catheroominations

…sometimes it’s because you just bought a lemon tree.

… and maybe with this lemon tree, you have visions of fresh-squeezed lemonade, lemon sorbet, chicken piccata, lemon vinaigrette, lemon meringue pie, margaritas, hefeweizen, lemon bars, garnishes for cosmopolitans before you go see Sex and the City on the silver screen.
keep reading When life hands you lemons…

May 25 marks what?
a) The release of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
b) Towel Day
c) The day that I married the love of my life
d) All of the above

If you answered d, you’re a genius. And if you know what Towel Day is, you’re also a geek.

Today, Matte and I are celebrating our first anniversary. Last night we had dinner here, the restaurant that catered our wedding. We drank fantastic wine from the winery where we got married, and for dessert, the restaurant replicated a small version of our wedding cake. It was a perfect meal, with perfect company.

After leftover wedding cake for breakfast, Matte and I are visiting Murrieta’s Well for a few tastes of wine and a picnic (if the weather holds out). Then we have appointments at a spa for some pampering, courtesy of our friends June and Beth.

We got each other gifts, (paper is the traditional first wedding gift), but my gift to him isn’t ready yet, and his to me wasn’t ready in time either. So, darn, we’ll just have to celebrate again next weekend! As someone who celebrates their birthday for the entire month of August, this is fine by me. And I do have a gorgeous floral arrangement to enjoy. It’s made of purple irises, white roses and green hydrangeas - the same flowers that decorated our special day - all kept safely out of the destructive cats’ reach.

The other day, my friend Krissy, who introduced me to Matte said that she was thinking about us and realized that Matte is the perfect guy for me. She said it is as if we were made for each other. I couldn’t agree more.

Matte, I love you with all my heart. If this past year is any indication, we are in for a wonderful life together, filled with laughter, silliness, and love.

What’s worse:

The fact that Matte was singing loudly and rocking out to Joey Scarbury’s Theme from the Greatest American Hero in my car?
or
that I have that song on my iPod?

I think it’s a toss-up

Whoa. We just got home from wine tasting. It started at 5 pm. It is now 10:30 pm. Granted, we had dinner afterwards, but we tasted and tasted and tasted some more for around three hours. I highly recommend tasting events at wine bars. They are quite lovely, especially when the Italian guy from Jersey who’s pouring goes on break and you can go back to the tasting table to tell his relief person “oh, I haven’t tried that one yet!” Even though you have. Twice. And then a third person comes to cover the second person, and well, I mean. The wine was GOOD and I wanted more, so I tasted the same wine four times. Is that so wrong?

And as a person who is classically trained in wine, I kept copious notes on my tasting sheet. I just looked at it now, and noticed that I wrote things like “YUM!” “OMG!” and “***” I’m serious about this stuff. For reals.

Afterwards the work winos, Matte and I went to eat some pasta (and possibly some semifreddo made with hazelnut cappuccino something or other) to absorb the alcohol while we blew into someone’s portable blood alcohol level checker thing from Kragen Auto Parts. According to the highly accurate scientific device, everyone was below the limit (except for that one time, instead of displaying a number, it just said HI, and was not meant to be a friendly greeting) so we took our stuffed happy selves and parted ways in the parking lot, hiccuping all the way.

And now I must slumber. Damn, I love sleep so much. And what’s funny is when I’m doing it, I’m not sure I even know I’m enjoying it. I mean, I guess I am, but I’m asleep, so, who knows if I am aware that I am having a good time? But really. It’s like my most favorite thing to do these days. Probably because I don’t get to do it often enough. I love everything about it. My jammies, my Tempurpedic pillow that is old and needs to be replaced. I love my jersey sheets, and the comforter that I fling off of me when I start swimming in sweat. I love that my socks get all twisted up, or fall off at the foot of the bed, and I love when I wake up, look at the clock, and realize I get to sleep for like five more hours. Those hours go by way too quickly though. Every single time.

Enough talk. I’m off to catch some zzzz’s and to see visions of long finishes, notes of blackberry and tobacco, and $110 bottles of 2004 Cabernet Sauvingnon dancing through my head.

