Sad to see ya go

2006.

I'm sad to see it go. I have to admit, I was trying to think of something in my usual Cranky Grandma style, but I can't do it. I can't think of anything bad that happened this year. Sure, there were a couple of plates chipped and few new gray hairs, but I have to say it was a truly great year.

It all started New Years Eve 2005. A few lies sprinkled around, "oh, you know we have a couple of NYE parties to go to" when secretly all we did was stay home on the futon. Alone. With spooky movies we were to spooked to watch. A great dinner cooked by Dave-0-vicious himself and dreaming of what would be.

What would be. Was. Great.

The new Husband.

The new life.

The Wedding. Glitz and Glamour

The trip Up North where we spent the day chasing down Moose tracks and counting the dancing deer.

Our fab new apartment that we love, love, love

Decorating

Trying new recipes

Discovering all the new "firsts"

Project Runway Wednesdays turned Top Chef Wednesdays turned just another excuse to eat a lot and be with friends Wednesdays

The Minivan purchase. Say it ain't so!

New friends

The weekend getaways

Driving the folks down to Chicago for a bonafide Midwestern Thanksgiving Extravaganza!

The lazy Sundays just sitting and reading

Our very first Christmas Tree

Watching Him run around the house looking for little treasures

The birthday trip to Chicago. The pimped out hotel!

Watching Jo and Kelly married!

Baby Jack

My best year ever at work

But the very best was just being. Just sitting back and enjoying.

Here's to 2007. Can't wait to see what's to come.

Contents of a 2 Gallon Purse: An Ode to Mme Piggy

Macy's catalog

Target catalog - full of coupons for toys the kids don't want. Or course!

Wallet stolen from Mona

Receipts for things I will never expense

Checkbook, also missing its holder

Pile-O-Bills. Most of which have not been paid since Aug.

4 way past due parking tickets (don't tell Dave-o-licious)

Package of Nice 'n Clean wipes. Have no idea where they came from.

2 packs of gum

1 tampon

lip gloss

Pomegranate aroma therapy roller ball tube thing

cork from really nice bottle of wine from Pierres

more coupons I have slipped and never used

uber soft Gap gloves

eye allergy relief eye drops

stack of fancy pants business cards

34 pennies, 5 nickels, 8 dimes NOTE: not even 1 quarter. This accounts for above mentions parketing tickets!

bottle of Alieve

1 fuzzy yellow chick

6 pens

bottle of Aveda Elements

Unopened can of Diet Coke

A List

1. It is Monday morning and all i can think about is the weekend. See. You have off on Saturday (I'm ignoring the 1/2 day) which means that we get to play, play, play.
2. Your loaf is better than my loaf. We can't be good at everything I guess.
3. My favorite days are the ordinary ones. The ones in which we wake up, make eggs and just hang out. I love my life. I love that ordinary days can be the best days. The days I most look foward too.
4. You look pretty cute in dust covered blue jeans.
5. Don't you think our underpants will look better in the drawers than the floor?
6. Da Bears.
7. Da Vikings
8. Here's to movies with no endings
9. Thanks for waking me up every morning
10. We'll always have the soggy hugs.

Aches and Pains

Is it when your left arm or right arm hurts that it means you are having a heart attack?

Mundane, but I'm ok with that.

Tasks for today:

1. book hotel rooms for Thanksgiving extravaganza - CHECK!
2. schedule church thing for Grandma - CHECK!
3. clean desk. - CHECK!
4. make 150 phone calls related to actual work. -CHECK!
5. sell $8000 worth of restaurants ads - STILL WORKING ON THAT!
6. gchat a few times -CHECK!
7. eat lunch - CHECK!
8. eat dinner with the girls- CHECK!
9. clean house - STILL WORKING ON THAT!
10. plan runway dinner- CHECK!

Where is the God Damn Fat Lady?

September sucked.
September has always sucked
Bad things happen in September.
Like, school starting.
Like, bad dreams and flying home early.
Like, people getting sick.
Like, people dying.
Like, letting down the one you love the most.
Like, creating enough drama to fill up the God damn Metropolitan Opera House.
I thought the fat lady had finally sang when we were at the Raw Bar.
I was wrong.

