Oh Yes It's Ladies' Night

My town has the cutest main street. Lots of little shops and restaurants and it's all decorated with pretty Christmas lights. And tonight they did the most genius thing. They had a Ladies' Night, complete with sales, hors d'oeuvres and free wine at every store. That's right...FREE WINE! Which I happily helped myself to.

Jen and I made the rounds, sampling this cookie and that wine and browsing the stores full of jewelry, gifts and art. I've never seen Main St. so crowded before. This idea definitely worked and I can only hope they do it again every year. It didn't hurt that despite it being the last day of November, it's 60 degrees out.

I did make a purchase...for myself. Even though I thought I might find some cute gifts. But hey, it's Ladies' Night. And I'm a lady...a slightly tipsy lady buzzing on free wine. And I deserve a present.

So Happy Holidays to me!

Poor Puppy

I am not a crazy dog person. I love my dog, but I don't dress him up or carry him around with me all day. Especially since I would need a wheelbarrow to do so. But despite what people might say, he's part of the family. My big furry baby.


I got home late last night and noticed Kodiak was licking his paw. It didn't seem too unusual since he does that occasionally. I put him in his crate and went to bed.


This morning I went downstairs and just like every other morning, I went to let him out. Usually he's up and wagging his tail and will run at me with kisses as soon as I open the crate. Today he was lying down and licking the paw. A lot. I practically had to drag him out of the crate.


I tried to look at his paw in between him nosing my hand out of the way so he could continue licking. I thought it might be his dewclaw, the nail on the side of the paw. It seemed long to me. Could he have caught it on something? Is it stabbing him? My poor dog!


I went upstairs and woke up Michael. The two of us spent the next 15 minutes in our pajamas on the kitchen floor trying to figure out what was wrong. Michael trimmed his nails and we hoped that would fix the problem.


I felt awful. We had failed as parents. We didn't keep up on dog maintenance and now he was hurt. He had big sad eyes and my heart ached. We didn't take care of our dog! What about when we're parents? Are we going to forget something with our babies?


I spent the next 15 minutes petting him and brushing him and telling him he was a good boy. Then he went outside with Michael and from the way he was running around and fetching his ball, it seemed we had fixed the problem. I felt so relieved.


So maybe I am a little crazy about my dog.

Tagged

I don't usually do these, but Domestic Goddess tagged me and she rocks so for her, I will.

Six weird things about you:

1. I'm right handed, but I carry my bag on my left shoulder and hold my cell phone in my left hand.

2. I love to watch operation shows but pass out when I have blood taken.

3. When I was little I used to put baby wipes over the tops of lamps and would melt plastic figurines on light bulbs. This had nothing to do with being a pyro, I just liked the way the wipes and the plastic smelled when they got warm. This didn't last long because my mom caught me and flipped out. Something about how I could burn the house down...

4. Speaking of smells, I also used to love the smell of my mom's deodorant.

5. I love cleaning under my finger nails. There's something really satisfying about it.

6. I think sometimes dinner tastes better if you're eating standing up in the kitchen.

I'm Such A Third Grader

Because I totally spread a rumor faster than you would believe and it's only 10 a.m.

When I was in college sites like Friendster and Facebook became popular. At first it was really cool. You'd become "friends" with someone you know from college or you used to hang out with in high school. You can read their profiles and see what they're up to, look at their pictures and assess the person they're dating. Fun.

And until Myspace came along, it wasn't too stalker-ish. You could only see a profile of someone who chose to be "friends" with you. Now anyone can see what you put out there and it's pretty freaky. Anyway, rambling...

I still like to look at Facebook because you can choose your privacy settings and still see how everyone is doing. So that's what I was doing this morning when I noticed a family friend (background: the girl is the daughter of my aunt's close friend) had changed her relationship status from "single" to "engaged." I was so surprised! So I emailed my dad and asked him if he had heard anything.

Within minutes there were emails from my dad, my aunt and both my cousins.

"I just talked to her mother!" my aunt exclaimed. "All she said is that she had a sore throat!"

The emails came at rapid fire full of speculation and doubt. And maybe because I have a severe case of Wedding Brain, I wanted to think it might actually be true.

So I went right to the source. Because she's in college and I knew she'd be on IM. I signed on and sure enough, there she was.

