Never Fear, MoreDating is Here

Ugh, I know. There's been a sad lack of postage going on at All Growns Up. What can I say: I've been busy working for the man. And with that, there just really hasn't been that much to write about. First Rule of Blogging: Don't Blog When You Have NOTHING To Say. I try to follow that rule, even though I've been known to break it. As you can see....

However, if you've been paying attention to the days quickly passing by in 2009, it might have come to your mind's eye that the dreaded V-day is upon us. Yes, it's Valentine's Day time y'all.

This time of year, I usually get the stink eye from single-looking passers by because I'm a 'missus'. But even when I was a single gal, I never thought Valentine's Day was one to sit inside, watch Fatal Attraction, and accept the fact that you've gone up a dress size. It's just another day, y'all. No really, it's just another day. And no, I'm not saying that because I always had a boyfriend... I usually got flowers and candy on Valentine's Day...from my dad.

But that doesn't mean that it isn't nice to have someone of the opposite--or the same--sex to spend the day with that preferably is not a paternal figure. So being that the big day is still five days away, I'd say it's crunch time.

Okay, five days might create some pressure if you're hoping to find your soulmate before this Saturday. But on Valentine's Day, all you need is a great date. My recommendation? Wander over to MoreDating.com.

MoreDating.com is a brand-spanking new dating site where you can mix and mingle with single folks in your area from the comfort of your desk chair. And, if you find someone that seems like a promising V-day partner in crime, you can even plan a date with their restaurant and date-planning resources.

Basically, it's a one-stop shop social networking site for those looking to add a little oomph to their dating life. Log in now and you can be one of the first people to explore this awesome resource for single people everywhere! You'll be a MoreDating legacy! And, who knows, you might even fill your February 14th schedule.

2009 Beef #1: Corking Fees

I know that it's probably bad karma for my very first post of the new year to be such a negative one. I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for the forthcoming subject matter. It's overwhelmingly whiney, but I just can't help myself.

You know that feeling when an establishment--such as a restaurant--serves up a plate of utter disappointment? I know, it hurts. Especially when it's your favorite establishment. It happened to be tonight, folks. You walk out of the restaurant with your chest pounding and your Californian cuisine rising up in your throat. It makes you want to hurl a meager tip comprised of pennies at the scroogie owner.

Today was my birthday, y'all. Yup, the big 2-5. I'm officially a quarter of a century old, which would be cool if just about all of my friends weren't touting the same accomplishment. So my hubs took me to my favorite restaurant in Petaluma, CA, which will remain nameless. I'm vengeful, but apparently not THAT vengeful.

I first noticed that something was off when a bit of a foofaraw arose behind the wine counter. The owner was rifling around to the soundtrack of fine stemware crashing. However, instead of shouting out an embarrassing albeit more adult-like four letter word, she sought the member of the wait staff that was the farthest away.

She than began to publicly, and not delicately, reprimand the server as to the proper storing and stacking of the stemware. At one point, the phrase "it's not rocket science" was heard throughout the petite restaurant. Yah. Awkward.

Restaurant Ownership Rule #1: Do not break your own stemware. Restaurant Ownership Rule #2: Do not reprimand your employees in front of your customers. It's just bad form, no? I have to say, I was more embarrassed for the accomplished head chef/owner than the poor girl, who handled the situation with infinitely more poise than her supposed superior.

But then came the real blow, which I'm substantially more miffed about because it directly impacted my pocketbook. See, I don't know if you've heard, but apparently there's an economic crisis going on. And since the hubs and I intended to celebrate said birthday with more than one glass of wine, and this particular establishment boasts a BYOW rule to the tune of a 'meager' corking fee, we decided to pick up a mid-range bottle.

Our eyes were bigger than our livers, apparently, because as the end of our meal began to draw near, the bottle was shockingly full. We only thought we were shocked by how much wine we didn't drink until the bill came. Corking fee? Pshshs. A corking fee to the tune of twenty bucks. As in 2-0. And when I gingerly questioned the sum, the owner condescendingly brought to my attention that the corking fee is normally twenty-FIVE dollars and she'd knocked off five bucks out of the goodness of her heart. I'm convinced she dreamt the figure up while preparing our meal because nowhere, repeat, nowhere, is a $25 corking fee posted on the menu or otherwise.

