Thursday, December 3, 2009

I'm so totally glad I married this guy.

Last night, my sweetie said six words that stopped me in my tracks and made me want to jump his bones right then and there:

Thank you for unloading the dishwasher.
And, to make it even better, HE was the one who loaded and ran it in the first place.

HANDS OFF LADIES, HE'S MINE.

I'm not dumb. I know what I've got. I've got a guy who won't leave crusty dishes in the sink. I've got a man who'll RINSE them off AND WASH them. And to top it off, thank me for putting HIS dishes away.

I know I'm using a lot of capitals - A LOT - but this is big. Really, it is. To date, just about all the men I've encountered in the kitchen come from the half-assed school of housekeeping.

In college, one of my guy roommates had one pot and one fork, spoon and knife -- all of which were dirty all the time. Instead of washing them after using them, he'd take them from the sink and then wash them BEFORE cooking something. Granted, by "cooking" I mean heating something dumped out of a can. Then, he'd eat his food right out of the pot, hot pad in his lap, in front of the TV.

And he wasn't the only one.

Once, while on a business trip, I returned to find my ex hadn't survived on the fully stocked fridge I'd left for him. He hadn't nuked any of the precooked meals I'd lovingly prepared. Instead, he'd subsisted entirely on cold cereal evidenced by scores of dirty bowls and spoons left all over the house. There were three in the living room, one of the night stand and even one on the back of the toilet.

My friend, Dan, once tried to help me understand how a man's mind works when it comes to housekeeping.

We know this: We get hungry. And when we're done eating something, we know we ought to clean up. But usually, on the way to the sink, we get distracted. Maybe we get sleepy. Or see something shiny. Or get hungry again. It's just the way it is.
Well I'm here to tell you, my man is living proof that they're not all apes. There are a few rare gems.

And guys... I'm going to let you in on a little secret:

Cleaning up after yourselves is a huge turn-on. HUGE. And further, complimenting or thanking us for our housekeeping/cooking/child-care skills is an enormous aphrodisiac.

I'm not lying. Try it.

I'm a very, very lucky girl.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Scenes from my nightstand.

Either Crowbar's been in my room, or the mister is feeling a little adventurous.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

What's tradition?

I've had a lot of Thanksgiving traditions over the years. These traditions have morphed and adapted as I grew up and had my own family.

At the time, each set of traditions feel like they'll last forever. They feel as if they're set in concrete. Like they'll never change -- or maybe I just hope they won't. And then life happens and we step into a new phase with new traditions.

#1 Ponytails in Indy

As a young girl, when my parents were still married, every year we'd drive down to Indiana where all of my grandparents lived to celebrate Thanksgiving at my great uncle's house.

There were tons of us - so many so we never all ate seated at a table. People grabbed chairs, carpet or the arms of sofas to scarf down yeast rolls, mince meat pies and turkey. There were a few years there when we even ate on folding chairs in the garage, surrounded by space heaters!

There were always euchre games in a back bedroom. We kids would splinter off from the group and play either outside or in another bedroom, often with toys that had been our parents and second cousins.

Then my parents divorced and remarried.

#2 Step-family traditions

My step family's Thanksgiving traditions opened my eyes to a whole new world. Our trips to Indy became semi-annual at best and instead we ventured Up North to visit my step dad's family or to my step mom's parent's farm.

His family gatherings also were large. My step dad is one of 9 kids and while the location of the Turkey Day Feast would change, the cast of characters would not. My new aunties would drink wine and gossip. My uncles would watch football, arms crossed over big bellies, alternately laughing or yelling at the screen.

The decibel level on Thanksgiving Day would rival those on airport runways. Every one's a talker. And an expert. And talks over the next guy to be heard. I remember, as a teenager, dozing off after The Feast, and tuning in and out of several different loud, passionate conversations about kids these days, the Green Bay Packers and how so-and-so's going to run that farm into the ground.

My step mom's affairs were more about the food. Relatives would show up with arms full of delicious pies and delicacies -- and with grocery bags of empty Cool-Whip containers hanging from the crooks of their arms, ready to store the leftovers.

Some years there were TWO TURKEYS and it was nothing for my step mom to mash 15 pounds or more of potatoes for a gathering of a dozen people or less. The worst thing that could happen would to not have enough leftovers for everyone.

Oh, and there was Jell-O.

All kinds of Jell-O. From fancy molds to fluff-salads, the dessert table was a rainbow of wiggly-jiggly deliciousness.

#3 Married with kids.

When I married my ex-husband, we alternated Thanksgiving holidays between my family's homes and his. Every other year we'd pack up the minivan and head down the turnpike to spend the holiday with his four siblings and parents.

While my family was passionate about food and conversation, his was about football. From the first game at 11 a.m. to the final game of the night, the channel never changed and my father-in-law never got up from his chair. The turkey carving and drink pouring were left to others. We women would hang in the kitchen, talking about babies and family gossip.