Her response? (And this is an exact quote) "HAHHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOOOOOO it's not true hahahah that is sooooooooooooooooooo funny though Omg I love you! hahah I am not engaged...I dont even have a boyfriend hahahah."

The writer in me cringed reading this. The punctuation! The capitalization! The....oh, wait. She's not engaged? Time for a little damage control.

Out went another email. This time from me saying oops! Just kidding!

And calmness once again resumed. I better start keeping my mouth shut.

Or my fingers quiet. However you want to look at it.

I Don't Even Want To Look At Turkey

This long weekend was so nice. I spent time with my family, ate lots and lots and lots of food, visited with Dani California and almost completed all my Christmas shopping. It was great.

Getting to NY, however, was not so nice. A trip that should have taken me two hours from work took FOUR. I even left early to prevent getting stuck. But no. I should have known. I-84 is pure hell. I sat in stand-still traffic for almost two hours until I couldn't take it anymore. After getting alternate directions from my mom I got off the highway, drove 10 minutes...and got stuck behind an accident. At this point my blood was boiling. I was tired, I was hungry and my butt hurt from sitting so long. I said, the hell with it, I was two exits away from where I needed to be. I'd just get back on the highway and deal with it.

So that's what I did. And wouldn't you know that not five minutes later the traffic broke and I was on my way. The cause of the traffic? NOTHING!!!! No accident, no exit, no merge. Nothing. I hate I-84.

As for shopping, I got gifts for Michael's mother, the children she's fostering, my aunt and gifts for Michael to give to people. I even got something for me. I've wanted a reed diffuser forever but couldn't find one. I thought it would be so nice for my desk at work. And this weekend Pier 1 was having a big sale and had them! Yay! And I bought new pillows for the couch because I am oh so domestic.

All and all a great weekend. And it was so nice to come home to Michael and the big dog yesterday. Kodiak nearly knocked me over with kisses when I came in the door. So cute! And Michael was full of I love you's and hugs and kisses and I know he missed me.

And now that Thanksgiving is over it is officially time for Christmas music, candles in the windows and a wreath on the door.

I love the holidays.

Rambling Because It Feels Like A Friday

In less than three hours I will begin my trip home to NY. I'm crossing my fingers that by taking a half-day and leaving way before rush hour I will not get stuck in boat loads (car loads?) of traffic.

I'm really looking forward to the trip. I don't get to see my family often and I miss them a lot. My mom has lots of Hawaii pictures to show me, my sister has a new hair color every time I come home (I think it's dark blue this time) and it's THANKSGIVING which means one of my favorite foods of all time: stuffing. In abundance. All weekend. The gym and I will reconnect after Sunday.

I'll also get to visit with some high school friends that I haven't seen in forever. There are the select few that I'm really excited about seeing but then there are those random people that you know you will run into at the bar and the general feeling is eh. The ones that no matter how many years it's been since you walked those halls together still ask you what your high school boyfriend is up to (no clue) or if you remember that time so and so said so and so and it was SO FUNNY! (Um, no, sorry. I don't recall that.)

Michael and I have spent the last four Christmases together but we've always split up Thanksgiving. It's easier with work schedules and then his mother doesn't feel slighted. (If we don't travel we spend Christmas with my family.) I will miss him lots and lots but then it will be so nice to see him again on Sunday.

Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving and think of me when you eat lots and lots of stuffing.

One Time Deal

For the first time ever I'm taking down a post. The last one I wrote. Because once again I was complaining about not being engaged and you know what? That's enough.

At least it's enough for this week. Because I'm sure I'll complain about it again. Even though I'm going to try really hard not to. But the whole post was about it. The. Whole. Thing.

Because the thing is, I don't want to be the girl that whines and asks over and over again "when are you going to marry me???" That's not who I am. That's not who I want to become. And I don't want Michael to propose just to get me to shut up!

I'm not going to pretend and promise that it won't come up in posts again. Because it will. Because it's on my mind A LOT and that's what this blog is for. Plus, Clink and I have to stick together now that Ms. Sass is going to be Mrs. Sass! (Congrats again!) And it's fun to be impatient with Clink. She gets it.

So, again. Enough for whining for this week.

All in due time. Right?

Shades Of Red And Green

And no, I'm not talking about Christmas.

