Rocky's Christmas Present to Us

This morning Peter woke up to find a pile of mushy poop next to the kitchen door.

Poor Rocky.

He's feeling much better after we've fed him several Pepto-Bismol pills. He's stopped wanting to go out every two seconds and his farting has subsided. I'm glad I didn't have to take him to the vet.

The sweet thing is that when he's not feeling good, he sidles up next to Peter and curls up against him--and when Peter goes upstairs at night, Rocky curls up by the staircase.

One funny thing about this whole thing is that before this week, Rocky's never had an audible fart. But during the past few days, he'll be lying down and a loud fart comes ripping out of his butt, which makes him jump up and whip his body around and he looks at me like, "What the HELL is goin' on here!"

Don't Put Bird Seed Out in December

While we were at the Lowe's shopping for faucet hoses and Christmas decorations, we saw several bird feeders and I picked one up because we have some of the cutest little birds flying around our house, including some gorgeous bright red cardinals and bluejays.

One morning a few weeks ago, Peter says, "Look out the window!"

There hung the bird feeder filled with birdseed.

"Hmmmm." I said. "Should you have put this out right now? I don't think there are any birds."

"Sure there are birds!"

Yah. Right.

Fast forward to yesterday when Rocky wouldn't come back into the house every time I let him out. Usually he starts to run for the door as soon as he hears me open it. Last night, I went out there and he was engrossed with a portion of the yard. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I was really surprised that when I dangled a carrot he still would not come back. I mean, he usually mows down anything in his way to get to his carrot.

This morning Peter discovered that the bird feeder that had remained filled with birdseed for the past few weeks was now hanging empty. Apparently, the bottom of the feeder fell out and all the seed tumbled all over our lawn. Crappy $5 bird feeder! Damn you!!

What Rocky had been doing all day yesterday was EATING THE BIRD SEED.

And today he has been farting and farting and coming up to us and nudging us to let him out. As soon as I let him back in the house, he starts to nudge us again to be let out. It's driving us totally bonkers!

These birdseed farts are the most heinous and noxious things ever created.

I said to Peter, "Do you think that he's put two and two together that the eating the birdseed is what caused the diarrhea?"

"Uhm," he said. "Maybe."

"Well, I hope he's learned his lesson!"

"Don't you mean, you hope that WE'VE learned the lesson?"

Smart Santa

When I was six years old my family and I moved to a house in New Jersey, the same house that my parents live now. I was super excited for Christmas because we had a REAL FIREPLACE!! Which meant that Santa could come to the house!! The year before my father had to wait up and let him in the front door.

I told my mother that I needed to get a stocking so that Santa could put a present in it. She really didn't take me very seriously but I whined and whined about it and finally she went to her suitcase and pulled out all sort of stupid stockings. I wanted to go out and buy a real red and white stocking like everyone had, but we didn't have much money in those days. My mom pulled out this long green, orange and white striped thigh-high stocking that she had, remember, this was the seventies, and my father fastened it above our mantelpiece.

Of course I was all, "Uhm...That's totally never going to work. The only thing that's going to fit into THAT stocking is a baseball bat...and I DON'T WANT a baseball bat!!"

This was just another one of those American things that my parents get ALL WRONG and now I was resigned to the fact that I was going to get a stupid gift.

So come Christmas morning, I ran down the stairs to find that Santa had TIED THE STOCKING AROUND MY PRESENT. It was a paint-by-numbers set of Wyle E. Coyote. I really loved that present because IT WAS NOT A BASEBALL BAT!! Instead of trying to put something INSIDE the stocking, he thought OUTSIDE THE BOX!!

And I remember thinking, "Wow, that Santa is SO SMART. No matter what silly stuff my parents do to try to RUIN EVERYTHING, he TOTALLY KNOWS how to make it right. Because he's SANTA."

oink OINK!!

So I have the chills, a slight fever (or a broken thermometer), sore throat, runny nose, a cough, and the no-feeling-so-goods.

I'm really deathly afraid of swine flu--especially since I'm a germaphobe in general. But when I came down with this cold, everyone in my life has pooh-poohed me whenever I bring up swine flu.

The last few days, I've been putting Swine Flu apps on my iphone and checking my temperature with this Vicks thermometer I had lying around.

My temperatures:
99.9
98.4
99.7
98.9
99.6

That's just the last five minutes. I turned to Peter and asked, "What if this thing is totally shitty and I'm really raging a fever right now?"

Without even touching my forehead, he says, "You DON'T have a fever. If you did, I would know."

And how's that?

Plus, he's being totally unsympathetic about this illness. He's still all, "When are you cleaning up the kitchen?" and "You're not that sick." and "Let the dogs out."

Every time I let the dogs out, a blast of cold air chills me TO THE BONE and takes me two hours to get back to a normal temperature. And when I whine about this, he just gives me a look that is SO COLD--a look that says, "Lady, I just got you an iphone for Christmas and I work two jobs so that you can have it SO EASY."

Yes--he is the best husband in the world, but when it comes to illnesses? He really can't be bothered. AND he doesn't think you're all that sick.

Our Old Dog

The other day Peter and I were talking about the dogs and I mentioned that labs have a life expectancy of 12-14 years and Peter said, "Well, Scout's already 10 and-a-half. 12 is just a year-and-a-half away."

I was all, "Sure, make me cry, why don't you!"

The World Has Changed Before Our Eyes

Every morning we've been waking up to a British radio station on our newfangled internet radio alarm clock. And we don't even live in England! Technology is so cool.

Although it's a little jarring to hear the DJ's accent in the morning. I can't understand every third word. Is it the accent or my sleepiness?

Thanksgiving

There are many things to give thanks for this year. My sister Jenny has returned home from school and it has been nice having her around, especially when it comes to taking weekend trips because she can look after the dogs. Just KIDDING!

The other day she called me and said, "I was talking to someone about you. He asked me if I was close to my sister and I said--Yeah, we're REALLY close. In fact, I think she's one of my best friends. Actually, I think she's by best friend. OH MY GOSH! My sister is my BEST FRIEND!"

This doesn't come as a shock to people who have a normal siblinghood, but Jenny was born when I was 14, so I've been more of a substitute mom until a few years ago. Now that we're both (ahem) adults, it's been super-nice having a real human person I helped raise become a true friend.

Other things I am thankful for this year is that SOMEONE has FINALLY rented our apartment--no more paying two mortgages!! Also, Peter has TONS of vacation time this month. In fact, he's only going to be going to work for 5 days this month and we might even be able to take a small trip out to San Francisco.

I've finally set up my living room and my kitchen--so now all I need to do is sort out all of my clothes in the bedroom--NOT looking forward to it...So the move has been pretty smooth.

Another thing I am thankful for is our NEW SHOWER HEAD--the one that mixed air with water so that our piddly no-pressure shower is now GUSHING WITH WATER.

I am thankful that my new memory-foam mattress arrived and I've been sleeping so soundly these past few weeks...now if only that platform bed will arrive soon...

The dogs are thankful that we now have a great big yard for them to frolic in and I'm thankful that I no longer have to stand out in the freezing cold waiting for them to "do their business."

I am NOT thankful that I found my first gray hair this year---it seems to be the only one. When I told my friends Karen and Elliott about it, they both said, "I've been going gray since I WAS TWENTY-EIGHT." So I guess I'm thankful that I have only just started going gray at the ripe old age of 36.

Most of all, I'm thankful that although my parents were hours late for Thanksgiving dinner, Jenny didn't bring the pumpkin pie she said she was going to bring, and my mother-in-law got so skunk-drunk that she was stumbling all over the apartment, Thanksgiving at our house TURNED OUT AWESOME.

UNFRIEND!!

Peter's sister has been doing the oddest thing. Instead of picking up the phone or emailing him like a normal person, she sends all her correspondence to him via Facebook.

Like, the time she couldn't come to the Surprise! party, she posted it ON HIS WALL.

That's right, so all of his friends can see what a douche she is.

For the past four years since Peter's father has died, Peter's mom has gone over to stay at this sister's home for Christmas. And of course, a wonderful time is had by all--in this case, wonderful means having your daughter completely ignore you, cook her own meals and eat them in front of you while not preparing anything for you, oh yeah, and then there's that time she snuck off to Church without bringing you, even though you wanted to go.

That's right. GOOD times.

So this morning, Peter finds a Facebook message from her stating that her husband isn't going to be able to pick up their mother for Christmas, so she hopes that Peter is going to be able to spend time with her that day.

Of course, this latest blow comes after numerous telephone conversations between Peter's mother and her two daughters over the past few weeks about how she is TOO OLD to be cooking the elaborate Thanksgiving feast she prepares every year so they're no longer going to come over for that holiday.

She WANTS to prepare Thanksgiving dinner because it's one of the few occasions his family does come over. Usually, if she doesn't see them on Thanksgiving or Easter, she doesn't see them at all.

I love how the pretense to all this is that they CARE SO MUCH about how she troubles herself every year to prepare all the food, when in reality, they just can't be bothered to come over. It wouldn't bother me so much if they made ANY EFFORT at all to visit her, but sometimes years will go by before she sees them.

I know that this is Peter's family and I shouldn't get worked up about this, but it does upset me to see everyone in the family treat his mother so shabbily. And a part of me is annoyed that there's a THOUSAND excuses everyone give on why they can't come visit her--and that there's this feeling amongst the siblings that it's fine, because she's got Peter. The thing is, it would be nice if Peter had ANY support from his siblings when it comes to his parents. Sadly, they're all extremely terrible self-centered people.

I was all, "So, did she post that on ALL of your sibling's Facebook pages or just you?"

