September 30, 2009

bring it on ...

Ya know what's great? Losing weight. Well, maybe not for everybody... but for those of us who could stand to shed a few...  it's pretty fantastic. I have always been up and down, up and down. Ever since I got my stupid jerk fat cells I have had a constant battle. My weapon of choice was always exercise. Whether it was jogging, walking, Tae Bo, Pilates, Step aerobics, interval training etc ... I always thought exercise was the key. I learned just this summer that it isn't. Well, not on it's own anyway.

A friend of mine introduced me to the "eating clean" concept in July. Basically, eating measured portions of lean protein and complex carbohydrates every 3 hours, drinking a gallon of water a day, no dairy, no salt. I decided to give it a shot. I was already using the treadmill 5 days a week so I made no changes to my exercise routine. For the first few days my biggest challenge was to actually EAT every 3 hours. I was so used to eating only twice a day that I wasn't hungry most of the time. By day 5 I felt as if my metabolism had already sped up. I was hungry for my meals right on schedule. I felt my energy increase. I woke up earlier in the morning and more alert. I couldn't believe the change and how quickly it took place. It is so amazing to learn how the body works. This lifestyle change is SO simple I only wish I knew about it 15 years ago. And it's not like I am eating twigs and acorns. Egg whites, chicken breast, turkey, wheat bread/bagels/English muffins, lean ground beef, ground turkey, protein shakes, potatoes, brown rice, fruits and vegetables ... there are a lot of choices and most of them are foods that I ate regularly - just never the right combination.

In the first 3 weeks I lost 16 lbs. To date I have lost between 20 and 25. Random sinus infections and throat infections have slowed my treadmill action dramatically over the past month. I am not proud of that. I am someone that needs structure. When I fall out of a routine like that it is super hard for me to get back into it. But I will start up again faithfully. I'm pretty proud of my accomplishments even though it's really a no-brainer and anyone can do it. In the beginning I promised myself I would "do it until at least October and see how it goes". Well guys, October is basically a day away and I have no intentions of giving this lifestyle up. It's what works for me.

With the change in seasons taking place over the past few weeks I have been rummaging through the closet for warmer clothes. It's pretty awesome that every pair of corduroys and jeans that I bought last year, and could barely zip, are now so baggy that I pretty much refuse to wear them. My shirts, jackets and sweaters all fit so much better. I can button things that I never had any intention of buttoning. And finally the items that I purchased thinking "if I lose 5 lbs I can totally wear this" I can totally wear. This is truly a feeling that I am not used to. I NEVER compliment myself and grew up thinking that it was wrong to do so. But I told Gregg tonight that it took me so long to find an outfit today because I LIKED the way all of the shirts looked and I couldn't choose one. Normally I try on 10 things, hate all of them and then bail on our plans because I am disgusted. I just feel fantastic. It's like a whole new Sheri. If only I could afford a new wardrobe... :)

September 29, 2009

snip snip ...

I love the feeling I get when just leaving the salon. Walking to the car, my hair is bouncing around freely and dispersing into the air the sweet scents of expensive hair products. I can't help but take a glimpse in my rear-view mirror to see that amplified shine and the fresh, choppy layers. Since I have been going to Tanya I have been a more-than satisfied customer.

I look forward to my visits. I get an iced coffee and bring a magazine. We chat while she slathers on the color and I read while the lovely heat lamp is blazing my mane. With each snip of the scissors I can feel the new life being breathed into my hair. The roots lift, the ends are once again fierce and the layers, fresh. I try to wait as long as I can between visits due to my lack of funds. And since I am lucky enough to not have 'grays' I really have no need to get my color done but I just enjoy that rich, dark hue more than my normal plain-Jane brown.

My friend, Cassie, first told me about Tanya a few years ago. She, and a few of her friends, had been going to her for years. Back then, Tanya was at The W Salon and I decided to give her a try since my hairstylist at the time wasn't cuttin' the mustard - to put it mildly. I immediately loved her. She is not only adorable with a great personality but she is extremely talented in her field. She has a very artistic way of styling. You tell her what you want - she does it... and if she doesn't think it will work for you - she let's you know ahead of time before bad choices are made. She now has her own salon - Salon de Moda and I will never go to anyone else as long as she is in the biz.

waking up awesome ...

