Friday, October 17, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Yes, I realize that I only blogged once this week and I didn't even get to #2 on the Bali list! That will be next week. SPOILER ALERT: it won't be Monday since I'll be traveling back from a work trip. So check back on Tuesday and I promise to post three times next week! Now we can all breathe easy.
Let's get to it!


***

Well, this kid pretty much nailed it. Plus, CB sent this video to me the other day and said "I read about it and am sending it to you before even watching it since I can tell it's going to be something you love." Does he know me or what?


***

This week's book is "Lawrence in Arabia" - not to be mistaken for "Lawrence OF Arabia" which is what I kept thinking it was and I was like "I'm pretty sure CB has made me watch that movie on the old timey station before, but I never knew about the book." And then all of that thinking about Lawrence of Arabia was for naught because it's not even what this book is.

Anyway, click here to check out the great review! Also, thanks for all of your feedback on "Gone Girl" - I'm 100 pages in and think Nick is kind of a jerk. But I'm hooked, so thanks!


***

A friend of mine posted an article on my Facebook page about Ben Affleck visiting the MSU Spartans football team yesterday. She said: "Had this happened when we were there, I am confident you would have been arrested for stalking. 100 percent."

It's nice to have friends who understand you. But I mean, COME ON. Look at the man. I'd happily go to jail.

Anyway....let's go Spartans!


***

So this week's video came to me in the middle of the night last night. I woke up, couldn't fall back to sleep, and started thinking about how my dad was having a frustrating week and I'd suggested to him yesterday that maybe not everyone had heard of our family motto: "Don't be a dick" and perhaps we needed to make flyers to spread the word. And then this song popped into my head, I laughed, and fell back to sleep.

Don't worry, dad, be happy!

Happy Friday!



Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

Yesterday was Columbus Day, guys, so I was celebrating by being lazy and not blogging. BUT that means a special Tuesday post! You're welcome.

While watching a show the other night where someone was in the hospital:

CB: “You know, they really should come up with something nicer for people to wear while they’re in the hospital.”
Me: “Other than hospital gowns, you mean?”
CB: “Yeah, something a little more dignified.”
Me: “Yeah, hospital gowns are kind of the worst. And I can never figure out how to tie them.”
CB: “Exactly. And you’re already in a vulnerable position being in the hospital, so you’d think maybe something a little nicer? You know, just to make you feel a little better while you’re there.”
Me: “Like a fancy hospital tux, maybe?”
CB, laughing: “Well, it doesn’t have to be that fancy.”
Me: “No, I think a hospital tux would be just the thing to make everyone feel a bit fancier and more special while they’re getting surgery or whatever.”
CB: “This is why I don’t start these conversations with you.”

***

Me: “So I had a kind of naughty dream last night.”
CB: “Do I want to hear this?”
Me: “Probably not. But you’ll be happy to know that I had the opportunity to get it on with Bradley Cooper and I didn’t because we were married.”
CB: “Bradley Cooper, eh?”
Me: “Yeah, and it’s kind of annoying that, even in my dreams, I’m committed to you. I mean, in real life? Important. In my dreams? Loosen up, Beck!”
CB, laughing: “Well, I’m sorry that you didn’t have dream sex with Bradley Cooper.”
Me: “Um, me too.”

Silence.

Me: “We were in some gym, and he was, like, a personal trainer. And what was strange is that he wasn’t actually Bradley Cooper in the dream, but looked just like Bradley Cooper and I kept thinking that I should take his picture to send to my friends because they’d never believe that I had a look-alike trainer otherwise.”
CB: silence.
Me: “And he was, like, pursuing me. Which was awesome. But JUST when we were about to get it on, I thought better of it and was like ‘you know I’m married.’ And he didn’t really care and I thought about just going for it anyway….but I didn’t.”
CB: “I’m sorry.”
Me: “Seriously.”

Silence.

Me: “Do you ever have naughty dreams with celebrities or other people?”
CB: “I guess probably? But honestly, since we’ve been together, you’ve been in all of them.”
Me: “That can’t be true.”
CB: “I’m serious.”
Me: “Don’t say that on my behalf – I’m all for dream infidelity.”
CB, laughing: “I know, I’m not doing it on purpose, trust me! But you’re just always there!”
Me: “God, we’re really dream-lame. Even in our subconscious we’re hanging out with each other. We need to branch out.”
CB: “I’ll do my best.”

Cut to: later that night as I was getting into bed.

Me: “I hope Bradley shows up again tonight.”
CB: “And I hope I don’t show up.”
Me: “Me too! Total buzzkill.”
CB: “I love you, too.”

Friday, October 10, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

***

I basically feel about Fall the way this Corgi feels about that pumpkin. Which is excited. And I want to bite it.


***

Last night, my dad was like "Are you good for the book blog?" and I was like "Yeah, you guys have kept me afloat for a while, I can add a few tomorrow morning."

And then I didn't post anything and now I'm wondering why I always think I'll just whip up a book blog? SO, I have a question: should I read "Gone Girl"? Yes, I want to see the movie because Ben Affleck is in it. And it's true that Mary asked me if I read it about a year ago, told me how good it was, I added it to my iPhone book list, and still haven't gotten to it. BUT it's on my nightstand now and I'm about to start it. Which CB told me I couldn't do because "then I won't see the movie with you." Which I'm pretty sure is just because he doesn't actually want to go to a movie with me where I talk about what it'd be like to marry Ben Affleck.

HOWEVER, then my dad said that my mom didn't like it. And now I'm unable to make my own reading decisions and am paralyzed by my options. So, readers poll: should I read "Gone Girl"?

Sorry, dad. I'm a terrible book blog poster. I'm ashamed of myself. (also, I want CB to blog about "Unforgiven." Gauntlet dropped.)

***

Now, the video of the week. Basically, I love this song so really, isn't that enough? Plus, I dare you not to have that whistle part in your head for the rest of the day. Can't stop, won't stop.



What should the video of the week be next week?




Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Date Night in Bali

So we have found ourselves at number three in the top five best moments from our Balinese honeymoon. And this one is particularly memorable because it finds me spitting partially chewed food into lovely Indonesian vegetation. Let’s proceed.