And Peter said, "That's it. I'm going to have to Unfriend her now. Not only Unfriend her, but BLOCK HER."

Dog Booties for Lazy People

Now that we have moved back into the house, I remember now why I used to go to Costco and buy boxes and boxes of baby wipes. The dog's paws get SO dirty. We have gotten them booties in the past, but EVERY dog bootie I've ever bought has been SUPER breakable and lostable so I was trolling the internet to find a review of some good ones.

Unfortunately, there are some that cost $50/set!!!!

I mean, I am NOT spending $50 on SHOES FOR DOGS.

Although I love the lady on the video who is demonstrating and explaining the differences between the HIGH PERFORMANCE boot and the standard boot. Her accent reminds me so much of my friend Andrew's family.

Check out the video "Chapter 3 of 6, otherwise known as, "The Features of the High Performance Boots." At the 1:18 mark she says, "...the fyattest pahhnt of the pahhhw."

I would know that New Englandy Bostony accent anywhere.

One time when I was over at Andrew's grandmother's house, her son came home and the conversation went like this:

"Where'd-yah paaaahhhhrrk the cahhhhhr?"

"I paaaahhhhrrked the cahhhhr in the gahhhraaaaaahhge."

"Which gahhhhhraaaaahhhge did'ya paaaahhhrk the caaaaaahhhr?"

Anyway, she seems like a nice lady and I'm sure that's a mighty fine dog boot, but basically, shoes for dogs ends up merely being a bit of fleece with some grippy material and Velcro on them. That is a HUGE markup on fleece and Velcro.

So I trolled the internet for "diy dog booties" and I found this website.

Peter catches me crouching over the floor with the duct tape and he says, "Stop wasting that! It's expensive!"

And I say, "Oh, really? But is it $50 expensive, 'CAUSE THAT'S HOW MUCH WE'RE SAVING."

He refused to let me make more than the one boot I had already made. When I slipped it around Scout's paw to see how it would fit, she tolerated it for about one nanosecond before flinging it clear cross the kitchen. And she had this look on her face like, "NOW what? WHAT is the MATTER with you YOU CRAZY HUMAN!"

Peter said, "I know you're too lazy to wipe their paws, but let's say you make eight duct tape dog booties. Where are you going to keep EIGHT DIRTY DUCT TAPE DOG BOOTIES? Not in MY kitchen."

That Peter, always thinking ahead to the future.

I went back to my computer to see if I can find another solution and then found this lovely couple showing me how to make dog boots with balloons. INGENIOUS!

I love how the lady says "Balloooooons..." and how her husband repeats the last few words of her sentences. They are SO CUTE! And they both LOVE that dog.

The balloon thing, that's a MUCH better idea than the ziplock bags I had planned on using.

Can you imagine the horror on my neighbor's face as she looks out her window with her morning coffee?

"What did that girl PUT on her dog's FEET? OH MY GOODNESS!! I think they're ZIPLOCK BAGS!!"

And her boyfriend will say:

"WHAT is the MATTER with that CRAZY HUMAN?"

That HAIR

Today at the post office I actually saw a soccer mom with Kate Gosselin's hairstyle.

Fer REAL!!

I even blinked my eyes and rubbed them a little bit before looking again just to make sure. And today was NOT Halloween.

I Love the 80s...Miniseries!

I don't think that there's one person who grew up in the eighties who doesn't remember when the slimy green alien lizard baby crawled out of Robin Maxwell during that pivotal scene in the V miniseries.

EVERYONE talked about it the next day at school.

It was one of my favorite miniseries growing up and for some odd reason, my mother let me watch it. She didn't allow me to watch Lace, the only thing I knew about it was from the commercials with Phobe Cates saying, "Which one of you BITCHES is MY MOTHER!"

She also didn't allow me to watch SHOGUN--I don't remember, why was that inappropriate? Oh wait, it's not that I don't remember, it's that I don't know. I NEVER GOT TO SEE IT.

My mother let me watch the remake of Splendor in the Grass until the scene where Bud Stamper squeezes Deanie Loomis's hands and she falls to her knees. That's when my mother told me to go to my room because she had seen this movie before and it was INAPPROPRIATE. Of course it's inappropriate, it's all about sexual desire. Who were the geniuses who decided that it would be great to cast Melissa Gilbert of the Little House on the Prairie for that film, knowing that diehard eight-year-old Little House fans (such as myself) DESPERATELY wanted to see her in this movie?

The one saving grace was that she told me that she would personally watch the movie AS A FAVOR to me and tell me the appropriate parts of the story the next morning before school.

When I asked her what happened, my mother said, "Oh, that girl and boy never ended up together...she was better off because he ended up being poor and married to some poor slob and SHE married A DOCTOR!"

Can you blame me that for years I didn't believe her version of the story because it's so Chinese to tell your daughter that you're better off not falling in love with that handsome boy in high school because what you really want to do is save yourself for A DOCTOR!

Anyway, back to V.

For some inexplicable reason, she let me watch this one...although how is alien sex and lizard babies appropriate television for children? And I LOVED it. It's partly the reason why I love sci-fi and why I spent my high school years trolling the science fiction sections of bookstores and having total nerds suggest Orson Scott Card novels to me. Although once in high school, the cutest boy in school admitted to me during one of our 8-hour-long conversations (if I knew then what I know now, we would have SO DATED because now I know that boys NEVER talk with a girl that long unless he liked her...DUH! Why was I so stupid in high school?) that he loved Lloyd Alexander and I had never felt closer to any other human being. And then a few days later he told me to start listening to Steve Winwood.

So how excited was I that a NEW V SERIES was being produced!?!?!?!?

Let's just say I was s'excited and literally COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS until the pilot aired.

Unfortunately, now I know that V stands for V'terrible.

They obviously spent a lot of money on great actors (except for that terrible Scott Wolf--which should have been a sign) and awesome production stuff like special effects and I guess by the time they were all done, there wasn't any money left for writers.

I felt that the show was SO unrealistic and Peter said, "Uhm...the show is about lizard aliens who come and harvest people. How is that show going to be realistic?"

The thing is, when you have a show that is Cuh-RAZY, you still need to center it around the reality of that universe. I mean, those human characters are WAAAAY too calm about aliens announcing their arrival on their huge plasma screen on their spaceship. Cheering? Really? Like, THAT'S the way these writers think that human beings will react to the news that we're not alone on this planet?

Hmmm. Have those writers ever MET A HUMAN BEING? Because we all would be going SO APESHIT.

Instead, these people are all, "Lahdidah...let's all go up to the alien spaceship and check it out!"

Also, I felt that the whole lizard-reveal happened WAY too early. Peter felt that the producers might have been forced to make the reveal early because EVERYBODY ALREADY KNOWS that they are lizards.

I disagree. The most tragic of the Greek tragedies are more so BECAUSE the audience already knows what's going to happen. There's an incredible relationship you can build with an audience when they are in on the secret. I felt that the show should have waited to make the reveal--but instead, they blew their load and now when we watch the show, it's just me screaming at the television, "REALLY? You have this AWESOME story and THIS is how you're going to execute it?"

And Peter's mumbling, "That poor Elizabeth Mitchell. Things were going so well for her..."

Anniverscary #5 Nothing Made of Wood Was Given

Traditionally, the 5th wedding anniversary calls for a gift of something made out of wood (insert crass joke here).

Instead of giving or receiving blocks of wood, we were ORGANIZING ALL OUR SHIT. I went out at 2am to pick up some Halloween candy...to no avail because NOT ONE KID SHOWED UP.

So what it was drizzling rainwater all day long? That would not have stopped me at the ages of 5 through around 18...yes I went trick-or-treating at the age of 18--I had little ten-year-old and four-year-old sisters. I couldn't just steal all THEIR candy, now could I? That would be CRUEL and MEAN.

These Westchester kids are total wimps.

Now Peter and I are eating all the bags of Butterfingers, Baby Ruths, Nestle Crunches and Kit Kats all by ourselves. Every once in a while, I'll walk into the kitchen and see Peter surreptitiously unwrapping yet another yellow candy wrapper.

And then I shout:

Those are NOT FOR YOU!!

Those are to be saved for NEXT YEAR!!

That's right, if you don't come by my house, you get STALE CANDY next year. Suckers!!

So we've been unpacking and unpacking and unpacking and I've been cleaning and cleaning and cleaning.

Our tenant apparently got tar EVERYWHERE and I've been scrubbing things I've never scrubbed before...like an inch of brown gook off the tops and bottoms of our kitchen cabinets. The tops of our cabinets had this brown yucky goo all over the top, which made me TOTALLY FREAK OUT.

I got those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers...those things were put together by magic elves and fairies because it's the only thing that gets that stuff out. Plus I rubbed some on my disgusting toaster and it is now BRAND-NEW-SHINY!!

For the past few days, I've been saying to Peter, "Isn't that toaster SO SHINY?"

And he responds by saying, "Uhm...yeah...it is..."

Which is not the reaction I'm gunning for. The reaction I'm gunning for is:

"OH MY FUCKING GOWD THAT TOASTER IS SO SHINY I CAN'T BELIEVE IT--YOU WORKED SOME PURE UNICORN MAGIC ON THAT FUCKING TOASTER!!"

Since I didn't get the proper reaction, I keep asking the question over and over and by the fourth day, Peter was all, "Yes, that toaster LOOKS FANTASTIC!! Please leave me alone now!"

I wanted to go out for our anniverscary, but we just didn't feel up to it. We both wanted to rid ourselves of all the piles of boxes in our house. Every time we broke down a box, we would shout the number to each other. So Halloween will be the day I will always remember as the anniversary we were screaming "NINETEEN!" and TWENTY-FIVE!!" at each other instead of getting dressed up and going to the the Blue Hill at Stone Barns. Ah, memories...

