Cupcake and the Great One

Judy Blume stole all my blog titles…Seriously- I’m sitting here, trying to decide a title for this blog and every title happens to be a Judy Blume book. Although this is quite frustrating for me, Judy Blume should feel proud and accomplished that she made such an impact on my life that my subconcious continously reverts back to her today.

Sunday, is our one year wedding anniversary. I have been looking forward to this day since the day we exchanged vows. Why? Mostly because I am ridiuclously in love with my husband and our anniversary marks another notch in the growing older together belt. It makes this crazy dream that I never knew I wanted- real. However, I failed epically at one thing…

I forgot to order our anniversary cake. Over a month ago, I reminded myself, "don’t forget to order the cake. call the cake shop." And I forgot. This afternoon, I called the cake place and gave them my shpeel. And my eyes welled up with tears when she said the calendar was full. Then she said the sweetest, most thoughtful thing ever, " We don’t want you to go without your anniversary cake. How about we make a couple of cupcakes for you?"

The heavens parted and the voices of a thousand angels sang out, "Fuck Yeah!" So Saturday we will pick up our two cupcakes for our anniversary celebration.

The first anniversary wedding gift is supposed to be paper. The modern gift is clocks. Matthew already has an awesome Indiana Jones-esque watch that I gave him for Christmas a couple of years ago and I wanted to stay true to tradition so I decided we would exchange paper gifts. And I also said, "Hey we should make our own gifts!"

What was I thinking? Yeah, I don’t know either. I have a bazillion ideas that I can not share because Matthew reads this blog. Pictures will come later.

Thoughts of what I will create consume me- I sit at work and want to bust out the sharpies but I can’t…ugh!

I was remembering this episode of The Office, when Pam makes a comic book for Jim. I wish I was cool enough to come up with that idea first. Now, if I do that Matthew will think I’m a poser. Actually no, we both know I’m the coolest person her knows (insert smiley face).

Speaking of posers, I dressed up steam punk this weekend.

“In the time of chimpanzees I was…” not very phone savvy…

About five minutes ago, I set up my voicemail. Why? Because I had this memory pop into my head of Matthew leaving me voice message that said "Hey, you need to set up your greeting." Three weeks later, it has been completed.

Where is my giant thingsthatneedtogetdonebutikeepforgetingtowritedown checklist so that I can add a beautiful black checkmark to it?

The next few days promise to be cray-cray. Yes, that’s right- in the next few days, I will become incredibly hood perhaps even a bit OG if you will. I kid- that would be first of all unprofessional at work and although Matthew says I can be hood sometimes, I think if I actually was he might have some issues.

Nonetheless, things are going to be crazy. See, I had this genius idea that we would host Easter festivities at our house. This is the first time, we are hosting something as a married couple that will include extended family. For some reason that day I must have been feeling extra in love- inviting everyone over seemed- fabulous.

Now all I can think about is the menu and whether the house will look clean enough. And will it smell nice? Growing up our house always smelled nice a little potpourri-ish sometimes a little cinnamon-y. Will everyone be gone before the Walking Dead begins? Seriously, it’s the season finale. I’m so nervous- I can not focus on work (okay fine-making excuses for my slacking off).

The only thing getting me through this is the possibility of an Iron man laser tag game this weekend. What is worse than a bunch of little kids shooting themselves with laser guns? A husband and wife trying to take each other out! Bwahahaha!

Anyone else hosting any Easter events? Or am I the only ridiculous one?

Height acceptance

It’s been over a week since I’ve posted, mostly because I have been unmotivated and tired of life (or maybe I’ve been dealing with a huge ass audit that is finally over!).

My entire life I wanted to be tall. I shared the same goal as Cher Horowitz to be 5’10” like Cindy Crawford. Unfortunately, the Mexican gene is strong in this one and I’m only 5’4″. My sister reached a whopping 5’8″.

As I became an adult I started wearing heels. And I feel in love with them… I love wearing jeans all the time- with slacks or jeans or dresses. There is nothing sexier than looking at your reflection in a window and seeing the bottom of your pants grazing the top of your heels. *sigh*

So you get it, I love them!

Well, in an effort to get in shape Matthew and I have been working out a lot. And wearing heels all day can make working out painful in the evenings. I’ve learned to suck it up and deal with it. That is – till last Thursday.