The food. When I was growing up, I wasn’t known for having much of an eclectic palette, though I could authoritatively tell you the nuanced differences between Jiff Crunchy Peanut Butter and the generic store-bought brand, so I had my niche. Also, I may have taken the record for the most consecutive days spent eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sort of still hold a grudge against my parents for not checking with the Guinness people and getting this family the notoriety we all so deeply deserved.

Anyway, exploring different cultural food wasn’t something I started to do until my 20s, but once I dove in, I dove in. I mean, I should still be your go-to guide for the best places to eat a Chicken Caesar Salad in the country, but I also mix it up with food using more than three ingredients and have even gotten CB to branch out a bit himself.

However, in the months leading up to our trip, we’d get asked what kind of food was indigenous to the area and when I started reading about it, I decided maybe not to share my findings with CB. Mainly because then I’d have to travel to Bali alone and that would make for a sad honeymoon. Though, there would still be Putra.

Anyway, what I read about Indonesian food was right up my alley – a little bit of Indian, a little bit of Thai, and a twist that was all their own. This was going to be awesome. CB, on the other hand, was a little less convinced. Turns out he knows how to use Google and figured out that his best friend Cumin and its sidekick Coriander were staples in pretty much everything served. So obviously he was psyched.

Sidebar: Did we know that coriander and cilantro were basically the same thing? Right, I didn’t either. And I’m mild-to-very allergic to cilantro. So this was an interesting discovery.

Nonetheless, we dove right in. From our first night in Bali to our second to last day, we said yes to pretty much anything. We ate everything from a boiled chicken sans its head (which I’m still convinced was just detached from its body moments before it arrived on my plate), to some suckling pig, rice, and additional mystery meat thrown in for good measure. Delicious fruit, incredible coffee, more carbs than you could shake a stick at, and the experience of saying “Sure, I’ll try that!” and going for it. We were all in.

However, by day seven or eight, CB called a time out. As we were walking in town one night after dinner, we decided to stop and get some gelato. I don’t remember what flavor mine was, but it was fine. It was gelato.

CB, on the other hand, got some delicious mango gelato and immediately freaked* (*I am taking dramatic license here. I know when CB reads this he will say he didn’t freak. But take a look at the conversation below – does he sound like a well man to you? Exactly.)

CB: “I can taste the cumin.”
Me, rolling my eyes: “There is no cumin in your mango gelato.”
CB: “I swear to God, Beck, there is.”
Me: “There’s not.”
CB: “Taste it!”

And so I did.

Me: “It tastes like mango gelato. It’s delicious.”
CB: “With cumin.”
Me: “You’ve officially lost your mind.”
CB: “I think the taste and smell of cumin is ingrained in my nostrils or something and so it taints everything I eat.”
Me: “You’re definitely tainted, that’s true.”
CB: “How do you not taste it?!”
Me: “Because I’m normal and rational and know that there’s not cumin in your mango gelato. You’ve gone ‘round the bend.”

Pause.

Me: “You better brace yourself because we have your sister’s special dinner in two days and I guarantee it’s going to be full blown Indonesian.”
CB: “It’s like you’re threatening me.”
Me: “I’m not threatening you, I’m just saying. We’re in Indonesia…I’m guessing our special dinner will be something local.”

Let me back up. You see, CB’s sister gave us this lovely gift for our honeymoon in the form of a romantic dinner at our resort. We had our own little tented villa off of the main restaurant, right next to the Koi pond, lit only by candles and adorned with flowers. It was quite fancy and we got all dressed up for the occasion.

However, as the dishes began to roll in, I started to get this sensation in my mouth that I was being poisoned.

Me: “Is there cilantro in here?”
CB: “I don’t think so, no.”
Me: “But I’m starting to get tingly. I think I ate cilantro or something. I’ve actually felt this a few times while we’ve been here and I usually just stop eating whatever it is. But I think I maybe didn’t stop in time.”
CB, staring over at my plate: “Oh wait….what’s this?”

And then he picked up a leafy substance that slightly resembled cilantro.

Me: “I think I put that in my mouth.”
CB: “Are you feeling ok? You look a little pale.”
Me: “No, I think my throat is going to close! It’s still in my mouth!”
CB: “Then spit it out!”
Me: “We’re at a romantic dinner! I can’t spit my food out!”
CB: “Either spit it out or we figure out if I know how to do proper resuscitation!”
Me, panicking: “Oh my God, it’s starting to itch and burn!”
CB, as we see the waiter come around the corner towards our table: “Hurry! He’s coming!”
Me: “Oh my God we’re going to get kicked out! Your sister is going to kill me!”

And with that, I turned around, spit into a plant, wiped my brow from the panic-sweat, and greeted the waiter with a guilty smile because I couldn’t tell if he saw me spit my meal into the shrubbery. Luckily, he was too polite to say anything if he did, and so we waited until he left to completely melt down.

CB: “Remember when you’ve been making fun of me all week for not liking the food and then you spit it out right in front of our nice waiter? You’re so rude.”
Me: “I hate you.”
CB, laughing: “This is the most romantic meal I’ve ever had.”
Me: “I can’t believe I almost got poisoned in Bali.”
CB, still laughing, getting way too much enjoyment out of this: “I can’t believe you’re so rude that you just spit your food out into the landscaping. If you didn’t like it you just didn’t have to eat it.”
Me: “I should’ve spit it at you.”

And that, my friends, is how you do date night on your honeymoon.

Pre-poisoning. Also, that bush to my
left never stood a chance. 



 Happy Wednesday! 

Monday, October 6, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

So, I'm tweaking my next blog post re: number three on the top five list from our honeymoon - stay tuned on Wednesday for that one!  But today, in light of our babysitting duties over the weekend, I thought I'd share a conversation between CB and me and then re-post to confirm that this parenting thing ain't easy. 

On hour 15 of babysitting duty for a 5 yr old, 3 yr old, and 9 month old on Saturday, CB and I were recapping the day:


CB: "I just kept trying to rationalize with them, but that was futile."
Me: "Yeah, it's like trying to rationalize with a drunk person. Kids are basically just little drunk people."
CB: "Except drunk people sometimes have brief moments of clarity."