Moving in the Rain SUCKS!!

Let's just say that the title just SAYS IT ALL.

More will come, I promise, including part 2 of the Surprise! party...

Moving...Again

Here I am packing up boxes in the middle of the night.

Fun.

Let's see, how many moves does this make?

2001 (right after 9/11 into our first 1-bedroom coop--that was fun with the cops pulling over our U-Haul truck and breaking my beloved orange lamp).

2004 (into our new house right after we got married)

2006 (flipped the coop and moved into Mt. Kisco, where Peter wanted to live, then didn't want to live one day after we moved....URRRGGGHHHH.)

2008 (into our 2 bedroom coop after we flipped the condo)

2009 (back to our house!!)

That's right, count'em 5 moves in 8 years!!!!!

Peter says that he GUARANTEES me that we're staying put for a while---but he said that last year. All I've learned in this process is that I HATE MOVING and that I HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF.

And I'm The Jerk?

So today, I caught this lady letting her dog take a wizz right outside my living room window--people in the building are not supposed to let their dogs pee in the courtyard, unfortunately, most of the owners of little dogs seem not to care. I've seen her do this a zillion times and today I was IN NO MOOD FOR IT.

I opened the door and said to her, "You know you're not supposed to let your dog do that. It's a $100 fine."

She turns around and tells me he doesn't pee--as she's saying this, he lifts his leg and pees and I point this out.

"Well," she said. "He's sick and blind. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why don't you take him across the street?"

"He's BLIND!!!"

I was all, huh? What the hell difference does it make that he's blind? You carry him down the stairs from your apartment. You can walk him a few feet across the street to the park where we all go. And then to add insult to injury, she says:

"Well, I hope your dogs never get sick!"

Okay...what do my dogs have anything to do with your lazy ass being too lazy to walk across the street?

She acted like she was helpless to this whole situation when she's healthy enough to carry her dog and let him pee somewhere that is NOT OUR COURTYARD.

And yet, when I told Peter this story, he said, "Why were you acting like an asshole?"

"Wait a minute, she lets her dog pee right outside our apartment and I'M THE ASSHOLE?"

I do admit that I was in a bad mood, but she was CLEARLY in the wrong. And yes, everybody around here does it, so why am I bringing it up?

Because ONCE IN A WHILE I feel that people need to be CALLED OUT ON THEIR SHIT.

Y'know, because I'm a big'ole JERK.

She Looks Like My Mother

I sent my sister this link to an article about graduation rates and I titled it "Did You Know You Were In the NY Times?"

I found it when I was doing some research about graduation rates. The college Peter works for has a graduation rate of 60%--which is really bad. Peter's alma mater has an 80.5% graduation rate and mine is 87%. Although, I do have to point out that we had a lot of Orthodox Jewish girls who attended my school for the single purpose of finding a husband. Two girls who lived on my floor freshman year were married and had kids by the time I was a senior. So if it weren't for these teenage brides, I'm sure our graduation rate would have been higher.

I found this article and saw that the picture was taken at Amherst--then I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if Jenny were in the photo?" And then I saw that she was! It was pretty surreal. She's the girl who is staring at the camera in the right side of the photo.

After I sent her the photo, Peter told me to follow up with her so I gave her a call and said, "Did you get my email?"

"Yeah," she said. "I sent that to you months ago."

"Oh, so you knew you were in the photo?"

"Months ago."

"Don't you think you look like Mommy in that picture?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your picture in the article."

Apparently, when I said, "You Were in the NY Times," she took that to mean that HER SCHOOL was in the NY Times and not that she, Jenny, was actually photographed in the article. So she opens her web browser and FREAKS OUT because she looks EXACTLY LIKE MY MOTHER in that photo. In fact, I have a photograph of my mother at her high school graduation and she looks EXACTLY like that.

She looks so much like my mother in that photo that Peter said, "Was your mother wearing Jenny's graduation gown at the graduation?"

So Jenny sends this link to all her friends and in her subject note, she wrote, "Don't I Look Exactly Like My Mom in this Photo?"

Her friends wrote back:

You buried the lead! This isn't a PHOTO, it's a photo from the NY Times. Your subject note made it seem like you looked like your mother from a snapshot you took recently.

And her friend Tranny wrote back:

I emailed you this article MONTHS AGO! BECAUSE YOUR PICTURE WAS IN IT!

Yes, Jenny is just that ditzy that she read the article without noticing her own face staring back at her in the photo.

After I told Peter about that, he said, "Well, THAT'S why you have to follow up with people. Tranny should know better...I mean, it IS Jenny."

The Cat

The day before we took her to Peter's mother's house, I had taken away her bed and she had peed on her scratching pad, so she didn't have a place to sleep on. Apparently, she looked at the dog bed and said to herself, "Well, I guess I'm sleeping here now."



I still can't believe that she did that.

I haven't been to see her since we gave her away, but Peter went to visit his mom the other day and she's been sleeping with his mom on her bed!!

They're like best buds now, which makes me feel good. The Meow Meow really wasn't working out for us, but she's keeping Peter's mom company. In fact, she wasn't allowed in certain rooms of the house at first, but since she's so well-trained, his mom has let her have the run of the house.

And my mother-in-law even said that I did a great job raising her because she's been a great cat.

Isn't that awesome?

In 12 years, I've finally done something right in her eyes!

Don't We Count? We're HAPPY!

I'm gearing up for part 2 of the Surprise! party, but I wanted to write a little side-note. Apparently, Peter's sister said during the party that no one in their family is ever happy because they're not happy people.

"Wait," I said. "But you're happy. WE'RE happy! What does she mean by that?"

"I think she said that because she doesn't consider me a part of the family," Peter said.

"But after Jenny's graduation, my grandmother kept going on and on about how happy we are. (And then my mom said, 'Of course they're still happy! They don't have kids yet!' Yeah, that makes us want to have kids, right?)"

"It just goes to show you who's paying attention."

I Never Knew: The Surprise Party Story Part I

Before the Surprise! party, my sister said, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if the party went without a hitch and after all the anticipation of this stupid thing, you just wrote: It was fine. I mean, your followers would get SO MAD."

Yup, I can practically hear them clicking me off their blog rolls.

The night before, I was frantically trying to make these Martha Stewart tissue-paper flowers and it was SOOOO not working out.

They were supposed to look like this:



Instead, after two hours of accordion-folding and fluffing (Oh, the endless night of fluffing that didn't fluff the fluffstuff!) I only got these crappy pieces of tissue-paper GARBAGE.



I am a crafty person and I don't know what was going on--on the website, the pompoms looked like adorableness--maybe I'm just not crafty, but I AM!! All over her website, dozens of people said they made them and it made their bridal shower/birthday party/baby shower look absolutely GORGEOUS. I think that either their version of GORGEOUS differs greatly from mine--or I'm just a Martha craft failure.

I looked up at Peter after two hours and said, "I just don't think that this is an effective use of my time."

He looked at me and said, "I know. I wanted to say something to you earlier, but I didn't want to upset you."

In my mind, I had visions of how I wanted to decorate the space. I wanted to do such an AWESOME decorating job that people were going to have their minds BLOWN AWAY.

Unfortunately, I waited until the last minute and the tissue paper pom poms that were supposed to be just that thing turned into a pile of tissue-colored doo doo.

Instead, I wrapped up issues of the literary magazine I work for as an editor in gorgeous cardstock and folded a band of ribbon around them. They looked lovely. But Peter had his apprehensions about giving them out.

"They're philistines. They don't read literary magazines. They're just going to throw them in the garbage or leave them at the restaurant and you're going to get really mad."

I do know that about them and I did think about not giving them copies of the magazine, but then I figured the gift will be given from my heart and I can't control how they are received. I can only give what I have to give. I think Mother Teresa would have been proud, because you know how she's all giving out literary magazines to the philistines...and oh yeah, feeding the hungry and healing the sick.

The next morning, there was still a lot to do--my sister came over early to help. While she was here, Peter checked his email and found one from the Wicked Witch of the East--apparently, her daughter was sick and so they weren't coming. I was ECSTATIC to hear this news, although a bit surprised that the morning of the party, she's expecting us to be checking our email to get this information. Luckily, there was time to call the restaurant and get the tables rearranged.

The funniest thing was when Jenny texted her friend Emily to tell her that Wicked Witch of the East wasn't coming, Emily said, "What a BITCH! After WE'VE BEEN STRESSING all week about this, she didn't have the DECENCY to show up!"

I thought it was so cute and funny that people who have never even met Peter's sister are all, "What a BITCH!"

I wanted to get to the party an hour beforehand to set up and get things ready, but my sister and I are what we call "Vortexes of Time Suck." We inherited that from our mother. It's recessive and we both got the genes for it. For some reason, no matter how much time we are given to complete a task, the time is just sucked right out of the space-time continuum and it will take us an hour to do a simple task like pick up the cake from a bakery in the next town.

This is the reason why we will never become winners of Project Runway. Heidi will take a look at something we tried to make and say, "This looks like you threw it together in two minutes. AND it looks CHEAP."

So we get to the restaurant only about ten minutes before people are supposed to arrive and of course, people are already there. Fortunately, the restaurant threw up some cute balloons and decorations (Thank GOD) and so everything looked festive and cute already.

I forgot the candles and commissioned one of Peter's nephews to get them. I put out all the favors/place cards--I know it's a little strange since it's all family, but Peter DID NOT want to sit near his sister who hadn't been speaking to him the last seven years so I wanted to ensure that everyone knew where they belonged. We were SHOCKED that she emailed me to tell me she was coming and that night, she thanked me for inviting her twice.

