Is It Wrong?

I have a friend at work that had a pair of heels that she absolutely loved. Loved to the point that she had them resoled, like 5 times. After several years they were scuffed and scared and stretched out, I finally convinced her to buy new ones. The ones I found for her she didn’t buy. She went shopping on her own and bought a pair of shoes that she now hates. Hates to the point that she’s reinstating the old pair.
My point here is that I too had a pair of sandals that I loved. They were from Target, Cherokee Fisherman’s Sandals. I wore those suckers all over Europe. Wore them all summer. I LOVED those sandals, they were so comfortable. A few summers later while getting ready for trip to Australia I discovered that they really smelled. I hunted for replacements, all over the net. I could not find them. So I bought a pair of shoes that CBF said were like butter, a pair of Sketchers. She’s very foot conscience. I wore them all over OZ, and I HATED them. They were heavy and the black rubber insole made my foot sweat and turn black. Then the stitching started to come undone. I went back to my original Target sandals the next summer. I would switch between the two pairs, but ultimately, the Target ones would win out. Then the sole got a crack in it from one side of the shoe to the other. I continued to wear them. This past summer the insole came free from the sole. I was determined to continue to wear the sandals until they fell apart at the seams for the top leather straps were still in amazingly good condition. However, the SLAP SLAP SLAPPING of the insole back into the sole with every step I took drove me crazy. I began my hunt again and found a pair of nice shoes online, for $80 bucks. F shamed me out of buying them, saying that was too much to spend on sandals. I reluctantly purchased a cute pair of fisherman’s sandals from Payless and wore them to Boston. Where the straps came into the sole, the lump it created, poked me in the bottom of my foot and rubbed them raw. And then my knees started to hurt. I was able to fix the poking rubbing strap, but even so, every time I wore them last summer my knees would hurt. I cursed those sandals, and I greatly fear having to wear them again this summer.
So what all this is leading up to, is this; I found some new fisherman sandals that I think would be ultra comfortable. And they cost $85 bucks. They are Doc Martens. Docs are suppose to be very good shoes, but are they really worth $85 dollars? And can I, so broke it aint no joke, justify a pair of $85 dollar sandals?

I realize they look kind of manish, but they are so damned comfy, if you get the right ones,and they look so cute with shorts, or jeans, or capris.

I also found a pair from Red Wing that are $75.

Thoughts?
Suggestions?

Oh, and JcPenney's is having a sale, so I checked out their website too. They have a pair of Clarks on sale, so I went to the Clark's Website. Um, HI! I'll take one of every pair of your sandals, Thanks!

Oh, and I found THESE on the Penney's website, I think I may have found my Wedding Shoes!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aren't they so, simple and sophisticated? AND I can actually try them on to see if there'd be any Polish Foot Mush.

ARGH!

I told you all that F is currently out of the country for work related stuff. I was so excited that I was going to get to sleep without earplugs! YES! I thought to myself, I'll FINALLY sleep like I did in the days before F! LIKE A ROCK. Surely I've mentioned his snoring, haven't I? The snoring that makes me go sleep in the other room? The snoring that requires me to wear ear plugs to bed EVERY NIGHT?
We bought a box of like 500 ear plugs a few weeks ago.
I was actually excited.
About ear plugs.
Anywho, the first night F was gone I snuggled into the middle of the bed for a much needed good night's sleep, and jumped at EVERY SINGLE DAMNED SOUND I heard. I found out that our house is extremely noisy at night. Who knew? I've conquered the problem by loading the CD player with "sleepy time music" as my niece called it when she was little, and promptly fell asleep. Slept through the night even. But I still woke up feeling like I didn't sleep. And now, after several days I wake up before the alarm goes off, by like an hour. And CAN NOT fall back to sleep. WTF? All my glorious plans of great sleep, not so glorious.
I'm seriously looking forward to Saturday, when F returns.
I figure at least I can sleep in that morning before I have to go get him at the airport.
Which of course will end up with me awake at an ungodly hour because I'm afraid of over sleeping and not going to pick him up on time.
This is what it's like to be me.

Really?