I'm angry. I'm not only angry, I'm flabbergasted. Somebody stole my lunch. Stole my lunch right out of the fridge at a professional business where adults work.

Stole. My. Lunch.

And the thing is, it's not an isolated incident. Stuff has been stolen out of our fridge before. I just can't understand why anyone would go into an office that doesn't belong to them and steal someone's lunch. Specifically, MY LUNCH.

And I'm hungry. And fuming. And...HUNGRY.

Secondly, I'm jealous. I'm jealous because a girl I know (who let me say is a really big sweetheart and deserves this happiness a ton) just got engaged to a guy she's been dating for a year and a half. I'm happy for her in the sense that she is in love and will be getting married but jealous that I've been with Michael and in love for almost five years and want this more than anything.

This Monday is definitely not starting the week off right.

I Survived

I survived IKEA. And thank you for all the tips because I really did eat the granola bar and drink my bottled water. And broke out the one pair of non-gym sneakers I own. (Cute little red ones that Michael calls wrestling shoes, if you were curious.)

As we approached IKEA I was still undaunted. Sure, it was big, but we snagged a parking space easily and headed towards the Returns entrance. Once inside, my friend returned a rug quickly and smoothly and we were off to the main entrance.

Here's where it starts to get complicated.

The airport-like signs direct you to two different locations: Showroom and Marketplace. Where to start? Look, all those people are getting in the elevator. We'll get in it too. DING! Ooooh look! The Showroom! With every available room set up you could imagine. Bathrooms, full kitchens, bedrooms, offices! But wait, how come I can't go over to that bedroom? I can see it...I. Just. Can't. Get. There.

No. You have to stay on The Path. The Path that winds around and around and around and AROUND until you've seen every single set up in the showroom. It's a great marketing plan. It's a pain in the ass. I looked longingly at the exit doors that warn you ALARM WILL SOUND. It's all a ploy. I bet the alarm wouldn't sound. They just want to scare you so you'll stay on The Path. It worked.

Oh, did I mention we had also already grabbed a cart? Yeah. We did. So we pushed it, empty, around and around and around....

We finally made it to the end, hopped on the elevator and arrived at the Marketplace. I was tempted to buy a lot more than I did. After looking at every imaginable piece of glassware, kitchen gadgets and storage containers, we made it to the rugs. This was the real reason for the trip and I'm not kidding when I say we spent almost 45 minutes in this section alone.

While looking at rugs there was an odd woman who appeared to be following us wherever we went. She even made a comment that she wasn't following us, which makes it even more evident that she was. And she was following us holding this in the air and saying out loud that one was more yellow than the other and it was probably because the sheep rolled in something. Great.

Overall, the IKEA trip was successful, albeit a little overwhelming. And that granola bar tasted great between Lighting and Home Decor.

What did I buy? I bought a Marienta Ruta, a Signe and an Alvine Satin. That's two rugs for the kitchen and a duvet cover, respectively. I didn't eat any Swedish meatballs, but the cinnamon buns did smell tasty.

Truth be told, I don't think I'll be going back any time soon. I needed a nap when it was over!

In Which I Say "Meatballs"...Twice

I woke up this morning to a text saying that Christmas music was on the radio. (Thanks, Jen!) I know it's a cliche, but this really is my favorite time of year. There's something about Thanksgiving through New Years that's so warm and cozy and happy. I love it.

So despite the fact that it's 60 degrees out, I listened to Christmas music the whole ride to work and now have it playing at my desk. Yay! Michael (a.k.a. Scrooge) will cringe when he reads this. He doesn't want to hear Christmas music until the week of Christmas, and even then he thinks it's too much. Too bad he lives with me!

I've already bopped around my desk to Mariah ("All I want for Christmas is yoouuuuu!") and am currently being serenaded by Frosty the Snowman. Love it!

On to some randomness, because really, it's Friday.

I confessed to Michael that I look at wedding stuff and that I might possibly (i.e. absolutely) have found the place for a reception. As in, I started drooling all over myself when I found it. And we could afford it! And...hi, I'm not even engaged.

His response? He wasn't surprised. Or freaked out. He laughed...and then smiled. He's so cute.

I really pushed myself at the gym last night (yes, I did go!) and as a result I am not wearing heels today. Legs = ow. But a good ow.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow I am going to Ikea. IKEA! The magical store that goes on forever and has stemware, couches, beds and meatballs! Couches and meatballs! In the same store! Oh those crazy Scandinavians!

