Grumpy Gills

SO.
I started my period yesterday and it turned me into a mean monster.

Usually my time of the month comes and goes with nothing more than a slight disruptance in my love life. I tend to be tired and a generic cloud of ennui follows me around. But I have noticed that when I'm not eating much and exercising hard (like I am now), the hormonal changes seem to effect me more.

The morning started out with cramps but I managed to do my hour of cardio okay. Oh but wait -- mid-workout I had to make an emergency trip to the bathroom because I had begun menstruating which jumpstarted a day filled with things that annoyed me.

• the movie theatre was cold
• my husband kept getting up to pee during the movie -- a record THREE times
• I didn't/shouldn't/couldn't get fries at In N Out
• Target no longer carries the pet carpet cleaner I like
• I was hungry all day
• when we laid down to take a nap, the puppy kept making a throw up noise
• which made me have to take the puppy outside but not before she threw up on the carpet
• and I have no good pet carpet cleaner (see item four)
• friends came over for the basketball finals ... enough said
• friends brought over red wine which I don't like
• on period and couldn't have sex
• didn't sleep well; had a crick in my neck

And now it's morning. I'm at work. I'm feeling better. But man oh man. Yesterday was one of those days when I should have just quarantined myself away from all humans and read a book. I hated everything and everything pissed me off. Thank all the gods my husband is understanding and has a sense of humor. Before our nap he told the puppy: "you and mom have one thing in common: you're both bitches."

And I actually laughed a little before I rolled my eyes and kept being one.

Sometimes it's therapeutic to be a bitch.

Image

The Youth List

Things I will do today to keep me young for tomorrow:

1. Sleep on my back
2. Moisturize
3. Drink half my weight in ounces of water
4. Hug my puppy
5. Love my husband
6. Eat an apple
7. Read a good book
8. Gab and cackle with my friends
9. Organize my time
10. Forgive my shortcomings
11. Drive fast with the radio loud
12. Wear sunglasses
13. Laugh heartily at anything I find funny
14. Take a nap and then go to the gym
15. Sing show tunes
16. Brush and floss my teeth
17. Daydream

February, Hello

You are my favorite.
St. Valentine calls for a celebration of love.

A reason to buy silly sentimental gifts.

We call it wuv burd day.

I cast aside my cynicism and indulge in romance.

And it makes the whole world seem sweeter.

Celebration

August is a big month for us; it's our anniversary and Tom's birthday. So we had to have a fun celebration with the two of us. Vegas is like our mini-vaca spot. It's becoming a tradition and we really know how to party there. We have specific things we do every time.

[First]: you must walk the strip. Vegas = walking. That's what makes it fun. No cabs, no bus, no monorail. You walk and walk and walk until you're tired and you want to sit and drink and gamble. Then you walk around slightly inebriated and laugh at the funny people ... or yourself. Whichever.

[Second]: you must play the penny slots. You find an entertaining machine, turn the volume all the way up, put in your happy dollar, and then proceed to play one line at a time, one credit per line. It's awesome. $1 buys you 100 spinnings of the reel. And if you go slow, you can get like 3 drinks in a dollar's time. How fantastic is that? Plus, you win fairly often; it's not a lot of money, obviously, but winning means the fun will last longer. I'm telling you, Vegas is only fun when you don't lose too much, and when the odds are stacked against you (because they always are in a casino) why not maximize the fun on the least amount of money?

[Third]: you must have loud sex to disturb your hotel neighbors. We hear it -- we hear the people in the middle of the night and when you walk down the hallway. You may as well contribute.

[Fourth]: you must nap. Napping provides essential energy for the aforementioned necessary activities. Besides, you're on vacation. You're on vacation in Vegas; the ultimate indulgence town. Take a nap and then you can walk all night, play the penny slots until all hours of the morning, and end the evening with some loud sex.

[Fifth]: go see a show. I know the tickets can seem a little pricey, but they're worth it. Tom dragged me to see Carrot Top (I so did not want to go) but it was the funniest show ever. We both laughed so hard the first half hour we were worried for our well being. We've also seen nearly every Cirque du Soleil show. Fantastic.

[Sixth]: eat at a buffet. You never get your money's worth and the food is usually middling to fair. You feel super fat after all the desserts. But you need energy! You're here to party and let go -- that requires food. Plus, food will help with the hangovers. Nothing cures a hangover like three plates of eggs benedict and hasbrowns.

