The Trepid Art of Saying Thank You

I reached a major milestone last week. I attended my Weight Watchers meeting like I do every Thursday at 6:00pm. I'm always happy to go. My meeting leader, Carol, is a real hoot and always keeps us laughing and staying positive without ever going off the rah-rah-cheerleader deep end. Despite my being a person who tends to keep to myself in most places, I'm pretty talkative with the people who sit around me. Then again, we're all in the same boat there and we all tend to sit in the same places every week like kids in a classroom, so it's hard not to. At the end of each meeting, Carol reads off the names of the people who had great weight loss numbers that week. If you reach a milestone, like your 5% or 10%, or the 25 lb. or 50 lb. mark, it's a pretty big deal to everyone. A lot of times, when a member of the group gets to one of those points, it helps other members who might be struggling to keep going, so Carol always likes to recognize it.

So as usual, at the end of the meeting, she looked down her list of numbers for the week. I had a good number, so I knew she was going to mention me. When she got to me, she gave me a blank stare. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking, 'How can you be just sitting there being so quiet today of all days? Why aren't you jumping up and down with glee?' I guess I should've been. I reached the 60 lb mark. 60.4 to be exact. In Weight Watcher World, when you reach that kind of weight loss they expect you to be doing cartwheels down the aisles. But I wasn't. I was clammed up as if my mouth had been wired shut. Of course, she announced that I reached 60 lbs and everyone applauded for me...and I turned bright red. She then asked me to give the group some words of wisdom, which I guess I did....and then I turned even more red and wanted to bury my face in my purse. The thing is, I WAS excited. I was ecstatic actually....but only on the inside. On the outside I was oozing with embarrassment.

When I started this journey, it was for me and only me, and it still is. Along the way I've shared some of my milestones--like getting back into my favorite pair of jeans or seeing pictures of myself from a year ago that literally made my eyes bug out of my head. I've chronicled my weight loss in blogs, in emails, and even on facebook for all to see. But as I am losing more and more weight, I am struggling to show my excitement to others. When people pay me compliments, it often turns my stomach inside out with uneasy. I know why. Insecurity. Raging, painfully awkward, want to hide under a rock insecurities. Vulnerability. Resentment. These are all members of The Ugly Side of Losing Weight Club.

Losing weight is supposed to be a joy; a huge achievement. It is! It's amazing, it's empowering, it's hopeful. Clothes look and feel better, I don't get as winded anymore, and heck, I can cross my legs again! But for those out there losing weight who also bare a bit of a dark side within, as I do, losing weight can also be a cruel lesson in the realities of life. It's the realization that people are taking second glances at you, who never would have even looked your way before. People are nicer to you. They smile at you more. Suddenly, you're visible in a world where for the longest time, you were completely invisible. It can feel scary and awkward and rather intense. Despite having a husband who loves me no matter what and wonderful friends and family, the world can be a very lonely place to dwell when no one sees you for the person you know you are.

For me, it can bring out a bitterness. Recently, while sitting at a red light in my car, a man beside me gave me the look. You know what look I mean. Maybe some women find it flattering. I suppose it is to some extent. For a fleeting moment, it's a direct confirmation, 'Woohoo! My hard work is paying off!' But a second later, all I can think is 'Hmph...you wouldn't have been giving me that look sixty pounds ago...'. I have to remind myself, this person is a total stranger who knows nothing about me, nor anything about my weight struggles. I have no right to feel resentment towards him. But sometimes the reminder that people, not just men, pay you more attention in general when you're thinner cannot be ignored.

I know I'm not alone in these feelings. Many times I've taken to the message boards on the Weight Watchers website for support and see that many others question and contemplate the same feelings. The responses that people give tend to always dance around the same idea--just say thank you. If someone pays you a compliment, just say thank you. If somebody smiles at you, just smile back and move on. Don't dissect the looks or the words. Just say thank you. They have a point...

Do I ever dissect peoples' words and compliments? Um...yeah...I believe I've done that once or twice. Do I have a tendency to worry that as I announce how many pounds I've dropped and still want to lose that people are secretly trying to figure out my starting weight? ...Occasionally. Do I need to just suck it up and stop worrying about what other people think and say thank you when they pay me a compliment?...

....Err............yes?........

