On Saturday, the ladies and I hosted a bridal shower for Ol, who will be getting hitched on Memorial Day weekend. I was in charge of games and prizes! Eschewing traditional bridal party fare, I composed a game entitled "Famous TV Couples", and guess what I did? I listed 20 surnames, and made our guests fill in the first names of these "Famous TV Couples." Ha! Wayne? Conner? Roper?? No one said it would be easy to win my prizes, y'all: My Best Friend's Wedding DVD (get it?); My Big Fat Greek Wedding DVD (stop, it's too adorable!), and then some pretty blue candles with lovely stained glass plate thing-a-ma-jigs, if that's your bag.
As it turns out, no one really paid attention to my cutting age game, except of course my mother, who thrives on such competitive mindfucks. And watches far too much television.
The real moral of the story is that Ol, Allie, Koos, and I have been friends since elementary school, when I was in love with Fran N. in the fifth grade proclaiming Love Day a national holiday. Ol was dating Fran by the eighth grade, which was fine, because by then I was totally over him and dating Allie's younger brother (yeah, a few of us fell hard for some of those seventh grade boys). The four of us were inseparable during our 14th year, having sleepovers at Ol's and mischievously scheming to sneak out at 4 AM to meet boys and drink beers and get high! Er - fine. We actually we did none of those things; we opted for a 4 AM hike to the Dunkin' Donuts a quarter of a mile up the street; but hell, that trip alone somehow got Allie grounded for months (who ratted us out??). Bad-asses.
All of our moms were present on Saturday, and since they don't get together too often, they took some time to reminisce.
"Look at that face," Allie's mom said when I dropped by their table to interrupt their conversation. "Just like when they were kids! Where does the time go?"
You said it, Mom of Al. We're all - old. Getting married; already married; having babies (second babies, D!); growing up. I shudder when I realize: we've been friends for over 20 years. We've been through death, divorce, heartache; but also provided each other so much joy, complete with countless fits of uncontrollable giggling. After two decades, the mundane is still HILARIOUS when we're together.
Alarmingly close to 30, I guess it doesn't get much better than that.
Even if no one really cared about my damn party game and someone (gasp!) left her copy of My Big Fat Greek Wedding behind.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Jack Talk Thai, Part I
The days before our trip were as fast and furious as Britney's breakdown. I was traveling, unfortunately, to Providence RI, and Worcester, MA. I found myself putting in 12 hour work days, with nary a moment to blog.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, you gorgeous Internet, you.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, you gorgeous Internet, you.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Time to Stop and Smell the Hazelnut Folgers...
Today, at Kinko's (yes, my sweet, sweet computer is busted once again), I purchased a book on organization. (In his office, upon reading this, J has just rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.)
But no - seriously - ORGANIZATION. I think it is the solution to ameliorating the chaos in my life (order eliminating chaos? Imagine.) and regaining some sanity, as well as blogging time. I am always running around and making plans (by the way, I should have been at tonight's Manhattan event a half an hour ago), and something needs to give. Lest I suffer a complete nervous breakdown.
I think I have made some exciting decisions in terms of my professional life, ones that I will share here all in due time (Remind me later to tell you the "BIG THANKS TO JUDY" story. It's awesome and did not at all cause screaming and hair-pulling and histrionics on Friday night. Nope. Not at all.)
So - ORGANIZATION. It's a new idea that I fully intend to see to fruition. Join me, won't you? I am in super-list making mode and "Finally blog about your fucking magical trip to Southeast Asia, you lazy whore" is high on my priority sheet.
All my love,
HV
But no - seriously - ORGANIZATION. I think it is the solution to ameliorating the chaos in my life (order eliminating chaos? Imagine.) and regaining some sanity, as well as blogging time. I am always running around and making plans (by the way, I should have been at tonight's Manhattan event a half an hour ago), and something needs to give. Lest I suffer a complete nervous breakdown.
I think I have made some exciting decisions in terms of my professional life, ones that I will share here all in due time (Remind me later to tell you the "BIG THANKS TO JUDY" story. It's awesome and did not at all cause screaming and hair-pulling and histrionics on Friday night. Nope. Not at all.)
So - ORGANIZATION. It's a new idea that I fully intend to see to fruition. Join me, won't you? I am in super-list making mode and "Finally blog about your fucking magical trip to Southeast Asia, you lazy whore" is high on my priority sheet.
All my love,
HV
Friday, March 09, 2007
Love Day
In 1991, I was in luurrrvvveee with Fran N. Deeply, deeply in love. I was in the 5th grade, and Mrs. McCullough played Cupid and seated Fran and I next to each other in class, and God, it was beautiful.
In late February, BFFs Erin, Marie, and I began preparing for our first boy-girl dance. Fran prominent in my mind, we shopped for cute outfits. I just knew my hot pink leggings and flowery top (which billowed out into a skirt, like, how hot is that?) were enough to entice the object of my affection. And lo, on March 9th, in the St. Gabriel's church hall, Fran asked me to dance! Three times! To the strains of Jodeci's "Forever My Lady", I felt my heart swell. In May, Lisa Moore would mouth to Fran "Will you go out with her?" as we sat bored in Mass, and Fran would, um, nod his assent, strong silent type that he was. We would then speak twice on the phone in the next six months, and then my love would unceremoniously dump me that October as he played football in the schoolyard.
But glorious, glorious March 9th was The Greatest Day in My 11 Year-Old Life. Thus, I declared it "Love Day" as I day-dreamed in my bedroom at Dad's house. I proceeded to cut out pink construction paper hearts and scribble "LOVE DAY. MARCH 9th" on each of those hearts, throwing them around the bedroom, humming to myself.