There are few things so simply enjoyed as opening your eyes in the morning, head still on the pillow and arm tucked under it, with a comfortable smile across your face. The chilly breeze from the two, open windows accentuated by the ceiling fan ... pleasant dreams still tumbling around in your mind ... you have no idea what the day ahead holds. You could roll over and throw your back out, you could be electrocuted shutting the stereo off, you could find a family of squirrels in your fireplace ... but you don't know that at this initial, awesome moment.

That's how I started this day! I know! I know! How exciting!! After weeks of on-and-off, annoying illnesses - I finally feel fantastic right out of the gate! I made my coffee and tossed in a teaspoon of peppermint cocoa (one of my favorite 'treats'). I had my routinely delicious egg whites on a wheat English muffin.  I remembered that in just a few hours I will be at Salon de Moda visiting Tanya, the best hair stylist around, for my cut and color. I plan to stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a yummy iced coffee on the way and I don't even have to spend a dime because I have a gift card! Everything is coming up daisies today! (I prefer daisies over roses).

Here's to your awesome day!!

... and here's to me not falling down the stairs as I exit this room!!

September 27, 2009

hallOweenie ...

Is it too early to put up strange-looking Halloween decor? Well, I asked myself this very question three months ago when I decorated. Ha! Just kidding - it was three weeks ago. Still too early? I totally know. I just get so antsy to light up those tea-light candles in their eighteen designated spaces. I like for this place to glow like a bad science project. You wanna see?? You wanna seeeee?? Well if not, X out of this piece --- and if so ---- look furtherrrrrrrrrrr ...

 ... looks like a big, ol' mess right??

ps. I have a slight obsession with silhouetted, dead, branchy, creepy trees - let's get that out in the open right now ...

... doesn't it look cute all lit up though?

... I truly dislike that pumpkin but sometimes you have to fill a space, kids ...

... and it makes little stars on the wall :)  that's quite a redeeming quality, for me anyway...

... yeah, I highly doubt that Michael Myers would be caught dead (hehehe) in a setting like this one but you try finding an appropriate spot for a serial killer...

... he doesn't seem TOO out-of-place in this shot... he's a good sport... hahaha

... this is a mess and I don't like it one bit ...

... that black, 'haunted house' on the left is my favorite Halloween decoration. it just looks awesome lit up. most of this shit came from Homegoods FYI...

  ... i have this wooden garland strung across the dining room/living room entry way - i thought it was a little too "crafty" for my liking but come to find out - i heart it.

... is it weird to put a welcome sign on the back of the front door? yes, clearly. but I tend to dislike 'normal' if you haven't gotten that gist by now...
... how could I leave out the "close-up" of that Theatre shelf? that friggin shelf is basically what got me started on a decorating frenzy 5 years ago that has yet to cease...

... And that's all she wrote. Or took pictures of for that matter. September through December are my favorite months of the year. When the summer weather begins to cool down I am initially sad to say goodbye to the beach season. But quickly I am anxious for crisp, bright blue days with boots and hoodies, the crackle of leaves under your Uggs, every window open in the house while you are sitting under a blanket shivering... you get the idea. I immediately reach for my autumn welcome sign for the front door ... and I set out the gingerbread candles to overwhelm my typically lemon-scented home. And on that first 60 degree day where the temp drops into the 40's at night - I grab the Halloween bin from the basement and I tear it up. Most people would wait until at least the beginning of October but 31 days just isn't long enough for me. I drag it out as long as possible ... and when Gregg least suspects it ... I text him to say "watch out when you get home because it's VERY SCAAAARRRYYY in here!!" He knows exactly what I mean. (No I don't have PMS, it's the decorations for cryin outloud. You guys are unreal).

** Don't forget to take the poll at the top of my page ... I'm curious to see the outcome ...

September 26, 2009

unfinished ...

