I Am Bringing It

Well, today I got myself a new boyfriend.  If you recall my previous post, I had acquired a new boyfriend a few weeks ago.  Sadly, it seems that directly after that post was written, he ceased working at that establishment and I haven’t seen him since.  Ours was a fleeting romance, apparently.  So fleeting, I hardly had time to pick a dress or flower arrangements.  Oh well, c’est la vie.  Plenty of fish in the sea, and all that.

And speaking of those fishies, I have apparently nabbed myself another whopper.  Hardly time for the corpse of my previous romantic encounter to get cold, but hey, what are ya gonna do?  Life is full of unexpected surprises.

It started innocently enough . . . with the need for a new watch battery.  I have this watch that I love.  The hubs gave it to me many years ago and I have replaced probably about 5 or 6 batteries over the years.  I usually go to this little shop around the corner from my office and they charge me about 7 bucks and have it done within a couple hours.  Well, this time I not only needed a battery, but also some additional work done on the watch as a couple of the little metal pieces indicating the number marks (like in between the 12 and 3 there are these 2 small metal dashes instead of 1 and 2) have come loose and get caught all up under the hands and randomly stop the hands from moving, thus rendering the watch somewhat useless for it’s intended purpose.  You know, telling time and all that.

So, I go to this little watch shop/electronics store/jewelry store around the corner.  There is this gentleman there today who is prepared to help me.  I explain to him my needs, and he says that if I just want a battery, it will be ready today, but the other things will take a couple days.  Which one do I want, he asks in a pretty thick turkish or greek accent.  I say I want both.  He says he has to go in the back to check with the guy to see how much and how long it will take.  I say, ok.  He then looks at me and says something else in his thick accent, to which I reply . . . “huh?”  He repeats his phrase: “you are looking very nice today.  This (motioning in a circular gesture around my head) is very nice.”  Oh, ok.  So I of course, being raised to be the fucking polite lady that I am, say, “ok, thanks.”

While he is in the back getting my prices (and let’s be honest, probably checking out my ass on the closed caption video . . . wouldn’t you?), I start to consider this statement.  I mean, obviously when I left the house this morning, I was thinking about presenting myself so as to attract the highest number of possible suitors.  I mean, I did shower today and clean all my dirty parts.  So when someone encountered my person they would not be offended by my odiferous scent.  I also applied deodorant and body spray, so as to keep that just out of the shower smell all day.  I additionally applied make up and blow dried and styled my hair, so that all of that area of my person would be considered “nice” by those who saw me.  Then, when I picked out an outfit, seeing as I was in my office today and not in court, I put on my loose fitting light blue button down blouse and black slacks with sandals, as I was obviously hoping some man type person would consider it a come hither gesture.  Especially with that top button unbuttoned right below my clavicle.  Rowrrrr.  Also, I have been packing on some pounds lately, and now those efforts of carb loading and wine swilling are obviously paying off, as someone has finally noticed the chunkiness which is now my rotund body.  I could not have planned this better!

When he returned, he brought with him an envelope, on which he asked me to write my name and phone number.  See what I mean?  I’ve been to bars before.  Many many years before, but still, the dating ritual cannot have changed that much, right?  I know a bar napkin substitute when I see it.  So I gave him my digits, of course. I want my new man to be able to contact me for any booty calls he may desire.  Then, when I asked when the watch would be done, he handed me his card and said, “just call me.”  Swoon.  Oh baby, will I ever!

Call me, baby!

So, I will keep everyone posted on my new love affair.  I’m sure this will progress quickly, despite our language barrier (who needs words when there is love?), his minimal amount of teeth (the better to kiss him by, I say) and the fact he is about 112 years old (maybe he is loaded!).  I know you’re jealous.  Sorry for my fabulousness.

Anyone else feeling the love lately?  Any wanted (or unwanted) attention from the menfolk?  Or ladyfolk?

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TV Overload

Ok, I admit it.  My name is Misty and I am a TVaholic.  “Hi Misty!!”  I watch entirely too much television, and most of it is crappy reality shows.  I get somewhat complacent during the summer months because there are really only a few shows that I watch during that time period, and I start getting lazy about my TV watching.  I start doing things like making plans to go out with people.  Spending more time with my children.  Going to bed early and getting a good night’s sleep.  

Well, thank goodness that madness has now come to an end!  I am now back off the wagon for my TV addiction.  The Fall TV season is upon us people!!

