didn't know that he'd been hungry for an hour beforehand.  I thought it was rather selfish that he called and then ran out the door.

I sat around waiting for him for a couple of hours while he ran errands.  I confronted him when he came home.  And, no, this is not the part of the story that is referring to when I really screwed up.  I stand by my reaction to him doing that.  He tried to blame it on a "miscommunication". No, I communicated accurately that I would be home for lunch. He chose to ignore that and went to lunch when he got hungry.

This was a little thing.  We talked about it and it went away (sort of).

We picked out a Christmas tree that evening but Hubby wasn't in the mood to decorate it.  So we put it up and plopped ourselves down on the couch.  After a couple of hours, we decided to go out to dinner.

We went to a restaurant that had a special strawberry rum drink on their menu.  I ordered one.  Please note: I do not drink that often, so my tolerance is low.

I started drinking and it was delicious. I offered Hubby a sip and he was stunned by how strong it was.  Immediate issue: I hadn't noticed.  I sucked down my drink and was definitely feeling it when we left.

In the car ride home, I started harping on him about how he buys my Christmas gifts a year late.  I guess you'll need a little back story for this.  Here it goes:

When I first moved to Houston in the fall of 2008, we were not going to have a TV in the bedroom.  This would be the first time since I was about five that I didn't have a TV in my bedroom.  I had made comments about it when I originally moved, but I got over it pretty fast.  We lived in a little apartment and now that I had someone to go to bed with, it really didn't seem necessary.  For Christmas 2009, I really wanted a DSLR camera.  Like, really badly.  Hubby had asked what I wanted for Christmas and this is a direct quote of how I responded, "I really want a camera.  Please don't get me anything other than a camera.  All I want is a camera. It's going to be expensive so please don't get me anything other than a camera."  That Christmas there was a box, about the size of a camera under the tree.  I was excited for days leading up to it so that I could open my camera.  When I opened it, it was a TV remote.  He had bought me a TV for Christmas.  Well, I was certainly surprised....

Last year, I had asked Hubby to get me a really nice standing jewelry box.  I wanted the kind that was like a piece of furniture.  But, after talking about how much money we had spent already for the season, we decided that that was going to be too expensive.  So he didn't get one for me.  Although, I have to say, once he started spending, he definitely spent that kind of money on me.  Anyway, I received a gift from my mother a few days ago.  She does everything early.  It was a jewelry box.  When I called her to thank her, she said 'A little birdie told me that you wanted that.'  I laughed because that was last year.

I know. I know.  I sound super materialistic with this sidebar, but please realize that I'm not a stereotypical woman.  I do not drop hints at what I want and then act disappointed when I don't get what I want.  He always says that it's so hard to buy me presents--FYI that's ridiculous.  Spend five minutes in a mall and anyone that has ever met me can spend about $100 that quickly. I'm super easy to buy for.  So to help him out, I tell him what I want.  He doesn't get it and then he complains about how hard I am to shop for.  I couldn't imagine how he would have handled being with one of those women that just hint at things and expect their husband to be a mind reader.

End of sidebar.

So back to last Saturday.  We were in the car on our way home.  I was drunk from one drink.  I started harping on Hubby about how my presents are always a year late.  He says something like "See why I get stressed out about what to get you."  Then I start yelling that it's not hard to get me presents because I tell him what to get me, but he makes it impossible.

Then I want yogurt so I make him stop.  But he doesn't want yogurt so he pouts about it.  I don't want to sit with him pouting so I yell in the parking lot to get back in the car.  And then this is where I really blew it (trust me, I was not at my finest in the moments leading up to this but it gets worse).

I start yelling at him in the car that I'm sick of not telling him things because it will damage his sensitive ego.  I screamed about all the things that bother me that I never talk about.  I yelled about his Christmas decorations, I yelled about issues in the bedroom, I yelled about assorted little things that I had been keeping to myself for a reason.  Individually, hearing each one probably wouldn't have been so bad.  But hearing all of them at once.  I don't know if there's a word strong enough to describe how mean I was, and Bitch certainly isn't going to cut it.

We got home and Hubby remained calm.  He parked himself in front of the TV and I lost it again. I was screaming for him to get out of my face (in my defense--the little that I can make for this case--I wanted him to leave the room not the house). I continued yelling until he left.

Pretty much as soon as I heard the door close behind him, I thought, "What just happened?"

I waited a little while and then I got in my car and went to the pool hall he usually goes to.  He wasn't there. I called him. I said "I'm sorry."  He said that he went for a drive.  I waited, not patiently, for him to get home. I apologized again when he got home.  I really felt terrible.  I don't often apologize, sometimes even when I know I'm wrong.  But this was worse than just wrong.

Things weren't right with us for a few days.  We were speaking but it wasn't right.  I felt awful every day until it was.  He's not easy to make a nice gesture for to fix everything.  He's not a big eater so I couldn't make him a dinner to come home to.  I thought about maybe making spicing it up in the bedroom but even that I knew couldn't fix anything.  As upset as he was, it was very likely I would have been rejected and I just couldn't handle that.

On a lighter note, he did come around Tuesday night after we watched New Girl.  Zooey Deschanel is his major celebrity crush.  I finally heard him start to laugh while we watched the episode, and then when it was over, he asked, "Do we still have that Conan she was on last week?"  So we watched that.  After that much Zooey, he was over it.  He was back to his normal self, chewing my ear off as we got ready for bed and as we laid in bed trying to go to sleep.  So now I know.  When having a major fight with Hubby, always have a Zooey show/movie on hand.  I think I'm going to run out and buy (500) Days of Summer.

Back from NJ

The following is an accurate list of every city/town I made it to while on my trip to NJ from November 19 at about 1 PM EST to November 26 at 9 AM EST:

Newark - Plainfield - Madison - Cranford - Metuchen - Plainfield - Chatham - Summit - Chatham - Metuchen - Plainfield - Brooklyn - Clark - Cranford - East Rutherford - Plainfield - Fanwood - Union - Newark - Scotch Plains - Asbury Park - Scotch Plains - Plainfield - Manhattan - Fords - Cranford - Roselle Park - Cranford - Kenilworth - Cranford - Old Bridge - Garwood - Plainfield - Westfield - Cranford - Garwood - Piscataway - Matawan - Sayreville - Clark - Cranford - Newark

It was crazy but it was a blast.  I miss NJ so much.  I knew this would happen.  I knew that if I went home for an extended period of time that my homesickness would come back with a vengeance.

Other than missing being a heartbeat away from the greatest city in the world and the 'burbs I once knew like the back of my hand, this trip made me genuinely miss the support system I had there.  And this is going to blow you away, I'm including Hubby's side of the family with that statement.

I miss watching football on Sunday with my dad.

I miss having friends that I can just call on a whim and go shopping or go grab a bite to eat with them.

I miss monthly game nights with a group of friends that made me laugh until my stomach hurt.

I miss running into people I know or once knew while at the store.  Although I do take full advantage of not having to worry about this here, and definitely run to the store in questionable attire/appearance.

I miss being there for life changing events in friends and family's lives.  I have one friend that is engaged and two that are pregnant.  I want to be there for these moments, and not just the big ones.  I want to be there for all the little steps along the way.

So we have a big beautiful house here.  Trust me, it's big and beautiful.  Something that I could have never imagined owning in NJ.  But is it worth giving all that up?

After over three years here, sometimes I still feel very alone.

And that's your Debbie Downer Thursday post.........

Heading Home for the Holiday

We're going to NJ tomorrow!!!

This will of course lead to an inevitable, "I'm homesick" post once we get back.

My head is already spinning.  We basically have plans for nearly every minute of every day we're in NJ.  We'll be there for a week.

I've been working hard to lose weight and have even lost some (and by some, I mean something worth bragging about).  I'm trying my best to go into this with the right state of mind.  Yes, I may gain some weight.  It's okay.  If I don't say that, it's a slippery slope from there.  It's okay if I gain some weight.  I will be sure to make the best decisions I can while I'm away.

FYI, I fully intend to OD on bread, sandwiches, and pizza.  Can you figure out why I already know that I'll gain some weight?

Anyway, I'm super excited to be going home for the holiday.  I haven't been home for Thanksgiving since 2008--that's pretty wild for someone that never strayed too far from home until 2008.

I'm super nervous because I have a really terrible relationship with my MIL.  In fact, I'm so nervous about how that will go over the next week (and then the month after that because she doesn't tend to let you know that she's upset and if she does it's not for weeks after), I just threw up in my mouth a little. Awesome.  My MIL stories are for another time, and there are plenty.  Let's just say that one of the last Thanksgivings I spent with her she told my mother that I was a bitch and everyone that would listen that Hubby (then boyfriend) and I should see other people. Did I mention Awesome?

