Life Furnishings

In just two hours we managed to spend enough money to cover a mortgage payment. Today I bought a laptop, the most expensive thing I've ever bought and my first real big girl purchase. We also bought a whole new set of very non-office looking office furniture. We will probably weep when the credit card bill comes.

This is my first laptop and I'm enthralled with all it's fancy features. Seventeen inch screen? Droooool. Michael and I are already arguing over who gets to use it. The novelty of using it on the couch, in the kitchen, lying in bed, hell, even on the toilet if I really wanted to, is not wearing off. This is great!

But the coolest part? All the shopping, for us, for our home, felt just right.

Perfect, actually.

Puppy Love

I was exhausted last night and fell asleep on the couch. After waking up around 10:30, I dragged myself upstairs and fell into bed. I was sound asleep and didn't even feel Michael come to bed.

At 1:30 a.m. I sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath. It felt like my heart had literally stopped. It took me a few seconds to realize that I had jumped into Michael's arms and Kodiak was barking. Not his usual "I'm happy to be in my yard" bark either.

This bark was more of a howl and a growl in one. He was standing in our doorway looking out into the hall. It was scary. He ran out into the hall and stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down and continuing his aggressive noises. I was straining to hear what he heard, but couldn't decipher anything. After a few minutes he calmed down, but I was AWAKE now and couldn't sleep.

Kodiak usually sleeps in his crate, but every now and then we let his sleep upstairs with us. I was really glad we had made that decision. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping that I would get tired again. Just then he was off into the hallway again, growling and upset. This time Michael heard noises that we determined were probably the neighbor's kids and their car. I was still on edge, though, and tossed and turned. While I was lying there I realized how far Kodiak has come in the year we've had him. He's always been a Daddy's boy. I was a good second if Michael wasn't around, but the minute he came home I was pretty much forgotten. Now I am showered with kisses when I come home, he lays next to me when I watch tv and most of all, he's protective. Newfoundlands aren't aggressive dogs, but they are very loyal to their families.

As I tossed around thinking about how far he's come, a cold, wet nose touched my arm. I looked over to see the big, fluffy head I love so much. He rested his head on the bed and looked up at me with his big, brown eyes, as if to say "are you OK, Mom?" I scratched his head and the he lay down on my side of the bed. Something he never does. He stayed there the rest of the night until he woke me up with kisses in the morning.

I really do love that puppy.

Randomness

Apparently, I am 80. I don't know if I slept weird or what, but my back is killing me. Especially my entire right side from my head to my hips. And I couldn't get a massage appointment until Friday. I'm dying. No, really. Tonight it's a hot shower and a muscle relaxer. Stat.

My fingers are crossed for a snow today tomorrow, but it's not looking too good. As much as I don't really enjoy winter, I was looking forward to one good snowy day. And you can't get more romantic than snow for Valentine's Day. Michael and I once got snowed in at a beautiful bed and breakfast in Chatham, MA for Valentine's Day. It was gorgeous.

Speaking of Valentine's Day, I was pleasantly surprised to hear from Michael seeing if I could leave work a little early tomorrow. He made reservations at my favorite restaurant. I wasn't expecting dinner since we usually just do cards, but it's very sweet and made my day.

For some reason my blog traffic has been especially heavy today. I think it must be because I wrote about religion yesterday. And people have been reading from all over the world. Which is actually very cool.

Testing The Waters

Religion has always been a strange topic for me. Growing up my family was not religious. My mom (raised Catholic) and my dad (raised Jewish) had both stopped practicing by their teens. My sister and I were raised being taught values and kindness and celebrating holidays with both sides of the family, but we did not attend church or temple on a regular basis.

My mom made sure to teach us a little history behind both religions, but since there was no weekly reminders (like CCD) eventually the stories faded away. And while everything was fine and I never really felt like I was missing anything, a part of me was envious of my friends and cousins. Like they were privy to a members-only club that held secret information. If you weren't in, you didn't get it.

As I got older and my friends weren't running off to CCD or the JCC after school anymore, religion just became something in the background. I developed by own beliefs of something greater than myself. Something along the lines of nature. But whenever asked about it I could never give a strong definition. I'd just say I didn't associate myself with either religion, but I believed that yes, there is a God whatever He (or She) may be.

The first time I realized this was going to be a problem was when I began dating my high school boyfriend. He was Jewish. His mother had married a non-Jewish man but decided to raise her children as her religion.

She never liked me. Which I found very hypocritical.

No matter how polite I was or how often I tried to discuss other topics with her there was always that underlying feeling of disapproval. I couldn't win.

