Things Will Be Great When You're DOWNTOWN!

So. As of today, the Todd and I have been together for seven years. Granted, there was a breakup in there if you are being technical, but who likes technicality in matters of the heart? So, seven years. Wow. That’s longer than quite a few marriages I could name. We’re like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, except with much less collagen and no Academy Awards.

Did you know Goldie Hawn won a Best Supporting Actress award in 1969 for her role in Cactus Flower? From Laugh-In straight to the Oscars in one fell swoop. Now that is what I call a good career trajectory. And she gets Kurt Russell out of the bargain, and any man who voiced the lead character in a major Disney film (The Fox & the Hound’s Copper) would win my heart, too. Anyway, Kurt and Goldie have been together since 1983, so they have a good twenty-six years on the Todd and I. Let’s not look too far ahead, though, because it makes me nervous.

Last weekend, the Todd was home for the first time in three weeks and we decided to celebrate our anniversary a bit early. This was a serious, serious decision. We are, perhaps not “foodies” because that carries sort of a food snob connotation, but most definitely food lovers. You would not think our tiny little town would have much of a choice between restaurants, but you would be mistaken. Our Main Street area has five great, great little places to eat. Ou’ La La, where I recently hosted the baby shower for Nicole and Amelia, is a sweet little coffee shop with a killer dinner menu as well – often featuring the fabulous Tessa playing with Main Street Trio. C’Sons is a brand new place across from Ou’ La La. It’s all new and sparkly and the menu changes every day. And they have this fun covered porch balcony thing that makes me feel very L.A. Then, of course, our friend Tulla has not one…not two…but three restaurants, all with different specialties, all within walking distance from each other. Tulla’s Bayou Bar & Grill is (obviously) all about spicy Louisiana food. Venucci, Pete’s favorite, is all Italian, from the Chianti to the Cannoli. Finally, The Basil Leaf, the flagship restaurant, is billed as Upscale Contemporary. I mean, really, how does one choose?

I will tell you how one chooses. One goes to the Basil Leaf on Tuesday with the fabulous Brennan Sisters to make sure your allotment of Fried Green Tomatoes with goat cheese and white wine sauce (Mmm!) is met for the week and then you try out the new place, C’Sons. (Get it? SEASONS. Ha ha!)

Y’all. You just don’t know. We both wanted to get really dressed up, but his idea of dressed up and my idea of dressed up varies a bit. Example: at Chuck the Girl’s wedding, I had to be onsite early, as I was giving a reading. So after the wedding, all the guys took off their jackets because the reception was outside. The Todd kept wearing his…buttoned…way longer than he normally would have worn it. I knew something was wrong.

“Why don’t you take your jacket off?”
-- “I don’t want to take my jacket off.”
“Why don’t you want to take your jacket off?”
-- “I just don’t want to take my jacket off.”
“Dude, it’s hot. The guys are all playing football (Note: That’s right, we played football. It was the greatest wedding ever.) and you’re sitting here all sweating.
-- “I can’t take my jacket off.”
“What are you talking about?”
-- “I sort of left my dress belt in Atlanta.”
“What do you mean you…..Oh. My. Word.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, nothing says dressed up like a belt emblazoned with the Grateful Dead bears.

So we both dressed up – somewhat equally – and went out on the town. It was great. I had Wild Mushroom Ravioli with a red pepper coulis and all sorts of yummy goodness cooked within. The Todd had the Fried Alaskan Halibut with, I think, claw crabmeat, hollandaise sauce, grits and asparagus. I hate stuff that swims, but he said it was pretty much awesome. We were seated at a low table, which was really good, as the Todd was rocking his skateboard shoes with dress pants and a tie. This is how we roll, peeps.

It was fabulous. After dinner we walked around downtown on a useless hunt for Tiramisu. Venucci makes a killer Tiramisu, but it was sadly not on the menu that night. So we settled for a stroll around the square and an ice cream cone. There was supposed to be a post-dinner showing of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, but we were just too full to watch it! We postponed Harry until Sunday and, now that I have seen it twice, I have some serious bones to pick with that screenwriter. But I will wait on that, for the moment.

