12 posts tagged “aaron”

Desperate

Nov 26, 2008
1 comment

Aaron was - quite understandably - rather concerned when I called him at 9:30 this morning in a state of significant distress because I couldn't figure out how to uncork a bottle of wine. He was probably already making a guest list for my intervention before I explained that I needed it for my turkey brine.

Here is a confession: Before today, I had never removed a cork from a bottle before. I guess this is one of the advantages to having married right out of college - ever since I've been able to afford wine that doesn't have a screw-top, I've had a man around to open it for me. Still, I felt awfully helpless and girly having Aaron walk me through using a corkscrew (on video chat from his office, no less).

Anyway, now my turkey is gently floating in its bath of saltwater, onion, spices, and Riesling. I've never done a turkey this way before, so all my hopes are in Martha Stewart being as fabulous as she claims to be. If it doesn't turn out, not only will we be eating salty turkey, but I will have dropped $7 on a jar of fennel seeds I'll never use again ($7 that could buy several bottles of screw-top wine). Don't let me down, Martha.

Courtship

Nov 13, 2008
Post a comment

A rare night out tonight - our first date in at least six months, maybe longer. Nothing exciting - dinner, awkwardness as we struggled for topics that weren't about the kids or Aaron's work, before we found our groove; then talking and laughing and connecting while we sipped coffee, shades of the romance that's been buried under layers of daily life. Also: went to Target and shopped for Christmas pajamas for the boys. Ah, romance.

Donner, party of six*

Oct 31, 2008
2 comments

"One of my neighbors posted a quiz that calculates how many cannibals you could feed."

"Are you inviting cannibals to brunch? Whom were you planning to serve?"

"No, I mean - if cannibals were eating you. It's a calculator that tells you how many cannibals could, you know, eat. Your body."

"That's awful."

"But then I was wondering - what about zombies?"

"What...about zombies?"

"Do you suppose my lifeless remains would feed more zombies, or more cannibals?"

"Your lifeless remains. Are we actually having this conversation?"

"Would I feed more zombies, because they don't eat as much, being undead? Or would I feed more cannibals, since they'd be interested in more than just my, you know, braaaaains?"

"I'm not sure it's important. It seems unlikely to me that you'll encounter either cannibals or zombies around here."

"You say that now, but when the zombie uprising comes - and it will come - you'll be glad for that information."

"Maybe we'll be raptured before then."

"Dude, zombies! The dead in Christ rising first! Maybe that will be the rapture."

*Puns in bad taste** to continue all month! Happy NaBloPoMo, tomorrow!

**Har!

Tricenarian

Oct 20, 2008
1 comment

Aaron turned thirty this weekend, a milestone of superannuity I've been gloating about since his birthday last year (because thirty is so, like, old!, at least when the gloater is twenty-seven); and to celebrate I threw him a 1978-themed party. This translated mainly as "disco," since Saturday Night Fever came out in '77 and disco fever was still going strong when Aaron was born (this according to Wikipedia, since I wasn't alive then, which I believe I've mentioned). We urged guests to come attired in late-70s clothing, and I was pleasantly surprised when nearly all of them did.

For myself I had the bright idea to dress as Velma from Scooby Doo, and promptly fell completely in love with the notion before I investigated enough to realize that finding an orange sweater or a red pleated skirt at the Goodwill store is not necessarily a sure thing. I ended up buying a white sweater and tights and dying them orange, and dying a pleated khaki maternity skirt that I have NO INTENTION OF WEARING AGAIN red, although the skirt could've used another round of dye as I ended up looking rather monochromatic. I did happen upon a pair of red shoes at Wal-Mart, which not only complemented the Velma outfit but several other outfits in my closet as well. To make up for the not-quite-red skirt, I spent the evening squealing "Jinkies!" at everything; and in one life-imitating-art moment, I set my glasses somewhere and then couldn't find them again, which would've been the perfect beginning to a plotline involving a haunted factory and a ghost who turned out to be old Mr. Jenkins from the fairground, who would've gotten away with it if, etc.

Jinkies!

1 comment

For Aaron, I bid on a few leisure suits on ebay; but they all sold for $60 or more, which was my entire party budget; so he ended up in a pair of polyester pants from the thrift store and a button-down shirt from his closet. Oh, and also a $10 afro wig from Target, which made the look, if you ask me.

