Funny how dessert seems to be a theme every time SJ and I get together-- Happy birthday, my friend!

To mark this very special day-- the anniversary of SJ's birth-- I thought about doing something similar to last year, where I broke into SJ's house and left dessert in her fridge. The only problem I foresaw with the plan was the fact that SJ doesn't actually own that house anymore, which would have been weird not only for me to be walking around in it, but probably a little unnerving for the new owner when SJ walked in to get her dessert out of the fridge.

So, in the interest of not getting either of us arrested (and since she gave me a key to her new house, but not the alarm code...), I guess I will have to trade in chocolate-covered break-ins for one of those traditional birthday letters SJ and I have become so good at.

So, SJ, this is it. The last birthday either of us gets to celebrate without kids to distract us from the partying that should go on not only on our birthdays, but whenever we feel like it. Somehow, I have a feeling that your best gift next year won't be a blog post from little ol' me, but the fingerprint-covered card that gets handed to you by a drooling, grinning kiddo. But that's how it should be.

What a year this has been. You moved, I painted, I got knocked up, you got knocked up, J painted... I think that about sums it up. But it leaves out the important parts, like our "Pregnant Woman Support Group" on Thursday when we made fruity "mocktails" and talked about symptoms that probably would have had our husbands abandon us if they had ever heard about them. Or the Saturdays spent going to tag sales and spending hours in the car talking about everything from what life was like to what it's going to be like later this year. Or the many, many hours of dinners and Setback now that we live only 4.2 miles apart.

It's been quite the journey, SJ. From poor reporters at a local newspaper (one of us who wore clothing with funny patterns and the other a snob who "knew" she could never be friends with someone who dressed like that) spending Friday and Saturday nights hanging out at bars (you were dating and then engaged, but never had a problem being my wing man), to moms-to-be who consider it a wild night out when the Setback games last beyond 10 p.m. I have a feeling that self-imposed curfew is going to be getting even earlier, but I'm not worried. We'll just have to pack the fun into a shorter amount of time.

And it has been fun. I can't imagine what my late twenties and early thirties would have looked like without you in them to listen to me, to keep me grounded, to cry with me, to make me laugh time and time again, to tell me when I'm wrong, to understand what I'm going through, to be such a good friend you went and got knocked up so I would have someone to go through pregnancy with and to always be willing to help me finish the extra ice cream in my freezer.

Speaking of which, when are we going out for ice cream to celebrate? Happy Birthday, SJ!

A true friend...

The Pretend Husband and I took a little detour after his softball game yesterday and ended up at the SJ manse. The one SJ and J have been furiously cleaning and touching up in preparation for putting it on the market. And while we did little more than admire their work and instill fear into them about how much it sucks to have your house on the market (you're welcome, SJ!), you know what they gave us? Alcohol.

There was some explanation about putting a piece of furniture into storage and having nowhere to keep the bottles, but my brain pretty much switched into alcohol beverage recipe mode and I missed the reasoning. Because when someone gives you free booze in a variety of flavors, you don't ask questions.

And when someone not only hands over a bunch of alcohol but then throws in some furniture for kat's lil bro's new house? You keep that friend for life.

(Hey SJ, martinis at my house anytime you need to vacate your house for a showing!)

SJ's birthday "if only..."

Oh SJ, what's with having your birthday fall on a Tuesday (and during my busiest week at work)? What's with that? If only you could have scheduled it for a weekend or something, I could have made you something decadent to celebrate, like this:

(grasshopper bars: creme de menthe, chocolate and sinful deliciousness)

And I wouldn't have given them to you in a glass dish with the knife still in it. No, I would have wrapped them up nicely, like this:

And, if I had the time like I usually have on the weekends, I could have bought a funny card, written something funny in it and put it with the grasshopper bars, like this:

And then you could have put them into your fridge to keep cold until you ready to eat them, which would look sort of like this:

No, wait. Actually, it would look exactly like that. Or, if you stepped back, like this:

Check your fridge when you get home, SJ. Because no one should be without alcohol and chocolate on their special day. Happy Birthday, my friend! Hope it's a good one.

what I do when my husband isn't home part 2

i sent this pic to my husband who had to work on monday. i did not. i also informed him that i picked up the dog poop in the yard and reminded him we had plans for dinner with KAT and SRG and their hubbies.



he told me i was the best wife ever. i think, however, if he had other wives, i probably wouldn't retain that title. and we probably wouldn't be married.

as for dinner? such a great time. as always. i love SRG and KAT oodles, mostly because they are fun and don't pick on me for wearing renaissance outfits and singing to twos of people. oh wait. they *do* pick on me for that. but i love them anyway. silly bitches.

current itunes song: "all my friends" LCD Soundsystem featuring Franz Ferdinand

I'd like to thank the Academy... and Sam

I won an award! I'm so honored... although I suspect that this one will be a particular challenge.

