One Heck of a Lady

Through all of the drama with my mother that has been going on recently, Patrick has had it hardest, by a mile.  Not only has he had to help me and be a rock for our family, he has been suffering through his own grief.

He was told the latter part of last week that he would be saying goodbye his maternal grandmother for the last time, on Saturday.  She passed away on Sunday, a little before noon.

I only met her a few times, but she’s the kind of woman where it only takes one time for you to realize that she is a larger than life type of personality.

I love that we have a painting of hers hanging in our apartment.  It’s an autumn scene.  Very full of color and light.

Another Chapter Closed

I really don’t know how to begin writing this because frankly my head is still spinning.  My mother… disposed of my wedding dress.

This is stemming from something that happened a month ago. She wasn’t invited to a wedding, and according to her, it was my fault she wasn’t going.  I dropped the ball.  In reality, no one from “that generation” was invited to the wedding. A multitude of other grievances were tied into that, as well.  For example, she said I never called… but I did.  Her answering machine is broken, and she knew that.  I told her repeatedly to fix it.  She said that she would get around to it. Yet it was my fault.  “You never call me.”  Okay, laundry-listing this way is tedious.  I’ll move on.

It all culminated on her birthday when we called to set up dinner for that evening and she completely blew us off and didn’t want to see me on my birthday either.  She was passive aggressive and downright nasty, as Patrick and I sat there listening. I remember getting off the phone and Patrick asking me what the hell that was. I told him I had no idea. I was in in complete shock.

Honestly, if someone were to ask me why this happened, I wouldn’t be able to give you a straight answer. I could recount the events leading up to it, but it’s so nonsensical, I can’t even wrap my brain around it.  I don’t understand how things devolved in such a way.

Anyway, Patrick called her this afternoon because he and I both agreed I could not speak to her, and I could in no way handle speaking to her. He just called me.  She wasn’t there, so he had to leave a message.  And guess what?  She called him back and proceeded to tell him:

• He’s a moron and a retard.
• Our wedding is a joke.
• He has no idea who he is marrying, and one day he’s going to find out.
• I’m a terrible person.
• I’m crazy.
• Our wedding is ridiculous.
• There’s a reason why my parents hate me.
• My wedding dress is not her problem.

Any time Patrick said anything in defense of himself or us, she cried harassment.

I know you can’t choose your family, but wow.

I don’t think I have ever been so depressed as I am right now.  I know that, no matter what, I’ll look beautiful on our day, but her malicious behavior cuts me to the core.  And once again, there’s that nagging voice in the back of my head going, “Well, maybe she’s right.”  I know intellectually that she isn’t right, but it’s horrid to hear your own mother say those kinds of things.  I am, however, thankful that I have amazing friends who have been so kind today. I love you guys so much.

Tonight, however, I’m going out to Old Town with Patrick to relax and have a drink or three.

This Will Be Long

Virginia <3

Patrick and I have this uncanny connection when it comes to big things.  Let me explain with an example.  A few weeks ago, as some of you know, on our way back from Boston, Patrick and I simultaneously had a “What the hell are we doing?” moment about the wedding.  It had gotten bigger than us.  We had other priorities.  We wanted something different; something that was more us.  We wanted something fun, not stuffy.  We spent the train trip home figuring out what we really wanted.

This happened again the other night, except this time it was us having the same thought, but Patrick had to drag it out of me because I was being stubborn about saying what I was feeling, heh.

As most of you don’t know, Patrick and I were planning rather seriously to move north to Boston.  In fact, aside from it being a much needed vacation, our trip to Boston was a scouting trip.  Honestly, it couldn’t have been more beautiful, and we had a ridiculously amazing time.

The reality was that we had both grown weary of living in DC.  This past spring (I want to say April?), Patrick had said “Well, what about Boston?” He had never lived anywhere other than in the DC/MD area, and he ended up not loving DC like he thought he would.  Both of us were feeling anxious here.  When he brought it up, initially I balked. I said no.  As time went on, however, the prospect became very appealing.  His idea was planted firmly in my brain.

Oh, Monday…

I don’t think I have ever been so happy to have brought work home with me on Friday.

Let me start at the beginning.

This morning I woke up like any normal work day… hitting the snooze button, starting at about 7am until about 7:30am.  Oh, who am I kidding?  7:45am.  I got up. I got ready for work. I brushed my teeth… and I couldn’t find my Smart Trip card. (For you non-DC folks, it’s a pre-loaded card that you use to ride the metro and buses in the District.) I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE. My Smart Trip is my lifeline. I can’t go anywhere without it, because we live in an area in the District where you can’t just walk to places.  Well, I could, but it’d be very far with lots of hills and… you get the point. I live in a city, but in a part that sometimes feels like an isolated ‘burb.

