Secret Life of Tova Darling

Thanks for commenting... on my three-year-old post

2011-08-25T11:47:00.001-04:00

The other day, I was scrolling through some of my old posts, and I noticed that people had commented on them... literally years after I wrote them. And of course, I didn't actually read their comments until a year or so after they'd written them. So by the time I read the comments, the whole thing was moot. It seemed stupid to seek out these people's blogs and then say things like, "Remember what you said last year about something I said three years ago? Well, I disagree." Or, "Haha! That's a funny anecdote that you've probably forgotten having shared."

So, to all the people who commented on things I've said and then never got a response of any sort, I would like to say the following things:

1. If you agreed with me: thanks! I always knew I liked you!

2. If you disagreed with me: I will quote Patrick Henry/Voltaire/Evelyn Beatrice Hall/Whoever the heck first said this - "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." (Just kidding, though. I'm not much of a fighter. But I would most likely peaceably protest against anyone trying to infringe upon your rights to publicly disagree with me. Unless, of course, what you said was really, really dumb.)

3. If you shared a story, moving confession, or recipe for clam dip: I probably read your story and most likely appreciated it and/or experienced whatever emotion was appropriate, but now I've forgotten what they all were. But thanks! And if you shared a recipe for clam dip - sorry, I don't think I like clams.

4. And finally, to the guy who said that he would only ever get married if he and his future wife agreed that they would get divorced the moment one of them felt at all unhappy in the marriage: I sincerely hope that you and your future temporary wife are happy together for a mutually agreed upon period of time. (Don't you just love romance?)

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays are BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-08-23T00:01:00.001-04:00

(Did I put enough exclaimation points up there??)

For those of you who might've forgotten (or who weren't around back in the old days of TTAT), here's the scoop: At some point, I realized that a lot of really awkward things seem to happen to me (or, more often, because of me.) So I decided that every Tuesday, we should all get together and talk about how awkward we all are. First, I'll share a story about my own awkwardness. Then, you'll share an awkward story on your own blog, and link back to my blog (so that your readers are aware that you're not alone in your extreme awkwardness.) Then add your link to the list of awkward people below (make sure to link directly to your awkward post so that people can enjoy the awkwardness for years to come.) Finally, we'll all sit back, read each other's stories, and think "Gosh, that person might be even more awkward than I am!"

As you might imagine, a few awkward things have happened to me since I stopped blogging a million years ago. But I've been storing them up in the back of my mind for your reading pleasure. Here's one of them:

Last fall, I was subbing for two weeks in a kindergarten class, and during that time, three students threw up all over themselves. (It was really delightful, I assure you.) As I was driving home from work after the third vomiting incident, I passed a pharmacy with a sign advertising flu shots. Since germs were still pretty fresh on my mind (and probably on my clothes and hands as well), I decided that getting a flu shot was an excellent idea.

I went in, and I was given a form to fill out. When I got to the line that said "Primary Care Physician," I wasn't sure what to put, since I've never actually gotten a PCP since moving to our new town... three years ago. (Shameful, I know.) So I decided to list the name and cell phone number of my fabulous husband, Dr. Darling, as my primary care physician, seeing as he is a physician and he cares for me, primarily.

After a few minutes, the pharmacist (a guy about my age) came out to give me my flu shot. Having noticed that my last name was the same as the last name of my PCP, he said:

"So, you're the doctor's daughter, huh?"
Me: "What? Oh, um, no. He's my husband."
Pharmacist: "Your husband??"
Me: "Um, yes."
Pharmacist: "So, is he a really young doctor, or are you just a really young wife?"
Me: "Um, I guess... both? I mean... I'm 28."
Pharmacist: "Oh."
(Awkward silence)
Pharmacist: "So, he must have a lot of money then, huh?"
Me: "Uhh.... he's in his residency... so, um..."
Pharmacist: "Oh, so then he will have a lot of money."
Me: (Nothing. I was struck dumb by his lack of conversational skills. Apparently, the only two options for my marriage were that Dr. D was a cradle robber or that I was a gold digger.)

Believe it or not, the conversation actually got even more awkward from there. He asked where Dr. D worked, and when I told him the name of the hospital, it turned out that he actually knew one of Dr. D's coworkers because he was "really, really, very good friends" with her fiance. I managed to make the situation even more awkward by mentioning that I had been at a party at her fiance's house the week before... a party to which the pharmacist had not been invited by his "really, really, very good friend."

The entire time, I was dying to get out of there, but Awkward Pharmacist was taking unneccessarily long in preparing to give me a vaccine and then was pointing a needle in my direction. Needless to say, I ran out of the pharmacy as soon as the needle left my arm.

Ok, so it's your turn! I can't be the only awkward person out there! Post an awkward story on your blog, and make sure to link back here so that your friends can join in the fun. Then, add a link to your post in the box below. Then, read everyone's post below and let them know that you still like them, even though they really are painfully awkward.

Let's Be Awkward!!

2011-08-22T10:21:00.004-04:00

So, tomorrow's Tuesday...

And it's been a while since I've talked about how awkward I am...

Who's up for Totally Awkward Tuesday??

Whip out your most embarrassing stories and give them some polishing, because we'll be sharing them tomorrow!

Ugly People

2011-08-19T09:24:00.001-04:00

Just in case you haven't read this blog post yet, you simply must!

A photographer in Pennsylvania has declared that she won't photograph "ugly" people... and so far, everyone (including me) thinks that she's completely fabulous! (Read the blog here so that you don't think I'm a complete jerk for liking her.)

Tova's Back...

2011-08-18T14:00:00.001-04:00

... and she's totally knocked up!

Yep, Dr. Darling and I are expecting a little peanut towards the end of February. If it sticks in there for a few days longer than it's scheduled to, I could end up with a Leap Day baby, which would be great, because I'd save a fortune in birthday party expenses. (Just to clarify, it won't actually be a peanut. It will be a baby. And we would almost definitely celebrate its birthday every year.) I figured the miracle of pregnancy/impending growth of my abdomen was a good reason to start blogging again.

