This is the Entry Where I Complain A Lot

February 7th, 2010

I have a work-from-home option, so I’m taking it. It’s not me I don’t trust, it’s the idiots with 2WD and bald tires. If you drive a Honda Civic, just where the hell do you think you are going to go? Really? It’s a hot mess out there. Just awful. We had to help push an idiot back down the street who thought she was going to get out of the neighborhood in a Solaris. Idiot. You could have screwed people with 4WD from being able to get out in an emergency. IDIOT! What if someone had a heart attack and emergency services needed to get in here? Just stay home! No one cares about your Superb Owl party and your cute shoes and flimsy coat. GO HOME!!!

The plows are working hard but Maryland just isn’t fully prepared for a situation like this and our little five-mile radius seems to have been on the receiving end of Mother Nature’s long-nailed middle finger. I know I asked for snow but I really only wanted a few inches, not a freaking blizzard with two systems following close behind.

When it snowed three feet during the week we in Colorado, no big deal. Life went on. It was hell of awesome! But here, well, I’ll say it again, we just aren’t prepared.

In other news, I made hot wings for Matt because he likes hot wings and he’s been in my ear about them all day. Then I made some hot chocolate for myself. Yum. I am planning to make lemon lavender cookies tomorrow because I want something that tastes like spring. I’m over all of this snow and we’re going to get 5+ inches on Tuesday night and then another 8-12″ this weekend! What the FUCK are we going to do with all of this?

I usually don’t mind snow. In fact, I love it! But in central Maryland this much is just not welcome. In this neighborhood especially. My anxiety and tension run far too high to deal with it. I feel claustrophobic in my neighborhood. We don’t even have a decent sledding hill. We’re just stuck here with our cats, going a little stir crazy.

I’m trying to be patient. If you know me, you know how hard this is. Thank goodness we have a StairMaster, I think I’ll spend some time sweating on that tomorrow and maybe do a little yoga. I need something to put the mellow in me. I have to cancel my Spin class on Tuesday as well. I doubt that anyone would have come anyway.

Whatever, I’m just over it and going to bed now. I’ll feel a little more motivated and relaxed tomorrow.

Snow, Snow, Snowtorious

February 7th, 2010

Matt and I went for a walk and I took a few pictures around the way. I’m so angry about how uncooperative the folks are in this neighborhood. Entitled. lazy, and spoiled.

Anyway, we’re still not getting out for a couple of days. It’s fucking mental around here. No sooner does the plow clear the street than people come out of their houses and push all of their snow into the street. Un. Believable.

Times like these make me wish I lived in Colorado or Maine. At least people have a friggin’ clue up there.

Pictures.

Digging Out

February 7th, 2010

Most of the folks in our neighborhood are out of shape and lazy so instead of walking a shovel full of snow to the yard or across the street, they just heave it out into the plowed street and head back in to watch television, waiting for the Bobcat to come around again.

You fucking morons, what if the plow doesn’t come again? Then we’re all royally fucked, now aren’t we?

When we shoveled out yesterday, we did our best not to throw much into the street. Hell, even the frat boys renting the house up the street were doing their best to create piles across the street instead of in it. When our neighbors on either side dug themselves out, they buried us back in with them, even thought we left a big gap in the pile we made across the street so they could move their snow a little easier.

I’m amazed by the lack of effort put forth by the majority of this population. I’m amazed by the lack of effort and consideration that anyone puts forth at any time of the year around here. Most of the time, I like where we live. I like the convenience, our nice big house. I like the mortgage payment and the fact that we don’t have any real financial strain but times like these make me want to just get the fuck out. For real.

I want to go sled riding and hot tubbing but I’m trapped here because of the sheer laziness of other human beings. And I’m listening to the new renters bass all day long. Lucky fucking me.

Snow Shoveling Workout

February 6th, 2010

Faced with the challenge of digging us out of three feet of snow, I was determined to find a way to make this happen without suffering from repetitive stress pains. That isn’t to say I won’t be feeling the several hours of shoveling tomorrow but at least I’ll feel a little more balanced about it.

First, I waxed my shovel with car wax; this kept snow from sticking to the shovel so my throw was more efficient and I didn’t have to heave loads quite as hard.

