One of my favorite conversations from Christmas while unwrapping presents...

Hal: (inspecting each wrapped gift before giving it to me) I put codes on all your presents so I would know what they are.

Jenn: (smiling) Of course you did.

Hal: But now I can't remember what the codes mean.

Jenn: Of course you can't.


None of it mattered once I opened one of the best gifts ever - a label maker!! To say I was excited is an understatement. How Hal knew that I wanted this especially when I hadn't asked for it is purely and wonderfully fortuitous. And later my mom gave me a cutting board with a built-in colander. Christmas couldn't have been better!

Merry Almost Christmas

We have presents under our tree.

We have lots of food and goodies to look forward to.

We have a cozy home to nestle in.

We are celebrating with loved ones.

We have each other.

I am extremely grateful this Christmas since many are not as fortunate.

Here’s to filling the holidays with laughter!

The first step is admitting you have no time

So I have to admit that in hindsight I was perhaps too ambitious to think I could make holiday cake pops for Christmas, especially since it's only four days away and I have nothing, no ingredients,no lollipop sticks and no room in the freezer. The more and more I look at my recipe options for these cute confections on a stick, I find that even the short cuts seem like a long road to sugar heaven.

Thus, I've been exploring alternatives and think it's more likely I'll end up making these:

Pignoli Cookies
Extremely delicious, equally sugary,
almost as delightful to look at

But, to be truly honest (to myself, mainly) I may end up contributing these for dessert:

Clementines
Extremely delicious, not always equally sugary, somewhat delightful to look at

It's the thought that counts, right....

Daily plea

Every day for the past few days we've had this conversation...

Jenn: (so, so hopeful) Can I open a gift?

Hal: No!

Jenn: (defeated) Well, it doesn't hurt to ask.

Who wouldn't be tempted if you saw this under your tree?

Cat nap

I give him free reign over the entire bed, but Rascal manages to fit his entire body onto my long johns.

Now that's kitty love.

And yes, I do own long johns.

Indulging and it feels so good

The holidays have become a time of indulgence and if your bank account won’t allow for it, certainly your stomach will. The voracious appetite I acquire for all things sweet, buttery and outrageously bad for you is insatiable during this time of year. Pignoli cookies? Yes, please. Butterscotch toffee covered cashews? As many as I can stuff in my mouth at once, thank you. Fresh linguini with truffle cream sauce? It haunts my dreams.

As a cruel twist of fate (not so much fate as daylight savings), since it gets darker earlier my body becomes tired earlier making it much harder to work out. Lately, I just stare at the elliptical with a loathsome glare as if it’s the machine’s fault I need to work off the 9,000 calories I ate during the day. Even the Bowflex stands there like an enemy challenging me to take it on. In the end, I usually call defeat and go sit on the couch. I keep reminding myself that in less than a year I have to fit into a beautiful wedding gown that I love, and can currently breathe in without a problem. Then the Food Network’s umpteenth holiday special comes on and I’m reaching for the green and red Hershey Kisses, and trying to figure out just how difficult a Yule log would be to make.

So I’ve decided my one holiday treat goal is to try making cake pops. If you haven’t seen them, they’re balls of cake on a stick, usually covered in chocolate and other fun sugary accoutrements. This blogger, Bakerella, does cake pops like it’s her job and they come out adorable. I’m not so ambitious so I’ll be starting off simple. Wish me luck! I just hope my kitchen doesn’t end up looking like a bomb of devil’s food cake went off with shrapnel of sprinkles flying everywhere.

Bakerella's Tree Cake Pops

What I'm hoping to achieve...

I guess if there’s any time to treat yourself to the delectable things in life it’s the holidays. And maybe birthdays. And other special occasions, like anniversaries. Why not, right? We only live once and before I know it, I’ll be singing this same tune next December 2010.

A Priceless Holiday Follow Up

62 – the degrees at which our house was during dinner. Yes, our guests were freezing unbeknownst to me. Thank goodness for dessert by the fire.

3 – glasses of wine with dinner, which is probably why I didn’t realize how cold it was in our house.

10 – lbs of roasted vegetables. We have at least 6lbs left over. I think I overestimated our guests’ appetites.

2 – chatty parents, mine. My dad’s line of the night was “To make a long story short…” followed by a long story of course. My mother was characteristically jolly throughout the evening and conversed up a storm making my parents an unstoppable team of talk. But we were entertained nevertheless.

1 – silent dad, Hal’s. His lack of oratory participation made us wonder if he was tired, bored or if all the cashews he ate were not mixing well with his diverticulitis.

71 – attentive nods from Isadora as she listened to all the conversations buzzing around her. When she did volunteer commentary, her tone was as always chronically reassuring, which I’m convinced has been developed from years of psychotherapy.

4.5 – hours of bonding, mainly between Hal and me, as we made it through another family gathering together with much laughter and few mishaps.

Priceless Holiday

6 of us cramped around a small table : requires cozy dining in the kitchen

4 dietary conditions to take into account - lactose intolerance, wheat allergy, diverticulitis, and no shellfish : a challenging menu that may not be edible

2 days (less actually) to clean house, food shop, cook, put up last minute decorations and get merry : team work will be required, especially to achieve “get merry”

1 evening with family, around the fire and surrounded by holiday cheer : irreplaceable and worth all the effort.

Married (Happily) with Issues...And?

Every once in a while, I read something that hits a hot button (in a thought-provoking way, not aggressive provocation) and I find myself frantically typing all the thoughts and observations I have on my relationship with Hal as if this is the first treatise ever to be written on the subject. That’s hardly the case.

There is so much one could say about relationships, and there is so much that has been said about them. Maybe too much. Perhaps we’re overloaded with conceptual ideas of how relationships should be that we begin to seek out remedies for issues that don’t exist. We have ‘experts’ giving us steps for creating the “perfect” syncopation between partners. But they don’t know you or me or us. And, maybe people are not so different from each other, but the individual experience over the course of lifetime cannot be summed up in a text book or guided through a set of rules.

A recent article in the NY Times, Married (Happily) with Issues, as shared with me by a good friend is interesting to say the least, and I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it. It’s a snapshot of a couple attempting to fix their marriage, or as they put it, make it better. What began as a marriage renovation evolved into a marriage revelation, as questions about automony, monogamy and commitment abounded. Initially, everything that is ‘broken’ about this marriage is seemingly implicit, tucked under rugs or projected through passive-aggressive behavior, until they voluntarily break the dam, and elicit the help of marriage self-help books, therapists and relationship seminars. They run the gauntlet of relationship counseling, and it’s exhausting even for the reader to witness. Sure, there are candid observations, raw insights shared and thought provoking anecdotes, but it really needs to be read through the looking glass, as an outsider peering into the life of this couple that is in the fishbowl. Otherwise, you begin to wonder if their's is the inevitable condition of the 21st century marriage. That when you peel away the layers of a relationship, you discover there's no such thing as a good marriage.