I love the idea of throwing parties, but when it comes to the actual implementation, I'm hopeless. So I plagiarized all the ideas for Aaron's birthday party off of the internet. Well, most of them. I am rather proud of the cake I baked him, my one original touch:

Apple cake

A thirty-year-old logo for a thirty-year-old techie! Aaron was pleased with it, which is good, because making this cake was a royal pain in the pastryhole. Not because of the cake itself - which I made using the very best chocolate cake recipe in the known universe - but because I have never actually made a layer cake before, or decorated one. But what better time to learn than on a cake I was going to be feeding to 20 people, right? We are not big on practice runs here. The first complication came when I discovered that a three-layer cake is too tall for the lid of my cake stand, which meant I had to rig a complicated system of aluminum foil and Saran Wrap to cover the cake. More troubling was the process of decorating it with actual icing squeezed through an actual decorator's tip, which I went out and bought specially for this cake, which in my imagination was going to be a masterpiece of corporate-logoed art, and which originally was going to feature Aaron's name written in the very font (Motter Tektura; I asked Wikipedia) used in the original Apple logo, in chocolate. That wouldn't be hard at all! Why else would they call something easy a "piece of cake"? Never mind that even trained professionals often fail at cake decorating. In fact, I ended up scraping the top layer of icing off of the cake three times before I was finally happy with it, and the final product was quite different from how it had looked in my head. (Also, the cake leaned a bit.) But still! Apple cake!

Me and my mother-in-law

We held the party in Aaron's parents backyard, which is big and perfect for bonfires, as opposed to ours, which is tiny and full of plastic toys. We greeted the guests with a basket full of mustaches, an idea that I borrowed from Melissa, who borrowed it from the Kirtsy party - thanks, Internet! Aaron thought I was insane when I informed him that I had ordered six dozen mustaches from Oriental Trading Company, but he underestimated the power of mustaches to amuse adults for an entire evening.

Matt, with 5 mustaches

Also, I underestimated the power of mustaches to make regular people look like pedophiles.

Matt and Claire

We set up a photo booth - another idea I stole from the Kirtsy party, although ours had a much lower budget, as it involved a white sheet and Aaron's brother taking pictures - with some 70s clothes I got at thrift stores, plus an assortment of wigs and feather boas. Our friends aren't the ostentatious type, so it took some coaxing before we got people loosened up enough to pose. And since our guests were mostly Aaron's coworkers from church, it wasn't like we could get them drunk to let down their guard. Still, we ended up with some terrific pictures, even of my straightlaced in-laws.

The party was heavily influenced by the internet, but that's not to say it was always a good influence:

Do the Hustle!

Last week I found a YouTube tutorial for The Hustle. We moved our stereo speakers outside and I had a four-hour disco playlist on my iPod; and somehow when The Hustle came on, I found myself teaching it to people. I say somehow, but actually I spent the week before the party dancing along with the YouTube guy and reading the moves out loud so David and Noah could follow along (Noah has spent the past several days chanting, "Eggbeater! Chicken dance! Five, six, seven, eight!" at odd moments). I am a crummy dancer, but the late seventies were rife with crummy dancing, so it wasn't a bad fit, even with no alcohol to fuel the disco inferno.

Anyway, Aaron said he had a great time, and I didn't want to kill myself when it was over, so in my opinion that makes it a successful party. And now he has three years to plan my 30th birthday party, which I hope will involve roller skating and legwarmers.

Counsel

Sep 19, 2008
1 comment

What with my being on bed rest, followed by being awash in that motherhood hormone cocktail that renders inconsequential anything that doesn't directly relate to delicious baby toes, I've let my appearance slide down my personal priority list until it came to rest somewhere just above cleaning around the bathtub with q-tips and an old toothbrush. So while I was busy nibbling Peter's wee phalanges I let my hair go something like six months without so much as a trim, and my sculpted short cut grew into a sort of amorphous shag. Today, finally, I managed an hour to myself and the presence of mind to spend it on an eyebrow wax and a haircut instead of slurping down a frappuccino with a library book like I usually do when I find myself childless and out on the town; and when I checked myself out in the rearview mirror driving home, I was satisfied to see that I no longer look like a stylistically-challenged werewolf.

