The Reserves

WARNING WARNING WARNING

GAG ALERT

GAG ALERT

*This blog is not for the faint hearted, pessimistic, lonely, or anti-romantic!

Secretly (okay, well maybe NOT so secretly) I am an utter whore for romance. Not the scheduled-within-an-inch-of-your-life kind of romance, but the kind that happens spontaneously when two people are completely in love and say things that in a normal sane world would not only be laughable but absolutely ridiculous.

Here's where you might want to stop reading if you have a sensitive gag reflex.

I am SO in love, and I happen to be in love with a man who is smart, witty, charming, opens doors, talks like a romance novel, and does whatever he can to give me the world. I have gone from a lonely realist to a big pile of lovey-dovey mush. I don't know what it is exactly that I do that makes him so happy, but he makes me feel like freakin' Miss America on a daily basis. I just know that I am living every romantic fantasy I ever dreamed up.

(Done puking yet?)

FOR EXAMPLE...

Last night as we were cuddling Blake kissed each of my fingers and then the palm of my hand-something he does frequently that I absolutely love. As he finished he looked up at me and said, "You know what those are called, right?" I racked my brain, thinking, "Should I?" I said, looking all cute and confused, "No, what are they?"

Blake: "They're reserves."

Me: "Reserves?"

Blake: "Yeah, you know, reserves. For when we can't be together. They're reserve kisses so you

won't miss me so much."

Me: "...................."*

*"................" is a little known technical symbol for girl unable to speak due to an overexcess of happiness.

And now you may proceed with the gagging, vomiting, and eye rolling usually induced by such romantic notions.

I will be over here with my reserves.

Busy Bee

Well, as you can see my blog is once again unformatted. That's because I'm finally trying to figure out this whole create my own format thing out. Again. There's this great site called The Cutest Blog on the Block, and they have awesome tips, hints, and tutorials for just this kind of thing. Using one of those tutorials I was able to create the cute signature at the bottom of my posts-after 6 hours of trial and error. I'm using paint.net, and it's not quite as self-explanatory as I imagine Photoshop would be. Which is why my signature is a little on the simple side. But hey, I did it all by myself. Hmmmm, I wonder how long it will take me to create my own background...

Ode to Wine

"Bottle of red, bottle of white, all depends on your mood tonight..."

Anyone else feel the need for a nice bottle of Pinot Noir or Merlot, some good music, and absolutely NO interruptions? There is nothing more I love than to put on some comfy clothes, decant a Cabernet, and put my feet up while I get drunk on Norah Jones and Billy Joel. Well, the wine helps, too.

"Red red wine, stay close to me..."

I love my parents for letting me live with them while I sort out my life, but now it's pretty well sorted and I'm so impatient to move out. It's impossible to kick back and relax when the tv below is blaring and your dad wants to know if the laundry in the dryer is yours and your mom is answering the phone that's ringing off the hook. It's not their fault. They're living their lives and I'm a little bit of an interruption. But even when they're gone...

"The days of wine and roses, and you..."

It's not my home. It's not my kitchen, my living room, my furniture, my wine glasses, my window with my view. I just feel so temporary, and it's hard to relax when you feel like an intruder in your own life. It's especially hard when those evenings of wine and music are so few and far between...

"Bring me wine, and make the music mine..."

Now that's not to say I don't enjoy a glass of wine or two in my bedroom as I wind down for bed. It's just not my bed, not really, and while it's my room, it's just not the same. So (long dramatic sigh) I just have to be patient for a few more loooooong months to find that little corner of the world where I will so happily inhabit and imbibe that oft sung of spirit.

The Do-It-Yourself Life

Okay, I admit it. I (much like my friend Lauren) blogstalk. I will click on friend's of friend's of friend's blogs...to see if they're interesting, if they have any good stories or tips, and if their blog looks better than mine. (The answer is usually yes.) As I stalk, I've noticed A LOT of sites dedicated specifically to tips: tips on cooking, on raising children, on crafting. My friend Alicia has one (the link is on the side---->) that is wonderful, full of great crafting, cooking, and quilting tips. She has links to all sorts of wonderful websites that inspire her creatively. I love all of them.

And I almost never get to use the tips.