Or, maybe my head is just spinning.

Matte and I got a Nintendo Wii last week, and ever since, he is kicking my ass all over the living room playing tennis. I always considered myself a coordinated person until we got this little white box with the wireless controllers. I canNOT for the life of me beat these computerized people on the other side of the court. And if I decide to clone myself and play both players on my doubles team, I flail about and miss nearly every ball. Because, hello! I am ONE person. I can’t be two places at once. But Matte can, and now he has reached PRO status while I remain in the ranks of spastic, haphazard players who appear to be swatting at a swarm of bees.

Oh goodie! Another thing he is better than me at. (Wow. Check out that grammar!)

I am better at refraining from the Wii playing than Matte is. Which might also be to blame for my poor performance. Or is it the other way around? Do I not partake of the Wii as often as Matte does because of the extreme suckage I display? Or mayhaps it is my tennis elbow keeping me away? I think I should at least win “Most likely to look like a person really playing tennis” or something because I hit that ball SO hard (although it lobs every time). And I use my backhand when necessary, which I guess is not really necessary with the smart remote, but makes me feel so much cooler when I do it. Especially when I use two hands. Sometimes an involuntary Monica Seles-esque grunt will emit from my throat. And I even yell at the judge’s calls like John McEnroe used to. Matte just nonchalantly flicks his wrist this way and that and wins match after match, as I lay on the couch, post-match, huffing and puffing, wiping my brow with a towel and drinking Gatorade.

Oh, and my Mii (the animated character I created as me in Wii land) is so much cuter than Matte’s. She has freckles and braids, and a vacant look in her eyes like she doesn’t know what her name is. But his has devil horns. They’re actually eyebrows that he nudged up his forehead until they reached the top of his head. And he has a goatee. He looks like a satanic Backstreet Boy.

But if Nintendo comes out with a game where you clean the house? I could obliterate Matte at that one. Not that he doesn’t clean. He does. But he’s the first to admit that I clean better, faster, and more thoroughly than he does. (I have been known to dust the swords belonging to the action figures.) I just hope he never opens that one closet where I’ve hidden everything.

10. I am lazy. Much too lazy to get out of bed at 2 am to feed someone.
9. I am selfish. Much too selfish to allow my sleep to be interrupted at 2 am to feed someone.
8. I believe eating a bowl of cereal for dinner is perfectly fine. Every night. Especially if the box has a toucan, rabbit, naval captain, or tiger on the box.
7. I think TV is awesome. And necessary. And there’s no such thing as too much of it. And my child would learn that.
6. Any child I brought into the world would not be pushed to participate in sports, and would therefore be chubby, ridiculed, and eventually fat and lazy when they grew up. And they would cry a lot about that. Even when they’re in their 30s.
5. That tantrum, screaming, and talking back stuff? Not for me.
4. Daphne would hate a baby. Also, she might try to eat it.
3. A product of my and Matte’s love would be much too stunning to look at and would make the other children feel inferior and ordinary.
2. We want to be the cool aunt and uncle who spoil the nephews because we have piles of cash and no one to spend it on.
1. Global warming.

Now, I need to put this on a t-shirt, because some people think that JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT MARRIED you want to have babies. And some of those people are annoyed when you sheepishly say “Oh, I don’t think we’ll have any,” as if it is written down somewhere that we were put on this earth to procreate or something! (Oh, it does say that somewhere? Ooops.)

When people say “just wait until you have kids,” it makes me want to say “OK!”, stop whatever it is I’m doing at the time, and stand perfectly still like a statue. Waiting forever. Because that is how long I would be waiting until I have kids. Sure, most of my friends who are married do have children and I am happy for them. Because that is what they want and my friends have adorable kids, of course, because <sarcasm> I am not friends with ugly people</sarcasm>. It’s about freedom and choice and what is best for the individual. People who want to have kids, do. People who don’t? Don’t. But sometimes they do, and their hearts melt once they see that sweet little face for the first time. I know this. I know I am missing out on the parenthood experience, but I don’t know what I am missing (because it is missing, see?). And I am OK with that.

*Double income, no kids.