Happy Love Day, y'all.
In late February, BFFs Erin, Marie, and I began preparing for our first boy-girl dance. Fran prominent in my mind, we shopped for cute outfits. I just knew my hot pink leggings and flowery top (which billowed out into a skirt, like, how hot is that?) were enough to entice the object of my affection. And lo, on March 9th, in the St. Gabriel's church hall, Fran asked me to dance! Three times! To the strains of Jodeci's "Forever My Lady", I felt my heart swell. In May, Lisa Moore would mouth to Fran "Will you go out with her?" as we sat bored in Mass, and Fran would, um, nod his assent, strong silent type that he was. We would then speak twice on the phone in the next six months, and then my love would unceremoniously dump me that October as he played football in the schoolyard.
But glorious, glorious March 9th was The Greatest Day in My 11 Year-Old Life. Thus, I declared it "Love Day" as I day-dreamed in my bedroom at Dad's house. I proceeded to cut out pink construction paper hearts and scribble "LOVE DAY. MARCH 9th" on each of those hearts, throwing them around the bedroom, humming to myself.
Happy Love Day, y'all.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Jack Talk Thai, Part I
The days before our trip were as fast and furious as Britney's breakdown. I was traveling, unfortunately, to Providence RI, and Worcester, MA. I found myself putting in 12 hour work days, with nary a moment to blog.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, bitches.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, bitches.
Obviously, the network veeps are reading.
Thank you, faithful reader "A", for this brilliant gem of information:
NEW YORK (AP) -- Those Geico "cavemen" shouldn't be so upset after all -- they may get their own television series.
ABC said Friday it had ordered a pilot for a comedy, tentatively titled "Cavemen," that features the characters used in a series of ads by the insurance company.
In the ads, cavemen appear insulted by a Geico pitchman's claim that the company's Web site is so easy to use that "even a caveman can do it."
The potential series, one of 14 pilots that will be produced by Touchstone Television this spring, features the cavemen as they "struggle with prejudice on a daily basis as they strive to live the lives of normal thirty-somethings in 2007 Atlanta."
It's unusual for characters from an advertising campaign to move into shows of their own, but not unprecedented. The CBS comedy "Baby Bob" featured a talking baby that had been used in several advertisements, according to Daily Variety.
The advertising copywriter who helped create the "cavemen" ads is writing the pilot, the studio said.
A pilot order is no guarantee a show will make it on the air; in fact, the majority of pilots don't make it that far.
NEW YORK (AP) -- Those Geico "cavemen" shouldn't be so upset after all -- they may get their own television series.
ABC said Friday it had ordered a pilot for a comedy, tentatively titled "Cavemen," that features the characters used in a series of ads by the insurance company.
In the ads, cavemen appear insulted by a Geico pitchman's claim that the company's Web site is so easy to use that "even a caveman can do it."
The potential series, one of 14 pilots that will be produced by Touchstone Television this spring, features the cavemen as they "struggle with prejudice on a daily basis as they strive to live the lives of normal thirty-somethings in 2007 Atlanta."
It's unusual for characters from an advertising campaign to move into shows of their own, but not unprecedented. The CBS comedy "Baby Bob" featured a talking baby that had been used in several advertisements, according to Daily Variety.
The advertising copywriter who helped create the "cavemen" ads is writing the pilot, the studio said.
A pilot order is no guarantee a show will make it on the air; in fact, the majority of pilots don't make it that far.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Vacation Over. Seriously???
Home, once again!
It's hard to imagine that just two days ago, we were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and Bangkok, Thailand.
Then, at 1 AM Thailand time we were airborne for another 17 hours, flying over China.
Then, Judd's parents lovingly fetched us at JFK at 6 AM yesterday morning.
Then, we arrived home, showered, and slept all day.
Then, we woke up at 8 PM, but couldn't keep our eyes open, so we went with it, and kept sleeping, finally rising at 4 AM and watching Lost on DVR. (And wasn't Jack in Thailand, on Phuket, in an episode we missed!)
And now, it's back to the daily grind, isn't it?
Sigh.
Was amazing, beautiful, magical voyage. Stay tuned for a more in-depth analysis, and 748784 pictures! Now, I must dig out from a million emails and will myself to work, when all I am interested in doing is adopting ten children from Cambodia, or being back in that longtail boat, headed for the Railey West beaches in Krabi.
It's hard to imagine that just two days ago, we were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and Bangkok, Thailand.
Then, at 1 AM Thailand time we were airborne for another 17 hours, flying over China.
Then, Judd's parents lovingly fetched us at JFK at 6 AM yesterday morning.
Then, we arrived home, showered, and slept all day.
Then, we woke up at 8 PM, but couldn't keep our eyes open, so we went with it, and kept sleeping, finally rising at 4 AM and watching Lost on DVR. (And wasn't Jack in Thailand, on Phuket, in an episode we missed!)
And now, it's back to the daily grind, isn't it?
Sigh.
Was amazing, beautiful, magical voyage. Stay tuned for a more in-depth analysis, and 748784 pictures! Now, I must dig out from a million emails and will myself to work, when all I am interested in doing is adopting ten children from Cambodia, or being back in that longtail boat, headed for the Railey West beaches in Krabi.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Spicy Red Mullet Soup
Sawadee Kaa, bitches!
We've arrived, and it is amazing. So far in Chiang Mai we were awoken by jungle sounds (I know you are out there, Phantom Monkey); drank Chang beers; ridden in a tuk tuk; fallen prey to the ultimate tourist trap shopping racket (we were accosted by our tuk tuk driver, Pet, and taken to a "jade" factory); acquired some beautiful blue silk plus one gorgeous pashmina; drank more Chang beers; discovered Spicy Red Mullet Soup, and visited a 14th century temple.
