Tales from La La Land

I’m not a big New Year resolution person. I think after 15 years of vowing to do something different/better/Oprah-esque only to wind up at December 31 as the exact same person I’ve always been, I realized that I’m just going to resolve to be me. And to be happy with the me that I am.

Besides, I’ve already given up drinking. And sushi. And I’m having a fucking baby in 2011. What more do I need to do to feel better about myself?

I did decide to try and be a lot more patient. Especially when it comes to driving around LA. So far so shitty, but there’s always tomorrow.

The holidays are gone and things have pretty much returned to normal. I loved having two weeks off. It was great to do things around the house, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to actually enjoying coming back to work. I like having a stable routine and things to do. I kept myself busy working around the house, but if I had to listen to Oprah talk about her tribe one more fucking day I was going to stab myself. Also, The View? Horrible. Of course all the good shows – Real Housewives, Top Chef – were on hiatus. Boo.

Other things I learned while spending too much time with my husband: Most things relating to pregnancy are best left to yourself. I was uber-excited about my new maternity underwear and when I showed Laef I am 99% certain that any thoughts of sexual activity disappeared for at least 22 days. He doesn’t need to see the huge clothes, the happy trail, the tears, the fears, the 12 pieces of Sees candy gone. He’s not going to be excited about the stroller I picked out or the swaddle blanket I bought. He is excited about one thing: the baby. I will try to remember that over the next 6 months.

The cat doesn’t give two shits about the baby, and in fact doesn’t like babies. We had our friends Allie and Greg over for New Years Eve. They brought their tiny baby over and Sanch thought it was another cat with a better blanket than him. He could not wrap his tiny brain around what it was. He explored, but was petrified. So, it should be fun teaching him that he will soon be second in line for cuddling and attention.

I wish I had better stories to tell. I wish I could tell you that we won Mega Millions and Laef gave me and extra $50 for spending money, but out of five tickets we had ZERO numbers. So we’re back to the grind, but as far as I can tell, 2011 is going to be like no other year!

Slowly but surely things are starting to change all around us. We have cleaned out the spare bedroom, which was acting as a storage space for extra luggage, boxes of photographs and whatever random crap Laef throws in there when he “cleans” the living room. The items have been moved to a storage unit so that a crib can be moved in at some point. Our bedroom has been re-arranged to make room for a bassinet and and a rocking chair.

So, with each passing week we seem to make small progresses towards the eventual arrival. The saddest part of this transformation was my trip to Motherhood Maternity last Friday. I had grand plans of being super cute all through my pregnancy, and somewhere in that dream I was still wearing all my normal clothes.

False.

Right now I am at that awful not-yet-showing-a-full-baby-bump stage. But my pants absolutely do not button, and I look like I spent the weekend drinking 72 Coronas followed by a dozen Krispy Kremes.

I bit the bullet and went to the Maternity store. Um, nothing will erase sexiness faster than elastic-wasted cargo pants. But, fuckin’ A, I’m SO much more comfortable now. I gave in. Without a fight. Comfort > Cute pregnant lady.

Sigh.

However, while I might be dressing more mommyish and Laef might be doing all the mathematical equations to come up with some sort of reasonable way that we will afford daycare and diapers, we are failing miserably at parenting the two living things currently under our care – the tree and the cat.

The tree apparently needed to be watered daily. We did not know this. We gave it water the first day, and then noticed last weekend that it was looking a little meek. It was completely devoid of water, so we refilled it. Which of course was Sanch’s signal to investigate and drink said water from the tree stand.

Which is then Laef’s cue to hop on Google to find a solution.

“Oh. You’re supposed to water Christmas trees daily, and once it gets dry, there is no reversing it.”

Me: “Well, it will always be dry because that Fucktard will always drink from the water when we are not here.”

Apparently there is some kind of cat forum on Google because the next thing I know Laef is peeling an Orange and throwing the rinds under the tree.

Me: BLANK. STARE. “We are not putting random orange peels on the floor.”

Laef: “Cats hate the smell of oranges!!!!!!!!! Look, look, he’s running away.”

Me: “Great, so we are going to just have random orange everywhere.”

Laef: “I’m going to rub this on our bedroom door. And the sink! AND my clothes!”