Enter October.
Fucking hell.
We all need an escape.
He keeps saying something about Telamark. I don't even know how to spell it. I'm not exactly sure where it is- Wisconsin, I think.
Sign me up!
All I know is that I'm game.
Game for anything.
Game for another car trip in the mini van. I even bought one of those little U-shaped neck pillows.
Game for a King size bed.
Game for the Jacuzzi.
Game for Nature (God help us all).
Glass of wine anyone?

October will be better.
It better be.
September sucked!

Time flies when you're having fun

Here it is. Almost a year since I started this blog. As you can see it has been nearly a year since I've updated this beast.

What can I say?

Today is the anniversary of my Grandmother's death. I can't believe it has been a year.
Should I feel horrible that it hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be? I can't. I cry every now and again. I cried today. But I spent so long trying to hide from how scary it would be that when reality hit me in the face I realized that the worst was in my head.

I'm going to bring some bird seed to spread on her grave tonight. She loved feeding the animals.
I think she'll smile at that.

Ok, I'm going to go cry now. Shit.

A. vs Andrew

Did you know that the state of Minnesota won't grant you a marriage license if the paperwork issued by your church has your middle initial typed out as: A. and not your full name Andrew?

Arggg. Back to St. Mary's to have a chat with Arlene. Then. Back to downtown Mpls. Back to the $8 ramp. Back to the long line at the Service Counter to get a number ticket to Blue Counter. Back to waiting in line at the Blue Counter.

Kill me now

Chains Of Love

Do you think I should find it problematic that the boy keeps referring to me as: the ball and chain, the anchor around my neck, etc?

Well, the noose- oh excuse me- the chain is going to get a little bit tighter today. We are going to brave the lines at ye ole government center to get our marriage license today.Wish him luck!

2 Cent Headache

Did you know that US Postage was going up to 39 cents starting on Monday? Now, 2 cents wouldn't be something I would normally sweat. I regularly throw away the little buggers when the urge to clean my car washes over me. You see. I just sent out 150 wedding invites. Each of which contains an RSVP card which is now 2 cents short. It isn't fair. Not fair at all!

After discovering this bit of information, I hauled my fat ass down to the very counter I bought the stamps from a mere three weeks ago and asked how this could have possible happened and what my options where. It was obvious that the African man staring back at me from the counter- although very nice- had no idea why I was in such a tizzy. Anyway, he quickly pawned my woes onto a co-worker.

This are the conclusions we came to:

1. I'm fucked

2. Some RSVPs will slide through under the "transition" phase of the rate change.

3. Some will be returned to my guests with a note stamped on the envelope that I swear will read, "The bride invited you to her wedding, but was to cheap or stupid to add the 2 cent stamp you will now have to go out of your way to purchase so that you can do her the honor of showing up to her wedding and showering her and her new husband with a gift you don't feel like purchasing and eating the chicken in "package A" she has decided is good enough because she didn't have enough money in her budget to feed you the Grade A sirloin you really deserve!"

4. Some will make it to my front door only to be stopped by my mail carrier, who may or may not decide to drop it off and pay the 2 cents out of his pocket so that he doesn't have to deal with it- yeah right!

5. My mail man will probably not take pity on me and will return it to his hub in which a notice will be sent to me saying that I again have to haul my fat ass down to the post office and pay the 2 cents per envelope to find out who will or will not be at my wedding

6. The nice African post office employee had suggested to his boss that a poster or other form of notice should probably be posted in order to inform people of the rate change, but still doesn't know why the Boss didn't do that. (Mind you, a flyer was still not posted when I went down there this morning).

7. Did I mention that I'm fucked

And before you all think I'm nuts and find it necessary to point out that the chick who sold me the stamps would have had no way to know that they where for a wedding invitation that included an RSVP- you would be WRONG. She did know and found it necessary to chastise me for choosing to stick my chosen "Greta Garbo" stamps on the envelopes rather than the traditional "Love" stamp most decent brides feature proudly on their envelopes. I want to kill her.