(And yes, HomeValley and J are respectful travelers, so we took our flops off at the door of said temple, only to come out to HV's flops gone missing. A bit unpleasantness wearing a fellow tourist's Reefs, but hooray, was blessedly able to locate own Reefs at door of second temple. Crisis averted.)
The 17-hour flight was delightful, save The Farter and The Screamer, whose nicknames, I assure you, were apt. Somewhere over Estonia I decided that Thai Airways dominates all others, as I gorged myself on Red Curry whilst watching Scrubs and America's Next Top Model. Brilliant.
Must retreat to our gorgeous hotel to swim and sample more Chang beers. Tomorrow it's elephant trekking and bamboo rafting!
Lah Gorn.
We've arrived, and it is amazing. So far in Chiang Mai we were awoken by jungle sounds (I know you are out there, Phantom Monkey); drank Chang beers; ridden in a tuk tuk; fallen prey to the ultimate tourist trap shopping racket (we were accosted by our tuk tuk driver, Pet, and taken to a "jade" factory); acquired some beautiful blue silk plus one gorgeous pashmina; drank more Chang beers; discovered Spicy Red Mullet Soup, and visited a 14th century temple.
(And yes, HomeValley and J are respectful travelers, so we took our flops off at the door of said temple, only to come out to HV's flops gone missing. A bit unpleasantness wearing a fellow tourist's Reefs, but hooray, was blessedly able to locate own Reefs at door of second temple. Crisis averted.)
The 17-hour flight was delightful, save The Farter and The Screamer, whose nicknames, I assure you, were apt. Somewhere over Estonia I decided that Thai Airways dominates all others, as I gorged myself on Red Curry whilst watching Scrubs and America's Next Top Model. Brilliant.
Must retreat to our gorgeous hotel to swim and sample more Chang beers. Tomorrow it's elephant trekking and bamboo rafting!
Lah Gorn.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Get Back To Work, Faithless Heathens
This week has been delightful, as I haven't had to travel one day! Of course, after this week, I travel every single day (before and after and during vacation), but let's not think about that now.
Anyway, I am working from my home office, but not quite, because the phone line has actually been installed in the dining room. So, I am working from the dining room, until I can hijack J's car and drag my lazy, home-working ass to Best Buy to get some sort of wireless phone device. I believe we used to call this type of phone "cordless." Technology. Simply stunning.
Man, I digress today! I actually have been more productive in the home office than I ever was in Chelsea, but perhaps that's because I had Chipotle and the 5th Avenue shops to distract me.
Fuck, I miss Chipotle.
Severe, severe ADD today. But here is what my days have looked like:
Anyway, I am working from my home office, but not quite, because the phone line has actually been installed in the dining room. So, I am working from the dining room, until I can hijack J's car and drag my lazy, home-working ass to Best Buy to get some sort of wireless phone device. I believe we used to call this type of phone "cordless." Technology. Simply stunning.
Man, I digress today! I actually have been more productive in the home office than I ever was in Chelsea, but perhaps that's because I had Chipotle and the 5th Avenue shops to distract me.
Fuck, I miss Chipotle.
Severe, severe ADD today. But here is what my days have looked like:
- J, grudgingly rising from bed at just before 6, and asking what time I'd like the alarm set for? 7 AM, I reply sleepily.
- Snooze.
- Snooze.
- Snooze.
- Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
- I'm up, damnit! 8 AM. Fuck - conference call! And I've got Melissa Morning Voice!
- I sound like a man.
- I have not brushed my teeth.
- Nor have I put my contacts in.
- Nor have I showered.
- It is fun to dissect corporate politics in your fuzzy blue bathrobe from the Gap.
- Trust me.
- Dawson's Creek on DVR and some lunch anyone?
- Mmmm... Pacey.
- What is Joshua Jackson up to these days anyway?
- Let's take a look at IMDB...
- And some blogs, for good measure.
- By the beard of Zeus! www.lisawhelchel.com
- Why are all of our favorite 80s sitcom stars so rigidly conservative and Christian? (Kirk Cameron, I'm talking to you.)
Oh man, I can't even concentrate long enough to continue this ill-conceived list. I must bid you adieu and get back to work. And shower at some point.
Have a blissful weekend, y'all. I'll be running around like a madwoman attempting to prepare for Thailand, as well as drinking heavily at Grace's on Saturday night. Here's to v. adult dinner parties and Miller Lite! Cheers.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
True Romance
J and I have never really celebrated Valentine's Day, but yesterday when he arrived home from work, I suggested we head down to the Brew Pub for blackberry sangria ale and sushi. J wholeheartedly agreed.
To my utter dismay, there was no sangria ale, so we drank raspberry beers instead. And I forced J to make a toast for the millionth time, as I am so NOTORIOUSLY horrendous at toasting. At the end of J's eloquent speech, I held up my glass and said, "To you, babe." And then J laughed and laughed, because I am a huge, cheesy nerd.
I also discovered a super-fun game to play with your significant other! I made it up after scarfing down my salmon and avocado roll. I call it "Hey, can you remember every minute detail of our first date?"
Man, this went over huge.
HV: So, what is the first thing we did when we got to Queens?
J: (Raises eyebrows, grins lasciviously.)
HV: No dude, we most certainly did not do that. At least not first thing. Come on! You know this!
J: (Puts hands to head. Looks absolutely pained.)
HV: You picked me up at my apartment and said, "Show me around Queens." Remember? And where did I take you?
