Get out of Jail Free card

When you reach a certain age – let's say 75 – all rules that apply to general society seem to go out the window.

For example:

This morning I had to go for blood work. I arrived before the place opened in hopes of being first so I could head off to work. It's tricky, because lots of old people need blood work, and lots of old people get up while it's still dark out. So it's almost a race to see who could get there first.

Today, I won.

So I'm waiting for the door to be unlocked and an elderly gentleman arrives and stands next to me to wait.

All of a sudden, old man rivers starts farting like it's his JOB, shifting his weight from side to side to make for easier gas escape. He makes a meager attempt to cover his actions up with a cough and a loud sigh, but he'd need more like a fog horn to mask the action going on below his belt.

The best part? He didn't even acknowledge it. No "Excuse me" or anything.

Me? I don't even like to SNEEZE in public.

Do we reach a point in our lives, when we feel that we don't owe anything to anyone, and we just don't care anymore? Because that sounds like a great way to be.

Think of the elderly – they think nothing of speaking their mind, owning the road and expecting everyone to give them respect – because they've earned it.

Perhaps we could all learn a lesson here, and live like the elderly.

That being said, I must go and start preparing dinner. It's almost 4pm.

housekeeping (from a girl who hates to clean)

I've done a mental dusting and vacuuming, and realized I have some little nuggets hiding in my brain cobwebs that I am yet to post.

I won $50! (gotta start big, ya know?)
Mr. KK and I took a trip to the casino this past rainy Sunday, and after enjoying some delicious burgers at Bobby Flay's new burger joint, I walked away from the Tribe with fifty bucks of their money. Felt pretty good.

It's dark before 7pm.
This is depressing to me. It means that my drive home from work every night is dark and depressing. It also makes me tired. It also means that Fall is here, which leads me to my next thought...

It's almost Halloween!
Having zero children and a dog who barks viciously when people ring the doorbell or knock on the door, Halloween is not one of my favorite holidays. Normally I drink martinis, get a buzz o and hand out candy to the kiddies, but this year, Mr. KK and I have been invited to a costume Halloween party! So that means fun and drinks and looking silly. Time to start thinking about costumes...and since I have to think of BOTH costumes, I'm leaning towards a "couple" costume. Any ideas? Oh, and for a good Tuesday laugh, here's a pic of Vito in his Halloween costume. I got it after Halloween last year, so this year will be his debut. Look at the look on his face. He LOVES it! (not)


Brunch is the new dinner.
We had friends over for brunch a few weekends ago, and it's my new favorite meal to host! As much as I like to show off my cooking skills with blue cheese risotto and lobster mac and cheese dinners, brunch was easy and fun...and delicious! I made spicy bloody marys, shrimp cocktail shooters, and the most delicious breakfast burgers with roasted potatoes!

BREAKFAST BURGERS RECIPE

4 homemade burgers
(ground beef, egg, italian bread crumbs, steak sauce, salt, pepper, garlic salt)
Homemade guacamole
(avocado, cilantro, chopped tomato, jalapeno, salt, pepper, garlic salt, fresh lime juice)
4 slices monterey jack cheese
4 eggs
4 rolls

Cook burgers to liking and top with cheese. While burgers are cooking, fry up 4 eggs (over-medium works best).
Top rolls with burgers, spread with guacamole, top with a fried egg.

YUMMMM.

I feel pretty.
I think it's because I LOVE the fall. The jewel tones work really well with hair and skin tone, and I've even switched up my makeup to include soft purples. I've switched from bronzer to cheek stain. My hair isn't frizzy in the summer heat; instead, it falls in loose curls. Not to mention I get to buy new Fall clothes. And, to me, there's nothing better than jeans, boots and a cozy sweater.