8 weeks left to the big day

Help. I need to get out of this grumpy mood I find myself in. I feel overwhelmed and stressed out.

8 weeks left to the big day.

I'm not exaggerating although some of you will think I am. There is a lot left to do. I always thought that if I did find myself in this predicament that my mom would step in, take over and have the entire day planned out in a matter of weeks. All I would have to do is be ready with the blank checks. Not so. In fact, she's been pretty hands off. Not because she doesn't care, but because she knows that I'm stubborn. Pigheaded enough to stay out of the way. Secret is, all I want is my mommy to step in and save the day.

8 weeks left to the big day.

Take yesterday. I've been trying to figure out what to do about the centerpieces for weeks. I thought- I have a brilliant idea! 4 trips to Michael's, 1 to Jo-Ann Fabrics and 1 to Crafters Warehouse later I walked away feeling pretty excited. Add a stop at Sam's Club and a quick visit to IKEA and you could have stuck a fork in me. I was done! But no, I still had to go pick up my mom from work only to find that she bought a rug- which didn't fit into my car because of all the other stops along the way. Finally got home and starting to unpack my loot only to find that the 10lbs bag of sugar I bought had burst open. I now have -and will probably have for a very long time- 5lbs of sugar in my trunk. I'm not exaggerating here folks. FIVE POUNDS! I hate Sam's Club. It isn't like it's SO much cheaper than the grocery store. They can afford to give us fucking paper bags to put our shit in! I was in a foul mood to say the least.

8 weeks left to the big day.

4 Michaels, 1 Jo-Ann Fabrics and 1 Crafters Warehouse later reality struck. I have no fucking idea how to make a wreath. My brilliant idea has dwindled down to a pile of yuck. I'm left with nothing more than a glitter explosion on my bedroom floor.

8 weeks left to the big day.

The boy says not to worry, that I'm trying to hard. No one will look at the centerpieces anyway. What does he know? He's a boy. They better fucking look at the centerpieces after all this!

8 weeks left to the big day.

M&M are coming over tonight. That will be a help. We're going to make all the favor boxes. All 200 of them, if it means that I'm going to strap them to a chair until they're done! The boxes at least will look cute. They only needed 3 previous trips to Michaels- oh yeah, and one to a paper warehouse place.

8 weeks left to the big day.

There you go. Anal, stressed, disappointment all wrapped up in a glitterized bow.

Thank God Almighty

It fits! The white poofy marshmallow dress fits! It looks pretty darn hot on too if do say so myself!

Thank ya Jesus!

Burnt Grilled Cheese Part 2

The poor boy is sick again. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm at fault.
See. I work in a cesspool of ick. Everyone here is sick. In fact, K, actually broke a rib from caughing to hard.

Anyhoo, I think I'm going to tackle this Tomato Soup & Grilled Cheese thing again. I have high hopes this time. First, I'm going to make it with milk on the stove top. Seems that I missed the inter-office memo that told me that you never ever make it by following the can's directions: water, bowl, microwave. As far as the grilled cheese. I have the Pam and low heat setting ready to go.

I'll keep you all posted.

My Christmas Wish

My friend the Norwego just posted her Christmas List.
I thought I would take her lead and post mine:

1. Guest List entered on the evil that is theknot.com
2. A poofy white dress that fit my fat ass
3. A photographer that is signed and paid for.
4. . Did someone say, type and format the program?
5. Rsvps in and accounted for
6. Someone to help me decide between chicken and beef
7. The perfect ring
8. Time enough to sleep- its 12:59am people!
9. Invites that are printed, addressed and stamped in time
10. Help finishing my two knitting projects.
11. Christmas list done
12. Christmas present purchased
13. Did I mention the white poofy dress that fit my fat ass?

Arggg, Crankers is cranky!!

Let's Get Physical, Physical....

There is nothing than better than hauling your fat ass into work late again only to be greeting by a voice from Shane.