All I wanted to do was update my bedding. That's all. Simple, little task. Find comforter/sheets, purchase comforter/sheets. Well after almost a year of searching for a "bright and cheery" comforter, I bought a reversible chocolate brown and linen colored one. Not bright or cheery but practical and classic. With a neutral wall color I figured it would be a good choice. Yes - I was correct, very nice looking. I also got some aqua blue king pillowcases and some white standard ones with aqua and lime green polka-dots to dress up the head of the bed. Good stuff. Mission accomplished. Onto the next order of busin-WAIT. Wait. No we aren't done here. See those curtains over there? Heinous. Don't match. Crap. Didn't think of that. Gotta find some dumb, brown curtains now. And shit. Above the bed, the framed picture that I love so much... it doesn't look right now. You can't have a sepia-toned picture of an iron gate just inches away from aqua polka-dots. Holy mackerel. That means new wall art. Headache. How does a friggin blanket turn a world upside-down? That is how. Sneaky comforter. He is tricking me further into debt. I see him twisting his handlebar mustache as I write this. (Didn't you know that all bedding is now equipped with facial hair?) Aaarrrgghh.

Next up? "Ooooh, Gregg! Let's paint the kitchen cabinets WHITE!!" Yes, I was the one who said this phrase almost as excitedly as it appears in writing with exclamation points at the end. In my mind, I figured it would just take a couple new paintbrushes, some primer and some freakin white paint. Thrilled at envisioning my new, clean, fresh-looking kitchen - I couldn't wait to get started. I took a look at the knobs and handles - you know - the ones that we painted black when we moved in to save a few bucks. Yeah those need to be replaced. No big deal... let's see how many we need... ... ... ... oh... what's that? We need three million? Ahh no problem. Oh and what's that you say?? We also need new hinges for every door? Right right right right right right right. Two hinges per door... forty katrillion doors --- awesome. Yes, this is all quite do-able. Ohhh and then let's take a look at the wall outlets, face plates, light switches and such ... certainly can't leave those scumbag-beige whilst everything else is marshmallow white now can we ?? Nope. So somehow, my small dream to buy a couple gallons of paint to create some white cabinets has now turned into me rummaging through closets to find things to sell on e-bay to make-over my entire kitchen. Unacceptable.

September 21, 2009


When I was a little girl I really enjoyed living in the "country". For the first six years of my life my family called Richmond, Rhode Island home. We had it all: the poison ivy, the blueberry patch, the gypsy moths, the neighbors who made moonshine and conned people out of money with a cleaning products scheme. Ahhh, it was bliss. Being young and carefree, I didn't mind the snakes or the bugs ... or even the constantly flooded basement (my parents hogged up all the "minding" on that one). But for some reason, as I grew older I grew less fond of things that slither, buzz, crawl and creep.

One of the first insects I learned to LOATHE was the almighty cricket. These terror-evoking creatures would ninja around our basement and plant themselves somewhere super scary so that when my guard was down they could scare the shit out of me. I would be "studying" for school exams (listening to my headphones and reading Teen Beat) and see one sitting on the end table. Heart attack. I carried aerosol cans of Lemon Pledge with me so that I could spray the last breath out of them. It caused them to turn white and slide off the table. And I will never, ever, ever, EVER forget 'bare-footly' slipping on my little, white Chuck Taylor's to find that horrifyingly unpleasant, squishy surprise. I ran, like my life depended on it, straight to the toilet and gagged my guts out. In fact, just writing that now forced a full body shiver and facial expressions that should probably be mocked on You Tube.

There were dozens if not hundreds of times that I called for my mother to kill a spider or a bee. She would take off that classic "mom slipper" and smack them dead for me. One night, or more like early morning, I woke my father to kill a moth that was aimlessly zipping around my bedroom. He couldn't find it and groggily assured me that it was gone. Well that was clearly unsatisfying to me. There was no way in hell I was getting any rest. So there I sat, on my bed with a can of Lysol in one hand and the vacuum attachment in the other. I waited him out. He never showed. I ended up finding him months later, dead, behind my bookcase. Why I almost never cleaned my room is a story for another time.