The question that I've been asked a handful of times thus far is: "Were you trying?" Frankly, it seems like kind of an awkward question to ask, since what they're really asking is, "Were you having sex with a specific goal in mind, or were you doing it just for the heck of it?" However, in case anyone was wondering about the intentions Dr. D and I had while we were in our bedroom, the answer is: Yes; we were trying to make a baby. Write that down as one of the few times I've set a goal and then actually reached it.

Anywho, to celebrate my re-return to blogging (again), I'll be doing a giveaway! Stay tuned!

So, in 10 words or less, tell me what I've missed in the... year and a half I've been gone.

These things have nothing to do with one another

2010-01-13T16:44:00.001-05:00

-I recently learned that Caesar dressing has anchovies and raw egg yolk in it and that salmonella can be carried on the shell of an egg, not inside. So if you wash an egg with antibacterial soap before cracking it, you lower your chances of getting salmonella if you eat something with raw eggs in it.

- I will have four days of substitute teaching this week. I'm totally a productive member of society!

- Which brings me to this subbing quote (about my eyes, again. Apparently none of these children have ever seen green eyes):
Girl With Hand On Hips Who Is Looking At Me Distrustfully: "You are wearing contacts."
Me: "Nope."
GWHOHWILAMD: "Uh, yeah you are."
Me: "Nope, no contacts."
GWHOHWILAMD: "There is NO way your eyes are that color."

- Yesterday, I went shopping for "teacher" clothes. (I worked in an office for four years, but since I dealt with people mostly on the phone and not in person, I sometimes dressed a little less than professionally. Since I'm teaching now, I need to beef up my professional wardrobe.) I bought a pair of forest green dress pants for $10. Can I wear green pants without looking like a weirdo? Stay tuned to find out.

- I also found a sweater/ shawl thing that I'm not totally sure I understand, but it was $4, so I bought it. (If there was a shopping Olympics, I'd be sure to get a medal.) The sweater has long sleeves, the back is short like a shrug, it's open in the front, and the front hangs down long, like a shawl. I can't find a picture of what I mean, so hopefully the fashionistas among you know what I mean and can tell me how to wear it. Wrap the front around my neck? Leave it hanging? Use it to lasso misbehaving kids? Help!

Eyes like a cheetah

2010-01-06T16:38:00.005-05:00

Today, I substitute taught fifth grade. There were three classes that switched for three different periods. Luckily for me (and for the youth of America), I filled in for the Language Arts teacher and not for the math teacher.

There was the normal ratio of class clowns to obedient kids, and apparently the teacher rewards the obedient children by letting them eat lunch with her. I let one class clown eat with me and the good children, because toward the beginning of class he sadly told me that he sucks at everything and it broke my heart. So apparently I don't reward good behavior so much as sadness.

Fifth graders are still young enough to think it's cool to hug a teacher, but old enough to ask me for advice on what to do if they like a boy who doesn't like them (My answer: "Umm, I don't know if there's anything you can do." Really helpful, Tova.) Rather than telling you about the entire day, I will share with you the following quotes -

Me: "What are you eating?"
Student Who Is Chewing Something: "My paper."
Me: "Why are you eating your paper???"
SWICS: "Because I want to."
Me: "Um, we are not eating paper today. Go spit it out."
(SWICS goes to the garbage can, then comes back to his desk. I hand him a new piece of paper.)
SWICS: "Can I eat this one?"

Sweet Little Girl Who Asked For Love Advice: "What does your ring say?"
Me: "It says 'I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.'" (Side note, Mr. D gave me the ring for our third anniversary. Awwww....)
SLGWAFLA: "What language is it in?"
Me: "Latin."
SLGWAFLA: "Are you Latin?"

Adorable Little Boy: "Your eyes look like Cheetah eyes."
Me: "Haha. Thanks?"
ALB: "They kind of freak me out."

Different Boy Who Was Fascinated By My Eyes: "How did your eyes become green?"
Me: "They've always been that color. I was born that way."
(Five minutes pass. DBWWFBME raises hand.)
Me: "Yes?"
DBWWFBME: "How did your eyes become green?"

New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-06T09:05:00.000-05:00

So, I realize that I'm six days late with my New Year's post, but since I didn't blog for four whole months, I'm cutting myself a little slack for only being six days behind with this particular post. (For the record, I was totally blogging in my head for my entire four month absence. The words just never quite made it to the computer. When someone invents a computer that can turn your thoughts into blog entries, I will be their first customer.)

This New Year, for the first time in 27 years, I made New Year's resolutions (although I think I can be let off the hook for not making resolutions for at least the first five of those years.) I never really got around to making them before. But this year I decided that I was going to join the rest of humanity in resolving to do things.

My resolutions were as follows:

1. Read the Bible daily. (So far, so good.)
2. Go to the gym twice a week. (It's January sixth, and I haven't been to the gym once this year. So far, um, I stink.)
3. Blog three times a week. (Too bad I didn't think of making this resolution last year. And technically, I didn't make it on January 1st this year, either. It took a few days for me to think of it.)

I've covered spiritual health, physical health and mental health in my resolutions, and I'm giving myself a big ol' pat on the back. Not a bad start for a first-timer. (Although the fact that I've already almost broken resolution number two without keeping it for even a week is not so great.)

So, what were your resolutions? Since I'm new to resolving to do things, maybe I can gather a few tips from everyone else's resolutions.

I'm Internet Famous

2010-01-04T15:00:00.001-05:00

No, not me, you! (Well, and me too.)

If you're like 99% of the population, you are on Facebook daily. And if you're reading this blog, you're probably a blogger yourself. So you should probably join my new Facebook group, "I'm Internet Famous."

C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it!

I am not dead!

