Memories of Brighton and Hove

Lately I have been thinking about Brighton almost constantly.

That sounds like the beginning of "Rebecca", doesn't it? I can hear my mother's voice now, dramatically, wistfully ... "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again ..." [insert silly snort of laughter here]

But in all seriousness, I cannot tell you how many things I've seen and heard that have made me think of Brighton and Hove in recent weeks. I keep reading names in books and magazines that remind me of the streets there. I saw a few shows on BBC America that featured the roads we used to walk along & even the grocery store where I used to shop. Also, Tim's mother moved to a new home west of Brighton this week. It's so strange to think that it's been 5 years since our summer there. Five long, long years full of more change than I could imagine, and yet more peace than I can possibly express.

Brighton & Hove are two towns on the southern coast of England that have grown together so seamlessly that you honestly cannot tell where one begins and the other ends. The only indication of change is a small tablet encased in the sidewalk along Western Road. Brighton gets all of the attention, but Hove is where you go to get away from the hustle & bustle and really relax (and see a handful of trees).

The truth is this: I was in horrible shape when Tim moved down from Sheffield to Brighton to take a new job. I was better than I had been in recent months, but still fragile. I had been battling the deepest depths of my suicidal depression. I was still having weekly counseling sessions with my therapist over the phone. I had just started taking Prozac. But in many ways, the move to Brighton was a major turning point for me. I was more isolated than ever there. We knew no one in that town. Very few people had our phone number (and with our terrible reception, it rarely worked anyway). And since Tim was going back to work, I would be left to my own devices for hours every day. I couldn't even get on the internet because the daytime charges were so outlandish. There were many empty hours to fill. It could have turned out very very badly.

But it didn't.

Brighton-&-Hove was where the healing really came to fruition. It was where I found the courage to strike out on my own, to explore. It was where I first took an interest in cooking. It was where I finally started returning the favor by taking care of Tim instead of him nursing me. It wasn't the most likely haven of nurturing and healing, what with all of the tourists and the raucous festivals, but it gave me just what I needed at a very tenuous time. For that alone, I will always love Brighton and Hove.

Today I scoured Tim's old harddrive and found these photos from our time living in Hove, just a few blocks away from Brighton's border. We have few photographs from those months, so I'm especially grateful to Tim for these.


This is the sea & the western sky in the evening. See those little things that look like birds hovering above the water? They're actually the kites from kitesurfers further down along Hove's seafront. This is also a good shot of the "shingle", which is what they call the millions of billions of pebbles that make up the beach. The great thing about this type of beach is that you don't get covered in irritating sand. The bad part is that it hurts like hell to walk on. Bring sturdy shoes. Really.


And here's a view of the promenade stretching to the east. See those colorful little storage huts? If you have $20-25 thousand dollars to spare, you can buy one.


Here's Tim sitting on the same groyne featured in the photo of me at the top of this post. Groynes are structures that jut out into the sea & are built in an effort to slow down erosion. This one, located roughly at Medina Terrace, is one of the largest groynes in Hove (most are too thin to walk on & there are numerous warning signs telling you to "Keep off the groynes!"). Check out a satellite view of this area & you'll see tons of groynes sticking out into the sea. Did I mention that I like saying "groyne"? Grooooooyyyyyyne!!!


Here I am, standing at the place where Adelaide Crescent meets the seafront. I don't know if it's obvious in this picture, but those beautiful Regency buildings curve out and make a "C" shape. That's the crescent in Adelaide Crescent. Immediately north of it is more greenspace called Palmeira Square. In these adjoining bits of greenspace, you will find trees! Yes, honest to god TREES! I was astounded at how hard it was to find trees in those towns. Is it any wonder that we ended up moving into a flat immediately east of Adelaide Crescent & Palmeira Square?


The white building on the left marks the eastern branch of Adelaide Crescent. Running between it and the creamy yellow building of Brunswick Terrace on the right is Holland Road. Just go up that road a few hundred yards and you'll find our place between the chocolate shop and the English language school. If you cross Western Road, you've gone too far. See? Easy peasy. You should stroll past it next time you're in the area.


Here's a postcard from the 1800's featuring the very same buildings. It's amazing that so much in life can change, but this place has barely been altered in 150 years. Change can be a good thing - my time in Brighton and Hove taught me that - but it's comforting to see that some things stay the same.

Cliche of the Decade

This here is just a little somethin' somethin' for George & Liz and all the fans of reality television out there.

Good Riddance Day

So another July arrived which means that I got to spend another Independence Day with Tim ... or "Good Riddance Day" as he likes to call it. Again we did not go out to see fireworks, but there were none to be seen because it rained BUCKETS here on July 4th. And the 5th. And the 6th. And we're expecting more rain every day this week. We've lost power numerous times. The good news, though, is that we were entering severe drought conditions again, so I'm hopinghopinghoping that all of this rain means that we're out of danger. I don't want to go back to the days when I felt guilty for making pasta for dinner. Salvaging pasta water in order to water your plants is not fun, peeps. Believe me.

But enough of that. The truth is that a terrible thing happened on July 4th. There was a death in the family. Specifically, the death of my laptop. My constant companion is no more. His name was Hamilton. Did I ever tell you that? Anyway. Hamilton has passed on. Tim did all he could to save my laptop. He worked for hours and hours, to no avail. I suppose Hamilton declared his own independence and shuffled off to Computer Heaven, free from viruses and driver errors forever and ever.

Sigh.

But this may be a good thing. This is my 4th day without Hamilton and I am now more and more aware of how dependent I was upon ol' Hammy. His heavy weight has pinned me to the couch for far more hours than I care to admit. His passing has allowed me a certain degree of freedom.

All that being said, when I think of my lost laptop, the first words to spring to mind certainly are not "Good Riddance". It was a good thing to have (when used in moderation). So frankly, even though the risk of addiction is still there, I need a new laptop. If Tim and I have to share his computer for much longer, we will be reduced to crazed animals, growling and gnashish our teeth at one another. We wouldn't want that. So. Let the research begin! And if you have any suggestions, PLEASE pass them along.