J: Uuuuuummmmmmm...
HV: For Christ's sake, J! Less than two years ago.
J: Um, the racetrack?
HV: J, there is no racetrack in Queens.
J: I mean, the track, at the park.
HV: (Sighs tiredly.)
J: Oh - the Beer Garden!
HV: Yes, and then what did we do once we got back from there?
J: (Raises eyebrows, grins.)
HV: Jesus, J, not that.
And so forth.
After a few raspberry beers, we were both feeling quite tipsy and I decided that on our 17-hour flight to Bangkok, we'd make up a guestlist for our wedding, as well as the LIST OF SONGS THAT MUST BE PLAYED, which is of course of the utmost importance.
This sparked a fierce debate on SONGS THAT MUST BE PLAYED, in which I had to say numerous times, "J, no one wants to dance to The Arcade Fire!"
We agreed upon "The Humpty Dance," but the rest is fuzzy. I know he vetoed "Groove is in the Heart." The audacity of my future husband! Really.
After forcing our lovely waitress Morgan to hijack all of the chocolate candy hearts in the building and then stuff them into my bag, we headed out into the wintry mix.
By 8:12 PM, we were both sound asleep on our respective couches, as the Simpsons played softly on the DVR.
It was positively lovely.
To my utter dismay, there was no sangria ale, so we drank raspberry beers instead. And I forced J to make a toast for the millionth time, as I am so NOTORIOUSLY horrendous at toasting. At the end of J's eloquent speech, I held up my glass and said, "To you, babe." And then J laughed and laughed, because I am a huge, cheesy nerd.
I also discovered a super-fun game to play with your significant other! I made it up after scarfing down my salmon and avocado roll. I call it "Hey, can you remember every minute detail of our first date?"
Man, this went over huge.
HV: So, what is the first thing we did when we got to Queens?
J: (Raises eyebrows, grins lasciviously.)
HV: No dude, we most certainly did not do that. At least not first thing. Come on! You know this!
J: (Puts hands to head. Looks absolutely pained.)
HV: You picked me up at my apartment and said, "Show me around Queens." Remember? And where did I take you?
J: Uuuuuummmmmmm...
HV: For Christ's sake, J! Less than two years ago.
J: Um, the racetrack?
HV: J, there is no racetrack in Queens.
J: I mean, the track, at the park.
HV: (Sighs tiredly.)
J: Oh - the Beer Garden!
HV: Yes, and then what did we do once we got back from there?
J: (Raises eyebrows, grins.)
HV: Jesus, J, not that.
And so forth.
After a few raspberry beers, we were both feeling quite tipsy and I decided that on our 17-hour flight to Bangkok, we'd make up a guestlist for our wedding, as well as the LIST OF SONGS THAT MUST BE PLAYED, which is of course of the utmost importance.
This sparked a fierce debate on SONGS THAT MUST BE PLAYED, in which I had to say numerous times, "J, no one wants to dance to The Arcade Fire!"
We agreed upon "The Humpty Dance," but the rest is fuzzy. I know he vetoed "Groove is in the Heart." The audacity of my future husband! Really.
After forcing our lovely waitress Morgan to hijack all of the chocolate candy hearts in the building and then stuff them into my bag, we headed out into the wintry mix.
By 8:12 PM, we were both sound asleep on our respective couches, as the Simpsons played softly on the DVR.
It was positively lovely.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Technology Good
J and I (and most of the folk here in Philadelphia) are Comcast's bitches. For serious. They are at one moment an evil, malignant cable empire (Sorry, we didn't have any service scheduled for this morning, Ms. HomeValley); the next, a benevolent God of digital recordings.
Internet, we have DVR.
And it is very, very good.
First, let me tell you that our local Comcast office is in a "questionable" part of town. When J and I went to pick up my cable Internet mechanism thingie recently, I told J to wait in the car; I'd just pop in and grab the goods.
"Yeah, right," he rolls his eyes while parking. "You are not going in there alone."
"Oh God! I will be fine," I say, exasperated. "Sometimes, J! I swear."
Five minutes later, our yuppie asses stand rigid in the goddamned line, at the center of a brawl that at once escalates into screaming, pushing, and shouting outside.
"This doesn't exactly bode well for my argument," I concede through clenched teeth.
J wonders how he will shroud me from imminent gunfire. (He didn't wonder that aloud, guys. He told me that later.)
When J remembered that Lost's timeslot was changed from 9 PM to 10 PM, and thus WE MUST HAVE DVR THIS INSTANT, he apparently had no problem with me going into the depths alone.
I'm just saying.
I survived, and the DVR, she is glorious.
Smart television watching! We are no longer the networks' pawns! We fast-forward through commercials (except Geico ads, of course, because those fucking caveman...)!
This morning, I DVRed Dawson's Creek on TBS.
Please don't judge me.
Internet, we have DVR.
And it is very, very good.
First, let me tell you that our local Comcast office is in a "questionable" part of town. When J and I went to pick up my cable Internet mechanism thingie recently, I told J to wait in the car; I'd just pop in and grab the goods.
"Yeah, right," he rolls his eyes while parking. "You are not going in there alone."
"Oh God! I will be fine," I say, exasperated. "Sometimes, J! I swear."
Five minutes later, our yuppie asses stand rigid in the goddamned line, at the center of a brawl that at once escalates into screaming, pushing, and shouting outside.
"This doesn't exactly bode well for my argument," I concede through clenched teeth.
J wonders how he will shroud me from imminent gunfire. (He didn't wonder that aloud, guys. He told me that later.)
When J remembered that Lost's timeslot was changed from 9 PM to 10 PM, and thus WE MUST HAVE DVR THIS INSTANT, he apparently had no problem with me going into the depths alone.
