#38: The 1,200 Miles of Christmas

Note to self: When you find yourself getting all teary-eyed while listening to "Under the Sea" from the Little Mermaid because it reminds you of when your best friend and you used to pretend your Barbies were mermaids and then you remember how beautiful and grown-up she looked during her first dance at her wedding, and then you think about your wedding and how amazing it will be when you hear the steel drums playing in Jamaica on your honeymoon, and oh my God, you're so in love with Sir and suddenly you're crying while listenting to a Disney song and not even a sad one. When that happens, self? It might be time to hit the Midol bottle. Hard.

Hi! Happy New Year! Hopefully you and yours enjoyed time together, decked the halls, found peace on Earth, blah, blah, blah. Sir and I drove 1,200 miles round trip to see my BFF (all of my younger relatives are rolling their eyes - "Gawd. How old is she? That is SO five years ago.") (Hush yer traps youngins.) tie the knot with her very own Jewish doctor. We should all be as lucky as she. I adore my Sir but free medical care for better or worse, richer or poorer? Sign me up! Of course The Bride did mention that when you're married to a doctor, his family also likes to take advantage of his medical knowledge, so you become privy to intimate information regarding your in-laws' bodily functions. Intimate information. Of your in-laws. Bodily. Functions. Ew. And again, ew.

One of the fun things about being there was seeing The Bride's family, who became a second family to me while I was growing up. It's always nice to hear someone else's father refer to you as their second daughter. And I got to meet my quasi-nephew (The Bride's nephew) for the very first time. He was very cute and clearly much more interested in his grandfather's glasses than me. I also got to see the Bride's grandmother again. I hadn't visited with her since The Bride's Bat Mitzvah, oh... about 13 years ago. Jared and I had just checked into the hotel after a very long and slightly tense drive. ( Remember " 'IF YOU WANT TO FIGURE IT OUT THEN BE MY GUEST SINCE I'M OBVIOUSLY CRAP AT DOING THIS JOB!' I screamed and chucked the map directly at his head." Yeah. Like that.) I had crazy-woman hair, Sir was to the point where the absolute last thing he wanted to do was talk to anybody and we had just had an argument about whether or not to valet the car. We stood silently waiting for the elevator when a group of 3 women and an older gentleman joined us in the queue. They looked familiar, but I was too tired to place them. "We recognize that bag," one of the ladies said, pointing at the welcome bag The Bride had put together for guests. "How are you related to the wedding party?"

"Oh I've known The Bride since we were very little," I said.

The older woman's eyes started to gleam. She clasped her hands together at her chest and looked up at my face. "What's your name?" She gasped, like she already knew the answer.

I slowly revealed it, trying to figure out if I knew this woman or not.

She gave a little shriek when she heard my name, threw her arms open wide and said, "H! I'M GRANDMA!!!"

Oh yes. Now I remember. The Bride's paternal grandmother. I smiled the most enthusiastic smile I could muster and returned the hug. The elevator doors opened to Sir's and my floor and I told Grandma it was good to see her and that we'd catch up the next day. I thought she was going to follow me off the elevator when one of her daughters (The Bride's aunt) pulled her back in and said "Tomorrow Ma!"

The wedding was lovely. I have to admit that watching the girl who has been a sister to me longer than my actual sister, who owned and shared with me more Barbie stuff than I still have ever seen in my entire life, walk down the aisle all grown up and shit made me feel a few very strong emotions. 1) Nostalgia. I suddenly remembered how she used to suck her pointer and middle fingers and how weird that was because I thought everyone sucked their thumb, like me. And how her mom used to fix us Ritz crackers with tuna salad on top and bring them to us while we played in the play room. I can also remember exactly what her bedroom in Minnesota smelled like - like baby powder and Cabbage Patch Kids and... her, I guess. I remember when her family moved to Florida and we got a set of her pink flannel sheets and I used to snuggle into them and think I could still smell her house. 2) Very old. Holy crap when did we all get old enough to get married and start families? 3) Panicked. I'm next. I'm officially the next and one of the very last of my friends to get married and I STILL DO NOT HAVE AN OFFICIANT OR INVITATIONS OR ANYTHING!!!