So what's my problem? What's so difficult about saying thank you and moving on? I don't know. On one hand it feels great to be complimented, but on the other it feels mortifying. It brings every insecurity to the forefront. Are they just saying that because they feel like they have to? Should I stop announcing my weight loss numbers to the general public for fear that when I reach my goal weight they'll all collectively think, 'Daaaaang, she must've been HUGE!'?? If I do stop announcing it, does that make me weak? A coward? It's like a sticky spiderweb of emotions coated over every logical and rational thought in my brain. I process one logical idea and an absurd one follows right behind. I've become one of those cartoon characters that has the angel and the devil sitting on each of my shoulders telling me their side. It's exhausting! But hear me when I tell you, I WANT to be thankful. I want to smile back when people smile at me. I don't want to be bitter and resentful. I don't fish for compliments, but if I receive one, I want to think, 'Yay!' rather than 'Liar.'

Inside I am a very, very appreciative person. I don't take my loved ones for granted. Everyday I am grateful to have air in my lungs, a roof over my head, and two legs that work. I am tickled at the mere sight of a ladybug--those adorable little gals in their pretty red coats who only stop by once in a while. I shower my dog with affection just from knowing that dogs don't live as long as humans do and I want her to experience as much love as possible while she's on this earth. I find some flowers to be so beautiful that it's nearly painful. I love my husband so much that sometimes I could possibly squeeze him to death. I feel deeply. I feel it all--love, happiness, fear, despair--everything. I feel anger too, but I don't refuse to acknowledge it. I know it's there, sitting on a shelf sometimes refusing to budge. It's sitting there because I'm still trying to figure out when and where to move it. I want to clear space to make room for the good feelings in life, but there's a lot of sorting to do. A lot of boxes to clear out. At least, perhaps, there's hope for me that one day I'll be able to let go of the anger, that I'll be able to say thank you and mean it. I promise I will certainly try.

In the meantime, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for listening.

Classic Lasagna

It doesn't get any better than this. Lasagna has got to be the most quintessential crowd pleaser, not to mention the most handy. It's delicious no matter how it's made, it can be prepared ahead of time and popped in the oven when needed, it makes great leftovers, it freezes well, and is the perfect meal to bring to somebody when they're sick or just had a baby. Seriously, who doesn't love lasagna?

My nephew came to spend a night with his cool Aunt Katie recently and requested that I make this for him. I'll admit, I felt flattered. Apparently he likes my lasagna. How could I deny the lad?

There's nothing out of the ordinary or off the wall about this recipe. Even though lasagna is another one of those meals that can be prepared a million different ways, collectively they all sing the same tune. The one thing that does set this lasagna apart from the rest is that it's mine. Not yours, not his, nor hers, but MINE. And now I'm sharing it with you. Buon Appetito!

Classic Lasagna
Serves 8

-12 no boil lasagna sheets*
-9 cups homemade meat sauce (see recipe below)
-2 cups ricotta cheese*
-2 cups cottage cheese*
-1 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
-2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
-1 cup basil leaves, roughly chopped (optional)
-1 tsp. ground pepper

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Mix ricotta cheese, cottage cheese, the ground pepper, and basil together in a bowl and set aside.

Smear the bottom of a 9 x 13 in. baking dish with one cup meat sauce. Layer 3 lasagna noodles over the sauce, slightly overlapping. Scoop 1/3 of the cheese mixture over the noodles and spread evenly. Top with 2 cups meat sauce and spread evenly. Add a light sprinkle of the shredded mozzarella and parmesan (about a tablespoon).

Repeat layers two more times ending with 3 lasagna noodles on top.

Spread two cups meat sauce over the noodles evenly. Top with remaining parmesan and mozzarella cheese. Cover with foil and bake 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake uncovered 15 minutes more. Let cool 15 minutes before slicing.

*If you've never tried no boil lasagna noodles, you don't know what you're missing. They make putting a lasagna together a million times easier. They may not look it, but they expand perfectly during the cooking process, so don't worry. They slice beautifully too.

*You can use any version you prefer, whether it be full fat, reduced fat, or non-fat. I tend to use reduced fat, but really any of them work well. It's a personal preferance.