It’s a lengthy piece that you can relate to, object to or just stop reading if your eyes get tired. It seems honest and chockfull of revelations, that I’m sure a book deal helped secure to some extent (I’m so jaded at times). But it’s ultimately fodder for thought, and I guess someone else’s journey through misery is always fascinating on some level. As my friend said, it would be interesting to read this again years later to see if personal perception has altered at all. However, if you’re in a happy relationship right now (whatever that means to you without judgment), this article should encourage you to relish in it for the moment rather than scrutinize it.

One of the things I did find fascinating in this article was the verbiage used in all these relationship books and studies. They sound like such hyperbole and make the subject very melodramatic.

“Marital ghetto”. “Intimate Terrorism”. “Vindication of love”.

They make love and relationships sound scary and dangerous. It all seems like a mind game at times constructed by the psychotherapy community. We’re telling you love is scary and dangerous so you need to talk to us to get over how scary and dangerous it is. Now I’m just babbling unconstructively.

Anyway, read the article here. I recommend curling up somewhere comfortable with a large cup of coffee or your choice of liquid energy.

Twas 18 Days Before Christmas...

The stockings are hung.

The tree is dressed

with some of our favorite decorations

and now it looks festive!



Rascal attempted to help

but ended up creating an artistic shot of our tree.



Happy Holidays!

O Christmas Tree

Presenting our naked tree!

It's our third Christmas tree together and I think we got a good one this year.

Hopefully we'll get it dressed with holiday cheer this weekend.

In the meantime, we've been enjoying our new pine and its piney smell.

Tell Santa what you want for Christmas

The holidays are magical; they always manage to bring out the most anxious, stressed, impatient sides of our selves. Holiday spirit becomes more like holiday aggression, and the pressure to find the perfect gifts, buy enough gifts, rewrap the regifted gifts can easily send us over the edge. And our household is not immune to this.

As Hal and I discussed what we each wanted for Christmas, we came to a dead end for the most part. We have a lot of stuff and to use the holidays as an excuse to accumulate more stuff just doesn’t seem as appealing. However, I do have an idea brewing that may make Hal’s holiday a little more fun than usual (which has me excited at the prospect of this), but the mere mention of this sent him into stress mode like I’ve never seen him. He actually appeared to get aggravated that I was brainstorming thoughtful gift ideas FOR HIM. His exasperation, Hal explained, was more due to the pressure he was suddenly feeling to be equally thoughtful in his gift-giving, a pressure I can understand. I told him that I would be happy with whatever he got me, which I sincerely meant, but he was unconvinced.

Hal: I just don’t want it to end up like my first Christmas living in Tomkins Cove as a kid.

I’m immediately picturing poor Ralphie from A Christmas Story dressed in the bunny suit praying for that Red Rider air rifle. But as Hal explained, it was more a situation of ‘procrastination is the thief of time’ (and good gifts, apparently).

A brief anecdotal moment compliments of Hal:
The first year we lived in Tomkins Cove, little Hal apparently waited too long to ask Santa for what he wanted so by the time I did, my parents had already gotten me stuff I didn’t ask for. When I opened them on Christmas, I thought Santa made a mistake and dropped the wrong presents at our house. So I wrapped them all back up again and waited for my real presents to come. I was really disappointed when my real presents obviously never showed up. And I’m sure the whole time my parents were like, “What the hell, Hal?” So I don’t want either of us to feel that way because we never asked Santa for what we really want.

So a list was made for Santa Hal in hopes of relieving some stress while attempting to capture more of that holiday spirit. But now after thinking about 9-year old Ralphie, it kind of makes me want to ask for a set of cozy footie pajamas, sans bunny ears.

Generation Gap?

Last night Hal was playing “Songs of the Millennium” which we actually think was Europe’s songs of the millennium based on the colorful and eclectic song choices that came on at times. There were a number of songs that took me back to middle school days and I enjoyed a dance party of one at those choice moments. Then this particular song came on and it got both of us grooving, I Like To Move It (Move it) by Reel 2 Real, and then we were reminded that sometimes your age does show itself.

Grooving away...

Jenn: I think I was like 12 or 13 when this really popular. It was a big hit on the bar mitvah scene, which is the only reason I remember how old I was.

Hal: I’m five years older than you, aren't I?

Jenn: Yeah.

Hal: Wow...I remember this was big in remixes they played at rave scenes.

Jenn: Oh. Yeah…

Good holiday formula

Thanksgiving + The Beach = all degrees of deliciousness

And Ariel's white German Shepherds added some entertainment to the holiday

Like poetry to my ears

Sometimes they unexpectedly say exactly what you hope to hear.

Jenn: How happy are you on a scale from one to ten?

Hal: (without missing a beat) Eleven.

Jenn: That wasn’t an option. Seriously, how would you rate your happiness?

Hal: I guess a nine, only because we’re not married yet and I can’t wear my wedding band. When we’re married, then it’ll be a ten.

Grinning and Surviving It

For me, my hair is kind of like a security blanket of femininity. It assists in making me feel attractive. The power of the hair is strange to me and yet, I can admit that if I have a bad hair day it can have a major impact on my mood and outlook. My attachment to my hair and whatever confidence it raises is to me at times irrationally strong. But it’s strong nevertheless. If I lose any more than a few strands in the shower I start to panic that my hair is falling out. Ridiculous, I know, but I’ve let it become part of my identity.

So I can’t imagine what my mother is feeling watching her hair fall out thanks to chemo. As predicted, her hair is falling out steadily and as she puts it, ‘it’s very upsetting and depressing’. Of course it is. It’s the personification of having cancer and a consistent reminder of how this disease has impacted her life. It’s that visual sign to everyone that you’re sick. Point blank, it sucks.

And when it grows back, it will be a reminder of how she survived it.

Until then, however, my mother has started donning kerchiefs and her wig, which I have to say, is pretty close to what her hair looks like. But it’s not her hair, and I imagine when she takes it off at night she’s faced with reality again (although I’m not sure she can ever avoid reality right now). Her head is extremely tender and hurts to touch, but she still manages to smile through the pain.

And that’s how it’s been for the past couple months. Since being diagnosed and starting treatment, my mother has been admirably brave and her outlook inspiring. I know she wonders what the future will bring (or take away); it’s only natural. But I also know she isn’t letting herself drown in the ‘what if’s’ since life is so unpredictable to start with. Like the warrior she is, she remains vigilant in her quest to fight cancer (with a little love and support from family and friends), while trucking along with every day life doing every day things. And when you see her, she’ll be smiling because the chemo, the hair loss, the exhaustion can all be overcome with the right attitude. And if you know my mother at all, this isn’t a bit surprising.

