Now that's more like it!

Our other tree.




The girls gave me The Devil Wears Prada--so cool!




Even PK got a treat in the form of whipped cream--a guilt indulgence after we locked him in the laundry room during Christmas dinner.




Mike and his girly girls!




Bring it, Santa!

The extent of our decorating so far

Tis the Season

It's 1:30 pm in McAllen. I've been up since 10, worked out, showered, ran to the mailbox place, bought spices at Sun Harvest, and ate breakfast. It's raining. The cat has made himself comfortable on my lap and I am finally getting around to a blog update.

Mi esposo is sawing logs down the hall. The girls are still in bed, too, although Jessica ventured to the loo a while ago.

I'm not used to being the up-and-at-'em one! In my teenage days, I was the one sleeping to/past noon on weekends and holidays, stirring only to catch The Twilight Zone or The X-Files marathons.

Maybe I should have stayed in bed today, too. It's certainly more inviting than the great outdoors right now. Methinks I'll make a cup of tea and curl up with a library book for a spell. After a 4-day house cleaning marathon, I'm due to put my feet up.

At some point, we'll go get the Christmas tree. Mike was going to do some last-minute shopping with the girls. I have Christmas dinner to assemble/cook. Hoping that the turkey will be sufficiently defrosted by the time it goes into the oven.

In case I don't have another chance to sit down in the next couple of days, here's wishing y'all a warm, wonderful holiday season!

Tagged: Six Weird Things About ME

Only six?

1. I've traveled to faraway places alone, yet I HATE walking into a bar by myself.

2. The way I eat Petrillo's Pizza. ONLY Petrillo's gets this treatment and then only around family. Remove sausage, pepperoni and mushrooms and eat. Remove layer of cheese and eat. With fork, separate sauce-covered top of pizza dough from crusty bottom. Roll up soft part and eat. If hungry, eat crunchy crust part or give to dad.

3. I collect frogs. Windchimes, jewelry, pot holders, picture frames, arty objects, etc.

4. People who meet me as an adult have a hard time believing I was a cheerleader in high school.

5. I keep the lid and seat up (like a guy) so my cat can drink out of the toilet but not walk on the seat which comes in contact with my bum.

6. I bought a $13 pound of coffee for its packaging (by artist Lane Twitchell).

Donor Fatigue

I got assigned to visit teach a woman only for December. Someone else covered her until November and she's moving this weekend.

Flocks of people showed up to paint the house inside and out, but now fewer people are heeding the call to service. In fact, last Saturday, it was ONLY me and my VT companion helping at the house. Carol gave me a key to the house, perhaps to ensure our return.

A small crew is headed over this morning. We'll see how much we get done. I'm tired. Not helped by yesterday's rush to get Christmas packages in the mail or the fight we had in the post office parking lot.

And tonight, it's the Hispanic MBA Association's Christmas mixer. Tomorrow, decorating and bringing hot cocoa to the ward Christmas party. Whew.

Relationally Aggressive Barbie

At last week's babysitting gig, I leafed through a copy of BYU Today that was on top of the magazine pile. It had a short article describing a BYU study that found relationally aggressive behavior in girls occurs in pre-school--much earlier than was once thought.

The behaviors that fall under the umbrella of "relationally aggressive" were excluding other girls, withdrawing friendship, isolating and manipulating others into following suit. (What surprises me is that some women never quite grow out of this).

Anyway, when 5-year-old Stephanie got home from school, she pulled out her backpack of Barbies. Eight in all. We clothed the naked ones and decided they were going to see a movie.

As we were seating the octet in front of the TV, I put the Barbie in the white dress next to one Stephanie was playing with. Immediately, she said re: White Dress Barbie, "You can't sit with us! You're not our friend!" Huh? All eight were in the backpack together, but now there's segregation?

I tried to get a neutral Barbie to vouch for White Dress Barbie, saying, "I know her. She lives on my street. She's nice." That didn't take. After a few minutes, Pink Dress Barbie topped the Sh-t list. I tried to get Stephanie to explain why one Barbie had to be on the outs, but she didn't/couldn't. But at age five, she's tuned into these dynamics. Eeek.

Eventually, all eight Barbies sat down together (following some shuffling after Capri Pants Barbie was accused of not sharing her popcorn) and finished watching the screening of Blue's Clues. Reading about relationally aggressive behavior is one thing. Having it acted out with a five-year-old and her Barbies was a real eye opener.

Plumb Wore Out

Just got home from a near-12 hour long babysitting gig for some church folks. Warmed up some leftovers and started a pot of chili to ward off the day's cold rainies.

The family I was babysitting for has their 2-month-old daughter in the hospital. Mom stays with her during the day and needed someone to watch the 3-year-old and the 5-year-old after school. When dad gets done with work, he spends the night at the hospital with the baby. In the morning, lather, rinse, repeat.

The mom ran late tonight because the dad apparently was in a car accident on the way home--as if they need more trauma. Mom was still trying to line up a sitter for tomorrow and came home teary. Rough week. I'm booked tomorrow, unfortunately.

And pooped tonight. Otherwise, I'd ruminate on the changes in the Barbie clothes I played with tonight--vastly different than the ones from my youth--and my new awareness of relationally aggressive behavior in girls. More on that later.

Take that, Tostitos.

We saw these in HEB and couldn't pass them up.














They went well with the guacamole, Kinky Friedman's Politically Correct salsa and the BLTs + avocado we had for dinner last night. And, although not optimal, they were an adequate conveyance for onion dip as well.

Of course, once we were halfway through the bag, the trick was finding an intact specimen for the photo op.

The Rio Grande Valley is right where my thumb is touching the bottom part of the chip. This is how to get students' geography test scores up. Edible lesson materials.

Proud Larry

On my drive to Walgreens, there was a truck with a bumper sticker I hadn't seen before. It read, "ASSHOLE. Not just a word. A LIFESTYLE."

The guy behind the wheel seemed eager to share his lifestyle with the rest of us on Second Street. He burned rubber to get a head start at every green light, cutting off cars, jackrabbitting and weaving around slower traffic.

For all the showboating, he didn't get anywhere any faster. I caught up to him at two intersections and got a good look at the bumper sticker and the F-150 pickup to which it was affixed.

I wonder: did he buy the sticker himself? (If so, where?!?) Was it a gift? Or did someone acquainted with his habits slap it on the rear bumper unbeknownst to the driver?

What kind of person would proudly call himself an asshole? And why proclaim this on a bumper sticker when his driving effectively communicated the same thing in less than a block? Was he just trying to beat us to the obvious judgment?

Also wondering: Is being an asshole a choice, a lifestyle, or are some people just born that way? I wonder how the scientific community would explain it...

Dude, Where's My Sweater?

We had a cold front blow in and it actually IS cold for here. A daytime high of 50 degrees and lows predicted in the 30s tonight. I thought So.Tex didn't get that chilly. I have a sizable collection of sweaters and jackets. If the cold front persists, I may get a chance to wear some of them!

I hope my tomato plants live through the night. And the citrus--should I be smudging the orchard like they do in California when the temperatures dip? Alas, I am too many generations removed from the farm to know.

I shivered through a lunch date and some Christmas shopping before going home to put on a sweater. And a jacket over the sweater when Mike and I went to see The Guardian at the Dollar Theater, hence the titular Ashton Kutcher reference. And poor Kevin Costner. You'd think with a performance that wooden, he would have floated.

Still Gobbling

Is there anything more heavenly than Thanksgiving leftovers?

I made turkey noodle soup last night and made a batch of chocolatey brown stock from leftover pan scrapings, carmelized vegetables and the carcass of Lorena Gobblit--that chick just keeps on giving.

Today I had two bowls of soup with stuffing dumplings. And two major foodgasms. Mmmmm.

Domestic Products

What I made for post-Thanksgiving dinner:




Lorena Gobblit





Veggies




Pumpkin Pie




Dressing to Excess (serves 12-16)

Sometimes you just gotta say, "What the cluck!"

I am proud to report that my first turkey turned out FAB!

I had good instructions which helped immensely (thanks to Dr. Lala and DC Rush Hour!) and I did a little improvising, too.

I microplaned a head of garlic and mixed it in with the melted butter I rubbed into Lorena Gobblit's breast. I wasn't sure if I was doing the rub-with-butter part right. The butter kept sticking to my hands and falling off the turkey in chunks, rather than staying ON the turkey where I wanted it. All that work and I just end up with savory hands?

After ending up with carbonized vegetables with my roast chicken, I opted to put the veggies in with the turkey for the last hour of cooking. Just right!

I mixed up a salad my mom makes (lettuce, hardcooked egg, sliced olives and mayo), made some tarragon marinated mushrooms, whipped up a pumpkin pie and made enough stuffing for 16 people. I should have halved the recipe, but I'd dried enough bread for a full batch, so I felt committed. Mike made a fourth batch of potatoes (mashed then riced) to great effect.

I'm still fine-tuning the art of getting everything done at the same time (and giving the turkey 30 minutes to rest), so we sat down to dinner close to 9:00 pm. We had intended to hit the 10:00 pm show, but cleanup took longer than expected.

We watched a couple more episodes of The 1900 House and let the meal settle a bit. Then we whipped cream in the KitchenAid and smothered slices of pumpkin and pecan pie with it. YUM.

All in all, a successful endeavor. One that I might try next year on Thanksgiving, instead of the day after.

