Just One of Them Days

A day that started out like any other day turned into one of "them" days. I opened the fridge to pour some milk for my morning latte and then opened the freezer for ice. Before my eyes was nothing short of Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Memory" with everything dripping and drooping, melting and morphing. I was suddenly thankful that I had little to no groceries and had procrastinated stocking up for Christmas.

In true OCD fashion, my morning routine consists of counting all of the things I have to do before I leave the house. I don't always remember what those things are but I remember the number of things I have to do and cross them off my mental checklist as I go. It seems to work.

Off to work.

Seven things, I had seven things to do. I only remember getting up to number six. What was seven? Deodorant!!! Noooooooo. Thankfully, I had a short day ahead and would be safe in the air-conditioning all day. Except, I had to stop and put air in my tire. Remaining relatively cool and managing to keep my missed number seven anxiety at bay, I got back in the car and cranked the AC. Where is my antibacterial pocket pack?! After vigorously searching my purse and causing the missed number seven anxiety to rise, I remembered where I left it. It was in the purse I took to the movies so that when I paid for my popcorn I'd feel less uncomfortable licking my butter fingers.

Finally at my destination, body temperature intact, an inopportune run-in with a psychiatric patient ensued. I remembered what we were taught about positioning yourself near a door if you felt threatened by a patient. My only door was an emergency exit and probably locked knowing the functionality of the hospital. So I excused myself to take a "phone call."  Crisis averted but definitely creeped out.

Home.

If my food can't be cool at least my body can. I turn on the second AC unit in the living room which is now apparently blowing warm air. I'm reminded that I'm now home and can finally correct the missed number seven. Feeling way more tired than usual, I am looking forward to that afternoon latte. By now the milk in the fridge is just safe enough to give me one warm latte. I drank it with no ice out of  pure desperation. As the day turned into night I found the apartment strangely quiet. At long last! The seemingly invisible pantry cricket has made his escape! He only knew one vowel (e) which he sung all  through the night from his alternate universe, unseen and unscathed. Just as I decided to turn in for the night, I turned off the lights, walked toward the bedroom.....


"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee".

No. Way.

With my mini-muffin baking pan as my proxy ice tray (who owns ice trays anymore?), I better be able to wake tomorrow...

....and have a latte.

Tongue Thai'd

As a shorty biscuit, there are a few novelties in life I am not privy to. High on the list of shortcomings is the massage chair at the nail salon. I’ve had to give up on the dream of the lower back massage. When all hope of that dream disappears, I remember the actual reason I’m there, the pedicure. But before long, my mind wanders again. I often imagine the sheer terror and pain of childbirth but I am reassured when I remember that gazillions of women have done it and most more than once. I’ve sat through a few hours of tattooing and survived, so I could probably handle it.  Just then I’m brought back to reality by the equivalent of a cheese grater tormenting the arch of my foot. But it’s not pain it’s worse, it’s ticklish! I can’t take it and I start to hold my breath. I breathe through the seconds. It will be over soon. I can’t take it anymore and I jump inches off my chair. My Thai friend at the receiving end of the flinch laughs, I laugh and we get to talking. We talked relationships, family, friends food and fun. I shamefully divulge that I saw the Kardashian’s family trip to Thailand via the E channel. I immediately back it up by bashing the level of squeamishness that said Kardashian women displayed when stepping onto a boat, swimming, touching sand, seeing a bug, feeling a breeze, getting a hang nail blah blah blah. Ever since I continued on my path to becoming a psychotherapist, people just seem to wanna tell me their life stories. In true practice, I’ll keep our conversation confidential but lets just say that in 60 minutes of talking to “Sally” (why can’t they ever use their real names?) I learned more about her culture, her people, her reality than three hours of part one, part two and the conclusion of the Kardashians in Thailand. No, I’m not surprised. The only time the Kardashians left their fancy shmancy suite was to take a gratuitous trip to an orphanage where Kim pretends she’s going to adopt an orphan because she was “cute.” Coincidentally, it doesn’t work that way in Thailand. Unfortunately for me I’ll never get back those 3 hours of Kardashian watching even though I willfully subject myself to it. I was however, lucky enough to become that much more culturally aware, a competence crucial to my future profession. Having gained by shedding some skin, I left the salon in my new color “Mrs. Robinson.” In an effort to be more aware of the coffee culture I drove myself to the nearest Starbucks…

…to have a latte.

Church laughs: A Series of Inappropriate Events

Trying to stifle a church laugh is a task no less difficult than trying hold in a sneeze when your mouth is full of fried rice. The silence your fear to break is unbearable and time moves like sand through an hourglass. Prayers of intention become prayers of petition and you pray that the choir erupts in an impromptu Hallelujah.

Our wedding day was no different:

My dad reminded Andrew of the deal they made after 18 holes and the answer to his request to marry me. You can have her but YOU are my new retirement plan :)

I can only speculate that the best man found this time appropriate to show the groom one version of his speech, the one  that they would read only once and then burn. I imagine we were all still a bit drunk from going down the islands the day before.

Yup, that's my boy..

One of us is about to burst into flames....it's probably you.

He had one job......

I went all in...what are you waiting for?!

There may not be enough room for you in this union :)

Help! I'm tripping over my dress. We tied the tulle in a knot! My fairy godmother and those mice pulled a fast one last night. My dress is 6 inches longer!

What they should have written underneath the  grooms shoes.....

Ants? In there?

No it's not ripped at all, it's fine (The Best Man)

Doing what he does best, sacrificing someones dignity for the benefit of a joke :)

Where is this story going.....