I've told you about my recurring chin hair. Now I seem to have sprouted some kind of wire out of my cheek. Ok, so it's not REALLY a wire, but it feel much stiffer than a hair. Almost like that plastic thread they use to sew tags into clothes. Know what I mean? The stuff that keeps pricking you in the neck? Yeah, like that. When I run my finger nail across it, it makes a clicking noise. My facial hair has it's own sound track. I've gone at it with the tweezers several days in a row, but to no avail. It's just not long enough yet for me to be able to yank the damned thing out. It's like the missing tooth, or the hang nail, you just can't stop messing with it.
I can seriously see this being an issue come wedding day, and all the pictures will showcase me with my hand plucking at my face.
Lovely.

Clean Up..Aisle...ALL

I went grocery shopping on my lunch just now. Even without F here to help eat food, the fridge is bare. I went just down the street to my favorite major chain and commenced spending money. About 2 aisles in it hit me, hard and fast, I have to GO NOW! I believe I told you the horrors of not having a gall bladder. I like to know where a bathroom is at all times. I was however completely clueless about it's location in the grocery store. Squeezing my ass cheeks together as tightly as I could I thought I could make it through the store, check out and then back to the office, unload all my groceries and THEN go to the bathroom.
Yeah, not so much.
I asked an employee where the restroom was and she pointed, not 20 feet behind me tucked in next to the Pharmacy was the restroom. GLORY BE PRAISED! I had to keep myself from running there, slammed my cart to a halt and bolted into the farthest stall down. It was then that I discovered that I'd just spent the last 30mins traipsing around the store with my zipper wide open.
Like a good girl I'd "gone" before I left for the store, and apparently I either didn't do up my pants, or they came undone.
Nice.
Then while in the checkout lane I noticed the seasoning packet I'd bought to season my roast had a tear in it. Not too big, I figured I could make it back to the office and slap a little scotch tape on it. As I unloaded the bags I noticed a brown substance pretty much coating the inside of one bag.
I tossed the packet into a baggie and tried to salvage what was coating the bag, didn't really work. So the $3.69 I paid to make my life easier and more tasteful? There's about $2.00 worth left.
I guess I should have waited to shop.

Drunken E-Mailing

What follows is an e-mail F sent me. F is currently out of the country. He'll be gone for several days. Because of time changes and whatnot, his sleep pattern is totally screwed up. I laughed when I read this e-mail because it takes a bit of deciphering because the spelling and typing are quite nasty. I've placed the proper word next to the wrong word, in green.
Have fun reading, I know I did.



"DH, went out for Suchi Sushi and got totally fat and drunk and I am majorly buzed buzzed now... it was nto not just one glass of bear wither either. it was 4-5 glasses and 2-3 shot os of sachi (sp?) sake... I can not belive believe I am coherant coherent enought to type this email... okay I am goin g going to surf the net and watch the soft porn* they have on regular tv here... cheers love F"

* Just so you know, I told him watching porn was wrong, and that its even worse to tell me he was going to go watch it. Boys.

PMI: The Reckoning

Red flags? A few.
Were they major?
Not in Father's opinion. In fact he said there weren't any red flags.
The first Flag we talked about was our families, because apparently F thinks my Eldest Sister and Eldest BIL could be an issue. He doesn't feel comfortable around them.
Fair enough.
We talked about FIL and his behavior. Father really didn't have any advice on that, other than to respect him.
And to not move Back East.
He was concerned about our financial answers. Despite how much F and I make combined, a tidy sum, we are still struggling. Me the most, with my ever looming credit card debit. (if only my house would sell, Pray Shout Out to St Joseph!)
Other than that, it went ok. Until Father told us that he's almost certain he'll be leaving our Parish come July. So not cool. But he would come back and do our wedding if we wanted him too and that if the Priest he thinks is coming to replace him is really coming, we might be just as happy with him. (we'll see. We may have to stalk Father to his new locale.)
And then, F? Totally ratted me out. See, F and I are both Christians, but from different sects. Vastly different as far as I'm concerned and since his religion doesn't allow women to participate in the running of the Services, and basically paints them as second class citizens, I refuse to attend. He told Father that he'd ask me to attend and I refused.
Father took his side. Telling me I should go because it's important to F.
I don't like being ratted out to the Priest and I couldn't sleep last night for thinking about it. I'm a little hacked off about it. (F used this same tactic on FIL concerning me to their Priest. And I think that's part of why FIL resents me, or whatever his negative feelings are towards me.)
I'll go. But not because Father is a "Father" and he holds some kind of religious authority over me, but because I respect Father as a person, and hence respect his opinion.
But I won't like it.

Interesting....