Workin' on my fitness.
I've taken my desire to lose those extra pounds I put on LAST Fall (which didn't seem to disappear over the summer months; probably because it was too rainy to put on a bathing suit and expose myself on the beach and be reminded that I had to lose a few pounds)...to new heights. I bought Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred. Now, I don't watch The Biggest Loser, but I know she's a hard-ass (and I'm half convinced she's really a man, but let's just keep that between us girls). I'm on Day 2 (of 30 grueling days), and am affectionately referring to this workout as the "30-Day DREAD". But it's only 20 minutes a day, and promises you'll lose up to 20 pounds in 30 days. I don't have 20 pounds to lose, but I'll keep you posted and let you know if it works. So far, I'm pretty frickin' sore, and blow-drying my hair has become a challenge.

That's it for now...this sore girl is gonna wobble on home.

conversations with the elderly

Last night I placed my (sort of) weekly check-in phone call to my grandparents. The first call went unanswered because they were at bingo.

I had more luck with the second call.

GRAM: "Hellooooo?" my grandmother always draws out the "o" in her hello. It's more of a "helllleeeew".

KK: "Hi Gram!"

GRAM: "Oh! Why, howdy do?" She's been saying this to me since I was 5.

This grandmother is my youngest grandparent, coming in at a whopping 86 years old. My grandfather is 89. My other grandmother is 88. And they're all in great health. I'm very lucky.

KK: "I was just calling to check in."

GRAM: "Why? Did you hear there's something wrong with me? That I was sick?"

KK: "Um, no. Why? Is there something wrong with you?"

This isn't the craziest question. My parents play this really fun game of "let's keep stuff from KK". Actually, it's not fun at all. Because it leads to me receiving phone calls like, "Hey, remember that surgery on her eye that your Grandmother had a few months ago?" [No.] "Well, now she has this infection, and needs expensive medication...blah blah blah." [Still...no.]

GRAM: "No! I'm fine. Well, except this thing on my fanny."

KK: "What 'thing'?"

GRAM: "Oh, I don't know. It's been there for a while. I went to the doctor a month ago. They gave me cream. And it got a little better. But it's coming back again. I called the doctor and waited by the phone all day for them to call, and they never did. I'm going to call again tomorrow."

I have a quick mental image of my grandmother not even leaving her recliner to go to the bathroom, fearing she'll miss the doctor's call. Sadly, I know I'm not that far off.

KK: "I hope it's nothing serious." In my mind, Gram has a really big pimple on her ass.

GRAM: "I'm sure it's nothing, but I don't like the way it looks. Even your grandfather doesn't like the way it looks."

Okay, ew. I didn't need to hear about my grandfather staring at my grandmother's ass. Right before we're getting ready to eat dinner.

GRAM: "Your grandfather said it looked like a..."

KK: "Okay! I got it! No need to go on!"

GRAM: "What? You think your grandfather has never seen me naked?"

girl has dream, girl follows dream, girl's dream comes true

Last night I (finally) saw Julie & Julia.

And, like the rest of the free world, I was starving when the movie ended. I wanted to run home and whip up some boeuf bourguignon and crack open a nice full-bodied red with Mr. KK.

As far as the movie goes, I really enjoyed it. It was light-hearted and fun, and made me laugh out loud a few times, too.

Meryl Streep, not surprisingly, was a wonderful Julia. Her pitch and one was so spot-on and contagious, that we all left the theater speaking "Julia-ese" – and not too quietly either!

But there was something else about the movie that really struck me. A sort of "hey, I can do that" sort of feeling, not too unlike the notion I had after reading Shelter Me.

Here was a girl who was sick of her job (check!), wanted to be a writer (check!) and did something about it (silence).

She just started writing. She created a blog, actually. Way back in 2002, before blogging was the new black. She didn't quit her job. She found the time to do what she wanted to do. And it wasn't easy. Or all fun and roses. But she stuck with it. And she did it.

Why the hell can't I do that? I think I probably can. I think I can write and still work long hours. But I can't have excuses anymore. I need to buckle down and dedicate myself.