All in all, it was a lovely evening, and has been a lovely seven years. And will, I hope, continue to be just as lovely, because I can think of several more restaurants that need to host our anniversary dinners.

Why should Snow White get all the love?

I don’t have kids. My family is full of late procreators….and quite a few non-procreators as well, come to think of it. Grandmama was almost 40 when she had Dad in 1947. Dad held out until he was 30 until I was born. My cousin Billy was pushing 40 when he and his (rockstar awesome) wife Amanda had Jack. So I figure there’s no hurry, eh?

Instead of my own kids, I have quite a collection of other peoples’ kids who I dearly love. Years of babysitting will do that to you. Of course, a few of the older kids have now married and two even have their OWN children now. I’m only 31. I don’t know if I was the world’s youngest babysitter or if they just are early breeders.

Most of “my” kids are late-high-school /early-college age now, and I get a kick out of seeing who is cheering and who is playing baseball and who chooses to go where for college….and of course all the girls get a recommendation for Phi Mu if they Rush. And I love them all.

But today I’m giving a big, fat, bloggy hug to the One, the Only, my girl MaryLiz.

MaryLiz has been my best girl since I ran into her Mom (one of my former teachers) at the park when they were on a playdate along with her brother, Zach. I broke out the ol’ Mary Poppins umbrella and moved into their world. And much fun was had. MUCH fun. Swimming lessons, dance classes, soccer practices, boy scouts, birthday parties………oh, and Harry Potter. We are all about some Harry Potter.

Somehow, and I’m still not really sure how this happened, Zach has gotten halfway through college and ML is about to graduate from high school.

And I am still driving the same car. But anyway…..

ML told me not too long ago that she had earned the part of Carabosse in the local ballet production of Sleeping Beauty – probably in large part due to all the dance classes to which I drove her! (Just kidding, doll.) So I told her I would most definitely be there to watch.

So the Todd and I put on our grown-up panties and went to the ballet last Sunday afternoon.

Sidenote: One of the things I really enjoy about my little hometown is the importance we place on the arts. For a town of our size, we have a very influential little artistic community. We have two museums, a local ballet company, a local symphony and multiple choral groups. And that’s just under the aegis of the local society of the performing arts. There are also extremely well-executed programs coming from the local high schools, churches and the college. We are lucky, lucky folks.

Y’all. When ML just tossed out “Yeah, I’m dancing Carabosse.” I just figured it was just some role. Some average, everyday role. It turns out I should actually study up on my fairy tales rather than assume Walt Disney is checking his facts.

Because Carabosse? Yeah, that’s MALEFICIENT. My baby girl had the big, bad, villain role. You know what that means? She got the rocking costume too. Everybody else looked like Easter Peeps and ML was swooping all around them like Stevie Nicks with point shoes and a crown. It was very black and purple and veil-ish. She spun delightfully.


So props to my wonderful, beautiful girl. She was splendid. I was so proud of her I cried. The Todd was so impressed that he said…..well, he said a word that caused the lady in front of us to turn around and give us the fisheye.

So, Mary Liz, you were fabulous. I love you, beautiful girl!

Cupid, Draw Back your Bow....

Check this out: http://todayspictures.slate.com/20090213. Every day Slate.com runs a “Today’s Pictures” feature with photos on a daily theme. With Valentine’s Day being this weekend, today’s theme is K-I-S-S-I-N-G, and it’s way cute. This is the opening photo…..(CREDIT: This is obviously not my photo. It was taken by someone from Magnum Photos and I took it from Slate.)

Valentine’s Day gives me a complex. When I was single, I thought actually having someone to celebrate Valentine’s Day with would make everything automatically perfect. Oooohhhh, but no. First off, I hate planning things, which is an odd thing for a former event planner to say. It’s not really that I hate to plan things; I really LIKE to plan things….as long as they are not MY things. As far as I go, I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. The Todd is also a non planner. The only thing he plans ahead of time is a concert. The only thing I plan ahead of time is the release of certain books and/or movies. (Bring it, Harry Potter. July 17th is just around the corner.) What this results in is a serious lack of plans. “We’ll just see what comes up…” often ends in “not a damn thing.” Thus, when I DO plan something, I go all Martha-Stewart on acid and want to make everything picture perfect. There is no possible way for reality to reach half of where my expectations set themselves.