Remember when F and I took the PMI and he couldn't believe that I was worrying about taking it?
Well, guess who just called me to tell me he's nervous?
Emhm, F.
Says he has a feeling something bad is going to happen.
Like I need to hear that a mere 2 hrs before we meet with Father to go over our results.
Damn it, now my stomach is getting all in knots.

It Takes All Kinds

Sunday, F and I arrived at Church to find it packed to the gills with people. First Communion. That means every blood relative of the child was in attendance. F and I headed towards the VERY back of the Church and managed to grab the last 2 seats in the place. The people in front of us had 3 boys, which grew my attention because the one had both his fingers up his nose and didn't care who saw. The oldest boy kept putting his feet on his mother's legs, her butt, the small of her back, where ever he could land them, all while trying to un-shoe his youngest brother who had taken up residence in his mother's arms. Fair enough, they are just kids. The first thing I noticed about their Aunt was her shoes. Very kicky heels with a red and white check pattern, kind of like she was wearing the picnic table cloth on her feet. But they looked better than that. My eyes caught the flash of blue next. I peered at her and caught sight of her bright blue, very long nails. Um, ok. The blue nails flashed up to her hair, and the pink little girl mini clip. OH! Now that is one of my pet peeves, adult woman who wear little girl hair accessories. Seriously! Move your lazy butt a little further down the aisle and buy the adult mini-clip! Yes, it may only be brown, and not have the hint of looking like a butterfly on your head, but hey, You're an ADULT, these things happen as part of growing up.


Tomorrow, PMI: The Reckoning.

Midnight Man Handling, It Never Ends

It has been a long while since I was Manhandled. But a few weeks ago it happened again. And this time? DOUBLE HANDED. That's right, 2 hands made their way onto my tushy. At the same time. They rested there, squeezed my tushy twice. Rested again. One made it's way to my hip, patted me and then both retreated.
I told F the next morning. He laughed.

"I must have been dreaming about sex."

Such a boy.

More of Yesterday and into Last Night

My mother called me while I was still at work last night. We spoke for a few minutes and like a true mother she says, "What's wrong? Is everything ok? Are YOU ok?"

ME: "I've been better." I sighed as I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.


Mom: "What's happened?"


So as the tears begin to run down my face, I relay the tale.


Mom: "Oh DH. Do you think you can spend the rest of your life living with them?"


ME: "I don't know mom, I really don't know."


And then I really started crying, and my nose started running. (why does that always happen at the same time? like crying isn't enough, your body's gotta throw in a few snot bubbles to top it off?)


Then, I got a bloody nose. Really helpful, let me tell ya.



So we talked for awhile. She told me I had to work it out with F as to how we'd handle these types of things. She's very comforting, that mom of mine.


When I got home F was waiting for me to take me out to dinner, and the water works started again. (trust me, I find myself annoying right now with all this damned crying.) Any woman knows that talking while sobbing does not make for an easy conversation. F listened, we talked very calmly. I told him I couldn't come to love a man(FIL) who is so cruel for no reason. And that I always feel like I can't be myself when we are at his parents', that I'm always uncomfortable. He told me that he told his mother that's why we don't stay there when we come to visit.


ME: "But that's the thing F, you tell her, not him. And you know as well as I do, she's not telling him this stuff. Of course he probably wouldn't care if she did."


He told me if I was going to leave him he wasn't going to help me move my stuff out. A running joke between us which made me laugh.


In the end I asked him to please defend my honor.


F: "I do."


ME: "Well ok, then defend my honor the way I would." I grinned at him full well knowing I was asking more than he could deliver as far as telling his father off is concerned.


I think everything is ok now.


Of course I screwed myself out of a nice dinner with all my blubbering, damn it.


Stupid girl hormones.

Will This Never End?

I cried myself to sleep last night.



Let me give some back story. A few hours earlier F came to me and said that one sentence that strikes fear in every heart, no matter what gender you've assigned to, "We need to talk."

It appears that while we were Back East for Christmas, yes, remember that trip? Apparently I committed a major faux pas by not greeting FIL like an excited puppy upon my entry into his home. I could be wrong here, but I thought etiquette dictates that the host is suppose to greet guests when you arrive in their home. So really, I should be upset that he didn't greet me, right?

