THE FUTURE MRS. ANONYMOUS

iLike

2009-08-01T10:43:00.002-04:00

- the smell of freshly cut wood

- my mother's blintzes

- a really good poop

- looking for rainbows after a thunderstorm

- a movie that you expected to be just okay but ended up making you laugh so hard your shoulders hurt

- taking photographs of people

- embraces

- the way my bike rides immediately after I've pumped the tires

- the two lanterns I bought for our mini-deck

- changing my dinner order and not regretting it

- people "liking" my facebook status

- Tempur-pedic mattresses

- mail merging

- Wi-fi in my hotel room, not just the lobby

- well placed kisses

It's a Blessing and a Curse, but not really a Curse at all

2009-07-26T22:52:00.005-04:00

We met my parents in New Jersey this evening for some all you can eat chinese buffet. Around 7 pm, Mr. Anonymous suggested I call the Container Store to see if they were still open while we were waiting for my dad to pocket some of those Chinese cookies he loves (he typically wraps them up in napkins and shoves them in my pocketbook or coat pocket, depending on the season). I call and get Beth.

me: Hi Beth. What are your hours tonight?
Beth: Typically 11 am to 6 pm, but right now we have a College Night going on until 8:30.
me: What's a College Night?
Beth: We sent out invitations to students who are heading off to college to stock up on some dorm room essentials. The lines are long, but you could come if you have a college student.
me: Oh, I'm not a college student anymore.
Beth: But you could come if you have a college student.
me: Right, but I don't have a college student either.
Beth: Ok, but you can come anyway.
me: But I wasn't invited.
Beth: I'm inviting you NOW.

So the four of us head over and I walk up to the guy who is handing out name tags.

guy: What's your name?
me: Adina.
guy: (jots this down on my nametag) And what college are you heading to?
me: Oh, um, Boston University.
guy: (jots this down on my nametag as well) That's a far ways away!
me: Yeah. (pause, as he looks at me for a moment more) I guess I'm sort of nervous about being that far away from home. But I think it'll be a good experience.
guy: (giantly smiling at me) Don't worry honey. You'll do just fine.

And so began my hour long Lie Fest. One Container Store employee said her son was thinking about applying to BU.

me: Oh yeah?
employee: Yep. But he is only a junior. You're going into your freshman year, right?
me: Um, yeah. But I've been on campus. It looks nice.
employee: He is going to visit this fall.
me: I hear the winters are pretty cold. But how bad could it be?

What surprised me most wasn't that I passed for a college student but that people assumed I was heading into my FIRST YEAR of college. I was asked multiple times what I was going to major in. They didn't ask me what do I major in. It was always, What are you planning on majoring in, honey? English, I would respond with a shoulder shrug.

One employee asked me what high school I was from. Another employee asked me what other schools I had considered before choosing BU. Still another employee, I swear an 18 year old boy, made pseudo flirty eyes at me.

Part of me was a little indignant, as in, seriously? I know I look young but there is no way I look like I am 18. No way. But the bigger and better part in me was like (1) HELL YEAH I AM GOING TO AGE SO GRACEFULLY and (2) HELL YEAH I JUST GOT 20% OFF A SWEET LAUNDRY BAG HOLDER.

So, I am going to count this night as a success. Go Adina, you anti-aging beast.

Pleasure v. Pleasure

2009-07-23T22:05:00.006-04:00

I am not much of a consumer. I would much rather be consuming at a bar versus at a retail store. For instance, a while back I bought some great tween jeans at Kohls (don't judge, we've all been there). They were great except that apparently tweens have bigger waists than I do. How this is possible, who knows, but after I jumped up and down in pure ecstasy for fifteen hours, I decided that I would have to invest in my very first belt. Well that isn't exactly true. I've owned hand-me-down belts but never really wore them because why would I want to make my pants tight around my waist? I mean, I would just have to unbuckle them after each meal and that is a lot of unnecessary work.

