Something bad has happened.
Something very, very bad.
Okay, perhaps I’m overstating things … maybe it’s better to say that something completely normal has happened but that it’s giving me the willies … the heebie jeebies … you know, freaking me out. It’s just that, well, I’ve become - *gulp* - a yuppie. Kinda anyway.
Now don’t panic – I’m almost as anti-generic white-bread America as I ever was. And I’m certainly not running off and doing anything totally wacko like voting Republican or anything nutso like that. But I have to admit that little bits of the Young Urban Professional lifestyle have crept up on me (though, let’s face it, soon I won’t be able to desperately cling to the “young” part of that statement anymore).
And that’s how it always gets you – by sneaking up little by little. Of course there’s the obvious things, like buying a house in ‘burbs (but, to be fair, all I did was buy a different house in the ‘burbs because, let’s be honest, I have never NOT lived in the ‘burbs). And getting married is, naturally, considered to be fairly yuppie-ish behavior. But then there are some things that are just a symptom of growing up – like how one day you have enough money to dine at an establishment that doesn’t feature a drive-through window and you think to yourself “Wow, this food that isn’t cooked in a microwave is actually quite tasty.” And, naturally, one’s ability to survive in a professional work setting somewhat necessitates that you learn how to fake being a mature adult, maintain a certain amount of responsibility and, generally, regard everyone you work with – including those that you find annoying in every way – with the type of refrained civility you would have never had the fortitude to exude in your younger, “Jersey Shore” (or if you’re my age use this reference: “Real World”) years.
Of course there are some people who refuse to do these things. Those who believe that the mere process of growing as a person means that they are being untrue to themselves (which is sort of hilarious in my opinion. Imagine being a child and refusing to grow up … insisting that if you learn your ABCs that you’ll totally be “selling out”). But, growing up doesn’t, by default, mean that you lose yourself … it isn’t growing up and doing “adult” things that makes you a mindless, zombie yuppie.
No, that manifests itself in different ways … like when it’s New Years Eve. And here you are – married and living in suburbia – and you get an invite to a NYE party at a friend’s house. You spend the whole day debating if you should get dressed up and drive 20 minutes to the party when, in reality, all you WANT to do for New Years is put on some fuzzy pjs, pour a few fingers of finely aged Scotch into your Crate & Barrel tumblers, curl up by the fireplace and ring in 2012 watching Anderson Cooper on CNN. Of course you don’t want to be lame so you force yourself to go to the party, picking up a case of crappy Bud Select 55 along the way. At the party you look around at your friends – nursing their cheap beers and strawberry wine (you know who you are – you rebel who refuses to accept that any beverage could surpass the flavor of the Arbor Mist you’ve been drinking since Freshman year), knowing that no one wants to drink too much because, well, we’ve all got to drive home. When someone suggests beer pong we all agree but have long forgotten the rules for said game and, naturally, we decide to play the game in the garage so as not to damage the carpet inside the house. For a table you use the pantry door – of course you know how to properly remove a door from the hinges and you use one of your many power tools to get the job done effectively. Between turns you discuss the virtues of your friend’s garage, impressed by the sealant he used on the floor – it looks so clean! At 12:05 you wish your friends goodbye, drive home and immediately curl up in bed.
Now don’t get me wrong – GAR and I are still very fun-loving, active people. And I have, naturally, noticed a greater appreciation for the simple, relaxing things over time. And, honestly, wanting to spend the evening at home with the one you love is pretty much the ultimate sign of happiness – not anything more sinister, Again, I think this is a normal shift associated with not being 19 anymore. This scenario in itself is not new – nor do I think that most of the events of that evening make me a yuppie. But discussing someone’s garage floor with actual interest and envy? Okay, you got me – that’s a new one. And that’s what’s got me concerned.
If only I could say it was just that one time. That it didn’t mean anything to me. That I would never do it again. But then it happened a second time, just a few days later, and this time it was an intense discussion over another friend’s solar heating system for their pool. I’m so ashamed.
What’s next? Will I soon be coveting a new garbage disposal system? Pining over Brookstone air purifiers?
I thought I was okay … it didn’t seem wrong to want to renovate my outdated bathroom, paint over the teal shutters on my house or even to make my yucky pool swim-worthy again. These are “cool”-ish things. Pretty things. Things that anyone would want in order to have a kick-ass pad. But garage flooring? No – I’ve clearly gone too far. My candy apple red mid-life crisis Mustang does NOT need a posh place to rest its tires. Only a totally white-bread yuppie would want something like that.