Homemade Meat Sauce
Makes: About 12 cups

















-1 large onion, chopped
-4 garlic cloves, minced
-2 tbsp. olive oil
-1.5 lb. lean ground beef
-4 links hot Italian sausage, removed from casings
-1 6oz. can tomato paste
-3 29oz. cans crushed tomatoes
-1 tbsp. salt
-1 tbsp. pepper
-2 tbsp. dried oregano
-2 tbsp. sugar

Heat a heavy bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Pour in olive oil and heat till just smoking. Add onions and saute till softened, about 5-8 minutes. Add garlic and stir 30 seconds until fragrant.

Stir in tomato paste. The paste will give the sauce great depth. Add ground beef and sausage and break up with spoon. Stir and cook until lightly browned. The mixture will be very thick.

Add the crushed tomatoes and stir. Add sugar and all spices and stir. Lower heat and let simmer uncovered for as long as possible, but at least a half hour. The longer the sauce simmers the more it will thicken and the better it will taste.* Be sure to stir occasionally so that the sauce doesn't stick to the sides of the pot.

You may have leftover sauce after the lasagna recipe. If so, put it aside for another day and serve over your favorite pasta.

*I try to let the sauce simmer for at least three hours if I can manage it. It just depends on how busy I am that day and whether or not I have to go anywhere. If you have the time to let it simmer all day on the stove, you'll have one heck of a good sauce!

Dedicated To One of the Ones I Love

I have three girlfriends who are my rocks in life. They live in different cities and we don't get to see one another as often as I'd like, but like any true friend, distance doesn't mean a whole lot. The old cliche of 'we pick up wherever we left off' absolutely applies to these gals.

Today I am thinking about one of those friends. Her name is Beth. Mary Beth actually, but dear God, don't ever call her Mary. Rarely do I call her Beth either. Sometimes it's Bethy, sometimes Biff. Or Biffy. Or Bay. Or Bess. Or Beff. The list goes on and on...

Beth loves Disneyworld, or anything Disney for that matter. She met her future husband there. He proposed to her there. They got married there. At the end of the cocktail hour at her wedding reception, speakers blasted "Be Our Guest" as we all entered the ballroom. Every table contained a Cinderella carriage. Guests adorned Mickey Mouse headbands. It was Disney magic! There was no wedding cake at Beth's wedding. Why? Because Beth doesn't like cake. Maybe some other brides would've had a cake anyway because that's what brides are supposed to do, but that's not how Biffy roles.

Beth has this strange, yet hilarious, way of raising her eyebrow up when she's questioning someone or something. Or it's just her version of the stink eye. The jury's still out.

Beth loves ballet. And red wine. And Billy Joel. My kind of girl and just a few of the reasons why she's so awesome.

I was in her car with her once and a man bumped her fender at a red light. She got out of the car and told the man, at the top of her lungs, to get off of his cell phone and to pay attention. I'm not that brave. I'd be too worried the man would pull out a gun and shoot me. But Beth has no fear.

Beth can cry at the drop of a hat, at both happy and sad occasions. It's because she feels things.

Beth loves baseball. And football. And soccer. She knows more about sports than a lot of men that I know. Certainly more than I could ever try to imagine knowing.

Beth is a good friend. She worries about her friends. She worries whether or not we're happy. Or if we're unhappy. Sometimes I worry that she worries too much.

Beth ends most of her written sentences with !!!! I don't know if it's because she thinks loudly in her head or she just wants to make sure that we can all hear her. I think she does it because she enjoys life and believes that anything worth saying should end in a !!!!

There are too many reasons to list what's special about my friend Beth. My fingers don't have the strength to tell the tale. But, boy oh boy, is she something else. I just wanted to let her know how unbelievably blessed I am to know her and to call her my friend. Love ya, Bess. I mean Beff. I mean Beth. Love ya through and through.

That is all. Carry on.

Shhh.....

At the start of the summer, the hubby and I sat down and made a To-Do list of projects we wanted to accomplish around the house. It wasn't an extremely complicated list. Mainly a lot of nit-picky projects. We knew re-sodding the yard was going to be a huge project to take on, which it was, so we kept the rest of the list relatively simple. For instance, my in-laws gave us some lovely patio furniture that they didn't have room for anymore. It's one of those tall tables with two swivel chairs made out of a taupe colored iron. They're very pretty and very much a style that I like, but I have a thing for black wrought iron and I've been dying to transform this furniture with some magic potion that can bought at Lowe's for about $6.00.