Religion took a back seat again in college until things became serious with Michael. He was raised in a very religious home, and while he does not practice like he did as a child, it is still important to him. As we discussed our future together I began to get nervous. Couples break up over religion. Would he be willing to accept who I am and what I do (and do not) believe? Would I be able to accept his beliefs?

The short answer is yes. After much discussion I learned that while it is important to him that religion play a role in his and his children's lives, it is not all consuming. And he accepts whatever path I choose to take.

His mother does not accept this and it will always be an issue. But that's another story. (I just can't win with mothers!)

That being said, I am curious about it. So without him knowing I started doing some research. Because while I know a little, I can barely scratch the surface of what the Bible is all about. I did some research and bought a book that breaks it down and really explains everything. I was reading it in bed the other night when Michael got home. He saw what I was reading and questioned me about it. After I explained he smiled and kissed me. Because he knows that while it's mostly for me, it's also for him. For us. Because if it's important to him, I want to understand.

This does not mean that I'm converting to Catholicism. Not even close. I still have a lot of problems with some of what the church stands for. And I am very liberal, which rubs a lot of people the wrong way (Especially his mother).

But I'm learning. And we'll see where it goes from here.

Really?

I called my sweet, handsome, college educated boyfriend yesterday to ask him to take two pieces of chicken out of the freezer so I could make something for dinner.

I got home around 5:40, said my hellos to Michael and the dog and walked into the kitchen to determine if the chicken was fully defrosted.

Then I stopped.

Sitting on the counter was not chicken, but a pork chop and a piece of talapia.

I walk into the living room holding the half-frozen not-chicken.

"Michael, this isn't chicken."

"It's not?"

"No, it's a pork chop and fish."

"Huh. I thought that chicken looked like fish."
*
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*
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Did I mention he has a Bachelor's of Science?

Perfection

Not so perfect:

- Waking up early because we only have one bathroom and Michael was working the same time I was today. And we both needed to shower. It actually makes sense that I shower first on days like this because when I'm done he gets in the shower and I do my hair and makeup. That way the mirror is free for him to shave when he gets out.

But 20 minutes makes a huge difference in your sleep pattern. At least it does for me. And now I have that tired headache behind my eyes.

- Attempting to make "real" oatmeal (not instant) without any directions because we need to go grocery shopping tonight.

- Shmutz on my sleeve. What the hell? Is it oatmeal?

Perfect:

- Not immediately turning the TV on last night and curling up on the couch to read a book, something I haven't done in a very long time.

- Michael getting home 30 minutes later with a big smile on his face because "I missed you!"

- Smiling behind my book as Michael yelled at the TV during the State of State address.

- Reading my book in bed (ah the reading!) under the warm comforter and flannel sheets.

- Drifting off to sleep to the sound of Michael singing along to Dave Matthews in the next room.

Yeah, I guess life is pretty good.

Necessity

Michael had a meeting after work last night and afterwards was going out with some co-workers. I knew this a week before hand. I had no problem with it.

I got home from work, made myself some dinner and settled in to read Real Simple and watch a new (finally!) episode of Gilmore Girls. The dog was being good, I was cozy in my PJs. It was a nice evening.

Around 10 I decided I was ready for bed. I did my routine, put the dog to bed and snuggled under the flannel sheets, anticipating dozing off before the end of the Law & Order: SVU re-run.

Instead, I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Hot, then cold, then hot again. First the pillow was too hard, then it wasn't hard enough. And I was so thirsty but didn't feel like getting up for a drink.

A little after 11 I finally fell asleep. I woke with a start around 12:15 and realized Michael wasn't home yet. While this wasn't cause for concern quite yet, I couldn't help worrying. He had to work early the next day. The meeting was far away. What if he drank too much? What if there was an accident? Why isn't he home yet?

Toss. Turn. Toss. Turn.

Just as I was debating calling him, I heard his car pull up. Phew.

He got in bed, spooned me and gave me kisses.

I was sound asleep in five minutes.

Return Of The Date

Despite the weather, yesterday was a nice day. We slept in, took the dog for a long walk, shopped for my elliptical (yay!) and went out for dinner.

Over a shared appetizer of steamed dumplings it dawned on me that I could not remember the last time we went on a date. We always used to go on dates. In college we had a "date night" once a week, no matter what.

I guess sometime in the past few years, between work and life, we settled into a routine. A comfortable, happy routine...but a routine none the less.

It's funny how relationships change. I saved some emails Michael wrote me the first few months we were dating. I had just finished my freshman year and had returned to NY for the summer. The time apart was agony. The torture of new, young love was enough to make me realize I never wanted to be apart again. (Incidentally, that was the only summer I ever went back home.)

