MILs

View from the Balcony

 We woke up to the sound of the waves gently rolling on the shore. The light is very muted here since it’s “rainy season”. For some reason, laying in bed listening and letting my unfocused eyes wander around the shell-shaped swoops of the textured ceiling I thought it would be cold outside. The AC isn’t on very high and the temperature is pleasantly in between cool and comfy-warm.

 

We’re here to get married. Which is exciting! And I am so glad to be here for a host of reasons that are unrelated to the wedding that’s sorta hard to sort them all out:

 

• I get to see Calle. (This is my friend from New Zealand and it will be twice in her 3-ish years there that I’ll see her. When she moved down under I had resigned myself to the occasion email.)
• I successfully got my dress here. (It was a royal P.I.T.A. carrying it through the airports and the planes didn’t have a closet for it as promised. I have no idea what shape it’s in after being smooshed in the overhead bin on top of everyone’s roll-aboard carry-ons…we’ll find that out later today.)
• I am on VACATION! (I stayed up all night before the trip trying to get caught up. I really should just work 10 hours every day – including weekends. It would be a lot easier in the end. I got my hours in at the layover at Phoenix and while there are 2 things I promised to get done before I left that I didn’t…well, someone else will figure them out. And hopefully have forgotten that I dumped that on them when I get back to work in a couple weeks.)
• Iggy, while a nervous traveler, seems to be a great companion (not only for trips but in general).
• One set of in-laws is here and that is going well…which brings me to the something I’ve been thinking about for a couple days.

 A couple of days ago a friend of mine posted on her Facebook wall “my MIL makes my life difficult”. And this weekend I’m about to gain two MILs. So how should I approach this?

 

I had a MIL once. She was great – fun, adventurous, brave, successful, smart, savvy. But she made my life difficult too. Her son, my ex, always chose her over anyone else. Granted I was easy-going at first. So every time he wanted to spend Christmas at my in-laws’ house – and there was always a good reason why we needed to, some saddening life event, some challenge she was facing, etc. I said “Ok, but next year maybe we can go visit my folks or have people come to our house.” It never worked out that way. And he was always wanting to go to their house in the mountains and spend the weekend. Every vacation we went on while we were married, they went too. She was cool, but I was second fiddle.

 

So I got to thinking about that. My ex-MIL was someone I really liked and actually liked hanging out with. Just not for every free moment. And my ex didn’t really see what I was complaining about – I mean his mom was cool, so what was my deal? So does anyone think their own mom would be a difficult mother-in-law?

 

Then I realized that this isn’t the point. For my own mom, we have differences, sure. But I have a lifetime of getting to know her and getting used to the nuances of what makes her happy or sad. So anyone coming into the picture now is a couple of decades behind me in figuring this situation out – they’ve got some adjusting to do. I think it’s like a foreign culture, almost, to try and learn how someone else’s family works. Do they brush their teeth before or after breakfast? Is it acceptable to have a nightcap before bed? Do they eat meat? Do they like to debate at the dinner table? Do they pray before dinner?

 

Anyways – here’s to adaptability and new adventures! I hope this weekend of all our families and friends meeting goes well. I’d hold my breath, but I’d probably pass out. And the scenery’s too pretty to miss…

 

See the bee?

Quality Time at the Ballgame

So, before you go and think that I never actually watch the game when I'm at the Rockies, here's a picture of the game -- you can see the baseball and everything:

 

Now on to the non-baseball part of the night.

It was an interesting night before we even got to the game.  Iggy, Becca and I had sorta planned to eat before going into the game, but Becca didn't get here as soon as I'd estimated based on her IM saying "leaving soon".  And when she got here, I looked at the time and said "I think we'll have to eat in Coors Field" -- more so we were all on the same page about the initial destination than anything.  I'd worked on my stuff right up until the last minute so it wasn't like I was sitting at the door going "WHERE *IS* SHE?!".  But I made her feel bad that she'd screwed up the plans.  (sigh)  At least she shrugged it off easily.

Then we seemed have front row for everyone making out.  I think July 6th must be National Make-Out Day, but somehow the holiday was left off my calendar.  I'm not big on PDA for myself, and so I'm not being hypocritical when I prefer that they wait until they get home for tongue action.  At least on the train.  And in the ball field.  The couple right in front of us was pretty impressive.  They arrived in the 2nd inning.  Each had a beer in each hand.  Then they left at the top of the 4th and came back later with round 2 of 2 beers each.  They left in the 6th.  I hope neither of them was driving.  During the time they sat in front of us their vocalizing went from cheering for the players/friendly banter to a fight to making up (tongue action) to the decision to leave while they were both still in the mood.  I suppose they could've come back (we left not too long after them)...

