G’Morning October 28, 2009

It was one of those mornings.
Not a morning to swear at, like those days that seem to start fifteen minutes late and hair still asleep. On the contrary this morning was, in every sense of the word, glorious. The weather outside was perfect for sleeping, perfect for resetting the alarm for an extra hour without a shred of guilt at “wasting time.” The morning moved slowly, opening one eye at a time. It stirred with slow concentrated movements, from bathroom to closet to coffee machine.This morning was a gooey cinnamon raisin muffin brought home by a sweet fiance. This morning was vanilla flavored coffee and a few hours spent reading my favorite bloggers and oogling wedding porn. This morning was a paper and pen, compiling a list of things to do before an afternoon shift, including a visit to the gym, letters to compose and books to read. This morning was a comforting quiet, a settled quiet.

This morning was a godsend.

 

It’s Raining in Virginia September 8, 2009

What I should have done today:

• Get up with The Boy
• Workout
• Go through weekend bags and do a quick clean of the house
• Spend the rest of the day in Barnes and Nobles with a seat next to the window, a novel, and a cup of tea.

What I did today:

• Slept until 9:30
• Checked online for jobs
• Read blogs
• Followed up on a few phone calls
• Spent hours running around town doing errands including comparative price grocery shopping and check cashing and DMV visiting
• Unloaded bundles of groceries
• Reorganized the kitchen
• Went for a rainy end of summer walk

Maybe a little more productive than the previous list, but definitely not as much fun.

Happily our labor day weekend was both  productive and a lot of fun. Here’s the cliffnotes:

Friday we went to a high school football game where my almost seventeen year old brother actually played. Later I met his new girlfriend. Seeing your younger siblings develop into Real People is weird.

I cuddled and cooed my godchild and talked to my best friend (and his mom) who’s birthday was actually yesterday! Woo hoo! Happy Birthday Rachel! You’re old.

We booked a caterer! He gave us everything we wanted (carving stations, pasta bar, mashed potato bar [in martini glasses!], ice cream sundae station, pie selections, service, coffee, linens) for less than 40 dollars a person.  Sold.

With the caterer booked, photographer picked, and music decisions (Ipod playlist+rented/borrowed sound equipment) made we have officially checked off the big three of wedding planning. Only a few less interesting rentals (tables, tents, chairs) remain and the happy go lucky fields of delicious details are stretched out in front of me.

During the drive to and from the catering places we stumbled upon a great favor idea that will not only be useful, unique, and relatively inexpensive, but will also cut down on our plastic usage. Even better, I won’t have to do anything! My mother volunteered my brothers as free labor. Once I’m sure this is actually a go I’ll share some details.

We also spent some time looking for non-old lady mother of the bride dresses  and attempting to find a suit for The Boy. He’s very excited about the suit. A man after my own heart he enjoys the shopping process, I think we’re going with a black three piece suit and I expect he’ll look all sorts of dapper.

This weekend was also a big milestone in Shaba & The Boy’s relationship. It was the first meeting of the parents. Yup, our clans met and it went very well. It might have something to do with the fact that the great meeting of the minds took place at my uncle’s labor day party and the beer and whiskey were flowing freely, but I think they will get along well even without the Liquid Happy.

Finally, I drug my camera back and forth from VA to NEPA and back again without taking a single picture for what must be the umpteenth time. I want to be one of Those People who take pictures of Interesting Things and Family Functions so that ten years from now I have something to show my kids. In high school I took a lot of pictures, with an even harder to manage camera, and now that I have my fancy digital SLR I’m barely using it. After taking photos rather sparingly in college due to constant digital disasters it’s hard to get back into the habit. Any suggestions on how to re-release my inner shutter bug?

My Nails Need Your Help September 1, 2009

I have never had “nice” nails.

There was one time, and one time only, in my entire life where all of my nails extended past my finger tips. That was a glorious week. My nails aren’t strong, they do that peeling thing a lot and I tend to break them frequently.
Right now, they’re probably as bad as they’ve ever been, even though I’m attempting to keep up with filing and polish and all that girlie jazz. The constant playing with money and hangers and crap at work has done some damage and I’m desperate to repair it.

So, I ask you, dear Internets, what do you suggest?

What can I do, use, purchase, or injest that could help me and my sorry ass nails?

That Time I Was Fake Hit-On At Work August 31, 2009

So I’m working this dinky part time job at a discount retail store with a bunch of high school kids and retirees.

It’s not a career move or very challenging, except when I’m playing the role of cashier and I forget to actually look at what the little numbers on the money say, but it’s a job. It’s a minimum wage, give me some cash while I find something better, name tag required job.