2010-01-03T19:45:00.003-05:00

After a blogging absence this long, I feel like I should have a really awesome excuse, such as "My computer self-destructed" or "I lost both of my hands in a hideous typing accident," but the truth of the matter is that there is no good reason for me being MIA from the blogosphere for the past four months. None. Seriously. I can't even make anything up that sounds semi-plausible, so I'm just going to move on and pretend that I didn't randomly abandon my blog for no particular reason. Those of you who are still subscribers despite four months of silence are awesome and sexy. Or you forgot to unsubscribe. But either way, thanks! I am looking forward to visiting all of your blogs again! Except that one random guy whose blog I've never read but who asked where I bought my writing degree. (Kmart, for the record.) Moving on...

What have I been doing in the last four months? Thanks for asking! Mr. Darling and I have settled very nicely into our new city, he loves his residency, and I have a lot of very wonderful friends here with whom I spend my oodles and oodles of free-time. I still (after seven months) haven't found semi-regular part-time employment, so I have been doing the following things to fill the void left by going from full-time employment to unemployment:

1. I teach a writing class to adult who are learning English. It's volunteer, so I don't get a paycheck, but it's exciting and challenging and somewhat intimidating. I get an opportunity to make use of my writing degree (from Kmart), and it will look good on a resume should I ever find employment. (Let's be honest - I've totally stopped looking.)

2. Five months after I applied for roughly ten substitute teaching jobs (which I may or may not have mentioned was the type of job I planned to get upon moving), I heard back from two schools (charter schools run by the same company) and was hired as a substitute. After spending two months being fingerprinted, having my degree verified, being checked out by the FBI, etc, I officially became a substitute teacher. So far, I've subbed once. It was a third grade class, and I had to reprimand two little boys for drawing penises.

3. I'm selling Pampered Chef. Technically, I may not be allowed to mention that on here, but since I'm not trying to sell to any of you, I don't know why it would matter.

4. I teach a Sunday School class and lead a Wednesday night church group for 6 and 7 year old girls. Both groups of children crack me up on a regular basis, and leading the group means keeping a straight face when little girls ask you to pray that their dogs won't stink.

5. I spend hours, and hours, and hours on Facebook.

So, there you have it. My last four months in a nutshell. Maybe I'll do some sort of contest to entice my wonderful readers to come back. Any suggestions?

Thanks for reading! I promise to try not to randomly disappear again.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays

2009-09-01T00:01:00.000-04:00

Look! I remembered! Hurray! Although I remembered Totally Awkward Tuesdays today, the downside is that I really think that I may be out of awkward stories. Seriously. Unless I'm able to dredge up some more long-repressed memories of times I humiliated myself in public, Totally Awkward Tuesdays may be totally over. It's been going for over eight months, and that's a whole lot of awkward, even for me.

But don't mourn quite yet, my friends, because I still have one more awkward memory to share. Those of you who've participated or at least read the Totally Awkward Tuesday stories over the last few months will not be at all surprised to learn that this is yet another "Tova and her friends made fools of themselves while ogling boys at summer camp" story. Remember that time that I said I wasn't boy-crazy as a teenager? I think I may have been in denial.

As I've mentioned once or twice before, my cousin Hannah, my friend Mae and I all went to the same summer camp every year, and we spent a good deal of time developing crushes on fellow campers (always of the male persuasion) and then following them around like junior stalkers. When we first arrived at camp each year, we'd spend a few hours scoping out that year's crop of campers to see which cute boys had returned from the year before and which cute boys were new. Then we'd find somewhere to talk so that we could compare notes on which of our crushes from the previous summer had returned.

This particular year, Hannah and I had noticed that one particular cutie, whom we'll call Nate (actually, come to think of it, his name may have actually been Nate... or maybe not. I can't remember, so I'll go with Nate) had returned to camp that year as he had for the last three or four summers. We also noticed that he was wearing a cast on his right arm. When Mae arrived a few hours after we did, Hannah and I quickly sat down on a bench with her to tell her which boys we'd seen and asked her if she'd passed any on her way in. As we went through the list, one of us mentioned that Nate was there and that he had a broken arm. When Mae heard that, she contradicted us by saying that she too had seen Nate when she came in, but that he did not have a broken arm, and perhaps we were getting him confused with someone else. But Hannah and I were adamant that no, it hadn't been anyone other than Nate, and that yes, his arm was in a cast. We cheerfully disagreed about this for a few minutes, then moved on to other subjects. After we'd been sitting on the bench talking for awhile, who should walk past us but Nate, complete with a cast on his arm.

Mae looked up, saw him, and before she had a chance to stop and think, blurted out (loudly enough for him to hear), "You're right! He does have a broken arm!"

We spent the rest of the week engaged in friendly bickering as to who should be most embarrassed over this incident (Hannah and I insisted that we should be, since by saying "you're right," Mae had outed us as the ones who were talking about him. Mae insisted that she was more humiliated, because she was the one who said it.) and speculating as to whether or not he had guessed why we were talking about him and his broken arm (probably).

So, ladies and gentlemen, that's my Totally Awkward Tuesday, and it just may be the last one. That means that you should definitely, absolutely, 100% participate this week, because it might be your last chance! For old time's sake, here are the rules:

1. Think of an awkward story that happened to you and then blog about it. 2. Link to my blog from yours. 3. Post a link to your totally awkward post in the MckLinky box below. 4. Ta Da! You're Totally Awkward!

Maybe I should work for Maytag

2009-08-31T17:11:00.003-04:00

Hi! Remember me? The blogger who only blogs once a week lately? What is my problem, anyway? Actually, I have a lot of stuff going on, which I will probably tell you about. Someday. Maybe. But anyway...

Totally random, but Mr. Darling and I bought a washer and dryer yesterday (Whirlpool, 3 years old, $250 total on Craigslist. Hurray!), and I've spent most of today being a handywoman. I just sent this email to Mr. Darling and thought I'd post it here, because I really feel like I deserve a prize of some sort for being unusually handy. This email is word-for-word (except for the names, of course) the email I just sent to Mr. D, who is at work right now, where he gets no cell phone signal, but occasionally finds a minute to check his email in between getting bugs out of patients' ears (true story). This email proves to you that the way I blog is really the way I talk to people I know in real life. In other words, sexy reader, you and I are practically BFFs.