Maybe I'm a little naive as to the reality of the corking fee here in Northern California. It's entirely possible. But I have to say, I was stunned. I thought, corking fee...maybe ten dollars. Maybe. That's stretching it. So basically, we enjoyed a $17 bottle of wine for the price of $37.

So here's what I'm thinking of doing: we go in there, order water, share an entree, and sit there for three hours requesting infinite refills of water and bread. Maybe they'll charge us a 'tabling' fee? I wouldn't be surprised.

Wedded Bliss, Two Years in the Making

It's been a little quiet here at All Growns Up, nay? I don't know just what has gotten in to me. Wait, yes I do: the Christmas spirit. That's what.

Actually, this is a busy time of year at my house. Thanksgiving. Hubster's birthday. Anniversary. Christmas...what? Anniversary? That's right, two years ago on December 10th, the big J and me were tying the proverbial knot. It was good times, folks, good times. (See left.)

So last night, on the official anniversary date, we were obligated to go to the company Christmas party, which is always a thrill. So instead we're going to head out for a little night on the town on Friday.

But on any anniversary, I think it's only natural to think about how much you love and adore your spouse. You think of all the wonderfully sweet and precious things they've done in the past and you get a warm fuzzy feeling. However, I couldn't help thinking of a recent incident in which my own efforts to share my husband's love of football came to a painful and tragic ending.

It was Monday Night Football, I believe. The game was over and the favored team must have won cause hubs was in a good mood. I was too. In fact, I would go so far as to say I was in a 'great' mood because when hubs suggested that we go outside and 'throw the football', this sounded like a good idea to me.

Now, the football in question was not a softy Nerf egg-shaped variation that lands on the ground with a 'poof'. It was more like an NFL-quality, full-size pig skin around which my little handsies could barely get a grip. And it was dark. And I generally excel in sports like running, or cycling, or yoga.

I'd have to say, I was pretty proud of myself. We got quite a few could passes in. But my finger that normally looks like this:

Looked like this before it was all over:

The things we do for love. It's still a little sore and it's been about three weeks. Love is a battlefield, so they say. Any folks out there have any genuine battle scars from the Love and Marriage scene?

Anywho, Happy Anniversary, hon. Two years down, fifty million to go. You're totally worth having a finger that looks like a sausage.

To Sneak or Not to Sneak

Confession, y'all. I did a bad thing. I know I should feel sort of guilty about it, yet I slept like a baby last night. Ugh, the torment!

See, I've been a pretty straight-laced kinda gal. Don't much care for breaking the rules. But then I'm not sure if it's because I want to do the right thing--or because I don't want to get caught doing a bad thing. Oooo....

At the movies with the hubs and a friend this weekend (we saw Body of Lies, not bad, not bad), we had the idea to go for a double-header. You know, two movies, one night. It's fun, you should try it. Anywho, so we start roaming around the halls to find a movie that a) we want to see and b) hasn't already started. We land on Burn After Reading which, as fate would have it, started in only fifteen minutes.

Now, I just assumed that we would exit the theatre, purchase tickets, and re-enter as good, law-abiding citizens would do. However, as hubs and friend got that devilish twinkle in their eyes, I realized that this was not the plan.

And so...we did it. We casually entered the theatre as if we were paying customers only...we weren't.

Now, it wasn't a sold out theatre or anything. And there were a few other folks in there. And the theatre runs the movie anyway, whether there's people watching or not. So...what's the big deal, right?

Not ironically, there was something wrong with the film and Burn After Reading--which really isn't that good anyway, to my shock and awe--was a little bit blurry the whole time. We couldn't complain of course because we didn't have any tickets, you see. Karma, leave me be.

Under the circumstances described above, was it wrong to sneak into said movie? I can't lie, I feel a little guilty about it. But then the hubs says I'm just being a baby. And Friend gave me a speech about the importance of civil disobedience.