On the plus side I get to play with the markdown machine a bunch and I enjoy it much more than I should. Maybe it’s a throwback to my favorite stickerbooks when I was little, but scanning and beeping and stickering stuff is my idea of a good time.

Anyway, I was marking down purses one day (which ALL Virginians seem call “pocket books,” not just the old ladies like in NEPA)  and a tall, handsome black man walked up to me. He smiled, said something about me looking “fine,” and asked for my help. He lead my over to shoes and picked up two pairs of almost identical black sneakers.
“Which do you like better” he asked me.
I pointed to the ones on the right.
“I like those better.”
“Oh really? Well, see, I had to ask because I wanted to know what I should wear when I take you out.”
I admit, I probably blushed. I’ve never been hit on much and I doubt it will change anytime in the future since I’m sporting a very noticeable diamond on my left hand.  So, of course I was enjoying the momentary attention, though had he continued with much persistence I would have called a manager.
Then he noticed my ring.
“Damn girl, you married?”
I always lie. It’s easier than saying “No, not yet. Just engaged.” And, I mean, for all general purposes I’m basically married so whatev.
“Yea. Sorry.”
“It’s ok. Damn, you are fine though. Well, in any case, here,” he pulls out a square sheet of paper from his pocket. It’s a flier to a restaurant, “take your husband out to this place one night. I’m the cook there. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

And then I realized, that I was not being hit on. I was being advertised to.
And suddenly I felt like the naive girl in Teen dramas who thinks The Jock who was doubled dogged dared to ask her is out is actually interested in her. It was kinda a blow to the self esteem.

But, then I went home and had Kevin Bacon sex with The Boy.

Esteem restored.

I Win.

Because This Is More Interesting Than My Whining August 13, 2009

When Matt got the phone call his heart seemed to stop.

The words played over and over in this head like flashcards.

Accident.

Sasha.

Tractor Trailer.

Accident.

Sasha.

His hand shook as he drove to the hospital. He couldn’t be this unlucky. He made this same drive under these same circumstances- late night, raining, winter, less than a year ago. A week later he was carrying his older brother’s casket to his grave. He couldn’t lose Tim and Sasha. He just couldn’t.

Sasha, the petite Italian girl his mother loved as much as he did. She was his ray of light in the darkness of the past year, holding him for hours when he cried over the loss of his older brother. He didn’t mind crying in front of Sasha. She was gentle and warm and thought his mother’s home video-taping obsession was cute, not annoying. She stood smiling for the camera at every one of Matt’s games. At every holiday gathering. At every miniscule little event in his life for the last two years. She was his angel in Old Navy jeans. Oh God, not was, is.

Is. Is. Is. Is.

She is his angel. She’s not gone. No one called with that news. “It was an accident, it was bad,” they said. But they never said anything about her not making it. At least, not that he could remember. Or did they? Damn it. Maybe they alluded to it and he was too thick to realize. Maybe they’re making sure he gets to the hospital ok, to his family ok, before they deliver the bad news.

Pulling into the lot he recognized the cars of Sasha’s mother and sister. The flashback started as he walked toward the menacing automatic doors. The late night phone call. The ambulance lights still illuminating the building in red and white. His mother and father, heartbroken and tearstained as they told him Tim was gone. The images slammed into him. He bent over the hospital lawn, feeling ill and queasy. After revisiting his dinner he regained himself and walked in the doors, still shaky, still pale, but with all the hope he could muster.

To be continued….

Adventures in PA August 10, 2009

I love the excitement of leaving for a weekend away. I love packing and possibilities and the thought of seeing my friends and family. The going is always so much fun.

The coming back is horrid. Everything seems to take too long. There is no motivation for me to unpack because that just means I’ll have laundry to do. Returning home means returning to bills and grocery shopping (which I love, don’t get me wrong) and job hunting and post office errands. It’s nice to be back where all my stuff lives, but other than that the first day back always blows.

We spent the weekend in NEPA and WEPA (maybe? no? well, I tried). Nepa and Pittsburgh. It’s a lot of driving. We spent saturday at a cookout with my family where I bemoaned my catering dilemma and enlisted the help of every female in attendance with absolutely no shame. My mom still has the menus and has promised me she’ll look at them and tell me what the hell to do (because she’s good at that).  We had to leave early to make it back to The Boy’s cousin’s bachelorette party so any non-wedding discussions were cut rather short.

