Do as I say, Not as I do.

I got a call this morning from an oldie but goodie pal who is finally tying the knot with her longtime beloved.  I met her at my very first job out of school. I think my major responsibilities were getting scones and coffee for our CEO, but I digress.

The last time I spoke to her was a few years back, when I wasn’t working full-time and had decided to start a wedding planning business.  And because I’m an awful person, I haven’t reached out to her since.  Although she hasn’t reached out to me either, so technically our joint awfulness cancels itself out. Right?

She called me this morning because she wanted to go over pricing for her caterer, but our conversation quickly went to every single detail of her plans.  That’s how I roll. I need to be fully immersed. No toe dipping for me.

As we chatted she asked me the question that all the brides ask, “what was your wedding like?”.

What was my wedding like? It was grand. It was great. It was…a non-wedding.

We eloped. On a lake. In the sun. Without most of our friends and family.

Here’s the long story short – or the short story long:

We got engaged on a cold, rainy February night in NYC (very romantic night involving fighting, crying and celebrating).  I’m not sure if it was because I was in my early twenties and insane or because I was in my early twenties and genius – but I wasn’t stressed about the wedding planning at all.  I was super chill actually. Then my mother called and said it would be great to have a Hindu ceremony. Then my mother-in-law called and said it would be so nice if we could do a quick trip to the church after that ceremony to get blessed by the priest. So then I got stressed. I avoided thinking/planning/discussing the wedding for a few months. Then my boss, the one I fed scones and coffee to, told me they had to fire 2 people from the office and I’d have to cover for them all summer and wouldn’t be able to take too much time off. Then I freaked. Then I melted.  It was mid-May. It was Saturday afternoon. We hatched a plan. We would elope. Run away. To Eastern Long Island.

We didn’t handle the elopement in the best way. There aren’t any elopement planning books. It sounds easy, but it’s tricky.  Ok, it’s easy if you actually just go off and elope. We f’d it up.

We had some family there. Some not. We took tons of photos and even a video, thanks to a talented uncle that lived in the town by the lake. We went out to dinner that night with all the relatives that lived in the town. In hindsight, a bit confusing for the relatives who didn’t live in that town and who weren’t invited to dinner. We gave our parents a heads-up, they were totally fine and understanding. The rest of the family? Not so much.  It wasn’t an elopement really. It was a small wedding where we chose not to include my parents, his parents, our other sisters (his older sister was there as a witness), aunts, uncles,cousins and close friends. It was ugly.

It’s been 17 years and we still hear about it. On a positive note – we’re still married. There’s that.

So! If you want to chat about your wedding plans? I’m your gal. If you want to talk about how to elope? Google it.

here’s us on that special, messed up, beautiful, ill-conceived, completely imperfect perfect day…

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A Full Plate

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Grilled cheese sandwiches have always been my friend.

No steaks
No caviar
No lobster
Not for me

That’s what I had in the Kmart cafe in Albany when I was 10 and my mom told me she was preggers with my sister.

It’s what I had at the Friendly’s across the street from the library in 10th grade with my bestie instead of doing our history paper.

It’s what my boyfriend in college treated me to. I was a cheap date.

It’s what I had when that boy married me and we partied all night and went to a Greek diner at 5am.

It’s what I have now with my punks and their friends on a rockin’ Friday night that ends at 8.

Cheese. Bread. The building blocks to a good life. Fries are good too.

Downer Abbey

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

 

 

 

I have a dream…

that I’ll start writing this blog again one day!!  What’s happened? Where is WMEP? Saving the world? Moving mountains? Not really. Just working and mothering and wife’ing. Time is on hyberdrive and I cannot keep up – are you all shaking your head in unison or shaking your head in revolt? Don’t tell me. Just hang in there. All 2 of you. The posts will be back soon. Really.

Forget the holly — haul out the Hallmark Movie Channel

 

GUEST POST alert. RD strikes again!

