Auld Lang Syne Again

JANUARY 8TH 2011 - OUR 4TH DATE

I just read my year-end post from last winter and I'm stunned at what can change in ONE YEAR. Four days after I wrote that, I met Mark.

We met on January 2nd. That night I told Mama Bird I was going to marry him, and the next day I told my boss the same thing. My boss' response?

"You're fucking crazy."

Eighteen days after we met, we got tattoos together - a lock and a key.

No.



APRIL 16TH - ENGAGED!

 I'm not kidding.

On April 16th, Mark proposed. I believe his exact stammer went something like this.

Presents ring. Shuffles feet. "SO, YA WANNA DO THIS??????"

Who could say no to that?

On August 28th, we married.

The sound system accidentally blared Nina Gordon during the ceremony so we had to Take II, and during my dad's speech, a four-year-old hollered at the top of his lungs to ask when I'd be having a baby.

AUGUST 28TH - MARRIED

We sealed our vows with another stop at the tattoo shop and honeymooned on the couch.

This year I've gained a wonderful husband, another family, a stepkitty I shamelessly adore, a cranky grandma - which is much more fun than no grandma - and about ten pounds.

I've lost privacy and the urge to leave the house.

I moved again in 2011, which brings me to my 24TH MOVE in 35 years. For the love of all that is holy, I hope we find and afford a decent place this year that we can stay in for-everloving-ever. I'm getting a little burned out on moving.

This year I've played with paintball guns and trampolines. I've lounged on pontoons and inflatable rafts, and I've sat around bonfires with friends. My family flew in from all over the country for the wedding and we partied for two straight days. I won a giant flatscreen TV and - on an unrelated note, surely - the undying fidelity of my husband.

I competed in a Sex Short Story contest and lost after reading it onstage to a live audience. The winner wrote some creepy erotica that involved antlers, though, so obviously it's tough to beat that meat.

SEPTEMBER 10TH -
HEIDI'S WEDDING

My baby pseudo sister Heidi got married and I had a handsome young escort at the reception - until I got violently ill and my other handsome escort had to drive me home while I barfed in every bag I could find.

I've made new friends this year - in everyday life and through blogging. I got a hilarious Christmas card from my favorite resort owners in Wisconsin, a gorgeous handmade card from TJ in the Netherlands and a sweet card from a reader named Maria overseas.

Who can complain about life when they receive little bits of love from all around the world?

Mark and I were planning to spend tonight hanging out with my brother drinking champagne and playing Rock Band, but we're both sick with the generic Winter Crud. There's homemade chicken soup simmering on the stove - a chicken I tore the limbs off myself without vomiting - and a pitcher of OJ in the fridge that I squeezed myself. We may feel like ass, but we're going to eat a gourmet sick meal.

No champagne for our midnight cocktail and in fact we'll likely be in bed before the clock turns, but I have everything I need right now in my life, and I'm feeling pretty grateful for everything I was given in 2011.

MY MOM'S ENTIRE SIDE OF THE FAMILY!!

MY HOT LITTLE ESCORT AT
HEIDI'S RECEPTION

MY SWEET, SWEET STEPKITTY

MY BEAUTIFUL GIRLS

ME AND MY BABY

CHEERS TO ALL

WHO READ MY BLOG...

I LOVE YOU GUYS!

WISHING YOU A 2012 THAT BRINGS

ALL THAT YOU HOPE FOR AND MORE

My Virus...and My Penis

There's a mutant virus going around and it's trying to take me out. Symptoms include bloodshot bedroom eyes with dark circles, leaky nostrils and Rice Krispies in the lungs. Oh, and a cough so violent you barf on yourself a little bit.

So basically there's a whole lotta sexy up in here.

BUT NO VIRUS IS GONNA PISS ON MY HOLIDAYS, FOR CORN'S SAKE!

I'm drinking my screwdrivers with Airborne instead of Absolut and I'll stay in that hot shower until my skin blisters.

I'll gargle with Vicks if I have to.

It's the new year this weekend and I am going to party like it's 1999. You know, when I spent New Year's Eve drinking keg beer instead of Maalox. I had a lovely Christmas but I'm greedy, dammit. I want a good New Year with my shiny new husband, too.

I'm reading a book right now called If It Were Easy, They'd Call The Whole Damn Thing A Honeymoon - you may surmise it's a book about men and women and all their particular sterotypes. There's a chapter about how strong and stoic women are when they're sick and how snively men become after so much as a sneeze.

This book is very educational, as I've deduced I must have a secret penis tucked somewhere in my thigh chub - because evidently I am a man.

Strong?

Stoic?

I WANT MY MOM!

I realize that this virus too shall pass and I must keep some manner of perspective. I am not having a stroke. Or a heart attack. Or a...cancer.

But...but...but...

I don't feeeeeeeeeeeeel good.

