Mayo on the Mind

I'm already planning our Cinco de Mayo party this year. Never mind that it's the middle of January and forecasted to drop into the single digits this weekend. I can't help it — I love to plan things.

Adding to my planning delight is this piece of equipment I found at Sur La Table recently:


Not only does it hold ice and bottled beverages, but you can also fill it with mixed beverages to dispense through the tap on the side. Beverages like margaritas, which this year, will be made about a quarter strength compared to last year's. (We made the mistake of making authentic margaritas based on a recipe from Rick Bayless. Essentially, the 'ritas were 2 parts tequila, 1 part Cointreau, and a splash of lime juice. People got wasted. People got wasted before we even served dinner. People ended up puking in our bathroom, sink and kitchen. Someone, who shall remain nameless, even ended up sleeping on the dining room floor. That was fun and all, but this year, we're going to tone it down a bit.)

Anyway, I've decided that this piece of equipment is so totally necessary, except that it costs $350. Sigh. If we weren't going to Aruba in February, Arizona in March, and possible Italy in November, I'd probably buy the sucker and just pay it off over a few months. But being a grown up, I have to stop spending money on such frivolous objects.

Being an adult blows.

Melty

We had a company meeting today that involved pizza. I'm trying to be "good," so I only had one slice and some salad.

Afterward, I helped clean up and combined all the leftover slices into two boxes. There's about three full pizzas worth.

It's taking all my willpower right now to not raid that fridge.


On a totally unrelated note, I think my blog post titles for the rest of the month should all include the letter "y."

Politeyness

Now that I’m riding the bus to work again, I’ve returned to that unenviable position of trying to decide when to give up my seat for the elderly, crippled, pregnant or otherwise infirmed. This was never an issue when I took the train because seats on the train were a rare occurrence. On the bus, however, I almost always get a seat. I often wish that weren’t the case because of 1) the horrible guilt I feel when I’m sitting while other people are standing, and 2) the aforementioned uncomfortableness of seat-giving.

Here’s the thing: If I were a dude, this wouldn’t be a problem. Any guy can give up his seat to any woman, and it’s considered being polite or chivalrous. But when a woman gives up a seat for another woman, it gets a little dicey. For example, if I see a woman who might be pregnant, but could possibly just be heavy, do I offer my seat? On one hand, if the woman truly is pregnant, she would no doubt appreciate the chance to sit down. But what if I offer my seat to someone who looks pregnant, but is actually just overweight? Now, I’ve totally offended her because she would likely know that I thought she was pregnant when she was, in fact, just fat. This gets especially difficult to judge in the winter when trying to determine if that’s a baby bump or a pot belly under your parka is virtually impossible.

The same problem lies with giving up seats to the elderly. Now, if some blue-haired little old lady gets on the bus, giving up my seat is a no-brainer. But usually I’m faced with women who look oldish, but might actually be younger than they look. If I give up my seat, I’m essentially saying, “You look old. Unlike yourself, I am young, sprightly, in good shape and readily able to stand on a moving bus for 20 minutes. Therefore, you should take my seat.”

I was in this type of situation last night. The bus was packed when I got on and I was standing in the front by the priority seating. A few stops into the ride, the woman sitting in front of me got off. Normally, I wouldn’t even sit down at this point just so I could avoid having to make a judgment about when to give up my seat. But the bus was packed and I mostly just wanted to free up a little space, so I took a seat.

A few stops later, an oldish-looking woman got on the bus. She wasn't elderly, but she looked older. She was also carrying two bags, so I offered her my seat. She gladly took it, but after sitting for a moment, I was certain she was thinking, “Do I really look that old?”

Making matters more uncomfortable, the woman sitting next to her, after witnessing the seat transaction, said to me, “That was very nice of you.” Now I felt super uneasy. I nervously smiled and said, “Well, she was carrying a lot of bags…” Then I uncomfortably stood there and tried to find a place to look. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the line of standers started moving toward the back of the bus and I could leave the situation.

It’s this type of scenario that gives me so much anxiety about sitting on the bus. From now on, I think I’ll just stand whenever possible just to avoid it. However, I’d like to ask all you pregnant or elderly folks out there for a favor: if you get on the bus and there aren’t any available seats, just ask for one. Seriously, people won’t be offended. In fact, they’ll probably be relieved that they don’t have to make a judgment call between fat, pregnant, wrinkled and elderly.

