Promise Me This

Almost two months ago Jordan and I found ourselves at a carnival. It was being held across the street from our apartment, in the lawn of a church, and for about a week we salivated at the bright lights and smell of popcorn every time we passed by it. Finally, on my birthday, one of our friends convinced us that a joyous occasion such as my birth is a good excuse to down a couple drinks and tempt them to come up again on the Gravi-tron. We had a pretty good time at the carnival, even though we realized that it was the land of pre-teen drama and shady vendors.

I learned two lessons that night.

First: Ferris Wheels are the scariest ride ever. At first I thought I would just enjoy the night breeze, moving slowly through the air, heck, maybe I could even spot our apartment! Then I learned that moving slowly through the air in a rickety basket, with half the lights flicking, is enough to make me want to ask the scary man to please make it stop. Seriously, while we were on the ride, some of the lights shorted out…what does that mean? Will there be enough electricity to bring me back safely to the ground where I can then kiss it and thank it for not being the air? Are we just going to be stuck up there forever, or is the entire machine going to just break and we fall in a heap to the ground? I pictured my death possibly 1,000 times during the scariest 4 minutes of my life.


(our Ferris Wheel was much less stable and had much more paint peeling away than this one, oh, and the lights work on this one too)


Second: Never ask Jordan to “promise me this”. As we were leaving I turned to Jordan with one simple request. “Jordan, will you promise me that you will never become a carny?” “Of course, my dearest wife” was the response. I left happily, feeling the bond of marriage as strong as ever. Of course he would never become a carny, do I even have to ask such silly things? Not four days later my charming husband tells me he has a job at the Maryland State Fair at the end of the summer. Ahem. What was so hard to understand about the most attainable favor I have ever asked? So, this past week Jordan has been working on his tan, alternating between guzzling beer in the middle of the day and smoking cigarettes, and trying to black out some of his teeth in order to prepare for his new gig. He worked this weekend and seemed to come home in the same condition that I let him go, but I’m worried that next weekend he might do something really awful, like get a tattoo of Tweedy Bird.


(Jordan's future look...I honestly don't know if this is a man or a woman)


Lessons learned, and maybe next time I'll make him promise to never buy me a pony.

Sleep: The Story of Bedtime in Three Acts

I love sleep.

Sometimes, you just have to get a little extra sleep, even though you know it is not the best plan. The other night was one of those nights. Jordan and I ate dinner, some cozy leftovers of pasta, and had a glass of wine. He then settled in to do some homework, while I took it upon myself to watch a couple hours of Law and Order: Criminal Intent (I know, its just awful, but I love it). I should have realized when I yawned a few times that I was done for, but ever vigilant I carried on.

Act I:
It all started with The Chair. It looked so inviting, with its lovely green cushion and little ottoman: a perfect cocoon of coziness. I decided that it would be the proper viewing spot for a mini Law and Order marathon. In the back of my head I had to have known what this usually means, but perhaps I was in denial since it was only 8:00 in the evening and I didn't want to admit to myself that I planned on going to sleep that early. I snuggled myself warmly into the chair, and then came Erma. Sweet little Erma. Now, what else am I going to do in a perfectly comfortable chair with a little cuddly ball of warmth sprawled across my chest? Erma is definitely a papazan chair whore, no matter who is in it, she is there, willing to lay down with any old person she is sitting with. So, naturally, about 11 minutes into the program, I fell asleep.

Act II:
I slept in the chair until almost 9:00 exactly. Perhaps it was the opening credits music that acted as my alarm clock? Well, of course I was a bit scrunched from napping in a little round chair with a creature on top of me. Looking around, it seemed best that I continue my TV watching on the couch where I could really spread out and even include a blanket to watch the second episode of Law and Order, I quietly swore at myself for taking nap so close to bedtime. I barely even finished listening to the theme song when I was asleep again.

Act III:
Another hour exactly. I woke up and looked around, slightly confused. Well, nothing left to do but go to the bedroom and go to sleep! I grumpily limped passed Jordan (limbs don't like sleeping on mere chairs and couches, they need queen size beds!) mumbled something about going to bed early and to remember to turn on his alarm clock. Another minute and I was out. Erma later joined me and we slept wonderfully until 7:30 the next morning. Seeing as how both Erma and I have very strenuous lives, its easy to see why we were exhausted.

Let's not lie here. The real reason I went to bed early is because I am lazy, and laziness aided by a few glasses of red wine encourages bedtime. I love sleep.