My second faux pas, yes, I was bad more than once; occurred whilst relaying a statement that had been made to my mother by another woman who was the mother of a groom. "My mother told me that she was told that the MOG is suppose to wear beige and shut up." *insert laughing here* From what I can gather, MIL and SIL took it to mean that I was telling MIL to shut up and wear brown. But they weren't the ones to relay this to F, W (his brother) was. Remember W? The guy who dropped several F-Bombs and then stormed out leaving his wife and children behind during this same meal? Yes, he's the one who brought it up to F. Bit of the pot calling the kettle, don't you think?

OK.

I just want to make sure I've got this straight. I didn't greet FIL when I entered his home as a guest and I told MIL to shut her mouth and what color she should wear to the wedding, BACK IN DECEMBER and it's April, and I'm just now hearing about from an extremely distressed F. He's been stressing out about how to tell/ask me about this for 3 WEEKS.

"I didn't want to start an argument. I didn't want you blowing up over this."is what he told me finally. I also found out that when FIL hung up on me, he thought that it was I who was telling him to please stop calling, not that it was me relaying a message FOR F. (Don't shoot the messenger comes to mind.)

I know it's wrong to keep score, but I can't help but think of all the things that have been done to me by these same people and I haven't refused to talk to them or given them the silent treatment because of it. Ok, maybe I have to FIL, but dang, the hatin never stops with this man.
I want to express my feelings about this to F, but seeing how distressed he was over this, I hate putting him in the middle by complaining about his family, again. Which is exactly what is happening.
When I laid down to sleep my mind began to race, as it does. And this enormous overwhelming feeling of despair came over me, and I started to cry. F was already fast asleep so I got up and went to cry in the other room.
Is this how things are going to be for the rest of our lives? His family withholding affection and giving the silent treatment at the slightest hint of an imagined affront? Causing him to lie to me when I ask him what is wrong and he says "Nothing." because he doesn't want a confrontation with me?
I've never encountered a family like this. I've heard of them, but never had the displeasure of interacting with them. They constantly assault me and my sense of proper conduct and I do nothing. But when they feel accosted, it's all out war.
I know the saying goes "Kill them with Kindness." It's the "Kindness" part I'm having difficulty with.
This hurts my heart more than I can say because it makes me question this union.

Damn it, and Damn them because now I'm crying again.

Please Sir...Can I have Christmas?

In planning the wedding I told F that he's in charge of our Honeymoon. I gave him 3 criteria: Somewhere warm, Somewhere neither of us has been before, and dang if I didn't forget what the 3rd one was! Oh well. Anyway, he suggested that even though it goes against the main criteria, that we go back to The Homeland. This is an opportunity that would be stupid of me to pass up. So I said yes, as long as we DO NOT stay with relatives while there. He agreed.
He just called to tell me that he was looking at prices online for us to go over Christmas break. He gets very few vacation days, and we both get that time off between Christmas and New Years, so this is our best bet for an extended Honeymoon.

F: "I just checked tix to The Homeland. They're $1,500 before Christmas and $1,100 on Christmas day or there after."
ME: "I'd prefer to go the day after(Christmas.) Especially if it saves us almost a grand."
F: "Why the day after? Why not on Christmas?"
ME: "Um, because it's CHRISTMAS DAY."
F: "And what are you going to do on Christmas day anyway?"
ME: "Spend my first Christmas with my new husband." (this of course was a blatant gab at boasting his ego, you'll see how well that worked....)
F: "Look at it this way. You know I don't get much time off and this is a free day. So we'll have one more day to spend doing stuff."
Me: " So, what you're telling me is that I get to spend my FIRST Christmas with my HUSBAND on an airplane????"
F: " *sigh* Yes. We'll have more time to do stuff with that extra day."
ME: "hmph."

So yes, lucky me, I get to spend my Christmas not in comfy clothes snuggled in front of our fireplace in our newly remodeled family room, with my HUSBAND. But cramped on an airplane for god only knows how long with the unwashed masses.
Yeah. Oliver Twist gots nothin' on me.