The glistening cherry on top of my paranoia sundae came when I had the joy of experiencing the House Centipede. I won't even attach the link - just Google it if you've never seen one. Vomit town. The horror took place in our first apartment and we had lived there only a few weeks when I saw the first dirtbag. I had just put my yoga mat on the floor for some Pilates when out of the corner of my eye I saw something scurrying like it's ass was on fire. The shape and color  petrified me. A jillion-legged, antennae-clad, beer colored demon bug. It came out from under the television and sprinted across the room. My heart stopped. I had NEVER seen anything move that quickly. Frozen, I called Gregg's work - begging for them to put him on the phone. I called my upstairs neighbor leaving a message so tragically hilarious she played it for everyone at work the next day (and weekly for years after). I called my mother pretty much insisting that she should take the twenty-five minute drive and save me from this sinister creature. But I was left alone on this one. Grabbing my trusty can of green apple Lysol, I inched my way back into the depths of hell. Roughly twenty minutes passed before I mustered the courage to start spraying him. I DRAINED that can leaving a puddle about the size of a Papasan chair cushion in the center of the living room. This was the first of MANY standoffs. It got to the point where I became so terrified of them that I wouldn't enter a room without scanning the walls and floors first, clutching Hot Shot Kitchen Bug Killer (which didn't repel them but would inevitably kill them when sprayed directly on their nasty asses). I also wore shoes all the time, refusing to walk barefoot. This horrific time in my life actually caused some permanent damage. If I notice so much as a tiny piece of a leaf or even lint on the floor I immediately assume it's a scary bug. A simple hole left by a nail or tack, a scuff mark or ANYTHING out of place on the wall triggers instant panic. And just yesterday, happily picking apples with the family, I was a flailing, yelping mess as "things" buzzed by my cranium in the orchard. I'm a broken woman.

Final thought - Please note that I do realize that not only am I a rotten human being for killing off scores of innocent, disgusting creatures but I also know that I am single-handedly ruining the environment with chemicals and aerosol death spray. You're welcome, everyone.

September 15, 2009

the strangerhood ...

Before you buy a new car - you test drive it a few miles. Before you buy a new couch - you sit on it for a few minutes. Shit, before you order a bottle of wine - you sample it with a sip! Well, it recently occurred to me - about 35 seconds ago - that before you actually purchase a house you should be allowed to live in it. I'm not saying for an entire year, but at least a few weeks. I realize this is all very wonderland-ish but stay with me.

When we were searching for a house, 3 years ago, we did most of our "looking" online. We put in our criteria and made our check-lists. It was a lot of fun figuring out what neighborhoods we liked and seeing how our ideas of 'what the perfect home is' would differ or match. Before long we had narrowed down our search and were ready to take the next step, open-houses.

On one of our notorious Sunday drives, we ended up using a well-known "cut-through" street that I grew up just a few blocks from. I never gave the area much thought, it wasn't exactly on my dream neighborhood list. However, we stumbled upon a nice, out-of-the-way cul-de-sac that I had never noticed before. The open-house sign is what drew my attention on this particular day. We decided, knowing full well that we couldn't afford the house that happened to be "open", to take a walk through for the hell of it. We pretty much fell in love with it. It had everything we wanted and then some. Despite the price tag, we moved in 3 weeks later.

I had always loved the idea of a close-knit community. The neighbor that you could borrow that cliché cup of sugar from, people that you can trust and call upon when you need something, block parties, dinner and drinks together, etc. I had hoped that this cute, little cul-de-sac would provide some of that goodness. Wrong.

We moved in during the cold weeks of December in 2005. We have met two people as of September 2009. "The lady" rolled her window down, to introduce herself, while driving up the street- and "the man" introduced himself to me while I was heading off to work one morning. They were both very nice. I have since spoken to "the lady" maybe twice (hollering hello from the backyard) and I have exchanged waves countless times with "the man" but have had no other contact. Now, I am not trying to play the victim role because I could have totally gone door-to-door with a basket of crap and introduced myself and my husband - but I'm clearly not "that guy".

I do understand that most neighborhoods nowadays do not have these so-called perfect neighbors that I think I am missing out on. I further understand that if it bothers me THIS much I should make the first move by ringing some doorbells and making some small talk. But the truth is - I really don't like anyone else on our street. Now you are thinking, "How can you not like them if you don't know them??" Well, sweet pea, here's how...

House A:
The "two, little kids and a big ol' white trash mama" house. She does nothing but yell at said two, little kids. Riding their bikes - yell. Sitting in their front yard - yell. Playing with their friends - yell. These kids can't swallow without getting yelled at.

House B:
The "I love to detail my car four times a week with T-Pain blasting out of my trunk" house. Yep. This kid washes his car like sixty-two times a month. Not only does he enjoy a super clean vehicle but he loves blaring the WORST possible music ever created. Lucky for me, he upgrades his speakers on the daily so I can hear those computer-generated voices CRYSTAL clear. 