Example: I once planned a picnic for us to go to Callaway Gardens. I borrowed Baby Sister’s huge picnic basket and filled it with things like pate. Do either of us eat pate? Dude. I don’t even eat ketchup.

So you see how Valentine’s Day is problematic for crazy over-the-top Jamie. THIS year, we are getting a TV as our present to each other, but I still want to do SOMETHING. And of course it can’t be just dinner or a movie. Oh, what to do that is both original and fits into our tiny Dave Ramsey budget. (I know you’re thinking “She knows Dave Ramsey and she’s buying a TV?” But what you do not know is that said TV is a used 27” for $100. Dave would SO approve.) So I have to think of something fun.

One unnamed person called me yesterday to ask if I thought it would be sweet or stupid for her to send her man on a scavenger hunt around town winding up at her house for dinner. I told her I thought it was great. Then she called me to ask which new lingerie she should buy. Somebody is getting a GOOD Valentine! I pondered doing something like that for a minute and then realized that if I handed Pete a scavenger hunt clues, he would look at me like, “No, Beavis. Really. Let’s just go grab some steaks.” And as far as lingerie? Girlfriend was grabbing satin and lace, and that just does not work in my world. Pete’s all about the two Lauras…..Ingalls and Ashley. His freak-o grandpa taste used to irritate me, but now I think this is awesome. I can look like I walked out of Sense & Sensibility for the rest of my life, and Pete will think I’m dressing for him. Two birds, one stone.

So now I don’t know what we’ll do. I think this evening I will break out the old Southern Born & Bread cookbook and figure out something fairly easy (and romantic) to cook. Any ideas? Do y’all still go all out for Valentine’s? Are you one of those people who thinks it’s a “greeting card holiday” and don’t celebrate? Do you include people other than your honey? Once, when Chuck the Girl and I were living together, we both found ourselves single as Valentine’s Day rolled around. And on the day itself, one of our good guy friends brought us each a rose. I've always thought that was the sweetest gesture, and it’s always stuck with me, and I know it has with Chuck, too. So there you go, folks. If you can’t figure out what to do for the holiday, go make someone else’s holiday special!

Todd Turns 37.

This is my second favorite picture in all the world:

That pic was taken on the Todd’s 31st birthday, not too long after we started dating. We were at the infamous “Valley Bowl” where you could still smoke INSIDE until sometime during the past year. And I think it was $1.25 a game. Not that it was so long ago the prices were that low – this was only in 2002, the Valley Bowl is just REALLY cheap. That marked the end of my bowling career, by the way.

Also – just in case you are wondering, I am slightly less pale now. VERY slightly less pale, but definitely less pale. I think the camera flash is actually bouncing off my skin and blinding the person taking the picture.

Anyhow. Tomorrow is the Todd’s 37th birthday, and I just wanted to jot down a little post here saying that six years later I still love his crazy, book nerdy, skateboarding, bongo playing, crappy bowling self. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PETE!

Oh – just on case you were wondering about my FIRST favorite picture in the world, here it is. Gotta love Owen Mills.

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LeVar Burton would be so proud.

Ahhhhhhhh. That sound you hear is happy, contented little me after a most relaxing weekend. I went to lunch last Thursday with my friend Amanda, who loves to read, as do I. When I got out of the car at the restaurant (Which was Fatdaddy’s, for you locals. Best chicken fingers in town, no lie.) and Amanda had a BAG of books for me. Hello, Christmas in October! So – other than vacuuming and washing dishes – pretty much all I did, A-L-L weekend long was read. Pete was home, and he’s been trying to get through War & Peace for the past several weeks, with breaks for his nutso sci-fi in between sections. I don’t mean science fiction as in – wait, I don’t read science fiction so I have nothing to offer you. But several of these books he has bought for $1 at gas stations on road trips – you get the idea? There is also some Carl Hiaasen in there, which is not science fiction, but I tried to read it and thought my head would explode. So there you go. Russian classics, meet crappy pulp fiction.