So I'm sure I'll come back with lots of juicy stories.  I'll even try to write while I'm away.  Although, I'm not making any promises.  I typically only write once a week as it is.

Wish me luck and if I'm not back before Thanksgiving, Happy Turkey Day, GOBBLE GOBBLE!

Can You Please Bring Dinner to My Party?

Have you ever been invited to someone's house and have them ask you to bring dinner?

No?

Well, as of this week, I have.

We have these friends that Hubby went to college with.  They're a lovely couple except that they're low talkers and the husband is a bit of a know-it-all.  Although, if you already know this about him, you sort of know what you're getting yourself into when hanging out with him and it's not that big of deal.  My only other complaint is that the husband can be a little socially, umm, retarded.

I'll tell you though, he's an engineer.  And as a woman who married an engineer and has A LOT of engineers walk in and out of her life, I am well aware that they can be a bit socially awkward.  Luckily, Hubby is on the lesser end of the socially awkward spectrum, but he sure has his moments.

Well, this guy falls a little further on the spectrum.  He's completely harmless and I get that. He's a little exhausting but I know plenty of people that I can say that for.

But then this week, he stole the cake.

He nicely invited us over to watch Hubby's college play a pretty big game that for a change was being nationally televised.  I accepted for us and made the mistake of asking if we should bring anything.

Before I get to what we were asked, let me tell you this.  This guy always makes very specific requests.  Hubby and I typically get a good laugh out of it.  One time, we asked this question and we were told to bring guacamole. Not, bring some dip or bring something to snack on before dinner.  It was "Stop and pick up some guacamole." Again, let me be clear.  He wasn't asking us to make some of my "famous guacamole that everyone just raves about" because a) that doesn't really exist--although I do make it and it is delicious and b) we received this request as we were walking out of the door.

So back to this time, I asked the question and his response was (paraphrased) "Wings would be nice. We're going to make that cheese dip that [Hubby] likes."

Umm, did he really just say "Bring dinner and we'll have one snack here that your husband likes but that you don't"?  I was stunned.  I was just asked to provide dinner for someone else's get together.

Something you should know about me. I love to host.  And I mean LOVE it.  Every reason there is to get everyone to my home, I will gladly do it.  I always cook enough for an army (true) and my Hubby always has enough to drink for an army.  I will have something of everything because my big [hosting] fear is that someone will leave my house hungry.  People ask me if they can bring anything when the come over but they always already know the answer. No, I'll have plenty of food.

The funny part is that this guy NEVER has enough food to feed half the amount of people that are at his house.  I guess his big [hosting] fear is to have leftovers.  I had already planned to have dinner before we went over and when Hubby asked why, he quickly agreed when I told him there was no chance they'd have enough food.

But then, I got the request. "Can you please bring dinner to my party?" Nuts. Just nuts.

Well, as an awesome host and a spiteful person, I refused to bring it.  I told him we were going to eat dinner before and I was just wondering if he wanted us to bring any game time snacks.  I never heard back from him. I'm sure there were some words spoken about me behind my back. OH WELL. They aren't the first and they won't be the last.

There's a [Slight] Chance I [May] Have Figured Out What I Want to Be When I Grow Up [Maybe]

I did it! I did it!

Last weekend, I was a wedding planner. And it was awesome!

As mentioned in previous posts, since I was a teenager I aspired to be like Jennifer Lopez.  Well, Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner.  Although, my behind has always been a little JLo.

I digress.

I'm not sure if I mentioned it before but my last job was awful.  I was very miserable in the role and honestly, I was knocking on depression's door.  I had to do something to get out, so I figured I'd do something to put me in the direction of my dream.  I posted an ad on CraigsList and laid all my cards on the table.  I had little experience beyond planning my own wedding but if someone would take a chance on me, I would plan their wedding for free.

I got a call.

I knew from the beginning this was a really great situation for me.  I spoke with Bride originally in March and she sounded super organized. Actually, she sounded a lot like me.  She didn't want to give up any part of the wedding planning but recognized she needed help staying organized on the day of her wedding.  That's where I would come in.  Her wedding wasn't until November but I offered to help her every way that I could in the meantime.

I met her a couple of times in September and October so that we could figure out how the day should go.  I created a timeline.  Even just that felt like such a great accomplishment.  I was doing it!

Last Friday afternoon, I headed to Houston to attend the rehearsal.  I was out of my element there.  Everyone in the wedding had these big personalities and their were small children running wild in the church--this was one of the reasons I did NOT have small children in my wedding.  The truth was I really went because I wanted to get a feel for it.  Chances were I wasn't going to be at the church for the ceremony.  There was a chance that I would be able to stop by while the women were getting ready but beyond that it was in the wedding party's hands.

I woke up on Saturday at 6:30 AM, earlier than I do on a work day.  I showered, got ready (I only every do my makeup on occasions I think I need to look like a grown up), and ate a filling breakfast.  I grabbed my AWESOME emergency kit that I put together the night before and away I went.

I made it to the reception hall at 9 AM moments before Bride.  It was a really neat venue, an old fire station converted into a hall.  There was a large piece of plywood where there should be a beautiful custom door.  It was in the center of the room where the cocktail hour was to be held.  And in my first moments as a wedding planner, I had a bride have a meltdown.

I didn't have to face the meltdown on my own.  There was a group of Bride's friends there to help decorate.  Together we all talked her off the ledge.  We began decorating.  Bride was so organized and had such a great eye for party decorations.  We put everything out as she had designated.

When we were done decorating the downstairs room, one of the women who had worked at the venue had someone come and drape cloth over the plywood.  While this wasn't a wonderful fix, it took away attention from it and Bride was satisfied with the solution.

We headed upstairs and began decorating the reception room.  We did everything from the linens to the floral arrangements.  It all looked beautiful!

As we were wrapping it up, Bride mentioned that she had to run to Kinko's to get the signs made for the reception. Whaaaat?? I explained to her that was why I was there.  It took some convincing but she handed this task over to me.  Yes, one of my first successes as a wedding planner.

Away the bridal party went to lunch and away I went to Kinko's.

I stopped in on the bride while she was getting her hair done.  Then I went back to the reception hall and began meeting all the vendors.

First, the baker arrived and delivered the cake.

Second, the DJ arrived.

Third, the photographer arrived.

Finally, I ran to get a bite to eat.  No matter how busy I am, I never miss a meal!  I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner on my wedding day even when everyone told me I wouldn't get a bite. Yeah, those people don't know me.

I came back to the reception hall to meet the caterer at 4 PM.

4:05 PM No caterer

4:10 PM I called the number I had for the caterer.  No answer.  I left a message politely asking if they needed directions.

4:15 PM I began to panic.  See, I had trouble getting a hold of the caterer to confirm they were coming.  When I Googled the company, it came up that the owner marked the business as closed.  But she called and confirmed earlier that week so I disregarded what came up in the Google search.  I was NOT prepared to deal with the caterer not showing up for my very first wedding. Pure panic.

4:25 PM A young man came in and told me that he was one of the waiters and the caterer was on her way.

PHEW!!!

Late, but phew!

I never made it to the church because I had to essentially babysit the caterer.  But that's what I signed up for, right?  When needed, I will be a babysitter for whoever needs it.

At the stroke of 6 PM, guests began to arrive for the cocktail hour.  AND IT BEGAN!

Everything went relatively smoothly.  At one point, I had to run out and get plastic knives.  Overall the caterer was a disaster.  Right down to that they did not bring any knives.  As I was LITERALLY running into Kroger, I thought, "Yeah, I LOVE this."

At the end of the night, a group of friends, family, and I cleaned everything up.  By this point, I was exhausted.  I panicked one last time. I thought it would take us hours to get everything cleaned up and packed away in their cars.  But I pulled myself together and began working as fast as I could.  In just an hour, we had everything cleaned up and I made it home at about 12:45 AM.

Long day but totally worth it.

So this experiment worked.  I loved it! I just have to figure out how to get more clients now.  I'm on it!

I Still Have Plenty of Time Before the Trick-or-Treaters Get Here

Let me start with this: What is wrong with kids these days??

When I first found out that I got to dress up in anything I could imagine (SCORE!) and people would give me candy (DOUBLE SCORE!!), it went pretty much something like when Fez found out on That 70s show.