I've been given some tips to survive my first experience within the window-less blue box. Bring a granola bar. Follow the signs. Charge your cell before leaving and always have a buddy. With these tips I'm sure popping my Ikea cherry will be a fun adventure. Details to follow.

Happy Friday!

"Siillllleeeent Niiight. Hooooooly Niiiight..."

I Hate It When He's Right

My plan was to go to the gym last night. But when I got home we had nothing for dinner so we had to go grocery shopping. You know how I feel about grocery shopping.

But Michael was home so he came with me and his company makes the experience tolerable. So we're in the store, adding things to the cart that we really don't need, (salsa flavored tortilla chips?) and it was getting late.

I made a reference to this as we were standing in the frozen foods aisle and suggested that I might just go to the gym in the morning.

This is where Michael started laughing.

"No you won't!"

"I will too! I'm motivated!"

[Laughing] "Who are you kidding. The alarm will go off and you will roll over and go back to sleep. I know you!"

This is where I began huffing and puffing and pouting. I almost stomped my feet. I am not above doing that in the middle of the grocery store. I was furious! Oh ye of little faith! I'll show him.

"I will go in the morning. I bet you. How much you wanna bet?"

"900 dollars."

"You're on!"

I was so mad at him. How could he doubt me? I made a commitment to myself to go to the gym at least three times a week. I was going in the morning. What was his problem? I was mad at him the whole way home, while I was putting away groceries and as I prepared dinner. I was right, he was wrong.

The end.

P.S. Anyone got 900 bucks I can borrow?

I Believe...

- in the power of black eye liner, great jeans and killer heels.

- in always having a box on instant pudding in the cabinet. Because there's always room for J-E-L-L-O.

- there's something magical in the quiet of a snow storm.

- in sometimes having a good cry.

- that everyone should own a big down comforter.

- (I love) when the song you're listening too ends just as you pull into the driveway.

- that the ocean, sunrises, mountain tops and babies' smiles prove there is a something greater than us.

- that love is the answer.

Have I Mentioned I Hate Bad Drivers?

I was still in my post-adolescent funk last night when I started the drive home from work. It was dark. It was raining, but not that hard. Not hard enough to justify the driving that I encountered the whole way home.

First there was the Creepy Crawly.

The driver that inches their way along the road at least five miles under the speed limit. Their wipers are on top speed (even though it's just a step above drizzling) and if you're close enough, you might be able to make out the top of clear plastic bonnet covering white hair.

Next came Big Truck You Cannot See Around. (BTYCSA)

BTYCSA drives in the left lane. He usually has some large equipment in his cab or things tied down under a tarp. He's going a mile or two under the speed limit but remains in the left lane. He also stays right next to the person in the right lane so there is no chance of getting around either of them. His massive size will not allow you too see around him or through his wind shied, so you have no idea what's going on in front of him. And he kicks up so much dirt and water that you have to use your wipers even though it's not raining that hard.

Then there was He Who Does Not Know Blinker Is On.

Blinker Boy will put on his blinker and get in the lane next to you. He will then continue to drive for miles with it on...blink, blink, blink. Is he turning? Is he going to cut me off unexpectedly? Does he hear the incessant BLINK, BLINK, BLINK?

And finally, my least favorite encounter of the evening: Mrs. Mini Van.

I HATE MINI VANS. I have never come across a person driving a mini van that was a good driver. They usually fall into one of two extremes:

One: They are so slow. There is a gaggle of children inside, toys are being thrown, stickers are all over the windows and they are just basically in your way.

Two: They are maniacs. They have a soccer ball decal on their back window, a "My Child Is A (insert school here) Honor Roll Student!" bumper sticker, they're talking on their cell phone and they are FLYING. I cannot tell you how many times I've been tailgated by a mini van only to have them soar by me going 80.

Put this all together over the course of a 40 minute commute and you have me gripping the steering wheel and taking deep breaths.

I better not encounter this again tonight. I spent an hour in the gym releasing my road rage last night and I'm too sore to go back today.

So I Guess This Is Growing Up

It was really nice to have Boobeski come visit. The minute she walked in the door it was like we were right back at 38 BP. After catching up we immediately started reminiscing about the beginning of our friendship. There were a lot of "I can't believe I did that" moments followed by lots of laughter. How is it possible that we've been friends for almost six years?

