Monthly Archives: October 2007


Not much to say but I couldn’t let the day pass without a quick: Happy Halloween!

We won’t be doing much tonight; we originally planned to go to Salem but by the time we got there it would be pretty late, and it’s cold, and we are lazy and old, so we decided to skip it. I don’t even know if we’ll give out candy, because 1) I didn’t buy any candy, 2) if I do buy candy I will eat all of it because 3) we didn’t get that many trick-or-treaters last year. There are a lot of kids in our neighborhood, but I don’t think they wanted to venture down our long driveway, even though I turned on all the lights to make our house not seem like the scary house at the end of the long dark driveway.

At one point I was standing in the middle of the driveway yelling at the kids across the street to come eat my candy, which I’m sure sounded both creepy AND dirty. The few who did venture over were treated to hand-fulls of candy because I was determined not to have any left over. Of course, I failed miserably and spent the next week convincing myself that it was perfectly acceptable to eat 5 Almond Joys for breakfast.

Happy Halloween!


Filed under Holidays


Huh. Who knew that was even a real word? I thought I’d just type in some lame ass attempt at the spelling and you’d guess what I meant, but it turns out there’s a real live spelling. I’m really classin’ this place up, what with the big words and the spelling them correctly.


Do you like pumpkin food items? By this I mean, do you have to resist the urge to cram your mouth/stomach/jiggly thighs with pumpkin muffins/pies/cakes/etc this time of year? Because I do. I love it all. Surprisingly, pumpkin pie is probably my least favorite of all the pumpkin offerings, but I start salivating at the mere thought of pumpkin muffins, donuts, and lattes. YUM.

If you are anything like me when it comes to the pumpkin-love, you should make this recipe. I found it via Lawyerish, and when she described scraping some pumpkin loaf remnants off of her oven racks to eat them, I knew this was a recipe for me.

A word of caution: if you are going to make this pumpkin loaf, make sure you have to leave the house to attend a party approximately ten minutes after said loaf is removed from the oven. Also be sure to bring the loaf with you to the party; even though you will find yourself drooling over the smell of the loaf coming from the back seat, this is a far better alternative to stuffing the entire delicious, pumpkiny thing into your gaping maw.


Speaking of parties, we went to the annual Halloween bash thrown by Matt’s family on Saturday night. As usual, it was awesome, and made more awesome by the fact that we won top prize in the costume contest. Usually the prizes are somewhat lacking, but this year we were the recipients of a cold hard cash prize. Sweet.

We boogied the night away and sweat our asses off (seriously, polyester has got some major insulating powers, what were those 70’s era people thinking??) and had a damn good time.


Answer me this:

Why do women think that the very essence of Halloween is to dress up in the sluttiest outfit they can find? If it’s really that necessary for you to embrace your inner hooker, I know a street corner that you can stand on. But I think even a real hooker would leave more to the imagination.

And while we’re at it, why do the companies that make costumes have such a difficult time with boundaries on these slutty costumes? Now it’s not enough to be a witch, you have to be a sexy witch. Or a naughty nurse. Or a sultry vampire. I guess this would be fine if they hadn’t taken to bastardizing every other genre out there. I’m pretty sure that Little Red Riding Hood didn’t wear thigh highs and a garter belt. I’m also fairly certain that Gretel never went out with her ass crack showing.

Also, if we’re assuming that based on their Halloween attire, all women want to be hookers, then apparently all men want to cross dress. Because men seem to think that they should all dress as women for Halloween. As if you wearing boobs is going to get you any closer to mine. Um, no.


This nearly made me pee my pants this morning. I think that H’s sense of humor is very similar to Matt’s, which is probably why I find this to be so darn funny. And of course, I love me some -R-, too.


Is it wrong that after the Red Sox won the World Series last night, I was less excited about the win than about the fact that I can finally start going to bed at a reasonable hour? There are many things that I do not understand in the world, not the least of which is WHY AN 8PM START, FOX? WHY? You suck. Do you need more time to stick Jeanne Zelasko’s finger in a socket? Is that what it is? Seriously, what are you doing to that poor woman’s head?


…Aaaand, that’s all I’ve got.

