M-I-L

pretty accurate depiction, down to the stylish wind jacket

I survived Christmas.  It sucked.  And it sucks having to tell everyone who asks, "how was your Christmas?" that it sucked.  Not gonna lie.  Bah humbug.

Why did my holiday suck?  Well...Christmas really highlights an aspect of marriage not many eager brides consider.  This wild card is called the mother-in-law.  Let me tell you, dear Lauren, she can make or break you.

You will see your mother-in-law all the time, have to spend holidays with her and share really important moments in your life with her.  Even if she's not that nice and you really don't care to have her around.  It's all built into that little package called marriage.  And if you marry a mama's boy, good luck with that.
 
You can't ever really get rid or her or her opinions.  Her thoughts and ideas will get back to you, even if they aren't said directly to you.  Her whole way of life will make its way into your life--in the form of how you do laundry, how you cook potatoes, when Christmas presents should be placed under a tree.  Forget about making your own traditions!  It's over!

But I digress...maybe you will be one of the lucky few who get a dream mother-in-law who only supports you and what you do and is evolved enough to let you have your own life with her son.

So, in review, I think a huge part of getting married, dear bride, is knowing not only who you are marrying, but also what kind of family you are marrying into.  Because, for better or worse, you are marrying them also.

'tis the season

I will be so glad when the holiday season is over.  Retail has a way of ruining Christmas for me, although I love seeing all the decorations and toys.  But seriously, people aren't really very fun, there is no charming hustle and bustle, and there is definitely no Christmas cheer or goodwill.  And if I have to hear that Charlie Brown song that plays continuously on the store's music loop one more time, I will go smother myself in a snow bank.

Anyway, Happy Holidays Lauren and Jesse! This will be your last Christmas as singletons!  In the meantime, I will try to black out the following festive people I encountered tonight:

• the woman who purchased a crib mattress, and then showed up at the dock to pick it up while I was busy with another delivery.  She called the store and said she "was in a big hurry."  When they told her she was next in line, she became very irate and said I was having trouble fitting the first customer's boxes in his car and she didn't want to wait for me to figure it all out.  For the record, I wasn't even helping the customer organize the boxes.  I was just standing there, offering my sage advice on how things might fit.  It was like Tetris, really.  And I hate that the bitchy lady was acting like lines aren't meant for her.

• the woman who demanded to know if a mattress was included in the doll cradle.  I told her no.  She said there was a mattress in the cradle on display in front so I obviously didn't know what I was talking about; did I want to see?  I said I didn't need to see it, and hey, we are a toy store and maybe in some feeble attempt at playing, a kid might have moved things around, and that all the doll beds came with mattresses, but not the cradle. 

• the woman who returned two shelves to the dock and then said, "so I have to come into the store then...?"  I said, "well, yes, I don't have any way to do a return for you here."  I do not carry a point-of-sale system in my back pocket.  She said, "well, I don't know the protocol...so how will I know that you have these shelves, do you give me something?"  I was like, "how will you know that I have these shelves?  You just gave them to me, remember?...I guess you will have to trust that I am going to carry them into the store for you and not run away with them."

Your man

I'm not a huge women's libber and I don't get offended when a man opens a door for me.  I am married and appreciate the tradition of being a "Mrs." although only the sixteen year old sales associates at Abercrombie and Fitch use that title with me.  I think it will beyond hilarious to call Lauren "Mrs. Jerle."

I worked on Saturday.  I was asked to come in early.  It wasn't a big deal.  But we were super busy.

As soon as I got there, the phone started ringing.  I answered it, and the lady told me she would be picking up a crib and changing table.  She then said, "well, my daughter and I will need help loading it all, as we are without our men today."

WTF?  Where were their men?  Were they out hunting and gathering?  Or just hanging out back at the cave?

total babe or missing link

When they arrived to pick up their stuff, my co-worker and I went to do the delivery.  We managed it just fine, thank you very much.  But then the mother said, "wow, where are all the big, burly men?"  I shot her a perplexed look, and said, "what do you mean?  We just loaded all of that without a problem."