However. Under interrogation, Aaron admitted that he's not a fan. "It's just so...short."

"It's the same haircut I had before. Back when I used to, you know, get haircuts."

"I liked that you were growing it out."

"I'm pretty sure you're never supposed to tell a woman you don't like her haircut. Wasn't this in your handbook: White Lies To Tell Your Wife?"

"Handbook, har. I should be so lucky."

These are the types of things that would've been useful in our premarriage counseling - forget all that nonsense about household budgeting and how many children you'd like to have. For the husbands, a handy list of Answers to Your Wife's Questions: Your haircut is stunning; those pants assuredly do not enlarge your hindquarters in any way; there is nothing I would rather have for dinner than leftovers; foreplay is my favorite part, too; of course I love your mother. And for brides-to-be, tips on winning over your mother-in-law, understanding the intricacies of football, how to cook with lots of cheese, and maybe some bedroom tips borrowed from Cosmo. Get on it, premarriage counseling industry.

Meat.

Jul 25, 2008
1 comment

"Okay, it says to shape it into a loaf about nine inches by four to five inches."

"Nine inches, huh? I've got something I can measure that with, heh heh."

"I think you're thinking of the four to five inches."

"Oh, how quickly you forget."

It's really not that complicated

Nov 28, 2007
Post a comment

Aaron is looking at me with a wide-eyed look of horror and fascination that he usually reserves for when I'm trying to explain the plot of Passions, because I have just walked into the living room carrying a fork, a tin of ground black pepper, and an opened 28-ounce can of diced tomatoes. I am sitting on the couch, I have added about three tablespoons of pepper to the tomatoes, and now I am eating them. With gusto. And the fork. I am trying to justify this to him, but he is just not understanding that what this baby needs right now is hot and sour soup and the Chinese place closed an hour ago and the only thing in our kitchen that the baby would accept as a substitute is canned tomatoes suffocated in black pepper, WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND??

Where's the beef?

Aug 16, 2007
3 comments

"I've gotta run, sweetie. That ground beef is on the stove - will you just drain it and put it in the fridge?"

"That depends. Will you drain MY beef?"

"Okay, that sounds gross. No, I will not drain your beef."

"Maybe I can use my beef to... stuff your taco!"

"Aaron! I have to go!"

"Or maybe I could flip your burger! Or bake your meat loaf!"

"Okay, I'm late, I'm leaving, goodbye!"

"Or season your chili..."

You've got the best of my love

Jul 23, 2007
1 comment

If he didn't know it before, he'd better realize that there is no better proof of my devotion to him than that I am LETTING HIM READ THE NEW HARRY POTTER BOOK BEFORE ME.

The best part is the traditional sixth anniversary gift.*

Jul 13, 2007
Post a comment

Love

Saturday will be Aaron's and my sixth wedding anniversary, as well as the tenth anniversary of the day he awkwardly asked me, over the phone, if I would be his girlfriend. At age fifteen I had quite the rich inner fantasy life, but I truly had no idea ten years would bring me to this point. I have had the unlikely blessing of marrying (quite young) my high-school sweetheart, an amazing man who provides for me and takes care of me, who puts up with (and even encourages!) my wackiness and quells my mood swings. My husband is an amazing father, a tender lover, and a steadfast friend. He loves me when I'm grouchy, and he swears my flabby, stretch-marked body still turns him on (I wouldn't have believed him, but, well, I've seen proof*). Even though we are broke and tired and stretched too thin, even though some days we frustrate each other so much that we want to strangle each other or slam the door and go marry someone who isn't a pain in the ass (i.e., is fictional), we still talk (or shout) through our problems, and we still go to bed together every night, and he still kisses me goodbye every morning. Even if I'm grouchy, or I haven't yet brushed my teeth.

So I'm pretty sure I'm the luckiest woman in the world. Aaron, I love you. Happy anniversary.

*Wood. (Har!)

Desperate

Courtship

Donner, party of six*

Tricenarian

Counsel

Meat.

It's really not that complicated

Where's the beef?

You've got the best of my love

The best part is the traditional sixth anniversary gift.*

About Me

I heart:

My Groups

Neighborhood

Tags

Archives

Twitterpated

12 posts tagged “aaron”

I heart:

Archives

Subscribe

Twitterpated