I was all, "Uhm, I didn't actually invite you. I told your son that if he wanted to, he could invite you because I DIDN'T WANT TO BE RUDE and invite the entire family except for you and now we have regretted it since the minute you emailed us that you were coming. I mean, you didn't come to our wedding, you wrote in ALL CAPS on our response card WILL NOT BE ATTENDING. You didn't even send us a gift. I mean, I didn't send you an actual invitation. Can't you read between the lines?!?"

Okay, I didn't say that, I said, "Well, thanks for coming!"

To be continued....

Picky Eater

I don't like beans. Yes, it's strange, but I've hated beans since I was 1 years old--according to my mom, I would pick each individual bean out of my azuki and rice she would make for me. I also don't like Feta cheese. My version of hell would be to have to eat a large brick of Feta.

I dated a few Greek guys and the thought of introducing me to their mothers always stirred up a bit of fear because of the Feta-hating. And oh yeah, the grape-leaves-hating.

Today we went to Tomatillo again and fortunately, we did not get my most unfavorite waiter. My unfavorite waiter messes up my order 80 percent of the time. He's this skinny hipster-ish guy who is the only white guy who works the tables. And every time I ask for a tofu burrito WITH NO BEANS, he can't seem to keep it straight and there they are, the dreaded pinto beans in my freaking burrito.

Since my parents own a restaurant and I'm with a guy who hates it when I return food to the kitchen, I always sit there and eat the messed up food, not enjoying it one bit.

Last time we went to Tomatillo, I said to Peter pretty loudly, "Oh good, that AWFUL waiter isn't here today." I didn't see him when we walked in, but the people at the table next to us seemed startled and a few minutes later, the awful waiter sat down next to them for a little bit of chit-chat.

Peter said, "They totally knew that you were talking about their friend."

So? He's a crappy waiter. I'm sure if they are his friends, they know this by now.

Today, when I ordered my meal, I made it a point to say no beans and the waiter, who is Mexican, seemed really confused. My anti-beanness confuses a lot of Mexicans. And he asked me, "You want the rice, right? And do you want the lettuce? And do you want the tomatoes?"

Every time he asked me a question, I said, "Yes, I want everything EXCEPT the beans."

"So, you want the tortilla?"

And after I ordered, Peter looked at me and he looked like he had a revelation.

"Is THIS why you're hesitant to go to Mexican restaurants? Because of this bean thing?"

"YES!!" I said. "And it's really tough for me, because I LOVE Mexican food."

When I was little, everyone used to tell me that I would grow out of the bean hating business, but I never have. People always ask me what it is about beans I don't like and it's the texture of the beans when I'm chewing it and it gets all clumped up in my mouth.

"But mashed potatoes are like that and you LOVE mashed potatoes!" My mother would say.

Yeah, that's because it doesn't taste like anything but tons of butter and gravy.

You also can't travel through Asia not liking beans because Chinese people LOVE to serve mooncakes to their guests and I would always turn them down. And my uncles would get all indignant and mad and say, "They're DELICIOUS! You HAVE TO EAT ONE!"

And of course, I would say, "No, thank you." Which is apparently a REALLY RUDE thing to say to an elder. When an elder tells you to do something, you're supposed to do it, especially in Taiwan.

So I would put it on my plate and leave it untouched.

I am still known in some parts of Taiwan as: "The only girl I've ever met who hates mooncakes."

Open Letter to SNL

Can't you write some funny skits? I mean, you only do ONE show a week, AND you have a musical guest who comes on twice.

I mean, seriously.

SERIOUSLY.

Hey Lorne Michaels! Stop appearing in those stupid skits and whip those writers into shape!

My IM Chat With Andrew

andrew: how you doing? when's the surprise "party"?

Me: the 10th! Guess what? EVERYBODY is coming!

andrew: wow. the Wicked Witch of Long Island too?

Me: yes, wicked witch is coming with her wickedlings

andrew: u know what would be the BEST SURPRISE EVER?

Me: if we didn't show up and didn't tell them?

andrew: if you and Peter weren't HOME! "like this, like this!"

Me: actually, now that there's so many people, we're not all going to fit! my suggestion was to disinvite people-- we're going to have to go to a restaurant and spend endless amounts of money!

andrew: wow!

Me: well, that's fine--although I'm glad that everyone's coming since it's for her, I'm not looking forward to dealing with these people--what WHAT WHAT was I THINKING!!!!!

andrew: wow, so generous!

Me: Although my parents ARE SO PROUD OF ME and I feel a little guilty because they think I'm a better person than I am--I ONLY invited these people thinking they weren't going to come! Some of these people didn't even go to their own father's funeral!
Suffice it to say, the SURPRISE! Is on US!

andrew: haha
THE BIG FUNNY!
u said u have a sizeable backyard? why not rent a tent and hold a circus with these freaks?

Me: I'm a little stressed out that everyone is coming! JERKS! And Peter's nephew--the one who DID NOT GIVE US A GIFT for our wedding EVEN THOUGH HE WAS A GROOMSMAN and we bought HIM a groomsman gift is bringing his girlfriend--and I'm sure, showing up empty-handed.

andrew: to be mentally prepared for thsi u really have to be prepared for the WORST absolute WORST that can happen
just imagine everyone screaming and fighting, and crying and storming out

Me: Them BEING there is already the worst (peter said that)

andrew: and being majorly ungrateful - then u'll be ready for anything!

Me: I'm a little worried that they're going to order up a storm knowing that it's on our dime

andrew: you could set a prix fix menu
tater tots for all!

Me: I know, but the local restaurant here is being a bit unflexible about that...I'm looking around
Peter wants it to be nice--I was thinking PIZZA PARTY!

andrew: MMMM PIZZAAAAAA

Me: my parents think they raised a wonderful daughter and now I'm a bit ashamed of how annoyed I am that they are all coming--- Can you come? I NEED THE SUPPORT!! Plus, it may be the only time you'll get to meet them.
There are going to be more of his family members there than at our wedding...

andrew: is that an incentive?

Me: and definitely more than my bridal shower because...no one came to that.

andrew: I'll be in Boston that weekend

Me: my sister is going to be there--and my mom might also.

andrew: u want more support than Peter and Jenny?

Me: I need the ROCK OF GIBRALTAR-sized support

andrew:well, i'll think about it

Me: My friend Marisol was going to come, but she can't because she's taking stupid weekend classes at YALE

andrew: watch it rain and nobody show

Me: YES!! If only!!

How Did 12 Years Slip By Us?

Yesterday Peter and I were sitting on the sofa and I realized that our 12th year anniversary of the day we met passed by us...on September 5th. Yup, about a month ago.

I asked him if our wedding anniversary were not on Halloween if we would have both forgotten it already. He said no, but I don't know....

Anyway, it was 12 years and a month ago when I went to a venue with my friend Paul to go see his coworker play in a band. Paul said, to me, "That's the guy who knows Beck," and of course Odelay was my favorite album at the time, the album I was listening to on my long, and I mean looooong, train rides back and forth from Ann Arbor, Michigan. So to hear someone actually KNOWS this guy?

So I sat down next to Peter and said, "I like your glasses."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

There's Not Enough Charm

Today we got word that Peter's sister, the one I'm not particularly fond of, has emailed him that she is attending the Surprise! party. great. The one person that I'm totally DREADING. She's so awful, we need to create another word for awfulness that will fully describe the noxious unhappiness and vitriol that emanates from each of her pores.

And you think I'm kidding? I'm not. She's HATEFUL.

After I sent out the party invitations, I spoke to my friend Marisol about it and she thought that I was CRAZY to invite all these terrible people. She has a little bit of experience because she's got a few clunkers in her family tree.

"You should have just planned a party with a few of her friends here and NOT invited the siblings, that way, she can call them and said, 'Yes, Peter and plue threw a party for me! And it was great!' You do NOT need to invite these people and have to be around them and serve them meals! WHAT were you thinking?"

I need to talk to Marisol before I make ANY decision in life. Because she is SO RIGHT.

On one hand, I'm happy that everyone is coming because it's going to make Peter's mom s'happy. But I am also surprised that Peter's OTHER awful sister, who should know better than to come because SHE DID NOT BOTHER TO ATTEND OUR WEDDING and should never think to DARKEN OUR DOORSTEP is now coming. Yes, technically, she was invited, but we have had NO CONTACT with her except for that 4th of July wedding.

You know that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" when Billy Crystal screams, "I WAS JUST BEING POLITE!"

Every few days, whenever I think about the fact that Peter's sisters are coming, I channel my inner-Billy-Crystal-from-the-80s and say internally, "I WAS JUST BEING POLITE!"

Lesson?

NEVER BE POLITE

So now EVERYBODY is coming and I started to freak out a little bit, because everyone is united in their awfulness and phoniness. These are people who HATE each other, but they will totally yuck it up with each other and I'm a bit afraid that they're going to totally take over this event with their awfulness (and I know I'm being selfish, because this is for Peter's mother, but I'm afraid that they're going to gang up on me and be TOTALLY MEAN to me like they've done in the past).

I was talking to my sister Jenny about this Surprise! party yesterday and I said, "I just don't know how I'm going to handle all these unpleasant people at one time."

She said, "Don't worry, we'll be there and we're CHARMING."

And I said, "Although we have charm in EPIC PROPORTIONS, there's NOT ENOUGH CHARM for THIS!"

