Dating is Warfare

Portland Purge

2009-07-16T10:41:00.001-07:00

Whenever I travel alone, I think about him. Especially when I get off of the plane and walk into the terminal where my fellow passengers meet and greet their awaiting companions. That's where he would be. And I would see him from far down the corridor, his buzzed blonde hair a few inches above everyone else's, bobbing up and down as he jumped with excitement to see me and sweep me up in his arms. This remains one of the most romantic memories of my life, so far.

It's been three years since he smashed my already bruised heart into pieces. Or is it four? I'm not sure and for some reason I have a mental block that won't let me do the math to trace back my failed relationships. It makes me feel old and I think it would hurt too much to face the cold, hard, clear facts. So I settle for a hazy timeline of heartbreak instead.

I don't want to think about him. And I've come a long way over the years in shaving down the amount of times he crosses my mind. From every minute, to every hour, to every other day and, for the last year, every month or so. Or whenever I get off of a plane alone.

But this trip - and the anticipation leading up to it -- has shoved my progress back. He's been on my mind every day, several times a day. And it's not a longing I'm feeling. Or sadness. Or self pity. It's anger. Still, after all this time, anger.

Why is this trip having such a strong affect? Well, first of all I'm in Portland, Oregon. It's not Seattle, the city where I flew every other weekend for almost a year to visit him - right up until he literally vanished from my life with no explanation. But it's the Pacific Northwest and I can't help but associate the entire region with him. The deep green trees, the rivers, the flannel.

I'm here for work but Wine Guy and I decided to transition my business trip into a mini vacation for the two of us. He arrives tonight and we will enjoy the city for the weekend, then head out to the Oregon coast for a few more days. Wine Guy and I haven't traveled together all that often so I've kind of built this trip up in my head, convinced that it will be a romantic little getaway - bed and breakfast and all.

Traveling. Boyfriend. Pacific Northwest. Romance.
This all adds up to painful memories of Naval A-hole.

Being typically self-destructive, I revived my stalkerish Google searching habit to see if I could find out where he might be. A few years ago I discovered that he was in Norfolk, probably gearing up to deploy on an aircraft carrier to the Middle East. I liked to think of him stuck on a cramped, gray ship with nothing to do but run on a treadmill and get teased by his fellow shipmates. Of course, that's the part of it he enjoyed, but to me it sounds like hell. And that's where I want him - in hell.

Up until this trip with Wine Guy popped up on the calendar, I hadn't Googled him in quite some time. So I was surprised when his name got a solid hit. It wasn't much, only a few words from a tiny local newspaper - and not even a complete sentence. But the impact of those few words was huge.

The headline: Marriage Licenses, January 11, 2009
Then a list of names, ages and hometowns. The end of the list included his - Naval A-hole, 34 - and hers - SmallTown Girl, 26.

There it was. He was back in bumfuck Washington state. He was married. To a 26 year old local girl.

At first I wanted to cry and throw my computer across the room."He's happy! He's married! He found a young, little chippy who'll go along with anything he says! Noooooooo!!!!!!"

But I tried not to let these thoughts escalate. Instead I sat on them, analyzed them. Tried to figure out what they were really about and, to quote annoying Dr. Phil, evaluate if they were "working for me."

Of course they weren't. On the surface, I was experiencing a petty, stupid jealousy, tinged by the fact that I remain unmarried. Wah, wah, wah. Look deeper.

Let's begin with my relationship with Wine Guy. We are happy. We have a future together - and a present that's doing great. He knows what I want and I trust that we will get there. And, of course, life is not a race. (I do finally believe that, but it took awhile).

Now let us examine Naval A-hole and try to picture what life would be like if he never dumped me and I got exactly what I wanted at the time. I would be the wife of a Naval Flight Officer, living in a shithole Navy town in the middle of a sunless nowhere, watching a bunch of straight-laced, testosterone heavy men play video games and drink beer every weekend. Or sit home alone while he was deployed far away on a ship.

No fucking way.

I'm thankful that I didn't get what I wanted. But still pissed off that he discarded me like a meaningless piece of trash.

So here I am in Portland, wandering the town in between conference sessions, still kind of stewing and not knowing exactly why.

If anyone can claim they were as wounded as I was by Naval A-hole's actions, it's my mom. I was nervous to tell her about this latest news and actually sat on the information for a few weeks, probably because I hate to see her upset when A-hole comes up. But when I keep things from my mom it feels like there is something "bad" about it all, so I decided I should tell her and hope that once I aired it out I might feel better. I called her on a break and left a message saying I have some gossip about Naval A-hole. She called back eager to hear the news.

She didn't react too strongly, probably terrified that she'd say something to upset me. (Yes, we walk on eggshells often when we speak to each other - gotta love the mother/daughter dynamic). But when I told her how I felt grateful for not being with him when I envision my life as his wife, she said something that nailed it down.
First she disregarded the notion that I missed out on anything not being with him, and then she said, "I just don't want him to be happy!"

I couldn't agree more. But here he is, married to a 26 year old and living in a little town that I know he kind of liked (a few miles away from crappy Navy town).

And then I remembered something I've been saying for years -- and even said to Naval A-hole a few times. Men have so much less to worry about when it comes to marriage. They can relax and wait as long as they want because there will always be a 26 year old girl for them to marry.

I'm sad to say that Naval A-hole proved my point. But who is this girl? From what little I could find about her on Google, I learned that she works for a small boat charter company and very likely has never left her hometown. I imagine (hope) that she's slightly docile, gullible, and won't challenge A-hole's existence in any way. Like I probably did (especially when I expressed that I wasn't eager to live the Navy wife life).

Whether he's happy or not with this kind of girl...well, I guess I can't concern myself with that. I could hope and pray that karma actually exists and that a person like A-hole will pay the price for the poor choices he's made. But what I really want to do is Stop. Thinking. About. Him. Forever.

That's why I'm writing about this today, hoping for some sort of purge. Especially before Wine Guy arrives tonight. He deserves all of my heartfelt attention. And I can't let Naval A-hole rob me of happiness for one more second.

I'm considering myself purged. Fuck him.
Dismissed.

Everything in its Place

2009-07-02T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's a tension that has slowly built up over the year that Wine Guy and I have lived together. Every day we bring more of it into the house - mail, brochures, coupons, greeting cards, invitations, receipts. Basically, crap. And it never ends.

I'm no neat freak. In fact, I'm kind of messy. But I am big on knowing where things are and putting them in their properly dedicated place. This means I rarely spend ten minutes tearing the house apart looking for the receipt I need to return something. I generally know where my keys are and my bills get paid on time because they are placed right next to my computer so they can't be missed.

Because Wine Guy and I are new to both living together and the townhouse where we reside, the organizational routine that carried me through six years living alone is all screwed up. I attempted to get a handle on the clutter during the first few months of cohabitation, but I quickly realized that the disorganization I noticed at Wine Guy's previous apartment was no fluke, and that this struggle was just turning me into a nag.

I would just organize it all myself, except that I have no idea what stuff of his is important and what isn't. Trust me, I've tried in the past and gotten rebuked for throwing away some crumpled up piece of paper that was apparently necessary to him. Do you see my rock and hard place now?

So I gave up and tried to mind my own business and continue filing my own stuff away, while his piled up. But it's not like being organized is easy for me, and after awhile - especially once his piles started taking over - I think I just threw in the towel with the sentiment "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." And the piles continued to grow.

But every day when I came home and opened that front door, I could feel a little anxiety tickle the back of my throat. Too. Much. Shit. Everywhere. Where do I put the new shit I'm bringing in? Deep breathes, deep breaths.

This is not working for me.

Rather than tell Wine Guy that he "needs to clean up" his stuff, I thought I might try creatively shuffling it around in a way that would cause me less anxiety and still preserve the sanctity of his crap pile. So I hit Pier 1 during their big summer sale and found two baskets that looked promising - one for all the new Wii video game paraphernalia scattered about the living room, and another to help organize (and filter) the mail.

When I came home from knitting group Tuesday night, I brought in the baskets and just started putting things in them, nicely stacked. He didn't seem to mind since I wasn't really asking him to do anything. I started with the video game stuff, then hit the mountain of papers on the dining room and buffet tables.

Inevitably, I had to start asking him, "Do you need this?" and "Is this important?" But instead of getting annoyed with all the questions, he actually seemed kind of interested and soon came over and started sorting through the piles himself. Perhaps they were getting to him too.

