Can Challenge

The boy and I were watching The Next Iron Chef: Redemption and it was the episode with the can challenge...every contestant got a can they had to elevate into a great dish. Through all cooking shows, I am yelling at the TV about the mistakes they are making, bad dish choices, etc. In this particular challenge, I was telling the boy what I would make with each can of food. So, he challenged me to put my money where my mouth was. He went to the grocery store and bought a can of food, took off the label, and tonight I cooked dinner with it. 

The rules were:

1. Once I looked at the label, I had an hour and a half to go to the grocery store and cook the meal.
2. I couldn't spend more than $25.
3. I would be "graded" on a 100 point scale, 25 for time, 25 for cost, 45 for taste, and 5 for the use of cheese. Clearly I did not make the scale.

This was our trial run. We plan on inviting people over for future ones and maybe collaborating with other people. It doesn't always have to be a can, just a secret ingredient challenge. And honestly, it was a lot of fun doing it just by myself.

The boy documented the process in photos:

Can you figure out what it is?

Corned Beef Hash! 

So, I made a corned beef hash cake with onion, garlic and mustard and I served it with pan seared pork, cider braised cabbage, and a roasted apple bourbon sauce. 

Honestly...it was one of the best meals I have made in a long time. The boy gave it a 95 (due to lack of cheese) and said it was excellent. Now, most of you probably hear things like, oh, honey, this dinner is great from your significant others. The most I ever get is "it's allright." So, an excellent is a pretty big compliment around here.

I will not kill baby seals...unless they become zombies.

1. I am going to win the power ball. Just so you know. And when I do, I will buy you all something. So, make sure to tell me what you want. As long as what you want isn't like a clubbed baby seal. I will not club a baby seal for anyone. 
2. I went to the homeless shelter again today and then bought a woman baby formula because the price went up and she didn't have enough money. I am sitting pretty high on my helping people horse today. 
3. My first ever Thanksgiving went awesome. I think I pulled off some pretty good food, which is good because it is my job to pull off good food. BUT I was still nervous as shit. Because that is how I do.
4. I cut off all my hair. I do this every winter (??) and always grow it out in the summer. The problem is that I have to put my hair into a hat. And it is bob length now. So, I get this weird halo of hair that cannot be restrained, so after a lunch service I look like I stuck my finger in a mildly greasy electrical socket. What I am getting at here is that I am HOT. But I do love the new do.
5. I am OBSESSED with The Walking Dead. Borderline creepy obsessed. In fact, right now, I am thinking to myself that I could be watching it instead of doing EVERYTHING ELSE. Like sleeping. And eating. And holding down a steady job. I can't really talk about how amazing it is because Pocket Pen and I are sort of watching it together until I skipped WAY ahead like an ass hole and I don't want to give it away. But, pretty much, all I want to do is watch it. OBSESSED.
6. I am growing to not hate, but loathe facebook. If I can't figure out a way to block 95% of the ass holes on there, I may jump ship. I don't know how much more I can take.
7. It took me a week of conversations and begging and pleading and renegotiating to get 4 days off work. It was painful. Everyone else just says, hey, I want this day. I get told I am screwing everyone over. I know they are just giving me shit, but over it. I need a break. I haven't taken a day off work since the last week of September. 2011. I AM EXHAUSTED.
8. Speaking of work...or just life in general, I am super bummed lately. I don't know if it is the weather getting colder, that our big family holiday is over (we don't really do much for Christmas) or what, but I am crabby and depressed and also my entire body hurts like I am getting the flu. And everyone at work is super crabby too. I got into a screaming match today over cutting fries. FOR THE RECORD, HE SHOULD HAVE JUST CUT THEM WITHOUT THE ATTITUDE. See? Unreasonable and crabby.
9. Rogue Dead Guy is my new favorite beer. Not really new. Just forgotten. Also it's called Rogue Dead Guy. Best. Name. For. A. Beer. Ever.
10. One thing I can tell you about The Walking Dead...kill me if a zombie apocalypse happens. The boy pretty much told me I was the last person he wanted with him. I get super annoyed when the people are compassionate about killing the people they know that turn into zombies. Or spend too much time mourning them. It's war people, cut off heads and move along. Mourn at night, privately in your tent. Not in the middle of a field while your friends kill zombies so you can sob over your dead sister. Not cool. Also, I am a heartless ass hole.

If you follow me in Instagram, you already know I had an awesome weekend.

This post is going to be a short explanation followed by a ton of pictures. This weekend we went to Lake Erie to stay with some friend's parents who own a house up there. The boy and I were tentative. We didn't know the family at all and the guys aren't really that close. Or weren't, I should say. The weekend was AMAZING. He failed to tell me that his parents had an ENORMOUS, BEAUTIFUL house on the beach. And a boat. And that they were the coolest parents that ever were.

His mom, upon meeting me, made me sit down and tell her everything about me. She literally said, "Start from the beginning, how did you get to Ohio, how did you become a chef, I want to know everything now." Because she wanted to get to know me. And she listened and asked questions and it was so refreshing. She cracked me up the whole weekend with her "what's going on, what's happening" in this impatient way that made me tell her immediately. I can't explain it; she was just awesome. And his dad was calm and stoic, but also extremely interested in getting to know us. One of those people who you chance a glance at and he is hanging on every word, although not saying a word, with a grin on his face. Love it.