***


So, CB and I spent the weekend on a lake in the middle of New York state with some friends and their kids. And every time we are around parents and their children for longer than about an hour, we are struck by two competing emotions. The first is OH MY GOD THESE KIDS ARE SO CUTE AND THEY LOVE US SO MUCH WE’RE GOING TO KILL IT AS PARENTS. And the second is OH MY GOD HOW WILL WE EVER BE PARENTS.

And I gotta tell you, the second one yells really loud!

Don’t get me wrong, you guys, I love some kids and like a few more. But the overall kid population at best, entertains me until I want some quiet time, and at worst, terrifies me to my very core.

A clear role model.
First of all, every time we spend a significant amount of time around kids, we come back to our apartment, look at each other, and start tired-laughing about how quiet it is and how exhausted we are. Also, it should be noted that we are never in charge of anything like changing diapers, food patrol, or any sort of actual parenting. We are basically in charge of running the kids ragged so they’ll sleep on the car ride home and giving the parents a few hours of uninterrupted conversation with other people their height.

However, while CB is a natural and children gravitate towards him as a playmate and someone to literally and figuratively look up to, they tend to gravitate towards me as a peer. Which, to be fair to them, makes a lot of sense since I do possess the same sparkle shoes and find yelling randomly and pretending to be scared of monsters a legit pastime. 

Also, my default when around kids isn’t necessarily to parent them – hopefully because they’re not mine and so I don’t struggle with whether to abduct my friend’s kids and raise them as my own. That’d likely be worse than just sort of letting kids talk with their mouths full when their moms aren’t looking and sometimes letting them put their elbows on the table. But I’m not a parent, so maybe I’m wrong.

I mean, I’m sure if CB and I are lucky enough to be parents to kids that are actually from our gene pool someday, things like looking out for their safety, making sure they’re fed, and knowing when to lay down a strongly worded monologue about not hitting your brother will start to just come naturally.

Plus, I think we’re both driven by a strong urge to not raise adults who are giant a-holes. And if we’re being honest, there are worse motivating factors, right?

Nonetheless, there are a few things about parenting that I’ve picked up on over the years that really stick out. Which include, but in no way are limited to, the following:

Repeating yourself is completely exhausting. Correct me if I’m wrong, parents, but half the battle – at least from ages 0-18? – is repeating yourself ad nauseam about what you just told that damn kid three minutes ago. “Don’t hit,” “Get your elbows off the table,” “No jumping on the bed,” “Don’t run with scissors” and other very obvious things that kids would know better if they were just paying attention the first million times you said it.

However, something impressive about parenting is that you just keep doing it. Like, if CB told me not to run with scissors, and then I ran with scissors and he told me not to again, yet this time, he explained why it’s logical not to run with scissors? I’d totally catch on.

But you know what a kid would do? Run with scissors five minutes later, fall, trip, and potentially stab a part of their body. Then, they’d come crying to the person who JUST WARNED THEM NOT TO DO THAT so that you can fix it and make it all better. I mean, it’s like kids are mini psychopaths just waiting to see how much you can take.

Wait, not something a person wanting to be a parent should say? Moving on.

You can never finish a sentence. Ok, so apparently this only happens between the ages of 0-8? 9? I’m not sure. But I do know that at some point your kids stop wanting to be anywhere near you, and it’s kind of amazing because then you can finish having that conversation about “The Mindy Project” you started seven years ago. But while they’re still growing and learning and depending on you for life in all ways, you definitely can’t ever finish a sentence.

Or you can, but it’s in the form of yelling at the other person you’re talking to so that you’re talking over the child who’s asking you a question you answered for them eleven seconds ago (see #1 above). And then it just makes the person you’re talking to feel bad and be like “Please don’t yell-talk at me and just let him know why he has to finish his sandwich before eating the chocolate bar. I’ll wait.”

Kids don’t listen EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO. Guess what? You tell a kid not to play with scissors and he’ll be running with said scissors and a 10-inch blade in the other hand before the hour is up. But you accidentally say the f-word or call something or someone stupid under your breath while driving, and the kid will pick it up with his/her supersonic hearing before it’s even crossed the sound barrier.

You’re not allowed to laugh. Oh my God, this one is for sure the hardest. Because those mini psychopaths are FUNNY, you guys, especially when they’re doing something they’re not supposed to do. Which I’m pretty sure is why we have so many unhinged reality tv stars today - they were simply raised by parents who not only didn’t tell them not to run with scissors, but laughed and encouraged them while they did it.

Which is totally my fear! Because I find most things in life at least slightly amusing. And when those things are coming out of a three year old's mouth, it’s downright Second City-worthy. However, when you’re a parent, from what I can tell, you have to not only train yourself not to laugh at or with them when they’re being naughty, but you have to remind your friends not to totally blow your cover, too! It’s a lot of stress as a parent.

So there you have it. An incomplete list of why parenting is hard and makes me sleepy to watch. Do you agree? What have I missed? I told you it was an incomplete list and it’s because I’m extra tired from two days of kid-play!



Happy Monday!

Friday, October 3, 2014

Friday Wrapup!

Let's get to it!

***

This is basically the best.


***

This week's book is very topical for me because it's by Haruki Murakami, who my dad and I enjoy reading quite a bit. But that's not what makes it topical.

The other night, CB and I decided to turn off the tv and play a Jeopardy-type game on his phone. You know, because we're very cool and also because I got zero questions correct on Jeopardy earlier that night and we felt stupid.

And so playing this game did not help at ALL. I blamed it on CB reading too slowly while he was scratching my head, and so I then took over reading duties and we did even worse. But in one round of, like, 12 questions, we only got about 6 right - and one of them was about Haruki Murakami. I was like "BOOM. Reading makes me amazing at this game." And then I got the next several questions wrong and retracted that statement.

Anyway.

Check out the book here and browse around for other books that can make you smart when playing fake Jeopardy!