The bachelorette was fun. There were no dumb penis shaped necklaces or Bachelorette’s Last Night!!!! sashes which I think are ridiculous and demeaning, so that was good. The Boy’s cousin has a bunch of cool friends, and one of whom had one of the most impressive bridal sets I’ve ever laid eyes on. Holy bling-tastic. I’m talking big to the point of “Are those real?” I couldn’t stop staring. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a few sandwiches short of a picnic because every time she spoke to me I responded with, “Huh? Oh….(insert appropriate answer).” Aside from my “Ooohhh Shinnnny” induced lack of attention we also had a lot of drinks and split our time between the cowboy themed bar and the ghetto themed bar.

The next morning…well, it wasn’t as fun as the previous night. I wasn’t that hungover, and after a healthy breakfast of oreos and strong coffee I felt pretty good. The Boy’s cousin’s bridal shower was perfection. It was held at a nice restaurant, there weren’t any dumb shower games, and the little decorations were so pretty. She got a lot of cute stuff and I had a great time with her friends  discussing our disappointment in  Twilight.

The weekend, aside from the hour long traffic jam we hit on the way home last night, was awesome. And now that we’re home we’re settling into our Just The Two Of Us routine; it includes a lovely lack of clothing and bad television. Divine.

How was your weekend?

Proposal Project- Lacey Bean Edition August 7, 2009

You guys this is so much fun.
I’ve already received a few submissions from some of my favorite bloggers and the stories are just, sigh, so sweet.
A few of you have asked and yes, my own proposal story will have it’s day sometime in the future, but not until I run out of submitted stories!

On with the show.

Lacey Bean and her main squeeze Dave live in NYC and just got back from a kickass adventure in Costa Rica. They also had one of the cutest proposal stories I’ve read to date….

“Shut Up!”

Today was my Valentine’s Day. Dave and I made plans to celebrate it today, since Dave has a show to put on, on the 14th. No biggie, Valentine’s Day isn’t huge to us anyway, so it didn’t matter to me to celebrate it a week early. Our plan was to walk along the Brooklyn Bridge, and then have brunch somewhere over in Brooklyn. I was worried about the cold weather we’d been having, but by some miracle we had the best weather possible, and it was sunny and a nice 50 degrees.

We exchanged cards (all horny themed… figures), and some gifts before we left. Well we get to the city to park the car, and as I’m getting out, Dave pulls a bouquet of roses from the back of the car, hands them to me, and says, “leave your bag, and just take what you need.” At this point I’m kind of confused, but not really thinking of anything else since I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and I didn’t think he would do it today.

We walked to the bridge, and took some pictures along the way…

The Unsuspecting

We continued our walk across the bridge, and then Dave stopped us in the middle, to look at the view.

Now, I can’t say on here what exactly he did next, because it involves his last name, and I don’t want to reveal that to the internets. But I will say that it was super cute, and very, very creative. If I know you personally, you either know the story, or I can tell you in an email!

But after that, he pointed down towards one of the support beams that were holding up the railing, and I saw this:

The Post It reads, " Lacey is all I need"

Dave had gone to the bridge yesterday, and taped that post-it note to the bridge. It’s actually something that he’s written me before on a post-it, which I still have on my desk. So he copied it, and also took video of himself on the bridge with it yesterday, in case it had been taken down by the time we got there.

At that point, I graciously said, “SHUT UP!” (as the title of this post says) as Dave got down on one knee and asked me to marry him with the most beautiful ring I’d seen in my life. Of course it was upside down at first, but then he realized that and flipped it right side up. And, of course, I said yes, and started crying immediately. The crying kind of surprised me, but it came with the moment so I went with it.

It’s cliche, but it definitely all happened so fast, and I’m glad that I had to call all my friends and relatives today to tell them the story, so I could recount it for them, and for myself.

And what I loved the most is that it was in a public place, which I always wanted, and a few people clapped, people came up to us to congratulate us, and a photographer who happened to be there with her family saw us, and took pictures as it was happening, and then gave us her card to contact her and she said she would send us the disc of pictures. So cool! (Those photos can be viewed here.)

Afterwards we continued walking across the bridge and had the most delicious brunch at The River Cafe, which as Dave says, is way too nice for us. Ha! (It’s true.) And after brunch, we walked back across the bridge and to the car, where I began the immense amount of phone calls that I needed to make. Because, as Arielle explicitly expressed to me before, if she found out I was engaged via Facebook, she would kill me.

It’s still so surreal!

The Happy Couple

Lacey Bean's Gorgeous Ring

Gasp, Gasp, Gasp-Gorgeous

Congratulations to Dave and Lacey Bean! Their story was originally posted here on February 8, 2009. They’re planning a March 2010 wedding and I CAN NOT WAIT to see photos!

Happy Friday Everyone!