If you are like me, you anxiously await the fall edition of Entertainment Weekly.  You know the one.  The one I subscribe to the entire magazine for.  The one I wait through 51 less worthy editions to arrive at my home sometime in early September.  The one that when I finally get it in the mail, I run to my favorite chair, magazine in hand, and chart out every show that I plan to watch during the upcoming season.  Pen and notebook in hand, I read through that magazine like it is the dead sea scrolls about to impart some much longed for wisdom.  I slowly peruse the articles for the new shows to see if I may be interested in them.  I see where they moved around my old shows, if they are now on different nights and times.  I chart and graph and list.  I start with Sunday and work my way through the week.  I write down the time, the show name, the network and the start date.  I do this for every single show that I want to watch.  This way, I know if I have too many shows scheduled for one day and have to go up to the bedroom DVR to schedule any “extra” shows.  I then make sure I program every single show with a season pass on my DVR so I don’t miss a single second of any of my TV shows.

Beautiful, no?

See, the above list doesn’t even include 4 or 5 shows that I either already have scheduled and don’t need to list (The Soup, Top Chef, Project Runway, The Closer), or ones I added after I heard some good buzz (Up All Night, 2 Broke Girls) or a random show here or there that I schedule for the bedroom and probably won’t get to watch for a while (Unforgettable).

Ok, folks.  Herein lies the problem.  I have a full time job.  I have 2 young boys.  Granted, I don’t really have a social life, which is good for my TV watching addiction, but really there just are not enough hours in the day to watch every thing I want to watch and also do all the things that need to get done at work and around the house.  My DVRs get very full very fast.  This is a problem.  How do I solve this problem?

Well, some might say that I just need to pare down the amount of television that I watch.  To those silly people I say, “Pffftt!!”  Those people are now dead to me.  Really, what I need to do is either work less or spend less time with my children.  Or do less housework.  Or all three!!!

Yes, I do feel that I just need to make more time for my one true love . . . that glowing, speaking beauteous creature sitting in my living room and giving me the pure joy of distraction and saturation in another less hectic and stressful world.  I think that will be the solution.  And more wine.  Obviously.  Ahh, yes . . . I feel I am well on my way to being cured.

What are your addictions?  How do you find extra time in the day for them?

Fried, fried and more fried

As you may know, I posted a couple weeks ago about going to my second fair of the year, and not getting any fried Oreos, which was just so sad.  Well, this past weekend I attended my third and final fair of the season, and I am here to report that that travesty has been rectified. 

My goal was to not only get some fried Oreos, but to try to experience any other fried delicacies that looked interesting, since I had heard so many good things about other bizarre concoctions dipped in batter and deep fried.

My first encounter with a fried option came in the guise of something I would never have thought would be fried.  And that would be this:

Mmmm, strawberries.

Now, this little stand had lots of fried delicacies.  Including some things I never would have thought could or would be fried:

Fried what now?

Yep, that says fried pickle.  I’m just not sure how that would taste.  I mean, I like pickles.  But battered and fried?  No thanks.  I think I will just try the strawberries.  Because, I have heard of fried Oreos, fried Twinkies and even fried Snickers, but I have never heard of fried strawberries, and that is just too intriguing to miss.  So I got them:

Yum

That were so delicious.  I had 2 of them and gave 1 each to my sons.  I even gave the hubs a bite of one of mine.  Reluctantly.  They basically tasted like funnel cake with strawberries on top.  They were so good and I am glad I decided to give them a try.

I was still determined that before I left the fair though, I would be getting my fried Oreo, just maybe at a different stand.  And I know what you’re thinking . . . didn’t she say that last time?  Didn’t that bite her in the butt?  Hasn’t she learned her lesson?  And to those questions I answer YES to all.  But this time, I was determined that if I didn’t find another stand that sold them, I would be hoofing it right back to this place, bedtimes be damned.

So, let me share a few other things I saw at this fair.  And before you get all excited, there are no pictures of any crazily dressed people in this entire post.  I know!  I couldn’t believe it either, but apparently the cosmos was taking it easy on the old eyes this day, so thanks for that.  There were a few strange things though, starting with this:

Huh?

Ok, so this makes me ask two questions . . . #1 – what is this thing?  and #2 – why would they need to put a sign up for people not to eat it?  Well, I still don’t know what the answer to #1 is, but I can only imagine the answer to #2 is that they put this sign up out of necessity because people were actually walking by and eating this thing off the counter?  Who does that?  Who eats mystery food that is just sitting out on a shelf next to a stand at the fair?  I don’t think I want to know those people, whoever they are.

Ok, so now we move onto the end of the night.  Whilst walking around and examining all the stalls and their offerings for dinner options, I came across another stand that sold lots of fried goodies.  So, while my kids were on their last “ride” (the bouncy castle) and in the care of the hubs, Mom ran over to this stand and got her fried on.  But once I got there, there were decisions to be made.  These were the offerings:

Decisions . . . decisions . . .

