Let’s Make a Deal

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Among the many thrilling adult activities Dan and I get to do as a married couple like filing our joint tax return is buying our first car together.

We feel like we have been run over by a truck, but we have lived to tell the tail.

We casually started test driving cars about a month ago, but we got down to business Saturday. We returned Dan?s leased car in Saturday morning and proceeded to engage in car buying the entire day. The first place we went to was a dealer in Maryland, and Dan and I launched into our bad cop/badder cop routine we do so well. We hounded the first dealer into finally admitting that his price was totally outrageous, based on nothing, and he really did not care. So, needless to say, we left there without playing Lets Make a Deal and headed back to Virginia to try, try again.

We ended up back in Ballston to a dealership we had been to previously that month. They actually called us at 6 p.m. that evening claiming to have the car to end all cars and wanted us to come down right away. Seeing nothing left to loose and still a lot of fight in us, Dan and I made out way to Ballston armed for another battle. We were pleasantly surprised by the car, as it was in as good of condition as our amigos, George and Rodney, claimed. We looked, we test drove, we devised our plan of attack. Fortunately for us, this car came in as a trade in that very same day. In fact, the previous owners were still on the lot purchasing their new car. Seeing as it was the end of the month, and our friends were eager to get this 6-hour old car off of their books, we successfully negotiated down to a reasonable amount after a lot of back and forth and threatening to leave (that is a key part of the bad cop/badder cop routine; I think our friends would have tried to latch themselves to our legs if we got up and left).

When we finally got around to the paperwork sometime after 9 p.m. that night, signed a thousand pieces of paper (I am hoping none of them said we have to turn over our first-born child to Mazda), and batted away their attempts to get us to buy extended warrantees, bogus car color sealer and assorted loans, we finally purchased our first car together.

We make a pretty mean team.

Denim Dilemma

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At a staff meeting last week, my director informed my colleagues and me that we are now allowed to wear jeans.

This was quite shocking and exciting news for most of my coworkers.

The only caveat to the “jeans are okay” rule is when you have a meeting with an agency director or are appointed to show up at some function where you are representing the office. Apparently, this jeans thing has been a big deal in my office for several years. As a relative new-comer, I did not know that some die-hard jeans fans have been lobbying to wear denim for years now. Before, there was talk of jeans on Fridays, but now it seems we can wear jeans…anytime (unless of course, you are in the above-mentioned circumstances of meetings/functions).

I am not quite sure what to think of the jeans rule. I do not care if other people wear jeans, but I am not sure if I can bring myself to pair my cardigans and button down blouses and blazers with my Levi 501s. It is not that I do not think my jeans are appropriate (that is another conditions of jean wearing – they must be nice jeans). My jeans are not torn or ripped or too low slung or look like I wrested with Baron the last time I wore them. They are nice jeans, but I simply do not think I can trade in my trusty trousers for jeans.

Occasionally my “work clothes” and my “weekend clothes” overlap, but, to me, something about wearing my Ann Taylor Loft gray trousers mean “I am at work” and my dark wash 501s mean “I am at home/at Costco.” Some brave souls in my office who have embraced jeans (surprisingly, not many of my coworkers have actually worn jeans) say that their jeans are more comfortable than their “work pants.” My director claims she feels increased productivity when she wears jeans ;-) I do not think my jeans come with instant productivity magic, and I find my “work pants” just as comfy.

I think others are scared to wear jeans, too. As if one day we might receive a surprising Outlook invite into an Important Meeting occurring that afternoon and be stuck wearing jeans and a t-shirt. This means I would either have to 1) have an emergency set of “nice clothes” in my cube or 2) run out to the nearest Ann Taylor for a quick wardrobe change. (Something tells me Dan would start to get a little annoyed if I claimed I had a “wardrobe emergency” several times a week?)

Is this an office conundrum in other workplaces? Are other offices “jean friendly”? Are you allowed to wear jeans but feels awkward? Or perhaps I am just over thinking my denim?

So I suppose for now I will continue wearing trousers and see if my fellow colleagues start wearing denim instead of khakis. Secretly, (or not so secretly), in the meantime, I are pushing for sweatpants :-) I definitely could get in on that.

