Sunday at our house

If you're lucky enough to be with an Italian girl, this probably looks familiar.

Sweet Italian sausage and pepperoni

Pot of sauce and meatballs sitting on the stove

Stuffed shells

Prepared meals for gym nights

It takes pain to be beautiful

This morning as I was limping around my apartment, I thought of a saying my mom used to recite to me. "It takes pain to be beautiful," she would say as she ripped the brush through my hair to put it in the perfect ponytail. Nowadays, she recites that line when she is using a comb to pull color through my hair. I feel like I am being scalped but love the look of my rich dark chocolate colored hair once it's all over. I always hated that she said that, but as usual, I know she's right. Oh, the pain and trouble we women put ourselves through to have attractive clothing and shoes, nice tight bodies, and to remain groomed in every way from plucking to waxing and everything in-between. It's just too much to look good all the time!

Her saying has rung especially true for me this week. On Monday, I spent an hour walking around the apartment in my wedding shoes (which are fabulous by the way) to break them in. Today as a result, I could barely squeeze my toes in my ballet flats because both my pinky toes are bruised from Monday. Not to mention, my body is screaming at me today. Last night, I tried a PILOXING class at my gym and today my legs feel like they could give out every step I take. Tonight it's off to Zumba class for another hour of torture... I mean fun, to get bikini ready.

Ladies, I salute each and everyone of you. It takes hard work, dedication and pain to be a woman.

Adios!

Just got my vacation for the wedding and the honeymoon approved! I have to admit, while I am obviously pumped to marry Brian, I am even more excited to hit the white sandy beaches of Mexico as husband and wife. It's going to be glorious... breakfast on the balcony overlooking the water, pina colada's delivered to me under my straw umbrella, romantic dinners on the beach, zip-lining adventures...maybe.  Ok, back to work. Enough day dreaming for today!

One for my baby

If you haven't noticed, this blog is named after a song from one of my favorite artists, John Mayer. I've been attending his concerts since he started touring and was less than thrilled when a group of us saw him two summers ago. Sadly, John spent more time talking than singing and went into a monologue about his anxiety right before he took out a Xanax from his pocket and crushed it with his foot on stage.

Still, Mr. Mayer always will be one of my favorite musical men. I can't deny his talent or his devilishly good looks - even if his facial hair is a bit more on the skeevy than sexy side. Check out the video sent to my good friend, Beth. It's nice to see John back in action, especially with such a class act like Tony Bennett.

Trying something new

This will be the fifth Christmas Brian and I have been together. However, it’s only the second we’ve spent either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day together. When we were both living home we were about an hour and a half away from each other and seeing one another was nearly impossible if we wanted to see our family too. Because we’ve spent a majority of our Christmases together, actually apart, we’ve always thought it was really important to create our own holiday traditions so it felt like Christmas time without actually being Christmas.

One tradition we started was making a gingerbread house. Nothing fancy really, just a kit that we took time assembling and neatly decorating. Last year was the first time we did it in our own place since the years prior we did it at our parents houses. With time before the holidays slipping away so quickly last year we weren’t able to assemble our gingerbread creation until we were only hours away from the big day. Honestly, neither of us was really in the mood to do it but it was on my to-do list and I wasn’t going to let the $15 kit go to waste. As it turns out, it wasn’t so pretty when it was all finished. You can’t even imagine the mess two grown people can make with candy and frosting when they’re being lazy about it.

A good year as far as gingerbread was concerned.

A sad excuse for a gingerbread house if you ask me!

While it had been fun in the past to do this type of thing together it really wasn’t entirely too much fun last year. That’s when we decided that we’d form no tradition that stresses us out. After all, these are the things that should bring us joy and comfort. This year, in lieu of involving gingerbread, Brian had a great idea, which begins a new tradition for us. He purchased a 2011 ornament with a slot meant to put a picture into. Instead, Brian and I wrote what we were thankful for this year. We plan on keeping this one up. Someday when our children unpack the ornaments we can recall what made that specific year so special, I love it.

Do you have an ornament that is really special to you?

So many memories to be thankful for

Growing up, I remember spending a lot of time with my mom’s family. Her side of the family lived relatively close to us and there were a lot of people to see for birthday’s and holidays. The one holiday we almost always spent with my dad's side of the family is Thanksgiving.