You can tell that he had one of the best childhoods anyone could ever ask for. The stories they told were amazing. They DID things. They got hurt and rode wave runners and drove boats and are inseparable to this day from the kids they grew up with. It made the kid inside of me so jealous it hurt. It seems my childhood of reading books and playing barbies just didn't seem to add up. Inadequacies aside, it was one of the most relaxing trips I have ever taken. And I want to go back right now.

Now for the pictures.

This was our room in the apartment above the garage. The fridge was stocked with beer and water. They even had q-tips sitting out in the bathroom. I felt so pampered.

 This is the view from the balcony on our garage apartment (they call it the Seaver Suite.) How jealous are you right now? Their gardens were beautiful.

 This is the beach directly off their patio. I am currently looking in the direction of Cleveland. 

 Our home away from home.

 The view from the beach. This is the front of the house, which I was reminded of repeatedly. REPEATEDLY. Apparently it's quite insulting to call the street side the front. You know, the side with the FRONT DOOR. (I clearly didn't take to this little custom very well.)

 This is BB, the neighbors cat. He made me a Manhattan (the neighbor, not BB) and told me stories about his misspent youth. He took us out on the boat Sunday morning. I haven't been on a boat in at least 15 years. It was exhilarating. And he was one of the coolest men I have ever met. There is apparently a saying, "there are people who know him, and people who don't. I feel sorry for the people who don't." I will definitely be saying this. Often.

 Everyone has to have the picture of the feet in the water on the beach, right? What you can't see is my now even darker flip flop tan. And, no, I do not paint my toenails anymore. I AM SLOWLY TURNING INTO A BOY.

Sunset on Saturday night. Everyone said this is the calmest the lake has been in years. 

We made a bonfire and then proceeded to make smores. 

 There are two brothers that live about 6 houses apart and they were having dueling fireworks. 

 Sunrise Sunday morning. The boy took this because we all know that I was up until 1 am drinking beer by the bonfire and was clearly still in bed. 

 Traffic jam on the way home. Then we missed our exit and had a 20 mile detour to get back on track. And I bruised my tailbone at some point during this whole trip and was in some serious pain the whole time. But, fuck it, it was still the best weekend I have had in a long time and I wouldn't change a damn thing.

Apparently I am becoming a lesbian

Today was kind  of amazing. My dad and stepmom picked up the boy and I and we went to brunch at this really cool restaurant that sits on the river. The weather was perfect, the atmosphere was gorgeous, and the general manager is a friend so our bill went from $111 to $57. It pays to work in this industry sometimes. Well, it barely pays. But the perks are nice. 

Then we had a lazy afternoon and the boy and I walked to our favorite spot for dinner and beer (they have happy hour from 11 - 7 ALL WEEKEND) and walked through the park and back home. This is why I never blog. I am out DOING things instead of sitting in the suburbs wishing I was out doing things. Honestly. This day never would have happened three months ago. It was the epitome of everything I want from living in the city. 

During dinner, we were discussing our single friends and the following conversation happened:

TB: Last night a friend asked me who I would let you become a lesbian with.

Me: Who you would let me become a lesbian with?

TB:Yeah (totally missing the point of me emphasizing "let")

Me: I cannot wait to hear this.

TB: Well, I originally said Krackle, but her name is the same as your sisters and that weirded me out.

Me: Um. OK? Because this is a very realistic conversation.

TB: So, instead I went with that new girl you picked up on the street and that girl you work with.

Me: The lesbian that I work with?

TB: No. The other girl.

Me: The very straight very married one?

TB: Yes. Well, it's not like this is actually going to happen.

Me: Clearly. Why did you have this conversation again? 

TB: It's just hypothetical. 

Funnily enough, I was aware of that.

On a very lesbian note, Big Jed and I have been texting back and forth about the lack of ample boobs on the beach volleyball team. I sent a text that actually said "fuck those bitches and their itty bitty titties." To which Big Jed responded "cunt rags, all of them." This is why we are friends.

And for the record, it would so be Big Jed or Krackle if I went lesbian. But the other two chicks are pretty hot too.

Bittersweet

I packed all the picture frames and decorations in the living room tonight. I know that this may seem early...we have a little over three weeks until we move. But, work is about to get real and I want to make sure that the boy isn't stuck doing it all himself. 

I am...sad? happy? A little bit of both. The walls are empty. I have spent 10 years making those walls look exactly how I want them to look. And slowly...I am tearing down 10 years. 

I don't think the boy totally understands. I am not really making a huge effort to help him understand. This place is me. It is my entire adult life. And I am walking away from it. 

And here is where I tell the story. The story I wasn't sure I would ever tell here. It's ridiculously personal in a way that I am not comfortable with. 

I am, quite literally, walking away. Financially, that is. I am foreclosing on my condo. 

My dad bought the condo a few months before my 21st birthday. So, I have been here for 10 years. (Yes, I have said 11 a lot, but that is just evidence of my math skills.) I paid all of the expenses and then bought it from him about 7 years ago. 

Since then, property values have soared (if I sold in 2008, I would have made about $40k) and plummeted. The neighborhood is getting questionable. The condo association is broke. Our basement leak? They don't have the money to fix it. We are starting to get mold. There are so many condos for sale, I can't even tell you. The walk I take to get to the track I run on has 6 alone. It's a 3 minute walk. 

