There's arguments, and then there's OUR arguments

In all the time that we've been dating, DB and I have only had one good argument. You know, the kind where both parties are genuinely peeved and are attempting something resembling communication to get through it. When truly peeved and basking in the ever so delightful feeling that someone's not only stepping, but tap dancing really badly, on my toes, I get upset. Raised voice, yelling, borderline-crying upset. Dan? Eh, not so much. He's more of the aggrevatingly calm and reasonable type. Damn your calm reasonableness.

The rest of our arguments are more of the silly, mindless sort. And we have plenty of those. Here's the thing though: I take these just as seriously as the real ones (minus the yelling and such, I revert to heated discussion mode), while DB can hardly keep a straight face. How do you argue with someone that keeps laughing? Infuriating doesn't even begin to describe it. Normally, these arguments (if you'd even call them that) last 7-10 minutes, simply because after that point, DB's laughter is beyond any attempts at conversation. Which technically means I win said discussion - except that he'd never agree to that.

Training 101

A momentous occasion in every trophy wife's life: her first dinner prepared and served completely on her own. It's a trial by fire (of the kitchen gas stove variety) filled with tears, panic, laughter, and triumph. This weekend, we have friends visiting - yes dears, it's our (read: his) never ending quest to merge both sets of acquaintances together into a homogenous bit of mush. I had planned for a simple roast chicken dinner with a pavlova for dessert. Have I ever made a pavlova before? Nah. But I've watched my greataunt make one, and the Infamous Ex made meringues look like child's play. How hard could this be?

Sidenote: the same day as said dinner, we also have my Civil War Reenacting tent to rewaterproof up on the peak, his errands to run, and kitchen recovery to attempt post-prep. Let's follow this, shall we?

1) attempt to wake up at 6. Yeah. That worked. Let's try 8?

2) debate over breakfast with BGRR the possibility of taking Charlotte (yes, I name my cars. Someday, I shall train him to name his too.) up the road to the peak to pitch and fix tent. Obviously, since the Camp's haywagon has problems going up, my little Civic will never be able to do it, right? "No, dear, I take her on hills all the time to unload at reenactments, this can't be any worse." "Honey, you'll rip the bottom out of your car.""No, I won't." "Yes, you will" Continue this argument in various forms for another 15 minutes, finally have Adoring Girlfriend say, "I'm taking it up anyways," get in car, and drive up without a single problem. No, delam, I'd never even think of saying I told you so. Set up tent, waterproof seams, and drive back downhill.

3) groceries and assorted errands. I left most of the dairy stuff as pickup out in Reading, merely for packing ease. Okay, fine, so it was really left in order for me to have a real excuse to be all housewife-y and be able to run errands with BGRR. I profess to getting a warm fuzzy housewife feeling when doing the simplest errands with him. Leave me alone. The big dilemma??? Frozen vrs Fresh strawberries. Note to self: ALWAYS cook with fresh fruit.

4) traditional banishment of BGRR from the kitchen. In my defense, I actually had him beat the meringue for a bit, but he was messing it up. So I banished him, and he disappears into his room to work on some shtuff, goodness knows what. Probably another method to take over the world, or solve world peace, or raise yaks in the city - none of which would surprise me, by the way. Since the oven's supposed to be lower for the meringue, it's best to start with that first. Now, when the recipe says "add sugar 1 tbsp at a time", it's obviously there for a reason. Seriously. LISTEN TO THE RECIPE. I don't, and about 45 minutes into beating this thing, it's got this lovely gloss, and it's considerably stiffer. But it's still not peaking.

Every trophy wife has a manual of procedure, and this would be about the time when I grab mine and start flipping through it frantically to the "What the Heck You Do When Things Aren't Working Like They're Supposed To" page, where it says in big, bold letters......

CALL YOUR MOTHER!

Well, it’s right there in the book! Call mom, who says, “I’ve never done meringue, call your greataunt.” Call greataunt, who sounds pleased as punch I’m cooking for my first dinner party and tosses out a few suggestions, including “if it doesn’t work, do am upside down cake. EVERYONE loves upside down cake.” Toss the thing in the oven, and 15 minutes later, her suggestion’s working. Sweetness.

5) clean kitchen and start on chicken. BGRR, in one of his bigger moments of wisdom, has gone out on campus with guests to show them about, and start closing things down for the night. Let me tell you, duckies, PAM olive oil spray is awesome. I love it dearly, and unless it’s really nice gourmet cooking, refuse to use anything else. Pull meringue out of oven and toss chickens in. Start to nervously watch clock for people coming back.

6) get through vegetables and potatoes, clean up some more. Pull out chicken, unwrap without burning self (BGRR's fingertips of steel are wonderful things), and set on table. Make gravy. Take to table, and then give men seated at table evil glare of doom so they stop waiting for you. In the grand scheme of things, BGRR's doing quite nicely! I've got him trained to start eating as soon as I put food on the table, irregardless of how long it takes me. Retreat to kitchen for one more round of cleaning, and then join for a quick bite.

