I Love Savannah

I just realized I haven't posted in a while. Oops!

In a nutshell, I have been busy with my family genealogy project and taking a trip to one of my favorite places, Savannah, GA.

To be more specific...

I have been emailing with my mother's cousin, who as it turns out, is the "keeper" of the family history on my mother's side. This part of my family were German immigrants living in Illinois and Missouri beginning in the 1860s. So she has emailed me TONS of stuff, and it turns out that my great-great-grandpa fathered THIRTEEN children. Wowza. She also emailed me a pdf file of a photo of the family, taken around 1905, which is SO FREAKING COOL, I have been staring at it all day. I wanted to post it here to share, but it's a pdf file, which Blogger does not support, and I can't figure out how to save it any other way. Anyway, here's the cool part: my mom's cousin (Debbie) is going to be mailing me a family history book she has put together!!! I can't wait for the UPS truck. It is seriously like Christmas for me.

I won't bore you with all the family history bits of info I have learned today, because I've probably already bored you enough. I know MJ is sick of me talking about it. After a lengthy and overly-excited text message about all of this to her, I received a one-word reply. Hmmm. Not exactly the reply I was hoping for.

"I need to find a genealogy buddy, dont' I?" I asked her.

"Yes. Please." was her reply, if I remember correctly.

So enough about that. I am quickly becoming aware of how genealogy can bore some people. If you want more, let me know. "Genies" can talk about it all day, you know. :)

I will now move this post in an entirely different direction, to a topic most people really enjoy: travel. I had to go to Savannah this past weekend for a conference. Oh, woe is me. ;) Since CN and I never really did anything for our one year anniversary, I decided to take him with me so we could sorta celebrate. I have funny CN stories to share, but today, I want to give you a review of what it's like to visit Savannah.

OMFG we had the best time. This was the 2nd time we had been to Savannah. CN went about 8 years ago for their huge annual St. Patty's Day festival, and I went about 3 years ago for another conference. It was so much more fun to go with someone -- last time, I had to eat and explore alone. I was too worried about getting lost to do much exploring at all that time. This seriously impacted my dining experiences. This time was much better!

We drove down on Thursday and had lunch at Belford's. Holy cow was that a fantastic lunch: crab cakes and a kobe beef burger topped with brie and carmelized onions. I was wondering why the crab cakes were so expensive, until I took a bite to find that they were 100% crab meat and covered in a super duper yummy lemony-garlic sauce. Mmmmm!!!

This was just the first of many delicious meals. We also ate at Lady & Sons, which is Paula Deen's restaurant. Although it is a tourist trap and overpriced, it does have the BEST fried chicken I have ever put in my mouth. I think they are battered in a mixture of flour and crack. So if you ever go, just get a big plate of fried chicken. Skip the rest. You will be glad you did.

Also on our culinary tour of Savannah: fantastic Thai at Ruan Thai on Broughton Street, and excellent Italian at Corleone's (I highly recommend the baked beef tortellini in marinara sauce).

We really didn't have a bad meal the whole time. Even a dive bar we stopped in had great fish and chips. You really can't go wrong in Savannah. And all the people are so friendly! Everyone wanted to know where we were from and what we were looking to do while in town -- where else does THAT happen??

All throughout the downtown/historic area, nestled between neighborhood parks and along Broughton Street, there are lots of really cool home decor stores, galleries and boutiques. I went to many of these stores. Let me tell you about my favorites. Kilwin's makes some of the best fudge I have ever had in my life -- toasted coconut with chocolate swirled into it. Holy cow, it was a flavor explosion of joy in my mouth. I still can't believe it's a chain. Red Clover, Bleu Belle and James Gunn had really cool (expensive!!) clothes and a very friendly staff. Zia's had amazing handmade jewelry. But by far, my favorite stores were the home decor stores: The Paris Market, which sold lots of vintage housewares and French imports and DC2 Designs, which reminded me of a Z Gallerie. But by far, my absolute favorite was called @ Home Vintage General Store. Cute stationery, office supplies, cookbooks, linens, baby gifts, picture frames, sewing notions and other decorative household goods, all with a vintage 1950s flair. Half the stuff in there WAS vintage -- board games, school suppiles, sewing stuff, etc. CN had to drag me out of there. I would get back in my car right now, just to drive down and visit this store again.

Savannah is one of the most haunted cities in America, and since CN and I are both big ghost story fans, a ghost tour was obligatory. We went on this tour, and our guide was a great story teller, as well as very knowledgeable about Savannah and the homes he was describing to us. He had even been inside and interviewed a resident of my favorite haunted house of the tour. It is located on East Charlton St. Here's a photo I found on Google Earth:


Do you see the big trash bin in front of it? That wasn't there when I saw the house, but it was probably there recently, because it is being renovated. Why is it being renovated? Because they cannot get anyone to live in it, so they are trying to spruce it up! Which is quite odd, because it's in a gorgeous and old neighborhood in Savannah's historic district. It's practically next door to one of Savannah's most prominent landmarks -- the Hamilton-Turner house (which is also haunted). You might recognize the Hamilton-Turner house from the movie, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. So why can't they get anyone to live in it? Because there's a poltergeist there! It opens the cabinets in the kitchen, moves the furniture in the living room and re-arranges the pictures on the wall. Anyway, the last people to live there left very suddenly, after only being there for less than a year. They were so freaked out, they didn't even take their furniture with them!!! It took them a year to work up the courage to come back for their stuff. That was in 1996. It's been vacant ever since. The house was listed at around $200k, the last time it was on the market. This is a total steal. If you're willing to live in a supposedly haunted house....where an old lady died in a bathtub....which may have been a suicide, because the woman had been talking to the ghost for many years...eek!!

And if you know anything about ghosts, you know that all renovations do is stir up more ghost activity, usually of the angry and violent kind. They probably should not be messing around in there, if you ask me. :)

Anyway, when the guide was telling us about this house, I got chills up my leg. Then, if we wanted, we could climb the steps and peer in the little window next to the front door (not visible in the photo above). Of course, I was all about this. But when I looked inside, I got an uber-creepy feeling and turned right around! This house totally gave me the creeps. Which only made me want to go back, of course!

But it will have to wait until next time, along with untested restaurants and unexplored shops. I can't wait until I can go to Savannah again.

The pervasive and excellent cuisine and shopping, combined with a laid-back and creative people (courtesy of the large art student population) and spooky atmosphere (Spanish moss, huge oak trees, witchcraft and haunted antebellum mansions have a tendency to create that) resulted in CN and I agreeing that Savannah is far, FAR cooler than Charleston.

Seriously, Charleston is the snobby, less-cool cousin of Savannah. Yes, that is how I would explain the differences in a nutshell. If you need a vacation recommendation, this one gets 5 stars from me!

What's in a Name??!

If you know me in real life, you know that I always have a project. Almost like a temporary hobby. It will stick around for a few weeks, and then I move on to something else. Every time, I either become bored with it or I find something new. It's like I'm OCD, but also ADD at the same time. Now, I don't know if that means there's something wrong with me, but it's definitely not out of the question.

Some of my former projects include: cake decorating, scrapbooking, learning anything and everything about NYC, home decorating, learning about the trucking industry, foreign languages...I could go on and on, but I won't bore you. I will be the first to admit that many of my projects are on the boring/geeky side. And my friends enjoy some projects more than others -- the cake decorating one was especially popular.

My current project? Genealogy. My training as a librarian comes in very handy for this. And I have learned that you can never really finish genealogy, because there's always another relative to look up. Which is probably why this is the 2nd or 3rd time I have tackled this project. This time around, I am even helping coworkers and friends look for their families online. It is super fun!!! (And yes, if you want me to see what I can dig up for you, just email me!)

It is also a genetically inherited interest, I believe. My dad, WLF, was also bitten by the "genie" bug. He actually researched both sides of his family, all the way back to our first immigrant ancestors to America. Which is pretty amazing, considering my first ancestor came over on the Mayflower. That's a lot of work! I remember when I was a kid, WLF and his sister went up to New York state to do research. Even as a kid, I thought it was so cool and wanted to go with them.

Eventually, WLF had the family trees written out and framed. They now hang in the basement at The Czarina's house. Every time I go to visit her, I stare at them. I wonder what these long-dead ancestors were like. Do I have their nose? Their sense of humor? If I could ever talk to them, what would I want to ask them? What amazing events had they witnessed? What would they think about the world today? (I guess even as an adult, I still have a kid's imagination and inquisitiveness!)