I'm just saying.
I survived, and the DVR, she is glorious.
Smart television watching! We are no longer the networks' pawns! We fast-forward through commercials (except Geico ads, of course, because those fucking caveman...)!
This morning, I DVRed Dawson's Creek on TBS.
Please don't judge me.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Going to the Chapel
Last night we had J's parents (my future in-laws!) and J's sis (my future sister-in-law!) over for dinner (take-out Chinese!). All was lovely, and decidedly run-of-the mill, considering we were sort of celebrating the engagement, but not really. We chatted amiably about the Geico cavemen commercials (which you should know just kill me because they are so fucking delightful), as well as the sudden and (not at all) shocking demise of Anna Nicole.
Inevitably, however, the conversation turned to WEDDING talk.
This is most certainly a topic you should not discuss in mixed company, until you and your betrothed have actually discussed it yourselves.
(Which we have, a tiny bit. We've agreed to enjoy our vacation in Southeast Asia and talk about it afterwards. The end.)
Perhaps I am too free with my own words, but if you bring up vague, preliminary thoughts on weddings, you are guaranteed to get OPINIONS.
I am nothing if not open-minded. I welcome feedback, in blogs and in life. But dang - I am beginning to realize that a lot of various people will have a lot of various points about our WEDDING. I have learned that for now, I will nod along and try to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy about their OPINIONS. Sure, I will say with a smile. That's something to consider.
And then there is my future H, who's shoulders I could see stiffen as suggestions were made.
Only a week into the deal, J and I may already have a wedding "rider", if you will. You know those ridiculous lists that celebs like Jennifer Lopez have when touring? Room temperature is not to exceed 75 degrees fahrenheit; only Evian water will be welcome in suite; toilet paper should be comprised of soft, crumpled twenty dollar bills, bitches.
Sort of like that; only consisting of blacked out dates, prohibited venues and locations, and other cautionary details.
It's enough to make you break into a melodramatic, Carrie Bradshaw-esque rash, y'all.
I was beginning to understand why weddings suddenly take on lives of their own; why the happy couple often gets thrust aside and overshadowed by THE WEDDING, and all the details that go along with it.
When, like a bridge over troubled water, my future sister-in-law said, "You do what you want to do."
Which is only one of the many reasons I am so excited she is part of this deal.
Here's hoping we get to make it what we want, and that everyone has a smashing good time in the process.
And also, fuck you, www.theknot.com. I will not succumb to your evil, bridezilla inducing powers.
It's a slippery slope.
Inevitably, however, the conversation turned to WEDDING talk.
This is most certainly a topic you should not discuss in mixed company, until you and your betrothed have actually discussed it yourselves.
(Which we have, a tiny bit. We've agreed to enjoy our vacation in Southeast Asia and talk about it afterwards. The end.)
Perhaps I am too free with my own words, but if you bring up vague, preliminary thoughts on weddings, you are guaranteed to get OPINIONS.
I am nothing if not open-minded. I welcome feedback, in blogs and in life. But dang - I am beginning to realize that a lot of various people will have a lot of various points about our WEDDING. I have learned that for now, I will nod along and try to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy about their OPINIONS. Sure, I will say with a smile. That's something to consider.
And then there is my future H, who's shoulders I could see stiffen as suggestions were made.
Only a week into the deal, J and I may already have a wedding "rider", if you will. You know those ridiculous lists that celebs like Jennifer Lopez have when touring? Room temperature is not to exceed 75 degrees fahrenheit; only Evian water will be welcome in suite; toilet paper should be comprised of soft, crumpled twenty dollar bills, bitches.
Sort of like that; only consisting of blacked out dates, prohibited venues and locations, and other cautionary details.
It's enough to make you break into a melodramatic, Carrie Bradshaw-esque rash, y'all.
I was beginning to understand why weddings suddenly take on lives of their own; why the happy couple often gets thrust aside and overshadowed by THE WEDDING, and all the details that go along with it.
When, like a bridge over troubled water, my future sister-in-law said, "You do what you want to do."
Which is only one of the many reasons I am so excited she is part of this deal.
Here's hoping we get to make it what we want, and that everyone has a smashing good time in the process.
And also, fuck you, www.theknot.com. I will not succumb to your evil, bridezilla inducing powers.
It's a slippery slope.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The One With All The Groundhogs
Remember when I sent out those damn holiday cards late last year, and I detailed all of the colored responses I received? No? Well, review here.
Please note that these cards are sent to my rather large database automatically. That's why before I knew what was happening, I had sent out a Groundhog's Day card to thousands. Mortified, I immediately shut down all of my "automatic mailers." Because fucking groundhogs dancing around on an e-card? Does not exactly scream professional to me.
Incredulously, the masses seemed to appreciate my Groundhog Day greetings! Well, five or so responded, "Um, same to you."
Except Crazy McParanoid, unfortunate wife of a card-recipient, who emailed me this:
I'm not sure as to why you would be sending my husband e-cards. Some how this was sent to me.I let the Christmas card go thinking not much of it , but now I would like to be told if there's anything I should be aware of. I realize he is my husband and hold no acountablility on your part. (just want some answers women to women)
Awesome, right?
Hypervigilant, suspicious wife: 1
Institution of marriage: 0
Please note that these cards are sent to my rather large database automatically. That's why before I knew what was happening, I had sent out a Groundhog's Day card to thousands. Mortified, I immediately shut down all of my "automatic mailers." Because fucking groundhogs dancing around on an e-card? Does not exactly scream professional to me.