At which point I completely drop the whole thing because when MacGyver comes out to play, everyone might as well step away. It was true. Sanch wouldn’t go near the tree for the 2.4 hours that the orange peels remained fresh.

But after two days the orange peels were dried up and crusty and lacking any sort of potent cat-killer scent. I was home alone last night when I suddenly heard the furious slurpping sound of one Sanchez Morris stealing the water from our dying tree.

At which point I screamed at the cat and shooed him away. He tried to go back for more several times despite having his OWN BOWL OF WATER because he knows I’m the “easy one”. I would like to know why cats never want to drink their own water. Apparently the water from the sink, toilet and bathtub is muuuuch better.

Anyway, when Laef came home I relayed the story.

Me: “Um. I think you can throw away the orange peels. They’re no longer working. I had to yell at that bitch twice.”

Laef: “You have to stop yelling at him. The baby can hear you. We don’t want it to think all we do is yell. At the cat.”

Me: … “Anyways, the oranges. You can throw them away.”

Much later that night, I am sleeping peacefully when I hear the sound of the cat going batshit crazy all over the house. It is clear he has found something totally awesome to play with, and is furiously running all over the living room.

Laef comes in and says, “Guess what that little fucker is playing with?”

ORANGE PEELS.

Yeah, that worked.

The cat completely dominates us, and the tree is slowly dying. And Laef wants me to squirt the cat without yelling at it. Meanwhile, because Laef put off throwing away those orange peels, God only knows where the one went that the cat was playing with.

Maybe the baby will find it when it’s crawling around.

We’ve got t-minus 6 months to figure this shit out.

I swear this is not suddenly a mommy blog where everything is “born” from here on out. But, if you had seen the process of Laef and I getting our first-ever Christmas tree, you might understand how it went from this blissful idea to a fucking trainwreck to a beautiful full-grown glistening tree that we are both so proud of!

This will be the first time Laef and I will be home on Christmas Day. We are usually visiting his family or my family. Therefore, I’ve never really gotten into the Christmas spirit at our house. It didn’t make much sense to me because we wouldn’t be home to enjoy the decorations or the tree. Not to mention, our house in Manhattan Beach was tiny, and we opted for a deep freezer in the middle of the living room, which trumped any idea of a Christmas tree. Or dining room table.

DETAILS.

Anyway, us being home + me being sober pregnant = me being really excited to have a project. My project has become Christmas. And when it comes to Christmas trees, I’m all about a real tree. I guess I am sticking to my childhood Christmas tree tradition which means: real tree, rainbow-colored lights and a smorgasbord of random ornaments that have been around for umpteen years. Our ornament collection will start this year and in 12 years our kids will ask about the random stuffed Santa ornament that mommy seems to love so much.

Child: “This is ugly. Why do you always put it right in the front?”

Me: “Bitch, please. Well, sweetie, back in 2010 when we got our first tree, we didn’t have many ornaments. Mommy was at Ralphs, and what do you know? Right there in the middle of the freezer aisle they had stuffed Santa ornaments for $1.99 so I bought one. And someday you will want this stuffed santa front and center on your tree.”

Seeing as I wanted a real tree with lights and a few ornaments, I broached this to Laef. He was on board until he started looking online at trees. Then he started adding in the stand. And the lights, and my midnight sneak runs to Target to build our ornament collection, and then he started wishing we’d be visiting family this Christmas. I politely explained to him that I have spent zero dollars on Vodka, wine, sushi dinners, and that this pregnancy is actually saving us quite a bit of money (for the time being anyway) and that next year we won’t have to invest in all the accessories.

He then tells me that he saw trees at Ralphs. I was thinking more of the Christmas tree lot where you wander the lot in warm mittens and find your perfect tree, and then they deliver it to you.  But the trees at Ralphs were decent looking, so it’s settled. We will buy our first-ever tree at Ralphs.

I might have suggested to Laef that we carry the tree from Ralphs back to our house. I might not have realized that 7′ tall Christmas trees weigh quite a bit. Instead, we will lift the tree onto my car in the middle of the parking lot where old men in white Range Rovers giggle from inside their warm car about the two rookies who are standing in the freezing wind tying a Ralphs tree to their car (TRUE STORY).

But, the joke was on them as they don’t seem to know my husband. Laef. Fucking. Morris. Handyman extraordinaire.