41

Today is my parent's 41st wedding anniversary. 41 years! This afternoon Mom called me just to tell me what Dad had gotten for her for the big day: a Wii. I'm amazed that he found one. It reminds me of Christmas 1983 when he managed to get me a Cabbage Patch Kid for Christmas. I gotta ask him how he pulled this off. Anyway, the real point is that Mom is thrilled to bits & can't wait to break it out of the box. So tonight after going out for steaks, my parents will return home to play a bit of golf or maybe do a little fishing. Good times.

All of this reminded me that it has now been a whole year since we were in Florida for the big honkin' family reunion. So lets do a little time traveling, shall we, and take a look at my parents as they renewed their vows in front of friends and family last year.


Aaaaaaaw .... ain't they cute?!? It's hard to imagine being married to the same person for that long, but I am certainly glad they stuck it out. Thanks, Mom & Dad!!!

Friends, flames, and so much more

I really really really need to get a new memory card for my camera. I have realized that I don't feel right about posting on the ol' blog unless I have a photo to share with you. But how can I share new photos if I can't take more photos?! Vicious cycle! Ahhhhh! I'll fix that soon. Really. In the mean time, please use your imagination to create pictures in your mind as I describe the marvelously intriguing life I lead.

That last sentence was meant to be said with a good deal of sarcasm, but to be honest, things have been busy, exciting, and fun around here. It's a nice change. You see, it can be very hard for me to come back to NC after visiting old friends and family in Oklahoma. I go from a situation where I'm surrounded by activity and fun to ... well ... quiet & a touch of depression. But Tim was determined to change that this time, so he arranged some activites for us shortly after my return and I kept up the momentum by planning a few things of my own.

In the 12 days since I came back, we've done a lot. We've eaten out with friends a couple of times. And I saw a movie with Jennifer. And we went over to Wayne's house (Tim's boss) with a few friends for BBQ & swimming and we had much more fun than I expected. So it appears that we've got a social life and everything! Hooray! Plus, I've been busy cooking up new recipes in the kitchen. I made my first quiche (sooooo good!) and practiced my kneading skills by making yeast rolls all by myself for the first time (thanks for the tips, Mom!). And I finally went to the Durham farmers market for the first time and bought lots of locally-grown veggies (& explored downtown Durham while I was at it). And what's that sitting in my freezer right now? Why, it's homemade vanilla ice cream made with real vanilla beans. And there's caramel sauce swirled through that ice cream just to make it extra tasty. Imagine that.

By far the best part of this week was Tim's annual review at work. No really. Tim got fabulous marks across the board. None of that "needs improvement" crap for him. Nope, he is Mr. Exceeds Expectations! Woot! And as a reward, he received a promotion to Senior Engineer! And a lovely raise! I am so so so proud of him. He's been having a rough time at work over the last couple of months(damn PlayStation 3), so it is wonderful to see Tim get acknowledged like this. To celebrate we spent far too much money on books & then went out for Japanese food at the local hibachi restaurant. Because nothing says, "Congrats!" like flames and flashing knives.

Apparently the element of danger inherent in any trip to a hibachi restaurant brings romance to mind for some people, as evidenced by the exchange we witnessed that night. Early into our meal, we saw a couple get engaged. They appeared to be surrounded by family (Man, I hope that was family at their station & not a bunch of strangers). The guy presented his potential bride with a giant heart-shaped balloon that had "I Love You!" printed on it. And he got down on one knee and put a ring on her finger. All while wearing his baseball cap. Then the employees of the restaurant sang some unrecognizeable song and everyone in the restaurant clapped. And then I immediately turned to Tim & thanked him for not proposing to me in the middle of a Japanese restaurant surrounded by my entire family and/or a slew of strangers. But if he ever wants to give me a giant balloon in an effort to communicate his love for me, that would be cool ... especially if he's willing to breathe in the helium from said balloon because, dude, I have never heard anyone with an English accent talk with a helium voice before. And I imagine that would kick some major ass. Fer reals.

Come on. You wanna hear it, too. Admit it.

Photographic evidence of nuggitude

Dude, what a busy week I've had! Why is it that you can leave town for just one week & it feels like it takes more than a week to recover from it? It's not as if I'm that busy in the first place, you know?


But before I get back to me and my life back here in NC, I wanted to post just one more photo from my trip to Oklahoma. I didn't have much time to visit people other than my family (and the Girls, of course). But I made a point of visiting my sissy, Ashlie, and our dear, precious Nugget. Isn't Jeremiah a cute little boy? He looks so much like his big brother, Ge'Rae. My mom and brother Ray were with me when we went to Helen's house to hang out with Ashlie, Ge'Rae, and little Jeremiah. It had been a year since we had all been together and it was so nice to just sit around and chat.

Note that while we were there, Ray and I informed Ge'Rae of the finer details of how to be a proper big bro. In short, we taught him how to play the I'm-not-touching-you game.

You're welcome, Ashlie. You're very very welcome.

Girl Party 2008

For those who are curious, no, I'm not dead. Just been busy. First Tim went out to Silicon Valley for a business trip. Then I left town for Girl Party 2008. I just got back Thursday night & my schedule has been pretty tight since then (running errands, dinner with friends, giving the garden CPR, etc.). But now I'm back. Hooray!

But back to my trip.
Girl Party '08: A Girl Party that will go down in history. So historic was this Girl Party that Megan - our dear newlywed - joined us for this trip less than a week after she and Nick tied the knot. Who needs a honeymoon when you can listen to me mumbling in my sleep at the La Quinta?

