KirstenL4W

This past weekend Mister and I went to the San Francisco Bay area.  He grew up there, and we’ve been a few times before, but this time he brought me to a new place: his parent’s house.  We were scheduled to have a luncheon in the garden with his parents and a few friends who live in the area.  On the way up there Friday afternoon, and well into the evening (it’s a long drive from Vegas), we took a slightly more scenic route so we could take a quick tour of the town he spent many summers at.  The tiny farming community hadn’t changed much, except for the truck stops, but it was cool to see.  Mister was so animated as he was going through pointing out what used to be where, and showed me the family farm (it’s still in the family).  It was pretty cool, even though it was dark out.  We want to go back during the day so we can visit the tiny museum and actually see the place in the light.

We got to the bay area rather late.  Checking into our hotel, we had to sign a no-party disclaimer.  Kinda strange, especially considering that it’s not situated that closely to any sort of establishment that would attract a partying crowd.  After not sleeping very well due to the world’s softest bed, (this was not some fleabag motel, either - we stay at Marriots) we checked out and went on a tour of Mister’s hometown.  He showed me his schools, his first apartment, some properties his parents own, and a few other places related to the History of Mister.  His town is such a charming little place - the kind of place you see in the movies, with lovely houses and sidewalks that people actually walk on and all sorts of stuff like that.  But then we drove down to San Jose to visit the family business.  San Jose is a grittier, rougher place, but fitting for a trucking company.  Mister showed me some of the stuff he worked on and I got to meet Hilda the watchdog.

After the tour, it was time to head back to Utopiaville for the luncheon.  My in-laws have a home with character that doesn’t look like all the other homes on the block, like here in Vegas.  They have trees and a lawn and plants that need water, and you can find the front door.  I got the tour of the house, saw Mister’s old boy-cave and my MIL’s artwork.  She does such awesome watercolors.  Mister was trying to go shopping to accessorize our house, but his mother would have none of that.  In the backyard, with its water feature and real goldfish, we set up the table on the covered patio for our luncheon, then we picked lemons from the lemon tree and made lemonade.  I’m totally serious!  My MIL has a lemon tree with the biggest freaking lemons I’ve ever seen.  We made lemonade with real lemons, not a container full of powder.  It was awesome, as was the luncheon outside on a day that was a tiny bit warm but had a gentle afternoon breeze.  Yes, my husband apparently grew up in a fictional land.

We spent the rest of the afternoon there, then headed to a hotel closer to the city with the intention of meeting up with some more friends, but that hotel was overbooked, so we went 10 miles south (away from SF) to a room paid for by the overbooked hotel.  Score!  It killed our plans on going into San Francisco, since it was so late and we had a long drive ahead of us on Sunday.  But that’s ok.  The sleep was much better.

On Sunday, we wanted to go down to the truck yard to get Mister’s toolbox.  He has 2 toolboxes there, and we were to get the smaller one, which would barely fit in the bed of the pickup.  But, we got a later start than we wanted and there was traffic on the 101 Freeway due to an accident, so we ended up missing my father-in-law.  That’s ok.  We were wondering how the heck we (as in my strong, manly man of a husband and me, a weak girly girl) were going to unload an incredibly heavy toolbox from the truck after driving 10 hours back home.  Another time, then.

My mom sent me the pictures she took at my wedding.  You can see those on my flickr page if you are on my friends list there.  Now I need to send her the good pictures and send my dad and my sister the pictures.  My sister has no idea what her brother in law looks like.  For now, though, it’s back to the grind.

At last, the long-awaited post, the one in which I tell you all about my wedding. But first, let’s start with the onslaught of family.

Arrivals

My mom arrived in town the Wednesday prior, so I picked her up from the airport when I got done work. We drove to her hotel and I laughed hysterically at Mom’s passport photo as she was being checked in. We got up to her room, mom started unpacking and showing me the dresses she bought for the dinner and wedding, and we chatted a bit. I called the man who at this point was still FH to see if he wanted to join us for dinner, but as he had a previous commitment couldn’t make it, so Mom and I went to the um, buffet at her hotel (downtown hotels here generally don’t have the best dining selections, but Mom had a coupon). We had a barely palatable meal, then Mom and I parted at the elevators so I could go home and get some rest, since I did have to work the next day.

Thursday was uneventful since I had to work. Friday I was off, and my Dad was coming in, so I spent the morning finishing up some chores around the house and running a few errands before going to get Dad at the airport. He had left early and didn’t eat on the flight, so I figured he’d want lunch. He said he wasn’t too hungry, but quickly agreed that In N Out Burger would be a good choice for lunch. Dad hadn’t been to In N Out yet, since they don’t have any in Massachusetts, but he’s had to listen to me rave about it so I figured it was about time. We had lunch and continued on to his hotel.

(Side note: Google Maps is not always accurate when giving directions to the hotels here in town. For Mom’s hotel, I was thinking I’d valet park, but the directions brought me to a back alley and I ended up self parking. For Dad’s hotel, I don’t even know where I was being led, because his hotel is on Main Street and the directions brought me down a dead-end on 1st Street, 1 block south of where I needed to be.)

Anyway, I dropped Dad off and told him I’d pick him up at that same spot at 6:45 so we could all go to a “Meet the Parents” dinner that FH’s uncle graciously decided to host. On the way back home, I called Mom to tell her when and where I would pick her up. I went home, where FH and I started getting ready for this shindig.

Meet the Parents

This was not getting off to a good start. I took a quick shower to wash the 109°F sweat off my body, got dressed, put on some makeup, actually did something with my hair, and left to pick up my parents. A few miles from the house, I realized I had forgotten something. Something important. My engagement ring had been left on the bathroom counter. I took it off to keep it from getting all lotion-y when I put lotion on my legs, and in my nervous haste forgot to put it back on. I put in a panicked call to FH, who looked for it but said he didn’t see it anywhere and that we would probably have to take the drain apart when we got home later that night. Great. Just what I need - to lose my e-ring the night before my wedding. Just breathe.

