Forty-two February 13, 2011Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Fam Damily, Foodies, Holidays, Home Life.
Ten years ago today when I turned 32, I was unaware that the year would bring separation from my husband, leaving my home to live like a nomad for several months and losing my dad. At least I was oblivious to all that on my actual birthday.
Twenty years ago today when I turned 22, I was in love with Delorme and making preparations to leave home and move with him to South Carolina. It was a heady time and several friends with birthdays near mine threw us a combined birthday party, in which I happily and drunkenly told a lot of people we were moving away.
Thirty years ago when I turned 12, I didn’t know it at the time, but that year would bring pivotal things like my first period and moving to Inverness, the small town where I spent the majority of my formative years – I started seventh grade there, graduated high school there was a slacker a couple of years post high school there and consider it to be my hometown, in the John Cougar Mellencamp sense.
I don’t remember exactly what was happening the day I turned 2, but I’ve seen the pictures and it looked like it was fun, except for the singing of the Happy Birthday song to me, which always made me cry and I still do not enjoy to this day. The center of attention has never been where I want to be and that’s pretty much the epitome of it, besides walking down your wedding aisle but that’s so surreal it kind of puts the terror on the back burner for those few seconds.
Today we’ll be going out to lunch at a place called Country Buffet, which I enjoy mostly because of the self-explanatory name. His mom made me a cake, so we’ll go to their house to eat that (Her cakes are something I’ve tried to replicate for years and have failed – homemade icing, for hell’s sake) and then the rest of the day Brian said is whatever I want to do. It’s sunny and the high’s are getting into the mid-60’s, so even though I haven’t quite made up my mind yet, I’m sure it’s going to involve being outside a good bit.
He’s usually fairly deferential to me, but way moreso around my birthdays. Last night, I asked if we could go out to eat since Red Lobster is heavily promoting that Dinner for Two for $30 campaign and even though going out to dinner isn’t his favorite thing, I know the promise of seafood makes it more attractive to him. As we very slowly made our way through town, inching along in traffic and seeing all of the full-to-bursting parking lots at the chain restaurants, I realized with a sinking feeling a lot of people probably had the thought We’re out-smarting those suckers who are planning to eat out Monday night for Valentine’s Day. As we attempted to pull into the Red Lobster parking lot where there wasn’t an empty parking space in sight, he looked at me and said It’s up to you, baby. And right then, I glanced over to the restaraunt’s front door with the many people spilling out of it and pictured us waiting and literally felt my stomach growl and said No. He laughed with relief and we got the hell out of there and went to a fast food place that has great fries and were eating within fifteen minutes. I loved the fact he was willing to do whatever would make me happy, but I’m not a moron.
I’m ignorant as to what the next year will bring, but I’m hopeful as always good things will prevail.
Long Weekend Adventures July 6, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Foodies, Home Life, Movies.
The three-day weekend was the perfect mix of lazy, productive and fun, which is my favorite kind. Plus we had a break in the heat which just made everything that much more awesome.
– Friday night we met one of Brian’s friends at this little Irish pubby place so Brian could pay him for helping us clean the latest foreclosure. Even though I don’t drink anymore, bars are an endless source of amusement for me and when this dude came up and gave me a list of bootleg DVD’s he had for sale, I laughed and said “Thank you sir for your kind offer, but I would NEVER want to take away any of the hard-earned funds from those moral, making-the-world-a-better-place celebrities – why, this offends my very soul!” (Heather knows the real story but she’s sworn to secrecy.)
– Brian got all shitty with me for no reason Saturday morning and this doesn’t happen very often. I used it to my advantage however, and didn’t protest when he drove off in a huff to go do some chores for his parents. I spent the afternoon on the front porch reading my library book and followed that with a deeply satisfying nap. Later after he got home he was fine again of course, and we had a lot of fun making fun of a certain vampire movie that just came out in the theater last week but by some mysterious reason we were able to watch at home already. I know nothing.
– Moral of that last one: if he ever gets pissy, let him – especially if it’s going to mean some free time at home alone.
– Yesterday I went to lunch with my MIL, Brian’s favorite aunt and cousin who I’ve always really liked, despite the fact she strongly resembles a model. She’s one of those gorgeous girls who has no idea she’s gorgeous and so that makes her likable. We went to a place called Pawley’s Front Porch which has recently been on the show Diners, Drive-ins and Dives on the Food Network. They’re known for their burgers, but to be honest, while it was definitely a tasty burger, I’ve had better. Then again, maybe if my brain isn’t constantly adding up the calories every time I put something in my mouth, I might’ve enjoyed it more? No, seriously – I can think of three places right off the top of my head I like the burgers more. Still it was a really cool place and it was a really nice time.