Turkey Day

I was a bit nervous about doing a whole dinner by myself on our first married Thanksgiving together. Rather than cooking under pressure, Mike and I potlucked with five other families from church.

Even though we weren't cooking the whole dinner, there was a learning curve with the side dishes. The green beans with almonds and the cranberry-orange glazed sweet potatoes turned out fine. Not so the mashed potatoes.

We learned that the KitchenAid is the wrong tool to make fluffy mashed potatoes. We stuck them in the oven, thinking it would cook off the glueyness. Instead, the potatoes grew a skin on top and the gluey, goopy mass below remained.

Mike made a late-night run to HEB for more russets (and something to soothe the frazzled chef). Batch two turned out better, what with using the right implements and adding some roasted garlic.

We made a third batch Thursday morning to make sure there was enough for the potluck. Somehow, the potatoes were slightly undercooked and turned out slightly lumpy--something I didn't discover until I was spooning them into the serving dish alongside batch two. (D'oh!)

When we set up the buffet, I turned the serving dish so batch two faced forward. Even with the fumble, people chowed down and offered compliments.

It was nice to spend time with folks outside of church and get to know each other better. I was sad to find out that the Primary president (the one who looks like Swizzies) is moving to Reston, VA in January. She seemed the most kindred of the church ladies, even though I only see her in passing at church.

I called the 'rents when I got home to ask how their T-day had been. They were going to eat dinner at the rest home with Cousin Shirley, but she wasn't feeling well and begged off. They ended up eating at The Trough instead. ("The Trough?" I asked. "The Golden Corral buffet," mom said.) Brother John made Cornish game hens in lieu of turkey this year.

Mike called the kids and his mom and we finished off the evening with the requisite post-Thanksgiving dinner nap. We ended up sleeping through the 7:00 pm and the 10:00 pm movie. (I know. We're such party animals).

Moniker Lewinski

One of the Scary Feminists From Hell emailed the rest of us with her secret recipe for amazing turkey. Instruction #2: Give your bird a name.

Since we're newlyweds in the process of establishing holiday traditions of our own, I told Mike we needed to come up with a name for our turkey.

After a few false starts, we came up with Lorena Gobblit. Yes, after that notorious-for-cutting-off-her-husband's-penis Lorena.

We're potlucking with two families from church on Thanksgiving itself, but I bought a medium-sized turkey for me to practice on. It's the first time I'll be cooking a turkey by myself. If I slather Lorena with enough butter, I can't go too wrong, right?

In the interest of science (applicable to next year's turkey): fresh or frozen? How much does it matter?

Lunch with Archie Bunker

Mike and I watched Hotel Rwanda last night. Of course, I cried like an infant. I was depressed at the end; it's not like there's been swimming progress regarding genocide in Africa.

I was still lucid at the end of the film, which is more than I can say for when I saw Schindler's List (on a first date; bad idea). Or when I saw the film, The Killing Fields, and toured the Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum as a 17-year-old exchange student in Israel--the summer of my rude awakening to some of more horrific events in world history.

If you've seen Hotel Rwanda, you'll recall the slur the Hutus used to describe the Tutsis: cockroaches. As if this was self-evident justification for slaughtering them.

Today, while I was having lunch with a couple I know, the husband launched into a diatribe about the proposed border fence. Hurry up and build it! Electrify it! If someone gets zapped, too bad; they were trying to cross illegally! Those people are cockroaches!

Of course, he couldn't have known the impact of that word on me. Or how far my opinion of him plummeted in that moment.

Or how guarded I'll be when I see him at church from now on.

Each time I hear church people spout opinions like this--and it happens a lot--I feel alienated. Like I'm never going to have real friends here.

Instead, I'll have a slew of church acquaintances who supposedly share the same set of religious beliefs, but whose opinions, biases or bigotry detour them off the Christian path.

I feel reluctant to share my whole self (including my vastly different opinions, biases, and hatred of bigotry). And I feel physically queasy to hear a guy I go to church with refer to other human beings as cockroaches.

Wednesday in the Park with Jorge

I don't have much experience squelching unsolicited male attention.

I turn into Polly Polite, congenitally unable to stop the solicitor in his tracks or formulate an excuse not to take the proffered phone number or the invitation to dance. If I'd ever lived in NYC (or watched enough Sex and the City), I'd have the right comeback. Would have saved me from gawky 14-year-old boys at church dances.

Halfway through my first lap around Zinna Park this morning, a Hispanic man said hello and stopped to introduce himself (in Spanish so I responded in Spanish). Jorge said he'd like to be friends--he could practice his English and I could practice my Spanish. Could he give me his number?

I hesitate. He asked if I was married (Yes, YES! Doesn't that mean I'm exempt!?) but he was undeterred. He said he'd go to his car for a pen and I kicked myself for the rest of lap one for not forcefully declining.

Jorge intercepted me by the car park and I (stupidly) waited for him to write down the number. Just then, one of the young marrieds from church walked by, so I excused myself to start lap two.

I'm sweaty, unshowered and slathered in sunscreen and DEET. The opposite of alluring. I thought the wedding ring meant I wouldn't have to fend off this kind of attention. How do I shut up my inner Nice Girl? Is abominable rudeness the only way to go?

Resume the Position

I thought being able to fit regular bras would be a good skill to acquire, given my long-range plans. So I hoofed it over to the mall and put in applications at Macy's, JCPenney, Dillard's, and Victoria's Secret.

It's been 11 years since I applied for new a job and more than 2 years since I updated my resume. Needless to say, the application process has changed.

Three out of four had on-line applications. JCPenney was the most security-conscious, obscuring the applicant's Social Security number and personal data on the computer terminals in HR. JCP asked a few questions about what type of person/worker you are--do you finish what you start, do you like talking to strangers?

At Macy's, the employment kiosk was located in Customer Service and personal information was visible to whoever walked past at the right moment. Not cool.

Dillard's only had one (unsecured) terminal in the HR office that was in use when I arrived, so I went downstairs to talk to the lingerie department's manager. (No openings now, she said). I completed the application anyway.

Dillard's application included a 95-question personality assessment. Mike used to create personality assessments for a living, so I called to ask what D's would do with the results. (I gave socially desirable answers to some questions, hoping this would compensate for my lack of retail experience).

All require background checks. The applicant is informed they'll talk with previous employers, family, neighbors, friends to inquire about your "mode of living," among other things. Dillard's was unique, including a disclaimer that they are not liable for any loss or damage to my clothing or personal property during employment.

Victoria's Secret does applications the old-fashioned way: on paper. The biggest chore was finding a place to sit down to fill it out. I was unprepared to say much about my last job before JPL. I had the name of the school district and the woman who interviewed me, but not the district's address or phone number. (My bad. Then again, that was more than 10 years ago).

So far, I haven't heard anything. I did call the newspaper and they have a more promising option. As much as I'd like to be a bra fitter, the thought of acquiring this skill set in the 2 months before Christmas kinda scares me.

Work in Progress

November is my month to get serious about finding work. So far, there are several options.

I revisited the tea shop. The proprietor remembered me--and she just lost an employee, but the shop isn't busy enough to require extra help right now. I said I could help jump-start a proper afternoon tea since they're still planning to do that and I've been to soooo many. (Didn't think to pinch a menu from the last tearooms I visited in CA...) She took my name and number and said she'd call.

Substitute teaching is another option. The local school district needs subs and the application process is fairly simple. It also pays $80/day--not as great as CA, but better than most jobs around here.

I've also thought of trying retail, though I'm loath to work that hard for so little. If I go this route, it would be in the service of a larger goal--one in which some fresh retail experience would come in handy.

The larger goal: I'm plotting with a local physical therapist to open a business that would provide goods (mastectomy bras, breast protheses, lingerie) and services (physical therapy, workshops, exercise programs, lectures, coaching) to breast cancer patients and survivors.

Few such resources exist in the RGV, despite the high rate of breast cancer in the area. Some patients drive to San Antonio or Corpus Christi rather than go to the local shop for a bra/prosthesis fitting. (I visited, so I know why women feel that way).

Of course, this is part personal quest as well. I'm tired of losing loved ones to cancer. And for those who don't live in a large, urban area like LA and don't have as many options for medical supplies and aftercare, providing those services is something I can throw my whole heart into.

In the meantime, I still need to find a paying job until the larger venture starts taking shape.

Backyard Safari

After 3 miles on the walking path Tuesday, I decided to go home via the back way. That means I bypass La Vista Park (hasta!) and keep going south to where the walking path intersects with the drainage canal behind our house.

As I left the path and headed for the dirt road along the canal, my presence disturbed a trio of turtles sunning themselves on the concrete canal bank and they ran (yes, ran!) for the safety of the water. I think the slope of the bank aided their descent, but they moved faster than I've ever seen a turtle go.










A couple of herons hang out around the canals. They take my breath away every time I see them, but they were gone by the time I got back with the camera.

Flocks of butterflies make their winter home in South Texas. Those little airborne divas don't hold still for photos, either. I'll keep trying.


I stopped to look around the garden and found this guy chomping on one of the plants. (See: everything's bigger in Texas).






Further investigation turned up other leaf damage and wriggly culprits.











I guess that's the price one's garden pays for the butterflies. At least they're not eating my basil.

Purchasing Power

I bought a little something in California to help me adjust to my new role.



I'd always wanted a tarot deck and now I have one--one that's delightfully specific to being a housewife! The box has dividers for the major and minor arcana--and each divider tab has a recipe on the back.