I got to the designated meeting spot and saw my Dad right away. My Mom said she’d be waiting with my uncles, who flew in Thursday, but I didn’t see her. I pulled over to wait for Mom and saw my uncles walking towards me, with my mom off by the sidewalk looking around in vain. I greeted my uncles, gave N. the collection of foreign stamps that I am easily able to collect at work, and greeted my Mom, who had finally figured out that I had arrived and came over to where I was.

We drove from downtown Vegas to the Four Seasons, which is in a leafy, semi-hidden area next door to Mandalay Bay. FH’s uncle had chosen Charlie Palmer’s Steakhouse for dinner, so it looked to be a good meal. My folks and I looked to be the first ones there, so we waited in the lobby. FH arrived shortly afterwards, sweating bullets because the air conditioning in his truck just died. Wonderful. No matter, the a/c at the hotel and restaurant worked just fine. Anyway, FH walked in, introductions were done and we chatted for a few minutes before heading into the restaurant, where we met our hosts, FH’s uncle and his wife, and FH’s parents. Introductions, a bit of chit chat, and a little embarrassment.

What’s that? Oh, yes, you heard me right. Right after the introductions and pleasantries, FH made me tell everyone what I called him about on my way over there. So I had to tell my future in-laws how I had misplaced my engagement ring. While I was telling this, FH had taken his keys out of his pocket to give his dad a key to a toolbox he had stored up there. Turns out he had something else on that keychain too. Yes, he found my ring, but faked me out about it. I know him well enough to know that in a situation like that, he wouldn’t let me get off so easy, so I knew it was a possibility that he had found it and hadn’t said anything to me, which is what ended up happening.

We got to our table, and FH’s uncle sat at the head of the table. He instructed me to sit next to him and FH’s mother to sit on the other side, so she was across from me. FH had warned me about this - The Inquisition. This was the first time that FH and I had met each other’s families, and his family wanted to know what sort of woman he was brining in. There were questions about what I did, how long I had lived in Vegas, how we met, my family, and some other topics of conversation. I didn’t feel put on the spot at all, and I didn’t feel that anyone was displeased with me, so I thought it went well, and FH felt the same way. Three hours later, we wrapped things up and said our goodbyes for the evening.

Getting Ready

I swear, I have not had such a good night’s sleep in a very long time. The night before my wedding, I slept a solid 8-9 hours and woke up feeling calm and refreshed. It is definitely the ideal way to start your wedding day. FH and I got up, relaxed a bit, checked some email, and went out to run a few errands. We had to drop the favors off at the reception restaurant, put gas in the car, and we decided to get some lunch while we were out. I think there was some other errand in there, but I can’t remember now. The restaurant told us that our cake had already arrived and that they were ready for us later in the evening.

After our errands, we went back to the house to relax a bit. Quite honestly, I could have used a nap right about then, but time was not on my side. I planned on getting in the shower with plenty of time to dilly dally as I got ready, and though I didn’t have enough time to dilly dally, we weren’t late. FH had to help me get dressed, because I wore a custom-made corset and he’s the only one I know who can lace one properly. I wasn’t worried at all about him seeing me before the wedding - I mean, come on. We live together already.

Once we put on our wedding finery, it was time to go. The camera case, a change of clothes, and a few other incidentals went in the car and we were off to The Little Church of the West.

The Wedding

We arrived at the chapel in my Ford Focus hatchback (excellent wedding transportation, btw, if you are driving yourself and not wearing a full hoop skirt) and saw that my parents and uncles were already there. We quickly said hello and went into the office to register. The thing about Vegas weddings is that there are LOTS of them. I figure there were at least 6 other couples and their parties on the grounds while we were there, and that was a slow day. These chapels are really good at “get ‘em in, get’ em married, get ‘em out.” CTG can back me up on that one! Anyway, they were efficient, patient with a bit of disorganization and some frazzled nerves, and did a great job.

Once we registered and got our flowers, it was back outside to mingle with our friends and family while we waited. People arrived about every 5 minutes, so I think we were able to get everyone introduced. Finally, it was our turn and we were led up around the back of the chapel to take a few pictures before heading in. Everyone went in ahead while I made one last adjustment to my veil and took Dad’s arm.

The music started to play, Kaila, my maid of honor, walked ahead, then it was our turn. I wasn’t as aware of everyone staring at me as I thought I would be. That was probably the single biggest thing freaking me out before the wedding, since I’m not the kind of person who likes everyone staring. But the chapel was small, the walk was short, and before I knew it, it felt like me and the wonderful man I was there to marry. Everyone else seemed to disappear.

The pastor started to talk, and I presume he was making some sort of speech on love and what it meant to join in marriage and all that. I don’t remember. I do remember, however, my groom telling me I had a big booger hanging out of my nose. Then he started flaring his nostrils. If he was trying to keep me from crying, it worked. I had to fight to keep from laughing. He continued on, telling me that Kaila, who was standing behind me, was losing it. I pictured her with her eyes all red and puffy and trying to keep from bawling. It was hard to keep my composure.

Finally we got to the vows. My groom deliberately appeared to be thinking this decision over before answering, which was quite funny because he reacted to every line with a different “thinking” face. I didn’t have to think about it at all and answered very quickly. Then the rings, which was relatively uneventful except mine didn’t slip on as easily because my fingers swell in the heat. Then it was done. The pastor announced us husband and wife, and I got a quick peck on the lips. Mister got chided for that, and after a bit of protesting that he wanted more privacy for anything more risqué, he gave me a longer kiss and everyone clapped.

Introducing Mr. and Mrs. KirstenL4W!

Woohoo! We’re married! Ok, for the purposed of this blog and Mister’s privacy I announced it that way, but I’m a traditional girl and I am taking his name. I mean, I got to move up the alphabet, right?