I went ToT-ing all through high school.  In fact, the last time I went ToT-ing, I was 24. Yes, you read that right.  I had an awesome costume and the kids I was walking with barely dressed up.  Since I deserved the candy way more than they did, I started going to the doors with them.  Absolutely one of my finest moments.  See below.

 I mean really, it would have been a shame to NOT go ToT-ing with this costume.

So, back to kids these days.  I don't know if it has something to do with relocating and it's actually Texas kids or if it has to do with the generation, but here are some of my pet peeves about ToT-ers these days/here in Texas:

1. NJ had a snow storm this weekend.  Although this is rare, I remember it being SUPER cold on Halloween.  This always put a damper on costume selection.  What's going to look good with a TON of layers underneath?  Also, it has to still look good without the layers because I have to wear it to school too.  The current temperature in Houston is 70 degrees and the sun is shining.  This is literally what I would have dreamed about when I was a kid.  It is now 5:30. No ToT-ers. LAME

Note to kids: To maximize the amount of candy, and isn't that what it's REALLY all about, the earlier you start, the more houses you hit, the more candy you get. That's just simple math.

2. Before we lived in our house in Texas, we lived in an apartment just a few miles up the road in the next town over.  My first Halloween in Houston went something like this (keep in mind I was unemployed at the time): Hubby warned me that we wouldn't get any ToT-ers. I insisted this was true of his first Halloween here because he must have been working late, and he missed them.  I bought a ton of candy and waited anxiously all day--sort of like kids do to go ToT-ing but I was just really looking forward to getting to see the kids in their costumes.  Finally at about 3:30 or so, the school bus pulled up to the front of the complex.  Our apartment was in front so I always knew when the kids were coming or going. I watched again anxiously as the kids got off the bus in their costumes.  Then I sat and waited by the door.  And then waited some more.  And then some more.  By the time Hubby came home at 6:00, not a single ToT-er came to the house and he found me alone on the couch with the candy bowl almost in tears.  I think if you could hear my heart that day it snapped something like a Kit-Kat bar.

Note to kids: Apartments are the MOTHERLOAD.  There are more doors in a smaller area.  This means MORE candy and LESS working for it. Again, SIMPLE MATH!

I was soon told that Texans do not ToT in apartments.  Apparently, the kids here are pretty snobby and don't think they'll get good enough candy slumming it in the poor apartments.  They travel to neighborhoods to get their candy.

3. Fast forward to two years later.  I was super excited for our first Halloween in our house.  We live in a beautiful big neighborhood.  I was sure this was going to be so terrific that it would make up for the last 2 years.  Halloween was a Sunday and just like this year, the weather was gorgeous.  When Halloween fell on the weekend when I was a kid, I spent most of the day begging my mother to let me start and then I'd inevitably go out early in the afternoon.  See note: the earlier you leave the more candy you get.  Each hour passed by and not a single kid. I eventually brought my candy bowl outside with me and sat on our front stoop.  Hubby yelled at me to get back in the house.  He said I was looking desperate. 

This is when I learned that kids in Texas do not ToT until after dark.  I know. I know. I sound like a broken record.  But those are precious hours that these children could have been getting FREE candy.  It's FREE. ABSOLUTELY FREE. I feel like no one told these kids this.

See last year, I made plans to go out in the evening.  I mean Halloween was on a Sunday for Pete's sake! I assumed I'd be out of candy by 4 o'clock.  I begged my friend to put her BIRTHDAY dinner on hold for an hour so I could see a couple of kids and she obliged.  I saw about five all together.  I never left the front stoop.

This year I'm not going anywhere.  Hopefully, this will be my year.  I went to Sam's Club and bought full size candy bars.  I'm hoping the word will spread and my house will be THE place to stop. 

Fingers crossed!

To Be or Not to Be... Religious, That Is

Is anyone else out there going through an identity crisis?  Be it a mid-life crisis, quarter-life crisis, teenage identity crisis.... Wow, I just realized there are a lot of times in life that you can go through an identity crisis.

Well, as you've probably figured out (either by accurately reading that last part or by reading other posts I have written), I am 28 and going through an identity crisis.  I guess it's a quarter-life (give or take) crisis.

I suspect it has a lot to do with uprooting myself from the only place I called home, New Jersey, and in turn, was one way I genuinely identified myself.  I am a Jersey Girl, through and through.  Trust me when I tell you I'm not just saying this.  I was the girl that was never going to leave.  When I told friends and family that I had made the decision to move to Texas, they weren't just sad to see me go, they were legitimately shocked that I would leave.  Sure I say, I'm a Jersey Girl misplaced, but I often have a difficult time fully grasping this concept.

The reason I bring this up today is because Hubby and I had a conversation about religion last weekend.  

Didn't see that coming, huh? So, yes, I will discuss religion in my blog.  Probably not politics as I don't feel I'm educated enough on the topic.  Any other taboos I should cover?

Religion is something I've always struggled with.  My parents never really forced me to go to church.  I was baptized and there was a stint where I attended Sunday school, but beyond that, it wasn't a big part of my upbringing.  We never even said Grace at the Christmas dinner table.  Oh, don't forget my father was raised Muslim but had pretty much abandoned it by the time I came around.

My best friend was "very Christian" and even went to a Christian school from K-12.  I dated a Jehovah's Witness in high school--something I would not recommend for a high school student unless your beliefs are the same.  And, let's be honest, I grew up in NJ so Catholicism was all around me. 

And with this all around me, I just couldn't identify myself with any of it.  In an attempt to learn as much as I could, I decided to earn a Religion minor in college.  Honestly, could there be a more fascinating academic subject?

To me, religion was supposed to be something that came from your heart.  I have faith.  I believe in a higher power.  I'm just not so sure about all the extra stuff that comes along with organized religion.  For most of Christianity, you're taught strict lists of right and wrong.  There is a list of what-to-do and what-not-to-do.  Now if you believe, you can slip up and do what's on the not-to-do list.  And as long as you feel sorry/shame because of it and give yourself entirely to your faith, all is forgiven.

I'm okay with this for some things. I can understand deserving a second chance.

What I can't understand it for are the big things.  I can't understand how rape and murder, for instance, can all be forgiven just because someone says "Whoops. Shouldn't have done that."  To me, this means someone that accepts these teachings but say, killed 10 people including children on a shooting spree gets to go to Heaven and I go to Hell.  I never committed any heinous acts.  I just questioned the religious system that's in place.  That is just too unbelievable to me.

Remember, I've grown up in a time when priests sexually abused little boys, men crashed planes into skyscrapers, and extremists have set off bombs at abortion clinics.  And all these things were in the name of their Lord.

Hubby went to a Christian school for grades 7-12.  There is a part of him that identifies with that but he doesn't always live it.  He hasn't gone to church regularly in over 10 years.  I know he feels guilty about it.

But to me that is a direct consequence of organized religion.  He doesn't just wake up Sunday morning and go.  No, he pines about it and internally struggles with it and inevitably feels guilt, even though he's living a good life in so many other ways.

We've talked on several occasions about what to do with our children.  You see, I feel completely comfortable with my beliefs for me, but I am never certain what I should do with my children.  I hate the idea of them not embracing religion because I don't and never took them.  But I also hate the idea of them essentially being brainwashed, just regurgitating things they heard at church and never actually exploring and understanding it.

Religion can be such a beautiful thing.  I truly believe that.  In my opinion, it's human nature to need something to turn to in time of crisis and religion fits that bill beautifully.  We have friends that suffered one of the most awful things I think anyone can suffer, the loss of a child.  These friends also have incredible, and what seems to be unbreakable, faith.  They had this community they could turn to in their time of need.  They truly believe this all happened as part of God's plan.  That is so good... for them.

I do believe in it's most genuine form, it's a wonderful thing.  I just really don't know where I fall into all of this.

So Hubby is considering going back to church.  But my biggest fear right now is in regards to this identity crisis I'm having.  I wouldn't want to go with him to support him and be swept away into it all because of what I'm internally struggling with.  Or vice versa, I wouldn't want to bash it and not accept anything that is said based on the fact that I'm just questioning everything right now.  I know Hubby thinks this is just a cop out and for someone that just accepts religion as is, I can't really blame him for thinking that.  But to me, I want religion and faith to be natural.  I don't want it to be a chore or something I'm guilted into. I'd like to have that beautiful relationship with it, but I can't be sure if it's just not the right time or if it's not in me at all.

