- Stuffing 100 people in a back hallway waiting to be let into the theater was a bad idea. We're all getting hot and claustrophobic.
- If I paid for a life-size cardboard cutout of Robert Pattinson, would I fold him in half? I mean, sure, it makes him more travel-size, but then you just have a big RPatz with a crease in him.
- Will the half piece of Red Velvet Cheesecake in my purse go bad during the course of the two hour movie? (Added later: is said cheesecake still good if you forgot to put it in the fridge when you got home and it sat in your purse all night? I don't have the answer, except to tell you that I'm planning on eating it when I get home from work today.)
- Did people MAKE these glittery "Team Edward" shirts, or have I grossly underestimated the number of stores selling these?
- I ate too much Cheesecake Factory dinner to be wearing skinny jeans
- I'm pleasantly surprised at the type of people here. Definitely more "young moms gathering after work" than "shrieking emo teens wearing flannel."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
It was a good night. After the wedding we all went to an after party at a friend's house where we played pool volleyball until 3 in the morning. We had to get up at 7 the next day to fly home, but it was all worth it.
Monday, June 28, 2010
It sure was hot there. Phoenix may be sizzlin', but at least there's no humidity. This means that you don't sweat much, and even when you do it evaporates quickly. This isn't so in 85% humidity Oklahoma. Simply stepping out of the airport onto the street made me wilt. I felt like I was standing in the shower: not the part where you're actually under the water, but the other part at the other end where you stand when you're trying to soap down. I needed a snorkel to breathe.
On the first night there, a big group got together for dinner. Here I am with the bride, Lindsey, and Alexa.
Here are all of the groomsmen at the dinner. Sticking to the same color palate: planned? No. Awesome looking? You betcha.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Michael and I have both kind of laughed off this little fad, but never really had to worry about getting iced. Mostly because we don't go out that often and because I'm not, in fact, a "bro."
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
I love weddings for the following reasons:
- I love love
- I love seeing the things brides (and grooms) pick to make their special day important and unique. A wedding really tells you a lot about a couple, I think.
- I love wedding dancing. I don't like dancing in clubs because I hate the monotonous throbbing music and the repetitive grinding dance move you do over and over again for three hours. I like funky dancing. At weddings you are forced to do somewhat clean dancing because Dear Aunti Muriel is on the dancefloor. I like this. A lot.
- Vows. Whether they be the traditional ones or ones written by the couple. It makes me remember our vows and I always end up making my promises to Michael all over again.
- Seeing everybody get all dressed up in their finest. I'm obviously talking about the bride and the entire bridal party, but everyone else too. I think it's nice that we, as a society, deem proclamations of eternal love important enough to dress up for. Like saying, "I support your love, and will show it by wearing my good pearls and uncomfortable shoes." I don't know what I'd do if I was invited to one of those weddings in the parking lot of the Waffle House.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Yeah, I know it looks kind of funny. The instructions tell you to turn the jar upside down for five minutes while it sets. I might have accidentally left it like that for more like 40 minutes, so it looked like this. Don't worry, once I stirred it, it looks like normal jam again.It might be a tad stiffer than your typical jam. I had to improvise with measurements because I didn't have as much of everything as the instructions recommended, so my amount of pectin (firming substance) was a bit off.
Anyway, it's so delicious and tangy. Jam on!
Friday, June 18, 2010
We've left the land of cool evenings and lovely afternoons into the desolate, parched land of One Hundred Degrees Plus. Or more like One Hundred Ten Degrees Plus.
Oh, but it's so hot outside. What are we supposed to do when it's 115 degrees outside? People ask why we Arizonans aren't very tan in the summer. It's because it's too hot to stay outside. Even after dipping in the pool, the water evaporates off you after a minute and you're left baking like an ant under a magnifying glass.
So because the Arizona summer comes with so many 'cons,' I thought I'd make a list of 'pros' to try to trick myself into being glad the season has come.
- Arizona shopkeepers and restauranteurs seem intent on blasting their shops with the air of the Arctic. Now, when you step outside, you have a few wonderful moments of thaw that feel great
- I get to test out the "MAX COLD" air conditioning setting on the Prius
- The snow birds have left Arizona, making the roads a safer place. Side note: One time while getting off a ramp of the freeway, I was terrified to realize that a car was driving toward me in the wrong direction! I pulled off as far as I could and stared in horror at the oncoming driver. When I looked over, it was a little old lady who could barely see over the steering wheel. Thank goodness she soon pulled over after (seemingly) realizing what she was doing.
- Fewer people want to be in AZ. That means shorter wait times for restaurants, smaller crowds at movies, etc. etc.
