Lord, Beer Me Strength

When J & I moved into the apartment four years ago, we needed nightstands.  My mom (aka Bargain Queen of the North-East) found us a couple of nice wooden nightstands at yard sales.  I think I stripped them before I painted them white, with pretty red drawers to match our bedroom decor.  How Martha Stewart-like. 

The nightstands have taken kind of a beating.  J insists on leaving tootsie roll pop sticks on his, and I spilled a half a bottle of red nail polish on mine (prompting a “this is why we don’t paint our toes in bed” from J).  Plus, our bedroom decor will no longer be red, white & blue, but light blue & dark blue.  So, I dragged the nightstands to RI to paint them in my parent’s backyard. 

The original plan was to prime the red drawers and spray paint everything a fresh coat of white.  Sounds simple enough, right?  If you’re anyone but me, I’m sure it is.  I got to the house, spread the nightstands and drawers out on the yard, and started priming.  I like priming.  You can’t ruin it, and it never makes anything look worse than it already does.  Its Idiot-proof paint!  So, I happily slathered it on, thinking that this was easy and I’d be home in no time.

I bought a can of cinnamon spray paint at Home Depot last week, thinking it would look cherry-ish, and that I could fake people into thinking we own nice furniture.  I took my cinnamon paint and tested it on the inside of a drawer.  Looked good!  So I started spraying away at the nightstand.  Have you ever spray painted something before, aside from graffiti?   Its hard.  Seriously.  The paint pools and isn’t even, and it makes your thumb hurt to hold down the nozzle.  I didn’t like it.

I also didn’t like the cinnamon.  It looked too orange.  Instead of going back to my original plan of white, I found an espresso paint in my parents garage, and painted the other nightstand that color.  The espresso was a lovely dark brown that would go with nothing else in our bedroom, but it sure was pretty!

There was also only one can of it, so I got in my car, covered in paint, and drove to the local hardware store, vowing not to step foot in Home Depot on on Sunday morning.  Of course, on the ride there, I thought about the espresso and decided I wasn’t really sure if I liked it or not.  I convinced myself that it looked great and would class up the room. 

Then I got to the hardware store and there was no espresso to be found.  No cinnamon either, for that matter.  Not much of anything, actually.  I convinced myself that this was a sign, and that I can’t spray paint well anyway, so I should buy a can of white paint and a fancy new paintbrush to solve my problem.  Figuring out what white to buy was a whole other ballgame that I’ll spare you.

Back to my parents I went, to re-prime and repaint.  All to get white nightstands, which is what I started out with anyways.  I could have just painted the drawers and covered up the nail polish, but instead I spend 4 hours, $20 and a weeks worth of paint dried to my legs to get white nightstands.  Look out HGTV, here I come!

I almost don’t want to say this out loud, but I fear my car may be dying a slow, painful death.

From the time I was sixteen ish (okay, almost seventeen by the time I passed the test.  Yeah, I know: Go aroundthe island, blahblahblah) until I was 21, I drove whatever car my parents had laying around the house.  There were plenty to chose from.  My dad was big on buying $500 cars and driving them until they died.  My personal favorites included the silver 1986 Escort with the tires so flat that you could feel the treads (no surprise when the front tire blew out on the highway during Spring Break), and also got us stuck in Newton on a road trip to Marshfield (I blame that on the ex boyfriend, though) and my brothers Toyota hatchback that needed the gas pedal pumped twenty times before starting.  That car was retired after the brakes completely went, even though my brother said I just didn’t know how to drive it.

Anyways, I got out of college and vowed to buy a car.  Never mind the fact that I didn’t have a job, which my grandmother so kindly shared with the Honda salesman after doing a few test drives.  I waited until October, when I had been gainfully employed for 4 weeks, and the new Honda Civics were out and ready to go.  I left the dealership with a brand new 2001 Honda Civic with 7 miles on it, and I was officially an adult with car payment.

I love my car.  Its the best thing I’ve ever purchased.  Its gotten me safely from RI to various points in MA on a daily basis.  At one time, my commute was 150 miles a day.  Every day, the Civic starts right up (well, except last winter when I had to stop with a foot on the gas and one on the brake before she got a new spark plug).  She keeps on trucking, even when I accidentally run over things like curbs and rocks.  Did I mention that at 7-1/2 years old, she has 186,000 miles on her?   And all I’ve done is routine maintenance?  The guy who sold me the car opened the hood, pointed to a blue cap, and said “see that?  That’s where you put the washer fluid.  That’s the only thing you should have to touch under here.”  And I happily obliged.