[Seventh]: you must buy a frozen drink from Fat Tuesdays in the Miracle Mile Shops. I don't know why. The heavens demand it. My personal favorite is mango and strawberry. They're alcoholic. They're portable. They're frozen. Perfect for Vegas.

As you can see, we're old pros.
We love it and you should love it too.
So start planning your trip and get out there. I might run in to you ...

Distance and the Heart

I just watched Cold Mountain. Again. It's sort of a horrific movie, and incredibly sad. Too sad, really, to make it anything more than beautiful. I would not say that it's one of my favorite movies, but for an inexplicable reason I am drawn to the characters. I am drawn to the place, the story, the tragedy. And let me add that I love the book; that is definitely on my favorite list. Frazier (wonderful writer, wretched reader) weaves the tale of Inman and Ada with the land and the war so well that they are inseparable. Inman and Ada are practically strangers when they part. They've had only moments. As Inman says, "A thousand moments! They're like a bag of tiny diamonds glittering in a black heart. Don't matter if they're real or things I made up. The shape of your neck. The way you felt under my hands when I pulled you to me." So much of love is the resolve of the heart. The mind of the lovers. The connection. The smallest thing can become meaningful. Ada and Inman feel their separation acutely. She begs, "If you are fighting, stop fighting. If you are marching, stop marching. Come back to me. Come back to me is my request."

Cold Mountain has brought up a lot of thoughts about distance and heart. And it hasn't helped that I've been home alone. I've always been the type to love closeness. I thrive on it. And what does distance really do for us? Well, it can bring your mind clarity, allowing you to focus on specific memories. And it can bring loneliness, which reminds you of how much you love the person -- because sometimes when you have daily access to them you might get a little annoyed at all the socks around the house. I know that as human beings we need change and excitement to be successful. Often that means going separate ways for a time. A relationship cannot continue if growth is not allowed -- and sometimes that means growing pains. And while distance and separation are not fun, at least it can be romanticized and made meaningful. When Tom and I were apart for six weeks a few years ago, it was difficult. I had John Donne's 'A Valediction Forbidding Mourning' hanging in the bathroom. I'd had it since high school, but during that time, it spoke to me in a truer way. Especially the last half ...

"But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun."

Widowed

My husband is gone to a training summit up some stupid canyon until Friday.
My stupid knee is hurting me so I don't think I'll go to ballet tonight.
Instead, I'm going to take myself out to dinner @ Happy Sumo.
Followed by some 'Closer.'
And some in-bed reading.
For the rest of the week:
    Ballet
    Cold sleeping

For some reason when Tom is not in the bed, I can never get warm. Hopefully it will be better with the puppy there. She's never been alone with just me for so long and I'm sure she'll start to become despondent and make her sad face. But I'll be making a sad face too. It's not that I hate being alone, and really, this is a very short amount of time (last time he went to China for 6 weeks ... ick) but I start to get bored with no one to talk to. I start to become jumpy and scared to run the water because I'm listening for killers. Who is going to laugh at commercials with me? And pat my back when the scary sprinklers turn on at 5AM?

Well, me and the puppers will have to tough it out.
We'll go for runs in the park and catch up on our trash TV.
I'm going to paint my fingernails.
Read all my library books.
But still miss him.

Repeat

Our anniversary is this weekend. On the 7th we will have been married for seven years. People sometimes wonder what makes a successful marriage ... I have no idea. Mine is working out, mostly because we just like each other. We rarely get super pissed at the other one and even when we do, we usually end up laughing about it somehow. And liking each other comes in handy because even when we do get frustrated, which always happens in relationships (romantic or otherwise), we don't want to hurt the other's feelings so we try to be nice, and barring niceness, we apologize. We always say please and thank you and we always do little things for each other. If he asks me to get some water, I will. If I ask him to do the dishes, he will. We try hard not to take advantage of each other, to treat the other like property. We make a big deal out of the good little things. He always thanks me for making his lunch. I always thank him for cleaning the toilet. We laugh and laugh and laugh. Sometimes when we lay in the bed, me facing him, him facing me, he'll have his eyes closed. But he can hear me smile and he knows that I'm looking at him. He'll tell me that I have to roll over unless I stop looking at him and I say, "I'll roll over if you give me kisses." Then the kisses come and sometimes I have to hug him tight because my heart is bursting with happiness.