Cheers!

Shots worked!

Caught!

Final thoughts for the bride and groom..... I had to burn those.


The best thing about a church laugh is that the intensity accrues and sometimes you get to express it in this type of forum.

So, where's the latte in this story?

The restaurant manager may have slipped while carrying all of the glass bottles filled with iced coffee and may have hurt his back and may have been out of commission for a while.

This was the one day I was on such a high I didn't need............. to have a latte.

10 Truths After 30

I recently celebrated my 31st birthday. This new accomplishment has brought some self- reflection on my life before 30. Those of you who are not quite here yet may want to peek into the future of life after 30 and avoid makings some of these truths your own. Please note the disclaimer for #9 :)

Here we go!

1. You spend your birthdays telling your friends you haven’t quite decided exactly where you’re thinking of celebrating when you know full well you plan to be in bed by 9:30p.m. and you really cannot afford to be eating cake at this age.

2. You realize that there’s no such thing as overfilling the Brita pitcher. The filtered water actually comes out first allowing the rest to filter through before drinking. (Glad I didn’t call my husband at work after all to complain about that).

3. You spend countless hours researching trendy calorie burning workouts and 25-minute full body circuits only becoming too tired to actually do any of them.

4. You consider setting your alarm for 7:00 a.m. a treat but lets face it, you will already be up when it sounds.

5. On Tuesday, you foresee your Saturday night as a glamorous, club-hopping, champagne popping extravaganza. Instead, it ends up as a night of Facebook and Instagram where you live vicariously through the twenty-somethings you once were.

6. Making dinner is like doing your homework. If you don’t do it, you may not be punished but someone will be ‘disappointed.’  If you try to hurry it, it’s just a big ol’ mess. If you avoid it all together, you will have twice as much to do the following day.

7. One drink with a heavy pour is not the start of the ‘best night ever’ it’s an early end because you have to make it through the drive-thru before it closes.

8. You wonder what other breakfast items exist besides toast.

*9. People constantly remind you that you have no children yet no one congratulates you on not getting pregnant in your teens.

* Some of the most amazing people I know have had children in their teens, whose kids are also pretty amazing. I just think I should receive an award because I like awards.

 10. You reward yourself for eating a healthy dinner by eating all the cookies in the house.

The best thing about life after 30 is that you have an excuse ...

....... to need a daily latte (or two).

HAPPY FRIDAY! 

Cherry Pie

It started with a tin of cherries, a very lonely tin of cherries. The tin of cherries reminded me of the graham cracker piecrust I had left over from Christmas. Luckily, I was out of flour so there goes the idea of baking a pie.

I really need milk though, and coffee for that matter. I could pick up the flour since I’d already be at the grocery.

Looked up a quickie recipe for cherry pie and realized I needed butter. Okay, a carton of milk, a stick of butter….  I began to think of that little cartoon snippet that used to come on between segments of Sesame Street and I cannot believe I actually found the link…. a loaf, of bread, a container of milk, a stick of butter

http://hot1047.com/loaf-of-bread-container-of-milk-stick-of-butter/

Well color me surprised, it’s Valentine’s Day and the grocery is a sea of pink and red reasons to turn around and leave at once. Carnival is less than three weeks away, which is precisely two weeks more than the last time I ate three doubles. I bypassed the chocolates, the cakes, and the cupcakes. I was almost free of the temptation when I saw the most beautiful piece of pink perfection. A doughnut. I flirted with it a bit and was able to ignore all of its ingenious pick up lines. Proud moment. I picked up a box of six tiny bite-sized jam tarts with the idea that they would be shared. I could not endure the three-minute drive home so I decided to have one, a raspberry one.

Who am I kidding?  I’ll try the apple next. Why are there so many red ones? It’s cherry? I’ll just have that one so it doesn’t feel left out and then take the rest home.

I made it all the way in the front door when my Chihuahua wanted to inspect the bag as usual. I couldn’t deny him a little piece so I broke off a piece of the pastry and fed it to him.

What to do with the rest of it?

Needless to say there was a 3-2-1 effect with the remaining tarts and a cherry pie baking in the oven.

No one will ever be home to stop you from eating butter, pancake batter, plain ketchup or all of the leftover cherry pie filling.

One thing you can do alone and not feel guilty,

…Is have a latte.

Happy Valentines Day!

Taking Down the Lights

After all the excitement of putting up the tree, elfing the shelf, baking the cookies, wrapping the gifts and eating the food it always comes to an end. But before it does, for these three weeks we allow ourselves to believe.

We believe that it is okay to eat sugar cookies.

We believe that two pastels and garlic pork for breakfast is a balanced meal.

We believe that punch de crème is an acceptable dessert.

We believe that all gym visits will resume on Boxing Day.

We believe that people are genuinely that nice year round.

We believe that our pockets are deep.

We believe that we will be able to lose the holiday weight before Carnival.

After committing those 7 deadly sins I did the inevitable. I tried on my Carnival costume.

They say that seeing is believing….

Well, I saw the sugar cookies in my cheeks where my cheekbones used to be. One pastel each topped my derrière.  The garlic pork made my mouth pout at the sight and Punch de crème seeped from my poor pores. It turns out that people are not very nice after Christmas, especially on Boxing Day when they reach into their pockets for their gym card and only lint and receipts come out.

I choose to believe that what I saw in that mirror was proof of a great Christmas and that the only way to fight the seasonal blues…

…………Was with an ice cold Latte.

Happy New Year!