Seriously, I have been seven months pregnant and visibly showing and had a man lean against the stairwell, ordering chinese food on his cell phone, while a female co-worker and I loaded a shelving unit into his truck.  I have also carried a 5x8 rug to a car while a 6'2" man has walked along side of me, humming to himself and snapping his fingers.

Still, Lauren, I hope you are never without your man.

Gift cards, please

Lauren and Jesse have registered for their wedding at Target and a few other places.  I have to say it's a wise move.  Trust me, it is better just to tell Aunt Helen what you want than to deal with crap, or the return counter lady when you have to exhange the crap.

In that spirit, as Christmas approaches, I know I won't get anything I want.  I never do.  Not as a child, and certainly not as an adult.

One year I bought Scot a Playstation, a Rush DVD, tons of socks, and a Star Wars pop-up book.  He got me nothing.  I guess I should be grateful though, as I could have been gifted with any of the following:

• Seriously.  Okay, I don't smoke, but I have an idea.  Gloves. 

• Carries up to seven pounds?  To put this in perspective, my children's birth weights were, respectively, six pounds, thirteen ounces, seven pounds, three ounces, and seven pounds, five ounces.  Maybe this is the new Baby Bjorn.

• Just one more chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'" and I'll be through...

• This makes me want to puke, and I love Robert Pattinson.  Are all the recipes blood based?  Just askin' 

 

• Better than Scot.  Just kidding.  I don't really know what to say here.

Lauren and Jesse begin the menu selection process!

Gross

According to a recent blog, Lauren and Jesse love pizza rolls.

They split a forty piece bag in a sitting.  For dinner, I guess.

They have heated debates on how to bake them.  (Get it?  Heated?)  I have to say, I'm with Lauren on this one.  My girls used to eat them like crazy, and I too would watch them like a hawk to ensure that the insides didn't bubble out and leave me with a hollow shell of crust.

What they didn't address though, is the cooking method of microwaving them.  It's an acceptable method; it's actually printed on the bag.  I know this because my middle daughter used to do it when she had pizza rolls for an after-school snack, and my oldest daughter used to complain and call her lazy.

Anyway, Lauren and Jesse should consult with their caterer and serve these little wonders up for an appetizer at the wedding.  Can't we all picture Keith manning the toaster oven, yelling out, "Pizza rolls!  Come and get 'em while they're hot!"?

Also, there seems to be a whole cottage industry devoted to pizza roll recipes.  I'm sure you're saying to yourself, "wtf, no way," but it's true.  Google it.

FYI--never buy the Target/Archer Farms pizza rolls.  They are actually not good and no one will eat them.

Billy Joel's infamous potato hotdish

So, Lauren posted a recipe for her cheesy potato casserole yesterday.

Apparently she and Jesse got into some major nesting, as they were snowed in--kinda--and decided to bake, cook, and who knows what else.

Anyway, the casserole Lauren describes is a popular concoction here in the midwest.  In fact, Byerly's makes it all the time and sells it in their deli under the name company potatoes.  I asked the woman there once why it was called that and she said it's because it's a popular dish to take to a company potluck.  This, and only this, is why I am completely endorsing Lauren's Billy Joel's Cheesy Potato Casserole name.

Helpful hint:  Lauren describes Jesse painstakingly peeling and shredding potatoes for this dish.  Another option would be hashbrowns.  Just sayin'.

White Wedding and White Snow

Snow.  That's what everyone is talking about.  Maybe it's because we live in Minnesota and are having a blizzard, or maybe it's because almost everyone I converse with is over fifty.

I had to work today, and guess what, I showed up.  I'm that responsible.  I don't know, I have a really strong sense of obligation, and I like to be dependable.  The three of us non-managers who opted to fulfill our duties are all Edina citizens and therefore, close to the store.  But come on, my sixty-seven year old co-worker showed up.  That's why some people are lame.  They would rather put the onus on a senior citizen than plow their driveway.