Back to School

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Today I, along with several other co-workers, volunteered to read to a class of 1st graders at a local elementary school.

I read There Was An Old Woman Who Swallowed A Chick!, a very realistic story in which a old woman swallows a chick in addition to some straw, an egg, a basket, and a bow and then proceeds to hop around until the entire concoction comes flying out of her mouth and into the hands of the – Easter Bunny!

The kids loved it.

At first the little guys regarded me with some suspicion, but I used different voices and a lot of silly inflection while reading, and I even got them to say some of the words along with me. Too cute.

After the story they were all eager to tell me about things they and their friends/family members have ate that are of questionable nature. One delightful boy claimed his grandmother ate marbles.

I wish I could start off my day like this all of the time :-)

Clean Sweep

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One of my favorite guilty pleasures is watching Clean House.

That Niecy Nash does not hold back. She waltzes right into homes with her signature flower pin in her hair and tells those messy, disorganized folks what to do with all of their junk.

I simply cannot fathom why people hold onto stuff that is so…old. And useless. And broken. These folks will keep old shoeboxes and stacks of ancient magazines and infant clothes even though the babies are now adults. Some people have their kids’ baby teeth. (My Dad might actually have my baby teeth, come to think of it. I hope he threw them out).

Now I understand that some people have items that hold sentimental value, and that is important, too. I am not without understanding and sympathy for treasured objects. However, for these brave people who let America see their messy homes, I am thinking that their stuff holds them back more than it lets them revisit memories.

I personally own very few sentimental items. I do not have qualms about throwing stuff away. I figure, I most likely do not need the object, and if I do, I can purchase another for a nominal amount.

I am all about the purge.

This weekend, I spent one morning cleaning and organizing the condo top to bottom. My favorite activity is to get a fresh garbage bag and go room to room, tossing out stuff. I go through the fridge and pantry and throw out uneaten leftovers, anything expired, Tupperware that has seen better days and too many of those days in the microwave. I go through our office and toss no longer needed computer print outs, old receipts, mail, magazines from 2004.

Throwing things away feels so good. I feel like an entire layer of grime has been lifted off my life. I feel as if I have achieved nirvana when I throw several bags of junk down the garbage shoot. To me, throwing things away is good fun. Toss out the old, in with new, or even better, in with nothing. I do not worry about needing something someday. I live in Tysons Corner ? I will get another one of whatever it is. And, nine times out of 10, I never think back and wish I kept something I have since thrown away.

Cleaning things out is good for the spirit. Even Oprah has jumped on the clean house bandwagon and sends her minions all over America to help people out from underneath their clutter. Whenever I am antsy and in need of a good fix, I reach for the garbage bags and a bottle of 409.

Maybe I should e-mail Niecy Nash and ask is she wants a co-host?

Brownie Convert

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I have never claimed brownies to be high on my list of delicious desserts. I do like brownies, but their lack of complexity and inherently less attractiveness makes them lower on my list of preferred baked goods.

However, my office mates and friends love brownies. They are crazy for brownies. It is the dessert of preference at Beach Weeks I have spent with friends. In fact, I claim that the friends are brownie snobs – -they get particularly annoyed if brownies are too done. They like the gooey, sort of un-cooked center. There is always lots of debate about whether I overcook the brownies or un-bake them to perfection.


So, in light of the many people in my life who appreciate the brownie, I decided to have Marie over to make Barefoot Contessa’s Outrageous Brownies. These suckers contain four sticks of butter, six eggs, almost three bags of chocolate chips, and six ounces unsweetened chocolate. The recipe called for walnuts, but I did not have any, so I left those out. However, I think I will put them in the next time I make these.

The recipe wants you to bake these for 30 minutes and warns you not to over bake, but they needed an extra 10ish minutes and still came out perfect. Also, the instructions want you to let them cool completely and then stick them in the fridge for couple hours before slicing and serving, but the smell was to good, we could not wait. So, they would have looked prettier if we let them solidify a bit, but they were too good to wait.

These were easy and devilishly good. Outrageous to the core. Perhaps I will become a brownie convert.

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Library Lover

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In these dismal economic times, I find myself searching for some cheap thrills.

In my quest, I rediscovered the library.

I have to say rediscovered because I have always been a friend of the library. A library lover. An appreciator of literature.

