Category: Marriage

Family, Holidays, Humor, Marriage November 23, 2009

Turkey Day

“Thanksgiving is, after all, a word of action.”
– W. J. Cameron

My immediate family has always been rather insular, we live far away from my extended family and haven’t always had the best relationship with them anyway. So holidays have mostly been just us and I’ve always liked them that way: smaller, inundated with our own bizarre traditions (I think I’ll discuss some of our more quirky holiday habits at length later), and just plain cozy.

And then I married the youngest of five children (three others of whom are married with kids of their own) whose parents live nearby and who like to get everyone together on holidays.

So yesterday when we had our first faux-Thanksgiving (another one with godfamily may or may not be forthcoming…they haven’t celebrated a holiday on its designated day for some years now, thanks to Drill’s work schedule. Who knows? Maybe we’ll just eat pie and go to a movie!) because Darling and Atticus are going out of town this week, it was quite the event! Four kids, two babies, eight adults, three ovens, two dozen rolls (not enough!), four pounds of yams (barely enough), one turkey, approximately four million toys all over the kitchen floor, and one minor blizzard.

happy_thanksgiving_crazy — Do not stand in the way of hungry nieces and nephews.

Absolute madness! In a fun way. I met J.’s oldest brother and sister-in-law for the second time (first time was at the wedding) and tricked their baby into liking me. My brother-in-law misunderstood instructions and dumped a bunch of boiled potatoes onto the counter instead of mashing them up and then took a picture of his baby’s new trick of grabbing onto things (I taught him!). Unfortunately, baby was grabbing onto my necklace and the camera was perfectly angled down my shirt. The kids had already eaten a bunch of the rolls before dinner even started and then spent a good chunk of the time crawling around under the table as we adults tucked into turkey. Afterwards they disappeared upstairs for a while only to return shrieking and pasting post-it notes over everything and everyone in reach and one of the boys punched the other in the face.

Aunt C. is becoming acclimated.

Family, Holidays, Humor, Marriage, Money November 13, 2009November 13, 2009

Unlucky Indeed!

“This is always going to be a problem for us, you know.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well in June there’s your birthday, July our anniversary. And then November is my birthday, followed by Christmas.”
“Oh my. We did not time that well…”
-J. and C.

birt_127 J.’s birthday is tomorrow, and oh the problems! I ordered his present weeks ago, and after much angst that it wouldn’t come in time, I happily opened the mailbox yesterday to find it snuggled inside along with my mother’s christmas present (Poverty means that you have to buy presents in conjunction with paychecks. The more people in your life, the more paychecks you have to start thinking ahead. I have to think very far ahead). I got it inside, past J.’s grabbing hands and demands of, “What did you get me?!” and snuck it into its hiding place, when an Awful Realization struck.

I think J. may already have what I got him. Uh oh…

Never mind! He’s under orders to appear absolutely thrilled in front of my in-laws and I will quietly exchange it later if it is in fact, as I fear, a double.

Another realization that struck me this past week, though not as awfully as the first, is that I am now in charge of J.’s birthday. His last one we celebrated at his sister’s house complete with parents and four nieces and nephews (which I have now inherited) and it was definitely his parents’ show. This year it’s my job. Which meant a frantic scramble to call up Darling and my sister-in-law to coordinate a family get together. Today I ordered the cake he wanted (thereby pushing Gio and Buddy’s presents to next paycheck’s shopping list. I’m already behind!) and am I hoping haven’t forgotten anything else.

Also unlucky? I’ve already run through my allotted Pandora minutes for the month. Sigh.

Food, Home, Humor, Life, Marriage November 4, 2009November 4, 2009

Seasoned

“No look, I’ll show you.”
Pause.
“Wow. I was just about to lift up my shirt and then I thought, ‘No, there’s got to be a better way…'”
– Kay

I love my husband. I do. But I am more convinced than ever that he married me purely for the entertainment. Last night, we both collapsed in the door feeling generally beaten about by the world (him from mid-terms, me from work), and dove straight into pajamas. I was freezing so, against my will, I grudgingly pulled on my only long sleeve pajama top: a gray one with the words, “You, Me, and the Mistletoe” emblazoned across it that’s been in storage for a year. (I’m breaking one of my cardinal holiday rules: one at a time!) However, feeling toasty I forgave myself my Thanksgiving-overlooking indiscretion and happily relaxed, allowing J. to eat macaroni and cheese to his heart’s content while I finished off leftovers…until after we had cleaned up and I snuggled up against him for a hug…he leaned into my neck and smelled me.

