Less Traveled By Makes All The Difference

So, you know all the bragging I do about being above that day-after-Thanksgiving ass-crack-of-the-morning sales hoo-ha? Yeah, I pretty much stick that right up my butt by being an after-Christmas-sale whore. Whore, I tell you! Nothing pleases me more than buying a cow's crapload of ribbons and paper and bows and tape and gift tags that I won't use for a whole year and shoving them in the attic. Rock my face off!

I dragged the poor GTF all over Target, dogdging hefty women dragging screaming bratty children in already-overstuffed shopping carts brimming with cheap stockings, just to get more rolls of our favorite wrapping paper and refills for the wrist tape dispenser (yes, I use a wrist tape dispenser. I am giant dork). Yeah. So I rewarded him by going to Best Buy, a.k.a. The Penis Enlargement Store (Not the he needs it. At all.). Ok fine, TMI, but still...anyhoo...

Worn out by our shopping and absolutely starving (well, okay, and out of spending money) we headed over one of fave hangouts, The Down Under Pub. If nothing else, we can count on it for good service and consistently-good fish 'n' chips and potstickers, totally decent chicken and burgers, just to mention a few. Yeah. So I'm guessing that's why I decided to try something new- the Mick Pepper Shrimp on the Barbie. Oh you know, be spontaneous and daring. Oh I'm sorry, did I say daring? I meant stupid.

Note to self: don't do this at an Australian grill when you're starving and don't know what the word "glaze" means.

The GTF's fish and chips come out looking perfectly normally. Great. Good for him. Then the restaurant manager with the-bizarrely-shiny bald pate slides my double rack of shrimp under my nose. He mutters "Everything look okay?" and manages to scoot away to wax his head before I can ask him why there is what appears to be homemade strawberry preserves slathered on my perfectly good jumbo shrimp. "What the...?"

I grab the menu, certain I've been given the wrong thing. But no, not quite. Apparently, I stopped reading after "seasoned with Mick's pepper". Otherwise I would have also read "and covered in a succulent Mick's pepper glaze". Sure enough, I peer closer and notice small black specks in the reddish jelly. Next to the shrimp, I'm lucky enough to have an extra ramekin of this so-called glaze. Score. Anyone who knows me also knows I do not mix fruit with my meat. Orange chicken! Peached pork! Gag me!

The GTF, who managed to stifle a laugh while explaining "glaze" is synonymous with "sweet", patiently suggests I order something else. Neither Shiny Pate Manager nor our pixie-like waitress is in sight. I merely shake my head as I begin to mop my shrimp with paper napkin in the same manner a mother might blot mashed carrots from a baby's face. Then that old 1980s Reese's commercial pops into my head.

"You got your shrimp kabob on my strawberry toast!"
"You got your strawberry toast on my shrimp kabob!"
"Mmmmmm!"

Yeah, not so much. I manage to do enough mopping (and dousing with salt and pepper) to make it taste somewhere close to normal and less like some bizarre seafood fruit salad. I can only imagine the poor waitress's puzzled expression when she cleared our plates, along a dozen paper napkins stuffed with strawberry jelly.

Posted by Minxen at 07:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There`s no such thing as a perfect person. Right? Bueller? Bueller?

Okay fine, then why is this man, um, perfect? Well okay, he`s not perfect. But he`s perfect for me. And it still terrifies me that (a) such a specific set of circumstances led us to be together, and (b) I don`t want to do anything to f*ck it up. He has made me a better person by allowing me to be me— and loving me for it. ::sigh:: So I said all that to say this: this holiday proved to be the embodiment of the holiday season for me. He was- I mean it was- wonderful. Yeah, he was wonderful too.

We put up decorations together: he let me put stuff wherever I wanted to and I got to put all my ornaments on his giant 12-foot tree. He even loved my idea of turning a pretty tablecloth into a tree skirt.

We shopped like maniacs: he helped me pick out slippers for my brother and even waited patiently while I picked out shirts and looked at purses. He even managed to sneak a couple surprises in for me. He was so patient.

We wrapped gifts: from eight in the evening till two in the morning, we sat in a pile of paper and bows and ribbon while I got tape stuck in my hair and cut paper crooked. And he didn`t even criticize the way I wrap presents. He actually likes it!

We hosted Christmas at our house: he graciously welcomed by family into our house, helping me make up the guest room for them and even buying them Christmas pajamas. He reveled in their company as we baked and ate and talked and laughed. He loves my family, and they deserve to be loved.

Even more than usual, he kissed me often and for no reason as we prepared our holiday meal and watched Christmas movies. We cuddled in the front of the fire, and he doesn`t let my mom give me a hard time.

I could quite literally go on for pages until you`re all vomiting into your coffee cups and martini glasses. But I won`t.

Ooh! Ooh! Christmas pickle! So there`s this German tradition of hiding a glass ornament shaped like a large dill pickle on the tree. Whoever finds the Christmas pickle gets an extra present. Yes, Germans are weird. Whatever. So yeah, we`re done opening gifts on Christmas morning. My family (and his) are sitting around the living room, and GTF announces it`s time to look for the Christmas pickle. Under the tree is a good sized box with the tag reading To: The Pickle Finder. I hang back, letting our houseguests search for the elusive green pickle.

Then the GTF insists I search, too, and I do. Embarrassingly, it takes me a while but I end up finding the pickle, and I am handed the sought after pickle present. I open it to reveal the special edition red iPod Nano that I had wanted more than anything this year. Apparently, the GTF has instructed everybody that the pickle search was going to be a surpise for me and they should all play along. I.love.surprises. He knows it, and that made me feel so incredibly special. ::sigh::

What`s more, not only did I get to enjoy the full extent of the holidays with the man I`ve always wanted to love me, but I also had my family right there with me. This is the first year I`ve been blessed enough to be with both the man I love and my family at the same time. And everybody likes everybody else! I know this shouldn`t seem like such a novel concept, but for me it is, and I still can`t quite take it all in sometimes. It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

There were so many times during the past weekend where I would simply stand back and watch my dad and the GTF talk about going hunting, my mom and his mom talking about recipes, the GTF hugging my mom and telling her how nice she looked.

The only thought I had was This is how it`s supposed to be. This- this right here- is was I`ve been missing, what I`ve been looking for. I don’t know how I got so lucky. But I did.

Tomorrow- jellied shrimp and just desserts.

Posted by Minxen at 06:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Yes, I'm attempting to ease back into the world of HNT. And since I'm feeling a bit naughty, I'm taking this one a bit goth. Enjoy and ::MWAH::

Posted by Minxen at 12:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

Have you ever waited fervently for perfect ______? The perfect what, Babs? You left out the key word there. Yes, I know. Have you ever had something in your life, whether it be the ultimate sour appletini or the perfect life partner, and you know you haven`t found just right one but you’re positive you’ll know it when it comes along? Confused yet?