Anyway, after 3 months of tugging at the tops of my jeans so they wouldn't fall down to my ankles mid-stride, I said to myself, I am buying a belt this week, no excuses. Cut to 3 months after that - I am in Target and I am searching for the cheapest most versatile belt I can find. And there it is: a $12 brown-on-one-side-black-on-the-other belt. I proceed to buy this belt and wear it every day for almost 4 months, maybe less, who knows. And then one day it just rips apart at notch number three. The nerve. I said my goodbyes and promised myself a new $12 belt in the near future.

This was like, I don't know, 5 MONTHS AGO. I have been to Target more than 3 times since then. I have allowed almost two full seasons to pass before I buy something that I desperately need in order not to look like I am smuggling seven pounds of cocaine sewn into the insides of my jeans. No wait who am I kidding smugglers know to invest in a freaking belt.

Hmm, I am way off topic. What was I talking about. I can talk for hours about nothing, but ask me to spend 5 minutes in the accessories department at a superstore and why don't you just ask me to skin myself with a vegetable peeler. No really, I am not interested in finding a necklace that matches that clutch I have which would look like so totally awesome with those shoes that I got from the I DON'T CARE store down on 18th and Chestnut.

Anyway, the whole point of this now very rambly post is that this anti-consumer attitude I have somehow inherited (not from my mother) has stymied our whole "furnish and decorate the house" plan. As in, I have lots of interest in furnishing the house so that it doesn't look like Iggy Pop's rec room BUT have no motivation to actually change out of my pajamas to go see what the inside of a Pottery Barn really looks like.

So I am looking for suggestions. Online shopping, offline bargain shopping, antique shops in the area. We need furniture and all that other shit that makes a house look pretty (what are they called, embellishments, details, hardware? traps?)

So far all I found was ecojot.com, a website for cute little recycled notebooks (I like the 5x7 dandelion journal and the 100% journal). Notebooks are sort of like embellishments? For like, the soul or something? Right?

Please. Help me. My life is just so hard.

And sorry for taking so long to get to the chase. I spent the last 6 hours consuming at a bar.

Whoops

2009-07-20T21:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday we are leaving the shore when Mr. Anonymous suggests we cut across the high school field to get to 5th Street.

me: I don't think there is a gate opening to 5th.
mr. anon: So we'll just jump the fence.
me: What if the groundskeeper yells at us?
mr. anon: Then we'll just make a run for it.
me: dude, you can't run through a FENCE.

We get to 5th and sure enough, there is no exit. Just a 10 foot tall fence. Mr. Anonymous bounds over it in four quick movements. Jump, jump, leap, jump. I make my way up the fence more tentatively, only to get my shirt and pants snagged on the top in five different places.

me: I'm stuck!
mr. anon: Honey, you can't roll over the top of the fence.
me: NOW YOU TELL ME.

As I am stuck up there, two families walk by and point and giggle. In their defense, if I saw an asian stuck on the top of a ten foot fence, I would snicker too. But fuck them anyway and call the fire department you bitches.

The groundskeeper strolls up to us and looks at me nonchalantly.

groundskeeper: Whatcha doing up there?
me: I'm stuck.
mr. anon: Yeah, we thought we would take a shortcut.
groundskeeper: That's one hell of a shortcut.

He walks away as casually as he enters the scene, and I finally unsnag myself and make my way down the fence.

mr. anon: (laughing) Your vagina was totally hanging out of your pants the whole time.
me: Seriously?
mr. anon: From where I was standing, yeah, seriously.

And that is how I got stuck on the top of a high school field fence at 4 PM in Ocean City.

The end.