At a function for work, I was asked to ensure that all guests were in correct meeting areas. This meant that I had to stand for three hours greeting people in a hallway. Three hours without a chair to sit on or table to prop on. There was a small carpet space that I occasionally stood on for cushioning. By the end of the event my ankles were ginormous!

I sat on the couch with my feet propped up and made a tough decision. One of the toughest decisions ever (divorce was a piece of cake compared to this). I needed to give up my heels and switch to flats. Ugh!

How do I reconcile with this? Well I get to buy cute heels for special occasions and going out but the flats will be for work. We went shopping yesterday. And I purchased the cutest Cole Haan flats! And they have Nike air technology (yes I did my research). I only purchased one pair because well duh they are Cole Haan but I see some Michael Kors in my future.

Things that I have noticed since wearing flats during the last two hours.

1. Travel time from the front of the bldg to my office has been cut in half.
2. Travel time from office to restroom significantly faster.
3. It is much easier to dodge students in the hallway.
4. I am able to balance my laptop bag, purse, water bottles , coffee and lunch bag much better being closer to the ground.
5. All my pants are meant to be worn in heels.
6. Just because I can hold a needle and thread does not mean I can hem like a pro.

Of boys and men.

Recently we started listening to a radio station that plays mostly disco and hits from the 60s and 70s and every once in a while stuff from the 80s.  Tonight on our drive home from the gym, I heard a song that took me back 16 years. 

Music has always been a big part of my life.  I have a theme song for ever major moment and a soundtrack for year of my life.  Growing up however, my soundtrack was mostly in Spanish.  Being a first generation Mexican-American, I was greatly influenced by the music of my parents- cheesy, romantic, love ballads and boleros.  It wasn’t till my first boyfriend (technically not my first boyfriend- but that’s another story for another time) introduced me to other kinds of music- specifically with lyrics in English.  And not just crappy pop music- meaningful music- music with soul, lyrics and depth. Seriously, up until then I thought The Beatles was as good as it gets, no one could ever top them.

One afternoon, our senior year in high school we were driving around looking for a place to pick up lunch. He drove this old 1980-something Thunderbird. Two-toned blue Thunderbird.  It was the size of the boat but had a cassette deck and we could hook up our disc mans!  Back when the cigarette lighter was our auxiliary port. 

A fun up beat song came on the radio- later I would find out that it was Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl- and my life would never be the same again.  I remember enjoying the breeze as we cruised around with the windows rolled down- and then my boyfriend started singing to me.  It was super cute and super cheese, very typical of this person.  And then I heard the chorus and it was about a girl with brown eyes.  That could not be right, I listened intently.  He must have meant blue or green, because brown is so not the color men sing about.  Nope. They were brown.  Then it hit me.

I was in a car with a boy who cared about me and was singing a song to me. There is no going back from that.  Expectations were sky high.  And young Denise was in love.  We dated well into college and then broke up.  Mostly, my fault. Ahem, entirely my fault.  I’ve heard sometimes girls go through a slut phase- not that I know first hand. 

Every boy that came after this particular boyfriend never quite came close.  I did not know it then but I had shared a few years of my life with a good man. Yes, we were young, but he was the kind of boy that grows up to be a good man.  He was kind, always did what was right. I was just a bit to free spirited to care. 

After him, all the other guys were these complete lame boys.  And I never allowed myself to get attached to them.  I had three serious boyfriends and one husband after him and I never invested 100% of myself, mostly because I thought love was supposed to be these grand thoughtful gestures.  Like the snoopy snow cone machine gift of 1997.  It wasn’t that I was still in love with this person, by no means.  I had stopped loving that person years ago.  I just expected everyone to be that spontaneous and thoughtful and caring.  So I set them all up for failure.  The truth is I had really loved that person and that break up hurt like a mother and I never ever wanted to feel that vulnerable again.  I never wanted to fall in love again.  I used logic and reason for most of my relationships and ultimately put myself in positions where I knew they would not succeed- self preservation if you will.

Tonight in the car with Matthew- It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Brown Eyed Girl came on the radio and I was reminded of the person and my youth.  Then I realized, I finally let myself fall completely in love.  And not the completely in love that I felt at 17 because as we all know, falling in love at 17 is 20% love 80% hormones. 