Did I score or what?

Unforeseen Adventures

I was supposed to arrive back in McAllen at 10:35 pm Sunday. Instead, we sat in the plane in Dallas for nearly two hours before they decided they couldn't fix the wonky switch in the cockpit. We spent another hour milling around the airport before they assigned us a new gate and plane.

The delay would have been more bearable had there been access to food. But by 8:00 pm every restaurant in the terminal was closed. I ate the Cliff Bar and peanuts I keep in my carry-on and had Mike stop for greasy tacos on the way home before I was sated.

The trip itself was great. Spent time with friends and family, ate Thai food, went to afternoon tea with the girls, visited JPL, sorted stuff in my parents' attic. It felt like home--eating breakfast at the dining room table, helping mom with the crossword puzzle, going to church, driving around the old neighborhoods. It was nice to prepare food and eat it without PK hovering expectantly.

I was a little sluggish my first day back, but today I got up early to make witch finger cookies for Mike to take to work and did 3 miles on the walking path. Put on my Pink Ladies jacket and headed over to the ward for Trunk or Treat.

Been home with the porchlight on and just got my first batch of trick or treaters at 9:15 pm. Only two of the six kids even said "Trick or treat" and only one said thank you. I'm handing out the GOOD candy, too--PB cups, Junior Mints and Butterfingers! I must be getting old and crotchety.

SGHS Class of 86

Ah, the beery ritual of the Class Reunion!

The 20th had fewer attendees than the 10th. The staples--former football players and cheerleaders--were well-represented (and well-lubricated by the cash bar). Other groups were MIA. Some people sent in their bio sheet, but didn't come; others attended, but didn't submit a bio sheet; still others bought a ticket but didn't show up. For a graduating class of more than 800, it was sad to have maybe 100 people (including spouses) in attendance.

I learned that Rene Hernandez, my date to the Winter Ball, died of leukemia 6 years ago. One guy from stage crew is now a sound engineer for Jay Leno. The guy who brought a batch of marajuana brownies to the algebra class Christmas party (which I did inhale) has given up pot and owns a restaurant in San Diego. A guy who sat by me in freshman English bought a house on Alpine Villa Drive across the street from the one I lived in for 5 years. Small world, eh?

Also noted: one obvious boob job, weight gains, receeding hairlines, diminished and/or elevated cool quotients, and a handful of classmates who looked exactly the same as they did 20 years ago.

Thanks to Mike, we won two awards: Traveled the Furthest to attend and (tied) for Most Children.

After the official festivities wound down, we decamped to a club in Old Town. When it closed at 2 am, one reveller invited everyone back to her hotel room. Mike and I (wisely) bowed out, but Wendy continued partying on and reported some interesting (read: carnal) developments in the wee hours. File that under Leopards Don't Change Their Spots.

I'm glad we went. Since attendance was small, there is talk about planning a reunion for 85, 86 and 87 next time around. That would kick ass. And I'd be totally on board for the after-after party.

Goin' back to Cali

I'm mostly finished packing--just a few things to remember to bring. Keys to mom & dad's house, DMV paperwork, my itinerary of who I'm seeing when.

Got an appointment with David the Hair God tomorrow afternoon for reparative work.

Bought a body shaper that sucks me in enough to wear my plum silk pantsuit (if I don't waffle and go with the blue vintage ribbon dress instead). Feeling a little better on that account.

Mike is going berserk over the Mets/Cardinals game, interjecting loud compliments on the Cardinals' pitching and whooping when they make a stunning play.

I've never seen him like this. I guess you don't truly know a man until you've watched him watching sports.

Ta ta!

Random bits

--Washed the hair. Now have rocker/librarian look. Too much layering. I may have to see David the Hair God while I'm in California.

--There were two men getting spa pedicures at the same time I was. I've never been outnumbered by male clients at a salon before. I'm still in Texas, right? Trippy.

--A sign in the massage room warned that services would be terminated if clients became sexually aroused or exposed themselves. Problems with that, eh?

--There is a creature moving around in the wall behind the computer desk. I banged, hoping to scare it away.

Dammit

I just tried on the killer green suit I had planned to wear to the 20th high school reunion this weekend. Uncomfortably snug.

And my new hair guy gave me Rachel hair. It looks nice today, but I have no idea whether I can recreate on my own what Carlos did using a blow dryer, round brush and a curling iron. I don't even own a curling iron anymore.

It makes me 1) afraid that I'm frightfully vain and 2) afraid of shampooing.

Expletive, expletive, expletive.

Backyard Safari

A few snaps of the backyard and environs for your viewing pleasure.

The back of the house, still life with patio furniture.





The addition, christened the "Tea Room" during Angela's visit. AKA the flood zone.



The Grove. Two oranges and a grapefruit, we think.

The Dilemma

I haven't posted much about church. Not because there isn't fodder (boy, HOWDY is there fodder!) but because I have some reservations about how my unvarnished, new person observations and on-line processing would go over with the locals.

I don't want to censor myself here. But I mentioned my blog while I was helping with the house painting and one of the church ladies said she'd like to read it.

I got slapped with the label "man hater" when I was the New Gal in my Ohio student ward. It was inaccurate and seriously detrimental to my social life; I battled this wrongheaded notion the entire time I lived there.

I don't want something like that to happen here, especially since we're here for the long haul. Of course, I own the things I say here, but reading my blog doesn't necessarily provide the Whole Picture of ME. I'd like people here to get to know me in three dimensions. I'm not sure how the blog fits in. I don't want to alienate anyone.

Then again, I may forge new friendships based on shared dislike of the Sunday School teacher's 100-yard-dash through the lesson material every week.

Give said the little stream

I spent the past 2 days helping a couple in my new ward pack, paint their house, and sort garage sale stuff. My mom has been pep talking me to volunteer, so I did. It got me out of the house and put me in better spirits.

And I scored some church books as their thank you--ones on marriage, motherhood, priesthood that I will have fun dissecting, plus some Lowell Bennion/Carol Lynn Pearson volumes.

I got to spend time with some women in the ward that I normally don't see--the ones who disappear into Primary and YW. The Primary president is a HOOT. Reminds me of Swizzies, big time. She's setting me up with her hair guy and gave me the lowdown on some folks in the ward (apparently, we have a Close Talker). Oh, and she wants me in Primary, bad. Oy.

I met another woman who works at the local bookstore and was also great fun to talk to. She doesn't come to church much; had I not showed up for the volunteer gig, I wouldn't have met her. She asked how Mike and I met--and had actually heard of Sunstone! Can you feel the kinship?

I also got recommendations for female doctors and learned that the local school district is always looking for subs. If subs get combat pay like they do in CA, that might be worth doing a couple of days a week.

Or maybe I'll rent myself out as a personal organizer, painter, and home stager.

More wedding & bachelorette party photos

This batch courtesy of high school pal, Wendy, and her fascination with all things Mormon.

The limo spirited us away from the rehearsal dinner about 10:00 pm and took us to a salsa club until the wee hours. And yet we all appear the next day fresh as daisies despite the wilting heat.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=pi9fe2z.3g8e4dvj&x=0&y=-hzvm10

Be sure to read the captions. It's not quite like being there, but it's close. Except the part where she made fun of my spreadsheets.

The first guy you see me dancing with--blue shirt, hazy off-center picture--he's the one who gave me his phone number. Didn't quite seem to grasp that I was busy the next day getting married and wasn't going to call him.

On Being Unemployed

The last time I was unemployed was a stretch between college and grad school, some 10 years ago. I was also dealing with health problems and a surgery that took 6 months to schedule, making it hard to do anything but thumbtwiddle. In addition to feeling icky physically, I was feeling icky emotionally. Not a pleasant time.

I'm trying to have a different attitude this time, but it's still a struggle on some levels to enjoy the down time.

On the plus side, I get to plan meals and cook and venture into new recipe territory (thanks, Adriana). I get to organize my stuff in a new, large space. I get to add to or make over the landscaping. I have time to read, watch movies, blog, read friends' blogs, sleep in, and watch HGTV for ideas.

OTOH, that damn ingrained WASP work ethic leaves me feeling like a sloth for not having a tangible work product at the end of the day--a cleaner house, more unpacking done, etc. Do other housewives or househusbands feel like this, or is it just me?

I know the only pressure being applied is from the weight of my own expectations. Maybe I can table them until after I get back from California at the end of October--and in the meantime try to enjoy what may be one of the few less-encumbered periods in my life.

I'm sure once I am working again, I'll kick myself for not taking full advantage of my current life of leisure. I can always be more systematic about job hunting later on.

Memed

DC Rush Hour got me with this one.

1. Reach for the nearest book to you and open it to page 12.
2. Find the 3rd sentence.
3. Find the 4th word in that sentence.
4. Do a Google Image Search on that word only.
5. Choose the 5th image and post the resulting picture to your blog, along with the word you Googled and these instructions so others can play!

Book: The Elements of Style, Strunk & White.
My word: admires

My resulting image:

Here comes the Eurythmics' song again

Our house. Our mailbox and street swamped by yet another torrential rainstorm. This is getting tedious.

Photo Safari

Just thought I'd post a few pictures from McAllen taken during my forays. Apologies in advance for the sure-to-be-wonky spacing of pics and captions.




There are several of these around town. I wonder which is the best Best Little Warehouse in Texas?




Local gas prices, rumored to go even lower to keep us addicted. Pay no attention to renewable energy sources behind the curtain!