The Czarina, on the other hand, doesn't have much interest in all of this genealogy stuff. Maybe that's because her family just arrived in the United States in the mid-to-late 1800s. Her family tree is just so short and so simple -- 3 generations on each side, mostly Irish, with a generous glob of German thrown in. She pretty much already knows everything. Her father's side -- the Irish side-- is the part of my family I'm most interested in. We are pretty sure they fled the Potato Famine of the 1850s, but we've never been positive. Most of my time working on this "genie" stuff has been spent looking up info on Irish-American immigrants, or, as I like to call them, "my people". LOL. I'm even now trying to learn more about the history of Ireland so I can understand "my people" a little better. After all, I am genetically more Irish than anything else. (My dad was a total mutt!)

Although I do know a lot about both sides of my family, it's still fun for me to look things up. I like to see if I can find any undiscovered bits of information lurking out there in the old census records and other resources. What I have found is that it must be really easy to avoid the census takers, because there are entire branches of my family that are not even listed. I can't even find one of my grandfathers! This makes researching even more challenging and fun for me. I am determined to find stuff! So that's what I've been into lately.

What I want to share with you are some of the really weird, out-of-style, old-fashioned names in my family. Here is a list, drawn from both sides of my family:

Wilbur
Harold
Ephraim
Elijah
Ebenezer
Chastity
Prudence (can you tell I have some Puritanical roots? LOL)
Eulella
Euphemia (my whole family agrees this sounds more like a disease than a name!)
Gertrude (this name is VERY popular on my dad's side, for some reason)
Elmer
Mabel
Ida
Sylvester (UGH! horrible name!)
Arabella
Florence
Agnes
Cordelia

No offense to anyone with those names. I just think they are...unusual. I actually like some of them -- Arabella and Cordelia and Elijah are all fine by me. It's just interesting to see how names fall in/out of fashion. Sometimes WAY out. LOL

Of course, in my family we have a lot of perfectly normal, common names, too. Lots of Thomases, Josephs, Benjamins, Sarahs, Catherines, Marys, Pauls, Henrys, Jessies, Jameses and Marthas.

But it's no fun to talk about normal names! Let's talk about the weird ones! Do you have any unusual or old-fashioned names in your family? Share with me! I love learning about this stuff.

Wish Us Luck

Tomorrow morning, CN and I leave for Virginia to go visit The Czarina. And my little sister Smurf. And my younger brother Fungus. And a ton of other people. The only person he won't get to meet is Fat Dog, because he will be out of town, a groomsman in a good friend's wedding this weekend. Which is unfortunate, since Fat Dog is really fun and easy to be around.

We will be up in my hometown for four days. This Saturday is the annual BBQ held in honor of my dad's birthday. The Czarina has hosted it every year at her house since he passed away 3 years ago.

We have a big buffet of BBQ pork and all the fixin's. We have fireworks. There's lots of drinking and story telling. It's such a mix of people, too -- not just my immediate family, but all of our family friends...and everyone brings their kids.....and dogs......so I would say that the age range here is anything from 80-something down to newborn. But heavy on the 60+ crowd, all of whom are very conservative, highly educated, staunch Republicans. (I swear, most of them are fun after their 3rd scotch.)

I really look forward to this annual event. Good food, family, good friends, a nice summer evening in the country under the stars...what's not to love? Sounds like a great time, right?

Unfortunately, since I am someone my boyfriend describes as "always excited about something", I think I went a little overboard this time. When I invited him to go with me a few months back, our conversation went something like this:

VB: Ok, guess what!

CN: What.

VB: Every year! at the end of June! my mom throws a huge party! and everyone comes over! and eats BBQ! and drinks all day! and then we watch fireworks.

CN: Oh yeah?

VB: [growing excited] Yeah! And I thought it would be fun if you came with me this year! It's a huge party and it's so much fun! Everyone will be SO excited to meet you! [eyebrows raised expectantly] So....you wanna go?

CN: Sure, babe. How many people are we talking about?

VB: [slightly confused as to why that question is important] Oh, like a hundred or so. [switching back to the high-pitched excited voice] Anyway, my mom will be SO excited to meet you! And so will Smurf...and my brothers....hey! You wanna shoot guns with my brothers while we're up there? They love to do target practice! And you can meet Howard, and the P family and my mom's cousin, and...

CN: [I'm not sure, but I bet this was the point where his eyes started to glaze over.]

VB: [undaunted, I am now on to all the activities we can do on our long weekend in my hometown]...and I can show you where I went to elementary school! and we can visit the college where my dad used to teach! and I can show you this supercool store downtown! OH! and we can drive out to the old house where I grew up! It is so cool. It was built in 1840 and--

CN: [Stopping the verbal excitement gushing from my big mouth] Hey, hey, hey. Wait. Um, ok. That sounds cool. We can do that. It's just that based on what you've told me about your mom...

VB: Yeah, yeah. I know. My mom is Queen of Loaded Questions. I am a little worried she will chew you up and spit you out. Ugh, she can be so judgemental. And close-minded. And snooty. Sometimes. Hopefully, she won't be like that with you. She will love you. Maybe I can just answer her questions for you....

CN: That won't be necessary.

VB: OH! I have a great idea! Here's the thing. She will be running around like a chicken with her head cut off, because of the party. So she probably won't even have time to really have a major heart-to-heart with you! She'll probably talk to you for like, 30 minutes, and that will be it! Yay!

CN: Yay...? Ok. [He is laughing at me now]

VB: Oh! You know what would be really good? You should offer to help her get ready for the party. She will LOVE that. And remember, don't put your feet on the furniture, don't sleep in, and don't leave dirty dishes all over the place. Those are her pet peeves. But we can go all over this again in the car on the way up there. OOOH!!! I am so excited to introduce you to everyone!!! There are so many people who will just love to meet you!

CN: [giving a deer in headlights look] *gulp* How many people did you say were coming to this thing?

VB: [again, confused as to the relevancy of this question] Like a hundred. Maybe 75. But at least 50. It lasts all day and all night. Sometimes, people even come over for breakfast the next morning. Don't worry. I'll keep you away from all the people who only talk about politics. And the people who will ask nosy questions about our relationship. I need to remember not to wear any of those shirts that old people mistake for pregnancy clothes. Dear Lord, that's the last thing I need...OH! And before I forget, you will be sharing your room with 3 guys.

CN: [slightly panicky] Share? Three?

VB: Yeah. My mom's house only has three bedrooms. [with sympathy] Oh, I know, sweetie. I know how you can't sleep with strangers in the room, and you can't sleep through snoring. And just so you know, Fungus is kind of a night owl, so he will probably be in and out of the room all night...but you can bring your ear plugs and Tylenol PM, right? You should be fine with that, right?

CN: I hope so. Are you forgetting?

VB: Oh probably. Let me think...what else should I tell you...*thinks about how else to describe our trip to my hometown*

CN: No, I mean you are forgetting things. Like...I don't like parties.

VB: [quietly] Oh. Yeah. Right.

CN: Or lots of attention and fuss all over me.

VB: [even quieter] Oh. Ok.

CN: Or people.

VB: [whispering, at this point] Oh.

*I look at my lap*

*realization sets in*

VB: So, everything I just told you is...bad? And I just freaked you out?

CN: Pretty much.

VB: I'm sorry. Sometimes, I forget that you're not a social butterfly like me, babe. Crap. See, I forget about that stuff, because you always seem to enjoy going to parties with me. You had fun at Mr. Bill's. And at my Lasagna Night.

CN: Yeah, but I know you. And I know Mr. Bill. And your friends. Plus, there's beer. You are the one who gets excited about social interaction. I just get nervous.

VB: [excited expression returning to my face] So.....we should just get a lot of cold beer before showing up at my mom's?

CN: Yeah, that would probably be a good idea. Because right now, I'm really anxious and nervous, based on what you just told me. I will definitely need a beer upon arrival.

VB: Ok, we can do that. And if you need to get away, you can just tell people you have to walk Sammy! Or you have to find me! Or you have to pee! Ok? And I'll bring some Xanax, so let me know if you need one.

CN: Ok. I'll be fine. Just stop making a big deal out of everything.

VB: But babe, that's what I do. Duh.

Because of this conversation, and its subsequent additions (no, I can't help it), I have not brought up the trip home in the last 2 days, as a way to allow CN to relax and decompress before showtime. It's probably too late to convince him to relax, but it's better than nothing.

Meanwhile, my overactive imagination has been scheming up all sorts of horrible scenarios, many of which involve rudeness and screaming, leading to the resumption of my cigarette smoking. Gah. Just thinking about all of this right now makes me want to grab a pack on the way home, just to get warmed up.

The truth is, I have never brought home a boyfriend. Not like this. Not to stay for a weekend. And meet EVERYONE. So I have no idea how this is going to go. I guess if it goes horribly, I will have a good story to tell, right? Ugh.

Pray for me. And wish us luck.