***

And now, the Video of the Week. In light of the fact that I pretty much feel like the luckiest girl in the world at the moment, coming off of our wedding and honeymoon and taking a look at our everyday life in general, this song felt fitting. It's been in rotation on my iPod for a few years, but feels right for this week's video. Enjoy!

Happy Friday!


Wednesday, October 1, 2014

On becoming stalkers in Bali.

As my dad put it yesterday, “your blog Monday was really short.” And then I was like “I get my sense of humor from someone else. Plus I was so sleepy!”

But point taken.

However, as promised, we’re now on #4 of my top five moments from the Bali love extravaganza. Which I kept calling it and CB kept ignoring, inexplicably.

So let’s get right to it!

Putra. Now, some of you may not know what a Putra is, and that’s a damn shame because Putra is basically the best thing that ever happened to us in Bali. And we’re pretty sure he feels the same, though it was hard to tell whether he liked us for us, or because we were paying him to hang out with us. But either way, we’re pretty sure he’s going to invite us to his Balinese wedding later this year and we’re so excited to meet his whole family and lovely bride-to-be.

Putra, our fearless guide. 

Also, it’s possible that CB and I got slightly stalker-y with our tour guide in Bali and may or may not have creeped him out completely. Especially since, on our last day, we panic-booked a trip to walk around town with him (basically not kidding about that) and he “got stuck in traffic” and had to have another guide take us.

Anyway.

On day four of our trip we got to the second resort and decided to go on a morning walk through the village and some rice fields. And when I say that we decided, I mean that I got up and showered and said to CB, still in bed “So I’m going to go to the yoga class and then take the 8am walk through the village and rice fields. Do you want me to come back after and get you for breakfast?” To which we then had a 10 minute conversation on how getting up early is not in the honeymoon plan-in-his-mind, but also, making me village-walk by myself on our honeymoon made him sad-slash-feel obligated to wake up. And so, my solo patheticness outweighed his need to sleep in a king sized bed for two more hours.

Hence, we decided to go on a morning walk through the village together.

Which is why I repeatedly remind CB that my early bird-ness basically made our entire honeymoon worthwhile, because it’s how we came to meet Putra. Which I believe is the making of any great honeymoon when it is exponentially improved by the presence of a third person.

Anyway, Putra guided us and the other ten or so guests through the village, explaining to us fascinating parts of the Balinese culture, showing us the landscape, and generally answering every single question with a smile.

Cut to: one hour later when CB and I were like “So Putra, these are the other things we want to do in Bali. Are you busy tomorrow morning?” And then, of course, Putra explained how much it would cost to bring him with us everywhere on our honeymoon, and we were like “BOOK IT.”

So let me break it down for you: in five days, we followed Putra around to these places:

  • An active volcano.
  • A bike ride down from said volcano, through villages, rice fields, and right on over to his friend’s house for some fruit.
  • A sacred temple.
  • A Luwak coffee place where we met the animal who pooped out the coffee we later drank (as you do.)
  • A local art dealer who sold us a terrifying traditional Balinese mask and mini Hindu statue for our apartment.
  • One of the largest and most beautiful rice terraces in all of Bali.


Plus, Putra hooked us up with a trip to a local zoo so we could ride an elephant and feed a Bengal tiger and even gave us tips on good places to eat and drink in town.

Um, also, when Putra came over to where we were sitting poolside and told us that we’d been booked for our trip to the zoo the next day, both of us looked up at him and were like “Wait, you’re not coming with us?” to which he probably wondered how one takes out a restraining order on guests who are paying to hang out with him, but instead, smiled and said “No no, it’s all set through the zoo. Please enjoy your trip!” and then speed walked away because we’re weirdos who wanted to honeymoon with him.

But whatever. Putra was the man. And literally knew everything there was to know about Bali. Which I guess is what the definition of a tour guide is? But CB and I got quite attached while also starting a game in his absence called “Just Ask Putra.” Which is maybe not so much a game as it was basically what we did all day long with or without him by our side.

Like, we would see something during our trip and not know what it was or the meaning behind it, and we’d say out loud (not in his presence, because we did have some boundaries) “Dear Putra, question 15: why aren’t there sturdier brooms anywhere? People sweep all day and it looks exhausting.” Or “Dear Putra, question 3,877: how on earth do you get mail? There are no addresses anywhere!” (that one I actually did ask him and it was a fascinating explanation.)

Asking one of my million questions. While he holds my GIANT
purse and scarf. And I wear a kick-ass hat. 

 Um, also, we may or may not still play: “Dear Putra, question 9,000: where did CB put the rest of the folded laundry?” or “Dear Putra, question 27: why did Becky watch the Scandal premiere without me?”

So basically what I’m saying is this: my number four best moment from Bali was meeting one of its residents who may or may not still go by the name Putra in order to protect his own identity should we ever come back.

“Dear Putra: Question one million: Where did you go? We miss you.”


Happy Wednesday, everyone! 

Friday, September 26, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

***

Um, CB and I had this very same conversation the other day when it was sprinkling and gloomy and he wanted me to take his giant umbrella with me to work. And then I poked his heart.



***

This week's book is "Hunting Shadows" by Charles Todd and sounds like a good CB read to me! Click here to read the review and then browse around for other good finds!

***

And now, the Video of the Week. The simple reason behind this is because, every time it comes on my Pandora 80s mix, I immediately stop what I'm doing and make sure that I've thumbs upped it. Every. Time.

Also, this video is worth watching IF ONLY for right around 2:05 when a very clearly not George Harrison does a back flip and then starts jazzy dancing. God I love the 80s.

Happy Friday!




Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Finally, some Bali blogging.

So people have been asking for a honeymoon blog for weeks, but I’ve been putting it off due to general laziness and/or lack of time. Though lack of time is really just an excuse because I had time to watch six hours of the Scandal marathon while cleaning out our closets, and so really I just prioritized organizing our wrapping paper over you guys. I’m sorry, I’m a monster.