It was great fun. George, Holly, Megan, and I traveled down to Dallas to spend a couple of days with Veronica. We laughed, we cried, we drank. We bought hats at a truck stop. We ate swedish meatballs at Ikea. A few of us drunkenly stumbled around The Container Store. We ate Ethiopian food, visited two Chinese bakeries, and found ourselves at a little establishment known as Margarita Ranch not just once, but twice. We saw V perform in a play (while the rest of us drank champagne). We watched the Sex and the City movie (although we stayed sober for that). And we all had funky, funky dreams. In short: good times, y'all. Here's some photgraphic evidence. And for those who attended GP'08, keep an eye on your mailbox. Your hard copies will be mailed shortly.

Happy House-iversary

As you can probably imagine, not a lot happened this week, but that's not a bad thing. It was actually rather nice. Last Sunday we met up with some people from an on-line forum where I hang out. And I did some yard work. Watched some episodes of "Gilmore Girls". Went out for Mexican. Checked out the new pastry and chocolate shop in Carrboro. Read some more of "Eat Pray Love". Rubbed Millie's tummy for hours and hours. Stuff like that. Nothing big.

The only pseudo-important event of the week was our first House-iversary. We have now been living in this house for a whole year. Hooray! Funnily enough, this week I finally filled the memory card I bought for my camera shortly after we bought the house - almost exactly a year ago. So here are some of the final shots from that card, all of them taken around our house this week.

Random kvetches and stuff

Anti-kvetch: Today I mailed the final car payment for my Corolla. Woot! This is so exciting! The debt is paid! It's so nice to know that we'll have that extra bit of cash every month now. Wee!!!

Anti-kvetch: I bought flowers and herbs this week and I planted them and they make me happy. I even planted some mint in its own little pot. In my world, mint = mojitos, so this makes gardening extra exciting. Wee!!!

Anti-kvetch: Did I mention that the weather has been very nice? And that it has been raining and everything? And that the drought is over and that I can shower and flush the toilet whenever I want now? What a relief! And yes, that pun is intended.

Kvetch: Silly grocery issues.
Kvetch 1a: The Trader Joe's near my house does not sell papadons. There is shelf upon shelf upon shelf of tortilla chips, but not a single popadon to be found. I have checked numerous times over the last couple of months and the problem remains. This. ain't. right.
Kvetch 1b: I can't find Lucky Charms in this town. How bizarre is that? Lucky Charms can't be a regional thing, can it? Certainly Lucky Charms are sold in this state. But they didn't have them at the store!

By the by, this is my way of telling goerge that, no, I cannot mail popadons to her. And no, I will not be able to post a photo of Tim eating a specific cereal as was requested by her this week. Nor will I be posting a photo of me in my bathing suit as george also requested, because ... dude, I am not a desperately lonely and misguided 14 year old, mkay? And this isn't a freakin' MySpace page. It's a blog! It's classier than that shit, ya dig?

Sheesh.

In honor of georgious, here is a Random Side Note:
Last night Tim and I were riding along in the car & listening to the radio when a new song began. Tim identified it as Foreigner's "Double Vision" within the first 3 notes of the song. I find this new-found talent rather ... disturbing. However, he would probably feel just as disturbed if he heard me singing along to Salt n Pepa's "Whatta Man" this afternoon, so it's all good.

Mary FM

So, I have totally failed the whole blogging everyday thing. I even failed the blogging every other day thing. But hey! I've been busy! And the batteries in my camera died. And I have two zits on the tip of my nose, which is a real hit to the ol' self esteem.

Honestly, though, I've been slacking 'cause it's freakin' gorgeous here. The weather has been perfect: high around 72, sunny, cool breezes. Gorgeous. So forgive me if I long for my deck more than my laptop this week.

Speaking of Scooby Doo, have you heard about last.fm? Neil Gaiman has a playlist over there & I enjoyed listening to it, so I am in the process of creating my own. Note the word "process" in that sentence. It's an ever-evolving thingamy, but I am enjoying it. So if you've ever wondered what it would be like if I had a radio station, click on the link and have a listen to the random songs that pop up. Good times.

Mary Mary ...

When people first meet me and hear that my name is Mary, they often do 2 things in quick succession:
1. They accuse me of being "quite contrary"
2. They ask how my garden is doing.
And they always say these things in a peculiar sing-song tone.

I've never said it out-loud, but a part of me is rather offended by that initial accusation. Why do they think I'm contrary? I've always thought of myself as a rather friendly, approachable, easy-going sort. How would you like it if somebody met you and the first thing they did was call you a grumpy old coot? Wouldn't like it much, wouldja? Especially if it was said in a mocking, sing-song tone. But what is there to be done? If I call these people out on their rude behavior, then suddenly I'll seem argumentative and difficult and, unfortunatly, contrary. My attempts to proove them wrong would only show that they had good reason to think ill of me in the first place. See? I just can't win.

Hmph.

As for my garden ... well, I honestly haven't done much with it this year. I took out some dead bushes and planted some grass seed (damn you, Drought of 2007!), but I've yet to put my own stamp on our garden. I tried visiting a plant nursery for inspiration, but I was overwhelmed by choice, paralyzed by indecision. It was just like picking paint colors. Dizzying. So far all I've managed to bring home is a hanging basket of fuschia. It's a lovely basket, but we need more. The flower bed around the mailbox looks particularly sad since, well, there aren't any flowers in it. Indeed, there isn't anything at all growing in it right now. It isn't a flower bed as much as it is a patch of barren dirt and mulch. I really need to fix that this week. And since I'm mentioning it on my blog, that means I have to do it, right? Because now you people will ask me about it. You'll call and say, "How does your garden grow?" and I better have a response ready or you'll give me what-for, right? Right.

So yeah. I'll get on that. In the mean time, here are some photos of my fuschia plant. Yay.

I scream

I assume that if you're reading this, you probably know me a little bit. And if you know me, you probably know that I am a worrier. Is it a personality trait? A hobby? A bad habit I just can't kick? Who knows, but it's part of what makes me so gloriously, wonderfully me. The thing I worry about most is money. And in the last few months, I've been worried more than usual. I won't list everything, but basically we had some unexpected bills and our savings took a hit. Thank goodness for tax refunds and tax rebates! With their help, we're almost back to normal (almost). But we still need to be careful. And I'm still worried.