Now, the Civic seems to be flailing a bit.  It started with the death of my A/C.  Driving with the windows open sucks, by the way.  J & I peeled ourselves out of the car last weekend and skipped into La-Z-Boy to cool down.  Now, its the radio (which, in all fairness, is a whatchamacallit — after model stereo, so not really the Civic’s fault).  We couldn’t hear the radio last weekend unless we turned it way up, and now it goes in and out.  Weird. 

I know there things don’t really matter, but she’s also making an odd rattling noise.  But that goes away.  And the Check Engine light has been on for months.  But my average daily commute at the moment is 6.5 miles, and next month it will go down to between 0 and 1 mile.  And I treat her well: oil changes, pats on the dash when she passes inspections, apologies when I accidentally bump her.  Sure, I don’t clean her like I used to, but just because she’s unclean doesn’t mean I don’t love her anymore.

I know one day the mechanic will shake his head and tell me its time to pull the plug.  And I know I’ll cry, not only for the new car payment, but because of all the memories we’ve shared together.  I don’t think anything can take the place of your first car.  Stay strong, little Civic!  You can do it!

**Post title is from “This Time of Year” by Better Than Ezra.  I had a boyfriend who begrudgingly made me a boy band CD and added a few of his favorite songs as well.  After our long (one month) romance came to an end, I’d hear this song (after sobbing though Brittney’s “Sometimes”) and pat the Civic’s dash fondly.

Team GDT is gearing up for Komen!  We have an official fund-raising goal of $50,000, but I secretly think we can hit $100,000.  Our auction site is up and running at www.teamgdt.com, and there are some really great things there already, with new stuff every week.  And, as always, our cookbook is available and makes a great gift!  (You can find the link on our site).

I think most of us are in agreement that cancer sucks.  I lost my grandfather to cancer a few years ago, and it was something I’d prefer my family never have to go through again.  I just watched my friend’s future husband lose his dad in almost the same way, and I wish my friends didn’t have to go through that either.  I’m sure all of us have our own stories about how cancer has affected our lives, and Komen is making some great strides in finding a cure.  As always, any donation will help.

You haven’t heard the last from me on this subject!  But, please, take a second to check out our site and see if anything looks good enough to bid on.  Shop for a cure!

Yes, I am blogging today and not anywhere fun like a cookout.  Why?  I don’t know.  I have few friends with yards, one of whom in away.  My parents aren’t here, J is at work.  I am washing glasses we don’t use and packing them.  Whooppee.

Actually, I’ve had a busy morning.  I woke up at 5:30 with J, and made him an iced coffee to bring to work.  I should be wife of the year!  I was pretty awake this morning at that hour, as i went to bed at 10 last night, worn out by my pedicure and running for the train.  Have you ever ran for a train wearing flip flops with toilet paper in your toes, desperately trying not to ruin a $40 polish change?  Its not easy.

After fulfilling my wifely duties, I headed out in the rain to my big Fourth of July event:  The Hingham Road Race.  Miraculously, the rain stopped (making my friends who were supposed to run with me and bailed look like even bigger weenies) and the weather was nice for a 4.6 mile jaunt into town.  I know, random length, but its a nice course, full of million dollar houses and nice, rich people drinking coffee.  This was the 50th running of the race (my 3rd) and probably my last year doing it.  I would have to get up around 4:30 am to make it here by race time when we move, and that ain’t happening. 

After the race, I went to see J at work.  He was bored out of his mind.  He always has to work on the fourth, which stinks, but its not like anyone invites us to do anything anyways.  Next year we’ll have our own party!  Anyways, J gave me some food, and loaded me up with iced coffee, so I’ll bounce off the walls for awhile and probably crash right before we watch fireworks on tv.  Go me.

I am a bitch in my own mind.  Sometimes this flows outward into the public, but I try to control it.  I judge people in my mind a lot.  Not really my friends, but definitely the public.  Most of these seem to revolve around public transportation.  Here are some of my latest and greatest.

• Wearing a lime green sports bra and shorts will not make me more likely to buy the homeless person’s newspaper from you.
• If you’re running for a train that doesn’t leave for five more minutes, I want to trip you.
• Why do people walk fast at walk signals and slowly at do not walk signals?
• Just because I’m short does not mean you can walk really close to me.  I have personal space issues!
• There are a million trash barrels between the train and the door to the station.  There is no need to stop and cut across a crowd of people to throw out your Wall Street Journal.
• Your bag does not need its own seat when the train is crowded.  Move it, sistah.
• Yes, I know you have somewhere to be.  We all do.  That does not give you the right to stand in the street like a dog waiting to cross, and then hold up traffic just so you can get your latte before your meeting.
• I did not “let you go” in front of me while I was running.  I stopped because you didn’t see me and I wanted to live.
• Calling a meeting on a Friday at 9 am and then showing up 45 minutes late is just plain rude. 
• Don’t argue semantics with the leader of a 9 hour seminar when you’re in hour 2.  No one wants to hear it.