I won this:



Which is totally awesome. Thank you, Sam! I heart you and your awesome blog...

But there are rules to follow, kids, so I can't get ahead of myself. I have to do these things:

A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!
B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap."

This is going to be tricky, because I have been telling you all too much about myself for a long time now. What could you *possibly* not know?

well, let's give it a whirl, shall we?

SJ's 10 Honest Confessions
1) I am a nester, a packrat and a mess. I accumulate crap so much - I have no idea where it all comes from. But I collect things in piles, and when I clean, I tend to go in the opposite direction and trash large amounts of things (though not blindly, because I also tend to take DAYS to fill two garbage bags).

2) I am terrified of being alone at night -- and being alone in general. When j is traveling, I keep the light on downstairs, and usually can't fall asleep without a few glasses of wine. While I would never remarry, I would likely have a string of bad relationships. I say this based on previous experience.

3) I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I don't plan to stay in my current field beyond the next two years. I'm hoping my next job allows me to work in sweat pants and on my couch.

4) I am a fairly private person -- well, you know... except for all of the crap I spill on the blog. But I can count on one hand the people that know my deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets. I am afraid of any one person knowing me too well, so I tend to share only small pieces of things to those five.

5) If a can of frosting is left in the fridge, I will eat it. Ergo, I only make homemade frosting.

6) I have a deep and passionate lust for DVF clothing, though my closet is limited to just one dress and one skirt. But my closet bursts forth with another 12 black dresses, 4 black skirts, and another half dozen shirt dresses of varying color and pattern.

7) I have used the power of my cleavage to my advantage, and I likely will again.

8) I am easily grated by people who claim to be addicted to exercise. In fact, I can't stand those people.

9) I hate meeting new people, and have intense anxiety about going to new places and being forced to mingle. I'd prefer to pluck out every single one of my eyelashes.

10) I cannot drink out of a bottle that someone else is drinking out of -- no matter who it is. The idea of drinking someone's backwash is enough to turn my stomach.

And now I must tag and offer this award up to 7 deserving bloggy buddies... which is tricky. Because some of my favorite people to tag have already been tagged a million times. So, I'm going to emphasize new and old favorite bloggers worthy of such an award:

srg
TishTash
Muffy
Stephanie
Geiger Girl
KAT (is it cheating if I tag my co-blogger? I submit not.)
Chris

C'mon in and make yourself comfortable, SJ... you're going to be here for awhile

Hi SJ, welcome to 31! I got here a few months ago myself, so I’m happy to show you around. Over here is the coffee station—no, don’t protest too quickly now. You might not think you’re going to need it, but it gets harder and harder to get yourself going at our age and someday you might need it just to figure out how to start your car in the morning (uh, or so I’ve heard). And right next to the coffee are plenty of comfortable beds because believe me when I tell you that you’re going to need your sleep to deal with what the thirties have in store for you!

Now, you may have noticed on your way in that 31 is separated from the twenties—it’s a long walk, isn’t it? It’s appropriate, I think, because 31 is pretty removed from, say, 26. You’re now firmly in your thirties, not just teetering somewhere in between at 30.

I’m not going to say you can never go back because every once in a while you might be in the mood for a crazy night out with the girls or some harmless flirting with a cute guy in the elevator or some outfit or hairdo not appropriate for the thirties. In that case, just slip through that door marked “Your Youth” or the one with the sign that says “The Good Ol’ Days (Didn’t Know You Were Old Enough To Have Them, Did You?)” But know that your time over there in the twenties is limited and eventually you must return to 31.

It’s not so bad. Sometimes it gets a little loud in here—what with all the popping of the joints, the moaning in pain when someone pulls a muscle and that annoying tick of the biological clocks. But, overall, 31 is not a bad place to be (at least it’s much quieter than 36, where they have all those noisy kids running around!)

Some other changes you may notice are a few more “laugh lines” (translation: “wrinkles”) and some “slow metabolism” (translation: “Fatty McTooMuchCake”). Oh, and the extra gray hairs (face it, there’s no nice euphemism to use for that one!)

I hope I haven’t scared you too much and you’re willing to stay here with me at 31. There’s fun to be had. For one thing, I finally feel like a grown-up here and sometimes—just sometimes—I get a little more respect than I did at 25. My opinions seem to count much more here, like having gone through 21, 24, 29 and 30 gave me some experience or something.

And, if it begins to weigh on you that you’ve made it this far, feel free to stare over there at that 32 in the corner and smile, knowing that I’ll be headed there first.