Anyway, immediately after the ceremony the chapel people kicked all the guests out except for the wedding party so they could take pictures. A few pics with the wedding party, and they our attendants were given the boot too. The photographer does dozens of these things a day, so he knew exactly what poses to do and how to get it done quickly. I only blinked in one! Mister hates having his picture taken or shown, but he graciously agreed to let me show you one, so this is all you get:

The Reception

After the wedding, we were having a reception at one of our favorite restaurants, an authentic New York style Italian neighborhood restaurant. All the guests got postcards with the directions, so we headed out. By the time we got there, a few of our friends had already arrived, and more and more people were arriving. In all we had about 30 people in attendance, which I think is big enough to have a proper party but small enough to keep it intimate. We also cut out a lot, like the dorky dances and throwing the bouquet, but I did toss the bouquet to a friend of ours who is planning a wedding for late next year.

We decided to do the cake and toast part before the meal, since it was getting late and we knew that some people had early flights out the next morning. Tom, the owner of the restaurant, brought our cake out and made sure that everyone had champagne. Tor, the best man, made a lovely toast, then Mister and I fed each other a bite of cake. No cake smashed in the face for us, we were going to be civil about this. Oh, and the cake? It was gorgeous, and topped by an awesome topper made by my friend Pollyhyper (yes, she does custom orders)

After the cake, everyone ordered dinner and Mister and I tried to divide our time between everyone, but even with a tiny reception of only 30 people, it was hard to give everyone an equal amount of attention. In the end, it all went very well and we were very tired by the time it was over! I got a lot of comments on how much my mom can talk (she has a blog, and it would be great if she could type as much as she talks) and how wonderful everything was. Mister and I then got home and totally collapsed in bed.

So there ya go - my wedding story. These are the only pictures that are public, at Mister’s request, so you have to be on my Flickr friends list to see the rest, and I don’t friend just anyone. You can always send me a request and see if I reciprocate, just let me know who you are. My fingers are tired now, so enjoy.

I am discovering that the mother of the bride has one single job: to drive the bride absolutely fucking batty.  I just got off the phone with my mother, who has announced that she wants to stay at a non-casino hotel (no biggie, there are plenty here) that my stepdad can use his points at (narrows it down to 2) that has the shuttle from the airport and to the strip.  Ok.  Here’s the problem with that: the hotel she decided on, while convenient to the strip, airport, and of course me, is not really near anything convenient.  It’s next to a business park.  There will be nothing for her to do after the last strip shuttle, which is really early for this town.  Oh, and she’s thinking she’s gonna hitch a ride with my dad after they take the same flight out here and my dad rents a car.  They’ve only been divorced for 30 years now, but she thinks she knows what I want for my color scheme, so she’s gonna pick out a new tie for my dad.  She says she’s really good at picking out ties.  If she makes my dad look like a schmuck then he’s going without the noose, which I’m sure he’ll appreciate when it’s a hundred and fucking degrees out.

As much as I would love to have more of my family out here for my actual wedding, I did have to tell my mom to stop telling people they can come.  I will be happy to see them, but I am so NOT happy with my mom taking over my wedding plans.  The shindig here is going to be small - as in, we’re having the reception at a small Eye-talian restaurant and only making reservations for about 30.  The rest of the place is open, and we won’t get a private room.  There isn’t really one available, and even if the bar area that’s being built is open by the time of the wedding, we don’t want to ask them to close the place down on a Saturday night just for us.  We’re already having the reception after the dinner rush as it is.

The whole point of the wedding tour was so that my mom could get all Momzilla and plan something back there, so that I don’t have to and I can still celebrate with my entire family.  She is NOT to get Momzilla for the Vegas edition.  When I got off the phone with her this evening, FH asked me if I wanted to start drinking now.  I might need to.  And take muscle relaxers so that I can chill the fuck out over all this.  He said that he’s never heard me talk to my mom like that, but if I don’t put my foot down, I’m not going to get my wedding the way I want it.  *sigh*  I guess all brides go through this with their mothers, right?

On the plus side, I did order a really nice skirt to go with my corset, so that’s out of the way.  I also stopped at Ulta and let the saleslady put some of that Bare Minerals makeup on me.  I usually hate wearing makeup, but I can’t go totally barefaced on my wedding day.  I’d heard good stuff about Bare Minerals, so I was willing to let the clerk graffiti my face.  I’ll be getting the starter kit on my next payday.  Shoes will be easy - even with my super skinny foot.  I’m wearing black patent pumps, so I pretty much know where I can find them in my size.  And at that same mall, I know of a kiosk where I should be able to find some options for my hair.  I tried on the veil and while I like it, I don’t love it - especially enough to spend more than I spent on the skirt for something that will only be on my head bugging me for maybe 30 minutes of my life.

Tomorrow we pick up our little trial cake, which will be cool.  We also need to do the guest list and order invitations, which will be done online.  I found some really nice ones, and they’re a bit contemporary and really nice - different but not “out there” if you know what I mean.  We still need to get the marriage license, but considering that the county clerk’s office is open till midnight during the week and 24 hours on the weekend, we don’t doubt that we’ll have time.  And Sunday, even though it’s Easter, we’re dragging the realtor out to look at more houses.  Happy times.

Today was Day 2 of my 5-day holiday break. With nothing planned to do today, I slept until around 1:30, got up, and planted my ass on the sofa for some web surfing and tv watching. It was a relaxing day, but a blah day as well. I royally screwed up an omelette for Boyfriend, turning it into a runny scramble because I just can’t cook on stainless steel. So it turned into a low self-esteem day as well. Just when I was at my lowest, before I conked out for a long nap, I realized that I forgot to call my family today.

I miss having Christmas with my family, and since my parents are divorced, I always had two Christmas celebrations - one with my Dad’s family and one with my Mom’s. Today they were both gathering. Dad’s family was getting together at my aunt and uncle’s house - formerly Gram’s house, but Gram lives in the in-law apartment now above the garage. Until I moved away, I have spent every single Christmas day there in that house. It wouldn’t seem like Christmas without it, and even though I’m far away now, still doesn’t. Since I’ve been out here, though, I’ve always remembered to call so I can talk to everyone and be there in some way, and I missed it.

