Pick myself up and get back in the race December 19, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Bridesmaiding, Family, Forgive me while I ramble, Friends, It's a strategy, Life, We Get It -- You're Stressed About Getting Old, Weddings.32 comments
The truth is I’ve been a bit grumpy lately. It’s the holidays and I’ve been busy. Work. Shopping. A weekend trip out of town for Best Friend Ever’s bachelorette party. (Side note: I felt much like country mouse gone to the city. Where I’m from “bottle service” means Budweiser, Miller or Coors.) Missing my dear out-of-town friends. Not seeing enough of my in-town ones.
And my birthday, which was today, was kind of an afterthought. Sure I’ve made some plans to celebrate with friends and family. While I traditionally enjoy being showered with attention for My Day and those closest to me certainly wished me well and made me feel special and so unbelievably lucky to be surrounded by warmth and kindness, I haven’t been able to shake this sense of melancholy.
So I’ve reached out and refused to be a shut in. And slowly, the feeling is fading.
Renewing my faith in myself and working to pinpoint what is bringing me down, well, that may take a bit longer.
At least by this age – 28 – I know myself well enough to acknowledge my moodiness, which I’m sure is a first step of some kind.
Weekend birthday plans? Check. Christmas plans? Check. New Year’s Plans? Double check.
There’s nothing like anticipating good times to motivate you to dust yourself off, slap on a pair of heels and pass a good time, ya hear?
Getting practical about things December 2, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Being Southern, Dating, Family, It's a strategy, Men, Seriously!.33 comments
Well THAT was quite a college football season, now wasn’t it? I had my little football loving heart broken not once, but twice, in a season. I’ve cursed more while watching football in the past two months than when I’m watching a presidential debate or the evening news. And that’s saying a lot.
So as we all start making our National Championship plans and I groan that I won’t be there, in person, to witness the victory, I am looking back on my football accommodations this season. I had tickets to one game and it was an insane nail biter that we won, albeit at the very last second. Anytime someone brings it up, I say, “I felt like the world stopped and everything was in slow motion and then everyone went nuts and I knew we had won and the kids around me started crying because they were so startled by the noise.”
And while tailgating was wonderful and fun, I simply did not spend enough time in the stadium, which is a damn shame. I can’t afford season tickets on my own and my family doesn’t have them, so I am left to scrounge and beg for extra tickets. And, well, this just has to change.
And so I have come to the only logical conclusion for a woman in my situation. I need to marry into season tickets.
Sure, I could go halfsies with a girlfriend, but you start at the bottom of the season ticket food chain, which puts you at the top of the stadium. And then there is the issue of what if someone wants to bring a date and so really then we’d need four tickets and, well, I can’t afford two tickets myself, because if I could, I would have them.
So this is my pitch. My personal ad for a fellow fanatic interested in a future of football, tailgating food, cocktails and kids. Enjoy!
W4M (with tickets)
Wanted: Single Male holder of pair of football season tickets for dating, accompanying to football games and eventual marriage and procreation.
Interested female in her late mid-twenties. Catholic, big family, loves college football, beer and children. Will pay up to half of the cost of the tickets, plus a share of traveling expenses related to attending road games and post-season conference championships and bowl games.
Further, will help coordinate libations and foodstuffs for tailgating, including, but not limited to, baking blondies and brownies, assembling seven-layer dips, procuring various salsas and chips, organizing necessary buns and condiments, seasoning appropriate cuts of meat and assuring the availability of needed paper goods, such as napkins, cups and trash bags.
Has experience in setting up tents and canopies. Understands why it is necessary to park one (1) loaded-down car near ideal tailgating location the Friday evening before the football game. Will take an active role in the logistical aspects of tailgating missions and also tactics by which to taunt opposing teams, including, but not limited to, lowbrow chanting, the writing of clever slogans and the cataloging of reasons why said opponents suck and/or blow and/or bite. Is proficient in Adobe Photoshop and wields a mean hot glue gun. Has previous experience in college football-related T-shirt decoration and design.
Further, understands tailgate attire includes school appropriate clothes and accessories versatile enough to be worn comfortably all day, throughout the game and out to the bar to celebrate our victory. Will not be caught wearing high heels to the stadium.
Willing to provide up to four (4) chairs-in-a-bag, one (1) mix CD of school songs and inspirational tracks and one (1) tote bag ice chest that holds at up to twenty-four (24) canned beers. (Though interested female would like to point out that her favorite beers come in bottles and not cans.) Skilled in making mimosas, screwdrivers, vodka crans and jack and cokes.
Parents and grandparents are local and would likely provide some free babysitting during football season should that ever become and necessity. Family will most definitely give tailgate-appropriate gifts, such as monogrammed polo shirts, Championship memorabilia, flags for our home and many, many accessories for our children. No one would be offended if the first words our children spoke were those of our Fight Song.