7) clean off dining table, and then take meringue cake/pie/thing out with plates and spoons. Drop off on table while unaccustomed guests wonder what the heck you're doing and why you're not eating with them. Leave BGRR to make excuses and explanations. Wrap up dinner and leave for housemates to discover and finish later.

8) clean up (for the last time), ask BGRR to do dishes in the morning (because you've already done them 4 times), and crash horribly.

And that, my dearest readers, is Trophy Wife Practicum 101. Well, at least the 1-10 version.

Snippets of a Facebook life - On Moving

I love my office. They haven't blocked Facebook chat as yet! It's always a better morning when I get to touch base with BGRR. This morning, he's telling me how jealous he is of a former coworker who managed to get an awesome awesome job in India working on ecotourism. On our list of places we want to visit is India, that I was already aware of. (Someday I'll post the 50 places we want to visit before we die, it's a very long list. And he came up with most of them, but that's really not a surprise. I digress though, back to the insanity...) India's a wonderful place! There's awesome food that'll put hair on your chest (perhaps it'll replace some of what BGRR's slowly losing?) and Bollywood and an awesome fashion industry. Most importantly, I can add to my jewelry collection.


DB ~ ::hugs:: but we are invited on a trip to the Himilayas to visit him in Northern India...god I wish I had that kind of money

Rose ~ that involves mountains. and dirt. and llamas. i'm allergic to all three....guess i'll have to stay in the city then *dramatic sigh*

DB ~ ::rolls eyes:: you'd give up on a trip to see the Himilayas because of dirt ::looks at you like you are from Mars:: you have got to be kidding

Rose ~ I'M ALLERGIC!! [pause in typing] okay, that's not working to get me out of it, is it?

DB ~ ::laughs:: well you might have to brave that allergy to drag me back out of there...I could have trouble leaving on my own

Rose ~ you're kidding. india i can do, but actually having to drag you out? where's my motivation?

DB ~ ::laughs:: to get me back to you

Rose ~ you mean i can't just leave you there on the mountain with the llamas? can't i send bob in after you??

DB ~ But then you'd miss out on one of the most incredable and awesome places that exists in this world...but if you are truly that scared yup Bob is definately a viable person to send after me...just make sure you have someone to send after him

Rose ~ you're kidding. i think i'm more afraid that you'd try to talk me into moving there when i try to get you out lol

DB ~ ::ponders:: would I have any chance to succeed?

Rose ~ DB!

Dan ~ ::Laughs:: then what is there to worry about

Rose ~ that wasn't a no. that was a "you're likely to do it, and it's not fair to put me in that position and you're evil!!"

Dan ~ ::Laughs:: YAY sounds like a good reason to try

Rose ~ GRRR. darling, i will pick myself up and move to the poconos to a remote little cabin in the woods an hour from the nearest store if it made you happy. but a third world country??

Dan ~ India...third world? ::looks at you and simply bursts out laughing::

Rose ~ shut up.i don't speak fluent hindi as yet

Dan ~ :) love you honey

Rose ~ and don't get me started on the other issues i have with such a move *scowls, turning away from him* india my foot!

Is it wrong that I'm truly afraid of the places this man will attempt to get me to settle in? Next thing you know he's going to want to move to Mongolia and live in a yurt. Or the North Pole. Just to commune with penguins.

Top Ten Places to Find a Significant Other

From a random phone conversation.....

"Megan and Pat say hi, by the way."
"Who are they? Have I heard of them before?"
"They work at (insert old EE center), old coworkers of mine?"
"Oh, yes, them. How do they know who I am, and why are they saying hi?"
"Well, we were talking about how relationships come out of the most interesting and random places."
cue panic "So they know how we met? Really actually met?"
laughter "Yup. And they said it didn't surprise them at all.

Yeah, well wait until the story actually gets out.

Romance classes anyone?

Erm, it's been about a month this time. Yes, dear readers, I am aware of this fact. Sadly, we've not really gotten to spend much time together between the two schedules ~ let's all sigh dejectedly en chorus *le sigh* beautiful! This weekend'll likely be the last time we get any serious "us time" and while I had intentions of milking it for all it's worth, life gets in the way. So after a 12 hr day, I'll be driving up north to crash at around 11, then getting up early to pitch the reenacting tent out on the peak, let it air out while breakfasting and cleaning the bachelor cave, and then head back up to rewaterproof the damn thing. We're hoping the weather will be nice at least on Saturday, that'll speed the drying up and we'll be able to sleep out under the stars. (Which, by the way, dear readers, is only one of a handful of romantic things BGRR has come up with in the past 3 months. He's got the unromantic, "you should know this" part covered though. Let's continue, shall we?)