The next two hours were quite unexpected. We became cleaning, sorting, organizing machines. And it was beautiful. No longer was it me tentatively butting in to whatever he was doing to see if I could throw something away. No longer was it him rolling his eyes at me when I tell him that his piles are causing me stress. No longer was it me smugly watching as he rips through the piles trying to find that car insurance bill he just realized he forgot to pay.

No, this was pure organizational teamwork. Now that we finally have a feel for the awkward layout of our place, we could finally make informed decisions about how to organize to suit how we live. Mail sorting happens here. Magazines go here. Fun tidbits go here. The vitamins, nail clippers and deodorant that he insists on keeping in the dining area are hidden here.

We were brainstorming, laughing, thinking, improving. This was especially satisfying for someone who craves organization like me. I mean, my favorite place to go as a kid was the local office supply store where I would browse the aisles looking at folders, notepads and post-its, thinking of ways I could improve my organizational system for the next school year. Yes, I was (and am) a dork.

I came up with a term to describe just how damn happy that evening made me. Yes, this was my very first "Organigasm."

Here's to many more (but I'm not holding my breath).

Dismissed.

Happy Hip Update

2009-06-18T10:49:00.000-07:00

The fact that I haven't mentioned my recovery from hip surgery since mid-April is, thank goodness, a very good sign. My recovery went really smoothly, thanks in large part to the support (and yummy pajamas and treats) I got from my friends at my "Hip Shower."

This recovery felt much faster than last time and I'm already walking without any sort of crutch or cane, though I get sore and tired pretty quickly still. I returned to work last week at half-time and begin full-time work next week.

As much as I hate to admit it, I've been in a far sunnier mood since I returned to work and again have a reason to get out of bed in the morning besides walking the dog to the corner and back.

But I still have to work on kicking my habit of two-hour naps every afternoon.

I saw the surgeon yesterday and, unfortunately, got some not so great news. I have excess bone growth that is apparently very rare (but also means I generate bone easily - good sign for my senior years I guess). I will have to have another procedure in 6-9 months to have it removed so I can gain full range of motion (it would be nice to be able to put a sock and shoe on my right foot again without ten minutes of struggling).

I'm trying not to be upset about this news, which isn't all that hard since it is only outpatient surgery. If had to stay in that godforsaken hospital again I think I might choose to just wear slip-on shoes for the rest of my life.

The doc says I should be back to full activity (tennis!) by September, so I'm trying to remain patient and not eat too many ice cream sundaes until then.

Just wanted to give you all an update so you no longer have to picture me hobbling around all drugged up on pain killers (though I do have a nice leftover stash of percoset and morphine just in case).

Dismissed.

Delayed Dining

2009-06-12T18:27:00.000-07:00

I like the idea that after 2 years and 2 months together, Wine Guy and I still have a few milestones left to achieve - beyond marriage, children and divorce, of course. Well, I knocked one of those off last night in honor of Wine Guy's birthday.

Although this was a rather significant milestone (in my opinion), it is also one that normally comes in the first 2 months of dating, not years. Nevertheless it was a big moment -- for us as a couple and for me as a kitchen-phobic individual.

I cooked my first meal for Wine Guy.

Notice I did not write that I prepared this first meal, planned it, ordered it, picked it up, or reheated it. I've done that hundreds of times.

But cooking - as in pick a recipe, buy the ingredients (none of which is pre-made and pre-packaged), prep, cook and serve it - terrifies me.

Wait. Let me clarify. I hate cooking, but I'll do it when necessary. But I'm terrified of cooking for Wine Guy.

See, in our relationship, Wine Guy is kind of "in charge" of food. Wine too (obviously). I relinquish that responsibility happily.

I like to eat but I dislike all of the pesky details that come along with making my own food. And Wine Guy loves every second of it. So who am I to rob him of that joy?

So I let him make the calls when it comes to all things culinary. With one major exception that was so obvious, we didn't even discuss it. I am in charge of all Asian dining. (What do you think I've been living on all of these years I've been avoiding the kitchen?) Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Vietnamese.....I'm very at home with these menus and dining cultures. And Wine Guy isn't.

Not only is Wine Guy knowledgeable about food and enjoys cooking, he is also a complete tyrant in the kitchen.

OK, I'm exaggerating (sort of). But it is clearly his domain. I feel like an unwelcome visitor when I'm in there with him. So when I am forced to be his sous-chef (usually when we're entertaining), I freeze up, certain I'll commit some horrible kitchen sin.

When I'm not in the kitchen with him, he becomes so engrossed in everything he's doing that I feel basically invisible until the meal is served, tasted and analyzed. This took me a while to get used to, as evidenced by this post back in June 2007. At first it really hurt my feelings, but then I started to see that this was his happy place - and I want him to be there as much as life allows. Plus I got a meal out of it.

So I became enthusiastic about doing the dishes and enjoyed his talent and passion for something so tasty. I mean, he could have been into Go Kart racing for god's sake, so I am very thankful.

But I wanted to do this for him and, since we were going out to celebrate big the night before, I knew he wanted it to be low key.

Wine Guy is well aware of my lack of training in the kitchen, so I knew that he knew that my plan to cook dinner was a big deal for me. Perhaps he was also a tad afraid (but not more than I) and kept telling me that I "didn't have to do this." When I insisted that I wanted to, he kept saying that I should "keep it really simple."

So I took Wine Guy's favorite cookbook with me one afternoon to the dog park and perused it while Luna romped with a chocolate lab. As I flipped through the pages, I decided that a nice simple pasta dish would be the perfect way to start my kitchen endeavors. But what kind? Well, we both like spicy. I know he likes to cook with penne pasta.

And voila! I had a dish - Penne Arrabbiata.

But that is just too simple on its own. So I thought some more. He uses shrimp quite a bit and I knew exactly where to get the kind he finds acceptable (he's very particular about quality ingredients).

And voila again! I now have Penne Arrabbiata with Shrimp. Wow. It sounds like real food.

I wasn't happy with the choices in the book so a quick Google search led me to my recipe of choice. Simple, easy, tasty.

But I have to make two things. Why? Who the hell knows. Apparently this is what I decided a girlfriend-who-cooks-for-her-boyfriend would do.

But there is no way I can handle another dish that involves, you know, a stove. That leaves me with one choice.....salad. A Caesar Salad sounds Italian, right?

Another search and I land on the recipe that seems the simplest and most true to the original (Wine Guy is also a bit of a food purist).

Menu=Done.
Penne Arrabbiata with Shrimp and Cesar Salad

Shopping was a breeze since I picked almost embarrassingly simple recipes. Plus I knew enough to go to Wine Guy's favorite market, which is small, easy to navigate and has limited (but quality) brands - keeping my choices to a minimum.

Wine Guy called while I was home unpacking the groceries. After he told me about his day I asked if he could do me one small favor on his birthday.

"Depends on what it is," he responded.

"Please don't ask me anything about dinner. Don't ask where I got the recipes, what I bought, nothing. Don't even come into the kitchen when you come home. Just sit down, relax and eat when I tell you it's ready."

I could tell he wasn't liking this plan. The best birthday gift I could have given him would probably have been to let him trail me the whole time, telling me what to do next. "You should cut it like this instead." "You know what would work better?" "Here, just let me do it."

But I wanted to celebrate, not kill him.

He reluctantly agreed to my request. But just in case, I wanted to do as much prepping as possible before he got home. I prepared and measured out all of the ingredients so I could just start throwing them in the pan once he walked in the door (timing is the hardest thing about cooking I am learning).

As I started washing, chopping, and shredding, I realized something. I've actually learned a lot about cooking just from watching Wine Guy these last two years. He has so many little tricks and shortcuts that he's figured out by trial and error over the years. And here I am, a total novice,with skills I didn't even know I had learned!

When Wine Guy came home I gave him a kiss and pointed him to the couch. He peered over my shoulder, trying to see what I had going on in there. I tried to block his view but it was too late.

"Can I just say one thing???" he asked as I shoved him out of the doorway.

He looked like he had something important to say and, well, I didn't want to screw the whole dinner up. "Fine, go."

As he stepped inside he pointed at the pots hanging on the pot rack. There's one in particular he wanted me to see - and it wasn't the one I had simmering on the stove.

"See this?" He points to a deep pan hanging on the rack. "This is a saucepan. What you are using is a saute pan, and its shallowness and curve is making the liquid evaporate more than you want."

I looked at the stove and, horrorified, realized he was right. The sauce was reducing too quickly. I was seconds away from having a few glumps of tomatoes that would barely cover one serving of pasta.

"What do I do?" I panicked, finally letting him inside the kitchen.