Why? Because I'm single (well, dating with no intention of ever giving him up, but not married or living together), I don't have kids (my nephew is too young and too far away for most of the fun things I'd like to do with him right now), and I work 40 hours a week. I have hobbies and friends that keep me away from my home a lot. Does that mean I can't have a wonderful, crafty, home-cooked life too? ABSOLUTELY NOT. I know many many people like me who live a less than domestic lifestyle, and I think that there should be a place for those people, too. So I created The Do-It-Yourself Life blog. There you can read about how I lost 30 pounds and keep it off (even though I sit on my butt 10 hours a day). You can see how I have homecooked meals EVERY SINGLE DAY at that 10 hour job. You can read about my "crafts" (oh, god, don't think it's gonna be anything special, because I get cuts on my fingers just looking at scissors). Most of all, you can read about what NOT to do, because I pretty much specialize in that (see Cookie Day for more details). Really, I think you'll find it both amusing and helpful. If not, well, I never liked you anyway.

Please note: the blog is under construction. It will look much prettier when I figure out the whole blog layout thing. The Cutest Blog on the Block has great tips for that, but their server keeps crashing, so I have to wait for them to get it back up before I figure it out. Trust me, you'll hear all about it....

The Circle of Life

A few days after the New Year, my Uncle Dennis (my mom's brother-in-law) passed away from lung cancer that spread to his brain. For many the loss of an uncle is a sad but distant happening. Not so for my family. I come from a family where we know everyone-cousins, aunts, uncles, second cousins, step-cousins, grandparents, grandparents of cousins-family is family. I am very lucky that both my parents, and both sets of families, make an effort to keep in touch and visit frequently, even though we live halfway across the country from one another. Therefore I count many of these people not just as family, but as friends. My heart aches for my aunt and cousins, because they are some of those people.


I don't want to eulogize my uncle here, mostly because my cousin Keith's speech at the funeral (which I hope to get a copy of and post here) absolutely cannot be topped. I do want to talk about the wonderful, moving, and practical ways family and friends came together to celebrate a much loved man and to help his family in their time of need.

My Aunt June and Uncle Dennis live in a small town called Catlin, IL. The population is about the same as that of my high school. I have to admit, I've made fun of their choice of home more than once. I never will again after what that community did for my family. I want to pass it on, because many of us wonder what we can do to help a family when they experience a loss. Most send flowers or donate to a cause close to the heart of the deceased. If, however, you are wondering if there is something more concrete you can do, here are some of the things that the wonderful people of Catlin did for my aunt and cousins:

• Make homemade food and take it to the house. Funerals mean lots of people staying over who need to be fed. Think about making something and freezing it first, or sending over a gift card for take-out. My aunt received chicken and noodles from 5 different people, though, so you may want to think about some more unconventional comfort foods. The family has pretty much banned chicken and noodles from our diet now.


• If you're dropping off large portions of food, or something like chips and salsa, include Gladware with the food so that leftovers can be portioned out to people not staying at the house. Or, consider simply taking disposable take-out containers to the house.


• Along the same lines, paper and plastic goods (plates, napkins, cups, eating utensils) WILL be used.


• Kleenex and toilet paper ran out like Wii's at Christmastime. It's a practical option that will last way longer than the chicken and noodles.


• Flowers, gifts, and donations all need thank you notes. One very thoughtful person dropped of several sheets of stamps to help in that endeavor. One less thing for the bereaved to think about.

Remember the next time you know someone who experiences a loss that prayers and flowers are appreciated, but the everyday items we take for granted are needed, often forgotten, but help in the process of moving on.

Better Late Than Never...

SUNDAY Sunday Sunday....DECEMBER December December...14 14 14

Nikki Andoga finished the White Rock Half Marathon in 2 hours and 24 minutes!!! That's right, 13.1 miles at about an 11 minute mile pace. That doesn't account for the two bathroom stops or the horrendous wind we had to run against for most of the course, but it does reflect the 7 minutes it took for me and Philip to actually cross the starting line.

The day was actually pretty exciting, despite the fact that we had to be up at 5:45. Pre-race was only semi-madness...17,000 people had signed up to run the Half/Full Marathon, so needless to say, Victory Park was jam-packed. I have a slight crowd/claustrophobia issue, so Philip steered me directly into American Airlines Center where we waited for the sun to rise and Blake to meet us. The whole AAC was open to racers and few of them were taking advantage of it, so we found seats and ate our Power Jelly Bellies (goo-type energy sustaining grossness disguised as jelly-bellies. See, real runners eat this kind of stuff before long runs. I eat bagels or peanut butter crackers. But since I'm attempting to be a real runner, I figure I might as well eat the real runner food. Plus Blake bought it for me.). Once Blake found us we joined the thousands of others at the start line, sang the national anthem, then started! Of course my bladder decided by mile two that enough was enough and I had to stop at a gas station. Philip went on ahead, which partly accounts for his slightly faster time of 2:05. That, and he runs faster than me.

