Tongue Tied

I am rarely at a loss for words. According to my dad, this is in large part due to my being half-Jewish and therefore blessed with the gift of gab. I'd like to brush this off as a stereotype, but it's hard to ignore the fact that Sunday dinners at my parent’s house usually reach a dangerously high decibel level and people often start turning red in the face waiting to interject with their contribution to the conversation. That is usually when my dad starts whispering vaguely anti-Semitic jokes to Husband or Brother-In-Law, the other two gentiles in our clan, and they have a nice little chuckle observing the madness that surrounds them.

But I digress. Point is, I can usually carry on a conversation with anyone. I have, however, recently discovered that there are certain comments that make me feel verbally awkward. They inhabit a strange limbo between questions and compliments, and include such gems as:

-Your hair is getting long
-I saw you running
-That [insert food you are eating] looks good.
-I ran into [insert name of sibling, friend, etc.] yesterday

I never know what to say when people make these observations, and the response I usually come up with feels entirely inappropriate. Like today when a co-worker saw me cutting up cucumbers in the break room and said “those are some nice-looking cucumbers.” And do you know what I said in reply? “Thank you.” As if I grew those cucumbers with my own two hands, when in fact I just picked them up at Ream’s for 50 cents a pop. The words felt strange the minute they left my mouth, and my co-worker gave me a funny little look before scampering off to eat his Lean Cuisine meal.

But I ask you people, what in the devil was I supposed to say? “Yes, these are truly fine cucumbers, I’m ever so excited to eat them?” Honestly. It’s like people go out of their way to make me feel awkward.

Things-I-Love Thursday

A few summers ago I took my first trip to Europe. It was amazing. I loved the art, architecture, and especially the food. People are not lying when they say that everything tastes better in Europe. It totally does.

One of the most memorable things I ate on the trip was a real Belgian waffle (not to be confused with the breakfast waffles they serve here in the States, which are usually pretty bland and need syrup or other toppings). True Belgian waffles (or gaufres, as they call them) are sold on the street and are small, crisp, and delightfully sweet on their own. I remember eating one in Brussels and thinking about how sad it was that we didn't have anything like them here.

You can imagine my delight when a few years later I went to the Downtown Farmer's Market and saw a cart claiming to sell authentic Belgian waffles. Naturally I had to try one. And sure enough, the waffles were just as delicious as the ones I had tasted in Europe, if not better. Turns out the man running the stand was from Bruges (otherwise known as Brugge), a charming city in Belgium that is one of my all-time favorite places (if you are going to Europe, please, please find a way to visit Bruges. You won't regret it). He and I got to be pretty chummy since I stopped by his stand every time I went to the market, and last summer he told me that he was planning on moving to a permanent location.

Last Friday was the first time I had a chance to visit Bruges Waffles and Frites, and let me tell you my friends, it did not disappoint. The waffles are as good as ever, and Pierre has added frites (another Belgian specialty) to his offerings. Mike and I shared an order of the frites with andalouse dipping sauce (highly recommended) and each got a waffle. Mine was covered in fresh strawberries, cream, and rich Belgian chocolate. I have to admit that ordering the toppings is kind of gilding the lily, since these puppies are delicious just on their own, but I never pass up an opportunity to smother something in chocolate. It was sinfully good.

(Yes, I am aware that this picture is awkward and makes me look slightly cross-eyed. I decided to post it anyway. Because I have no dignity).

For more details on this deliciousness, read Your Heart Out's review here.

Things I Do Not Understand, Part Eleventy Million

1. Why Miley Cyrus is pretty much one step away from world domination. I heard her music for the first time yesterday and Holy. Freaking. Crap.
2. People who eat fish and still label themselves vegetarians. “Fish are friends, not food.” (Except in my case. I heart seafood. And steak for that matter. But I do not make any claims regarding the superiority of my lifestyle).
3. Twitter.
4. Lola’s need to take everything out of her kennel and parade it through the living room every night in some strange form of Doggie Show and Tell.
5. The fundamental principles of biology, chemistry, or any of the physical sciences. Nothing will make you feel so thoroughly retarded as being an English major working for a laboratory company.

That is all for now.

Things-I-Love Thursday

Three trends I love but could never pull off:

I heart the french braid headband that LC's sportin these days. Too bad I have a jacked-up widow's peak hairline, minimal french braiding skills, and out-of-control afro hair. Three strikes, I'm out.