But now on top of being worried, I feel guilty because I spent a HELL of a lot of cash this week. Why? Because I'm a masochist, of course. Here's what I bought & their approximate prices:
1. A necklace at the Handmade Market: $25
2. A new bathing suit. And not a cheap Target one. It's from Lands End, but I promise it's cute: $80
3. Plane tickets for Girl Party 2008: $300 (I paid extra for decent flights)
4. An ice cream maker with 2 freezing bowls: $60


Oddly enough, the thing I feel least guilty about is the ice cream maker - the thing that seems most silly and indulgent on that entire list. For this lack of guilt, I blame my mother. I was on the fence about buying the ice cream maker when Mom called me on Wednesday. Mom was overwhelmingly enthusiastic about the idea and her excitement was contagious. She even got on the internet to look at the model I was considering. "Did you see the video that shows how it works?!" she asked, excitedly. Then she pointed out that I could make Tim's favorite ice cream - cherry vanilla - which is very hard to find in stores. Eventually we decided that it was worth purchasing purely for experimental purposes. I would sacrifice myself & try out the machine, then let my mother know if I enjoyed it or not. If I was satisfied, then Mother could buy an ice cream maker of her very own without worry, knowing that her beloved daughter had test-driven the model and had been pleased with the results. This wouldn't be just any purchase. This would be an act of love ... love for my mother in the days before Mother's Day. How could I say no to that?

I talked to Mom before I went to the store. And Mom called me while I was driving the 2 miles to the store. And then I called Mom again once I got to the store to let her know that, yes, the advertised price on the website was the same as the in-store price. Because this was a very important mission, you see, and we needed to be in constant communication at all times so that we could share every little detail.

Bad mommy. She's such a terrible influence. But in the very best of ways.

3rd Time's the Charm?

It has now been 2 years since we moved to North Carolina. In that time, we have made a handfull of friends whom I really like. There's Kevin and Shawna, the future architect. There's Kyle and Jennifer, the sweet-as-sugar opera singer with a much dirtier mind than you might think. And of course, there's Mark, my male substitue for george. This is our posse. When we have friends over for dinner, these are the people we invite.

But as much as I love this gang of ours, there's something missing. I've had a little bit of trouble finding girlfriends of my own - women whom I really click with on a deep level who I happened to meet without any aid from Tim. With help from the internet, I've met many women here, but before now only 2 of them really clicked with me. The first gal pal I met was Pam, the wine distributor. Pam is really great and she always seemed thrilled to hang out and talk with me, but she had an extremely busy work and social life and ... well, she just didn't have time for me. Plus I got the impression that she hates children & that rubbed me the wrong way (Being Child-Free-By-Choice is one thing. Frequently voicing your dislike of children is another). Next I met Laura - aka Haliburton. Laura was fun & I had a good time hanging out with her & I get the feeling that I was her favorite of all of the friends she made here. But then her husband lost his job and she moved to Austin. Besides, she and I disagreed on a lot of political issues, so sometimes there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Not ideal.

The 3rd time is the charm, so they say. I hope they're right.


Back in January at a big Girls Night Out thingamy, I met Stephanie. She and I had written back and forth & I had a feeling we'd get along, so I was eager to see her face-to-face. We hit it off and I was blown away by her coolness. A few weeks later she invited me out to lunch, but that turned out to be the day that Millie came home to live with us (amongst other things), so I had to cancel. Well, on my birthday Tim and I had a conversation and one of the goals we set for me was to work on this girlfriend issue again. But how? The answer came to me in an e-mail last week. The e-mail was a reminder that Saturday was the annual Handmade Market - an indie artsy craft fair that features a lot of local talent with shops on Etsy. I had a sneaking suspicion that Stephanie would like it, so with some encouragement from Tim, I wrote to her on Friday & asked her if she wanted to carpool. Turns out that my instincts were correct & she was extremely interested in the Handmade Market, so we arranged to go together. Yay!

Stephanie is so cool. Much cooler than me, I think. She's smart and talented and just all-around great. We like so many of the same things it's a bit ridiculous. We read the same magazines, frequent the same websites, vote for the same people, listen to the same music. For heaven's sake, she watches Project Runway and Top Gear. When she discovered this last factoid, Stephanie practically squealed with delight; "You're the only other woman I know who watches Top Gear!" So things are looking up.

Stephanie and I both have gardening on our mind lately and she discovered a nursery in Chapel Hill that we want to check out. Why this particular nursery? Because they carry a plant called "Wulfenii Spurge". We feel that any plant with a name as scrumptious as that warrants further investigation.

You see? I had a feeling that the number 3 would treat me well this year.

What's in a name?

On Friday, my pseudo-sis, Ashlie, gave birth to her second child. His name is Jeremiah, but his big brother, Ge'Rae, calls him Nugget. Isn't that fabulous? I mean, that kid has a cool nickname and he isn't even a week old yet.

I have had a number of nicknames in my time - Smokey, Mare Bear, Horse Yes (long story), Dork Girl (thanks, Corey!), Pepper, Apple Pie (I'm Apple, right george?), etc. Honestly, I've had more nicknames than I can remember. I figured that everybody has had a nickname at some point in their life, but I found out recently that this is not the case for Tim. My husband has never had a nickname! How does this happen?! I guess it's because (1.) Tim is already a shortened form of Timothy and (2.) Tim is so easy to say. Just the one syllable. But it still seems wrong somehow.

So I'm thinking that Tim needs a nickname. But I am drawing a complete blank. Nicknames are usually inspired by something ... a silly story perhaps. Unfortunately, the only stories that are popping into my head about Tim are embarassing ones. And I'm not going to take the traditional British route (no "Jeeves" or "Crumpet" or anything like that, thanks).

The more I thought about this, though, the more I realized that I know very few guys who have nicknames. Does Derek have a nickname? Does my Dad have a nickname? Is this overwhelmingly a girl thing or something? Any opinions on this?