Incredulously, the masses seemed to appreciate my Groundhog Day greetings! Well, five or so responded, "Um, same to you."
Except Crazy McParanoid, unfortunate wife of a card-recipient, who emailed me this:
I'm not sure as to why you would be sending my husband e-cards. Some how this was sent to me.I let the Christmas card go thinking not much of it , but now I would like to be told if there's anything I should be aware of. I realize he is my husband and hold no acountablility on your part. (just want some answers women to women)
Awesome, right?
Hypervigilant, suspicious wife: 1
Institution of marriage: 0
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Sunday, February 04, 2007
M. Gellman, 1969, Physics
I wanted to write a long, eloquent post this morning, but I am utterly brain dead.
So, I will say a mere, "Internet, I have an announcement to make!"
Clears throat.
J and I got engaged over the weekend!
And it was awesome, and totally unexpected (For me. J knew.)
It happened on Saturday, in Manhattan, which was perfect.
I had a feeling about two minutes before he asked, and I became so nervous that I started babbling about the monument in the center of Theodore Roosevelt Park: "J, um, what's up? Did you know that in 1969, M. Gellman won the Nobel Prize in Physics?" Which was almost immediately followed by, "Will you marry me?"
Pretty romantic, no?
I kid. It was the most romantic proposal in the history of proposals, in my opinion.
We were on our way to the American Museum of Natural History, but we were too excited to enter after all the "let's spend the rest of our lives together" insanity. So we went to the bar, as you do. And we sipped half-price drinks and talked about the future. We also made a pact not to be one of those couples that only ever talk about their wedding every time you see them socially.
So next time we run into each other, Internet, and I fail to notice that your eyes are glazing over as I prattle on about "registries" and such, please know that I had the best of intentions.
So, I will say a mere, "Internet, I have an announcement to make!"
Clears throat.
J and I got engaged over the weekend!
And it was awesome, and totally unexpected (For me. J knew.)
It happened on Saturday, in Manhattan, which was perfect.
I had a feeling about two minutes before he asked, and I became so nervous that I started babbling about the monument in the center of Theodore Roosevelt Park: "J, um, what's up? Did you know that in 1969, M. Gellman won the Nobel Prize in Physics?" Which was almost immediately followed by, "Will you marry me?"
Pretty romantic, no?
I kid. It was the most romantic proposal in the history of proposals, in my opinion.
We were on our way to the American Museum of Natural History, but we were too excited to enter after all the "let's spend the rest of our lives together" insanity. So we went to the bar, as you do. And we sipped half-price drinks and talked about the future. We also made a pact not to be one of those couples that only ever talk about their wedding every time you see them socially.
So next time we run into each other, Internet, and I fail to notice that your eyes are glazing over as I prattle on about "registries" and such, please know that I had the best of intentions.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Birthday Girl
27. Meh.
It's not cool turning 27. It's old. It's adult.
So, meh.
But you know what is cool? Turning 12! And what better way to celebrate my 27th birthday, than to recount my 12th birthday? Friends, in honor of this inane occasion, I present HomeValley Through the Ages, via excerpts from the actual diary of HV:
Sunday, February 2, 1992
I got this diary for my twelfth birthday from Aunt Gina and Uncle Tim. I hope to write in it everyday. Yesterday I went shopping with Grandmom (she came from Colorado) and Susan and her mom and Mike went. I wanted to get Feli's (2007 HV says: Fila sneakers) after I got some clothes and Susan said no. But it was Grandmom's decision because it was her money! Sometimes Susan gets on my nerves! And then she said, there's lots of nice less expensive shoes! I was on the verge of tears! I mean, Grandmom was taking me out for Christmas and my birthday and Susan was butting in! And today, for my birthday party, Dad said, "I heard you weren't too nice yesterday!" Now that I'm a pre-teen if they think that's bad, wait till I'm a teen!
(2007 HV says: Wow.)
(And also, I was completed obsessed with being a "hormonal teenager" at this age and acting out, because I thought that's what bonafide teens did. I think I read too many Sweet Valley High books or something.)
(Also, I go on to list all of the items I received for my birthday. Of note: a Michael Jackson CD and a Beverly Hills 90210 Giant Pin.)
(I heart Brandon Walsh!!)
Close enough to my 13th birthday:
Tuesday, January 19, 1993
Last weekend I went away to Trenton for a dance competition and convention. It was so great! We got 2nd place!
Today we went to the dentist and Mike has 2 cavities and I have none! DUM DA DUM DUM... Braces! Mike and I both need them. Everyone at dance who has them says they are really painful for awhile and then they start to loosen up. I think I'm gonna die! Railroad tracks across my teeth! Ahh! But I can't wait to have perfectly straight teeth!
(2007 HV says: Should have worn your retainer, dumbass.)
Oh my God. I almost don't want to share this next part; but, well, here we go:
Another dilemma, but this guy in school, Danny Bonner. Well, I liked him for about a week so far and guess who else likes him? Allie! And guess who never said anything? Stupid old me! His party is coming up and I think he likes me, but if he asks me to dance should I say yes? You know what, I think I will say yes, and if Alison gets mad I'll say I did it as friends. But I won't ask him to dance. Hopefully there'll be someone else to chase there.
(2007 HV says: Tramp! And also, I believe Danny Bonner danced with Koos at his 13th birthday party, and well, in 2004, he married her.)
(I go on to say that my step-dad went into rehab. Those weren't easy times.)
Aww. My 14th birthday was a little sad, y'all:
Tuesday, February 1, 1994
My b-day. I'm 14 yrs. old. I'm going out to dinner on Saturday with dad and then going to Dan Bonner's party at the Ramada hotel. I hope I fit in.