I discovered wrought iron spray paint when we first built our house. I had no idea such a thing existed. It transformed all of the icky gold, brassy chandeliers and fixtures in our house into these Europeanesque beauties. At least, that's how I see them. I love anything that reminds me of France or Italy. Not that I've ever been there, not yet anyway...Okay, getting off track. Wrought iron spray paint is so amazing because it coats so well that you'd never, ever know that it was spray paint. It's easy, fast, and cheap, a.k.a. my kind of language!

So, by now this project should've been done. All it would require is a few hours. But of course, I have put this off like the million other things in life that I tend to put off. What's been stopping me is the seat cushions. I haven't been able to find any new outdoor cushions that I like. I decided that I wouldn't paint the furniture till I had cushions to place on it. I'd been avoiding buying my own fabric to make cushions for, I admit, totally lazy reasons. Buying my own fabric would mean I'd actually have to take time and extra money to have them made, or....or....I'd have to finally take the sewing machine that's still in its box laughing at me (see my very first post on this blog) and learn how to use it. I don't know why I keep resisting learning to use it. I just do.

However, while out shopping around looking for the perfect cushions, I've made an interesting discovery. These cushions in stores are simply BUTT UGLY!! Bleck, I've never seen such lack of originality. I don't mean to sound snobbish, but come on designers, can't you do a little bit better than TAN? Geeze louise! I knew I wanted something colorful and non-floral. Something blue perhaps since I lack a lot of blue inside my house. Deep blue. Mediterranean blue. A unique pattern that you won't come across in Target. Ahhh...





















And I found it. I found just what I was looking for. But it's fabric by the yard. For a relatively good price. That means that I have no choice. I have to...I have to...I have to learn to use the sewing machine!!....Oh well, it was bound to happen I suppose.

So now, I have to get some fabric ordered and fashion myself some cushy-tushy-cushions (try saying that five times in a row). A yard produces quite a bit of fabric, and since I'll end up only using a small portion of it, I'll have enough leftover to make some other goodies too, like back pillows and a bench cushion (for the bench that I don't have yet but will when the hubby builds me one--which I've now added to my mental list!). Ooh! This could be a lot of fun!

Okay, I've got the cushion part in the works now. I have a plan. I can't move forward without a plan, man. This is where the shhhhh part comes in, though. I'm always very good about including David in my creative ideas and things I'd like us to do with the house. He's an artist through and through and enjoys having an opinion in just about anything we do involving colors, which I'm glad for. I'd rather he have some opinion than none at all. Neither of us were entirely sure what to do about these cushions, though. Now he's out of town for over a week, I'm sitting on a colorful blue plan that I'm itching to get working on, and I might be completely heartbroken if by some chance he hates the fabric I've fallen in love with. So, what to do....well...

I'm going to spray those chairs. I'm going to spray that table. And I'm going to buy that fabric. Yup. I'm buying it and that's all there is to it. If he doesn't like it, he's going to have to learn to. If you leave me here alone to go watch the Pittsburgh Steelers practice at training camp for a week with your dad, this is the price you pay, bucko! Shenanigans will surely follow!

Will you join me on this adventure? It will be our little secret. He's too busy trying to get Troy Polamalu's autograph right now to be paying attention to this blog. He'll discover my dastardly deed when he comes back to Florida, and as God as my witness, he will like it!

The Help

Is anybody besides me on pins and needles waiting for this movie to come out? I'm sure it won't live up the book, as they rarely ever do, but I'm still dying to see it. I've read a lot of books, and I was a little late to the game on this one. It was written by Kathryn Stockett and published in 2009, but it took me until this past January to finally get around to reading it. It had been on my endless "To Read" list for quite a while. I received a NOOK for Christmas this past year, courtesy of my generous in-laws, and this was the first book I downloaded. For me, this one of one of those stories that grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and shook me. I ate every word up in less than 24 hours and immediately read it over again. I hadn't been grabbed by a book like that since I first read the Twilight series. Yes, I'm one of those people. Don't judge!