Thoughts, rebels?

Rescue me, Tommy Gavin...

I curse the day that TiVo, DVR, OnDemand, DVD series, and other such life-sucking devices came into existence. I have never watched more TV in my life. I'm totally hooked. This grown-up's self control is next to nothing.

I used to pride myself on my inability to commit to a television series. Remember when Party of Five was a big hit and all your friends were watching it? Not me, I couldn't hang in there. Friends? Nope. Saved by the Bell? Nope. Just couldn't be bothered.

Really though, I think it's just because TV is so gosh-darn awesome these days. And I'm not talking about the unoriginal, degrading poo that is reality television. (Is anyone else over Survivor?) I'm talking DRAMA. Like whoa. No, The Hills does not count.

My latest afflictions are as follows: Rescue Me, Madmen, Oz, and, shamefully, Desperate Housewives. I resisted for four straight seasons only to get completely sucked in to Wisteria Lane. But seriously, where has Tommy Gavin been all my life? His psychotic, drunken antics are so addicting and I can't get enough of the 'nostalgic' sexist charm of Sterling Advertising Agency. I tell you what, my loving husband irons his own shirts and when he's hungry, he makes himself something to eat. I don't even have a decent recipe for meatloaf.

But Oz? The details of this show are not fit to print and I find myself averting my eyes during certain fleeting moments of passion among the Oz community of inmates. It's definitely a show for grown-ups, if you know what I mean. Nevertheless, I can't decide if it's a picture of everything a prison shouldn't be or one of everything that's wrong/right with the justice system!A moral dilemma! About a television show.

Books are a thing of the past these days and at the rate I'm going, I'll be kicked out of my book club. A small price to pay. What are you guys watching instead of working these days?

(Photos courtesy of http://www.pe.com/ and http://www.hbo.com/.)

Do I look like I wanna talk?

After a bit of field research, I've concluded that highly-caffeinated people are prone to do things that err on the side of socially unacceptable. I know I've done some kooky stuff when hopped up on the big C. But for California's already chemically imbalanced and--let's face it--chemically altered population, strong coffee should be rationed. I know this could mean trouble for the Starbucks out there, but if I have to keep playing dead in order to not get sucked in by the crazies, I won't be going to Starbucks anyway.

Example: the other day, I was on a serious deadline for a project. Every minute mattered. So in order to avoid the distractions of housework, husbands, dogs and phone calls that are often so attractive while at the homestead, I pack up my office and headed for the local Starbucks.

The nearest Starbucks also happens to be the Crazy Starbucks. It's where all the crazy people go. Why they can't go to New York Bagel or the stand inside Safeway next door is beyond me. And for some reason, if they're in the mood for a little chat, they set their sights on me.

A slightly disheveled gentleman enters, orders coffee and sits in the chair next to me, of course. And usually, I'm up for a little banter with strangers, friendly banter, however, and preferably not when I'm working against the clock. Not only does this guy want to interrupt my money-making, he wants to veer into serious topics: family issues, how his dad's wife is a five letter word (which he hollers), how his brother is rich but won't give him any money, the election, for crying out loud. Then he wants to use my computer to look up stock quotes. Uh, no, sorry pal.

You know when you try to be polite, and you're still shaking your head and saying 'uh huh', but you want them to get the hint pronto that you DO NOT WANT TO TALK. This guy was completely oblivious.

Example 2: Here's another one from the Crazy Starbucks chronicle. Again, working. Complete with laptop. Diamond ring accompanied by wedding band conspicuously worn on left ring finger. Alas, am approached by pimply, skinny, shorty, jewelry-wearing juvenile who while fingering bits of pastry from the bag into his mouth comes up with, "Whatcha doin'."

I was stunned. I'm usually very courteous in situations like these because I know it takes a lot of courage to approach a girl. But for all of his baggy over sized clothing, I couldn't resist. He even gave me a nice head nod to complete his one-liner, but full on irritation had already set in.

"I'm working. And married." Code for 'get lost, squirt. I don't even have the patience to let you down easy.'

