Why I am a dull person

If you are my facebook friend, you may have already seen this.  Oh, well.  It's good blog fodder.

1. My sister and I used to pretend we were on a t.v. show every time we unloaded/loaded the dishwasher.  We gave tips and advice to our imaginary audience.

2.  I used to pretend I was on a t.v. show about hair and makeup advice whenever I was primping in the bathroom.

3. Now I pretend I am on a cooking show whenever I cook dinner.  I even pause to take pictures so that I  can (eventually) rerun the episodes on the blog.  Preservation for posterity and that sort of thing.

4.  My favorite kind of t.v. shows are home organization shows, makeover shows, and cooking shows.

5.  But now we don't have cable, so I never get to watch Clean Sweep, What Not to Wear, or Barefoot Contessa.  I miss cable.

6.  I love movies.

7.  I love music.  (This comes from my mom.  I used to skip school and come home and hear her blasting the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack over my dad's magnaplaners and dancing around the house.)

8.  I love musical theatre.

9.  I love to spell theatre like that because I am super fancy.

10.  I don't give compliments unless I genuinely mean them.

11.  I try to compliment everyone I come into contact with (it helps me be a more positive person.  Because, after all, I am naturally tres sarcastic, ironic and grouchy.)

12.  I'm pretty good at finding new friends.  Robert is very good at keeping them around.  (You know it's true.  I may have reeled you in, but Bob's the reason you're still around.  He's the one with depth.)

13.  Robert was hypnotized into deciding to marry me.  True story.

14.  Before I had kids, I used to spend hours in the children's books section at Barnes and Noble.

15.  I'm pretty sure that my in-laws had to grow to love me.  It took awhile.

16.  Except for Diana.  She used to tell me (back when we were in high school) that she wanted me to marry one of her brothers  so that we could be sisters.

17.  Nowadays my in-laws adore the heck outta me.  (Admit it, guys, you love me!)

18.  I think that if the families of the world would return to the nightly dinner table, it would solve a lot of problems.

19.  I also believe that the ability to laugh at yourself is one of the keys to finding joy.  That way, no matter where you are, you've got something to laugh at.

20.  Robert helps me laugh at myself all the time.

21.  I didn't comb my hair today.

22.  I'm surprised you are still reading this, because I am getting bored typing it.

23.  Today I am wearing comfy shoes.

24.  I only drink diet soda, never ever ever the sugary kind.  But my favorite thing to drink is water.

25.  Seriously, go find something to do.  This was a complete waste of your time.  Unless you had insomnia when you sat down to read, because you have probably been cured.  But if that's true, you are passed out on your keyboard and have drooled all over the keys.  Gross. 

Take a Chance on Me

Henceforth, all people who wish to become friends with Rosie, or generally be admitted into RosieWorld, shall be in possession of the following words printed on a laminated card:

Rosie is a unique individual with a complicated personality.  Through the years, many words have been used to describe Rosie:  bossy, fun, energetic, sassy, generous, patient, skinny, selfish, chubby, lazy, insecure, flaky, prompt, insensitive, reliable, late, confident, way too sensitive, genuine, authentic, shocking . . . well, you get the idea.  We are confident that, should you decide to pursue a relationship with  her, you will come up with your own words to describe her (some of them may have four letters, and she forgives you.)  

A four letter word that Rosie has never been accused of being is "nice."  This is because she does not own a pair of kid gloves thus she cannot handle you with any.  Rosie would never hurt your feelings on purpose, but the filter between her brain and her mouth does not always work.  She is aware of this flaw in herself and works to correct it every day.  

Rosie thinks that being nice is overrated.

If Rosie is good at something, it is because she has worked hard to become so.  There are not many things that come naturally to Rosie (except sarcasm, irony, and grouchiness,) so please don't begrudge her the things she happens to be good at.  

Rosie's flaws include, but are not limited to, those listed above.  We are sure that, should you choose to pursue a friendship with her, you will be able to add to the list in no time.  

If, after this disclosure, you choose to move along and find other friends, then good for you and Thank You.  Rosie does not wish to waste her time or invest her emotions in anyone who would sacrifice a friendship with her due to their own insecurities.  

If, however, you choose to be friends with Rosie, flawed as she is, then congratulations! You have found a lifelong friend who will celebrate your successes with you, someone to cheer you on as you try new things, and someone who will mourn with you as your heart breaks.  Through your friendship with her, we encourage you to help Rosie become a better person.  Because, as you will discover shortly, she really, really needs it.

Thank you and good night.

In which I reveal my mistress

First, a brief history of the early years of my domestic journey into the kitchen parts of my home:

I have been known to catch spaghetti noodles on fire.  Honest.  Somehow, I once managed to ignite a pot of water.

Long ago, my jell-o didn't jiggle, my oatmeal was always lumpy, and my hamburgers were hockey pucks.

The first time I made sloppy joes, the slop wasn't fit for dogs. Truly. I couldn't get the humans around me to eat it so I gave it to my aunt's dog and the bitch wouldn't touch it.