He headed straight to the back cabinet. The one I've opened maybe twice since we've lived here. "Hold on, I think we have some more tomatoes here."

Wine Guy shuffled around and finally pulled out a big can of whole tomatoes. "Just open this and drain the juice into your pan. That should do it."

He handed it to me and then he did the kindest thing he's done in some time. He smiled, walked out of the kitchen and went downstairs, leaving me to finish cooking dinner.

By the time we sat down to eat, I was so nervous my appetite was nowhere to be found. But, once I saw that he was enjoying both the salad and the pasta, I relaxed and took a deep breath -- and smelled the wonderful scent of garlic, onions and tomatoes that had filled the upstairs. All of a sudden I was hungry. And it was good.

Thanks for the gifts you've given me, Wine Guy. Just by being who you are.

Dismissed.

The Man-Purse Challenge

2009-05-18T22:17:00.000-07:00

"Can you hold this for me?"

Sounds like an innocent enough question. And when my purse has any spare room, as it often does, I always say yes.

It's rarely a woman who asks me this question. Mostly because she would also be carrying a purse to hold her standard must-carry items - wallet, phone, lipstick, tampons.

But the man-- the poor man. Cursed with the back pocket as his only solution. Before the cell phone and other bulkier electronic must-carry items, all the man needed to worry about was the wallet. Easy enough to slip in the back pocket. No lipstick, hopefully, to worry about and all that jangling change goes in the front pocket or gets left in a jar at home.

Well, those days of pity are over. We all have bulky items we need to carry around these days, whether we wear lipstick and sanitary napkins or not. And it only seems fair that men should have to carry their load.

The first year of my relationship with Wine Guy I would respond with, "You need a good bag to carry your stuff." This was met with a stern look, and my purse got heavier.

Then I went sarcastic (always my first, less effective fallback). "Seriously, you need a man-purse." This was met with an even sterner, "No way."

Now, two years later, I've pretty much given up and accepted my lot in life -- say , "Sure" and and shove his items into my purse. Sometimes he even slips them in without my knowledge. Then, of course, it's my duty to remember they are there and return them to him before we eventually go our separate ways.

I haven't given Wine Guy crap about his need for a man-purse in awhile. But his birthday is fast approaching and, well, it's hard for me to imagine someone of any gender wouldn't want a wonderful bag to carry their most beloved items (I am a woman after all). So I thought I'd give it the old college try one more time, minus the sarcasm.

"How about a nice bag for your birthday?" I asked as I fished his phone and wallet out of my purse while standing together in a dark parking lot.

Clearly, time has not healed this wound. He responded, "Seriously, don't even think about it getting me that. I won't use it."

I handed his items over and mumbled, "I know." Defeat.

So....should I give up and consider myself his human purse? Or have any of you ladies (or men) found a solution? There's got to be some item out there (short of a fanny pack) that could please us both?

Help.

Dismissed.

Games for Grownups

2009-05-14T00:12:00.000-07:00

After two years, I can't freakin' believe Wine Guy finally tricked me into allowing video games into the house.

I HATE video games.

OK, the vintage Atari 2600 games are just fine in my book. Lord knows I spent much of my youth playing them. But as a teenage babysitter, I saw how absolutely mindless and antisocial the boys I watched became while playing.

Then throw in Naval A-hole and the marathon sessions of Halo with his squadron buddy that he forced me to attend during my visits up to rural Washington state just to see him....well, you can see why I dislike them so much.

Wine Guy is well aware of this and has been respectful. So much so that he refrained from setting up his PS2 station when we moved in together. Now that's restraint.

But when I came home tonight, I walked into what looked like Christmas morning.

A few days ago WG's boss gave him a beautiful new LCD HDTV as a surprise bonus. Well, since that was "free," WG figured he might as well invest a little money in some additional video technology to make our set up even better.

While I was at the movies tonight, WG was at his weekly wine tasting talking it over with his friends. When he told them how much I loathe all things video game, one of them suggested a Wii as a possible solution. He bit.

One trip to Best Buy later and all of a sudden we are the proud owners of a Wii console and a Wii Fit. He bought the latter as a "surprise" for me because I have heard good things from a few of my like-minded female friends and talked about wanting to try it.

At first I was a little stunned and perhaps scared that our nights would now consist of me sitting on the couch "watching" WG play games and waiting for him to finish so we could actually, you know, talk or something. He was a little disappointed that I didn't jump with joy and cover him with grateful kisses.

But once he got it going, the thank you kisses were aplenty. Next thing I know, here I am at 12:30am sitting on the couch and watching him snowboard. And providing my own play by play. And having fun.

This after an hour of setting up our Miis (our customized avatars), trying some balance games and aerobics on the Fit, and building our teamwork skills by playing a few games of doubles tennis together. We're talking high fives and everything (OK, that was me getting a little too competitive).

If this is the what video games are now, then I might just have to change my mind. This could be the best thing that has happened to us in awhile. I'm talking "quality time," not to mention setting fitness goals and reaching them together on the Wii Fit (how cool is that!) Or it could just be the honeymoon phase. Only time will tell.

Dismissed.

Addendum: I started writing this during WG's third snowboard run, suddenly inspired with a relationship story to tell that wasn't throughly depressing. I've been writing for about 15 minutes and about two minutes ago he turned to me and said with a kinda cute whine, "[Trooper], come and watch. Come and appreciate my skills!"

Oh shit.

Dismissed again.

"I"s and "We"s - Part I

2009-05-09T20:29:00.000-07:00

I knew there was trouble when she stopped using the word “I.” You know, that all-important word that represents the individual in us all. The word that is so important that it must be capitalized. Well, when Blonde Wife had her baby, that word ceased to exist.

“How are you doing?” I would ask.

“Oh, we’re doing really great,” she’d reply.

Uh, OK. Try again.

“What have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, lots. First we went to the park. Then we went to the local pool and signed up for swim lessons. You have to get on the waiting list at least two years ahead you know.”

No. I didn’t know that.

I was a bridesmaid in her wedding a few years ago. We must still have something in common.

“So how are you feeling?”

“Well, Blonde Baby vomited yesterday. But I think it was just a little gas. We’re feeling much better today. I don’t think it was anything serious.”

I knew I’d lost her. Blonde Wife was gone. Blonde Mom was here to stay.

But I still didn’t care. I thought the world of this person. I’d met her in grad school and immediately knew she was one of those rare women who I absolutely, totally admired. She was beautiful. Humble. Funny as shit. Intelligent and interested in subjects far deeper than the latest celebrity scandal. But she wasn’t above a good poop joke either. She had a wonderful relationship with her soon-to-be-husband that I hoped to someday emulate, and, best of all, she seemed to “get me” -- and liked me anyway. When she asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, I was so honored I couldn’t get to the dreaded David’s Bridal fast enough.

So when I realized she was letting this wonderful “I” individual go and replacing her with a “We” I didn’t quite understand, I was let down.

I had no problem with her first, subtler “We,” transition when she met, dated, moved in with, and then married her husband. But there was still plenty of room left over for the woman I treasured as a friend. Plus, I liked the man she chose to spend her life with.

But Blonde Baby changed everything. First they moved to the northern suburban outskirts of town. That’s fine. I’ve got plenty of mom friends who moved to the boonies with their babies. No biggie. If you are important enough to my life, I will make the effort. Hell, I’ve got a calendar. Let’s get it on the books.

So Blonde Mom and I would schedule plans – dinner at her place with the family – about a month ahead of time. The Blonde Family is very busy after all with the various in-laws and rigorous baby schedule. But when the day would arrive, she would cancel via email with some seemingly heartfelt excuse. Of course I understood.

So we’d go for round two and plan another dinner a few weeks down the road. I wanted them to meet and get to know Wine Guy. Blonde Wife had met him once, only briefly, and I felt that people who are so important to me should get the chance to bond in a more meaningful way. I told her this.

She canceled again.

So we go one more round.

When she canceled the third time, I finally threw up my hands up and said “OK, ball’s in your court.” Of course, by this time (six+ months later) Wine Guy didn’t understand why I cared so much. I mean, who the hell are these people anyway? Obviously they can’t be that important to me if we’ve been together over a year and they’ve barely even met.

No matter how much I tried to argue him on the matter, I knew he was right. It was about time I started to take the hint. Especially after I learned, via a Facebook status update, that Blonde Wife was pregnant with Blonde Baby #2. I dutifully submitted my public “Congratulations” wall post. No response.

Then I learn through yet another Facebook status update that it’s a boy. A perfect balance to their now three-year-old girl. I gave my public “Congratulations” wall post. No response.