See. Shane is my new Lifetime Fitness trainer. Being new and gung-ho Shane seems to have made me his new pet project. The voice mail went like this:

Ireeeene, this is Shane. From Lifetime. Just checking in with you. I haven't seen you at the gym lately. I looked you up in the system as it seems like you haven't made it in for a while.

Fine. You found me out. Geez, I've been busy. OK!? Yes, I know I have been freaking out about not fitting into my wedding dress. Yes, I know I have to lose 3 inches from my fat ass, but get off my back Shane!

The Dream Doctor

Have you heard of him? He's the host of a really dumb talk-radio program. My life has turned into one big call-in guest. Well, I'm actually much to obvious to need The Dream Doctor, but still, the analogy works.

I keep having crazy dreams.
They are driving me nuts.
See.
I'm getting married in 3.5 months and I'm anxiety filled. Not about marriage, but about the wedding. How to people do this? I'm freaking out. I've even detected a grouping of gray hairs coming in.

My anxiety typically tends to rear its ugly head in dreams so I'm not really sure why I'm so focused on it. You know the kind- you're trying to get somewhere but something or someone keeps stopping you from reaching your destination. Your car breaks down, elevators don't come, you can't find one of your shoes, etc.

My brain must be having a fuckin' hell of a time concocting all these crazy scenarios I've been privy too lately.

As of late my dreams have everything to do with the big W.D. Guest don't come, I'm late for the ceremony, I miss my hair appointment, can't find the veil, etc.

My favorite one had me missing the luxury yacht I had booked for the big day. Everyone was already on the yacht- everyone except for me that is. I was running behind. I remember sitting in a convertible driving on the freeway. Veil blowing in the wind. Dotting in and out of traffic. I finally make it to the dock, but the yacht was a mere spec on the horizon. I was frantically looking for a row boat or something to get me to that ship!

What's up with that? I would never hire a yacht to get married on. Nope, I'm more of a traditional kind of gal- church, hotel banquet room, etc.

Last night I had a doozy too. I actually think I woke up in tears. Or. Perhaps I dreamt that I woke up in tears.

It was the morning of the big day. I wake up, Mona came to get me to get our hair bouffanted out. I realize that I never picked up my dress from the wedding shop. Holy crap! We go down there and leisurely ask for it. Nothing. A blank stare from the gentleman behind the counter. It was like the Soup Nazi- No dress for you! I scream. Commotion ensues. The weird thing about last night is that I kept waking up and falling back to sleep only to find myself in the same dream- different store, different Dress Nazi, yet still no dress for me. By the time my alarm rang I had probably been in every stinking wedding boutique in town trying to get a dress. I never did end up making that hair appointment.

Remember to remind me

Has anyone ever said this to you? I find that people say this to me a lot.

Remember to remind me to bring breakfast to work tomorrow.
Remember to remind me to email my client when we get back.
Remember to remind me to mail the check.
Remember to remind me to call the store.
Remember to remind me to, blah, blah, blah, blah

I guess if I was being honest with myself I would have to take responsibility. (Well, I'm take some, but they should take some too.) I can't help it. I like being needed. I like being in control of the world around me. But, I’m also tired of it. My friends call me mothering, controlling, a worry wart, etc.

But.

Why can’t people take responsibility for their own stuff? Why can’t they follow up? Do what they say they will do? Show up when they say they will show up? I hate being put in the position of nag, checker-upper, mother. They're grown ups. They can walk themselves down to the store and buy a Post-It note. They can get a calendar and jot down a few notes. Right?!

I want to scream 'cause for how much I hate that I do this, I still follow up. Check up. Did you get this done?

I’ve come to three conclusions about this all:
1. For all my bitching and moaning, I’ll still remember to remind them.
2. I’ll continue to complain about it.
3. They’ll think they are better than me, wiser than me, more aware than me because of it, but they'll be wrong.

$9 Back

I keep racking my brain for something to say today.
I've got nothing. Nada. Zilch. Hrmph.