My Mom’s family was gathering at her house today. It’s not as large a gathering since everyone is more spread out than my Dad’s family, and there aren’t as many kids. It’s still a fun gathering, and I missed that call too.

I’m sorry. I miss you all.

Last night I got the the airport fully expecting a major hassle in trying to get a boarding pass for the correct flight. I was 2nd in line when I went in, and when it was my turn it took all of 1 minute. I didn’t even get to tell my story! I just got the boarding pass for the correct flight, and was wished a happy thanksgiving by the ticket agent. Then I proceeded to the security checkpoint. There was no line, and except for the minor inconvenience of having to remove my sterling silver necklace, security was a breeze. My flight was on time, and despite boarding in zone 9, I was able to find ample overhead space for my bag, and it was even near my seat! There were at least a half dozen children on the flight, but you would never have known it, because it was so quiet except for the sound of the engines. People were polite, introducing themselves to each other. I had a middle seat but my seatmates were not oversized, and they were both well aware of what constitutes good hygiene. Except for a bit of turbulence, it was a very pleasant flight.

I got into Atlanta on time, waited for the shops to open so I could get a bottle of water and something to eat, waited for my flight, which left on time and landed in Ft. Myers on time. Except for my sister reading the boards wrong and going to the wrong concourse, all went extremely well.

I do have one thought, specifically on airplane boarding procedures. For years, airlines would board from the back to the front, which resulted in a huge bottleneck. Now they do this zone based boarding, which is allegedly totally random (I think it’s alphabetical, because I never get anything earlier than zone 7). I think they should board window seats first, then middle, then aisle. That way no one has to get up once they’ve settled into their seats.

Mia is a little doll. Sis sent some pictures awhile back, but I have no idea who that kid was because the pics do not look like Mia at all. She’s adorable! We went to Perkins for breakfast, and Mia had everyone charmed. All the waitstaff had to come over and coo at her, the manager kept coming over, even the customers around us were waving hi to her. She’s such an attention whore.

Sis is starting to cook for tomorrow, and I have a cake to cook. People are supposed to start arriving around 6:30 to help with prep for tomorrow and just hang out, bit it’s now 7:20. Is this aloha time? Wait a sec, I’m in Florida. Oh well. It’s still 4:20 by my clock. Off to cook…

Thanksgiving is less than a week away, and from there it’s a rapid slide into the new year. The ladies magazines usually start the holiday scheduling with their September issues, but with so much happening in such a short amount of time, it’s easy to feel the rush.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be spending Thanksgiving with my sister in the Ft Myers, Florida area. It’s a crazy travel time because everyone in the country, or so it seems, must travel somewhere for the holiday. It was nice when I lived in the same town as the rest of my family - traveling to Gram’s house meant getting in the car and driving a half mile. Now I’m on the other side of the country from the rest of my family. I did travel home once, choosing a Wednesday-night red eye flight to arrive on Thanksgiving morning. Despite it being a heavy travel weekend, it seems that few people want to arrive at their destinations, at least by air, on Thanksgiving Day. Mom my happened to live very close to the airport that day, so she sent my stepdad out “to the store” for some milk. No one else knew that I was coming, so it was nice to surprise everyone.

This time I am also taking a red-eye, but everyone knows I’m coming. My sister and I have never really done the holidays with each other as grown-ups, with one of us hosting the other, so it will be a bit of a new experience. I’m also looking forward to seeing my niece Mia, who is doing well after her early arrival. She has a silly little laugh, and I get to hear her slobber on the phone until she decides to press buttons and hang up on me. It will be fun to see her, my sister, and my cousin in the Tampa Bay area. I always make it a point to try and see her too, and her son is 2 1/2, which will make for a fun visit. Funny, though - my sister lives 2 hours away from Cousin, whereas I live clear across the country, and Sis never sees Cousin unless I am in town.

As I was writing this blog post tonite, I went back and re-read my posts from a year ago - November 2006 - when I started on my trip back with my new car, took a detour to Florida when Mia was born, and came home to Vegas, got my cast off, and got a new job. I didn’t write as often as I wanted to, but in reading them over, I feel a bit like I was a better writer then, a better blogger. I don’t know. On the one hand, I miss being able to blog every day and dedicate many hours per week to my blog and blogging hobby, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t give up what I have now for anything, even if I am a WoW widow.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I grew up with your garden variety Betty Crocker 1950s Cookbook (Betty Crocker)kind of food. You know the stuff - Tuna Casserole, meatloaf, etc. But there were also some interesting variations on the norm.

I think it’s necessary to separate this post into two parts. My parents are divorced, so I grew up with not only my mom’s cooking, but also my stepmonster’s. One can cook. One only thinks she can.

My stepmonster is the one who thinks she can cook. She’s the worst kind. Her cooking is mostly edible, but that’s giving her too much praise, really. She screws up pasta. For example, she’ll cook angel hair pasta because it’s quicker, ok. Then she’ll go sit down and play a couple hands of solitaire (with a real deck of cards. No sophisticated computer games for her.) As she’s playing with herself, the pasta is boiling away. Keep in mind that angel hair pasta only takes about 3-5 minutes to cook, depending on the variety you buy. Hers? Comes out way thicker than regular spaghetti. And all the starch that cooks out of it and sits in the cooking water ends up as giant blobs of slime all over the pasta, because she doesn’t understand the concept of rinsing. I mean, if she doesn’t understand the concept of cooking time, then it’s a given that she doesn’t get everything else that comes after that.

Let’s see, what else has she messed up? Oh, speaking of cooking times, there’s the roast beef that takes 45 minutes to cook. Sure, she likes her meat rare, but the rest of us would at least like it warm in the middle. So yeah, gross. And then there’s her famous debacles:

Pot Roast - you know how when you cook a pot roast you usually put some root vegetables in the pot, like potatoes, carrots, turnips, etc? She gets tired of the same old thing. So one time there was broccoli in it. It was so nasty that the dogs wouldn’t even touch it, and these dogs ate nearly everything. My sister and I were stuck eating this crap.