Fashion and the City

This past weekend, I managed to squeeze in enough time to catch the Sex and the City Movie with MJ and her coworker JP. (Since KT moved back to NY, JP has been a super-fun replacement in our girl gang. Not that KT can be replaced, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I love making new friends, so it's always nice to see JP.)

After the movie was over, MJ & JP mentioned that they thought the clothes were ugly, outrageous and impractical. I, on the other hand, thought they were FANTASTIC. They are fun and irreverent. When I go to the movies, I want to escape my mundane life and pretend I have another life -- usually, the life of the heroine. I think this is why I like romantic comedies so much. My life can always use more laughter and love, as far as I'm concerned.

In the case of SATC, I love to watch it and pretend that

A) I live in NYC, my thus-far favorite place on Earth,
B) It is socially acceptable to wear outrageous haute couture clothing that is so artistic and unique, and
C) I have enough money to do both things.

So to say that I really enjoyed this movie is an understatement. It was like a wonderful, extra-long season finale episode. Now, ladies, if you haven't seen it yet, I promise I won't give any plot details away. But I have GOT to share these fabulous (and, admittedly socially outlandish) clothes with you!!!! Yes, I know they are silly and crazy. But I love them!!! I love how fun fashion can be. I love that fashion is sort of like art in motion. It's like a painting or a feeling that you can wear. I love how confident the women who wear these clothes are. I really wish I got to wear such crazy stuff all the time. And why not? Life is short. The way we dress is one of the few things we have control over in this life. It's just an outfit. It's temporary. Removable. Fun. We watch crazy things on tv. We eat crazy foods at exotic restaurants. Why not wear crazy clothes, too? Who's with me?

I think I am hearing crickets. *sigh* Ok, fine. I guess the cheese stands alone.

I know men don't "get" SATC and they think it's all man-bashing. And I know most people don't get the crazy clothes. Or the absurdity of the fact that a writer, living alone in NYC, can afford a designer wardrobe. But I am totally ok with suspending reality when I'm watching a movie. And I really enjoyed suspending reality for this one! So ladies, if you have been planning on seeing it, you've GOT to. It was a great movie, even if you are just a minor fan of the show. But I wouldn't go see it if I were a novice fan. You've got to understand the history of Carrie & Big, Miranda & Steve, Charlotte & Harry and Samantha & Smith so you won't get lost. Ok, enough about the movie. Let's look at the clothes!!!

Here were my faves:
Hello! How badly do I want a pair of zebra shoes like these now? LOVE how Carrie wears them with a red print and a sequin minidress. Great contrast.
Alright, everyone has been dissing the bird in her hair. But I think it's AWESOME. Very Carrie. And I love the color. So original -- who else wears feathers in their hair on their wedding day?? Almost like a hat. And I love women in hats. I want hats to come back!!
Miranda's blue dress might be the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. And Charlotte's roses are my favorite color.
Ok, I am not really feeling this green dress that much. But I do like the shoes! Gladiator stilettos?? I am woman, hear me roar! RAWR!!!
I have to admit, I could do without Samantha's shoulder pads. But I love everything else, especially Miranda's gold dress.
LOVE the dresses Charlotte and Miranda are wearing.
Gorgeous, gorgeous gorgeous. Another shot of Charlotte's bridesmaid dress.
Super fun dress. Love the hot pink with the belt. I'm not feeling the footwear, though...it's too much, even for me.
Freaking awesome dress. Yes, I know it looks like the flower is eating her face. But it's so dramatic. *sigh*
I'm pretty sure this dress is from a scene that was cut. But isn't it fantastic?? So feminine.

Now, unless you have seen the movie, you won't understand the significance of these blue satin Manolos, but aren't they just perfect??? I wish I had a pair. Note to self: buy pair of blue satin stilettos, despite the fact you have no outfit to wear with them.

Ok, fashion moment over. Back to reality. Brown pants. Ruffled aqua blouse. Flat, brown sandals. South Carolina. Yawn.

Cruise News, Part 3

As much as I have complained about the cruise, it was not all bad.

Friday, we were in port at Freeport. We decided not to go on any excursions that day, in order to save money. Besides, we were only there for about 7 hours, and none of the excursions sounded like they were can't-miss. Freeport is, according to all the travel websites and books I consulted, not anything worth seeing.

CN and I did look at the little tshirt shops that were literally right off the gangplank. I finally got to listen to someone speak in the local Bahamian accent. It sounds very similar to a Jamaican accent, but not as thick. After about an hour, we had seen everything there was to see, so we got back on the boat.

That night, we had our formal dinner. We went to the cocktail party beforehand, where we had yummy appetizers and drinks--all free. CN and I did a little slow dancing, which was nice (aw). For dinner, most of our group opted for the surf n turf combo: filet mignon and lobster tail. Aside from the lobster tail being rubbery and overcooked, it was good food.

Everyone changed into more comfortable clothes immediately after eating dinner, which doesn't really justify getting all dressed up to begin with. (Note to self: VB, you enjoy vacations which do not require formal wear.) Everything was going pretty well, and CN and I even managed to stay up with the rest of the group for about an hour. But by then, we were pooped, so we went to bed.

At some point that night, we were jarred awake by extremely loud banging on our door. At first, I imagined we were in the midst of some kind of Titanic-like sinking, or there was a big fire on board. CN, who was closer to the door, jumped up to see who was banging at the door.

No one was there. No one was even in the hallway.

Waking up in a panicked state is probably my least favorite thing in the whole world. So I was pretty pissed. "Stupid kids..." I mumbled, as I rolled back over to go back to sleep.

That's when the phone rang.

CN answered it.

"Hello?" asked CN.

*BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!* said Larva.

*click!* went the phone. Larva hung up on CN.

"It's Larva," explained CN. "I know him. He's not going to stop."

I groaned.

That's when the banging started again. As soon as CN would get up to tell Larva to stop, Larva would run down the hall, giggling, and finally ducking into his room in the nic of time. CN would come back to bed, and as soon as we had gotten comfortable and closed our eyes, the phone would ring again. Ignoring the phone did not work. It just kept ringing. Taking it off the hook caused it to make a very loud beeping sound. So we were forced to deal with the incessant ringing.

This went on for at least a half an hour. Banging. Ringing. Burping. Giggling. Repeat.

After round 3 of this, I had had enough. I stood up and informed CN that although Larva is his friend, I officially hate him and never wish to ever hang out with him again. And that this bullshit had to stop. Now.

CN was way ahead of me. He was even more pissed off than I was. "That's it. I'm punching him in the face. I'm going down to his room and when he opens the door, I'm clocking him," he announced.

CN went down to Larva's room. I can't remember how long he was there, since I was groggy at best. But I remember that CN came back frustrated that Larva wouldn't even answer the door. Neither would his wife, Sandra. (We found out later this was because she had PTFO.)

We tried to go back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning for about an hour, since we were so wound up. We didn't sleep very well that night.

In the morning, we tried to get in better moods, despite Larva's lack of an apology. *grrrr* We had breakfast and then got ready for our port-of-call in Nassau. We all decided to spend $65 (each) on a 4 hour excursion and go together as a group. At 9am, we got onto a ferry for a 30 minute ride off the coast. By this point, the water was breathtaking. It looked like this, but better. I don't really know how to describe it, other than to say that all those photos you see of the Caribbean do not do the real thing any justice. The weather was perfect, and there was a nice breeze. Ahhh. So far, so good.

The ferry took us to a small island, where there was a beach, a bar, a souvenir shop and a snack shack. We had our photos taken, and then put our stuff down on some lawn chairs. Then, we went to a little roped-off area where we grabbed snorkeling equipment.

It was time to go swimming with sting rays.

Oh yes. The same animal that killed the Crocodile Hunter. Only these were de-barbed for our safety. Whew. On a side note, these animals are really creepy, so the barbs are really superfluous, IMHO.

I put on my snorkeling equipment and began swimming around the sting ray area. The creepy sting rays move like underwater birds. They tend to herd together and swim in schools. If you have ever seen a horseshoe crab, the sting ray looks like a flattened version of it! [Note: These two animals are not really related. Sting rays are related to sharks and horseshoe crabs are related to spiders and ticks. Sorry for the geek moment, folks.]

I am giddy with excitement about this whole experience. Not only were there sting rays of various sizes and colors, there were also white, blue and yellow fish. I am pretty sure some of them were Angelfish. I have gone snorkeling before, and I absolutely adore it. It's like being in a giant aquarium. So I was really enjoying this.

Until I realized........that I had no idea where my boyfriend was or if he was ok.

The same boyfriend who cannot swim.

Uh-oh.

I pulled my head up to look for him. I expected him to be in ankle-deep water, just watching everyone else, or practically drowning somewhere. He wasn't. He was only a few feet behind me, snorkeling!!! I was totally shocked. It turns out that he can sorta-kinda swim and doesn't start freaking out until the water is as deep as his chin. "Plus, the flotation device is helping," he said. (The flotation device was part of our snorkeling equipment.)