If I put the condo up for sale today, the most I can hope for is retaining my mortgage for $20k. 

The condo a few doors down has been on the market for a year. 

I can't rent the condo because of the basement. Which the condo association has all but refused to fix. And I could never rent it for the amount of money that we are paying per month. The average rental price is about $200 less a month than our mortgage.

I have consulted a lawyer. The lawyer, after much deliberation, has advised that I take the exact action that I am taking. I am regarding it as a business decision. I say this partly because I want you all to understand that I have done my research. I am not walking into this decision lightly. And because I don't want any of you to worry that legally, or financially, I am at risk. That work has been done.

It is hard to put all of these memories in a box. It is hard to just walk away. I catch the boy wanting to fix holes in the wall and I think to myself, this house is going to be empty for years. YEARS. Nobody will buy it with the basement in the state it is in. Nobody wants to live in this neighborhood. And I can't help the waves of sadness that wash over me as I picture this home, my home, empty and abandoned. 

It breaks my heart. I know that I am talking, for all intents and purposes, about wood and drywall and paint. About an inanimate object. But, it feels real to me. I feel bad leaving my home. Just leaving it to a bank that is going to do nothing to take care of it. To, honestly, the only home I have ever known. 

I am so excited for the next step, for the next home, for making a home with the boy. Our home. 

But, I didn't have that house I grew up in. I had 7. I don't have memories of houses, I have never had a home until here. And it feels...raw. 

We close June 1st and the movers are scheduled for June 2nd. It is happening. Obviously, everything is going in the boys name. And we are selling my car. I am committing to 7 years with him (although I would commit to forever) because I will quite literally be at his mercy. My credit will be shot. I will have no car. I am someone who has been independent my entire life. This is, well, hard.

No. Hard  is the easy road. I am absolutely, bone chillingly, terrified. Not that the boy will leave, or that I will leave. Not that I will get stranded in this life with nothing. About relinquishing control. 

I find myself trying to control everything. And yet, controlling nothing. I feel so out of my element I can't even put words to it. My entire adult life, I was in control of everything. And letting go is not coming that easy. 

Being at someone else's mercy is just not me. It's just not who I am. And, yet, here I stand. I love and trust the boy. I want this life with him. I want that stupid white picket fence we are planning to put up in the front yard. I want the 2.5 kids. I am not holding my breath for the walk in closet.

Inspect this, bitch

I apologize for all the house related posts. But, as you can imagine, this whole process is kind of taking over our lives. 

We had the inspection today which went...OK. Obviously, the ideal is to walk away from the inspection with everything in the acceptable category. That didn't so much happen. The house was built in 1911 and remodeled in 1998. The remodel was done properly and all the electrical and plumbing are up to code, but there are just some odd things. Like a step that is 4 inches too tall. And the water heater and furnace are sitting on the dirt floor of the cellar. 

There were a few things that were a little more concerning. We need a new water heater. They closed up the access to the attic. Like, dry walled over the hole and we have to cut a hole in the ceiling. Because, you know, there are birds living up there. Birds that we REALLY don't want to lay eggs and have babies and then we either have to kill the babies (which I am not even sure they will do nor am I willing to do) or sleep with incessant chirping until fall. You know, because THAT is ideal. Maybe we can get some monkeys up there and have a live noise machine.

A few plumbing issues and other minor shit. Oh, and the dishwasher doesn't work. Like, won't even turn on. I get that we are doing this in a very non-traditional way, but I find it odd that nobody, renter or owner, even mentioned this to us. Because, you know, a non-working appliance is kind of key to know. I think the owner didn't know and the renter is kind of like "fuck these ass holes, taking away my home and shit" about the whole thing. Except he doesn't talk like that.

There is SO MUCH LANDSCAPING to be done. While all the boys wandered around the outside of the house, I took pictures of the landscaping situation. The back pretty much needs the grass taken out and re-seeded. It is 98% crab grass. The front is better...except for the random concrete in the yard. You know, that is good for lawnmowers. And there is ivy EVERYWHERE. Growing on the fences, the house (in very small amounts), the garage, etc. I am in a fight with ivy.

There is a rosebush. Now. I doubt I have told you the story of the rose bush at the condo...but when I moved in (11 years ago!!!) there was a rose bush adjacent to the front porch. The first few years, I thought it was pretty. Then it just became overgrown and I didn't know how to care for it, so I dug it out.

It came back the next year. I poured salt water on the roots (I read that this kills plants.)

It came back the next year. I dug it out again.

It came back the next year. You get the picture. And this thing wasn't just like, hey, pretty roses. It was taller than me. And it overtook the front porch and attacked anyone trying to enter the house. Sort of like the geese that try to kill me at least once a week. 

It could not be killed. The boy finally managed to kill it last year because I have not seen signs of it.

Until today. And it is growing next to the porch on the new house. 

You guys, I am being stalked by a rose bush. And I contemplated calling the police, but it will be hard to enjoy the new house from the insane asylum. But, it's the same bush. The same mother fucking rose bush that I know I will not be able to kill. And it is creeping onto the front porch to wrap around my legs, cartoon style, every day when I get home from work. 