So of course I'm sitting there thinking about communication (my slip with Becca) and couples (well they WERE right in front of us).  Getting married soon has me worried about communicating and keeping that up -- it's a lot of work.  It's worth it, but it's never really easy.  And just when you think things are going along fine is really when they're all about to blow up.  Or maybe I'm really just a closet pessimist.  That's about when I looked to my left and saw this woman:

I basically get this:  it's a nice night out and she gets to spend time with her honey.  And she gets to do something she likes.  I just wonder what the conversation went like where you arrive at it being OK to spend money to sit at a game and read a book.  OR maybe she lost a bet.  At least she was in the nose-bleed section, right?

Fashion Cents (Tales of Bridezilla, part 2)

We were sitting at the Rockies game tonight and I got to thinking about fashion.  No, silly, I was still following the game, but it's sorta hard to see the game when you're sitting on the aisle and people keep walking up and down *supposedly* in between at-bats.

Just FYI, I would spend the rest of my life in my favorite jeans (if I could just lose this darn 15lbs I gained in the last 2 years), a tank-top bra, sweatshirt and my trusty Ecco Receptors if I had the choice.  I dress up to go to the office under great duress because I find all business clothes stuffy, uncomfortable and pretentious.  Or slutty.  There seems to be no middle ground.

So I color me incredibly surprised when I am totally excited about a wedding dress.  I don't quite know what to make of it.  But even the whole fairy-tale thing seems to come into focus for me with Iggy.  I have never been so girly in my whole life really.  When I went through the whole wedding thing before it was basically because my best friend was a fabulous party planner and I figured it was just me that couldn't grasp why you'd have a big day of pretending to be fabulous and wearing a $2000-single-use-dress.

Anywho...the Rockies game.  I saw a lot of flipflops and sneakers pass by.  But I also saw a surprising number of high heels.  Who wears high heels to a baseball game?  On a Tuesday night?  These women were uber cute - nice designer handbags (also a new weakness of mine - wtf???), cute mini skirts, trendy flowy "jackets" over a camisole with some glittery beaded necklace.  I love high heels even if I don't wear them much (I seem to already be sorta tall) and I find it fun to wear them with jeans.  I have been known to wear them to bars too -- but the point is to look sexy there.  I wouldn't wear them to a sporting event because there are lots of sticky children and people spilling mustard and beer on you there.  And I just really don't want that all over my toes...or my fancy shoes I guess.  I just rinse my sneakers off if they get dirty, but I'm not so sure my cute shoes would hold up to that.

Earlier today while I was in a meeting, er, while I was on a break, I surfed for a picture of a wedding dress I saw in some bridal magazine (oh gag me -- a bridal magazine?!? what is happening to me?).  The picture was 1.5 inches by 1 inch so you really couldn't see it.  But the picture I found on the web was...well, I am sure that is a $2000 (or more) dress.  And after all the shoes and put-together women passing by, I am sorta thinking that even though that dress would probably make me into a Greek Goddess (probably Athena and not Aphrodite -- don't get too carried away here, I'm not quite *all* that), I think I have the wrong hair.

Huh?

I recently got about 14 inches of hair chopped off for a hairstyle that looks like this:

Granted, Katie Holmes is much cuter than me and could certainly pull off Aphrodite in the expensive gown.

But at the moment I picture my hair matching something more like this dress:

Which is, of course, uber cute and uber fashionable and uber un-pull-off-able for someone that really, really, really doesn't like to be the center of attention.

This is more of the hair that I would need for the dress I saw:

But Salma Hayek could pull off any dress.

I dunno.  I have zero fashion sense.  I just know that cents-wise I would have a hard time paying a lot of money for a one-time-wear-dress.  So I am not sure I am going to go try on that dress...or if I do, I will pretend to you later that it only cost $200...

Be Careful What You Read (or The Search for the Best Burger)

My brother went to New England Culinary Institute and has had an interesting string of jobs:

• fine dining in Chicago where he got to shop for fresh ingredients and determine what the nightly special would be
• worked at a Alzheimer's center where he managed his budget so well that he hired another person, bought new stuff for the kitchen AND in a place where the residents were chronically underweight he was praised for making food so good that they actually ate and gained weight (it's a funny world where you  hear "congrats - your residents are getting fatter!!!")
• wine store manager - my personal favorite since this was in town and I frequently got great tips on wine selections, samples, etc.  I should write about the time I asked the wine store clerk to go to Rome with me...but that's for another day.