The twins were still babies and those long road trips were sometimes brutal, lugging playpens and crates of diapers for a three-day visit. But, everyone else had newborns, so it was fun comparing milestones and trading advice from our respective pediatricians.

#4 Divorced and determined.

After my divorce, traditions morphed again. Other family members' lives were also changing. New jobs, moves and children leaving for college and beyond, meant that each holiday seemed to forage new traditions. Those years were marked by an air of 'anything goes' and the only thing constant was the turkey.

Yet, I was determined to make some new traditions for the kids, whose sense of family and stability had been shaken so severely during that time.

I began sharing my children with my ex who, to his credit, began some new traditions with them. True to his football-loving roots, he began asking that I pack their team jerseys (that he bought) for a game of family touch football in his side yard. The kids leave my care trash talking up a storm and return with full bellies and stories about their great plays and winning catches. (And I love it.)

It was during this time that I began my mantra of savoring one holiday at a time, refusing to even talk about Christmas until the Thanksgiving holiday was over. And when the kids would badger me to put up some twinkle lights before the last Thursday in November, I'd exclaim, "One holiday at a time!"

Something that surprised me about sharing my kids on holidays, is that I thought I'd miss them more on my "off years." Instead, I like having one year with and one year without them. It's how I enjoyed my first quiet (read: civilized) holiday dinner. It was with Mark and his family.

We had a real, honest-to-goodness sit-down dinner -- on china and crystal and fancy silver, no less! We toasted, we conversed, and I didn't have to settle one fight or cut up any one's dinner but my own. It was glorious.

And that brings me to today.

#5 Blended traditions at home.

With a large house and new family members in the mix, my holiday has entered a new phase. As hosts, Mark and I called the shots and drew from the our favorite traditions to make our own.

So, our holiday was a sit-down affair, complete with yeast rolls, gossip and old family recipes. There were loud and lively conversations over Old Fashioneds and the kids splintered off and played upstairs.

And there was football on every available TV.

When the dust settled and the last guest had gone, Mark and I sat in front of the fireplace and reflected on 'tradition.' Mark's holidays had evolved over the years as had mine and we both felt we'd successfully integrated all of our favorite past traditions into our new phase.

I think honoring tradition isn't about being stuck in the past. Life happens and people change. Truly honoring tradition is the ability to take what you love from the past and integrate it into the present. I've learned over the years that the holidays are an opportunity to transform new experiences into tomorrow's traditions. It's about honoring the past while embracing change.

And now, finally, I'm ready to think about Christmas. About more new/old traditions and what we want the holiday to be for our new, blended family.

Cheers!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: plate-cam edition


Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Marketing gold.

So, as you know by my new Wordless Wednesday line of posts, I've been dabbling in photography. I keep my camera in my purse and try to snap a few pictures every couple of days or so.

So far, I've been pretty pleased with the results.

Last week, I found myself at a stoplight with this big truck in front of me:


I just had to snap a picture.

My first thought was, "Dear God. Please don't let that bungee cord break."

And my second thought was, "Who names a port-a-potty company 'Number One Portables'?"


Number One Portables: We're number one, for your number one.

Someone with a sense of humor and an eye for a great marketing opportunity, that's who.

Alternate slogans:

  • We're tops for your bottoms.
  • We don't do number two.
  • When you've gotta make number one on the run.
  • Serving top bums since 1985.

What have you got? How would you market Number One?

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Thankful times ten.

This Thanksgiving has me feeling particularly thankful. Here's why:
  1. I have an amazing husband/best friend who makes me laugh my ass off at least twice a week, if not more.
  2. My dearest children, Mad Dog, Crowbar and The Deuce who regularly run up, wrap their arms around my waist and tell me they love me. (Even when they're not jockeying to stay up late.)
  3. An amazing home that's big and old and full of possibilities that the aforementioned amazing husband/best friend and I can't wait to tackle.
  4. That despite the fact that my new role as Sunday School Teacher was begun out of slacker guilt, I've found that I really do love it. I love those kids and enjoy planning and presenting my weekly lessons. (Nobody can deliver 'Jonah and the Whale' quite like I can.)
  5. The fact that Mark's dog, Bandit, is now more my dog than his. She actually runs to me when he calls her now. (This is even though I threaten to dress her in pink and carry her around in a purse. I think she secretly wants it.)
  6. My job. I love my job. Notice I didn't say I love that I have a job? I really do love what I do and who I do it with. (That sounded a little naughty but I swear it isn't supposed to be.)
  7. My health. Finally.
  8. Mark's health. Again, finally.
  9. My loud and crazy family, 20+ of whom I'm hosting for Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday -- including my big brother and his family. (I love and miss them like crazy and wish they lived next door.)
  10. My life. Five years ago I thought it was over, but it was far, far from it. I had no idea I had so much wonderfulness ahead.

Thankful. Thankful. Thankful.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Wordless Wednesday