But because it’s been a while since I’ve made a blog containing lists, I decided to list my top five moments from our trip, which I’ll complete with pictures because I’m a blogger of her people (and you guys are super demanding about Bali pictures and need to relax.) Also, since I like to maximize my time between blogging and watching reruns, I’m stretching this out over the next two weeks. So let’s get right to it with number 5:  

Throwing up in the Indian Ocean. It goes without saying that snorkeling is the pastime of the devil. And probably ISIS. Which is why I knew that it was going to be a minor-major disaster to do this as a newlywed, but did it anyway because I was being told that this is what love is. Clearly by people who have never experienced true and lasting love.

However, I’ll go ahead and say (through clenched teeth) that I’m glad I did it. But more because I made friends with the fish, and less because it was an enjoyable experience. Also, fish love me, you guys. I think they smelled my fear and considered it a personal victory that I entered their home without dying on impact.

The look of a natural. 


Anyway, after traveling two hours on crazy Bali roads, we made our way to the ocean, suited up, and headed into the water without having to get onto a boat. Which I thought would really help me out since boats make me think of Orca - the boat from Jaws - which makes me think of Jaws, which makes me think of death. However, what I didn't anticipate was that my body would, true to form over the last 36 years, continue defying the laws of nature and normalness. And so after about 8-12 minutes bobbing up and down in Nemo’s hometown and constantly lifting my head out of said water to make sure I was still super-close to the guide, I started to feel a little funky.  

Pre-funk. That smile is forced, you guys!


Fast forward three minutes later when I was like “CB, I need to go to the shore. I think I’m going to be sick.”

And then fast forward fifty four more seconds, guide by my side:

Me: “I don’t feel so well….”
Guide: “You want to puke? Puke! It feeds the fish!”

And with that vivid and horrifying visual, I fed those Nemo fish like they’d never been fed before. And man, they loved me.

Also, note to self: if fish make you feel icky and you don’t like the water, don’t attract them to you by letting your insides out. It’s terrifying, disgusting, and ultimately not a great way to wow your new husband.


Happy Wednesday, everyone! 

Monday, September 22, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

While watching the "Scandal" Season Three marathon on tv during massive apartment fall cleaning yesterday…

CB: “This is turning into a soap opera.”
Me: “Um, news flash: it is a soap opera.”
CB: “No, I mean it’s all too involved now.”
Me: “Yes, like a soap opera. It’s a dramatic, nighttime soap opera and it’s awesome.”
CB: “But there’s all of this….sexual stuff happening. Too much kissy time. It’s supposed to be dramatic and suspenseful.”
Me, laughing: “I can’t take you seriously when you say ‘kissy time.’ And don’t pretend you’re not hooked. You got mad at me last season when I’d watch it on DVR without you.”
CB, laughing: “I know, but it’s just that they’re all….adulterers.”
Me: “You’re one hundred years old.”
CB: “But they are! Look – just in that room alone, she’s sleeping with that married guy, that wife is sleeping with that guy from that other show, that guy’s husband slept with that other woman’s husband. All scandalous!”
Me: “Hence, the name.”
CB: “I’m just saying that it’s getting out of hand.”
Me: “Also, you’ve seen all of these episodes before, why is this now just shocking you?”
CB: “I don’t know, all in a row like this, it feels wrong.”
Me: “It is wrong. Which is why the show is so right.”

Pause.

CB: “Do you have the season premiere set on the DVR? It’s on at a new time.”
Me: “Well we got over the adultery pretty quickly, now, didn’t we….”

***

So, it’s important to note that I really like it cold when I sleep, which sometimes means the air conditioning is on at night when it’s not that warm outside. And CB sleeps closest to the vent.

I'm kind of a monster sometimes, I know. 

CB, fighting with his blanket and mumbling.
Me: “You alright over there?”
CB: “I pulled the blanket up and then it exposed my feet, but they’re cold because of the air conditioning and so I had to balance it out.”
Me: “Why don’t you put on socks?”
CB: “It’s not healthy to sleep with socks on.”
Me, staring at him.
CB: “It’s not! Look it up!”
Me: “I don’t have to look that up because it’s ridiculous. This is one of those things you’ve created in your mind as a thing that’s not actually a thing.”
CB, laughing: “It’s not one of those. It’s real. The socks are too tight and cut off the circulation.”
Me: “How tight are your socks?! You need different socks if they’re cutting off the circulation.”
CB, still laughing and googling this nonsense: “I think this is one of those things that your parents would agree with me on.”
Me: “This is most certainly not one of those things. They would tell you to get different socks.”
CB, texting his dad.
Me: “You’re not texting your dad about this. He’s the one you get this from! He’ll obviously agree with you because this is a Leo-ism for sure.”
CB, laughing: “No, he texted me and I’m responding about something else.”
Me: “Ok good. Because if we asked my parents, your mom and sister, and anyone else, they’d agree with me. It just isn’t logical. Think about it: if your socks are too tight at night, they’d be too tight during the day. I mean, are they magically getting tighter the moment you lay down?”
CB: “Well my work socks for sure would be too tight because they’re even too tight during the day.”
Me: “Again, you need different socks. Also, I appreciate you not wearing your black work socks to bed like a great grandfather.”
CB, ignoring me while googling.
Me: “This is sort of like my underpants issue. My underpants are too big and I apparently need smaller ones and your socks are too small and you apparently need larger ones. We have the same problem on different parts of our body!”
CB, putting his phone down.
Me: “So what did it say?”
CB: “Eh, I couldn’t really find anything conclusive.”
Me: “That’s not true. You found that every sight you checked agreed with me.”
CB, laughing: “Yeah, it said that your socks were too tight if they were cutting off circulation."
Me: “I’m a genius.”
CB: “Or we could just turn the air conditioning off.”
Me: “I’ll just buy you bigger socks.”



Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday, September 19, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!! But first! Do we need to take a poll on whether CB is still CB? My dad has made a push for CH. Others wanted me to call him CF when we were engaged, but my laziness, in typical fashion, prevailed. However, I'm a woman of her people. So what do we think?

***

BOOKS. Uh, my family has been on FIRE in my absence, reading and blogging about all things books.

Check out this week's book, "The Thirteenth Tale" by Diane Setterfield, which has been reviewed by TWO bloggers and both highly recommended we go and pick this one up asap. So click here to check out the reivew(s) and browse around for more inspiration!

***

Tiny pig dancing in the grass. 'Nuf said.