Chicken Cordon Bleu - chicken breast with a stuffing of ham and cheese, usually Swiss cheese. In this case, my stepmonster decided to use Velveeta. Oh yeah. AND - it gets better - she put melted Velveeta on top of it before she put it in the oven. Do you know what happens to processed cheese product when it’s in the oven for that length of time (because she never undercooked chicken)? It turns into a plastic shell. ‘Nuff said.

Then there’s her famous food combos. My stepmonster is of the belief that all meals must include a meat, starch, and vegetable. What she doesn’t get is the whole concept of complimentary side dishes. There is one combo in particular that sticks out in my mind. (I fully expect a scathing phone call from my sister for bringing back this repressed memory.) One summer evening, dear old stephag decided to feature summer squash on the menu. Summer squash was always watery and soggy, way overcooked. That cooking time thing again. The meat has long since been forgotten, since it is not important in this equation. What is important, however, is the starch that was on the meal. It was - get ready for it - Spagettios. You read it right. My sister will tell you that summer squash and spagettios do not go together. So will my old next door neighbor, who got out his garden hose to wash all the puke out of the neighborhood, most of which landed in his yard. Nine times she puked. I don’t think my sister has had either one of those foods since.

Meals with my stepmonster weren’t all that bad. Sometimes we went out to eat. In fact, it was a regular weekend thing, so we always had that to look forward to. Also, we visited my mother on the weekends, and my mom can cook. Most of what and how I cook today comes from her, and of course my dear Gram and Grandma.

So, Mommy’s cooking. Mom has about a dozen tried and true meals that I always look forward to when she makes them. However, being blond, my mom has been known to mess things up on occasion. (No offense to blonds who would be offended by that.)

My mom’s meatloaf rocks, because she makes it like a giant Swedish meatball (my Mom’s grandparents came from Sweden, so we know how to make a real Swedish meatball). Basic meatball recipe includes finely chopped onion, salt, pepper, and allspice. One night I took a bite of the meatloaf.

“So, how is it?” Mom asked.

“Well, it’s good, but there’s a bit too much cinnamon in it,” I replied.

“What? I didn’t put any cinnamon in it. That’s allspice!” Mom took a bite, realized that it was cinnamon, and went over to the spice cabinet. She starts tearing through the carefully arranged yet overflowing cabinet to get to the designated allspice spot, where she sees… cinnamon. Well, it must be someone else’s fault, because the allspice is not where it’s supposed to be. The rant went on for awhile about this, as my human garbage disposal stepfather happily ate the cinnamon-infused meatloaf.

Another time my mom made tuna casserole. “So, how is it?” she asked. It just occurred to me that whenever my mom asks how the meal is, it must be messed up. She never asks that when everything turns out ok.

“It’s really good, Mom, but there’s not a lot of tuna in here.”

“I forgot it,” she said with a sheepish grin on her face.

Those are the two that come to mind. Luckily, my mom doesn’t make it a habit of screwing up dinner. Though she did call me last night to ask how to de-heat chili. I didn’t know, but Boyfriend did, so when I called her back to tell her she said that the chili wasn’t too hot, it was just that all the spice seemed to land on the spoon that she was stirring/tasting with. Just another blonde moment.

One of my favorite meals, though, is something that was created from a screwup of Biblical proportions. I mentioned before that my family came from Sweden. Well, Swedish cooking is rather bland, and somewhat basic. When I was in Sweden about 10 years ago now, my friend told me that a lot of stuff we take for granted now, like spaghetti, is still considered exotic cuisine, mostly by older Swedes, but it’s fairly new to Sweden. When my family came over less that 100 years ago, they’d never seen the stuff before.

One night, I believe it was one of my mom’s cousins, ate over a friend’s house and had spaghetti for the first time. The meal was described to my great-grandmother, who tried to replicate it as best she could. Pasta, hot dogs, and tomato soup. Campbell’s, straight from the can. Ok, maybe the first incarnation had ground beef in it. It’s good that way too. But hot dogs is where it’s at today, and it must be made with elbow macaroni so that it can be called by its proper name: Smiles. It is my ultimate comfort food, the one food I will eat when nothing else appeals to me.

So now you know the story of how my palate was developed. I bet my sushi post makes a lot more sense now. Boyfriend certainly is a lot more enlightened about my food cravings than he was when we first met.

My sister called me a little while ago. I was kinda surprised that my phone was ringing, since most of the people who call me are on the east coast, and it was well after 11pm there when she called. She was so excited, she had to call someone, and I was the only person she knew who would be awake. Just a few minutes before she called, she and her man were out on the lanai enjoying the evening when all of a sudden, the utility poles on the next street blew up, one after another all in a row. She said it was spectacular. Of course, she’s enjoying the romantic candlelight right now. Ah, the things I have to look forward to when I go to visit her for Thanksgiving.

Earlier today, I decided I was going to finally try a sandwich shop that continuously wins Best of Las Vegas awards. I saw that they had a roast beef sandwich - not a sub with au jus - so I decided to try it. I have not had a good roast beef sandwich since I was back in Massachusetts. You just can’t seem to find one once you leave Mass. And all you fast food enthusiasts out there, please don’t even suggest Arby’s. I ate there once - ONCE. They have roast beef loaf instead of the real deal. I’m all set with that. What I want is a good old fashioned roast beef sandwich.

While the sandwich I had today was far beyond Arby’s, it was not what I had expected. The meat was well done, and though I usually like my meat on the fully cooked side, there is only one way to eat roast beast: rare. Also, the meat was a bit over-seasoned, and though it was shredded, it was cut way to thick. They grilled the roll for me as I asked, but it wasn’t buttery enough. At least they had Tastykakes. Yes, I know, Tastykakes aren’t a New England thing, but gimmee a break. My mom is from New Jersey and I developed a liking for them on my many visits to the family farm.