House C:
The "my family grows by the second" house. I thought only four people moved in but somehow there are eleven thousand current occupants. It used to be two children playing basketball - the other night it looked like The Knicks were out there.

House D:
The "no matter what you say, Mom, I'm going to give you the hugest attitude at the highest decibel" house. Well that one pretty much speaks for itself.

Anyway, you get what I am saying. Things aren't always as they seem. I felt so confident in our decision to buy this house and create our "home" here. We are happy for the most part.Well, I won't lie and say that I wouldn't love for someone to make eye contact with me for a smile or a wave. Or that when I have shoveled for two and a half hours and have barely made a dent that I wouldn't love for someone to bring over their snow-blower for eight minutes. Of course there are likes and dislikes everywhere you go ... but general 'kindness' wouldn't kill anyone would it ??

September 10, 2009

rise and whine

i climb outta bed,
check out the weather
brody and i
we wake up together

he stretches and yawns
i trip on his bone
twisting my ankle
all accident prone

we walk into the hall
i step on his tail
he yelps with disgust
morning fail

i put on his collar
the normal routine
let him outside
and hit the latrine

i fill up his water
provide fresh food
check powerball numbers
destroying my mood

living room curtains
open again
the golden girls thank me
for being a friend

now broseph is barking
insanely high pitch
thank you, bus stop
you son of a bitch

telephone rings
give me a break
i'm too busy making
my protein shake

what's today's list?
i'm unemployed, true
but i'm no lazy ass
i got shit to do

and there you have it 
thursday morning delight
reflected upon
on thursday night


September 7, 2009

voices sure do carry ...

Ahhhh... Sunday night. Normally a typical, run of the mill, hum-drum, plain ol' night. But this time I had the house to myself while Gregg was out for his annual Fantasy Football Draft. After watching "Locked Up Abroad" - a show that I love but find a little bit too frightening sometimes - I decided that I had exceeded my quota of television watching for the week so off it went. In keeping with my 1980's bender, I grabbed my ipod and shuffled up a ridiculously cheesy but awesome 80's playlist. Once a few candles were lit, I fixed my recliner into maximum-comfort position and picked up where I had left off in my Real Simple magazine. Brody was lying on the rug, looking sharp in his new festive, black bandanna. All was right with the world... well at least my living room.

Peacefully humming along to some random Survivor song I heard "WHAT THE FUUUUUCKKKK!!!!!!" My heart literally stopped, scared stiff at the decibel of this murderous yell. I threw my magazine, little subscription cards flew out of it and landed in various places as I ran through the dining room to listen at the slider through the screen. Again, "WHAT THE FUUUUUCKKKK!!!!!!" - this time even louder. With Brody by my side, I was crouched in the dark, ear up against the screen, looking out into blackness. The voice was coming from the yard behind ours that shares our fence.

Now, I hate fights. I get nervous when I hear anyone yell to this extreme. Nothing good can possibly be on deck after a yell like THAT. I don't even like to be around an argument. And this was no argument... this man was upSET. It wasn't the kind of yell you'd give if, say, someone scratched your car or if the grill ran out of gas just as you put your steak on it and every store in America was closed. This was a yell that could only express one of two things - 1.) Oh my God you just stabbed me ... or 2.) I have just found you cheating on me with my best friend. And my mind is convinced that it is option #1.

After the two neighborhood-piercing exclamations it was somewhat quiet. Then, I hear HER. She (I am assuming they are husband and wife) is screaming at him but I couldn't make out any of the words. He is thundering back. I hear banging and slamming. In my mind, he is stumbling around with two, possibly three, stab wounds and she is a knife-wielding lunatic, channeling Shelly Duvall in The Shining. Of course I pondered calling the police but I had mixed feelings about it for many reasons. I hear more rustling and yelling and muffled crying and screaming ... and then HIS voice is gone. I listen for screeching tires, a motorcycle or even a squeaky bicycle - NOTHING. He clearly did not leave the house. So, now, I am figuring he is unconscious or possibly dead in the kitchen floor. (Why the kitchen? Just what my mind pictured. Linoleum and all). I hear their back door open followed by sobbing - the most haunting sobs I have ever heard. It was creepy to just hear crying like that coming out of the vast blackness of the yard. I can't be certain on this but I am about 95% sure I heard her sobbing "Oh God, forgive me, please forgive me." And that was that. The whole situation lasted about 15 minutes but I left my ear to that door for a solid 25.