The last time I saw this little card, I thought I saw Patrick take it out of my pants, before putting my pants in the laundry pile, but it is currently nowhere to be found, and I have been looking for about two hours now.  The change that Patrick graciously collected?  I’ve somehow misplaced that too, and I was able to accomplish that feat in under 15 minutes.

Brilliant, huh?

Sadly, the bus driver I tried to negotiate with a couple of hours ago did not see the gallows humor of my predicament and did not allow me on the bus.

So currently I am at home right now, because I am incapable of tracking down a tiny little plastic card. I literally had to write an email to my boss to that effect. I hope I get points for the ridiculousness of my quandary.  Who am I kidding?  It’s just embarrassing.  This little event is also on the heels of me having to take a personal day last week; between the stuff with my mother, a death in the family, and other fun turmoilistic things, I needed a personal day to get my life back together.  Recently I’ve been feeling like I’m the Eiffel Tower and I’m being held together by chewing gum and fishing wire.

More than likely it’s either “somewhere safe and where I wouldn’t forget it,” or it’s “somewhere out of the way” as we had people over last night for the Patriots v. Colts game, and we went on a cleaning spree. (The Pats lost… I should have seen it as a bad omen.)

It doesn’t help that I completely snapped at Patrick this morning in my frustration, which is only par for the course as of late. Well, I guess snapped is a somewhat mild understatement. It was somewhere between a petulant child stamping its feet in an impotent rage and a clipped self-righteous snide commentary on the State of My Life.

It’s like I’m a five year old with an expanded vocabulary, the emotional depth of a teaspoon, and the subtlety of a cannon.

Sigh.

So yes, I’m glad I brought work home with me today.

It’s a Whirlwind

With my cooking blog, my writing here has become sporadic at best.  I have to say that I am loving writing with a sense of purpose and creation.  It’s very fulfilling.  I think in some ways I have moved away from wanting to document and just talk about me all the time.  Although I do still want to, to some extent, as evidenced by this entry, heh.

I don’t know. I want to have the time and the ability to be interesting enough to sustain that kind of thing, but it became work.  For me, personal blogging shouldn’t be about work.  I have no designs on scoring a book deal or anything like that, so I decided to just keep this little blog open.  From time to time, I’ll check in, like I am today, when the spirit moves me.

Since I last wrote, Patrick turned 26 and I turned 27.  We spent a beautiful weekend in Boston. I’ve said goodbye to one of my best friends as she and her husband moved north.  I’ve cooked a lot, and actually started getting a bit good at it.  Although I have to admit I am a bit scared, as I am contributing quite a bit food-wise to Thanksgiving this year.

I also ended up having to cut off a metaphorical “toxic” limb:  my mother.  Half of me is shocked, but I think half of me secretly knew this was coming.  I could go through the ins and outs of what happened exactly, but it is pointless.  Years of making excuses for her to family, friends, and other loved ones, only to have it all blow up in my face was the final straw.  I think what hurt the most is after our little “spat” she left me a voicemail the next morning from her, telling me “Goodbye and good luck.” Oh, and that I could pick up my wedding dress from the front desk in her building.

True to fashion, that wasn’t the last I heard from her.  Accusations of displacing blame from my father to her, insults, and other fun missives filled up my voicemail for a couple of weeks.  I honestly didn’t know what to say to her, so I didn’t say anything… which, in retrospect, probably drove her crazy.

Today I find myself sitting here staring at a letter I wrote to her in Microsoft Word.  I tried to be as calm as possible while I wrote to her the ways in which she has finally pushed me too far.  The hurt, the anger, the embarrassment… everything.  I put it in the mailbox yesterday, but I keep reading it and re-reading it, hoping that these words that felt so strong yesterday will reassure me that I’ve done the right thing.

I know I have done the right thing, but re-reading this letter feels like when you stare at a word written out on a sheet of paper for so long that it doesn’t look right.  It couldn’t possibly be a word.  It doesn’t make sense.  You know what I mean?

Things are not as they should be, but when are they ever?  Instead of calling her last week when I had a major breakthrough about the wedding, I have my number changed so she can no longer call me at all.

I feel as if since I sent that letter yesterday, a part of me started holding my breath.  There’s that certain frozen feeling that overcomes you in those moments where it feels like time has stopped; it’s this different kind of deafening silence, and it kind of feels like that.

My life is forever changed, and for once I am truly on my own, without my parents.  It’s a loneliness I have never experienced before, and it makes me angry at myself.  There are people out there who have gone through far worse than I have, with parents whose misdeeds and flaws are greater than those of my parents.  I feel disgusted by this worry that maybe, just maybe, I’m being a child, complaining that mommy and daddy aren’t there anymore.

