Afianced

On Friday evening, just one day shy of our 10 month anniversary, B asked me to marry him. We were at the site of our first date.

Of course, I said yes!

I promise not to turn the blog into a wedding journal. Too much.

I Forgot My Mantra

Yesterday, I had the day off and B was able to leave work at noon. It was gorgeous outside, so we went to our favorite spring/summer restaurant.

As we sat by the water, drinking in the sunshine (literally drinking in the sunshine - corona for me, pina colada for him), it became a moment, a feeling of being truly happy. Even Stewie seemed to pick up on the contentedness, and stoppped tugging on his leash, trying to play with kill pigeons. B and I smiled at one another. "We are so lucky to be living in New York", I said.

This morning, as we squished onto the downtown 3 and two of our fellow passengers engaged in an argument over personal space, and all the noise and energy and challenge of the city swirled around us, I tried to access that blissful mood.

B noted the sour look on my face and started humming "I Love New York".

Passover Is So Over

- The General, B's brother, and B's nephew arrived early. Early enough to witness The Removal of the Schmaltz *and* Ridiculouschick: Unshowered.
- Stewie enjoyed about 20 minutes of freedom before he was banished into the gated kitchen on permanent time out for snapping at B's nephew.
- The matzoh ball soup was a definite cause of stress. Who knew you had to mix the batter, let it set/chill for 2 hours, form into balls, boil for 1 hour, remove, set/chill for another hour, then add to broth? Answer: plenty of people knew. I would've known, had I glanced at the recipe at any other time than last minute.
- Even my Dad knew, based upon on segment he saw that morning on CBS.
- The General seemed to have a good time. Sure there were a few instances of orders being barked ("Where are the small plates for the gefilte fish! You can't put them on the meat plates! Get some small plates!") but really, given her nickname, can you expect anything less?
- Everyone brought dessert, anticipating that B's first attempt at macaroons would be a disaster.
- Happily, they were wrong.
- V, our designated Haggadah reader, gave up after about 1 page, due to boredom (his and ours) and lack of attention (ours).
- The charoset was lovely, despite the addition of truly horrible supermarket sweet wine. (How good could it have been when the label on the bottle has to stipulate that the wine 'contains no fruit juice'?)
- When it was all over, B and I collapsed on the couch, laughing over our favorite moments of the day and making plans for next year.
- Yes, we're just that crazy/stupid.

TecmoBowl, 1992

Last night, B finally joined Facebook, so we promptly began to play Scrabulous, which is just about as addicting as Facebook itself.

(As noted previously, it is quasi totally ridiculous to be sitting in the same room with your boyfriend, communicating via computer, but I digress.)

Our game steadily progressed along(he's absolutely kicking my ass) until this afternoon, when our new furniture was delivered unassembled, and there was some additional Passover shopping to be done (The General had demands) and then there's his comedy gig in the Jerz, and he won't be home until much later, thus leaving me at a standstill.

Would it be out of line to call him at the club to demand that he makes his next move?

Perfectionism

In typical ridiculouschick fashion, I've gone completely overboard with Passover. What started out as a simple catered meal has turned into matzoh ball soup (including the chicken stock), potato casserole, charoset, roasted asparagus, and macaroons - all homemade.

Oh, and we'll also be roasting a chicken because The General is afraid we won't have enough food. (If pushed, I can admit that I'm afraid too.)

Cooking, and trying to make things perfect isn't new to me. But it's hard to know what I'm aiming for because I've never made most of these things before. For example, matzoh balls: should they be small? large? chewy? al dente? When asked, B shrugs, grins, and starts singing the "we should have ordered from Zabar's" song.

Pft.

Next up: attempting to bring the apartment to levels of cleanliness that it has never achieved before.

Not So Much Oy, Not So Much Vey

The update on Passover is...it's totally fine (as long as I can make chicken stock at some point this weekend). Got a recipe for matzoh ball soup from one friend, kuggel/kugel and charoset recipes on their way from two other friends...and I've notified B that it's his job to make the flourless chocolate cake.