Now, obviously, I am going to create my own scenarios and draw my own conclusions. I really only allowed those 2 previously mentioned options as possibilities based on how emotional his yell was. If it had been a cheating scenario - WHY would SHE be yelling back and defending herself to him? She would be crying, yes, but I don't see how a back and forth argument would be appropriate. If she stabbed him, he would be screaming in pain and disbelief (check) and then he would most likely be down for the count (check). She would be left to wander the yard crying for forgiveness (possible check). I am no Sherlock Holmes but I think I nailed this case shut. Why didn't I call the police, you ask? Well, I considered it at first. But I was slightly unsure exactly which house it was (until the end of the dispute) and I didn't know what to say "Hi, I hear yelling and banging at a house on a street" ... yeah, no. I did drive by this morning and there was no caution tape. Nothing out of the ordinary. But you can bet that tonight I will have my binoculars ready - I will catch her digging that grave if it's the last thing I do !!!!

September 3, 2009

since you didn't ask ...

There has been an overwhelming demand, from not one single soul, asking the unpopular question, "How did you meet your husband?" Alright, already. I will fill you in on the lovely details. Just stop flooding my inbox please... sheesh.

 So there I was... 23 years old with a run-down car, crappy job waiting tables, bills piled up along with massive bottles of Captain Morgan, living with my parents - who has blasted past their wits end years earlier- and feeling like my feet were in concrete. I was stuck beyond belief. Sure, I had a great circle of friends who made my nights fantastic but that wasn't enough anymore. I needed a fresh start. I knew this path was surely the quickest route to a life filled with struggle, debt, illness and possibly a brief stint living in a car at the junkyard with a couple of missing teeth and filthy clothes. So, with that in mind, I booked my yearly trip to North Carolina to visit my Grandmother and my Aunt. I wanted to clear my head in one of the most relaxing places that I knew of.
I stayed for 10 days. 5 with my Aunt and 5 with my Grandmother. We visited for a while, watched movies, went out for lunches, did some shopping and made our annual trips to R.O.'s barbecue and Tony's Ice Cream. But one of my favorite parts of these trips were my quiet nights out on the back porch. Breathing in the "different" air and listening to the "different" sounds. Chain smoking my cigarettes, I would stare out at the shadowed trees and listen to the cicadas. This is where I had my moment of clarity, so to speak. It was as though the environment had given me a pep talk. I was ready to go back home and meet my challenges head-on.
The very next day after my arrival home I was on the phone with a potential new job. My friend Jen had told me about a position opening at the Publishing Company she worked for and I was all over it. The interview couldn't have been more casual. I knew that this was a great fit for me. I got the job with very little effort. Passed the drug test and gave my ONE week's notice at the restaurant that I had come to loathe. Within just 8 days of my touching down at the airport, I was beginning the best chapter of my life.

 I settled into the new job quickly and found myself in the company of a lot of good people. One of those good people - yep - you guessed it - good ol' Gregg. He sat quietly at his desk... blue hat, goatee, work boots. I noticed his work ethic probably before anything else. I loved that he could just come into work, do his job with no complaints and go home. There were a lot of "loose cannons" in this office, we had rough deadlines and long hours but Gregg was reliable and a great compliment to the team. We became friendly. He had a girlfriend at the time - a little, adorable, tan girlfriend. I had no intentions - I just enjoyed his company. We began having lunch together. Everyday. We exchanged emails and Screen-names and before long we were talking on the phone almost nightly. We spent HOURS on Instant Messenger doing what we did best - making each other laugh. He had the best sense of humor of anyone I had met. We got along so amazingly well. No effort needed. We were who we were - no alterations necessary. Our friendship lingered this way for several months and suddenly changed one night at a party for our boss.
The picture below is from that party...
 I showed up at the party with a few friends an hour or two before Gregg. My friends and I had numerous Lemon Drops and beers and just for the hell of it - some Xanax. I had actually never taken Xanax before but what's so bad about an anti-anxiety pill anyway?? The night went on ... we socialized ... mingling with different tables and groups of people... Gregg and I played some pool ... we took some pictures etc. At the end of the night I found myself sitting with my friends, my boss and Gregg. Gregg and I were involved in our own conversation and THIS was a pivotal point in our relationship. Apparently, Mr. Xanax had not only removed all of my worries and inhibitions but it had given me balls of steel as well. I was saying things that I would have normally kept to myself, buried, forever. The most important of these things? "You KNOW that if you didn't have a girlfriend right now, we would be together!" Yep. I said it. For anyone reading this that KNOWS ME ... you KNOW I would have never had the guts to say this to anyone that I had a "crush" on. Ever. Well, it was well received. Gregg was smiling - we finished talking and the night ended. My phone rang about an hour after we left the party and it was my friend Jeremy, who had been given a ride home by Gregg. "You made someone VERY happy tonight" he said. Gregg talked about it with him on the ride home and was really happy that I told him. Jeremy said he did not stop smiling.
Our relationship remained the same at work - undercover. In fact nobody knew that we even talked outside of work. We still had our lunches and our phone conversations, however, within a week or two of that party, Gregg ditched the girlfriend.