It’s been a weird few weeks, and it has left me feeling out of sorts.  The highs are astronomically high with our first vacation as a couple, the wedding actually coming together, me “graduating” from college freshman to college sophomore (finally), etc.  The lows, however, have just been so low.  The lack of an equilibrium has been a bit difficult to deal with.

I’m trying to keep my chin up, though.  I think the hardest part is going through this wedding planning thing without my mom.  Without any family for that matter.  Most of my bridal party isn’t here, and we’re all so exceedingly busy that it’s hard to get really involved.  In addition, there have been so many changes… so it’s probably become a bit anti-climactic.  I just want to be excited with someone, you know?

God, I feel so selfish about that, too.

Patrick has been amazing through all of this.  The past few weeks, I have been hell on wheels, as I’ve tried to deal with everything.  I’ve been snapping left and right, and he’s been this rock of support.  And he’s actually into wedding planning and making decisions with me, which is nice and makes everything enjoyable.  Last night, as a thank you to me, he did all the dishes and took out all the trash.

I’m not sure if there is a point to any of this.  I feel like I’m in this weird limbo period.  We will be getting married.  We will be making a major life change next year.  We will, we will, we will, etc, ad infinitum.  It’s like I’m in this lull between major events.

Either way, next week starts the holiday season for us, and I couldn’t be more excited.  I am looking forward to it because it is my favorite time of year, but I am also looking forward to channeling my energies towards something fun and different.

This Is Not Okay

This is the reinvention of Rainbow Bright. This is not okay.

Not okay at all.

Whoever did this is on notice.  I am going to cry into my Glowworms blankie now.

Two Notes

1. I am finally taking courses within one (of my two) majors: Political Science.  I am in heaven.  It is interesting to go back and re-read all of this history and such that I studied in high school and… actually care.

2. A couple of weeks ago, one of my lovely friends, Jessica, had a passion party for her bachelorette.  It was a lot of fun, but frankly I had forgotten the things I had ordered.

This morning I remembered, “Hey, I got a notice that I have a package… but the stuff I’m expecting wouldn’t be here yet! I’m curious!”

Well, I made the fatal error of deciding to pick up my package on the way to the bus stop.  At the top of the hill, with Patrick, I opened up my package to find… unmentionables.  Thank goodness the stop was not crowded as it normally was.  But still I had to discreetly (and quickly) dispose of the box, and get all of my new things into my purse.  I was still somewhat fumbling when the bus arrived.

Now I’m sitting here at the office, with a bag full of goodies, just waiting for me to do something stupid like accidentally dump my bag out, or grab a vibrator when I’m trying to reach for my brush.

Life Gets in the Way

The past two months, as well as the next few weeks, have me all over the place.  So far, since the middle of September, two fabulous friends of mine have gotten married.  This upcoming weekend, my cousin gets married.  The weekend after that… Patrick’s birthday is on Saturday (the 18th), and my mother’s birthday is on the 19th.  Exactly a week after the 19th, on Monday, is my birthday. (Groan.)  The weekend after that is  Halloween, which is also the weekend Patrick and I are traveling up to Boston.

Then it’s November.

On top of that, I have my little side project of a food blog (The Klutzy Kitchen) because when I am actually in town or not busy, I seem to be in the kitchen cooking.

In addition, I also have school full time. I have to mention that it was just announced that I made Dean’s List! Also, after this class, I’ll be a college sophomore, which is downright unbelievable.  I know, I know… at 26 years old, I shouldn’t be THIS excited about it, but I am.  This is my white whale, so to speak.  Not only that, the class I’m currently taking is my first class in my major (well, one of my two majors, as I’m doing a dual degree).  Let me just say how much nicer it is to be studying something I actually enjoy.  Even though I have a way to go in this whole process, it feels good to see some pay off already.

Anyway, so as I mentioned, two of my friends have gotten married recently.  I already talked about Heidi getting hitched in September.  This past weekend, another wonderful friend of mine, Jessica got hitched to a wonderful guy, Chris.

It wasn’t your typical wedding in a hotel ballroom, for sure.  It was a destination wedding.  On Lake George.  In New York.  Everyone flew or drove up, stayed in a resort on the lake called Blue Water Manor; it was neat! It was a collection of cabins.  The first night, even though everyone was exhausted from traveling (or from wedding festivities), was marked with a huge rehearsal dinner in town, followed by some fun at the tavern at the resort.

The next day was the wedding itself.  Patrick and I took advantage of some stolen time during the day to grab some brunch, and relax in our cabin.  It was our first vacation together ever, and it was lovely.  As bad as we felt about it, it felt amazing to just laze about our cabin, drinking beer and wine, enjoying our freedom.