Um. Then we got home. And Laef took his MacGyver complex WAY too far. He said the tree was too heavy for us to carry up our stairs because I’m pregnant. But the true story was that he COULD NOT HELP HIMSELF FROM DOING THIS:

Of course our neighbors thought we were insane. No one thought it would work except for MacGyver so let’s not even talk about the amount of gloating that took place once the tree was inside.

Here’s where my fantasy really took a nasty turn. The tree was nailed into a stand. But we needed to remove it from the stand so that we could put it in our tree stand and give it water. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly straight at the time of purchase and putting it in our own tree stand allowed us to make it straight. Unfortunately, there were five ginormous nails in the tree stand. Which were extremely difficult to remove. There was a lot of F-bombs and hammering. Then there was some major surgery needed to get the trunk to actually fit into the tree stand. Then there was the issue of the tree lights, which were apparently purchased while I was high because I bought two different kinds, which isn’t the end of the world, but when I originally had this vision of a tree, it never included a mishmash of lights.

No matter, there were enough lights to fill the tree, and eventually I realized that our first tree would be a learning experience. And in the end we were both super, super excited about it. Laef even suggested walking to CVS because we didn’t have a topper for it. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the CVS silver star tree topper won’t be the one that gets brought out for years to come, but it works for 2010.

The only issue now is Sanch. Everyday we will hope to come home and find the tree still standing in all its glory.

Right now it’s hard to imagine cooking (or eating) anything.

Our Christmas Eve dinner consisted of a 15-lb prime rib covered in sea salt, horseradish, olive oil, garlic and pepper. Apparently, 1lb of meat per person wasn’t sufficient, so we also had a huge batch of my brother-in-laws homemade raviolis. And, of course, a bevy of side dishes ranging from oven-baked macaroni and cheese to spinach salad.

Here’s what a 15-lb piece of prime rib looks like prior to cooking.

For desert, we revisited the deliciousness that is the lemon pudding cakes.

Everything turned out really well despite the fact that there were multiple people trying to cook in the kitchen at once, and that every few minutes a three-year old would run by trying to grab everything in sight.

I started thinking about the Leek throwdown, which will take place on January 6, because the prime rib recipe called for parsnips. I had to google it before going to the store. I have never eaten a parsnip in my life. No one else seemed entirely sure what they were either. So, I was looking forward to cooking them with the roast and seeing what they tasted like.

They seem to have a pretty bland flavor on the own, so thankfully they were swimming in meat juice.

When I first told Laef that I got to pick the ingredient for the next throwdown, he said, “I know what you’re going to pick.”

And then he said: Garlic.

It is true. I love cooking with garlic. But, I wanted something I’ve never used.

I guess it’s only fitting that I chose leeks – a vegetable from the onion and garlic family.

Most of the recipes I have been wanting to try were some kind of soup, but after reading further, there are plenty of options for cooking with Leeks.

I hope you all will participate. Hopefully by January 6 you will be recovered from all the holiday food.

Once you have put your throwdown blog up, come over and leave a comment that says, “I’m up.” Moi will go around and visit all the sites and take care of the judging.

At first, the idea seems so logical.

Let’s make cookies for all of our friends and coworkers as gifts. It will be cheaper, more thoughtful and meaningful.

And then reality sets in when you actually count the number of people both Laef and I work with along with the neighbors, the UCLA basketball team and the mail man.

But, I was determined to make three kinds of cookies: Paula Dean’s Chocolate Gooey Butter Cookies, Paula Dean’s Ginger Cookies and Tyler Florence’s My Big, Fat Chocolate Chip Cookies.

In the end, I realized the errors of my ways, and realized that making two different kinds of cookies – or even one – would have been more manageable.

I thought everything was fine until I hit a wall midway through Sunday afternoon, had a mini-meltdown and practically divorced Laef for eating the cookies and not vacuuming.

Seriously. I was a FREAK.

I was so tired from standing in the kitchen, rolling dough into balls and washing 4,343,502 dishes that I was beginning to go insane.

Which is the only explanation for also making Martha Stewart’s slow-cook lasagna in the middle of all the cookie mayhem. (It’s actually a really easy recipe and was to die for when it was done. Super yummy).