Some people who know me might be shocked to discover that I am a rabid fan of the sappy holiday movie. Beneath my jaded, hard-bitten, work-a-day veneer lies the mushy heart of a true romantic. Most of the year, I am able to hide this chink in my otherwise sturdy armor, but at the holidays, the jig is up and the tissues are out.

I am not a snob either, of course the classics like It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street, are always in heavy rotation, but I am also a sucker for the cheesy, un-original fluff that one is likely to find on Lifetime/Hallmark Channel/ABC Family and the like. Have you seen Holiday in Handcuffs, starring the too-buff Mario Lopez (of Saved by the Bell fame) and Sabrina the Teenage Witch, aka, Melissa Joan Hart? I predict that it will become a new classic. It’s a fun, opposites-attract, Christmas kidnapping caper, that is so unlikely, you almost believe that it must have happened, because who could make that crap up? I LOVE IT!

Some of the other must-sees on my list include:

The Christmas Card — not surprisingly, a Hallmark standby. Starring the great Ed Asner, and some other people I don’t know, it’s a sweet, slightly predictable tale about finding true love where and when you least expect it. Plus it’s set in the Pacific Northwest, so the scenery is breathtaking.

A Holiday Affair — Starring Robert Mitchum and Janet Leigh. Call me Psycho (get it?) but I love this old black and white that you can sometimes catch on Turner Classic Movies. Allegedly, Mitchum was “forced” to make it by his management team because he had been caught smoking pot for like the 100th time, and they thought it would be good for his image. Whatever the reason, he’s dreamy and charming in it, and Janet Leigh is beautiful and gutsy–she had “moxie” or whatever they called it back then. I could do without the weird, pointy bra, but that’s another story.

Christmas In Connecticut — Another black and white sigh-fest starring Barbara Stanwyck. It has some funny, Three’s Company-style hi-jinks, but in the end, the right couple ends up together, and there’s lots of snow, and sleigh rides in a rural New England setting that looks like it’s straight out of a Currier and Ives print. I try to watch it twice if I can.

The Holiday — This is a semi-new fave, that I’m sure is much more familiar to most people. What can I say? Jack Black, Kate Winslet, Jude Law. Lots of house-porn with a luxe California beach home and a quaint English cottage. “Meet cutes” and witty, snappy dialog make it even better. Oh, and Cameron Diaz is in it too, but I don’t let that stop me from watching it with a bottle of wine…I mean, glass of wine.

There are many more I could list, but this entry is probably already much longer than WMEP anticipated. Besides, I heard Love Actually is coming on soon, so I have to go anyway….

Falling in Love and Snow

It snowed last night. Nothing major, just a few inches, but enough to cover my pumpkins in the front yard. It made me happy. And then, magically, something made me even happier.  Let me set the scene.

Almost every night, at about 9pm, my day ends. All mouths are fed and relatively happy, kitchen is closed, work emails have slowed down or mercifully died –  and I am tucked in for some series tuning-out-the-world time (my husband’s a lucky man right?).

One of the most used tools in my home isn’t the oven, it’s the DVR.  But last night, I didn’t need it. No reality shows for me. Nope. It was me, Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep – and Metro North.

Have you seen Falling in Love? Yes? Ok so you get it. No? Please, go rent it, or itune it, or Red Box it. It’s so good and heartbreaking and wonderful. It’s about two married people who slowly, gently become friends and fall in love on a morning commute.  Not exactly your Ryan Gosling/Tatum Channing romantic comedy – but you’ll love it.

Because my husband loves me, because he knows me – he got the computer, put on his earphones and left me alone for an hour and a half.  To all you young lovers out there – this is equivalent to flowers and jewelry for a couple that’s been together for more than 2 decades. Trust me.  It’s the height of romance.

Go watch the movie – preferably with a quiet, ignored house.

Hairy Issue

I’m not sure what’s happened.

Besides turning 40, working full-time, and having kids – absolutely nothing has changed about me.

Except my hair. Actually this is not my hair. This is brillo that started growing on my head about a decade ago.  The hair that I was born with has left the building. I shrug and pretend not to care – while being totally and completely obsessed with it (sound familiar? story of my life?)

