On Our Way To Crazy

The old fireplace color. I really, really loved the purple, but with the new furniture and future plans it was time for it to go.

New color. The mirror might not stay.

New entertainment center. I don’t have a picture of what we had before, but trust me when I say that it was bad. And please, stop drooling with jealousy over our rabbit ears.

New bathroom color. This is the only picture that turned out, so you can’t see the sweet mirror we’ve got up in there. But you can see the original bathroom color (the wall on the left) for comparison. I am so thrilled with this color I cannot even find words to express it.

And, as a bonus, a Miles closeup. See the tongue? He tried to lick the camera.

FRIDAY
I talked Aaron into taking a half-day. We bailed on work at noon and went to my favorite lunch place, Baja Burrito. (Non-Nashville people: next time you’re here, we’re going there.) We then began what I thought would be a weekend-long-mind-numbingly-difficult search for an entertainment center. After trying a couple of furniture stores, we found exactly what we were looking for. At Target. On big fat sale. I did not see that coming.

We went home and started putting it together, only to find that the top panel had a huge scratch and one of the handles was bent. I thought things were going a little too easy. We made plans to take the damaged pieces back to Target and then find a place to eat and watch the Mavs. Everything was going swimmingly until we decided to take a little nap at around 5… no, really, just a half hour or so. No big deal, right? Shouldn’t have been, until we woke up FOUR HOURS LATER. Crap. We gave up on the Mavs and decided instead to hit Target before it closed and grab some food on the way home. I decided I wanted pasta, so we went to Macaroni Grill (open late!) where, lo and behold, the Mavs were on in the bar! Score! So we had pasta and wine and watched our boys take the Suns. Very exciting.

Came home to find that Miles had not only scaled the kitchen table and gotten into my purse, eating both a package of peanut butter crackers and a 100-calorie-pack of fudge swirl cookies, but had also found the box of my most-favoritest-have-to-make-a-special-trip-to-fresh-market-just-to-buy-them white chocolate macadamia nut cookies I’d left on the side table. A brand new box. He ate the whole thing. There were crumbs and foil and plastic EVERYWHERE, and he was happy as could be. We watched him all weekend, but he never got sick. I did, though, over the loss of my cookies.

SATURDAY
Saturday was a day o’ decorating. We started at the flea market, where we found a whole lotta crap and one weird little head sculpture that we had to buy. We repainted the fireplace (from purple to brown) and the half bath (from boring beige to freaking awesome green), as well as hooking ourselves up with a bunch of great little accessories for the new entertainment center. I’ll post pictures tomorrow. I think we did other stuff, too, but for the life of me I can’t remember.

SUNDAY
Church. After church, we played in a softball game that our care group had been challenged to by the pastor’s care group. We smoked them. (Well, our team did. I didn’t play because I don’t have a glove and no one had a lefty glove I could borrow. Aaron played. His playing did not contribute to the smoking.) It was a really fun afternoon, and a good chance to just hang out and get to know people at church. Then we napped again and headed over to Steve and Jessi’s to watch the Mavs take the Suns. You know, again. (Woo-hoo!)

MONDAY
You guys, I seriously have no idea what we did yesterday. I know I read a lot. We tried to go play Frisbee golf, but the 9-hole course has been knocked down to three so they can build an indoor soccer arena in its place. We… had dinner at Chili’s, which I only remember because the table next to us tipped our waiter in change. The entire day is foggy to me. What the heck? I wasn’t even drinking.

I don’t think.

Ahhh… Memorial Day Weekend. I LOVE Memorial Day Weekend.

When I was growing up, this weekend meant loading up the jeep and caravanning up to Lake Texoma to camp with my parents’ friends and their kids. The little swimming hole where we always went had this little cove that was covered in sticky brown clayish mud. If you ran up to it and hit it just right, it made a perfect water slide. The first of my many, many failed attempts to water ski took place on those weekends. We would swim and boat and play all day, but the real fun began at night. Nighttime was when THE BOOKS came out.

I grew up surrounded by music. I remember my parents having parties that included putting plywood down in the living room to create a dance floor. My dad and his friends were the band, and I thought they were the greatest band I had ever heard. I don’t have a clear memory of what my dad played… we had a drum set in the game room, but for some reason I think he played bass. He has the ultimate bass face. They would don cowboy hats and muscle shirts and cover the hell out of all their favorite songs. The songs of my childhood didn’t come from Sesame Street and Sunday school – they came from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and The Doobie Brothers. When my dad bought me a little marimba as a gift, he had an ulterior motive – he needed someone for the solo on Margaritaville.