– Our washing machine quit us a few weeks back and very luckily George had a spare. With the switch-out in progress, it was obviously the best time to finish repairing the damaged laundry room, and we started tackling it yesterday afternoon. Now, when I say “laundry room,” what I really mean is, “tiny added-on space connected to the kitchen by a door and hanging onto the house by magic.” That’s where the pipe broke over the winter and knowing it was going to be a hellish project, we’ve kind of been putting it off until absolutely necessary, i.e. now. After a quick Home Depot run, we managed to clean all the crap out of the room, rip out the particle board walls, remove the unmentionable-infested insulation and sweep and vaccum off the curling linoleum floor. The garbage men are going to hate us today when they see what lies await on our curb. We still have a little ways to go, but in the meantime we were really happy with ourselves with our progress and excited to soon finally have this thing checked off the list. The goal of doing some home improvement project every week has been working out really well and we’re motivated to keep going until there’s nothing left to do except move out.
Bonus: totally forgot I looked like this while running garbage back and forth to the curb:
People did give me some weird looks, but I’m so used to it, it didn’t hit me until much later I looked like some psycho who was performing frightening procedures inside my house.
Thankful for Appetizing Food November 26, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Foodies, Holidays.
Gobble-gobble-gobble, Happy Thanksgiving!
That’s kind of an old joke between me, Sister and our cousin Lori. One year, their family came to our house for the holiday and the night before we got the bright idea to make prank phone calls (this of course being back when the earth’s crust was still cooling and there was no Caller I.D. or Star 69) and somewhere between the hours of 2 and 4am, called random people in the phone book and said that to them. We were shocked at not only the amount of people who sounded completely alert and awake when they answered, but also at the fact a lot of them cheerfully said thank you. Prank calling Fail. The best part was when an older man answered sounding very confused and Lori said, “You’re dreaming, sir, go back to sleep,” and quietly hung up.
Speaking of which, my eyes sprang (sprung? sproinged?) open at 5:52 this morning of their own accord, and I’m not quite sure why. Because (a) this is the first morning of a 4-day holiday weekend in which I excitedly planned to sleep in every day (b) I’m not hosting dinner at my house, so no need to do any cooking or cleaning, and (c) I’m not a nine-year-old and it’s not Christmas morning. Ah, insomnia – you are a wily bastard.
I did make the chocolate pies I’d been planning to make last night, and I must say they came out awesome looking. I’m somewhat known for making good-tasting-but-unfortunate-looking desserts, but all the Food Network I’ve been for some reason obsessively watching this week must’ve rubbed off somehow because at the last minute I got inspired to sprinkle frozen, crushed-up Butterfingers on top and when I realized how the brown and orange colors looked like I’d done a Thanksgiving color theme on purpose, I literally did a little happy dance. I realize this isn’t exactly a culinary breakthrough, but when you’re me, it’s exciting to be bringing something to share with actual other people that looks as attractive as I know it’s going to taste. That sounds braggy, but it’s the go-to dessert I use at holidays and I’m a pro at it by now.
I’m usually fairly confident in the kitchen when it comes to cooking for just us. Not only is Brian a very appreciative, non-picky eater, he’s also nice enough that when I make something less than stellar, he finds something about it to like. Example:
Me: “Damn, this steak turned out so tough; I probably should’ve marinaded them longer.
Him: “They’re not that bad; plus whatever spices you used taste great.
Me: “Sorry about these black-bottom biscuits; I guess I left them in a few minutes too long.”
Him (calmly peeling the burnt layer off and handing it to the dog): “That’s okay; I like when they’re a little well-done.”
It’s nice. But whenever I’m in the position where I’m cooking for other people, for some reason I lose my damn mind. Like the one time I was tasked with bringing the dessert to an office Christmas party, nothing more complicated than a Betty Crocker cake mix cake, and by the time I got done icing it had turned into such a stressball, had to actually go lie down and take a nap. Granted that was my first-ever job, but my confidence never really progressed much after that.