The I learn through a Facebook wall post that Blonde Wife made on a mutual friend’s wall that there were complications with the pregnancy that sounded pretty serious.

Suddenly it hit me. A sad fact I figured out a few friends-with-first-babies ago that I somehow always manage to forget all over again. Just because I consider someone part of my family, doesn’t mean I’m a part of theirs.

And just to clarify in case some of you moms are wondering, I love kids - including hers -- and was/am always willing to make Blonde Baby #1 part of whatever plans we made together and spent plenty of time talking about all things baby with her before she bailed on me.

But I’m not one of those people who go quietly into the night – especially when it comes to a friend I really trust and believe in. So I decided I had nothing to lose but ask her straight out – are we friends or what?

Wine Guy was strongly against this maneuver. He urged me to just “get over it" (quite possibly the most infuriating advice ever given). Plus, he didn’t know her like I did. We were FRIENDS. I considered myself a savvy friend-picker at this point, and I was 100% sure that there was something I was missing here. Something about our friendship that could be fixed.

So I wrote her an email that said,
“…without Facebook I wouldn't know that you are A) pregnant B) having a boy and C) having complications, surgeries and mandatory bed rest (I'm sorry about everything in C). Are we friends or what?.. it's very hard to be just "Facebook friends" with someone I felt so close to not long ago. Especially when you are going through big life moments - good and bad….Did I do something? Do I just not fit into your world now?... I don't know....I've been through many scenarios in my head and finally just said 'screw it' - and thought I'd actually just ask you.”

In the closing (not included above) I tried very hard not to push too hard and to let her know that my thoughts are with her during what I assume is a tough time (but don't know the details since she hasn't talked to me in months). I asked her to get back to me when and if she felt ready.

Overall it was a sincere attempt to be honest and straightforward. If you know me at all (and she does), you'd know I meant it.

The Blonde Wife I knew would have responded with a real answer. Of course, this is assuming she hadn’t morphed into some sort of alien “We.” You be the judge – here’s her response word for word.

“Thank you for your words of concern about my health. It's been a very scary time for us. However, as you might imagine, I am nowhere near being able to respond to the rest of your message. I'm feeling "kicked while I am down," by it quite frankly. Right now my priorities are to focus on being well enough to be here for Blonde Baby#1 and not to lose this baby [Blonde Baby #2].”

Ouch. Much worse than I ever anticipated. I certainly wasn't intending to jeopardize her baby's by asking about our friendship. I just wanted to be included in her life.

Two weeks later I see another Facebook post she made about her family's upcoming vacation to Hawaii. You tell me. If you are well enough to fly six hours to an island vacation destination, don’t you think you could – at the very least – reply to an email from one of your three freakin’ bridesmaids who just wants to be your friend?

This vacation announcement hurt more than her original response to me. So I decided to spare myself further pain by "unfriending" her from Facebook to avoid any more updates about her ultra active “We” life. Shortly thereafter I took Wine Guy’s advice and emotionally gave up on our friendship -- probably about eight months after she did.

This all took place in January 2009, and the exchange kicked off a massive depression for me. Mostly because it felt like a confirmation of my deepest, darkest fears that I always hoped were entirely delusional; that as a single, childless woman, I am thoroughly insignificant in the eyes of a woman with a husband and child(ren).

And I don’t mean this to sound as self-deprecating as it does. I don’t even take it all that personally, really. How could I when there is absolutely NOTHING I can think of to justify why Blonde Wife would do this except for the fact that she is totally and completely immersed in her new role as Mom? She moved to a Mom neighborhood. She made all new Mom friends who do all sorts of Mom activities together. And she just simply doesn’t have room for my silly little dating/job/dog life anymore.

This thought hurt me more than if she had replied with, “You are a total bitch. I hate it when you _____ and I never want to talk to you again.” Then at least I would have a reason. Something to improve upon. Or at least something to tell her to go fuck herself over.

But this? This is just….life. People move on. I totally get that. But I just thought our friendship was a bit deeper than that. Like the handful of other women I adore who have had children and haven’t flicked me off their lapel like piece of worthless lint.

Granted, many of them have moved on or evolved past the "I" stage. But there’s that certain few who, even if we don't speak for six months at a time, when we do connect it’s like not a moment has passed. And nobody’s mad at anyone for disappearing for awhile.And when we do finally get together, I don’t mind if we spend the day with their kids, talking about their kids, while sitting poolside at their kid’s swim lesson. As long as we know that we are important to each other – that’s all I ask.

But you just can’t avoid the inevitable. Along with that baby comes a wall that keeps the “I”s and “We”s just a little bit separated. It’s nothing personal. But it doesn’t mean there aren’t casualties – usually on the “I” side.

…..To Be Continued…

Dismissed.

Kids in Love

2009-04-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

Thanks everyone for your words of support. I'm glad to hear that (at least some of you) aren't tired of the DT/WG relationship ups and downs. I promise to keep them coming, mixed in with some classics from my previous battles. It's so strange to have a crisis of confidence on a public blog. Strange, but comforting too. Thanks for reading!

I'm working on a new entry but in the meantime couldn't resist sharing this video that captures what I wish love in the grown up was like all the time (not just at the beginning). Absolutely adorable. Enjoy.

Dismissed.

Rebirth of the Blog

2009-04-21T13:17:00.000-07:00

As much as I love Wine Guy and all the fodder he has given me for this blog, I have to admit that his arrival on the scene just two months after it first launched (Feb. 2007) took me (and you guys) down an entirely different - and perhaps less entertaining- path than I had intended.

I wanted to tell stories. Funny ones. Pathetic ones. Unbelievable ones. And all true ones. Basically the stories about dating that make it all sometimes feel like an excruciating war that, if you survive with your dignity intact (let alone with a significant other), you feel like you deserve a medal, a statue, and an annual reunion with your fellow war buddies. Instead, what you ended up getting with this blog was a bunch of neurotic relationship-building blather.

Well, I'm done with that --at least until something major happens with us. In the meantime, I don't think you want to hear about how Wine Guy and I split up the house cleaning chores or that WG's farts are growing more frequent, louder, and more entertaining - to him.

Instead, I'm going to tap into the extensive reservoir of dating stories I never got to tell you. The ones that formed my perspective and the ones, frankly, I think you might actually want to read.

If it has to do with a boy that caught my eye, it's fair game. and trust me, I have stories that go back to kindergarten. Hopefully this will keep you interested, entertained and - most importantly - feeling like you're not in this alone.

It all boils down to this - I forgot this damn blog was supposed to be FUN! Not just for the readers but for me too, dammit. Bitching and moaning about whatever is bothering me that day (there's always something) and getting nasty comments about how my ovaries are drying up while I waste time being with the man I love (who hasn't proposed yet)....NOT FUN.

Since I'm on medical leave and have NOTHING to do all day, I hope to post more frequently. That's my goal anyway. There's only so much knitting and TV watching a person can do in a day.

Hope you stick around for the rebirth of Dating is Warfare.

Dismissed.

Gimp Chronicles

2009-04-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

I'm mostly writing this post to push the last two down from the top of the list. I've heard from friends who have been catching up on Dating is Warfare over the last month, all of whom want to share their thoughts and reactions to some of the comments I received that clearly upset me. To be honest, it is all a vague blur to me and I can't really bring myself to re-read them. I was in no place to be reading or writing - let alone pondering life- having just come home from the hospital, in a lot of pain ,and not in the most uplifting of moods.

But I just wanted to say that I'm back in the land of the living, thinking and semi-walking and will resume writing more regularly again soon. After two weeks recuperating at my mom's, I came home about two weeks ago and have been getting better every day, physically and (sort of) mentally.

Wine Guy is taking tremendous care of me though it is no fun being so dependent on someone and I'm eager to get my extracurricular life back. As of right now, I can't drive, can put on my own shoes or socks, and can't bend forward to pick anything up. But I'm off the pain killers, catching up with my friends and remembering what my life used to be like pre-surgery.

Still, there is lots to tell and I will be back again soon telling it. Thanks for (hopefully) sticking around.

Dismissed.

It's Not You....

2009-03-31T17:58:00.000-07:00

Since most of my life at the moment consists of all things bathroom-related (delicately getting in and out of bed to go to and from on my walker, stuffing myself with all things fiber to try to "make things happen" -- and being continually disappointed with the results), I am going to step back from Dating is Warfare for awhile. Unless you guys really want to know about my bathroom habits, pill intake, and nap lengths, and I suspect you don't.