At any rate, my brother, Henry, has always been more interested in reading nonfiction while I almost always prefer fiction.  It's one of the many ways we're different.  When he moved Colorado and I was trying to reconnect with him after not really seeing him in years, I asked what his favorite book was at the moment.  As kids we used to read a lot -- it was an easy way to entertain ourselves with all the road trips and on those days where you just weren't up to trying to communicate with the neighbor kids that didn't speak the same language as you.  And I've always felt that what a person reads tells me a lot about them.  Sorta like a horoscope or palm reading for the bibliophile (and just as accurate -- haha).

He gave me a copy of The Best Food Writing for the previous year by Holly Hughes.  I kinda perused the table of contents, saw that it was a collection of articles from various sources, and asked him if he had a recommendation of where to start.  (I rarely read books like that in any sort of conventional order.)  In his typical enigmatic way, he shrugged and said "I thought this was one of the better years, so any place is good."

I'm a fan of hamburgers and fries, so the first article I read was on some author's search for the best burger ever.  This was a terrible idea.  It got me thinking about what I liked and sorta changed my outlook.  No longer was I interested in fast-food burgers -- maybe that's not so bad, but wait.  I kept thinking about the burgers I really liked:  Chili's Ground Peppercorn Burger, Red Robin's Banzai Burger, etc.  The article's author talked about several "high-end restaurant" burgers and what goes into a burger and quality of meat and other ingredients.  I was craving burgers.  I went to Red Robin.  That didn't help.  The next day I went to Chili's.  That didn't help.

The next day I caught up with my brother and told him about the article and that it had me on this odd, insatiable quest for a supreme burger.  He smirked.  Clearly I was highly suggestible and an amateur at what was a occupational hazard for him (as a chef he must read tons of articles on food and preparation).  How is he not like 300lbs?  He's tall (6-foot, plus or minus), thin, with the teeniest hit of a belly.  I found out later that after cooking all day, he's sick of it.  His pantry is stocked with cereal and his frig holds a couple sodas and some milk.  His wife won him over by making him a dinner of macaroni and cheese (presumably from a box) -- she's quite proud of this and I love her for it.

"Maybe just read the next article -- and you'll be onto another quest," quipped Henry.  Brilliant.  Frustrating.  I had the urge to stand on his feet and pull his hair again like I did when we were kids.  Except he's a lot taller than me now and that probably wasn't the way to get to know him again.

It didn't work, by the way.  I'm still looking for great burgers.  Which is why when I saw (via facebook) a list of the restaurants that are in some local Denver burger contest later this year, those restaurants moved to the top of my dining out adventures list.

The first one we tried was Argyll.  It's a "gastropub".  ...? I had to look that up -- basically it seems to me that it's pub food "kicked up a notch" as Emeril would say.  It seemed like a Scottish pub in my completely inexpert opinion -- on the lower level of a small shopping block, dark, a little noisy, bottles of wine on the wall (I'm always tempted to order one just to see the guy take it off the wall), our waiter was wearing a plaid newsboy hat, there was a framed kilt next to our table... 

Here's what I was after -- and why Argyll made it to the top of my list in my current burger quest.

The Argyll Burger Ground Lamb and Beef Patty on a Potato Bun w/ Harssa Aioli & Hand Cut Fries. Optional toppers:  avocado, fried egg, bacon, Cheeses:  English Cheddar, Stilton Bleu, Gruyere, Haystack Goat

When I ordered their signature burger, I said to the waiter "I'm having trouble deciding if I should get cheese on it -- what do you recommend? Cheddar?"  The waiter said, "Whoa! Let me stop you right there.  Since you can get a fried egg, bacon and goat cheese on it, most people do that -- it's like having 5 animals at once!"

Holy cow.

I didn't do it; I'm not that brave.  It was a great burger though.  But I can't say it's the best -- I have 9 more restaurants to try first -- but the bar is set pretty high now!


------
Postscript -- to complete the dinner review, here's the rest of what we tried:

Olives - Olives Marinated w/ Pepper Flakes, Anise and Orange Zest served with Feta and Garlic Confit
Fried Oysters 3 Fried Oysters w/ Horseradish, Ginger, Pickled Apples, Fennel & Watercress
Shephard’s Pie Layers of Stewed Lamb & Beef w/ Vegetables, Topped w/ Mashed Potatoes & Herbed Horseradish Croutons
Lemon Tart topped with blackberries and fried basil

The Olives were interesting -- temperature warm and a teeny bit spicy from the pepper flakes.  I like the Fried Oysters -- except that the fennel stayed with me throughout the entire meal (and even later!).  Iggy loved the Shephard's Pie (that's the spelling copied and pasted from their web site...not mine...maybe it's the Scottish spelling or maybe my spell checker is on the fritz) and he is going to try making it at home (yay!).  The only down side was being so full -- even an hour later when we got home I still felt really full.