PS, Happy Birthday Dad!!

Top Ten Goals for 2010 (Take another five)

6. Cook one well-rounded (tasty) meal a week
In our house we eat relatively healthy but I don’t always think we’re feeding our bodies substantially. By well-rounded, I don’t mean six course gourmet dinners that begin with an amuse bouche and end with a port (although that does sound wonderfully indulgent). I’m thinking more along the lines of a protein, vegetable and starch all on one plate, which doesn’t always get accomplished currently. Plus, cooking can be therapeutic.

7. Step out of my comfort zone
I want to make an effort to go down the path not usually taken. I’m able to “turn left” and take detours but I’m admittedly one of those people who prefers a route - the well-traveled path. Feeling lost, either literally or metaphysically, sometimes elicits a fear-induced visceral reaction in me and I panic. I need to adopt that, ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ approach, reconcile with it, and then maybe I can focus on the best that can happen – discovering a whole new side of me.

8. Be more creative
I’ve been writing a lot more these days but I used to be so artsy and crafty. I think I need to rely less on inspiration and the need for a defined “project” and more on just the freedom to be creative no matter what shape or form that takes - like when we were kids and a pile of scribble on a page was considered art. I have to give in to the freedom of creativity even if it ends up looking like a hot mess.

9. Pack lighter
Literally and metaphorically. I think my bag contains my life which is why it’s a source of chronic shoulder pain. I need to lighten the load and recognize that all I really need is my wallet (and tissues). Of course, I won’t go out with just a wallet but leaving some of that peripheral, unnecessary stuff at home makes a considerable difference on lessening the weight on my shoulders. There are metaphors in here somewhere.

10. Commit to together time
This applies to everyone important in my life. It’s really about making an effort to share time with the people that are most meaningful to you. I never want to look back with regrets that I lost time with loved ones.

Top Ten Goals for 2010 (Take five)

1. Take a Picture a Day
I don’t blog every day and I don’t write in my journal consistently, but a picture is easy enough to do. The whole idea is to take photo that represents a moment from that day. The moment itself does not have to be significantly meaningful or be symbolic of something more introspective. It doesn’t need to be over thought or overanalyzed. It can just be a fun way to record 365 days of 2010.

2. Take care of my body
It’s been over two years since my last physical so it’s time to make sure everything is still in working order. Having family members suddenly struck with cancer makes you realize that you need to make a best effort to take care of your body consistently. At the end of the day, you’re the only one truly responsible for it and your health is the most valuable thing you have.

3. Plan my wedding
But more importantly, I want to enjoy planning the wedding. It’s easy to get sucked in to ‘how the wedding should be’ thanks to television, magazines and the idea that you can grow a mythical money tree in your back yard. We don’t have a cash crow grazing on our lawn so it’s up to Hal and me to be creative with our funds while also adding a personal touch to our nuptials. I’d much prefer the wedding reflect us and all the love we put into making the day ours, rather than striving to make the cover of Cosmopolitan Bride magazine.

4. Read more books and less magazines and blogs
I’ve gotten into the habit of decompressing at the end of the day by perusing a magazine or various blogs, most of which are wedding-related. I call it research for the ‘big day’ but I’d really like to exercise the brain a bit more with a good book. Escaping my life to get lost in someone else’s world for a little while is not such a bad thing.

5. Define how I feel about work and not let work define how I feel
I’m a meticulous person with a conscientious work ethic, which means I invest much of myself into the effort put forth and whatever the end result is. I’m realizing that I need to stop letting work define how I feel every day since this experience is ultimately fleeting. Sure I’ll always have the skills and the business acumen I’ve gained, but the journey doesn’t start and stop at work. My life is filled with so much more that deserves the effort.

Parenting, by which I mean Pet Parenting

There are moments when Hal, the cats and I are hanging out and I see us as this little nuclear family. I’ll admit, the cats are treated like our children more often than not, and I do refer to Rascal as my baby (or my little monster depending on the situation). Most of the time, they eat, sleep and poop just like babies, and provide that ‘cute’ entertainment as only pets and babies can do.

Admittedly, I think about of how often I take pictures of the cats and wonder just how obsessive I’ll be when we have kids. All our children will know for the first few years of their lives is the blinding light of a camera flash and the sound of the lens auto focusing. But I'll have these special years memorialized forever (oh boy...). Hal should probably reign me in now.

In many ways, I consider Rascal practice for those infamous “terrible two’s” parents experience with kids. He’s like a precocious toddler who’s constantly doing things he’s not supposed to – climbing on shelves, lounging on the coffee table, playing with the blinds, chewing on inanimate objects and sometimes eating animate objects like bugs – all of which require a degree of patience and discipline on our part. I’m discovering that I’m good with the patience and Hal’s good with the discipline. When either of us is asked to demonstrate the other, I think we do a subpar or ineffective job. He and I should stick to what we're good at. Rascal also has his needy moments where he demands attention, but it’s balanced by his ability to be very affectionate. I can just see us describing one of our kids this way some day.

Miss Kitty is our independent one who prefers one-on-one time, whether it’s with one of us or with her toys. She’ll cry (and cry, and cry) for attention but a little goes a long way for her. It was a while before she warmed up to me, but Hal took it as a good sign that she did at all, and in under a year. I guess she accepted that I was here to stay. And now she sleeps on my pillow (or other cozy nooks).

We are a happy little family for now. And when the cats choose to spend time with us, it’s really nice to have the furry companionship, especially at the end of a long day. It makes me look forward to raising kids (the human kind), but for now I’ll settle for bonding time on the bed and the sound of them chasing each other around the house.

Monday Musings

Things I have realized this morning:

It’s 314 days until our wedding. We have our wedding bands. I have my dress (ordered). Hal has a tux. We could get married any day now. Or in 314 days. =)

I still don’t understand the appeal of twitter. Why do I care that your cranium needs a hug? Then again why should anyone care about what I write about either?

This whole Twilight series is so viral. I guess the next movie in the “saga” comes out this week. I told Hal we should go to see “2012” in an effort to keep the Twilight movie from grabbing the top box office spot (because our 2 tickets will really make the difference. No really, they will). Maybe I’ll start my own viral anti-Twilight campaign, “Daylight Rocks”.

Actually, Ellen DeGeneres Rocks. She’s incredible on many levels but she’s proven you can be funny and liked by the masses, and you can be a lesbian and liked by the masses. And if you’re a funny lesbian, you’re loved by the masses. She is a true 21st century media iconoclast that is only required to be herself in order to be wildly popular. I can’t think of anyone who fulfills these specs successfully. See Frank Bruni’s article in the Times…

I love my girlfriends. And I love that it’s so easy with them. It’s one of the few absolutes I can rely on these days. It makes for a Happy Monday!