In the morning I'll go some vitamin fortified Frosted Flakes, too. Just to be safe.

Holidays on the Rocks

And by rocks, I mean ice. We're fine.

I swear.

There are two things you need to know about my husband. First, he is missing a filter. Second, he is missing a filter. Thoughts bubble forth from his mouth randomly and unchecked. Here are a some of the most romantic and Christmassy conversations from around our place this weekend, served over ice.

With a twist.

Pour one for me while you're at it.

*************************

HUSBAND (IN A FRIENDLY,  CONVERSATIONAL TONE):  You'd be a super easy person to murder.

ME: Excuse me? What the fuck?

HUSBAND:  No, seriously. You're so clumsy. I could just push you down the basement stairs. You'd break your neck and everyone would totally believe you tripped and fell.

ME: WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK!?

HUSBAND: I'm just saying...

*************************


HUSBAND FARTS.

ME: Did you just rip ass?

HUSBAND: No, it's my Christmas cheer.

ME: What?

HUSBAND: Yeah. I have so much Christmas cheer, it's leaking out.

*************************

I OPEN MAIL.

HUSBAND: What is it?

ME: State Farm wants me to buy additional life insurance coverage.

HUSBAND: That's not a bad idea.

ME (PANICKING AS I RECALL PREVIOUS CONVERSATION ABOUT BASEMENT STEPS): YOU'RE TOTALLY GOING TO MURDER ME, AREN'T YOU!?

I BACK UP FEARFULLY...AND TRIP, THEREBY PROVING HIS ORIGINAL POINT AND SENDING US BOTH INTO MAD FITS OF LAUGHTER.




*************************

 ME (TO CAT, AS I NUZZLE HER): Merry Christmas, little bitty kitty witty. Mommy luvs you, wuvs you. Yes she does. Yes, she does...oh, yes she does.

HUSBAND (TO CAT, AS HE PULLS HER TAIL): You're fat as shit!

ME: It's Christmas! Be nice to her.

HUSBAND: I did. I got her a present. But she's still fat as shit.

ME: You're abusive!

CAT (HAPPILY, ROLLING OVER IN FRONT OF HUSBAND): Meooooooowwwwwwwww!

ME: You're a disgrace to battered women and cats everywhere, Gabby.

CAT PURRS LOUDLY.

I Heart Presents

The festivities have commenced.

Christmas Round One was held at the in-laws' house last night. I did well, I think. I'm only up two or three pounds this morning, I'd guess - but the new flannel pajamas have an elastic waist so we're cool.

A good time was had by all, and even Scrooge McHusband was rather jolly.

I don't like to play favorites, but I totally play favories. Look at this gift we got from Hubby's niece - I suspect she addressed it herself. It's a magnet made from a picture she colored at school. Her teacher lets them order prints of their fine art through Zazzle or some such place.

This is the same little girl who finished writing a BOOK the other day and asked her mother quite seriously where she needed to send it now to be published.

How can you not love Christmas when you get presents like these?

Signing off. Must prepare for Christmas Round Two, which will involve jambalaya and a breathalyzer - as any holiday really should. Cheers!

Awkward Family Pictures

Selling My Friends

I have very talented friends.

If I could afford to splurge on a lavish Christmas, I could do so without spending one dollar at a chain retailer. For any of you looking for a one of a kind gift for someone you love, here are just some of the bombdiggitytastic things my friends can offer.

COFFEE
My friend Rich owns The Coffee Shop NE in Minneapolis and I have a couple of his iced coffee tumblers. I gave one to my brother, who proclaimed it his new favorite cup. In addition to making the perfect travel mug for your iced coffee, it's apparently an effective sippy-style cup for large volume cocktails.

JEWELRY
My friend Rebecca in Oregon makes beautiful handmade jewelry and her family includes an adorable little boy named Henry with severe, expensive medical problems.

WHIMSICAL ART
If you've spent any time at all reading my blog, you know who my friend TJ Lubrano is. Buy a custom painting from her. You will end up with a playful piece of artwork that makes you smile every time you look at it and I guarantee you'll make a new friend as well.

PHOTOGRAPHY
I love my girl Courtney Conk. She does gorgeous, unique photography and she's up for anything. She'll do traditional wedding or portrait photography but she's amazing when you just let her go nuts. If you're in the Minneapolis area, hit her up.

Also in the Twin Cities, Michelle Tanner does beautiful work. Check out her children's photography, she's fantastic with kids.

MASSAGE
Minneapolis area people with kinky backs should call my friend Dana Nyholm. Her deep tissue work will leave you feeling like Jell-O, and I mean that in the best possible way.

WEEKEND GETAWAY
Ever been to Hayward, Wisconsin? My friends Mary & Mike own the Woodhaven Resort there and you need to go. It's small, sweet and the sunsets there are surreal. Relaxing in Wisconsin occasionally should be mandatory, it does amazing things for your blood pressure.