A Post A Day In May

There are a number of writers whose blogs I frequently read. Today I found out that one of them is encouraging people to post every single day in the month of May.
Hmmm.
That sounds like quite a commitment. Maybe I can handle posting every other day? We shall see ...

7000 words or less

I should keep my camera with me more often. I saw so many interesting things in the last week.

- At Kevin & Shawna's place, I saw their adorable hedgehog & their 2 bunnies. One of the bunnies let me pet it for quite a while even though I wasn't feeding it at the time. That's a major feat.
- Saturday morning at the Duke Gardens, I saw a jazz band (The Dixie Dukes) made up entirely of senior citizens. They played "Honeysuckle Rose" & it was fabulous.
- While riding home from the fish shop, I saw a gaggle of young men playing some sort of combination of football and frizbee. What would you call that? Frizball seems wrong since there was no ball involved and Footbee sounds too cute to be a sport. We need a new word!

All of those things sound cool and all, but they'd be so much better if you could see them ... the old "picture is worth a thousand words" thingamy. I'm finding that most of the time I actually prefer posting photos on this blog than writing. That doesn't mean I intend to turn this into a photoblog, but I like that photos allow me to show you all of the things that I just can't properly tell you about over the phone or in an e-mail. Besides, my life might seem more interesting in photos. I mean, do you honestly want to hear me talk about filing my taxes? Or about how crampy my period was this month? Or about how disappointed I am that Katarzyna got kicked off of ANTM this week? Wouldn't you much rather look at photos of my cat? Of course. So with that in mind, allow me to share some sights from around the house from the past couple of weeks, m'kay? M'kay.








And lest we forget ...

Panties: an explanation

Tucked in the box of birthday goodies Mom sent to me last week, was an innocuous bundle wrapped in maroon wrapping paper. Imagine my surprise when I tore into the package and found a pile of lingerie. It was all panties - red silk, black lace, white chiffon. Some of the knickers were small enough to fit our cat. A very odd gift to receive from one's mother. Luckily, there was a note that tried to explain the situation, but I didn't understand it fully until I talked to my brother, Ray.

My mom and her best friend used to own a business together. They made custom-made clothing and costumes for brides, dancers, figure skaters, and performers of all sorts. One day they were hired by a group that was putting on a tribute to Hank Williams Jr. The band decided to play a little twist on the old stereotype of fans tossing underwear on stage; Instead, the musicians wanted to throw underwear at the fans. So Mom and Helen bought a ton of random panties in a wide variety of sizes. I guess they had some extras, because Mom found them in the back of a closet recently.
What to do, what to do?
As George and I know already, you can't donate unpackaged underwear to charity shops; they just throw them away (that's a story for another day). So naturally, since she had no other options, Mother decided she'd send the panties to me.
Naturally.

Mom insists that the profusion of panties is not actually meant to be a birthday gift. It was merely a coincidence that she wrapped them up in patterned paper. And included it in a box of other birthday gifts. With a birthday card and birthday balloon and everything. But it wasn't a birthday present! Honest! What Mom didn't forsee is that the laugh I got from that package was the very best laugh of my entire birthday-week! Now that is a great gift! Thanks, Mom!

In return, I'd like to add a little laughter to my mom's life. So Mom, here's that video I was telling you about on the phone today. I'm sure it'll give you a chuckle.

33

Yesterday I turned 33.
Just think about that number. Let it roll around in your mouth a bit. Thirty three. Thur-tee-three. There's no denying it; that's a properly adult number. I am an adult. With a husband and a house and a cat. Did you know that Jesus died when he was 33? But it's a good number. As the song goes, "3 is the magic number", so 33 must be extra magical, don't you think? That's what I'm telling myself at any rate.

My birthday was a day full of sunshine and food and flowers and phone calls and chocolate and, oddly enough, panties.

Yes, panties. From my mother.

It was such a long day. I wore a new dress to lunch with friends (mmmm ... pizza). I got my car professionally washed and finally picked up my Durham library card (yes, george, finally!). I talked to my mother-in-law, my mom, and my brother, Ray, on the phone. I got a box of fun items from my mom (I'll get into that later!). Sheff bought me some flowers and some adorable chocolates in the shape of little cats and dogs (Too cute to eat!). And then we went to dinner.

Dinner was The Highlight Of The Day. Oh my.

There is a restaurant in Raleigh called the Hayes Barton Cafe and Dessertery. I've been wanting to check out this restaurant for months because the desserts are supposed to be great. Tim was a bit hesitant, however. He thinks "dessertery" looks a little too much like "dysentery". He thought we should go to one of our favorite restaurants and be served my our very favorite waiter in town. But I have been craving something new! Plus, it was my day ("It's my pretty pretty princess day!!!") and it was my choice and that was that.

We had SUCH a good time. The restaurant is small and cozy - the sort of place you'd expect to find along Cherry Street or in Brookside in Tulsa. It has a 1940's theme - black & white photos of movie stars, posters from movies like Casablanca. Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday playing in the background. Red walls & soft lighting. It's romantic, but still casual. Perfect. The best part, though, was the food. Nothing fancy or formal, just delicious & wonderful. Tim's steak with blue cheese was especially amazing. The goat cheese and dried cherries on my salad made my eyes roll back in my head. So good! And then, of course, was dessert. We were both pretty full, so we decided to split a slice of flourless chocolate cake with a strawberry buttercream between the layers of chocolate. There were real strawberries in the buttercream. It was so astonishingly rich! I could only eat 3 bites. It's going to take me a week to finish eating this thing. But that just means I can keep celebrating my birthday for many days to come! Hooray!



So. 33. Thirty. Three. It sounds kinda good. I think I'm going to embrace the glory of the number 3. Afterall, I've been married for 3 years. And our house number is 3. And when we adopted Millie, we added a 3rd member to our household. And we live in The Triangle. So obviously 3 can be great.