Somehow I have to undo this. Maybe I can go out this weekend and make a totally irresponsible, immature purchase – like a futon or, at the very least, a “What Would Scooby Doo?” t-shirt.
Or maybe I can just continue to be me. And I can do that while allowing myself to grow up a little and be okay with that. I learned my ABCs, perhaps now I can master my colors. And, who knows, once I figure out what exactly “persimmon” looks like I might just realize that it’s the perfect shade to paint that unused guest bedroom of mine.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Shawshank Restoration
No, I’m not crawling through a river of poo and hoping to come out clean on the other side (though we did pull out our toilet and didn’t quite seal up the hole well enough to avoid some nauseating gases) … but I am digging a really big hole and looking for ways to squirrel away the evidence.
If you haven’t seen “The Shawshank Redemption” you’re really missing out here. Go watch it now in fact – it’s almost always playing on tv (and don’t I know it because it’s one of those movies I just get sucked into watching every darn time I find it while flipping through the channels … so I’m guessing I’ve seen it approximately 500 times now) – then come back and read this.
My hole isn’t hidden behind a sexy pinup poster (though I suppose I wouldn’t mind tacking up a full-size shirtless Bradley Cooper on my vacant bathroom wall), but it is growing larger every day – no matter how fast we work to rebuild it.
After the burglar scare on my street subsided we all went back about our daily routine. We didn’t install a high-tech security alarm system, or even buy some fake ADT signs off the internet like Dad suggested, but we did spring for a new, more sturdy set of front doors (complete with actual working locks! I mean, they will have locks … eventually … after Home Depot comes to install them) and some fancy new exterior lighting (thieves are TOTALLY fooled by motion detector lights, right?). And a friend told me about a news report of some robbers in our area dying in a fiery car crash when they attempted to flee from the cops and, while I found no actual evidence to support the fact that these were the criminals who invaded our neighbors (nor did I even find any evidence to support the fact that this deadly crash really happened in the first place), I have chosen to believe that this was the event that will end any thoughts of a future crime spree in our area. And, thankfully, GAR is back at work now – alive, out of the house and breathing in fresh air (hooray for not being a widow!)
And the mold is gone too! All it took was Dad coming to visit to help GAR rip everything out of the infested bathroom – walls, vanity, toilet, tile – cleanse it and rebuild it brick by brick (or, rather, waterproof durarock by durarock). And while the reconstruction portion of the project is still in development we have turned our attention to the disposing of the demolished, unwanted rubble left behind.
What to do with all this linoleum, tile, mirror fragments and assorted ‘80s jetsam?
On home improvement shows they always order a dumpster to dispose of, and subsequently haul away, this sort of thing – suckers! No, we are far too cheap for all that. The garbage men often refuse to haul away larger chunks of debris, so for our previous bathroom remodel we spent months afterwards slyly breaking it all into smaller, lighter chunks and hiding it in our weekly trash disposal. We broke tiles into fragments, squirreling them into the middle of our waste cans where they likely wouldn’t be seen – bit by bit over time until all that was left was a giant mirror too sizeable to discard of so easily. But minimizing all this rubbish and stuffing it down our pants Shawshank style was tedious and this time we decided to just go for it, carried it all out to the curb (except the wood chunks we used as kindling for our fireplace – waste not, want not) and took a chance that the porcelain pirates would want it.
Ah yes, the porcelain pirates – the pick-up truck warriors of America who troll the street looking for booty in the form of discarded yellow appliances, musty armchairs, warped two-by-fours and other assorted “treasures” that others no longer find valuable. In our case we’ve been visited mostly by those who pray to porcelain gods. They’ve “rescued” 2 toilets, a bathtub and several sinks from our front curb already and it didn’t take long for them to scoop up the salvageable scraps from our most recent construction. Brazenly they appeared in broad daylight as I was painting approximately 700 sets of closet doors yesterday and rummaged through our refuse, plundering as they saw fit. Oddly (though really it is just a fine line between what they’re doing and “stealing” - which I take great … or, rather, some … protection against) I was glad to see them cart off most everything the garbage men wouldn’t take – no Shawshank smuggling required.
But we’re still far from done … not just with the bathroom but with everything. As is the case whenever Dad comes to visit, my home improvement “to do” list starts spiraling, snowballing out of control. The holes in my house grow bigger and the dilemma of debris disposal continues. And my bank account suffers. Suddenly I NEED new flooring, new cabinet finishes, a new wine rack, wainscoting, sprinkler systems, energy-efficient windows, pendant lights … and I need for my dining room not to catch fire (but that is another story for another day).