The race itself was pretty uneventful. There were people EVERYWHERE along the course...garage bands playing Christmas music, police escorts, friends and family cheering on racers, even people handing out everything from toilet paper to beer to cigarettes to bananas. Mom and dad were there to cheer me on, and Blake was at the finish line ready with McDonald's, water, and Vitamin Water. Philip and I headed straight for the beer corral once we had hydrated and taken our victory pictures. Then we headed inside the AAC for more beer. Then back to the beer corral for more beer. Beer was EVERYWHERE. Which may be why we couldn't find the parking lot with his car in it. Once we did, though, we headed to Massage Envy for TWO HOUR MASSAGES. That was the best idea EVER. The rest of the day was pretty much a blur-I was tired after all the getting up before the sun then running like Forrest for two plus hours. I think I went home and went to bed. With my medal on. Yes, I'm a freak.

Thanks to everyone for their texts, emails, and phone calls expressing your support and encouragement. More proof (as if I needed it!) that I have the best friends and family in the world!

Mom attempted to get a picture of me crossing the finish line. Instead, she got a picture of me crossing into the view of the camera lens (look waaaaaaay to the left).

The triumphant friends with McDonald's and medals.

The beer corral. Finally, a real smile from Philip. I'm thinking, man, is beer a good idea after 13.1 miles? The answer is YES.

Cookie Day (WARNING: The following account is long but true)

For the first time in my life I find myself approaching the holidays with a solid job, long-held friends in the same state and nearly the same zip code, and a boyfriend who makes me giddy with happiness. So of course I am diving into Christmas with unusual verve, since it's my favorite holiday and I love all the silly things you can do for other people with the excuse that "It's Christmas!". Last year, in the midst of recovering from my break-up induced depression, I attacked the after Christmas sales determined to buy little knicknacks for next year, hoping that I would have people (preferably office folk or good friends) to give them to. Well, it worked. So I decided to fill the pretty little bowls I found with home-baked goodies.


Okay, if you don't know me well, then I have to warn you. I'm

1. not a baker (I tend to be improvisational in my cooking, and baking isn't really responsive to "just another dash of" whatever)


2. extremely clutzy


3. not much of a cleaner-upper (I swear there is a fairy dishmother who comes in the night and washes all those dirty dishes)


4. more enthusiastic at the idea of baking a ton of stuff and less inclined to actually plan out the baking itself.

And to top it off, Blake thought it would be fun to take a day off work and join me in the massive baking adventure. He thought, wow, a chance to spend a whole day with Nikki. I thought, wow, I wonder if he knows what he's gotten into.

8 A.M

Blake rings my doorbell and I hand him my list of, oh, about 8 recipes I want to make. He doesn't cringe. That's a good sign. We sit down and make out a list of ingredients we need to buy. So far, so good. Off we go.

9 A.M.

We begin our raid of the Wal-Mart baking aisle where all goes well until we look at our list and see meringue powder. Meringue powder? Can't find it anywhere...but hmmm, you know, we are at Wal-Mart. Maybe Target has more specialized baking stuff. It's right across the street, so we'll just stop there. Peppermints...sold out. Okay, we're going to Target anyway. 4 nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

Nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

I head for the candy aisle. Blake heads for...the granola aisle??? He assures me that they mean the s'mores granola bars. Okay, this is for a recipe called "Almost A Candy Bar". Surely they mean the candy bar S'mores? Blake insists no, they mean the granola bars that are s'more flavored. So we debate. For almost 15 minutes. Then decide to settle the debate at Target since we can't find s'mores candy bars at Wal-Mart anyway.

10:30 A.M.

Target doesn't have meringue powder. Or peppermints. Or s'mores candy bars. Or the paste food coloring that we forgot to look for at Wal-Mart. I sigh and cross one of the cookies off my list (the recipe that sparked my cookie adventure in the first place, I might add), and leave it for a day that I can go to a specialty store and get the very complicated ingredients that are disguised as innocuous everyday items in a cookie magazine that is very clearly trying my patience by not marking said items as *not found at Wal-Mart. I also give in (after a spirited, stare-drawing debate in the middle of Target) to the s'mores granola bar theory.

So far Blake seems more tickled than annoyed. Which slightly annoys me. Mostly because he's turning out to be right more than me.