Once again, everything fell into place with this house. There was a time in my life where I thought nothing good came easy. You had to work hard for everything. That saying is stupid. The boy and I came real easy. No relationship is without work, but the beginning; easy. I never even filled out a job application at my current job. Just got a phone call, went in for a 4 minute interview, and was hired. This house just fell in our lap. 

Yes, working hard is important, that is not what I am saying. But, the best things in my life have just landed on my lap, all wrapped up with a great big bow. Life is mother fucking good.

And thank you everyone for the kind words on the job front. I was not trying to confuse anyone...I honestly don't know if I am excited or not either. It is just an odd situation that I am going to take day to day. Because, really, that is all I can do.

We're moving. Holy. Fucking. Crap. Balls. We are moving.

Just...holy shit. This is happening.

Remember how I was excited about buying a house? I still am. It has been almost 11 years since I last purchased a home of any kind. I forgot the stress of it all. I forgot what it was like to see the numbers in front of you and go, HOLY FUCK I CANNOT AFFORD THIS. But we can. We are. We are doing this.

I had dinner with friends tonight while the boy read through the mortgage and all the contracts. I drank a beer while the boy spent an amount of money that could buy at least a car. I came home and he had taken a fair amount of tequila shots and beer and was hyped up on mortgage anxiety. 

We are doing this.

The boy is buying the house. This is a story I am not going to tell here, yet. Maybe ever. There are lawyers and a lot of shit involved with us selling the condo that are just, well, shitty. So, I feel a little disconnected. I feel a little sad that I am going to be a renter, in the legality of things. I feel a little sad to leave my home of 11 years. A home that Kobi grew up and died in. A home that housed Krackle and I. A home that held Kaya and Ally - Krackle's dogs. A home that holds so much of me. It's hard. It's hard to be going through what I am going through. So, yes I am ridiculously happy. Yes, this is exactly what I want.  But, I am sad. 

It is hard to talk about this because I am trying so hard to focus on the future, the new, the next step. I am writing garden journals and so many spreadsheets. I am trying to just get my mind off of the fact that I am leaving my entire adult life behind. In this one place, this one home.

I grew up moving a lot. I lived in 6 houses by the time I was 17. 9 houses before I bought this condo at 20. This is the longest I have lived in one place by, well, a lot of years.  At least 5 years. 

And I have always been in control. For 11 years I have had my house and my car and my things. This changes that. The house will technically be the boys. We are selling my car, so I will technically have no car. 

It is easy for me to focus on the good. The things that are going to be amazing about all of these changes, because, well, I have to focus on those things. If I start to think about everything else, well, I find it hard to breathe. 

I am so excited, I really am. I am just overwhelmed. I am scared. I am putting my faith in someone else and I don't think I have ever done that before, not on this level. I am in love and happy and trust the boy, but holy shit. I am about to give away everything that is me so that me can become us. And it is fucking awesome. Terrifying. But, awesome.

Just this moment.

We put in a "final" offer. This is the most we can afford, the most. This is the last offer we will make. I am equal parts ecstatic and having an anxiety attack. Josey brought up a point that we don't want to be house poor and I feel the need to clarify.

This will not clean out our savings, nor will it put us in a situation where we can't pay our bills. We are going to look at things like our $760 a month food budget. WHAT? This is what happens when you live with/ are a chef. You spend ridiculous amounts of money on food. When you could easily just not. And still be happy.  Can I tell you what I can do with a $1 bag of rice, a $1 bag of dried beans and some spices? Because it is amazing and can make 6 meals. I just prefer extravagance. So, the food budget will be re-evaluated. We are also selling my car because I will now walk to work. So will the boy. So, we will have a car sitting out front for when we need to leave the city. Which, hopefully, is rare. 

I am saying that we will be house poor because we will no longer be able to spend whatever we want on whatever we want. We will have to be frugal. I want you guys to be excited, not worried. That is why I am clarifying. Also...can somebody please hold an intervention on our food budget? THERE ARE ONLY TWO OF US. Putting that on paper hurt a little.

On another note, the boy and I sat down at dinner and talked about other options. Options that included renting for a year in a one bedroom apartment (!!!) to save money so we have a larger down payment and thus can afford a slightly more expensive house. He mentioned moving in with my dad and I almost murdered him with a butter knife and a spoon. But, I agreed to consider it. 

Unfortunately where we are now is no longer a healthy situation (the basement leak they won't fix is going to end in mold) nor is it a financially beneficial situation. So, moving on is definitely in the cards. And hopefully this house is how we do that. 

In my head, we have already moved in. I have decorated the house and planned the garden in the back yard. I have planned many food adventures in the cellar. I have already hung art on the walls. I even know where NCH's cat box will be and where the toothbrush will sit on the bathroom sink. (We have one electric toothbrush with two different heads. Is this weird? As I read that previous sentence, it made me think this was weird.)

It will hurt to let this house go, but more than likely, we will. And I am prepared for that too. But, for a moment, just a moment, I am going to sit right here and pretend like this house is ours. 

To buy or not to buy, that is the question.

You know what is really frustrating? Making an offer on a house. You know what is even more frustrating? Falling in love with a house and watching yourself pay more money than you wanted to. You know what is even more frustrating than that? Wanting the house so bad you don't care, even thought that is the exact opposite of what you should do.