Monday, August 31, 2009 4:59 PM
From: Tova Darling
To: Mr. Darling
Subject: Maybe I should work for Maytag

Mr. Darling,
So... they don't sell 3 to 4 prong adapters for dryers (at least not at Lowes). Instead, according to the appliance guy at Lowes, you have to actually detach the three prong plug and attach a four prong plug. Which I did. By myself. Because I am awesome! (I am seriously unreasonably proud of myself for doing this. I think I should get some sort of medal or trophy. Maybe a plaque?)

Anyway, having done that, I was well on my way to being able to dry things, when I noticed that the back of the dryer says that you should absolutely NOT use that flexible foil hose for your exhaust. I looked it up online, and apparently every dryer in the history of the world says that, because it poses a fire risk. You should only ever use rigid metal piping. So, do I go back and get rigid metal piping? I think it's more expensive, but on the plus side, it won't burn you to death.

I have to go back to Lowes anyway to get an adapter for the water hookups, because one of our water connectors (the cold water one) is randomly smaller than the other, and the hose doesn't fit, so I have to get an adapter. So if we want rigid metal piping, I could get both things at once. I had to switch the washer and the dryer because they were on the wrong sides, and the washer hoses aren't long enough to reach the water unless the washer is on the left. The hot water is now hooked up, but not the cold.

Final question: The green grounding wire connected to the back of the washing machine - Where does that connect? I hooked up the grounding wire for the dryer when I changed the plug, but I'm curious as to where the green wire on the back of the washing machine goes to. Any tips?

In case you couldn't tell, I'm so pleased with myself for doing all of this! Hurray, me!! I feel like an electrician. An electrician who sprayed water all over herself when she tried to figure out which pipe was hot and which was cold, and then immediately sat in cat litter... but still!

I'm going to have you look over all of my hard work before I plug anything in so that I don't electrocute myself.

I love you!!
Tova

Um... Oops.

2009-08-25T14:14:00.002-04:00

This morning, I woke up and went to get a massage. After a fabulous massage, I walked over to Starbucks and got a white chocolate mocha (my favorite). Then I wandered around to a few stores looking for a dress for a dinner we're going to tonight (more on that tomorrow). I bought a dress at Forever 21, then walked over to a department store to look for some accessories. As I was going up the escalator, I suddenly said - out loud, to no one in particular - "Oh fudge!" (I really did say fudge instead of the other F word.)

Because it finally happened. I forgot Totally Awkward Tuesday. Argh! So, um... feel free to be awkward amongst yourselves, but I've got nothin'. (Sad face.)

I'll post for real tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be doing penance by eating leftover mashed cauliflower. (Haha, just kidding... that's not penance... my mashed cauliflower is delicious. Maybe I'll share my recipe with you.)

If you want to share an awkward story anyway, even though I'm a complete slacker, you may do so below.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday

2009-08-18T00:01:00.000-04:00

I almost feel like I'm cheating by using this story as a Totally Awkward Tuesday, since I already mentioned it on Twitter, but it was extremely awkward, so I thought I'd flesh it out for those of you who aren't following me on Twitter. (Speaking of which, why aren't you?)

Two Tuesdays ago, I flew back from a fabulous visit with my sister. I love flying, but on this particular flight, I had the middle seat between two other people, which is my least favorite seat on a plane. (I'm pretty sure that's everyone's least favorite seat.) About half an hour into the flight, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom, but I hate making people get up so that I can get out of my seat. Plus, the woman in the aisle seat fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake her up. So I decided to hold it. That was my first mistake.

When we finally landed an hour and a half later, I thought my bladder might burst, and then, of course, there was a delay because another plane was still at our gate. After what seemed like forever, I finally got off the plane, at which point my need to go to the bathroom was nearing emergency status. I knew that Mr. Darling was waiting for me, but it was an absolute necessity that I use the bathroom before meeting him. As soon as I got out of the plane, I started speed-walking in the direction that seemed likeliest to lead to a bathroom. Finally, I saw the "Restroom" sign, and I sprinted towards it, turned into a little hallway, and ran into the bathroom, carrying my gigantic purse and wheeling my carry-on bag. I ran to the first open stall, pulled all of my stuff into it, and then turned to close the stall door.

The bathroom (like just most other public restrooms) was set up so that the stalls were facing the sinks which were in front of a gigantic mirror. As I turned to close the stall door, I noticed that the woman at the sink directly in front of me had very short hair. Then I noticed the face reflecting in the mirror - the "woman" with short hair was actually a man. I felt a brief embarassment for the poor man who had wandered into the women's restroom by mistake... until I noticed that there were also men at every other sink in the bathroom.

Yes, somehow, I had not only run into a very crowded men's restroom, but I had also failed to notice that I was rushing past several men in my hurry to get to the stall. I stood there in shock for a minute, then grabbed my bag and ran back toward the exit. As I came out of the bathroom, I nearly collided with two women who had been sitting near me on the plane. They looked at me, looked at the large sign by the door that said "Men," and then one of them asked the obvious question - "Were you just in the men's restroom?"

To make matters worse, I then had to walk with them the rest of the way down the hall until we all reached the proper restroom.

In the future, I'll gladly wake up any sleeping airline passengers so that I can go to the plane's unisex bathroom.

So what's your awkward moment? Share it on your own blog, link back to mine from yours, then link up below!

To boycott or not?

2009-08-12T08:00:00.000-04:00

For the past few months, several stores in the area have had large groups of picketers in front of them. Mostly, it's Wal-Mart, but a few other chain stores seem to be picketed every now and again, too.

These people may have really good reasons for picketing. They could be the best reasons ever. They could be eloquently worded arguments that would convince me to never, ever shop at Wal-Mart again. The problem is that their signs look like this:

BOYCOTT WAL-MART!