Victoria's got no secrets. We do. Intimate Secrets. My secret? I ran that yellow light. Shhhh.

I Spy

I misguidedly clicked on a window telling me to update my computer's Java platform. I thought it was something I needed to do--kinda like when Adobe Acrobat tells you when an updated version is available. Since Adobe Acrobat is fairly useful, keeping it updated is a good idea.

Well, what I clicked to update was more malicious. Now I have pop-up ads indicating I can clean all the porn off my computer (oh?) or apply for some third-rate credit card. These are annoying, of course. Worse are the audio-only movie ads that come booming out the speakers at random intervals. I hate them. They startle me. First thing in the morning, I don't want to be startled.

The only part worse than having to deal with these intrusions is that I unwittingly did this to myself. Argh. Maybe when my spies realize that I only visit friends' blogs, Google, and look up driving directions around McAllen, they'll get bored enough to go away. Nothing to surveil here. Move along!

Beanie Weenie

Tuesday morning. Grocery shopping. Canned foods aisle, bean section. Limited selection.

Store brand, Hill Country Faire.
Goya brand, budget-friendly y hecho en Mexico.
S&W on the Specialty shelf; overpriced.

Which brand far outnumbers all these combined?

Bush's Beans. Coincidence?

Tito's Tacos

My dad (and years later my college roommate) introduced me to Tito's Tacos. It's on the westside, so I don't get there often. I used to plan my flights so I'd get in to LAX when Tito's was open so I could fulfill salsa and burrito requests for Utah-bound Tito's fans.

Our trip to LA last weekend to attend the memorial service for Marianne also afforded us the chance to dine at Tito's.

Mike, who ventures farther across the Tito's menu than I do, ordered a chicken tamale, a cheese enchilada, and a crispy beef taco with cheese. I always get a meat and bean burrito; the only variation occurs in the number of tacos I order.

I don't know when I'll get back to Tito's; hence, there was gluttony. Chips, salsa, guacamole that Mike ordered. A taco covered in shredded cheese with salsa ladled over the top mixing with the juices of the meat inside.

Waiting, waiting impatiently for the burrito to cool enough to handle. Nibbling an opening. Kneading the glorious bean and meat filling out the top and into my ravenous mouth. Suckling, slurping, savoring. They call it Tito's. I call it heaven.

Given our proximity to Mexico, there MUST be something comparable to Tito's in McAllen.

Got Balls?

A couple from church invited us over for dinner several weeks ago. As we were answering the usual get-to-know-the-newbies questions, I asked one of my own: where can a girl play tennis around here?

Turns out, I asked the right person. The wife plays several times a week--leagues at one of the local country clubs, lessons with its pro, and on a team that travels to play other teams in the area.

Joining a country club isn't in the budget, but this morning I tagged along with another woman in the ward for Tuesday morning women's tennis league at The Cimarron.

Fortunately, another "extra" woman showed up so I actually got to play. We lasted seven games (I won 2 and really need to work on my serve) before the sun and heat got to us. I hung around and watched the doubles players until my ride was done with her games. We retired to the clubhouse for a little post-workout fruit and conversation before she brought me home.

The only local/public courts are at McAllen High School. They're close enough to be convenient, but lack amenities. No chilled, filtered water for the masses playing there. And if I go too early in the morning, I'm told I'll be competing with a gaggle of Winter Texans for a court. Hey, at least it's free.

Lights Out

Sunday morning at 6:30 am, we got another doozy of a rainstorm. In spite of the work Mike did on the raingutters over the weekend, the water still came in. When there's THAT much water, there's not much you can do.

Our street flooded again, leaving the minivan up to its bumpers in runoff and water lapping at my car's back tires--and it was parked in the driveway.

Just after 7:00 am, the power went out and Mike and I mopped water out of the addition by flashlight. Two hours later, we'd fended off the worst and went back to bed instead of taking cold showers in the dark and going to church. (I like to think of it as a newlywed prerogative). Plus, we weren't sure if the church (2 blocks away) had power.

The power came back on just before 1:00 pm, about the time we woke up. Thank heavens. I'm not used to having everything electricity based. In California, if the power went out, you could still take a hot shower and cook if you had a gas stove. Here, natural gas just isn't as big. Propane is, though.

I guess it's time to get prepared for this region's most likely natural disasters: hurricanes and big ole thunderstorms.

Any suggestions for food I can cook on a 2-burner Coleman?

Local edition

I was perusing the McAllen Chamber of Commerce website and found this link:

http://www.mcallen.org/visitors/

Sadly, it's too late to enter the contest to win a trip to McAllen, but the page had some interesting information. I didn't know McAllen was considered the Square Dance Capital of the World. Did you?

I also checked out www.RGVImpress.com. I ran into the site's webmaster on the doorstep of the one Thai restaurant in town and he handed me his card.

I was hoping for actual restaurant reviews, but it looks to be more of a listing service for restaurants without much editorial comment on the food. For the latter, I'll have to keep reading http://www.dallasfood.org/ and Chowhound.

Buggy

It's been too wet to put out mouse traps. But the other critters have been keeping me busy--especially the ants.

Texas ants come in many sizes and hues. There are little red-brown ants that gravitate to the bathrooms and kitchen (found most often in the pANTry). There are small, rotund black ones that snake across the patio and up the side of the addition.

There are medium-sized red ones and black ones shuttling down the trunk of a backyard tree like bonbons on a conveyor belt. And then there are the giANT, half-inch long ones. Euuuw. I found one of these in the bathtub and called PK over. He toyed with the giANT briefly before turning tail.

PK has been more helpful hunting larger bugs. I can no longer deny the presence of roaches. He's left dead ones in the hall and even brought one to bed, deposited on Mike's side, perhaps as a gesture of male bonding.

But PK walked right past this one. We think it's a baby tarantula. It's also THE reason I no longer walk around the house barefoot.

Ma Bell

Between the Traumaversary of 9/11, news of a friend's death, rain damage to the house, the reality sinking in that I live in South Texas, don't have any friends here, and spend most of my time alone, it's been a rough week.

Add in that I'm unemployed and adjusting to being financially dependent on someone else after being independent for many years. And apparently I have a weird housewife gene that makes me feel like I have to have SOMETHING to show for the way I spent my time--and on the days I don't, I feel like a slug. Where did that come from?!

After getting pep talk calls from my mom and mother-in-law and making calls to several friends, I felt better. I did get out of the house and take care of a few things this week. (Watching Jon Stewart helps, too).

I've decided that part of my readjustment process will be making good use (if not outright abusing) our unlimited long distance calling. So don't be surprised if I reach out and touch y'all more often than I have been.

I'm also going to be honest about how hard this transition is. When I moved to Ohio a decade ago without knowing anyone there, it was for grad school. I worked, went to school, went to church, made friends (and enemies), and settled in. But it was also intended to be temporary.

This move is permanent. And while there are many things to be happy about (adoring husband, affordable housing, untapped opportunities, and the one Thai restaurant yet to try), I'm still struggling with the permanence of it. Wondering if I'll make friends as dear as the ones in LA. Wondering when (if?) I'll find meaningful work. Wondering how to embrace this place and make peace with being here for the long haul.

I know I'm not the only one who's ventured into the great Unknown. What has helped you adjust to a major change of venue?

Stuart Little Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Living in Texas means dealing with bugs and rodents.

During a lull in Monday's deluge, I walked to the back gate to see how full the drainage canal was. On my way back to the house, I noticed a mouse (let's agree to call it a mouse and not a rat, OK?) running along the side of the house toward the back door I'd left open.

I redirected it with a combination of whooping and hollering. It retreated to the corner of the house and crawled into a tiny space between the concrete and wood panel wall. Its downfall: an exposed tail.

I'm not a fan of rodents, much less cohabiting ones. (Hey, I have enough to get used to living with a husband). I didn't want it to get away (the mouse, not the husband), so I pinned its tail under a brick and ran in the house to get some tongs.

Stuart got vocal when I pulled on his tail and wedged himself in further. I tipped a saucer of rainwater into his hiding place and he loosened his hold enough for me to extract him. Great. Now what do I do?

I didn't have the stomach for drowning him, so I marched him to the back gate and flung him toward the drainage canal. He landed on the bank. I'm hoping that he was sufficiently disoriented to not find his way back.

And those tongs--strictly for outdoor, non-food use from now on.

Chance of Showers

An afternoon deluge left me bailing water out of the garage and the addition on the back of the house. The rain overwhelmed the gutters and collected at the base of the addition and seeped in/under/through the tile floor/baseboards. Nice!

During the height of the storm, I remembered I'd left my car windows cracked. When it stopped pouring and gusting long enough to venture outside, I saw this:



West Upas Avenue is under there somewhere.

And in the backyard, another sea change:



The runoff flooded the outside tiled patio and seeped under the corner of the house and into the addition (aka tea room). I dragged furniture, camping equipment, and boxes out of the way, but the water came in other places as well.

My project: mopping up and Raiding the insects that took refuge inside. Mike's project: repair/redirect rain gutters. Maybe get some trash cans to catch runoff and use for irrigation.

I miss being a renter. Sigh...

Some sad tidings

This morning's email contained a message from Mark, the officiant at our wedding, informing us that his longtime girlfriend, Marianne, died the morning of September 9. So today while the nation is reminiscing about the losses of 9/11, I'll be putting on Pink Martini and the CD of oboe music she gave me and remembering Marianne.