I am not built for this. I caught myself thinking, well, if we can't get him to come down further, I'll just get another job. Or we'll eat Ramen noodles. Or whatever. We can afford it. But, we are going to be house poor. Something we both didn't want to do.

Is it worth it for the house in the neighborhood you never thought you could afford? Oh, wait. That you definitely could never afford. A house that you both really, really like. A house that has exposed brick in the bedroom and a backyard screaming for a vegetable garden? Is it worth the cobblestone street you will live on? And the walking distance to work and the grocery store and restaurants and C's house?

I am impulsive where the boy is cautious. Everything about me screams, yes. BUY THIS HOUSE.

We love this house.

There are other houses. Houses for $30K less in a less desirable neighborhood. With no cobblestone streets, no exposed brick, a less than perfect back yard. Houses that would require a lot of work to fix up. Other houses.

Sigh. Next time we move, I am just going to let the boy find and negotiate the house and just find out when we move. I am far too insane for this process.

UPDATE: I can't resist. I just can't.

Pop Quiz: Is it me or the boy whose cheese slid off their cracker?

Hey honey, we could buy a bunker instead of a house.

We are not, under any circumstances, becoming doomsday preppers.

We could get a really nice bunker for the same price as a house.

Where would we live?

In the bunker.

Where would we build the bunker?

On Big Jed's property. She would never notice. Except for the cars. And an occasional short dog sighting.

Yes, clearly, she would think nothing of the cars.

And of us digging a giant hole on her property.

It's 600 square feet.

We would kill each other if confined to 600 square feet just the two of us.

It's better than dying in the nuclear war.

What nuclear war?

Well, you never know. 

So, you want to live in the bunker for the rest of our lives, just the two of us, never interacting with anyone?

We would have nuclear suits.

Well, clearly.

Things I love today

1. Catching up with good friends who I haven't seen in a long time. Now that I work days, this is much, much easier. And the margaritas and food were delicious, which is always a plus. I would have totally eaten fast food and drank coke, though. It was a much needed night out.
2. This weather. 70 degrees and sunny? In March? Sitting here with all the windows open is amazing.
3. The week after restaurant week...when everyone spent all their hard earned dough last week and are eating Ramen noodles and fast food. 
4. Having enough free time to plot with a coworker to fuck with the rest of our coworkers. Bonding in the restaurant world is not asking someone to go to lunch with you. It is playing practical jokes on each other and laughing so hard you cry when they get PISSED. I am always in....as long as farts are not involved. That is when the girl in me comes out and I just run.
5. olo.ol'  <-- The boy did that. He thinks he is hilarious. He's not. He made me leave it. What is the blogging equivalent of spelling S.O.S. in the sand on a stranded island? Because let's just call this that.
6. Visitors at work! I love when people come visit me at work. I am really the only person who has a revolving door of friends that stop in, but it makes me feel special? I don't know that special is the right word. Supported? I love that the people I love come in to eat. I think that says something. It also ends in countless jokes of "Erratic has friends?" Which are ALWAYS hilarious. (get better jokes, boys)
7. House hunting. I am driving the boy crazy because I get all excited and decorate every single house I like. I picture dinner parties and imagine where my friends will stand in the kitchen while I cook. I put our furniture in every room of the house. I hang our artwork on the walls. I see myself walking into the house after a long days work. It's just what I do. I am very enthusiastic (shut up all of you, I know that is an understatement) when I like something, love something, want to do something. And I am impatient. And I want to do everything right now. I know this isn't like that. I know that it is a process and we still need a couple of months to get enough for the down payment. But, you can't knock a girl for enthusiasm or imagination. 
8. My new fitness plan? I am not sure that is what I want to call it. The next step in my lifestyle overhaul. I have been talking to Bradshaw about all of it because nobody is more dedicated to being in shape than that woman. I feel like I have been making small, good changes that will stick. And I am excited for the next step in those changes. I am eliminating bad things, slowly. Adding good things, slowly. I think I am doing this the right way instead of jumping into something head over heels and then reverting back to the old plan. That never works for me. And I am excited that I know myself enough to realize that.
9. Packing. Is that weird? I know it is months down the road (although, we are going to start packing nonessentials fairly soon.) I just love the weeding out aspect of it. It feels so...freeing to get rid of all your old bullshit. That I will soon replace with new bullshit. But, still. Out with the old, in with the new. Who wants to help us move?
10. The giant wine sale at my grocery store. I walked into the section today and it was like rows and rows of yellow sale stickers. Like, every bottle. I didn't grab a cart or basket, so I could only hold four bottles. But, they were easily all $3 - $20 off depending on the bottle. I have intentions of going back tomorrow with a cart. And no self control. Maybe a little self control. I got a $24 bottle of wine for $12! You guys. Amazing. My liver is going to start it's own emo blog entitled "Why do you hate me?"

A long overdue introduction and some other shit.

The Top Chef Finale is tonight. This show is by far my favorite show on television for several reasons. The obvious is that it is about food and food is my happy place. But, it is more than that. This show highlights up and coming chefs and their food. Yes, their personalities are a part of it. But, I love the zany challenges and the competitive cooking. I don't know. I just love it. I seriously watch the episodes 5 or 6 times. And now that the finale is on, I will probably have a marathon from the beginning sometime this weekend.