After it was all said and done, I was happy I did it and we had 40 bags of cookies that looked like this:

I have sent Laef to work with 20 bags, and am curious to know how many bags he eats and how many he gives away. The over under is at 10 each.

After the cookie debacle was finally done, we walked downtown to watch the annual Manhattan Beach Christmas firework show. For some reason, we have never been for this, and despite the fact that my back was killing me and I was at stage four of five on the psycho meter, we went.

We stopped by our neighbors’ house on 18th street to give them cookies and a Christmas card. These are the people who came out of their houses at our wedding to throw rice at us and give us champagne.

Neither was home. The current residents informed us that they are only there during the summer.

I hate them. They totally should have had Laef and I watch their houses during the winter. We would have gladly made sure nothing went wrong.

Anyway, all of the shops downtown are open. Some have hot cocoa, some have champagne and most offer some sort of treats. There are thousands of people camped out on the closed streets.

Despite the fact that Manhattan Beach celebrates Christmas with fireworks, it was the first time this month that I actually felt like it was the holiday season.

We walked home right after and I promptly went to sleep at 8:20 p.m.

Moral of the story: It sounds logical to make homemade gifts, but sometimes a box of chocolates is just fine.

Oh my fucking God, I hate shopping during the holidays. Doesn’t anyone know about this new invention called the Internet where you can buy shit and have it sent right to you, minus the skanky bitch in Target who refuses to let you go in front of her and her TWO carts full of dish sets, wreaths, fake trees and boxed wine, despite the fact that you just want to buy one iddy-biddy gift card?

Navigating through Target last Sunday became the world’s worst nightmare. I needed two things: Christmas cards and a prescription. I stood behind some 58-year old woman dressed as a 24-year old (you know, Lohan leggings with knee-high boots and a plaid shirt with a belt) at the pharmacy while she explained that her husband has been getting nose bleeds and the allergist suggested something, but she forgot the name of it and they are leaving on a trip so they need it before then and can she write down her information and can they do a special order and how she lost her husband in Target, but she’ll call him on the cell and have him come right over to re-explain the whole thing over again. I wouldn’t have minded much, but I hated her dumb outfit.

I finally made my way over to the Christmas card section, which looked like all of my nieces had a party to see who could destroy that section of the store first. They were down to about three options, all of which sucked. I prefer to send cute cards, but I guess when you wait until Dec. 14 to find some, you can only blame yourself.

After that, I braved the mall to find a few things on our list. For starters, people are fucking lazy. Why is it necessary to put your blinker on and wait five minutes for someone to unload all of their shit into their car to get a spot that is about 40-feet closer than the last spot in the aisle? I understand this in Oregon where it rains. But, seriously…if it’s not raining, it’s a lot easier and quicker to just park at the back and walk your ass past all the cars idling for a spot they are convinced The Secret held just for them.

Once inside I had to dodge about eight different kiosks where people were trying to cover me in lotion, straighten my hair, sell me a wig or have me sit in a Brookstone chair.

But, here’s my real issue. Why do people shop like there’s only ONE iron-clad skillet at Williams-Sonoma? Why do people trample a man to death to get into Walmart? What could possibly be SO important that you have to stampede into a store? People just get all batshit crazy and cranky and psychotic.

I’m no bah humbug and I’m all for buying presents, but I’m just sayin’, I’m doing it parked on my couch. That’s the best spot of all.

Holler Friday, Bitches!

I’m totally going to steal a recent blog format from my girl Brittany and do a little list. Lately, I’ve been neglecting the blog because there seems to be too much going on with the holidays. For example, the other day I was IMing and texting five different people at one time to discuss New Year’s Eve plans, while also shopping online for my future family-in-law, while simultaneously helping stressed out grad students print their 800-page theses two minutes before they had to present them.

I’m sure during the winter break I will acquire lots of great ideas, and, as Ben suggested, maybe even live-blog with him on New Years Eve (assuming I don’t pass out at 8:30 p.m.).

The list is perfect because there have been things on my mind to blog about, but none of them inspire me enough to dedicate an entire post.