I’m not really sure why this is though, because other than sometimes being a little funny-looking, I don’t really remember producing forth anything that was an embarrassing disaster. Well, except for the Blondie incident where I thought it would be perfectly acceptable to substitute baking soda for powder and they came out tasting like carbonated bready bricks. Or when I accidentally used self-rising instead of all-purpose flour to make corn fritters and they rose up into terrifying puffy corn cakes. Took awhile to live both of those down.
Ah well. Today I’m very much looking forward to seeing family we haven’t seen in awhile, my mother-in-law’s spread, my pretty and tasty dessert and most of all not having to clean my kitchen. I hope everybody who’s reading this has a fantabulous Thanksgiving.
Pie Wars November 15, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Foodies, Holidays.
This Thanksgiving is going to be a little different than the last two.
The inlaws usually drive two hours north and spend the holiday with George’s elderly mother and because is something I’d wanted no part of, I made up a simple, don’t-want-to-hurt-their-feelings story that we were eating with some relatives of mine who live in Hilton Head, two hours south of here. Relatives I haven’t seen since our wedding, but whatever. We both felt bad about the lying aspect, but agreed spending a nice relaxing holiday at home with me making a whole big traditional (first year) and then sea food (last year) dinner for us was awesome. Until this happened, I’d never even cooked a whole turkey before – it had to be done (and Laura, that’s when I picked up the awesome cover-the-bird-in-bacon tip I will swear by until the end of time).
But George’s mom passed away a couple of months ago, so this year they’re having the meal at their house. I’m actually happy about it – cooking a ton of food and cleaning up afterwards is hard work and I’m excited to be relieved of the duty this year. Seriously relieved, since when I asked the MIL what I could bring to dinner, she politely and sort of hestintantly told me, “Oh, I don’t think you need to bring anything…I’ve already bought everything I need…I think I have it covered.”
I wasn’t surprised by this, even though there are somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen to twenty people coming to eat and you’d think maybe deligating a side dish or dessert or at the very least a couple of 2-litres of something to drink…but no, what am I saying – this is the land of swate tay (sweet tea for those of us who speak normally), after all. In fact, I might want to break out that handy flask we own to fill with Diet Coke now that I think about it.
I don’t know if it’s a Woman Thing, a Southern Woman Thing or just My Mother-in-law Thing, but she is VERY territorial when it comes to all things food. A few years ago when I told Brian she deliberately left a couple of ingredients out of her squash casserole recipe when I’d asked her for it, he laughed at me. He laughed not because he didn’t believe me, but because he could totally see her doing that. And I’ve since been proven right, having watched her make it over the years and see her add a pinch of this or that to it that she conveniently neglected to tell me. Hell, she admitted to giving a different recipe to the church cookbook; why would she give me the real one and risk giving up her secret?
More proof of the crazy:
– She LOOOVES the fact I can’t make homemade biscuits and/or gravy. Whenever she makes it, she lets something sort of catty slip out like, “Briine (Brian, but spelled phonetically like she says it) sure loves his momma’s ______ (insert biscuits, gravy, cole slaw, whatever in the blank)!”
– Whenever I’ve asked for a recipe of anything, she gives me her standard answer: “Oh, I don’t really follow a recipe for that; I don’t even usually measure the ingredients!” (Why is it then, in the other room behind the french doors there’s usually a cookbook open to the page that corresponds with the recipe we’re eating?) (I would never have the balls to ask.)
– Whenever she talks about one of her friend’s food, there’s always, ALWAYS a little insult thrown in there. “That Elsie sure is a nice lady, but boy her soup could’ve used a little more flavor! No wonder Ed stays so skinny all the time!” (George is pretty slender as well, but again – no balls, would never bring up.)
– I couldn’t think of anything, moreso than usual to get George for Christmas last year so I made him his favorite dessert, my first apple pie. I don’t personally like apple pie, but it looked so perfect when I took it out of the oven I actually snapped a picture of it – I’d even managed to do that lattice top of the pie crust thing and added little red cinnomon sugar sprinkles on top. I was proud of this pie. I brought it over when we spent the night there Christmas Eve and since she usually only makes appetizers to eat the night before the big day, suggested the pie for dessert. George loved it and he and Brian each ate two pieces over the course of the night. She had a weird look on her face the whole night and did not eat one bite of it, at least not in front of me. And she always has dessert.