I was so proud of him.

Even if he jumped and squealed like a little girl any time one of the sting rays came close to him.

After letting us swim around for a while, the sting ray guides (keepers? handlers?) told us to line up into two lines and face each other. It was time to feed the sting rays. Cool! The sting rays must have known what the two lines meant, because they began to swim very quickly and swarm around us, rather than ignore us as they had moments before.

The guides (keepers? handlers??) then went around and handed each of us a handful of chopped up, raw squid. Um, thanks. Then they told us how to feed the sting rays by holding the squid under the water, just above the sand. The sting rays would swim over your hand and hoover up the squid parts. "They use suction to capture their food," the guide explained. Ew. Kind of like an underwater vacuum cleaner.

Thanks to my overactive imagination, the only image that came to mind was my arm, trapped inside a very angry sting ray, which was doing its best to suck the flesh off my bones as I screamed bloody murder and writhed in agony in the shallow area of this wading pool full of horrified cruise vacationers.

So when a sting ray came near me, I held the squid part under the water for a second, only to let go too soon and watch as the snack, intended for the sting ray, was snatched up by a fish. Oops. Sorry, Mr. Sting Ray. Next time, don't be so creepy, ok?

Next, I was shocked to see that some people were actually touching the sting rays. Didn't they realize they were risking their lives?? That their appendages could be shredded in an instant, much like a garbage disposal would, subjected to the unpredictable will of these shark cousins with extremely powerful suckage mechanisms in their mouths??? Were they insane???!! These are the pool drains of the animal kingdom! Keep your fingers and hair away, people!!!

"Cool! How does it feel??" I asked the guy across from me.

"Slimy!" he replied, excitedly.

"Oh, wow. I wanna touch one!" I said, suddenly forgetting my imagination's vivid and gory warnings.

The guy was right. They are slimy. Firm, but slimy. But as cool as it was, I didn't feel the need to touch them again. Once was plenty.

I looked down the line to see what CN was doing. He looked nervous and tense, and still jumped and yelped any time one of the sting rays came near. I couldn't help but laugh.

I found out later that a great deal of the yelping and jumping had to do with the fact that Larva had put squid parts in CN's pocket, so the sting rays were swarming around CN like bees.

Tee hee. As obnoxious as Larva is, I had to give him credit on that one.

After the sting rays, we had lunch and then hung out in the beach area for a little while. CN and I were enjoying the water, when we noticed a wild, fully barbed sting ray in the water. This was not one of the captive, tame ones we had just fed. It was huge, and it was headed our way.

This time, my overactive imagination threw potential newspaper headlines at me: "Couple, 29, Killed by Wild Sting Ray: 'It was just horrible to watch' witnesses say" and "Wildlife Community Warns of Vacation Danger: Man Never Had a Chance, Experts Say". So I grabbed CN's hand and practically dragged him out of the water lickety split.

"Gee, thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up! I just saved your life! You can't swim!" I said.

He doesn't know that I was actually more scared of it than he was!!

Then it was time to go, so we all got back on the ferry and were, well, ferried back to our cruise ship. CN and I spent the rest of the day shopping in Nassau.

It was so nice to get off the boat, even if everything was just tshirt/souvenir shops. There was the occasional luxury goods store (Gucci, Bulgari, Fendi, Breitling), but the prices were still outrageous, even duty-free.

Like so many foreign cities around the world, escaping American culture was difficult: Ford cars on the streets, KFC was open for lunch and the U.S. Dollar was the currency. And everything was made in China. ;)

After wandering around for a while, I was very excited to see the big tent where they sell the fake designer handbags. I freaking love these things. They never look like the real thing, but they are still great-looking bags. This time, I got a big, yellow patent-leather Prada. (I will share a pic soon, promise!) I also got a small, black Coach and a large, black Coach tote. I got all three for $100. Yippee!!!!

I tell you what, if you ever go to The Bahamas, make sure you can make up your mind quickly. Everyone there is extremely pushy. They certainly do not take "no" for an answer! CN ended up buying a cigar from a kid, only to get him to shut up and go away. And they expect you to buy anything you look at longer than 5 seconds. I inspected one handbag for a good minute, only to tell the lady that I was not interested. She was really pissed and told me that I wasted her time!! "Well, you need to sell cuter fake handbags," I thought. Hmph!

By about 4pm, CN and I were pooped, so we went back to the boat and took another nice, long nap. It was the perfect end to a great day.

Bigs and Littles

Thank you, everyone, for the supportive comments on the last post. I just needed to vent, and if you can't vent on your blog, then where can you? I have decided to go back to my original plan of dieting via Weight Watchers. And on a side note, it ticks me off when their commercials say "Stop dieting, start living. Try Weight Watchers today!" because it IS a diet. Jeez louise, who do they think they are fooling? Any program that doesn't say, "Eat whatever the hell you want, any time you want!" IS A DIET.

Duh.

Where was I? Oh yes. Back to the old diet regime. I feel thinner already, actually. I have been super good for.......well, 48 hours. It's a start, right? And according to my scale this morning (I swear on carrot sticks I have not weighed myself since Saturday) I have lost a pound.

And I did a kick-ass workout last night at the gym. My trainer rocks. He somehow knows where the line between "push yourself so hard that you impress yourself" and "ok, this is just human torture" lies. I always leave his workouts proud of myself.

Then I ran two miles. YESSSSS.

Now that I am totally off-topic, I will discuss what I meant to discuss when I wrote that title above.

I am going to (hopefully) start volunteering for Big Brothers Big Sisters. I have been wanting to volunteer for a while now, because I'm starting to feel like my life is so self-absorbed and I'm really blessed. Now that I've lived in the Columbia area for 6 years, I'm really starting to feel like this is my community, so I want to give back. I have the time in my schedule. I knew that I wanted something really hands-on. Fundraising isn't really my thing. I toyed around with the idea of being a foster parent for a Boston Terrier Rescue. But I have enough pee on my carpet, and the closest organization is in NC. Then I thought about maybe working with recovering alcoholics, but I think that will be too real for me. Since I never went through a 12 Step Program and don't need to go to meetings, I don't know if I can relate to someone who has lost their spouse, job, house and kids to the bottle. I don't know if I have the ability to deal with a 3am phone call and talk someone down from going out and getting drunk. That is something I don't know if I can handle. But maybe one day, I will try that. For now, I want to start off small.

I'm never going to be one of those people who changes the world in a major way and has streets named after them or makes it into the history books, but I think I can be the person who will affect ONE person in a great way. That sounds like something I can do. I can't put a lot of good into the world, but I think I can put a lot of good into one person's life.

Plus, I love kids. Of any age, really.

And coloring. (From what I gather, there's a lot of coloring going on. WOOT)

So now, I am waiting for them to do the background check and talk to my references. Then I will have an interview, and then they will match me up with my "little". I didn't know this, but they try to match women up with girls and men with boys. They also try to match you with someone of the same race, which I think is interesting. I don't really see why those things matter. But whatever. I guess they know what they are doing.

Once I get matched (the parents of the child and I both have to agree to the match), I am supposed to spend a minimum of 4 hours per month with the child, for one year. Totally do-able.

I'm just worried that they will set me up with some kid who comes from a really crappy situation, and I will just burst into tears every time I look at her! I have a hard time dealing with crappy kid stories. I can picture it now--

Little Girl: Dude, you're crying again???

Me: *sniff* Yeah! I *sob* just can't believe *sniff* what you've been through!! For someone to do that to a child--

LG: It's not a big deal. I told you, I have been in this situation my whole life. It's not even a big deal to me anymore, although the shrink says that I'm permanently scarred, but what the hell does he know? The courts are working it all out. I'm gonna go to foster care and a ton of therapy. There's already a restraining order against --

Me: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! Ok! Ok! I have an idea!! Why don't you just come and live at my house with me?? Huh? Isn't that a great idea???

LG: Ok, Virginia, we have already talked about this. No can do. I'm sorry.

Me: But...but....

LG: Ugh, I can't take this anymore. I'm going to ask for a re-assignment. You're an absurd person. What kind of role model are you, anyway? All you do is cry and ask me to live with you. I just want to color and watch Dora the Explorer. Why don't you just go steal a baby or something? Jeez lady, get a grip!

*she storms out*

*more crying on my part*

*LG gets restraining order against me for caring too much. BBBS reprimands me for becoming "unhealthily attached to child, to the point that the child experienced stress and needed even more therapy" and "recommends that I volunteer for another organization" due to my "extreme emotionality". *

Oh boy. There goes my overactive imagination...