I want a roast beef sandwich with rare roast beef, sliced on the thinnest deli slicer setting. Yes, I want my meat to be see-through. A very buttery onion roll, grilled to a light golden brown so you get a nice crunch when you take a bite. Lots of mayo. Some people like BBQ or horseradish sauce, but I like to clog my arteries. I can’t find one here. I asked a coworker today if she knew where I could find one. Since she lived in Boston for a number of years, and she’s been in town at least as long as I have, I figured that if anyone would know she would. And yet, she didn’t. Meh. I guess I need to add it to my list of foods to eat when I go back there again.

On a side note, I was in the middle of composing this post, switching back and forth between tabs, and on my way back to the tab that I had my Create Post in I accidentally clicked the X to close it instead. OH NO!!!!! But I checked the menus in Firefox, and lo and behold, I came back without having to recreate my post. For those wondering, I went to History > Recently Closed Tabs. It not only brought me back to this page, but my entire post was intact! Yippee!

And time for some more pimpin’ - Zac was on tv this morning pimpin’ the hearse club. It was an interview on early morning news, and you can view it here (if you can’t see it, look for the “Get a hearse!” segment. Don’t forget to watch the video!

In other news, the winds have stopped blowing all the smoke from the California fires out to sea, and while it’s not blowing this way like it did in 2003. Back then visibility was pretty bad - less than 1/4 mile and the whole valley smelled like a big campfire. The smoke is here now, though, and my eyes are really bothering me. This picture shows the smoke coverage as of today. The air quality forecast shows a smoke advisory issued through Sunday, though in the moderate level. So we can still see where we’re going when we’re driving around, but my eyes will be feeling like this for awhile. Joy.

I could probably find some more links for you, but it’s late and I’m going to watch the news. Kevin Janison is telling us that the lack of winds is keeping the smoke here through the weekend.

Boyfriend and I went to the Hoover Dam earlier tonite to take some night photos. They came out pretty good, surprisingly enough. We’ve been having a bit of trouble since they keep coming out blurry, even on the tripod, but he finally got it to go (even if the remote control didn’t want to work). We couldn’t go on the dam since they don’t allow pedestrians after dark, so we had to take all the photos from the Arizona side. The parking lot on the Nevada side was closed; the Arizona side has roadside parking lots as opposed to the official parking garage on the Nevada side. I’ll post a couple later, once I get them uploaded. It’s a bit late now.

Snoskred gave me a mention on her blog, and also awarded me, along with everyone in her blogroll, the Nice Matters Award. My first blogging award! I found out where the award orginated - Bella-Enchanted created it not just because her blog friends rock, but because of the friendships that came out of blogging. So, in the true spirit of the award, I would like to give this award to all of my wonderful blogging friends. Please distribute it as you see fit.

I talked to my Gram today, to wish her a Happy Birthday. She’s really an amazing woman. I’m still wowed at the fact that she earned an engineering degree back in the 40’s! Anyway, as we were talking she mentioned that my nephew, Bubba, is taller than my cousin. Now, SportsCousin is 16 months older than Bubba, and was taller than me last year when I went home to visit - and at 5′8″ (172cm), I am not considered short at all. He’s looking forward to his next birthday so he can get his learner’s permit. But my little Bubba is taller than SportsCousin! I remember holding both of them when they were born. I was just about to graduate high school when SportsCousin was born, and was just about to start my second year of college when Bubba was born. I tell ya, they grow up so fast. Soon I’m gonna hear that they’re shaving.

Question: What does 01001011011010010111001001110011011101000110010101101110010011000011010001010111 mean?

Well, that’s the news for now. I’m up late because of the Labor Day holiday - I get an extra day to sleep in. Today was a lazy day, tomorrow is a busy day with brunch with friends then a party that, knowing our friends, will last until 2 or 3am, so having Monday off to recover will be great. But first, it’s time for bed. Good night!

A wonderful boyfriend. Memories of heartache. A blog post. Birthdays. Stress about the car. All these things and more brought about the feeling, and decision, that I wanted to go back home to New England. I told Boyfriend, through tears, what I wanted to do. He was willing to give me whatever it takes for me to be happy. Then I went to bed, and the overwhelming thought that I had made a mistake came over me. I couldn’t help but think, “What the hell have I done?”

I journaled about it, and what came out of my pen surprised me. I mean, I knew I was having these thoughts, but the way they came out on paper surprised me. I talked to Boyfriend some more. He really is wonderful. He didn’t want me to go, but he didn’t stand in my way if that’s what I really wanted. So I thought a lot, about a lot of things. Why I came here and everything that’s happened since I’ve been here.

I came here, simply, because I always wanted to move far away. It was something I’ve wanted ever since I was a kid in school, and we’d get a new student who came from far away. I wanted to be that kid, but it never happened. In a more abstract, overthinking sort of way, I wanted to be closer to me. I come from an area where my family is well known, and they all live very close to each other (think walking distance). Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Knowing lots of people and everyone knowing you can be very advantageous, and having everyone so close means you never miss a birthday, cookout, holiday or other gathering. But I had become the person that everyone wanted me to be, and it pleased everyone but me. I had this idea of a person inside my head that I was, that I wanted to be, and being away from everyone and totally on my own allowed me to be a lot closer to that person. Moving away allowed me to become closer to myself, to know myself better, and to show the world who I am.