Slightly-after-New-Year's Resolutions

Most of my resolutions last year were too lofty, and many were difficult to quantify. And if I’ve learned anything from the past two years of corporate publishing, it’s that you can’t manage what you can’t measure. Yay metrics.

Anyway, this year I decided to make my resolutions a little more realistic and specific. So here goes:

1. Lose 10 pounds. Lose 5 of those 10 by Feb. 15 (I’m heading to Aruba for a wedding the following week.)

2. Drink at least 64 oz. of water a day. (I've already started working on this one. It has increased my bathroom usage by 33%)

3. Run a 5k in less than 30 minutes.

4. Run at least 500 miles total this year.

5. Reduce emails in inbox to less than 250.

6. Email or call at least one friend or family member other than Chris each day. (I’m horrible at keeping in touch with people.)

7. Floss daily.

8. Read at least 15 books I haven’t read before. (Cookbooks don’t count).

9. Pay off credit card debt.

10. Buy a house.

I am 28

Since I last posted, I:

- Attended the office holiday party, where I was a wee bit overserved
- Celebrated Christmas, four times
- Celebrated Chris' birthday, three times
- Celebrated my birthday, four times
- Changed the name on my driver's license
- Drove to Pennsylvania and back
- Hosted a New Year's Eve dinner party
- Ate too much and vegged on couch, too many times to count

If it hadn't been for that last point, I would say that I've been too busy to post. But, obviously, this was not the case. Just too comfortable.

My sister-in-law is coming into town tomorrow to visit for a few days. She lives in the south and has spent the last year working on a cruise ship in Hawaii. In response to her impending arrival, Chicago decided to do its best impression of itself and fall to 5 degrees outside, with a wind chill of negative 40. I predict that the constant in-law taunting of "I'm sorry it's soooo cold in Chicago, because my tulips are blooming in North Carolina" will not end in the near future. Awesome.

Hit and Run. Literally.

On Tuesday night, I was lamenting to Chris that I’m bored with life. Nothing exciting ever happens. I go to work. Go to the gym. Go to sleep. Repeat.

I promise never to complain about boredom ever again.

On Tuesday night, Chris and I went to the gym. After our workout, we walked to back to our car, and just as Chris turned on the car — we hadn’t even put it into gear yet — we saw a car flying down the street. It hit a parked car next us, which rammed into our car, smashing the driver’s side door.

Now here’s where the story gets interesting.

Immediately after the impact, the driver of the other car (from here on, I’ll refer to him as the Bad Guy) backed up and started to speed away. And Chris — who has beat both Grand Theft Auto Vice City and San Andreas — decided to chase him.

He threw me his phone, told me to call 911, and get the guy’s license plate number. In shock, I was suddenly all thumbs and couldn’t comprehend how to even unlock Chris’ phone, let alone dial. Meanwhile, Chris was driving behind the Bad Guy. The Bad Guy drove into an industrial area full of semi trailers. He missed a turn, drove up onto a snowy area, and drove into a parked semi trailer. He got the driver’s side corner of his car pinned underneath the semi. We were immediately behind him, blocking any attempt to back out.

For a split second, we were sitting there, blocking this guy in, shining our headlights into his car, and I’m thinking, “Holy shit, he could have a gun. He could turn around right now and try to kill us.” Instead, he climbed over to the passenger side door and started to run away.

And then Chris, who suddenly decided he had superhero powers, decided to CHASE him. Meanwhile, I’m chanting Bad Guy’s license plate number out loud so I wouldn’t forget, as if it mattered. The dude just left his car with us. Not only do I have his license plate number in front of me, but there’s probably a good chance the dude doesn’t even own this car, seeing as he was so willing to leave it and all.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably more like 90 seconds, reality started to set in. My husband was chasing a Bad Guy through a dark, snow-covered, industrial area. The guy could have a gun, or a knife, or brass knuckles of death. He could be bludgeoning Chris right now. I needed to find him. So I turned off the car, got out and started screaming for Chris and running around aimlessly. He didn’t respond or show up for what again seemed like an eternity, but was again, probably about 90 seconds. Bad Guy got away (Thank God. Just what was Chris going to do if he caught him? Ask for his license and registration?).

So we called the cops and they came out, took our report, and towed Bad Guy’s car. The officer also tracked down the owner of the other parked car and filled him in on what happened. Because coming back to a parking lot and finding your car all smashed up really would have sucked. And that’s exactly what would have happened to us if we had left five minutes later. Instead, my husband, International Man of Mystery, chased him down and got him to at least ditch his car.

