Blog Vent

Today was a Day.

Ever had one of those?

And almost every agitating thing that happened was my fault.

Not one other person to blame. Trust me, I tried to find someone, anyone. Nothing. It’s all me.

I hate that.

My girlfriend said that Mars is in Aries. And I’m a Gemini. So I’m dysfunctional on a good day. Throw in Aries and it’s a hurricane.  So why does Mars making a pit stop in Aries cause such havoc?   Because it means we’re much more likely to take risks. Live without guard rails. In general be a little nutty and go off the deep end.

Well people. I’m off the deep end. Can I blame Mars? Or Aries? Or Kit Kat? Sorry.

I’ll spare you the gory details. I didn’t kill anyone and I’m not selling crack to babies. But boy were there doozies today! F’ups. Miscalculations. Gaps in judgement. Ok, massive craters in judgement.

Sorry to be so pissy. Please go read a trashy online magazine to shake this blog off. Or don’t. Who am I to give any advice today. Good night.

(i was going to find a YouTube video to end the post on a positive  – the one with the dancing babies for Evian – have you seen it? I’m not an Evian fan – I think it’s oily and has an aftertaste – but the commercial is funny. Anyway I decided not to find/cut/attach the clip. See. I’m a nightmare today.)

you can’t always get what you want

This is a state park near us. We go to walk, to picnic, to lay about – actually that’s what I go for.

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My family goes there to bike.

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I think I’ve told you before. Haven’t I? It’s no biggie. Everyone has something. Some people can’t eat a peanut. Some can’t have dairy (the horror). Some are diabetic. I too have a debilitating challenge. I can’t ride a bike. Well, technically I may be able to actually ride a bike without killing myself, but I really really don’t want to.

My family tried to have an intervention a couple of years ago. They were horrified for me. My husband lived on his bike throughout his childhood. Both my kids adore their bikes. They gave me a long list of reasons why I’d love it. The freedom! The independence! So I finally caved in and they bought me a fancy bike. Took me out every night to practice. And I tried. I acted excited. I seemed enthused. It was awful.

I don’t like riding a bike. It makes me nervous. It makes me feel out of control. It gives me zero happiness. Freedom and independence are not for me. Sorry.

This causes great sadness in my family. I’m like a traitor among them. An alien. They’ll never be able to ride like a full family.

They’ll get over it.

 

 

 

Happy Birthday WMEP

I’m one.

Just a baby blog. Not even a toddler yet.

I started the blog to get me through my first year of 40. I decided I needed a hobby (that wasn’t watching TV).

I thought I’d write about family, work, life. Nothing heavy. Maybe write about my travels, maybe write about food. No real rules.

I graduated college with an English Ed degree. There were several years of my childhood where I was convinced I’d be a writer. But then I wasn’t.

I wanted to write a post a day. That did not happen.

I wanted to write about my family. I have to get back to that.

I wanted to write about my husband’s family. I still plan to do that.

Some days I dreaded the empty post page, other days I couldn’t wait to get to it.

One of my blogger buddies told me not to sweat it. If I only wanted to write a line or two – that’s what I should do. And some days that’s what I did.

I love photographs – so I posted many.

I haven’t upgraded the site. There’s no jazzy pages or plug-ins. Maybe when I’m a tween.

I told you all that I started the blog because I’m nosey and I hoped that you were all nosey too. Turns out, you are. Lucky me.

I’m not sure if I should even be celebrating turning 1. I should be cooler than that and just move on. Pretend like it’s any other day.

But I’m not cool. I’m excited to make it this far. 269 posts and counting.

Thanks so much for tuning in. Let’s see what the terrible twos bring!

 

 

Look Book

I like pretty pictures.
If the pictures happen to be about food or home decor – all the better.
This past Christmas a new pal gave me a really great book called Edible Selby. Although I didn’t know it was great until now. I don’t deserve new friends. Don’t tell my old friends.
This past weekend I was reading the New York Times and found an article by the same author about a taco stand in California. This is why I love the Times. You may read it for the late breaking political and social news. I read it for its taco coverage.
Todd Selby is an artist, an author, a humorist and more. I have been reading his book all weekend.
It’s not a cookbook. It’s a book about cooks and cooking and food.

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It’s full of fun and whimsy.

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This is the page when I decided this book is for me.

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How can you not love an instructional book that starts with…plant the cocoa trees and harvest the pods. Ha! Double ha!
I also love the completely honest disclosure in the end.

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Tacos always lead to genius.

From Jersey, with love

We live about 40 minutes from the beach. More specifically, the Jersey Shore. You know, the place that gave birth to GTL, Snooki, and the Situation. But it’s also the place that gave us big old boardwalk slices of pizza, funnel cake, arcade games and oh yeah, the beach.

Because it was sunny. Because it was a perfect 65 degrees. Because I needed to extract myself away from the TV. We headed to the beach.

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This was also the place hit hard by Hurricane Sandy – and although they were still rebuilding parts of the boardwalk – doors were open.

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Here’s my babies playing an overpriced game that can’t possibly be worth the crappy stuffed toy that they will eventually win. Everything is back to normal.

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Our day ended with this.I love the shore.

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Gladiator in a Suit

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Hi. My name is wifemothereventplanner. And it’s been 7 days since I’ve written a post.

I’ve been distracted. Diverted. Absorbed. Engrossed.

Every minute that I’m not working or mothering or wife’ing has gone to one thing. One singular obsession (different from all my other obsessions).

SCANDAL.

I blame Netflix. I blame my sister-in-law and all my gal pals for pushing the show like crack. I blame all the articles I’ve been trying to ignore about how great the show is.  I thought I could ignore it. After all – I’m the only girl in the Northern Hemisphere who still hasn’t watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.  My idea of McDreamy is Don Draper or Walter White (name those shows).

A few weeks ago I found myself with an entire Sunday afternoon with nothing to clean, cook or buy and in a half trance I did it. I started the series. Episode after episode, I binged. Hard.

Ok. Everyone was right. It’s delicious. Just enough story line to keep up with the bedroom shots. It’s really fun. All the women on the show are written quirky and smart and perfectly balanced between batshit crazy and funny – just how I like it. A powerful black woman sleeping with the President while legally and illegally protecting her client’s reputations? Sign me up.

Watching a whole series at once is something I usually do with my husband – but I convinced him that this show wouldn’t be his thing. He should just leave me alone to watch the whole thing. Now.

I’m all caught up on Season 1 but it isn’t enough. I may have to buy Season 2, even though it’ll eventually air for free – but that would mean waiting. WAITING. Seriously? That’s for the birds. I need my fix now.

Like any good junkie, I’ll keep trying to act normal and pretend I’m not thinking about Olivia Pope or the hot President or how wickedly good the First Lady is.  I’ll just go on with my day. Like a normal person. Nothing to see here folks. Just killing time until my next hit.

 

 

 

Mad for Matza

On Easter Sunday, thanks to our lovely Kosher neighbors, I had Matza, or Matzah, or Matzos for the very first time.

I’m in love

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Unleavened, unsalted, unbelievably perfect. I’m sure all my Jewish pals are rolling their eyes but listen, there aren’t a lot of carb items left in the world that I don’t know about. This was a revelation.

With peanut butter. With cheese. With coffee. It’s the perfect vehicle for all kinds of fat.

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I am truly thankful. Amen.

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