Vibrancy

I'm inspired by how happy vibrant colors make me feel. I think they'll be incorporated into our wedding colors, perhaps starting with the flowers...

And I'm getting obsessed with these adorable little yellow pom pom flowers I keep seeing in bridal bouquets online.

When I asked Hal what he thought of these colors - fuschia, yellow, orange and a touch of green - he gave me the nod of approval. And then he asked if he could incorporate these colors into his suit for the wedding. I had to explain to him that it's our day of matrimony not our day at the circus. Men...

Mathematical Poetry or Poetic Math

I dug up this piece I had written two and a half years ago. I think at the time I was considering submitting it to the NY Times column, “Modern Love” but didn’t think it was of NY Times caliber. Instead it has been sitting on my hard drive. It’s funny, just the other day I yelled at Hal, “I want more poetry, less math!” He actually knew what I meant, but rolled his eyes nevertheless. He knows (and I know) his romantic gestures tend to be subtle but meaningful to me. And I look back at this and think how far we’ve come (he now says I love you) and how some things don’t change (he still snores).

March 12, 2007

I once read a woman describe her husband as wanting math, not poetry. Granted, this was written in a very different context than my own at the time as she was attempting to express how much she loved her husband despite the fact their marriage was disintegrating. I on the other hand was in a fairly young relationship that was still learning how to grow. Nevertheless, the statement “he wanted math not poetry” struck me since it seemed so fitting for my boyfriend, and for me who desired the antithesis, poetry not math.

The first time Hal and I slept together, and I literally mean slept, I found out quickly that he snores. Earlier that night, I had jokingly asked him if this was a possibility and he said that he didn’t think so as no one had ever informed him of this sleeping vice. Well, he did and still does. The next day, I believe I referred to the snoring as “cute” to my friends who warned me that the cute factor would wear off quite quickly, especially if it leads to sleep deprivation.

Being a relatively light sleeper when I’m in a bed other than my own, I did have an opportunity to learn of Hal’s other slumber idiosyncrasies beyond the vibrations of his soft palate. He twitches, marked by occasional sudden, jerky motions that tend to startle me awake if I’m not already. He also clenches his teeth making me wonder if he’s dreaming about biting into a succulent piece of sirloin.

He also sleeps with his back to me most of the time, which I initially interpreted to be a form of rejection (why do women torture themselves this much). But not wanting to be “that girl” just yet, I refrained from asking (pleading with him), ‘why do you always turn away from me when you sleep’, but I did finally question Hal as to whether he preferred sleeping on his right side. This seemed like a safe, non accusatory approach. To this he responded with the affirmative. So he really wasn’t making an effort to reject me during the night, but it was just a comfortable sleeping position. Phew.

Not too far into the relationship, I quickly arrived to the over analytical stage (hence the aforementioned questionable sleeping position) where I began to ponder his true feelings for me. When we first started dating, he used to say affectionately, “I like you”. And I liked hearing that since it was the only verbal confirmation of his feelings towards me. But what does that really mean? Then when hearing even those words ceased, I realized I didn’t know how he felt about me. That’s where I believe the math was introduced.

I could tell from the start that Hal was a low key guy who purposefully avoided complications in life. When it comes to relationships and matters of the heart, ‘math’ would seem to be the uncomplicated approach. There’s something straightforward about math and its formulaic nature which can pave the way for a rather rote simplicity. Math sits on the surface of the paper, laid out completely with no need to delve deeper into a meaning; it is not made to leave room for interpretation.

Hal liked to express what was on the surface. The most verbal affection I seemed to get out of him was, “I enjoyed having you over this weekend”, or, “it was nice having you here”. Low intensity, somewhat general statements that are of a positive nature but seem a bit banal, especially when as the receiver of these comments, you want POETRY. I wanted the stuff beneath the surface; the feelings.

I wasn’t looking for grand gestures or Shakespeare, no corny movie lines like ‘You complete me’; nothing like that. But I figured a little bit of poetry could set my increasingly obsessive mind at ease in a big way.

I decided to bring this to his attention, his preference for math and not poetry. I was determined to have the dreaded heart-to-heart one morning in early March when we were lying in bed. Then something happened while I was being little spoon to his big spoon. Hal entangled his body with mine, wrapping his limbs around, over and in between my own, making sure I was tightly pressed against him. At moments, he would lightly caress my arm or my hand, running his fingers over me with a gentle affection. His breathing was shallow as his chest moved peacefully up and down against my back. I’m sure many couples share this kind of closeness, but sharing it with Hal I began to realize that this could be his poetry. When he rubs my back or teasingly tickles me, or we breathe contentedly in syncopation, these sweet interplays could provide the assurance I was looking for without involving any words.

Of course the over analytical itch in me thinks, maybe I’m just making myself feel better by creating poetry that’s not really there, bedroom poetry. But why the hell shouldn’t I? We’re taught to avoid a false sense of reassurance, but being devoid of that kind of comfort can make you cranky and unhappy. I finally decided that it wasn’t about living in a self-proclaiming fantasy or searching and waiting for an ideal poetic moment that may never come. It was about enjoying the time you had with a person whose company you liked keeping, even if he does snore.

Priceless

Dinner date in the wine cellar at Il Fresco with lots of food, a bottle of wine and a boisterous waiter = 3,000 calories each, at least

Shopping at Woodbury to expand Hal’s upgraded wardrobe = 2 sore feet (mine of course)

Signing up for a membership at Costco (we finally gave in) followed by our purchase of just 6 products = $150 (for what??)

Raking leaves and then pushing each other into our gigantic pile = 2 hours and a shitload of leaves

Celebrating Hal’s dad’s birthday = 61 years young

Hal keeping me warm as we stare up at Orion’s belt = 2 minutes (it was chilly)

A lovely weekend together = perfect

What’s in a name?

It used to be a given that the bride took her husband’s last name once they married. They also used to say, “I now pronounce you man and wife”. They might as well have stamped “property of Man” on the wife’s forehead. Let’s face it, up until recently women were considered, treated and behaved as if they were subservient to their husbands. The image of the 1950’s housewife with her apron, a wooden spoon in one hand and a vacuum in the other was glorified and represented a traditional role that had been perpetuated for generations.

Things have evolved (to some degree) and now what used to be a given, the taking of the husband’s surname, is now considered tradition. For the first time, I think my generation has been asked more than ever before “are you taking your husband’s name?” Regardless of the response, the reactions are now also mixed and as the bride, I feel like we have to justify our choice either way.