Wow, I guess that was mostly gripes & rants.  Sorry.  :)  I’m bitter because I have to run an awful race tomorrow with BAC, and I don’t have any friends. 

As I mentioned a few posts ago, J & I have an accepted offer on a house.  We now have a signed Purchase & Sales, a very good home inspection, and a pile of mortgage paperwork to complete.  Oh, and the highest interest rates in 9 months.  Yay.

All this is fine and dandy, but what I’m most concerned about it how long it will take me to get our home in picture perfect condition.  We have an advantage, as the house is newer and needs no work.  Not even paint!  But it needs stuff.  Like furniture. 

I may have mentioned that I’m anal.  I’m a Virgo, it comes with the territory.  I know your first home is not supposed to be perfect.  But mine must be!  Oh, I know there will always be things to do.  But I won’t rest until the furniture is in place and the pictures are hung on the wall.  Of course, we have no furniture, which is a slight problem for the wallet.  But, hey, that’s what tax refunds and second jobs are for! 

When J & I moved into the apartment, we got our keys on a Friday night.  By Wednesday, we were all set up and ready to go.  This time, I plan on taking a week off and not returning to BAC until the place is beautiful.  Advertising can wait!  The house must look good!  I have a plan: Close & clean Monday, move Tuesday or Wednesday, and furniture shop & unpack the rest of the days.  Who am I kidding, the furniture will be waiting for us at the door the day we close!  I wonder if our Realtor gives presents like HGTV does on My First Place?

I digress.  The one spot the house needs work is the yard.  Not a lot of work, but some bushes, some more flowers, and a vegetable garden that I will spend all winter researching and planning for.  Oh, and maybe a new deck, because its kind of ugly.  And maybe unsafe, but whatever.  J’s first order of business is to move the plants away from the house so we don’t become infested with bugs, but I’d prefer to leave them alone & focus on bigger things, like my vegetable garden!

J will also need to focus on mowing the lawn, all .85 acres of it.  I’m not even sure where exactly our land is, so he’ll probably end up mowing the neighbor’s lawn too, but they have a pool we plan on using while they’re away, so I’m sure it will even out.  My parent’s friends were nice enough to give us their lawnmower, which is great, because you can buy a lot of Ikea furniture for the cost of a lawnmower.  Its not a riding mower, which is perfectly fine, as beggars can’t be choosers and we’ll take anything we can get.  But I would have loved to see J look like this one day as he hauls ass around the yard.

On the advice of other, much smarter friends, I bought In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan.  This book is not one I would normally buy, as its severely lacking in romantic embraces, dying children and crushed marriages that seem to overpower some of the crap I normally read, but it is about my favorite subject: food!

The beginning of the book is very scientific, way too scientific for a 7:36 am train ride.  I have to admit that I skimmed over a lot of the junk about nutrition, just as I would have done in college.  And I graduated, so it worked then!

Pollan defines “orthorexics” in his intro: people with an unhealthy obsession with eating healthy food.  I read that and thought: this is what I’m becoming.  Now, those of you who saw me scarf down fried calamari twice this week might disagree with that.  In truth, I’m not obsessed enough with healthy eating to actually do it all the time, but I think about food constantly.  I plan meals, I read labels, I count servings and calories, and I’m always planning my next meal.  Its borderline obsessive.  The ultimate goal is to eat healthy, but sometimes a fryalator stands in my way.  I’m a fat kid at heart.

Pollan’s manifesto breaks down into three key points: Eat Food.  Not Too Much.  Mostly Plants.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Not really.  “Food” should be anything your great grandmother would recognize, with an ingredient list of less than 5 ingredients, all of which you should be able to pronounce.  No high-fructose corn syrup (which is in a lot of food.  A real lot of food).  You need to think about what your meat ate before you eat it.   And what’s in the soil where your carrots grow.  You should try eating until you’re 80% full. 

All good, in theory.  But how long does it take someone to grocery shop with conditions like that?  Oh wait, you shouldn’t shop at the grocery store, but focus on Farmer’s Markets (which is a great idea, if I could find one on the weekends near my house).  And what will your food bill become?  Even buying produce in season & on sale is more expensive than a few boxes of mac & cheese and a can of corn. 

Now, I haven’t finished the book, but how do you do all that without becoming obsessed with food?  I hope I find out.  I’ve been trying to eat healthier, in general.  I’ve almost given up faux sugars, sans the occasional Diet Coke or WW ice cream bar.  I really try to think about if what I am eating has nutritional value, and try not to eat it if it doesn’t.   And this consumes me at times.  I have to be 100% on my game, and “good” to lose weight.  One trip to the food court where I wait for my train, and the scale is thrown against the wall in disgust.  Put me in a restuarnt with a martini, and I can kiss the week goodbye.  Lack of willpower seems to be a common problem in my life.