We are printing our reasons in ridiculously small font so that you can't possibly read them from your car.

PLEASE DON'T PATRONIZE THIS STORE!

Seriously, I have excellent vision, and even when my car is stopped at a light, one lane away from the picketers, I cannot for the life of me make out even a single word of the tiny font that explains their reasons for demanding that I not shop at Wal-Mart. My best guess is that it's something about unions or healthcare, but for all I know, it could also say "We protest the mistreatment of the smiley face logo" or "Their bakery-fresh buns are not quite as round as we'd like them to be."

How on earth do they expect me to support them if it's impossible to tell what I'm agreeing with? And they're marching at the far end of the parking lot, about 4,350 parking spaces away from the actual entrance of the store, so unless I park a mile away from Wal-Mart, get out of my car, directly approach these people, and ask them what it is that they're protesting, I will never know what these signs say, and let's be honest - I'm never going to do that. If you want my support, it's probably best not to make me work that hard to support you.

Every time I drive past, I think, "Somebody should really stop and tell those people that their signs would be more effective if people could tell what they said," but I'm definitely too lazy to do that. In the meantime, I'll continue to shop at Wal-Mart unless someone comes up with a good reason I shouldn't and then prints it in two-foot-high letters and holds it up in front of me.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday

2009-08-11T00:01:00.000-04:00

Friends, one of these days, I am definitely going to run out of awkward moments. Today is not the day, but I'm afraid that it's fast approaching. Yikes!

Today's Totally Awkward moment is yet another "Tova had a childhood crush and ended up horribly embarrassed" story. I'm starting to sound like I was an extremely boy-crazy teen, which I never thought I was, but the more I read about myself, the more boy-crazy I sound.

When I was growing up, my parents were good friends with another married couple who had four sons. For a few years, this family lived near the beach, so for a few summers in a row, we spent a week of vacation staying with them. Seeing as there were four boys in the family and I was in my teens, it was only natural that I would develop a crush on one of them. He was the second son. Two years older than me; tall, dark and handsome; and exactly the kind of guy that a shy teen girl would spend her vacation obsessing over. Unfortunately, he was (and still is) even more painfully shy than I have ever been (his dad actually privately thanked me once for talking to him, because he was concerned that his son would never get used to talking to girls otherwise), so I just spent a week each summer staring at him awkwardly while he avoided my gaze.

During one of the summers that we stayed with them (the summer I was 14), I spent most of the week staring at him and then finally, amazingly, blissfully, got up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to take a walk with me. How I worked up the courage, I'll never know.

Now, at the time, I had had a boyfriend for about a week (I "dated" this particular guy for a total of three weeks [and by "dated," I mean sat next to him at lunch in school]), so clearly it wasn't the love of a lifetime, and not enough to keep me from wanting to take a walk with a handsome "older man." I'm not saying I was fickle, I'm just saying that I was 14.

Anyway, I somehow managed to ask him to take a walk with me while also simultaneously avoiding inviting my younger brother to take a walk with us. It was one of my finer moments.

Allow me to set the scene: It's a warm summer evening. There are millions of stars in the sky. We are walking along a beautiful, moonlit bay. I am more charming than I have ever been. The street is empty except for us. And my brother is sneaking along behind us in the bushes.

See, apparently, my brother was mad that he wasn't invited on the walk. He was 12, and therefore hadn't picked up on the fact that I had intended this to be a romantic walk rather than a walk with my baby brother. So, he thought that I had just left him out to be mean, rather than the real reason I left him out, which was that this was my one chance to make the object of my affection fall madly in love with me.

So we're walking along, blissfully unaware that we're being stalked by my brother, and we're making awkward, stilted conversation, but it's still conversation, so I'm happy. We approach a small dock, and one of us suggests that we walk out onto it. By this point, my brother had figured out why I hadn't invited him on the walk, but was still irritated, apparently. My crush and I step out onto the dock, stand side-to-side with excitingly (to me, at least) little space between us (ok, it was probably at least two feet, but still...), gaze up at the stars, and....

...my little brother bursts out from behind the bushes and shouts, "You have a boyfriend!!" and then runs away.

The chances that my crush would've made a move even without that interruption were slim to none anyway, but after that, there was no chance of us doing anything but maintaining an uncomfortable silence on the walk back home.

Ok, so what's your awkward moment? Share it below!

Nature Girl

2009-08-06T08:00:00.000-04:00

I'm going camping tonight. In a tent. If you're thinking, "that's interesting... I didn't really picture Tova as the camping type," you are absolutely right. This is only the second time I've ever been. The first time was with my former best friend when we were in college. She woke up one day and decided we should go camping. And so we did.

Here are a few highlights from the trip:

We locked my friend's keys in the trunk of her car for an hour... before she remembered that there was a trunk-release latch in her car... and the doors were all open.
When we showed up at the campsite, she was wearing a skirt and I was wearing flip flops with kitten heels. We probably looked like Paris and Nicole in The Simple Life. Who wears kitten heels camping? Me, that's who.
We removed the tent from the bag and realized that we had no idea how to set up a tent. We stood there looking forlorn until several men and a small child came and set up our tent. The child was about 8 years old, and was a much better camper than the two of us put together.
During our trip, other campers also: 1.) Dug a fire pit for us. 2.)Lent us cooking utensils. 3.) Lit our grill. 4.) Gave us food. We didn't ask for any of these things; we just looked like such total misfits that everyone felt sorry for us.
We were almost attacked by seagulls, because I got the bright idea of throwing them a handful of pretzels.
Camping seemed like a great time to work on our tans, so we coated ourselves with baby oil and got so horribly sunburnt that we could only wear bikinis or loose-fitting clothing for a week after our trip.
Our air mattress deflated every night so that we woke up laying on the ground.

The trip was supposed to last for five days, but we only could handle three. We also videotaped the whole thing. The video was edited by a friend of ours who set it to music and produced the funniest twenty minute camping film you've ever seen.

