O Tannenbaum

Our first Christmas tree as married people is awesome, and this is why:

Awesome thing #1: We found a great deal on it and the store was out of stock so they let us buy the floor sample. (Husband didn't think stores did that and was embarrassed when I asked, and this is the second time it's worked.  The first time involved a lamp.)

Awesome thing #2: I had a hunch if I hoarded items throughout my single life they'd come in handy as a married person and I was right.  Good thing I remembered on my wedding day to grab the tree skirt that's been chillin' in my cedar chest since I was 14.

Awesome thing(s) #3: Our tree is multi-cultural.  Ornaments include:

• miniature disco balls from Taiwan purchased when I went there for my brother's wedding
• olive wood cut outs from Jerusalem from my semester in Israel
• a couple of do-dads from China given to me by a friend who made a trip last year
• a felted boot from Steamboat Springs picked up during our honeymoon
• a Tiffany-esque stained glass harp from my trip to Ireland
• old fashioned home-made paper decorations made with love here in the US of A.  

(All ornaments actually purchased on-location by myself or others. Not just like, stickered with "made in China".)  We also have a few fake Gerber daisies stuck in the tree as well (we had to get creative) given to me by my old roommate who is Mexican, but I don't know if that counts.

Awesome thing #4:  It's ours.

Those are totally homemade stockings on the wall.  Crafty wife FTW.

Something about this boy makes me bad at preparing rice

The first meal I ever prepared for my husband (we were acquaintances at the time) was the same meal I made for myself tonight: Ling Ling Potstickers and rice.  My dinner tonight was waaay better than that first attempt.  You'd think this would be the easiest meal ever; it involves boiling the potstickers for 5-6 minutes and cooking rice and water for 20 min or so.

Somehow my roommate and I were way off with the rice vs water proportions and all attempts to rectify the situation were unsuccessful.  The rice was under-cooked and burned all at the same time.  We openly acknowledged our failure because I think the next worse thing to ruining dinner is to have the dinner guests feel obligated to eat and like it anyway. He and his roommate who participated in the meal were very gracious and mostly avoided the rice per our suggestion.  I remember feeling like this was an opportunity to prove myself as a capable cook to two handsome single men that I wanted to take me on a date (not at the same time), and I'd failed miserably.

I promise I'd cooked good rice before, but I don't think I have ever cooked good rice since.  I remember the right proportions now, but something goes wonky every time and it comes out too wet or too dry, overcooked or under-cooked. I still eat it, as punishment for my failure.  He still eats it, because he loves me (or is just not motivated to make a new batch himself... let's be real, it's probably that).

The last batch I made was the best so far, but that isn't much praise.  Its like being optimistic about job growth when the percentage is only back to sorry threshold it started at (zing!  sorry I've been reading politics most of the evening so I can feel like an informed voter).  The batch was still a bit dry, but at least it wasn't wet and congealing.  It makes me feel slightly better to learn that the altitude may have something to do with my failures, but only slightly.  It's still just grain and water.  How can somebody screw it up so many times?

Yesterday he made the rice for our lunch, probably the first or maybe second time since our marriage.  It turned out perfectly.  I don't know how he does it.  I vote him rice master of the family in perpetuity.

A few things

The good news is I'm not allergic to pineapple or anything else I ingested the night before anaphylaxis.  The bad news is I'm not allergic to pineapple or anything else I ingested the night before anaphylaxis, yet I still went into anaphylaxis and I have no idea why.  Its like living with a live wire.  I keep EpiPen nearby.

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My name is officially changed on the records of the Social Security Administration of the United States of America.  I am Sadie Hopkins.  And I'm officially one of those people.  Those people you tell your friends and coworkers and the people you sit by on the train that you know somebody whose name sounds like something ridiculous. 

"I know this girl, after she got married her name was Sadie Hopkins!  Almost like Sadie Hawkins!  Hahahaa! So funny!"

I know this will happen because I do it.  I guess turnabout is fair play.  It's a really good thing I love my husband and embrace his name. No need to leave a comment because it will probably fall into one of the following categories:

1. OMG!  I totally didn't realize that!  That's funny/awesome/amazing/[insert overused adjective]!
2. Awe, I think your name is cute...!  Love you! ;-)
3. Neither of the above, but something trying to be witty or original but sounds forced and lame instead

It may be callous, but I'd rather you didn't comment on it at all.  I've had Sadie Hawkins comments my whole life, and now it's even worse.  Newsflash: I know my name and what it sounds like, so no need to bring it up.  To me it represents my commitment to our family unit and because of that I love it.  Don't ruin it for me.

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I'm watching the presidential debate right now, mostly because it's being held down the street (literally, down the block from my apartment) and so I feel like I should watch it.  It will probably make me angry.  Most of the time I feel like both sides are talking in circles and saying the same thing in different ways.  It's hard to believe anything either side says.  They sound so mean criticizing each other and bending what's said.  It gives me anxiety and makes me want to punch everyone in the face.  I respect the office of the President, but I don't respect the way these people jocky for it.

 

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I posted some wedding and engagement photos on Facebook.  If we aren't facebook friends, or you don't feel like looking through a lot of pictures, I'll save you trouble and give you two of my favorites:

(c) Claire Marika Buys

(c) Lisa Wise Photography