The last time we saw Marianne was earlier this summer. Mike and I got together with Mark and Marianne after we'd asked Mark to marry us. We talked over what we wanted to incorporate (and to avoid) in the ceremony. And over Indian food and later, tea, we talked about life, religion, politics, and the curious habits of dogs. Before that evening, I did not know one could have a pet in a no-pets apartment if one had a prescription for said pet/service animal to alleviate depression or other complications of being terminally ill. Sadly, Marianne was unable to attend the wedding and other related festivities as her illness sapped her strength and stamina.

We'll be going back to LA for Marianne's memorial service at the end of the month.

Underneath the sad, I'm crabby that cancer has claimed another much beloved friend and wonderful human being. Marianne D., DeWitt B., LeGrande S., Bing L. I know an awful lot of cancer survivors (including my dad), for which I am grateful. I just wish everyone could survive cancer and die of old age instead. Is that too much to ask?

Culture vulture

Mike is watching a show (mXc?) poking fun at Japanese game shows. People are trying to run across 6 or 7 turning spheres and failing--and falling--spectacularly. Hurrah for late night cable!

One of Mike's colleagues told him there is (gasp!) an art house movie theater in downtown McAllen! So, earlier this evening, we paid a visit to Cine El Rey to see "An Inconvenient Truth." Excellent film--with major moral and ethical implications. Made me want to change out my regular light bulbs and trade in my gas-guzzler for a more fuel efficient vehicle. Catch it if you haven't already!

Alas, we STILL don't have working high speed Internet, despite the daily calls to Time Warner Cable and their promises to make service calls and have their wireless specialists call us back. Of course, Time Warner advertises heavily in this market and every time I see one of their commercials, I roll my eyes and seethe.

Mike has a connection at the local newspaper who told him about some reporting jobs opening up. Work in a field I have a degree in? That might beat out the tea shop gig.

More wedding photos!

My adorable photographer, Margaret Sison, uploaded some 200 photos from the wedding to an online site where people can browse/order. I looked through the thumbnails when the link arrived, but it was too painful to view them larger with ye olde dial-up connection.

Enjoy perusing!

To view your pictures, please go to:

http://MaryEllenandMichael.weddingherald.com

(Let me know if the link doesn't work).

This is my life

After bitching about yesterday's no-shows in an earlier post, the plumber surprised me by showing up 45 minutes earlier than expected today. He's going to replace our faulty toilet and the insurance the previous homeowners bought us will cover the cost.

I also believed him when he said he was coming back to finish the job today after he bought the toilet and supplies. At 7:00 pm, it seemed clear that wasn't going to happen. God only knows when or if he'll show up tomorrow or if I'll have to make another call to find out what's going on.

In other earthshattering news, I unboxed the set of Pyrex cookware, repositioned the microwave, and fell asleep on the couch with Mike shortly after 7:00 pm without cooking dinner. He's still there. I woke up after a 90 minute nap and wondered what on earth was so taxing about my day.

Valley Standard Time?

I'm adjusting to the pace of the Rio Grande Valley. I've seen what locals call a "traffic jam." I sleep in, stay up late, forget what day it is since I don't have a job or a calendar to keep me on track. (Must be what it's like to be retired?)

I am getting frustrated with the leisurely pace when it comes to service calls. I hung out around the house yesterday waiting for the cable people and the plumber to show up. By 4:50 pm, neither had.

Mike called the cable company and found they'd cancelled the intstallation appointment--but had failed to tell us. He wrangled a bit and got us a new appointment Saturday and a couple months of free Showtime for the inconvenience.

I called the company that was supposed to send the plumber. The woman I spoke with was not the same one who had made the appointment. She said she'd call Veronica and call me right back. 90 minutes later, Veronica herself called. No, we weren't still home. She said she'd call back today to reschedule the appointment. It's 1:00 pm and nada.

The one kept appointment from yesterday: the woman who answered my Craigslist ad for free boxes. She didn't take all of them, so the second people to respond will get the rest. Go Craigslist!

Settling in

With Angela's invaluable help, the kitchen is now usable! I'm still missing a box containing the George Foreman grill and the pepper grinder, but I'm sure they will turn up eventually.

You know what they say about all work and no play; Angela and I also did some antique shopping, visited Bed, Bath & Beyond & Target, and attempted to go to tea.

I say attempted because the antique shop/boutique/tea shop we went to didn't actually serve afternoon tea, British style like we were expecting. Sure, there was hot tea and iced tea and a selection of sandwiches and the food was tasty, but no scones, no Devon cream, no vast selection of teas.

We taked to the proprieter and turns out she'd never been to a proper afternoon tea, but she's being encouraged to roll out an afternoon tea menu by October. Since the shop also had a Help Wanted sign, I gave her my name and phone number. I haven't heard from her yet, but Angela suggested I invite her and whoever else is involved in the business over for a proper afternoon tea. And hey, I might get some gainful but undemanding employment out of the deal!

Our other big score was an antique buffet. The shop was going out of business, so everything was half off. It was marked $489, so Angela asked if they'd take $200 for it. The woman didn't even blink before saying yes, plus tax. We called Mike and headed over with the minivan to pick it up. While Mike and Angela were loading it up, I got the shopgirl down to $189 plus tax, bringing the grand total to $204.59--a steal.

During our other forays, we picked up some antique linens and cut glass bowls to place on the buffet. It really gussies up our entryway! Now we're in the market for a similar item for the dining room and an entertainment center to contain our merged collection of CDs, DVDs and videotapes.

Pokey, mon.

My patience failed yesterday while trying to upload photos from the move/roadtrip via dial-up. We're getting cable next week, so the photojournalism will have to wait until we are thus equipped.

We left LA Thursday, spent nights in La Cruces and San Antonio, and pulled up into our driveway Saturday afternoon just in time to meet the brigade of church folks who came to help unload.

After 6 weeks of rain & neglect, our yard was seriously overgrown. Didn't get before pictures. One of the fellows who helped move us ran home to get his extra lawnmower and proceeded to mow the grass/weeds down to a respectable level again.

The same fellow and his wife dropped by Sunday with a full KFC chicken dinner. We also had visits from another church couple (bearing lemons from their yard) and our home teacher who came by to return the spare keys & garage door opener. It's been a damn warm welcome so far.

They even have a stake choir which meets at the church building 2 blocks from our house. And I'm looking forward to asking all the crazy questions that only a newcomer can get away with--like why they have deacons barring the chapel doors once the sacrament song starts?

Oh, and the cat is tearing around the house (and skidding on the tile floors) like he's always lived here.

Well, there's a lot of unpacking that awaits. Must get the guestroom shipshape, as our first houseguest, Angela, arrives tomorrow. Will you be next?

Digest version of events

I know, I promised to regale you with tales of the rehearsal dinner and bachelorette night out on the town and I've failed.

Perhaps it had something to do with the itinerary since the wedding, which went something like this:

--Wedding: spectacular despite the heat!

--ME's 3rd favorite part (other than marrying Mike and having such a bitchen time at the wedding) was removing the shoes. It took nearly 2 weeks for normal circulation to return to certain toes.

--2 days honeymooning at the Caltech Athenaeum (a last hurrah since my membership technically ended with my employment).

--3 days at Laguna Beach with Mike's family & his kids. The two youngest were dying to go to Magic Mountain, so we trekked to the opposite side of the LA basin to take them.

--1 night back in San Gabriel with mom & dad; we get to sleep in the same bed!

--10 days in Sedona, which did not burn down despite reports on recent wildfires. Was remarkably cooler there than in LA. Did a lot of sleeping; ventured out once a day to sightsee/forage for food/discuss whether vortexes really exist/marvel at the beauty of the red rocks. On the way back to LA, stopped to see Suzanne, Charlie, Anya the awesome flower girl, and her adorable brother, Asher.

--In LA again. Laundry, visiting, madly writing thank you cards yet still woefully behind.

--To Utah for 5 days for Sunstone. Called to late to get a room at the Sheraton; ended up in a no-tell motel on Main, complete with 4 am newspaper deliver/wake-up thwack and a syringe in the flourescent light fixture.

Sunstone itself was FUN. Very busy chairing & responding to papers and being a panelist. Bumped into several old friends from my Daily Universe days: Christopher King & Trent Ricks. Every new person we invited to join the Sunstone board did and we have some exciting new things ahead.

Once we get to Texas (sometime this weekend, god willing), I'll tell all the stories in between.

oxox ME

Moments before the ceremony...

There was Taco Bell. A little pre-ceremony sustenance thanks to Mike's sister Jill. The Taco bounty was delivered by Mike's "little" brother, Matt (the towering giant partially pictured at left). I declared I loved Matt for bringing food, which engendered some debate about who I loved more--the future groom or his food-bearing sibling. The groom won out, naturally, but Matt's food delivery cemented his place as Best Man.

We Know Every Part By Heart

Thanks to the phenomenon of "euphoric recall," I don't remember much about Friday morning. Only that Mike and I got to Marian's house (the wedding site) considerably later than we'd anticipated and I printed out a gazillion copies of the wedding itinerary spreadsheet and forgot to hand them out.

Christine, our event coordinator (and one of my first babysitters), got a flat tire on her way to Marian's and got there later as well. And it was either Thursday or Friday morning that I discovered that the ground floor of Marian's house has no air conditioning, which threw a wrench in our plans to keep the wedding cake in the kitchen where it would stay cool. Since Saturday's temperature was predicted to be the highest all week, this was not good news.