Good Talk

2009-07-15T14:33:00.003-04:00

me: i actually have no idea what women like
me: i am not women
Jon: no bat mitzvah?
me: nope

me: now i have a subpar job and drink a lot
me: if that isn't success, jon, i dont know what the hell is
Jon: not being dead on the inside?
me: hmm
me: that's an interesting definition of success
me: so are you not dead on the inside?
Jon: no I am

Welcome Home

2009-07-12T22:49:00.005-04:00

Mr. Anonymous and I had this annual tradition every time our lease was about to expire. He would say, "Let's go buy a house." And I would say, "That is a terrible idea." Then we would spend a few Sundays open-housing in our price range, aka two-story houses in neighborhoods where having a stray bullet graze your forehead was about as common as seeing a bicyclist getting hit by a car. By that I mean, fairly common.

Then Mr. Anonymous would spend 200 hours on Trulia and decide that home buying was not for us. We would resign our lease, and he would resign to living in our third floor berber-rugged poorly-constructed elbow-bumping 500 sq ft apartment (his words not mine). In other words, he would resign to hating life for another 365 days (again, his words not mine).

This past May, I buckled up my ballroom shoes and we stepped into the same song/dance routine we have shuffled along to for the past 3 years. Except this year, we added a few embellishments - a spin here, a promenade there, and a real estate agent named Jamie.

On our first day of looking at houses, I was home with a 102 degree fever. I dragged myself out of bed, washed the vomit out of my mouth, and met with Dan and Jamie across town. The second house we saw was a three-story plus basement. Two blocks east was a fantastic public school. Two blocks west were the best mozzarella balls in the city. It had four bedrooms, a reasonably sized backyard and a mini wooden balcony on the second floor. There were wall to wall green carpets and hilarious signs of DIY home renovation (5-inch loosely attached baseboards, insulation foam in every nook and cranny, ceilings that no one over 5 foot 3 can clear without doing a full fledged limbo walk).

We got half way through looking at the third house on our agenda when I sat down on the floor and said with fervor and fever, "That second house. That is the house. Let's buy that one. Now please take me home before I pee in my pants." Yes, this last statement was said partially out of excitement - because I was fairly certain we had just viewed the house we would one day buy and then fill with 2.5 kids - but it was also said partially because I was about to lose control of my bladder. I was really, really sick.

Fast forward to 6 weeks later. I have regained control of my bodily functions, we have gone through a successful (albeit slightly grueling) home inspection, and we were writing a check for more money than I thought I would ever have, let alone have and then decide to give away. I am sitting there with these folks who make these types of transactions every day and in my head I am screaming "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING SELLING A HOUSE TO ME?? I BLOG ABOUT FARTING AND POOPING AND I BARELY LOOK OLD ENOUGH FOR R-RATED MOVIES AND SERIOUSLY? HAVE YOU READ MY BLOG??"

But in the end, the silent screaming delayed nothing and we walked away with keys to the house that one day would be the house of our dreams, as soon as we removed the wall-to-wall mirrors and forest green carpet. Ok, we skipped a little. But just a little and it was mostly Mr. Anonymous.

We have been "moved in" now for well over a month, and I am not going to lie - the place is a shit show. The phrase "living like refugees" is used at least twice a day in light-hearted conversations. Mr. Anonymous and I take turns feeling overwhelmed by the amount of junk that we (I) have acquired over 5 plus years of cohabitation. He spends his four free minutes a day thinking of new ways to knock out all of the nonload-bearing walls to create bathrooms and/or utility closets. I, in turn, am constantly looking for a bottle opener.

But the other night, my great aunts and uncles (minus Aunt Dot) came over for their first walk through of our new house. Their age ranges from 75 to 87 years of age and their temperaments range from mild to extra spicy. We had an amazing spaghetti/meatball family dinner at Jerry & Alia's and then made our collective way over to the house.

There is just no way to describe having six bubbies and zeydas in your house. The air immediately fills with love and matzoh meal. My Aunt Barb gave me one of my grandfather's paintings of a rabbi and I accidentally placed it upside down in the kitchen. She laughs, "Oy the rehba is upside down! All of the blood is rushing to the rehba's head!" When Mr. Anonymous showed my Uncle Dave the second floor balcony, he says, "Well this is great to have! In case you can't make it to the bathroom in time!"