Anyway, our bride and groom decided to register at Target today.  Which is either super smart:

• it's a good way to kill time during a blizzard
• the store was probably empty, leaving them free to roam and explore without interruption

Or extremely dumb:

• it was probably dangerous getting there
• I'm sure there were not enough Target associates around to help them, as most of them utilize the bus system to get to work, and the bus systems were down, and let's be honest, we know Lauren needed help with that scan gun
• Lauren wore a Pabst Blue Ribbon sweatshirt

After their time there, Lauren decided to cook.  Which I think is great.  I am not a cook myself, but I wish I was.  I will say it is never too late and just in the past year, I have gotten better at it with the help of friends and their great recipes.  I  now make the best minestrone soup in the whole entire universe.

Jaime's Best Minestrone Soup in the Whole Universe

half an onion, chopped

clove or two of garlic, minced

1/2 tube Jimmy Dean sausage

half of cup carrots, chopped

one zucchini, chopped

half a head of cabbage, chopped

box of beef broth

one can diced tomatoes

one can Northern white beans

basil to taste

salt to taste

pepper to taste

saute onion and garlic in olive oil, add sausage and brown

add carrots, zucchini, cabbage, broth and tomatoes

season to taste

simmer for half hour

add beans

simmer another half over

Serve this and someone will marry you!

The Name Game

Depicted image is actual ink print taken from photo of Lauren

One thing that Lauren and I have not discussed regarding her impending nuptials is what her new name will be.  She doesn't strike me as a traditionalist, and yet I somehow believe she will end up being Lauren Jerle.  I don't even think she will be known as Lauren Cooper Jerle.

It's a super personal choice, and I really have no opinion on it other than what I did.  Some people find two last names pretentious.  Some people assume if you keep your maiden name you're a huge feminist or uber educated.

I kept my maiden name, and that's what I go by.  Although with the proliferation of facebook users, many women appear to be using two last names, even though it is more so old friends can find them.  Sometimes I throw in my husband's name at the end if it seems like it will help the situation, or I just use my husband's last name when it comes to things with the kids.  It's just easier because many people cannot wrap their heads around more than one name.

The interesting thing here is, I didn't keep my maiden name on purpose.  I was married on a small island, and the wedding license was much cheaper if we purchased it in Boston.  It took a series of steps that involved filling out reams of paperwork, walking two blocks, waiting in line, appearing before a judge, and signing more paperwork.  When we were filling out some random form,  it asked my name and I put my maiden name down.  It didn't even occur to me that it was asking me the name I was going to go by once married.

The bigger issue I have here is with people who cannot spell my first name.  Good friends mess it up, as do relatives who should know better.  Teachers never got it right in school, but that was so commonplace, I stopped correcting them.  At least when I get my mail, I know what is legitimate and what is crap.  If my name is spelled right, I'll look at it.

AND, my name is spelled like the french phrase for "I love you"  J'aime.  It's not the Spanish pronunciation of a man's name, Hy-may.  Thank you very much.

PS--Check.

Dear Manny, #L-655301, Stillwater State Prison, Pod 7

According to Lauren's recent blog entry, she is determined to bring mail back.  Much like Justin Timberlake brought sexy back.

She and I chatted for some time last night, via fb chat, and let me tell you, the irony was not lost on me.

She went on and on about letters she used to write and the various pens and stationery she used.  She wrote fan letters and letters to boyfriends from camp.  She wrote to the neighbor across the street.  She composed eloquent letters to Time magazine about the state of the ozone layer and was pen pals with a former President's daughter.  She wrote on scraps and attached them to balloons she got after eating dinner with her parents at Applebees.  She threw messages in a bottle into the Zumbro River.  She corresponded with some petty thieves in lock-up.

This was all discussed because Lauren wants mail.  She loves mail.  So, going forward, I am signing her up for everything which promises contact by mail.  That new basement remodel?  Check.  Those college painters?  Check.  Bathroom refinishers?  Check.  Charity pick-ups?  Check.  And she will even get a free plastic bag to put her donations in.  Policeman's Association for Safety and Bike Locks? Check.

"silhouettes as one"

Holy crap.

If you mosey on over to Phat Farm Wedding, there is a big ol' retro print by Ansel Adams posted on there.  I think it's the new page design.

As you all know, Ansel Adams is a famous photographer, known for his black and white images of nature.  I had no idea Lauren and Jesse were such fans.