Happy Birthday, SJ!

You are cordially invited...

I’ve been told that some people are able to arrange a dinner date with a “Wanna?” and a “Sure.” I’m jealous. Because, when SJ asked the Pretend Husband and I over for dinner Saturday, it was an entire process.

SJ asked me. I gave a tentative yes and said I would check with the PH. I asked the PH and he said, “What’s she making?” When I told him it was chicken, he quizzed me about how she was going to prepare it (because SJ is an adventurous cook and the PH is… well, he’s not an adventurous eater. At all.) When I said I didn’t know how the chicken was going to be prepared, he wanted me to call and ask SJ. Forget it.

I called SJ and said we’d be over later. An hour later, SJ’s husband J called to check whether the PH likes cream cheese, which was an ingredient in the stuffing for the chicken. I took the call and proceeded to have a shouted conversation out the window with the PH about his feelings about cream cheese. It was decided he liked it, although he wasn’t sure about it going with the bacon in the dish. (Again, I refused to call SJ and clarify whether the cream cheese and bacon would be mixed together).

That, coupled with the fact that I don’t eat red meat and SJ made a piece of chicken with very little bacon to be sure I would eat it, made for a complicated arrangement. Luckily, everyone agreed on the apple crisp.

(By the way, SJ, I didn’t realize how much I had missed your cooking until this weekend. We should definitely get together for dinner again soon. We can have it at my house… but you have to cook.)

Screw Harry Potter, it's SJ's day!

You know those friendships that are really for convenience– either you grew up together or your parents are friends? Or those friends that come out of having grown up in the same neighborhood or town, or from being forced to live together in college? How about those friendships that seem to linger on long after you’re really getting anything out of them?

On the flip side, have you ever met someone and said to yourself, “we’ll never be friends”? Were they perhaps wearing such a crazy-looking shirt (to a job interview, no less!) that you knew your styles were too different to get along? Did you ever start your friendship off with a night that had a haunted house, free food, two wardrobe changes and more men than you knew what to do with?

I have. As wacky as it sounds, that’s how I met the fun, fabulous SJ at work a couple of years ago. And how our friendship began.


Really, we look like our styles go together well. Either that, or we both figured black was a good party choice.

But friendships aren’t built on only one night of fun. We found we had a lot in common, including taking our jobs as reporters very, very seriously.


This is us taking our jobs so seriously, we stopped by the newsroom on Halloween. Yes, it was Halloween. If it was a normal night out for us, I would have been wearing a shorter skirt and SJ would have been showing a lot more cleavage... and that lollipop would have been a Cosmopolitan!

I think one of the secrets of our friendship has been a similar spirit of adventure and a willingness to try almost anything once, regardless of how goofy it makes us look. I mean, I’m really wracking my brain for examples, but I’d have to throw out wearing wacky hats to the grocery store to buy chocolate sauce and whipped cream as an example. Now, what was I saying about not being afraid to look silly?


I’m not actually sure who we’re supposed to be. I might be the Virgin Mary and SJ's Joseph? Or maybe some Greek figures. Who knows? We just liked the idea of poking our heads through the holes!

Our friendship over the last six or so years has been full of a lot of tears. Actually, I think most of the tears were the kind that start dripping down your face when you’re laughing too hard to stop. Although there was one time when we managed to make each other cry for most of a trip to the ocean. But even those were from talking about good memories. I still prefer the laughter to the tears.



One of the best things I got to do with SJ was marry her… um, I mean, be there while she got married. And I’m looking forward to having her there at my wedding. I’m planning on giving her a pretty good seat because, let’s face it, there wouldn’t be a Pretend Husband if it weren’t for her cooking abilities, which made us poor, single folks prefer to spend time at her house instead of another night in front of the TV eating Taco Bell. Oh, and the Setback games were pretty fun too.


This is one of my favorite photos. And just today I noticed SJ’s in it too!

So you might be wondering the reason behind this sappy post in honor of the girl with the best shoes, as SJ is known in these parts…


Even in a bridesmaid’s dress, she manages to sneak in some glittery shoes!

Well, there is a reason for toasting SJ today (this post wasn’t meant only to pick on a teenage wizard just trying to impress Hermione... oh, and save the world). Because, Lordy, Lordy, SJ’s 30!!!

Happy Birthday, mon amie! I plan on sticking around for at least 30 more years (we’ll be the old ladies sitting on the front porch of the nursing home with tiaras on!) and my wish for you is that they are filled with love, laughter, tears from laughing so hard, more laughter and fabulous shoes! As your husband often tells you, you don't look a day over 35!


Happy Birthday, SJ!!!