By the time we got to Marian's Friday, Christine had tried out a few decorations and the people from Dolphin Rentals had arrived to begin setting up chairs and tables. I was too maxed out to be of any use, so Mike and Christine sent me into the guest house bedroom to take a nap while they handled things.

By the time I woke up and wandered into the yard, the set up was done and family members had started to arrive. About the same time, Marian came out of the house to announce we'd lost power. No point in flipping out. If the power's out, what can you do? Fortunately, it came back on about 20 minutes later.

My parents and Mike's sister, Kelly, and her family arrived about the same time. We put dad to work setting up the mister on the patio and found out it had issues; Sean tried to help figure it out. Kelly's sons Tyler and McKay unwrapped paper fans and brought out the ice chests, bottled water, and frozen Capri Sun.

As 6:30 pm approached, more of the wedding party began to arrive and lost members of the wedding party began calling Christine for directions. Mike went off to collect the kids and pick up groomsperson, John Blood. Janet, Brenda, Angela, and Emma arrived with flower girl baskets in tow. Leticia, leader of our string quartet, came with her viola to time the musical numbers with the wedding party's entrance & exit. Mike's brother Matt and his family arrived. Suzanne, Charlie, Anya, and Asher arrived shortly thereafter.

Once our officiant Mark Muir arrived and we had everyone in the wedding party assembled, Christine got us all in place to kick off the rehearsal. The first run through went smoothly, so we did another one just to make sure everyone knew their cues and blocking.

We did have several people suggest that by 6:30, 7:30 pm, the outside temperatures were just starting to be bearable--could we shift the wedding ceremony and reception back a couple of hours, maybe? Tempting as it was, I didn't think we could alert all the attendees in time.

After two run-throughs of the ceremony, we adjourned, rounded up everyone who needed rides and headed to the Pasadena staple, Burger Continental, for the rehearsal dinner.

We arrived just as the live music and belly dancing began. Since this post is already unbelievably long, I will report on the rehearsal dinner and bachelorette fun separately.

In the beginning, there were pedicures

Short of posting the 4-page wedding week itinerary spreadsheet, I figure my only hope of recounting the wedding is to pick a chronological starting point.

Going with 4:00 pm July 20: mani/pedi appointments at Amadeus Spa. Enter Angela, Janet, ME, and JaneAnne. We filled up the 4 spa pedicure stations, sipped cool beverages, and had our respective technicians buff, file, and polish our nails.

Janet, who had her FIRST pedicure ever, already posted pics on her blog, DC Rush Hour (at right if the link doesn't work).
http://www.dcrushhour.blogspot.com/ The "nail art" on her big toe was homage to the running joke about butternut squash.

Thus beautified, we headed to Thai Dishes to meet Lee, the darling Poulsen girls, Brenda, Mike, and his oldest two kids for dinner. Mike was unable to rouse Brad (after he'd worked a double shift and gotten on an early flight to LA), so Nicole was the only Stevens offspring to make it to dinner. She sat next to Janet and they got talking about the time they'd each spent in Austria.

We devoured our Thai feast--coconut chicken soup, yellow & red curries, pad thai, spring rolls, and satay--and headed into Old Town proper for dessert. The mention of the local Leonidas chocolate shop was enough to get all the chocolate-lovers in the crowd moving. I SWEAR I said Leonidas was a few blocks away (maybe 5?) and Janet swears I said it was one block from the restaurant. You'd think I'd dragged everyone on Catalina Death March II, but once everyone got to the chocolate, the ire seemed to dissipate.

After chocolating ourselves, people started to peel off--Janet and Brenda to pick up sunglasses, Nicole to catch up on sleep back at the hotel, Lee & Angela to take the kids home, JaneAnne to take her pound of Leonidas (minus nibbles) back to Chez Stromberg. I dropped Mike off at the Sheraton and went home to get some shut-eye myself.

Babes in Heat

The WHOLE wedding rundown will eventually appear here. For now, please enjoy this photo of the bride and the largest assembly of Scary Feminists from Hell ever--six out of nine. Clockwise from left: Sylvia, Lara, JaneAnne, Robyn, Janet, and ME.

If we look especially glowy, it was due to the record high temperature of 112.5 degrees.

Karma & the fired photographer

Backstory: Wrote a polite letter to fire the photographer because three weeks before the wedding, they couldn't tell me which employees they were sending.

Also asked for my non-refundable deposit back.

Update: Today received polite letter from fired photography studio 1) thanking me for my candid letter, 2) expressing regret that my experience with them was not more positive, and 3) refunding half of my non-refundable deposit!

YAY!! I can SO find a way to spend the extra $200.

Now, if we can just finish up the items on the 4-page-long wedding itinerary and find a vintage car to take us from reception to hotel, we'll be ahead of the game!

We So Horny

The hats I mentioned in the previous post. By popular demand, they made an appearance at the last bridal shower (with church ladies & neighbors) and have been requested for an encore at the rehearsal dinner. My hat has daisies on the brim and horns, too, though they aren't as visible in this picture. My former colleagues are a creative bunch!

Why so silent?

Probably has something to do with the wedding being 8 days away and me having almost literally a million errands and details to take care of.

It's late, so I'll be brief:

--Work colleagues threw a lovely luncheon/send-off, complete with good food, good company and live entertainment. (My successor led everyone in singing "Deep in the Heart of Texas" with lyrics re-written to be about my life and the changes ahead). Oh, and there were HATS. Will post photo separately since Blogger mucks up the spacing.

--Last day at work was also my birthday, which took a back seat to all the other preparations. Mike took me out for Thai food and surprised me with Martinelli's, lovely gifts and a movie. Saturday night, we enjoyed a salmon dinner at Lee & Angela's. Got to play with the kids and see Chris, Kirsten & Skye, who stopped by too. We also worked on putting the wedding ceremony program together, though our information was (and is [grr!]) incomplete.

--On the way home, I had what will probably be remembered as wedding meltdown #2, during which I raged loudly about how I can't cross an incomplete task off my list. Even though we made progress on the program, I was unsatisfied believe my exact words were, "If it's not 100% done, then it's NOT DONE!"

--Mike quoted my meltdown moment during birthday dinner with mom, dad, brother John and Christina Sunday night. When HE said it, it sounded so unreasonable...

--Alas, one of my cousins won't be making it to the wedding. I made the unfortunate mistake of scheduling our wedding one week before his employer, Kurt Bush the NASCAR driver, is getting married. (Could have been worse; think of the poor brides scheduled against Star Jones' product placement wedding).

--Got an interestingly timed email from an estranged friend, inquiring about how I'm doing. I invited her parents to the reception so I suspect she's heard about the wedding from them. I agonized over whether to invite her, but ultimately decided against. She'd been critical of me and Mike from the start; not the vibe I want at the wedding. Asking "how are you?" isn't enough of an olive branch after a year's worth of nastiness.

--Gave a talk in church Sunday re: my time in the Pasadena Ward and what I've learned from being a part of it. Gave context--where I was when I came into the ward, my "spiritual growth spurt" while I've been there, and where I'm going. Discussed my top 5 demonstrations of Christ's teaching enacted/embodied by people in the ward. The bishopric guy wisely scheduled me as the final speaker. Had some weird hissing/feedback from the microphone at the start of my talk--even after they turned it all the way off. Got a lot of positive comments afterward on my remarks and for handling the technical difficulties so well.

--I hereby repent of my past transgressions of not RSVPing to other people's weddings. I guess I should have seen that coming, eh karma?

Will try to write more leading up to the Big Day, but make no promises. Must. Sleep. Now.

Let the waterworks begin!

Aaron, the guapo recycle guy, stopped in my office today to say goodbye. He mock-tearfully said "You'll always be the one who got away," referring to his mistimed attempt to ask me out after he stopped dating a friend of mine. (I declined because I wanted to stay friends with her). Soon enough, he recovered enough to marry someone else and continued to tease me about my love life.

On his way out, Aaron saw Jose, the young, friendly guy who used to empty the trash in our building. A while ago, they put the housekeeping staff on night shift, so I didn't see Jose very often. Aaron told him I was leaving, so Jose came up to say goodbye as well.

And dammit, I got all misty after Jose left. Not because we were the closest friends, but because of all the cumulative pleasantness and goodwill I've felt from the people here, whether they've been on my team or just said Hi when they've emptied my trash can.

I got a call from our section secretary today. She's out on medical leave and won't be back before I leave. She'd heard the good news (and she LOVED Mike when I brought him to work last year) and wanted to wish us well. I did likewise and hope she continues to kick cancer's ass.

I said goodbye to Wesley last week, who was one of my favorite security guards. I wanted to do the same with Larry, who's also stationed at the East Gate and has a ready smile and greeting for me each morning. Alas, I think Larry's on vacation or has rotated to a different gate; I haven't seen him this week. There are a couple of other guys from transportation and the mail room that I haven't seen to say goodbye to, either. Makes it feel unfinished.

I don't think it will REALLY sink in until Monday that I no longer work here. But I'm sure my preliminary waterworks today are a mild precursor to the weepy mess I suspect I'll be at tomorrow's goodbye luncheon.

Crab Hat

I would be remiss if I did not mention some of the Other Things that happened over the weekend.