Make Me Thin: Parts 2 & 3

Remember the Make You Thin Guy and his 4 Golden Rules? I missed the second installment about emotional eating, but happened upon it later during the week. The emotional eating deterrent? Tapping. Lots of annoying, self inflected tapping. Tap under your eye, followed by your collar bone, then the pinky side of your hand, then the top of your hand while looking down and to the right, then down and to left, then in a circle, then hum, then count to 5, then hum again, all while tapping the hell out of the top of your hand. Honestly, I don’t know if it change how my brain processed things like he claimed or I was just so focused on how my hand and collar bone were being to bruise from all the tapping that killed the emotional eating. I haven’t had to put it in actual practice yet since my emotions have been whipped by pure exhaustion. Too tired to even care to eat. Working on the family room is really putting the screws to me, but it’s all coming together, and the paint color I picked looks lovely against the orange and red brick fireplace. Last night however, I managed to remember to watch Part 3, Killing the Cravings. Praise the gods, I need that! And how, pray tell, do you manage that? Well folks, you gross yourself the hell out. Yes, that’s right, GROSS YOURSELF OUT. Apparently, the human’s imagination is greater than the human’s will power. So imagine the food that absolutely turns your stomach and makes you want to gag. Then imagine yourself eating said food, eh, not tooooo bad, until he tells you to add gross things on top of it. Like hair. Off an un-swept barbershop floor. Not gagging yet? Add the contents of a spittoon. (For you young ones Merriam Webster has this to say about a spittoon: a receptacle for spit. Think what people who chew spit into.) This is all heaped on top of/mixed in with, the food you are craving. Eyes watering yet? Covering your mouth and heading for the bathroom? That’s how I felt when I thought of a fish, with its scales still on it, it’s bulging cold dead eye staring at me. Covered in hair off a barbershop floor. With tobacco spit on it.
Makes me gag just writing it.
While imagining all these gross things you are suppose to press your thumb and middle fingers together on your left hand.
After completely gagging yourself, you are suppose to think happy-happy-joy-joy thoughts while pressing your thumb and middle finger together on your right hand. (I used the memories of when F proposed and when my little nephew, just over 1yrs old, kept acting the fool just in order to make me laugh. )
And that, my friends, is how you kill a craving.
So of course, me and my endlessly wandering brain decided that wasn’t gross enough. That in order to get the full effect, I needed to think of even more disgusting things to heap on my fish, with its scales still on and it’s bulging cold dead eye staring at me. And this of course could only be accomplished whilst in bed, trying to sleep.
Want to know what I came up with? If you have a weak stomach, stop here.

So going with the hair theme, since we are all raised to be grossed out by hair in our food, I thought of the grossest hair area I could.
Guesses?
How about the strip of tape covered with hair after a lovely day of bikini waxing? Brazilian anyone?
Toe Hair.
Toe Jam.
Used…….well, now I’m grossing myself out too much here. Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep last night.

What would your gross out items be? You know, in case mine stop working some day.

Say that Again?!

What follows is a conversation I had with Second-Eldest Sister concerning her upcoming wedding. She got engaged several months after F and I and our family couldn't be happier with our soon-to-be BIL.


*SES: "We've decided on a month to get married."
ME: "That's great! When?"
SES: "May."
ME: "May??!"
SES: "Yes, May."
ME: MAY?!?! As in May in two months MAY?!?!?!!?!?!?"
SES: "Yes, that's right."
ME: "Well, um, Wow. That's great!"
SES: *sigh* NO! You goof ball, NEXT May!"
ME:"OH! I was gonna say!"
SES: "Yes, May, 2009."
ME: "Thank goodness, I don't need someone else stealing my bridal thunder!"(the 2 girls I work with who both got engaged after me, but are getting married before me. Plus, they're younger than me! jerks.)
SES: "Exactly."
ME: "Have you picked an actual day?"
SES: "Not yet."

*Please note, this is the same Sister who when I was very little would tell me the mannequins in the store were my parents. And then, lead me around said store while covering my eyes and running me into things.
Shopping with her was great fun.

Not So Happy Easter

I hope everyone had an excellent Easter Holiday! Stuffed yourself silly with chocolate and what-not.
I however, can not say my Easter weekend was a banner one.
It all started to go down hill on Thursday, I should have known then. Normally we are let out of work early, several hours. Not so this time around.
1st Warning.

I’d been compiling a list in my head for several days for things to do on my day off, Good Friday, and finally decided to write it all down throughout the day on Thursday. Needless to say, I forgot what half the things were that I wanted to do. Thursday night I hardly slept. Which means that after F left to go to work (poor sucker) I rolled over and fell back to sleep, until 10 am. I proceeded to lie in bed until 11ish, knowing full well I had to donate blood at Church at 3pm. I didn’t feel well, but dragged myself up, and started to cross things off my list. NOT. First I went to the store that purportedly carried the shoes I want to wear for my wedding. They do not stock all the shoes (so much for trying them on), and specifically do not CARRY the shoes I want because they do not carry that supplier.
2nd Warning.