Judging from my last posting - and the fact that I even thought it appropriate to post at all-- and my overly sensitive reaction to people's comments and opinions, I think it's time we take a break until I'm in a better place. Nothing personal. It's not you, it's me. I promise, I'll call you soon.

If you really miss me, I will be posting here and there at my ChickenheadsKnit blog since knitting will be my new best friend once I get the bathroom thing settled and I stop having double vision from all these painkillers.

Otherwise, dismissed.

*Thanks to those of you who sent me supportive messages this week. Very thoughtful (and helpful).

Ouch - Literally and Emotionally

2009-03-29T14:23:00.000-07:00

Hello from the drugged up side. I made it through my surgery and six loooong days in the hospital. Now I'm home at my mom's being waited on by both her and Wine Guy. Sounds nice in theory but in reality it's a powerless position to be in and I'm cranky about it - probably because I'm due for more painkillers (which I'll take as soon as I hit publish).

Catching up on the comments I received from my last blog entry, one in particular really knocked me in the gut. Probably because it is the last thing I need to hear right now - and probably because she is right. However, I am not supposed to be thinking about such major life issues while dealing with a broken body (or so my shrink tells me). But is she right?

For all I know, this could be a comment from someone I know personally who is finally (and anonymously) telling me what she's had on her mind for months. Or she really is just a anonymous person, tired of hearing other people whine and suffer about their relationships when she saw how easy it can be when it's right.

Anyway, I'm ready for drugs and a doze so I'll put it out there for your opinions. Read the original post (linked to above) if you haven't already. And here is Anon's comment:

Man, when are you going to DUMP this guy? I mean seriously. This guy has to have had some clue about the relation of this party to a wedding shower. In the time that I started reading this blog about a year ago, I started dating a man, and am now engaged to him. There ARE men who want to get married. I dated a guy for about 4 years prior to this relationship, and he was wonderful and loving and did anything I wanted him to... but he did not want to get married. Don't give too many years to a guy who's afraid to LIVE LIFE. My two cents. Glad you have someone to take care of you. But seriously. If you want kids, your ovaries are drying up. If you don't, well, you're getting wrinkly.

Powering Down

2009-03-21T11:46:00.001-07:00

It feels like I spent this past week "powering down" my life. Canceling my parking permit. Paying all my bills before the deadlines. Writing out instructions for my co-workers. Basically it feels like I'm moving away, or preparing to die. Thank goodness I'm just having surgery that I will heal from. But I will be out of the loop of life for a few months and it's a strange sensation to pare everything down, knowing you will be doped up, immobile and miles away from your real life.

But before I began this surreal process, I gathered my closest friends together for the now infamous "hip shower” last Saturday. I am so, so happy I decided to go ahead with it. At first it felt kind of lame - throwing yourself a party is a weird enough, but celebrating having your hip bone cut out, moved and pinned back together (click here for info about the procedure I am having done)? Yeah, not your normal sort of celebratory event.

Preparing for the shower with my mom was stressful and a hell of a lot of work. We treated it like a real shower - gifts, party favors, games, little speeches and a specialty cake.

I even wore Vera Wang. True, they were Vera Wang pajamas...but that still counts! (I topped the outfit off with matching pale pink earrings and heels that for some bizarre reason I already owned.). Oh so glamorous. And yes, most everyone else wore some form of PJs too. Mendoza Line won the best costume prize for busting out her Grandma Bertha’s long velour robe.

Thanks to my brother Pat-hole's amazing bead collection, I spent an entire day making earrings for everyone to choose as a party favor.

My mom went to a specialty baker in town and had a hip-shaped cake made. It came out looking more like a bizarre tooth, but it still made an impact and put a smile on everyone's face.
And the topper….anatomically correct hipbone key chains for everyone to take home with the following inscription: Be “Hip” 3-23-09 (date of my surgery). I even gave one to my surgeon and told him to keep it with him on the big day.

As for games, I wanted to keep it simple and fun (and of course the winners got a prize). I know people’s tolerance to act silly in front of a bunch of people they may not know that well is limited, so I opted not to do the crutch race (though I liked the idea!). Instead we played "Pin the Hip on DT" - a big success in my opinion. We used the poster I created from the invitation's x-ray image, and used the bright pink glow located at the hip joint as the target. Everyone could choose which kind of "healing band aid" they wanted, depending on their belief system - Jesus or Enchanted Unicorns. Not that I’m reading too much into this, but I only had Jesus band aids left over in the end. I blindfolded everyone and for the most part, they missed by a mile.

For the second game, my mom made a "prescription bottle" filled with "pain pills" (Good & Plenty’s) and everyone had to guess how many pills in the bottle.She made the cutest label that read "Take as many as needed for sweet relief. Dr It's Good-Plenty."

My absolute favorite part of the day was when everyone introduced themselves, saying how they knew me. I usually keep one or two important people with me from each phase of my life. So, at the age of 36, this leaves quite a range. Friends were there from college all the way through to some spectacular women I met just months ago (high school friends -- and even a few of my fellow bloggers -- were there in spirit but live too far away). Not to mention my mom's friends who have known me since before I was born.

It's no secret that I've been feeling extremely down and sorry for myself the past few months about this surgery. But having all those people around me - people I feel so comfortable with - helped to remind me who I am. And I'm actually someone I like. Lately I've felt like nothing more than a medical problem accompanied by constant pain, negative emotions, and endless favors asked of my family and friends during my recovery. But being there, cracking jokes with everyone, feeling the love..well, the shower accomplished exactly what I had hoped. And I am proud of myself for making it happen (and eternally grateful to my mom for all her help).

Where was Wine Guy in all of this? Well, leading up to the event, he was really pissing me off. Of course, these days he just has to breath and I'm pissed off (yeah, I have been a nightmare to live with). But the night before the shower, when I really needed him (I put him in charge of bartending) he jumped into action. While I went to my mom's to party prep the night before, he stayed home mixing the perfect, spicy Bloody Mary mix. Then he showed up right on time and ran that bar like a professional, custom mixing drinks, being friendly but out of the way, and keeping everything neat and tidy. Every woman there was bowled over by his "level of service."

All this time I'd been upset because he seemed so disinterested in it all. He didn't seem to care about the games we were planning, the decorations, the outfits. I wasn't even sure he was really going to come. But clearly I was just drowning in my negative assumptions because he was a dream boyfriend and I couldn’t thank him enough. He didn't even want my gratitude...I think he actually enjoyed it.

But it was an important lesson for me. Well, more of a reminder actually. Wine Guy is a man - no matter how much of a “friend” he might seem like sometimes. And men simply don't want to talk about party planning and outfits (I know, obvious, but I can be pretty stupid about men sometimes). It's nothing personal.

The important thing is that he actually does what he says he'll do and that he shows me that he loves me in his own way. Not the way I am used to with my female friends, which is usually listening and talking about things ad nauseum.

Wine Guy showed me that he he does love me and is there for me when I need him. And I know he will continue to be there during my recovery. And that says a lot. Probably everything I need to know.

Yet a few hours after the shower, he surprised me with his total male cluelessness with a sincere question, "Why did everyone keep talking about weddings? What was that all about?" He simply did not get that this party was a spoof of a bridal shower. No clue. Oh, to be a man who doesn’t have to know what happens at a bridal shower. Sigh.

Tonight we are going to dinner at a new restaurant I’ve been eager to try and then WG is taking me to the musical "Working" (based on the Studs Terkel book that I am currently reading - and loving). This is my last night out before I am reduced to a drugged up, bed-ridden, walker-using invalid, who will hopefully heal quickly and get a heck of a lot of knitting and reading done during my 3 months off of work.

I appreciate everyone's good wishes, thoughts, prayers, whatevers. And I'll catch you on the other side.

Dismissed.

Wednesday Epiphany

2009-02-25T21:48:00.000-08:00

I just had a huge relationship epiphany, sitting here on the couch knitting. American Idol is on the TV, Wine Guy is on the computer at the kitchen table. During a commercial break my mind wanders to plans for the weekend and beyond.

I ask him, "Hey, that screening of 'The Watchmen' you wanted to come to is next week. Monday night. That's the same night as your pilates. Do you want to come and cancel pilates or should I ask someone else to the movie?"

I meant this question exactly as I said it. A simple statement of fact. He and I had discussed the press screening awhile ago and I thought he would want to come since it's a "boy" kind of movie. He said he did. But when I checked the date today, I realized it was the same night as his favorite weekly event besides wine tasting - pilates.

So I was telling him this and asking him what he wanted to do. No big deal.