They are the sweetest letters and I really cherish them. Everything was new, we were so in love. We were both high on the new relationship buzz and the curiosity and excitement of the unknown.

Every six months or so I read those letters as a reminder of where we came from, what our relationship was built upon. They always make me smile.

And although the infatuation has melted away, what remains is something strong and wonderful. We're no longer planning our next date, but our future, our family, our lives. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

But what had a tendency to get lost in the fray is that time we used to sit aside just for each other. Moving in together gave us the advantage of seeing each other every day. Together time became synonymous with dinner, tv and bed. And while that is all well and good, I don't think either of us realized how much we missed that special time.

Until last night.

So as we dug into our entrees it was decided. We will bring back date night.

And I can't wait.

2007

Happy 2007! Ignoring the fact that the entire left side of my face was stuffed up and phlegm was collecting in my lungs for days, (mmm, nice) this weekend was great. Boobeski showed up on Saturday and we headed out for a day of shopping with Jen.

Sunday started with more shopping (I bought shoes. Surprised? I'm allowed...it was birthday weekend,) followed by a birthday dinner with us and Michael. Then in typical girly fashion, we took almost two hours to get ready to go out. Poor Michael was bombarded with estrogen and makeup and hair products until he retreated to the couch to watch some television.

My friend Margaret and her boyfriend showed up just in time to go out and we all headed to a local bar. The rest of the night was so much fun...good drinks, good company and a ton of hilarious pictures.

I said goodbye to 2006 with a champagne toast and the sweetest kiss from the man I love. (Saaaaaappy! Yeah, yeah. I know.) It was a wonderful birthday.

Now it's back to work after 10 days of vacation. Of course it's a very short week because my family is coming tomorrow night. So I can't really complain.

I got a few phone calls and a couple of hand-grabs from various people asking "Where's the ring?" In the back of my mind I had hoped it would happen by my birthday, until Michael and I talked about it on the way home from NY. He didn't want me to get my hopes up for a New Year's surprise because he knows me and he knows that if it didn't happen I wouldn't be able to hide my disappointment. So he told me flat out. Not this week.

I was bummed for a little bit until I realized that it's too predictable anyway. He's always saying he knows I want to be surprised so why would he do it when I was expecting it? And he asked me to show him what kind of rings I like...which I did. Immediately. So I'm taking that as a good sign.

So no, I was not disappointed that I didn't ring in 2007 with something sparkly on my hand. Because 2006 was a really great year. And I think 2007 is going to be even better.

(Snuggling at the bar? What can I say...he smells really good.)

When All The Rules Go Down The Toilet

This is a weird topic and not for the squeamish. I'm serious. If you're easily grossed out, stop reading.

That being said...those of you in a relationship: what are your bathroom boundaries?

Mine used to be very cut and dry. When I'm in the bathroom, he's not. Period. I didn't mind if he wanted to brush his teeth while I was in the shower, but anything involving the toilet was off limits until I was done.

As our relationship progressed, the boundaries changed. It started with peeing while the other one was in the shower. Then it was peeing while the other one was brushing their teeth.

The boundaries had been reset. I was OK with them.

And then they changed.

Michael got sick. The kind of sick that makes you go to the bathroom. A lot. Our house is small and there's only one bathroom. So when someone's really sick, you know it. Now I worked in a daycare for a year after college. I've changed more than my fair share of dirty diapers and went through countless accidents that occur during potty training. Obviously I don't enjoy other people's bowel movements, but I can handle them.

Since he would be in there so long, we would end up talking through the door. I'd be playing with the dog, he'd be doing his business. It actually didn't seem that weird, except for when he would talk about it. Is it all guys or just My Guy that likes to discuss the details of his excrements?

Eventually it started cutting into my routine. I needed to do my makeup before work, but he was occupying the room. So I'd dash in, grab my stuff and dash out. Then finally, he had to go when I was in the shower. What can you do, say no?

Now we did not make a habit of this. That was an emergency situation. He does not have the freedom to do as he pleases on the toilet while I'm in there. I don't bring in a chair and discuss current events. This will never be a regular event for two. It's still a private time.

And then this morning, while he was in the shower, it hit me. I had to go. It was my turn to push the boundaries. Was I ready for it? I momentarily panicked. Up until now it had always been him going in my presence. Was I ready to share the most personal of situations, which could potentially included noises or smells?

Turns out I was. Oh he made fun of me, of course. But it wasn't that bad.