Now, Thanksgiving is a day when I think back on so many of the wonderful memories we all made. I can still recall my Grandpa, Lalo, making gravy in the roasting pan on the stove. I can remember the sound of the chairs being pulled along the kitchen floor at my grandparents. I can remember eating the potato chips on the kitchen table and wishing they weren’t always so burnt. I can remember the first Thanksgiving after my grandfather died. There’s a picture of my father, my sister and me sitting on the couch at our house listening to “Alice’s Restaurant” by Arlo Gunthrie. It was the first time in years we didn’t listen to it on the way to 22 Webb Drive. I can remember the Thanksgiving we went to my Aunt’s house while I was in college. I spent most of the day asleep on the most comfortable chair in the world. I remember the Thanksgiving Akua, my grandmothers care taker, and her husband Sam spent with us. I remember the first Thanksgiving my sister spent with her husband’s family and how I cried my way through “Alice’s Restaurant” with my parents singing joyously in the front seat of the Volvo as I tried to hide behind my sunglasses in the back.

It’s weird when you grow up… how things change. This year and for the foreseeable years ahead I will celebrate with the Kanady family. Every year on Thanksgiving my family and my dad’s family will hold a special place in my heart and I'll always keep a piece of the Ortuso tradition alive that day. I know each year I’ll enjoy Brian learning a few more words to “Alice’s Resturant” and I’ll think back on a time when it was just the four of us in a car on the way to spend time with the family.

Goodnight...good luck!

Did you ever have one of those nights where right before you are heading off to bed you get this ridiculous sudden burst of energy? That was me last night. 9:30pm and all the things I had been putting off all night and all week suddenly became of the utmost importance to accomplish. It’s insane how much you can get done in just a half hour if you really try. Take a look...

• Begin soaking toothbrushes in mouthwash. Other than the usual replacement of your toothbrush this is the only way I’ve heard of to clean all the germs off.

• Iron shirt for work. Sometimes I think I should just bite the bullet and send our shirts to the cleaners.

• Clean the bathroom mirror. It has become the place where toothpaste goes to die, disgusting. Also took a q-tip to the crevices in the sliding mirror. Went through 6, needless to say our navy colored towels are still shredding and pieces of towel can be found everywhere.

• Pack lunches. I do this every night and as easy as it is, I never feel like taking the 2 minutes to do it.

• Clean belly button. What can I say; I was on a roll with the q-tips. Don’t judge. Lathering up in the shower e very day is not enough to keep anyone’s belly button clean. It needs more love than a washcloth can give.  How clean is your belly button?

• Vacuum the bathroom floor. I swear no matter how often I clean up my hair after I shower I am always getting pieces of my locks stuck between my toes.

As you might imagine, I was wound up like a top before I went to lay down and didn’t fall asleep for another hour and a half after getting in bed. HELLO bags under my eyes!

Tossing and turning

Last night I had another wedding nightmare. This is not the first time and I can’t imagine why I am already losing sleep when the big day is almost an entire year away. Luckily for Brian, these wedding nightmares never involve anything remotely familiar to “Runaway Bride” but always consist of ridiculous snafus that I can’t get under control. Wrong cake, stolen cards, no food, bad music…the horrors!

Last night in REM sleep, I watched our wedding day unfold in front of me. The day (or the dream) began with me trying on several dresses just hours before we were to say “I do”. I finally had to settle on the only white dress I could find. Oddly, the dress I wound up wearing strongly resembled the dress I wore on my Communion day 15 or more years ago. I also was wearing white jelly ballet flats since I can never find heels that fit.  At least they weren’t the patent leather Mary Janes and lace socks that I rocked back at Saint William the Abbot on Communion Day.

Anyway, in my nightmare I also had to do my own makeup and it was not pretty. I can imagine this thought probably stemmed from the fact that I haven’t secured an actual make-up artist yet and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Some people say it’s no big deal, but no one wants to see me do my own airbrushing that day, trust me.

Lastly, in the dream, our wedding day flew by and I barely recall even seeing Brian. I saw friends and family sitting uncomfortably at tables in a dozen different rooms and I never got to talk to them. How sad.