So, as I am standing there contemplating whether to get the Oreos or the Twinkie (pickle still not an option, what is up with that pickle?), the very perky and friendly chic working at the stand asks me what I want.  I tell her I am trying to decide.  She says “between the oreos and twinkies?” to which I reply YES.  So she says, somewhat jokingly, “well, just get ’em both!”  And at that moment, I decided that this was a grand idea, so I told her that is exactly what I would do.  I was also impressed that these offerings were a lot cheaper than the first stand I saw them at earlier, so I felt like I was actually getting a deal as well (I later realized that they weren’t using real Oreos, but some type of Walmart “sandwich cookie” things, hence the cheap price).  I was very happy because I was finally getting not only my fried Oreos, but also the ever elusive fried Twinkie I had heard so much about.  I could not wait!

Mmmm, sweet battered goodness!

So, on the left we have the fried “oreos” and on the right is the fried Twinkie (possibly also a fake, but I don’t have confirmation of this, so let’s go with twinkie).  I tried the Oreo first.  It was quite yummy.  Battery and chocolaty and delicious.  I didn’t even mind that it was a fake, it was so good.  Then I tried the twinkie.  It was just this moist and gooey thing that just melted in my mouth.  It was also quite good.  I realized at that point that that last time I had a twinkie, I was probably about 12, so this was like a walk down memory lane as well.  Only this time, with more batter!

At this point though, I was quite full from all the fair goodies, and might have possibly been going into some sort of sugar/batter shock, but it was worth it to finally get these elusive treats.  Diets be damned!!

Well, thus concludes the tale of this fair maiden (geddit?) and her quest for delicious fried goodness at the local fairs.  Join us next year for a thrilling tale of possibly getting that fried pickle just to see what the hell?  Or . . . probably not.

Have you had anything weird and crazy and fried lately?  Please, do share your experience . . .

Dinner time is my Vietnam

Every night I feed my kids dinner.  I try to make things that they enjoy.  I don’t try to feed them liver and onions, haggis or peas.  I make nuggets, mac & cheese, pizza, chicken, fish, burgers, tater tots, rice, noodles, tacos, etc.  All kid favorites.  However, it never fails that by the end of what is usually an hour long struggle, I feel like I have just emerged from the heart of an asian conflict in the jungle.

Here is a script of a normal dinner:

6:00  Mom starts making dinner.  This night it is salmon, rice and green beans (it’s green beans almost every night since it is the one veggie both boys like).

6:30 “Dinner Time!!  Go wash your hands and go potty before dinner.”

6:35  Kids sit down to dinner and start eating.  Mom helps feed little one and supervises oldest’s progress.  Both kids enjoy the food and begin eating it willingly.  Mom & kids talk about the day.

6:45  Because oldest is talking so much, he has not been eating very much.  First time Mom has to say “take a bite” to the oldest.  This will not be the last time tonight.

6:55  Eating slows down as their little bellies start getting a bit fuller.  Mom has had to say “take a bite” about 5 times by now.

7:00  Mom starts to get a little frustrated that kids have been sitting at the table a full half hour and not even half of their food is gone.  Kids have started singing and making faces at each other to make each other laugh.  There is lots of giggling.  However, very little eating is happening at this point.  Once again “take a bite” is said to oldest.  Also, “no singing at the table.”  (please note that they are usually singing Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus or Ke$ha.  There is only so much Mom can handle).

7:10  Mom realizes that since the little one’s bedtime is 7:30, there is very little chance he will finish his dinner with enough time to play.  Mom tells little one this.  Words have no effect.  Mom tells oldest to stop singing and being crazy and take a bite!  Mom tells little one to turn around and put his bottom in the seat, stop playing with his milk, lean over when he takes a bite . . . then picks up rice from his lap.

7:15  Mom actually says this to oldest “we do not play with our feet during dinner, put your feet down and stop picking at your toes” . . . followed immediately by this “and we definitely don’t then pick up our green beans with our feety fingers and put them in our mouth!!”  At this point the “take a bite” count is well over 50.  Mom tells youngest that napkins are not hats and to swallow the bite he has had in his mouth for 5 whole minutes.

7:20  Mom has started to lose her mind a little.  She has started raising her voice to a very high octave and telling oldest that she can’t believe it will almost be an hour and he still isn’t finished his dinner.  She will once again tell him to TAKE A BITE!!!  Usually the little one is about done at this point.  Since Mom has physically been putting forkfuls of food in his mouth the entire time, almost all of his dinner is gone.  Mom is tired of fighting.  And yelling.  And sitting at the goddamn table.  Mom needs a drink.