Then I headed to the grocery store. I had a list and a flyer full of fabulous coupons. The first place I went? Literally had isles TAPED OFF. The shelves that were accessible were half empty. I turned heel and ran back to my car. I was close to the Church and decided to donate early. After waiting AN HOUR, I was told my iron was too low and I couldn’t donate that day.
3rd Warning.

I decided to finish (start) my grocery shopping and headed several miles away to a store I knew would be stocked and clean. Nice store, about 20mins out of my way though. Apparently that extra mileage equates into extra high prices! Crazy! And once I started trying to get the items that I had coupons for, I discovered they were those misleading kind: SAVE $2 on any 3 frozen dinners! SAVE $1 on any 2 EXTRA LARGE SIZE items! Huh? That’s not a deal! So I put back the 10 items I had in my cart and head those extra 20 minutes back home to another grocery store.
4th Warning.

After 4 warning signs you’d think I’d figure it out. Not so much.

It started snowing while in the grocery store, and the wind was whipping. As I stomped in the house, cold and wet and extremely hungry loaded down with groceries, F was no where to be found. Oh, wait, that’s right he was in the shower! “Warming up.” GRRRRR. He helped put away the groceries while I collapsed on the couch with a hunger induced headache.
“Fffffffff” I whimpered, “Will you please make dinner? I’m done, I’m just DONE! And I have a headache from hunger.”
“I’m not hungry right now.”
Pardon? I just told you I was in pain from not eating and you tell me you’re not hungry? How many times have I stopped what I was doing to make you dinner because you “are so hungry I’m really shaking!”
Make the damned spaghetti already!
“Please, seriously, I NEED to eat.”
“Ok.”

So, let’s recap Good Friday: Wedding shoes? Nope.
Donate life saving blood? Nope.
Use somewhat fabulous coupons to get discounted yummy food? Nope.
Wasted several hours? Yep.
Wasted way too much gas? Oh yeah.
Saturday? Not much better.
F had to get some blood work done, so he dragged me out of bed with him at 8 am with the promise of a fabulous breakfast. I hadn’t even showered.
We drive FOREVER to this place that takes 2 seconds to draw his blood.
The fabulous breakfast? Eh. Cracker Barrel has some awesome bacon, let me tell you, the biscuits were pretty good too, and that was the highlight of my breakfast.
We drove home and I collapsed back into bed for the next few hours while F painted the ceiling in the family room.
I didn’t really sleep, a trend I’ve been experiencing lately and am not too thrilled about.
Got up, showered and started getting ready. We were going to meet my friends and F wanted to stop at the Outlet mall to get new tennis shoes. As always 2 mins after he gets out of the shower he announces that he’s ready to go! That I need to hurry up! So I rush. I am seconds from walking out the door to leave to find F, in the basement, on the computer, still only half dressed. The directions to the restaurant? Not written down. The cars not moved around, he was too busy to do his stuff because he was chatting with a cousin! Grrrrrrrr We fought about it in the car, he couldn’t see that my point was not whether or not we would be late, but that EVERY TIME we have somewhere to go he says he’s ready then as I’m at the door he can’t find his shoes, or his wallet, or his cell or his glasses or needs to write this or that, or stop at the hardware store, or the post office, or the bank, or SOMETHING that puts us 10 minutes behind schedule that he could have been doing while I was getting ready.
“You’re blowing it out of proportion.” he stated.
WRONG THING TO SAY buddy boy.
5th Warning.