Anyhow, I had just finished a ginormous (gigantic + enormous) biography of Katharine Hepburn (Kate: The Woman Who Was Hepburn, by William J. Mann)so I was in the perfect mood to attack a bag o’ chick lit. By the way, this new biography has totally ruined my whole idea of Katharine Hepburn. Apparently the whole legend about KH and Spencer Tracy was much less a 26 year love affair and much more alcoholic codependency AND not even a romantic relationship. The entire book really portrayed Hepburn as sort of a frigid lesbian obsessed with fame. Screw you, William J. Mann! I’m going back to a crappy biographer who doesn’t check facts! So THERE! I’m getting off topic now….

I was really excited about these books! Nothing is better on a cloudy fall day than opening all the windows and curling up with your significant other and a couple of books. There is nothing more perfect than that. Well, unless your significant other walked in the door with a Cotton Candy Blizzard with extra Cotton Candy…..which mine did. Like I said, perfection. No kids, no meetings, no weddings, no parties, no classes, no studying, no volunteering, just books.

It took me all weekend, but here are my recommendations:

1. Names My Sisters Call Me – Hysterical. If you have ever been engaged (which I have not, but everyone else has) or if your family is the slightest bit –um- "dramatic" (I am not calling y’all dramatic, I am just saying that some of our family togetherness could be filmed and spliced into the reality show of your choice.) then you need to read this book. Oh, it cracked me up, and I could look at every character and say “Oh, I know her! That’s so-and-so!” In fact, I did call one of my best friends and took the book to her no less than 5 minutes after I finished it.

2. The Cinderella Pact – Lately there is a huge amount of big girl books, written for those of us who spend entire days on the couch with their boyfriends, a book, and a Cotton Candy blizzard. Lane Bryant should really have a book section, and then my life would be complete. So this is a Big Girl Book, and I think it might have been one of my favorites. Overall, I will say that usually Jennifer Wiener is my big girl author, and she’s always good, go try her – even if you’re tiny – Cameron Diaz made a move out off one of her books! But this chick (Sarah Strohmeyer) was just about as good. Besides, they mention Lane Bryant in the book, just as I did above. Awesome.

I also finished another one, and I forgot the name of it, but it should have been called “Crap With a British Accent.” (Sorry, Amanda.) I don’t know why people think that JUST because the Bridget Jones books were made into hit movies means that 75% of chick lit should be set in London. This one was so bad that I cannot even remember the TITLE – something about cocktails, which should have given the crap factor away. Because, I don’t know about you, but I don’t usually say “Let’s go meet for cocktails!” I just use the more generic “Hey, let’s go get a drink.” Actually, these days I don’t even say that anymore because “Are you going to Angie’s for Grey’s?” is so much easier.

So, go buy those books - or check them out at your local library. And then try War & Peace, because the good Lord knows Pete will not be discussing anything about it with me.

Ah, love.

Why the Todd and I stay together: he thinks this comic is as funny as I do. People like to talk about trust and honesty as the center of relationships. What works for us? Lunacy.

Note: This comic came from http://www.nataliedee.com/. You should check her out.

Old MySpace Blog 1: Alan Rickman Rocks My World.

I love Alan Rickman. It’s his voice. He first came into my life as the bad guy in that crappy Robin Hood movie with Kevin Costner. (Cue Bryan Adams singing “Everything I Do, I Do It for You.” Come on, I know they played it at your middle school Boss Hoss Jam…I was there. I saw you slow dancing in your Hypercolor Shorts.) Anyhow, for a perhaps better reference, Mr. Rickman is also Professor Snape of Harry Potter fame and the Metatron in Dogma (“Hit me with that….fish?”) and his sneering baritone just makes my whole day wonderfully British.

In addition to his sarcastic villains and Jane Austen heroes (see “Sense and Sensibility”), Mr. Rickman starred in Devon and Benjy’s favorite holiday flick, “Love, Actually” with every Brit you’ve ever seen in any movie. Being in the holiday spirit, I ran down to my local Video Warehouse in search of this lovely little film. Little did I know the journey I had begun….