D. keeps telling me to just write. Even when I have nothing to say.

Just write. Just write. Just write. Just write...I worked a show last night. A benefit. We raised enough money to buy 8,000 meals for a local food shelf. Success.

Its odd you know? How we present ourselves to the world I mean. As I was standing there. Hands out.
Please donate what you can. We're matching every dollar.
A middle aged woman walked up. You've seen her. Tall. Long coat. Hair coiffed. One of those scarf things draped across one shoulder held in place by a pin. She pulled out her Louis wallet. Pulls out a $10.

Thanks so much.
Wait, that's a $10!
Yes ma'am a $10. Thank you. Its a great cause!
I would like $9 back please.
Change? Who the fuck asks for change from a donation bin?! Well, ok. I left out the last part, put I did send some bad mojo her way.

Later....

Short woman. Wearing your typical Mn garb. Synthetic material. Hippy shoes. Uncoiffed hair. Just some mascara for her.
I thought. $1 for sure. NOPE. Pulled a checkbook! Wrote a check! $300!!

There you go. Had something to say.

Burnt Grilled Cheese

I’m marrying what some would call- a guys guy. You know the type: sports-watching, beer-drinking, can figure out how to fix just about anything kind of guy. He’s a big ole thumbs up in my book.

D. got pretty sick this week. Says he’s suffering from Ebola. I tell him no, just the flu.
Back off- I’m the hypochondriac in this relationship!

He doesn’t ask for much, so when he called and said I don’t feel so good, need some tomato soup and a grilled cheese. I said.
No problem baby, anything for you.
I ran to the store and opted for the tried and true- Campbell’s soup, American cheese. Perfection.

By the end of the night D. may have been rethinking marriage to yours truly. See. I’m spoiled. I don’t cook. Have my very own private live-in chef. Seriously! It goes something like this:
I would like
2 boiled eggs in the morning- don’t forget the toast!
Lunch. Tuna salad extra pickle
Dinner? Oh, don’t worry I’ll get something while I’m out.

I failed. Miserably. Burnt the grilled cheese. TWICE! After getting explicit instructions from the other room on how to make it.

Everything ok in there?
Everything’s great sweetie!
Are you sure, it kind of smells like something's burning!
No. It’s all good!
Are you sure?
Yep!

Repeat….

Later-
Did you stir this soup?
Of course- what’s wrong?
Well, it’s kind of lumpy.
Sorry. Want me to stir it some more?
Silence
What?
Nothing…
What?!
Well. Did you use the microwave?
…yezzz. I followed the directions: 1 can of soup. 1 can of water. Stir.
Silence
What?!
You’re supposed to use milk and stir it in on the stovetop

Failure.

R.I.P

My little grandma died last week. She fell and broke her hip two weeks ago.
I loved her. She was my favorite person on earth.

It is still kind of hard to talk about. It is weird you know? I feel ok about what happened- she was sick and frail and unhappy in her body.

I move through my day thinking about her and smile.
Then. Bam! The stupidest little thing can send me off into a crying fit.

The day after she died I was fine. Sad, but no tears. We where setting out some plates and glasses and snacks for the wake when all of a sudden a basket full of cookies just about knocked me on my ass. See, when she was well, she would have gone into the kitchen boiled some water in her little pan and made herself some tea. No fancy lavender infused loose leaf tea for her. No. She was a simple woman. Lipton was her favorite. She would have loved these cookies- they are great for dunkin'. She would have taken two and no more, but I would have gone into the kitchen and gotten her a third. I can see the little smile on her face now. I miss that smile. I still see it. She had this way about her. She would cock her head to the side and give you the smallest of smiles. It always made me want to say, "I love you, yiayia"

I'm afraid of forgetting that look. I'm afraid of forgetting how her hands looked.

I kind of got blind sided last night too. Walked into my house and it was gone. Her bed I mean. We had her hospital bed in the dining room. They came and took it back. I don't like having the dining room look like a dining room. Don't like it at all.

She's been put away.

Cherakouimou, se agapo. Se peithimo. Pote then tha se xihaso! - To koukourouisou. xoxo