He responds, looking up from his computer screen, "Huh, what?"

Problem #1. I have to repeat myself since he really wasn't paying attention to what I said the first time. I do not like repeating myself.

I ask him again, "That screening of 'The Watchmen.' You said you had wanted to come with me. But it's on Monday, your pilates night. Do you want to come and cancel pilates or should I ask someone else?"

He responds, "Uuuh, yeah. I do want to see it...shoot. Can I think about it and let you know later?"

I want to kill him. What is so hard about deciding to go to a movie?

So I say this, trying desperately not to sound as irritated as I am. "No. Just tell me. Do you want to go to the movie or not? It's not that hard of a decision."

I sense a fight.

He is also clearly trying to restrain himself from sounding as irritated as he is.

I repeat, less irritated and more heartfelt. I sense we are at a point where we could either break out into bickering or just cut the shit and say it like it is. "Just tell me. I'm asking. Please. Do you want to go to the movie or do you want to go pilates? I'm fine either way, I just need to know what you would like to do."

From the look on his face, I think he might have actually heard what I said. This is familiar fighting territory. Me trying to make a plan. Wine Guy trying to avoid one.

He breaks, "Ok, Ok. I just really don't want to miss pilates, OK?"

I breathe a sigh of relief. Not just because I got an answer to my simple question, but because it confirms something I have suspected our entire relationship. He's stringing me along.

I exclaim inappropriately, "I knew it! I knew that all this time you have been just stringing me along ---"

He interrupts, "No, I wasn't. I do want to go to the movie. I just know that I'll feel awful if I miss pilates. And I am afraid I'll make you angry if I say so."

I almost laugh - is that what has been going on all this time?! "Oh my god. You have no idea. When I get mad it's not because you don't want to do something with me. It's because you won't give me a straight answer! That drives me more crazy than anything! I have plenty of friends to ask, dude." (Yes, I say dude in times of complete honesty. I am from So Cal you know.)

"OK, OK...." He clearly wants to end the conversation, thinking the problem is solved so he should be able to get back to his computer. I need him to understand how huge this is.

"No, you need to understand how huge this is. From now on, don't worry about making me angry if you want or don't want to do something. Just tell me and I'll deal. OK?" I am slightly giddy with how much a small shift like this could change our daily communication.

"Sure, fine."

I can see this as gone as far as it's gonna go in his world. And I think maybe he understands. I hope he does. We spend far too much time fighting over stupid things like this that are clearly about something larger. And I think it has created a vicious cycle:

I plan things.
I ask him first to accompany me - he is my boyfriend after all.
If he doesn't want to or isn't excited about it, he tries to postpone committing, assuming that telling me "no thanks" will make me angry.
Meanwhile, I am getting angry about him pushing me off.

Vicious, I tell you.

Now I am ferociously typing my epiphany while Wine Guy watches inane America's Funniest Home Videos, waiting for me to watch last night's Daily Show with him on the DVR. Always a plan we can agree on.

Dismissed.

Relationship Bill

2009-02-24T10:59:00.000-08:00

This is all out DATING WARFARE as far as I'm concerned.

Dismissed.

Whine Country

2009-02-20T23:32:00.000-08:00

Wine Guy and I are stopped half way up to Central California wine country, where we are spending a long weekend. We're taking a break for the night in lovely Carpinteria and here I am holed up in the Holiday Inn Express (free Internet - woo hoo!) while WG is taking a shower.

We're fighting. And it's all my fault. I'm just being a whiny, argumentative little bitch.

The problem is, I have no idea why.

Yes, he is annoying me beyond belief. God I hope it's normal for your significant other to drive you so crazy sometimes you want to scream until he goes up into a puff of smoke. The endless circling of the parking lot, slowly scoping out his options while spot after spot rolls by. The nervous driving the moment we hit the Los Angeles county line, as if suddenly everyone is out to kill us.

OK, these are driving related annoyances and I believe they are pretty common with couples. But it still doesn't explain why, once we got to our hotel room, I continued to want to kill him. He has no idea what the f*ck is going on. Neither do I.

I'd blame it on PMS - which I do get pretty bad sometimes - except I have my period right now and it's winding down.

If I'm honest with myself, I've been feeling this extreme level of irritation at just about everyone close to me, especially WG and my mom, with occassional close friends and unsuspecting coworkers thrown in.

Before you tell me to get to a shrink, I assure you I am already there. And what we've figured out - and this sounds like such a cop out but I think, after my behavior tonight, it has to be true - that I am just highly anxious about the upcoming surgery and it is tainting everything else around me. It just feels like something is "wrong" all the time. So it must be the way Wine Guy is treating me. Or it must be the tone my mom is taking with me. Or it must be that I am on the wrong career path. Or it must be...whatever.

Strange since, just a few weeks ago, everything seemed pretty darn was fine.

So I have to decide to chalk it all up to pre-surgery anxiety. Who knew that having my hip bone cut, shifted into a new position, and pinned back together would be something that would make me nervous?

Bear with me people. Especially those who have to love me, OK?

Dismissed.

Guess What? A New Blog!

2009-02-18T22:10:00.000-08:00

Just when you thought you couldn't get enough of me.....

After one year of thinking, "That would make a great blog entry," I finally decided to start a blog dedicated entirely to the subjects of conversation that arise during my Tuesday night knitting group affectionately called the Chickenheads.

So check it out. It's called Chickenheads Knit.

Subscribe, comment, share with friends, enjoy. I even have a new obnoxious sign off, but you have to go there to find out what it is. I don't know why I like sign offs so much. I guess they just make me feel so D-O-N-E.

Dismissed.

The "Hippest" Shower Ever!

2009-02-12T10:29:00.000-08:00

It's official - the "Hip Shower" is ON!

I sent out my evite to about 30 female friends yesterday and already have 8 yes RSVPs! It's a nice mix of my friends and my mom's friends, who've I've pretty much grown up with. So far it seems like people "get" what I'm trying to do. I know with the way I've been feeling lately (stressed, depressed, anxiety-ridden, self-pitying), I need to do whatever it takes to keep my focus on all things positive in my life. What better way than a party!

Still working on game ideas and taking suggestions.

Of course, I wish all of you out there could come too. But I promise to keep you filled in. Thanks for your supportive comments and good wishes.

Here's the text of the evite. How would you RSVP?

The "Hippest" Shower Ever!

You've been to bridal showers and baby showers ....but have any of them been "hip?"

Now you can answer "Yes!" to that question when you attend
DT's Hip/Recovery Shower!

She's having her second hip surgery on March 23 and, thank goodness, she'll be all out of hips when this one's done. She's got a long recovery ahead and wants to bring the good wishes of her friends along to help her through.

Come dressed in your finest pajamas/recovery wear!

Brunch will be served, along with mimosas and Bloody Marys (and some non-alcoholic stuff too). Be prepared for games, good company and the hippest shower ever.

We'll be in the Club House at the development where DT's mom lives.

*What kind of shower would this be without a registry? Yes, DT is registered at Target.

Guest List:

Who's Hip? (yes)

I'm Feeling Hippish... (maybe)

Ain't Gotta Hip Bone in My Body (no)

I Knit, Therefore I Am...

2009-02-06T13:49:00.000-08:00

At the request of Anonymous in the previous post's comments, I am sharing some pics of a few of my knitting projects. But first, allow me to gush.

It is official: I am obsessed with this hobby.

But after about 8 months of doing it, I definitely understand why, when I tell people I knit, so many respond with a wistful, "I tried knitting once."

Knitting is a hobby that you will drop very quickly if you don't have a support group to help you through the learning process and the inevitable knitting disasters you will face with just about every project. If it wasn't for my group of Chickenheads, who I meet with every Tuesday night, I can easily see myself as one of those women who "tried knitting once, but couldn't stick with it," and has that shameful bag of unused yarn and a few pairs of needles still in the package shoved in the back of a closet somewhere.

But, thanks to the support of the Chickenheads, I got over that very long, often painful learning hump and can now walk into a yarn shop without having a total nervous breakdown. Last week I even started my first, non-pathetically-easy knitting project on my very own without any help -- a beautiful merino-silk neck warmer in a wave pattern. I picked the right pattern to go with the yarn I had in my stash, already owned the necessary needles in my supply (a sign I am maturing in the hobby), and will be halfway completed with the project by next week's knitting night. I can't wait to show the group and know they will all ohh, and ahh and praise my progress - because that's what we all do for each other - even if it's just some lame ass scarf. When else do you get that kind of validation as a grownup?