Mostly I’m just worried about the impact this has on my career. No, not my day job – my other, back-up, someday dream job as a hand model. I was “discovered” a few years ago (okay, fine, it was freshman year of college … but it seems like just yesterday) by some friends who were doing some modeling and encouraged me to take some “hand shots” of my practically perfect digits to use to promote myself. I always figured that someday, when I grew weary of corporate life, my appendages would be used for margarine commercials or to show off authentic looking faux gemstones on QVC and I’d settle into a quiet, less hectic lifestyle where I can’t lift a (carefully gloved) finger lest I get even the tiniest of scratches on my moneymakers.
But, no, the more the renovation pit grows, the more I need my hands for hammering, nail gunning, sawing … okay, fine, mostly I’m just in charge of painting. But it takes its toll man … and these calloused, semi-construction worker hands aren’t getting me any callbacks for the new Land O’Lakes campaign … regardless of the “perfect length of my nail beds.” Sigh – farewell dreams of a pampered, perpetually moisturized existence.
If you haven’t seen “The Shawshank Redemption” you’re really missing out here. Go watch it now in fact – it’s almost always playing on tv (and don’t I know it because it’s one of those movies I just get sucked into watching every darn time I find it while flipping through the channels … so I’m guessing I’ve seen it approximately 500 times now) – then come back and read this.
My hole isn’t hidden behind a sexy pinup poster (though I suppose I wouldn’t mind tacking up a full-size shirtless Bradley Cooper on my vacant bathroom wall), but it is growing larger every day – no matter how fast we work to rebuild it.
After the burglar scare on my street subsided we all went back about our daily routine. We didn’t install a high-tech security alarm system, or even buy some fake ADT signs off the internet like Dad suggested, but we did spring for a new, more sturdy set of front doors (complete with actual working locks! I mean, they will have locks … eventually … after Home Depot comes to install them) and some fancy new exterior lighting (thieves are TOTALLY fooled by motion detector lights, right?). And a friend told me about a news report of some robbers in our area dying in a fiery car crash when they attempted to flee from the cops and, while I found no actual evidence to support the fact that these were the criminals who invaded our neighbors (nor did I even find any evidence to support the fact that this deadly crash really happened in the first place), I have chosen to believe that this was the event that will end any thoughts of a future crime spree in our area. And, thankfully, GAR is back at work now – alive, out of the house and breathing in fresh air (hooray for not being a widow!)
And the mold is gone too! All it took was Dad coming to visit to help GAR rip everything out of the infested bathroom – walls, vanity, toilet, tile – cleanse it and rebuild it brick by brick (or, rather, waterproof durarock by durarock). And while the reconstruction portion of the project is still in development we have turned our attention to the disposing of the demolished, unwanted rubble left behind.
What to do with all this linoleum, tile, mirror fragments and assorted ‘80s jetsam?
On home improvement shows they always order a dumpster to dispose of, and subsequently haul away, this sort of thing – suckers! No, we are far too cheap for all that. The garbage men often refuse to haul away larger chunks of debris, so for our previous bathroom remodel we spent months afterwards slyly breaking it all into smaller, lighter chunks and hiding it in our weekly trash disposal. We broke tiles into fragments, squirreling them into the middle of our waste cans where they likely wouldn’t be seen – bit by bit over time until all that was left was a giant mirror too sizeable to discard of so easily. But minimizing all this rubbish and stuffing it down our pants Shawshank style was tedious and this time we decided to just go for it, carried it all out to the curb (except the wood chunks we used as kindling for our fireplace – waste not, want not) and took a chance that the porcelain pirates would want it.
Ah yes, the porcelain pirates – the pick-up truck warriors of America who troll the street looking for booty in the form of discarded yellow appliances, musty armchairs, warped two-by-fours and other assorted “treasures” that others no longer find valuable. In our case we’ve been visited mostly by those who pray to porcelain gods. They’ve “rescued” 2 toilets, a bathtub and several sinks from our front curb already and it didn’t take long for them to scoop up the salvageable scraps from our most recent construction. Brazenly they appeared in broad daylight as I was painting approximately 700 sets of closet doors yesterday and rummaged through our refuse, plundering as they saw fit. Oddly (though really it is just a fine line between what they’re doing and “stealing” - which I take great … or, rather, some … protection against) I was glad to see them cart off most everything the garbage men wouldn’t take – no Shawshank smuggling required.