This was the completely in love where you chose happiness over what the world expects of you.  Where you say fuck you to Denise always doing everything for everyone else!  This time it’s about me.  A year and a half ago, I chose to give myself what I deserved- not what I thought someone else needed of me. 

As we sat in the car, driving home from the gym, still upset over an argument we had earlier in the day- I realized that there is no one else in the world I would rather be arguing with. 

I think I’m ready to stop being mad so that I can show Matthew this cool gun app I downloaded this morning.  I spent most of the morning harassing the cats with it.

As a side note- last week I thought there was a velociraptor living on our roof. Turns out it is a psychotic woodpecker that continues to confuse the window for a tree. Oh Lord.

Before the sun comes up

I slacked off this week.  I did the one thing, I have told myself not to do- brought work home.  Almost every night this week, I have worked in the evening at home and then went to sleep super late.  So we missed all our workouts this week.  For those of you that have read the blog about the threats- this means that I can not work out with an ipod next week.  Sucks right?  Well- yes, that’s what I get for slacking off.

Wrong! I refuse to spend the next week without music during my workout.  Do you have any idea how painful that can be?  This means only one thing- we will be doing two a days today and working out extra tomorrow and Sunday.  Loophole?  Maybe?  But technically- no!

P.S. Are people aware that those Harlem Shake videos are just people wiggling around- they are not actually doing the “Harlem Shake?” I blame Michael Bay for this lack of authenticity. 

Not at the dinner table.

I have grown (not physically sideways) so much since my last post: I ended a bad relationship (with my cell phone provider), became a hip phone user, learned how to use cute emoticons on said phone, opened up my curiosity of colon cleansing-more on that later and fall in love with my husband for like the fiftieth time this week.

I’ve had this crappy samsung galaxy phone for like a decade (two years- okay Matthew, I’m dramatic) and its suck level has increased more and more each month that it has been in my possession.  About a month ago the battery kept dying till I realized that my phone could no longer function without being plugged in.  Yes- so not only did I have a crick in my neck for the last month but I lived in fear that my ear might catch fire. 

But this weekend I said, ‘Basta!’ Enough is Enough! No mas! I refused to spend another day tethered to a wall. Matthew has often made comments about me becoming an iphone user.  He definitely thinks I’m much cooler than I am- because eight grade braces wearing, chubby, Denise still exists inside much older not so self conscience, still chubby thirty three version of myself.  I have not felt cool enough or committed enough to own an iphone. Secretly, I have been dying to conform and hold that cute piece of madness in my hands. So I broke down and purchased a one- the newest one (go big or go home). And I manually entered all my contacts into the phone. Most people save all their numbers to their sim card- I don’t.  Saving to the sim card is exclusively for people that I know will be in my life for good- not just for anyone. 

I will add here that at the time of purchase I ended my relationship with my super awful cell phone company.  Suck it!

Monday, I sent a text to my friend letting her know that I needed to cancel our dinner plans.  She sends me the cutest emoticon- a smiling poop.  Thank you, Chrissy. We continue texting and she sends another cute image.  WTF!  How is this happening?  So I ask her.  Long story short- she walked me through the process and now I can send cute emoticons whenever. Holler!  Bummer- Matthew’s phone is old and can not see ANY of my adorable messages. Ugh!

A week ago, I proposed to Matthew that we no longer look at our phones during lunch.  I might have mentioned before that Matthew and I have lunch almost every day together- even if it’s for twenty minutes.  I noticed that we were spending too much of our lunchtime responding to work texts and emails.  The result- conversations that I never expected to have.  Today we discussed colon cleansing- loud, graphic colon cleansing.  I am sure the restaurant patrons around us did not appreciate this conversation but I could not stop laughing.  I suggested a couple’s colon cleansing- apparently, that’s where we draw the line. Describing bowel movements is okay- have a procedure- not okay.  Geez…

As I drove back to work filled with endorphins- I fell in love with my husband all over again.  Yes, it was a ridiculous conversation, a disgustingly gross conversation but we were talking and laughing and enjoying each others company and our phone’s and the people around us did not exist.  I’ve seen lots of romantic comedies in my time- this is by far the best.