Misadventures in Playing with my Dogs

After work yesterday, all I wanted to do was watch Sports Night streaming on Netflix. To start from the beginning, I have recently accepted that I have a thing for Aaron Sorkin.  It all started with a show called Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.  I LOVED that show.  But, it only lasted one season--side note: this also began my love/hate relationship with NBC. 

I didn't think much about Sorkin again for several years.  Actually, it wasn't until last year to be exact.  See my favorite movie of the 2010 was The Social Network, screenplay by Aaron Sorkin.  I recognized the love I had for that movie.  It was the same I had for Studio 60. 

So, I did the next logical thing anyone my age would do.  I Googled him.  I come to find out that Sorkin also wrote A Few Good Men. Interesting. I already knew about West Wing.  But then, I see he wrote one of my favorite movies that I've loved for years, The American President.  When I was a teenager, I used to watch this movie over and over again. 

This weekend we saw Moneyball.  I've wanted to see this movie since the first time I saw the preview.  And yes, I wanted to see it even though I am a loyal NY Yankees fan.  I love me some true stories.  Well, this movie was terrific and then, as the credits rolled, I saw why I enjoyed it so much. "Screenplay by Aaron Sorkin" Of course.

Now, I'm hooked and determined to watch anything his name is tied to, starting with Sports Night, a show I've always read really good things about.

This is where the misadventure starts:

As I was sitting down to put it on, Nikki started crying.  She wanted me to play with her.  Fair enough.  I grabbed my camera (See Below) and went outside with the girls. We played frisbee until the girls were pooped.  We turned around to go inside and [please pause for drama effect] the door was locked. Awesome. All I brought outside with me was my trusty camera which in the case, does NOT make phone calls.

I walked around to the garage and was able to open it this time (you may remember this time when I locked myself out and COULDN'T open the garage).  Walked over to wear I thought the key was hidden, but quickly realized I had NO idea wear it was hidden.  I poked around my husband's stuff for a little bit, quickly noticing some little animal droppings.  Terrified that if I moved anything something would jump out at me, I barely disrupted anything.  Defeated, I walked back into the backyard and continued playing with the girls.

After playing with them for another 10 minutes or so, I realized Hubby could either be home any minute or he could just be leaving work--he's in a very busy time at work, so when he gets home has been pretty unpredictable.  I didn't want to be stuck outside if he hadn't left work yet.  So, braless and barefoot, I walked to my neighbors house, whom I barely know and really have only met twice for about 2 minutes each time.

First, while standing at their door waiting for them to answer, I got eaten alive by mosquitoes.  Since we have our yard sprayed, I forget how serious the mosquitoes are.  Then she came to the door and immediately started telling me how she was going to come over and get me. Whaaat? Didn't realize we were friends and that there'd ever be a reason to come get me (a post is definitely coming about my neighborhood and how no one talks/knows each other here). Okay.

So I asked to use her phone. Her husband never greeted  me. Her kids seem sweet but they were never introduced to me.  And I stand there, in all my braless glory, calling my husband (thank goodness I have his number memorized), while she stands there and anxiously waits for me to hang up.

See, she was "coming over to get me" because she was just about finished turning her house into a haunted house.  Last year, while decorating for Halloween, I met her in our front yard.  She told me how she converts part of the house into a haunted house for her daughter's birthday party every year.  I thought that was pretty cool.  She said that she'd come get me to see it when it was done but I didn't see her again until Christmas.

Then my neighbor began walking me through her haunted house.  She had black garbage bags hanging from the walls and all these scary props.  As we walked further in, it got darker and darker. And I realized, I don't know this woman from a hole in the wall.  Just because you're living next to someone doesn't mean that they're good people.

I've seen the 'Burbs.

I've seen that Shia LaBeouf remake about the neighbor who is a serial killer.

Even Dexter has neighbors.

I could very well never come out of this "haunted house". Fantastic. All the ways I make sure I protect myself and lecture Hubby on how he fails, I've just walked into a trap...

How could I do this to myself?

What about all the things I've never gotten to do?

I'm still young with my entire life ahead of me!

I have no one to blame by myself! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Then we came out the other end and my panic subsided.  I guess the haunted house works.  Man, was I scared.

She let me go, although not without having me volunteer for our local historic society.  That woman's good. I have to say.  And away I went, just as I came, braless, barefoot, and getting eaten by mosquitoes.

In the end, I didn't get to watch Sports Night, but did get some quality time in with the girls.  Silver lining:  I got some cute pics while we were locked out. ENJOY!

Playing before we realized we were locked out.

How can you resist Stella's smiling?

 While locked out, we played until Nikki was pooped.

This little girl loves her frisbee, so it sure takes a lot to get her to that point.

After I realized we were locked out and I went to the neighbors house.

"Hey, Mom. Where are you going? We'll keep playing if you want."

<3

Maybe I Want to be a Wedding Planner When I Grow Up...

........................but don't hold me to that.


Sorry it's been a while.  I know this is a slippery slope so I'll make sure TWO weeks don't go by without a post again!  First, I didn't write anything because nothing interesting was happening to me and I didn't want to write a boring post with no direction (not that I haven't done that before).  Then, I got a little too busy and didn't write anything during my down time because I was too tired from what was going on that day.  In between all that, there were also times when I was just too lazy--have I ever mentioned that I'm typically brutally honest?  Well, in the spirit of my ever recurring theme of "What do I want to be when I grow up?", I'll pick up with a story from that:

Earlier this year, while I was still in my miserable dead-end job, I decided to post an ad on Craigslist.  Not one of those creepy ones,  but one offering free wedding planning services.  You see, I've always dreamed about what I would do if I won the lottery.  The problem is that I don't play the lottery.  Well, I've always dreamed about being a wedding planner. I've talked about it.  I've helped friends in planning theirs.  But beyond just talking, I never really did anything about it.

Then one night I figured, if I want to do this, I'm going to need experience.  And the only way someone's going to hire an inexperienced wedding planner (other than friends and family) was by offering the services for free.  This would give me an opportunity to test the waters, learn a little about it, and if I do well, possibly even begin getting a list of references.

Then I got a hit.  I actually got two but one of the weddings was during a time right smack in the middle of vacations, traveling, and visitors, so I had to turn that one down.  The other wasn't happening until the end of the year.

The original email from the client--yeah, I get to say that--was super professional and very organized.  We set up a time to speak shortly there after.  The conversation went well.  She seemed a lot like me.  A bit controlling about her wedding but really in need of help for the day of the festivities.  She had booked many vendors but really wasn't sure how she was going to handle them during the course of the day.  She said that was really how she needed my help.

Well, sign me up!  This seemed like a really good first opportunity.  This was a bride that absolutely knew what she wanted but just needed some help.  What a great way to get my feet wet.  I was so excited during the course of the call, that I forgot to ask the groom's name.  But no worries, I was sure to email her and ask.

I knew she had just started a new position at her company which was leaving her very little time for planning.  I reached out to her a couple of times via email but never heard anything back.  Then I got caught up in my job search and eventual switch.  We didn't communicate at all again until late August, when she called me and left a voicemail.  The issue at this point was I had NO IDEA who this message was from.  But when I called her back, she refreshed my memory--how embarrassing.

We decided to set up a meeting since the wedding was just a couple of months away but we never pinned down a time.  I followed up with an email. Nothing.

About a month later, I decided we really needed to meet, so I called her.  I was ready to put my foot down about a meeting time but didn't need to.  It was one of the first things out of her mouth, "Let's get together for lunch." So we did.  It was really exciting for me.  I really enjoyed meeting her and going over what the day is going to look like.  Then, at the end, she said something that really boosted my confidence, "After speaking to you, I feel so much better about the plans." Yup, I did that.  I made her feel better. Awesome.

So I worked on a minute-by-minute timeline, based on my wedding timeline that our coordinator did.  I emailed it off to her with some questions. And.... well, and I still haven't heard anything back from her and her wedding is in a few weeks.

So what I've learned so far in wedding planning:

1. Make sure to ask the groom's name.
2. Always CALL.

This whole thing is a learning process.  I'm not even sure at the end of it if this is really something I want to do, but I'm excited to give it a try.  Maybe there's a career change in my future... Maybe not.  Either way, it sure is fun to see what else is out there.

This could be me one day... minus the love drama of course.

Misadventures in Pleasures R Us

WARNING: This contains some adult content. Although, I'm not really sure just going to an adult store qualifies us as adults.  I mean really, we giggled at most things like teenagers.