As promised, the evening included good food and good drinks with Michael and his friend from work. The four of us laughed and talked (I'd like to say late into the evening...but it wasn't really that late. We were tired...we work now!) and had a really nice time.

The next day we went shopping. And while I didn't buy any shoes, (I know, I'm shocked too) I left with a nice assortment of...work clothes.

Work clothes? What's happening to me? When did deciding what to wear to work become more important than finding a cute top to go with those great jeans? When did I start putting the fabulous coat back on the hanger because I should really use that money for Christmas presents? How did professionalism, practicalism and fiscal savviness creep into my life without me knowing it? And why is it showing its ugly face while I'm shopping?!

Sure, I'm not old. My boss will read this and say, "you're so 23." But to me, this is change.

Last night I took a late night run to CVS. Late night errands always remind me of college...Wendy's, Dunkin', Cumberland Farms...and I was feeling nostalgic for my friends.

I went in and headed for the sign marked Hosiery. I inwardly groaned as I walked down the aisle. Hosiery. Hosiery? Hosiery! I haven't worn stockings since, I don't know, middle school? OK, maybe not that long ago but I really couldn't remember the last time. I don't wear stockings. Grown ups wear stockings. I am not a grown up.

But despite what Glamour says, I cannot get away with bare legs all winter at work. I'm fair skinned. We're talking super-light. Bare legs + winter = legs look like a cadaver. Let's not even go there. Plus, I'm always cold. If I want to continue to wear adorable skirts and dresses, stockings must make an appearance.

So there I am, standing in front of rows and rows of various colors of hosiery and completely stumped. What do I buy? What is the difference between Off Black, Soft Black and Black Mist? It look me 15 minutes to pick out two pairs. Fifteen minutes. Seriously.

So here I am, pondering where my adolescence went and wearing my stockings and crossing my fingers that I don't put a run in them.

I can totally see a quarter-life crisis in my future.

Friday Ramblings

I am so ready for the weekend. It's been one of those weeks where I feel so disconnected from myself...like I'm functioning and going about my daily business but not really here. Does that make any sense? No? I guess a simpler way to say it is I feel really out of it.

Aside from the fact that I have a ton to do this afternoon and no real time to do it and I still haven't cleaned the house even though Boobeski is coming tonight, I think it will be a good weekend.

And despite the small fortune I spent on my hair last night, the weekend will be filled with good company, good food, good drink and outlet shopping. Discounted shoes? YES.

And my hair? I can't stop touching it. Because it's so soft and smells like deliciously expensive hair products that I won't buy for myself.

And this post? Are you bored out of your skull from reading it?

Workin' It (At Work...Not On The Streets)

I came into work early because I have to leave early today. Do you know how strange an office is a half hour before everyone comes in? It's eerily quiet...no computers running, no printers going, no yelling from room to room. (What, people don't yell in your office?)

I kind of enjoyed the quiet. Not so much that I would want to work in a quiet office, though. Because my office has character. And chocolate. And hardwood floors. And....chocolate.

So today has the potential to be a pretty good day. I'm having lunch with a friend, the intern might not wear her overly strong perfume (fingers crossed) and it won't be completely dark out when I leave. Not like last night when Rt. 1 was a freaking death trap. And later this evening is my much needed hair appointment (roots=bad) which was delayed a week because of the dinner. I love the tag line for SunSilk. "Get hairapy." So true.

In exciting news that has nothing to do with me? Daily Editor might be getting engaged soon!!!! So excited for you, girlie. You know there's a bunch of us green with envy right now. Her boy basically confirmed he is ring shopping. (Or has ring-shopped already!) Yay!

And shout-out to the male reader who felt neglected when I thanked all the ladies. Thanks for reading, man. How about a little male perspective?

In other news, Boobeski is coming to visit tomorrow. Which means massive amounts of house cleaning tonight. Damn you, Boobs.

(It will be interesting to see how many people end up here through a Google search of "damn boobs." Ha!)

Surprise

When I started this blog I did it mostly as an outlet for my writing, my thoughts, etc. I didn't really think people would start reading it.

But people are reading it. And what's come of it is this amazing network of women who *shock* are going through really similar things.

