An Order, Not a Suggestion

No more leftovers.

You are Your Stocking

Decorating the house for the holidays always brings a smile to my face.

GO BUCKS

Sorry for the profane ending...but the video's still good :)

I shall be making the Anthony Gonzalez chicken in honor of my all-time favorite OSU player. (Go Colts.)

Arroz con pollo (Rice with Chicken)

One of Anthony Gonzalez's favorite recipes:
• 10 chicken pieces
• Garlic powder
• Salt and pepper
• Cumin powder
• 6 cloves garlic -- chopped
• Bouillon cubes
• 3 cups rice
• 8 cups water
• 2 packets of Azafran seasoning packet
• One can petite peas, drained
• One small jar diced pimento
• One can beer
Season the chicken with spices. Fry in extra-virgin olive oil and garlic until the chicken is almost done (about 25 minutes). Add rice, water, seasoning packet and bouillon cubes. Let cook until the water is almost gone and you can see the rice. Add the can of beer.
Cover and let cook on low for about 45 minutes.
Add peas (drained) and pimento on top.

Enjoy!

Michigan Sucks

Go Bucks.

Our Garbage Disposal

has been acting up and I hate when it looks like someone vomited in the sink and I have no ability to drain it.

With that lovely image in your minds, Nick and I called our house insurance folks to have someone come and take a look at why it's simply not turning on. And why, all of a sudden, is our dishwasher not draining?

So, Mr. Fixit marches in and peers down with a flashlight while I am explaining how stumped Nick and I are about why it's like this.

We reaches underneath the sink and flips a button that says RESTART.

It gurgles free.

"That'll be $75."

The Holidays are A-Coming

...and that means two things for me and Nick.

1) Massive Travel
2) Board Games

Nick and I were born competitive people so board games are a wonderful way to exercise healthy habits of winning and practicing coping mechanisms when we act like a disgraceful loser. One of my favorite things about spending time with Nick's family is the passion of board games. Everyone gets into it and it's every wo/man for her/himself. While my favorite is Tripoly, Cranium is definitely up there as well.

Here is a small glimpse into the hilarity of Cranium.

Background: Jay and Keith are one team. Jay is humming a tune that Keith must figure out. It's not an All-Play, but we certainly take turns with our jabs and teasing. Listen closely to Jay and see if you can figure out what he's humming before anyone else.

Let me make a prediction: you won't.

#1 Basically, The Shape

Let's start with some basics about Ohio. (By the way, this is in no particular order.) You gotta love this time of year when the map of America is shown all over TV to explain the electoral map of the US. My favorite is whenever the anchor person talks about how Ohio is the heart of America and it's quite clear that our state boundaries reflect that responsibility. We are a heart. Isn't that warm?

Then the anchor goes on to talk about how Ohio is the reflection of America. So goes Ohio, so goes the nation.

Translation: it's a place of power.

And I like power.

Not only that, but the heart shaped edges are a unique little factoid about our great state. Sometimes, when perusing the kitchen utensil aisles in the store, I wonder why someone hasn't made an Ohio cookie cutter. Who wouldn't love to take a great big bite out of Cincinnati and Dayton?

And so begins the list of Why Ohio Gets to Keep Us.

The Best of Ohio

So, Ohio -

How ya doin'?

You and I have had a long road together. Like a dysfunctional relationship, I keep coming back to you. I leave, but I keep coming back with a belief that I will find a new part of you that fits me.

You may win me over in the end. Maybe.

It's not that I don't want to be won over. I just need to be convinced. So, let's work together.

I'm beginning a new series on this blog that gives evidence of Ohio love; things that surprise me about you. (I really hope there's a lot.)

So, here's our deal: you keep revealing your coolness to me here in Cleveland and I'll keep record on this blog of how rad you really can be. Let's start there.

It's all about reframing. It's all about reframing. I'll reframe my experiences and fall in love with you, hopefully, by the end of my life. Right now, I'd say you're my really good friend that I go with to see the new James Bond movies. No hand holding, no funny business. We're just good friends.

You give me the O-H.
I'll document the I-O.
The series will be called: Why Ohio Gets to Keep Us

Let's get going.

Step Away

I just downloaded an obscene amount of holiday songs from iTunes.

I'm kind of disgusted with myself.

As punishment, I won't allow myself to listen to what I just purchased.

Because THAT makes sense.

Getting Ready for the Holidays

With Your Mouth Open

I used to be a horrible daughter that nudged my brother, Fran, for laughs when our Dad fell asleep with his mouth open. I would shake my head in wonder, Are you THAT tired, Dad, that you can't close your mouth?

Apparently yes.