I calmed down at the reception (the open bar helped) and reveled in the fact the my BFF, The Bride looked absolutely radiant. Congrats to you. LYLAS.

The wedding was the day before Christmas Eve. While I would have loved to stay and visit with The Bride's family, the idea of spending Christmas in a place that decorates their frickin' palm trees with Christmas lights just seemed wrong. I mean it's bad enough that North Carolina probably wouldn't get any snow for Christmas, but palm trees with Christmas lights is just intrinsically wrong. So Christmas Eve, Sir, Oakley and I drove home. Yes, we had the puppy-dog with us. He's a good car rider so it wasn't bad. He did try to keep nosing his way into Sir's lap by way of my head and shoulders though. This proves my hypothesis that Oakley views Daddy as the favorite and Mommy as "No!" I've already informed Sir that if our relationship ever goes south, he gets full Oakley custody. Ungrateful dog probably wouldn't even notice I was gone.

Christmas and New Year's were quiet for us. We sat around in our PJs a lot, watched movies and took funny pictures of the pup.

Oakley hopes you had Happy F***ing Holidays.















"Haaaaaaates Mama."

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#34: Ocean-side

You know what day it was a few Saturdays ago? It was OCEAN DAY!!!! For the first time in three years, I got to go see the ocean. It was the number one thing I had wanted to do since moving here. (Besides be with Sir blah, blah, blah.)

We had to get up at 6:30 on a weekend to do it, but, all-in-all? TOTALLY WORTH IT. Even so, I was dragging my ass as we packed up the car. We had decided just to go out to the beach for one day, but there was still a lot of crap to remember to take: sunblock, sandals, towels, something to change into after the beach, extra make-up to touch up the spots the humidity would inevitably melt away, water, etc., etc. We managed to pack my poor little Jetta full and still had to turn around three times for things we forgot.

From here to the beach, it's between a two and three hour drive. I excitedly babbled the whole way, incessantly asking, "Where's the ocean?" "I want to see the ocean!" and "Are we there yet?" Sir found my excitement very cute (because I am, duh, incredibly adorable) for the first 30 minutes or so. Then he got plenty of practice rolling his eyes at me. (Just wait until we have kids, my darling. Bwahahaha.)

We hit some traffic as we neared the island where the beach was. A gigantic draw bridge was letting some huge barges through. It was incredibly frustrating to me to be stuck, in a car, sooooooo close to the ocean that I could smell it, but still not be able to see any water. Plus it was about 95 degrees outside and 110% humidity and Sir had all the windows down. And it was noon and I hadn't eaten lunch yet.

We waited at that bridge for so long that the carload of people in front of us found time to get out of their cars, walk up to the bridge and watch the boats pass.

Now some people might tell you that at this point I began to get a little cranky. But I tell you that all I wanted was to get to see the ocean. And maybe get a hit or two of the air conditioner. And eat. But that's it.

We finally got to cross the bridge over the cape to the little beach island. We drove from one end to the other, with about 3,000 other wanna-be beach visitors, looking for a decent parking spot, and then any parking spot, and finally some place where Sir could just push me from the moving car onto the beach so I could just see the DAMNED OCEAN ALREADY AND STOP WHINING!

After driving around and around the five streets of the island, we decided that maybe this beach wasn't for us, and I decided that eating had suddenly become my top priority. We wanted to check out the historic district of downtown Wilmington, because supposedly it was really quaint. Though right at that very moment, hot and hungry and extremely frustrated with the lack of ocean-seeing this trip had so far produced, I could have cared less about how historic or quaint anything was as long as someone got food into my belly.

The maps we had of the area weren't great. Only one of them had the historic area marked, but we couldn't figure out where here was, much less how to get there. Under normal circumstances, I think Sir would tell you that I am an above-average navigator. However, at that moment, I was too busy growling and sweating and being agitated to really give a shit about where he was going.