Happy Monday! May the week pass swiftly!


Filed under Dance Fever, Holidays, Life in New England, My Sweet Babboo, Uncategorized

Halloween, part one of many

Last night Matt and I had our first opportunity to wear our Halloween costumes at the party at our dance school. Even though the set-up is somewhat similar to a middle school dance (no drinking, but plenty of punch and cake; decorations from the dollar store; party games to get everyone involved) we had a really good time last year, and this year did not disappoint either.

Our costumes were definitely well received, especially since people actually broke into spontaneous applause for us when we walked in the door. We did some good disco moves and boogied the night away as good disco dancers should. Then tomorrow night we’re going to the big party that Matt’s family throws every year. They rent out a hall and there’s a band and a bar – these people know how to party.

Today I am sleepwalking my way through work, as I am an old, decrepit lady who cannot party on a Thursday night anymore, even if said party is over at 11 and said lady is in her bed watching game 2 of the World Series by 11:30. And today I will also be the miserly old lady who does not give out candy to her co-workers’ kids, because I do not believe that children should be at work. Unfortunately, our company disagrees, and actually encourages people to bring their rug-rats little cherubs in for a party and to trick-or-treat. Keep those grubby little hands out of my cubicle, is all I’m sayin’.

Really, it’s not that I have anything against kids, and I think we all know that I have nothing against Halloween… I just really don’t think that it’s reasonable to expect to get work done when there are kids yelling their way through the halls. Kids will be kids, and you can’t expect them to be quiet, but I have stuff to do before I can go enjoy the weekend, and I’d like a little peace and quiet.

Hello. Am Scrooge.

Anyway, have a happy Halloween weekend! I hope it’s groovy.

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Filed under Dance Fever, Holidays

Levity (updated)

Matt is joining a recreational hockey league – he played in high school so he has most of the equipment that he needs, but there were a few things that he needed to get so he stopped at a store on his way home last night.

Matt: So I got a mouth-guard, and some tape, and new blade covers for my skates.

Me: That’s good.

Matt: Oh yeah, and I had to get a new cup, too.

Me: He. He he he he.

Matt: It’s not funny. It’s very important, you know.

Me: Ha ha ha

Matt: Well, it was actually a little funny when I had to ask the guy in the store to help me find them, and I was standing right in front of them. But I didn’t recognize them, because they’re different now than when I was in high school.

Me: ??? Different???

Matt: Yes, apparently there have been some major advances in jock strap technology in the last few years.


Matt: What is so funny?

Me: I’m just picturing some guy receiving an award at his company meeting for “major advances in jock strap technology.” It sounds like a Nobel prize or something.

Matt: You are so weird.


Updated to add: What should you do when your week has been total crap? You should buy these, obviously. Shut up. They were on sale plus I had a coupon. Shut up. I’ve been wanting them for weeks. Just shut up, OK?


Filed under My Sweet Babboo, Retail Therapy


I’ve tried to start this post about a million times. It’s just not working. I don’t know how to start, or what to say, or how much to say. But here goes:

My father sent me an e-mail on Monday, telling me that he had finally gotten around to using the gift card that we got him last Christmas. This sounds pretty normal, like the type of thing a father might send to his daughter, right? Except it’s not. Because I haven’t spoken to my father since March. And as far as a ‘normal’ father/daughter relationship, well we haven’t ever had that.

I made my decision in March not to speak to him anymore, but I didn’t say anything to anyone about it. Mostly because drama is not high up on the list of things that I want in my life. It was my decision, because I am an adult and I have a choice. Because I needed to do this. And the funny thing is, that he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t speaking to him (it’s not like we were in constant communication before this anyway) until recently. The only reason he noticed is because it was pointed out to him by my mother, who figured it out and asked me point-blank, and I told her. And then she choose to tell him, and use it to manipulate a situation to her advantage, and make a big deal, which was exactly what I did not want.

Yes, I realize that it sounds like the type of thing one parent might do to another when they are bitterly divorced, but no – my parents are still married. It is a freakish, love-less, hate-filled marriage, but they are Mr. and Mrs. nonetheless.