Apparently that also runs in the family.

In an uber-productive weekend where we took to the leaves the way soldiers took to Normandy, and I tackled my closet and *finally* unpacked from a 4 weekend trip October, Nick and I accomplished much this weekend, domestically speaking. We cooked dinner, celebrated Books' 30th birthday with the loyal Tom Ward from the 'Nati, and even squeaked in an early 9am mass on Sunday morning. We rock like that.

After all that activity, I crawled to the sofa and sank into a poetry book, ready to be taken into a deliriously gorgeous Nikki Giavonni world, and then fell asleep, books on the floor, limbs sprawled like I'd been drugged, mouth gaping open. I was exhausted. Nick read Time magazine and covered me with a blanket. He's kind like that.

Life is so much easier when you're organized and wake up early. It's so much easier to decide what to wear when your clothes are actually hanging on hangers and not crumbled up like leaf piles on your bedroom rug. I may be converted to Nick's style of living - uncluttered and happy.

In other non-exciting details that we love to talk about, I continue to lament the lable of True Adult which Nick and I have humbly accepted. WIthout alarms, I wake up at 6:45am. Now for those of you out there who think that is not a big deal, remember two things:
1) I used to have nearly all evening classes at Xavier because I couldn't wake up before 11am and 2) I am unemployed

I suppose it's the rigor of raking leaves and rearranging my magnetic poetry that drains me and I need a fitful 8 hours to be productive. This transition is quite shocking, to say the least. Nick, in his balanced life patterns of wake, shower, work, eat, read, sleep gets routinely heavy lidded at 10:30pm (how embarassing) and rises to the world like clockwork at 7:30am. We don't even have kids to blame for our lameness. We are Adults.

November Cleaning

It's been a long week.

Beginning November is a weird transition.

In one moment, you are contemplating what kind of monster or rock star you will grace Halloween parties with and the next moment, your sister-in-law is asking whether you'll make the Turkey this year while you suddenly see a commercial that has jingle bells in the background with the new store hours to accommodate your shopping needs. Yeah, November's weird.

And then there's this historic election we just lived through. I can't even begin to write how glad I am it is over. It's a constant negotiation at social gatherings over what and how much you can talk about when it comes to politics. Never a fan of labels, I hate when people ask if I'm a Democrat or push the Palin love. I just want to talk about issues, not the blame, and I'm relieved that - finally - I can watch Grey's Anatomy without political ads bothering me.

It's raining yellow leaves in our backyard and our neighbors have probably pegged us the laziest Clevelanders in the history of yard raking. Yesterday, though, Nick took the day off (a nice benefit from working so many evenings and every weekend) and we took on the third floor of our house. It looked like our moving truck had vomited whatever was left in its belly onto the hard wooden floors. It's been a little over two months since I've been back and yet, I confess, there is not one thing hung on our walls or box unpacked.

There is no appropriate measuring stick to adequately communicate how much I loathe packing and unpacking. I HATE MOVING THINGS. I hate the concept of it. I hate doing it. I hate it so much, I want to crawl into a fetal position and whine in a dark corner. Everything that goes into moving, I detest. The sifting through of all your junk and realizing you should drop off 1/2 of your life at a salvation army, the dust from boxes that I am allergic, the polite questions from Nick asking if I going as fast as I can - I HATE MOVING AND ALL THAT COMES WITH IT.

But, what must be done must be done. So, we tackled the third floor with a vengeance and I must say, it looks pretty darn good. It is a guest suite/Lisa's gallery and writing floor/future children romping room. The greatest feeling was finally seeing all of my art supplies - canvas, brushes, paints, drop sheets, cleaner, paints, crayons, clear glue, adhesives, buttons, leftover denim, s/crap-booking materials, rocks, sand, rafia, paper, bows, old cards, and gift wrapping paper - in an enormous closet. For approximately 11 years, i have carted my crafty tools in beat up cardboard boxes. Much to Nick's dismay, I have a hard time putting those things away. Since I derive much inspiration in simply looking at the vast array of my creative guns, I leave most of it out in the open, waiting for lightning to strike.

I shrieked, "LOOK NICK! I ACTUALLY HAVE A SPACE TO PUT AWAY ALL MY ART SUPPLIES! I LOVE HAVING A HOUSE! I FINALLY CAN THROW THOSE OLD BOXES AWAY AND KEEP MY ART SUPPLIES IN A CORNER OF MY OWN!"

Nick hugged me, "That's great babe!"

But I could have sworn as he jogged down the steps, I heard him mutter under his breath, "...great for all of us..."

In the Fridge

1 bottle of champagne.

VOTE.

The Title Says It All

Go.