Sometimes Winter Doesn't Suck



I love car love notes!

Since I outgrew the age of snow forts and hot chocolate, I've had no use for winter.

I don't ski or snowmobile and I don't feel the urge to sit on a frozen lake with a pole and a space heater.
The cold makes my bones throb and I don't give a rat's ass if that makes me sound geriatric.

The snow generally doubles commute times and last week when it rained a little, my evening drive already took nearly TWO HOURS. In 2009, I gave myself two concussions in five days in the icy driveway. Unlike cats, people sometimes land on their heads.

But even I have to admit there are some upsides to winter...and sometimes winter weekends are exactly what a person needs.

Occupy North Pole

Dear Santa,

I'm really trying to enjoy Christmas this year but it's not working. You see, I'm financially and emotionally drowning. This has come after years of dubious decision making, poor taste in exes and some bad luck in the medical department. My story is different - just like everyone else's.

I have a sinus infection, but the Minute Clinic charges nearly $100 to confirm this, and then it costs blah blah blah to fill the prescription. We're watching our money because my husband's back is inflamed and he has to get some injections. We're hoping he doesn't miss any work, or rent will undoubtedly be late.

My anxiety meds have almost run out but in order to get a refill, I have to go in for another physical. I'm on credit hold with the doctor's office for late bills.

Did I mention I have insurance?

Did I mention we have decidedly middle class jobs?

Did I mention I have relative health, my heat hasn't been turned off and I don't have children's mouths to feed?

I am the 99% and I am one of the blessed and lucky ones.

For Christmas this year, I'd like to see some positive things happen around the world.

Perhaps we could divvy up the Kardashian family fortune and use it to better staff hospitals and nursing homes, so our sick and weak could be taken care of with dignity and patience.

I want to say schools that worry more about preventing bullying than whether they'll offend someone if they recite the Pledge of Allegiance.

I'd like to live in a world where teachers, homemakers, social workers and cops are suitably rewarded for their enormous contribution to our future generations.

I wish we'd spend less energy on keeping gays from marrying and more energy on figuring out how to honor our own relationships in our own homes.

I'd rather live with far less religion and far more faith.

Maybe we could stop spending money fighting wars to save America and stand up and save ourselves.

That's all I got for now, Santa.

Whaddya got for us?

I Blew and I Won

My brother bought himself a breathalyzer for Christmas and apparently he celebrates early, because we were playing with it last night.

I was relieved - though alarmed - to learn that I grossly misjudge my own drunkeness. Turns out that by law I could really drink quite a bit more and drive legally.

This should frighten you all.

After drinking myself to the right side of that fine line - you know the line to which I refer - I prepared myself for shameful results and I blew mightily.

.036...

What the cottonpickin' fuck?

I knew that with one more cocktail, I'd say something horrifically inappropriate or - worse - dance. I was probably two drinks from the point where nobody could tolerate interacting with me.

Puking wasn't imminent, but it was certainly a possibility.

And this machine was telling me I could have sucked down another few shots of vodka and remained within my civil rights to operate a motor vehicle.

I have a new sense of horrifed awe for the raging alcoholism it took for my old friend Brent to be tested at .43 although he's dead now so I guess that didn't work out so well.

I'm fairly certain there's a moral to all of this. I'll get back to you when I figure it out. Imma have myself a drink and think about it.

Suck it, Scottsdale

Add Scottsdale to the list of places I do not belong, STAT.

Here I sit, shacked up in my room at the Kierland Resort & Spa. The place is a sprawling oasis of man-made waterfalls plunked down in the desert - a snooty resort I only happen to be at for a training conference.

I can't afford to leave my room.

There's a spa here, but the massages start at $180.

There are several restaurants and bars serving $15 cocktails, but vodka makes me want to smoke, which is deeply frowned upon here. After being shooed from every place within striking distance of the lobby, I tiptoed through the valet lot - careful not to scratch a Range Rover, Caddy or Jag - to the very edge of the parking lot.

I lit.

I inhaled.

I relaxed.

"You're filthy to be to smoking!" A sparkly old lady scolded me as she toddled down the sidewalk with her mop of a purse puppy...who, incidentally, copped a squat 20 yards later. She left the dog shit, thinking -  surely -  there's a Mexican boy around for that.

I slunk back to my room and figured I'd enjoy a nice bath. The errant pube in the tub dissuaded me, although I'm certain it's owner was well-heeled and disease free. I don't like to take chances, so I opted for the luxurious two-headed shower.

That the resort CHIDES you for using, because it wastes water.

Um?

Excuse me, Mr. Westin...

How many decorative fountains are scattered around this property? And didn't we suck down a couple thousand bottles of water that you provided at the conference today? Put
that plastic in your pipe and smoke it. But nowhere near us, please, because your smoke stinks.

Suck it, Scottsdale. I'm going to bed.