This is the second e-mail that he has sent since he figured out that I was avoiding contact. The first one was along the lines of “I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong, blah blah blah”. I would love to tell him. I would love to give him lists, and examples, and oh, I would love to hurt him in exactly the ways that he has hurt me, hurt his family, hurt everyone around him. But I can’t. Something is stopping me from responding.

I look at these two e-mails and I am frozen – caught in knowing that this is an all or nothing situation. Either I respond with the truth and cut him out of my life forever. Or I don’t respond at all and cut him out of my life forever. Or I respond and pretend that everything is OK and that I am over it. What kind of options are those? Not good ones.

The most obvious choice is that if my feelings are that strong, I should cut him out. Gone. Forever. And that really sounds fine to me. Except that he is still married to my mother. Except that my brother still lives with them. And how would that work, logistically speaking? Do I send Christmas gifts to my mother and brother but not to him? What happens when Matt and I get married someday? Do I not invite him? These might seem like minute questions to answer in the grand scheme of things, but these are the things that I wonder about. Because I don’t want to deal with this. I am angry that I am in this situation. I am angry that he is a bad person and yet I am the one feels like I am doing everything wrong.

It’s hard to write about this. Write too matter-of-factly and it will come across like you’re a cold hearted bitch who is taking this lightly. Write too emotionally and it will sound like you’re a drama queen who’s blowing things out of proportion. Add to that the fact that I can’t, and won’t go into more detail about exactly the reasons why I feel this way about my family, and you end up with a very bad blog post. I guess I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. I needed to vent. I needed to be able to write: THIS ISN’T FAIR. I needed to say that I’m hurt, and confused, and very very angry.

You may think that I left out an option when I said that I had three. Another option might be to explain why I feel this way and to work it out. To ask him to change and to apologize and to accept that apology. But let me say – this is not an option. It is not. It is NOT. Some things are unforgivable. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. It is how I feel and it is what I know to be true.

Ignoring this second e-mail as I did the first feels cowardly – but the simple fact is that I don’t know what else to do. In this case, it seems that the only action I can manage is inaction. So I guess that is what I will do.

If you’ve made it this far into the world’s most awful blog post, thank you. I promise to return to our regularly scheduled writing about shoes and reality TV tomorrow.


Filed under Deep Thoughts, Family

To the point

This post promises to be a brief recap of my weekend activities. Not because I don’t WANT to spend a lengthy amount of time telling you about my activities, but because I find myself here, at work, where they pay me to do things that are not even slightly related to blogging.

The only problem is that I find myself wholly unmotivated to do anything resembling work today. I would like very much to sleep, or maybe curl up with a good book, or watch some crappy TV – but really, I just want to sleep, because perhaps it is not advisable to stay up until a ridiculous hour on a work night just so you can watch Jonathan Papelbon dance. (Perhaps not advisable, but oh so entertaining. When in HELL did I become a sports fan?)

Anyway. Weekend. Here goes.

Saturday: Errands and shopping (shopping while trying to be be budget-conscious is not tremendously fun… but I had a coupon for Express and really wanted a second pair of the most fabulous jeans evah) followed by shopping for the finishing touches of my Halloween costume (budget-conscious does not count when purchasing white platform shoes – Halloween comes first). Purchase pumpkins to be carved at some point this week. Also pick up and watch Saturday Night Fever as research for your Halloween persona. Suggest to boyfriend that he maybe wants to be a bit selective about which of John Travolta’s moves he tries to imitate. Wine + Red Sox + reading a good book = a good evening.

Sunday:  Brunch with Matt’s family to celebrate his Dad’s birthday. Matt’s sister eats toast and drinks water. Has she mistaken this restaurant for a prison? Hmmm… She is missing out on some good bacon. (Although really, when is bacon not good?) Then we go to see the CSI exhibit at the Museum of Science. Fun! Except for some evil kids running around(who are much too young for the exhibit anyway, should you be watching autopsy footage before you are in kindergarten?) and an old lady who has no sense of personal space, everything is good and the museum is not too crowded. Home. Laundry and cleaning. Reading. Red Sox. Sleep, sweet sleep. The end.


Filed under Holidays, My Sweet Babboo

With love and kisses to my overactive imagination.