But we’re still far from done … not just with the bathroom but with everything. As is the case whenever Dad comes to visit, my home improvement “to do” list starts spiraling, snowballing out of control. The holes in my house grow bigger and the dilemma of debris disposal continues. And my bank account suffers. Suddenly I NEED new flooring, new cabinet finishes, a new wine rack, wainscoting, sprinkler systems, energy-efficient windows, pendant lights … and I need for my dining room not to catch fire (but that is another story for another day).
Mostly I’m just worried about the impact this has on my career. No, not my day job – my other, back-up, someday dream job as a hand model. I was “discovered” a few years ago (okay, fine, it was freshman year of college … but it seems like just yesterday) by some friends who were doing some modeling and encouraged me to take some “hand shots” of my practically perfect digits to use to promote myself. I always figured that someday, when I grew weary of corporate life, my appendages would be used for margarine commercials or to show off authentic looking faux gemstones on QVC and I’d settle into a quiet, less hectic lifestyle where I can’t lift a (carefully gloved) finger lest I get even the tiniest of scratches on my moneymakers.
But, no, the more the renovation pit grows, the more I need my hands for hammering, nail gunning, sawing … okay, fine, mostly I’m just in charge of painting. But it takes its toll man … and these calloused, semi-construction worker hands aren’t getting me any callbacks for the new Land O’Lakes campaign … regardless of the “perfect length of my nail beds.” Sigh – farewell dreams of a pampered, perpetually moisturized existence.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Untimely Demise of My Marriage (and My Husband)
Once upon a time I had a blog…
And on that blog I wrote about many things. But then I got married, and went on my honeymoon, and I swore I’d write … but I didn’t. Oh sure, I started a few messages. My computer is full of half-finished blog entries. But as time passed I found there was so much to catch up on and so little time. But that’s all ending now. No, I’m not going to catch you up on what you’ve missed (though if you’d like a photo recap of the wedding you can look here. And a photo recap of the honeymoon can be found here), but I will start writing again … starting with the story of how my 3-month marriage is coming to an abrupt end.
Oh sure, we’ve already surpassed the current Kardashian marriage record but I know it’s not going to last much longer. Why? Because our house is going to kill us. Not “us” really, just GAR. And, well, you know, then our whole “’til death do we part” thing will pretty much be fulfilled (although, now that I think about it, those words were never spoken at our wedding … but, nonetheless, if one of us croaks this marriage is automatically null and void).
Now, if you’ve read this blog previously then you know that our house has afflicted many a wound upon us in the past – fires, floods, gang graffiti, tarantula infestations (which, actually, are still rampant … though it turns out the ones we have are actually wolf spiders – just as scary but, thankfully, far less deadly), locust infestations, poor design choice infestations – you name it. But over this past month our 1980’s Golden Girls-esque abode has really pulled out all the stops in its efforts to kill us off.
It started small – while painting the outside of the house (yes, we’re STILL painting the exterior of our home … after all it’s only been about 10 months since we started) GAR threw out his back – AGAIN (funny how every time he’s required to do manual labor he turns into an 80-year-old man). But he healed … and we paid someone to finish the job for us (well mostly … but that’s a whole other story). And then we moved on to more manageable tasks – like decorating (somehow in the hustle and bustle of renovation we sort of forgot to, you know, buy décor and things that actually make a place look “pretty”) – and things were calm again. Our daily routine of watching endless hours of HGTV were back on schedule and we even picked up a few accent pieces that really “tie the whole room together.”
But then our neighbors got robbed. That’s sad, but it happens, right? Nothing to be worried about … until it happens again a few weeks later ... in the middle of the day. And suddenly we realize that in the past month 3 out of the 5 houses in our cul-de-sac have been burglarized. And really it makes sense – we live in one of the more wealthy areas of town but we’re in one of the only neighborhoods that isn’t gated. Plus the homes are older – easier to break into and less chance of encountering a security system. Oh, and my neighbors all have giant boats just sitting there in their driveways screaming “Come rob me – I have enough money to buy a boat!” Or something like that.
And it sucks, but I don’t worry too much (plus, you know, we don’t have a boat – but we do have a security system … assuming you count 2 tiny yipping dogs as “surveillance”). I just head to Home Depot and price out some new front doors that actually shut all the way (unlike the ones we currently have that bow inwards and don’t completely lock correctly … but I guess that’s okay because they are mostly glass anyway so it’s not like we even need to lock them I suppose when they can so easily be demolished … and now I’m telling you all of this too so I might as well just put up a giant neon – no, LED, that’s more environmentally responsible – sign out front declaring us open for business).
But not GAR. No, he does not handle this news nearly as lightly. And this is the problem.