I spent many of my nights at my friend Cassie's apartment, with a few of our friends, drinking beers and playing cards. Everyone, including Cassie's brother, Nick, was up-to-speed on the "Gregg-saga" as we discussed it frequently. I was even bold enough to tell Nick that "if Gregg and I ever got together, we would get married." Later that week I invited Gregg to Cassie's apartment, she was going to be away for the night and I figured we could spend some time on our own. We hung out, listened to CDs, watched some TV, drew some pictures (silly stuff) and had our first real night alone. Sure, I drank a bunch of beers and we fell asleep watching MTV (I snored) ... it was all very Cinderella. But we loved it. And we hung out again a few days later.... and a few days after that ... and after that ... and before you know it - I was meeting his family.

Our office ended up relocating to Virginia and we went our separate ways, job-wise. We totally missed seeing each other daily and having our lunches together. I stayed with the company and worked for a different magazine in another Composing site and Gregg took his part-time job to full-time as a Cook and Kitchen Manager. Every Saturday, before leaving for work, I would pack a bag for my weekend stay at Gregg's parents' house. I stayed Saturday night through Tuesday. We had so much fun that year. Just watching movies, ordering take-out or cooking-in, taking long drives. As simple as those things sound - they couldn't have been more perfect.

In October of 2003 Gregg proposed. He carved 5 pumpkins to read "Sheri will you marry me?" It was all set up in his parents' backyard when I pulled into the driveway on a typical Saturday night. There were candles lit, a little Autumn scene set up and roses and champagne inside. Left me a bit speechless. We set the date for December 4, 2004 and this year will be our 5th Anniversary.

And that, my friends, is the story of 'how we came to be' ... hope you enjoyed  ...

September 1, 2009

groupings and "hoots" ...

As I have mentioned, I am somewhat neurotic when it comes to decorating my home. Not in such a way that it looks amazing and beautiful... but more so that everything has to be placed in it's perfect spot - or the spot that I consider to be perfect I should say. Trips to Marshalls, Home Goods and T.J. Maxx are where I have found the majority of the art, furniture and "hoots" (accents) strewn about my house. I also love the store in Cracker Barrel and the Mystic Village shops. These are good spots to pick up random, unique things that you wouldn't find in a MALL or a Target.

This little guy is "Dr. Mudd". (Gregg and I were watching Ghost Hunters while I was trying to think of a name for him. As you may have already guessed, the show was about Dr. Mudd). Anyway, I was with my mom last week at Mystic Village and she found this and bought one for the both of us. I doubt she named hers though. She is way less ridiculous than I am. But he sure does compliment my kitchen window ... love that smile :)

Random kitchen groupings. I love that little lamp -
it is a can of peaches and I found it at Cracker Barrel last year.
So freakin cute.

Dining room table ... lots of junk here - I just like using fruits to decorate.
The jelly cabinet (with the chili peppers on it) is one of my favorite things.
Bought that in Mystic Village years a
go. Please note the lovely spider plant
that I have managed to not kill for at least 5 months now. Thank you, Elisha!
(please hold all comments about how anyone can keep a spider plant alive.
baby steps, people. baby steps).

Another Dining room shot. My husband and I love this print.
We found it at Home Goods years ago. Before we were married, I think.
Everything from our old apartment seemed to just fit right into our new house.