- Red is a good color for me. As in, my face is constantly a shade of red from over-heating
- I get more exercise. I am now motivated to jog the 15 steps from my office to my car
- Saguaro cacti have stopped sprouting their strange buds that creep me out because they look like warts
- If the power ever goes out, I'll still be able to cook dinner on the sidewalk in front of the house
- My hair takes 30 minutes to dry naturally once out of the shower. No matter that it dries with a strange semi-wave and is ultra-staticky.
- We get to escape it all by GOING TO GREECE!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I'm pretty proud of myself because I only had one real awkward moment at the gathering, and I tend to be much more awkward than that in social situations. (In case you're interested, it involved me inviting myself over to the host's house so I could jump on their in-ground trampoline. I'd only just met them an hour before. I'm lucky Remi's parents are the sweetest people EVER.)
Saturday, June 12, 2010
It’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up in the moooor-ning!
It’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, it’s time to start your day!
This would usually be followed by one of two sayings. The first was “Up and at ‘em,” which until recently I thought was “Up and Adam.” For years I had a strange vague curiosity as to who “Adam” was.
The other sayings was, “Places to go, people to see, things to do!”
I would usually attempt some kind of go-back-to-sleep tactic while grumbling about Mom’s sunny devotion to being a morning person – a non-inheritable trait, it turns out. So while the wisdom of this bright Martin idiom might not have been evident to me at the time, it’s certainly come to some importance since.
The truth is that I love sleeping in. I love to sleep. I love the feeling of the cool sheets on your skin when you change positions in bed. But Michael could tell you how much I hate being cooped up in the house all day. On a day when we’ve been apart the whole day he’ll tenuously ask me, “Have you been out of the house yet today?” Usually because my mood is directly related to whether or not I’ve gotten fresh air and been exposed to sunlight.
Because the world is out there, breezing by in a unique way every single moment. There really are places to go, people to see, things to do…every single day. It’s so easy to miss them if we’re too lazy or too tired or too moody to appreciate them. We each have one life, and no one knows how long it will be.
I’m as guilty as anyone for taking moments for granted. For watching a marathon of America’s Next Top Model reruns instead of taking a walk or planting a peach tree or painting a fresco. But even now, six years since I’ve moved out of my parents’ home, sometimes Mom’s saying will creep into my consciousness and I’ll turn off the TV or set down the book and go make an adventure of my own.
I’ll get up. And Adam.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
English/Language Arts was always my favorite subject in school. Except for Ms. Gantert's class when I got in trouble for flirting with a boy and he didn't get in trouble for flirting back with me! The only thing I learned in that class was that some old ladies still favored sexism! (If I hear "boys will be boys" one more time...) Even when we were reading things I didn't particularly like (Their Eyes Were Watching God, anyone?), I still liked reading and could finish a story. In my life, I've hardly ever not been able to finish a book.
And in the last few months I've come across 6 books that I can't seem to get through.
1. East of Eden - recommended to me by my old boss (as in, he doesn't work there anymore. Not that he's particularly elderly) who I really liked, so I figured his suggestion was a good one. Not true. I mean, it's deep and all. It's just so. slow.
2. A Breath of Snow and Ashes - the sixth book in the Outlander series. This makes me particularly sad because I really enjoyed the first four books. Maybe it's because each book is about a thousand pages, but I'm just Outlandered Out.
3. Desperation - this cemented my feelings that I'm not a Stephen King fan unless he's writing under the pseudonym Richard Bachman. This was on audio book, so I did finish it. But it was painful.
4. The Warrior Heir - it should have been a tip-off that this audio book was found in the Young Adult section of the library. Are all modern authors just junk? Am I a cynic and a harsh judge because I want so desperately to be a writer and taken seriously myself? Where are the Jane Austens of our time?
5. The Mermaid Chair - also on audio book. This one was a #1 best seller, so I figured it had to be good, right? Never mind about the plight to find a current Jane Austen...this author tries so hard to be deep and poignant but ends up being obvious. I keep finding myself rolling my eyes in the car. I'm almost done with it, but keep deciding I'd rather listen to the sounds of traffic than listen to more of this book.
6. Stone of Tears - the second in the Sword of Truth series, recommended to me by Jaye. Loved the first one because of the romance. I've been told in advance that the second book has the two main characters separated the whole time. This is not providing much motivation to wade through nearly 1000 pages without any making out going on.
With the exception of the first Sword of Truth book, I haven't really found a book lately that I did like! What's happened to me?!?
Can anyone cure me of this literary apathy? Can anyone recommend a great read? There's not a lot I don't like, except for chairs of mermaids and Stephen King, apparently. It doesn't even have to be deep - I could really use some light cruise reading material!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
A long time ago my employer made the switch to four 8-hour days. I loved it. It was so wonderful having Fridays off. Every weekend was a long weekend. Thursdays were the new Fridays. Fridays were the new Saturdays. Saturdays were ... well, they still felt like Saturday, but like an extra Saturday because you still didn't have to get up for work the next day. I even worked sort of near the office, so those 10-hour shifts weren't too bad.