Hopefully the big day is everything we’re dreaming of and these nightmares of poor planning are nothing to worry about. If nothing else I’ll end up married to Brian at the end of the day on October 13, 2012 - so it’s a win no matter what.

Amish country

This past weekend Brian and I packed up our Under Armour and Coleman products and headed to Lancaster, PA. For Columbus Day each year his family spends several days on the campgrounds that sit neatly next to Dutch Wonderland. I may not be a camper, but I am fascinated by the Amish people that live nearby. Here are a few of my favorite shots.

A home life

We headed off to Macy's and Crate and Barrel this weekend to begin the registering process. We spent some time adding things to MyRegistry.com as well. What a fabulous site that allows you to post items from a variety of stores!

Bless Brian for he was so patient on this shopping excursion. Many thanks to my mom and sister also who knew more of what we needed/ wanted than we did.

Here are some of my favorites!

Lady in white

This weekend I turned from just an engaged woman, to a bride when I said “yes” to my wedding dress! With my mother and sister at my side I picked out the most perfect dress to marry Brian in. It’s elegant and simple and fun all at the same time! 

Of course, I cannot go into any more detail because we all know the bride’s dress is meant to be a surprise. It is challenging though! I feel like a little kid just dying to tell my groom every detail. Every couple of hours I tell him a little bit more about the shopping experience hoping he'll ask questions but he is so good, he never pries. I’ll do my best not to spill the beans because the pictures and description don’t do it any justice. The way I feel in it, is what makes it perfect. The dress, much like Brian, makes me feel at ease, beautiful and complete. 

Jonesin' for campus

I am feeling a bit nostalgic this morning…to be honest it started on Monday afternoon and I haven’t been able to shake it. After leaving the movies on our day off, I asked Brian if we could drive through our Alma-mater. BIG mistake. Students walking to the old hangout dressed in Rowan garb brought tears to my eyes. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it is also perfect back to school weather. The extra chill in the air each morning and the nonstop rain makes for the ideal weather to sit in a classroom in a Profs hoodie. Not to mention, I can’t even go food shopping without bumping into an assortment of school supplies calling my name. “Pleaseeee buy the 24 box of Crayola and the Mead journal." I don’t really need any of those things, but here is what I do need…

• GRE study guide. I need to get back to school to pursue a Master’s in Higher Education: Administrative. The MAT book filled with practice analogy tests has officially become a coffee table book and not a study guide. Time to try something else!
• Picnic at Rowan. This always makes me feel like I am a student again, even though I am not.
• Trip to the bookstore. Time to stock up on new college gear. I can pretend it's still appropriate to wear Sofee shorts and a t-shirt right?

* Logo courtesy of: http://www.feathermerchant.com/?category=sports%3Ecollege

Calm during the storm

After work on Thursday night I headed to Wal-Mart for a pre-Irene trip to gather a few necessities. After fighting my way down each aisle and a short-lived power outage throughout the entire store, I finally headed home with a handful of hurricane essentials.

When I arrived home I immediately brought in the outdoor bistro set and filtered several pitchers of fresh water, just in case.  We were going to be just fine, I had never been so prepared for anything like this. Within our reach, no matter where we were in the apartment, I set up flashlights, candles and made sure we had plenty of charge on all our electronics.

My pre-Irene imagination was filled with ideas of Brian and I coloring, and playing cards in the candlelight but when our power went out at 9:30 on Saturday night, the actuality of what happened was far from what I had imagined. I panicked; I had never seen it so dark. While I get up to use the bathroom every night (at least twice) I suddenly found the walk to the bathroom impossible to navigate without scraping my shoulders on every corner.

Strong winds and heavy rain had me alarmed and I began forcing Brian and I to pack an emergency bag in case we had to leave. Extra sets of clothes, medicine, granola bars and bottled waters were quickly shoved in to one of our gym bags. Where would we go? I have no idea. I could not relax. It was hot, I was sweating and I was thinking morbid thoughts. As far as I was concerned, we had just enjoyed our last meal… Brian’s mom’s sauce…that’s what he always tells me he would want as his last meal.