We went down one road for two or three miles and when I didn't recognize where we were on the map, I made him turn around. We went in the other direction for two or three miles and realized that the road was going to take us back onto the island. We turned around again and headed down a different road, only to end up going in a large circle. It was nearing 1:30, I hadn't eaten, it was so hot my butt was sweating, and I HAD NOT SEEN THE OCEAN YET. I told Sir to take this next turn, and we ended up on a road we had already driven down. Twice.

"Where exactly are we going?" He asked, frustrated.

"IF YOU WANT TO FIGURE IT OUT THEN BE MY GUEST SINCE I'M OBVIOUSLY CRAP AT DOING THIS JOB!" I screamed and chucked the map directly at his head.

We rode in silence for a long time.

Sir just drove, taking random turns this direction and that. The force was strong within him, because as I pouted and looked out the window, I started seeing signs for "Historic Downtown." I gathered all of the civility that was left in my starved, melting body and quietly pointed out the signs. We followed them and, about 10 minutes later, were driving through the cutest east-coast downtown I have seen to date.

The old brick buildings looked like there were from the late 1800's and some of the streets still had cobblestones. There were old music shops, florists, and dozens of original clothing shops. We parked the car and walked along the street that ran right up against the water of Cape Fear. All the shops had widow boxes and flowering trees and plants sitting outside and there was a nice breeze next to the water.

The longer I was out of the car, the more I could feel myself unclenching. We found a steak and seafood restaurant on the waterfront and managed to get one of their tables on a private balcony. It was still hot outside, but how often do you get the chance to sit on your own private balcony? Plus, the waiter was pretty good about keeping our water and soda glasses full.

We ate a leisurely, light lunch and listened to the jazz music drift our way from a festival across the cape. We walked around the boardwalk and decided we would head south to a different beach instead of going back to the tiny little island we had been to before. This turned out to be the best decision we had made all day.

After being well-fed and convincing Sir to turn the A/C on in the car, I was feeling much more amiable. Sir and I were back to our cuddly, loving-on-each other selves (Ew! Gagg! Gross!) and now I had just one more mission to complete for the day. The beach.

We rolled into the town of Carolina Beach around 3pm and found ourselves a parking lot. As I tried to figure out how to change into my swimsuit without having to touch anything in the grimy public restroom, a man offered Sir his parking ticket, which was good until the next day. Score! Free parking!

We flip-flopped up the boardwalk and the roar of the waves banished any more remaining banshees from my insides.

The beach was amazing. White sand, plenty of room for us to spread out and relax. It was still hotter than sin, but a nice breeze managed to rouse itself every time you felt you were about to spontaneously combust. Even the ocean water, once a wave or two smacked you in the face, was warm enough to enjoy.

We stayed on the beach, swimming, sunning and building sand castles, until the sun started to set, then reluctantly shuffled our way back to the car, picking up seashells on the way.

After deciding to leave a snooty-ass Italian restaurant after they chided us for being dressed like we had (shocker!!) just come in from the beach (even though we had changed, me into my sundress, Sir into shorts and a tank top), found a seafood restaurant called Big Daddy's where our attire was deemed appropriate. There wasn't really anything special about this place - it had screaming children, mediocre food and service - but the name still makes me crack up, so I figured it was worth mentioning.

After dinner we went to the local movie theater and saw Cars and drove home. The salt from the seawater made my skin tight and itchy, I wasn't sure I was ever going to get a comb through my hair again and every time I licked my lips, I tasted salty - but, settled into the car, on the way home to my own bed, I was so pleased to just... be. The ocean was only a car ride away. I had seen it with my own two eyes, played in the water with Sir... and we could go every single weekend if we wanted to! Un-freaking-believable. I felt so lucky in that moment to be where I was. I looked over at Sir n the driver's seat, and promptly nodded off.

Per. Fect.

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#19: How the other half lives

I've seen how the other half lives and I like it.

The other half being people who actually have money after they pay bills. These were Sir's sister and her friends with whom Sir and I gallivanted about Chicago a few weekends ago.