The bottom line:  Its really much easier to be fat.

This bunch was way harder than the first fifty!

(No, you’re not having de-ja-vu.  I can’t get them to renumber from 50 on, and I’m too lazy to type in the numbers myself). 

1. Ordering room service in Costa Rica at midnight and eating grilled cheese in bed.
2. Running on Coronado Island.
3. Stuffing the mailboxes in Mrs Fermainian’s third grade classroom.
4. Making my first foul shot — a bucket shot!
5. The end of our rafting trip, when we all just floated down the river, exhausted.
6. My going away parties at TAC.
7. The day J & I signed our lease, bought a mattress and had lunch over plans of setting up our bedroom.
8. Getting up at three am to leave for vacation, so we’d get there early, and not waste a day.
9. Drinking on the beach.
10. The year my parents bought my brother & I the set of basketball cards, and we returned them for the box of packs, because we liked opening them.
11. Playing on the rocks.
12. Going up to school to see Marty Quirk on a Wednesday night, then going to work the next day hungover.
13. Singing Green Alligators.
14. Holding the babies at the day care.
15. Calling in sick to work to go to one of Kirsten’s dress fittings.
16. Moving into our apartment and ordering Dominos while unpacking.
17. Playing the harmonica with Leroy the Iguana.
18. Watching the kites fly in Newport.
19. Sitting on the beach on Marco Island, doing nothing.
20. Making the lady at the bridal store pull out 30 dresses for Kirsten & I to try on.
21. Listening to Ant sing “Oh What a Night” in his basement.
22. The day Mikey told me they were going to ask Greg to pledge.
23. Meghan & Betsy locking Kirsten & I out of her house, barefoot, in the snow.
24. Friday nights at the hockey rink.
25. Going to the rocks in Narragansett and walking to the “car” while Kirsten carried her sopping wet shoes.
26. Hanging out on the lifeguard chairs at the beach.
27. The care package Kirsten made me when the boy I had a crush on told me he liked her.
28. Drinking with J and discussing our plans for our life.
29. Lunch at the Cabbyshack the day we got engaged.
30. Driving to the beach in Mikey’s Jeep, getting oil all over my shirt from the stick shift not being covered well enough.
31. The Red Sox 2004 Victory Parade.
32. Christmas mornings with J, coffee with Baileys & Banana Bread.
33. Making my cousin laugh with his Snuggle Teddy Bear.
34. Chowder & Clamcakes at George’s after a long tough day on the beach.
35. Dancing to Britney Spears while my friends laid on my bed and sang along.
36. Going to Watch Hill with Amy Jo.
37. Regulators…Mount Up!
38. Halloweens when we were too old to trick or treat.
39. My grandmother letting us stay up until midnight on New Years Eve, and toasting the new year with egg nog.
40. When Betsy & I used to try to listen to the Lion King soundtrack simultaneously on the phone.
41. Eating lobsters when my aunt & uncle babysat.
42. J waiting for me when I got off the plane from Ohio.
43. Riding my bike to my friend’s house –  a whole 5 miles!
44. Playing Rock Band with Kirsten & Betsy instead of going to a bar.
45. The first goal I saved in soccer.
46. The day I bought my car.
47. Trying to swim/boat/float across the lake.
48. Sitting under the hot springs in Costa Rica with a fruity drink.
49. Getting a free beer from Jerry Remy on the Green Monster (after he checked my ID).
50. Having the offer accepted on our first house!

I know I owe you 50 more memories, but I’m having trouble finding them in my brain.  I’m working on it.  In the meantime, this is what I’ve been up to:

• We got a new realtor.  She’s very nice, and is very patient with us so far.  I’m sure she’ll grow tired of us shortly.  We like her because she feeds us.
• We fell in love with a house that was far off the highway.  We made offers & counteroffers, then decided to walk away and find something closer.  Its sad, but okay.  The saddest part is that I wanted to leave J and marry the kitchen.  And, it had an in law apartment, so I could have left J and we could have both stayed in the house.
• I ran a 5 miler last Sunday, and thought I would die, but I actually did better than I did last year.
• J got his first sunburn of the season on Monday.  He’s still limping around.  I told him to put on sunblock.
• Speaking of the beach, we saw a ton of crabs.  I also saw seagulls eating the crabs, which at first made me sad, especially when I saw the empty shells.  But then I starting singing “The Circle of Life” in my head, and I felt better.
• I will do everything in my power to stay awake for Lost tonight.  I’ll let you know how that goes at some point. 
• I’m a loser and planning my own 30th birthday party.  I’m also a bit of a control freak, so it goes hand in hand!