5 Star Problems but a **** ain’t one

I have a problem.

A Tripadvisor problem.

It happens every year.

At about this time, my mind and body starts craving/dreaming/needing a vacation. Somewhere different. Preferably to a place where trains are called metros and where you can stay in a flat instead of an apartment. Or maybe a tropical turquoise retreat where I can drink from a coconut and lay on beach.

A place where I can be Vacation Mom and Vacation Wife. The one that doesn’t worry and nag and yell and order. The one that lets you buy obscenely pricey gum from the gift shop and stay up until you feel like falling asleep. The one that doesn’t care if anyone has brushed their teeth or combed their hair. She’s awesome. I miss her.

But in order to transform into this groovy, go-with-the-flow chick we need to get the hell out of dodge first.

And in order to do that we need to find a place to go.

And every time we find a place I am compelled to that damn website to check out the reviews.

It never ends well for me.

Everyone has an opinion, and I read every last one.

MaryS from Wichita thinks the rooms at a certain resort in Puerto Rico aren’t clean enough.

George from New Jersey didn’t like any of the restaurants but loved the pool at his hotel in Hawaii.

clevergirl8 from Texas loved Peru but had a horrible time with customs at the airport.

I try to focus on just the positive. You can’t make everyone happy, I say to myself.

But then I toss and turn and doubt. And doubt.

Are people just really really picky?

I realize that I could never have been one of those people backpacking through Europe or Asia or Idaho. I need research. Data. Background. I need to know that others have gone before me and had a good time. Or not.

So we’ll make our plans for vacation and it’ll be very exciting, but deep down I’ll be thinking about MikeP from Albany, who thought Dublin was beautiful except for the hotel concierge who was a bit grumpy the whole time.

I give Tripadvisor.com 3 out of 5 stars. Lots of consumer information which usually results in the firm knowledge that no matter where you are going or what you are doing – it could have been better somewhere else.

Cat Nap

Gird your loins.

Another cat post.

I took this video for my boy – who is in mad love with this cat. Since it’s Friday and my brain can’t function – I decided to use it as my post too. A nice Friday cheat.

I came down this morning to find Lexi sleeping in her spot and making a noise.  Kinda like snoring or sleep meowing. I dunno.

She was doing it loudly enough for me to hear it in the kitchen. By the time I decided to go get my phone and tape her, she’d mellowed a bit.

Stick with the video…around the 2o second mark, like a great whale, she starts again.

The round blob of fur is hard to figure out.

Here she is in all her fat, whiskery, stank eye splendor

IMG_5048

Downer Abbey

Image

For all of those folks who haven’t caught up on this season’s episodes of Downton Abbey, please stop reading and go enjoy your short-lived happiness with the show. What I mean is…SPOILER ALERT. Meh.

Sorry, I’m pissed. I know it’s an English melodrama. I know it’s not real. But really? Really?

Must I be raked over the emotional coals on each character? The maid who has to give away her little Charlie…Edith and her endless basket of bad luck…and Cybil.  Oh lord do not even get me started on Cybil.  2 doctors in a room and she still dies while they look at each other by the fire. Even Thomas and his tortured, closeted life makes me sad.

And then last week they kill Matthew. No. Wait. They kill Matthew after he and Mary joyfully welcome a son. After Mary tells him over and over again that he is the only person who knows her. AFTER a speech from the Earl of Grantham about happiness finally coming to the abbey.  I know, I know. Contracts expire. Actors have to move on. Couldn’t they have done a switcheroo a la Darren on Bewitched? Or the older sister from Rosanne?

It’s really bad when you are praying for more time spent on O’Brien just to avoid the sadness.

I know I still have Bates and Anna. And maybe Mrs. Patmore will get lucky soon.

Sigh.

Something Fishy

Today’s post was going to be a mushy, gushy Valentine cooking post. A step by step of me making my husband’s all time favorite pasta –  fra diavolo.  Shrimp, bay scallops and squid. I was going to talk about my favorite shortcut. Rao’s tomato sauce. It’s $9 a jar – and yes, making real sauce is easy and it costs $2 – what’s your point? I was going to tell you not to be scared of shortcuts, or squid. That it’s no biggie. I’ve done it before. It cooks in a couple of seconds and people are impressed.  And I had pictures…tons of freaking pictures. I was going to show you how brave I am. Buying, cleaning, chopping squid like it was my business. I’ve done it before. No big thaang.  But then something happened.  (if you are my husband, for the love of god, stop reading this).

As I cleaned the squid…I found….gulp….a little baby fish inside!! 

Hold me.

After I stared at it for a few minutes and the nausea had worn off, I washed my hands and did what all smart people faced with oddities do – I YouTubed it, and googled it, and Wiki’d it, and Web MD’d it (just in case).  The people of the internet told me it’s normal. Happens all the time. Feed it to my cat, etc. But even now, hours later, I shiver when I think of it. Maybe the squid had a last meal and didn’t have time to finish, maybe it was the thing they used to lure the squid. Alls I know is, it ended up in my kitchen.