My pre-Irene preparation had me convinced I would be able to stay calm during the storm. However, as winds were whipping around our building it finally registered that being the composed one in our apartment is not my role. It never will be, no matter how hard I try or no matter how bad I want to be that person. Brian is the one who continues to act cooly and logically when I am spinning in circles. He assured me several times in spoken words and in actions that everything would be alright. Even though I will never understand how he can remain so relaxed all the time, I am so grateful that he's always the calm before the storm, during the storm, and after the storm. 

Green thumb

Have I mentioned that Brian and I plant flowers on our balcony every year? For two years now we carefully selected the most brightly colored flowers, planted them and cared for them with love, and encouraged them to grow into all they could be. This year and last year our flowers died before August. I suppose we are missing our green thumb. R.I.P. balcony garden.

This year we planted beautiful cherry colored and white Impatiens.

After our vacation, this is what we returned to. Apparently this is what they meant when they said Impatiens don't do well in direct sun light. I guess the heat wave didn't help either. Oops. 

Last year we planted gorgeous Pansies! While I don't have a graphic picture to show you their demise, let's just say a bunch of determined bugs got to them and destroyed them. 

Looking forward to next year when hopefully our flowers last more than 2 months!

Back to work blues

Brian and I had the past week off from work and enjoyed the opportunity to tour the great Garden State. NJ truly has a lot to offer us and since we're saving for the wedding, spending time off close to home was an attractive option to both of us.

In the past week we...

...gambled at "America's Playground" otherwise known as Atlantic City. I found myself quite addicted to the Sex and the City slot machines. I could find the quickest route in the casino between all the machines which had Brian quite amused. Apparently though Brian and I do not look old enough to gamble since we were asked for ID an absurd amount of times.

...enjoyed the fabulous food and accommodations at the Borgata. I savored each bite of every single meal and could have set up camp in the shower there.

...relaxed on the beaches of Brigantine. Typically, I don't go to any beach but Belmar in NJ, but "Brig" as the locals call it, was very calm and peaceful.

...sweat our buns off on the beaches of Belmar. I had to get to Belmar at one point during our vacation! Mom and I headed there Thursday while Brian and my dad, his future father-in-law (so strange) fished with my uncle. On Friday my dad, Brian and I headed there for about 2 hours before I finally called it quits. The sand actually burned your feet so I decided an ice cold Arnold Palmer and "tropicali" cuisine at Fin's was a better option.

All in all I  had a fabulous week off with Brian by my side. Back to the grind tomorrow, my friend.

An excerpt from Committed

This afternoon on the beach, I read a single paragraph in Elizabeth Gilbert's novel Committed that truly hit me. It was so good it made me stop reading to pass the book on to Brian so he could read it too.


"The poet Jack Gilbert (no relation, sadly for me) wrote that marriage is what happens 'between the memorable.' He said that we often look back on our marriages years later, perhaps after one spouse has died, and all we can recall are 'the vacations, and emergencies' --the high points and the low points. The rest of it blends into a blurry sort of daily sameness. But it is that very blurred sameness, the poet argues, that comprises marriage. Marriage is those two thousand indistinguishable conversations, chatted over two thousand indistinguishable breakfasts, where intimacy turns like a slow wheel. How do you measure the worth of becoming that familiar to somebody--so utterly well known and so thoroughly ever-present that you become almost an invisible necessity, like air?"

To Dad, Love Petie

Tonight, Brian and I went swimming at the gym and the smell of chlorine forced me to shower immediately after I arrived home. After hopping out, I felt a bit challenged on what to do with my hair since I knew I’d be heading to bed in just a few hours. Lately it’s been so dry and knotty so I thought a post-shower braid might be nice.

Looking in the mirror, I instantly thought of my dad who was in charge of maintaining my long mane in my younger days. Even though my mom’s a hairdresser, Dad was always so much gentler with the brush and I think he enjoyed the time together just him and me.

Time spent together as father and daughter is far and few between these days as both responsibilities and the family grow. With Father’s Day just a few days away I’m looking forward to celebrating the man who mastered not only gently brushing my hair but who made growing up so special.

A few other things that make my Dad one-of-a-kind:

He passed on to me the lifelong habit of eating cookies for breakfast.

He taught my sister and me respect at a young age.

He took on coaching a sport he knew nothing about so I could play soccer.