Are there really so many women out there that wear 'buffer' faux wedding rings that the real deal doesn't even have the power to spare you from situations like this one? I can't stands no more. Luckily, this guy was a little more perceptive and got the hint. But really? Coffee house loner--where hast thou gone?

Decision-making disorders

I have one. Do you? And right now, I am in a major dilemma. A pickle. A quandry, if you will.

It has been almost two years of wedded bliss since I married that stud-licious husband of mine. Yet the highlight of that particular evening is still hanging in a closet at my parents' house. I'm talking about my wedding dress.

If I had to choose between my husband and that dress, I would need the cold barrel of a gun at my temple to cast my vote. (Just kidding, hon.) No but really, I love, love, love that dress. I would sleep in it if I could and I miss those times leading up to the big day when I could just watch it. And pet it.

Here's the deal though, ladies. And this is serious, so I'm going to need some input on this one. They say you should spend about 30% of your budget on the dress. Well, I blew that. A lot. In fact, the dress WAS the wedding. (Hey, I made my own wedding invitations so I could have that dress. And I LIKED it.) But it's okay because it is still the most fabulous frock I ever put my little eyes on. Now that the wedding days are behind me, this little beauty sits on a hanger, in a bag, waiting to die.

To sell or not to sell the dress, that is the question. Do I release the dove into the world for some other lovely lady to bask in its...loveliness? Or do I keep it for my own selfish, sentimental, girly reasons? What's to be done in a situation like this?

FYI: The dress in question is courtesy of Anne Barge and selected with the help of Claire at Louise Blum on Post Oak in Houston, TX. Talk about service, y'all.

Photo by Aric Hoek at Solaris Studios, Houston, TX. He will make you look fabulous.

A new 'frontier'...

Lately, it would seem that my life is made up of 'firsts'. First job. First house. First home away from home. First husbands...ha! Just kidding darling. You might even say that my recent experience would be one of embarking on a new 'frontier'...or...'frontier-s' to be more exact.

My frontier life excites me. Mostly because the word--frontier--is one of my favorite words in the English language. It just sounds pretty...the word, I mean. Plus, who wouldn't like a word that means "an undeveloped field for discovery." Yes, sign me up.

It all started when I met this guy by a pool in San Diego. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Scathingly handsome. And a trouble maker. So naturally, when he smoothly suggested that we tie the proverbial knot just three short weeks later, I enthusiastically agreed. However, it was a package deal. This charming young man came with a California zip code, which I inherited the day we got married. And so, I left my childhood home in Texas for what once was the Great Frontier...literally.

So just six months after my college commencement (a haunting word), I found myself 1) married and 2) living in Northern California. This is in no way a bad thing. However, in life, I have often professed that I would never, I mean never, do the following things:

1) get married (too compromising)
2) become a 'soccer mom' (too predictable)
3) move to California (too cliche)
4) get my belly button pierced (too skanky)
5) get fat (too much)

Considering that 'nevers' 1 and 3 have already been fulfilled, I'd say that this is not looking good.

One thing I knew I would do is to discover the world beyond my home state, to make a life somewhere else. Not to say there is anything wrong with good ole' Texas. It's quite fabulous, actually. It's not all about religious fanaticism and hate crimes. Parts of Texas have this funky coolness that is truly unforgetable. Mostly, Texas doesn't take itself too seriously. I kind of miss that, actually. Plus, I love being 'from' a place that is truly larger than life--both literally AND figuratively.

But since Texas will very likely never be my home again, I have come to enjoy the newness that has characterized my life. This 'frontier' business has been so fun that I've made it my little theme--every girl needs a theme. And so, I've decided to embark on another new frontier, for me anyway. Yes, I intend to get my blog-on.

I need to come clean and confess that I have never blogged before. I am a newbie, or to use a better term, virgin, blogger. Even in this overly-teched age, I have never ventured into the world of blog. And so, I take my first steps into this--for me--'undeveloped field for discovery' known as blogging. And with it, California, marriage, womanhood, and life, in general.