A little insight about me: I'm totally fine with porn. Not too long after (now) Hubby turned 18 and I was visiting him at college, we made the exciting walk (yes, we were just freshman, so he wasn't allowed a car on campus yet) to an adult shop near his school.  This was the first time either of us had ever been to a place like this.  I can remember the feeling of how exciting it was to be doing something so grown-up.  I also remember getting carded when we walked in. That makes me laugh today.  We looked around, giggled at the toys, and settled on a dvd. You know, one with a plot.

We rushed back to the dorm to watch our new treasure. And here's the part that may make you judge me. We got back and (now) Hubby's roommate was in the room. It seemed totally logical to me to invite him to watch it with us. So, he did. So the three of us watched the porno together. Maybe because of that or maybe because I just really liked the guy, I'll always have a special place in my heart for him.  When the movie was over, well, let's just say we kicked the roommate out.

So, during our dating years, we watched our fair share of adult movies. There were more exciting times at adult stores. Some downloading on lap tops. Rest assure though, that was the first and only time we watched them with anyone else.

For some reason though, we really haven't done anything like that since I moved in with him in Texas three years ago.  There's been some soft-core late night cable TV stuff, but that's really it.

A few nights ago, Hubby said (this is a direct quote), "You know what I could go for? Some porn." And then proceeded to get the computer.  Laying in bed with the lap top watching dirty movies in bed with Hubby just seemed a little off to me. So I nixed the idea. It felt like we were in college--and while there is some excitement to those feelings usually, it wasn't doing it for me this time.

Well, yesterday, after Hubby came home to find that I mowed the lawn (that's for real, not an innuendo for anything), he said that I could pick what we did for the evening. I of course, picked one of my favorite restaurants with one of my favorite desserts and my favorite non-margarita drink.  After dinner we were heading back home, and it hit me, "Let's go to Pleasures R Us." Not the real name of the store but thought it made a cute name for my purposes. So we turned around and headed that way.

I've been to this place a couple of times. It's a lot of fun and at least in my experience, really doesn't have the sleazy feeling to it.  They have a lot of lingerie and things to dress up in, so it almost feels like a little dirtier VS.  So we looked around and giggled at some of the toys and packaging--I'm sorry, I just can't help it when I see "Crotchless".

I picked a little something out and then we headed to the videos.  Again, giggling ensued from both of us.  We were both being particular about our picks.  No fetish stuff, nothing that made me feel creepy (ie girls on the cover looking too young).  Hubby found a Superman parody that looked pretty good but would have cost an arm and a leg so we passed on that one.  Then we found a reasonably priced Taxi parody. Yes, Taxi, the beloved late 70s/early 80s sitcom starring Tony Danza, Danny Devito, and crew.

We headed to the register and checked out--quite excited about our find. When we got home, I opened our treat to find...no dvds inside. We just brought home an empty box. Awesome.  Disappointed, I called and they told me they had the discs.  It was already too late by then though. So I'll be heading there again today. I'll let you know how the storyline holds up compared to the sitcom.

I Can Cross That Off My Bucket List

First I have to add it to my bucket list and then I can cross it off.

Today I mowed the lawn for the very first time in my life.  I'm 28 years old.

In order to tell this tale, I'll have to back up a little bit.  Let's start with childhood.  Not only was I a spoiled only child, but I also had asthma.  So certain chores were off limits in my mother's eyes.  Dusting, vacuuming (dust allergy), and mowing the lawn (grass allergy), to name a few, were out of the question.  See, I was really sick from 1-5 years and my mother always feared I still had that in me.  As a teenager not wanting to do chores, I couldn't have agreed with her more.

As an adult, I've mostly lived in apartments which means mowing the lawn was again not my problem.  However, over a year ago, my husband and I moved into our first home.  We agreed that I would take care of the inside and he would take care of the outside.  But really, I hire someone to clean our house so Hubby kind of got the raw end of the deal.  But, while I've tried to encourage him a lot to hire someone for outside (you know, so I don't have to feel guilty about hiring someone for inside), he insists on doing it himself.  It's a pride thing and supposedly, he enjoys it.  After my experience today, I can only assume he is high while he does it.

So fast forward to about a month ago.  Hubby has been working shift work at the plant for turnaround.  What does this mean? A whole lot of crap I don't understand but mostly that he's working 12 hour days, 19 days at a time.  Since the days have been getting shorter, he is not getting home in time to do the lawn which recently became a bit of a nightmare to look at--sorry, neighbors.

Side bar: I have a neighbor across the street that literally spends days weeding her lawn by hand.  Needless to say, this woman already filed a complaint against us with the HOA.  Well, I don't know that for a fact but I know a complaint was put in and I know that she's crazy. So 2+2=4.  I was getting a little nervous that someone might say something to the HOA.  Heaven forbid, our neighbors actually talk to each other.  Rather than do the neighborly thing and come over to make sure everything's alright, their answer would be to report us. BUT I digress.

In order to avoid a potential complaint, Hubby came home early yesterday to mow the lawn.  But in typical Houston fashion (even dead smack in the middle of a record breaking drought), it started to down pour literally right as my husband walks through the door.  Now, he lost out on the overtime and he couldn't fix the lawn that I can tell he's starting to become ashamed of.

By the way, for the last week, I've been keeping an eye out for our neighbors' lawn services so that I could just ask them to run over the grass for us. Figured I could slip them some cash and it would only take 30 minutes or so, if that.  But of course, similar to cops, when I needed them, they were nowhere to be seen. Uggh.

Today, Hubby did the unthinkable.  He called me and told me to get prices for a lawn service. ::GASP::  I made a few calls, and quickly learned that the earliest I was going to get someone here was mid-week next week. The truth is the yard needed to be mowed last weekend. So these timelines, even if I get them to come then, weren't going to cut it.

So, in an effort to win Wife of the Year 2011, I put sneakers on and went into the garage to figure out this contraption they call a lawnmower. And the lawnmower won.  I could not figure out how the hell to turn that thing on. I rustled through his work bench to see if I could find the manual, but I couldn't.  I came inside and checked our filing cabinet for the manual, under Instruction Manuals of course. Nothing. I Googled it and the I YouTubed it.

With my new YouTube knowledge, I headed back outside to give it another try. Nope, still couldn't figure it out.  Then I nosed around his workbench a little more and found the manual! The manual was for 4 different models though so then I had to figure out which model we have.

Then I got it to start! YAY!

I went up a small strip of grass, made a circle, and then...

And then...

Then, it stalled and I couldn't get it to go back on. So I had one little patch of grass mowed in a design of course. And not one of those cool designs like on baseball fields. Just a little loop that I stared at and thought how Hubby would say, "Maybe next time you shouldn't try to help."

But then, after MANY tries and probably doing some damage to his precious lawnmower, I got it to go again. And I mowed until it stalled again.

This went on for the next hour and a half.  But I eventually got MOST of the front yard done--at least enough to avoid any complaints.

Did I mention it was 90 degrees outside today?  How about the fact that our air conditioning was broken?

I was pretty certain I was going to die. But I didn't. So I will be adding, 'Mowing the Lawn' to my bucket list, purely just so I may cross it off.

Wife of the Year better come with some serious jewelry.

Special Kinds of Friends

An old friend came to visit me last weekend.  I've known her since I was 12 years old.  We've lived in different zip codes since we were 18.  And yet, she's one of those friends that it doesn't matter how long it's been since the last time we saw/spoke to each other, we always pick up exactly where we left off. 

Do you have these kinds of friends?

I treasure these friends immensely.

This friend that came to visit me is not the only one that I have this special relationship with.  When I was 12 years old, my mother moved me (for the 5th time and for what she said would be the last time) to the town that I would later refer to as my hometown.

We moved in June.  I had left behind friends. Friends that I had met just nine months earlier when we moved to that town.  I spent summer pretty depressed--yes I'm using that word, because at 12, I dramatically thought my life was over.  I cried a lot that summer. I was terrified to have to start all over again. This was my 5th school district and I was only in 7th grade.

If I could only go back to that summer and whisper into my 12-year-old ear, "It's okay. You're about to begin friendships that will last a lifetime. You're about to pass notes to these girls and sign them LYLAS* and you will truly mean that for years and years to come."

When September rolled around, I started all over again. And many of the girls that I befriended that fall, I still count among my closest and most treasured friends.

It's not to say that I haven't met some pretty wonderful people since then.  But, no one can ever take the place of these girls in my heart.  We have a special bond and to be honest, I've talked about it with many of them too. So I know for a fact that I'm not the only one to feel that way--guess that really wouldn't be a very special bond if it was just me.

Sometimes I chalk it up to being together for those formative years. We went through our awkward phases together. We went through our bitchy phases together. We went through our silly phases together. And we all came out alive.