Since the most recent string of break-ins my dear husband has been on high alert – monitoring every car he sees in the neighborhood and putting us on total lockdown day and night. He’s hiding all our “valuables” and guarding the meager gifts we put in each other’s stockings like they are made of solid gold. Getting him to leave the house for even an hour to go to the store takes some convincing as he’s positive that the second he leaves that the “bad guys” will come steal his record collection and maybe smuggle out the pups while they’re at it. Heaven help me if TBS decides to air a “Home Alone” marathon this holiday season – I know that if GAR sees that I’ll come home to find our house booby trapped with all sorts of crotch-kicking homemade protection gadgets.
Alas I am finally getting to my point – the whole “how my husband is going to leave me a widow after mere months of marriage” portion that I promised up front. Here’s how it goes down …
Amidst all this chaos something even more sinister has happened. Ah yes, this is the beauty of our home – it’s the gift that keeps giving. And its latest gift to us has been mold. Mold which we uncovered when ripping out the second of our guest bathrooms, “The Cave,” and has now infiltrated every inch of breathable air in our house. It turns out that not only was The Cave hideous, it also was built with absolutely no waterproofing – no shower tray, no water-sealants, nothing behind the shower tile at all except some drywall – and, apparently, that tends to allow mold to fester over the course of, oh, let’s say, 25 years. And then (after those 25 years have passed), when you demo it all you uncover the motherload … and all those mold spores are free – FREE I TELLS YA!! – to fly out into the air and dance around until they find new places to settle ... in our bedding … in our curtains … into the carpet … And suddenly you find your allergies kicking in. Breathing is harder. Sneezing is more rampant. And what you really need is some nice, clean, fresh air in your lungs.
And I escape! Off to work, off to the gym, out for a run … and I breathe. But GAR. Well, not GAR who, thanks to his sweet professoring gig, gets to stay home all winter break. And who, unthankfully, has recently become a recluse vigilante Hell bent on locking himself into our home airtight and protecting our abode from any would-be wrong doers. No, sadly, poor GAR is doomed to live out his last days choking down moldy air as he rigs buckets of tar and feathers above all our doorways “just in case” (and frankly the feathers are a bad idea too – he’s horribly allergic to those as well) until the stale, allergen-filled pollutants overtake him completely. And I’m alone. But, hey, at least the thieves weren’t able to get to my awesome collection of Steve Guttenberg DVDs!
Well, my love, this whole marriage thing was good while it lasted.
And on that blog I wrote about many things. But then I got married, and went on my honeymoon, and I swore I’d write … but I didn’t. Oh sure, I started a few messages. My computer is full of half-finished blog entries. But as time passed I found there was so much to catch up on and so little time. But that’s all ending now. No, I’m not going to catch you up on what you’ve missed (though if you’d like a photo recap of the wedding you can look here. And a photo recap of the honeymoon can be found here), but I will start writing again … starting with the story of how my 3-month marriage is coming to an abrupt end.
Oh sure, we’ve already surpassed the current Kardashian marriage record but I know it’s not going to last much longer. Why? Because our house is going to kill us. Not “us” really, just GAR. And, well, you know, then our whole “’til death do we part” thing will pretty much be fulfilled (although, now that I think about it, those words were never spoken at our wedding … but, nonetheless, if one of us croaks this marriage is automatically null and void).
Now, if you’ve read this blog previously then you know that our house has afflicted many a wound upon us in the past – fires, floods, gang graffiti, tarantula infestations (which, actually, are still rampant … though it turns out the ones we have are actually wolf spiders – just as scary but, thankfully, far less deadly), locust infestations, poor design choice infestations – you name it. But over this past month our 1980’s Golden Girls-esque abode has really pulled out all the stops in its efforts to kill us off.
It started small – while painting the outside of the house (yes, we’re STILL painting the exterior of our home … after all it’s only been about 10 months since we started) GAR threw out his back – AGAIN (funny how every time he’s required to do manual labor he turns into an 80-year-old man). But he healed … and we paid someone to finish the job for us (well mostly … but that’s a whole other story). And then we moved on to more manageable tasks – like decorating (somehow in the hustle and bustle of renovation we sort of forgot to, you know, buy décor and things that actually make a place look “pretty”) – and things were calm again. Our daily routine of watching endless hours of HGTV were back on schedule and we even picked up a few accent pieces that really “tie the whole room together.”