In celebration of my epiphany, these excuses will no longer be accepted as to why I'm not writing my novel:

• I'm tired
• I worked late
• Ellen is on American Idol
• I'm in a food coma
• My computer is all the way downstairs
• I have to clean the house
• I have to walk Vito
• I found a new gray hair
• The vodka is calling my name
• I'm spying on my neighbors
• It's raining
• My magazines are begging to be read
• Dirty Dancing is on TV (again) (RIP, Patrick)
• I have to exercise (lie)
• My fingers are tired
• My brain is tired
• My brain isn't working
• Vito won't let me
• Vito ate my laptop

So with TWO inspirational influences this week (the movie and my book), it's time to get writing.

(Yes, I've said this before.)
((This time I MEAN it))

Piperlime, I'm SO sorry

What happened doesn't mean I don't love you.

It just means I was really busy, and trying to do too many things at once, and clean-out my bag before vacation, and try and be organized.

I didn't mean to throw away the $49 credit that you sent me.

I am lost without it. I was going to use it to help buy those fabulous Frye boots.

But I can't find it anywhere. Because it's gone to the big trash dump in the sky.

I emailed you, asking you to cancel the old one and send a new one, but I haven't heard from you. And I understand if you don't want to talk to me. I was an idiot. I didn't treat you right.

I am still a shoe whore, and you are still my favorite footwear pimp.

(And I am still an idiot.)

well, THIS is a new feeling

I don't know if the planets are aligned, there's a full moon or pigs have finally started flying, but right now, I am BORED at work.

That's right, folks.

The girl of a million meetings and a to-do list a mile long, has nothing. to. do.

But I can't just revel in the nothingness of my day. Nope. Not me. I have to create things to keep myself busy.

So far today that has included:

1. cleaning my desk

2. organizing the folders in my filing cabinet (that I don't even use, but boy did they need organizing!)

3. emailing a coworker asking him to schedule a meeting this afternoon (following up

4. catching up on my Google Reader. I have officially caught up! Now you all can start posting again!

5. window-shopping online, which has caused me to fall in love with these boots:


(said boots are expensive. but with all this time on my hands, I keep reading reviews about how wonderful they are. i am also hearing voices in my head telling me that i need the boots. to buy the boots for bored girls everywhere.)

6. creating my 2009 holiday card list (complete with addresses!)

7. proofreading a coworkers wedding website (which I had been putting off for a week)

8. walking 2 laps around the building to show off my cute new Michael Kors grey d'orsay kitten heels

9. uploading vacation photos to Facebook

10. signing my mother-in-law and myself up for a cooking class (her birthday gift from March), making an oil change appointment for the car (overdue) and and paying the bills (boo)

Tips for Tits

There's nothing I love more than eating out. Except when this happens:

A little while back my uncle from California came to Connecticut for a visit. It's always fun when he comes because we drink too many martinis and go out to eat at really great restaurants. Oh, and he loves to pick up the tab. (What's better than dirty martinis? FREE dirty martinis!)

I chose the restaurant – Bespoke, in New Haven. We'd been there before, for Mr. KK's birthday, and it was truly fabulous. The chef is ridiculously talented in combining flavors and ingredients and textures to create amazing dishes. It's not on the cheap side by any means, so we've only been there a few times. But, hey! This was a special occasion! (And, we weren't paying!)

Once we were seated we had to wait 30 minutes before someone came over to take our drink order. There was a table of young scantily-clad girls at a bachelorette party behind us who were receiving quite a bit of attention from our waiter.

Once he took their drink orders, delivered their drinks, took their appetizer order and ogled their swelling twenty-something breasts, he finally came over to our table. Even before he opened his mouth, I sized him up to be a dick.

WAITER: "What can I get you to drink?"
UNCLE: "Another waitress came by and took our drink order. You were too busy with that table of girls."

NOTE: My uncle is not afraid to speak his mind. Me, of all people, wanted to crawl under the table by the time the meal was finished. And I'm not shy.

WAITER: "Well, then. Do you want to order dinner?"
KK: "Do you have any specials?"

Of course they had specials. I already heard him rattle them off to the bachelorettes. But I wanted him to go through them for US.

Dickface sighs impatiently (Oh, I'm sorry, are we keeping your from something? Oh no, wait, it's your JOB to talk to us!) and goes through the specials with less enthusiasm than someone prepping for a colonoscopy. We order a few appetizers for the table, including 2 orders of their delicious (and outrageously priced) ceviche, and an order of the black bean and lobster ravioli.