I was recently asked by a coworker if I was going to change my name. When I said yes, she said, ‘oh, that’s very nice of you’. I wasn’t sure how to take that. My choice to be Jennifer Skelley is not a gesture of kindness towards Hal; it’s not motivated by generosity, tradition, or a show of respect. It’s my choice to share his last name. Is there a rational reason for this decision? If you consider the following to be rational:

• When I see or write or hear Jennifer Skelley it makes me smile
• I like that sharing a name represents that we share a life together (I recognize one is not at all dependent on the other)
• I’m looking forward to one day (hopefully) being a family of Skelley’s with our TBD number of children

These reasons are not necessarily practical nor do they need to be. Like many decisions having to do with a relationship, they’re for the most part emotionally driven and based on what will ultimately make me/us happy.

The big question really is, why do we even need a reason to change or not to change our names? It’s a name and how important that is to you should be personal and not up for public judgment, right? This is a rational argument and yet it doesn’t stop me from feeling the need to justify my decision regardless if the reaction is one of acceptance, praise or criticism.

Maybe Hal and I will adopt a new name completely and become the Smiths. Give people something totally new to question.

Looking Gooood

Last year, Hal grew his hair long for the winter. It got to be this curly, bushy afro that was actually quite impressive at times especially when combed out. I had no idea his hair was capable of such volume. Since the au natural fro was not the preferred look for work, he became obsessed with hair product. It was like a new world opened up for him down the hair styling aisle and I found myself getting calls at work from a confused boyfriend who didn’t know if extra strong gel or hair putty would be best. Using the right product to mold his hair into the right shape and the right texture became a time-consuming art form that often left him running even later than usual. And I often caught him examining himself in the mirror, moving any unruly curls into place with the precision of a sculptor. A monster had been created…

This year, the hair is still short and product-free. However, the hair may have grown to new heights last year but the waistline has shrunk this year, and so begins a new obsession for Hal – looking gooood. “Obsession” may be a bit of an exaggeration but it’s my blog so I can overstate at will. Anyway, his svelte physique has prompted the “need” for new clothes.

Shopping for clothes never seemed high on the enjoyable activities list for Hal. Because of that, if we are shopping for clothing it’s most likely for him, and only him, and it’s an efficient trip otherwise he gets that look like he’s road kill being dragged from store to store. This was pre-weight loss.

Now inspired to show off his new waistline, extensive time has been dedicated to finding him jeans, sweaters, button downs, jackets, and even things unaffected by his downsized physique, like boots. I know I shouldn’t complain. He looks great and no longer has that look of dread when entering a mall or the outlets. But just as the hair styling became an all-consuming task, so has shopping to make sure Hal looks goooood.

During the outlet shopping yesterday, a majority of the time was spent shopping for ‘Hal clothes’. I don’t mind helping him choose outfits (I actually like feeling needed in these situations) or motivating him to buy dark wash jeans (which was no easy feat, trust me), but when you’re tired, hungry and in need of a ladies’ room, no amount of your fiancee’s good looks can satiate those problems. When we went into “my” stores, he was really great about being patient and giving opinions (for the most part), but these detours were relatively short lived. And while most of the stores did have clothes for women, Bass, Timberland and Eddie Bauer just aren’t really my style. Although I have to admit I did get an awesome down jacket at Eddie Bauer that makes me long for sub zero weather.

So it was in the Columbia store looking at yet another fleece/raincoat/windbreaker/light jacket (all of which became indistinguishable to me), that I broke down. It was toward the end of our shopping trek and as I watched Hal try on one more piece of outerwear or look at one more forest green sweater, I lost my ability to take it like a champ. I became the impatient, whiny kid who was clearly in need of a nap. To his credit, he was everything I couldn’t be at that moment, patient and tolerant. When our last stop ended back at Timberland so he could try on black boots and more jeans, I found myself acting and feeling like the (albeit exhausted) adult I arrived as some four hours earlier. I won’t lie, the chocolate covered macaroon from Godiva may have helped.

Back in the car, Hal leaned in for that kiss that says, “We’re all good and I love you”. I assured him that it was a fun afternoon, and indeed it was. Why wouldn’t I want to help my fiancée shop for clothes that I helped pick out? I just hope this latest shopping excursion will keep him looking gooood for a while.

From Hairy Hal last Christmas to Looking Goooood Hal today.

When the mystery in the relationship is gone…

Getting into the car headed to Costco…

Jenn: It smells like fart in here.

Hal: (deadpan) I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Jenn: No seriously, it smells like fart. (I start hysterically laughing) Were you farting the whole way home?

Hal: (He starts laughing too) I don’t smell anything.

Jenn: It’s impossible to deny. You should’ve at least cracked a window. I’m surprised you didn’t suffocate.

As soon as he turns the key, I quickly roll down my window.

Jenn: Roll down yours.

Hal: Why? It’s cold.

Jenn: We need the cross ventilation to get rid of the fart smell.

Hal: (still chuckling) I think you’re imagining things. It smells fine.

Two hours later, we’re getting back in the car after walking the entire floor of Costco.

Hal: It smells like fart in here.

We both burst out laughing, as we quickly roll down the windows.

The mystery may be gone, and the honeymoon may be over but the good times, as small, silly and insignificant (and smelly) as they may seem at times roll on.

Keen-what?

I’d like to think that Hal has an open mind when it comes to trying different foods. He loves sushi and Indian food. He likes Thai, Vietnamese, and Korean BBQ (I’m sensing an ethnic theme here). But when it comes to certain basics, I like to call him a purist. He prefers margarita pizza, spaghetti with marinara, iceberg lettuce, white bread...you get the idea. Until recently, whole wheat anything, ground turkey and romaine were not invited into his diet. And he doesn’t usually vary far out of the box when it comes to his interpretation of food. Rice is a side dish (best served with Chinese food); hamburgers are made with ground beef (and yet he likes Boca burgers); Craisins should never be added to salads (no matter how much they can enhance the experience). Every once in a while I am reminded of his purist nature (like in the grocery store on a Sunday evening), and then make a mental note to introduce dried cranberries, pesto sauce, goat cheese and whole wheat pasta into our children’s diets from a very young age.

In the middle of Stop & Shop...

Hal: Have you heard of that stuff...uh…kween…

Jenn: Quinoa? (Keen-wah)

Hal: Yeah, that’s it! What is that?

Jenn: It’s a grain. It’s supposed to be good for you. Why?

Hal: People at work have been talking about it. We should take a look at it.

Jenn: Really? Okay!

Considering we’ve only recently added brown rice into his diet, I was surprised that he wanted to explore other grain options. I found it encouraging, but was cautiously optimistic that we’d be adding quinoa to the cart, especially after watching Hal drool over frozen cream puffs. Some things just seem too healthy for his liking.

We got to the organic, natural, wholistic, unprocessed, sowed from the earth, area of the supermarket and I picked up a bag of red quinoa. In hindsight, I should have grabbed the regular, white quinoa which might’ve looked mildly familiar to Hal.

Hal: What’s that?

Jenn: The quinoa you were just talking about.

Hal: It looks like that? That looks weird. And it's like 5 bucks for that small bag.