For those of you that haven't heard of The Help, it's a story that takes place in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960's, during the firestorm of the civil rights era. The tall and brainy Skeeter, who received her nickname from her brother when she was born when he declared she resembled a mosquito (what a little creep), returns to Jackson after finishing college. All of her old friends departed Ole Miss early to become young wives and mothers, and all have help in their homes. Most of these characters are your typical old southern bells--pretty and proper, but will strike at you like an angry cobra if you dare defy her. They expect their maids to raise their children, cook their meals, clean their homes, and be at their beck and call, but won't even allow them to use the same toilet in their house. Some of the scenes in the book that illustrated these points were pretty gut wrenching, but it also included enough humor to keep it from becoming a very dark book. Skeeter is the only one in the bunch who seems to notice the hypocrisy and wants to do something about it.

Skeeter wants to be a writer and decides she wants to write a book from the point of view of the help, but it is no easy feat to get these ladies to agree to tell their stories, even done so anonymously. Even Skeeter, despite her non-conformism, grew up privileged and doesn't grasp the danger that she's putting these women in, as well as herself. When they finally begin to come forward, we learn all sorts of juicy details, especially about the book's villain Hilly Holbrook, the quintessential ice queen. Hilly was such an interesting character. She was spiteful, completely racist, vindictive, evil, but I still felt bad for her in a way. She was completely ignorant and truly believed all of her own nonsense. I won't give too much away, but let's just say that the book takes all kinds if interesting turns that kept me turning the pages at lightning speed.

In addition to the story itself, I loved all the little details within. I loved reading about the meals the ladies would eat at their weekly bridge club--congealed salads, deviled eggs, chicken salad sandwiches--and that they always used their best china and silver for these occasions. I also got a kick out of the way that their silver patterns defined them as people. I have no idea if that's really how women were in Jackson in the 1960's, but it entertained me regardless. I highly recommend this book to anyone. It's climbed the top of my list to possibly my all time favorite.

A couple months ago it was my turn to host my book club. I chose The Help, of course, and was delighted that none of the ladies in my group had ever read it. It proved to be an excellent choice because they all really enjoyed it and it provided quite a lengthy discussion about social class, racism, etiquette, and all kinds of topics. Usually in my book club, we discuss the book for about twenty minutes, and then it's on to the booze and girl talk. Again, don't judge. It also provided me with a built in menu. When it's your turn to host, you choose the book and provide the food. I decided to have some fun and used the bridge club scenes in the book to build from. I served chicken salad sandwiches, deviled eggs, congealed salad (which was a HUGE hit and I will have to post the recipe for soon), and a chocolate pie. For those of you that don't know, there was a scene in the book involving a chocolate pie that was quite scandalous to say the least, but I'm keeping that jewel under wraps. You have to either read the book or see the movie...

It comes out next Wednesday, August 10th. I've been patiently waiting all summer for its premiere, and I can barely take it any longer. David left to go out of town today for over a week, so I already have three neighbors lined up to go with me next week on the night it opens. David expressed that he also wouldn't mind seeing it, so I'll be going again when he comes back...And we decided at that particular book club that we need to go see it as a group, so I may in fact end up seeing this movie three times while it's in theaters. As you can see, I'm a very dedicated groupie.

Will any of you be going to see The Help?

Spicy Chicken and Black Bean Enchiladas

Ah, here we are again, two months passed and not a single post to show for it. Yes, I am a slacker. But it's summer, so I prefer to think of it as a vacation. The husband is off for the summer, so I am too....

Oh wait. I forgot. I still have to go to work everyday. I'm reminded of that every morning as I'm showering, frantically searching my closet for something to wear (an act that 13 years of Catholic school has made extremely difficult for me on a daily basis as an adult--seriously, sometimes I wish we all could just wear uniforms in life!), and still finding time to consume a healthy breakfast and spend a few minutes rubbing my dog's belly, all while telling her, "You're the most beautiful girl in the whoooooole world!" because, well, she is. This is my summertime routine. I run around like a maniac every morning doing all of these things in the span of about forty minutes because no matter how hard I try, I cannot wake up any earlier. I've tried. I've tried. My body will not allow it. So this results in my giving dirty looks and sticking my tongue out at my husband as he sleeps peacefully. I know, I'm like, so mature. During the regular school year, he's up early and his clanking around in the bathroom is usually what wakes me. He's my human alarm clock that I have come to rely on. Which means when summer rolls around my alarm clock stops working and I actually have to get up all by myself. Insert scream here. The horror! It wouldn't be so infuriating, though, if he didn't actually revel in the joy of reminding me about it. On Sunday nights, as I'm hanging onto every last trashy second of 'The Real Housewives of New Jersey' (God, I so miss Dina and wish she would come back to the show), he actually laughs at me and taunts, "Ha ha! You have to go to work tomorrow!" He thinks he's so hilarious. But just wait. The end of summer is making haste. It will be here before I can sing neener-neener-neener right back at him. Ahh...sometimes it feels so good to NOT be the bigger person.