Yesterday he asked me to stay home from ballet so we could just hang out. So I did. I was wavering, thinking that I should go, then he reminded me that it's almost our anniversary so we should start celebrating early. It's a tradition that we "celebrate" for the days surrounding our anniversary even if we don't do anything more than say, "it's almost our anniversary" and then smile and kiss and hug. Tom and I have been together for a decade now and I can honestly say the longer we're together the more I like him, the more I understand him. I've heard it said that married years are like dog years; you multiply by seven. But for the most part, ours have been blissful. My one piece of advice to anyone in a relationship is to continuously make the decision to be together; don't ever become complacent, don't ever think you're immune to problems -- that way, when the problems come (and they will) you won't be surprised and not know how to handle it, you'll just start working hard to fix it. So often as human beings we lack the will power to get what we want because we push away happiness with both hands. Instead, we need to hold on. And keep holding.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-- Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

Where O Where

Where have I been? Well, I've been busy. As you know, my birthday was Monday the 19th. Here's what's happened since:

• Shopping excursion with Mr. Tom which resulted in some great finds for him and me, most especially, my nude heels. Ultra fab.
• Bad headache which made me miss ballet.
• Discovered a yummy Thai restaurant close to home.
• Learned my new job ... which I love.
• Got a mani-pedi. The pedicure was great, as always; I won't be getting a manicure again. Apparently I hate it when other people work on my hands. Weird.
• Went to Cass's and Michael's wedding, which was beautiful.
• Went to a birthday party.
• Went to lunch @ Thaifoon with my sister-in-law. Yum-O.
• Bought the most wonderful headband.
• Mom made me a yummy birthday dinner and cake.
• The Cowboy Brothers came in 1st on Amazing Race.
• I bought a pink iron.
• The puppy barked at the ironing board. Hilarious.

And now I'm busy with work and finding a new apartment. Where does time go?

Unseen

Did you know that my husband has never seen 'Gone with the Wind'?

Never.

I've been married to this man for 6 years and he has never seen the movie that made me who I am. Okay, slight exaggeration. Only slight.

I don't expect everyone to read the book -- although everyone SHOULD -- but I do expect all the fabulous people in my life to watch 'Gone with the Wind' and love it. Love it. Absolutely love it. I don't care about "how long it is" and that "it's old and in technicolor" and that "Scarlett is a spoiled bitch" and the whole "slavery is wrong" nonsense. The fact is ... the movie is a wonder. Not only is Scarlett a mark of a fully developed woman, but it also shows the beauty of love and relationships and living with our own choices and all of that. It's epic. I recently re-bought the book because the version I have/permanently-borrowed-from-mom-and-dad is super old and is definitely NOT something you read in the bathtub or throw around in your purse or let the puppy rest its wee wittle head on while you read together in bed. I'm going to re-read it as soon as I make my way through the depressing corn book and all the other library books on my nightstand. February is a perfect month to indulge in a little O'Hara-ness. And it's a great way to start out the year -- because who doesn't want to be more like Scarlett?

And get this: I don't even own it on DVD. (Say what?!?) So I had to rent it from the Library so that we can watch it sans VCR. What a great Valentine's Day present -- hint hint. Oh, but someone please tell my husband that because he doesn't read this blog, therefore making that hint completely useless. Unless one of you want to indulge in my Gone with the Wind all-out obssession ... although, honestly, I'd rather you buy it for yourself and begin your own obssession, or healthy enjoyment, whichever you prefer.

Hairbrushing

This is how you know someone loves you.

You have the swine flu. You've been sick and fevery. He's been sitting on the floor of the bathroom with you while you wait to throw up in the toilet because you've already thrown up in the garbage can twice and you feel bad making him carry out your vomit. He gets you whatever you want, lets you sleep all day long, turns the air conditioning on and off and on again, reminds you to drink lots of water. He understands when you don't answer his question 'are you going to throw up?' because he knows you're about to and can't speak. When you finally do throw up, he rubs your back and keeps your hair out of the garbage can telling you 'it's okay' and telling you 'it's no problem' when you keep saying sorry between gasping gags.

But best of all. When the horrible day is over and you are finally starting to feel better, he offers to brush your hair.

The State Song

My husband is so silly.

Do you know the "State Song?" It's this song that you learn in elementary school that teaches all the names of the states in alphabetical order. In good keeping with the educational system, we practice it at our house. After all, we don't want to be deprived of Thanksgiving dinner like Ross because we can't remember the 50 states.

Anyway, we're driving home the other night and he keeps singing it over and over. Everytime he makes a mistake, he begins again. It took him almost the entire 15 minute drive home to get it perfect. The Ns in particular were giving him trouble.

I hate this song now.

Happy Belated Easter

Last night as we were making a late dinner, Tom opened the cupboard and said, "Oh."