I also know that knitting will quite possibly save me from losing my mind during my long surgery recovery. I plan on stocking up on yarn, patterns and projects to keep me busy most of the summer. I predict most of my friends and family will get knitted gifts for birthdays this year. So beware. (But no more baby blankets.)

And finally, my new-found knitting obsession has introduced me to some amazingly talented and hilarious women writers/knitting freaks who have shown me that knitting is not just a trendy hobby but, in fact, a physical representation of many of our inner neuroses and inexplicable desires to torture ourselves. Check out Stephanie Pearl McPhee (aka the Yarn Harlot) if you haven't already. She is a goddess.

As promised, photographic proof of my new obsession. I keep forgetting to take pictures before I give them away, so these are all I have for now.

1. Hooded Baby Blanket with fleece lining knitted for Baby Quiet, born December 2008

2. Neck warmer for a friend's birthday.

3. Pics of my felted purse and first hat are posted here (scroll to the bottom of the post)

If you are at all tempted to learn, go for it. But I highly recommend the Buddy System.

Dismissed.

Shower Me

2009-01-31T12:49:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I attended yet another baby shower. This time for my sister-in-law. The good news was that there was free-flowing champagne and my knitted baby blanket gift (the last of the baby projects for the year) was a big hit. The bad news was that my mom's yenta friends were there and asking when Wine Guy and I were going to get married.

It's no secret that I'm eager to tie the knot and get on with the baby thing. I basically wear my maternal clock around my neck -- Flavor Fav style. So these questions were predictably getting me a little down.

At least this time I have a valid excuse for delay -- my upcoming surgery. Yes, I am definitely having a second major surgery (March 23). Same one I had last January, except this time on the other hip. (I guess that makes me special - how many 36 year olds do you know who have had two hip surgeries?!) The recovery was awful and it took me about 9 months before I stopped regretting the first one. But now I don't and the other hip has deteriorated rapidly over the last year so I kind of have no choice. Here we go again.

So when the yentas asked me about getting married/having a baby, I said something pitiful along the lines of, "I don't think I'll get any kind of celebratory shower like this for a long time. All I get to celebrate is surgery." Yeah I know, poor me. I never said I wasn't a whiner though.

Then one of them said something quite interesting, "So why not have a shower for your hip?"

First I laughed. Kind of guffawed actually. But then I started thinking about it. Why not? Why do I have to wait for a wedding or a baby? This is a MAJOR life event that will effect my life substantially for a long time. I will need the love and support of my friends and family. And I'll need stuff to get me through it. So why the hell can't I have a pre-surgery shower? The idea of the "Hip Shower" was born.

Since then my mom and her friends are all over it. We've got a date picked out, a guest list (girls only), and a location (my mom is renting out her club house at her complex). There will be games and prizes, a champagne brunch, and we are asking everyone to come in their best PJs. My brother volunteered to make a bunch of earrings (he's a 'master beader' believe it or not) to give out as party favors. I am even going to register at Target.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but just the act of having something to look forward to over the next two months - instead of dread - has changed my entire outlook. And being able to laugh and poke fun at this experience has pulled me back from the dark place of "why is this happening to me?"

And now I can relax about the wedding thing for a little while because at least my mom can say she got to throw me a shower, right?

What do you guys think? Any ideas for games, party favors, etc? I'm thinking "Operation" will have to be involved somehow. Maybe a race on crutches?

Dismissed.

Detour Down Revolutionary Road

2009-01-14T21:39:00.000-08:00

You may recall that I recently got a little side job writing movie reviews for a local weekly paper. For the most part it's been total cake. I choose what I want to review, walk to the front of a long line, and get the best seats in the house for a commercial-free, preview-free, free movie. Then spend about an hour or two writing and editing what I thought about it. I even get a little money for the trouble. Cool.

The last movie I reviewed -- Revolutionary Road -- gave me a little more trouble than I'm used to.

This film elicited a very personal reaction from me (I'll tell you why in a second.). When the lights came up and I read over the notes I had scribbled in the dark, all I could see was the makings of a blog entry. Not a review fit for a newspaper with actual paying advertisers.

So I hemmed and hawed, typed and deleted. And ultimately, after about two hours of deliberating, decided to write the review first person and be relatively honest about how I felt...without revealing my whole personal life story.

Basically what I said was this: Revolutionary Road is incredible and you just can't deny it is a well-made film. But how you feel about it will depend entirely upon where you are in life -- and how you feel about where you are in life -- when you see it. If anything, it is thought-provoking and powerful. But it could also be pretty damn depressing, depending on the person. And not everyone is up for thought provoking and potentially depressing on a Saturday night at the movies. Me? Well, I love to brood.

But let me tell you what I really wanted to say in my review.

Are you married? If so, is it a good marriage?
Do you have kids? If so, do you ever wish you didn't?
Do you have unfulfilled dreams? If so, do you blame someone else for that?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, I highly recommend you don't go see Revolutionary Road. That is, unless you want to be really depressed.

As for me...I answered no to all the questions above, which is why, when the lights came up, I felt pretty damn good. In fact, this was the first time in my adult life that I actually thought that being unmarried and without kids was actually the very thing that made me "special" among those around me. It made me free. It gave me possibilities.

If you've been reading my blog for any period of time, you know that I am in a constant state of impatience waiting for the Ring, the Wedding, the Baby. That longing is there for everything I do, see, think. Every wedding invitation, birth announcement, family holiday card I get can set me off on another round of maternal clock hysteria. Sometimes I have to step away from the Facebook when I see yet one more person I used to know post pictures of their families. And let's not even get into all the dear friends that have slipped away into "mommydom" never to be seen again (except for the holiday cards of course). Let's just say it's a major THING for me.

To suddenly see my "predicament" as a blessing, for even just a moment, was a wonderful thing. So if you are anything like me - and you also happen to like beautifully crafted, acted and scored films - then go see Revolutionary Road at a theater near you.

Dismissed.

Please, Mr. Sandman

2009-01-04T20:02:00.000-08:00

Rage.

That's pretty much the first thing I feel some Saturday and Sunday mornings while lying in bed. You'd think I'd be resting my head softly on my pillow, little puddles of drool slowly forming beneath my chin while my cat gently snores on top of my head. And sometimes this is the case - but I usually have to beg for the privilege of this undisturbed peace. What is the source of this weekend morning rage?

Wine Guy of course.

Now, when I wake up on a Saturday morning and WG is still asleep, here's what goes through my head. Be very quiet. Let him sleep. He's so cute when he's sleeping. And if he stays asleep for a little bit longer, I'll get some extra "me time" to read, channel surf or just enjoy a quiet morning.

Neither of us are the type to sleep until noon but I am willing to admit that I am a much bigger fan of sleep than Wine Guy. In fact, it might just be my favorite hobby. Have a couple free hours on a Sunday afternoon? Take a nap. Absolute heaven to me.

Wine Guy clearly doesn't get it. Nor do I get him when it comes to sleep. He stays up til all hours doing absolutely nothing, comes to bed at 3am and manages to function off 4 hours of sleep the next day. Me - I need 8 hours minimum. A few nights without my minimum in a row and I can guarantee you I'll get sick or, at the very least (and often worst), really cranky.

I suspect that Wine Guy's late nights are motivated by the same thing that keeps me nice and quiet in the morning. Time alone. But I think he likes the time alone from the entire world, when everyone is asleep at home, on the block, in the city. But if he's awake at 9am on a Saturday morning? Forget about it.

What's even more annoying is how he chooses to "inadvertently" awaken me. It's usually with some inane chatter to his cat. Then to my cat. Then to both cats. Usually about me. After a few minutes of praying to god that he'll give up and shut the hell up soon I'll quietly say "shhhhhhh..." hoping he'll understand that I'm not quite ready to wake up.

That rarely works. When it does I usually pay the price in jealousy because he'll leave the room and the house and go get some amazing coffee and breakfast pastry that I don't get to enjoy because, well, I was asleep. Jerk.

But usually my shushing just encourages him. Now I'm playing along with whatever cute cartoonish dialogue he has created between him and the cats. It can be cute, granted. But by NO MEANS is it cute in this moment.

And here it comes. the Rage.

He freakin' knows I hate this. Everyone who has ever lived with me (boyfriend, friend, mother) is well aware of the "Don't wake DT" rule. Really, there is NOTHING important enough to wake me. Not a phone call. Not a pretty bird sitting outside the bedroom window. Not even my cat doing something adorable. Nothing.

He's been warned. Hence, I am fully justified to be full of rage.