But then our neighbors got robbed. That’s sad, but it happens, right? Nothing to be worried about … until it happens again a few weeks later ... in the middle of the day. And suddenly we realize that in the past month 3 out of the 5 houses in our cul-de-sac have been burglarized. And really it makes sense – we live in one of the more wealthy areas of town but we’re in one of the only neighborhoods that isn’t gated. Plus the homes are older – easier to break into and less chance of encountering a security system. Oh, and my neighbors all have giant boats just sitting there in their driveways screaming “Come rob me – I have enough money to buy a boat!” Or something like that.
And it sucks, but I don’t worry too much (plus, you know, we don’t have a boat – but we do have a security system … assuming you count 2 tiny yipping dogs as “surveillance”). I just head to Home Depot and price out some new front doors that actually shut all the way (unlike the ones we currently have that bow inwards and don’t completely lock correctly … but I guess that’s okay because they are mostly glass anyway so it’s not like we even need to lock them I suppose when they can so easily be demolished … and now I’m telling you all of this too so I might as well just put up a giant neon – no, LED, that’s more environmentally responsible – sign out front declaring us open for business).
But not GAR. No, he does not handle this news nearly as lightly. And this is the problem.
Since the most recent string of break-ins my dear husband has been on high alert – monitoring every car he sees in the neighborhood and putting us on total lockdown day and night. He’s hiding all our “valuables” and guarding the meager gifts we put in each other’s stockings like they are made of solid gold. Getting him to leave the house for even an hour to go to the store takes some convincing as he’s positive that the second he leaves that the “bad guys” will come steal his record collection and maybe smuggle out the pups while they’re at it. Heaven help me if TBS decides to air a “Home Alone” marathon this holiday season – I know that if GAR sees that I’ll come home to find our house booby trapped with all sorts of crotch-kicking homemade protection gadgets.
Alas I am finally getting to my point – the whole “how my husband is going to leave me a widow after mere months of marriage” portion that I promised up front. Here’s how it goes down …
Amidst all this chaos something even more sinister has happened. Ah yes, this is the beauty of our home – it’s the gift that keeps giving. And its latest gift to us has been mold. Mold which we uncovered when ripping out the second of our guest bathrooms, “The Cave,” and has now infiltrated every inch of breathable air in our house. It turns out that not only was The Cave hideous, it also was built with absolutely no waterproofing – no shower tray, no water-sealants, nothing behind the shower tile at all except some drywall – and, apparently, that tends to allow mold to fester over the course of, oh, let’s say, 25 years. And then (after those 25 years have passed), when you demo it all you uncover the motherload … and all those mold spores are free – FREE I TELLS YA!! – to fly out into the air and dance around until they find new places to settle ... in our bedding … in our curtains … into the carpet … And suddenly you find your allergies kicking in. Breathing is harder. Sneezing is more rampant. And what you really need is some nice, clean, fresh air in your lungs.
And I escape! Off to work, off to the gym, out for a run … and I breathe. But GAR. Well, not GAR who, thanks to his sweet professoring gig, gets to stay home all winter break. And who, unthankfully, has recently become a recluse vigilante Hell bent on locking himself into our home airtight and protecting our abode from any would-be wrong doers. No, sadly, poor GAR is doomed to live out his last days choking down moldy air as he rigs buckets of tar and feathers above all our doorways “just in case” (and frankly the feathers are a bad idea too – he’s horribly allergic to those as well) until the stale, allergen-filled pollutants overtake him completely. And I’m alone. But, hey, at least the thieves weren’t able to get to my awesome collection of Steve Guttenberg DVDs!
Well, my love, this whole marriage thing was good while it lasted.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Wedding Photos
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Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Liar, Liar, Lederhosen on Fire
So … yeah … remember in my last post how I said that I would be recapping the wedding soon? Psych! Gotcha! September fools (which, of course, is the lesser known version of "April Fools." People never see it coming)!
Instead we’re leaving for our honeymoon.
In case you’ve been living under a rock, or you just started reading this blog – in either case, “Hi!” great to see you – my Groom-A-Saurus Rex and I are heading off on a guided tour of Germany, culminating in few beer-filled days in Munich. And while I meant to give you guys a stirring recreation of our wedding day before we left I’m afraid I just ran out of time. I was too busy ironing my dirndl and researching the various Oktoberfest beer tents we plan to visit whilst there.
But, I will sum up our wedding day for you – it was, simply put, the most amazing wedding of all time ... Nay, the greatest event of all time! Never have people had as much fun as they did on our wedding day, ourselves included.
Now, I know what you’re thinking and yes, I am downplaying the significance of this earth-shatteringly awesome day. It was so much bigger and better than the mere words I am typing here. But, you know, I try not to brag.
I will share some more photos though (this time I have a few shot by a pro). Enjoy!
Instead we’re leaving for our honeymoon.