They say necessity is the mother of invention, and THE BOOKS were born because my dad and his friends weren’t very good singers. They needed backup. THE BOOKS are binders filled with the lyrics to every classic rock song known to man. After dinner on our camping trips, the guitars would come out and THE BOOKS would be passed around. You could request anything, as long as it was in the book. We would sing and sing and sing until they made the kids go to bed. But the party continued long after we were in our tents.

The other day, Aaron and I were discussing what we would choose if we were only allowed one era of music. After much deliberation, I chose THE BOOKS. If the song is in the book, I want it. That’s the music that means the most to me – the music I grew up with, the music my parents love. The soundtrack of my childhood. And this year, while I’m painting and working on the house, a million miles away from Lake Texoma, I’ll bust out the good stuff. It wouldn’t be Memorial Day weekend without it.

Nikki was my first college friend. We met the day we moved into our dorm – West Hall on the UNT campus, or Ghetto Fabulous as it was more affectionately called.

I was with my roommate who at the time I thought would be a great friend. We had gone down to the lobby to check out the cafeteria menu, and we ran into two girls, one of whom was wearing a plaid fisherman had identical to one I had. We started talking. My roommate didn’t last long, but my friendship with those girls did.

Nikki and Regina, the hat girl, lived in a triple with Amber. Amber’s high school friend, Allison, also lived in the dorm. The five of us quickly bonded over our loathing of the dorm we lived in and our disappointment that only loser boys seemed to live there. We were inseparable. I don’t know how I would have survived that first year if I hadn’t formed that group. I certainly wouldn’t know nearly as much about late 90s pop music, or Szechwan, or how to save melted chapstick. I wouldn’t be able to quote Sifl & Olly, or know how fake a Hello Kitty suicide, or be an honorary member of the Wu-Tang Clan. I wouldn’t have to fight the desire to yell, “DRESSED IN PURPLE, DRESSED IN PURPLE, WALKIN DOWN THE STREET!” every time I see someone in a purple shirt. As dumb as it sounds looking back, and as ridiculously lame I’m sure we were, I needed those things. I needed that year to be fun. And it was.

Amber, Allison and I all transferred after our freshman year, and Nikki and Regina did the same a semester later. I have stayed in touch with the other three intermittently, but Nikki stuck. It’s unreal to me that we’ve been friends for eight years. Especially since we haven’t seen each other regularly in the last seven.

Nikki was around during my very first conversations with Aaron, months before we thought about dating. I called her the second he left after our first date. She stayed up late the night before my wedding, ironing and ‘stitchwitchery-ing’ table runners with my dad. We’ve been through boyfriends, weddings, multiple cross-country moves, loss, new jobs, new cities, new lives. We are miles away from the people we were when we met, but I think we’re better friends today than we’ve ever been. Somehow our friendship grew and evolved along with us, something I’m learning is a rare thing. There aren’t many people I can say that about.

Nikki was in town this weekend, and for I think the first time since college, we got to just hang out. Neither of us was just stopping by on our way somewhere else. We shopped, we ate, we got pedicures, we shopped, we think we saw the running of the Olympic torch, we ate again, we tried to go to a sold-out Imogen Heap show, and we shopped some more. I got to spend real quality time with one of my favorite friends that I never see often enough. We caught up on our 26-year-old selves and laughed at how different they are than our 18-year-old ones. I look forward to the day when our 40-year-old selves are doing the same thing.

I love YouTube. They’ve got it all. That one clip from SNL where Amy Poehler plays Caitlin and yells “RICK RICK RICK”? It’s there. New Kids on the Block concerts? Got ‘em. That embarrassing video of you doing a lip-synching routing to Paula Abdul at your tenth birthday party? Not so much. (Thank God.)

It’s especially nice for those of us who don’t have cable… anytime Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert or Isaac Mizrahi (shut up) do something everyone is talking about, you can track it down and see it. You can be in the know. No one has to know you have to squint to watch the WB.

I just finished watching this video on my nerdy husband’s myspace. Y’all, it is rare that something on the internet literally makes me laugh out loud. I had tears rolling down my face. It started off a bit slow, but right at the 3:00 mark, he got me. I may have cackled. Holy moly.