1. I have grown accustomed to LA traffic. I finally decided that if it’s sunny in November, I will no longer complain about how long it takes to get to and from work. HOWEVER, this particular phenomenon has overcome me lately. See, I prefer to leave a car length (OK, maybe half a car length) between myself and whatever Lexus SUV with eight Obama stickers is in front of me. Apparently, this is code for BMW SUV to think, “Hey! Room for me! I’m squeezing in!” NO, you fuckbag! There is not room for you. I’m slowly starting to come to grips with the fact that, in LA, there is never space between you and any cars and people will actually speed up to NOT let you in and by the time you get home, you are ready to kill a kitten (not Sanch, but maybe someone else’s).

2. Top Chef. Is anyone watching this? To me, it’s a little down this year. Maybe it will pick up, but I’m not feeling that the talent is as high as it used to be. There are only a couple of chefs that seem like they know what they’re doing. Then there’s this guy, who thinks he’s good, but is always so flustered and worried about hair. Plus, he works at the Dilido Beach Club. Dude. I don’t care what you say, you work at the Dildo Club. Period. Of course, I’m a sucker and like Fabio. I might have to fight Padma though, because she’s always giggling around him like a school girl.

3. I won’t even start on Laurie’s lips on Real Housewives of Orange County or how Vicki is a complete whack job because I’m pretty sure all of two readers of this blog watch that show.

4. After a demoralizing 68 age score on the Wii, I recently scored a 24. That’s more like it.

5. Half-marathon training is kicking ass. I can’t believe I’m actually doing it. My sister got me new running shoes and I swear Nike has steroids running through its laces. Or they were just a nice upgrade from the pair that I had been wearing for four years and made my knees feel 80. I did my longest run of the training – a five-miler that took me through Manhattan Beach, Hermosa Beach and into Redondo Beach. I felt kinda cool. Until mile five. When I could no longer feel my legs. Alas, Dave Matthews pulled me through. Heart!

TGIF!!

UPDATE: I can’t believe I forgot to mention the totally fucking annoying Denny/Izzy bullshit on Grey’s. I can not wrap my head around this, nor do I want to. Ick. Dumb. Hates it. And, I also hated the wind/vent/kiss thing.

With Thanksgiving behind us and December finally here, I thought it’d be OK to write a Christmas-y blog. Technically, I could write about Christmas year round seeing as Laef and I live on Poinsettia Ave., but with it being 85 degrees in November I tend to forget about the spirit of the December holiday.

Before I move on, there are a couple of things to note concerning Thanksgiving.

1. Brussel Sprouts are good when you pan-fry them and mix them with Pancetta. I’m pretty sure the saying, “Everything tastes better with bacon” is 100 percent true.

2. Someone thought the Beavers were so good that she decided to send a random email five days in a row saying things like, “Reasons Not to Be A Duck” and “I’m Thankful I’m a Beaver” and “vote for Sammy for some award.” She included pictures like this:

That must have been what Jeremiah Johnson looked like to the Beavers last Saturday as he repeatedly flew by all of them for a stadium record 1,286,400 yards. I hear the tequila is YUMMY in El Paso! Toodles!

3. Believe it or not, Dick In A Box is a karaoke song.

So, anyway, with all the antics of Thanksgiving behind us, Laef and I are heading to Sacramento this weekend to celebrate Christmas with my family. I realize it is a few weeks early, but we’ll be with his family at Christmas and in Vegas the weekend before that.

It’s not like my family hasn’t celebrated early before. I don’t know if I can describe how bad I was at waiting for presents. Considering I snuck into my mom’s closet one year, found the moccasins I was DYING to have, WORE THEM TO SCHOOL and put them back in the box before my mother got home from work.

I blame my father. I distinctly remember him playing the Atari that they had gotten for us for Christmas every night for two weeks leading up to Dec. 25. Or I could blame my older sisters. One year, Brooke decided to wrap Stephanie’s present in a tampon box. When Stephanie found out (probably because I also suck at secrets), she promptly unwrapped the present and re-wrapped it in something else.

I will never forget how we’d all four “sleep” in the same room the night before, never able to sleep a wink. Jumping all over the beds SO EXCITED about the whole process. I will never forget the year I got my first pair of roller skates and a purple velvet sweatsuit. I skated in that outfit for a month straight no matter how cold it was. And, no, I hadn’t skated in them before Christmas…I was actually surprised that year.

It definitely changes as you get older. At least for me it has. I get much more excited about giving gifts to people. Although, I am not good at not telling people what these gifts are because I just can’t wait to make them excited. And I’m bad at secrets.