I’ve been changed people. Some sort of gross seafood cherry has been popped. I had to come to terms with it quickly. My kids or my hubby could not/should not ever see this.  You don’t understand. My husband, I love him, but he’s no adventurous foodie.  He gets really grossed out really quickly. And I couldn’t let my kids see it – the horror the horror!

So like every good mother and wife, I got rid of the evidence and pretended all was good.

Now, safe in my bed, I can finally come to terms with it.

Here’s what I went through folks. Happy f’ing Valentine’s day…

I’ll start with the harmless ones first.  Prepare yourselves. Here’s the shrimp/sauce/squid.  I forgot to take pictures of the scallops because – did I mention – I found food inside the food!! It’s like a bad M.Night Shyamalan plot twist. Back to my sordid story.

IMG_4965   IMG_4969   IMG_4975

Please note that my cutting board is…well..it’s all cut-up. These are not just props people. This stuff gets used!

Here’s the fresh squid. Yes, it looks slimy but there’s no smell and it handles easily. It also easily cuts into the calamari ringlets.

IMG_4970

IMG_4973

And then, as I clean it. I notice this little guy or gal or it. Do you want to hurl like me?

IMG_4975

IMG_4972

I want my mommy.

Reason number 8,222,329 to be a vegetarian: I’ve never found a carrot in the middle of my bagel. Or an almond in my banana. I’ll stop now.

 

 

 

Serenity Now

Serenity Now!

Last summer we spent a day at this lake, sitting, eating, playing all sorts of catch, reading gossip magazines, taking random photos, trying to guess what that building in the distance was, spraying on buckets of sunscreen and bug spray. It was 90 something degrees and humid.  At one point my husband took the kids for a walk around the lake and I didn’t go.  I kept our cooler company and stayed put.  I remember thinking about nothing, staring at the clouds and zoning out.  I’d like to zone out for a living.  I could be the VP of zoning out.  I could project manage the shit out of zoning out. Hi. I’m the head of the zoning out group. How can I do absolutely nothing for you? sigh.

 

Image

Mad Mad Monday

This quote sums up all 14 conversations I’ve had today. And it’s only 11am.
People are batshit crazy. Myself included. Am I wrong? Do you find people to be looney too? I’m talking to you dude in the white jeep who thought I was racing him at the light! I wasn’t. And by the way, IF I wanted to, my Subaru would leave your ass in the dust. FYI.

20130128-131208.jpg
Come on Tuesday…

Peace out 2012

It’s been a year hasn’t it?  I won’t go into a list of resolutions (because I don’t have any) or  tell you about the happy, tragic, ridiculous things that have happened in the world this year.  You can google those.  But personally, for me and my fam, this year has been full of change. We leapt into high school, turned 40, let a teenager join Facebook, agreed to let a 9 year play football, saw the Eiffel tower, mended some broken fences (literally and figuratively), discovered gel manicures, skipped Fall Ball and did not feel guilty about it, and oh yeah – started a blog.

I  needed a hobby, something besides eating. Last year, around this time, I started thinking about WMEP.  In all honesty, I started the blog to write about event planning. After all, it’s what I do, it’s what I love. But then I began thinking about blog titles – and defining myself as just a planner didn’t fit. Something was off.  I read a few blogs on how to start blogs.  Then, like the true spaz that I am, I read blogs on how to blog successfully. What kind of blog did I want to be? Funny? Informative? Personal? Lots of pressure. I didn’t tell anyone about it at first, but eventually I owned up to my husband.  I told him that in order to make it interesting – I may have to put some personal family stuff out into the universe. With photos. Because I’m convinced people need a visual. Or is that just me? He told me to go for it (with a few caveats).  And so I did. It took me a few months to get my act together, to get back to writing, to do something that was literally just for me.  And I loved it. I love it.

In the beginning I wrote every day – or tried to. It’s been harder the last few months, work and stress and life seem to be taking up all my time. But it’s the start of a new year, I’ve been writing since last April. 178 posts. Over 16,000 views. Almost a 1,000 comments. I’m hooked!

So maybe I will make a resolution for 2013. I resolve to blog every day. Or at least every other day. Every week at the latest.

I resolve to write something in 2013 at some time.

See how tough I am?

We toasted the New Year in last night with shrimp and champagne. Hope you were toasted too.

IMG_4797 IMG_4794

On Not Being a Grownup at Christmas – GUEST POST!