When I was little I decided to card catalogue my own books. That’s right. My own books. And my grandmother (a teacher and reading encourager) bought me a stamp bookplate that said “From the Library of ___,” and I proudly printed my name in all of the inside book covers in my collection. I even had a sort of lending library system with my gal pals. I also begged my parents for a set of encyclopedias when I was in the 4th grade.

I never got those :-(

My grandmother (the teacher one) said I loved books so much it started to become?ridiculous. She said I would brandish a book in the air and exclaim “read me!” And I knew when my Dad skipped pages in Go Dog Go.

So I really love books. And I really love the library.

When I went to college, I could hole myself up in the library for eight to 10 hours at a time. My favorite was the Clark Science and Engineering Library (since renamed to Brown), which was renovated right before I entered school. The domed ceiling in the entrance hall featured a lovely mural and stone flooring that led the way to the study area. The main area housed several banks of computers and beautiful large mahogany tables with actual chairs, not ugly plastic chairs, but real high-back fabric-covered chairs. The room even had a fireplace. Ah, I would spend hours at dear Clark. I liked to be surrounded by books, even if they are science and engineering books for which I have no desire or use. I went there every chance I got. In fact, I am certain I spent more time basking in the gloriousness that is Clark than I spent at college parties. Sometimes I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Clark.

I wish I had a Clark here for me to idle away a weekend afternoon. Sadly, I do not have a Clark, but I do have the public library, even though they pale in comparison to the loveliness of Clark. You can eat at Clark. You could access wireless internet at Clark. You can sit in lovely high back chairs and sit a latte while you read at Clark. No angry librarians wonder around are mean at Clark. But, I suppose the public libraries will do since truly nothing can compare the wonder that is Clark. (It should come at no surprise that several people thought the library should actually be named after me.)

So, even though nothing compares to the majesty that is Clark, the public library system has provided me with many fabulous books that are so good I just have to pass them on:

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold: While darker than I anticipated, I stuck with it after the first chapter, and I am glad I did. A young girl narrates this story as she follows her family members? lives after her violent death. It is not a sunny book, but I would not say entirely gloomy either. The girl?s thoughts and her narration of her family?s life are deep and introspective.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen: I could not put down this story about a young man who joins the circus back in the 1940s. The tales of his days on the circus are full of turmoil, and the characters are convincing. What makes this story rich is the way Gruen switches between the narrator as the young man and the narrator as an old man.

Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sofia Kinsella: Yes, it is silly. Yes, it is 99.9% unrealistic. Yes, it is chick lit to the extreme. But, there is something endearing and fun about the main character, Rebecca Bloomwood, which makes her relatable and fun. I recommend the entire series.

December by Elizabeth Winthrop: I happened upon this book because of the Real Simple magazine?s No Obligation Book Club (the magazine announces a book to read and discuss on the blog, so you can choose to follow or not, and if so, at your own pace). Not knowing much about it, I did not have any expectations. It is the story about an 11-year-old girl who has not spoken in nine months and how her parents deal with her lack of communication. At first, I did not think that was much plot to go off of, but I was pleasantly surprised by the richness of the characters and the how the story really pulled me in.

Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult: I have read several other Jodi Picoult books, and she is good at crafting stories that seem pretty out there and making them more realistic. In this book, a baby is found dead in a barn in an Amish community, and the Amish girls suspected of the crime refuses to acknowledge that the baby is hers, even when she is charged with the crime. The girl comes to be represented by an attorney who also happens to be her distant relative. I found the details about the Amish community to be interesting and especially enjoyed the relationship between the girl and her attorney/distant cousin.

So there you have it, some literary gems to put on hold at your public library. Now I am off to discover another fabulous read, and as I stand in line with the masses at my local public library, I will close my eyes and pretend I am in Clark ;-)

Divine Design

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Now I need more blogs, fashion and home decorating Web sites, and addicting Internet pages like I need a hole in my head, but one of my favorite blogs, Simply Stated by Real Simple, encouraged me to check out a Web site called Polyvore for even more Web site bliss.