Babies R (Not) Us

Like many young women, I want to have kids one day. I'm thinking at least 3, maybe as many as 5. (Hey, I come from a big family, so this is normal to me.) And although I am absolutely positive I want to be a mother before I die, and I have a couple of names picked out, that is about as far as I'd taken this thought.

Until this weekend.

Don't freak out -- I'm not having a baby! *knocks on wood to be sure*

But lately, I can't seem to escape the thought of babies, and it's starting to wig me out. Let's make a list, shall we? Yes, let's. Because VB's heart rate is rapidly accelerating, and lists make her feel more in control of her world. Here we go.

1. I had a dream two nights ago that I was talking with an old friend about what it's like to be pregnant. We poked at her belly and discussed her due date. I think that in the dream, I was trying to get pregnant. Whoa.

2. Last week, CN and I were sitting on the couch watching Biggest Loser. I mentioned how it would be so easy to lose weight if you had kids, because you'd feel like you'd have a really good reason -- something to motivate you to live into old age. He replied, "Yeah, but you'll have kids one day. You should start being healthier now." (He's right, as usual.) He was visibly surprised to hear my answer: "No. I don't know if I'm going to have kids. It may not be in the cards for me." And I shrugged, because I am not one to count my chickens (or children?) before they hatch. And then I changed the subject, because the conversation was getting a little to "real" for me. I'm not ready to talk about that with CN yet. Heck, I'm not ready to talk to anyone about that!

2. CN and I were invited to a baby shower this past weekend. So we had to go pick out a present at Babies R Us, which, if you've never been, is like Wal-Mart, only it's filled with pregnancy/baby/toddler stuff. And it's FULL of women who look like this:

Now, I don't know if any of you have ever been in a giant room full of women who look like their water is about to break, unless you are an OB/GYN, but it is terrifying!!! I wanted to run up to each soon-to-be mom and play traffic cop: "Everyone! Now just back up! I need you to keep at least 10 feet back! She's gonna blow any minute!!!" I'm not kidding -- some of those women HAD to be at almost ten months of pregnancy. My fear of accidentally bumping into them and causing their water to break left me temporarily paralyzed. I didn't move an inch.

I looked around some more. There were approximately 7.3 billion baby items to purchase for your baby and/or your pregnancy. Now, unlike some women, my Baby Experience Resume is pretty extensive -- tons of babysitting, the oldest of 5 kids, lover of all things small and cute, oozing with maternal instinct, and a Master's degree in diaper changing.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for the Baby Bonanza that is Babies R Us.

There were these strap-things, which hold your big pregnant belly up. Like a giant seatbelt or something. I don't know. There were covers for your nipples. I don't know why nipples need covers, and I'm wondering if it's because they don't make bras big enough for pregnancy-sized boobs-- a terrifying thought. And I have never seen so many thermometer options in my life. Did you know that pacifiers come in sizes? Yeah. Neither did I.

Between the pregnant women, the bizarre baby items for sale, and the umpteen newborns in the building, my head began to spin. I looked over at CN. He was white as a sheet, and also seemingly cemented to the floor.

"Oh. My. God. There are pregnant women everywhere...." I trailed off, speechless with fear.

"Yeah. And babies," whispered CN.

"This is totally freaking me out. Let's get the hell outta here ASAP!" I said.

We printed off the registry, grabbed the closest thing in our price range (which happened to be a Breast Friend, a product I was actually familiar with) and practically ran to the register. On the way to the register, I explained to CN what a Breast Friend does, and he proceeded to make jokes about how he wants one so he can be my breast friend. Har. Har.

3. On the way to the baby shower, I realized that never in the History of Baby Showers has there only been one baby or one pregnant woman. There were going to be more. And I was right. CN and I walked into a nest of new mothers and fathers, all discussing their new babies and baby products and baby philosophies and organic baby food and....well, you get the picture. There were two babies in addition to the one being celebrated. There were baby-themed cakes, decorations and party favors. Everyone was coupled up, either engaged or already married. It felt like everyone was expected to either have a baby or want to have a baby before even walking through the front door. Like it was a requirement to attend.

It was so overwhelming, I completely forgot that I had a boyfriend. My inner Single Girl said, "Shit! I hate parties like this! I'm single and I can hear my biological clock ticking now more than ever! Why do they never invite more than one single girl to parties like this?? Don't they realize it's torture? Oh. Wait. I am here with someone...Right. Ok." And then I spent the rest of the party trying to see if there were any single girls there, so that I could introduce myself and comfort them. Old habits never die, I guess. Or perhaps I just don't see CN and I as a couple couple yet. Because we haven't been dating long enough to discuss the possibility of making a little VB or CN yet. Does that make sense? I dunno. It felt too soon for us to be in that room with all those.....baby people.

Consequently, I kept to myself and stuffed 3 chocolate-covered strawberries, 4 ounces of dip/chips, one brownie and 17 petit-fours down my gob.

PMS hormones + too many babies + weird baby items + freakishly swollen bellies + a party where I know no one = Time to eat.

Ugh. I am getting a headache just typing this.

Anyway, our gift was a hit, and many "Breast Friend" jokes ensued.

4. After the party, CN and I had hoped to return to the Land of the Childless by attending W's birthday get-together. No such luck. My friend Y was there, and she is about 6 months pregnant with her first child. And a couple was there with their 3 month-old little girl. She was adorable. And they let me hold her. And she was so little! And she had that powdery baby smell! And she stuck out her bottom lip when she cried! And we all cooed over her adorableness.

CN was watching me do all of this. I cooed to him about the cute baby. He said it was impossible to escape babies that day. I nodded and continued to coo.

"You don't want one, do you?" he asked, terrified.

"Oh my God, NO!" I shouted. CN had jolted me back to reality.

And that's when I realized that I really like the idea of having a baby and being a mother. Possibly even with CN. But the whole pregnancy and labor thing totally freaks me out, and I am nowhere close to being ready to have one any time soon!!!

I wish the stork story was true. Because that is the kind of pregnancy/labor I want! Just thinking about how scary labor must be and how pregnancy totally f**ks up your body makes me feel like I'm going to faint. Why can't a nice little bird just drop if off on your doorstep? This is much more logical to me. It also sounds cheaper, safer, faster and cleaner. Scientists should look into this and see if this is indeed a viable option.

I explained all of this to CN and told him that I can't wait to be a mom, because once the baby has arrived, I think I would like it, because I know what to do. It's the whole pregnancy/swollen belly/scary labor stuff that bothers me.

He totally disagreed, saying that the baby's arrival is when all of his fears would start!

I guess it's good to know that we are on the same page about all of this stuff. Kinda.

Awkwardness

For the first time in my whole life, I am going to a significant other's parents' house for a holiday.

Yes, I am a loser. But that's not what this post is about.

And no, I am not freaking out about anything major. I have already met CN's parents, and I like them. And they like me. So that is good. I'm just nervous about the little stuff. The Czarina is not helping, either. The other evening, she called me.

VB: Hello?
C: Oh! It's loud. Are you out?
VB: Yes, Mom, I'm in a bar. What's up?
C: Are you with CN?
VB: Yes. We are eating dinner.
C: Um, ok. I just wanted to tell you something while I was thinking about it, because otherwise I'll forget.
VB: Ok. Shoot.
C: You're still going to CN's parents' house for Thanksgiving, right?
VB: Right. Is that ok?
C: Oh, sure, honey! That's totally fine. I know it's a pain to drive all the way up here, only to turn around two days later. You can just come home at Christmas.
VB: Ok. I'm glad you're not upset.
C: Oh, no. I just wanted to give you some advice.
VB: Ok.
C: When you go down there with CN, make sure you don't call him "Sweetie" or anything in front of his mother.
VB: [Trying not to laugh] I'm sorry. It's kind of loud in here. What did you say?
C: I just wanted to tell you not to call CN any little nicknames in front of his mother. It comes off as possessive.
VB: [Realizing there is no point in debating the validity of this statement, and it would be better to just go with it, because apparently, mother has smoked crack before picking up the phone.] Oh. Ok. Thanks, Mom!
C: You're welcome. I'll let you get back to your dinner. Love ya!
VB: Love you, too. Bye, Mom.

Ok, is anyone else totally confused about this advice? Because that was probably the strangest piece of advice she has EVER given to me. And I'm having a VERY hard time believing it. It sounds totally absurd. Who gives a fart if I call him "Schmoopie" or "Sugar Pie" or even "Love Bunny" in front of his mom?

I mean, do parents care about stuff like that? Or is my mother crazy? Because normally, her advice is very old-fashioned, which I can understand. Usually, I can see her point. It's never just plain crazy. This just made no sense to me at all. I could understand maybe, if his mother didn't like me, but she does. So I fail to see the meaning and importance of this advice. It's making me wonder if The Czarina is suffering from early-onset senility.