What I Would Take With Me

When I visit museums I like to play a little game called “if I could steal anything here, what would it be”. This game is inspired by a similar version that a family friend plays, only in her tamer version she just decides which piece of art she would like to own. When you place it in the context of stealing, many other factors come in to play. You have to realistically think about how you would remove this piece and what you are going to do with it when you leave. Art theft is a wonderfully lucrative business venture, and if one steals the right objects, retirement could be in the near future. I’ve marked my future nest egg investments all over the United States, and our recent trip to the Metropolitan Museum was no exception.

This museum is huge and one can only imagine how much the entire collection, not to mention the building itself, is worth. There is a huge range of art to play sticky fingers with…everything from Roman coins (although, those seem to be mostly behind glass) to huge paintings on canvas. Jordan and I had quite the task in front of us. I am usually a sucker for paintings as I hope to one day hang my walls with a variety of different two dimensional works hung salon style, but this time I was in the mood for some sculpture.




I found all the detached heads of Medieval religious sculptures to be rather appealing, and I don’t think I could be satisfied with just one, so I would have to steal an assortment of them.




Jordan was rather struck by the Met’s armor collection, and decided that he would like to steal an ancient samurai mask. I approve.




If we were some serious and innovative art thieves, I would very much like to steal Anselm Kiefer’s Bohemia Lies by the Sea. We’ll have to work up to it.

Train Blogging

As we speak (read? write?...whatever), Jordan and I are on a train to New York City. It is pleasant enough so far. The hole-punch man was really nice and arranged for us to sit together at the next stop, and nobody is ignoring the “quiet car” sign by being really loud on their cell phones. Generally people are just on laptops or reading, keeping to themselves.

Everything was good until a stop in Philadelphia. We started to smell something…something funky. At first it just seemed as if it was just general city smell, that dank nasty smell in wet corners of urban areas, but we realized that it wasn’t going away the farther we got from the stop. Somebody in Philadelphia is smelling funky. In my not so subtle ways I have started stealing glances at the newcomers around us. There is a curly haired man, he seems pretty normal and hygienic. There is this father son team that have been up and down the aisle a couple times now trying to get internet access, and when they pass I don’t get any strange smelling wafts of air. Nope, it must be this nice lady sitting next to us. I look at her face; she appears to be clean and normally dressed. My eyes travel downward to the bags she has stashed under the seat. Let’s see, there is a book, a purse, and typical bag things. Ah ha! There is a bundle wrapped in aluminum foil. It appears to have the tail of a fish coming out of it. Yes, I think we have found the culprit.

I hope this soon to be lukewarm dead fish is not traveling all the way to New York City with us.

Letter to Whoever is Taking Care of Erma

If you ever find yourself taking care of Erma one day, you might find a similar letter waiting for you on our kitchen table. Jordan prepared this for two friends that agreed to watch over her one weekend (and did a wonderful job!), and while he did it as a joke, we soon realized that it is all very true. The following is an excerpt:


Thanks again for taking care of Erma this weekend. We were going to ask the 5-year old next store to do it, but after a harrowing story concerning the accidental death of her cat, Becca and I decided that it would be best if we got some professionals (A few moments after she told us this story her mother poked her head out the door and said, “Stop telling people you killed our cat.” She then looked to us and said, “She just stepped on the cat’s tail. The cat is not dead!”) Anyway…digression aside, here is what you should know about Erma now that we’ve roped you into taking care of her. First of all, she doesn’t have a water bowl. She drinks out of a cup because she wants to be like people. She has a blue cup of water on the side table next to the bed, and she usually drinks out of another random cup that is being utilized by either Becca or myself. To make up for this, we have placed a second cup on the end table closest to the front door. You don’t need to give her jug water out of the fridge, but if you feel so compelled, then go for it. Erma does not like ice in her water. Also, in the vein of Erma wanting to be like people, you have to make sure to talk to her first thing when you come in the door. The preferred greeting is either an extremely high pitched “T T T T T!” or a more conversational “What’ve ya been doin’?” She’ll squeak. “Really?” She’ll squeak again. Erma’s favorite lounging areas are in the window of the office next to the dying Aloe plant, underneath the papazan chair, or under the bed (check those areas first if you can’t find her). WARNING: do not go in the closet! We cleaned Erma’s litter right before we left, so don’t worry about that. If you catch Erma staring at the oven, then you are required to chase after her. Erma’s toys are in the metal basket in-between the sliding door and the tea cart. Erma requires different toys depending on her mood: if Erma is looking kind of chipper and playful, then I would either go with the mouse on the end of the stick, the brown shoe lace, or one of the various chickens attached to twisty-ties. If you choose to play with the chickens, then try and get Erma to play fetch; it’s really cute when she does it. O yeah, I forgot something, the piece of felt on the floor of the office with the red fuzzy hat next to it belongs there on the floor; that’s another favorite place of Erma’s; the felt is positioned perfectly so that it catches the morning sunlight between 8:45 and 10:00. Back to the toys: if Erma is looking despondent, then get the bag of catnip out of the freezer and put it on one of the little fuzzy balls; she only plays with the balls if there is catnip involved. Lastly, if she does a drop-and-roll, it means she wants you to pet the tuft of white fur on her chest and pat her butt at the same time. Also, don’t sit on any blankets unless you see Erma, for she might be cuddled up inside of one of the blankets (especially the papazan chair. She loves sleeping in the blanket on the papazan chair). I guess I should say something about Erma’s food. Her food bowl is in the bedroom next to the door. Her food is in the plastic bin next to the food. Erma gets three crumbs from her treat bag a day, which is located in the drawer in front of this letter (use the orange bag of treats). Do not leave the treats out; Erma will rip the bag to shreds just to get her fix.