Not adorable “I love your perfume” smelling, or even “I’m just trying to annoy you by doing weird things” smelling. Full on, “There’s something wrong here” smelling.

dash “What?” I demanded, pulling away.
“No! Come back!” he yanked me back against him, leaning down to bury his nose in my shoulder.
“What on earth is wrong with you!”
“You smell funny.” Deep inhale again.
“Hey!”
“No, I mean you smell…” he sucked another sniff down before declaring, “like seasoned salt, or spices.” A pause. “Why?”
“You’re just picking on me.”
“No I’m not, take of your shirt and smell.”
“Of all the stupid-”
“I’m serious!”

Not only did I get my shirt ridiculously caught on my elbow (and therefore stuck), I didn’t even need to get it over my head before the unmistakable whiff of Cajun seasonings hit me full in the face.

The great question for me is not J.’s “Why?” …but “How?!”

Family, Friends, Humor, Life, Marriage, Wedding October 26, 2009March 31, 2010

By Popular (Loud and Incessant) Demand

You demanded, Small Dog complied! Our wedding, in slideshow form, we apologize in advance for the crazy format:

With just a couple months away, C. and J. take pictures and try not to take everything too seriously.

L'Artiste tells C. to practice looking "sultry," C. bursts out laughing after the camera flashes.

C. is just glad she got veil and shoes figured out. J. is just glad C. can stop agonizing about it.

The whole clan meets up (the day before The Day), luckily everyone seems to get on well! It'd be a shame to back out at this point.

...Although...all this family can be a little overwhelming. Meeting/marrying into a clan, not for the feint of heart! — ...Although...all this family can be a little overwhelming. Meeting/marrying into a clan, not for the faint of heart!

No, not their six secret illegitimate children, C.'s newly acquired nieces and nephews!

Atticus, Darling, J., C. (who can't look at the right camera), Mama, Dad

J. chills with Scotticus, Cakes, and Bear...

...while C. gets fixed by Venice and Peregrine (AKA, 2/4 the greatest bridesmaid team ever)!

The complete gang: Snickers, Venice, Marie, Peregrine

Dad cracks guests up with the parents' viewpoint into our relationship.

Ring Ceremony, close up of my pretty engagement ring. Green!

The gorgeous spread...which we didn't get a bite of...

Good thing we got cake (red velvet!) to tide us over...but we still had to get fast food on the way to the carwash to get rid of our mutual brothers' handiwork in decorating it.

Speaking of! Here are mine, goofing off with the flowers.

Godfamily in the foreground. Early in the evening. Hostess said we had over 400 people, glad I didn't have to herd them!

Unfortunately, you don’t get to see the video of my dad completely showing up J. in the dancing section of the evening. But it didn’t matter so much because after I tossed the bouquet and we cut the cake, the real party started! Dancing, mayhem, the usual. Apparently we were partying too fast to be seen, because half of those pictures didn’t turn out at all! But there, your insatiable appetites must be satisfied by now!

Home, Humor, Marriage October 9, 2009October 9, 2009

Putting It To Bed. Sort Of.

“Early to rise,
Early to bed,
Makes a man healthy,
But socially dead.”
-Animaniacs

J. and I make all sorts of good decisions, with fine intentions, and solemn promises to comply with our goals. None of which work when slapped with reality. Case in point? Going to bed at a reasonable hour. We can’t do it. Nevermind that I have work at 8am and if he’s a millisecond late to class his homework won’t be accepted. Somehow we scrape through everyday but it’s been by the skin of our teeth every time.

Smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, adulterates hourly. And yet so appealing. A conundrum.

This past sunday night I turned to him very seriously and said, “We have to start getting up earlier, ergo, going to bed earlier.”
“Ok,” he said, “nine thirty?”
“Good idea.”
I then stayed up until nearly midnight because The Great Escape was on, and who doesn’t want to watch Steve McQueen nearly jump the border into Austria (chased by the entire Nazi army who sprung from nowhere)? And last night, J. was doing evil accounting homework, so what other choice did I have but to watch episode after episode of Mad Men? None whatsoever! And I certainly couldn’t have stopped myself from going to Blockbuster and getting the next two DVDs.