***

And now, the Video of the Week. CB listened to the new album at my urging while on the 22 hour flight to Bali and, once I woke up several hours later, was like "I don't see the big deal." And then I tried breaking up with him on an international flight where he was the only person I knew, and so I decided that our vows could likely weather the storm that is not agreeing on Coldplay. But just barely.

So I'll spread the love on my blog because that's what having a blog is good for. And also because sometimes I want CB to talk in a British accent and let me call him Chris Martin and he just rolls his eyes and goes and opens all of the cabinets in our apartment. It's his version of therapy.

Happy Friday, everyone!







Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Hashtag Clueless.

Everyone has those moments in life when a shift is felt so profoundly beneath their feet that it becomes clear in an instant that life as you know it will never quite be the same. For some, it could be getting married or the birth of their first child. For others, it might be moving to a new city or starting down an exciting, yet scary, career path. But for me, it was not knowing how Instagram works.

Like I said, everyone’s moments are different.

I started to realize that I’d gone ‘round the bend of hipness, coolness, or whatever new word kids these days have invented for being “in the know,” when my 13 year old cousin asked me last week what my Instagram name was.

Me: “Um…maybe Becky?”
Cousin: “It’s probably not just your name. You know, it’s the way people would find you on Instagram.”
Me: “I gotta’ be honest. I’m pretty sure I have an Instagram account, but I have no idea what my login or password is.”
Cousin: “Wait, but you post on Instagram?”
Me: “I’m not sure? Maybe? How would I know if I do or not?”
Cousin, liking me less and less as this conversation continued: “Well……I’m pretty sure you’d know.”
Me: “I sometimes use Instagram to take pictures…do those automatically get posted? And how would people see them, do I have to follow anyone to make that happen?”
Cousin, totally lying and walking out of the room: “Nevermind, I’ll just find you later….”

And then I felt like your 87 year old grandmother who needs you to explain how email works.

However, I let that go because of course I wouldn’t know what’s what among the 13 year olds and, quite frankly, sort of took pride in that. I’m a grown woman with a job and bills and no time to keep up on the latest social media craze.

Cut to: last night I was out to dinner with some friends and they started talking about some dog with no teeth they were following on Instagram.

Me: “Wait, this is a thing?”
Lisa: “Um, his name is ‘Toast Meets World’ and it’s basically the best thing in life.”
Me: “So it’s just a bunch of dog pictures or something?”
Jen: “How have you not heard of this?”
Me: “Wait, is this, like, something people do?
Lisa: “Don’t you follow stuff on Instagram?”
Me: “I don’t think so….wait, do I? I don’t know. I have an Instagram account but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. And this is the second time in a week this conversation has happened.”

Blank stares.

Jen: “Do you follow people?”
Lisa, grabbing my phone: “Oh my god, you’re following 20 people and one of them is Tori Spelling.”
Me: “Yeah, that sounds right. Is 20 people a lot?”
Lisa, Jen, and Dana in unison: “No!”
Lisa, handing back my phone: “There. Now you’re following everyone at this table, plus Toast Meets World.”
Me: “I have no idea what to do with that information.”
Dana, taking my phone: “Becky, you have 76 requests for people who want to follow you.”
Me: “I do? That sounds like a lot!”
Dana: “It is…especially since you don’t know how to use Instagram.”
Me: “Yeah, I feel like they’ll be disappointed if I accept their request because it might just be an accidental shot of my shoulder that I took unknowingly when taking my phone out of my pocket or something.”
Dana: “Becky…..”
Me: “I’m exhausted. I can’t keep up with all of this stuff. It’s basically Facebook with just pictures, right?”
Caitlin: “Yes, grandma, it’s Facebook with just pictures.”
Me: “And a bunch of hashtags?”
Lisa: “Yes. Hashtag, you’re ridiculous and old.”
Me: “Hashtag true.”

Am I alone here? Is this something we’ve all been doing? #helpagirlout.


Happy Wednesday! 

Monday, September 15, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

Sorry, guys, I was on a business trip last week! I PROMISE I'm back now! No, really!

So, the other day I was blow drying my hair and, unbeknownst to CB, could see him in the kitchen, about to make a sandwich. He pulls out a small jar of peanut butter, opens it, looks inside, then closes it and puts it back. He then takes out the larger, unopened jar of peanut butter and goes to make himself a sandwich.

Me, from the bathroom: “Wait, what did you just do?”
CB, freezing in place: “Woman, can’t I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in peace?”
Me: “Apparently not since I just saw you take out one jar, put it back because, I’m assuming, there wasn’t enough in there, and take out an unopened jar?”
CB, turning towards me: “There’s not enough in the small jar to make a sandwich.”
Me: “Seriously?”
CB, laughing: “Yeah!”
Me, laughing and shaking my head: “Um, just use what’s left in the small jar, throw it out, and then use however much more you need from the bigger, unopened jar.”
CB: “The big one is opened.”
Me: “Wait, why is the big one opened too?”
CB: “Because I did the same thing yesterday.”
Me: “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. You are an adult!”
CB: “Yeah, an adult who should get to make his sandwiches in peace!”

***

Um, apparently I blow dry my hair a lot. Because this next little interaction happened while I was in the bathroom blow drying my hair, too. Also, something important for this - our bathroom has two doors: one that opens into our bedroom, one that opens into our living room.

So, as I was blow drying my hair, I wanted to keep the air conditioning from going into the living room so it would keep our bedroom and bathroom cool while I was in there. As I was going to close the bathroom/living room door, CB came into the bathroom to get a Q-tip from the medicine cabinet.

Me: “Oh, sorry, I was about to close the door. Could you close it on your way out so I can keep the air in?”
CB, going to pull the bathroom/bedroom door closed: “Sure, no problem.”
Me: “No, not that one, the other one.”

So as he closes the other one, I say: “And can you close the bedroom door too, please?”

He does.

As I start blow drying again in the bathroom, I notice that the medicine cabinet is left open. Which isn’t new, but I figured CB did this on purpose to mess with me since I was bugging him about doors.