So, this weekend, we’ll head north and see the 4,800 decorations my mom has accumulated and how many fights we can get into about which grandchild my mom likes best.

Let the month of Christmas begin!

Just a quick update on Christmas with the family. It was a success. If you consider total chaos a success.

All four siblings — myself, Brooke, Michael and Stephanie — were in attendance. It’s the first time in over 20 years that all four of us have spent Christmas together in the same room. It’s also only about the fifth time in the last 20 years that we’ve all been together.

Brooke has two daughters — Nora and Isabel. They are the oldest of the nieces. They live in Portland, Oregon and are loving them some Hannah Montana right now.

My brother’s daughter, Avery, was also in attendance. I prefer to call her an Aross in training, but I think that makes my brother nervous. Who wants anyone to turn out like me? Probably no one. The older girls got her in the hannah vibe and her and Isabel rocked out pretty hard.

Speaking of my brother. The guy is a semi-pro poker player. He just “happened” to have a poker table top in his car. So, he busts it out and my brother-in-law, Nick, also gets excited. Because he is also semi-pro or something. My brother was trying to explain different things to me (800 mimosas later), Laef (62 Blue Moons later), Art (several hundred Early Times on the rocks later) and Neal (many Pepsis’ into the night).

Now, Mike’s wife, Amy, was not to keen on the idea of poker. Probably because he brought the table in around 10 p.m. and I’m pretty sure he’s been known to roll in from poker games at 3 a.m. The next day was Christmas, which means a 6 a.m. wake up call from all the young peeps. So, Amy made it pretty clear to my brother that he better hurry his ass home.

So, he took about four minutes and took every last penny from all of us. It was quite a show and quite embarrassing, I must admit.

After the shark left, the boys played more cards. This time it was change-only.

My parents had a friend dress up as Santa to come over the kids, and after a few tears of complete fear and a couple of baffled looks from the older kids, it was a success.

All in all, it was really fun. Although, I’m not sure if Art had as much “fun” seeing as he was constantly cleaning up after us, vacuuming, losing money, cooking, etc. I think he was happy when the chaos ended.

This is the first year that I got myself really organized and sent out Christmas cards to all my friends and made cupcakes to bring to work. I’ve been shopping for the past few weeks so I’m pretty much done. It’s the first time in at least 10 years that I feel really prepared.

A lot of that stems from the fact that when I worked in the Oregon athletic department I never had a free weekend in September, October or November. Once December rolled around, the Ducks were usually preparing for a bowl game, which would usually fall right around Christmas. So, I guess I have been somewhat detached from the holiday spirit. Not to mention, I just never had enough time to be organized to do it.

Laef and I flew to Missouri last Christmas to be with his family. They have many traditions and I really enjoyed seeing them all interact.

This year is the first time in years that I will be able to go home and enjoy the holidays. No worries of a pending bowl game or working on the softball media guide. When I realized that we’d be going to my parents, I emailed all of my siblings to see if they’d like to all go to Moms since we haven’t done that since, well, since I can’t even remember.

You would think that I was asking each of them to find a cure for AIDS, devise the Oregon game plan for the Holiday Bowl (one in which Cody Kempt throws four TDs) and adopt a baby from Darfur — all before December 25.

I have two older sisters and one younger brother. We are the American family. My oldest sister has two daughters, my next oldest sister has one daughter and two-stepchildren and my brother has a one-year old daughter and a baby boy on the way. I’m the reject living in sin with my boyfriend who is eight years my junior.

There have been arguments about everything from when to celebrate, to what kind of food to eat, to when the “big” dinner should be to how much we should spend on each other to where everyone will sleep, to who is allergic to dogs to who hates Turkey. Anything that can be debated is being debated.

And, I love it.

I guess I have this vision that despite all of the craziness in each of our lives that for those two days I will take it all in and enjoy the fact that I’m lucky. I have a family — a crazy one — that will provide epic material for this blog.

Stay tuned.

P.S. My number one favorite thing in the world right now: Pinkberry. It’s a frozen yogurt shop and the yogurt has zero fat calories. The fruit they put on top is unbelievably fresh and delicious. However, I went with the cocoa pebbles and yogurt chips the other day. It’s UNREAL.