Then, I treated the shovel like a barbell, engaged my core, and followed this routine:

  • Close, overhand grip for three sets of ten. Treated this motion like a row.
  • Close, underhand grip for three sets of ten. Treated this motion like a row.
  • Wide, overhand grip for three sets of ten. Treated this motion like a bicep curl.
  • Wide, underhand grip for three sets of ten. Treated this motion like a bicep curl.
  • Squats, for three sets of ten, underhand or overhand grip.
  • Dead lifts, for three sets of ten. overhand grip.

Then I switched sides I was shoveling with. This took some ambidexterity, but helped keep the muscles balanced and keep my from getting fatigued.

I shoveled for 40-60 minutes at a time, breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth and was sure to put the shovel down every few minutes and twist my back out gently, shake out my arms, rolled my shoulders, and loosen my neck. At the end of each 40-60 minutes session, I took a half hour break to stretch, rehydrate, and eat something.

Throwing snow was the most challenging as some of the piles were nearly five feet high! I found that varying how I threw snow really helped. A few times underhand, a few times overhand, and in some cases I just pushed it onto the sidewalk and let Matt deal with it.

So, I enjoyed the workout, and enjoyed the cup of hot chocolate at the end of it all. I earned it!

My Cat Plays Fetch, and Other Things

February 4th, 2010

God, I am such a cat person. There’s no denying it. Cats complete me. Strong-willed, independent, and full of personality. I squee when I see them in windows and I always get a meow back.

I love all three of my kitties. They are all so very different and so very necessary to my health and happiness. Nothing beats a bad day like purr and fur therapy:

  • Emily- Because she’s fat, snuggly, and obnoxious. She’s an endless source of howling and watch keeping and really likes being near one of us no matter what. She’s my soul and when she looks up at me, it melts my world into a million pieces. I simply can’t got a day without her and if I even go a couple of hours without seeing her, I simply call out, “Emmy Bug” and she comes out from wherever she is for a snuggle.

  • Sam -Because she’s sweet yet spiteful, always hidden in the shadows but doesn’t hesitate to come out for brushes and snuggle time when it’s on her terms. She dotes upon Matt and tolerates me. I accept that and allow her to love me the way she needs to. As long as I can scratch her chin every now and then and tell her how pretty she is.

You could say the girls are Matt’s cats.

  • Then … there’s Diesel, who stole my heart the moment from the milisecond we brought him home that snowy December afternoon. He’s a menace, an acrobat, a limit-pusher, a player, a fighter, a fetcher, and a heart throb. He has the worst gas you’ve ever smelled in your life and when his motor gets going, you can hear it down the hall (his name suits him well). He dotes on me and ignores Matt, who says, “Your cat” about everything. He greets me at the front door every time with a “What’s up?” and curls up on my chest/neck when it’s time to go to sleep at night. It’s pretty safe to say that we are madly in love.

In other news, Matt and I went to Elkridge Furnace Inn for our anniversary dinner tonight. Matt didn’t care for the food despite loving brunch and our wedding reception. Me? Let’s just say I broke the bank on this one and will have to teach at least five Spin classes to burn off this menu:

  • Baby Spinach topped with Smoked Duck, Dried Cranberries, Pistachios, and a Port Wine Vinaigrette–Holy Mary Mother of God was that vinaigrette the best thing I’ve ever eaten! I wanted to lick the damn plate! In fact, the salad was perfection in itself. Absolutely stunning.
  • Gnocchi Provencal with tomato, garlic, shallots, basil and white beans–Delicate and well-balanced. I absolutely loved the combination and the gnocchi was perfect.
  • Portabella Mushroom and Walnut “Baklava” with lavender honey served over a root vegetable and white bean ragout–This was amazing. Oh my god, like something out of a dream.
  • House made truffles and coffee. Yeah, I ate ALL the truffles. There was no bringing those home. Ef that.

That being said, the Spin instructor only eats whole grains and lean meats and veggies and fruit. Right? Right.

Why 6:00 a.m. Spin Class Sucks

February 4th, 2010

There’s only one reason: it’s trash/recycle day.

I love early morning cardio exercise and I love instructing early morning classes. I like inspiring people and making them smile, helping them do something good for themselves before the helter-skelter of the day kicks in and reminding them to hold onto that good, healthy, energized feeling throughout the day.