Well, except fot the whole Jesus-death thing. We'll just ignore that bit.

Self portrait

Nothin' much happenin' 'round here ... hence the lack of posts. But I just did this meme on my favorite message board & thought I'd pass it along.

Here's how it works:
1. Go to www.photobucket.com (don't sign in)
2. Type in your answer to the question in the "search" box
3. Use only the first page
4. Copy the img tag and paste for the answer (Unless you're on sucky Blogger. In that case, copy the Direct Link tag and use the Add Image tool)



1. What is your real first name?




2. What is your relationship status?




3. What is your favorite color?




4. What is one word to describe you?




5. What are you listening to?




6. Dream vacation?




7. Who is your best friend?




8. Nickname/Screenname?




9. Where do you work?




10. What makes you laugh?

3 (aka The Things We Do For Love)

In case any of you are considering getting married one day, please allow me to humbly suggest to have your wedding on April 2nd. It's a really kickass day.

This year, April 2nd felt a lot like how it did back in Tulsa in 2005. It was sunny, but not hot. The air felt clean and refreshing. The trees and bushes and flowers were in all their early spring glory. Gorgeous. But this year instead of dashing off to a frou-frou salon to get prettified, I started the day by mowing the lawn for the first time this season. It took a lot less time and effort to tidy my garden than it did to tidy myself on our wedding day. Funny that.


Gardening was not the biggest task of my day though. I had decided that I wanted to make something special for Tim for our anniversary. And lord help me, I settled on cheese and onion pasties. Tim loves these things & hadn't eaten one in the 3 years since he left England to be with me. I decided to show him that he could have me and cheesey, oniony goodness, too. The problem?
Pastry.
Pasties are made from pastry. Which means rolling out dough. And we all know how much I love pastry dough, don't we. But this is Tim and Tim deserves it, so I made the shortcrust pastry dough from scratch. I will admit that I uttered one grunt of frustration. And when Tim made the mistake of checking in on my progress, I was a bit cross with him. But the final result was amazingly tasty. I wish I'd taken photos, but I was too busy stuffing my face. For the first time ever, pastry dough was worth the effort.


I kept dessert simple: Brownies. But because I'm goofy and romantic, I cut out the brownies into little circles which I stacked on top of one another and dusted with powdered sugar. See? Little chocolate wedding cakes!

In a final gesture of love for my husband, I did not watch America's Next Top Model last night. Instead we watched episodes of Black Adder and the season of Doctor Who with Christopher Ecclestone. I know that there are people out there who would consider that to be a pretty lame way to celebrate a wedding anniversary, but I wouldn't want it any other way. Tim and I don't need fancy gifts and frippery. Good food, good entertainment, and a comfy spot to cuddle on the couch are all we need. I guess that's how we've managed to stay happy together: simple pleasures and low expectations. :P

No, they don't make dentures for cats

Yesterday Millie had 7 teeth pulled. Seven! Can you even imagine? The vet said that some of her teeth were loose & others were so rotten they had holes in them. Of her 4 canine teeth, she only has 1 left. Poor baby. Poor, dear, snaggle-toothed kitten. On top of this, she has bald patches on two of her legs for the IVs. She has been through so much! As soon as she got home yesterday afternoon, Millie ran to her favorite room - the guest room - and has rarely ventured out of it since then. I don't blame her one bit.

The good news is that, amazingly enough, Millie does not seem to hate us. I was sure she would reject us completely for days, but she has actually been quite affectionate. Don't get me wrong. She has spent a lot of time snoozing under the bed. But if I come into her room, she walks right out, purring away, & pretty much demanding to be pet and scratched and scratched some more! It's as if there's no such thing as too much affection. Tim thinks she wants to be reassured that everything is okay. I just find it odd that she's looking to us for that reassurance - the people who dragged her out from under the bed, stuffed her in a bag, and left her at the vet's office. But hey. Whatever makes her happy, ya know?

The vet says she should be mostly healed in a week. In the mean time, she has to take painkillers and antibiotics twice a day. The great news is that both of these drugs are in liquid form and can be mixed with her soft food (which she is eating with as much gusto as usual). Things will only get better from here.

And in case you were wondering, I bought a proper, soft cat carrier. No more pillow cases for my baby.

Don't know whatcha got til it's gone

Picture me, if you will, wandering around my neighborhood, my hair unbrushed, tears streaming down my face, an empty can of cat food in my hand, as I poked around the fringes of my neighbors' properties, sqinting my eyes as I strained to look under their bushes. That defined most of Wednesday afternoon for me. It was a bad day.

Here's the short story: Millie got out, but she came back. It was an emotionally exhausting affair. I cried myself into a migraine that made me so nauseated I nearly threw up (Which is amazing for me. It's been a decade since I last puked. TMI?). Tim even left work 3 hours early to help look for her. In the end, we found her curled up on our bed (do not ask me how long she had been there). The important thing is that she's back at home and safe and healthy. She was especially cuddly and lovable afterwards - as if she had finally realized that this is her home now & she was happy with that fact. All was good in the world of Millie.

Well, not quite. I noticed this week that Millie was having trouble eating. Sometimes while eating crunchy or chewy food, she would yelp and refuse to eat more. So yesterday I took her to the vet's office for the very first time. She knew something was up when I tried to put her in the cat carrier - a carrier that is far too small for her I realized. So instead I put Millie in a pillow case. Yup, I put the cat in the bag. Heh heh.

The good news is that Millie won the Best Cat of the Day award at the vet's office. She didn't bite or scratch or yowl or anything. She didn't run away or hide. Her tail didn't fluff up & her ears didn't flatten back against her head. She didn't even flinch when they took a blood sample. What an amazing cat, right?

The bad news is that she has lots of bad things going on in her mouth: missing teeth, possibly some broken ones, too, and ulcers. I got to see her gums, which were blood red and swollen. No wonder she was hurting! It's clear that she needs to have some work done. So on Monday morning, I will have to put her back in that pillow case and return her to the vet's office. I will also have to pay a hefty bill. But it's worth it.