Maybe I'm just naive? Can anyone shed some light on this for me?

Funny side note: Right after I got off the phone with The Czarina, CN saw a friend of his in the bar. He introduced me, and the three of us started talking. Then the friend made a joke about how CN and I are going to have babies in "about 5 years". I laughed it off, but CN got TOTALLY flustered! It was so funny. I have never seen someone get so wigged out about a joke before in my life! He acted funny for the rest of the evening, and just couldn't seem to let it roll off his back. I mean, the joke put us on the spot, but there was no harm in it. I don't know why it bothered him so much. Can anyone explain this puzzling male behavior to me?

Ok, back to my Turkey Day Stress.

As if my mother's strange advice isn't making me TOO ill at ease, I have a bunch of other stuff that is stressing me out about Thanksgiving this year. My inner monologue goes something like this:

What if his parents' house smells funny? What if I don't like his mom's cooking? What if I have to meet other members of the family and they hate me? What if I get down there and his family is TOTALLY different than mine and we just don't mesh well? What if they get all dressed up for Thanksgiving?

(My family wears sweatshirts and jeans, because the Big Meal is always served mid-football marathon, and we are NOT about to wear church clothes to watch football games on tv!)

*Note to self: ask CN about appropriate Thanksgiving attire*

What if I have to go to church with them? I am weird about other people's churches. I never know where to go or what to do, and often feel guilty about "cheating". Which, at this point, is kind of stupid, because I have not been to church in about a year. I guess it's because I was raised Catholic. Although I'm not Catholic anymore, I still view my attending "other" churches as being sacriligious. I'm weird, I know. Heck, at this point, I could use ANY church! LOL I'm a heathen!

What if they don't like the pies I'm making? I will ruin Thanksgiving! (I am making a sweet potato pie, and I've never made one before. I'm worried I will mess it up.)

What if they eat weird food for Thanksgiving? Like squash or chitlins or goose or something? What if I don't want to eat anything except my own pies?

What if I want to watch different football games than they do? Or worse -- what if they don't watch the football games at all!?

What if I get homesick while I'm there and I start crying? (To make things really interesting, I am all hormonal and PMSy -- which means I cry about anything.) Or worse, what if Cranky, PMSy VB comes out and I bite someone's head off?! EEEK!!

What if something really awkward happens? Someone could bring up a personal topic, or CN and I could get into a fight. Or his parents could turn into MY parents, lecturing us to death. Ugh.

What if I get sick when I'm there? What if we start playing board games, like we do at The Czarina's, and I turn into Obnoxious Board Game VB, who plays for blood and screams at people?

Ugh. Ok, change of subject. I can feel my stomach twisting up. I need to chill, don't I? I'm being ridiculous. Everything will be fine. I could always just pop a vicodin -- Lord knows that always chills me out.

I'm kidding.

*Note to self: get prescription for Xanax.*

Does anyone have any advice for me? Because I've never done this before, and all I am imagining is that I will be like Sarah Jessica Parker's character in The Family Stone and it will be horrible horrible horrible. (By the way, if you have never seen that movie, it is hilarious!) My Overactive Imagination is having a field day right now. Pessimistically Paranoid is screaming and running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Clearly, I need to talk to CN and get him to calm me the eff down. I swear, guys, this is the hormones talking. They make me crazy. Sorry if I'm being TMI today...

Why did I quit smoking again??? Gah, I'd kill for one right now.

So any advice is welcome. Tales of Warning are good, too. And if you have any funny or embarrassing stories, please share those, as well.

But mainly, I'm looking for an explanation of my mother's weird advice. Seriously, WTF??!

Stories of My Family, Part 1

I was talking about The Czarina's parents the other day, and realized I have never blogged about them. So here we go!

Let's do Grandpa John first. His parents met in a very interesting way. His dad (Thomas), the son of Irish immigrants, may or may not have immigrated to the U.S. illegally! You see, his parents came over after the Great Potato Famine, but settled at first in Canada. Then, things get a little fuzzy, and suddenly they are in Wisconsin, claiming to be natural-born U.S. Citizens on the census, which we know is not true. So we think there is some illegal border-crossing going on somewhere. Anyway, Thomas went to law school at the University of Wisconsin, after convincing them that he is also a U.S. Citizen, although we think he was born in Canada.

A few years later, he was on vacation from his job as a lawyer/businessman in Virginia. He decided to go to a resort in Hot Springs, Arkansas. At almost 50, it was well-believed by the family that he would just end up an old bachelor.

Meanwhile, a young lady named Mary Ellen was going on a trip. She and her sister and mother were leaving Ireland to go visit some relatives in Denver, Colorado. (They were actually going to visit James Denver, a distant cousin whom the city was named after -- cool, huh? Yeah, I have a Colorado connection!)

Ok, um...I just read that Wikipedia entry, and now I am not so sure they were actually going to Denver, or if they were just visiting Cousin Denver in Washington, DC...because apparently, after 1858, Cousin Denver only went to Denver for visits--he didn't live there anymore. And I know all of this took place after 1858.......hmmm.......will have to ask Czarina about that.

Sorry. Where was I? Oh yes.

Since it was a long trip, the women decided to take a break in -- you guessed it -- Hot Springs, Arkansas. They stayed at the same resort where Thomas was. Although she was half his age, it was love at first sight and they got married right away. Mary Ellen, her sister and her mother never went back to Ireland! They all moved with Mary Ellen and Thomas to Norfolk, Virginia. That branch of my family--the Irish branch-- is still there.

They had 4 kids. The 2nd one was my Grandpa John. Family legend states that John was very rascally and often in trouble with authority figures! He was not malicious or anything, just acting like little boys do. (I like to say that this behavior is genetic, as my brothers were also totally obnoxious children.)

Unfortunately for the family, the birth of the fourth and youngest child (a girl) did not go very well. Mary Ellen needed a blood transfusion. But this was before anyone really understood blood types--all they knew was that sometimes transfusions worked, and sometimes they didn't. It was a roll of the dice. And Mary Ellen apparently got the wrong kind of blood, and so she died soon afterwards. Everyone in the family took it very, very hard.

Sad, I know. But it's ok. If you have read Angela's Ashes, you know by now that the Irish race is full of sad stories. But sometimes they are happy and sometimes they are funny. Ok, back to the story.

Soon after Mary Ellen died, the 1929 stock market crash hit, and all of Thomas's investments and businesses went belly up. The financial ruin, combined with the sudden loss of his wife and the worries about raising 4 young children (when he was already so old) were too much for Thomas to handle, so he basically locked himself in a room and turned into an alcoholic.

Crap. This is sad again, I know! But this is my family, so I can't just make up stuff here. There are lots of Irish alcoholics in my family, unfortunately...as you will soon see....

Meanwhile, the kids were running amok because Thomas was too drunk to take care of them. And since there was no money, there were lots of unpaid bills. So their Aunt and Grandma stepped in and cared for the kids. They sent the boys to military school (which they hated) and the only daughter ended up being raised by the Aunt. Then Aunt and Grandma sold everything in the house to pay the bills. (The only things we have left from that house are a chair and a clock!) They even had to sell the house. Thomas ended up living in a hotel and dying in poverty, I believe. (Ugh, sorry this is so depressing guys...but Irish families rarely have happy stories.)

Ok, so meanwhile, my Grandpa John graduates from military school and moves back to Norfolk, where he becomes a soda jerk, moves into a boarding house with his brother* and proceeds to pursue his new favorite hobby: alcoholism. It was at this point when the Great Depression really kicked in. Talk about bad timing.

This is where it gets kinda foggy. Although Grandpa John eventually quit drinking, as you will see later on in my story, he was always ashamed of it and didn't like to talk about the Great Depression when he was basically wasted and unemployed for an entire decade. (Can you blame him?) All we know is that during the Great Depression, he was a hobo who rode the empty freight train cars and he spent some time in Chicago. During this time, he also discovered a passion: journalism. But that's all he ever told anyone.

I like to think, with my overactive imagination, that he was a member of 'Bugs' Moran's North Side Gang, which was an Irish gang involved in prostitution, racketeering and gambling rings and fought continuously with Al Capone's gang, culminating in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

But that is purely speculation.

And vehemently denied by my mother. Who apparently, has no imagination.

So who knows what my grandpa really did besides jump trains and drink cheap booze between 1929-1939. I guess I will never know. When WWII did break out, Grandpa John decided that putting himself at risk of death every day was worth it to have food in his mouth, so he went to join the military. Unfortunately, he was soon kicked out because he was drunk all the time. Oops. Now what?

Bad, I know. But it's ok. It gets better.

At any rate, thank goodness for World War II's effect on the U.S. economy, or else I may not be here today. Gramps probably would have ended up in a gutter somewhere, pulling a Jimmy Hendrix, asphyxiating on his own vomit or something.