Smarty pants

I have been avoiding this for two days now because I feel like a failure.  One of my goals for Lent was to blog every day-obviously that is not happening.  A couple of years ago I learned all about making *SMART (Specific Measurable Attainable Relevent and Time Bound) goals.  This afternoon I reflected on this particular goal. 

Blogging everyday is not attainable. Okay maybe it is but you know what I have other goals like working out four times a week for an hour, projects around the house and hanging out with my husband (an he is super cute so this one takes priority).  Binding myself to this goal is unfair- and frankly makes me not want to write at all. So I am revising this goal- blog at least four times a week- because that ladies and gentlemen- i can do.

On a side a note- Matthew gets incredibly cranky while playing Halo 4.  Do I snap during the Walking Dead? No.

*Attitude is Everything  by Paul J. Meyer

Sleep.

It is 10:50 pm on a Friday night and I feel like I should be out doing more than watching the news.  The problem is that after a forty hour week, sleep seems kind of nice.  So I welcome you sleep. 

Let’s get shwasted!

I learned a new word at work today, “shwasted.”  This piece of post-modern urban colloquialism is a fusion of the two words: sh#t & wasted.  Thus creating shwasted.  This word from what I gathered (context clues…can I get a what what?!?) refers to getting so drunk that you can not remember anything and quite possibly in that state, acted the fool.

I spent the better half of that conversation trying to find out if that word had been used previously in a Jonah Hill movie.  Anyway…it was exciting to learn something new.  I absolutely can not wait to use it among my adult friends…I will definitely seem ever so cool and hip. 

Tapping the will power reserves

Sunday.

Yesterday, in the car, driving home from the gym, Matthew and I, had an endorphin fueled conversation about out workout. Mid-January we made it our goal to make it to the gym at least four times a week.  We exceeded our goal by one day! Holler!!!

Feel badass and riding the waves of awesomeness, we decided to tackle an even bigger challenge: Lent. Dun dun dun.

Matthew says very matter of factly- “you and I have not really tapped our will power reserve.” Challenge accepted.

Traffic lights by traffic light, we began to make a list of things we were determined to live without for the upcoming forty days. Matthew’s list- alcohol, sodas, and one other item that escapes my mind. My list: soda, fried foods and bread.  Oh and we also agreed to make it to church every Sunday during Lent.  Then came the list of threats. Wait…let me take us back to fee days ago.

Matthew attended a training for work in which he learned about SWOT analysis and using threats to achieve desired results. So we have been using this threat system to accomplish things. For example: making it to the gym five times this week was a direct result of us agreeing that if we didn’t, Matthew would not be able to play Halo 4 for a week and I would have zero Greg’s anatomy reruns.

This morning.

At the wee hours of 5:30 a.m as we prepared for our morning trek to the gym, as if we had both been struck by psychic abilities- we remembered the threats.

1. Consuming the crap we decided to give up. For this epic failure of the wills- The Threat: we will be forced to workout at the gym without our ipods.  Yes- we went there. Yes, shit just got real.  For nothing sucks more than not having music to tune out the heavy, sweaty breathers all around you.  Not to mention it makes an hour workout seem like two.

2. Skipping out on Church.  We are by no means holy rollers. In fact, I think we last stepped in to the house of God in November.  I have been feeling like I need more Jesus in my life and I figure if I’m working on my fitness-might as well hit the spiritual fitness as well. What happens if we sleep in and miss mass? Our threat: No Walking Dead for that week.  Yeah…I know, wtf are we thinking but threats are supposed to help us achieve our goals.  I hope this is true.

3.  A few blogs ago, in January, I wrote about trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have decided I want to be a writer.  However, I lack discipline…sometimes. My commitment is to write everyday for the next forty days.   Sounds easy enough right? Lord, I hope so.  My threat: Deactivate Facebook for a week. Yes, we just went from sane straight into cray cray land.

As I write this, on the eve of Lent…er Fat Tuesday, I can not help but feel excited and terrified out of my mind all at once.  Yes, perhaps we are using this time of year to fuel are weight loss goals but the truth is there has to be something therapeutic, cathartic and cleansing in the process.  So invite you reader to follow along, hold me accountable (if you want-no pressure here, I am all about holding yourself responsible to you) and laugh.  Yes, laugh at my expense, I don’t mind.  It builds character.

Let’s do this.