Again, things from our old apartment. The Theatre shelf was a must have. Even though I found it on the floor in Ann & Hope all chipped and scratched... I wasn't leaving without it. It's another one of my favorite accents. Also, I have a thing for skeleton keys. I can't explain it hahaha I just really like old keys!?!?
Note the pirate ship. HA!

The built-ins. When we found this house I was blinded by the bookshelves. Imagine the possibilities... I had millions of ideas. Once we were moved in, I found it hard to fill them up! But several trips to Home Goods later, I had more than enough. I switch things around all the time. One of my favorite things to do. They look a little rough right now but they'll get a face-lift soon :)

The mantle. In February I changed my living room colors
from red & green accents to brown & blue. This is the
result. Couldn't settle on a mantle idea but this works, for now.

Terrible shot of the wedding pictures grouping.

LOVE this cabinet... (JC Penney) so cute. Not a flattering picture.

The infamous "view from the hallway". Love me some black and white.
The top picture is a shot of the Beavertail Lighthouse in Jamestown
taken by my friend Brian.
Check him out, he's amazing.

... and there you have it. A little taste of my taste. Wait. That doesn't sound right. Either way, you will now have a better idea of the things that I am moving around from room to room while trying to finish a movie or phone call.

who writes about a throat infection??

Well, I haven't experienced much over the past few days as I have been ill. Beginning last Thursday, I had an annoying little pain in the back of my throat that felt like a canker sore but more probable the start of 'hell-throat'. It stayed the same for 2 days but by Saturday it was ready to wipe out my coast, hurricane style. I am no stranger to a throat infection. As long as I can remember I have had 3 or 4 a year and some years more than that. I know the deal. The glands swell up making my neck throb and look even thicker than usual. The swelling causes pain in my ears that is almost unbearable. Much like someone pouring gasoline in your ear and then lighting a match so that it burns the entire canal. It is relentless pain. Next up the glands push everything up into the back of my throat so that swallowing becomes nearly impossible. Then come the adorable "white spots" ... we all know what those are, I refuse to write the term. So, Saturday I just stayed on the couch while the rains from the "Danny" storm pounded our streets. By the afternoon I felt feverish and horrid. The throat became worse. The ear became worse. By nightfall I knew Sunday was going to BLOW. Sunday was indeed filled with horror. Things just spiraled downward. Motrin wasn't working. Tylenol wasn't working. I knew that the lovely crew at the Walk-In were going to be seeing my face at 8 am Monday morning. I was unable to eat due to the pea-sized hole in my throat that would hardly allow food to pass through. I could barely get water and a pill down. Once at the Walk-In, they did their usual blood pressure (120/80) and temp (no fever) and strep test. When the strep test came back negative the CNA and the doctor looked at each other and both said "REALLY???" as if they couldn't believe their crazy little ears. So this is where they panic. Walk-In clinics very rarely diagnose anyone. They just give you an antibiotic and send you on your way. I had the "nice" guy this time. He made me a little, gross but adorably PINK, numbing mouthwash to gargle with (which didn't work worth a shit), my usual Z-pack and, to my surprise, Vicodin for the obvious pain. Off I went to CVS to gather my drugs and within 15 minutes I was home inhaling them all. Vicodin did nothing for the pain. In just a few short hours I felt like I should have been hospitalized. I knew I had a fever as I was laying on my couch under 2 heavy blankets with teeth chattering, hands frozen and yet my head was boiling hot. The pain and swelling in my throat and neck had become so bad I could no longer talk. I resorted to on-and-off spitting to save myself the torture of disturbing my infectious demon. I used ice blocks on my neck to try to help the swelling and discomfort. Once I decided to stop taking the Vicodin and switch back to Motrin, I finally felt some relief. After 3 Motrin, and about 40 minutes, I was able to talk a little bit better and swallowing wasn't AS excruciating. During the night I was sweating and freezing - blanket, no blanket, fan, no fan, window open, window closed. Up and down up and down up and down. BUT, by this morning - my fever symptoms are gone and the pain isn't much better but at least I can keep it under control with about 3200 mg of Motrin. Lucky for me, I have protein shakes so I am still getting all of my daily requirements even without being able to EAT. I am looking forward to the next available day when I can scarf down a spinach pie - or anything for that matter. :)

Not a very interesting or worthwhile post but that's what's goin' onnnnnnn ...