Before we can open our mouths to order dinner, Dickhead tells us he'll be right back and goes to help the servers deliver the young girls' appetizers. I contemplate taking off my shirt, in hopes that the service improves. But he doesn't deserve the thrill.

But I'm so mad, I can't even see straight. I despise picking restaurants for a group of people, only to go and have a terrible experience. This guy was making me look bad. And I wasn't going to let that happen.

Now, I've never been a waitress, but if I had to choose between a table of young girls (granted, they were pretty, but who, it turns out, only ordered one drink each and shared some appetizers) and a table of 6 adults, who are drinkers and order at least 2 courses each, I'd probably go with the adults, who not only would have a higher bill, but would be bigger tippers. Bigger tippers until they had shitty service, that is.

He returns to take our order.

KK: "Oh, you've finally come back."

Now, we've been at the restaurant for over and hour already. Our drinks have been empty and we are starving. We order dinner and then a second round of drinks.

And then we wait.

The restaurant barely had people in it – it was already 10:30 at night!

Dinner comes, but still no drinks. Dickwad catches my eye and I give him the "where the f*ck are our drinks?" look and he runs down to the bar. He returns with everyone's drinks except my dad's glass of wine.

WAITER: "What did you order again?" he asks in a snotty tone.
DAD: "Glass of cabernet."
UNCLE: "Boy, service sucks but the food is delicious."
WAITER: "No kidding the food is great." Asshole!

My dad's wine arrives after we've all finished dinner. I mean, really?

Four of us order desserts. I take turns between mentally calculating the bill and castrating our waiter.

When the bill does arrive, my uncle and dad do a funny sort of tug of war with it. Mr. KK looks uncomfortable. I count ceiling tiles.

My father shook his head in disbelief.

DAD: "Do you believe he had the nerve to add 20% gratuity to the bill for his shitty service?"
UNCLE: "Only way he would've gotten it."

It just infuriates me that we had to give him money for bad service! No wonder he was so smug. On the way out the manager asked how our dinner was. My dad told it to him straight: the meal was delicious (which it was!), but the service was awful.

The manager bought us all drinks at the bar (I was afraid he'd spit in them...), and definitely talked to the waiter, who came up to us later to apologize for his bad service. Talk about awkward. I mean, what do you say? 'Yeah, you pretty much sucked' or 'Next time, think with your head, not with your wiener'.

Book Review: Shelter Me by Juliette Fay

I picked this book up on a whim, on my pre-vacation lightning-speed trip through Target to grab toiletries and other essentials. I needed a few books to bring along, and this one caught my eye.

It's the story of a young woman, Janie, who has lost her husband and is left alone to raise 2 small children. She's faced with her anger and loneliness, as well as family and friends who want to help, no matter how much she pushes them away. New friends come into her life – some whom she wishes wouldn't – and she's forced to face life as a widow and single mother.

I loved it.

Truly, loved it.

It was sweet and sad and funny and hopeful.

Fay's characters are great, from Janie's overbearing Aunt to disappearing Mother. Even though it's fiction, it's so REAL. She makes mistakes, says the wrong thing and cries for no reason. She's a true heroine, and you'll find yourself rooting for her every step of the way.

Perhaps what I liked best, was that reading this book made me want to write a book. Something about it made me feel like I had it in me, and that "hey, I could do this, too!"

This book is my inspiration to get my ass in gear and get writing again!

Breaking News: Kate has a new hairdo!

I mean, really?

This is big news?

WAAAAAAY before all of this drama of Kate, I used to like to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8. Actually, it was more like watching a train wreck, I just couldn't look away as these two parents were dealing with 8 children.

But then I stopped watching (mainly because I started watching better shows, like Top Chef, Project Runway and Pregnant at 16) and soon after that, the show started to slip and the rumors about Kate sexing up Mr. Peterman – I mean, her bodyguard – and Jon banging every single woman in Pennsylvania started making headlines.