Anyway, I'm camping with Mr. Darling, and I'm pretty excited. He's definitely more capable of surviving outdoors than I am, so it'll probably go more smoothly than my last camping experience. Just keep your fingers crossed that I don't get eaten by a bear.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays

2009-08-04T00:01:00.002-04:00

Sorry for my blogging absence, friends! I've been on vacation, and I was feeling too lazy to be a productive blogger and schedule posts. But I couldn't just leave you all awkward moment-less. So here's an awkward moment that took place soon after I started dating Mr. Darling.

In order for you to fully grasp why this moment was so awkward for me, I first need to give you a brief explanation of the families that Mr. Darling and I grew up in. Our families are both very religious. We were both raised with very strong morals and values, which is good, and we were raised to believe that it's possible to have a close relationship with God - also a good thing. But in our families, we did not talk about sex. Ever. It's just not something we discussed (except for the brief, "don't have sex" talk I got when I was younger, which basically just consisted of that one sentence.)

Obviously, I'm capable of discussing sex in a healthy way now, but when Mr. Darling and I first started dating, I wasn't comfortable talking about sex. That's what made this moment awkward.

We'd been dating for a very short time (about a week), and we had just gotten to the frequent-hand-holding stage in our relationship.

Now, not to make me sound crazy or anything, but I like to hold hands in a specific way. When you hold hands, one person's wrist is in the front (as if they're leading) and one is in the back. I prefer to have my wrist in the back. I'm not sure why, it's just more comfortable for me. (Maybe it has something to do with height?) Anyway, Mr. Darling and I weren't yet to the point that he knew I preferred to hold hands that way, so he grabbed my hand with his in the back. That just wouldn't do, so I let go of his hand, then grabbed it again in the "right" way. He looked at me funny and asked why I'd done it, to which I replied...

"I like it from behind."

As soon as I realized what I'd said, (the realization was aided by Mr. Darling's laughter), my face promptly invented a new shade of red. How very embarrassing! Mr. Darling later told several of his friends this story, which added to the awkwardness, but he also fell madly in love with me, so it all worked out for the best.

Ok, so what's your awkward story? Share it on your blog, link back to mine, then include a link to your blog in the space below. And don't worry, I'll be back to my regular blogging in no time at all.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday

2009-07-28T00:01:00.000-04:00

Today I'm going to mix things up, and instead of sharing just one Totally Awkward moment, I'll share details of a Totally Awkward relationship I was once in... kind of.

To start, I met the guy on the website Hot or Not (sharing that with you all feels like an awkward moment in itself). He sent me a message after my college roommate and I had posted our pictures online to find out if we were hot... or not. Anyway, I was single for Valentine's Day that year (it was about three months after I'd met Mr. Darling and two months before we actually started dating), and the Hot or Not guy, who we'll call John, asked me on a date, so I said yes. (I met him in a public place and did not expose myself to possible danger... just so you know.) We went to dinner (I forget where) and then to a movie (I can't remember which one), and at the theater we ran into Holly, who has been a friend of mine since eighth grade. She asked how we'd met, and he promptly told her that we'd met on Hot or Not, which embarrassed me to no end. He later accidentally insulted Holly by making a negative comment about her profession.

Our first kiss was in my college apartment. We were sitting on the floor (one of my roommates had moved out at the end of the previous semester and had taken the couch with her) watching a movie, when John leaned in and kissed me. He then pulled back and gazed into my eyes, at which point I sweetly said, "Stop staring at me! Why are you staring at me?" (Seriously, I'm so smooth.)

On our third date, he introduced me to all of his friends, who referred to me as his girlfriend and made me feel extremely uncomfortable. At this point, I had started "talking" more with Mr. Darling, and I realized that I was very interested in dating Mr. D, even though he lived 1,000 miles away from me at that point. This led to my very awkward "breakup" with John, which went something like this:

Me: Um, there's this guy who I met in November, and I've been talking to him for a while, and I'm kind of hoping that something happens with him, so I don't think that it's really fair for me to be dating you while waiting to see if something happens with him.
John: But you're not dating him now?
Me: Well, no. He lives in (name of state that's a thousand miles away).
John: What?? Is he moving here?
Me: Um, no.
John: Is he coming to visit you?
Me: Um, well, he hasn't made any plans to.
John: Has he said that he wants to come see you?
Me: Well, not exactly...
John: So let me get this straight. You could date any guy you want. You could throw a stick up in the air in a room full of guys, and whatever guy it hit when it fell, you could date if you wanted to (this is pretty much a direct quote, which I remember because it seemed like kind of a funny thing to say), but instead of dating a guy who lives near you and who you know actually likes you, you're breaking up with me for a guy who lives a thousand miles away?
Me: Um, yeah... pretty much. I'm really sorry.

As it turned out, my intuition that Mr. Darling was someone really special turned out to be correct, so at least I felt vindicated about my reason for not dating John. Although, I guess even if it hadn't worked out and I wanted a new boyfriend, I could've just gone into a room full of guys and thrown a stick.

Ok, so share your own story about an awkward moment on your blog. If you have an awkward relationship story, feel free to share it. If not, share whatever awkward story you've got! Be sure to link back to my blog from yours so that your friends and readers can play along. Then, link directly back to your awkward post using MckLinky below.

Phrases I hate

2009-07-24T08:32:00.001-04:00

The following phrases really annoy me:

"...have your cake and eat it, too." What exactly is the point of having cake if you can't eat it??? People always use this phrase to mean that people are expecting too much and being unrealistic, as in "You just want to have your cake and eat it too," but I challenge you to find one person who wants to have cake but not actually eat it. Who wants cake just for decorative purposes?

"It's always the last place you look." Well, yes, obviously. Because once you've found whatever it is you're looking for, you stop looking. So, the place you found it is the last place that you need to look.

"My bad." (When used in place of "I'm sorry.") For example, someone will accidentally spill something on you and then say, "My bad!" Um, are you claiming responsibility? Because I kind of already knew it was you - an apology would really be more appropriate.