Me, laughing: “Did you do this on purpose?”
CB: “What?”
Me: “Leave the cabinet door open.”
CB: “No….but I got distracted by all of the other doors I had to close, so I forgot.”
Me, laughing and going back to blow drying with the door closed: "Oh ok."

Cut to: 10 minutes later, as I was finishing up, I thought to myself “ you know, I should go out there and give him a kiss.” And so, I opened the bathroom door to find every single cabinet in the kitchen opened and CB on the couch reading his book.

Me: “I hate you.”
CB, laughing hysterically: “I know.”
Me: “I was coming out here to give you a kiss because I felt bad that we’d been rushing around and I just got home from Seattle and we haven’t had a moment together! But that moment has passed!"
CB, still laughing: “Oh man, the look on your face was worth it.”
Me: “Worst. But no big deal, it doesn’t bother me at all. We can leave them open all day...”
CB: “Yeah, let’s see how long you last.”
Me: “Nope, doesn’t bother me at all…..”

So, I go into the bedroom to get changed and, a few minutes later, come out to find that he has closed all of the cabinets.

Me: “Aw, thanks for closing the cabinets. That was going to be hard to resist.”
CB, laughing: “I know.”
Me, looking at him for a minute: “Wait, why are you laughing? Is it my outfit? Does this look ok?”
CB, laughing harder: “I swear you look good. It’s not that.”
Me: “Then what is it?”
CB, shaking his head: “Nothing…”

So I walk into the bathroom to find the cabinet door re-opened.

Me, from the bathroom: “I hate you!”
CB, laughing: “It never gets old!
Me: “And neither will our marriage if you keep this up!”


Happy Monday, everyone! 

Thursday, September 11, 2014

A Remembrance Re-post

While on the other side of the country for a business trip, I thought I'd take a moment to remember my homies back east and re-post this 9/11 blog from a few years ago.

***


In light of the fact that today is the anniversary of 9/11, this blog post will be slightly different than the norm. We’ll get right back to the randomness and (hopefully) laughs later in the week, but each year at this time I take a moment to step back, remember, and reflect.

Many of you know that I moved out to New York back when I was 23 years old and fresh off of the farms of Michigan State University (literally and figuratively). One of my best friends and I ventured out on our own for the very first time in our lives, leaving all of our friends and family and comforts behind, driving the U-Haul some 700 miles with our goldfish tucked safely in his bowl in the front seat. It was the end of August 2001 and we could not have been more excited or nervous for what life had in store for us.

We didn’t have too much: no phone, no cable, and a one bedroom apartment so narrow you couldn’t pull out the sleeper couch without moving the tv into the kitchen. We. Had. Arrived.

So on the morning of September 11th, I was just excited to be in the shadows of the city. I was excited to be going into my second week of work, walking what was quickly becoming my “usual route” to the PATH train, thinking about how I couldn’t believe I was really here. But as I got closer and closer to the train station, something felt different.

Garbled announcements were blaring over the loud speakers and people looked quite literally dazed and confused as they filed onto an already over-crowded train and into an air conditioned car, out of the muggy September heat. Some guy on the train kept talking about how one of the towers of the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane, maybe flown by terrorists. It was about 9am and we really couldn’t be bothered with "the crazy guy on the train," so everyone kind of shuffled away from him, rolled their eyes, and held their papers a little higher to avoid eye contact. I obviously wanted to be just like the other New Yorkers, so I turned away from him and tried to settle the unease that was growing in my stomach.

And then I stepped onto 6th avenue.

That view I’d so quickly grown to love was covered in black smoke. There weren’t any cars in the streets, there were sirens in the distance, and there was an eerie calm of a seemingly abandoned city. I continued to walk, faster now, as I made my way south down the avenue, staring up at the blackness that took over the sky.

I will never forget the next moments of that day: the vision of the South Tower falling, the sound of my mom’s voice when we finally got through to each other, the feeling of complete and utter hopelessness as we were told we couldn’t get off of the island, and the absolute surrender to whatever was to come next.

But that's not all that stays with me now when I look down at the newly rising tower on the south tip of Manhattan. That’s not what stays with me when someone starts talking about that day or reminisces about their own personal 9/11 experience.

What stays with me is this: on that day, in that moment, for a fleeting time in our history, this city was united and people came together. It’s actually something I’ve tried really hard to hold onto.

When I first got to this city, it was shiny and new and filled with possibilities. It was also grungy and cold and filled with strangers. It was the place I’d dreamed about and nothing like I’d thought it would be. It was the city I figured I’d play in for a few years and then leave to get on with my "real" life. But it’s the city that ended up cradling me during the craziest and most exciting decade of my life so far.

I’m not interested in debating the politics of what lead to or came after that day. I’m not interested in the conspiracy theories and the what if’s that will forever surround that moment and this country. What I’m interested in is holding onto that feeling of being united and remembering that it’s possible. Not in some Pollyanna, “let’s just hold hands and sing Kumbaya” kind of way, either. But in the practical “I’ve seen this happen, I know it’s possible," kind of way. And I consider myself one of the lucky ones, because lots of people can go through their entire lives wondering if it’s possible or not. And now I don’t have to wonder.

People can be incredibly kind and generous and people can be horribly malicious and cruel. And on that day, in those moments, I witnessed both in their purest forms. I saw it in the crumbling towers and felt it as I was guided through the city by a man covered in ash and rubble from the North Tower from which he ran.

So today, just like every year on this day, I choose to look at the skyline I’ve grown to call home and remember the darkness and the light. To know that it’s possible, to take a breath and relax as tourists stop in the middle of the sidewalk in awe of the city I sometimes take for granted, and to remember those who don’t have the luxury of being here today to know what’s possible.

None of us will ever forget, I don’t even think we could if we tried. But what I hope we can also remember is that it’s possible to come together, it’s possible to be just a little bit kinder, just a little bit more patient, just a little bit…more.

It’s possible. Please don’t forget. 

Monday, September 8, 2014

How Marriage Turned Me Into a Monster

So, we got married. I realize that I’m sort of late to the game on this announcement, but apparently when you get married, you completely lose track of space and time and fly to foreign lands where blogging is overshadowed by flowery drinks and king sized beds.