I still miss everyone. I miss being there for holidays. I traveled home as often as I could, but it wasn’t enough. This August is the first time that I won’t be there to celebrate Messy J and Bubba’s birthdays. Bubba misses me too much. He’s turning 14 on Tuesday and though he won’t admit it, he really likes having his Aunty around. He’s a great kid, and I miss having him around too. Messy J is just adorable, and I miss being there for her and being silly with her. It would be easier to be away if I didn’t have such an amazing family, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Boyfriend is also amazing. He put aside his own feelings to let me talk through this, and he is so great at listening. So good, in fact, that after yesterday’s session with my head shrinker I realized that I get so much more out of talking with Boyfriend, and head shrinker and I are not on the same page anymore. So I didn’t make another appointment with her, but I also walked out knowing that what I have with Boyfriend is so amazing, that I can’t give that up. I tried by telling him I wanted to go home. And I realized that why I said I wanted to go home all came down to me not totally opening myself up and giving my all to this relationship. See, in the game of love, I had been hurt before.

The last significant relationship I had was one that saw the hurt dragging on much longer than it should have. I fell deeper and was hurt more than ever before, and my insistence on trying to work it out and staying friends (with the intention of it picking back up again someday) kept a certain level of heartache in my life, because I refused to see that it would never happen. Eventually, I cut my losses and was better for it. But I was also determined to never get hurt like that again. So I built my life, alone and was content with that. Content. Not necessarily happy, but that’s where my walls were. In refusing to allow myself to be hurt again, I was also refusing to allow myself to be happy. As wonderful as Boyfriend is, I kept thinking that it wasn’t going to last, because everything ends, right? I actually had myself convinced that I was better off alone, because with all those walls built up I could control everything, down to my emotions. I started focusing on what I didn’t have with him that I had when I was alone, but in the end I realized that I had so, so much more than I had given up. To be able to eat a pint of ice cream in one sitting while watching sappy chick flicks can still be had - when Boyfriend goes away on a business trip. I’m not giving anything up by being with him.

Boyfriend finally came out and said he thought that I was making a mistake. He said I was unhappy enough to leave New England in the first place, and if I went back I’d be miserable. I know he’s right. I pictured myself living at my mom’s house, feeling dejected, like I had failed in my attempt to leave home and be happy. I wouldn’t be going home with a new sense of purpose and a fresh outlook on life, like Macoosh decided this week. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to go home knowing I left a good life and a great Boyfriend. I didn’t want to go away from anything, and although I have my family and friends there, they’ll always be my family and friends no matter where in the world we are. So I wasn’t going to them. I wasn’t going to anything. So I’m going to stay here, in a place where I have so much more than I could ever have imagined.

Hey all, just a quick update - My mommy finally got a blog!!!  I encourage all of you to visit and say hi.  Here’s her (edited for privacy) email that I got announcing it.  Go here to visit her.  (I’m emailing this, so if the link doesn’t work, go to www.bubba9399.blogspot.com - she was so excited she put .blog instead of .com in her email).

Mommy wrote:

Date: Sun, 29 Jul 2007 17:54:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mommy
Subject: Blog me
To: Kirsten

bubba9399.blogspot.blog   Maybe you can tell me how to improve my “looks” on the blog.

(Whenever you have time)

Love,

Mommy

I signed up for a gmail account, just to have a second email since I no longer have an account through the cable company, and Blogger went and switched my login name. No biggie, but it seems that the Google empire wants you to have everything with them. At least they make it easy and convenient and not a major pita.

I got a reply from my mom to my my previous post. I haven’t posted her comment yet, and I’m not sure if I will. I did email her, and it’s just something we have to work out. So enough on that.

Boyfriend and I went to IKEA yesterday. I’m still a bit peeved that they currently have no intention on building one here in Las Vegas, so we made the 4 hour (each way) trek to SoCal. We bought three bookcases, two CD racks to flank the fireplace (which currently is a featureless hole in the wall), a shelf to act as a mantle over the fireplace, and two ice cube molds. All the big stuff was either black or black-brown, and it all fit in my tiny Ford Focus hatchback. After a somewhat cramped ride home, we got right to work putting it all together. The place is really coming together now that there’s somewhere to put everything. Tomorrow I’ll drive a truckload of stuff over to the charity shop so we can get it away from us.

My back has been really hurting me the past few days. Friday was the worst. It seems ok as long as I’m not moving around and I can sit on a comfortable, supportive seat and in an upright position. It seems to be getting a bit better, but now the muscles are stiff too. Hopefully it will be better really soon, because I hate not having my normal range of motion and ability to move and do stuff.

Ah well. Tomorrow it’s back to job hunting, unpacking, and organizing all the shiznit I have, and trust me, I’m still frustrated with it all.

What a week. I quit my job last Friday, which I’m kinda glad about because I was so freaking bored. I mean, you saw the frequency of my posts increase, and they were all posted during work hours. So, needing something to do, I went out in search of a new job. If anyone in Vegas has any connections looking for an admin, let me know.

Saturday Boyfriend and I moved my stuff. Ugh. Next time we hire someone. I’m still not all completely unpacked, but it’s been tough trying to fit all my stuff in with his. I’ve been going thru and making decisions on what can go, and honestly, I feel fine with that. I start getting anxious sometimes when I think about all the schtuff I have, but in this day and age how is it possible to do with less? I mean, I have a computer, and with that goes lots of cords, printer, modem, paper, speakers, blah, blah, blah. Next time I get a new computer, it will be a laptop because at least then I won’t need such a big freaking desk to put everything on. Anyhoo, yeah. Just trying really evaluate what I need and don’t.

And one more thing:

I was recounting this anecdote to someone over the weekend, and thought I’d post it here - especially seeing as how Crowjoy posted pics of yummy looking appetizers made with quail eggs.

When I was a kid, my dad used to like to do silly things to amuse us kids. By silly, I mean lame. One time we were having Deviled Eggs, but Dad kept calling them Eggs Deviled. In trying to correct him, the conversation went something like this:

Dad: Mmm, these Eggs Deviled are pretty good!
Me and/or Sis: Daddy, they’re Deviled Eggs.
Dad: That’s what I said, Eggs Deviled.
Us: Nooooo, it’s Deviled Eggs.
Dad: Eggs Deviled!
Us: Dad, say ‘Deviled’.
Dad: Deviled.
Us: Say ‘Eggs’.
Dad: Say eggs.
Us: Now put it together.
Dad: Deviled Say Eggs.