 This was the only non-Scottish or non-food-themed thing I saw while there.  Is there a link between Scotland and Japan that I missed?

Jackson thinks I'm a Drama Queen

A friend of mine once told me a joke about "my dog must think I'm the greatest hunter since I come home from the store with chicken, pork, beef -- all at once and in only an hour or so."

I've always figured that this was basically true.

And if not, it's really fun to imagine how your dog sees the world without all the silly logic and convention that humans have. In fact, my new friend, Jackson, thinks I am the oddest, most unpredictable drama queen he's ever met. Can't you see the quizzical "what is your deal?" look in his eyes in this picture? Here's my best approximation of what he thinks about our relationship:

You know, it's an honor where I come from if someone sticks their nose in your crotch/butt. I don't know why you get all bent out of shape about this.

Or about mud. I don't yell at you or grab your feet and wipe between the toes when you come in from outside. If it's such a big deal, maybe you should invest in chocolate-brown carpet. I don't see any reason that you can't just leave the door to the back yard open all day. (I won't mind if you close it when it's time for bed.)

It's the neighbor dogs that bark. I just stand by the fence with my blinky ball in my mouth and wonder what their deal is. Ok, sometimes I do growl at them -- but it's only because they make no sense. Who cares if there's a fence there? I only bark at the mailman, the UPS guy, the FedEx lady, the snotty dog that gets to walk on my yard every day and people that don't belong on my block! Granted I'd be happier if most people would choose to use a different sidewalk for walking, but is that so much to ask?

Oh, and I bark at Iggy when he coughs or sneezes because I really don't think those things are healthy. We need to keep him in the pack because he is the best hunter in all the land -- you should see the stash he comes home with every day! Although he seems to not be able to find rawhides as often as he should given his obvious hunting prowess...it's really odd.

Speaking of food, why do you think I want to eat the same food every day? You have something different 3 or 4 or 5 times a day!!! Would it kill you to put some some gravy on my kibble?

If I lay down when I sit by the table at dinner, then I can't really see if you're going to drop something. It's better if I sit next to you and watch closely. Then I can clean up your precious carpet before that food gets ground in there and makes a stain. (I would do this for you, out of the goodness of my heart, even if you got that chocolate-brown carpet.)

I would like to eat that dumb cat that keeps walking on the backyard fence. Ooh! Who does she think she is? Grrrrrr!

I like your pillow and the soft blanket for the same reason you do -- they're comfy. And really, I have been sleeping on that side of the people-bed for a few years now and no one's ever had a problem with it. I like the floor-bed-thingy you got me -- thanks. Now I have one more place to nap during the day. Sometimes it's hard to give all the spots equal time, but the floor-bed-thingy is not a replacement for the couch or the people-bed. And I've even added your office to the list of places to sleep. You should be honored! We can talk about your role in dispensing treats in between naps later -- you need some work on this part of your duties. I am *always* willing to go on a walk (despite your frequent, superfluous sit commands at every single, friggin' street) or car ride with you -- even at 6a.m. in the snow.

Which reminds me -- when I have my nose out the car window and am gulping air, then farting is an expression of joy. Don't knock it. And don't stop. It's hard to keep my balance with your crazy braking habits. Plus it turns off the breeze I was so enjoying.

The blinky ball is mine. Stop trying to take it away. I will allow you to play tug with it, but I do not want to "drop it". That's why I am chewing on it. Duh.

No, I don't want a bath. I don't mind licking myself. You're just jealous that you're not that flexible.

I like socks. Worn ones are better. Just because I carry them around the house doesn't mean you can blame me for the ones you've clearly misplaced in the dryer -- I only take "clean" ones when there's no other ones available.

I don't understand why you sit in the corner all day or why when you're clearly not enjoying talking to the phone you won't just put it down and let me out. I whine to remind you that you're being unreasonable about this. Really you should consider not talking on the phone. It just pisses you off. Sometimes I tolerate your frequent "work breaks" to rub my back or belly. But mostly I like those -- keep that up.

Anywho-o-o-o...time to go nap in the sunbeam on the couch. Catch ya later.