So here’s what I’ve decided to do, in a little passive-aggressive move. I don’t like pumpkin or pecan pie, the staples of Thanksgiving dinner. But I do like dessert. So I have this recipe, an entire recipe with nothing left out of it, for a chocolate pie/dessert thing I’m making and bringing over there for Thanksgiving. I’m not telling her about it ahead of time, but instead just showing up with it and saying in my sweetest tone of voice, “Oh I just felt so bad about not bringing anything – I just threw this together really quick!”
It’s really a win-win, if you think about it. If no one else shows any interest in it, I still get to eat a dessert I like and Brian loves it too. And if someone else prefers chocolate over pumpkin and pecan, I get to see that weird look on her face again.
Roughin’ it October 13, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Foodies, Friends, Travel, Weather.
By my estimation it’s been about four years since I’ve slept in a tent. And it was that last trip that reinforced my tent-camping philosophy which basically states no camping in the state of Florida between the months of March and November unless you are in a motorhome and even then just don’t. In fact, since 95% of my camping experience has been in a motorhome, each time I’ve pitched a tent it’s been a new and educational experience. This weekend we’ll be tenting it in the mountains of North Carolina, where by all weather accounts it’s going to be fairly nipply in the daytime (mid 50’s), downright frozen-snot cold at night (low 30’s) and today I see the new development that on Sunday there’s the possibility of snow flurries.
Now, you may or may not remember, but I am a crazyhead when it comes to snow. I pray for it every year and the one or two days we actually get some, I spend most of my time outside in it taking pictures and trying to urge it to stick and pile up a little. However, I’ve never camped in it so if the ever-changing forecast is accurate I hope it does actually wait until Sunday when we’re breaking camp and getting ready to come home. I’d love to see it; I just don’t want to sleep in it. I mean, my God. I’m still Floridian enough so that when the temp drops below 70 I’m reaching for my socks and hoodie.
I’m slowly but steadily getting through my to-do list. We’re splitting the food responsibilities and my part includes dinner on Friday night (chili – spicy for the boys, wimpy for the girls), some lunch stuff, snacks and coffee. I’ve basically got most of the stuff already, but I’m making one last shopping trip tomorrow to get the rest. Here’s my question (and Joan, if you’re reading feel free to chime in since you’re going to be one of the people eating it): If you were going on a three-day camping trip, what would you enjoy eating in the great outdoors? I know whenever I’m outside for extended periods of time I like to graze a lot. And I figure as long as I cover the four basic snack rules – salt, sugar, cheese and chocolate (the Hershey bars for the S’mores don’t count), I’ll be safe.
Other little thoughts:
– I LOVE drinking coffee outside on cold mornings.
– In addition to the regular warm clothes I’m bringing, a hat, gloves and thick socks to go under my hiking boots are coming as well. As long as my head, hands and feet are warm I can pretty much withstand anything.
– I’m going to be thankful Brian turns into a human heat rock when we sleep.
– According to some of the stuff I’ve read, it looks like the leaves are already putting on a pretty good show up there. Eeep!
– This will be my third experience camping at a music/arts festival type thing and based on the past experiences, I know I’m going to love it. I can’t wait until Friday!
Mmm/Yuck! September 24, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Foodies, Lists.
Since I don’t seem to have completely gotten over the sickness in that I still can’t taste most things, I’ve been thinking about food more than usual for a few days. And that’s saying a lot.
Foods I like but hate the idea of either what they’re made of or the journey from their origins to my mouth or both:
Chicken – feathery, stringy, tendony, veiney , VOM
Hot Dogs – you’re not fooling me with your “100% beef.”
Mayo – Yes, I’d like some fat with a side of fat please? Plus some egg.
Veal – I’m sorry what a shitty life you had little baby cow. But damn are you tasty.
Escargot – Snails. Whoever thought it’d be a good idea to put one of these things in their mouth? Whoever they were – GENIUS.
Hamburger Helper – I’ve read the label and should probably just pick up a salt lick next time.
Foods I hate but wish I liked, if only to seem cool and/or normal:
Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches – hate so much that once the daycare had to call my parents and tell them I was crying and refusing to eat lunch and my parents told them to feed me Spaghettio’s instead. Because my parents ruled.
Filet mignon – I love pretty much all forms of beef, so why not this primo cut? It is a mystery.
Crawfish – WAAAY too much work for a puny, gritty payoff.
Soft cookies (ala Mrs. Fields) – I like my cookies like I like my men; firm and crispy.