I have not eaten another Deviled Egg since then, but I have eaten many, many Deviled Say Eggs. Perhaps now someone outside of my household will enjoy the delicious wonders that are Deviled Say Eggs.

Photo courtesy internet search 

My sister is trying to get her Mary Kay business off the ground. I know what you’re thinking, I’m the same way when it comes to this stuff. But gimmee a break, ok? I’m trying to help her out here by giving her a plug. I know lots of people try selling something through home sales, be it Tupperware, Avon, Mary Kay, candles, whatever. (AJ your plug will be coming soon!) But she’s my sister, and I’m gonna help her out all I can, which is what sisters do.

When I was down in Florida at her house not long after my car accident and when Mia was born, I had a bit of a problem. I had a cast on one hand with horribly itchy skin under the cast, and the good, uncovered hand wasn’t doing so well either. It’s hard to moisturize your hands when you have a cast on one of them. Sis was kind enough to wash my hand, massage it, and use some heavenly lotion to get rid of the lizard-like appearance. My hand felt so soft for a couple of days, which, let me tell you, very few moisturizers can do for me, especially living in the desert and constantly washing my hands to avoid the dreaded germ. So what was this miracle product, you ask? It was the Satin Hands Collection.

Such wonderful stuff! Sis sent me home with a sample, and I don’t know if you’re a sample hoarder like me, but I still haven’t used that. I think of it as an emergency pack. But it wasn’t long before she sent me a full sized set as a Christmas gift. I admit, I’m a bit lazy and don’t moisturize as often as I should, but I do love this stuff. Oh yes, I do.

So now comes the shameless plug part. You can go to my sister’s MK website to order your own Satin Hands collection and all sorts of other good stuff. You don’t even need to live near her, since the internet is everywhere. And if she asks, tell her that her big sis sent you!

Perhaps my Mom can tell me what it is?

I told my mom today that I quit my job. I really do feel more relaxed than anything, so even after sleeping on it I still feel like it was the right thing to do. Just a couple of minutes ago I got a phone call inviting me back to a second interview. It would be an office manager position at a small company, which is what I was trying to grow my position into at MRI, but as that company grew they needed more of an admin and less out of me, so I hit a wall there. So fingers crossed I get the job.

When I was talking to my mom today she was telling me how she’s having trouble meeting people and branching out in her new town that she moved to last fall. She’s mainly looking for a sitter for Boo so she and my stepdad can go out once in a blue moon (which is how often they went out together before they had Boo). I offered to sit for free if she’d just buy me a plane ticket. Boo is too cute and I wish I could spend more time with him. He’s also a bit mischievous. He has this thing for toilet paper - he’ll unroll it all, so Mom has to be careful about keeping the bathroom door closed. Well, Mom was at Grandma’s last weekend and my stepdad wasn’t watching Boo as carefully as he should have been, because Boo got into the bathroom, grabbed the end of the toilet paper, and started walking through the house. He managed to unroll a brand new roll without breaking a single sheet. Then he piled it all up into one mountain of toilet paper. Mom said that a whole roll of toilet paper unrolled and piled up makes quite a mess. She refuses to roll it back onto the roll, so until that’s gone she will be ripping her toilet paper off the mountain. I just wish I was there to see that, or at least that someone had the presence of mind to take a picture.

I also talked to my sister today. Mia is 9lb7oz and is doing extremely well for a preemie. She’s fitting into newborn sized clothes and size 1 diapers. She’s also starting to laugh. Sis said that Mia was looking back and forth between her and Daddy and laughing her head off. Again something I wish I could have seen. Sis said she’ll send me more pics as soon as she gets a chance, so when those come I’ll upload them to my pictures on Flickr.

That’s about all for now. I’m going to take a nice leisurely nap now since I haven’t had a chance to take a proper Sunday nap in quite some time. It will be so good to get some stuff done and get my life back to normal.

I was driving home from work this evening, listening to the radio, when I heard the song “Call Me Al” by Paul Simon come on the radio. That song always makes me smile. The video is simple and funny, as seen here:

When I was a freshman in high school, my uncle, my Dad’s baby brother, go married to a wonderful woman. I was delighted to be a junior bridesmaid in the wedding. Their wedding was wonderful all the way through the ceremony and reception. During the reception this song was played, and my uncle’s new father-in-law was on the dance floor. During the chorus, he’d holler out, “Call me Al!” which was quite funny, because his name is really Al.

That wedding, and my aunt and uncle’s courtship and marriage, have always left me with the warm fuzzies. They met through a dating service in the fall, were engaged at Christmas, and married the following fall. My aunt fits in with the family like we’ve known each other all our lives, and even now, after 18+ years and 3 kids, I can see that they’re still very happy and in love with each other. It’s the kind of relationship that I’d like to have some day.

*Hugs* to my aunt and uncle up on the hill.

Hooray! My new checks came today. That means that no more worries about my accounts and precarious financial status being compromised. Woohoo!

I also got some new pictures of baby Mia today, and as soon as my sister learns to use Flickr instead of that stupid Kojak service I’ll get them on my Flickr page so you can all see. The way it is now, if I try to right click and save a picture I only get the teeny tiny thumbnail version, and that’s no good. I want it big! So I sent it to VegasRic to see if he could do it for me, since he was able to last time Sis sent me pics. Anyway.

Time for me to get off to work. Another fun night for security patrol in the Las Vegas valley. Joy.

 

Mia came home yesterday! My sis is busy getting used to the new schedule, but when she does hopefully I’ll have more pictures, or at the very least I can get her to post to Flickr so everyone can see. She’s doing really well, is just over 5lbs and is 17 inches now. She’s still so teeny though.

The pic I put up is one that the nurses at the hospital took - they took pictures of all the babies like this and gave them to the parents. My sis was right in thinking it would be the perfect holiday card.

I have other news, but it has to wait a day or two, but it’s good. So until then…