Come to think of it, the parasites that Hubs brought home from his time in South America before I subjected him to my cooking are most likely the very things that kept him alive through (what we will politely call) the learning phase of my relationship with the stove.

We stuck it out, though.  The stove and I.  Through good times and bad, through bland brownies and salty soup and rock hard dinner rolls we learned which of each other's buttons to push (I discovered the medium setting on the stovetop) and when to back off . . .  and now? Aahhh . . . now, my stove and I carry on a passionate love affair.  I have found a rhythm in the kitchen that puts a bounce in my step.  Sometimes we don't have as much time for each other as we would like and I cheat on her with the crockpot and I admit to actually having paid for it at (gasp!) McDonald's but for the most part, we really heat things up together, me and my stove.  

Who knows, maybe I'm even confident enough in my relationship to share a little.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll tell you how I make homemade chicken stock.  Then, maybe I'll tell you what kinds of things you can do with your homemade chicken stock.  Or how about marinara sauce and meatballs?  Pork and ginger soup over rice.  Pancit, chicken adobo, and lumpias could be in your future.  I can't really say.  Because, after all, what's a love affair without a couple of empty promises?  But you never know . . . 

These are the days

Wake up and wonder if Ed is up in time for his early morning instruction.  Listen for him.  After a few minutes of not hearing him, drag myself out of my warm bed (flannel sheets, I love you) and wander down the hall.  Walk right into him at the end of the hall.  Go back to bed and be glad that he has a ride to Seminary.  

Get up again when I hear him come home.  Stick my head into the boys' room and tell Jack to close his book and get dressed.  "Hey, Liz."  "Good morning, Ed."  Go to the kitchen and maybe make pancakes.  Or oatmeal.  Or scrambled eggs.  If my night was especially late and the morning came way too soon, I sit down and tell the kids to make their own breakfast while I open my Diet Coke.  Ed helps.  He even makes their lunches.  

The squeak of a bedroom door opening, little feet running down the hallway.  "Good mo-ning hugs, mom!"  The circulation to my feet is cut off as she wraps her arms around my legs and brightens the whole kitchen with her mile wide grin.  "Can I help you make bekfast?"  

Over breakfast they astound me with their math knowledge.  "mom, I know what 1,000 x 4 is!"  "I know what 19 + 19 is!"  Ed and I are appropriately impressed.

"Clear your dishes."  "Put on your snowpants."  "MOM!  Where are my boots?"  (How would I know?)  "Are we having hot or cold lunch?"  "Go brush your teeth."  "Straighten the covers on your bed."  (They are not physically capable of making their bed, but they are totally willing to straighten their covers.)  "Mom, I need you to sign this."  "Put on a hat."  "Where are your gloves?"  "Did you brush your teeth?"  "Put the hamster away."  "Put your book away."  "Is that your homework on the table?"  "It's time to go."  "I need my tennis shoes.  It's P.E. day."  "I love you.  Your are an amazing person.  Have a wonderful day. (kiss on the forehead.  kiss on the cheek.  kiss on that spot just below the ear.)  "Mom, I need to go!"  

"Don't fo-get yo' good-bye hugs!!!!!!"  

And off they go, smiling and waving. 

I have a few precious hours to do all the things it takes to make my house a home.  Stella and George are my accomplices in laundry, vacuum, bill-pay, errand-running.  Sometime I'll paint you a picture of my days.

Right now I am off to watch a little bit of the office while I run on my treadmill.

Meet me in St. Louis

Over the New Year weekend, we got the heck outta dodge and drove five hours south to visit my long lost friend (who is kind of stuck with me because I am also her cousin.)

We hadn't spent any significant amount of time together in 15 years.

 

Our husbands had never met.

Our kids had never met.

The plan was to stay in their home for three days.

About a half hour from her house, I started to panic.  What was I doing?  I was two steps away from being Cousin Ed showing up in Clark Griswald's driveway announcing "That there Clark's an R.V."  How was I going to gracefully extract myself and my family from the uncomfortably silent sitting and staring at each other that was sure to ensue as soon as we arrived?  

It was a recipe for disaster.

Luckily, I don't always follow the recipe.

My kids didn't embarrass me (I didn't hear them belch out loud the whole time.)  In fact, once they figured out who was who, they disappeared only to surface for food once in awhile.  

I didn't embarrass my husband (I didn't belch either) and he got to watch his football team win a big game with his new friend.  

In the end, we all left with a new (or newly discovered) best friend.  If you don't believe me, take a look at this photo:

We told them to stand on the rock so that we could take their picture.  Do you see how Jack and Mack are being the responsible oldest brothers and doing as their mothers asked?  Do you see how Creed and Chase are acting goofy and silly?  Do you see how Hannah and Stella are both just trying to look pretty?  I couldn't have scripted the weekend better than it played out.  I hope the future holds much more time for our kids to play together.

And I hope my future holds many more fun conversations, laughter, revelations, and wisdom gained from the always stunning Christie.  Who knows, maybe even a girls only trip with Sara and Maegan?  What do you think?  (I'm sorry, I just can't play it cool.  I LIKE YOU!)