Now, about the plants. We watered them really well right before we left, so either Saturday or Sunday if you could give them a water, then that would be great. There are jugs of water for the plants outside, so don’t worry about finding a flagon. If you see the squirrel digging in our basil, shoot him with the orange water gun next to the sliding glass door. Then proceed to shake your fist at the squirrel in a menacing manner, and if you really feel inclined, you can yell “Get outta here Little Shit!”

Lastly, leave a light on after you leave that way Erma is not just hanging out in the dark. Not the bedroom light; Erma prefers that room to be dark and cool. Just one of the lights in the living room will be fine.





(More on this pesky squirrel later)

This is NOT One of the Things We Are Going to Hell For

(Jordan's first blog post!)

We use a Bible as a door stop. Sometimes I feel bad about it. Not because it is the holy sanctified word of God that my wife and I are using to keep a door open when the air conditioning turns on, but rather because I try not to put books on the floor. But, let’s face it: if it were the Guttenberg Bible, then I can see God getting pretty upset; but it’s not. It’s one of the free Bibles that evangelicals hand out on street corners: that’s right: the New Testament plus Psalms and Proverbs. Every household probably has one of those old rusty NT+P&P Bibles lying around the house, gathering dust on a shelf; at least we are putting ours to good use. After all, it’s not every day that you find a door stop that fits just perfectly between the bottom of the door and the carpet, and the fit is so snug and tight, that the door does not close. And, again, let’s face it: some houses are poorly designed; nothing gets my goat like a house that is designed to where the force of the AC pushes on the back of a door and forces it shut. What if Erma got stuck in the room? And what if we were gone for a day and Erma had to spend the whole day in the room, without food or water or litter box; what if we came home and she was lying dead on the floor: dead of thirst! So, I’m already pretty sure God doesn’t hate me for using the free Bible as a door stop. But for those of you who would chide me for it, just remember that that doorstop is saving a very precious life: the life of our cat. And, as God said that all creatures were created equal except for roosters, those sneaky little buggers), our cat has a right to life…


Bible that you take care of, one with a leather front embossed with your name and gilded pages:





Bible that you use as a door stop:

Dear Brian Boitano, Will You Be My New Best Friend?

It is time for a new feature on the blog, a segment called, “Dear so-and-so, will you be my new best friend?” It will basically be devoted to people Jordan and I think we could start a pretty awesome relationship with, people that have really made an impact on our lives, or people who we would like to bring home to meet our parents. They may or may not be famous or outstanding citizens, but one thing is for sure: they are cool enough to be our friend.



As revealed in the title, our first new best friend pick is Brian Boitano. First, a little refresher, remember this?



Brian Boitano won the Olympic gold medal in figure skating in 1988, and to date is the only male figure skater to be featured on the front cover of Sports Illustrated. Soon afterward he became a professional skater, during which time he won an Emmy for his role in Carmen On Ice. The man had already received two great honors of achievement that most of us will never have. Then he became a superhero. He was immortalized in the song featured above, bringing his accolades into light for a new generation. What a dreamy guy; not only has he won an Olympic gold medal and an Emmy, but he also saved the human race from the evil robot king, beat up Kublai Khan, and built the pyramids! We could have stopped after the Olympic gold (oh, and he also has his own figure skating move called the ‘Tano triple lutz…cool) in considering him to be our new best friend, and especially after his Emmy and amazing superhero song. But get this, the man can cook too! The Food Network has given BB a cooking show, and it is possibly the best thing on television. It is called "What Would Brian Boitano Make?", with the theme song being the one shown above. He is totally flamboyant and ADD, while the concept of the show is full of humor and love. It even involves a Kristi Yamaguchi bobble head! Is there anything this man could not do? He is awe inspiring and physically fit.

(By the way, Brian Boitano, if by any chance you did a Google search of your name and went 28 pages back and found this blog post and would like to get in contact with us, just leave a message and we can start a correspondence.)

Yes, he is this cool.