The Lawyer will be coming (with a bottle of wine) to laugh at me share in the festivities.

One nagging worry: haven't heard from B's mom (whom I like to call 'The General') about her expectations for the day...so things might have to shift after that conversation.

Adults

Last night, a small miracle took place in my apartment.

Here's how it went down: B and I had a slight disagreement on Sunday that we were able to calmly, coherently, and respectfully talk through. We both came out on the other side of the conversation feeling that we had been heard and understood, *and* that we were happy to have had said conversation.

There may be hope for emotional maturity yet.

I'm Going With Insanity

So, as of 4 pm, B and I have called each other approximately 37 times to make weird noises, laugh hysterically, and then hang up.

Insanity? You Decide.

That pre-vacation too-little-time-too-much-to-do thing is kicking in, which is resulting in not a whole lot of sleep, which then leads to:

- Me prank calling B at work, making ridiculous noises and hanging up
- B and I laughing hysterically over the concept that we are sleeping in a "monkey bed". (Don't ask, it's a long story involving Tim Gunn and our inability to change our sheets.)
- B pretending to be Tim Gunn (voice, mannerisms) for an entire night
- Exploring how many ways we can use the word "yurt" in a sentence
- Laughing hysterically over that
- Making up conversations that either one of us is having with the dog re: his religious choices

I'm Annoying, It's True

Lately, I've taken on a slightly nagging tone with B, as I've harassed and harrangued him regarding our upcoming trip. There seems to be about a million odds and ends to clear up, and we're leaving Saturday. Conversations in our house sound like this:

r: "Did you book the rental car"?
b: "Ya".
r: "What about doing laundry before we go"?
b: I'll take care of it".
r: "Do you know where your swimsuit is? Do you think you should get it out now? Let it air out?"
b: [eyeroll]
r: "What about L.A.? What do you want to do in L.A."?
b: "Ummmm, eat at In N' Out Burger?"
r: "That's it? That's all you want to do in L.A.?"
b: [shrug]
r: "Well, when are we going to pack? How many suitcases are we bringing? Should we bring my laptop"?
b: [starts rocking back and forth and crying]
r: "I'm really excited for our first vacation together..."

This morning, I found myself debating whether it was more important to go to my ENT doctor to check the congestion/wheeziness I've ignored for the past 2 months *or* go get my hair cut.

Exciting News

As it turns out, I may be am the best girlfriend EVER!

Not only am I graciously weathering the stomach virus that B passed along, but last night, I devoted my full attention to watching Best in Show recovering, so I allowed him to provide me with Gatorade and various Cup o' Soups as I lay on the couch.

I know, I rock.

It's Love, Part 2

Today, after my 5th trip to the bathroom within 2 hours, paired with uncomfortable abdominal cramps, it became clear that B has passed last week's stomach malady along to me.

(Issuing a preemptive apology to our bathroom. The carnage continues.)

It's Love

On Saturday, B accompanied me to East Petersburg, PA to attend my 2nd cousin's wedding, which involved a 3 hour car trip each way. And my wacky Mennonite family. And no dancing, nor alcohol at the reception. And he had been sick for the past 4 days.

*then*

Last night when I took Stewie out for his final walk, I stepped in dog shit. While wearing my favorite pair of sneakers. The ones that have a lot of grooves in the sole. I had barely started whining about it when B volunteered to clean them for me.

So There!

This morning on the subway, B had the nerve to suggest that he might not audition for Last Comic Standing.

I repaid his hesitation by claiming that if he didn't try out, I would never speak to him again.

And then spent the rest of the subway ride doing just that.

Ha!

Peppermint Mocha

I finished my 2nd therapy session tonight...

(did I tell you that I now see two private clients through my institute on Friday nights? Yes, Friday nights. One at 7:00 and one at 8:00. I don't know who I feel worse for - me or them.)

...and walked downstairs into the bitter cold...

...to find B and the dog waiting with my favorite Starbucks beverage. He even remembered to make it decaf (it was 9:00 pm and I am an old lady) and to put a straw in it, and to add soymilk...