Skinny jeans+ short legs+boyishly narrow hips+ a "top heavy" physique= human ice cream cone. Or at least that is the way I describe the sight reflected in fitting room mirrors every time I try on a pair of these suckers.

The next time a MAC sales associate tries to tell me that "anyone can wear red lipstick", I'm just going to skedaddle off in the other direction. Because I do not enjoy looking like a cheap whore. To all you Gwen Stefani-esque ladies that can make this stuff look classy: I salute you.

Anyone else have similar issues?

Truly a Wonderful Life

Getting married at 21 was never part of my life plan. Neither was potentially living in Utah for any extended period of time. I pretty much wanted to model my life after Miss Rumphius, even if it meant growing old as a lonely spinster with cats. I didn’t care, all I knew was that I wanted to see every bit of the world that I possibly could- wanted to experience different ways of living and working and being before I settled down anywhere.

My adventures were set to begin when I decided to spend 18 months living in the Baltics as a missionary. As most of you know, that plan got seriously de-railed when I met my now-husband. It took a lot of kicking and screaming on my part, but ultimately I decided that a life with him was the greatest adventure I could ever embark on.

And I was right. Even though it meant staying in Utah so Mike could finish school and continue to run his business, the decision to stay home and marry him was the best one I have ever made.

That said, there are times when I get what I like to call “a case of the George Baileys.” As in the main character from It’s A Wonderful Life. For those of you who have not seen this classic Christmas movie A) I feel sorry for you, and B) George Bailey is this guy who dreams of getting out of his small town and seeing the world but it never happens for him, and he spends different parts of the movie lamenting his lot in life before realizing how lucky he truly is.

Sometimes when I hear about friends embarking on various study abroad trips or cross-country moves, I start to get similar pangs. There are times when I wonder if my life is too boring and inconsequential to live up to the standards I set for myself when I was younger, and that thought makes me feel downright discouraged and cranky.

But then something happens to make me snap out of it. Something like sitting around a campfire with people I have known since I was five and can still call my dearest friends, or playing a game of Go Fish with my nephew on a lazy Sunday afternoon, or simply lounging on the living room floor with Mike and Lola, looking around at the old house we transformed into our home.

These simple pleasures make me realize that, even though I still want to see the Taj Mahal and Sistine Chapel someday, I couldn't ask for anything more than a life surrounded by loved ones. I guess these moments are my equivalent of George Bailey's Christmas Eve experience, except they don’t involve an angel taking me on a tour of what the world would be like without me. Which is definitely a good thing, since that encounter would probably go something like this:

Angel: Well, Yogurt Stop’s profits are way, way, down.
Me: Crap.

Things-I-Love Thursday

I absolutely adore threadless. This website prints and sells t-shirts from different artists' submissions and there are literally hundreds of them.

Some are artsty:And others are just hilarious:

I could seriously browse this site for hours looking at all the fun designs. I was going through them today and found one that made me laugh out loud. I'm sure you have all seen some form of this design (especially if you happen to frequent the homes of young Mormon newlyweds):

Well here is the threadless version:

I was pretty devastated when I discovered that the print was sold out, because otherwise I would not even hesitate about buying it to hang in our living room. It would be a very efficient way of letting people know what I'm all about.

"And you can keep your diseased chickens!"

Has anyone else ever noticed how 2-part movie musicals always have a really happy, carefree first half and then the second half is just the most depressing thing ever? Like how in The Sound of Music the first part is filled with singing nuns and frolicking in the mountains and gazebo dancing and puppet shows, but then the second half is all about the family escaping from the freaking nazis? Talk about a total 180.

Same exact thing with Fiddler on the Roof (my favorite movie as a child, and one that I made Mike watch with me last night). In the first half all anyone worries about is who Yente the matchmaker is going to set them up with, and then in the second half Perchik gets sent to Siberia for his communist ways, Chava marries a gentile, the whole village gets kicked out of their homes, and the shiz pretty much hits the fan in every way possible.

Musicals are weird. It’s like they suck you in with all the happy singing only to be like “not so fast, you still have to think about how crappy life is.” From now on, I am just going to skip the second half.

And yes, these are truly the kind of random thoughts that fill my mind and spill out onto my blog these days. I really need to go back to school or something.

P.S.- If anyone but Smash recognizes the title of this post, then I will be amazed.