I made a cheesecake this weekend. A real cheesecake, from scratch, crust and everything. I was determined to finally use the springform pan I got for Christmas.

I was terrified.

Anytime I take a baking chance, things go wrong. The pastry doesn’t rise. The fruit burns. People get food poisoning. (Okay, maybe not. Yet.) I can do the basics, and do them well, but anything new is always a crapshoot.

But this time? Perfection. Smooth, creamy, fluffy. Excellent and fabulous.

I have to say, I’m kind of shocked. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me. It should have burned on the edges and been runny in the middle. But it wasn’t. It was delicious.

Maybe there’s hope for me after all.

I don’t think I’ve ever really posted about TV before, but with all the season finales lately, I need to get my thoughts out. And also, maybe not obsess about TV so much.

What About Brian. What about Brian? What is going to happen to him? Will the ABC gods hold onto him and my cute little Dave? I hope so. I have to know if Dave slept with that video game whore (he totally did) and how he and Deena are going to reconcile (because they have to) because they are DAVE AND DEENA and even though I have only known them a few weeks I completely understand why Adam said everyone wants to be Dave and Deena. And speaking of Adam – he’s a person! With heart! And feelings! I’m so glad they gave him emotions just in time to break his heart as he watched Marjorie and Brian fight in that way only people with a sexual connection can. He knows, he said so himself. Poor Adam.

Gilmore Girls. Kari said it much better than I could – everything is just so wrong. This is not the behavior of the Luke and Lorelai they gave us in the first few seasons. This is pod person Luke and Lorelai. It’s all wrong. And while I remain firmly on the anti-Logan train, I have to say that their goodbye scene totally got to me. I remember those feelings all too well… when the goodbye you’ve been dreading for so long is suddenly happening, and you don’t know what to say or how to act so you just cry. And then they leave. And then you cry. It sucks. I’ll stick with my girls through the last season, but I think it might be tough. I want my old characters back. (And dear sweet lord could they have wasted any more time on those troubadors? Sheesh.)

Amazing Race. Watching Ray and Yolanda hit the mat before MoJo made my whole night last night. I could not take any more of them, with the whining and the griping and the obnoxious. I liked them less than the hippies, and I do not like the hippies. All my hopes are riding on Ray and Yolanda at this point… I need them to win. It’s the only way this season will have been worth watching to me.

Grey’s Anatomy. Ohhhhhhhhh boy, Grey’s Anatomy. Y’all, this is the best show on TV, hands down. It. Kills. Me. It makes me cry more than Extreme Home Makeover. I’m dying to see what they do in the finale, since the last episode had a bit of resolution to it. We saw George and Meredith kind of talking, Izzie made her move on Denny (who I think is going to die soon, and I also think Izzie will be the intern who leaves the program), Alex showed a bit of a heart and had a successful surgery. I hope we’ve seen the end of Meredith and McDreamy. I like the vet. I’m kind of over McDreamy in general, despite my overwhelming love of Patrick Dempsey that has existed since the fabulous Can’t Buy Me Love. (“He went from, like, totally geek, to totally chic.”) I hope we get some drama with Christina and Burke… not breakup drama, but something. They are my favorite GA couple. Whatever happens, I am pumped. Two hours spread over two nights might be too much for me to handle.

(Also – Happy blogiversary to me! I think it was actually yesterday, but since I personally celebrate Birthday Week, I figure my blog can, too. Wish it Happy Birthday! Buy it some presents! It likes Crate & Barrel.)

11 Cardigans, 4 Sufjans, 7 Joshua Radins and one Joseph Arthur. This is what I’ve been listening to over and over all afternoon.

The first two are courtesy of Geof. The Cardigans are just the kind of band I need to be a fan of. I’m not terribly familiar with their stuff, even though we have a bit of a history: I was already kind of a fan during the Lovefool Romeo and Juliet days, also known as my sophomore year in high school, when I was slightly obsessive about that movie and Leonardo in particular (I had been in love with him since the Growing Pains days, that, my friends, is a TRUE FAN) and every time Lovefool came on the radio I cranked it up and danced my fool head off, earnestly encouraging Leo to just say that he loved me, go on and fool me, because I can’t care bout anything but you and your floppy hair. But instead of buying the Cardigans’ album, I bought the R+J soundtrack, which had that beautiful Kissing You song AND what turned out to be one of my favorite songs ever, “You and Me Song” by The Wannadies, so I never heard any more Cardigans goodness until last week when the CD came in the mail. (Whatever happened to the Wannadies? Were they any good, really?)

