Easter Dinner...or the Lack Thereof

My husband and I both hate cooking. When we got married we realized that one of us had to demonstrate a vested interest in food or one of two things would inevitably happen. Either we would starve, or we'd go bankrupt (I'm not sure which is worse, but both seem like hearty punishments).

We don't put much focus on "traditional roles" in our relationship, but with cooking, I have graciously accepted the burden. Well--I've been working on graciously accepting the burden.
My success was evidenced by our Easter dinner on Sunday.

People (namely my husband's ex-wife) seem to be able to sit down and figure out what to eat for the next two weeks and then they make a list, and then go to the store once and don't go again for two weeks. My brain is capable of comprehending a lot of things--calculus, organic chemistry, the history of the universe, but when it comes to organizing a meal plan, I lose all ability to focus, then I start to panic and go into convulsions as I try to figure out how many slices of bread one would need to make toast every morning for two weeks.

My husband and I are Christian, but we fairly standardly forget to put much emphasis on holidays. We have a shopping center located about a mile from our house. On Sunday (Easter), we walked over there, as we often do on Sunday evenings to have dinner at the Mexican restaurant. When we got about 20 feet away, we realized that all of the stores we had passed so far were closed and that the lights seemed to be off at our restaurant. Damn! Yes, we had forgotten that it was Easter (we went to church that morning, but I generally remember things like that for about two hours).

In the end, we decided to try out "cooking". We walked home, and then drove to Wal-mart, where we purchased all the ingredients we needed for tacos (back off--I know I should have already had this kind of standard stuff)--made with refried beans out of the can, and cheese on store bought tortillas. It was really good...I suppose I should have remembered the Easter ham, deviled eggs, and au gratin potatoes, but oh well...maybe next year.

Yeah right--that is about as likely as the ex-wife inviting us over for Easter dinner.

Truth

Remember when research meant driving/walking/biking down to the library, locating the card catalog, spending an hour trying to find a book on static electricity or Communism, or Ancient Greek relics, only to find four books with one paragraph each on your topic? So, then, you'd go home and copy down what the encyclopedia had to say about the topic (on notebook paper--so archaic); making sure to not include your encyclopedia in your bibliography.

The encyclopedias in my parents house were 1) old, and 2) British. It was always funny to read about things like the Revolutionary War...told from the British perspective. It really makes you wonder how much truth there is out there in the world.

Some people call me skeptical. I just think I'm realistic. I basically don't believe anything anyone tells me. After all, why should I? I remember going to the movie Home Alone 2 with my brother when I was maybe 12. My mom came to pick us up and my brother started to tell her the storyline of the movie. After twenty of my corrective inerruptions, Mom told me a lot of times two people can see the same thing and come away with completely different recollections of what happened. She went on to tell me that I should respect my little brother more and that I'm not always right...but that's not the point.

I guess the real question is, who can we trust? The answer is either no one or everyone. If we trust no one, we never find truth. If we trust everyone, we find truth everywhere (though it may be contradictory sometimes). Fortunately, my husband has a photographic memory, so whatever he remembers is what we consider "truth" in our relationship. I don't mind it when I remember things differnently. After all, if I can't trust anyone else, why should I trust myself?

Wedding Present

Shopping for wedding presents is always a complete pain in the ass, right? You get the cute little scrapbooked invitation in the mail with pictures of the happy couple and the card that says "so and so is registered at Target, Wal-Mart, Macys, McDonalds, US Bank..." It is amazing the things people come up with.

You go to the store with high hopes of finding that perfect present for your friend/relative but your hopes are immediately dashed as you print the registry and find 75 common kitchen utensils (so boring), towels that the store doesn't stock, sheets that are too expensive, and "decorative" pillows in colors that are so blase, and depressing you wonder if your friendship with the bride and groom should continue...maybe you've grown apart; otherwise, you would have protected them from picking lime green sheets to go along with apricot pillowcases.

I know you are with me so far...now, try this on for size. Imagine shopping for a wedding gift for your ex-husband and his new fiancee--who also happens to be your husband's ex-wife (yes, you heard me right--wife swap).

We were given a wedding invitation--because my husband wanted to see it--with explicit instructions that we are not actually invited. The new wife and I are not on speaking terms (use your imagination), so I had my husband call her to ask--"if we get you a wedding present will you throw it away, or actually use it? We don't want to waste our money". She promised to keep the present, so off I went to Target to find a gift.

After scouring the store for something under the following criterion 1) on the list, 2) under $50, 3)actually in the store, and 4) not ugly or useless, I wound up with a $30 shower curtain. (Insert big exasperated sigh.) The search continued for a $20 supplement.

I hate scrapbooking. Partially because I'm not that patient and find it to be a waste of time, and partially because my husband's ex-wife loves it. I do, however love to look at all of the little stickers and brads and markers and paper that I could spend hundreds of dollars on and organize them in little bins in my office and just let them sit...for years, and years. Yes, I did it--I bought scrapbooking supplies for the newlyweds. I thought it would be cute--you know, so they can scrapbook their honeymoon.

My husband will deliver the gift tonight when he goes to pick up the kids. We'll see what happens. He just might wind up returning home with the new stickers, decorations, and paper for me to uselessly organize in my sewing room.

Here we go.

Well, here goes--my first blog.

I'm am going to graduate school right now. This is mostly due to the fact that I'm in a dead end job which pays the bills and is overall a good place to be, but leaves me completely unfulfilled. I'll leave discussion of my job to another day.

Anyone who has been to college understands the frustration of waking up early to register for your classes, and the website crashes, and then you find that the classes have filled up without waiting for you (so inconsiderate!).

Anyway, I just got a call from my "academic advisor" who informed me that the class I was planning to take this fall is full (argh!). No big deal, right? At a normal university, that's correct. Pick another section, or find another class. Well, not at this university which shall remain nameless (I'll give you a hint...blue football field...that seems to be our pathetic claim to fame). It isn't possible to find another class or section because most of the courses in my program are only offered every two years and only have one section. I can't believe that I'm paying $250 per credit to deal with this kind of crap.

So, now I'm stuck on a waiting list. Those have a tendency to work out so well. (Yes, I'm being sarcastic.)

I guess life is in and of itself a waiting list. You just wake up every morning hoping that you'll be able to accomplish something. You don't just sit there thinking, hoping that someone will do your job for you; you work hard, you act like someone you're not in order to impress your boss, you exercise. You do all of these things in hopes of actually getting to the top of the waiting list. What it boils down to in the end is that there are no guarantees. Just like a class registration waiting list, the things we wish for in life so often depend on someone else. So, I'm going to go call the professor and hope that some other student gets to the top of their job waiting list and quits school so I can get my spot in the class.