ALSO! The king sized bed is the key to all happiness and renders you virtually unable to detect another human on the very other side of this enormous sleep heaven. It was win/win for my blossoming marriage and, upon returning to the reality of New Jersey, our sad queen had me suggesting to CB that “maybe you should go and sleep on the blow up air mattress in the living room.” To which I think he just told me how much he loved me and how happy he was that he’s legally bound to me for forever and ever. I mean, that was the gist.

Anyway, while thinking about what my very first “official” blog post would be as Mrs. CB, I realized that I could bore you with details about centerpieces and lacey dresses and having the best time ever. But that’s not why you come to this here blog now, is it? Besides, all of the beauty got overshadowed by marriage taking all of mine away within 48 hours, to the tune of CB waking up Monday morning and saying “what’s wrong with your face?”

Ahh, love.

You see, for a few days leading up to our wedding, I was having a hard time sleeping. And so, come Saturday, I was basically running on coffee, excitement, and love fumes that fueled me well into the wee hours of Sunday morning. Which found me wide-eyed and still awake into the less-wee hours of Sunday and right on into the dark hours of Sunday night when I started dry coughing, popping Advil, and low-moaning about why my body hated me.

And I’m sure that CB would’ve been a lot more sympathetic to my plight had he been awake and not snoring in the “listening to how sick you feel” position in bed. However, I figured a night of taking nighttime cold medicine, 18 cough drops, and lots of water would do the trick.

But the joke was on me and my excitement over hopping a 22 hour flight to my honeymoon the next day when I woke up to what I can only describe as “Sloth Face.” Except less charming? 
Not the look you want your
new husband to experience. At least not
'til Year Two. 


Apparently, my body responds poorly to stress, exhaustion, and intricate planning that depends upon nothing going wrong. And so, when I took a look in the mirror, all I saw was a severely puffy face and incredibly dark, “you got punched in both eyes” circles that accentuated the wrinkles I recently acquired along with my new last name.

Me: “What the f happened to my face?!?”
CB, being cautious and smart: “I think maybe you’re tired…”
Me, turning around to point at my face: “Tired?! Why is my face swollen and I have two black eyes and wrinkles??”
CB: “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s happening…”
Me: “I mean, maybe it’s sinuses? But I’ve had sinus infections before and it’s never looked like this.”
CB: “It definitely does look unique to anything I’ve seen before.”
Me: “We have to go to urgent care.”
CB: “And you should probably put on some sunglasses.”
Me: “I hate you.”

But he was right.

Fast forward to an hour later as I was sitting in the doctor’s office and explaining my symptoms.

Doctor: “I’m not quite sure what it is, but it’s likely viral. But let me check your ears first because, if you have an ear infection, you won’t be able to get on the plane.”

And then, without having to say any words, CB and I looked at each other and came to the understanding that, should said ear infection exist within my body, he would be experiencing Indonesia all on his own and we’d get over the horrible fight later that we would be having to lead to that decision.

Doctor: “No ear infection, so that’s good news.”
Me: “Oh thank God, I thought you might be going alone!”
CB: “I’m glad we were on the same page.”

Anyway, she prescribed some meds, sent me with a list of over-the-counters to buy at CVS, and wished us a happy, virus-free life together. And I’m happy to say that, by the time we landed in Bali, I was much less swollen, very well-rested, and ready for the adventure! And what an adventure it was……


….which I’ll tell you about next time! Happy Monday, everyone! 

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Yep, we got married! CB is legit!

It's, like, 3 in the morning my body's time and it's getting quite angry with me that I'm not sleeping. However, in a few days I should be back to normal (using the term loosely) and blogging my little heart out about Weddingpalooza and Bali, baby! 

But right now I'm just posting this video of our last song at the reception because it makes me happy. 

Thanks for checking in, guys, and for hanging in there over the last several weeks while I've been such a selfish non-blogger!




video

Friday, August 15, 2014

So, I'm getting married tomorrow...

And won't be blogging today or over the weekend...but I PROMISE to write before we take off for our honeymoon because I'm just a good time like that!

Thanks for your well wishes, everyone! I get to go marry CB!!!

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Our Friends and Family Hate Us: Noted.

So in the last 24 hours, I've received two text message chains that confirm for me that, apparently, our friends and family actually not-so-secretly hate us.

Here's the first one:

Last night, I get a text from CB's cousin - who also happens to be standing up in our wedding, might I add - with a simple little smiley halo guy. I was like "Did you just send me a smiley halo?" and he said "Yep" and I was thinking that was a little strange, but also thought maybe he was just feeling sentimental about the wedding. Aw.

Cut to:

Me: "Matt just sent me a text of a smiley halo."
CB: "He did? It wasn't an accident?"
Me: "No, I even double-checked. I guess he was just being nice!"
CB: "Hmmm, that doesn't seem like him. Something's up."

Me, checking Facebook to find this video tagged with my name:

video




Me: "I hate your cousin."
CB: "Yeah, that seems about right." 

And then this text exchange happened:




Me: "Like I don't have anything else going on in the next few days? Now I have to pour a bucket of ice water over my head? Can't I just donate?"
CB: "That will never fly with Matt. Should we do it now?"
Me: "Absolutely not, I'm alphabetizing 172 name cards right now!"
CB: "You're gonna have to do it, you know."
Me, grumbling: "I know. And I hate him."
CB: "He knows. And he loves it."

Uninvited.

***
And here's the second: 

This morning I awoke to this text from our friend and neighbor upstairs: 


Uh, just in case you don't feel like clicking over to that link, I'll nutshell it for you: an American man's body was found in a suitcase in Bali at a resort town just south of where CB and I will be staying in approximately one week. 

Me, showing the text to CB this morning as we got ready for work: 

CB: "What?? Why is he showing us that now?"
Me: "I think he just wants us to be safe and aware."
CB, laughing: "But it's not like we're still deciding where to go, that ship has sailed! You know when that would've been useful? 6 months ago!"
Me: "Well, if you promise not to get into any suitcases, I make the same promise and we'll hope for the best."
CB: "Deal."

Happy Wednesday!