A big thank you to my little bitty sister for this great post! And look at those jazzy handmade stockings. Show off.
stocking
Last week, while lamenting to my colleagues that I had no idea what to get my boyfriend for Christmas, we ended up having a long conversation about the family present exchange. That’s when I realized that, shockingly, I have some pretty strong opinions on the topic. So here is my Family Present Exchange Philosophy
(FPEP):
In our family, Christmas is about the presents. Once I explain, you’ll realize that that wasn’t the saddest sentence ever to grace this blog.
Our family – cousins, aunts, uncles, significant others – gets together all the time. We celebrate every little thing with a big family get-together, and for the most part, it’s great (tis the season to overlook the drama). American holidays, Indian holidays, Hindu holidays, Christian holidays: it’s all fair game. Next year there’s even talk of getting a menorah (we’re equal opportunity around here). And there’s always food, fun, and more food.
But there generally aren’t presents. Indians are all about the benjamins, which is practical and smart, just like we are. That’s why Christmas is so great (here comes my FPEP); to me, unlike gifts of cash, Christmas presents represent the time and thoughtfulness of the giver. I don’t really care if I’m getting another fondue pot or something from the Dollar Store. Cheesy at it sounds, it really is the thought that counts to me. This person went out of her way to think about what I might like, spent hard-earned money on it, and then wrapped it in pretty paper (Here my colleague, the globetrotting poet I share an office with, disagreed. She wished her big Irish Catholic family would just give her money, instead of the “crap I’ll never use” they usually give.)
But it’s not just the stuff. It’s the entire experience. I love opening presents. I love that we all move away from the TV and sit around the tree. I love the anticipation of finding out what’s under the wrapping, and heck, I love the wrapping too. I spend way too much time thinking about how I wrap my presents, and I like giving my family the presents I’ve spent my time making beautiful.
During this conversation at work, another colleague recommended that my boyfriend and I get something for our apartment – a shared gift. He and I had considered this option, but we decided it was far too grown up for us. We wanted the presents, however small and inexpensive, but full of thoughtfulness and love.
tree

It’s the most Amish time of the year

Every year, for the past 5 years, we’ve been invited by a favorite aunt to the middle of Amish Country for a Christmas get together.  It’s hokey, it’s cheesy, it’s exactly what you need to kick off the holiday season. It’s like a mini reunion in December – and it’s perfect. Here’s the cast of characters this year – as you can tell by our faces, a good time was had by all! Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you get laughed at – that’s what our family is all about!

DSC_0824

That’s our cousin Dennis over to the right, there will be a whole post about him and his amazing momma. Jazzy xmas sweater Den!

We also put our tree up – inspired by everyone else’s beautiful trees on Facebook. I know loads of people don’t like FB, they think it’s evil, and it might be. But where else can you see everyone’s Christmas tree? Or everyone’s turkey? Or everyone’s summer vacation pics? For a nosey rosie like me, it’s perfect.  What were talking about?

Christmas trees. They are all beautiful. Every single one. Fake, real, tall, short, it doesn’t matter.  And every ornament tells a little story (even if the story is that you walked into Pier One and got it for 60% off).  Here’s some ornaments from our tree and the stories that go with it.

IMG_4583

Almost 10 years ago, our very dear friends gave us this beautiful wooden angel that they picked up in Italy.  It’s one piece of wood, hand carved and I wish my pictures could do it justice.  I’m obsessed with the little feet, and the little toes. Don’t judge.

IMG_4585

This ornament was waiting in our mailbox when we moved into our very first home. It was the week after Christmas and we didn’t even have a tree that year, but we kept the ornament hanging in the kitchen until March.  It’s no coincidence that it’s from the same favorite aunt that organizes the get togethers every year.

IMG_4586

And ofcourse we have some handmade ornaments on the tree – this one was made by my burly husband when he was a little wee tot. I asked him where he made it and how and why and what was his most precious memory of this ornament but all I got was,” I have to run to Home Depot”.

IMG_4587

This little ornament breaks my heart every time we put it on the tree. I worked right down the road from the World Trade Centers, where they’d have a holiday fair every year, I’d go but never really buy anything – except this little ornament.

IMG_4588

Two years ago, my husband and I were in the living room watching TV (shocker!) and as if in slow motion, we saw our entire tree come crashing down. We both tried to save it, but it was too late.  It was like a an ornament crime scene. Broken glass and cracked ceramic everywhere.  Sad right? Thought you should know.

So here’s the tree in its glory. We still believe in Santa in this house so there aren’t any gifts under the tree until Christmas morning (which also gives me until Christmas Eve to run around like a lunatic and buy presents).

IMG_4580

Hope you are all getting into the spirit of whatever holiday you celebrate or don’t celebrate.

Thanks God for the Thanksgria

Before I tell you about the sangria, let me show you my turkey. Where are pictures of your turkey?? Come on, I’ll show you mine and then you show me yours. I know you took a pic.

Here’s the before and after

20121124-000354.jpg

20121124-000418.jpg
Here’s a picture of my plate – because everyone always asks what a vegetarian eats on turkey day. Ok one person asked but that’s fine. Here you are.

20121124-000739.jpg
See, I did good.
And finally, the holiday in a glass – the thing that makes ricing 20 pounds of potatoes and still having your husband say it’s not enough worth it. The gas in my engine, the wind beneath my wings, the fuel to my…you know.

20121124-000958.jpg
I hope you all slept in or woke up at pre-dawn to buy something at a crowded store. Whatever works for you. Cheers everyone!

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 228 other followers