Chapter One
I enter Video Warehouse and search the left hand side of the store in vain. Now, this part is my fault – I should have noted that that ENTIRE side of racks holds “New Releases.” I don’t exactly understand why the “New, Unedited, Director’s Cut” of “Van Wilder” counts as a new release when it’s sitting right next to the “Unrated, Uncut, Special Edition,” but I’m not in charge.

I then search, again in vain, for the nonexistent “Romance Section” and decide to consult Fat Albert, my favorite clerk. (His name is not really Fat Albert, but he looks just like him, except he’s a bit on the effeminate side. Being both a big girl AND a fag hag, I am allowed to lovingly bestow this nickname, so don’t give me any crap about calling him fat. In fact, I am thinking of setting him up with the equally sweet and portly Jason from the Wal-Mart Customer Service Department, but I digress…) Bingo! We have a winner! I happily carry my prize up to the counter and hand it over to Fat Albert. Even though ol’ Al checks me out EVERY time I get a movie, he continues to ask me for my account number. I give him the name, and Albert says, “Oh, girl! I don’t know why I can’t remember that. Y’all always got that dog in the car with you.” Then he looks me straight in the face, OBVIOUSLY knowing I use this account all the time, and tells me I am not listed on Pete’s account, and therefore cannot relieve my Alan Rickman longing. I try to use my fag hag skills, but no dice. Albert tells me to come back with Pedro and get on the card.

Sidenote: I realize I could use MY account, but it still carries a rather large late charge from when Austin Powers 2 first came out. Long story.

Chapter Two
Pete returns from South Carolina for Turkey Day. Deciding we are too old for the annual pre-Thanksgiving pub crawl, we load up (with the dog, per usual) and ride back down to Video Warehouse. I grab the “Love, Actually” DVD as my choice and we head to the counter. Fat Albert is once again our clerk. He asks if “Y’all got that dog in the truck again?” and tallies up our bill. We ask that I be added to the account, and Albert explains that, as Pete and I are not married, this is not possible. I remind Albert that he TOLD me to get on the account, but he holds his (considerably large) ground. Still though, we go home with Alan Rickman.

At the house, I make some popcorn and pop in my movie…..which doesn’t play. How much trouble can I possibly go through? Why won’t it play? Because Fat Albert failed to notice that the super-video-store clear coating has been ripped off, leaving stick gunk all over the top of the disc. Rather than Alan Rickman, we watch Pete’s choice, called “Gus Van Sant’s Last Days.” The title alone sends me into a tizzy. “Is this about Lynyrd Skynyrd? Do we ALWAYS have to get a band movie?” And Pete’s all, “Way to go, Todd. A – That’s Ronnie Van ZANT. B – Gus Van Sant directed “Good Will Hunting” and this is his take on the last days of Kurt Cobain. C – Yes, it DOES always have to be a band movie.” (Sadly, we really talk like that. I think it’s all the Grey’s we watch.) So, “Gus Van Sant’s Last Day’s” turns out to be WHOLLY unwatchable, even for Pete. It’s mainly the fake Kurt Cobain dressing in outlandish outfits (a black slip with a deerstalker’s cap) and carrying around a rifle. The Mormans come to the house and talk to random members of his drug-loving entourage. Hilarity does NOT ensue. I go to bed pissed, hearing Professor Snape in my head.

Chapter Three
Yesterday, in the midst of a hellacious head-cold, I go to the Wally to get some meds. While I am there, I think, “Hey, they have a movie section – SCORE!” However, the Wally movie section is much like the Video Warehouse new releases. They had both the “Uncut, Unrated” and “Director’s Cut – 3 hours of Commentary!” editions – this time of “Knocked Up”. Aw, Seth Rogan. So cute in his tubby little way. Mid-aisle, in the bargain sections, still NO LOVE ACTUALLY! Really. The closest thing they had at the Wally was “Love, American Style,” which was some super 70’s TV thing, NOT starring Alan Rickman. Oh – and you can also find a two-for-one special on “I’m Gonna Get You, Sucka” and some other Wayans Brother crap…..also not starring Alan Rickman. So I leave the Wally dejected, sad, and sick as a dog. Although I did have a Potter-thon, but it wasn’t the same.