On Sunday I have my birthday party at Grandpop's. Today we voted nominees for king and queen of hearts. I didn't get one vote. I was crushed. My brother got nominated for 7th grade. Isn't life unfair sometimes?
(2007 HV says: Geez. Depressed much? But seriously, y'all, it was hard being 14. )
(Well, can we all agree this exercise kinda backfired? Because, um, that was kinda melancholy.)
(Don't worry; I'm fine now. I am sure I fit in at the Ramada and all.)
(I'm totally happy at 27. Life is very, very good. So maybe I just taught myself a little lesson here? It wasn't all roses through the years, was it?)
Happy Birthday to me.
It's not cool turning 27. It's old. It's adult.
So, meh.
But you know what is cool? Turning 12! And what better way to celebrate my 27th birthday, than to recount my 12th birthday? Friends, in honor of this inane occasion, I present HomeValley Through the Ages, via excerpts from the actual diary of HV:
Sunday, February 2, 1992
I got this diary for my twelfth birthday from Aunt Gina and Uncle Tim. I hope to write in it everyday. Yesterday I went shopping with Grandmom (she came from Colorado) and Susan and her mom and Mike went. I wanted to get Feli's (2007 HV says: Fila sneakers) after I got some clothes and Susan said no. But it was Grandmom's decision because it was her money! Sometimes Susan gets on my nerves! And then she said, there's lots of nice less expensive shoes! I was on the verge of tears! I mean, Grandmom was taking me out for Christmas and my birthday and Susan was butting in! And today, for my birthday party, Dad said, "I heard you weren't too nice yesterday!" Now that I'm a pre-teen if they think that's bad, wait till I'm a teen!
(2007 HV says: Wow.)
(And also, I was completed obsessed with being a "hormonal teenager" at this age and acting out, because I thought that's what bonafide teens did. I think I read too many Sweet Valley High books or something.)
(Also, I go on to list all of the items I received for my birthday. Of note: a Michael Jackson CD and a Beverly Hills 90210 Giant Pin.)
(I heart Brandon Walsh!!)
Close enough to my 13th birthday:
Tuesday, January 19, 1993
Last weekend I went away to Trenton for a dance competition and convention. It was so great! We got 2nd place!
Today we went to the dentist and Mike has 2 cavities and I have none! DUM DA DUM DUM... Braces! Mike and I both need them. Everyone at dance who has them says they are really painful for awhile and then they start to loosen up. I think I'm gonna die! Railroad tracks across my teeth! Ahh! But I can't wait to have perfectly straight teeth!
(2007 HV says: Should have worn your retainer, dumbass.)
Oh my God. I almost don't want to share this next part; but, well, here we go:
Another dilemma, but this guy in school, Danny Bonner. Well, I liked him for about a week so far and guess who else likes him? Allie! And guess who never said anything? Stupid old me! His party is coming up and I think he likes me, but if he asks me to dance should I say yes? You know what, I think I will say yes, and if Alison gets mad I'll say I did it as friends. But I won't ask him to dance. Hopefully there'll be someone else to chase there.
(2007 HV says: Tramp! And also, I believe Danny Bonner danced with Koos at his 13th birthday party, and well, in 2004, he married her.)
(I go on to say that my step-dad went into rehab. Those weren't easy times.)
Aww. My 14th birthday was a little sad, y'all:
Tuesday, February 1, 1994
My b-day. I'm 14 yrs. old. I'm going out to dinner on Saturday with dad and then going to Dan Bonner's party at the Ramada hotel. I hope I fit in.
On Sunday I have my birthday party at Grandpop's. Today we voted nominees for king and queen of hearts. I didn't get one vote. I was crushed. My brother got nominated for 7th grade. Isn't life unfair sometimes?
(2007 HV says: Geez. Depressed much? But seriously, y'all, it was hard being 14. )
(Well, can we all agree this exercise kinda backfired? Because, um, that was kinda melancholy.)
(Don't worry; I'm fine now. I am sure I fit in at the Ramada and all.)
(I'm totally happy at 27. Life is very, very good. So maybe I just taught myself a little lesson here? It wasn't all roses through the years, was it?)
Happy Birthday to me.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Sawat-dee kaa!
I am totally learning Thai. That means hello.
Sabai dee mai? That means How are you?
So ready for our trip, y'all.
I am in Boston now, about to head out to the airport bound for Philly, but wanted to share with you all that it is never acceptable to comment to a woman: "You look tired. Did you sleep last night?"
No, it is never acceptable.
Yawn.
In other news, my new pseudo-niece's name is actually Ryley Judith. I learned that when father of said pseudo-niece looked at me like I was MAD when I called his new baby Ryley Olivia. But she is just the sweetest, tiniest thing. Well done, Lauren!
Finally, tomorrow is my birthday. I'm legal! Seven times over.
Let's not speak of it, okay?
Yawn.
Sabai dee mai? That means How are you?
So ready for our trip, y'all.
I am in Boston now, about to head out to the airport bound for Philly, but wanted to share with you all that it is never acceptable to comment to a woman: "You look tired. Did you sleep last night?"
No, it is never acceptable.
Yawn.
In other news, my new pseudo-niece's name is actually Ryley Judith. I learned that when father of said pseudo-niece looked at me like I was MAD when I called his new baby Ryley Olivia. But she is just the sweetest, tiniest thing. Well done, Lauren!
Finally, tomorrow is my birthday. I'm legal! Seven times over.
Let's not speak of it, okay?
Yawn.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Travolta Ain't Got Nothin' on DelCo Cover Bands
Pardon my vulgarity, but this morning I would like to say only:
Fuck you, Avis Rental Car.
