it slices, it dices

so, today i chopped my finger. no, i didn't chop it off but i chopped riiiiight into it.

the morning started off pretty well. i went down to the social security office to change my name to my new married last name. it was surprisingly easy (i'm sure the dmv trip will more than make up that).

i went down there armed with my application already filled out, my marriage certificate in hand (omg, yes, it arrived!), and my passport. i walked in, took a number, and read my book while i waited (see, i was totally prepared....too bad the book is annoying and there's no way i'll finish it in 4 days. i'll explain later). they called my number and i went in while the woman there processed my application. i must have looked like a puppy because there i was with the biggest smile on my face and practially slobbering on myself. i told the woman that this was super exciting. i mean, people will finally be able to pronounce my name....oh and i'll feel very married. she then proceeded to tell me about her daughter who is my age and how she wondered if her daughter would ever get married. then it was just weird.

ok, the chopped finger. i decided to try this chickpea salad sandwich when i got back (which turned out pretty yums but perhaps had too much onion so that will need to be drastically reduced next time....seriously, i can still smell my own onion breath. way way way tooooo much onion). anyway, the recipe called for fresh lemon.  i went to chop the lemon in half annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd instead i chopped my finger. i mean, it was not a little slice. it was CHOPPED. ok, my finger didn't come off but there was a lot of blood. AND i had to take advil. i'm a wimp. in any case, it's pretty fitting considering my last blog was all about my rice glob disaster. the only difference is that this time, i stabbed myself.  alright, it was slightly less violent than that but it felt like attempted murder (on myself). anyway, i'm healing nicely, which is the most important part of the story....that and i'm wondering if i have any business in a kitchen or around sharp objects. but now when it's my turn tomorrow to talk about what i'm thankful for, i can say, i'm thankful for my finger being intact and having a husband who apparently sharpens his kitchen knives quite often.

alright, let me explain this boring book i'm reading. i've just joined a book club (yay!) only i put off reading this book and the book club is meeting next week....and omg, my book is due back to the library in 4 days. hence, having to carry it around with me and read it whenever i have a free minute. the worst part is that (aside from my brother calling me a golden girl when i told him this story..yes i have a library card. that doesn't not mean i'm an old lady) the book is boring. i don't even care what happens next. i'm debating if i should just read the last paragraph.  i mean, i've read everything else in the past week but i can't. read. this. book. i mean i even re-read stories on people.com (ok, i mainly looked at the pictures. stop judging).  that's the boring book story. who knows, maybe it'll pick up? books can completley pick up after page 150, right? yeah, wish me luck.

sucky book.

ok, one last thing. tomorrow is thanksgiving and i want to wish everyone a wonderful turkey day. i hope it is free of lemon-related (or, really, any citrus-related) bloodshed and snoozer books! enjoy your food coma.

if you can't stand the heat...

as i get older, i'm coming to realize that there's a lot of things that people don't tell you. or maybe they did and i just wasn't listening (this is actually more likely). i grew up with a mom who loves to cook. LOVES. she calls me every night and talks me through whatever foodnetwork show she may be watching (it's usually barefoot contessa, in case you're wondering). i don't mind at all because i love ina garten (that's the contessa herself). but the conversation always turns to one main question from my mom...."what are you making for dinner?"

when i first moved out on my own, i was always cooking. i loved having my own kitchen and cooking tools. i loved trying out new recipes. it was all so magical and new. so when my mom and i used to have the "what are you making for dinner?" conversation we both always had something to contribute. eventually the novelty wore off. i have a handful of recipes that i make and have, for the most part, "mastered". even so, i still considered myself as someone who loves to cook.

then i met my husband. he enjoys cooking and is good at it...probably because he's more meticulous than i am and doesn't give up on a recipe if it has more than 5 ingredients. seriously, who has the attention span to deal with 20+ ingredients?  by comparison, i'm an amateur. i mean, i know how to boil water, cook eggs, make toast. and, like i said, i have a handful of recipes that i enjoy making and turn out quite well (if i do say so myself). but my "what are you making for dinner?" conversations with my mom have evolved to "are you making a sandwich for dinner?" or "are you walking to whole foods for dinner?"poor poor disappointed mom. she still goes on about some amazing dish she's making (perhaps to inspire me...lead by example, as they say) but, i know one day, she won't even bother asking me "what are you making for dinner?"

but maybe what my mom doesn't realize is that it's not so much that i'm not inspired as it is my skills are rapidly unraveling into nothingness. it's like the flowers for algernon story i read in 7th grade (really, look it up). perfect example, last week we decided we'd make stir fry. awesome. i love stir fry. i know how to make brown rice. made it hundreds of times. have watched my mom make it thousands of times. easy. no problem. oh, but there was a problem.  i followed the basic instructions (like i needed them!) and poured in the rice, added water and brought to a boil. only the water boiled a lot faster than i'd expected (gas stove). so i was like oops, i'll add more water. but then there was a lot of water. whatever, i've done this before, i thought. it's cool. so an hour later, there it was. stir fry with a side of oatmeal rice glob. seriously? i mean, based on my ethnic background alone, i should know how to make rice in my sleep. that night, as i served the oatmeal rice glob, i just thought that my grandmother is looking down on me in horror and shame. rice! glob! ugh.

my husband took one look at the rice and...threw up. ok, no he didn't. maybe a little. in his mouth. but i can't be sure. no, he took a look at the rice and just said, i'm sure it'll taste good. i watched as he added more and more soy sauce to the rice, insisting, it "tastes great with some extra soy sauce."

no one ever told me that my culinary intelligence increase was also only temporary. that i'd be powerless to prevent the change. that for a moment in time, my husband would actually be better at something than me.
so here i am with oatmeal glob and my memories of of culinary delights....meanwhile, my husband made cornchip crusted halibut with a salsa cream sauce two nights ago. honestly? what happened?

so with that, honey, what are you making for dinner? seriously, all this talk has made me hungry.

going to the chapel

after many many months, i'm back. you may be wondering what in the world i was doing. well i was....

getting married!

in the final months leading up to the wedding, i fell off the face of the planet and spiraled my way into wedding planning hell (it's sort of a pergatory. between earth and hell and one stoplight from the wedding). so my days were pretty much consumed with tracking my invitations (apparently my invitation designers decided this was a good time for them to go into hibernation.), getting invitations sent (holding my mom hostage till 1 a.m. to stuff and seal envelopes), finalizing flower arrangements (which in all took approximately 40 full hours of meeting time with the florist), assembling favor boxes (also known as burning my fingers with hot glue and/or gluing my fingers together), and all types of miserable things that no bride ever imagines having to do as a part of the final wedding weeks. it was so lovely...and special.

it was all worth it because in the end, we had one hell of a party.

so yadda yadda, in the name of the father, son, and blogging spirits...i'm back.