S’mores – I will cook yours and hand them over for you all night long but do NOT ask me to eat that hot gooey mess. I’ll take the Hershey bar and the graham crackers. As long as they’re raw and no marshmellow has soiled them.
Cinnamon-based foods, like buns or toast or cookies – yet I love Big Red gum and Red Hots. Again, a mystery.
Collards – I’ve acclimated to living in the South in many ways but not this one. Tastes like dirty spinach.
Dark chocolate – If I wanted something bitter and not-sweet, I’d eat an onion.
Pop Tarts (thank you Heather, for reminding me of this one) – I WANT to like these convenient, sugary little squares of weirdness, but that goo in the middle makes me feel a little funny inside.
If you would’ve told me 10/20/30 years ago I would ever like these, I would have laughed in your face:
I’m especially picky and annoying about:
Fries have to be firm on the outside & soft in the middle. And preferably from McDonald’s, but if they’re homemade, I like crinkle cut and steak fries but then hell-to-the-no on shoestrings or tots.
Scrambled eggs have to be done enough to have some brown on them and must be HOT.
Pizza slices should have some brown cheese bubbles at the toppings/crust apex.
M ‘n M’s must be sorted by color before eating (really).
Love grapes, hate grape flavor.
Same with bananas.
Like eating raisins out of the box; can’t stand them in anything.
Love onion flavor, hate onions. But weirdly I’m beginning to come around a little on these; just for the love of God, cut them up SMALL.
Love most potato salads except the yellow mustardy shit from a store deli.
And last but not least, two Jew foods I love you’ve probably never heard of:
Gefilte fish – cold, in a jar, goes against everything I normally believe in.
Matzo ball soup – otherwise known as Jewish Penicillin; I’ve never introduced it to a Gentile who also didn’t immediately fall in love with it as well. The only thing I miss about my mom’s cooking.
Damn, I’m looking forward to tasting food again someday.
Funtastic Weekender July 20, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Foodies, Friends, Home Life, Weather.
You ever have one of those weekends that is just perfect with the exact right ratio of activity and relaxation? The kind that when Sunday night rolls around you get the sads because it’s over already and then when Monday morning gets here you wish you could punch it in the face? That’s me.
My semi-dreaded lunch with the preggie friend was really nice, of course, and my fears of awkwardness were completely unfounded. I will say I had a minute of pure freak-out when I first saw her, trying to force myself to not look down at her little belly. She’s a straight up bean pole, I’m sure she started showing the day after they conceived, and there certainly was a little roundness where normally she’s practically inverted. I started thinking, “Fuck, what if she chickens out and decides not to tell me!?” But then right after we were seated she told me she had a couple of presents for me and one of them was a framed picture of the little bean in utero. I thought that was a very cute thing to do and we both teared up immediately and the rest of the lunch was great. I’m so glad it’s over, if only that I can go back to being normal with her. She is a good friend and I’m glad my issues didn’t ruin something.
I took advantage of being on that side of town and after lunch dropped off a hee-YOOGE bag of unfortunate clothes to the Goodwill. And then resisted buying more – go, Kimmy!
After a quick trip to the tanning bed (Florida sun, you are NOT going to get me this time, you bastard – I finally have the protective powers of the base tan!), I got home and had just enough time to get ready for our golf outing.
I’ll get this out of the way first. We could not have picked a better day in the middle of a Carolina summer to be outside and on a golf course. The perfect mix of warm but with a perfect breeze and almost no humidity – oh my God. August, did you hear that? I’m not asking for everything, just go easy on the damn humidity! It makes everything so much more pleasant this way. And I couldn’t believe it but toward the end of the day when the sun was going down, I actually started getting a little chill! It was FREAKING AWESOME.
After our friends met us there and we secured our two carts, we started out. As soon as we got to the first tee, I realized we’d been there before and asked Brian if this was one of the courses we’d played when my parents had come to visit over ten years ago and he said it was. It’s hard to explain, but since my dad was a golf (teaching) pro and I grew up around golf and golf courses, being on one makes me feel so close to him in a way that is almost never possible for me now that he’s gone. Sister says it upsets her and I can see that because all I have to do is see a golf club to feel a little pang of hurt, but I just can’t help but to feel happy too. Maybe I should start playing more often. And this golf course was green and hilly and surrounded by what seemed like an enchanted forest all around it, for real. We had a great time riding around watching the boys play and they had a good time as well. Brian’s not the type to get pissy if he hits a bad shot, knowing the last time he played was last Labor Day.