7:25  Little one finishes dinner.  He gets a couple minutes to play before bed.  Oldest asks how many more bites he has to take.  Mom calculates and tells him 2 more green beans, 3 more fish, 2 more rice.  Oldest eats those within about 30 seconds, anything to be done his dinner and get away from the screaming banshee that has replaced his otherwise loving Mom.

7:30  If the hubs is in town and/or not hiding in his office at this point, this is when he might decide to do bedtime for the little one because he sees that “Mom looks like she needs a break.”  Mom gets up from her pretzel sitting position, hobbles over to the fridge, and pours a great big glass of wine, aka Mommy juice. 

Lest you think this is the end of Mom’s day, you are mistaken.  This is usually the time that Mom either puts the little one to bed (if the hubs is not around, which is lots), or does homework with the oldest (if hubs is upstairs with little), or in the alternate, lets oldest watch baseball for an hour before bed.  We always watch baseball.  It’s sort of depressing because our team stinks, but oldest is a die-hard fan.  So baseball.  Every night.  Yay.  Go team.

What is your dinner time ritual?  Is it as fun and exciting as mine?  Any suggestions as to how I don’t kill my kids during this skirmish, err family bonding time?  Please share in the comments . . .

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program.

I just recently stumbled upon a showing on cable of the classic 1991 movie, Point Break.  Having not seen this cinematic masterpiece in many a year, I decided to sit down and enjoy it again, since it is still summer and there is officially nothing on TV yet.  Once I watched the movie again, I realized that I needed to write something about the lessons in this brilliant surfing opus and pestered asked Thoughtsy from Thoughts Appear to let me guest post with a Movies Teach Us post on her site, since she is the queen of all things taught in movies.

So, please travel on over to Thoughts Appear’s website to check out my guest post on what Point Break teaches us.

Check out the full post here.

Where were you when the world stopped turning . . .

I really thought about not writing this. However, with the 10th anniversary of 9/11 upon us, and hearing everyone’s stories about where they were when it happened, I felt compelled to share my story.

It was 10 years ago. I was at work at my current job. I had just started the job about 2 months prior. A month earlier, I had gotten engaged (to my current husband). It was a Tuesday. I was not scheduled to be in Court that day, but instead was sitting in my office. I had a clock radio in my office, but I rarely turned it on because I got awful reception in my office. For whatever reason, that day I decided to have it on, but had it turned really low so it was merely background noise. After working for a bit, I realized that I wasn’t hearing any music coming from the radio, but was hearing what mainly sounded like talking. So I turned the sound up. That’s when I heard about the first plane. This was when people still thought it might just have been a tragic accident. Then the second plane hit. Everyone knew it was an attack at that point.

This is probably the point when I stopped breathing. You see, my fiance was in New York on that day. He had taken the train up there for a meeting. I wasn’t positive exactly where his meeting was, however, he had often commented to me that when he went up to NY, he would have meetings in the World Trade Center, and that the subway/train would actually go directly under the building and also had a stop right under there. It was very convenient for his meetings.

I tried to call him. I could not get through. I started to panic. I went down the hall to talk to one of my co-workers who I had only known for a brief time. I think I was crying. I explained that my fiance was in New York and that I couldn’t reach him on his phone. Oh, and that it was quite possible that he was in one of those buildings. Not knowing what to say to me, of course my co-workers tried to assure me that he was probably fine. That if he even was in the building, he was probably getting out of it right now (this was before the buildings collapsed). I kept trying to call. I kept getting no answer. I was starting to get a bit hysterical.

Then my colleague suggested that we take a walk down the street to an electronics store so that someone could get a portable TV, since we had no way to see what was happening (I think also partly to distract me from my constant calling and hysteria). We didn’t have readily available internet access in the office back then and everyone wanted to see what was going on. So we went to this store, and when we walked in, this was when we all first saw it. On a very large screen TV, the 2 towers . . . thick black smoke billowing from both. It was a sight that I will never forget as long as I live. It was horrifying and heart-wrenching and terrible. There really are no adequate words to describe that scene.

So, my colleague bought a TV and we returned to the office. When I got back to my office, the red message light was blinking on my office phone. I ran to my phone and hastily punched in my code to hear the message. And what I heard was the answer to my prayers. It was my fiance. He said this:

“Hi. I’m not sure if you know what’s going on, but there has been some sort of incident up here in New York. I’m ok, but I’m not sure when I’ll be home because they are closing all the roads and it was really hard for me to even make this call because all the circuits are jammed. I’ll give you a call later if I can and let you know what’s happening.”