I turned to my beloved, waiting for the epiphany, thinking it must be some declaration regarding food in the cupboard. He continued, "I think there's a chocolate bunny under the passenger seat in the old car. I'm gonna go get it. It's probably still good, right?"

And away he went to retrieve it.

In Bed

All day in bed today.

Skipped the gym.

Opted for sleep.

Breakfast in bed.

A little television.

A little kissing hugging snuggling.

A little laughing tickling loving.

A little sleeping.

More sleeping.

Sunlight in the window.

Sunlight in the bed.

Up just in time for work.

I loathe my laziness.

But I love our bed.

The State of Love

Love is one of those unnatural things. Lust, infatuation, friendship, even liking someone - these are all normal. But true love between two adults -- two separate beings with separate thoughts and feelings -- that is incredible.

Because, you see, unlike the love between family and children, these two adults make a conscious decision to be together every day. Or, at least, they should. It's no wonder that marriages fall apart; that lovers leave; the feelings fade. Who can constantly decide that they want to breathe air or drink water? After being together for a while, for some people "a while" could be two days or two lifetimes, but whenever that period comes, people get comfortable. They get lazy. Somewhere along the way the love can turn to familial love, which is not to say that it doesn't work or that people can't be happy that way.

But it's not for me.

I'm not a great romantic. I don't like forced romantic gestures like door opening or beds of roses. But I do like choice. An adult decision to be together and accept that we choose to be together - not because it's easy or familiar or comfortable - but because we want the other one around. We want feeties in the bed, ticklish necks, hair on the shower wall, water bottles on the floor, socks everywhere, eggs and bacon in the morning, a sink full of dishes, a bed full of pillows, lots of hugs, lots of kisses, lots of I love yous, lots of fights, silliness, sadness, and love.

Chosen love.

Female Independence

What is the deal with being married? I swear, if some corporation/institution finds out I'm married, I get put on the back burner and they want to deal with my husband. When we moved into our apartment they wanted to know Tom's information even though I was the primary earner. They wanted to know what his income was (which was practically nill because he was going to school) and I told them so and they were like "what the fuck" and couldn't wrap their teeny tiny brains around it. If it were the other way around and I was the student and HE was the primary earner, they wouldn't think twice about the situation. But because it's me and I'm a girl (obviously helpless and in need of male support) and I'm married they always fall back to the husband.

A couple years ago we added each other to our separate (but equal) bank accounts. Well, sometimes I hate it. Only because if I'm on his account they ALWAYS want his permission. I understand that this is a safeguard in case one of us goes crazy and wants to spend all the money. Or perhaps if we are going through a nasty divorce and we want to cut the other one off from all the funds. But this is not us. We are stable. We are like a semi-single unit of thought. We make decisions together - but we don't need to actually BE together when the deed needs to be done.

Case in point - refinancing our car loan. We had already done all the paperwork and preliminary gobbledy gook hand in hand at the branch. Then, on Monday when it was time to finish it off, I left Tom at home thinking "I'll just take care of this realy quick." But no. They needed him there "of course" (Jesus, why would I think I could do it myself?) and once I got him there they acted like I was a rug.

Here's another example: I called to set up the utilites at our new apartment. I told her my name and gave her my social and blah blah blah. Then she asks "and your husband's name?" and I'm thinking, "Is that relevant?" I mean, I can't even have a utility bill in my own name? We've got to add him on just in case I default or decide to stop working so that I can have babies? Give me a break. I live in a world where women AND men are individuals who are capable of doing a lot of shit on their own. Just because Tom and I are married doesn't mean we're one person (despite the fact that we are usually with the other) and I should be able to - just sometimes - operate as a single unit. If I weren't married, would they ask for my dad's information? It's ridiculous. And quite frankly, it pisses me off.

Something Blue

My Tom loves to eat macaroni and cheese of the blue box variety. It is one of his usual after work meals that I usually prepare for him. However, on Saturday nights after having not eaten all bloody day, I am in no mood to cook up delicious cheesy pasta for anyone - regardless of how much I love them (yes, I will be a very mean mother). But tonight is Sunday and I have a satisfied belly so am in a much more amiable mood.

I always take out the pot and start the water boiling. I salt the water generously and put the burner on high. Once the water is at a hearty bubble, I throw in the noodles (only spiral or character shaped - NO elbows for us) and turn down the heat. After soft to the bite, the water gets drained and in go milk (an extra splash for good measure), faux margarine (the extra healthy, no trans-fat, no hydrogenated, plus omega 3s, plus flax seed crap), and cheese packet. Mix it up and then comes the best part: my test bite. Every time I make Tom's m and c I get one spoonful of cheesy, milky, piping hot noodles. You know, to make sure I made it right.