Whether it be agonizing over when we will get engaged, complaining that we are bloated, hungry and bitchy or relishing in a new pair of shoes, these women are right in step with me.

So that's pretty cool. Especially during this whole future (near future????? Please???) mother in law thing...I couldn't have asked for better support.

Thank you ladies, you know who you are.

Randomness

* I'm still fuming over the relationship with Michael's mom. I don't know why it's getting to me so much. I'm almost at the point where I want to sit down with her or write her a letter...anything to get my feelings across. Because right now I feel like she's taking advantage of the fact I haven't said anything to her.

The last few dinners with her? Awful. And at her birthday I really feel she took advantage of having an audience to be even more standoff-ish to me. Like she's saying, "Look, I told you she's not good enough."

And I've really had it up to here with the conservative, close minded statements. Yes, I'm liberal. Deal with it. Newsflash: liberal does not equal devil. It's not like I'm chained to a tree, burning my bra, making out with a woman all while aborting my unborn baby just because I can.

Sorry. That was a bit much. But you get my point.

And if I was really so awful, why would her intelligent, ADULT son be with me???

Thoughts, anyone?

*My first story is being published through work. I'm really excited about it because I worked really hard on it and it means that, oh yeah, I have a real job and I actually do something. The only downside is for whatever reason I won't be credited for it. At least not this time. No, it's not the New York Times, but I'm still disappointed. It's nice to see your name under your work.

*My mother is currently in the air flying to Hawaii for a week. I am not. You can see how happy I am about this.

*After tonight there will be no more political commercials. I cannot wait. If I have to see one more "the many hats of Chaffee" commercial I will scream.

*16 days till Thanksgiving! Yum!

Wake Up Call

How do you perceive things?

How To Annoy Me

This past weekend was spent in Vermont with Michael and the dog. It was so nice to nap on the couch, walk in the crisp mountain air and not answer the phone. I even got to indulge in maple sugar candies which are soooo good.

But four hours in the car each way did not make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved the time with Michael. Actually, driving with him is something I really enjoy. But when faced with a four hour trip, there is bound to be some mishaps along the way.

On the way to VT we hit traffic in Massachusetts. Some type of bridge work that really should have been done in the middle of the night, not on a Saturday afternoon. Really.

The main reason for the holdup was that two lanes had to merge into one. There was a big orange sign that said "RIGHT LANE ENDS ONE MILE" that most people took to mean the right lane was ending.

But not all people.

No. Not Ms. Mini-van. (Have I ever written about how much I hate mini-vans? No? Remind me to.) Ms. Mini-van was so concerned about getting ahead just a few more feet that she would speed up in the right lane and try to pass all of those (specifically us) who had followed the sign and gotten in the left lane. Luckily for us, the guy in front of us wasn't having it either. He straddled the middle line just enough so she couldn't pass him and we stayed right behind him so she couldn't get in front of us.

But she wouldn't let up. There she was, right next to me rolling her eyes and getting agitated. And I had enough. My window was down. I turned around. I may have thrown my hands in the air. And said "you're going to get in an accident! Get over it and get behind us!"

Another eye roll, but she got behind us. Michael was surprised at my passenger-seat road rage. But HONESTLY. Some people.

On the way home we hit traffic again. This time it appeared to be for no reason, until....Oh. I-84. How I loathe you 84. The worst leg of the trip when I head home to NY and here it is again, dumping traffic onto 90 when all I want to do is get home!

We decided this would be a good time for a pee and snack break so we pulled off into a rest area. You know, a fancy one, with a McDonalds and a Papa Johns. And an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Like I said, fancy.

We parted towards our respective bathrooms. I waited for a stall and when one of the doors opened, the girl coming out looked and me and kept on going. So I went in. And saw that she hadn't flushed. What? Ew. What is wrong with people?

I wasn't about to wait again so I flushed it for her as I pressed myself against the door willing her excrements to stay in the bowl and away from me. When I was done I went out to wash my hands.

Sink #1, no soap. Sink #2, no soap. Sinks 3, 4, AND 5....NO SOAP! Sink #6 finally had soap and it was the icky rest stop smelling soap. You know, the pink kind.

Michael was waiting for me when I came out and we were hungry so we decided to get a pretzel. Well apparently they don't make the parmesan anymore (the best kind) so I settled for a regular and he chose a cinnamon sugar.