It Won't Work For You

Never in a million years did I think that Peter's siblings would accept their invitations for the surprise party for his mom. I mean, these are people who didn't even attend his father's funeral. But sure enough, I got emails in my email box that have proven me WRONG WRONG WRONG.

Like this emailed response:

Hi. Hope all is well. We will see you on the 4th.

That was the email--uhm....okay, but who is this email from? I did invite MORE THAN ONE PERSON--and because they're Catholic, more than one person has THE SAME FREAKING NAME.

I had to send this person an email saying, "Great, looking forward to seeing you...but who are you?"

I frantically called my friend Andrew, who throws dinner parties all the time and is famous in San Francisco for his soirees and I asked him for advice. Or rather I said, "Please, you've GOT to HELP ME! Give me ADVICE!!!!!"

His response was, "But it won't work for you."

"Why NOT?" I asked.

"Because the most important ingredient of a successful even is to invite the right people...and in your case. YOU'VE ALREADY SCREWED THAT ONE UP."

OH NO!!!!!

But the one thing I can take home from all this is that when I invited my mother to the party, she was SO PROUD of me and went on and on about how WONDERFUL this was and HOW HAPPY Peter's mother is going to be...I think that this served as further proof to my mom she raised her kids right.

Eye Contact

Whenever I walk the dogs, I take them out across the street to a little park that's so small it only has two benches and a tree. It is our building's doggy urinal and whenever I see unsuspecting families taking a small break and letting their children roll around in the grass, I cringe. I don't think there's even one square inch on that grass patch that hasn't held urine or poop at some point.

Anyway, there's a stop sign I cross the street in front of and it drives me CRAZY when cars slow down, see that I've stepped off the curb...and keep going.

Hello?

You have a STOP SIGN ASSHOLE!!

Then, what really riles me up is when the car slows down, I MAKE EYE CONTACT and the bastard keeps rolling by...hmmm

Usually, when I'm on the road and I make eye contact with the pedestrian, it tells the pedestrian, "Yes, I see you...go ahead. After all, you have this thing called RIGHT OF WAY."

I'm a safe driver and obey all the rules of the road, just don't throw babies in front of my car.

I think that Westchester people think that a stop sign is just a pretty red lawn ornament that people stick in the ground like colorful lollipops. They don't pertain AT ALL to any RULES OF THE ROAD. It doesn't actually mean STOP. It just means let's try to race that bitch who just stepped off the curb.

I have a mind to start wearing a sandwich board when I walk the dogs that says, "STOP SIGNS=STOP"...and as you drive by, on the back of my sandwich board, it will say: "YOU JERK"

CASA!!

I can't wait for the next season of House.

What I like about House is that it's a show about a genius surrounded by smart people who get on his nerves because they are SO SLOW.

Peter hates it when I joke around that he's like the House of where he works--but he sort of is. But it's a little scaled down. He goes around pointing out all the stuff his coworkers have done wrong and then they get mad at him--but he doesn't save lives or anything...

And the only reason he points this stuff out is that he only wants the organization to not look stupid--so sometimes he HAS to point out grammatical errors before they get posted ON THE INTERNET for ALL THE WORLD TO SEE.

One time he said to me, "Do you think that in Italy, House is called CASA?"

"Hmmm." I said. "I guess in Taiwan it would be TSOO...or FANGZI in Mandarin, which would be the more likely..."

DMV Phone Calls

We share a few of the same numbers for a DMV office in Florida--except that our area code is 914 and the DMV in Florida is 904--so it is a very common for us to receive a phone call--while running out of the shower dripping wet and racing for the telephone, just to have some redneck yell at me about her motorcycle license.

And when I tell them they have the wrong number, they don't believe me and argue with me. And then when I hang up on them, they call back, just to be told that this is the wrong number.

I don't think that they're very bright over there in Florida...

I mean, don't you think the actual DMV would have some sort of recorded greeting instead of a person saying, "Uhm. Hello?"

Go Away, Kitty Kitty

That's it.

We're done.

We're giving away our cat.



Why?

Because it's time. She doesn't like us--and okay, maybe I do roughhouse with her a little too much and treat her like a dog--you mean, cats DON'T like to be manhandled? That's what big labs and Siberians are for? Oh well...

Now that we're moving into a new house, it's not going to be a good situation. So now I'm trying to pawn her off on my mother-in-law. We've asked her (as a favor) to look after the cat for us for 2 weeks.

Little does she know that we're not taking her back!

I think this is the meanest trick I've ever played on her. And by her, I mean Meow Meow.

YOU Don't Even KNOW

While we were at Rhinebeck, my sister Jenny looked after my Meow Meow--the cat we've been seriously thinking of ditching...I mean, finding a new home for...

The thing is, we just are not cat people.

When we were away, Jenny woke up and stepped into the bathroom...into a puddle of pee.

We're having a teensy bit of trouble in the toilet-training arena. For some reason, this past week, the Meow Meow hops on the toilet and faces the wrong way!!

She's been peeing correctly for a year and for some reason, she's suffering a sort of brain fart when it comes to toilet-facing.

As Jenny cleaned up the pee, she looked at Meow Meow--knowing that if she starts having accidents all over the place it will definitely be the end of her and us--and said:

YOU don't even KNOW!

Rhinebeck=Great Food

We've been spending the Labor Day holiday in Rhinebeck, NY and I have to tell you, we are considering moving here when we retire...next year. There's everything you could possibly want here, which means, there's FOOD TO EAT!!!!

The first night we were here, we went to a Thai restaurant called Aroi, which was really awesome--I can't get enough of the Thai Iced Tea, which is why I got the Thai Ice Tea Ice Cream later for dessert!

We had breakfast the next day at the Bread Alone Bakery, and I love a place that is painted my favorite color--orange. Their T-shirts were also s'cute.

Peter and I walked along the streets and we stopped by this shop window that had all these Life is Good T-shirts and Peter bought this one.

Today we went to the Apple Pie Bakery at the CIA--the culinary institute, not the place with the assassins. Although, wasn't it funny on Alias whenever there was a scene at the CIA headquarters, all you saw were signs for CIA, CIA, CIA!! Like, yeah, WE GET IT. You're at the CIA!!!!! The food was really awesome, although a TON of butter and cheese went into the Quiche and Macaroni and Cheese we got--we're still feeling it....a day later.

I didn't grow up eating a ton of cheese and butter--my mom cooks very nutritious meals for us--once, when my sister was watching Paula Dean's show, my mom looked up and said, "Oh, what's she making there, is that tofu?"

And my sister answered, "No, that's 8 sticks of butter!"

So now whenever we eat a meal with tons of butter, we say, "That sure is a lot of TOFU!"

Do You REALLY Want to be Friends?

My whole life I have struggled with friendships where I am the one who has to work on the constant upkeep: the phone calls andn the visiting and the sending of cards. After a while, it seems very one-sided and I stop. 99.9% of the time, the friendship just flits away into the ether--nowadays we have Facebook to deal with people like this.

I used to have a very close relationship with a cousin of mine and we were almost like sisters, but better than sisters because there wasn't any of the sibling rivalry. Our parents would send us to Japan for the summer, mine because they were busy with the restaurant, and hers because there were 5(!) kids in the house, so it was nice for her parents to send a few of them away for a little while. When I was studying in Michigan I went out to visit her in Minnesota, where she lives, and she drove 8 miles down to Chicago to meet up.

About 12 years ago, I decided to stop the phone calls because I didn't want to keep up a relationship where I felt that I was the only one who cared. And so we've stopped talking. I attended her wedding and she attended mine, but we've been pretty much out of touch. She does, however, come into New York a few times a year and she'll always go to my dad's restaurant to eat a free meal. In these 12 years not once has she ever called me to meet up with her. I took that as a sign that she's not interested.

Today, my father calls me up to let me know that she's at the restaurant and he puts her on the phone. It's sort of evident that she wasn't planning on talking to me, but I suppose my father put her on the spot. And in the conversation, she admits that she visits NY all the time, but it has never occurred to her to call me up. That statement alone made me want to hang up on her.

She makes a big deal out of asking me for my email address, which I give her, which has not changed in the past 15 years or so (even though everyone and his IT guy has been trying to get me to switch to gmail).

The thing is that I'm a pretty optimistic person. You know what they say, that a pessimist is really just an optimist who's been disappointed too many times.

I would love to actually think that my cousin wants to hang out and that she's genuinely going to email me the next time she's in town, but I just know better. A part of me always wants my friends to really be their best selves. The person that I remember when I really loved them. The person who might actually have genuine feelings for me and want to see me. I know that it's very difficult to maintain relationships when we're older and that there's something to be said for losing touch with an old pal, but sometimes we just have to let things be.

And by the way, I've learned my lesson. The next time my father calls me, I'm going to ignore it.

Portrait of Meow Meow Sitting on the Bowl

This was taken when we were on the green stage of the litter kwitter. She's staring at the toilet and saying to herself, "WHAT is wrong with THESE PEOPLE!?"

Shhhh!! Surprise Party!

Tonight I spent a few hours making surprise birthday party invitations for my mother-in-law's 85th birthday next month. I know! 1924!! Wow. Apparently, she's the same age as the Thanksgiving Day parade. At first I wanted to do a, "She was born the same year...blah blah blah happened." I thought it would be cute, but most of the events were pretty sad, like the first death by poison gas in the US death penalty system and a few other people getting murdered and assassinated.

So, nix on that idea.

I've wanted to throw her a birthday party each year, but every year, Peter shoots it down, saying that no one will ever come. This year, I came up with a BRILLIANT IDEA. For those of you who used to watch The Facts of Life in the 80s, you know what that sounds like.