This Web site reminds me of when I was little and liked to play with paper dolls, painstakingly cutting out blouses and slacks and dresses and hats to adorn to my paper dolls with flimsily cut out pieces. Unlike my paper dolling-days, this site lets me choose from a palate of background designs and collections of clothing and accessories and tack it all on a ?design board.?

I knew this would be way too much fun.

If you do not see the images you want from the huge selection of pre-loaded pieces on the Web site, you can download a tool that lets you clip items from other Web sites and upload into your own palate.

For my initial design board, I fooled around with a monochromatic pink palate with some yummy things I have seen for spring.

Pink
Pink – by Sarah Rosemary on Polyvore.com

Then, I started picking out my own items from other Web sites using the Polyvore clip and paste tool. I added home décor items from Target, Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel to assemble rooms to my delight and specifications.

As a woman who only had a pre-owned futon to her name and had to fight tooth and nail for an entire year before her loved one agreed to purchase a couch, I am filled with great joy when I browse endless pages filled with accent chairs and novelty rugs and end tables. It is so fabulous that I pretend I am Candace Olson from my favorite HGTV show Divine Design.

Dan finds this new toy of mind to be detrimental. It’s okay. I do not expect the man whose Google Reader subscriptions include World of Warcraft Insider to appreciate this powerful and exciting tool.

Ah Polyvore, how enjoyably addicting you are.

Banana Muffins with a Vodka Shot

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I made some fabulous Giada de Laurentiis banana muffins with mascarpone frosting for my co-workers. They were fantastic, if I do say so myself.

The recipe called for four bananas, but I only had three, but they came out moist and banana-y anyway.

Also, I realized half way through my recipe that I did not in fact have any more vanilla extract. I only had peppermint extract, which would not have been too delicious. However, my always resourceful husband suggested I use vanilla-flavored vodka. So rather than one tablespoon vanilla extract, I substituted a little more than one tablespoon of the vanilla-flavored vodka, and it worked just as well – maybe even a little better than the vanilla extract.

While the recipe said the batter will make 18 cupcakes, one could easily stretch the batter to 24 smaller-sized cupcakes. I received many complements, so I again have to extend a thanks to Giada for successful recipe.

Gifted

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On the way to New York City this past weekend, I engaged Marie in a car games I like to play and which Dan loathes. Luckily for me, Marie played right along :-)

On long journeys, I like to make my fellow road warrior tell me interesting facts and anecdotes about themselves based on topics I drum up while staring straight ahead to keep from getting car sick. (Yes, I am one of those people. I cannot read a book or a magazine or watch a computer screen or knit or basically anything without needing my driver to pull over so I can vomit on the side of the road.)
So I like to play the “tell me something about you” game that does not require taking my eyes off of the road ahead. For this particular game, I decided to ask Marie a question Dan and I batted around a few weeks before Christmas: What is (are) the best gift (gifts) you have ever received?

For the purposes of our game, the response must be an actual, tangible item. Not “friendship” or “love” or any of those feelings. No, it needed to be something played with or worn or manipulated.

Marie, enthused with this game, said one of her best gifts was a doll house she received for Christmas. I could almost see the doll house myself as Marie described the little furniture, the lights that actually worked (for a time, at least), the little people. I could not agree more, chiming in about my hand-me-down Barbie Dream House with the working elevator.

Not surprisingly, Marie owned the same Barbie house. And we gushed and gushed about that house and how many Barbies we owned in comparison to our relatively few number of Kens. The Barbie RV and convertible. Barbie’s darling little sister, Skipper. Her many outfits and costumes, plastic high heels, hats, purses.I confessed that my Barbies and her delightful accessories topped my list of favorite gifts, right up there next to my three American Girls – Kirsten, Molly, and Samantha – whom I also cherished as much as the Barbies.

Marie and I agree that while some discourage their daughters from playing with Barbie, we do not really see the logic. Neither one of us wanted to be Barbie. We just liked to play with her and all of her cool ornaments. Barbie was the best. She was limitless. She was an astronaut, teacher, veterinarian, model, princess, big sister, mom, and all around girl’s girl that my friends and I loved. Rather than make us feel small in comparison, Barbie provided hours of endless entertainment and possibilities and Ken was happy to let her be the leading lady. I was well aware she and her glamoursly-pink life were fictional. That was part of the Barbie magic.