I can't count the amount of hours that we spent just hanging around in someone's basement, innocently laughing until our stomachs hurt. We grew up together. We experimented with who we were together. We experimented with who we were apart. And still, all these years later, we made it.

I know that you're supposed to feel lucky if you can count how many good friends you have on one hand. Somehow I can count how many good friends I've had since I was 12 on that one hand.

Amazing.


*LYLAS: Love You Like A Sister

The Day Not One But Two Friends Called With The Best News

Today was a good day.  I LOVED today!

It started as a regular day. I snoozed probably one too many times. Got to my office as quickly as I could--you know that room off the living room--and began my work day.  It's been a rough couple of days at work and I was facing how to handle those challenges first thing in the morning. 

My cell phone was dying so I plugged it in in the kitchen.  About a half hour later, I heard it beep the text message beep.  This was very exciting.  See, my phone goes off all day long for emails but most of my emails are from companies that I've signed up for the mailing list.  I rarely get personal emails and hardly ever get texts in the middle of the morning.

I got up and checked the message.  It was from a male friend of mine.  It read "Can u call me real fast on the dl Im [popping the] question today. On way to get ring n do it'.  I literally screamed--one of those moments it's really good that I work out of my home.

I of course called him immediately.  He was nervous, was telling me his ideas, and asking me what I thought he should do. Side note: Even someone who's only known me for 2 1/2 years knows that this is my area of expertise/interest and I should be the go-to. Love it! I talked to him for a few but I won't give away the details (his FIANCEE is one of the few people who know about this blog and it's not really my story to tell).

I worked and waited to hear back from him. I called my husband. I called my mother--who did not answer for the record. I tried desperately not to blurt it out over IM while the soon-to-be-popped-question-receiver and I chatted.  Probably another good reason I work from home because if I had this information and we still worked together, I'm not sure I could have hid how I was feeling. I tend to wear my feelings all over my face.

Eventually, around mid-afternoon I got the word. I did all my expected screaming. Shed a couple of tears. Did I mention I'm a sucker for love and weddings?  What a great day!

Later in the evening, after I thought it couldn't get any better, my friend that I grew up down the street from--one of the girls in my wedding--called me from the East Coast.  Before she could even get a word out, I tell her that I had been dreaming about her for TWO weeks.  It was true.  She had popped up in a bunch of my dreams.  I would be sitting at a table with a celebrity and on the other side of me there is my old friend.

She said, "Wow. Maybe you have some kind of intuition because I'm calling to tell you something. [Girlfriend's name] and I are getting married."

For the second time today, I screamed.  Shed a couple more tears. Then she couldn't understand me for a minute because I was yelling for her to tell me everything. The problem is when I get excited and start yelling I don't believe my cell phone can pick up my frequency. So I had to calm down a bit so she could tell me.

We spent the next hour catching up (it had been a while since we talked) and I did my best to get all the details (she's not really a detail kind of girl).

And there you have it.  One regular day turned into an AWESOME day where two friends that I love told me they were getting married.  What a great day. Now I can't wait to start helping them plan the weddings!

For my TV fan readers, here's my favorite.

My Magic Words

One of my close friends here has a no-fail way to get her to go out.  All you have to do is call her, tell her there will be alcohol, and that you'll come pick her up.  She can rarely resist.

Yesterday, we learned my magic words. Mutton Bustin'--AKA the greatest rodeo event EVER.

My friend called me in the middle of the afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to the Pasadena Rodeo.  And then she said my magic words.  See, her friends had small children and they would be entering in Mutton Bustin'. Even though I was laying on the couch, still groggy from my nap that I had just taken, I immediately responded 'yes'.

This Jersey Girl, who grew up going down the shore, taking the train into the city, and heading to diners in the middle of the night, LOVES the rodeo.  Since I've lived in Texas, I haven't missed the Houston Rodeo and each year I learn about these local ones and we head to those too.

 File photo. Houston Rode 2010. That's me ON the bull.

Three main components made me fall in love:

1. Mutton Bustin' (already mentioned)
2. Calf Scramble
3. Festival food

And, yes, in that order. 

Photos from Galveston County Rodeo 2010

 File photo.  Random adorable kid at the rodeo. 

I CANNOT wait to dress up my kids as cowboys/cowgirls.

 File photo. I love this pic because I feel like the bull's facial expression says it all.

File photo. Not the best shot but I still like it.

The many cowboy hats in the foreground,

and of course, the bull riding really makes it scream TEXAS!

Misadventures in Making Myself a Better Person

I've recently been making decisions to make myself a "better" person.  One of these things is to be more creative.  So, I enrolled in a photography class.

But it's me, so there was no way it could have gone smoothly.

I'm not taking the photography class anymore.  Yes, just a few posts ago, I wrote about how excited I was and today, I'm telling you I withdrew from the class.

The difference is that I went to the instructor's own website.  Don't ask why I didn't think to do this before.  I guess I just assumed the instructor would be talented.  I still strive today to be like my photography teachers and professors that I had while I was in the past.

I don't know if it's appropriate to share the photographer's website, especially since I'm about to say some not so great things about his work. So, I'll leave you with this image: Think about the shots you took when you were a kid. Heads were chopped off, fingers were in the way, etc. The "art" in those shots are comparable to the art that's displayed on this man's website.

So, I showed my friend that was taking the class with me the site. She too was shocked. We decided that there was no way we were going to be able to take this man's class seriously. We called to withdraw from the class.

My friend was on the phone for about 3-4 minutes. Withdrawn.

I called, requested to withdraw and the following 15-minute conversation ensued:

Note: ::Inner monologue::

School Rep: Why are you withdrawing?  
::Great. How can I put this delicately? Ummm, you're instructor's a joke::
Me: Well, I did some research on the instructor and found his personal website. I just don't think his work is in line with what I would like to do.
School Rep: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
School Rep: Can you hold for a minute?
Me: Sure.
Approximately 30 seconds of holding
School Rep: Do you mind speaking with the instructor's boss?
Me: Sure ::Great. This is escalating. This could only happen to me::

Head of Dept: Hello.
::Yes, this is how he started. I thought, is he going to say something? Does he know why I'm on the phone with him?::
Me: Hi, this is blah blah. I was speaking to the representative to withdraw from the photography class.
Head of Dept: Would you mind explaining to me why you're withdrawing?
Me: Well, I came across the instructors website and just don't think that his work is in line with what I would like to do with my photography.
Head of Dept: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
Head of Dept: mumble mumble mumble ::I could tell he wasn't on the right site, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.::
Me: So, you see how most of his work is just point-and-shoot, right? This just isn't the type of class I was looking for.
Head of Dept: What kind of class were you looking for?
Me: I was expecting a class that was more, ummm, artsy. ::How can I delicately put that this photographer's work is not as good as mine? I'm hoping to learn in my class not teach the instructor::
Head of Dept: Oh, well. So-and-so is a renowned Houston photographer.
Me: Well, I assume he's putting his best work on the website and this just isn't something I was looking for. I have a camera worth a $1000 and want to learn the proper way to shoot with it. ::He has his camera set to all auto-settings and he's just framing the shot in the center and clicking a button! He would produce the same work with one of those disposable cameras::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well, thanks for letting me know.


10 minutes later my phone rings.
Head of Dept: Hi, I just wanted to let you know that the photographer's website is blahblahblah.com.
Me: Yes, I know. That's the site I was on. ::I KNEW IT! I could tell he was on the wrong site. I can't believe he's calling me back thinking that this work is better? Do not even want to see what site he was on before::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well sorry for bothering you.

Rather than just leaving it there, I decided I was going to be "helpful". To do this, I emailed him a list of sites of photographers I like and those that I have hired.  I assumed he would see the VAST difference in technique and just drop it.  I explained that I aspired to be like photographers I would hire.

He wrote back and said that the photographer takes his students out of the classroom and shoots with them.  He also thought a conversation with the instructor would help.  Whaaaat? How do either of those things make a difference? The photographers I sent have beautiful skills and technique. This guy's taking shots I took when I was 7.

After all these attempts, he wasn't getting it.  So in my final email, I had to come out and say it. I just didn't like his work.  I couldn't take a class where I didn't respect the instructor's work PERIOD

So now my husband thinks I'm a quitter--did I mention he doesn't have an artful eye? Even showing him the photographer's website all he could say was "Does he only shoot women?" Ahh, my husband. So insightful.

I'm keeping my eyes open for another class but also picked up a very thorough instruction book. I might just start assigning myself some projects and see how they go.