First, let me explain the crab hat. Many years ago, my friends Diana & Scott gave me a baseball cap with a red-orange crab embroidered on it. It refers to my astrological sign, Cancer, and also serves as an early warning system if I happen to be in a crabby mood.

The crab hat would have been apt a couple of times this weekend. On the drive down to Lake Elsinore, for example. I asked Mike to drive so I could relax. Instead, I stayed mostly awake to help navigate the 4 different freeways it took to get there and to criticize his driving. You can imagine how well that went over.

Mike asked whether it would stress me out more to have him drive my car than it would if I did the driving myself. Well, yes. But I was pooped from getting a touch too much sun on Saturday and from my woozy spell earlier that day in Target.

Plus, after having a few "commuter" relationships in LA/OC and an alcoholic boyfriend whom I ALWAYS had to drive around, sometimes I want to NOT DRIVE. The rest of the time, I would rather drive so I can be in control of my circumstances.

So I ragged on Mike's driving and he kept explaining why I shouldn't feel worried. And even though I complained, I still wanted him to drive home (even after his mission buddy asked him if he was still driving the way he did in Argentina, which I interpreted as driving crazy. Like someone would be notorious for good driving?). We talked through it, translating what I said/what he heard and did a round of apologizing.

The crab hat also would have been appropriate for the Tuesday afternoon marathon on pre-wedding finances. After some agitation, two Advil and some incoherent mumbling, that all sorted out fine, too.

Tuesday night we saw The Breakup. The fight scenes/dialogue covered different subjects, but were strangely reminiscent of the driving discussions we'd just had. The film was more like a case study than a romantic comedy overall.

Maybe we would have been better off seeing Nacho Libre. I like campy fun, odd characters, and oblique references to Mormons as much as the next gal, but I wasn't rushing to see another Jared Hess flick. Napoleon Dynamite just didn't do it for me.

Takin' care of business

Mike's in town! I picked him up Sunday morning at LAX and we stopped for brunch at Tito's Tacos, one of my favorite places to eat when I'm out that way. Dad brought me chips, salsa, and half a burrito from Tito's last week, but it wasn't enough. Mike and I pigged out and took Dad a burrito. Good food karma.

Since we were on the westside, we tried to meet up with our officiant. Since I didn't have Mark's phone number on me, I had to call Angela for it. I did catch Marianne who said Mark was in meetings/unavailable that day. We talked later and made plans to get together this weekend to go over the ceremony.

We also met with the new photographer Monday morning. She's a peach! We walked her around the yard and explained the set up and she's excited to take pictures there. We're getting color, black & white and some sepia prints, which I think will look extra bitchen with the vintage dress and the garden setting.

We also picked up my new glasses and stopped by Target where I had a moment of sudden onset physical ickiness. Usually, I know enough to get off my feet, but we had so much to do, I would have kept soldiering on had Mike not insisted I go sit down.

After a V-8 fruit infusion and some down time in the Target cafe, we headed out for the rest of the errands. Stopped for lunch at Gerlach's Grill, a cook shack attached to a liquor/convenience store in Pasadena. They had a stunning array of fresh fish, Mexican and Mediterranean food. I had salmon and Mike had their asada tacos. We headed over to the South Pasadena Library block and spread out a blanket in the shade to eat.

Then off to the Alhambra Market for carne asada & fixings. We were going to Lake Elsinore to BBQ with an old mission buddy of Mike's. They've had some similar experiences since their missions in Argentina--divorces they weren't expecting, being single again, being single fathers of teenage kids. I'm glad Matt and Mike are back in touch. Matt was the best man at Mike's other wedding and he said he'll be able to attend ours, too!

Trading in the Portia

No status updates from the original photographer (72 hours and counting) or return call from the niece/photographer, so I'm on to Plan C.

I contacted Margaret Sison, who photographed our neighbor's son's wedding. Her work is amazing and she was available July 22! We're meeting Monday to have her scout the location, discuss what we'd like, and finalize other details. She's been amazingly responsive--unlike the photogs I fired.

I called the original studio last night to get their fax number. When they called back this morning, the clerk cheerfully informed me that their founding photographer would be coming to my event! I said the letter I was about to fax to you cancels our contract. I couldn't move forward with so many questions left unanswered (until JUST NOW!) and I'd booked someone else.

She didn't say much to that. I faxed the letter and sent another copy registered mail to their office. I even asked them to return my non-refundable deposit as a gesture of goodwill.

The last time I asked for a perk, I got it--free desserts when we were asked to move to a different table! Don't ask, don't get, right? We'll see what they do. As far as I know, holding the wedding date was the only service they rendered. And I could really use the cash to pay my new, reliable photographer!

Bad parenting is like pornography

You know it when you see it. Or hear it, as in last night's case.

Our next-door neighbors--the ones who built the god-awful cinderblock wall down the center of the shared driveway--have a daughter who's about 7 or 8 years old.

As I was turning in after an inordinately stressful day, I hear the daughter screaming and her dad yelling back that now she would know the difference between the parent and the child. (I can't imagine what led up to this declaration).

Neighbor dad's preferred method of discipline is to put his screaming daughter in the car, parked on the shared driveway. This is maybe 15 feet away from my open bedroom window.

Thus confined, the child's screaming and crying and the dad's yelling continued, punctuated occasionally by the car's horn. All this at 11:00 pm. The hubbub continued for about 40 minutes.

It was clear I wasn't going to get any shut-eye while this was going on. It's the kind of thing you can't help but eavesdrop on because it's loud and RIGHT THERE and you hope it will go away before it becomes necessary to call the authorities.

I told mom about the commotion and she said the kid is a terror and the shouting matches/disciplinary action used to be much worse. The kid's a home-grown terrorist, apparently, and the dad has some decidedly odd notions of how to handle it. (Same guy who thought two cement horse heads would make his cinderblock wall look classy).

Commenting on other peoples' parenting skills is always a little sketchy--especially when a single, childless person like myself is providing the critique. But deprive an already stressed out bride from her precious sleep, well, prepare to be skewered. And if you insist on using poor technique, at least try to be a little quieter.

Expletive, expletive, expletive

Alas, the photographers did not call back within 24 hours to tell me who's coming to shoot the wedding. This doesn't exactly inspire confidence.

I called and left a message for Mike's niece, who I thought was a strong candidate for a backup only to find out later while talking to Mike that she isn't as much of a sure thing as I had thought. He talked mainly to his sister about the niece doing photography and that was several months ago.

Now I'm on full court press to find another photographer 3 weeks before the wedding. I'm sure you can imagine how I feel about that.

Quiz: bridal hair

How many bobby pins did it take to anchor this 'do? Go on, give it your best guess.

Stupid Blogger inserted 3 copies of the same picture. Had to edit the html to get rid of them. Still does the goofy, uncontrollable layout thing.

Our Lady of Perpetual Updates

Because the 3 other posts didn't capture all of the new news, here's more.

• Brother John dislocated his knee during jujitsu. The self-proclaimed Flower Boy will likely be on crutches at the wedding. Hey, maybe we can get the florist to decorate them!
• Wish the pants were traveling: Lands End emailed to let me know Janet's back ordered groomsperson pants are going to be on back order until 7/10! YIKES. I called and ordered another pair; we'll find out Friday whether these are actually available.
• The photographers did call back and are scrambling to keep my business. Will let us know by tomorrow who's shooting the wedding and will email samples of their work for me to OK. Said they'd give me a videographer for half price.
• My departure was announced at work during a staff meeting. The news was met by some gasps, a few questions after the meeting, and a smattering of apathy. Could be folks were more interested in the cake brought in for the section manager's birthday.
• Co-worker Cindy got the news this morning and did not rush to congratulate me as our supervisor predicted she would.
• My phone at work is suddenly on the fritz. It rings, but there's no dial tone and when I try to pick up a call, it won't connect me to the caller.

Thanks, Craig!

I just logged onto craigslist.com and saw that USA listings are now organized by state (formerly by big cities/metro areas).

For kicks, I clicked on Texas and found--to my GREAT delight--a new Craigslist entry for McAllen/Edinburg! Can't find words for how excited I am to have CL serve my new hometown.

So what if there are only 36 job postings and 3 rants and raves so far? It's a start. And the Rio Grande Valley Girl is READY.

Scheduling Conflict

The folks from my home ward are beyond excited about the wedding. However, there is something of a scheduling conflict brewing.

The Rosemead Ward merged with/became the Temple City Ward a while back and Our Way of doing things is different than their Way.

In Rosemead, Pioneer Day celebration was always scheduled for the Monday night closest to July 24. In ward council meeting, this was shot down by a by-the-book guy from the Temple City population--we can't do that, against the rules to have ANY church activity on a Monday night, etc. The compromise: have the ward Pioneer Day picnic on July 15 instead.

Well, in last Sunday's ward bulletin, the Pioneer Day picnic is now scheduled for high noon on July 22--the same day as the wedding. It's also the last night of the Stake Play, which should have trumped scheduling of any ward activities if you're going By The Book.

About half of activities committee is coming to the wedding on July 22, including the guy who was supposed to cook for the ward picnic. Other committee members made other plans for the 22nd because the activity was scheduled for the 15th.

Of course, the whole mess could be alleviated if Bro. Rulebook had been a wee bit flexible on having the Pioneer Day picnic in lieu of family Home Evening. Instead, there's a ward activity the same day as the stake play (which Bro. Rulebook is directing; I wonder if he'll knock himself out going to both activities?)