Anyhoo, I've been meaning to share my very simple recipe for Spicy Chicken and Black Bean Enchiladas. Black beans have become a true staple in my diet and I try to incorporate them into meals whenever I can. This recipe involves all ordinary ingredients that you most likely have on hand. The key to these is the cayenne pepper. It's what gives the enchiladas their true kick. I consider cayenne, paprika, cumin, and chili powder to be my Four Horsemen--without one man, they lose their power. I recently made these not realizing I had run out of cayenne, and I had no choice but to skip the ingredient. Sadly, it resulted in pretty boring enchiladas. They were still tasty, but they lost their pizazz. So make sure you have plenty to keep the other Horsemen alive!

Enjoy my friends...


SPICY CHICKEN AND BLACK BEAN ENCHILADAS
(WW points plus: 7 points* per enchilada)

-2 large chicken breasts (equalling 9oz), trimmed of fat, diced
-1 medium onion, chopped
-3 cloves garlic, minced
-1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
-10 Mission or Chi-Chi's brand multi-grain wraps
-1 15oz can enchilada sauce (I use mild or medium)
-2 oz shredded cheddar cheese (about 1 cup)
-1/2 cup water
-1 tbsp olive oil
-1 tbsp cumin
-1 tbsp chili powder
-1 tsp paprika
-1 tsp cayenne pepper (if you're afraid of too spicy, use 1/2 tsp)
-salt and pepper to taste
-sour cream (optional, with extra points)
-cilantro, scallions, or parsley to garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Coat bottom of a 9 x 13 in baking pan with 1/3 of the enchilada sauce.

Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add olive oil and let heat till it gets the shimmer effect. Add onions and saute till softened, about 5 minutes. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Add garlic and stir for about 30 seconds till fragrant. Add diced chicken to pan.

Stir chicken till no longer pink and cooked through. Add extra oil if needed, but sparingly. When chicken is cooked through, add all seasonings to pan and stir to coat the chicken mixture. The pan will be a little dry, so add the 1/2 cup of water. Scrape the bottom of the pan to release the fond. This will form a flavorful little sauce. Add the drained black beans to the pan and stir to combine. Cook just till heated through. Remove from heat.

Using the edge of your cooking spoon, divide the chicken and bean mixture into ten even sections in the pan, thus assuring each enchilada receives the same amount. One by one, spoon a section out onto one of the wraps. Wrap tightly, but gently, and place seam side down into the coated baking dish. You may have to push them tightly together to fit into the pan.

Pour remaining enchilada sauce across the wraps. Top with shredded cheese. Bake for about 20 minutes till cheese and sauce is bubbling. Let cool 5 minutes.

*For a slightly fatter enchilada, you can decrease the amount of wraps to eight. Just add one extra point to each for an 8 point enchilada.

Enjoy!

Giggles and Nostalgia

I have been so bad about posting lately. I thought I was on such a good roll but then I went and disappeared again. Woops! Life has been rather crazy lately. I had my entire family in town--my father, all three of my sisters, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, nephew, and neices--a couple of weeks ago. My sister Beth graduated with her masters degree and it happend to coincide with my sister Lauren's trip to Disney with her twin daughters, so naturally my twin sister Meghan flew out here from Texas to join in the fun. It's such a rare occasion to get all four of us in one state, let alone one house. Between the four of us, we're spread out across half the country and it takes some serious fancy footwork to make a group gathering possible. But we made it happen and even got to all spend a night in my house together.

