who is the real mom?

So, Julia and I went to the temple last night, and one of the elderly temple workers asked if we were mother and daughter. !!!!!! May I repeat, !!!!! So, naturally we asked who was the mother, and who was the daughter, and at this point reason kicked in and he realized he was maybe one word away from being smacked with a temple bag, and refused any more opinions. So, we were left to debate just who is the mom, and who is the daughter. While I should be so lucky as to look like I'm related to Julia, I'm not really seeing it, and now I feel like my mid life crisis, which was scheduled to begin in twelve years, has been moved up to.....right now. On my agenda:

Buy shiny red sports car
Schedule first botox injection
Dye my hair
Start wearing my clothes too tight
Buy a copy of Teen People to study (important pop culture references)
Start calling Paul "dad" in public (sorry Paul, I have to keep up appearances)

me

my lovely daughter, Julia

happy thanksgiving

Ahhhh, Thanksgiving. I love you. I love your stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and your gravy. I also love the opportunity to think about the good things in my life. Perhaps I should have listed that first, but I really like stuffing. We borrowed a car (thankful!very thankful!) and drove up to Connecticut to spend Thanksgiving with my sister in law Ryanne's family. I have the most awwwwesome sister in law, and she's got a pretty awesome family. We stayed in the sun room, which housed the jacuzzi, as well as an outdoor shower. I guess it's not completely an outdoor shower, but since the room is all windows and the floor is pebbled, I think it counts. So, I'm proud to say that I got in touch with my inner exhibitionist, and thankfully there were no unfortunate incidents involving curtain malfunction. I'm including a picture, but don't get too excited, now. All you can see is my feet and my face. Nothing racy here, man. This is not that kind of blog, okay? I'm also including some Thanksgiving pics along with a couple of other recent photos, and while I'm at it, here are just a few things that make life wonderful, and for which I am most grateful.

Family
Prayer
Laughter
The subway coming right away
Refined white sugar
Good books
Old movies
Forgiveness

the big dinner

the best sister in law ever

my attempt at a self portrait
exhibitionist

trying on my new boots. i don't have a full length mirror, but i figured out that if i stand on my trunk, i can see my feet in the mirror above our dresser. kind of sad, right?

my sweetsweet visiting teacher marci made me this cake. it was almost too pretty to eat. almost.
i like this pose. it reminds me of those pictures you'd get at winter formal.
devastatingly handsome
this picture was taken just before we all jumped in the pond directly behind us. just kidding. that didn't happen. would have been a good story, though, right?

why boys light candles

It's because they are stinky. I gleaned this information from a very reliable source: my husband. Upon returning from work the other night, Paul greeted me, freshly showered, hair still wet. I saw one of my candles burning, and thought "Well, how nice. It smells so great in here! What a thoughtful husband I have!" I said as much to the husband, and he replied "Oh, good. I thought I was stinky because I hadn't showered yet, so I lit the candle to make the apartment not smell like me." Immediately I remembered back to a few days ago when I also returned home to find a candle burning. Hmmmm. I know exactly why it was lit. I think, in the long run, we both win. I get to buy candles, and Paul feels like he can postpone showering. Wait. That doesn't sound like we both win. I think as long as he showers by the time I get home, then we both win. Wait. I think I made it sound like Paul doesn't do anything all day. That's not true. In Paul's defense, since he spends a lot of time stamping out disease and infection, the hospital people let him stay home sometimes.

your opinion, please?

I really, really dig this coat. I am quite tempted to purchase this coat, and have just purchased these boots. Paul does not think that the green coat and the aubergine boots go together. I, however, think it could work. There is another coat in navy that I like as well, but I love the bright green-y color of this one. What do you think?? Go for it, or not?

the science of birthday gifts

Sunday is my birthday. I really like birthdays. I think I mentioned that in a previous post, didn't I? I like the idea that your birthday is one day of the year when you're always right, you can buy whatever you want (within reason, of course), eat whatever you want (which I do anyway, but on my birthday I feel I have a very good reason), and also I really like cake. Paul has gotten me a birthday gift, and now as I type, it is sitting on the floor behind me: a medium sized box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper covered with little girls dressed as ballerinas. He has selected two bows, one red and one white, and placed them right next to each other in the upper left hand corner of the box. I am wondering if these bows are supposed to represent our love for each other, or at least our close proximity to one another? Hmmmm. Now, the important question....what is it?? Paul said that he took a risk when he got this for me. A risk? A birthday seems like a pretty big day to take a risk with present buying, especially given my history of placing far too much importance on a day most people hate. I just looked at it again. It looks like it could be something electronic. I'm not sure I want something electronic. Paul said that I have mentioned wanting this since before we were married. What have I wanted that long? Do you know?? I really can't think of anything, and I'm wondering if I've been able to go six years without purchasing it, is it really that important? Or, is it soooo important that I haven't been able to justify buying it? Wait- I think I just figured it out. Maybe. If it is what I am thinking it is, then I do like it. Oh, I so totally know what it is. That sneaky devil. Okay, I was wrong. I just asked Paul, and while my guess was something he had considered getting me, it is not that. Hmmmm. I really don't know. I thought he got me a Kitchen Aid, which I have long coveted, but he thought that was actually too risky, as it falls into the appliance category. So, what is risky, that I've wanted for at least six years and possibly more, and is not as risky as an appliance? I tried to weasel more information out of him by painting the bleak picture of me weeping next to the unwanted present as he left for work, and this almost did the trick, but then I asked him if it was the Kitchen Aid, he got freaked out that I could get in his head like that, and he's stopped revealing anything. If anything, he's looking more confident. Paul, if you're reading this, here's a list of things I've wanted for over six years:

1. A pony
2. To meet Cary Grant
3. Muscular calves
4. One of those spa treatments where you get all wrapped up in mud, seaweed or some other earthy product. And then they put hot stones on your back. Yeah.
5. A trip to Spain
6. Actually, it might be nice to own Spain

Paul has gotten concerned that the wrapping paper is slightly see-through. He has since draped a T-shirt over the top.

Rowlf and The Swedish Chef

Ahhhh, thank you SNL, for this silly goodness.

happy birthday, paul!!!

So, I'd like to wish Paul David Boerem a very, very happy birthday....31 years today, he is. ( I think that's how Yoda would say it.) I really, really love birthdays. Paul doesn't love them so much, and never has. I remember his mom telling me how he used to leave his own birthday parties.....a deep and complex soul, even at five years old. Even now, his fears of clowns and people dressed as animals is quite intense, and when that guy dressed as a cow approached him at Stew Leonards during our grocery trip of a couple weeks past, his discomfort and wariness was quite evident. I love birthdays enough for both of us, and I'm embarassed to say that not only can I not sleep on the night before my birthday, I frequently lie awake on the night before Paul's birthday, as well. (yep. The dorky-ness soars to new heights.) So, yesterday I decided to surprise Paul and take the day off of work, which is something I never do, since New York has brought out the workaholic in me.....so, I was totally, totally excited. It's a good thing Paul was working, so he couldn't see my gigantic goofy grin, which alternated with a slightly panicked expression when I thought about not being at work. Now, as I write this email, it is 10:00am, and I am not dressed. My hair is doing that weird fly-away thing, and I need to brush my teeth. I am yucky. I am at home and yucky, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing. As I waited on the couch last night for Paul to get home, I thought about my favorite memories with him. I've got some good ones, but here's one of my favorites:

A few Christmases ago, we flew home to California to be with our families. We had both decided that our plane tickets would be our gifts to each other, and to our familes. This is the same year that my parents purchased a ping pong table for my family. I inherit my love of surprises and perfect presents from my mother, who was bound and determined to have everything just, just right. (as I type this, I miss my mom a whole lot)The ping pong table was being kept at a friend's house, the plan being to have it delivered on Christmas Eve when everyone was in bed asleep. On Christmas Eve, a couple of problems presented themselves:

1. My dad kind of forgot to arrange to have the table delivered. (as I type this, I miss my dad a whole lot)
2. Nobody really wanted to go to bed.

Number one elicited a really awesome response from Mom, who looked a little less than pleased, and number two presented a slight problem. How to have the table delivered if everyone was awake? After a couple of fruitless attempts to get everyone to go to bed, I came up with a plan. I would tell everyone that I had to go back to Paul's parent's house to get a present for him, and Dad was going to take me. Then, we would wait in the garage for the table. Everything worked like a charm. Dad and I waited in the garage, the table was delivered, and Mom looked really happy again, which made Dad really happy. Paul, however, did not look happy. Paul was sitting on the couch in his pajama shirt and jeans, with a baseball cap on, looking seriously disgruntled. I did that thing where I try to look all cute and alluring, and said something romantic like "hey, what's up?". This was met with stony silence, and since normally I'm the one who plays this part, I was a little confused. I mean, we hadn't discussed any such role reversal. I tried again, with a "hey, is something wrong?" and got more stony silence. Hmmmm. So, finally I pulled him aside and got him to talk. "You said we weren't going to get each other presents!!" he said, sounding really, really ticked. "Now I've got to go break into a jewelry store or something so I can get you a present because you love surprises and if I don't have one for you I'm going to be the worst husband in the world!!" This is the part where I started laughing hysterically, and loved him a whole lot. I explained to him our master plan, which relieved him of the problem of how to break into a jewelry store on Christmas Eve. One thing that I know about Paul, and have always known about Paul, is that he wants me to be happy. Even if it means busting into a jewelry store wearing a pajama shirt, jeans and a baseball cap. So, thanks Paul, for doing the laundry, and for watching old movies with me, and for Miss Mamie's mac and cheese, and for emailing me poetry, and for making me laugh, and for being such a greatgreatgreat guy. You're awesome!!