In case you’ve been living under a rock, or you just started reading this blog – in either case, “Hi!” great to see you – my Groom-A-Saurus Rex and I are heading off on a guided tour of Germany, culminating in few beer-filled days in Munich. And while I meant to give you guys a stirring recreation of our wedding day before we left I’m afraid I just ran out of time. I was too busy ironing my dirndl and researching the various Oktoberfest beer tents we plan to visit whilst there.
But, I will sum up our wedding day for you – it was, simply put, the most amazing wedding of all time ... Nay, the greatest event of all time! Never have people had as much fun as they did on our wedding day, ourselves included.
Now, I know what you’re thinking and yes, I am downplaying the significance of this earth-shatteringly awesome day. It was so much bigger and better than the mere words I am typing here. But, you know, I try not to brag.
I will share some more photos though (this time I have a few shot by a pro). Enjoy!
Gratuitous bling on a sneaker shot
Our "second shooter" (a.k.a. other photographer) mistook my brideman (second from left) for a groomman. Therefore he tends to appear in shots of both the Groom's Crew and my own bridal party
Me on a skee ball machine
Firing squad line-up
Everyone needs a "stuck in a revolving door" wedding photo
I'd like to take this moment to say that, while we did get married in a bar, you have to admit - this is one seriously cool looking bar!
Love our DJ - MJ ... and LOVE the hair ;)
Oh yes, there was karaoke
This photo is out of sequence but I'm going to be lazy and keep it here (also, this door was NASTY dirty ... I have no idea how I didn't ruin my dress leaning against it)
Our friend on the right is dancing with 2 full beers ... Nope, 1 full beer wasn't enough. I think that pretty much sums up the whole night
More when I return. But, until then, (as Heidi Klum would say) Auf Wiedersehen!!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
What Am I Doing Here?
No, I’m not blogging this from Germany … nor am I asking an existential question about the meaning of one’s life.
I am simply explaining to you why it is that, now that the wedding is over, I am sitting here typing on a computer in my living room and not posting photos of giant pretzels and oversized beers on facebook from 5,000 miles away. And the explanation is pretty simple – we haven’t left yet.
While I realize that many couples go straight from their reception to the airport (with maybe a slight break for some sleeping in between) we chose to take a different approach and wait a week (or so). Technically we’re waiting 11 days, but you get my point – we didn’t start jet setting immediately.
Okay, yes, there are some cons. These past few days back in the office have been a little rough. And people seem shocked to see you sitting in meetings and filling out expense reports. Also, if I’m being honest, I do think this immediate return back to my normal routine has somehow allowed for the knowledge that I am now married to avoid sinking fully into my skull (which could also be partially due to the fact that I’ve had barely any “alone time” with my hubby since the big day … and now that I do have some of that coveted private time I’m spending it blogging … but I digress).
But, that said, the pros far outweigh any negatives I see.
1. Frankly our livers need time to recover (before we totally demolish them at Oktoberfest). I didn’t drink too much at the wedding itself, but our wedding was really more of a 3-day party and, added all together, those 3 days did a whole lot of damage. But it wasn’t just our livers …
2. WE need time to recover. We can still party like it’s 1999, but our bodies don’t spring back quite as quickly as they did back then. We spent most of Monday in a semi-vegetative state and have spent the days since slowly nursing our tired, beaten down bodies back into shape. One nice, long, rest-filled weekend will do us a lot of good.
3. Packing, planning, last-minute shopping … We did none of these things before the wedding. And, really, not having to worry about planning for the wedding and the honeymoon all at once was a big relief. Now we have plenty of time to play catch-up and gear up for Bavaria before heading out next week (and make a quick run to IKEA to purchase a project or two for Dad to work on while he’s house/dog sitting for us during the honeymoon).
4. Money. We recently spent a lot of it. And we’re about to spend more. While taking a brief break between expenditures might not make too much of a difference it’s good to check our pocketbooks and see where we stand at this point in the game.
5. Football!! We’ve been waiting for it all year and now it’s finally here. Thankfully we enjoyed a bit of it during our celebrations throughout the wedding weekend, but both GAR and I are very much looking forward to enjoying a weekend full of sweet pigskin action before we disappear and miss a few more weeks of it. The waiting is over!