We kept meal times as low key as possible, which was a lifesaver. It was much easier to order pizza and make sanwiches than try to go out for every meal. My neices, who are twins, are only 18 months old and into everything. They were so much fun to have around and possibly two of the silliest little girls I've ever encountered. I spent the entire weekend laughing and laughing at their words, their giggles, their impish smiles, and their flowery personalities. We were initially a little worried how they were going to react to our dog Nella. Nella is actually a big pile of wimpy mush and is basically scared of her own shadow, but to the unsuspecting she's still a large dog with teeth. The girls were a little skiddish at first, but luckily Nella remained freakishly calm the entire time they were here (I was such a proud mamma!), and by the end of their trip the girls were constantly petting her and offering kisses and hugs and telling her repeatedly the word, "Soft!".

On the one night that everybody stayed over at my house, I discovered a small issue. While I certainly have room for several people to sleep in my house, I realized very quickly that I don't own nearly enough pillows and blankets. Everybody kept telling me not to worry about it, but I felt so bad and pretty embarassed. Between the spare room, the couches in the living room, air mattresses, and the floor, I had people EVERYWHERE. I was literally scrimping to find things to cover people with and was having to resort to using couch cushions for spare pillows. I've had people stay over at my house before, but never that many at once, and for whatever reason it was the one area that weekend that I was very unprepared for. Lesson learned! But overall, it was a very successful weekend and a lot of fun to have some time with my dad and my sisters.

Tomorrow is my 3rd wedding anniversary, which I cannot believe. I still feel as if I got married just yesterday. Actually, that's not true. I feel like I've been married to David forever (which I take as a good sign), but I feel like I just planned a wedding only yesterday. Weddings are such funny things. You spend so much time pouring over these small, ridiculous details (at least I know I did) to the point where it consumes the majority of your life and time, and then POOF!, it's all done and overwith in a day and you never have to deal with it again. I single-handedly planned about 97% of my wedding all myself. I was one of those brides that didn't want anybody helping me. It wasn't to be a jerk, though. I was merely very practical and knew what I wanted and didn't want. We were on a modest budget for our wedding. I wouldn't call it tight, but for today's typical standards for weddings, it was certainly modest. Both sets of parents contributed, as did David and I. We contributed quite a bit actually. We were able to pull off a very beautiful wedding, complete with excellent food, open bar, and an unbelievable Hawaiian honeymoon for a pretty reasonable amount. I discovered during the wedding process that there most certainly is something to be said for limited choices. I think when you're on a budget that could probably pay for a mansion in Boca Raton you might find yourself with a rather ridiculous amount of things to choose from, which often leads to "whoa, whoa...we're getting way over budget here...this is getting out of control.." moments. But when you know that the line is drawn very sharply, you have no choice but to keep your feet on the ground. Plus, you get your creative juices flowing like you never realized they could! We were able to cut so many corners on some of the details that weren't that big of a deal to us that we were able to afford some of the things that were a big deal. A friend of a friend of mine actually paid something like $4200 for her wedding invitations. That was the craziest thing I had ever heard. I actually saw that invitation. It was very pretty, yes, but how many of those ended up in the garbage can? I bet quite a few of them. We made our invitations ourselves. I paid about $30 for a boxed set of simple invitations with envelopes and responses cards from Target, in which we added a beautiful font in chocolate brown ourselves. I even borrowed David's exacto knife (it's an artist tool that is similar to a doctor's scalpel) and cut two tiny slits at the top of every invitation. I bought a reel of satin chocolate brown ribbon (for about $2.50) and slid a small piece of ribbon into the slits which I tied into perfect bows, adding a pretty touch of color (I considered pink since that was my other wedding color but the brown was much more elegant). Voila! Invitations for less than $40. It really isn't hard to plan a wedding. You just have to be decisive, creative, and have a plan of action. Do I miss those days of pouring over countless Knot magazines and bridal websites? I thought I would, but heck no! Looking back, it was fun at the time, but I would never want to do it again. Besides, it's everything that comes after the wedding that's the best part. The flowers are beautiful, the cake is delicious, the party is fun, but it's not all about the prime rib and champagne cocktails. It's the love, love, love! Did I really just say something that sappy? Yes, I believe I did. Can you tell that my anniversary is tomorrow?