Last year – I found gray brillo.

So I decided to take the leap and get my hair highlighted – something to jazz myself up a bit.

You will or won’t be shocked to find out that coloring your hair results in über brillo hair. Who knew?

Apparently everyone but me knew. So I’ve been on a mission to debrillo.

I’ve tried expensive shampoos, deep conditioners – I’ve slapped on the Keratin, the agave, the coconut oil.

If you are my husband reading this – I’ve spent almost no money on all this. If you are everyone else reading this – I’ve spent a small, compact, American made car’s worth of money on it.

I think I’ve found it. IT. Actually – two its.

First of all – you can buy whatever shampoo/conditioner you want. . I think that all shampoo is the exact same.  And if you think it’s different or have proof otherwise, please don’t tell me.  I use a 2in1 in the shower – come out and use this little baby. About the size of a quarter’s worth worked through my hair. Smell it once – you’ll be hooked. It’s like my hair’s true soul mate. They belong together. I meant to take a picture when it was still full – but I use it fanatically.

Then, after you Biosilk it – but before you blowdry/iron/tease/shellac – spray this baby on.  You don’t tease your hair? You aren’t a 60′s housewife? Stop trying to edit this blog please – and read on.

And it really is a 10. It’s perfect in every way.

My hair isn’t what it used to be pre-kids, pre-marriage, pre-life … but it’s better. It’s less heavy-duty scrub pad.

http://video.nytimes.com/video/2012/07/27/fashion/100000001686092/a-flash-mob-proposal-at-bryant-park.html?ref=style

Have you watched this video? I just did. It’s a typical Friday night – trolling the New York Times wedding section with a glass of wine.  Good times.

I cried when I saw this video, and smiled, and felt warm all over. Then I realized the warmth was from the growing anger in my soul. A flash mob proposal? Really? The Cartier ring isn’t enough? Flying her family in isn’t enough? A flash mob and full instrumental band? Come on!

Full disclosure: my proposal was slightly different. Full of rain, fighting and an army backpack. And I loved every minute of the train wreck that it truly was.

This? This is magical. This is over the top and completely romantic. This is…not what the rest of their marriage will be like.

Maybe I’m wrong. But what’s next? Will Santa officiate the wedding? Will their first child walk on water? How can the poor guy possibly keep this going. And what about all the other poor guys out there? Is this what they need to do?

I know I sound bitter and jealous – and I am – but this is impossible to live up to.

Good luck to those crazy kids. I look forward to their YouTube wedding on Mars.

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The suck-it-up gene

The other day some very smart ladies and I had a quick workday lunch.  We talked about world peace, how to save the economy, the usual stuff we tackle when we get together….ah hem.  But then the conversation moved to the men in our lives. Our very significant others.

I was rehashing/retelling a short story about my husband’s complete lack of “suck-it-up”.  It’s like he’s missing the gene.  He’s a good man and I love him to bits – but that boy cannot make a bad situation better.  He’s better at spotlighting or highlighting or magnifying that bad situation.  To be fair – if you asked him – he’d say I was a “head-in-the-clouds” Pollyanna.  And I am. It takes a lot for me to think badly about something or someone. I go with the flow. He’s like a big, tall building blocking the flow.

The reason I fell for the guy is that he’s always been decisive and determined. And in all honestly, loads of good things have happened to us because he won’t stand for things going wrong.  Better dinners, easier weekends, stronger kids, etc. He’s got a mission. All the time. When that mission goes astray – he’s upset and not afraid to show it.

Not me –  I meander. I stroll. If something goes wrong, my first instinct is to see the positive from it. It’s very Asian of me. It’s not always a good thing and it’s exhausting.

You know that fight or flight instinct? I would always flight.  In other words, if aliens landed tomorrow, I would not be the gal joining the rebellion and fighting back. I’d be the one thinking,”gee, maybe the world will be better post invasion.” or “I wonder what they eat?”.

So he may be missing the gene, but I’m knee-deep in it.  I’m not sure which one is better.

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