The wedding itself was spectacular, beautiful, and unique.  I could describe it, but I can’t really quantify how much fun it was.  I mean, when all was said and done after the wedding and reception, we all gathered around a big bonfire on the grounds of the resort, drinking, listening to a guy playing the guitar (who was a guest), just enjoying the fact that we were all there together.

Anyway, below are some pictures from the weekend, but they don’t really do anything justice.  Enjoy…

Our makeshift fridge, between the glass and the window screen.

Amazing car parked at Blue Water Manor (with cabins behind it)...

Bridesmaids at the church.

The church. So gorgeous.

The ceremony.

The newly married couple!

Patrick & I on the way back to the reception.

This was amazing. The beginning of the reception was marked by a Korean wedding ceremony (Jess is half Korean). It was beautiful. It had blessings from their parents, a neat tradition of throwing dates where they find out how many kids they are going to have, etc. It also ended with strong man Chris giving Jess a piggyback ride around the reception room, per Korean tradition, to show that he is willing to support her.

Jess & Chris, following the Korean ceremony, came back dressed in their wedding attire, triumphant and ready to start the reception.

I don’t really have any pictures from the rest of the evening; it was too much fun to fool with cameras.  Dancing, great food, wonderful people.

Oh, I will share one other picture…

This was the view a few steps from our cabin door. It was breathtaking.

It was a great weekend, but now we’re back in the real world.  The holidays are just around the corner (!!!!), and other major life changes that I can’t talk about are going to swiftly become a reality as well.

The only sad part about the past couple of months, as fun as they have been… I haven’t seen a lot of my friends recently.  It’s as if we all became insanely busy all at once, with life pulling us all in different directions.  Hopefully that will right itself somewhat.

America’s Next Top Model

There are two things that always occur on America’s Next Top Model every cycle, without fail:

1. Someone says, “I’m not here to make friends!” This is, more often than not, the self-proclaimed bitch of the house, but they are the ones who want the most attention, want people to feel bad for them the most, etc, ad infinitum.  This usually occurs within the first couple of episodes, but sometimes you get lucky and it’s more than one girl.
2. A lot of times, when a girl gets booted out of the competition, their sobbing messy exit interview (usually with sad music, and a slow-mo montage of their awful photos to date) is punctuated with the following statement, without fail: “This will not be the last you see of me. This is just the beginning.”  The more of a train wreck the girl is, the more likely you are to hear this gem of a phrase.  You’re right! This won’t be the last of you I see; I’ll see you at the WalMart!

God, I love this show. I shouldn’t, but I can’t look away.

My Own Therapy

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve really delved into cooking at home. I cooked before, and a sure as heck baked before, but now I’m really getting into the whole process. It’s so satisfying.

In a way, it’s become a kind of therapy. It’s been a horrifically stressful week, and as the days wear on, I’m becoming increasingly dissatisfied with my “career” or lack thereof. The nights I’ve gone home and really cooked something, I’ve actually felt quite a bit of joy. It’s not necessarily that I want to eat everything I cook (I leave that for Patrick, the human vacuum, with the metabolism of a jack rabbit); it’s the act of creating something that people love. I love that.

I sound like a self-help book. “Find Yourself With a Hobby” or “Happiness is Just a Whisk Away!”

It’s just in this world that is filled to the brim with frustration and anxiety (this time of year in college publishing is off the chain), I can find control and peace in my kitchen. I love that. I love how it’s like my own little world. There is so much I need to learn, even though I have been told that I’m a great cook. I’m a terrible chopper. I’ve yet to make a successful meatloaf, and I’m not sure if it’s me, or the two recipes I’ve tried so far. I also need lots of kitchen tools. Thankfully my birthday is coming up next month (I’ll be 27 on October 26th!), so you can bet your sweet bippy I updated my wishlist to reflect my culinary needs, heh.

Tonight I’m planning on making a lemon, asparagus, and goat cheese pasta dish from Smitten Kitchen, and I’m really excited about that. It’s barely after 12pm, and it’s already been a blah day. This weekend I’m making my own pizza at home, with from scratch roasted garlic sauce.

And last night? I made this really easy polenta dish. Originally last night was going to be pizza night, but tragedy struck in the form of Comcast ineptitude. Thankfully that was squared away, but it took quite a bit out of me (well, both of us), and my cooking mojo withered. In any event, the polenta dish was fantastic.  Polenta, spinach, a tomato sauce brimming with herbs and onions, and topped with a layer of mozzarella cheese.  Such good comfort food, and it was so easy to make.

I’m going to spend today searching for recipes to try, and maybe a few cooking classes.  It’s nice to be really excited about something.  I’m excited about a lot of things, but it’s nice to have a little something that’s just for me, but at the same time is something that I get to share with others, if that makes any sense.