Jenn: It’s not weird. It’s a grain, uncooked. What were you expecting?

Hal: I don’t know. It doesn’t look edible. What are you supposed to do with it? Use it like rice?

Jenn: Yeah! I’ve seen people make salads out of it. Like rice or couscous or lentil salad but instead you use this. (pause, sigh) Judging by the blank expression on your face I’m guessing you’ve never had rice salad and/or do not know what that is. And I’m guessing that the quinoa is a no-go.

Needless to say, Hal looked a bit turned off, actually disgusted would be more accurate, and bewildered by this never-before-seen food item that seemed beyond his comprehension, or digestion.

Hal: (exasperated) I don’t even know what you’re saying to me right now.

Jenn: AND, we’re done here.

We tried. For those more open to trying foods with funny spellings, click here for what looks to be a delicious greek quinoa salad.

Mutually ignoring the mutual agreement

Last weekend we purchased my wedding band. It’s really pretty. Actually, I’m in love with it. It’s fairly slender and delicate with 6 small diamonds running along the top of it that pretty much cover the top of my finger. It looks beautiful with my engagement ring, or worn by itself (you know I love options). I didn’t want to take it off but Hal was pretty vehement in saying that I couldn’t wear it until our wedding day. Initially, I said Bah! to that since he’s been wearing his sporadically. But then conceded once I thought Hal and I had a mutual agreement to stop wearing our rings until our ‘special special’ day.

That didn’t stop us though from taking a moment to “practice” as we each slipped the respective rings onto the other person’s finger. It made me really excited, almost to the point where I could’ve dragged us down to city hall that day.

So the wedding band has been sitting, nestled in its box and I swear I’ve only taken it out a few times to try it on (We had a mutual agreement. No promises were actually made). I tried it on once to show my parents, who loved it. I tried it on again in the privacy of my office at work since I had been carrying it around for the aforementioned unveiling. And I tried it on one more time at home with no one around just because I felt compelled to see the two rings side-by-side on my finger. I’m still in love.

Since the band was purchased, Hal has been seemingly good about not wearing his band. Then I woke up this morning and saw this.



"What are you doing??", I exclaimed to a very sleep fiancée. Even in his slumberous state he knew what I was referring to and smirked.

Jenn: We agreed!

Hal: Yes, that you wouldn’t wear your band. We didn’t say I couldn’t wear mine.

That certainly wasn’t how I remembered the conversation going, but truth be told I didn’t really mind him wearing it since I like how it looks, and I love that he wants to wear it. Not what I was expecting from a man who, prior to buying his ring, made it seem like he was going to feel metaphorically strangled by this new piece of metal around his finger.

Following my admonishment, I did admit to him that I’d put my band on a few times since then. He figured.

Yep, I think we’re made for each other.

To test and protect

I’ve been experiencing blogger’s block. The past week has had more downs than ups but doesn’t need to be relived, and sometimes it is just enough to say, “it’s a lot of life.”

But yesterday I was reminded of a very random conversation the fiancée (then the boyfriend) and I had fairly early on in our relationship. Perhaps I was more cognizant of this when we first starting dating, but I think it’s only natural for new couples to “test” each other. It’s one way of figuring stuff out: how the other person really feels; how invested s/he is in this relationship; how they handle the unexpected, or your parents…And while I can admit that some of these “tests” are absolutely ridiculous, I’m happy to report that retrospectively I find them amusing.

A while back, I distinctly remember asking Hal at what point would he risk his own safety to protect mine. If it was a loaded question, that was not my intention. I merely wanted to ascertain whether or not he thought his instincts would kick in if we found ourselves in a perilous situation, and if he would take on the protector role.

He gave me this quizzical look, like ‘what’s she really fishing for?’, and then thoughtfully responded, “I don’t know.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say but that just didn’t seem to be it so I painted him a picture in which the scenario was perhaps even more random than the question.

Jenn: Well, let’s say it’s late at night and we’re sleeping and suddenly there’s an earthquake. The house is violently shaking and a large piece of furniture begins to fall onto the bed. Would you cover me with your body in hopes of blocking the furniture from falling on me?

Hal looked confused and slightly amused, but I knew he was really thinking WTF? Admittedly, there were certainly flaws within the scenario I’d presented which may have detracted from getting an honest response. Living in NY, we experience very few earthquakes. And while our bedroom has pieces of furniture in it, I don’t think any of them stand tall enough to topple over onto our bed. But he should get the point, right? Not the man who focuses primarily on the rational and doesn’t always see the meaning beyond the inaccuracies of the scenario.

So I tried again, this time presenting a scene in a bar where some large, unsavory fellow won’t leave me alone despite my adamant objections to his tenacious attention. Sounds good, right? Hal shrugged and said (somewhat unconvincingly), “I guess I would come to your defense”.

At this point, I don’t know why I persisted. It’s not like “ready and willing to take a bullet” is on the list of criteria I’m looking for in a partner, unless he works for the secret service. I don’t lead an action-packed life with car chases, spontaneous bar fights, or flying bullets. In essence, I don’t need a protector. But I wanted to hear more than ambiguity. I think I wanted to know that he cared enough to keep me out of harm’s way, not necessarily at the expense of his own peril, because somehow that signified he really really cared about me. Sensing my frustration (and perhaps the test), Hal relented and told me with more gusto that he would stand between me and the large, unsavory man. I took it to mean he cared (and made a mental note to be grateful we don’t get earthquakes in NY that often).

Fast forward more than two years later and it’s Hal’s turn to randomly share his thoughts on what he’d do to someone if they ever hurt me. Suffice it to say, he definitely cares about me.

Fortune Cookie

My fortune cookie from the other day:

The virtue lies in the struggle, not in the prize.

Right about now I'd be willing to be a little less virtuous if that meant I would have a little less of a struggle. And the prize is just what you make of it.

When it rains, it pours. I just have to hold on a little more tightly to the umbrella until the storm passes.

Message from beyond aka the backseat

During lunch with my dad today, he shared the following with me.

Dad: I got a message out of nowhere from someone.

Jenn: Who?

Dad: My mother.

She has been dead for over 25 years, by the way. My heart skips a beat.

Jenn: Where?

Dad: I was in the car and she spoke to me. It was as if she was talking from the backseat of the car. It lasted all of a few seconds.

Jenn: What did she say?

Dad: She said, "you’re going to live until you’re 97".

Jenn: Wow.

What else does one say to this?

Dad: I knew it was her because she spoke to me in Spanish and she called me Jose Antonio, which is what she used to call me as a kid...I got the chills and then the hair stood up on my arms.

Me too. We then proceeded to discuss aging and whether living until your 97 is really so great, especially if you're alone. So what could have been a touchingly ethereal experience for my dad, now became a chat about growing old and losing all your friends and loved ones to death. Lovely lunchtime fodder for thought...