I can dream about you

When I got married, I envisioned wonderful gifts for every holiday, thoughtfully purchased by my husband.  I envisioned an anniversary dinner at the restaurant where he proposed, maybe a nice ring upgrade, other miscellany jewelry, bouquets of orchids, Christmas vacations, etc.

So get ready Lauren, because none of this happens.

• The place where my husband proposed closed two summers ago due to the lame economy.

• My wedding rings need to be re-sized because I have gained so much weight.

• I asked for a Heather Moore necklace with the girls' names on it--still waiting.

• I think I got some flowers from the BP station once.  No wait, they were left over from some event at my husband's office.

Other things my husband can not bother to get me.  Because I have standards in life.

•  Star Wars DVD collection.  We all know he wants it, not me.

• a bike.  I will never bike with him.  Ever.  Because I would have to wear a helmet, and when I was growing up, you didn't have to wear a helmet.  You just had to know the hand signals.

• a fajita maker.  My best friend's husband got her one of these.  She says it works.  But since I already have an omelet maker and bacon baker from him, I think I'll pass.

• a watch.  He gave me a watch when we were dating, and I don't know where it is.

• a pool pass or membership to Lifetime Fitness.  Oh, hold on a second.  He already got me that membership and pool pass.  Thanks.

• a harmonica, a clock that tells me the time in every time zone, or a hand warmer

• slippers

• any bulb that needs planting, or comes planted, but I have to water it and "tend" to it

On with the wedding!

...and buffets and potlucks...

It's another early morning on the crazy train, and since I really hate Caillou, I thought I would share some other things I hate.  And no, this isn't a sly reference to Lauren and Jesse's event coordinator.

• late people  This is because I am always on time.  I start to sweat when I think of people waiting for me.  I even get tense when someone is waiting for me to wrap a gift at work.  And that's saying something because a) it's complimentary and b) I am a fabulous wrapper, so any waiting would definitely be worth it.

• ketchup, mayonnaise, and other condiments  I really am grossed out by ketchup.  I hate the smell and I hate how it looks.  Same with mayonnaise.  I even threaten waitresses to not put ketchup on my plate in a little cup or bring a bottle to the table.  I prefer sriracha.  I'm Asian.

• people in the right lane, who aren't turning right  We live in Minnesota.  Right turns on red are legal.  If you plan on going straight, get in the correct lane so right moving traffic can continue uninterrupted.  Duh.

• Uggs  I know, I know, they're comfortable and warm.  And we live in a cold climate half the year.  But seriously, they are ugly and smelly.  And ridiculously outdated. 

• self-checkout lanes  I can handle these, and would fully support them if they required a permit to use.  Instead, they cause me frustration because the person in front of me can't scan, can't bag, can't swipe a credit card, or has coupons and wants to write a check.  Ultimately,  the support person who stands around with a set of keys, lording over her check-out lanes, is called in to "troubleshoot."  So much for saving time.

•  people who use the word, "supper"  It's dinner.  Straight up.

• mistaking your for you're  One is a contraction for "you are".  The other isn't.

• stolen internet connections  They often fail to provide consistent service because they're stolen, and you can't call for tech help when they don't work.

Say cheese

Psssst...yeah you, over here!

Well, well, well.  I came up with another fantastic idea for Lauren and Jesse's wedding, and I magnanimously offered it up to Lauren, despite the fact I am no longer her wedding planner.

oh, the places you'll go!

I told her she should have a cheese bar.  All different kinds of cheese, sliced and cubed, from different nations and regions of nations...with some hard salamis and a big ol' barrel of french bread at the end of the table.

I assured her I could be her cheesemonger and she enthusiastically agreed--but first she would have to run it by her "event coordinator."

Bish, please.

Merry Christmas from the Frenches

Sigh.

We received our first Christmas card over the weekend.

I have been in the process of ordering mine for the past two weeks.  I go directly to tinyprints.com, scour the photos of the girls from the past year, select a couple, and then upload them.  Then I select a template, play around with the coloring and size, and try to make something nice.  They arrive, I don't even sign them, and I mail them.  I have used tinyprints.com for the past five years, and I also used them for Cambrie's birth announcement and Avery's graduation.