We left at about 2pm on Friday, which, of course, meant I didn't go to work. Instead I went to Sir's apartment, sat around in my pajamas and played on his computer. He is a better person than I and did go to work, but I think he was jealous of my superior decision of how to spend the morning and snuck out of work at noon. In the excitement of actually leaving Minnesota for awhile, I forgot to grab the puppy toys we had bought for Sir's sister's new puppy (so cute!). Which reminds me, I should probably send those...

The driving weather was excellent and I wished again that the Mustang was a convertible.

Did you all know that there are BUFFALO in Wisconsin? They were grazing right next to the highway! I was tempted to break out into a rendition of "Home on the Range" (complete with banjo and harmonica accompaniment) but resisted. I didn't want to get kicked out of the car that early into the trip.

When we finally made it close to Chicago, Sir called his sister to get more specific directions to the apartment at which we were staying. Sister Sir is a master multi-tasker. The first time Sir called her, she was getting into a cab and, while Sir was trying to get directions from her, struck up a conversation with the cabbie. Sir handed to phone to me after a few minutes and as soon as I pressed my ear to it, I could hear Sister Sir and the cabbie debating about the best exit for us to take off the highway. While it was nice for her to go the extra mile and ask outside sources to help us get to her boyfriend's apartment, it would have been extra special nice of her to actually include Sir or I in the conversation. After about 10 minutes, she finally narrowed it down to two exits and told us to call her when we got closer.

When we got closer Sir called her again. This time she was getting her nails done and had the nail technician holding the phone to her head. We got one more turn out of her before she was on the move again and told us to call her back.

Seven or eight phone calls and two wrong turns later, we finally arrived at Sister Sir's boyfriend's apartment. It was AMAZING. He's a chiropractor and apparently very good at it. The views from the apartment itself floored me. There was an entire wall made mostly of windows.

We didn't have much time to ogle, though. Sister Sir and The Dr. whisked us out for appetizer and drinks at a ritzy restaurant downtown. I ate fish in a cone! (Sorry I don't have a picture of that one.) It was tuna puree in a crepe that was folded like an ice cream cone. Normally, just the sight of something like that would turn me off from eating it but it was 10:00pm and we hadn't eaten dinner. I figured, what the hell, I'll try something new. So I tried. And it was good.

After we finally flagged down our horribly inattentive waitress, the four of us went upstairs to a place called "The Ghost Bar." The lighting was very dim and bluish and while popular dance-club music pumped from the speakers, photos of people dressed in clothes from the 1800s were reflected onto the walls. The most interesting thing was that the photos wafted in a slight breeze, so they almost did look like ghosts.

Sir and I were so dead-tired (get it? Ghost Bar...dead tired? Rim shot please!) that The Dr. gave us his keys and we took a cab back to the apartment to go to sleep.

I slept on a sofa bed that easily cost $8,000. I don't think my entire apartment full of furniture is worth that much.

The next day, after spending approximately 6 hours on my hair (according to Sir anyway...), we were off to wander around downtown Chicago and eventually work our way to Michigan Avenue to buy The Dr. a new shirt.

We ate Chicago-style pizza for lunch on a patio while across the street a street-musician played his saxophone. The weather was so gorgeous! It was sunny and mild and warm - perfect wandering weather.

Sister Sir and The Dr. bought the shirt they were looking for and we ate desert at Ghiridelli's (mmmmm chocolate) before heading back to the apartment to take naps. Napping is necessary for Chicago night life. The bars there don't close until around 5am and no one goes out for dinner until 10pm.

Around 9 we all started rousing ourselves and getting dressed (I'm sorry, I just have to say, how hot is my boyfriend?). I changed outfits a couple of times. How do you know what to wear if you don't know where you're going?

First we went to a huge bar with a couple of pool tables for dinner and drinks. They had a great martini that was kind of like a cosmopolitan but it had fresh strawberry juice instead of cranberry juice. It was sooo good. But very, very expensive. I only had two. (I swear!) I also tried sweet potato fries for the first time and they are delicious! I'm liking this whole "try new foods" thing. It has treated me well!