Anyway, the folks who RSVPd are coming to the wedding--they've waited too long to miss this blessed event. But oh what a stir it's caused at the ward!

Pulling a Donald?

So, we're 4 weeks out from the wedding and I may have to fire the photographers.

The photos on their website and marketing CD were phenomenal--better than the other vendors I'd interviewed AND in my price range, even with the cost of flying two photographers in from Utah.

Ever since I put down the deposit, I've been asking them two questions: 1) Which 2 of your 6 photographers are shooting my wedding? and 2) Will you send me some samples of their work?

I did finally get a CD of photos from a wedding the company did in Laguna Beach. However, the quality of the work was significantly less impressive. As in I wouldn't have put down a deposit had I seen these photos first. When I asked, they can't tell me WHO took them, but yeah, those are the photogs they're sending July 22. As Spock would say, "That is illogical."

At this point, I'd rather be out a $400 deposit than be disappointed in the quality of the wedding photos. Even though I've left two messages with this outfit, they have yet to call me back to 1) make a stunning 9th inning play to keep my business or 2) give me answers to the two questions I've already asked. At minimum, they need to tell me who they're sending and if they're sending the takers of the lackluster Laguna Beach pictures, then I'm not interested.

We do have a backup: Mike's niece was just hired on at a well-known photography studio in SLC (the one that takes pics of Governors and General Authorities) and she'll be at the wedding. Otherwise, I'd be a wreck.

I do have the "emergency" number for the photographers. I'll give them another day before I start calling that number to ask whether they would consider a client about to pull the plug on a job an "emergency."

High Praise

In spite of my impending departure, Human Resources insisted my supervisor perform my annual review.

After getting dinged for being "verbose" in my last review (and because I knew I was leaving), I was quite succinct in describing my accomplishments and work during the past year.

Supervisor agreed I've had a great year, not only mastering closeout procedures but also juggling my active tasks and supporting my internal customers. And no one gets the final deliverables like I do! I am the Goddess of Final Deliverables!

She said I've set some high standards for whoever takes over. (She's got that right). My RAs love working with me and one even said "Mary Ellen is a value to me that is beyond measure" and gushed about me to my supervisor at a meeting a few months ago. And this from one of my "low maintenance" RAs.

It's nice to know my customers appreciate my work--to the point that they rave about me to others.

Just when I'm kicking butt at everything, it's time to go off on other new adventures. Makes it a bittersweet departure.

I wanted to leave on a high note--and I am. And I've got the documentation to prove it. :)

Judging Ito

Another minor celebrity sighting! I saw Judge Lance Ito--who became a household name thanks to the O.J. Simpson trial and Jay Leno--at Macy's in Pasadena.

And while standing at the Origins counter, I saw a familiar-looking guy get off the elevator. We looked at each other, looked away, then looked again. So I said, "Hey, did you go to San Gabriel High School?" Turns out he had, class of 1987.

I'm guessing this sort of thing won't happen so often in Texas.

I Noticed You...

The deed is done!

I had the verbal conversation with my supervisor to inform her I was giving notice. She let out a loud "WHAT!?" and I filled her in on the particulars--everything's fallen into place the past few weeks to do the wedding this summer and have the kids be there, etc.

She wanted to know if I'd be moving (yes--Mike's best offer was in Texas) and asked if he'd gotten a house. Yes, with mature citrus trees; she's an AVID gardener, so this tickled her. Blank canvas, she said gleefully.

We chatted a bit about the politics of Mormon weddings, as she'd been a maid of honor for a Mormon friend and had to stand outside the temple with bride's younger sisters.

She was genuinely happy for me, even with the impact it means to her work life. I said I was sensitive to the impact my departure will have and felt it was my responsibility to soften the impact as much as I can. She'll have to confer with the other managers before deciding who gets my active tasks, but it looks like that will be Cindy. Once that's definite, I'll start contacting my customers. I've taken good care of them, so I'm sure they'll miss me!

Yvonne warned me that she intends to tease me about being a "short-timer" for the next two weeks. In the meantime, I have a lot of work to do!

Flocking to the Theater

Mom invited me to join the church ladies for their ritual Hen Night at the Movies. The drill: meet at Panda Express at 6:00 pm for dinner (arrive earlier to score the padded seats) and head to the 7:00 pm show.

Last night's selection was, of course, The Lake House with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. I like Keanu; he was completely charming in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and for this reason I'm willing to overlook his funny, pigeon-toed run and his wooden delivery.

I didn't have high expectations; I'd read a review beforehand. But still: what a stinker! There was the convoluted premise--would-be soulmates living two years apart communicating through a magic mailbox--which required more than the usual amount of suspended disbelief.

And dear Keanu was more wooden than usual (who'd have thought that possible). Other characters fared better with the clunky material, but not by much.

Unfortunately, the twist at the end puzzled the church ladies and we wandered out of the theater attempting to decipher what exactly happened during the last 10 minutes of the film.

Think of the twist in The Sixth Sense and imagine if that had been attempted by a less skilled group pf people, say a junior high drama club. That's the level of headscratching it inspired among the church ladies. And since I was "young," they kept trying to make me explain the ending to them. As if, in the midst of wedding planning, I had the mental capacity to do so.

First rule of chick flicks: don't confuse the flock.

Not Enough RAM

So. Many. Wedding. Details. I have to write every thought down, otherwise it escapes, never to resurface.

I know pregnant women get forgetful, but no one mentioned this happens when you're planning a wedding, too.

Yesterday, I forgot my work badge. Didn't occur to me I didn't have it on until I after I'd parked my car. Later in the day, I remembered the badge was in my purse; I'd hauled it around with me in case I needed to go to the office over the weekend but I forgot to go.

This morning, I forgot to apply deodorant. Not so good when it will be in the 90s today. Fortunately, I keep a stick in my desk drawer for just such emergencies.

Still, I don't like being perpetually scattered. Is this how flaky people feel all the time?

Accessories

Went to Father's Day bunch with the familia yesterday. Asked brother John if he would mind being an usher for the ceremony. He agreed--and, as an added bonus, offered to be Flower Boy. I already have a flower girl lined up, but in case she gets shy, it's nice to have a 6-foot-tall man as backup.

When we got home, I changed clothes and decided to try on the hat & veil mom bought for me. It matched the dress color perfectly and had a 50s vibe, which was why we snapped it up. The veil does come off the hat, but it dawned on me that I'll probably have to wear the hat the whole time--something I had not considered. Hoping it's not like graduation--having to move carefully so the mortarboard won't skid off my head.

I go for the hair and makeup trial next Saturday, so I'll get at least one trial run with the updo, hat and veil.

Also considering the purchase of paper fans for guests. Had thought about doing an elaborate, multi-paneled program/fan, but mom lobbied for something simpler. I also bought tissue paper to try making a Martha Stewart pom pom flower; if it goes well, I may make more. In my spare time, ha ha.

My first babysitter has signed on to be our event coordinator on the wedding day! Mom, Christine and I went to the site and mapped out the ceremony setup--who stands where and how they get there, etc. There will now be an aisle runner involved and some other details that hadn't occurred to us so far. Now debating when to have the cake delivered so the chocolate mousse won't melt in the July heat...

Psych!

Over the weekend it occurred to me to give notice today, Monday. That way, I wouldn't have the Albatross around my neck until Friday.

A Monday disclosure would also lend itself to the semi-fiction that things have fallen into place to have the wedding this summer and that I wanted to let my supervisor know so we could train whoever will take over my active tasks.

I dressed up, arrived early, psyched myself up with a few breathing exercises in my office, and headed down the hall to supervisor's office.

She wasn't there.

Now my stomach is in knots. Do I go through with it today? Argh!

What good is a fabulous haircut

if nobody notices?

David the Hair God took about 4 inches off yesterday and layered the hell out of what was left. So far, no one at the office has noticed.

That's not entirely true. Yesterday (pre-haircut), the recycle guy noticed I haven't colored my hair lately and even weighed in on the shade he liked the best. Darker brown, not the vivid reds. And one of our computer techs noticed I'd had my eyebrows waxed the ONE time I did that.

The hair is just a bit past my shoulders now. This morning I put in a couple of Velcro rollers while I made breakfast and gave it a little blast with the blow dryer on cool and that was it. Done.

I could talk about hair for hours.

Unhappy Father's Day

My mom just called to tell me Dad's laptop was stolen from his office. He left the office door unlocked and someone took it between 11:00 pm last night and 11:00 this morning. I guess I'll be locking my car at night from now on...

It's doubly oooky because Dad's office is behind our garage and the door is not visible from the street or even from the front of the garage. You have to be intimately involved with our backyard to see the office at all and you can't see into the office because of all the crapola Dad has covering the window inside and out.

This opens up the possibility that someone from the neighborhood did the deed. Who else would have any idea it was there, let alone be aware of its contents?

It was a new laptop and it had years' worth of family history, family photos, and other research/hobby information stored in it. Dad transferred some of his from his old desktop, but there are some files/info he won't be able to replace. Mom called me and was going to call the police.

We're fortunate: no one was hurt. It's just stuff. But I LIKE my stuff. I'll admit it. I have THINGS that I'm quite attached to. I don't want someone taking my stuff, especially something as personal as family history. I hope karma bites the thief in the ass.

And I'm projecting a bit: If I lost MY laptop with the wedding spreadsheet with all the addresses and RSVPs and the wedding budget, I'd be screwed.

Of course, this simplifies what to get Dad for Father's Day...