So all week I’ve been listening to the Cardigans’ Long Gone Before Daylight album, and it is wonderful. I’ve also been listening to the four Sufjan tracks that are available on Rhapsody from various soundtracks and compilations. I haven’t heard enough of him to really know how I feel about him, especially because I love the track Geof sent but I’m meh on the others.

Joshua Radin sings a song called “Closer” that Susan hooked me up with, and I love it with my whole heart. He’s got an EP on Rhapsody that is just enough to make me want more. There’s just something in his voice. It’s good stuff.

The Joseph Arthur song, “In the Sun”, is a song I have loved for a long time, and was recently covered by Michael Stipe to benefit… something or other. They play his version on the radio every now and then, and it makes me crazy because he misses my favorite parts of the melody and in general makes me want to change the station. I heard it at lunch today and immediately came in and played the Joseph Arthur version both because I love it and to cleanse my aural palate. It’s such a great song.

Anyone else find some good new stuff lately?

I have been bad at blogging lately. I must not have much to say. (Not like that ever stopped me before! Haha! Beat you to it!) I don’t really have it in me today to put together a cohesive entry, so here’s some random stuff that’s been going on with us as of late:

All of our churchy-getting-involved-ness has been going well. Last weekend we went to a youth cookout and had a blast – teaching kids how to cheat at Pit just might be my calling. We met most of the adult leaders and got along well with them, so that is looking like it will be a good thing. They’re a sharp and funny group of folks, which works out well for me, as I tend to accidentally joke my way into hurting the feelings of the more literal-minded.

One of my most favoritest people in the world, Nikki, is coming to visit this month. I met Nikki on my second day of college, and she is the one college friend who has really stuck around. It shocks me to think we’ve known each other for almost eight years… mostly because we’ve not spent more than a couple of days together in the last seven, and we were usually on some kind of mission. This will be the first time we can just hang out together with nothing else to do. Good stuff.

Last night was the tournament in our volleyball league. The first round was actually last week, but as the (too-highly seeded) second team in the bracket, it was a pretty easy game. In our first game last night, against a team we should have soundly beaten, we let them hang around to three games and barely squeezed out a victory. We then had to turn around and play the one-seed, the only team in the league to go undefeated for the season and by far the best team in the league. We played them well, but they won it easily. Which was to be expected. We did NOT get to play the team we’d lost to a few weeks ago, which was unfortunate for my revenge-minded self. Overall it was a fun season, and I’m sorry to see it end.

I’m thinking about going on a vacation with a friend of mine and her family… her husband has to work and can’t make it, so I’m tagging along just like we were in high school when family vacations were just too much to bear all alone. I’m still trying to reconcile the trip with my available vacation days, but hopefully I can make it work. I haven’t been to the beach since our honeymoon, and I’m dying for some sun and sand.

Aaron turned in a proposal last week for the restructuring of his department at work, including putting him in charge. He’s basically been running things for the four months since his boss quit, and filling the position externally proved to be quite a challenge. It would be a huge (deserved) promotion for him, and my (not unbiased) opinion is that these changes are long overdue and putting someone young who has experience in this area could mean great things for the department and the company. Plus, a raise. I like raises.

Is it wrong that, while we have so many things going on right now, what I’m most excited about is going to see John Fogerty and Willy Nelson this summer? JOHN FOGERTY AND WILLIE NELSON. Kill me now. I cannot wait.

(I actually wrote another coworker post yesterday, but I didn’t want to give him two posts in a row. Plus, yesterday’s was really mean, and it’s probably best not to have that out in internet land for all the world to see. Let’s just say setting his crotch on fire is an EXCELLENT plan.)

Today I declared that I am officially “over” one of my coworkers.

This means nothing to him, or course, as I did not make my declaration in front of him. And even if I had, he wouldn’t care, with his nepotistic job and his feet on his desk and his skeevy laugh and how he says everyone I listen to sounds like John Mayer because that’s apparently the only artist name that fits in his little head.

But it sure makes me feel better when I can hear him in there, being skeevy, and I can say to myself, “Whatever. I am so over him.”

Is nepotistic even a word?