Dinner went well. F was kind of ignored by the other husbands, but boys don’t socialize as well as girls anyway.
We got home really late and when the morning came, I dreaded heading to Easter Sunday Services. I waited until the last possible service at noon.
Once we got home F painted the ceiling with a second coat while I cleaned the disaster of a kitchen. I even moved the stove to mop!
“DH, I’m so hunger, I’m shaking!”
really? cause I’m not. “I’ll make dinner, but I have to finish cleaning the stove first, do you want me to make you a sandwich to hold you until then?”
“Yes!”
And this is where all those warning sign were pointing, Easter Sunday Dinner. I’d had an idea in my head to use some salsa to spice up the baked chicken and I was going to season the whole grain brown rice so it won’t taste so nasty, and all would be lovely in the land.
The chicken smelled good, but still tasted extremely bland.
The rice wasn’t done.
I cried.
Like a damn hysterical woman.
“I can’t cook! I know how to cook, but every time I do, it comes out wrong! I feel like such a failure!”
“Oh, DH, I’ve never seen you this way! Wow, you are really having an emotional breakdown.” He consolingly wraps his arms around me.
“Your mother thinks I can’t do anything! And what happens when I have to cook for them? Especially T? She’s such a fabulous cook!”
“OMG, why are you worrying about that?”
“I’m a woman! I’ve been raised to believe that I should be able to cook for my husband! I never thought I’d feel this way. I want you to eat my food because you like, not because that’s all there is!!!” At this point I’m practically wailing.
“Oh, DH. I’m not marrying you because of that!”
It went on that way for a few more minutes, with F promising we would learn to cook together. Which really didn’t make me feel any better, but I know he was trying.
I felt completely defeated the rest of the day. I was still upset the next morning. I could feel the dark bony fingers of depression weaving their way into my psyche. So I stayed home, taking a vacation day from work.
I painted the family room. It looks good.
But I’m still skittish about making dinner.

Who is this emotional basket case I’ve become?????

Weird

Seen on the way home last night: A six foot cowboy wearing his hat and........ Birkenstocks
It was 35 degrees out.

This and That

F and I are trying this new way of eating. I happened to run across a show on Sunday night on TLC called, I Can Make You Thin. So I watched it. Apparently this guy is a huge hit in England. And following his rules seems fairly easy:

1) Eat when you are hungry(hmmm, often I feel I should be eating, especially when I'm bored)

2)Eat what you want (ice cream here I come!)

3) Eat consciously(this involves setting down your knife and fork in between bites, not eating in front of the tv or reading, not easy)

4)Stop eating when you are full(right now I am having a hard telling when I am full)

But I've really been trying to do this. The full part is especially hard since I'm used to eating til I'm stuffed. I can tell when I'm not hungry anymore, but full? Not so easy. He says if you get hungry again in 10 mins after having eaten, eat again, or drink a glass of water. Next show covers Overcoming Emotional Eating. Blessed be, I need THAT. What I really need is How to Overcome Boredom Eating. Now that is a topic I'm sure many of us have issues with.

I need Bridal Body 2008, is what I need. I'm so damned lazy.

On a completely different end of the spectrum, I was searching online for thigh high nylons to wear on my wedding day to go with my garter equipped bustier. Apparently, the only way you can advertise thigh-highs is if you show the thonged ass above the nylons and hooker heels below them. My friend walked by my office as I was scanning the page and exclaimed, "DH!!!"

To which I immediately responded, "It's Not what you think!!"

Really, why is it that thigh -highs with seams are considered hooker wear? Or Adult Entertainment wear if you need to be P.C. And the sidebar on the screen that has "Sponsored Links"? Stocking Fetish Video, and Penis Enlargement. Um, seriously, I just wanted some nice nylons for my wedding day.

I did find some, they are very cute and sexy and bridal, and from Taiwan. Great, won't be going there anytime soon.

If they had a seam up the back, I'd be flying to Taiwan.

I Need Your Help

I have always had somewhat of a contentious relationship with Second Eldest BIL. When he first showed up on the scene 20+ years ago, I didn’t like him because he was cutting into my time with Eldest Sister, we were very close, us two sisters. As time went on I found his humor to be relentless and often cruel, and as a young girl who was still coming into her own, I didn’t have the verbal skills to defend myself. I also felt that he, being an adult, should know when to quit(Eldest Sister is 11 yrs older than me and he’s, I believe, another 4 yrs older than her). Needless to say, I had to broach the subject with Eldest Sister, asking her to please intervene on my behalf. She did, and things improved, for years. As I got older, though, things began to revert back to what they were. I would defend myself as best I could, but he was often belittling and down right mean. I was at loss as to what to do, what to say that would finally put him in his place. Often his cruelty leaves me speechless with rage. He reprimands me as if I was a child instead of an adult. “Oh my GOSH DH.” “What the HECK, DH.” Most recently he has taken to calling me gullible. A trait that I think at one time he enjoyed, especially when he could exploit it. Now however, I think he finds it almost disgusting. When I relate a story that I read on the net he calls me gullible. When I relate something I hear on the radio, he rolls his eyes and tells me that it can’t be true. It really hurts my feelings because honestly, I’m not gullible. I feel I’m well informed and well educated. Things that we all pass along via e-mail because they are humorous, he criticizes, in a “Reply to All” scathing e-mail. My opinions are all but dismissed as ill-informed and uneducated. I feel he is mere moments from declaring me stupid. This is exactly how he makes me feel. I’m quite tired of it. I have relayed my anger and frustration to F. But neither of us knows how to confront him. I can’t hold my temper, which means my sword like tongue (my mother’s words, not mine) fails me and is as sharp as a wet noodle. It happened again this weekend. “Guuuullible.” Was his sing-songy comment regarding my presenting Second Eldest Sister with a St Joseph statue, which is suppose to help you sell your house. I looked at F and he shook his head. I don’t know if anyone else caught the look on my face of pure hatred, but it was there.
So anyone, please, how do I deal with this? Short of calling him a fucking ass, which wouldn’t do well for family relations. I’m at a total loss. I need some advice. Help me please!