Sir and The Dr. played pool for awhile as Sister Sir and I had chatted about all sorts of girly things.

After we were sufficiently filled to the brim, we went to another club. There was a line down the sidewalk to get into this one, but The Dr. walked right up to the bouncer and began chatting. Less than a minute later, the four of us were walking through the palm trees that blocked off the entrance as the long line of (jealous) people watched. Turns out The Dr. worked out at the same gym as the bouncer. I talk about "having people" but The Dr. actually has people!

The club was sort of mid-eastern style, with big palms and ferns. The tables were all low to the ground and many of the walls were covered floor to ceiling with mirrors. Sister Sir said that she had met Nicholas Cage there and had also taken shots with Kid Rock in the kitchen one time. We didn't see anyone famous there but who knows? We could have been dancing right next to a celebrity...yeah... I bet we were. That's the story I'm going to go with from now on. We danced for a good while and then around 2 or 3am headed out.

But we didn't go home. Oh no. Apparently after you've been drinking in Chicago, you head to Lincoln Park to the Wiener Circle. The Wiener Circle is a ramshackle little hut that serves hot dogs, nestled amidst 10 story apartment buildings. The people who "serve" the food yell foul and vulgar things at the patrons, who, in turn, yell those sorts of things back. The patrons that night, and I would venture to guess every night, were very very drunk. Sir and I cowered in the back of the store while The Dr. (a native New Yorker) happily screamed in an order of two gigantic chili dogs and cheesy fries.

Just the smell of the food made my arteries close and my stomach turn. I was into trying new foods this trip... but I drew the line at processed meat covered in... more processed meat. But The Dr. thoroughly enjoyed it. Until we got into the cab, that is. For that is where we encountered, (dramatic music) White Castle.

I've ridden in cabs in a whole bunch of cities, but I have never EVER encountered a cab driver as rude, insane or high as White Castle. We dubbed him White Castle because he kept comparing the cuisine of Wiener Circle to the gourmet offerings of the White Castle. But it was his driving and crazy-ass personality that made him memorable. Not only did he purposefully take every corner at 50 miles an hour, but he ran red lights, waited until the last minute to slam on his breaks and took a very round-about way back to The Dr.'s apartment.

Sister Sir laid into him right away about his driving, threatening to report him to his company. White Castle simply gave her a long lecture about how he'd lived in the city for 30 years and knew how to drive a car. When Sister Sir tried to tell him what was what, he turned the radio up so he couldn't hear her.

While she tried to regain control of the situation and at least get White Castle to drive somewhat properly, the Dr. had turned several shades of green. I'm guessing the Wiener Circle's fine offering probably weren't agreeing with the washing machine type motion of the cab.

Sir paid for the cab ride - the fare and no tip. As we staggered from the inadvertent thrill ride we'd gotten ourselves into, White Castle yelled obscenities at Sir. "What? Do you think you'd get a tip by insulting my sister?" Sir asked back and slammed the door. Yup, that's my boy. (And this is me, smiling proudly.)

Sister Sir immediately called the company to report White Castle as an idiot, but I think her call was cut off when we got in the elevator. At least she tried. I don't know that I would have followed through. But then, that's one of the reason's I admire Sister Sir.

The next morning, we all woke up and went to brunch at a little sidewalk cafe, which we drove to in The Dr.'s Porsche. (I still don't know how four people and a dog fit in there.) Then Sir and I took our leave.

We headed to Milwaukee to see some of Sir's friends who were about to start school there and had ice cream (mmmm ice cream). Ice cream we didn't have to pay for coincidentally since both Sir and I had accidentally left our wallets in our car. Really it was an accident!

Then it was back home, through Wisconsin. We didn't spot any more buffalo, but we did see plenty of bustling cities (yes, I know it's actually a farm. It's called a joke).

Ok now to the obligatory vacation gushing: It was an amazing weekend. I had so much fun. Chicago seems like it's always "on," which is great for a weekend. But I don't know if I could live every day like that. Of course a bazillion dollar apartment with gorgeous views would definitely help.

And did I mention the puppy?

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