Up until this point, I had been privately lamenting how I would not be sharing our new house with my own grandparents. I could not imagine taking this big step in my life without them there beside me, filling my shoes with silver dollars and big dreams. I have very vivid memories of their home in the Northeast - the oven (always warm from cooking), the cookie jar (filled with my favorite cookies every Sunday), my grandmother's perfume (I could still smell it in her closet a few days after she died), my grandfather sitting proudly in his chair (spreading advice and care to all who would receive it). Whether I was lounging at my grandfather's feet or in the kitchen futzing with the black and white plastic kitchen tablecloth, there was always a sense of home. Nothing fancy, no big expectations. Just good old fashioned happy home. I wanted to show them that, Look! Look, I got it! I got what you were trying to teach me! Make a happy home! And I did! I made it! Look! Please, look!

This all flooded back to me as everyone reached the third floor. All of my great aunts and uncles stood in our (disaster of a) master bedroom and one by one hugged me and kissed me and wished us luck. Lots of mazels, lots of smeared lipstick on my cheeks, lots and lots of love. And as I fell into their soft embraces and willingly succumbed to their smooches, I realized that, while I did not get to share this directly with my grandparents, I was sharing it by proxy. This evening, I got to have six grandparents beaming at me and saying, Yes, yes we see, we see you heard all that your grandparents were saying to you. Yes, You have done a good job here. They would be proud. They would be so proud.

And it was at that moment - surrounded by my family, my on-loan grandparents - that this very green messy house became a home, our home.

Perspective

2009-07-09T00:05:00.002-04:00

mr. anon: What was your high of the day?
me: Mmm, I don't know. I guess when we were hanging out just now.
mr. anon: What was the low? Was it when I got home late tonight?
me: Um, no. It was my root canal.

Game Plan

2009-07-06T21:35:00.002-04:00

So I am trying to think of a game plan to get back in the swing of blogging. At first I kept on thinking, Make a list. You know you want a make a list. ALL THE OTHER BLOGGERS ARE DOING IT.

But then I had a brief flashback to all the unfulfilled promises I have made to the internet to recount all the fun times I had but did not include it in. Then I felt like a jerk. Then I remembered I was sort of a jerk and started writing a list that I could eventually never post.

But in the end, I decided to just take my time and casually fill in the blanks that were my June. For most Adina months, this would be such a project, but June was sort of a big deal. Back in May, the thought of writing about it - or about anything - was so overwhelming that I spent a lot of time with my head shoved in between my knees. This is a lot of time for a married woman to spend looking at her crotch and in hindsight, this did not really help the situation much.

I am feeling better now - you know, less like an ostrich with a vagina fetish - and am ready to start talking again. I understand some of you might have felt a bit abandoned, and to that I say: Uh, seriously? I'm adopted. You can't play that card with me.

I am glad to be back.

Reading

2009-07-05T02:40:00.003-04:00

I know I like a book when I get the sudden urge to take it in my arms and hug it against my chest. It is like a jerk reaction - I will finish a chapter and it will feel like I just met the man I will one day marry. I will squeeze the book tight for a brief second, and then leave it on the night stand to miss me for a day or two.

I started The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing yesterday afternoon. I picked it up a few months ago for 2 bucks at a giant used book sale in Fort Washington because the girl on the cover was wearing rain boots. I love rain boots.

I just finished it tonight, in 36 hours (during which time I also ate all the ice cream, burgers, hot dogs, kugel, burritos, basmati rice, and flan I could eat). Then I crushed it into my bosom - the way Jewish women hug their grandsons - and just sat there. For ten minutes. Ten minutes, sitting there, with a book squeezed in between my breasts. At one point I flopped back first on to the mattress, but never did that book stop touching me in a way teenage girls hope a Jonas brother will one day touch them.