...and then we all walked home, where he had ordered sushi and queued up the next season of Monk.

We really have that dog well trained, no?

Touche, My Friend. Touche.

This morning in our(!) apartment:

ridiculouschick in cheese-voice: "The best gift I can get is waking up every morning next to you." [batting eyes in an exaggerated manner]

B: "Okay. Well then. Merry Christmas."

Religious Differences

I was worried that I wouldn't have time to get B a first-night Chanuka gift, what with all the moving craziness and such - but no worries. We both took a day off work...

*Trip to CVS, bought him a Cherry Pepsi. Happy Chanuka.

*Empanada Mama - bought lunch. Happy Chanuka.

*Sat in my old apartment for 3 hours, waiting on a delivery for his friend who will be subletting. Without complaining (much). Happy Chanuka.

*Shared a leftover half bottle of Pinot Grigio, rather than drinking it myself. (Straight from the bottle - bonus!) Happy Chanuka.

*Organized the hall closet in our new apartment while he was out, performing at a gig. Happy Chanuka.

*Located balm for his chapped hands. Happy Chanuka.

I believe I've covered 6 out of 8 days already. This is simple.

Let's Play The Feud!

One of the areas where B and I are really well matched is the craziness of our families. So I've devised a little contest between the two to determine whose family is actually more insane. A 'Family Feud' if you will.

Round 1: Birthdays
On ridiculouschick's 30th birthday, her Mom called to 'wish her a happy birthday' but ended up crying on the phone for half an hour about ridiculouschick's recent broken engagement and her beliefs that ridiculouschick would never get married or have children.

On B's birthday, his Mom called to give him grief about his surprise party, wondering why she had not been invited, an issue over which he had no control, as he had no part in organizing the festivities. .

Round 2: Living Together
ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousmom: [silence] - 15 seconds - 'Oh. Well, does that mean the two of you are getting serious?
ridiculouschick: 'Um, yes, I guess so.'
ridiculousmom: 'Well, what about the baby?'
ridiculouschick: 'What baby?'
ridiculousmom: 'When you have a baby. What religion is the baby going to be?'

ridiculouschick: 'B and I have decided to move in together!'
ridiculousbrother: 'Are you pregnant?'

B: 'ridiculouschick and I have decided to move in together!'
Bmom: 'Well, I hope it's not like the last time, when you lived with [B ex-girlfriend] for 2 years and it came to nothing. '

Round 3: Coming Soon...

Pod People

B's house (now my house too, I suppose) has wireless Internet. Which is a luxury I'm not accustomed to. (I'm not even gonna get into the 42" flat screen television with cable *and* DVR.)

The problem with the Internet everywhere is that, most nights, I end up on my computer, catching up on blogs and writing emails. And B ends up on his computer doing the same things.

I wonder if we'll get to the point where we talk through email while in the same room. Which makes a certain sort of twisted sense, because we met on match.com.

A Supernova

A long time ago, on our 5th date, B and I went to dinner with two of his friends. One of them noted that our relationship was like a supernova, since we seemed to be connecting so fast.

My limited knowledge (wikipedia) of supernovas is that they burn intensely and then burn out. (Oh, and then there's the champagne variety mentioned in that Oasis song.) So I absorbed this compliment (?) and took it for what it was - an offhand remark.

Intensity isn't a bad thing. It doesn't mean we will fade.

Today, in the spirit of supernova-ness (or, perhaps, against it) B and I made arrangements to sublet my apartment. As soon as we can pack and hire movers, we'll be living together. Officially. For real. No, really, we mean it.

Logic tells me that this is craziness, that there is risk and potential for heartbreak. How long have I known this person? What if we fall apart? All these little thoughts that pop up in my brain and settle somewhere in my nervous stomach. But I look at B and see this person that I love, and I know that there is nowhere else that I want to be. I realize just how right this is and how much fun it's going to be to live together. Hell, we already live together (I never really went home after Ireland) so this just means continuing with the benefit of having all my stuff.

And as soon as the dog gets on board and stops acting like a territorial maniac, it's going to be even better.