Truthfully, I'd rather not sent out Christmas cards.  Anyone I would send them to, I generally see all the time anyway.  Plus, there are these people:

the novelist:  She ain't writing a Christmas letter, she's writing a tome.  She's going to tell you about everything, from her emergency appendectomy to her neighbor's new car purchase.  She will tell you about the hot cop who pulled her over for speeding, her failed Thanksgiving pie, that her aunt Susie now has rickets.  She writes to write.

the braggard:  "we are all so lucky Mary is now in college abroad, studying to be a cheese monger in the hills of Italy.  Some day she will be helping you select your reggiano at the counter of Byerly's!  Also, Bob's new penile enhancement company is almost ready to go public, but first will be featured at 2 am on QVC!"

the christian:  "in these post 9-11 days, as the end times draw near, I thank goodness for Sarah Palin, the season, the Bush family, Ted Nugent, and Christ my savior"

Missed engagement!

Lauren was sick for her own engagement party!  Jesse stayed home and held her hair while she threw up.  I guess the festivities went on, even though there was a blizzard outside and no guests of honor.  I heard Fat Linda bars were on the scene; I should have driven there just for those.

I have been sick before and it is no fun.  Especially when there is puking involved.  Did I ever mention I puked for nine months straight?  Pretty much from the time of conception to the day of birth, I threw up.  I threw up in the morning and the afternoon and night.  I threw up before eating, during eating, and after eating.  I threw up in the shower, because for some reason the water made me gag.

...and then the puking stopped

I remember telling my obstetrician, who soon became my ex-obstetrician, that I needed time off from work because I couldn't stop throwing up.  She said that I would have to cope and that she even had a patient who was a hairdresser, and she rolled a fluid dispensing IV cart around the salon with her, as she washed and cut hair.  Seriously, wtf.  If my hairdresser came up to me being trailed by an IV, I would be very uncomfortable and not really want her to cut my hair.

Mr. and Mr. and Mrs.

always a winner

I really hope Lauren and Jesse's wedding planner can get her hands on some of these.  It would be so cool if she could get enough to give out as party favors.

I know I could have.  Just sayin'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYEXBTlWf_4

Sign here

Lately, Lauren has been bothering me to go out with her.  Or to come over to her house.  Or to chat online.  Or just drop Kylee somewhere and run over to Panera and have a pumpkin muffie with her.

Everyone who knows me knows I am fairly anti-social.  I just don't like people in general.  I am impatient, opinionated and stuck in my ways.  I like things done a certain way.  I do not suffer fools.

So, in that spirit, I have created a "Lauren and Jaime get-together" contract.

This is an agreement between me, (high-strung, "older" stay-at-home-mom) and you, (free-wheelin' single gal with tons of disposable income) regarding a social event.

Day and time:  it can't happen on a Saturday morning or anytime between 1 and 4 during the week.  Kylee naps.  And so do I.  It also can only last a maximum of 4 hours due to the fact that a) I get carsick, b) I get worn out, and c) whomever Kylee is with is about to lose it and choke Kylee, and I want Kylee to live

Dining options:  if our interlude includes a meal, none of the following restaurants are acceptable: any dive with red and white stripes on the table, any fast food place, any eatery with the word "Factory" in it

Conversation topics: shall be limited to the weather.  Touchy subjects: God, vaccinations, legacy acceptance rates at Ivy League colleges, moms who blog about mom things, the wedding, as my position was terminated last weekend by you

flagship store, obviously

Goodwill and ARC hunting:  whoever sees if first, gets it.  No running into store while I lock the car doors.  No price tag switching.  No lying so you can have it instead.  No saying, "oh, it's just a chip, we can glue it" or "no one has that, I have never seen that--ever!" because I know you're just lying

Electronic interactions:  no texting, no phone calls, no word processing, no beepers, no ipods, no walkie-talkies, no karaoke machines, no faxing.  And please, don't play SCVNGR and log into every place we stop so you can earn points

Repeat meetings:  If all goes well, we can meet again

Signed, ME______________YOU______________