"We only have one regular right now, but we have an almond one," said the cashier.

"That's it?" Michael asked.

"We're making more now," she replied. "They'll be ready in about seven minutes."

I'd be damned if we were going to stay in that rest stop for another seven minutes.

"We'll take the regular," Michael said.

Can I just tell you that the regular was dinky and unsatisfying. What ever happened to big, doughy pretzels?

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The dog made up for lost time in his yard by running around and barking at the sky. I made dinner and we settled in for some Sunday night TV.

A great weekend. Minus the traffic.

And the pretzel.

Just. Breathe.

Last night left me completely emotionally exhausted. Do you know how hard it is to keep your mouth shut when you disagree so vehemently with the conversation going on around you but you know that saying something will just make it worse?

Back to that in a minute.

Dinner went basically exactly as I anticipated. Michael's mom thanked him very sincerely for the card both of us wrote in.

She shared a look (you know the kind) with her friend across the table when Michael's grandmother made a reference to our first Christmas tree.

She snapped at me for my choice of outerwear:

Me: Brrr, it got cold out!

Her: Well, Molly. Maybe if you were wearing a proper jacket, you wouldn't be so cold. I mean, really. It's not that cold out.

Me: I came directly from work. This jacket was just fine this afternoon.

Her: Well, it's not really worth complaining about, is it?

Right. Silly me. What was I thinking--rushing home from work to attend your birthday because 6 o'clock (rather than 6:30) is really better for you--and not bringing a suitable jacket for the drop in temperature that was bound to happen in the two hours we were in the restaurant??

Oh, the conversation that left me wanting to just die?

The nicest way to put it is that it was very, very, very close minded and bigoted. And I had already used my bathroom break escape to avoid an earlier conversation so I couldn't leave the table again without looking like I had a serious bladder problem.

I love Michael. I really, really, really, really do.

And now I completely understand why he doesn't like to go to his mother's for dinner.

Matriarchal Mess

Today is one of those days. You know the kind I mean. It's rainy, it's cold. Your bed was so warm and getting out of it was soooo hard.

It's that kind of day.

Coupled by the fact that I feel crampy and bloated and just want to eat chocolate all day. Which I will. Go ahead, judge me.

And, to top it off, tonight we are going out for Michael's mom's birthday.

This isn't all bad. The food will be good. His grandmother will be there and she loves me.

However, his mom? Doesn't love me so much. Sure, she's kind. She'll give me a hug and thank me for coming. But that's where it will end. The rest of the evening she will barely talk to me because her Son is there and that is the most important thing.

And no one is good enough for her Son. No. One.

Except maybe the daughter of a minister. Which I am definitely not.

Why does this bother me so much? Michael and I are happy together. I shouldn't worry about conquering the impossible task of getting his mom to love me. Isn't it true for all moms? There's no woman good enough for their boy?

Both his grandmothers love me. They even ask I call them Grandma. His dad liked me. His siblings like me. WHY DOES THIS BOTHER ME?

Oh, well. I guess it's just something I'm going to have to live with. I'm definitely having a glass of wine tonight.

She'll hate that.

Better Than Last Year

Last year was our first year in the house and I was really excited to have trick-or-treaters. Being way past the age of actually trick-or-treating myself, and not yet with a child of my own to take out, I was really looking forward to being the nice neighbor handing out treats.

I went out and bought bags of candy and sat down in the living room anticipating the doorbell ringing all night.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And not once did the doorbell ring. No scary ghosts. No pretty ballerinas. No Spidermen.

Zip. Zero. Notta.

I was so disappointed.

So this year I thought, why bother? If no one is going to come I am not going to bring bags of chocolate (mmmmmm chocolate) into this house for no reason!

But I thought about it. And thought about it. And I knew that if I didn't get any candy then the doorbell wouldn't stop ringing.

I stopped at CVS on my way home from work and stood...on... line... with all the other people buying last minute candy.

I pulled into the driveway, unlocked the door, said hi to the dog and...

DING DONG!!!!!

A trick-or-treater!!!!!!!!!

A little boy named Noah dressed as a soldier was my very first trick-or-treater. He was followed by....

Three more.

OK. So it's not what I had imagined. But all four kids were excited to get candy from my house and now they'll come back next year.

Good enough for me.