Beaches, Books, Baseball And Martha Ruined My Mac and Cheese August 4, 2009

This week I’m spending time in SOVA like a tourist would due to The Boy’s parents/sister/uber cute doggie visiting with us.
I’ve been to the beach three days in a row, and will return tomorrow.
I’ve been to three of our favorite restaurants and watched our double A ball team lose horrendously.
I’ve drank a few two many hard ciders with the neighbors, finished two books, and not applied to a single job for about a week.

It’s a nice change.

Of course there were a few low points, first off I ended up getting the strangest sunburn of my life. In my attempts not to flash the beach goers while applying sunscreen I have a nice red hourglass shaped burn on my cleavage. Sexxxy. I also attempted to make mac and cheese from scratch using a Martha Stewart recipe and failed. I blame Martha and her use of fancy flavors. Really, good mac and cheese just requires Mac and a hell of a lot of cheese. Then Martha has to go and add nutmeg and red pepper and some other spice that alludes me but I’ll think of it after I hit publish because that’s what always happens.

Well. My kitchen is the home of an overflowing spice rack.  I tend to buy the McCormick brand spices because A) they’re cheap and B) so am I, but the downside to having a billion spices from one company is that all the little red lids look the same and spices are POTENT and if you’re not paying attention **cough cough you’re more interested in the oreos you just made because damn they’re good cough cough*** you MIGHT just pick up the cinnamon instead of the nutmeg and then

BAM.

The mac and cheese tastes like apple pie.

Spicey apple pie.

Damn it.

(In other news I highly recommend All We Ever Wanted Was Everything and Still Alice. Great reads. And keep your Proposal Project submissions coming! Tell your engaged/married blog friends. Tell your engaged/married Real life friends. First post will be up on Friday!)

Two Months July 2, 2009

Bear with me, dear readers, but I’m about to get all yelly.

I have been without a “real” job for two months.
I’ve been without a real job in a new state, in a house in various states of amiss, and with a fiance who works 10-12 hour days five days a week (and who lovingly tells me to calm the eff down when I start to whine about my uselessness).
I AM SO SICK OF BEING UNEMPLOYED.

More than that, I’m tired of filling out the forms. I’m tired of sending my resume out again and again and again. I’m tired of getting my hopes up with awesome interview experiences just to get a “We’re going in a different direction” email.  I’m infuriated that positions I’ve applied to, positions I know I’d be a good fit for, keep being re -listed on search sites. I’m tired of filling out individual application forms and personality questionnaires for jobs that high school drop outs could fill.

People, in the last few weeks I’ve done serious research on getting a teaching certificate, a law degree, and a CNA because maybe then I’d have a purpose.  A CNA PEOPLE! My marbles have officially been lost. And I’m sorry to be all whiny when I KNOW there are millions of people just like me singing the same sob story, but, sigh. I feel like my life until this point had been a lovely countryside train ride and on May 1st it jumped the tracks. My floaty happy life got less floaty. My family is in this weird stage of semi-limbo, it’s effin HOT in SoVa, and I’m wandering through the vast emptiness of laundry, Oprah, and Click Here If Can Prove You’re Legally Allowed To Work in The USA.

Luckily The Boy is nice and encouraging and full of “Don’t Worry About It, We’ll Be Fine”s.

And I know he’s right. I know eventually I’ll find something and be wishing for the lazy days of unemployment, but right now its hard to imagine. Right now I feel like a frustrated toddler. I want to cry and stomp my feet and yell to every HR department in the area “I’M INTELLIGENT! I’M EDUCATED! I’M NICE AND FUNNY AND A GOOD WORKER AND INVENTIVE AND CREATIVE AND SOMETIMES EVEN NICE TO LOOK AT! HIRE ME! FOR THE LOVE OF CHEAP BEER AND HOOKERS HIRE ME!”

Of course, I’d follow that up with a handwritten thank you note because I’m classy like that.

Seriously.

I need a job.

And a drink.

Confessions: Bad Blogger Behavior June 29, 2009

1. I read over twenty blogs regularly and comment regularly to about 3.

2. I squee a little when a new commenter shows up and die a little inside when I realize their blog will make me prove I’m human every time I want to comment.

3. I don’t understand the attraction to Dooce.

4. I have yet to meet a fellow blogger (Can we fix this? Please?!)

5. I don’t spell check as often as I should.

6. I tend to hit publish before I reread my material.

7. I exist in a state of semi-anonymity which means I can’t a) use my blog as a self-promotional tool, b) advertise via facebook, c) write about my vagina….much.

8.I still check up on my favorite defunct blogger with hopes she’ll magically return.

9. I’m still a little bitter about the sweet treat exchange ( I never got my sweets!)

10. I will unfollow you on twitter if you start to promote websites, continually retweet, and/or go overboard on Music Monday.