About 15 minutes after I got home from work tonight, I realized something was wrong: I was in my house and I wasn’t shivering. I checked and sure enough, I was only wearing one sweater and one pair of socks, and there was nary a throw blanket in sight. What could it be?

I moved around the room and found the source of this delightful warmth – it was the heating vent. But surely, I thought, I must be imagining things, since Matt and I had avowed not to turn on the heat until November 1st. We did this last year, and while slightly unpleasant toward the last days of October, we survived, AND we had enough money to simultaneously pay for heat and groceries. Since heat and groceries are two of my favorite things, this is a trend I would like to continue.

This week, however, has been cold, and November 1st has seemed so very far away, so I wasn’t terribly upset that the heat was on, but I still wasn’t going to let Matt get away without a little nagging. (Especially after my resolve weakened last year and he forced me to stick it out those last few days.)

“Honey,” I said, “did you turn on the heat?”

“Yes,” he admitted sheepishly. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. Last night you were clinging to me like we were two stranded hikers on Everest, and your feet were so cold I could feel them through your socks. I only have so much body heat to share with you.”

“It’s fine. Just let it be known that you were the one that cracked. I could have stuck it out for a few more weeks. I’ve become quite good at functioning with mild hypothermia.”

“Whatever. I was just a glad that I had enough time before you got home.”


“Do you… remember last year?”

Oh yeah.

You see, the thing is, I have a slightly irrational (read: totally cuckoo) fear of house fire. And last year, when we turned on the heat, I might have gone a little overboard in my conviction that WHAT IS THAT SMELL WHY DOES IT SMELL LIKE SMOKE I DON’T SEE ANY FIRE DOES THIS MEAN THAT OUR FURNACE IS GOING TO BLOW UP THAT HAPPENS YOU KNOW I SAW IT ON THE NEWS I DON’T WANT TO BLOW UP.

This year, to avoid the hysteria that he knew would come with the smell a heater makes the first time it is turned on for the season, Matt was determined to take care of this task before I got home. This is as much for his benefit as it is for mine, although I am grateful to him for taking me one step further away from having a heart attack by age 30.

While I’m gettin’ my crazy on, let me just go ahead and admit that I also have an abnormal fear of home invasion. Strange creaky noise in the middle of the night? Well obviously it’s an axe murderer. Power outage in the middle of a thunderstorm? THIS IS WHAT THEY DO BEFORE THEY KILL YOU. I BET THE PHONE LINES ARE DEAD, TOO. My own reflection in the patio door at night has scared me enough times that I’m absolutely positive I am more likely to die of ‘fright of own image seen as reflected by door’ than mass murderer.

Luckily I am smart enough not to allow myself to watch scary movies, because I accept and acknowledge my wuss-ness. I saw Speed at a sleepover in middle school and had nightmares for weeks. Speed. Yes, the one with Keanu Reeves. This was enough to convince me that scary movies and paranoia don’t mix well. (Although, I did get talked into seeing The Blair Witch Project, and I totally thought it was lame. Do I get some points for that?)

Unfortunately, one thing that I am not smart enough to stop doing is watching television. Specifically, television like Law & Order, CSI, and random documentaries on the History Channel. Oh, and let us not forget the Queen Mother of shows I should not be watching – Criminal Minds.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the show. But did you ever see the episode where the serial killer breaks into people’s houses and lights them on fire and he jams their doors so that they can’t get out and then puts on his firefighter outfit so he can sit in the burning down house and watch them die? I’m sorry, but I think that would give ANY normal person nightmares. But now I am fixated on the show and I can’t seem to stop watching it. I tell myself that it will help me to be prepared. That if firefighter dude ever comes to my house, I will know to check the top of the door for the door jamming thingie.

I KNOW. I know it’s not rational. Please don’t call the men in white coats to come take me away.  I just can’t seem to help it. My imagination is permanently set to ‘morbid’. And now I bet I have you paranoid, too.

Have you checked your smoke detectors recently?

Is the door locked?

How about the oven? Is it on?

Did you double-check the iron?

Oh, forget it. Just send the men in white coats… I bet they at least have good locks.


Filed under Home Sweet Home, My Sweet Babboo