Do you? I DO!

Hal ordered his wedding band online last week. Yes, online. What can we say, we’re a couple on a budget and I was most concerned with making sure he got something he liked and would wear. He was choosing between a titanium and tungsten band, but decided on the latter since it had significantly more weight to it. There was definitely a joke in there about the ring representing the weight of marriage on his soul, or something silly like that…

We had his ring finger measured at a jewelry store and then that evening he purchased it, unbeknownst to me. (By the way, did you know your ring size is usually the same as your shoe size?) I knew he had been looking at them but didn’t realize he had gone ahead and ordered it. It was kind of a sweet moment when he told me he bought it – like, wow he really does want to marry me. Of course I knew this already (hence the ring I wear every day) but it was a nice reminder.

And then it came in the mail a few days later. Just like that his wedding band was sitting in our house, waiting to be worn at any moment. He opened it and I slipped it on his finger (September 26, 2010 be damned). I’m fairly certain that in Haiti this means we’re married. It was a perfect fit! He wore it for the rest of the day. Having never worn any type of rings on his fingers, Hal was unaccustomed to the feel and the weight, which was his reasoning for continually wearing it. “I’m really going to need to get used to this”. I told him that he’d better get used to it (but I said it sweetly). It looks good on him; the color of the tungsten suits him, and it’s clearly a strong, noticeable band. We like this.

Actually, I think Hal really likes it. He wore it again the next day (but only at home), and I actually got on bended knee at one point and proposed to him with it (why not have a little fun, right). He’s worn it to sleep and in the shower. At this point, I’m not sure if he’s getting accustomed to it or testing out its reputation for being incredibly durable.

Just as Hal will from time to time affectionately run his finger along my engagement ring, the way you might run your fingers along a picture like you’re trying to touch the memory of when it was taken, is what I kept doing to his ring. Maybe some might think we're jinxing things by having him wear the ring 'just around'. But this practice period doesn't mean the significance of the band means less to us. I think it's actually been reinforcing just how much we can't wait to be married to each other, to make it official. When he finally took it off, we both missed it.

I feel like we’re in almost-wedded bliss. The future Skelley’s have a lot to look forward to.

No woman no cry

Despite the unexpected and unpredictable twists and turns life has taken over the past couple of weeks, I have to say that my heart feels incredibly full. Witnessing the love and support of friends, receiving it yourself, and then passing it on to those who need it the most has made my heart swell; I can feel it now expanding in my chest. It’s like when you’re overtaken with emotion, except this has been a constant presence lately.

They say when times get tough, that’s when you find out who your true friends are. Agreed, but I think it’s also a time when friends become family and the compassion becomes palpable. It’s a tremendous experience that may only surface during moments of crisis, but it makes the hard times survivable, and even a bit inspiring.

I’ve lived in the moment more than ever before. I’ve grown up more than ever before. I’ve seen myself and my fiancée in a new light. And I’ve come out of these past two weeks feeling more loved than ever before.

Everything’s gonna be alright.

28 Candles

What my 28th birthday means to me:

• 365 days went by very fast


• It’s an excuse to eat whatever I want. Chocolate chip cookies for breakfast? Why yes, thank you.


• I’m 12 years away from 40 (but I won’t dwell on that)


• In 361 days, I’ll be getting married!!


• It’s a day when you hear from friends, family and acquaintances that you haven’t spoken to in hours, days, months and perhaps years. They may be two simple words, “Happy Birthday”, but they are awfully nice to hear.

This morning, I was greeted with a big, warm hug from the fiancée.

Hal: Happy Birthday, babe.

Jenn: Aw, thanks. You’re the best birthday gift.

Hal: I thought I was the best Christmas gift?

Jenn: That’s okay, you can regift yourself.

Little things that bring Big cheer

These plants look happy regardless of the setting.

Whether on their way home

Or comfortably nestled in place

They just make us feel so cheery.

And I'm entertained by my shadow...

‘Jenny’ & Hal Appleseed

Yesterday Hal and I took a break from life, some might say, to take part in a time honored fall activity – apple picking. We went last year toward the end of the season when the trees were over picked and the selection scarce. That made it all the more challenging (and fun) for Hal who was armed with one of those picking poles, which he became rather adept at using.

This year being that it’s still early enough in the season, we were greeted with rows of apple-laden trees.

There’s something about picking apples that just brings out the kid in me. It’s the memories of doing it as a child, climbing the trees, being surrounded by an endless supply to snack on, and getting to chuck your apple core onto the ground as if you’re giving it back to nature. I just get so excited.

Even though many of the apples were in arm’s reach, we got the picking pole anyway since I think it played an elemental role in Hal’s level of enjoyment during last year’s outing.

And rather than having to point at the choice apples high in the trees, I was able to actually pick them myself this year. Both of us were able to share in the apple picking fun, while he aimed for the high ones and I stuck to the low ones.

Half a bushel of apples later (that’s a lot!), and we have more than our share of Golden Delicious and Macintosh. Plenty to make the apple cherry crisp we devoured last year. There is that saying about 'an apple a day'. So what if it's covered in sugary juices and surrounded by a flaky pie crust and crumbly topping...and accompanied by a scoop of vanilla ice cream. You only live once!

I didn't need to break the glass after all

Nearly a week later, having spent numerous hours together, seeking to absorb as much love and support as we can possibly give and take from each other, he’s finally opened the door and I’m in the store watching passersby while we clasp hands and sway to the heartbeat of life.

Metaphors and glass

It has been a long day. One that I actually felt detached from in many ways. It was followed by a longer evening which felt like a void more than anything else. I'm tired. Perhaps that's why these thoughts and words came to me as if I was transported to a land of metaphor, where sensitivity is heightened and stream of consciousness takes over. It reads like something I would've written as a teenager. I guess feelings really don't evolve too much over time - just the events that provoke them.

I feel like I’m looking through a store window from the outside. I can kind of make out what’s happening inside and I want to go in but the sign on the door says closed. I tap gently on the window. No reaction. I tap a little harder and he looks up, then looks away. I can almost hear what they’re saying if I press my ear right against the glass, almost straining my ear drums to catch a word, a mumble, a whisper, anything. He approaches the window and stands in front of me. I can see him so clearly it’s as if I should be able to reach through and touch him. He tells me in so many words that everything is okay. The glass suddenly feels very thick between us. I ask to come inside but he tells me that they’re closed. The window is getting fogged up. Perhaps I’m breathing too hard. He starts to walk away. I pound on the glass hoping now to shatter it, creating a portal for me to enter and join them. But the glass doesn’t even crack.