11:50

Okay, finally time to start making the cookies! I send Blake to the stove to start homemade gumdrops while I begin the chocolate cookie dough that needs to refrigerate for an hour. Mom drops in and I recruit her (okay, force her) to participate by starting the Almost Candy Bar recipe (in which she thoroughly annoys me by agreeing with Blake that the recipe did, indeed, mean GRANOLA bars).

OOPS. I dump in 3/4 cup of cocoa powder instead of 1/3. And since I'm really not that smart, I say it out loud. Blake looks at me like I'm the cutest thing he's ever seen. Mom laughs and says, "Well, that's just the first oops of the day." I cringe and start scooping out as much of the cocoa as I can.

1:00 P.M.

OOPS. The peanut butter sauce for the candy bar needs 1/2 stick, not 1/2 cup, of butter. Oh well, it's already melted in there.

OOPS. Did you know that just about every cookie dough known to man needs to refrigerate before you bake it? Also, that's how gumdrops set, and the Almost Candy Bar. Hmmm, I should have cleaned the fridge out...they're all in big long pans...

1:25 P.M.

Stuff is starting to smell good and Mom has decided that her talents would be better put to use as a taster rather than sous chef. Blake has started in on the fifth load of dishes while I am trying desperately to make sure that the oven (which is set on 350 degrees but whose internal thermometer reads 375) doesn't burn my pretty peppermint biscotti, which is the only thing I haven't "OOPS-ed" on yet.

1:45 P.M.

OOPS. I'm trying to "drizzle" melted milk chocolate over my layered Almost Candy Bar and my ziploc baggie that's supposed to do all the drizzling without all the mess goes pop. You know, like when you blow air into it, shut it tight, then hit it and the zip either breaks or the seams burst. Only when mine popped, it popped milk chocolate instead of air.

OOPS. My mini loaf pans of cherry-pistachio bread are overflowing and creating lovely little green volcanoes. The pretty pistachio lava is burning to the bottom of the oven. Luckily, a cookie sheet placed underneath my mini-Mt. St. Helens stems the flow.

Blake is still doing dishes. Mom has given up on the baking and has returned to decorating the house for Christmas, which has been her project for the LAST TWO WEEKS.

4:00 P.M.

Okay, Almost Candy Bar-check. Gumdrops-setting. Biscotti-double baked and ready for drizzle. Chocolate pretzel cookies-baked, iced, and hershey-kissed. Cherry-pistachio bread-dormant and ready for wrapping.

OOPS. Remember my drizzle oops a few hours ago? Yeah, apparently I didn't either. So a few pieces of biscotti are a little more drizzly than others. Oh, well, they're supposed to look homemade anyway.

5:00 P.M.

Gumdrop time! In theory, the gumdrops (which are currently in a thin sheet in a pyrex dish) are supposed to just plop out of the pan onto wax paper after you loosen the sides. But if you've made it this far in the day with me then you know that nothing is going to work like the recipe says, so of course Blake ends up prying the ooey gooey mess out of the pan with his very patient fingers. He plops it on the wax paper and we get out our very sharp, very small, very cute cookie cutters, dunk them in hot water, and start cutting gumdrops. Easy enough.

Until we try to pry them off the wax paper.

6:00 P.M.

Still prying.

6:30 P.M.

I have a headache. The first batch of gumdrops have finally been peeled not-so-gently from the wax paper (I thought NOTHING stuck to wax paper) and placed on another sheet of-you guessed it-wax paper to "dry". Blake heads to church choir promising to return after for round two of gumdrop-mania. I wouldn't blame him if he never got in the same zipcode as me ever again.

9:00 P.M.

Ahhhhh. After dinner, sitting by the fire, and watching "White Christmas" with my Mom, I feel much better. After all, most of my desserts are sitting on the dining room table, cut up all pretty and decorated, and my boyfriend is ringing my doorbell. Apparently being an absolute mess in the kitchen is not a deal-breaker. Whew.

9:15 P.M.

We have the bright idea of spraying EVERYTHING associated to the gumdropping with PAM. And PRESTO! It works! After prying the second sheet of gumdrops out of the pan onto PAM covered wax paper, it takes us a mere half hour to cut and sugar the ruby-colored gems. I will include this helpful tip later down the road when I post the recipe and accompanying photos. But not today, because yesterday, I was too busy being covered in chocolate, sugar, peppermint, and super sticky Jell-O to grab my camera.