Also, if Paul doesn't win, I may break my TV. Because things will be thrown. Swear words yelled. And wine consumed.

***

The weather has been fucked this winter. It was SEVENTY MOTHER FUCKING DEGREES TODAY. Just. No. I loved it. It was a beautiful day. But, tornadoes in February? Devastating tornadoes. Blizzards in Utah. I am literally sitting here with the back door wide open in shorts and a T-shirt. Yes, I love the mild winter. But, I just fear what it means for March. Or just the planet in general. Or the summer. Because, you know, ONE HUNDRED DEGREES IN THE KITCHEN TODAY. And it was only 70 outside.

Also, I found out Snookie is pregnant and due December 21st. I am pretty sure all signs lead to the world ending.

***

I need to introduce someone to this blog because it occurred to us tonight that you guys don't know who he/they are. We are going to call him Pocket Pen (he always has a pen in his pocket) and her Cupcake. They are our closest "couple" friends - the go to double date. Also, they are awesome and I am ashamed I have not told more stories about them here. THE SHAME. 

So, the boy hates seafood. Won't touch it, hates if I even cook it in the house. When the trip to Vegas came up, PP suggested that the two of us get together and eat some seafood because Cupcake is in Vegas with him. The boy, PP, and Cupcake are all coworkers. So, since PP and I were single for the week...we had dinner. 

He is also a pretty awesome food photographer as evidenced by these photos he took of my dinner. I made grilled Mahi Mahi with ponzu sticky rice, grilled zucchini, and a spicy coconut lemongrass sauce.

Good food, good company. 

I would like to dedicate this post to all the dead hookers out there.

The boy is in Vegas for six days for work. Some of you might think this post is going to be about how this is the longest we have ever been apart. Because, that is true. But, it's not. Some of you  may think that this is about how much I miss him. Because that is also true. But, it's not.

It's about how the only rule I gave him when he left was that I would leave him if he woke up in the morning lying next to a dead hooker and a pile of blow. 

The thing that makes us work is that we don't have a lot of rules. We trust each other, explicitly. That was something both of us made very clear from the beginning. We know the rules. And we both follow them. Yes, there have been some times over the years that the trust has been tested. But, in the end, I know he would never do anything to betray me. Nor would I, him. 

So, having said that...

Reasons I am LOVING being home alone this week:

1. I don't have to pretend like I don't talk to myself constantly. I actually caught myself mumbling something, then shouted, "SHORT DOG, I DON'T HAVE TO WHISPER. IT'S JUST ME." Fuck, I am crazy.
2. I don't have to cook. I can eat popcorn and a salad and there is nobody here to say otherwise. The boy doesn't require that I cook, but when he is home, I feel like a formal, family meal needs to happen. If formal means TV trays and watching Big Bang Theory.
3. The bed to myself. I realize that there are people out there that are like, I can't sleep without you. I am not that person. I want the whole bed. There may or may not be a full scale cover war going on over here.

Reasons I HATE being home alone this week:

1. I hate being responsible for everything. It is like being single again. I like having a partner to shoulder the bullshit. Like the morning pet feedings. Now I need to allow myself more than 15 minutes to shower and get out the door.
2. Having someone to talk to. It has been almost 3 years since I have been alone in this house for more than one night. Granted, it has still not been one night. Just saying...it is odd. The animals are all upset and it is just...quiet. 
3. That safe feeling. It's nice to just trust that if something goes wrong, there is someone else there to help. 

In summary; don't kill a hooker when high on blow, THE COVERS ARE MINE, and the boy is pretty awesome.

Also...I AM HOME ALONE. PARTY MOTHER FUCKERS. P.A.R.T.Y. 

It wasn't because I cut off my finger this time!

I got a text message today around 2:00 pm. The boy needed to go to the emergency room. His boss dropped a magazine holder on his head from two stories up. They were carrying the magazines from the third to first floor and he dropped it in the stairwell. So, I drove the few miles from the restaurant to his work and took him to the emergency room.

This hospital is downtown. So, there is a little bit of everything coming into the ER. Homeless people, hookers, drug addicts, business professionals, people who live in the area. You get the point. It gave me a great opportunity to catch up on Scramble with Friends and Family Feud. Because I am addicted to cell phone games. 

During our TWO AND A HALF HOUR VISIT we witnessed the following:

• One homeless man advising another homeless man to stop carrying a knife because mace was better. "You just spray his face man. Then you kick the shit outta him. I tell my girls this all the time. You don't need no knife."
• A man who I believe to be a drug addict of some kind...I am not sure. But, he was wearing pajamas and begging us to use our phone. The boy didn't have service, so I just jumped on that band wagon and said I did not either. I didn't need my iPhone stolen at the ER. I realize that was kind of a dick move. I did it anyway. I would hesitate to let someone I know use my phone. Those fuckers are expensive.
• A man coughing SO MUCH I resorted to hiding in my jacket. COVER. YOUR. MOUTH. DUDE.
• The man then followed us back to the exam rooms. I started referring to him as patient zero.
• While the boy went to get his CAT Scan, I went back out to the lobby where the guy, again, begged me to use my phone. He had NO idea that we had spoken earlier.
• I got escorted to the boy's new room with a hooker. And a guy who said he only smoked crack "when he could get his hands on it." In response to the question "do you smoke tobacco?"