This is a book you take home to your mother, and say Look Mom I finally found what I thought one day we would have, you know when we are older and both adults. This is a book you keep in your purse, on your person, at all times. This is your best friend who speaks better than you, is smarter and funnier than you, who insists she knows nothing and yet you can't help wanting to be just like her. This is what it would feel like to meet a girl and realize that you would leave heterosexuality for this woman only so she could break your heart, only so you could feel what it feels like to be loved by her.

Yeah. I know. That is some serious shit right there.

In conclusion, read this book. and then keep it on you at all times. Because I wasn't joking about that part.

And oh yeah, I am back to blogging. Hiya.

Auf Wiedersehen, Good Night

2009-05-27T21:12:00.004-04:00

I realize I have let this blog slip. The fact is, I think I might be outgrowing blogging. Twittering/facebooking has allowed me to compose my little digs/quips that I live for, which leaves only heavier duty (heavy dutier?) material that I think I need to release in non-blog form. This might sound very un-Adina, but I'd like to maybe do more soul searching, indulge my attention-hording, self-indulgent side a little less, maybe even learn a bit more about myself, beyond the fact that I'm Jewish and asian, ta da. Plus, my carefully crafted noodle-poop-fart routine has gotten a bit stale. I think it is high time to add a bit of marinara and spice it up in to a bigger, far less healthy version of my noodle-poop-fart routine.

Dream big, girlfriend.

I have been blogging for years, even before it was called blogging. I used to post in "dreambook" and friends would leave me adorable messages and I would incessantly check it for comments. Oh if I only knew foreshadowing when it was staring me right in the face. I have documented a lot of big changes over the years - my first job, my first therapist, my first marriage, and now my first home. I have taken a thousand steps forward and three times as many steps backwards, but somehow I am still here, as awkward and offensive as ever. These blogs expose a person who I am not sure if I even truly know, but who I am learning to love.

So with that, I am taking a much needed blog break. If I start up again, it may be in a completely different form. And it may be a post about farting. I am not sure. But I am going to take until July 1st to make a decision. If you'd like to follow me in the future, please shoot me an email at craziiasian at gmail dot com and I will notify you of any writing developments in non-mass-mailing-type emails (although the subject line will say SATISFIE YER WOMAN WTH A BIGGERR PENIS.

I am so grateful for all the love and support from my readership over the years. I am not going to lie and say I couldn't have done it without you. I could have. It just would have been unsatisfying and shortlived. I doubt any blogger can truly express what a freaking thrill it is to have people root for you, some of which have never even met you before. It is a scary place, the internet, and my readers have made it a place where I can hold my head up high and say "I am a subpar blogger."

Thank you for that and for everything.

love, adina

Compatibility Report

2009-05-24T23:10:00.001-04:00

(11:10 PM on a Sunday)

me: I'm hungry.
mr anon: Eat some ramen.

May Days

2009-05-21T08:51:00.003-04:00

This month has been and continues to be a big fat awesome month. I turned 27, and received the appropriate amount of Seagram's 7. Logan and Simon actually duct taped the whiskey to a liter of Seven Up and Easy Mac. It was like, Adina all wrapped up into one neat little duct taped package. Mr. Anonymous threw me a karaoke party where we managed to cram 30 of my friends into a 20-person karaoke room and Barbara almost danced to Saturday Night (Bay City Rollers) in front of all of them. We had our first Burger of the Month club meeting at Five Guys, after which Joe B immediately bought a Frosty to get that "f--ing burger taste out of my mouth" (his words, not mine). Tonight is our first softball game of the season. Saturday I help Mandy move into her new Chinatown apartment (with her boyfriend, ack!) and then hit a housewarming for Ben at HB's. And then...wait for it...DIRECTLY TO THE BEACH FOR TWO DAYS OF DOING NOTHING BUT LOOKING HOT IN MY BATHING SUIT. Oh god I think my heart just exploded.