He taught me how to strike up a conversation with just about anyone.

He’s made me feel like an American Idol since the moment I sang into a kitchen spoon.

He took us girls fishing and crabbing with the boys.

He makes a mean cold-cut bread and taught me the skill when I was old enough to start caring how to cook.

He showed me the art of a good nap.

He never fails to say how proud he is of any of us.

He showed us with hard work, comes great rewards.

He showed Michelle and me how fun cleaning a pool cover can be.

He never failed to get a kick out of how I could parallel park my Power Wheels.

He remained patient while teaching me how to drive even though he had to pull up the e-break to stop us from crashing.

He worked 7-days a week to put us through college. He’s always wanting more for us.

It’s cliché but I could go on and on. Thanks Daddy for being 1 in a million.

Back to life, back to reality

This past weekend was one in which I experienced the full spectrum of highs and lows during the wedding planning process. After becoming a bit overwhelmed (okay very overwhelmed) at the venue on Saturday morning, arguing with those I love and shedding enough tears to fill the Delaware River, Sunday finally brought me back to reality.

The wedding is not important. This is something I have always believed but now I have to actually put that belief into practice and it's not easy. It's simple, especially for me, to become buried with stress when there is a multitude of things to think about. Instead of focusing on what truly matters that day I've been consumed with thoughts of how our day will measure up to the ones on TV or even worse those of our friends who we'll be attending in the months leading up to our special day. What matters most is what happened on Sunday at our engagement party. What this special part of our lives is really all about is sharing our love with the ones we love. As Brian's sister said, if the building is crumbling down around us on our wedding day, we'll still be standing across from each other becoming husband and wife with our closest family and friends by our sides, and I like that.

Fun is in the eye of the beholder

After watching a “lady” urinate down her leg three times last summer during a concert of one of our favorite artists, Brian and I banned outdoor performances until we could recover. With our local country radio station giving away free tickets to a show featuring several artists, we thought it might be a good idea to give it another chance.

Considering the wholesome-as-apple-pie image of country music, we had assumed it would produce a more mature audience. In the very least, we anticipated that the crowd would be able to, if nothing else, control their bladders until they made it to the bathroom. This is an assumption we made incorrectly. After sitting on the highway, waiting to exit for over an hour, a girl erupted from the car in front of us and proceeded to pull down her pants and, well, you can guess what followed.

Eventually, we came within blocks of the amphitheater and I guess you can say the crowd surprised us a bit. Trusting our intuition, we quickly noticed they were both younger and drunker than last year and we made a prompt decision to turn around. It wasn’t long before we were getting texts that fights were breaking out on the lawn area of the venue. Man, did we dodge a bullet.

Our decision to cross the bridge and hit Philly for cheese steaks instead of the concert sparked a conversation between Brian and me about what is and is not fun. While we sometimes get the feeling that others may look at us as boring or unexciting because we’d rather read a good book on the beach than hit up a bar is A-OK with us. After all, fun, like beauty, is all in the eye of the beholder. I’d pick a Geno’s date, just the two of us any day over being surrounded by thousands of people whose idea of a good time means using the lawn as a toilet.

Holiday

This weekend Brian and I did something we usually don't do. With three days off ahead of us we acted like a couple in their mid 20's should. The two of us threw chores and responsibilities aside and enjoyed the holiday weekend.


Saturday night we found ourselves at one of our favorite restaurants for drinks and appetizers. It had both of us craving a vacation. Even though we're not big drinkers we are itching to sit out in the nice weather, nosh on good eats and enjoy a few good drinks.  


Sunday and Monday we sank our toes into the hot sand in Belmar, NJ. When I was 16, that beach represented freedom to me. Now, it's the one place that truly reminds me that I am a grown up. During the summer, I find living so far from my family and the beach the most difficult. Sometimes, I truly believe it's  because even when Brian and I do make it up to Belmar for the weekend, it reminds me how much life has changed since I frequented there in the summers during high school.


Nevertheless, no matter how many responsibilities we have as compared to our teen-aged "glory days," we keep trying to remind ourselves we'll only be 20 something once. So while neither of us have the amount of freedom we once had, it's still more than we'll have in 2 years, 5 years, 10 years. We might as well enjoy it while it lasts.