We ended up eating dinner with them too, at the same restaurant I’d eaten lunch at, but it was sort of my idea. You know when you go out with another couple who you know pretty well but you haven’t eaten together that much so you don’t know all their likes and dislikes yet? I highly suggest picking a place like Ruby Tuesdays (which is what I did), Applebees or the like, so someone can get red meat, someone else can get chicken, fish, salad, whatever. Variety is the key. A Public Service Announcement from Kim T. Obvious.
Yesterday was Brian’s birthday and it was also Sunday, which meant a trip to the inlaws’ and not only Sunday “dinner” but also a cake and presents, which was nice. Sometimes though they are more weird than usual and yesterday was one of those times. I’m not really sure if it’s the Lupus or the medication she’s on for it, but his mother has started doing this thing where she interrupts whomever is talking with something that has nothing to do with what the other person is talking about. It’s highly annoying but I try to be understanding. Now George – I don’t know what his excuse is. I mentioned I’m going to Florida Friday and he said, “Oh, you’re going to Florida again?” Again? Again as in since last October? Why yes, yes I am. Like Brian said later, “You and your crazy yearly trips to Florida.” I mean, wha? Whatever though. They mean well.
I ended the weekend by doing some shopping and chores, knocking some shit off the to-do list and cleaning out my trash heap vehicle to get it ready to be packed and then falling into a tired but happy sleep on the couch around 9:00.
And though I don’t want to complain since I only have three more days of work then ten days of no-work, I really did hate to see this weekend end. It was one of the best ones I’ve had in awhile. I hope everybody else’s was just as great.
Change is good June 20, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Bloggie, Foodies, Home Life.
I do believe it was high time for a bloggie makeover. While I had no real complaints with Blogger, once we started the new blog last week, I found Word Press to be a lot more pretty and fun. I couldn’t believe I’m about to hit 300 posts and it took most of the morning importing all that stuff over here. Well worth it!
It’s been a multi-tasking day so far. We braved the outdoor oven and ventured over to a new produce stand Brian discovered yesterday ($9 and we are STOCKED), to Wal-fart to pick up a sorely-needed new A/C filter and Father’s Day card for George, and to pick up some lunch from Brian’s fave fast food mecca Chic-fil-A. Later we get to make a trip to Home Depot which is always a treat except there’s no way I’m walking around in the garden department today lest I melt into a puddle right there on the pavement and to finish up the big Redneck clean-up.
Busy, productive. I hope everybody’s weekend is going swell.
Side effect June 9, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Exercise, Foodies, Health, Home Life.
So, I’ve been hinting and teasing about how I need to start exercising more regularly and blah blah, but besides half-assedly using my stepper a couple of times a week for no longer than 35 minutes at a time, I haven’t done shit to change anything. And then something very unpleasant happened this morning.
I was getting dressed for work and put on a clean pair of cute cuffed capris I hadn’t worn in a few weeks due to lack of laundry doing. And they were tight. Not only were they tight, they were damn-near impossible to button. Full disclosure: these are my fat pants. But considering I was already running ridiculously late for work and hadn’t really planned out any other clothing options, I made do – took a hair band and did the maternity pants trick of looping it through the hole and securing it around the button twice like I was three months’ preg. Add to that a long button down shirt (which I noticed gapped at boob level)(which I HATE) and off I went. Somehow I managed not to have a crying fit/nervous breakdown. Not sure how, because damn, I am Not Happy about this.
Obviously things haven’t been going the best over the past few (six) months or so. And considering I’ve made great effort in trying to be the healthiest I can be, you’d think this wouldn’t be a problem right now. But between quitting smoking, not drinking anything alcoholic or very much caffeinated and carbonated and not being able to pop a pill whenever things get a little rough, food has become my way of medicating. I don’t know why I thought I was immune to this type of behavior, considering things I’ve done in my past.
Very ironically sex is high up on the priority list lately, so it’s not good that I am in no mood to be naked in front of myself, let alone Brian. Not that I’ve ever been the type to lounge around sans clothes anyway, but right now? Even with with lights out I’m nowhere near comfortable. Not good. It’s easy to avoid looking in the mirror, not so easy to keep avoiding other things.