When management got changed, we reverted back to the five 8-hour days. I was pretty upset to be losing my 3 day weekends. Sayonara, extra sleep-in day! And by then we had moved into our new home, meaning one more day of a 50 minute commute! Ugh.
Well, I've gotten used to my 8-hour day. I enjoyed getting to work at 8am so I could leave at 4. I'd get home around 5, with plenty of time for the gym, making dinner and watching Jeopardy with Michael.
This is the first week of the official work summer calendar, which means we have the option to go back to a four 10-hour day week until August begins. In a lot of ways I've been looking forward to this for weeks: "Blessed long weekends, you have returned!"
So why am I dreading this return to the long short week? Is it because my commute is so much longer, meaning I might not get home until nearly 7pm, so I won't be able to get in all my extra curric's? I changed my hours to be 7-5 to accomodate a little, but still. Is it because the days just seem so long when they're 10 hours long? Is it because sitting in an office chair for 10 hours is making my butt feel like it's getting flatter and flatter? Is this scientifically possible?
Or will all these feelings fade away this Friday morning when I'm sitting on my couch in my sweatpants watching Robinhood: Prince of Thieves?
Please tell me (by way of poll over ----> there) which you would rather work.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Michael told me that wives making pancakes isn't exactly how Bachelor parties are supposed to go. :(
Tyler got in on Friday night so we headed to Z Tejas for dinner. We started the party weekend by maxing out with three Chambord Margaritas each. (They cut you off after three, but Tyler managed to get a fourth one). So great to see this guy!
The guys went out last night and stayed at the Valley Ho Hotel in Old Town, so I haven't even seen Russell yet. I've only spoken with Michael once since 6 pm last night, so at least I know they survived and didn't end up with a baby and a tiger in the bathroom. I did just get a phone call saying they were stopping at In and Out, so that sounds about right.
If I'd really thought about it, I could have made cupcakes that looked like boobs or something. That would be more acceptable than pancakes, right?
Thursday, June 3, 2010
But even though I have a new last name, I still consider myself a Martin, and have carried the Martin idioms with me into this new world of marriedhood. This is the first in what will be at least a five part series of Martin sayings that my parents taught me.
The first is "Martins Show Up." I was reminded of this gem by a long phone call with my dad a couple weeks ago. He was telling me how sad he was that he'd recently had to lay off a bunch of employees. They were good people who hadn't done anything wrong, just that their business had to let people go to be able to continue operating. After my dad (the vice president of the company) delivered the news personally to the employees, one stood up and thanked my dad for giving the news personally instead of staying locked up in his office behind a big desk to let someone else do the dirty work.
My dad told him that Martins show up.
When I was in high school I played for a soccer team that was probably one of the top four programs in Arizona. I loved the girls on this team. We'd traveled together, practiced a few times a week, won, lost, cried together. I had a managable relationship with the coach and had been with them since I moved to Arizona. But I wasn't getting help from the coach in getting college recognition, so I started guest playing with the #2 team in Arizona in tournaments that my regular team didn't get in to. (Don't talk to me about the #1 team. Is it offensive to call Sereno Nazi-ish? Sereno is a surefire way to kill your love of the sport). I found out that I liked these new girls too, it was a better team that was going to better tournaments and had college coaches at a lot of games. If I wanted to play soccer in college - and I did - this was a better club for it.
My parents and I sat down and tried to decide if I should permanently leave my old team and move to this new one. Not to let my histrionic side go wild, but this was the hardest decision of my life. I'm not kidding, I had nightmares. I didn't want to be a traitor to my old team, but I also didn't want to kiss my college dreams goodbye. I would wake up knowing what I should do, then wake up feeling a different way. In the end, I knew that staying with my old team would be simpler, but going to the new team would be right.
Other girls had left our team before. Normally they'd just stop showing up, or they'd have their mom call the coach and break the news that way. We would always hate it when girls would take this easy way out. My parents told me that Martins show up. It would certainly not be easy, but I owed my team a face-to-face explanation. So on what would prove to be an intensely difficult evening, I showed up at the next practice and told my girls - in tears - why I was leaving for another competing squad. Some girls were mad. Some understood. Some gave me a hug and cried too. Some walked off without saying goodbye.
It was so hard, but I'm glad I did it. It taught me that you can't run from a fight. If you're tough enough to make a choice for an action, you have to be tough enough to execute it with honor.
I hope you don't mind reading about my Martin Idioms. I thought about writing these a few weeks ago but hesitated because I worried it would seem like I'm bragging about how cool my family sayings are. Or whatever. But I couldn't think of much else to blog about lately and decided to go for it. If you're reading this blog, chances are you know me personally so you don't mind hearing about little things my parents taught me. Maybe you have your own family sayings? I'd love to hear about them in your own blog or in the comments.