Ah yes. Millie. The best $50 $500 we ever spent.

Grumpy Easter

When I woke up this morning, I felt rather under the weather. This persisted for a few hours ... and made me grumpy. The whole time I was sick, the cat kept meowing at me because she wanted to be fed/loved on/what have you, which didn't help my mood, either. And then I read some stuff on-line that made me grumpier. And I managed to think of a few other things in my life that hack me off, so I decided to mull on them for a while, too. Ya know, so that I could efficently get all of my bitching done in one go. Grrr.

But then I watched the Forumla One race and ate some cheese and now I'm watching the figure skating world championships. So everything is okay.
Well, almost everything.
The only little problem annoying me now is that we don't have any of my favorite cookies left. I made them for the first time last week and they were SO GOOD! So delicious were they, in fact, that we ate them all. And I'm low on ingredients and sickly so I won't be making more of these today. Poo.

However you, dear reader, should whip some of these babies up as soon as you can because, man, they are soooooooo freakin' good! They will certainly put you in a good mood. Really. Give it a try. Note that these cookies are big. You know the cookies you can buy at coffee shops that cost $2 and just one cookie hits the spot quite nicely? These are like that only better because (1) they cost a lot less and (2) you made them yourself! Hooray!

Super-sized Ginger Cookies
makes 12 to 14 cookies

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon cloves
12 Tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
1/4 cup molasses
about 1/4 cup granulated sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350F with rack in middle position. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper (or I guess you can grease the pans, but I prefer parchment paper).

2. Sift first 6 ingredients together in a medium sized bowl. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer on medium speed, beat butter & brown sugar together until smoothly blended. Then add egg & molasses and mix until blended. On low speed, add flour mixture, blending just to incorporate it.

3. Put granulated sugar in a cereal bowl or on a plate. Roll 1/4 cup of the dough into a 2 inch ball, roll in the sugar, and place on the prepared cookie sheet. Space the cookies about 3 or 4 inches apart.

4. Bake for 14 minutes until top feels firm but still soft in the middle. Cool on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack.

Feline paralysis

It's been a quiet week 'round the house. We watched the first F1 race of the season with Mark (Hooray for Lewis Hamilton!). And I baked some delicious ginger cookies (I'll share the recipe if you want). Tim got some nice compliments for a program he completed at work. And the Bradford pear trees in the neighborhood bloomed and it rained a couple times. So that's all quite nice.

But the biggest news this week is all about the Millie cat.

Miss Millicent is an interesting cat. She loves to be around her people. It is very rare to find her in a room alone. She'd just rather be with us. She even slept on our bed her very first night here. She will even walk right up to strangers & expect them to give her a nice scratch behind the ears. She's quite friendly in her own way. However, she has never been a lap cat. She might curl up near us on the couch or even sleep by my side at night, but she has showed very little interest in snuggling up on our laps ... until this week.

On Tuesday morning, Millie approached me while I was on the couch and she gingerly stepped on my leg. Before I really realized what was happening, she sat down in my lap. She sat there for a full 10 minutes before she got up and wandered off. This was a major achievement! I was so excited I almost sent Tim an e-mail about it. But it got better! Later that afternoon, Miss Mills curled up in my lap and stayed there for 2 hours and 40 minutes! Hooray! What a break-through! The only problem, of course, is that I didn't want to get up & disturb her - a condition Tim calls "feline paralysis" - so I wasn't able to run the errands I had intended to. But no matter. Millie was snoozing on my lap and I was pleased as Punch.

In the few days since Millie started sitting in my lap, I've been doing everything I can to encourage her. Yesterday she sat on my lap on 4 seperate occasions & slept by my side all night, too. Today I've been a bit busier, but she managed to sit on my lap for a while after I returned from the grocery store. This is really encouraging. More and more, she feels less like some distant relative who is staying with us for a while and is feeling more like our own, sweet baby cat.

Pi!

Did you know that yesterday - March 14th - was Pi Day? You probably did because if you're reading this you're probably about as dorky as I am and you get a kick out of silly holidays like this. In honor of Pi Day, I made pie. Indeed, I made TWO pies on Pi Day. Glorious, yes? But it was more than that. It was ... miraculous. Allow me to explain.

Confession time: I don't like making pie. Or more to the point, I don't like making pie crust. It takes so much time and effort to make pie crust. Rolling it out is a pain in the butt because the dough is always trying to stick to the table or the rolling pin. And it's hard to get it just the right size, because it never wants to form into a perfect circle with an even thickness. No, it's always got to be oblong with thin bits that tear while the thicker bits on the side laugh at me, mockingly. And then there's all of that flour everywhere - all over the table, all over your clothes. It frustrates me to no end. So much effort for what is basically an edible shelf that usually contributes very little to the overall flavor of the pie. You would think I would get the hang of it with practice, but no. For YEARS I was in charge of making the pies for every Thanksgiving and Christmas. And for years I struggled with annoying pie dough because in my family we have always made it from scratch.

Well, ya know what? Enough. Deep down I'm a purist and I love making everything from scratch. Hell, I've been thinking about making my own butter! But there is a point when one must embrace this modern age in which we live. And ... well, frankly, I don't want cooking to be stressful & annoying. I want it to be pleasurable. I figure that if buying pre-made pie crust keeps my hair brown for just a little while longer, than so be it. Pre-made pie crust it shall be.

So I bought a box of crust. I opened the packaging, unrolled the circle of dough, plopped it in the pie pan. And that was it! A miracle! Amazing! Splendid! Marvelous! And it tastes about the same as the dough I've slaved over for years. It appears that I truly can have pie and my sanity all at the same time. I didn't think it was possible! Hooray!

All of this to say that I made turkey pot pie for dinner and egg custard pie for dessert. And now that I've discovered this shortcut, I think I'll be making pies far more often.