10:30 P.M

Blake helps me finish washing the rest of the dishes (which is basically every pot, pan, cookie sheet, and utensil in the kitchen, plus a few I didn't know we had). Then-and this is the part where I have to go, "huh?"-he hugs me, kisses me, looks me in the eye and says,

"I love you so much. Today was so much fun."

Huh? A full day of washing my dishes, dodging exploding chocolate baggies, hearing "OOOPS" every few minutes, and generally surviving the mayhem that-let's face it-is life with me, and he still loves me?

He still loves me. He loves covered-in-chocolate-dripping-with-gumdrops-stubborn-oopsing me. So yes, he's nuts, I'm lucky...

And I can't wait to do it again next year.

AMMENDMENT

NEWS FLASH: I was wrong. Refer to one of my earlier posts (to which I will link when I figure it out) about Johnny Depp's rumored paycheck for the fourth installment of "The Pirates of the Carribean". The radio dj said $500 million dollars. The article I just ran across on the internet said $56 million. So maybe he won't be making more than Aaron Spelling did in a lifetime for one movie. It's still more than the top paying actress (Cameron Diaz) made for all her movies in 2007-2008. And I'll probably still see the movie. And I'm still jealous. So there.

Just When I Thought I Had It All Together...

reality hits like a nuclear bomb. Okay, well maybe not quite that dramatic. I've been talking and talking about how I'm running a half marathon Saturday, December 13 for AGES now. I even posted a link to the marathon site. No one bothered to tell me that the marathon was SUNDAY DECEMBER 14. Ahem. So anyone who is interested in seeing their dimwitted friend cross the finish line should show up on SUNDAY DECEMBER 14TH. I'll be sleeping in on Saturday.

Prince Charming, Part 1

I've never considered myself a "girl's girl". I mean, okay, I like twirly skirts (who doesn't??), I wear pink way more often than necessary for someone who claims to hate it, and I own three pairs of heels for every pair of sneakers in my closet (at least). But when it comes to friends, I've always migrated to the guys. Let's face it: even though romantic relationships are often messy and tough to navigate, guys as a whole are far less complicated to understand than girls. Or maybe it's just me. Whatever.

The point is (hah! you knew I was gonna get there, I mean here, eventually) that I finally met a Prince Charming. And my relationship with him has opened my eyes to the man in my life who came before him. I know, I know, you're all probably dying to know more about my Prince, but to understand how I can love him (and, maybe, how he can love me), I thought I'd wax philosophical about the other Prince Charming in my life...the one who taught me what a man should be.

I give him grief all the time...more than any man deserves. The truth is, my father is the man who has made it so difficult to find someone worth giving my heart to. He has given me so much...trips to exotic places, a first class education, a comfortable home (that he keeps letting me return to). He's given me an example of what marriage is supposed to be like (thirty years of marriage and he still talks about how attractive he thinks my mother is). Growing up I never noticed if we had more or less than my friends, though there were times we certainly did have less, or more. He's provided for our family in every way.

The two most valuable pieces of advice I ever got were from my father. The first wasn't even advice. When I left college to pursue a career performing, there was a small part of me that wondered if I was in some way disappointing my dad...glamorous though it may be, an acting career for their child is not the dream of most parents. Plus, my father was quickly rising in management, and having inherited his personality I wondered if that was the path that I, too, was supposed to have followed. I wondered...until the day my father told me about a conversation with his co-worker in which he expressed such pride and admiration for his daughter who was pursuing her dream and catching it. It didn't matter that it was far-fetched, unstable, unconventional, and completely different from the path he followed...he was proud of his daughter for having a dream and going for it.

Fast forward a few years, and I'm back at home, choosing another path (and now worried that I'm disappointing my father for choosing a different dream). When I finally expressed this through racking sobs, daddy simply looked at me and said, "Whatever you do, do something you're passionate about. If there's no passion, it's not worth it. I only want you to be happy, and the only path to happiness is passion."

We may take jabs at each other-and we do, because we're too much alike, both stubborn, set in our ways, independent, moody, always thinking we're right (and we usually are), bossy, nosy, and determined-but there is never a moment when I forget that he was the first man to love me. He is the man who has tenaciously held onto my heart for a lifetime. He is the man who may lead a company to success, but first and foremost led a family to a happy ending. And someday he'll give me away, but he'll be the only man to do so without losing my heart, my love, or my devotion. He is the man against whom all others will be measured.

He is my first Prince Charming.