The whole reason Peter didn't want to throw a party was that he was afraid that everyone would not show up and then his mother would be heartbroken. So I came up with the surprise party idea. That way, if no one shows up, no one is the wiser. She won't know that all her kids are heartless jerks. We can just take her out to dinner and the latest Jennifer Aniston movie like we usually do.

So he was all for it and I made these really cute invitations. When I showed them to him, he smiled and looked at me and said, "You know, if everyone DOES show up, she's going to be SHOCKED."

I said, "I know. I was going to write that in the invitation, but felt it was inappropriate."

We'll be moved into the house by then and it would be nice to have everyone over. This will FORCE me to get the house ready by that time.

Although, I had to write something in the invitation that actually said: Do Not Let Her Know About This Party--and I really hope they pay attention to it. The last thing I want is for people to call her up and say:

"Oh, by the way, I can't come to your surprise party...SURPRISE!!"

She's an Easy Lover

Me (singing): She's an easy lover...

Me (normal voice): Who sings that terrible song?

Peter: Phil Collins.

Me: Why? Why, Westchester WHY???? Why do you play Phil Collins everywhere? What is it that makes you so LAME? No matter WHERE I GO in Westchester, there's that DAMNED Phil Collins!

Will Smith, African American Hero

My sister Jenny went to a school recently as part of her new job where she educates children about the importance of fresh foods and vegetables. She noticed that the bulletin board still had the Black History Month decorations on them from February. I remember my teachers were really diligent about keeping their classroom borders festive with the current holiday themes, but I suppose the February display should get some special play--after all, it's already short-changed by being such a short month, so hurray for that teacher.

On the bulletin board were the photos of 5 prominent African Americans:

Malcolm X
Harriet Tubman
Barack Obama
Martin Luther King, Jr

and...

Will Smith

I wonder if Colin Powell would be like, "HEY!"

But then again, Will Smith has so improved all our lives by teaching us how to get jiggy with it.

How Did It Get So DIRTY?

The first time Peter and I had rented a place to strangers, the two youngsters kept the place pretty spotless. Not only that, but they painted the walls in terrific colors which made the place look AWESOME and we ended up selling the place for about $30K more than we listed it the year before we rented to them.

So, let's just say that we were kind of Flabbergasted today when we went to take a look at our house. Our renter moved out and we're planning on moving back in--had we known she wasn't going to stay, we might have just moved back to the house last year, but ALAS! These things happen.

I'm actually looking forward to moving back to the house--I've been missing having a nice huge yard and not having to take the dogs out three times a day. It's so much easier to just open the kitchen door.

Anyway, when we went to take a look at the place, it was SO DIRTY. The lady smokes so everything smelled like the bottom of an ashtray. She had just had a cleaning service over the house so I can only imagine what it had been like before they got there. When I opened the kitchen cabinets, there were dirty crumbs of gunky stuff EVERYWHERE. Now, I use my cabinets A LOT. We cook all the time and I have tons of STUFF, but I don't have crumbs all over everything. There was grime and dirt and grossness EVERYWHERE.

I did get a little freaked out by how much mess ONE PERSON can make in three years.

But the way I see it, she was paying a pretty good rent--so whatever it takes to fix up and clean up the house is fine.

Peter was a little worried about me and said, "Don't worry, we'll have this all fixed up and it'll be totally fine. Are you freaked out?"

"No," I told him. "If she can't be bothered to shave that mustache ON HER FACE, how can I really expect her to wipe up some crumbs in the kitchen cabinet."

"I know, right? Every time I was talking to her, my eyes kept wandering to the mustache. It was really distracting."

Rhinebeck

Peter and I are going to Rhinebeck in a couple of weeks--mostly to get away from it all--or rather, get an hour and a half away from it all. So if anyone has any good suggestions for something to do up there, I would appreciate it.

We're planning on having dinner at the Culinary Institute up in Hyde Park, which should be interesting, since it's run by all students. I've been reading Trip Advisor ratings to no avail since the reviews are mixed--it's the craziest thing--it's all:

"Hate it! The students are IDIOTS!"
"Love it! "The students are GENUISES!"
"Hate it! My food was cold!"
"Love it! My food was perfect!"

I guess it depends on the random group of students who happen to be there at the time you visit.

A few years ago, Peter and I drove up to Hyde Park on a lark and I told my mom and she said:

"Oh, yes! Hyde Park! That's where the culinary school is and FDR's old house."

The strange thing is that my mother doesn't know anything about anything most of the time, and yet she'll randomly know something about an obscure place up in the middle of New York State. When I asked her how she knew about this place, she said:

"Well, you know, when our Japanese friends come to visit, it's one of the tours. They go up to visit FDR's home and have dinner at the culinary school before they come back down to the city."

Anyway, that's about all I know about the area also.

Christmas Tree Shops Don't Sell Christmas Trees

While my sister and I were in Albany (Did I mention that I went to Albany?), we went to the local mall to place a reservation at the Cheesecake Factory--unfortunately, there was a huge line and the earliest reservation was for 9pm--so we had two hours to kill.

It took us about six minutes to traverse the whole mall, considering we didn't want to purchase any candles or greeting cards. At the tail end of the mall, there was a place called Christmas Tree Shops and Jenny wanted to go inside.

"But I don't even like Christmas Trees," I said.

"Oh, come on! I went inside that Halloween Store you wanted to go to," she said.

Reluctantly, I walked in the store with her...and I found one of the most AWESOME places on Earth!

I found cookbooks for $5.
I found bags of organic whole wheat rigatoni for $1.65.
I found a shower mirror/radio for $5.

Then I heard Jenny yell, "Utz! Utz! $1 for UTZ!"
She stocked up on bags of Utz selling for $1 each.
Jenny also found a basket for transporting her baked goods for $4.
Jenny found a tea towl to cover her basket for $1.

We spent 2 whole hours browsing through this story and I couldn't find ONE Christmas Tree.

It was kind of upsetting because I've seen these stores whenever I've gone to the mall in Paramus and there's one in Hartsdale, but I assumed it sold Christmas trees and never went inside.

"It's terrible marketing," Jenny said. "This is exactly the kind of store we like and we didn't know about it."

It's true.

The next day, while we were driving back home, I told Jenny, "You're gonna be mad because there 's a Christmas Tree Shop in Amherst and you didn't know about it the whole 4 years you were there."

She said:

"FUCK!!"

"Uhm, okay," I said. "I knew that I was going to get a reaction like, Ooooooh, No Way! or Too Bad!, but FUCK!!? You're taking this really badly."

The Best View in Albany

I'm in Albany with my sister Jenny--she's on a business trip and I've been working on a fellowship application. We're staying at a local hotel and I was disappointed with the fact that our hotel room's window looks out onto the hallway. That's strange, isn't it? What's up with that?

When she mentioned that to a friend of hers, he said, "Why's she disappointed? That's probably the BEST VIEW IN ALBANY."

Word.

No offense, Albanians!

Everyone we've met here is unbelievable super-nice and friendly.

Northern Beans Gone BAD

I have been trying to be better about cooking--I really have--but going out to eat is really one of the only things Peter and I look forward to doing. When both of you work at home all day, it's not only about being too lazy to cook, but it's a reason to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE.

However, because we're trying to save money, I am trying to cook more. And since Peter is a vegetarian, I feel that he should start adding more bean-eating to his diet because pulses are good for you and we must support the pulse farmers of America.

The only problem with beans is the soaking. That means that you can't willy-nilly think of something to cook 30 minutes before dinnertime. It means that you must have soaked the beans overnight, with the intention of cooking the beans the next day.

A few days ago, I put a bag of Northern beans in a metal bowl and filled it with filtered water to let the beans soak. I then proceeded to forget all about said beans for THREE WHOLE DAYS AND NIGHTS.

We came home the other day to the most horrible SMELL. This smell was the most godawful smell that ever was released onto the earth. It was a smell worse than cat pee. It smelled like the regurgitated bowels of three hundred devils, devils who really FUCKED UP and did a whole bunch of BAD SHIT while they were on Earth.

Peter went over to the bowl, lifted the lid I had put on it and said, "What the HELL IS THAT?"

"Oh! It's the...uhm...northern beans I was going to make for you a few days ago."

Those beans went bad. I mean, they went so bad, they went to another realm of bad, the realm known as PURE EVIL.

Not only did it smell like the depths of hell, but they were fermenting and forming a disgusting foam--the kind that SATAN probably bathes in. And of course, since this was ALL MY FAULT, I had to get rid of it, almost throwing up twice in the process.

All this because it's much cheaper to buy dried beans and soak them overnight instead of the handy-dandy canned beans. Suffice it to say, I will be buying more cans of beans.

Northern beans, when you go bad, you go VERY VERY BAD.

When I Die, I Want to Come Back with YOUR Life

When the property manager came through to inspect our apartment (because of the leak in the ceiling), he saw that Peter was sitting on the sofa in front of the television and he asked Peter, "What is that, a video game?"

Peter said, "It's MLB Power Pros."

The guy looked at him for a moment and then said, "When I die, I want to come back with YOUR life."

After he left, Peter said, "Hey, I don't blame him. I love my life."

I Don't Think I Should Win the Lottery

About a month ago, I was in the kitchen with Peter and I happened to look up at the ceiling. What I saw made me SCREAM. I saw this dark brown THING, which I thought was a bug, but when Peter saw what I was looking at, he said, "Oh SHIT!!"

I'm a bit overdramatic, but Peter always has his shit together, so the fact that he was freaking out did NOT make me feel better. Basically, what I thought was a bug was actually a small brown MUSHROOM growing out of the corner of our ceiling. Not only that, but we noticed that there were bumps forming all along our wall.