I gave up eating macaroni and cheese pretty much at birth. An adolescence of dance equals an adolescence of weight worries - so I always abstained from those "fattening" dishes - like macaroni and cheese. Plus, as a kid we never really had box mac and cheese at the house. When Tom and I were in high school and a mutual friend of ours invited us rappelling, Tom told me he would bring lunch for us. We had spent many late night conversations discussing all of the things we liked and disliked - and of course, this dish came up - especially because it was (and still is) one of the only things he could cook. He told me that he makes the BEST macaroni and cheese because he always pushes the noodles into the water with the bottom of the box, and he always adds a little extra milk. Once we were at the cliff, I was too scared to go down the mountain (big surprise) and so we sat in the car at the bottom of the rock face and ate his delicious macaroni and cheese cold.

We always have our pantry stocked with blue boxes - ready for making and remembering all the little reasons we fell in love.

I Heart Hearts

Artichoke hearts, my love - to you I say: yum.

You are very delicious and nutritious and high in fiber.

I buy you in bulk at Costco.

I bring you home and ask Tom to open your jar.

He complains because the marinade gets on his hands.

I pour all the marinade down the drain.

I refrigerate you and enjoy at my leisure.

Again, yum.

Purse vs. Wallet

Many days I consider myself quite fortunate to be a girl. Most particularly, when Tom is running around looking for items like keys, wallet, badge, etc., when I can simply pick up my purse and be out the door. Not only are purses a fashion statement that is incredibly functional and versatile, but they are, let's face it, a dumping ground for all the little things that make life run smoothly.

I'm currently using a Dooney & Bourke bucket bag that was a gift from my mom-in-law for graduation. I absolutely love it - especially the fact that I can simply chuck crap in there and know that it is safe. Currently in my bag:

1. iPhone
2. "Duchess of Devonshire"
3. Trident Whitening Gum - peppermint flavor
4. Victoria's Secret Beauty Rush lip gloss
5. headphones
6. glasses case (with glasses within)
7. sunglasses (not in case)
8. throat lozenges
9. mirror
10. water bottle
11. lip liner
12. tampon
13. iPod Nano
14. pen

See? A man could never have this type of convenience - unless he carried a fanny pack - and then he would be shunned by society.

Of course, there are various downsides to having a purse. Namely: you have a bag all the time. You are never as free as "man with wallet" because you are toting on your shoulder "responsibility." My husband likes to use my purse when we go to the movies; as soon as we sit and the lights dim his wallet and keys and receipts and various bits of paper in his pockets become lost in the depths of my purse. And after the movie comes the inevitable digging about for his lost articles. But women don't have the luxury of putting things in their pockets because societal fashion deems women's pants be "hugging" and anything other than a stick of gum will be totally obvious. Also, when you have a purse you keep adding to your load. You think to yourself, "Oh, this will fit, I will just throw this or that in" and next thing you know, lifting your purse causes tennis elbow, engorged biceps, and defined triceps. Another annoyance connected with purses is when the damn thing tips over. My purse does not zip so a tip-over spills the contents all about. It's dreadful.

These negatives associated with purses are small problems that are easily overlooked when you take into account all the freedom purses allow for. When you have a purse you need never worry, as long as it is well stocked and fashionable.

Cough Cough

Tom is sick.

He is coughing a lot -

all night long and a lot.

He coughs really hard,

as though one cough

could be the last cough.

I cough very gently,

as though I'm sickly,

because I feel sickly.

The two of us are quite a pair;

cuddling in bed

coughing in bed.

How to Deal with Stress

Oh stress, how I hate you. You enter my life and fill it with nervous energy, heartache, headache, and obssessive compulsive habits. If you are a person like me - you get stressed about a wide range of fascinating things. Here are some ways I like to cope:

• eating, followed by not eating
• sleeping
• grinding my teeth while sleeping
• picking at my hangnails
• tapping my fingers
• staring off into space - mind reeling
• running
• pacing
• clenching my jaw
• putting my hand over my mouth, like I'm horrified
• counting to 5 over and over
• list making

Obviously these are not very effective ways in which to rid one's self of stress or dealing with stress in the present. So, as a backup plan, I have a husband who does much better than me. He usually deals with my stress and his so that I can fret in my own fashion, and he can actually DO SOMETHING. This comes in quite handy.