But it’s not just sex; being like this is affecting every aspect of life. I would no sooner accept an invitation that would involve getting into a bathing suit right now then I would to go take a tour of Auschwitz. Hell, I wasn’t fond of wearing shorts when I weighed 105, let alone right now. And hey, have you noticed – it’s summertime. This past weekend we almost went to visit his brother’s family who have a pool and spend most of their free time at the river. In bathing suits. I was sadly very relieved when the landscape job opportunity came up so that we couldn’t go. But I’m planning a trip to Florida in the near future. We’re doing the beach house thing with his family again this Labor Day – the one year anniversary of the first time I saw our sister-in-law in her new boob job and bikini. None of these activities are at all attractive to me right now. But neither is hibernating in the house for the next three months. So that means it’s time to get off my ever-expanding ass in a serious way and do something the hell about it.
That 30-Day Shred dvd I’ve talked about for months? Is now in the dvd player, ready to go. Tomorrow when I go to the grocery, there will be no tough decision regarding what flavor of Breyer’s we’ll be eating for the week. There will however, be much less fun food purchases instead. But that’s okay. Because regardless of what’s going on with the baby situation or the money situation or whatever else is stressing me out at the moment, not fitting into my clothes certainly can’t be helping matters.
I’ve usually been pretty good at recognizing when the time has come to stop bitching and start actually doing something. And holy hell, that time is now.
Oy – tonight we’ll knosh until we plotz April 9, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Experience, Foodies, Holidays, Jews.
Yiddish words are so much fun.
Well the day is finally here – tonight is the church Passover dinner, which is sure to bring the laughs. I guess it’s sort of a big deal to me as well, as I feel we’ve come a long way from when I felt like the black sheepess of the family, with their oldest son living in sin with a Jew and all. From when the first time I ever visited his mom and George’s house and noticed a book titled “How to Lead Your Jewish Friends to the Messiah,” displayed surreptitiously on their coffee table. Back then there was a lot of tentativeness from them, with conversations like this:
Iris: I’m sorry if you can’t eat this Kim (“Kee-yim,”) but I put bacon in the potato salad
Me: That’s okay; I’m not a practicing Jew and I love pork.
Iris: Well, I made a ham too; is that okay?
George: What tribe in Israel does your family descend from?
Me: I didn’t know they had tribes in Israel, so I have no idea. Leviticus?
(Brian later confirmed there are indeed tribes that Jews come from and what’s sad about that is he has a lot more knowledge of Judiasm than I do, thus he makes me look bad.)
I’m sure there’s potential for some awkwardness tonight as well however, as George has little to none in the social filters department. I can picture him introducing me to people repeatedly and gleefully telling them I’m Jewish. In fact I know he will. Sort of different but also similar, a few weeks ago they had their next door neighbor over for Sunday “dinner.” (I will never say that without quotation marks). When he introduced us, George told the guy I used to live in upstate New York. This guy is from Michigan. From what I can tell, Michigan is a long way from New York so I wasn’t quite sure how to respond and neither was the neighbor. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, except maybe we’re both Yankees in George’s mind and so there was potential for bonding? Also please note I lived in New York the first five years of my life and then lived and grew up in Florida. I guess he saves that part for when he introduces me to anyone from anywhere in the south. But I’m already prepared for the weirdness tonight, so no problem. I do wish I had this shirt to wear tonight though:
Not that any of the Baptists would get it. Catholics would, because like Jews they are very wise in the ways of the guilt. I always say the only difference is Jews are born with it and Catholics have to go to school to learn it – ZING! I crack myself up.
We’ll probably join them at church on Sunday as well to celebrate Easter. I gots to have all my bases covered, yanno? Plus I’ve always loved Easter. Which side are you on as far as Cadbury vs. Reese eggs? For me it’s Reese’s all the way. (I’m sure Heather will pick Cadbury because she likes being ornery that way with me, hee hee!)What the F is up with that yellow shit in the middle of the Cadbury? I know it’s supposed to be yolk, but EWWWW. And if the white stuff is marshmellow, well then I hate marshmellow so there you go. Sister developed a little problem with Peeps a few years back and I’m not sure if she’s yet to be able to be in the same room with them again without gagging, but again no marshmellow for me. I will roast them and hand them to you all day long but I refuse to put a black charred sticky sugar blob in my mouth hole ever. They are acceptable in Rice Krispie treats and that is all.
And for now, that IS all.