The boy is fine. He has a mild concussion, a wicked headache, and a boo boo from his tetanus shot. 

On the way back out to the parking garage, we were discussing what floor we were on. There was a woman in the elevator with us and I sort of chuckled and told her that we would be wandering around for an hour. The boy said, "All I know is that we parked in the g-spot." The woman lost it, I explained that he had a head wound and couldn't be held responsible for his actions. He continued to say, "What? Look, there is a G right there. The g-spot."

Maybe I should take him back and have the doctor take another look at the CAT Scan.

The Boy and the Holiday Which Will Not Be Named.

My card to the boy:

"A love like ours is rare and precious as a perfectly cut diamond. Intricately faceted, shimmering and dazzling, and promising to last forever. And on this most special Valentines Day, I simply have to say...

I think this card made me throw up in my mouth a little. (Sorry. I do think our love is pretty awesome, though.)"

His reaction:

I was going to say, that was a little weird. That wasn't like you at all.

I like it. Ha. I like it.

This is why we work. He may be romantic (the dinner that we weren't supposed to go on to save money... I just found out he is surprising me with dinner at an undisclosed location) but I am so completely not romantic. But food is always romantic to me. And he loves to surprise me and try to convince me that we are actually going to the Waffle House Valentines Day. I so know we aren't.

It may not be the norm. It may not be what every girl dreams of. But, it is what this girl dreams of. I so love this man.

Happy Valentines Day, baby. Even if I really, really, really hate this holiday. I do it for you.

There is no title that will make this post anything less than terrifying.

I have a confession to make. 

I kind of want to be a hipster. DON'T STOP READING. Let me explain.

I spend a lot of time immersed in the hipster life style, because restaurant people (specifically front of the house people) are generally hipster. Also, old job should have been called "Hipsters Eat Here Everyday" because, dear God. 

I don't necessarily want to talk like them. Or think everything I do is awesome because it is so not awesome. 

But, I love the clothes! The traditionally hipster clothes. I already wear Converse every single day. Wait, is that still a hipster thing? Or is it not because now it is cool? Is it even cool?

I am terrible at this.

But, I love the layers and the ironic T-Shirts. And the slouchy hats. And I want to sit in coffee shops and drink coffee and play on my iPhone. Wait...are iPhones still hipster? I should have done more research.

HOWEVER. I don't like hipsters. They are annoyingly superior. I am not like that. In fact, I am the opposite of that. I am riddled with self doubt. Mostly in my knowledge of hipsters.

This post is slowly derailing in a very epic, giant flames, black smoke, people taking video to upload to YouTube way.

I really just want the clothes. And the lifestyle. The boy and I are planning a big move to the city. What? Yes. The city. Downtown where we walk to work. Or one of us walks to work the other drives or takes the bus or rides their bike. We also need to acquire bikes.

Who is letting me type this right now? Seriously? It's like I thought the word hipster and said BLOG POST with absolutely nothing else. Oh, wait...I saw a picture of an outfit on Pinterest. You guys, you now know my method. I DON'T HAVE ONE.

I want to live in our perfect city house and cook amazing, local, organic food and walk to the grocery store and have a garden in my yard (PEOPLE HAVE THOSE, DID YOU KNOW?) and maybe get chickens (!!!) and have this perfect little homestead in the city. I want this oh so bad. 

And, yes, I envision myself much skinnier, wearing much cooler clothes and slouchy hats and Chuck Taylors and doing fabulous things like spending the day sipping coffee in the Book Loft  while pretending to care about Chaucer. Because, let's be honest. I read a lot, but it's mostly about wizards. And dragons. That probably isn't very hipster. 

I just googled what do hipsters read and this came up. I would be a TERRIBLE hipster. I think what I just realized is that I want to live in the city and dress like a bum and be perceived as cool. But, don't worry, I will shower.

I should really just delete this post. But, I googled. Which is more effort than I normally put into blogging. Wait? Is blogging a hipster thing?

Fuck. Who lets me have a blog? Someone should really put a stop to me.

We need a portable kitchen sink.

After a long day of cooking, I did not want to come home and cook dinner, so we ordered Chinese. The following shenanigans ensued.

(sitting under a blanket on the couch) "I am freezing. But I want a drink. Will you make me a drink?"

"Nope. It's your fault it's cold, you keep the house too cold."

"I keep the house below the temperature in which germs flourish. It is healthier to keep the house this cold."

"That's what you say"

"No, that is actually true."

"I will bring you everything you need to make a drink to the couch so you don't have to get up."

"You realize it will just be easier to make the drink, right? Because I need the kitchen sink. Are you going to bring me the kitchen sink?"

"Yep."

"OK. Deal. You bring me the kitchen sink, I will make my own drink."

"You are so mean to me. I went and picked up dinner for you, I do the dishes for you."

"Running into the delivery guy on the front porch is not picking up dinner. That is basically just answering the door."

"Nope. I picked it up," he says as he sets the drink next to me.

OK. You win. You picked up dinner. Cheers.

So, so many things

This is going to be a long one. I suggest grabbing yourself a drink and putting on your comfy pants. Or no pants. But, if your laptop gets hot like mine, at least a blanket. Singed thighs are never a good thing.

Last weekend I went back to StL for Christmas with my mom's side of the family. The weekend started with a 6 am flight. SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. I am not a morning person. Getting up at 4 am was not pleasant. 