The real problem isn’t going to bed…it’s getting up. When I was a student I could stay up for hours (or days if it was exam week) and I don’t think I’ve lost the ability, just the will. The weather is growing delightfully more and more chilly, it’s getting gradually darker in the mornings (which is a blessing because I can’t sleep if there’s any light at all), and I have this nice warm husband to cuddle up against. Waking up just doesn’t seem nearly as good in comparison.

Family, Home, Humor, Life, Marriage September 23, 2009September 24, 2009

Married Alive

“So, you liking married life?”
“No.”
(awkward pause)
“Wait! I mean, I love being married to J. but being married itself is hard!”
“K…”
-Daae and C., who was not paying proper attention to the question

If we're being honest, though, let's admit that as long as we're not at this point, we're doing rather well!

Now, my other young married girl friends, back me up (especially us breadwinners Angel, Jane, Venice, Daae, and the rest of you!), it was a bit of an adjustment when someone took Beyonce’s advice and put a ring on it, wasn’t it? There are dozens of variations on this theme, but they all involve trading total independence for total inter-dependence and that, my dears, is no easy feat!

See, everyone tells you that being married is work and tries to warn you, but nothing prepares you for the reality of factoring in another human being into every decision you make. And nothing can even hope to brace you for the blow that comes from being utterly independent (parents in another country, never asking for money, graduating, travelling, etc., all on one’s own), and then being the sole supporter of a newly minted family!

No more sharing bills with flatmates, extra money now goes towards feedings this guy (who eats approximately 56 times as much as you do, rough estimate), and say goodbye to nearly all your free time! Lunch breaks for me ever since we got married have been spent running errands, getting my name changed on everything imaginable, and putting him on my various policies. Evenings are spent shuttling us around to our various commitments, and I’m the only chauffeur as J.’s ability to drive a manual aren’t up to par. On top of which, the flat, cable, electricity, gas, car, insurance, and only full-time job we’ve got is all on my head. And laundry, because J. hates it (which is ok, because I flat out refuse to touch dirty dishes).

Much to my chagrin, this look usually makes J. laugh. Which is odd, because I've found to be very effective in other aspects of my life...but my husband think's it's hilarious. — Much to Small Dog's chagrin, this look usually makes J. laugh. Which is odd, because I've found to be very effective in other aspects of my life...but my husband think's it's hilarious.

Occasionally I get stressed out/mildly resentful of all this change slapped on at once. Busiest time of year at work, J. starting his program (which is one of the top ranked in the country) and therefore falling off the planet, and adjusting to living with a new spouse, with all the curious incidents that entails.

But I am fortunately/unfortunately married to a person who absolutely understands the way my busy little mind works. So when the stress gets to be too much, J. cracks a joke or makes a rather ill-timed comment, and I turn freezingly silent for hours/days while I try to reign in my temper…as soon as I emerge from my little nuclear winters, J. can say, “I understand,” and I know he means it.

Humor, Marriage September 4, 2009September 4, 2009

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

“My son complains about headaches. I tell him all the time, when you get out of bed, it’s feet first!”
-Henry Youngman

Unlike many people, J. and I did not live together before we got married which, besides other learning curves, presented us with an amusing problem: learning to share a bed. I lived in our flat alone for months before the wedding and so, after years of university dorm room or ghetto student housing mattresses, I justifiably learned quickly to sleep in the middle of our/my shiny new queen size. Arms stretched wide just because I could. Not so handy when your new over-a-foot-taller-than-you husband moves in!

Nearly every morning one of us delivers a laundry list of blunt trauma accusations to the other. “You kneed me at three in the morning!” “How, exactly did you manage to wake up on the other side of the bed?” “You nearly butted me out of bed, I woke up looking at the the floor.” “Where’d you think I got that bruise from?” “You elbowed me in the face!” etc…

Apart from the normal co-habitation hazards, there’s a new threat. J. has either developed a creative (i.e. sadistic) way to get me up in the morning, or has simply forgotten to turn off his phone alarm. See, my alarm wakes me up to the soothing sounds of Madeleine Peyroux or Adele. J.’s phone alarm sounds, to my sleep foggy ears, like a nuclear attack warning.

Small Dog spazzes, and J. wonders about this creature he married.