"Quote... unquote." You can't "unquote" someone. It's supposed to be "Quote... end quote," as in "This is the end of the quote I was sharing." (My fifth grade teacher explained this to us, and it's annoyed me ever since.)

I'm sure I'll think of more phrases I hate later. In the meantime, what phrases do you hate?

Mr. Darling's Totally Awkward Tuesday

2009-07-21T00:01:00.000-04:00

As the title suggests, today's Totally Awkward Tuesday comes to you courtesy of Mr. Darling, who told me this story of something that happened to him last week and made me cringe (and then laugh really hard).

Most professionals in any field know that it's a bad idea to say negative things about a colleague to anyone else unless you know the person you're talking to very well (and even then, it may be a bad idea.) Mr. (Dr.) Darling, who is utterly amazing, is of course also very professional, and he's not the type to talk badly about his coworkers under normal circumstances - or even abnormal circumstances, for that matter.

However, last week, he was working with an attending physician (whom we'll call Dr. Attending) and another new resident (whom we'll call Dr. Resident). He hasn't spent much time working with either of them before, since they're in a different department than he is (and also because he's been working at the hospital for less than a month), so he doesn't know either of them terribly well. For some reason, Dr. Attending was being extremely rude to Dr. Resident - very insulting and demeaning, and generally just being a jerk. Dr. Darling was feeling bad for Dr. Resident, who didn't seem to deserve the abuse. Almost anyone would feel embarrassed at being berated in front of another colleague, so after Dr. Attending walked away, Dr. Darling sympathized with Dr. Resident by saying, "Wow, what a jerk!"

To which Dr. Resident replied, "She's my cousin."

Umm... oops.

Share your own cringe-worthy moment on your blog, link back to mine so that your friends know to join in the fun, and then share a link to your Totally Awkward post by entering it below.

Finding Mr. Right

2009-07-20T10:46:00.000-04:00

I don't know about any of you, but when I was in high school, I made a list of qualities, skills, and attributes that my future husband absolutely must have before I would even consider marrying him. And, as you might expect, the list was completely and utterly stupid.

Unfortunately, I can't find the list (it was probably thrown away), but I do remember a few things on it, and they reveal that I clearly had no idea what made a good marriage. For example:

- Must play an instrument. Why? I have no idea. As it turns out, Mr. Darling did play the trumpet in high school, but it has never had any impact on our marriage, as I've never even heard him play. Did I want to be lulled to sleep by the melodious and soothing sounds of a trumpet solo? Did I hope that he would herald my arrival each day by playing that trumpet-y song they play when royalty shows up in a movie? Why on earth did the ability to play an instrument translate to marital bliss in my teen-aged mind?

- Must love to read Shakespeare. Um, seriously? The only thing this reveals is that I was kind of pretentious as a high-schooler. Maybe I thought that my husband and I would sit around and quote sonnets to each other. (Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Mr. Darling? No, I shall not.) Mr. Darling recently mentioned that he's never read Romeo and Juliet, and I didn't freak out or threaten to divorce him, so hopefully that's a sign that I've become somewhat less ridiculous in the last ten years.

- Must love animals. Apparently, liking them a reasonable amount wasn't enough.

Naturally, some of the things that are really important in our marriage didn't make the list at all. Here are things that weren't on the list but should've been:

-Must be slightly compulsive about neatness. I'm just going to come right out and say it - I'm a slob. And if left to my own devices, I would probably live in squalor. So some subconscious part of my brain that is responsible for self-preservation has always, without my knowledge, sought out guys whose need for neatness and cleanliness bordered on an obsession. This part of my brain is obviously trying to avoid me being the subject of a newspaper article with the headline, "Tragic Accident - Blogger dies by smothering under piles of own clothes." Mr. Darling likes things to be very neat, and he gets frustrated when the house is a wreck. So, my love for Mr. D keeps me from living up to my full slovenly potential, and his love for me and for neatness causes him to clean up my messes without too much complaint.

- Must have patience. I am messy. During one particular week of each month, I can be a bit cranky. If Mr. Darling weren't patient with me, we'd both be miserable. But he treats me with more patience and love than I could've hoped for, even though I don't always deserve it.

So what about you? When you were a kid, what did your dream spouse look like? And has your idea of the perfect mate changed significantly since then?

The one in which Tova gets covered in baby poop

2009-07-17T13:58:00.002-04:00

Since I'm unemployed and feeling useless, I've started volunteering at a local nonprofit that offers various services to local women. One of the services they provide is free babysitting for mothers who are in school. Last week, I went with some girls from the Bible Study I've been going to. They each had taken a turn in the nursery, so I decided to offer to take a turn in the nursery the third day. Bad idea.

It was AWFUL! Two of the babies cried nonstop the ENTIRE time. Then one baby - a four month old who had cried for two hours straight - began to cry even more hysterically than normal (she cries all day, every day when she's in the nursery), so I picked her up out of the exersaucer she was in and began walking around with her, singing songs that didn't calm her in the least. Finally, I gave up on walking and sat down to rock her... and then I noticed that my entire left arm, my shirt, and my skirt were COVERED in green poop. It was also in various places around the nursery.

Apparently, she had had a poop explosion in her diaper which then came out of the leg hole of her outfit. I almost barfed. Luckily, the other woman in the nursery (who works there all the time and whom I may nominate for sainthood) offered to change her diaper (and clothes) while I spent 15 minutes getting poop off of myself. When I got home I showered for about an hour.

Let's just say that my timeline for having a child of my own has been pushed back by a few more years.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays

2009-07-13T22:15:00.000-04:00

(I'm posting this Monday evening, because scheduling the posts to appear on Tuesdays hasn't worked for me the past few weeks, and I know that some of you night owls like to get your posts in during the wee hours of Tuesday morning, when I will definitely be sound asleep.)

A few weeks ago, I shared a Totally Awkward story about how I pseudo-stalked this guy, Kevin, at summer camp. In case some of you were still wondering why Kevin didn't fall madly in love with me, I just remembered another awkward Kevin moment. It's seriously kind of amazing that I'm married, with all of the guys I managed to drive away.