Now, I’ll be honest. Part of me thinks it’s pretty darn cool that Chris turned all vigilante. But at the same time, I could have become a widow Tuesday night. For this latter point, I did lots of scolding that night along the lines of “Never, ever, ever do that AGAIN!” followed by lots of hugs and kisses because I realized that I could have lost him, and because, well, the whole thing was sort of a turn on.

Officially Official

It only took 15 months, but I finally went down to the social security office on Tuesday to change my name. My delay has nothing to do with fear of changing my name, losing my identity or holding out just in case things didn't work out. Rather, it comes down to pure laziness. Spend a day waiting in line at the social security office, and you'll fully understand why name changers are prone to procrastination.

However, I'm sad to say that according to Professor Poopypants, I am no longer Snotty Pizzatush. I am now Snotty Chucklebuns, wife of Buttercup Chucklebuns.

NYE Hopeful

New Year’s Eve is one of those weird holidays for me. Midnight on NYE represents both a new year and my birthday. Sometimes, I’m looking forward to, or dreading, both. Over the past five years, Chris and I have spent each NYE together. Overall, I’d say they’ve been a mixed bag. Some wonderful, some not so much.

Our first NYE, ’02 into ’03, falls into the wonderful category. We spent it in Charleston, S.C. We ate at many a seafood restaurant, enjoyed rainy but warm weather, and laughed as Chris misidentified dolphins as sharks.

NYE II, ’03 into ’04, featured a tasty rack of lamb prepared at home, an exploding bottle of champagne (Chris decided to chill in the freezer. Whoops.), and me falling asleep on the couch before midnight.

NYE III, ’04 into ’05, was spent in New Orleans, with Chris’ best friend, Scott, and his shit-for-brains girlfriend. Other than the presence of the aforementioned GF, this NYE falls into the wonderful category as well.

NYE IV, ’05 into ’06, occurred at Navy Pier with my sister and brother-in-law, and featured Chris getting wasted before midnight and repeating the phrase, “Daddy’s not doing so good.”

For NYE V, ’06 into ’07, I repaid Chris for his performance the year before by making the terrible mistake of combining shots, deep-dish pizza and a dance club near Rush and Division. Some of Chris’ friends from KC came up for the night, but at the stroke of midnight, the two of us we trudging up our back staircase as Chris cursed me under his breath for needing to leave the party early. Awesome.

So this year, I’m hoping to add another NYE to the wonderful category. Problem is, I have no idea how to do that. I pretty much despise the whole club/bar party thing. I’d rather just go out to a nice restaurant with friends. But most of the restaurants I’ve found online that are hosting NYE events are ridiculously expensive. There are some pretty interesting events at bowling alleys, but again, averaging $125 per person, too expensive for the two of us. But ultimately, it probably won't matter where or how I celebrate. Considering my aversion to odd-numbered years, just knowing that 2007 has ended may be celebration enough.

Love Bavarian Style

Chris and I went to Munich on our honeymoon. Aside from the fact that Oktoberfest was originally a post-wedding celebration, I insisted we go to Bavaria for our honeymoon because I knew Chris would fall in love with it. He’s German and his love for encased meats is only slightly superceded by his love for beer.

So, when I decided recently that I needed to do something really nice for Chris simply because he’s so freaking awesome, I decided that the best way to say “I love you” was “sauerkraut, spatzle and dunkel weiss.”

So last night, we went here. I found the place after a quick Google search for German restaurants in Chicago. From the outside, it totally looks like a hole in the wall, which in our view, is one of the best compliments we can bestow upon a restaurant. In general, unassuming exterior = amazing interior. This assumption is even more pronounced in bars. The more it looks like a dive, the better the bar. In fact, our favorite bar fits this profile. It’s within stumbling distance of our apartment (which is a major plus), and it’s connected to and owned by the liquor store next door. So, when the bar runs out of Red Stripe, they just go next door and grab a new case out of the cooler. But the best part is, just about everything they serve is $2. On more than one occasion, we’ve spent a few hours at this bar, gotten fairly blitz, and left paying less than 20 bucks.

Anyway, back to Bavaria. The restaurant’s hole-in-the-wall exterior did not disappoint. Inside we found great food, great décor and great beer. I entered with a serious craving for German food that only an unpronounceable pork dish could satisfy. I found it in their Jaegerpfandl. Yum.