I heart the month of May.

Housekeeping

2009-05-17T23:21:00.002-04:00

I have no idea why all my posts have "read more" on the bottom but there isn't anything to read. Typically I only use this html if I am hiding more post behind a cut, but I haven't had more than like 2 and 1/2 paragraphs of noteworthy things to say recently, so who knows.

Anyway, the point is. There is nothing more to read. Sad but true.

You probably think this post is about you

2009-05-13T23:39:00.005-04:00

This is super super vain but it is 10 minutes until my birthday so who the hell cares. I am trying to choose between two photos for my facebook profile pic. I KNOW MY LIFE IS SO HARD. AND ALSO INTERESTING BECAUSE SERIOUSLY AM I REALLY BLOGGING ABOUT THIS. AND NOW I CAN'T STOP WRITING IN CAPS. AWESOME. ANYWAY.

Anyway.

Here is a photo where I am dancing with my husband:

And here is a photo Barbara took of Alisa painting my toenails hot tamale red (nail polish courtesy of Barbara, I wanted to pay due props). We are on the floor behind her desk in our office:

I love both for different reasons. The first one I love because we are dancing! And we love to dance! And the second one just makes me chuckle. Because I swear to god I work really really hard almost all the time. Except when Alisa is doing something girly to me. Like braiding my hair WHAT DID YOU THINK SHE DID TO ME YOU DIRTY DIRTY THING

So anyway, vote and then pat yourself on the back for not being so utterly self involved as I am.

poll by twiigs.com

I think that is the New Testament though

2009-05-12T16:00:00.002-04:00

(After eating Turkish food)
me: My stomach hurts every time I eat lamb. I think it is because God is smiting me for eating baby sheep.
mr. anon: No, I don't think that's it. Because in the Bible, it is always "something good happened, and then everyone ate lamb."

Unfried

2009-05-12T12:26:00.002-04:00

Has anyone else seen the KFC website recently? You should go see it. It is totally worth your while.

http://www.unthinkfc.com/

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T22:21:00.002-04:00

To all the baby mama's out there, thanks for everything.

Cheek to Cheek

2009-05-07T23:32:00.004-04:00

I like contact. Physical contact. I like when my bare arm brushes against someone else's bare arm. I like sliding into home plate and colliding with the catcher. I like when mr. anon and I touch foreheads, touch toes, touch each other's butts lightly as we scootch pass each other in the kitchen.

I like to hold hands with my dad. I like it when Amayah reaches out to give me a hug, her tiny little arms wrapped around my neck. I like it when someone laughs so hard that they have to place a hand on my shoulder to steady themselves.

I realize contact makes some people uncomfortable - that they have no interest in touching, that they like their own space. I know many such people, and I respect that this is how they feel about contact. But I will personally never understand it. I can't imagine life without goosebumps from a gentle touch, a hand on my cheek, a hug that melts all my anger away. It is just another reminder that we are here, we are living and real and we are touching each other and we are in this together.

I just, I like contact.

All I had to do was click my heels three times

2009-05-05T00:21:00.005-04:00

On Saturday, Joe B, Adam, and went over to Himmelberger's to help him cut down the trees in the back yard. When we arrived at HB's Brewerytown home, I started wondering how many trees he needed us to cut down. 10? 12? And then I stepped into the back and realized he had four midsized trees. A tree for each of us! This will take ten minutes and then I will drink something cold, like whiskey!

I was wrong. Cutting down four midsized trees requires pulley systems and pruners and keeping an asian on the roof. Well good thing they had an asian on hand!

I got to use the chainsaw to cut up one of the trees. That was invigorating, also terrifying. I am just really attached to my legs (ba dum bum). Afterwards, we watched a bunch of B movies, where the "B" actually stands for boobs (Beerfest, Eurotrip, and Harold and Kumar go to White Castle). Things I learned while watching these movies: My boobs will never again be that perky. In fact, I don't think they were ever that perky. Which makes me think that my dream to become a boob stunt double in one of those movies will never come to fruition. Sad.