Good Things Tuesday

Here's some stuff that is making me happy right now.



1. The Song Chart photo pool on Flickr. A bunch of people have taken song lyrics & turned them into graphs and diagrams. Brilliant. Click here to see my favorite one.

2. The Soop Shop on Etsy. They make these adorable rings that cost only $12 each. I need the squirrel one. I really really really do.

3. The "Stuff White People Like" Blog. Yes, it's wrong. I like it anyway.

4. Eddie Izzard is going on tour! EEEEE!!!! Just a shame he isn't coming here.

5. Design*Sponge, a really cool blog about home decor & such, has posted a Design Guide for my neck of the woods. Now I wanna go shopping.

6. Fluffy kitty belly.

Blah

Yup, that's right. Blah. It's how I feel.

Last night I had one of those big emotional breakdowns that we all have occasionally. I know that some of my dear readers are prone to these breakdown, too - some of you even call me in the midst of them - so that's why I don't feel bad admitting this. But it feels self-indulgent, you know? It's not fair for me to keep Tim awake late into the night while I thrash around, trying to figure out Why I'm Here and What Does My Life Mean Anyway and blahblahblah. Poor Tim. Poor, dear, patient Tim. He's even more tolerant than my cat ... and that is seriously saying something, people.

Speaking of Millie, here's some further proof that she is super laid back. Today a couple men came to the house to install our new over-the-range microwave/vent hood (yay!). These were two total strangers. They rang the doorbell. They walked into the house, smelling of strange smells & talking with strange voices. And did the cat get spooked? Not in the least. She continued to lounge lazily on the living room rug. I picked her up & put her in our bedroom so she wouldn't get upset. I don't know why I bothered, though, seeing as this is the same animal who will rub against my legs while I'm playing high Fs & Gs on my flute. Amazing. Millie is an animal that does not sweat the small stuff. I could learn a lot from her.

But here I am, sweating anyway. I think my problem is that I don't feel passionate about anything anymore. I used to feel an inner drive to do certain things - theatre, for instance - but that drive is gone now. I don't want to knit or sew or do anything crafty. I don't even feel the urge to see what plays are showing each week, let alone audition for any. I spend a lot of time on-line looking at art & interior design blogs, but I don't have the money to do what I want to the house. Generally I feel perfectly content just poking about on the internet & listening to my cat snore. But what kind of life is that? That's pathetic. I may seem content on the surface, but deep down I know that something is missing. I just wish I knew what it was.

You know what I'm doing? I'm making buttprints in the sands of time again. Bah. But how can I change that when I don't feel compelled to do anything else?

Anyway. Blah.

Happy Homer Day

Most of the people who read this blog know that I used to date a guy named Corey. He and I broke up about 5 years ago, but nowadays we are good friends who chat on the phone & visit one another whenever I'm in Tulsa. He still knows me better than just about anybody else & understands my sense of humor better than most. Basically, he's a good friend to have in your corner.

Anywho, Corey loves to buy surprise presents for people, so when I was his girlfriend I was the recipient of many gifts. However, Corey had a habit of occasionally buying gifts for me that he appreciated far more than I did. We called them Homer Gifts in honor of the episode of The Simpsons in which Homer bought Marge a bowling ball for her birthday - a bowling ball that had already been engraved with Homer's name & with holes already drilled to fit Homer's fingers.

One day we decided that occasional Homer Gifts weren't enough. We needed an official holiday. And so, Homer Day was born. On Homer Day - March 3rd - you're supposed to buy a "gift" for someone else, but honestly it's an excuse to buy a gift for yourself. It's a great holiday because we all deserve to treat ourselves on occasion, right? Right.

So this year Corey got me the DVD of Kenneth Branaugh's "Hamlet". I bought him "Something Rotten" - a book in the Thursday Next series. Well, whaddaya know, Corey already has that book! And I know that Corey is a much bigger Hamlet fan than I am. So, in proper Homer Day fashion, we've chosen to just keep our gifts for ourselves. I guess we won't be mailing eachother care packages any time soon afterall. ;)

Kitty Quirks

It's now been a week since Millie came home to us. In that time, we have come to learn a lot more about her.

For instance, Millie can't jump very high. She has trouble simply getting up on our bed (she uses her claws to get a grip on the edge of the mattress & hoists herself up). This is good because it means that she cannot jump up on the kitchen countertops. How great is that?! Also, she has a squeaky snore that is very endearing. And she often likes to lay on her back with belly exposed and her feet in the proper "paws up" position. Very very cute.


There were a few early quirks that worried us that, luckily, we've already overcome. Millie was nervous about venturing downstairs during her first few days here, but she seems to have conquered that fear with just a teensy bit of encouragement from us. I also noticed that she likes to sharpen her claws on the carpet, but I got her a scratching pad & she seems to prefer it over the alternative. All of these are moves in the right direction & we couldn't be happier.


But she has one quirk that we don't quite understand and are not sure how to handle. It seems that Millie prefers to eat while she is being pet. At the very least, she wants us standing or sitting near her while she eats. It's very strange. I can put down fresh food for her - even yummy canned food - and she will eat a few bites by herself, but she'll stop when she notices we're not near by & will go seek us out. We used to have her food in the guest room, so she spent a lot of time lingering by the door to that room, trying to lure us in there so that we could pet her while she ate. Now that her food is in the kitchen, things are a little different. If she wants to eat she will walk up to me and literally poke my leg with her paw - no, seriously - and look at me in a needy, pathetic way. If I ignore her, she pokes me again. When I give in to her wishes, she will happily chow down & eat quite a bit, purring the whole time while I stroke her back. Even if I just stand next to her and just watch her eat she seems much happier and will eat more. It's bizarre.

Can anyone explain this? Why does she want us to be there? Do you think she's a social eater - that maybe her old owner used to feed her cats at the same time that she fed herself? I honestly have no clue. Luckily, she does not try to wake us in the middle of the night when she goes down for an early morning snack. At least, I don't think she does ...