While at dinner, Chris and I realized that neither of us grew up eating German food. In fact, I can’t think of one kid I knew growing up that ever had “German night.” Like, there was always “Italian night” or “Mexican night” and definitely “pizza night.” But no “German night.” So, in the spirit of planning my children’s futures before they’ve even been conceived, I’ve decided that I need to learn how to cook German food. The schnitzles, the sauerbratens, the strudels. If any of you out there have some good German recipes, please pass them along. Future generations will thank you, or, Künftig Generationen Wille danke.

Progress Report

Last October, I made an early New-Year’s-Resolutions list. Now that it's December, I thought I’d assess how I did. Overall, pretty bad on the important stuff, OK elsewhere. Let’s take a look.

To Do in 2007:

1. Start freelancing.
Totally didn’t happen. Not even remotely. This resolution did push me toward setting up my own Web site though, which ultimately helped me land a new job, so let’s just say I broke even.

2. Keep working out. (Number of times I’ve been to the gym since saying “I Do” – zero.)
This area tends to come and go. I’ll get all gung-ho and work out a ton. Then I’ll take six weeks off.

3. Eat more vegetables. Except asparagus, because no matter how many different ways Chris prepares it, even served cold in an awesome strawberry salad, asparagus is still gross. Sorry.
I’m still having trouble seeing beyond carrots, broccoli, green peppers, lettuce and veggies not covered in cheese. Does hummus count?

4. Speaking of eating, try to go out to some new restaurants other the same two every month.
Done and done. Some of my favorites from the past year include Coco Pazzo, Carnivale, Think, Spring, Le Lan, Ras Dashen and Nobu (Las Vegas). Unfortunately, I didn’t pay much attention to item No. 5

5. However, don’t blow a bunch of cash on dining out, either. Save money and put it into…
I didn’t save squat or….

6. A condo fund. Start one so you can buy one someday.
Start squat.

7. Do something musical. Take out your trumpet and join a municipal band, or buy an electronic piano. Music used to be your one constant in life. So don’t forget your roots.
My new apartment came with a piano. However, I don’t play nearly enough.

8. Speaking of your roots, try to go to church more often. Yeah, the Protestants might not totally jive with your current lifestyle, but it’s nice to believe in something, even if you don’t agree with everything.
Didn’t happen. Motivating myself to try new things on Sunday mornings is difficult, apparently even when my eternal salvation in on the line.

9. Spend more time with the baby.
I sort of did this one. Rosie went on vacation with us to Michigan (which, for Rosie, included three sun-filled days swimming in Lake Michigan, running up and down the beach, and attempting to chase kayaks and speedboats) Missouri and North Carolina (which included a stop at a national park in Kentucky just to take her hiking), and we took her to the dog beach a few times. But overall, our quality Rosie time has taken a major hit since we moved to a place featuring a back yard. She used to get two to three walks a day. Now we just let her out the back door intermittently throughout the morning and night. So, although she gets some exercise patrolling the back yard, we now spend less time with her. Before we moved, I used to think that she got so excited when we came home because she needed to go out. But now I’ve realized that she also was excited to see us. The first few times we let her out in the new backyard, she would just stand at the door looking at us, all “Hey, aren’t you coming with?” If there was such as a thing as doggie DCFS, they would totally be knocking on our door.

10. Start baking bread because it makes the husband happy.
Totally did this one. But I’ve cut back because the ingredients are more expensive than a loaf.

11. Be more social. Make new friends but keep the old, and all that.
This one also falls into the “sorta” category. By getting a new job, my former co-workers are now friends. But outside of work, I still really struggle to be social.

12. Lose weight.
Since the beginning of 2007, I’ve gained two pounds. See No. 4.

13. Pay off credit card debt.
I’ve paid off 40 percent of my debt. But considering my salary has increased by 60 percent over the past year, that’s not so good. See No. 4.

According to last year's list, I posted the resolutions here so you all could kick my ass in case I slacked off. Seeing as how I haven't had a good ass kicking in a while ... this is all your fault. Geez, no wonder I quit blogging for a few months: you people suck.

*** um, totally kidding. I love you all. Especially You, sitting at your computer, thinking about how much time you've just wasted at work by reading my blog. And You, dude who accidentally found my blog by Googling "doggie DCFS." I totally love you, too. In fact, I'm adding "expressing my love for random weirdos online" to my 2008 resolution list.