Poor Dan pointed out that I chose Barbie and her Dream House over the rocks on my left finger. And, I tried to explain that I do not adore Barbie and her stuff over my engagement/wedding rings, I just view them as extremely different gifts. Hardly in the same category.
Of course the sentimentality of exchanged rings or special pendants or memorable necklaces all fall under the Important Gifts Category, but this little exercise was an interesting insight into our personalities and why, perhaps, Dan and I are a compatible couple just like Marie and I are best friends.

Dan conceded one of his all-time favorite gifts was a Lego set in which he constructed one brightly colored Lego block at time until he created his masterpiece Lego village.

While children, Dan constructed and I weaved stories. He built the structure, I supplied the plot, the people part. Come to think of it, I think that describes our life pretty accurately – he is the support and I am the emotion. He has the facts and I have the feelings. He holds down the fort and encourages his leading lady to make her own limitless opportunities. So I suppose I have to say, in the end, he is my favorite gift :-)

Goggled

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I heart Google Reader.

When Dan first showed me the joys of subscribing to feeds and having them land in my own personal Google Reader, I knew I had stumbled upon a momentous occasion.

I started out with just a few blogs here and there – maybe three or four in total and quite unadventurous selections. The Martha Blog. The Everyday Food Blog (a Martha product). My cousin-in-law’s blog (hmm…I am not sure that is an actual title of a familial member, but I am going to go with it).

As I began using my Google Reader, my original blogs led me to more blogs which led me to more blogs, and now I am the proud reader of 35 blogs. Yes. 35 blogs.

I have entered the supreme advanced stage of the Google Reader.

And I love it so very much.

My blogs range in topics from yoga to cupcakes to work to local government. Today I subscribed to the deliciously exciting Psychology Today Blogs featuring essays with fascinating insights into personalities, marriage, and happiness.

I could just about burst with affection for all of the knowledge I have gleaned from the blogs on my Google Reader.

So, you can imagine my heightened state of exhilaration when Google Reader started compiling a list of blogs I might like based on my current reading selections. There goes Google again! Knowing me better than I know myself! He already reads my e-mail and includes touching links to Web sites based on the content of my personal e-mails. (One case was incredibly hilarious; I e-mailed my aforementioned cousin-in-law about visiting her in New York, and she responded with enthusiasm and an invite to her belated birthday over that particular weekend. Gmail decided she and I wanted loose weight, cure our yellow teeth, and hang out eating cupcakes at Marriot Hotels in New York. Hmmm…the logic is somewhat sketchy, but I think I get it).

Anyway, so I was eager beaver to see what blogs the Google Reader assembled for my reading pleasure. I knew he would think of the most splendid blogs for me, filling my Reader with baking blogs and blogs about 20-something life and blogs about crafting and local government, all those juxtaposing things I love.

Oh how wrong I was.

Terribly wrong.

Apparently, dear Google does not know me well enough.

I sadly clicked “no, thanks” next to blogs about – get this – psychics of how things work. Like, machinery. Like I care two hoots about engineering! Google got it all wrong! Google must have confused me with my engineer husband! Ugh! Of course I do not like engineering or making things nor do I care about how things work! When Dan explains that sort of stuff to me, I am pretty sure my eyes glaze over and I black out.

I decided to let Google off of the hook and try again later, after he had learned more about my unique blogging interests.

I try again today with high hopes. Think crafts. Think baking. Think girl stuff. No yucky engineering boy stuff.

As I took another look at my recommended feeds, I started to get my hopes up. The blogs had cute names. They appeared written by women. They appeared girlie. They appeared like…they were blogs about babies???

Babies? And motherhood? What is wrong with Google Reader?

Now, I am all about babies and being a mom, but not quite yet. But, the more maddening thing is none of my current reading selections suggest that I am 1) a mother; 2) have infertility problems; and 3) want to know about the safety features of the latest baby strollers.
For goodness sake! Didn?t he see that I did not know what a Boppy was?

Oh, Google Reader. You have disappointed me once again! The lack of insight on his part is truly astounding.
And with that I am off to try to find more blogs on my own, in an attempt to show Google Reader who I really am in the hopes that he will provide me with more appropriate choices in the near future.

Consider me googled.