But then I come home and find mountains of garbage bags from the house two doors down in my parking space. Grrrrr! The guys are contractors, renting the house out for an undetermined amount of time. They’ve already been asked once by the folks in the house between us to turn the radio down (not kidding, you could feel the bass in our house) There goes the neighborhood.

I can’t say I blame the guys though. It’s a workday morning, there’s an empty parking spot, let’s load it up! I thought that I might bang on their door and ream them out, or be an even bigger asshole and pile it all up behind their van, but then decided I could just park on the street and say something to them when I see them another time. How grownup of me.

“Hey, guys, I live in [house number]. I’m a fitness instructor and teach early morning classes and actually come back on Thursday mornings. Could I ask you to refrain from putting your trash in my spot? I’d appreciate it.”

That sounds bitchy and self righteous though. I don’t know. Suggestions?

A Blessing and a Curse

February 4th, 2010

Cooking is the one thing in the world where I have complete and total control, unless Matt comes in and asks me to “make the apple crisp sweeter.” I mean, I do take requests. * wink * Recipes are merely guidelines; I rarely follow them to a tee. I prefer to remove this, sub that, remove that spice, add this spice, try that pan … oops, I nearly set the oven on fire!”

It allows me to be a little more relaxed in other areas of my life. Um, cough, cough, yeah, stop looking at me like that, please.

Anyway, I love the results of experimentation. I love the taste of freshness. I love that I can open my fridge, select five items, and make something fantastic from them. I certainly have my failures here and there, and I accept those and learn from them but it just feels and tastes so good.

I love the feel of dough in my hands–the transformation of water, flour, yeast, and salt as it becomes bread. I love the feel of raw chicken, the inside of a cavity when I’m slathering it with butter and herbs. I love the smell of hot cast iron. I love the sizzle of garlic and olive oil. I love the nibbles, the sticky, the drippy, the magic. I love it all!

Okay, I’m getting carried away, losing control. See? I can do it!

The downside to cooking is that eating out has become less enjoyable and Matt loves going out to eat and he’s not as sensitive to food like I am. He says I’m a “kill joy keeping him from getting his chicken wings and beer on” and this causes a lot of arguments:

I want soft tacos for dinner.

Okay, I got a tortilla recipe from Tim, so I’ll make them for dinner.

Why must the first thing out of your mouth be, “I’ll make them for dinner”? I was thinking Taco Bell.

Taco Bell is gross, Matt.

But it’s quick and you can stop on the way home from work.

But it’s gross and I can make soft tacos a million times better and you know you’re going to be all like, Mffffff mmmmm nomnomnom when you eat them. Like the pizza last night.

Fine, whatever. Make your fucking tacos.

Fine, I fucking will.

And the cats flee the room because they can’t handle the marital bliss. I’ve got to say, being married to me is like being on the receiving end of a very horny bull on steroids. I feel for Matt, I really do. He’s a great guy and deserves more head scratches and back rubs than I give him.

Thankfully, working in the kitchen is the one place where I can actually exercise patience. That’s the blessing. It’s probably the only time I ever stop talking and the results of me keeping my mouth shut are usually pretty good.

The curse is that it does cause Matt and I to bicker. Who thought that a man would be annoyed that his wife wants to cook so much?

Matt understands that the kitchen is where I wind down at the end of the day. It’s my sanctuary, my studio, and it’s full of warmth and good smells and fuzzy kitchen assistants. I try to understand that sometimes the man just wants to go out but why on Earth would I bring low-grade tacos into MY HOME?!?!?!

We’ve compromised over the years by being a little more selective about where we eat. I tend to lean toward ethnic food and, of course, the Gastro Pub. Matt tends to lean toward anything and will go where I drag him with a resounding, “Okay, but can I get a beer?”

I feel for the guy, he was raised on pork chops and applesauce and when I take him into a restaurant that isn’t a steak house, he gets lost. He doesn’t know how to read a menu and he doesn’t care to learn. That’s what I’m for. When we go out with friends he gives me a signal and sits with his menu open and waits for me to say, “The [insert entree here] looks good.” Then he orders that.