My college roommate and very good friend Der got married to Boo last weekend. Now, seeing as how BGRR kept say that May would be insane at work, I relented and told him he didn't have to come if he didn't want. I've done the single thing before...it just happens to be incredibly awkward when there's a slow song and you're sitting at your table playing with flower petals wishing you had someone there to dance with. Obviously, this has never happened to me before. After the rehersal dinner Friday night (because I missed the rehersal being stuck in the wonder that is Baltimore traffic), I toddled up to BGRR's to crash for the night. He had an group the next morning and would be able to wake me up early to get ready. That was the plan.

Now, before I continue, let's explore BGRR's romantic ideas. I know he has them, and he tends to pay attention to things most of the time - enough attention to give me dirty looks when I wear heels. (That's an argument for another time though. It actually qualifies as a classic and deserves an entry in its own right.) I realize that after a long day, he's tired. He sounded exhausted and I was really surprised he stayed up as long as he did waiting for me. Yay bonus points for DB! There wasn't one word about the navy blue silk sheath that hugged feminine curves just so, or the kitten heels, or the carefully styled hair. Yes, I'm complaining that I put careful thought into what I wore, in the hopes that BGRR would amaze and astound with a smile and some cute compliment that showed he noticed and appreciated. Argh.

But you know, it waaaaaas late, and there's always Saturday morning before the wedding. So you jump out of bed, grab a quick shower, toss on just the right bit of makeup, pull out the sundress and accessorize. 45 minutes after my own personal wake up call, we're both ready for our respective days. Cue soft background music.... She looks bashfully in his direction, waiting for that look to cross his face. That looks that makes all the silent cursing because an eyelash won't curl, or a hair keeps falling in, worth it. Silence. She holds her breath, watching his eyes for a glimmer of appreciation. His eyes open, as if he's taken aback by the woman before him and says....."It's nice."

And this is why someone needs to find Hitch, recruit him for romance classes, and sign DB up. Yesterday.

If it looks like Einstein, it must be him. Right?

Since I last wrote, dear readers, it's been about two weeks. Plenty of madness has occurred, most of which really should have been shared with the general populace. Like BGRR trying to pull open a push door....at least 3 times. No sweetheart, see that little sign? The one that says "push"? Of course, you were testing me. I'm sorry.

Yes, like I said, you've missed alot. Here's some of the highlights....

**My darling sister MW blurting out in the middle of dinner, "He looks like that guy!! The poison guy!! From the movie!" After much confusion on his part, we figured it out. Say it with me now, delam....."INCONCEIVABLE!"

**At the BFI, BGRR walking past the sign that gives precise directions where we want to go - and going in the opposite direction. On multiple occasions.

** BGRR needs new glasses. Aside from the fact that I really don't like his frames (and neither does his sister L, but that's beside the point entirely), they don't seem to be working as well as they used to. Well, he also can't read a GPS system. After yet another lovely bout of feeling like crap, I flat out told him there was no way I'd be driving my car and handed over the keys. I happily programmed the car to our destination and settled back to nibble on toast. It's not that hard to follow a navigation system, is it? Apparently, because he missed the turn the car was telling him to make. On top of this, he completely ignored the "Darling, it's this one. Go right. No, really. This is your exit. You're clear to change lanes, just make it quick. D...D....DB!" I think he's been working on the girlfriend auto-ignore in his spare time; as evidenced it's working splendidly.


Will edit as I remember more of the insanity - promise!

I don't have anything to do for an hour or so, so I thought I'd call and pester you.

From time to time, DB and I will discover something rather significant during our conversations. Of course, these are completely by accident. Returning to the rule of definitions according to DB and Rose, "accident" can be anything from random coincidence to an honest mistake to, "Sweetheart, did I ever mention" to, "You know, darling, just because I didn't say anything to the contrary doesn't mean that I hid it from you. It was just an accidental oversight." You try to figure out which definition is whose.

Anyways, back to today's latest bit of humor. Rose talks in her sleep. In multiple languages. Topics depend on what she was doing/thinking about right before she sleeps. This was learned back in college, through nights of staying up late to write papers, and led to some rather interesting split English/Spanish conversations with her old roommate. Yesterday, while exploring a new digital camera to take nature shots on the upcoming hikes and trips (read: incriminating shots of BGRR which can later be used for blackmail), she was sidetracked and had to call him back later. Instinctively: "Hun, I need to run for a bit, call you back? Um, I'm cute and I love you." "Yes you are and I love you too. Bye!" As I closed the phone, I stared at it for a couple minutes, not quite believing what had just been heard, and then shrugged it off to investigate the difference between a Cybershot and a Powershot. Decisions, decisions.

After my phone decided to be evil (and voice its opinion that I really should break up with DB because it wouldn't let any of our calls go through), I remarked on the strange things we tend to assume in our conversations, including the previous referenced comment. "That wasn't the first time you've said that, honey." "Yes it was! I would have remembered it!" Much arguing later, the awful truth comes out: "Remember when you were napping in the car on the way back from Trenton?" "Of course not, I was napping. DUH."

"Yeah, well you were talking in your sleep too."