Apparently, our neighbor upstairs had been doing some "work" in his bathroom and had been taking showers in his untiled bathroom. Right. So who knew how long the water had been leaking down our wall.

To make a long story short, he fixed up his bathroom, called his insurance company and we were awarded $2,000 for the damage, which was really great because it cost about a quarter of that to actually fix the problem.

However, the day after we were told we were going to receive 2 grand, we discovered that the roof of the garage was totally kaput and rain was pouring down the walls. The cost of the damage? $2,000.

Hmmm.

It seems that every time Peter and I get a chunk of money somewhere, something goes wrong and instead of being able to put it into our savings accounts, we have to shell it out to fix some stupid thing or another.

I'm almost afraid to pay the lottery. I mean, what if we win? What horrible thing would happen?

All this damage to our apartment and our house seems to be coming from water, so I wondered if there was some Chinese feng shui thing we could do to prevent this from happening.

I called my mother and asked her if there was something I could do, burn some magic papers in a bowl and mix the ashes with water and pour it over my head? (Okay, that's something I ACTUALLY did a few years ago because my mother told me it would bring me luck...and she had already paid the fortune teller some money to get the magic papers, so I HAD TO do it. And the thing is, I was afraid not to.)

Her reaction was something I totally did not expect. She said:

"WATER? That's GREAT! Water problems are a GREAT SIGN! It means that you and Peter are going to be coming into A LOT of MONEY! Water problems are GOOD LUCK!"

When there was a fire in our building a few years ago, my mother said that fire was also good luck.

What's wrong with these people?

Buy One Get One All Over Your Feet

I took my sister out to lunch today for a "first week at work" celebration. She started her very first full-time job this week helping people in need apply for food programs in the city. We headed out to a Mexican restaurant and I had the enchiladas, but since I am anti-beans, Jenny asked me to request the beans on the side so she could have it. When I told the waiter, he looked at me kind of funny and said, "But they are ALREADY on the SIDE of the plate."

I explained that I would rather the beans be in its own plate--actually, if it were up to me, beans would be on another planet. My hatred of beans has gone back as far as I can remember and even my mother will testify that, as a toddler, I would patiently pick out the azuki in the rice and beans she made one-by-one, flicking them on the floor.

After lunch, I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of Jamba Juice's buy-on-get-one-free coupon. We drove over to 86th and Lexington Ave and boy, was it hectic. There were about 17 cops milling all around, so I didn't want to be caught double-parking. As I came back around the block, I called Jenny, and when she went to pick up her phone, her Jamba Juice fell to the floor and splattered all over her foot.

When she got in the car, I saw that she only had one Jamba in her hand, which was mine. I felt really badly about it and had a lot of elder sister guilt about it. Thoughts like, "Why did I CALL her?" "I should have gone through my lesson of how to carry Jamba Juices! I know she's almost twenty-two years old, but that lesson got passed over!" I was well-taught by my Chinese parents that any fault or defect of a younger sibling and any failure they may come up against in life is MY FAULT because I DIDN'T DO MY JOB PROPERLY.

Their job was to put food on the table and a roof over our heads and my job was to make sure that my sisters were raised right.

Jenny tried to assure me by telling me that she didn't even feel like having a delicious juicy treat. And HEY! You can turn this tragedy into a semi-funny blog post.

Too Much Information

The internet is a great thing, but at one point pre-internet, you would lose touch with a friend and occasionally hear news about them through a third person and you would be glad to know how they were doing.

Now, you can find their personal blogs on the internet, especially personal blogs told from the point of view from their children.

I got a phone call from an old boyfriend of a friend and we were talking about another friend who had a baby a few years ago--did you get that Internet? 3 people! This is what I call making Peter happy and not using first names of our friends who may get upset to be mentioned on my anonymous (perhaps soon to be non-anonymous?) blog.

Whenever any man calls me, Peter is convinced the dude is trying to see if we're still married. Y'know, 'cause the divorce rate is 50% and you never know... Although I think it's sweet that with all the young single girls in the world, Peter thinks that some guys are still holding a torch for this boring and married old lady.

Since her name came up during that phone conversation, I googled my old friend and found this personal web blog that is told from the point of view of her child. The whole blog is all, "Mommy is so wonderful. She's so beautiful and talented and kind."

Okay, so it's kind of strange if she's the one posting that she, herself, is wonderful from the point of view of her child, but it may be even slightly more disturbing if it's the husband posting the entries. I mean, why does he have to constantly stroke her ego? Is anything going on?

And that's not the strangest thing.

They do this thing.

They do this thing when they travel with their child.

They fling him high up in the air and take pictures of him "flying" in front of national landmarks and historical sites.

I know that any description of these photos will not convey how comical they are, but I don't feel right about posting them because that's a violation of privacy...even though these people have posted them ON THE INTERNET for all the world to see. I still don't think it's right.

Peter thinks that we will probably do a million things to our children that other people would criticize and that's true, but that's not going to stop me from talking about my friends behind their backs when they put Coca-Cola in the baby bottle (fine, I don't know anyone who does that).

Anyway, it's just way too much information than I need to know about my old friends from college.

Thanks internet.

Eric Bana Sucks...Energy

The other day I was listening to NPR and the host was interviewing Eric Bana and he was describing his character in the Apatow movie "Funny People."

"I play this guy who sucks all the energy out of the roomKSHHHKSHhhkKshhhhh."

Not only is he a movie ruiner, apparently, he also sucks all the energy out of the RADIO because NPR went all static and I couldn't listen to the rest of the broadcast.

This confirms it. Eric Bana sucks.

Wu Di San Bao Mei

This is an actual summary from the back of a DVD from the third-highest rated drama from Taiwan. According to my sister, this may be a bad translation, but it's a fairly accurate summary of events.



Since small, San Bao (Amber Guo Cai Jie) wish to has a sweet love before married. But, her first love dislikes she's too strong and the barbecued pork scent from her body. From that day, San Bao tries her best to cover the barbecued pork scent and keep searching the loves one. Sadly, the guy she admires runaway once he found out she has incredible strength and barbecued pork scent. Due to this, San Bao feels uneasy and she wants "Guang Ji" to bankrupt so that she can free herself from barbecued pork. However, she was greeting as "Chest Ghost" after "Guang Ji Barbecued Pork Shop" was involved in a shooting. Since then, San Bao is facing another problem. San Bao's first love rejected the San Bao lunch box she gave. So, she gave it to a boy who she saved. The boy, Sun Wu Di (Nicholas Teo) is the young master of Tenkorou. Few years later, both of them meet again but don't recognize each others and they're enemy.

I Feel the Same Way About PEOPLE

My sister told her friend about my Meow Meow dilemma--about how I can't really bond with her even though she's a nice cat who causes no trouble and hasn't even peed on my shoes yet.

"The thing is," my sister told her, "She's the least annoying cat ever and she goes in the toilet and everything, but my sister still doesn't like her."

And her friend said, "Are you talking about a cat? Because I feel the same way about most PEOPLE."

The Google Buddy

One day when we all have the internet strapped to our brains and we won't need any apparatus to consult Google, we won't remember what this is like, but today, my sister Jenny called me and her first words were:

"Where are you?"

That can only mean one thing. She might as well have asked, "Are you in front of your computer?"

Generally, I am strapped to the sofa in front of my computer 99% of my waking life. I only take breaks to make lunch and to supervise the cat as she does her business in the toilet. But today, I was doing something else for a change.

"No, I'm on my way home to visit Mommy and Daddy and Judy."

"Oh," she said. "I was hoping that you could Google something for me."

I'm her Google Buddy. A Google Buddy is someone you call so that they can Google something for you, like, "How many perfect games have there been in Modern Baseball?" (18) "How old is Kim Deal?" (48!) and, "What causes your left eyelid to swell up?" (conjunctivitis)

Jenny is my Google Buddy so it makes sense that I'm hers. Right now neither of us have iphones, which would be really great, but who needs to pay $70/month when we're on our Mom's family plan for free. Hey! There's a recession going on!

The Google Buddy has to be a person you can call who you know loves you enough to understand that you REALLY need to know what Marc Bolan's real name is right-this-minute-right-now or it will drive you CRAZY (Mark Feld). Someone who will not roll her eyes up toward the skies and blow you off because she REALLY GETS YOU.

Get in Line Westchester!

I had gotten a gift certificate at the Womrath Bookstore in Bronxville. I ordered a book there about a month ago and haven't been able to make it down there to pick it up.

They've called the house around five times asking me if I'm planning on picking up that gosh-darned book already. One time, Peter picked up and the lady from the bookstore said something like, "Is she still interested in coming to get the book?" She sounded really snide, so Peter couldn't resist and told her (very nicely even though she was rude):

"Well, she is interested, but the problem is that she's been very busy and your store closes very early."

I don't know who they expect to shop at their store when they close their doors at 6pm, right about the time when most people get home from work.

Today, I suggested to Peter that we go to Bronxville so that I can pick up that book already and we could go to lunch at one of the cute cafe/bistro type places in Bronxville.

So we went and walked around the four or five blocks around the Pondfield Road area in Bronxville and almost every restaurant we approached was full of meat dishes and maybe one or two salads. Or there would be one or two dishes with vegetables titles, but when you read the description, the asparagus is sitting on a bed of steak.

We were about to give up when we came across Wild Ginger. Now, we've already had a terrible experience at their sister restaurant Water Moon in Rye. The food at Rye wasn't good and they sat us in a plush seat where someone had spilled their entire drink onto the chair and so when I sat down, I got my pants completely soaked. And of course, when you're a girl, you don't want to be sitting in wetness for a few hours because that's the kind of environment my friend the pesky yeast infection likes to hang out in.