I had never heard a more wonderful sound in my entire life. I was so overjoyed that he was ok. I called him immediately and somehow got through. He told me that his meeting was actually across town, but he was in a building that had a full view of the towers and he was watching them smoke at that moment. He had actually travelled right under the towers on his way to the meeting, but luckily he was early enough that he avoided the attack. God!  He was so lucky that day. We both were. I think of all those people who changed their plans that day or called in sick or missed their flights or had a meeting down the street, and I am so happy that my fiance was one of those lucky few. Of course, I am also heartbroken for those that went on with their daily routines and ended up part of this tragedy by either being in one of those buildings or on one of the planes (or the pentagon).

The rest of the day consisted of being glued to a television, either at the office, or at home, or over a friend’s house with all of her roommates (nobody really wanted to be alone that day), or when my friend and I went out to dinner that night. It was everywhere. It was the only thing. We were over-saturated by the enormity of the visions and stories and horror of the event.  But nobody could seem to pull themselves away from the horror unfolding before them.  Including me.

The best moment of that day was when my fiance finally came home. He somehow got what he believes was the last rental car in all of the city and found a circuitous way to drive out of there and get home. When I first saw him, I hugged him so hard I doubt he was able to breathe. I cried so much. I did not let go for a very very long time. I was just so relieved to have him back to me safe and unscathed. Well, physically anyway. I don’t think any of us really survived that event unscathed. But we were one of the lucky ones who survived it physically and still carry on.

My heart goes out to those who lost someone during the attacks, or subsequently from the after-effects.  I know that this day is probably one of the hardest they have had to deal with since the event, what with all the remembrances and media coverage of this 10 year anniversary of the event.  I just hope time has healed them somewhat, although I know they will never truly be whole again.  I just know how close I came to being one of those survivors of the tragedy of that day.  I know that I am very lucky to not be in their place.  I am grateful to have my husband and my family.  But I am so sorry for their losses. 

Where you you when the world stopped turning, on that September day?

The last straw . . . to my heart!

I have an admirer.  I am being wooed on a daily basis.  I see him almost every day and he gives me what I so desperately need.  He satisfies my cravings and soothes the beast within.  He gives me the ability to face the day.  He provides me with the fix that I need before I can function every morning.  He is . . . the drive-thru guy at my Dunkin Donuts.

Not only does he provide me with my much needed caffeine fix every morning on my way to work, but I think he may be a bit sweet on me.  It started a few weeks ago.  I always order the same thing.  Since I go there every day, the woman who takes my order through the speaker tends to stop me before I even finish, saying “yeah, I got it,” because she knows what I am going say.  It is the same thing I say each and every day.  I am a regular.  I am Norm. 

In addition to getting the same thing every day, I also always ask for a big straw at the drive thru window.  Since I usually order a small latte, if I don’t ask for a big straw, I will get a puny little straw.  It is their policy to give out little straws with small drink purchases, apparently.  So, if I want a large straw, I will have to ask.  And so began our love affair . . . .

After a few days of me asking this particular drive-thru guy for a big straw for my drink, and him sheepishly saying, “oh, yeah, I forgot,” he apparently decided he would remedy this situation by giving me multiple big straws.  He started giving me 2 at a time.  Ok, I thought, it’s always good to have an extra 1 or 2 in the car I guess.  That’s cool.

Then came the day when I knew he was truly smitten.  He gave me my drink with a big straw.  Then, as he returned my credit card to me, he handed me another straw.  I told him that he had already given me a straw, and to this he replied:  “this one’s for tomorrow.”  Ok, I said, smiling.  Then he grabbed another straw and handed it to me, saying:  “this one’s for yesterday.”  Laughing, I said thanks and then drove away, knowing that I had just experienced a moment.  Possibly the one we would tell our grandkids about.

In the next few days of our encounters, he was sure to hand me multiple straws, sometimes 3, as many as even 4 at a time.  Each straw a profession of his love to me.  I mean, anyone can buy flowers for somebody they are sweet on, but multiple straws is a true sign of affection.

I don’t know his name.  But what do names matter when it comes to true love?  I am married.  Who cares when the heart wants what it wants?  I have children.  I’m sure our strong bond over straws and coffee can weather any baggage we might bring to this new relationship. 

I mean, after all, who can resist the beauty of this:

A beautiful bouquet of Love

I will keep everyone informed of our future wedding plans. Although, I’m sure the one thing we won’t have to discuss is the bouquets.  As you can tell, they are going to be spectacular.