6. Food, food and more food. Now that we can actually eat again (not that we ever really stopped) we want to devour and enjoy everything we can. Yes, we will be doing that plenty in Germany, but we have leftover wedding sweets (cake, cupcakes, candy – you get the picture) that we want to enjoy while it’s still nice and fresh. Expect to see us drooling over some red velvet cake Homer Simpson style. Mmmmmm…
7. Recaps – I’ve been hearing them from everyone who attended the wedding and right now it’s so fresh in everyone’s minds that we get to savor all those brand-new, not yet forgotten nuggets of memories and relive it all ourselves. Heck, we even got some video back, not to mention whatever photos people have been able to upload onto Facebook. We’re loving it and it’s great to enjoy it all now – by the time we get back from overseas so much else will have happened and people’s minds will have shifted to other things. I feel like we’re able to capture more this way.
And, of course, (time permitting) it also means I should be able to share some recaps with all of you too … and I know that’s what you’re really looking for. Don’t worry – it’s coming. Until then please enjoy some of these (non-professional) photos I’ve seen from our wedding.
I am simply explaining to you why it is that, now that the wedding is over, I am sitting here typing on a computer in my living room and not posting photos of giant pretzels and oversized beers on facebook from 5,000 miles away. And the explanation is pretty simple – we haven’t left yet.
While I realize that many couples go straight from their reception to the airport (with maybe a slight break for some sleeping in between) we chose to take a different approach and wait a week (or so). Technically we’re waiting 11 days, but you get my point – we didn’t start jet setting immediately.
Okay, yes, there are some cons. These past few days back in the office have been a little rough. And people seem shocked to see you sitting in meetings and filling out expense reports. Also, if I’m being honest, I do think this immediate return back to my normal routine has somehow allowed for the knowledge that I am now married to avoid sinking fully into my skull (which could also be partially due to the fact that I’ve had barely any “alone time” with my hubby since the big day … and now that I do have some of that coveted private time I’m spending it blogging … but I digress).
But, that said, the pros far outweigh any negatives I see.
1. Frankly our livers need time to recover (before we totally demolish them at Oktoberfest). I didn’t drink too much at the wedding itself, but our wedding was really more of a 3-day party and, added all together, those 3 days did a whole lot of damage. But it wasn’t just our livers …
2. WE need time to recover. We can still party like it’s 1999, but our bodies don’t spring back quite as quickly as they did back then. We spent most of Monday in a semi-vegetative state and have spent the days since slowly nursing our tired, beaten down bodies back into shape. One nice, long, rest-filled weekend will do us a lot of good.
3. Packing, planning, last-minute shopping … We did none of these things before the wedding. And, really, not having to worry about planning for the wedding and the honeymoon all at once was a big relief. Now we have plenty of time to play catch-up and gear up for Bavaria before heading out next week (and make a quick run to IKEA to purchase a project or two for Dad to work on while he’s house/dog sitting for us during the honeymoon).
4. Money. We recently spent a lot of it. And we’re about to spend more. While taking a brief break between expenditures might not make too much of a difference it’s good to check our pocketbooks and see where we stand at this point in the game.
5. Football!! We’ve been waiting for it all year and now it’s finally here. Thankfully we enjoyed a bit of it during our celebrations throughout the wedding weekend, but both GAR and I are very much looking forward to enjoying a weekend full of sweet pigskin action before we disappear and miss a few more weeks of it. The waiting is over!
6. Food, food and more food. Now that we can actually eat again (not that we ever really stopped) we want to devour and enjoy everything we can. Yes, we will be doing that plenty in Germany, but we have leftover wedding sweets (cake, cupcakes, candy – you get the picture) that we want to enjoy while it’s still nice and fresh. Expect to see us drooling over some red velvet cake Homer Simpson style. Mmmmmm…
7. Recaps – I’ve been hearing them from everyone who attended the wedding and right now it’s so fresh in everyone’s minds that we get to savor all those brand-new, not yet forgotten nuggets of memories and relive it all ourselves. Heck, we even got some video back, not to mention whatever photos people have been able to upload onto Facebook. We’re loving it and it’s great to enjoy it all now – by the time we get back from overseas so much else will have happened and people’s minds will have shifted to other things. I feel like we’re able to capture more this way.
And, of course, (time permitting) it also means I should be able to share some recaps with all of you too … and I know that’s what you’re really looking for. Don’t worry – it’s coming. Until then please enjoy some of these (non-professional) photos I’ve seen from our wedding.
View of Dad and I from someone (who shall remain unnamed) who was late to the ceremony.
Pre-wedding shots were taken at a sports bar.
Ceremony & 1st kiss action.
1st dance & cake!
Menus were on a record on each place setting.
DJ MJ rocked the tunes and our friends rocked the dance floor.
Our sneakers were also rockin'
Can't wait for even more photos (hint hint - post 'em if you've got 'em!)
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