So in typical Chubby Transplant fashion, MISSION: TEMPORARILY ON HOLD DUE TO RIDICULOUSNESS AROUND ME

My 9/11

Now's there's tears on the pillow

Darlin' where we slept

And you took my heart when you left

Without your sweet kiss

My soul is lost, my friend

Tell me how do I begin again?

My city's in ruins

My city's in ruins

My City of Ruins -Bruce Springsteen

 
Sometimes I wonder if 9/11 shouldn't have affected me as much as it did since I didn't lose anyone nor did I know anyone that lost someone.  This is hard to believe since I grew up only 20 miles outside of the city in a town where a lot of parents commuted there.  But I guess, we were all blessed.

But still, I remember much of this day as though it was yesterday.  I can't believe it's been 10 years.

Had you met me prior to the fall of 2001, I would have told you something about me.  Something that typically now takes years for me to build up the trust to tell you. Although after only a few short weeks, I will be telling you here.

I am half Arabic. Half Palestinian to be exact.

Half Palestinian. Half Euro-Mutt. All American.

When I was growing up, I used to tell everyone that fact.  I thought it was cool because it made me different.  I wasn't raised exposed to the culture so I wasn't telling everyone because I necessarily identified myself as an Arab.  But for me, it meant I could stay in the sun longer with little-to-no sunscreen and I rarely met anyone else that could say the same thing.  I was raised in NJ.  Pretty much I was surrounded by Italians, Jews, Irish, and Indians.

I left for college at the end of August 2001.  I was only 17 miles from home (still only 25 miles from NYC), but I made the decision to stay on campus to get the "full" college experience.  It was the first time I would ever be away from home (I never even went to camp growing up). By Tuesday, September 11, we were only through Freshman orientation and the first week of classes.  I had made some friends by this point--roommate, classmates, and floormates.

For some reason, I chose a Women's Studies class for my freshman seminar.  Now, I believe in women's rights--hell, I was raised by a female police officer.  But, I'm far from the stereotypical liberal arts college feminist.  I stuck out like a sore thumb in this class.  Maybe I was there just to make it interesting.  Lord knows, I argued with everyone about every topic.

On Tuesdays that semester, I only had one class.  It was that women's studies class (something about women in literature, I can't remember the exact course name now) at 9 AM.   On this morning, like many others, I rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and threw on a bra under my pajamas to head to that class.  I didn't turn on the TV and I didn't wake up to a radio alarm.

We sat there for 50 minutes "talking"--well, mostly I was talking and the majority of the rest of the class was whining--about how fairy tales affect female children.  The damsel in distress role taught our young girls that they needed a man to save them, blah, blah, blah.  Listen, I enjoyed a LOT of fairy tales as a child.  And yes, I wanted my Happily Ever After. But I was also surrounded by really strong gifted women growing up.  I knew I could be happy and never have to compromise who I am.  Sure, my prince may have to kiss me to wake me up but if it was too early, I was going to tell him off.

My friend (a floormate that I had only known for about 2 weeks) and I walked back to our dorm.  We huffed about how we felt everyone had overreacted.  She went into her room and I walked just a few more doors down to mine.  My roommate was still asleep--she didn't have an early class on Tuesday.  The dark room was very inviting.  I got into my bed, the low bunk, curled up under the covers, and planned to go back to sleep (the truth was this was the whole reason I went to class in my pajamas, so I could go right back to sleep after).

I didn't turn on the TV.  Didn't even turn on my computer.

Just as I was closing my eyes, that friend of mine that I just "dropped off" at her room started banging on my door as hard as she could.  ::BANG BANG BANG:: I opened it to find her hysterically crying.  It was hard for me to make out what she was saying.  There was something about planes and the Towers. She told me to put the news on.

By this point, my roommate was awake too.  We turned the TV on--it didn't matter what channel.  They all had the same thing on.  The first Tower had already fallen.  My friend and I sat on my lower bunk, jaws open in disbelief.  Our eyes filled with tears.  My roommate sat up in her top bunk and did the same.

We soon learned that this had been going on the entire time we were in class.  I have guilt to this day for that reason.  People were suffering, people were dying and I was in class listening to a room full of 18-year-old know-it-alls complaining about fairy tales.

They played the image of the planes crashing into the Towers over and over. Even today, this image doesn't just evoke emotions from me but my eyes instantly swell with tears.

We watched the second Tower fall.

After that, much of the day is a blur.  I don't remember speaking with my parents but I know I did.  I don't remember leaving the room--not until the evening, at least.  I spoke to all my friends to make sure their families were okay but I couldn't tell you which ones I spoke with that day and which ones I spoke with during the rest of the week.  I remember at some point in the day/evening trying to call my now-husband and not being able to reach him.  He was in Atlanta so it was safe to assume he was okay but I still wanted to hear his voice.

The only thing I do remember from that foggy period is that I was horrified that I would see my last name appear on the list of attackers.  My maiden name is a very common Palestinian name.  Just as a coincidence, I hadn't told anyone what my ethnicity was during the short time I was at school.  Surprising, since prior to that day, it was something I bragged about.

I wasn't concerned that I knew anyone that could do this.  I was concerned that people would find out what my last name was.  People would know that I was Arabic.  With the way the world was in that moment, I didn't trust anyone to know my secret.  In fact, my roommate that I remained close with wouldn't find out my truth for another year and a half.  You see, I was raised in NJ and have olive skin.  Everyone thinks I'm Italian.  That was fine by me.

It's nice to think that everyone lives in harmony, but no one knows how people will act in a moment of tragedy.  I wouldn't blame anyone either.  It's nice to run around and pretend we're blind to race, creed, gender and ethnicity.  But we're not.  People do awful things when they're afraid.

So for years to come, this was my secret.  It was never really a burden.  It was just something that I didn't share.

Recounting 9/11 today made me realize one thing.  It was the day I lost my innocence.  I remember so many details leading up to that moment, and then suddenly it becomes as blurry as any other memory.

My heart is still heavy for those who lost someone they loved that day.  I still have so much respect for the men and women that ran toward the smoke, into the fire, into the falling buildings when everyone else was running out.  I still cry when I really sit down and think about this or see images from that day.  It's a moment that changed my life.  Not for the better and not necessarily for the worse. But it changed.

During a week when just about everyone is reflecting, this is my story.

I Used to Write Poetry

I wrote this late Sunday night.  Ironically, it's almost poetic. <--- Don't read that as groundbreaking or talented. I'm just saying it has a flow to it like poetry.


My husband had never seen Basketball Diaries, so we watched that tonight. I've seen it before. It's a pretty good movie. Something he definitely should have seen. And let's be honest, my crush on Leonardo DiCaprio has only gotten bigger over all these years.


I couldn't help but think while watching it, I used to write poetry.


I used to write poetry.


I used to draw.


I used to be so creative.

When did I stop? Why did I stop?


Is this one of those awful side effects to being an adult?  All of a sudden I had to stop being creative.


I can't believe I stopped writing poetry.  I used to be really proud of the poetry I wrote.  I used to think it was such a great way to express myself.


Why don't I write poetry any more?  Why aren't I creative any more?


I just let this part of me disappear. I never fought for it. I just let it go.


In a lot of ways, I haven't changed at all.  But in a lot of different ways, I can't even recognize myself.


Oh, this life crisis is really getting to me.

Well, to continue on int his fight for creativity, I bought some sketch pads and charcoal and drew this last night:

 This is my version of the Born to Run album cover.

It's something I wanted to do since the Big Man passed away.

Last night, I finally did it. 

So in the last month, in my quest to bring creativity back to my life, I started a blog, signed up for a photography class, and began drawing again.  I might just be heading in the right direction.

Update to Fresh Start... Again: In week 2, I LOST .2 pounds. That was one of the first times ever in my life I saw that size fraction of a pound and was so happy/proud of myself.  This is the whole point of what I'm doing. I want to celebrate the little things and be proud of myself for them. Last week, I was proud I lost .2 pounds. And I was even more proud of myself for being proud of myself.

How We Spent Our 10th Dating Anniversary

WARNING: HUSBAND AND HUSBAND'S FAMILY SHOULD NOT READ THIS

Here's another way my in-laws screwed up my husband.  Well, let's be honest.  This is another way my MIL screwed up my husband.

Can I digress for a minute? What is with the mother-son relationship? I know I don't have a child yet so maybe I can't speak, but I don't know a single man that has a healthy relationship with his mother.  Ugghhh...