So then it was Team Jon vs. Team Kate, they alternated being "victims" in the media, and now it seems that Kate is rising to the top. In fact, she was on The View yesterday, sporting her new haircut:

I'll admit, she looks less like a shrew. More like a school girl. Maybe Jon will want to sleep with her again?

What do you think of Kate's new 'do???

On vacation hair, tricky wieners and Top Chef's gender confusion

Sunday night we returned home from vacation at 8pm. It was a much-needed vacation for the two of us.

We were both so tired, that we decided not to push ourselves to unpack and put everything away, as it would solidify the fact that vacation was truly over.

So after doing two loads of laundry, unpacking the cooler and bringing our clothes upstairs (I can't let anything sit), we retired to the couch to catch up on some TV.

As we watched Top Chef, I was playing with my hair. I pulled a strand under my nose and inhaled.

KK: "My hair smells like vacation. It smells like the cottage."

MR. KK: "Really? Let me smell."

He takes a whiff. Then he gives me a weird look.

KK: "What? It does." I inhale again. "I'm going to boycott vacation being over by not washing my hair. That way, whenever I start missing vacation at work tomorrow, I can smell my hair and I'll feel like we're back in Newport."

MR. KK: ((blank stare))

KK: "What?" (Look of innocence)

MR. KK: "That's gross."

****

Last week we not only brought Vito on vacation, but my inlaws brought their dog, too (Vito's cousin? Uncle? I'm not sure of the relation). Dino is also a dachshund, long and low to the ground, with a big chest and belly. He's got these sad eyes 24/7, even when he's happy to see you.

To celebrate being a Dachshund Daddy, my father-in-law purchases funny T-shirts with pictures of doxies on them. This particular day, he was wearing a T-shirt that had a line drawing of a dachshund with the line "My wiener does tricks".

So as we're walking around Bannister's Wharf, a woman comes up to him, laughing and pointing.

HER: "I like your T-shirt!"

FATHER-IN-LAW: "Thank you!" ((pause)). "I have one you know."

HER: (confused and embarrassed). "Um, what?"

FIL: (pointing to his shirt) "I have one. A wiener."

The poor flustered woman practically ran away. Not everyone is wiener-friendly, apparently.

****

So, as I mentioned, we've been catching up on our TV. Mostly Top Chef and Project Runway.

Last night we were watching yet another Top Chef episode and I couldn't help but notice that Ashley is slowly becoming less and less attractive. And by that, I mean she's starting to look less like a woman and more like a man. She went from spunky and cool to scary and macho. First it was the men's T-shirt with tattoos exposed, then it was the Drew Carey glasses. I'm half expecting her to show up in the next episode with a goatee.

Vacation, all I ever wanted!

That's right, I'm on vacation!

This is BIG news for two reasons.

One: Mr. KK and I haven't been on vacation for a whole year.
Two: The biggest project of the century is going on at work. And I left, right in the middle of it. And I haven't looked back. (It only took 3 days for me to get rid of the guilt of leaving my team, who I know are working pretty much round the clock. And I only look at email occasionally. I swear.)

The best part? We are spending the week in Newport, Rhode Island with my parents, Mr. KK's parents and both dogs. Oh yeah, it's a family affair.

And our parents are doing their best to make us as uncomfortable as possible – making jokes about sleeping together, going commando and wearing thongs.

Per my usual, I'm stalking the weather. It's not beach weather, but it's sunny and breezy, perfect for enjoying cocktails and lunch al fresco. We are definitely eating our way around Newport, too.

Perhaps the best part of the trip so far, is my Mother – who is technologically challenged – and her first-ever digital camera. Every picture I take, she runs over and takes the exact same photo, no matter how many times I try and explain that only ONE of us needs to take the photo, that's the beauty of digital cameras and sharing photos. And her camera has this feature, that when you take a photo it flashes "Did somebody blink?" so you'll check the photo. But Mom takes this literally. After. Every. Photo.

Click! Then Mom yells, "Someone blinked!"

And I can't help but laugh and reply, "Mom, it's a statue."