Hair Raising Issues Part 2

Shortly after I posted yesterday about my hair, I got an e-mail from my cousin whom I’d asked to do my hair for the wedding. She did my hair for F’s office Christmas party that first year, and it looked FABU! Just after F and I got engaged (9 months now!) she started a new job. This is great for her, because now she makes more money and has health insurance for her and her family. But turns out, it sucks for me. Here’s what part of her e-mail imparted:

(….) “Unfortunately I will only be able to take a 1/2 day on that Friday. :-( I couldn't remember if I told you yet or not. So I will not be able to help out with your hair, I'm sorry. But I know you'll be Gorgeous! (just make sure that you have a trial run so you’re comfortable with the stylist & style)
So, there goes my mimosa drinking, hair styling, morning. *La Sigh*
Now I have to go to my stylist, who does a great job cutting my hair, I just don’t know how the up dos will go over. I saw up dos that they did, and seriously? A little too little girlie. Of course that could have been what bride wanted.
And what her brides’ maids wanted too.
Oh, god, I’m screwed.

This is the look I want:

Oh, and if I could have their size 00 bodies too? Yeah, that'd be great, thanks!

Hair Today

I, like so many other Brides, am “growing out” my hair in preparation for my wedding. It’s been shoulder length for several years, anything past shoulder length and it gets mangy. Knowing this, I still feel the need to have long flowing locks upon my wedding day. Plus I’m too cheap to pay for a white girl’s weave, i.e. extensions. I have extremely fine hair. As a former stylist told me, “Your hair is very fine, but you have a lot of it.” That however doesn’t make it curl any easier. I am not the kind of female that gets up an hour early to make sure my hair is perfectly coifed. I used to. But then I got old and didn’t care anymore and discovered clip thingies. I try, I do, but proper hair maintenance takes time and frankly, I’d prefer to use it sleeping. Anyone with fine hair will tell you that getting it to hold a curl is near impossible. CBF has even finer hair and less then I do. She also is not a great maintainer of hair and whenever we go anywhere together she poaches my products. I remember her calling me about hair styling (she thinks I’m a great hair stylist, silly girl) for a big to-do she was attending. Knowing the state of fineness of her hair, my sage advice was, “Spray it before, during and after curling. That’s the best way to get to hold for most of the night.” Most of the things I know about styling has come from making mistakes. You should see my prom pictures. YIKES. And that was the product of like 3 hours of curling. It held all night though, I must say. When my hair is short I use the smallest curling iron possible. Last night I broke down and bought a new curling iron. My hair has gotten so long that the 2” barrel one I’ve been using for years now, doesn’t do enough. The 1” barrel one did too much (my bangs hated me that day.) So I searched and found 1 ¼” barrel, EUREKA! I used it this morning. It seems to be working. I was tempted, after having read (several times) Molly’s post about how she does her hair, to buy hot rollers. I would LOOOVE to have Molly Hair, but the $11.96 curling iron won out over the $39.95 hot rollers.(I'd also looooove to have those red shoes she's got posted today about her wedding shoes. Seriously, I'm not stalking her, I swear!) That plus the fact that hot rollers would take more time than a quick 8 (probably more like 5) curls with the curling iron.
It’s a good thing I’m having my hair done for the wedding. Or I’d probably show up with it pulled back in a clip thingy.

Ok, so I just reread this post and seriously, I’m kinda lame.