However I feel as though I have had the last laugh. Three days ago, when this awful sound catapulted me into wakefulness for the first time, I sort of panicked. And by panicked, I mean flailed. The act of which got J. soundly punched. I felt badly afterwards…a long time afterwards because, being the antithesis of a morning person, a tiny part of my morning-hating soul wanted to believe he deserved it.

Drama, Humor, Life, Marriage, Snark July 23, 2009July 23, 2009

What’s In A Name?

“The name we give to something shapes our attitude towards it.”
-Katherine Patterson

Good. Grief. Men just have to cough up enough for a sparkly ring, rent a tux, and show up. Us girls not only have to go through the angst of dress fittings, agonizing over catering (incidentally, I didn’t get to eat a thing at my reception; a fact about which I am inordinately bitter), fret pointlessly over flowers, and basically worry for months at a time. And THEN, after the whole affair is over, we get to go around sorting out an entirely new identity, complete with documentation.

My latest theory is that these guys were in line to register their horses, died of waiting, and were fossilized thus. Emporer Qin had a long ways to go with imperial management.

Our marriage certificate came in the mail last saturday, a fact we celebrated by almost immediately consigning it (accidentally) to the garbage. I blame J., J. blames me (I think I have a much more convincing case since I’m gone all day and, even though I’m a horrid klutz, I’m not usually that much of an idiot). Either way, I got off work early today so I trekked on over to the county buildings and got a new copy and then, in a burst of energy I know regret, I decided to be productive and get my name changed on a few things as well. An hour later, still waiting in line at the Social Security Administration (listening to the endless repetition of numbers of people who had long ago thrown in the towel, “47?…47?…47?…Is 47 here, please?…47?…”) I finally got that sorted. There was the minor hiccup of me not being born anywhere near the Continental United States, but that minor heart attack was glossed over by the fact that they had my previous information from when I was employed as a student.

Then off to the Driver License Division (otherwise known as the 9th circle of Hell)! However, getting there was a mess because there were two places listed and somehow in my temper frayed state, I managed to superimpose the numerical address of one place on the opposite city. Which meant that I spent another 45 minutes doing loop-de-loops across town trying to find this office. It was housed (read: hidden) in a small bank without any labling on the outside to indicate its presence within. I must have circled that parking lot half a dozen times before I worked up the nerve to just march into a building and demand guidance. Then we had a repeat of the line process, the only difference was that this time I got to sit. Right next to one of the more unusual characters I’ve seen in weeks.

This woman was tiny, the size of a 12 year old, and from the waist down she could have been an octogenearian: varicose veins, droopy tatooes working their way down her calves, and crusty feet. But she had plump childlike hands and arms and a head that I honestly can’t put an age on. Grandma-ish features on a young face and hair color that looked natural. Midway through my wait she answered a phone call and started arguing in the meekest, quietest voice about some sort of payment.
suspense1ha9 “You’ve gotten me into something I can’t get out of,” she mewed, “I’m a student” [to add further to the riddle of her age] “and I can’t possibly afford to pay for this.”
My ears perked up in spite of themselves, though I kept my nose firmly buried in a David Sedaris book. It sounded serious!
“I didn’t know I had that option,” she chirruped softly, “I was told I was under a contract and that I had to keep buying, so I did, but I can’t honor those commitments now.”
A gambling addiction? A vicious, silken-tonged bookie on the other end perhaps?
“But I only wanted the animated Bible stories and you made me buy lots of other films! It’s terrible of you to try and make me pay for this, it’s about religious material and you were completely false in selling them to me, you should be ashamed of yourselves!” She took a breath and said in an even meeker voice, “I’m sorry you alwas see the worst side of me in these phone calls, I don’t like being so unpleasant, but I’m just so upset.”

A huge letdown, in my opinion.

Another half hour later I was called and with a brief repeat of the question of my natal origins, I got my name changed on my license as well. Then, driving home, I rolled down my window because I thought my car was making a funny noise. Having ascertained it wasn’t, I rolled my window back up but managed to catch my sun visor in the closing pane and heard two terrible crunches before I managed to reverse the window and survey the damage. My visor now has a definite dent down the middle where the plastic inside has been snapped in half and my mirror was shattered. All the way home I was showered with confetti-like shards of glass.

And halfway home I got a text from J. telling me his parents are coming over for dinner. Bless him for cleaning up and doing dishes, otherwise I might have tossed our new certificate right back in the trash in a mood and gone straight to bed. Thank goodness tomorrow is a state holiday and I can sleep in!