I cannot wait until we have two bathrooms.

O Christmas Tree

Like most weekends, this one went by too quickly. Saturday was spent mostly in my pajamas, until it was time to go back to work. But work isn't really work when you're dressed up eating a gourmet meal. To give you an idea of that meal, it consisted of:

Lobster Madeira Vol-Au-Vent

A mixed winter green salad with apples, dried cranberries and spicy pecans in a maple pomegranate vinaigrette

And a Chef's Trio: Petite filet mignon, grilled double lamb chop with a port wine and cherry reduction and wood roasted Alaskan halibut with a shrimp and roasted fennel gratinee.

It's ok. I'd be jealous of my stomach too. I guess if you have to work on a Saturday, that's the way to do it.

Sunday was Fun Day because we finally got the Christmas tree! Michael wasn't into decorating it, but he did put it in the stand which was great because last year I did it myself, was covered in sap and cursing repeatedly. This was much better.

The night was complete with us lying on the couch under the glow of the tree. Me watching Mean Girls, him asleep in my arms.

So good.

Nonsensical

While laying in bed last night:

Me: Stop it. You're being glib.

Him: "Glib" is not a word.

M: Yes it is!

H: Yeah, just like "glob" is a word.

M: Glob is a word!

H: Ohh look at you, fancy editing lady. I meant like glib, glob.

M: What?

H: Be quiet.

---- Silence ----


M: This is so going in the blog!

H: No it's not!


Haha. I win.

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?

Sappy Sappy

For those of you who make fun of me for being a total love-nut, you might want to stop reading. I'm warning you. Total mush ahead.

Michael and I had a fight last night. Actually, I guess it's not really a fight because I was the one who was upset and he wasn't really saying anything. I don't know what you would call it. We'll just leave it at I was upset.

After he fell asleep, I lay awake for almost two hours thinking about the upset-ness and realized that whatever the problem is, we can get through it. I know I've said it before, but I'm one lucky girl. Yes, I love the big romantic stuff that comes along every now and then, but it's really all the little things that he does daily that let me know how much he loves me. For example:

He came home from the grocery store with dinner and some other things we needed. Then he pulled out one container of perfectly ripe raspberries. I love raspberries, but I hardly ever buy them because they are so expensive for such a little bit of fruit. But Michael bought them. For me. Because he knows I love them.

And he brought home a slice of key-lime pie because I mentioned I wanted some over two weeks ago. Yum.

He worries about my car. He remembers the oil changes, new wipers, etc. when I don't. He looked all over the place to find a replacement tail light. He's even spontaneously washed my car (probably because he's tired of looking at the dirt) numerous times.

He shovels the snow because I hate shoveling snow. He also scoops the dog poop, kills the bugs, and smells things in the fridge for me.

He lets me lie on the big couch while he sits on the love seat, even though he's 6'4" and bought the couch because it's big enough for him to lie on.

When he works early in the morning he always fixes the blanket and tucks the big, fluffy comforter around me and kisses me goodbye. Even though I'm half asleep, the gesture means a lot.

The list goes on. Sure, he puts glasses on the ottoman, leaving ring marks, leaves socks on the floor and dishes thisclose to but not in the dishwasher. (Preparation for a house full of boys, he tells me.)

But when he cleans my hair out of the drain or picks up the mail I left on the counter for the umpteenth time, I know he loves me.

And I love him, too.

Pink!

It's October and that means it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Go Pink to raise awareness and support the fighters and survivors and help raise money to find a cure.

Go here daily and click to fund free mammograms.

I love you Mom!

A Day Of Practice...But Not That Much Fun

So newsflash: I survived the dentist. And big surprise, it wasn't such a big deal after all. I really have to work on this anxiety thing. It blows.

I arrived 15 minutes early. I was nervous. Really nervous. I looked around for a magazine but the selection was sub-par. Parenting or Seventeen? Seventeen it is.

"Guest Editor Hillary Duff!!!!" Ooooh boy. This should keep my mind off the dreaded needle for a few seconds. It didn't. I couldn't focus on Hillary's blinding smile, let alone remember if leopard print leggings meant your personality is "eclectic" or "wild."

So minus the details of filling my cavity....I made it. Yes, the hygienist had to hold my hands. But I'm ok with that.

When I got home Michael was just getting ready to go try out the sailboat for the first time. Did I want to come? Sure did! Visions of us sailing, wind blowing my hair as he took control of the sails all manly-like flashed before my eyes. How romantic! How exciting! How...New England!

Yeah. It didn't quite go exactly like that.