This particular incident took place during one of the three summers in my early teens when I was madly in love with Kevin - I'm pretty sure it was before the summer where I used up an entire roll of film snapping off blurry, unrecognizable photos of him. As I mentioned on the last TAT that featured Kevin, my cousin Hannah attended summer camp with me. We are three months apart in age and have always been super close. We both had our quirks, and since mine have been featured in dozens of awkward posts, let's focus on hers for a second: Hannah is the youngest of four kids - four boys, to be more precise - so she was something of a tomboy, very outgoing, could be very silly, and liked to play practical jokes. Usually, it was funny. Sometimes - like when you were trying to eat - it wasn't quite as funny.

A typical meal with Hannah at summer camp might involve spit balls, loosening the top of the salt and pepper shakers so that the next unsuspecting user would end up with a pile of salt on their plate, and random items dropped into your drink the second you looked away. If you were actually hungry, trying to eat while shielding your food and drink from flying shrapnel could be a bit much.

One day at lunch, Hannah, Mae and I had strategically positioned ourselves at a table with a very good view of Kevin and his friends. Hannah was particularly wound up that day, so in between sneaking glances at the boys, she was putting salt and pepper on mine and Mae's plates, dropping things into our drinks, eating our chips, and generally making it hard to concentrate on the most important part of lunch, which was boy-watching, of course.

Finally, I had had enough. I picked up my large glass filled with Sprite (and green beans, courtesy of Hannah), and dumped it ALL over her lunch. And then I looked up... to see Kevin... the man of my dreams... staring at me like I was a psychotic toddler. I'd been trying to catch his attention all week, and naturally the moment he actually looked at me happened to be the exact moment that I decided to drown Hannah's lunch. I was easily embarrassed at that age, anyway, but being caught acting hideously immature by my crush turned my face even more shades of red than normal. Since he was at a different table (and since I was painfully shy around boys), I couldn't even explain to Kevin that I was just giving Hannah back the green beans she'd dropped in my Sprite.

To her credit, Hannah helped me clean up the mess (I'm sure the cafeteria staff wanted to strangle us), and then we made a hasty retreat from the cafeteria. And this, my friends, is just another reason that Kevin managed to avoid falling in love with my womanly charms.

Ok, share your own awkward moment by entering a link to your Totally Awkward blog post in McLinky below! Don't forget to link back to my blog from yours so that everyone can play along!

Tiny Clothes and a Big Purse

2009-07-08T10:03:00.005-04:00

On Monday, I bought a plane ticket, which is agonizing of course, because there are all these rules, like "If you try to cancel this ticket even one minute after you buy it, even if it's because you got run over by a truck, and your house burnt down, and there's a tornado bearing down on your car at this exact second, and you need a refund because you need every extra penny for truck-injury-repairing surgery, a new house, and tornado restoration services, we will not give you back any money, and we will charge you an extra $250 for even attempting to cancel your reservation. Also, don't even think about spelling your own name wrong, because the airline's penalty for a plane ticket name change is death."

But the thing that I'm all riled up about right now is how much they charge you for baggage. After I went to various travel sites and all of the various airlines' websites to find the lowest price for a ticket, I realized that I had to revisit every site to see how much they charge for checked baggage. Because prices vary from about $15 to $25 for just one bag (each way). So, if you pick one airline because their price was $10 cheaper and then you have to pay $50 for your baggage to come on the trip, too, it kind of defeats the purpose. It used to be that every airline gave you two checked bags for free and then charged you for extras. Then it was one free checked bag per person. Now, most major airlines charge you to check any baggage at all. That's annoying enough as it is, but it gets worse.

On some airlines, you are charged not only on how many bags you're bringing, but also on how much each bag weighs. So, on a US Airways flight for example, you pay $20 for your first checked bag, unless it weighs over 50 pounds, in which case you pay $70 each way. For your second bag, you pay $30, unless it's over 50 pounds, in which case you pay $80 each way. Obviously, they're charging you these exorbitant amounts because of the bad economy, fuel costs, etc, but the thing I'm annoyed about at this exact moment is this - the premise is that the heavier the plane is, the more fuel it's going to use, so the more it's going to cost, right? But... they don't weigh the passengers! So, they can't possibly have an accurate idea of how much the plane weighs, because they don't know how much everyone in it weighs. So, let's say I bought a plane ticket for $200. If I take my 123 pound self onto a plane, and I bring two checked bags, each of which weighs 51 pounds (because I would totally be that unlucky), I'm going to pay $500 to have the plane cart 225 pounds on a round trip flight. Meanwhile, if a 350 pound NFL linebacker flies round trip on the same flight, for the same ticket price, but because he's a guy (and let's be honest, the average guy typically packs less than the average girl), he only has one 25 pound carry-on bag, he pays $200 to fly 375 pounds round trip, while I pay $500 to fly 225 pounds round trip. It's like the story problem from hell!

The long term solution is for us all to write angry letters to the airlines. I'm not saying that they have to weigh the passengers - I'm just saying that weighing luggage is completely useless and arbitrary if they're not going to weigh the passengers. And also that $50 to bring clothes with you on your trip is exorbitant, and it's pretty unfair to charge me more if the combined weight of me AND my luggage is less than the weight of the guy next to me.

My short term solution to this problem is - as this post's title states - tiny clothes and a big purse. I'm going to the beach with my sister, so I feel like it's possible to pack a week's worth of bikinis, shorts, sundresses and tank tops into a carry on bag and a big purse. Can I do it? I think I can, but stay tuned to find out! (Although, when I was in bed, about to fall asleep last night, I suddenly jolted awake when I realized that I can't bring my gigantic hair dryer and diffuser with me if I don't bring my typically enormous suitcase. Sigh. Luckily, my flat iron is small, so I guess I'll just have straight hair all week - which will be challenging when I'm by the ocean...)