Ask Hal

I really think Hal needs to start an “Ask Hal” column. He’s surprisingly good at dispelling relationship advice. Prior to meeting me, he had done the online dating thing off and on for a while so he’s fairly seasoned at it. For both of us, the bar scene was never really our style so I’m sure there is a whole set of rules that would apply to just that scenario, but Hal’s got a good take on general dating tips.

After sharing notes last night, here are some dos and don’t we came up with for online daters, or daters in general. They aren't new and they seem like common sense, but how often does rationality really play a role in dating and the trials of love?

To Do and To Don't Do

1. Listen to your “creepo” instincts. If you’re sensing that he’s beyond quirky and may have sociopathic tendencies (or your gut is just telling you he’s a bit too strange) then listen to yourself and take a pass on that one.

2. Call. At some point the communication should transition from strictly online or electronic (ie text messaging) to an actual phone conversation. So that way when he turns out to have a more feminine voice than his ultra masculine look has you assuming, you can stifle your reaction when you meet in person.

3. You don’t need to write a novel every time you email. There’s nothing wrong with brevity because it can keep the other person intrigued to learn more. But complete sentences and complete thoughts count, and earn you points in an age of email and text-speak.

4. For guys (and ladies) online dating is all about numbers. The more women you contact, the better the chances that someone will respond. Don’t get fixated on one person since s/he may never contact you in return and you’ve wasted potential time.

5. Don’t judge a book by his/her profile pic. Some people are just not photogenic or hate having their picture taken, so no matter what it comes out looking like a mug shot. Better to have them better-looking in person than in their photo. And remember, a fantastic personality can heighten physical attractiveness beyond what Photoshop is capable of.

6. Don’t overanalyze the profile. It’s just supposed to lay the groundwork, not be the basis for your entire (potential) relationship.

7. Post more than one picture, as long as the others aren’t of you drunk or with an ex. And guys, whether she’s an ex or not, stop posting pictures with you cozying up to other women. We’re not sure what to make of those photos so it’s just easier for us to assume the worst and move on.

8. After the first date if you want to see the person again, make a “plan” for the next date even if it’s just saying “I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we can talk about getting together again.” Providing a definitive time line gives you both something to look forward to. But that means you have to FOLLOW THROUGH. That can’t be repeated enough. Sigh…

9. Seems obvious and common sense but the first meeting should be in a public place. Just because you’ve read the profile and spoke on the phone does not mean you KNOW the person. Ladies, why would you want him to know where you live? You might as well meet in a dark alley and take your chances there.

10. And finally. Don’t become too attached to that portfolio of ‘must haves’ you’ve created. It’s perfectly fine to want the other person to have certain traits that are important to you but don’t be married to them. Basically, keep an open mind. Hopefully, you’ll end up married to a great person rather than just your ideals.

If you need dating insight or want the guy’s take, Hal’s the one to ask. But he’ll be direct and honest. He’ll be the first to tell you, “he’s just not that into you.” but he managed to snag a pretty great gal so he must be doing something right.

The couple that Bowflex’s together…

The other night Hal and I tried out the Bowflex (a week after it had been assembled, whatever) for the first time. I ran on the elliptical while Hal maneuvered through a routine on our new “home gym”. The elliptical and Bowflex share a space and I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed watching my fiancée pump iron. I definitely had a, “why, hello there” moment.

And then it was my turn. Giddyyup. Not so much.

If you’ve ever seen a Bowflex up close and personal you can’t help but notice the complex system of pulleys and chords everywhere, along with the bows that make up the different weights. I’m still amazed Hal put this together himself.

So when Hal told me to go at it and start doing the routine, I just stared at the machine willing it to do the work for me. It’s not overly complicated (unless you let it be) once you figure out what to attach to this and that pulley to be able to perform the desired exercises. I have to admit, I was being a bit of a brat about wanting Hal to put everything in place for me (so much for pumping up to be a strong, independent woman) and was actually pleased when he forced me to figure out how to use this thing under his direction.

Having your significant other watch you strain muscles while breaking into a sweat is not so enjoyable, especially when you’re hyper aware of your legs sticking to the vinyl of the workout bench. There’s just nothing attractive (or graceful) about peeling yourself off of a piece of equipment. Hal didn’t seem to mind, as he counted my reps, watched my form and critiqued my arm extension. Apparently, I’m not just gaining a husband but a trainer as well. With the routine done, I felt good (and sore) but on the fence about whether this Bowflex purchase was really a good idea in the end.

The next morning as I was getting my goodbye hug, Hal referred to me as “my little fiancée with the Bowflex body”. Not even close, but the sentiment was sweet and brightened my outlook on the day. I came to the resolve that this new addition, which requires 9 feet of usable work out room, may not be a waste of space after all. Bowflex = healthy body, and it appears it may also further a healthy relationship. But next time, I’m wearing sweats; that vinyl is a killer.

Renaissance Flaire

My first time to the Renaissance Faire was last year, and it was an experience to say the least. More beer than I could handle, lots of pickles, sausage on a stick (I’m sensing a theme here) and funnel cake (Mmm). All of which seceded from the homeland of my stomach hours later. In addition to the food, as I expected all the Faire people were in costume and dutifully such in character, but I did not realize how “festive” faire-goers get as well. Wow. And this year was no different. There was flair everywhere.

As Hal so rightly put it, for adults this is the perfect opportunity to play pretend. I guess that makes sense…Although I did note to him that some of the faire-goers’ costumes (every day clothing?) was so elaborate that they begged the question, is this the only time you whip out that outfit? Hal suggested they could be LARPers (Live Action Role Playing players), which makes all too much sense. I could picture a number of these people wielding cardboard swords and shields as they flail about in some wooded area. Kids dressed up as little fairies or pirates – adorable! Men decked out in head-to-toe knight armor that they made in their basements – creative but a tad weird. And don’t get me started on all the women (too young and too old) in bustiers. Thy cups runneth over, and over…

Perhaps one of the highlights for me was during the living chess match in which one the chess pieces removed his shirt. Why? Who cares! All I have to say is Huzzah to the half naked man! During that same match, Hal got to see two beer wenches wrestle with mud so I figured we were evenly entertained.

The Ren Faire does undoubtedly transport you to a different place that at times is charming and mystical. Perhaps it’s the troubadours and the Elizabethan accents (kind of), or the hand blown glass and wooden pipe music streaming from everywhere. I’d come back again. If only for the steak on a stick – delicious!!

Huzzah!


Wedding update:
We have a wedding photographer – Yaaaaay!!

His name is Dante Williams of Dante Williams Photography. Check out his work at http://www.dantewilliams.com/ or his blog at http://www.dantewilliamsphotography.blogspot.com/. Hal and I love that he captures moments beautifully, and shouldn’t weddings be all about that!

Rascal's reminder

My cat, Rascal, reminded me last night that when life throws you a challenge...

turn to Plan B

And I had to include a picture from the very first day Rascal entered our lives.