I try not to yell. Who wants to wake up yelling? But it usually comes out as a mumbling whine, "Whhhyyyyy???" This only encourages his playfulness. I should know better being the youngest of four children. Whining only makes it worse.

Today was the last day of our holiday "staycation" and I made sure to point out to WG that today was also our last day to sleep in before real life begins again on Monday. This was my warning to him. Let me sleep dammit. Overall he'd been pretty good on the break, mostly because he stayed up so freakin' late every night while I went to bed at a reasonable hour.

He did not take my warning. But he foiled my rage in what I can only call a brilliant maneuver. He bypassed all the cute cat talk - that charm wore off months ago. Instead, he went upstairs, picked up the dog (who weighs almost 50 pounds and is not allowed to venture downstairs where the cats live -nor does she want to), carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed next to sleeping little me.

I felt something placed next to me and rolled over, prepared to spew venom - IT'S THE LAST DAY OF VACATION! LET ME SLEEP!

But there, cowering next to me and clearly overwhelmed by not only entering the cat's lair but getting to lie on the coveted bed next to her mommy, is Luna. How could I possibly be mad about that?

I suspect Wine Guy is aware of his brilliant move. I've tried to counter it by saying, "You know, it's very confusing to the dog to be brought down here after being made well aware she is not allowed downstairs." But I suspect his desire to wake me up so we can begin our weekend day together is too strong to be counteracted by basic doggie discipline.

I guess it can be considered training for having kids one day. From what I hear, sleep is something you used to get to do before they came along and ruined everything. I just didn't expect Wine Guy to be on their side so soon.

Dismissed.

Home for Hannukah

2008-12-29T12:25:00.000-08:00

Last year Wine Guy and I spent the holidays doing the whole Christmas thing with his family (hence my post A Jew In Texas on Christmas). This experience was important not just because I met all of WG's extended family, but because it was also the first time I felt the "Christmas Spirit." What was it that I felt? No, not the kindness of Jesus warming my heart. But it still felt pretty good. A nice family, tons of food, an enjoyable Christmas morning episode of tearing open gifts and all around thank yous, and the rest of the day playing with said gifts and staying in pajamas until dinnertime. Who wouldn't like that?

This year was a little different, but no less enjoyable. Because Hannukah and Christmas coincided this year, I decided to combine celebrations and invited my mom and two friends over for a Christmas Eve dinner accented by menorah lighting, potato latkes and a few rounds of dreidel. Wine Guy embraced the occasion and decided to attempt a full on Jewish meal. He pulled the menu straight off of Epicurious (right down to the chocolate-orange carrot cake) and it was absolute perfection. I could see he was through the moon when my mom gave her approval to the brisket.

We opened some presents and then my mom taught us all how to gamble Jewish style, wooden top and chocolate coins, baby. I was definitely in the Channukamas spirit, and I think everyone else was too.

The next day, Ex-Wine Gal came over and she and WG made eggs benedict for us and we spent the morning watching Top Chef reruns and then opening presents. For those of you (like my mom) who think Ex-Wine Gal's presence at our house Christmas Day is strange, rest assured it wasn't strange for any of us. In fact, she is a good friend of WG's without family here so it is assumed that she spends holidays with us, just like my good friends who are here without family do. Plus, she willingly acts as WG's sous chef (I am a very reluctant and incompetent one) and she gave me some very thoughtful presents. No complaints here.

So now that Channukamas is over, Wine Guy and I are both enjoying a leisurely "staycation" through the rest of the year. I absolutely love having nothing to do and just enjoying my home, my dog, my man. If only life could be like this all the time.

Still no plans for New Years Eve - the most dreaded of holidays. I hate the pressure to find something "amazing" to do. Perhaps I can find more orphans who want to hang out, play games, and toast the New Year from the comfort of my living room? Am I terribly boring?

Hope you all have something planned that is perfectly suited to your tastes. Be safe.
Dismissed.

Chappy Channukamas

2008-12-24T12:20:00.000-08:00

Happy Channukamas everyone!

Some of you may recall my holiday cards from year's past. Each year I aim for a recipe that includes a touch of hokey, a heavy splash of sarcasm, and a dash of "Is she losing her mind?" This year I enlisted Wine Guys' Photoshop skills yet again and added him and his cat to the family photo. How could I not share it with you?!

I've been severely MIA and for that I apologize. I wish I could say it's because life has been so fantastically wonderful that I could hardly wipe the smile off my face long enough to write for a bit....but that's not quite the case.

To sum up my excuses:

Wine Guy and I hit a major rough patch that I'm still figuring out and not ready to share here.
I found out I will likely have to have another major surgery in March 2009 to correct another failing body part (orthopedic, not life threatening just majorly life hampering). I had the first one in January '08 and it took 8 months of painful rehab before I was able to decide it wasn't a major mistake. Now I have no choice but to do it again. Perhaps I will recycle last year's new year motto. Sigh.
And to top it all off, I got an awful stomach flu a few days ago and since Sunday have eaten 1/2 an egg, a banana, applesauce, 1 chicken wing, 2 mini meatballs, and a brownie.

Today I am emerging from illness and cleaning house for the Channukamas dinner Wine Guy is cooking for me, my mom and my two friends Mendoza Line and Bubbly. Brisket will be eaten, latkes will be fried, draedel will be played, gifts will be opened, candles will be lit. I doubt Jesus will be mentioned but from what I understand you only need a tree to qualify for Christmas.

I hope you all have a happy holiday - whatever it is you are celebrating. Whatever 2009 brings for me, I plan on doing my best to share it here with you, and hope you get something from it - whether it be commiseration, entertainment or just confirmation that your life could be worse ;-).

Dismissed.

Assume the Position

2008-12-08T20:31:00.001-08:00

When Wine Guy and I first started dating, we would boast about how little television we watched together. Why watch TV when there is so much to talk about? Or walks to take? Or making out to do?

I will admit it right here - we felt somewhat superior to those "other" couples that watched a lot of TV together on the couch.

Consider me humbled.

We watch TV. Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little. But we watch it everyday.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing back when we had smaller apartments and smaller couches. At least the TV watching gave us quality snuggling time. But since we moved in together and into a bigger place - and got the kick-ass couch with my dream chaise lounge - we are all spread out and in our comfort zones. And when we got the dog in July? Well, she snuggles right into the gap left between us.

So it's Wine Guy in the far corner by the lamp (basically where AppleButt the cat is sitting in this pic), then Luna the dog, then me in the prime chaise position. Heaven.

Every night. Come home. Eat. Assume the Position. (And don't forget the all-important DVR.)

I guess when I compare our current state with our smug new-coupleness one year+ ago, I get a bit concerned. Did we already run out of things to talk about? Are we using TV to avoid each other?

But then I also realize that we live together now. When we were just dating, our time together was an escape from our everyday lives. And when we went to our respective homes, we undoubtedly got on that couch and vegged out for a while. So we have to allow for some of that while living together, right?

The other night we spontaneously tried something different. We had just come home from a very festive game night at Gouda's house (she very kindly hosted it for my birthday, which was last Friday), and were still pretty wound up. Too wound up to flick on the TV and just sit there.

All of my board games were out from when I rummaged through them earlier to take to Gouda's (Catchphrase - the old school, non-electronic version -- is my #1 choice). Also sitting out was a game that Wine Guy insists is his favorite. He'd tried to get some of us to play it the previous weekend but nobody was really getting it, including me.

He suggested we try it again, just the two of us. I wasn't all that into it but he had been so nice going along with all of the birthday festivities I had crammed into the past three days, so I said OK.

It's a pretty strange little game. Kind of a post-modern role playing game I'd say? It's called Chez Geek and it's a basically a card game about a bunch of slackers all sharing a house trying to spend as little time working and as much time slacking off as possible.

To tell you the truth, I still don't really get it. But what made it so fun - it kept us up til 2am - was Wine Guy playing the "Gamemaster." He narrated the whole thing, walked us both through our characters and our cards, and totally got me into the slack groove. He was clearly having a blast and we spent the whole time talking, laughing and interacting.

We also dug into the cube of cards Gouda gave me as a birthday gift that are basically interesting questions to spark new topics of conversation. More goofing, gabbing and insights to be had.

The stereo was on, good music was playing (Radio Paradise is our Internet channel of choice) and the TV, thankfully, stayed off. Basically, it was just like when we first started dating. Except this time we needed an instruction manual and a game board to get it going. But we got it going nonetheless.

Before I get too smug again, let me tell you that the damn TV was on plenty the next day. We were both kinda hungover, and who the hell wants to talk when your hanging?

Dismissed.