Single male holder of tickets should be tall, slightly cuddly, professional with enough job flexibility to take a fall road trip or two each year, and able to light a barbecue pit, know the appropriate lyric of the National Anthem during which to pop champagne poppers, sing both verses of the Alma Mater, deal with the fact that single female seeker of tickets paces and curses during close games and understand why pickled okra is necessary to a good Bloody Mary.
Snippets of Family Life November 24, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Family, My family is sure I will never marry, NaBloPoMo, We Get It -- You're Stressed About Getting Old.15 comments
“I find it really sad that all people watch on TV is politicians lying to them and shows about people getting murdered,” my Brother said.
“So you’re not going to let your children watch TV?” my Mom asked.
“They will be able to watch 30 minutes a day.”
We all groaned.
“And then they’re going to read and play the violin,” my Brother said.
“Geez, violin lessons? How are you going to afford private violin lessons for your kids on a professor’s salary?” I asked.
“I’m going to be a tenured professor.”
“In fifteen years, maybe, if you’re lucky,” I said. “What’s your plan up until then? Wait to have kids?”
“I’ll figure it out. But they’re not going to watch TV. They’re going to play violin and read and enjoy the arts.”
“Well, I hope you also teach them how to take a punch, because your kids are going to get beat up everyday.”
—
“Your brother seems to really be in to having kids right now,” my Mom said, referring to how he smiled and patted his fiancee’s flat stomach, saying she’d be finished with graduate school in a year and a half and he’d hopefully be starting in January, and soon they could have babies and a golden retriever. She’d just rolled her 25-year-old eyes, like, “Oh, ok, glad you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I’m really into having kids,” I said. “I think having kids would be amazing and children are something I want so much.”
“Yeah,” my Dad said, ignoring me. “Your brother needs to get married first and consult with his fiancée before he plans out the kids.”
“Why does no one take me seriously when I say that I want kids?”
“Because you don’t have a husband, or even a boyfriend, right now,” my Dad said. “You’re lacking a necessary biological component.”
“I’m a modern woman, I could go get that taken care of right now,” I said.
“GOD,” my Sister interrupted, as if she’d had enough of this conversation and had to speak up. “Please please please DON’T start yourself off as a single parent.”
—
“The guy in Trader Joe’s looked at my ID like it was a fake,” I said as we sat waiting for our breakfast to come. We’d stopped to grab snacks for the car on the way out of town and I’d also loaded myself down with two six packs of Fat Tire, my favorite beer that I can’t get at home, and two bottles of Two Buck Chuck, because we were talking about it at dinner with The Producer the other night and I figured why the hell not buy some. (Also grabbed some pumpkin butter, for glorious toast in the mornings.)
“I mean, I appreciate him thinking I was young, but how many 20-year-olds buy beer at Trader Joe’s at 9:30 on a Saturday morning?” I continued.
“Did you say, ‘Hello, I’m 28 years old!’” my Mom asked.
“I’m not 28 yet! Not for another month. I am still in my mid-20s.”
“Oh yeah,” asked my Dad. “So when are you going to admit to being in your late 20s?”
“When I’m 29 and a half.”
Stuffed* November 22, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Cooking, Family, NaBloPoMo, Snippet.12 comments
At this moment, I am most thankful for my stretchy track pants and my scarf. Also, gravy.
I don’t know how you people up north do it – I am freezing my charming ass off and it’s maybe 30 degrees. But my hair is wonderfully smooth and straight. Something about the water and lack of humidity made it not frizz, which is a rare occurrence. If it weren’t so abysmally frigid, I’d stay here for the hair and the gorgeous leaves, all pumpkin-colored, gold-hued and kissed with tinges of maroon. Where I’m from leaves just turn brown and fall off because it stays hot for too long – the night before we left I was still wearing my flip flops.
This morning was a lot of making it work, cooking wise. A cornbread dressing recipe improvised, mashed potatoes added at the last minute and two different pecan pies – one with the pecans halved and another with the pecans chopped, as the two sides of my family diverge on this detail. To me it’s the sweetness of the syrup, not the size of the nut, that makes the pie.
After dinner we were cleaning and I was tasked with removing the remaining turkey from the bones. I was elbow deep in turkey, pulling large chunks off for sandwiches so the bones could be boiled for stock when my newly vegetarian brother walked into the kitchen.
“Did you ever think that the turkey had a name?” he asked, clearly offended.
“Yeah, it did have a name – Dinner.”
Happy Thanksgiving.
*So I missed a day of NaBloPoMo. I was traveling and they don’t have Internet on the highway. Poor planning on my part.