Anyway, once we started watching Harold and Kumar, we decided to do the thing that everyone swears they will stop doing once they hit their mid-twenties. We decided to drive to New Jersey for White Castle.

Oh, Adina. You are turning 27 in 9 days. Seriously?

Yes, seriously. We drove an hour and ten minutes to Howell, New Jersey, where I watched Joe B order the Crave Caseand then proceed to eat almost twenty of them all on his own. Then I sat through another 20 or so minutes of him being thoroughly convinced that he was going to crap his pants in the backseat. And me in bitch with nowhere to go.

Joe B: I should have pooped at White Castle. (Very pregnant pause) Huh. I never thought I'd say that sentence.

After White Castle, we drove to Neptune and I fully submerged my body in the ocean for the first time in 2009. That sounds so romantic but mostly it just made my crotch ache. Even penisless crotches ache people. Don't be deceived - May might sound like a nice warm month, but she is a cold cold bitch and she will cut you.

We drove home, shivering but happy. I brought two tiny cheeseburgers home for Mr. Anonymous, more as a gesture of love than a late night snack. But late night snack he did, my husband, my hero.

And thus ended my first Saturday night in May, my soul mate of a month. In the end, bitches always stick together.

Friday Night and the Feeling's Right

2009-05-01T23:18:00.002-04:00

mr. anon: When I was a kid, i didn't mind going to the dentist.
me: hahaha
mr. anon: ...I appreciated a good cleaning!
me: hahaha
mr. anon: Well, I mean, when I was an orphan we didn't have access to good dental hygiene.
me: did you just play the orphan card?

In other news, we had our home inspection today. It went the way I expected it to go: the inspector grumbled a lot, mr. anon looked like he was going to vomit, and I ate a cookie. Not to say I haven't had my fair share of freak outs. Why, just this past Saturday I was curled up in a ball hyperventilating and breathing into a paper bag that still had a a chocolate chip cookie in it (our realtor is really big into Fourth Street cookies).

We have a few more appointments in our immediate future, but considering the work that needs to be done before our settlement date, we will probably be going back to the seller with a counter offer early next week. This is all very exciting but also nauseating. I can't even imagine owning a home. I have a hard time committing to buying t-shirts online.
I think I might blog more about it sometime next week when I have more time, but let me just say that OH HOLY HELL WE ARE VERY LIKELY GOING TO BE HOMEOWNERS.

And to think, just this past month I definitely pooped a little in my pants. Being an adult is hilarious.

Still eating noodles, no worries

2009-04-29T12:45:00.003-04:00

There are a few major changes in my diet that I thought I should share with the blogosphere. Because despite all good advice, you really do seem interested in what I ate for lunch.

Fresh Tomatoes: My grandpop grew tomatoes on the little stretch of green up along the walkway of his Northeast rowhome. Mr. Anonymous and I plan to leave a bit of green space in the back of our new home (!) to grow some of our own tomatoes, a mini homage to my late great grandfather. Lately, I've been stopping my the grocery store in the morning and picking up a giant red tomato to eat as my breakfast. There is nothing like sinking your teeth into a juicy ripe tomato before you check your work email. Mmmmm.

Bananas: I spent most of my life thinking I was allergic to bananas. Turns out, I just never liked the texture. And I am older and wiser now and can truly appreciate the lack of chewing that goes into banana-eating. I am trying to average a banana a day, usually on my way to work so that I can strategically place the peel somewhere hilarious.

Potato Chips: Not healthy, but I can't stop eating Lays potato chips. It is possibly the only true junk food staple that I can't resist. Lately I have been dipping them in lactose-free ice cream or covering them with thinly sliced provolone. The crunch, the salt, everything about them makes me delirious. It is like good sex but without the awkward phone conversations afterwards.