Let me just say that I know nothing about sailing. Michael was eager to teach me...and he was doing a really good job. He was patient and understanding when I was obviously not steering the boat into the wind like he asked me to. But in his quest to teach me all about sailing, he thought it best to use the correct terminology.

"Wrap the line around that cleat!"

"She's got [I can't remember the number] pounds of ballast." (Or something like that

Huh? Cleat? Like on shoes? Shoes I know. If he was shouting out "Stiletto!" or "Kitten heal!" or "T-Strap!" I'd be great. Of course, he was not. He might as well been speaking another language.

And did you know sailboats lean really far over when they sail? I did not know that.

And then it hit me. A sudden wave of nausea that left me dry heaving over the side of the boat. Greeeeaaaat. Sea sickness. Mom was right. I should have taken Dramamine. Lesson learned.

Eventually, the nausea passed, the boat was pointed into the wind and I looked up at my handsome Boy standing tall in his sailboat, his hair blowing in the wind.

It really wasn't so bad after all. In fact, I kind of loved it.

How Come It's (K)not My Turn?

So many people I went to high school with are getting married. How do I know? Hi, Myspace.

I'm happy for them. It's so great to be in love and find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. But some of these people....I just can't believe they're getting married.

Before me.

Yes, that's right. I want to get married. Badly. I have found the love of my life. I am happier than I could have ever imagined. And I dream about walking down the aisle and meeting him at the altar.

Some of my friends don't understand why I want to be married now. "You're so young. Experience life before you get married!"

But the thing is, I am experiencing life. And I'm experiencing it with him. I'm not missing out on anything.

I've already traveled the world. And I will again. With him. I've already dated. And I know in my heart that there is no one I'd rather be with. He doesn't hold me back from doing whatever I want to do. He's caring, loving and supportive. Always. We've been together almost five years. The happiest five years of my life.

So don't tell me I'm too young.

Even though I don't want to admit it, I'm kind of jealous of all these ridiculously happy high school people planning their futures with their spouse-to-be. I want a spouse-to-be!

Have I mentioned I'm in love? I am. After four years I still get excited when I know he's coming home from work. My heart still beats fast when he kisses me. I looooove him.

I can't help but think about it. Say what you want. I want to marry the man of my dreams.

I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

6,218 Days Ago

I became a big sister.

I was so proud. I wore a button with her picture on it to my first grade class. I showed everyone and told them that she was my little sister.

I relished every second of those early moments of being a big sister. I would sit and look at her, smell her baby smell and invevitably, I got in her face and made her cry. It was great.

Eventually, being seven years apart showed its ugly side. She followed me everywhere. She copied everything I did. She always was underfoot. What I know now was just the highest form of flattery, I found to be annoying and irritating then. She drove me nuts.

So I did what any normal 12 year old would do. I dropped shoes on the staircase so she would hear it think I walked downstairs. I told her we found her in a field. I told her the Big Bad Wolf was in our room.

Luckily, she doesn't hold this against me.

One day my sister was no longer a five year old child following me around. She was a really unique, intelligent tween who I liked spending time with.

The day I moved into my college dorm was really hard. She held me tight and didn't want me to leave.

I'm going home this weekend to see my beautiful, talented 17 year old sister perform in a play.

The little girl with BIG EYES is all grown up.

I am so proud to be her sister.

In the case that Michael actually read my little rant about the pants, I just want to tell him I'm sorry. I was cranky because my pants were too tight. I wasn't getting enough oxygen.

He does way more than I alluded to in the post. As a matter of fact, he does a crap load of stuff. And he's neater than me. MUCH neater. So while the housework may get put off, it's just as much my fault as his. I couldn't get along without him. Not just around the house, in life. I hope he knows that. So here's my big apology in a public forum

He's the ying to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly, the ice cream to my sprinkles. You get it.

He's the most kind, intelligent, hardworking, handsome, amazing man I have ever known.

And I love him.

Sweetness

A re-post, because I like this one.

As I'm walking back from dropping off a FedEx package, I come up behind an older couple holding hands.

You know that three-stone diamond anniversary ring commercial with the younger couple walking around the older couple? It was like that, except they weren't that old. Probably in their 60s.

The couple is walking slowly, they're laughing and smiling. He even stops to pick her a flower. The whole time they never let go of each other's hands.

I know that in reality, they could be a new couple. (I mean what the hell, my grandfather just remarried at 80!) They both could have had lives before each other. Spouses, children, etc.

But I'd like to think that they've been happily married for 40 years and love each other today just as much, if not more, as they did when they said "I do."

That couple made me happy.