Then the boy and I met Bradshaw for lunch, which was all kinds of awesome. For whatever reason, these encounters always make me ridiculously nervous. It is easy to hide behind a computer and a smart ass blog. It is much harder to be in person and enjoy someone's company. Both times I have hung out with Bradshaw, 30 seconds into it, I have remembered why we are friends in the first place because it is always like we have been friends for a decade and see each other every day. I love this.

The usual craziness of my family ensued. My grandmother is on some sort of anti-China campaign and refuses to use, buy, eat, or be near anything made in China. This led to us frantically unwrapping all her presents and removing various made from china stickers and blacking out the same labels on boxes. All made in Argentina. Yep. Sure thing. Some favorite quotes from the weekend;

"Sometimes I am just walking and I forget I have feet." (After falling over for absolutely no reason.)

"You know, I never noticed, but you have no ass." (To my mother's husband)

There were more, but neither the boy nor I can remember them. The crazy ass apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I am afraid. I think I am slowly turning into her.

Saturday night, we went out for my sister's birthday/her friend's birthday. It was this little microbrewery and it was AMAZING. They had a girl scout cookie beer that tasted just like a thin mint. The rest of their beers were pretty delicious too. It was literally a guy who bought a bar and put the brewing equipment in what would normally be the office. It was really cool to see someone so small time doing so well. The place was packed.

Sunday we went to brunch at her house and she pulled out all of my art from when I was a kid. Like, two years old. I have been taking art classes since I was old enough to hold a paint brush. There is one called "Might be a Bird" and one called "Mosquito." It was quite funny to see paint strewn all over a page and my grandmother's interpretations. 

Work has been kind of odd this week, a weird mix of slow during the busy times and busy during the slow times. Super frustrating.

I am also making a 6 course Indian meal for my dad as his Christmas present. I am pretty nervous because I feel extremely unprepared. Mostly because I haven't prepared. So, work needs to stop being an ass hole and give me some time to work on some of this shit. It is always nice to do your testing on someone else's dime.

So, there is the update of Christmas #1 and why I will be very absent through the rest of this week. However...I will definitely be posting all of the pictures of the dinner on the 24th!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, whatever it is you celebrate. 

Shit The Boy Says While Going Through My Books

You have a giant pop up book. About a girl. (queue dancing with said book)

Why do you have a book about social problems? You were going to be a social worker? I can see you being compassionate but every once in a while you would just go the fuck off on someone.

Do you need your 2006 annual international fuel ethanol workshop program guide. Also, is there something you aren't telling me?

It is going to take 8 boxes to box up one of my bookshelves. I may have a problem...and in his defense he has only had like 3 hours of sleep. But I can't stop laughing.

Thanksgiving Roundup

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. Here is a brief summary of mine.

Wednesday - Airports. More airports. Delayed flights. Airports. Yay! 

Thursday - My cousin's wife's brother-in-law was stabbed and killed Wednesday night, so Thanksgiving was a tad somber. He was only 26 and it was just a random crime while he was waiting for a cab outside of a bar. They have the man in custody and hopefully justice will be served. Other than that, my niece who I have not seen in about 5 years was in town. I should clarify - step niece. We spent a lot of time together and took about an hour walk where we just talked. I wish her life wasn't so hard, but holy shit, she is an amazing kid.

Friday - Another drunken decorating success! At some point I drunkenly recited an X-rated version of A Night Before Christmas to a room full of about 20 people. My dad laughed so hard he fell over. There is supposedly video. I will do my best to figure out how to post just the sound. Once I hear it and make sure I didn't sound like a total fucking moron.

Saturday - We lost to Michigan for the first time in 7 years...on a nostalgic note, the last time we lost to them, Facebook didn't exist. Nor did iPhones. These facts make me feel better. Stupid Maize and Blue.

Sunday - Our anniversary is on Tuesday, so we went out to dinner and then to the Blue Jackets game versus the St. Louis Blues (WE WON!) Yes, I am still a Blues girl at heart. And I completely thought of Bradshaw the whole time. There was a crazy drunk guy who looked like he fell out of 1976 two rows in front of us who was also a Blues fan. Clearly, Bradshaw was the better choice in ally.

Random Weekend Thoughts - My cousin's twins are possibly the cutest things ever. Big Jed knitted them Sock Monkey hats and my cousin bought them matching outfits for Drunken Decorating. They are just so amazingly independent and well behaved. Probably because they have damn good parents. I fall in love with them more and more every time I see them.

My cousin (the boy one, not the one with twins) taught my cat how to fetch. There is stuffed football making appearances in my dreams now. NCH will not let this game die.

I cooked the food for Drunken Decorating and it was a hit. I realize that this seems obvious to some of you, but I often am amazed that I can do this. It felt good to have other people agree.

The wake is today and the funeral tomorrow for my cousin's brother in law. I don't pray, so I would never ask you to do so. But, good thoughts her way. Her family needs this during this senseless tragedy. I feel so bad for her.

My sister only threw a few temper tantrums, but was generally pleasant. I found myself happy to see her. She even talked about having kids...which...sort of made me fear for humanity. But, baby steps. It was a good trip.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving full of loving family, hilarity, and comfort. Oh, and cats that can't fetch.