Now, I’m not a hyper foodie, I just like food and I like it done right. Nothing wrong with that. So, if I don’t want to drive all the way up to Riesterstown for the best damn tacos I’ve ever had in my life, I’m sure as shit going to make them at home.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Living Happily Ever After

February 2nd, 2010

Our wedding anniversary has come and gone and just this morning I thought to myself, “You know, I would do it all over again. It was so much damn fun!”

We had hamburgers for dinner the night of our actual anniversary, but we’re celebrating on Thursday by going out to dinner at the restaurant where we held our reception. A couple of friends surprised us with a gift certificate as a “We know it’s late but we didn’t want you to use it until your anniversary” wedding present. How clever and thoughtful! I love it.

We had such a good time at our wedding, so much that I’m going to link to a couple of wedding albums:

Lisa’s shots, which contain so many wonderful candid moments. Including this one, which is of me, my oldest friend, and her girlfriend cracking up over the two of them just having seen my aunt’s bare ass in the bathroom. You have to know my aunt, long story. Anyway, I heart Lisa. You should look at all of her pictures because they are awesome, just like she is.

Professional shots, posted on my Flickr page. Our photographer was awesome. We loved working with him and he did such a beautiful job. He worked freelance, pictures only, so we saved a lot of money without sacrificing quality of work. Lucky us!

Up Early

February 2nd, 2010

Matt came downstairs this morning at 8:05, fully dressed, hair disheveled, and asked “Why do you get up so early, Bug?”

I explained to him that I like getting up early because it allows me to enjoy a cup of coffee, collect my thoughts for the day, do a load of laundry (which I, oops, forgot to put in the dryer), pack lunches, make breakfast, and generally enjoy some time to myself. I can read the comics, make lists, scratch under my bra line, and when the weather gets warmer go for a run or ride my bike to work.

I function better throughout the day, I sleep better, and I’m happier. Evenings in our house are full of plans and rushing around and Matt growing antsy after dinner about DOING SOMETHING and I end up going to bed in a tizzy because there are so many things left undone or I spent all night getting everything done and can’t calm down and Matt’s whining that “We didn’t DOOOOO anything.”

In bedtime news, here we are in all of our domestic glory. Diesel only looks innocent because he’s coming down from a sugar high after licking half the filling out of a cannoli I stupidly left on the counter, but we all know the devil is inside him. Oh, dammit, I can’t take a not-cute picture of the beast. Cuteness is his, without a doubt, his saving grace.

Update on the Scratch

February 2nd, 2010

Driving home from work yesterday, I noticed a very loud humming-whomping sound when I turned the steering wheel to the left. Then I noticed it was happening when I drove straight, but never when I turned right. So, I looked down at the wheel and noticed the alignment was way off so I corrected it and the car pulled hard to the right. Great. Just great. The guess is either wheel bearing or axle. I’m hoping axle because that is so much less expensive to repair, like several hundred dollars less.

In addition, this morning, Matt noticed the rear rim was scratched as well. It looks like shit, not as bad as the front rim but pretty bad. He said, “Let it oxidize, it will be fine.” What choice to I have? With the car in need of mechanical repair, I certainly don’t have the cash for aesthetics, especially two 17″ alloy rims.

Cars are cars, they cost money. Shit happens and I’d rather drop $1000 on a repair than have to deal with insurance companies, major body work, or, even worse, the car being totaled and having to buy some shitty little piece of shit because we would still owe money on the Outback and not be able to afford such a nice car.

Okay, now that I’ve put it in perspective, I feel a lot better. We know a guy who does good work so we’re taking the car to him tomorrow. Hopefully he doesn’t find any other damages. I even put the rims into perspective thinking, “Cindy, you bought a sport-utility wagon. You guys haul this thing through all kinds of shit. Give it another year and someone will throw a car door into it or Matt will hit an ATM. It’s just a car.”

Speaking of cars, Matt’s about ready to turn in the Impreza, so we’re thinking we’ll buy a new car at the end of this year. I’m leaning toward the Element, which I was leaning toward when Matt found the Outback, as it would be perfect for business and, therefore, the business can buy the vehicle and take the payments and maintenance off our hands. We can also afford a new one, of which I am very much in favor.