Fashion, Humor, Marriage July 9, 2009July 21, 2009

Painting, Pyro-ing, and the Proletariat

“Um, we’re mature enough to be married…honestly…”
-C.

Think impressionism, Pac Man, horribly pretentious comments about class structure (on the part of starving newlywed/students), peacocks, pyrotechnics, possibly a little lawbreaking don’t mix? You’ve clearly never been on a group date with Venice, Val, J., and C.

Last night we went to Color Me Mine, stayed there until 9 when we got kicked out, at which time we hit up the “lower income” (quote by J.) supermarket that recently opened in the area that sells nearly expired products at discount for some ice cream…but on our way back to pay for it, what should we spy but fireworks.

Editor's Note: Not done by Venice, Val, J., or C. No one in our pyro party are nearly as impressive as this.

We really had no other option than to buy some. Really, none. It was imperative. Venice and I loaded up our arms with sparklers while the guys practically dove into the bins trying to find the best, er, bang for their buck. This was discovered in the form of an explosive intriguingly labeled the “Jumping Cyber Monkey” (the boys faces lit with unholy glee, you should have seen it).

Then we scurried back home to hold bunches of sparklers and light them at the same time (I nearly died), frolick around twirling them, light off the Jumping Cyber Monkey (which made a little more noise than anticipated towards the end) while Venice did her signature dance move in front of it (which is indescribable…truly), and round off the evening by lighting “worms” (which look like nothing so much as flaming, growing poop) while we giggled.

Like I said. We’re responsible, mature adults. Really.

Family, Friends, Humor, Life, Marriage, Wedding July 6, 2009

Vegas, Baby!

“I’ve made a terrible mistake…”
-Gob Bluth

Small Dog says, "Don't, for heaven's sake, take everything so seriously!"

Kidding! KIDDING! Yikes, people, have a sense of humor. No divorce yet, all is well!

The wedding was gorgeous! Everything ran on time (miraculous) and the closest thing we had to a disaster was that one of my younger brothers’ tuxes was too short in the sleeves, the boy actually grew between when they measured him and when he arrived. Puberty: a growing frenzy that largely passed me by (lengthwise speaking) but that still doesn’t look convenient from the outside, but I digress. The day was crazy!
7am: Mama, bridesmaids, and C. to the salon
9am: at the ceremony venue
1030am: married, then pictures (even though my smiling muscles gave out well before we were done) until-
1pm: luncheon
3pm: wrap things up, decamp to reception center (after the usual lost clothes, keys, etc.)
5pm: restyling, re-accessorizing, fixing hair, and squeezing back into dresses after a few glorious hours of oxygen on the part of the girls. J. and Val (Venice’s husband and unofficial groomsman by the end of the day) played halo in the mens’ area
6pm: florists arrive, minor hiccups with flowers. Resolution achieved with help of the bridesmaid Dream Team
7pm: reception starts
9pm: reception ends

It was a long day, but it really flew by for me at least! And everything turned out gorgeous. I’ll get pictures up soon, because towards the end I was going mostly on Tylenol and adrenaline so some of the details are fuzzy and I’d like a reminder.

Photo basely and evilly stolen from Peregrine, pending official ones from photographer!

And let me recommend Marie, Venice, Peregrine, and Snickers as Bridesmaids Extrodinaire! These girls should go into business, they’d be millionaires in no time! Seriously, they ran the show. I can’t say enough good things or thank them enough for turning a potentially harrowing day into a glamorous, seamless work of art. And they did it looking absolutely splendid. I’ve known professional hostesses with less than half these girls’ panache!

By the way, going back to work after a week of family fun time, wedding, and honeymoon weekending…kind of sucks! But it was such fun while it lasted. We saw Cirque de Soleil’s KA and the Blue Man Group, both of which were amazing. I’d never seen a Cirque show, and since I was dying to see one as well as BMG, we squeezed both in. Incredible. I’ve no idea how Cirque performers are able to do what they do, and as for the lads in blue platex…absolutely unique, never seen anything quite like it.

Back in reality, we’re swamped in gifts that need opening, sorting, and thank you notes that need writing. However we have a much nicer area to accomplish all this in because my parents painted our flat for us! Loveliest surprise homecoming ever, I could have cried when I realized our walls no longer looked a bad whitewash job.

Small Dog Syndrome