But that didn't happen. What happened was, the U.S. entered WWII, and we needed to build some planes. A LOT of planes. That is when Boeing got a big-ass government contract and hired thousands of people to build planes at their huge building facilities in Washington state. It was sort of like an army base, only it was full of civilians who built airplanes. Lots of Rosie the Riveters.

They had so many employees (we are talking about 50,000 here) that it became necessary to have employee housing. Which means they will need schools, a hospital, grocery stores, and everything else a large group of people would need. Including a newspaper.

Grandpa John somehow managed to get a job with Boeing. He was in charge of the factory base's newspaper. And one day, he went over to the headquarters building to interview one of the Boeing Big Shots...........

Ok, that's all for today.

When does he meet Virginia? Does Grandpa John ever stop drinking alcohol? Or is VB's mother conceived in a drunken hook up? What happens on the interview? Stay tuned to see what happens next!!

* I actually just found this out recently, because I was geeking out in a genealogy database, and looked him up in the U.S. Census of 1930. I was so excited, I called The Czarina, who had no clue her dad had ever been a soda jerk, let alone rented an apt with his brother!

Too Good to Be True?

Warning: This post may induce vomiting due to its sugary-sweet goopy mushiness.

I'm starting to wonder if CN is a real person, or merely a figment of my Overactive Imagination. Examples:

1. Changing our status on myspace to "in a relationship" was his idea, not mine. (Cliche, I know. But I get little warm fuzzies everytime I see it. Aw. And yes, PH, I realize this dooms the relationship! LOL) Usually I am the one who wants to define the relationship first. But I feel so secure in this relationship (a total first for me), I just figured we'd get there eventually. No worries. (That being said, I would encourage every single girl reading this to keep dating until you find that guy who makes you feel REALLY secure in the relationship. It is an awesome feeling!!! I'm thinking, "OH! So this is how it's supposed to be! Aha!" You cannot put a price on it. There is an unquestioned trust, and it's amazing.)

2. He does the following, without my having to bring it up: mows my lawn, takes out my trash, helps me carry stuff, holds my purse when I need an extra hand, helps me walk my dogs, takes my trash to the dump when I miss the morning trash pickup -- which is often. It's the little things that count, you know?

3. Nothing fazes him. Not my messy room, not my estrogen-fueled emotional breakdowns, not my zits, not the crazy stories about my weird family, not my terrifying addiction to sugar, not my financial woes, not my barfing on our first date, not my cellulite, not even the scary/weird/depressing stories about my exes. When my dirty little secrets come out, I am still accepted.

4. Yesterday, we were on our way to Wal-Mart and were stuck behind a car that had broken down. Most people would go around it or do a U-turn and leave the scene to go find an alternate route. Not my boyfriend! He put his car in park and got out to help the total stranger push his car out of the intersection. Who does that???

5. Over dinner last night, he was telling me about how he's picky about leftovers. When he has a to-go box of restaurant leftovers, he won't leave them in the car because they get gross. And if he's driving his Jeep, he won't even keep them at all, because the Jeep's interior is open like a convertible would be and he worries someone walking down the street will open the box and spit on his food or something. (Because that's what people do...look for open cars so they can spit in a total stranger's restaurant leftovers....LOL) Anyway, he said that one night he got a pizza before meeting up with a friend at a bar, but he couldn't finish the whole pizza. Since he was driving the Jeep, he didn't have anywhere to keep the leftovers "safe" from random spitters, so he gives the rest of his pizza to a homeless guy. Again, who does that??? And he wasn't bragging about it or anything -- he told me this story like everyone just gives their dinners away to homeless people all of the time. "Sometimes, you make me feel like an asshole," I said when he finished. He was puzzled.

6. He wanted me to meet his parents this weekend, but told me that if I wasn't ready, it was no big deal. Although I was a little nervous to meet his dad (who was described as someone who is very difficult to please -- nothing is ever good enough for him, apparently), I said ok. And I LOVE his parents. They are scarily similar to my parents, actually. His parents already knew a bunch of stuff about me, because CN had told them all about me. CN's parents are so funny and very, very nice to me! His dad even invited me to come to CN's hometown for a big festival they have in November. I even got good-bye hugs from his mom and dad. Aw.

7. CN's birthday is next week. I asked him what he wants for his special birthday dinner, and he said, "Oh, whatever you want to eat, babe, is fine with me!" -- Who does that???!! I actually had to argue with him that it's his birthday and he can eat whatever he wants. I had to drag it out of him that he wanted chili and cheesecake! LOL We had to have the same conversation about his birthday present (halfway through, I realized that he'd really like Falcons tickets, so I shut up then!). He was never going to speak up about what he wanted to get! "Oh, you don't have to get me anything!" -- Who does that??? When it's my birthday, I practically type up a list for everyone! (Hopefully, this means he will be totally overwhelmed at the Falcons tickets!)

8. He drives across the street (picture how silly that looks, y'all) to pick me up. And last night, he backed his car into my driveway so that I could unload my groceries more easily. But then he ended up unloading them all for me. He could have just parked at his house and made me carry my own groceries across the street, which is what most people would have done. Which was what I was planning on doing. Time and time again, he proves to be even more thoughtful than I would ever have hoped. It's like he can read my mind and then takes it one step farther. He anticipates things even before I think of them. I told him he needs to hold Good Boyfriend Seminars and charge $250/person. Men need to learn from him.

9. He has the ability to make me be nice to everyone, even annoying students and boring old people. I have found myself being more patient and driving more safely, too. I think before I buy (he's really good with money) and I think before I eat (he's a far better eater than I am). If he ever found out that I was rude to a stranger, had a car accident due to my impatient driving or that I was short with an old lady, I would die of embarrassment. Even when he's not around, I try to live up to his expectations. I think I'm dating a saint. I don't think I've ever admired a boyfriend so much. Even The Czarina doesn't have that much influence on me. He and I joke about how I should wear a "What Would CN Do?" bracelet.

10. He tells me that I spoil him. [Insert shock and awe here.] I literally replied with, "Huh?!" I have cooked for him a few times. And I took him to breakfast the other day. I keep my legs shaved. But that's it. And he thinks I'm awesome. Wow. That was easy.

I know it's not good to put people on a pedestal (I myself hate being on them--too much pressure), but I can't help it! I guess to me, he just stands out, head and shoulders above the rest. I'm not saying that I don't deserve him (because frankly, after all the crap I've been through, I think I've earned this!), but he definitely makes me want to be on top of my game and keep him around until further notice.

Of course, eventually, I will screw this all up. Or he will. It's too good to be true. There's no way that he's normal. He probably buries bodies in his backyard or something. Right? I mean, by now, every guy I've ever dated has let me down in some way or another. CN hasn't done it yet. I'm not saying he's perfect (if I had my way, he would stoppit with his Howard Stern addiction). I just keep telling myself, "Oh, the other shoe will drop soon enough, he'll do something stupid and I won't look at him the same way anymore. Or I'll do something really stupid and mess it all up and fall into a deep and lonely depression." -- but it STILL hasn't happened yet! Part of me kind of wants to get it over with, you know?

It's sort of like being on a roller coaster. It's so fun, but so scary at the same time. You're sure you're going to die, but you don't, and that just makes it so much more wonderful. I haven't felt this lucky in a long time. Maybe I'm just slowly going insane and he's actually an average guy. Or even worse, an imaginary boyfriend. Gah, is he even real???

Dr. Kidney

See if I care that only two people commented on my last post. Because you know what? I don't care. Not one bit.

*sniff!*

Obviously, no one wants to read about Vermont or see how beautiful it is, so instead, I will talk about something else today.

*sniff!*

Today, you get to learn all about my pee. Ha! Take that! See what happens when you ignore my posts? You get gross-out medical posts. Just remember this the next time you choose not to leave comments.

Where should I start? Hmmm. I know. Let's start with the fact that this poster actually means something to me today:



Because for me, it is indeed a urinal. You see, doctors keep finding an excessive amount of protein in my urine, and they can't figure out why. So after 3 dip-stick tests and a catheter experience, they still can't figure out what's wrong. That means I have to go to the next level of testing: I will be spending all of Sunday filling up this weird-looking brown jug with my pee. The pee has to stay cold, so I will either keep it in a sealed bag in my fridge or in a styrofoam cooler. I haven't decided which is worse/grosser. Then, on Monday morning, I will drop off 24 hours worth of VB Pee at Dr. Kidney's (the urologist's) office so they can run more tests. Yippee. Nothing like saving your own pee to make the weekend exciting.

And when I bring in my jug o' pee on Monday, I will probably get more stares from the old men in the waiting room. Sitting there with their enlarged prostates, they were all looking at me like, "Why are YOU here?" -- It was very surreal.