But, at least they served some things with tofu in it and so we went in. Then the miso soup came out and there was a red seaweed Peter was convinced was fish so he wouldn't drink it. When we ordered, I expressly asked if the meal was vegetarian and the waiter said yes. So of course Peter was grossed out to get two chicken dumplings in his bento box and a few pieces of california roll. I felt that the waiter should have been attentive to the fact that I asked for a vegetarian meal considering there were only two other diners at the restaurant at the time, but the thing is, Westchester does not cater to vegetarians and so it's probably much too much to ask for.

This is why we only go to three places in Westchester. It's so annoying to try someplace new and get upset and irritated. I don't blame the restaurants, but it's the whole Westchester vibe. In some ways, Bronxville is the epitome of Westchester, a place that's not really interested in doing a great job. When you go to a restaurant in Manhattan, most of the time, you feel like the people are trying to do their best. They take pride in the food and they want you to have a great meal.

In Westchester, there's a bit of a "get in line" attitude. As in: You want food? Well, we've got food! Get in line! What? You wanted food, didn't you? Well, didn't you get food? What do you want?

No one's competing to be the "best" restaurant around here. They're just all here, waiting for you to get hungry. They don't care that you said you wanted vegetarian. They don't care that you asked for a Coca-Cola and not Diet Coke. And THAT'S why we drive an hour into the city to get dinner.

The Meow Meow

We have had our cat for about a year now. The one officially named Emily Mortimer, but I have always called her Meow Meow. Last night, I said to Peter, "This cat doesn't have a real name."

"Yes she does. We call her Meow Meow."

"But that was sort of an interim name until I could come up with something better, something more suitable, except that I never fully believed we'd keep her and now she's stuck with this stupid name."

"Meow Meow, isn't stupid."

Well, isn't it? Sorta?

Her name isn't exactly Meow Meow since I call her, "The Meow Meow." As in:

"When did you feed The Meow Meow?"

"Did you see The Meow Meow?"

"Has The Meow Meow peed in the toilet today?"

When we found her last year, we figured we would clean her up and find a nice home for her, because we FO SHO did not want to add "cat owner" to our resume.

But she's been a very easy cat to deal with. When my friend Marisol came over and we asked her if she wanted a cat, she said:

"Hell, no. I don't want a keep a litter box."

"Oh," I said. "She does all her business in the toilet, so you won't need to keep a litter box."

"Well," Marisol said. "I don't want a cat to scratch up my stuff."

"She doesn't do that," I said. "When she wants to go scratch, she goes to her scratch pad."

While talking to Marisol about The Meow Meow, I realized that we have raised a pretty nice cat. She isn't much trouble at all. The only down side to her personality is that she isn't very friendly. She's not the kind of cat who runs up to you for pets, unless she wants to eat. But I think the reason for that is that every time we give the cat attention, our huge dogs run up to us all, "Hey! What're you DOin'?"

So why do I still have moments when I want to get rid of her?

I'll just say it. I'm not a cat person. I don't really like cats. I like going to other people's houses and petting their cats and hanging out with them for a little while, but I'm just not that crazy about them.

The Meow Meow is almost no trouble at all and that's why she's still here, but I always feel that perhaps she deserves to be in a household of cat lovers.

But then she'll look so cut sitting at the windowsill, or meow at me to ask me to watch her pee in the toilet and almost every time she goes in the toilet, Peter says, "Awww... Look at how much she loves you. She wants to go for you."

And then another day will go by. And I'm faced with the reality of having to keep her for 15 more years.

My Firsts

I got this tag from someone about my firsts:

1. Who was your FIRST prom date? junior prom:Jimmy Panageotopolous (at least I think that's how he spelled it.

2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love? My grandpa? I email him.

3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Frangelico

4. What was your FIRST job? babysitter

5. What was your FIRST car? '99 Maxima

6. Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Miss Adams

7. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Taiwan

8. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Vivian, she moved away when we were 9

9. Where was your FIRST sleep over? my cousin Mark

10. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Peter

11. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? My cousin Shone

12. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Talk to Peter

13. FIRST piercing? I don't have any.

14. FIRST foreign country you went to? Taiwan

15. FIRST movie you remember seeing? E.T.

16. When was your FIRST detention? Eighth grade

17. Who was your FIRST roommate? Yukari during my Japanese stay junior year of h.s.

18. What is something you would learn if you had the chance? Juggling

19. What was the first sport that you were involved in? Track

20. What were the first lessons you ever took? Piano/Art

21. What is the first thing you do when you get home? Take off my pants.

The Spacetime Continuum Brought to You by MLB Power Pros

Peter: So, I'll have that glass of water you offered me before.

Me: You mean, the glass of water I offered to pour you three hours ago?

Peter: Was it THAT long ago? When I'm playing this video game, I can't seem to keep track of time.

It's Different for White Folks

The other night Peter and I had dinner with a friend of mine and her boyfriend--yes, a couples date sort of thing. They are moving to San Francisco, the land of perfect weather--a place that only rains so that the city can show off its large rainbows that stretch across the entire heavens. Sometimes the city is so generous, she'll give you two huge rainbows simply because she loves you. (That bitch Chicago will only give you slushy rain/snow and hail because that's just how she rolls.)






I was telling the boyfriend that I would love to move somewhere with warm weather, but I didn't want to go out to the West Coast. I'm a bit nervous about the South because I'm Asian.

"Southern people are the nicest people you'd ever meet," he said. "They're not racist at all."

Hmmm... Southern people being racist? Where would I get a CRAZY idea like that?

I tried to explain that I'm sure that many many Southern people are perfectly wonderful, but there aren't very many Asian people down there.

I happened to have grown up in New York City, the melting pot capital of the world--and still having my fair share of racist bullying from the kids at my elementary school in Queens. So I sort of know what I'm talking about.

But he kept going on and on and on about how Southern people are great and get a bad rap until Peter said, "But you're white. Of course they're nice to YOU."

Plus, aren't Southern people nice to you to your face and then they put sheets over their heads and run you out of town?

I've been to Superbowl parties at my sister-in-law's house and their friends, the people who they claim are the NICEST people in the world--people they have entrusted as godparents to their children--start using the N-word as soon as they get a few drinks in them.

I really do hope there are less racists in the world than I think there are--that would be great. After all, we did elect a black man into office and how we're getting a woman of color in the Supreme Court. The times--They are a'changin'.

I hope we really are ushering in a new era when we can say, "Americans are the nicest people you can ever meet. They're not racist at all."

Pasty Butt? That's Not Real

Several of the little girls in the writing class I teach have chicken coops in their backyards. They told me about a phenomenon called "pasty butt." That's when the poop clogs up the hen's butt and if a human doesn't clean it up, the hen will die. 

"WHAT?" I could not believe this. "How can hens survive out in the wild then if they can die from not being able to wipe their butts?" 

The girls really didn't know the answer to this--they figured those hens would just die from not being able to poop. The girls are around 9 years old, which means that they are just fascinated with poop, farts, and burping and so many of their stories are peppered with aliens farting. 

I came home and told Peter about pasty butt.

Peter: Pasty butt? That's not real. That must be what the girl's mother calls it. 

Me: Well, what would YOU call that condition?

Peter: I'm sure there's a real and scientific name for that. And it's not going to be pasty butt.

Me: Like we go around using the scientific name for everything. Pasty butt is probably an accepted term in the chicken keeping community. 

Peter: Not likely. 

Me: Well, what would YOU call it when a hen can't poop out of her butt?

Peter: I don't know. I think I would need a few days to think about it.

Me: I'm only going to give you 5 minutes.

Peter: Uhm.... Butt Shut or Shut Butt.

Me: Right. Because THAT sounds MUCH better than pasty butt. 

Haymarket in Northampton--What Happened?

Peter and I just spent a weekend in Burlington, VT. It was mostly a trip to see what the town was about and to figure out if we wanted to move there one day. 

On the way home, we decided to stop by Northampton, since it was on the way, and have dinner at our favorite restaurant--Haymarket. We love their curry, the sandwiches, my sister loves their salads, Peter is mad for the rice and beans and banana. 

I called my sister to let her know that we were going to stop by and she was so excited--but then we got there and....THE FOOD WAS GONE!

Okay, the food wasn't gone, but their regular menu was not available and they presented us with this new fancy shmancy dinner menu and the downstairs was all covered with gauze curtains and lit candles on the tables. 

Huh? Whuh? 

WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE PLACE I LOVE!!!!????!!!!

It's like you meet this cool girl and she loves all the same music you like--like The Cure and The Smiths and The Pixies--and then one day she decides to listen to the Kelly Clarkson and then it's just a dangerous and slippery slide down to THE DAVE MATTHEWS BAND.

And then you have to look at her and realize...she's changed. Do you still want to be with her now that she's become just like everyone else?

The Haymarket host dude was really smug about the fact that they would not make the old menu--not even for someone who has traveled three hours just to get to their restaurant--and my father owns a restaurant, so I know restaurant kitchens. And he would never refuse to make something for a customer if it was in his power to do so. 

We ended up having dinner there anyway, because I have never been disappointed at the Haymarket...until last night. 

I got a mushroom risotto and Peter got something that he can't even remember and the consensus was that the food was nothing special. If I wanted to go to a nice sit-down restaurant with great food, I would go across the street to Paul and Elizabeth's. 

I know this is silly, but Peter and I spent the next two hours of our ride home moaning and groaning about what happened to our favorite place.

Why do people do that? Why do they decide to FUCK with a good thing?