Honey Roasted Turkey Breast, Sliced: No bread, just sliced from the deli straight into my mouth. Like my cheese, I prefer my meat very very thinly sliced (that is definitely what she said) so that it just melts in your mouth. The honey zing is just a little bonus, a little kiss of sweet to an otherwise dry snack. I used to tease my sister for eating deli meat straight of the bag but now you can see me walking out of the store with my purse and a piece of turkey hanging from my lips. Oh how the tables have turned.

I am trying to be a bit more conscious of the crap I put into my body, so I am limiting the amount of Pasta Roni, Ramen, and frozen meals I am eating. Of course, the remnants of a Lean Cuisine are currently staring at me from my desk, but I guess like all good things, it is a labor of love.

Here's to non-crappy eating!

Morning commute

2009-04-28T11:05:00.002-04:00

She was probably 6, maybe 7? She had pretty blond hair under her helmet, a bright pink t-shirt and a big blue skirt that puffed out when the wind would gust around her. She wore her beige socks almost up to her little knees.

She rode her half of the tandem standing up and not pedaling. Now and then she would lean to the left and her father would have to adjust his balance accordingly. I never did see the father's face, although now and then he'd say something to the girl that would throw her into a tizzy of giggles.

I rode behind the pair all the way to Walnut, where I turned to cross the bridge. They just kept on going, maybe to Trader Joe's or to the Art Museum or maybe even further.

It was the perfect morning commute.

Almost went to the hospital because I thought my brain was going to melt

2009-04-23T09:09:00.008-04:00

Many "first" moments in my life have been marked by the flu and/or extreme fever.

1. When I first laid eyes on my future husband.
2. When we first came down to Philly to pick our starter neighborhood and I realized that this was going to be our home.
3. My first bachelorette party of one of my oldest dearest friends.
4. When I first laid eyes on the first house we want to buy.
5. NO READ #4 AGAIN. IT WASN'T THE COMEDIC HOOK BUT IT IS STILL PRETTY SIGNIFICANT.

For the past two days, I have had a fever, with it mostly hovering around 102.4° but at its fiercest was at 102.6°. I couldn't watch tv without getting exhausted. I couldn't go to the bathroom without getting exhausted. I couldn't even blink without getting exhausted. I could, however, sleep for 30 hours at a time without even flinching. Even in sickness, I strive to be the champ of something.

However, despite spending 48 hours looking like someone dumped a bucket of sweat on me, this did not keep me and my husband from finding a home we love. Yes, I was delirious when I saw it. Yes, I was delirious when I signed all the papers. Yes, I was in my pajamas the whole time, and yes, I had to lay down mid-meeting from sheer contract-signing exhaustion.

But in the end, it was worth it. And in about 2 hours, our offer will be placed and then all we have is a prayer and a gallon of apple juice to get us through the rest of the day. Well, that is all I have. Mr. Anonymous has like 42,000 documents to review that I am sure will keep him busy.

Right now, I am eating potato chips and considering showering. So already, it is a 1,000 times better day than yesterday. I am using my jacket as my napkin! Here's to a potentially good day!

Holiday Wrap Up

2009-04-20T09:31:00.002-04:00

Mr. Anonymous: Remember when your cousin Paula compared her grandson to Moses?

In other news, we chose a realtor. She has an eyebrow ring. I used the word "pumped" when asking her to be our agent. I have been mocked repeatedly by my husband for this.

I can tell that Passover has weakened me because this meal actually looks appetizing

2009-04-15T15:14:00.004-04:00

My review of Lean Cuisine's Spaghetti and Meatballs seems like an appropriate review of mine to feature on HeatEatReview.com today, considering I will be eating like seventeen plate of Spaghetti and Meatballs tonight at Buca di Beppo to break the fast.

Happy Crappy Eating!