Oh, and as for the PSA portion of this post, let me advise my female readers: If you ever have to go to a urologist's office and wait in their waiting room, bring something to read! My only reading options included: golfing magazines, parenting magazines, entrepreneurial magazines and brochures about overactive bladder medications. Ugh. Obviously, I was not the normal patient. Great.

Anyway, after peeing in yet another cup, even Dr. Kidney seemed baffled about it. "I just can't tell from this. It's probably nothing, but just to be sure...."

And that's when he introduced me to the weird brown jug.

Being both a librarian and paranoid, I of course looked up stuff on the Internet so I could attempt at diagnosing myself.

BAD IDEA.

According to what I've read, high levels of protein indicates kidney damage and is usually found in people with diabetes.

I know I don't have diabetes. It doesn't even run in my family. I mean, if I were diabetic, I'd know by now, right? I mean, I need to lose like, 15 pounds. That's not enough extra weight to give me adult-onset diabetes, right??? I'm not especially thirsty or anything.....

But maybe, just maybe, I have somehow damaged my kidneys. I did have a kidney infection once. And I think I got into a fight with my brother when I was little, and he punched me in the ol' kidneys.....no, wait. I think I punched him in the kidneys.

WHAT IF THERE IS REALLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME???

*Overactive Imagination presents VB with mental pictures of the Worst Case Scenario: "I'm sorry, Virginia, but not one of your family members or wonderful friends is a match. You have extremely difficult-to-match kidneys, in addition to have that incredibly rare kidney disorder for which there is no cure. You're going to have to be placed on a kidney transplant waiting list. At the bottom. It will probably take about 18 years for you to get the kidneys you need. Until then, we're just going to have to remove your breasts and eyeballs, and put you on this special medicine, which makes you go bald permanently and barf a lot. We're also going to have to start dialysis. You might want to think about moving back in with your mother so she can take care of you. It will be very painful and incredibly expensive. You've got insurance, right? You might want to call your provider about this." says Dr. Kidney.*

I have talked to dieticians, nurses, friends and hypochondriacs. (You think I am kidding....) I have heard everything from, "Just drink more water!" to "Are you sure you don't have diabetes?" One person is convinced it's the dietary supplement I'm on (biotin-- it's good for your hair and nails!). Another person is sure it's because I've lost weight. Yet another person thinks there's actually nothing wrong with me at all: "What if your body is just like that, and it's 'normal' for you?"

Of course, I'm convinced some crime from my past is catching up with me, in some sick & twisted karmic revenge. It's a result of the MRSA I had this time last year. It's a side effect from the vicodin. I smoked weird, kidney disease-laced pot in college. I've caught some kidney disease from one of my stupid ex-boyfriends. This is my body's reaction to my being mean to old people. Or this is my body's way of saying to me, "You eat entirely too much sugar! I tried to warn you, but now it's too late! You will never eat ice cream again! Hahahahahahahaha!!!"

Much to my dismay, MJ won't pee into the jug for me. I tried bribing her with pumpkin bread, but unfortunately, she doesn't like pumpkin. Some friend she is. I would pee for her. *grumble*

*gulp!* Another Conversation with My Brain

Since MJ is doing the next installment of our NYC trip, I will let you skedaddle on over there for more NYC stories.

That way, I can give you the small update about my love life. Yes, it's true. I have an update.

I took the dogs for a short run at the park yesterday. I was kinda sweaty, but realized I needed to do some yard work. "No time like the present," said Little Miss Productive, "You might as well do it now before it gets too hot."

So I was in my front yard yesterday, doing some weeding and watering. "Pee Yoo! I stink!" I thought.

"Just finish up this little bit of weeding, and then you can go inside and take a shower," Little Miss Productive urged.

"But I'm stinky and hungry! And my fingernails are all green!" whined Prisspot.

I went back to weeding. Who appeared out of nowhere???

Cute Neighbor.

"See??!! I told you we should have taken a shower! Now you're stinky! And your makeup has slid off of your face. Stay far away from him so he won't smell your stanky swamp ass!" Prisspot said.

Cute Neighbor and I made some small talk in my front yard. I asked about his dad, he asked about my trip to NYC & Vermont. Yadda yadda. We talked for probably a half hour.

"Ok, this is going pretty good," said Stupidly Optimistic.

"Except for the fact that you currently smell like a buffalo," retorted Pessimistically Paranoid.

"I told you!" shrieked Prisspot.

This conversation with my brain was suddenly interrupted by Cute Neighbor, who was explaining to me how he still had some of the cookies left from when I brought him a plate the other day. "Yeah, I keep them in the fridge so they don't go stale. I eat one per day."

"Wow, that's totally something we would do," said Nerd.

"No it isn't. You could never eat one cookie per day. You'd scarf those puppies down so fast it would make anyone's head swim. What planet are you on, lady?" said Good Point.

"Oops. He's still talking. Pay attention!" said Space Cadet.

Cute Neighbor went on: "Yeah, those cookies are really good. I need to take you out to dinner sometime to thank you for making me all these cookies."

"WHAT?!" screamed Panic.

"Holy Shit! Is that a date??" exclaimed Single Girl.

"You go, girl! Project Cookie Seduction worked!" said Confident.

"OMG, this is a horrible, horrible idea. This will never work. You can't go out with your neighbor. No digging in your own backyard!" said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"This! Is! Awesome! You're going to have such a nice time! He's a super nice guy! And you're a super nice girl! Let's do cartwheels!" squealed Stupidly Optimistic.

"Wait....did he even just ask you on a date? Because that could be interpreted several ways," cautioned Cynical.

"No, that was totally an ask-out! Wheeeee!" said Stupidly Optimistic. [Stupidly Optimistic does cartwheels with Space Cadet.]

"Ooh! Maybe we should go shopping. You need to make sure you wear something devastating. And do your hair," said Single Girl.

"Yes, please do your hair. It looks so awful when you just let it hang there. Kind of like how it is right now," said Inner Mom Voice.

"Um, ok, he hasn't exactly picked a time and a place, people. Also, he's waiting for an answer. Hello??" said Good Point.

"What? Sorry. I was thinking about lunch," said Space Cadet.

"We need to respond to his statement in some way that indicates interest," said Good Point.

"NO! No reply! Let's just pretend we didn't hear him and hurriedly go back inside! Run! Before it's too late!" shouted Panic. "We can't go on a date! We haven't been on a good date in....shit, a really long-ass time. We're fine just how we are right now. Why mess that up??"

"Look, Panic. Just because we are all terrified of dating in any way, shape or form doesn't mean we have to spend the rest of our lives sleeping alone. Eventually, we are going to have to go on a date again. And eventually, there may even be emotional investment. Not necessarily with this guy, but it will happen. You are going to have to just deal with your fears, and not at the expense of potential happiness, either. I swear, if you don't knock it off with this self-destructive mentality...." said Overly Analytical.

"But it's just going to happen again! The last guy seemed nice at first, too! And look what happened! It's just easier to stay single and alone!" cried Panic.

"Panic's bringing up good points," added Pessimistically Paranoid. Cynical nodded in agreement. "Maybe this is a bad idea."

"Speak for yourselves. We're broke and could use the free dinner," said Cheapskate.

"Um, Pervert and I have a question," interrupted Horny, nervously. "Is there going to be any potential for smooches on this supposed date?"

"NO!!!!" shouted Paranoid, Single Girl and Cynical.

"How about ass-grabbing?" asked Pervert.

"Definitely NOT!!!!" yelled Shy and Inner Mom Voice.

"People. You are worrying about future details. If we don't respond in some way to this, the whole dumb date won't even happen at all. Can we get our act together and give him some kind of reaction?" said Good Point.

[For some unknown and highly arbitrary reason, Shy was nominated to speak for all the Voices in response to this statement from Cute Neighbor.]

"Oh. Uh. Ok. Sounds good," stammered Shy.

*All the Voices roll their eyes.*

I talked to Cute Neighbor for a couple more minutes. He left without making any specific plans.

"Can we take a shower now? I'm icky!" whined Prisspot.

"See???? I told you there's no way he'd actually be asking you out! He was just making small talk." said Pessimistically Paranoid.

"That's ok, he will! Maybe he'll come over tomorrow!" said Stupidly Optimistic.

"Tomorrow???!!!! Oh no!!!!!!" said Panic.

....and that's why it's now 1pm and I still haven't gone to lunch. Cute Neighbor works from home. He will be there. Right near my house, when I'm munching on my sandwich. He might want to talk to me. Ugh. WHY am I so petrified at the concept of going on a date???? We are way past nervous butterflies here, people. I'm totally panicking at the notion of going on a date. I need some reassurance. Or drugs. Something. Help!!!!