The horror of this morning's rental car return! The incomprehensive signs pointing to off-airport drop-off locations! The gut-wrenching drive up and down Post Road! The calls to Avis headquarters! Who couldn't help me because I was calling from a New York number! And that's why I was routed to New York! And if I had been wise enough to call from a Rhode Island land line, I may have gotten the assistance I needed!
So yes, fuck you Avis, and your assinine ways. I thank you ever so graciously for causing me to miss my 7:15 AM flight to Philadelphia.
At the very least, you have offered me the opportunity to discuss last weekend's 10th Annual Girls' Christmas Party! The highlights:
Fuck you, Avis Rental Car.
The horror of this morning's rental car return! The incomprehensive signs pointing to off-airport drop-off locations! The gut-wrenching drive up and down Post Road! The calls to Avis headquarters! Who couldn't help me because I was calling from a New York number! And that's why I was routed to New York! And if I had been wise enough to call from a Rhode Island land line, I may have gotten the assistance I needed!
So yes, fuck you Avis, and your assinine ways. I thank you ever so graciously for causing me to miss my 7:15 AM flight to Philadelphia.
At the very least, you have offered me the opportunity to discuss last weekend's 10th Annual Girls' Christmas Party! The highlights:
- The line of the night, courtesy of Di. I won't do it justice; just know that it ends with a blow to her two year-old son's ego, when he was unfortunate enough to be caught in the Gallery in Center City Philadelphia behind a dissatisfied customer, who directed her rage at the young kid: "Look at that big ass kid in the stroller!" Oh my God. We laughed for an hour, though it was probably D's delivery of the line. I'm still laughing now.
- Allie presenting us with her gifts, explaining, "This is because we're all sort of homey now, y'know?" She gave us all wonderful cookbooks: except Grace of course, who got a giant encyclopedia of cocktails. Well-played, Al. Well-played.
- Lord - Grace. After the lovely dinner hosted at Al's, the six of us plunged into the depths of Delco nightlife: Goon's. A particularly lame cover band performed (like, have you ever seen an all-man group rock out to "You're the one that I want" from Grease?). Grace became agitated and decided to throw me around some on the dance floor. And push me into the stage. Repeatedly.
- Grace then followed me to the side of the stage, at which time the bassist foolishly invited her up. She danced, hopped off, then wanted more. She jumped back, dragging me with her. I stood in the back as Grace bounded towards the microphone. Security immediately accosted her. We decided it was time to head out.
- The sleepover. Let's just say, Grace ended up in a compromising position at night's end. Koos delightedly snapped photos with her camera phone, which woke Grace from her delicate slumber. "Seriously?" she asked, exasperated. Again, we laughed and laughed.
Kudos to us for keeping the tradition alive since high school. Here is to Christmas parties well into our 90s, at which time I expect Grace will still be tossing me around on the dance floor like a ragdoll.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Ryley Olivia Arrives
Ryley Olivia was born last night at 10 PM, as I lay asleep at Mohegan. She's completely adorable and delicious; if new momma Laur gives me the OK, I will post photos!
(My own momma called from the hospital last night to tell me the news. She added: "She did great! Only an hour of pushing!" "An HOUR?!" I yelled into the phone, because, um, that seems like a lot. And also - ouch.)
(My own momma called from the hospital last night to tell me the news. She added: "She did great! Only an hour of pushing!" "An HOUR?!" I yelled into the phone, because, um, that seems like a lot. And also - ouch.)
J, Ultimate Boyfriend/Secret Keeper
Many months ago, J and I were strolling around SoHo, our typical New York Houston
So yeah, ever so slightly crazy.
And going to Thailand and Cambodia!!!
(High-pitched squealing ensues.)
“Let’s not bother with Christmas presents this year,” I say. “We don’t need anything, and we can focus on stuff for the house.”
“That’s a great idea,” J agrees.
“Well, I mean, we should get each other one small, thoughtful thing,” I backpedal.
“Of course,” J says.
Naturally, O Magazine helps me create the perfect gift for J. I learn of a service that will allow me to convert photos to oil paintings. J is a wonderful photographer, so I pick one of my favorite shots from
But when I do receive the painting a few days before the holiday, it’s spectacular. He will love it.
This gentleman from Santorini is hanging in our kitchen now.
J and I decide to celebrate our Christmas the Saturday before Dec. 25th. We each have one small wrapped gift placed under the tree – ahem, poinsettia.
J asks to open his gift first. As I suspected, he loves it. Success!
I open my gift. A Reebok sneakers box!
Wait - a handmade book inside. The Grinch adorns its cover.
It reads: Merry Christmas, Melissa.
I begin reading. J is absolutely silent.
…a few sheets of paper were all I could afford…
…you’ll need a break after a long winter cooped up with your boyfriend…
Map of the
JFK?
Really?!?!?!
I scream as I frantically turn the pages. There is a 17 hour flight to
I can barely wrap my head around it; I am so astounded.
He’d been planning it since that afternoon in Crate and Barrel. He set me up. And he kept it top secret for months and months.
He should work for the CIA; he’s so secretive and smooth.
The trip is coming up quick; we leave for Bangkok on February 22nd. We're in the process of getting the appropriate shots (hepatitis A) and antimalarial meds, as you do. J thinks I am crazy for insisting on a mosquito net for Cambodia; he assures me we are not sleeping in wilderness. I have to explain to him that mosquitos love to feast on me, and he'll be sorry when I contract malaria!So yeah, ever so slightly crazy.
And going to Thailand and Cambodia!!!
(High-pitched squealing ensues.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)