So, I've mentioned it before. My husband is ridiculously sensitive.  And not in the hunky dark and damaged way. No, in the whiny I-have-to-watch-every-single-word-out-of-my-mouth way.  I assume this has to do with not getting enough love as a child or not being hugged enough or not getting enough attention (or being loved too much as a child or being hugged too much or getting too much attention--although my hunch would be the first list in his scenario).

We've been together for 10 years now.  However, spending the first 7 years apart meant that I didn't see this side of him for a long time.  It was sexy that when we were leaving each other at the airport and his eyes filled with tears.  I was under the impression he was acting this way because he was just so much in love with me.

Nope.  When I moved to Texas and we moved in together, I found out that his really mature way to resolve fights was to stop speaking to me for DAYS at a time.  This made for an even lonelier time during my loneliest time.

Why do I bring this up today? Especially the day after I tweeted how excited I was that we were going to have a date night and celebrate our 10th anniversary (we officially started dating 9/10/2001).

The day started like it was going to be super romantic.  He said we should go out to dinner, a fancy dinner.  My pick. Wow, this is going to be good, right?

Well, I picked the Melting Pot.  We hadn't been there in a while, it's one of my favorites, and I've been begging to go for over a year.

Since we were heading into Houston, I wanted to do something fun there--not just travel for dinner and come back.  So I promptly went online and found The Music Box Theater.  We had the whole night planned.

When it was time to go, I was still about 15 minutes away from being ready.  Side note: I have NEVER been this girl. I was always the one waiting on all my other friends.  This started about a year ago.  I told my husband he might want to give me fake times from now on.

So we were on the road late. Whoops.  We went to the theater picked up our tickets and headed to dinner.  We got there about 20 minutes late.  Our waiter was awesome. I thought we were making great time. And then, he hands us the dessert menu--the real reason we're here. I check my phone (because who wears a watch anymore?). It's 7:30. Yikes! We need to leave now.  Well, the awesome part was that our waiter gave us a rain check for the dessert. PHEW!  We paid and then sped away.

We went to the show at The Music Box Theater. And let me tell you, it was AWESOME! The troupe was funny. They were talented.  To say we were entertained for 2 hours is an understatement.  You could hear my husband after many songs say, wow and there were times that I laughed so hard I cried.  My cheeks hurt at the end of the night from smiling and laughing so much.  If you haven't figured it out yet, I highly recommend the show and definitely plan to be back for all their next shows.

When it was over, we hopped back into the car and headed back to the Melting Pot for dessert.  We chatted about the show on our way.  We sat down in the restaurant and all of a sudden, my husband wasn't talking to me. Whaaaat? I had no idea what happened.  I tried to make conversation. But when it's one sided, it can only last so long. So we sat for most of dessert in awkward silence. Awkward silence?? We're celebrating 10 years together.  We should be able to talk about paint drying and still be able to carry on a conversation.

I looked him straight in the eyes and I said, "Did I say something? Are you mad at me? I really don't understand what's going on here." FYI, I'm a bit of a straight-shooter.  He mumbled, no. After more of this awkwardness, I asked him, "Are you tired? You're like a completely different person from before." No. That second no is the one that means, Yes, I'm mad at you but I'm not talking to you so don't try to blame this silence on me being tired.

Well, I STILL have no idea what happened.  I racked my brain.  Here are my two options that could have spurred this:

1. There was a bit with "Judy Garland" and "Liza Minnelli" during the show. My husband told me that he didn't get it. So I had to explain that they were mother and daughter. I was a little surprised that he didn't know this. So if at any point in my explanation, I said, 'oh, you didn't know that' it becomes that I'm a condescending bitch. But I don't remember saying anything like that in my explanation but as you can see, I could have said anything and the meaning can be construed to just about anything.
2. There was no parking near the restaurant so we had to park pretty far.  I was wearing these killer 5" heels.  Oh, they are they sexiest shoes I have ever owned! I digress.  So, as he parked, he asked, "Is this okay?"  It didn't really bother me. The restaurant is in a strip mall and we were like 2 stores over.  The problem was there was a HUGE crack in the pavement in the spot that neither of us saw.  When I got out, I [almost] took a pretty bad tumble.  Totally twisted my ankle (not the permanent damage way though).  So I think I mumbled something like, "Oh, yeah, great spot. I almost killed myself." Now please understand, I was mad at the SPOT not him. He didn't see it. I didn't see it as I was stepping out into it.  No what I've learned over these last 3 years, I might have hurt his feeling with that statement.  You know, the one I made while my ankle was throbbing. Awesome.

So these are the only things that I can come up with.  On our drive home, he becomes Chatty McChatterPants.  Where did that come from?  Well, here's the other thing I know about this man that I've been with for 10 years.  Somewhere between the walk from our table and getting into the car, he realized that if he keeps up the silent treatment, he isn't getting laid tonight.  This ride back is his last chance to patch that up.

It was too late.  I was pissed.  He took a really romantic dinner and a really fun night and honestly, ruined it for me.  If you had to sit across from that puss he was making, trust me, you'd feel the same way. PS That silent treatment/sit around with a puss on my face comes from his mother.  This is exactly how she resolves issues too.  Really excited about signing up for that fun trait.

When we got home and started getting ready for bed, I asked him one last time.  What was with you tonight? "Sometimes you have to understand that your sarcastic comments really bother me." Whaaaat? again!  Please remember, from the time we were talking to the time he abruptly stopped, all we discussed was the show. THE SHOW.  Or the parking spot. These are not topics I think warrant getting feelings hurt.

And to boot, I was right. He looked me right in the eyes at dessert, lied to me, and continued to ruin my night.  My only comfort in dealing with this crap is that I truly believe he's preparing me for CHILDREN. Ugghhh!

So that's how my really romantic husband--who yes, I love dearly but am really not liking him right now--ruined our 10th anniversary.  Awesome.

Still No Clue What I Want to be When I Grow Up

"It is never too late to be what you might have been."
 George Eliot

At 28, I might be going through some sort of life crisis.  I pretty much have a new idea of what I want to be when I grow up once a week.  There are a core few that I always return to, but let's be honest. I don't know too many kids that say "When I grow up, I want to be a recruiter!"

The only thing I've ever wanted to be was a mother. Well, that and an Academy Award winning actress. So career dreams were pushed aside.  I always knew that my work was never going to be as important to me as my family.  I guess it was hard to motivate myself to focus on a career knowing that if I ever needed to, I would drop it in a second.

So, one of the things that I always go back to is a photographer.  It varies what kind of a photographer--usually either a wedding photographer or a photojournalist or of course, a celebrity photographer (like Annie Leibovitz not like a paparazza).

I've had a passion for photography for a long time.  I took classes with a wonderful teacher in high school.  I learned a lot and had a lot of fun.  As soon as I started taking photography classes, I began to see everything in pictures.  I see the shot in every scenario, but unfortunately, I don't have my camera with me all the time and miss a lot of the good ones.

I brought my camera with me this weekend and took some pictures while on the St. Arnold's Galveston Pub Crawl.  The lighting in this bar was so cool and I knew that someone without a background in photography wouldn't appreciate it.  The pictures below were taken naturally, no filters or manipulation after the fact.

File photos. What do you think? Any raw talent there?

I've always been creative--please do not mistake creative for talented. After starting college with plans to study Math, I told my mother that I wanted to study photography. Let's just say during our screaming match, I wasn't too far from being left on the side of the NJ Turnpike.  I understand she was only doing what she thought was best for me. That's a tale for another day...

Today, I signed up for a photography class.  It's another intro. Last I took a photography class was 7 years ago. I can use the refresher.  Once I signed up today, I became really excited.  I'd really like to hone my skills and hopefully even learn to take good pictures of humans (currently my specialties are landscapes and pet photography).
 
So, maybe I can be a photographer when I grow up...

I also have a wedding planner venture going on--even have a client.

Oh, and I came up with an idea for a really great website. I just need to come up with a business plan.

And not sure if you heard, but I'm also giving writing a try.  Once I'm discovered, I have THE BEST name for my memoir. I'm keeping that one just for me though.

So this is my somewhere between quarter-life and mid-life crisis.  I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life... or at least until babies come along.

TANGENT/SHAMELESS PLUG: I got to thinking how this class could possibly be another Fresh Start... Again. And since I brought it up, for those of you wondering, I did lose some weight in my first week of doing it my way. It was less than a pound and I'm really proud of myself! I'm just going to keep on keeping on. 

Finally just for fun:
I wanna have boobies... Yeah, I went there. And, by the way, I'm not as big of a PCD fan as my blog makes seem to be!