Tag Archives: vodka

Less is more. More or less.

So yeah… I’ve been fairly consistent in my personal weight loss plan, or as I lovingly refer to it – “my healthy friggin’ lifestyle change.” It hasn’t been too difficult really. Two steady months of treadmill treading, park-walking while dodging bees and dog crap, and mindful (is cardboard a gmo?) caloric menu planning. I’ve lost 20 pounds. I didn’t think I was THAT out of shape (in all fairness, a pear is a shape). Im thrilled. I’m happy that I can once again tie my shoes in straight-on knots without some sort of convoluted out-of-breath body twisting. I can also now cut my toenails in the shapes they are meant to be in so that they don’t slice Daryl in the middle of the night, and most importantly… I can now see my d*ck when I pee.

I believe the first few months of any self imposed habit change are easy really. Daryl and I quit smoking several years ago, and neither of us lost an arm, a temper, or any friends that we like for that matter. We have it in us. Scheduling, determination, and willpower come easily to get initial results. It’s the continuing on and maintaining that evolution in the long term that separates the wheat from the chaff, the peanut butter from the jelly, the boys from the men.

Day 76 and counting…

Yesterday morning as he was hurrying out the door for work, Daryl says to me (in reality, he always seems to phrase it more like a thrown out jeopardy question,) “we ARE supposed to go to the gym tonight, right?” Now this gives me so many options out at this point. I can answer with, “Well, no. I’m too tired. I didn’t really sleep well last night. I kept having nightmares that I was actually eating clowns (cannibal or craving carvel cake? You decide.) which were holding odd-shaped colored balloon animals that were clashing with the clowns shoes.” That would have been reason enough, or I could have told him that I wasn’t up for it because I was depressed that my prescription for my anti-depressants had expired and exercising just wasn’t on my bucket list today. Or better yet, I can confuse him with one of my personal schedules that use words like conflict, house cleaning, or that I have to find a certain spice for a new recipe I’m researching and I won’t have time to go to the gym. I like to make up spice names to throw him off track. Who doesn’t need to have cardomomgerania?

Apparently he thinks I didn’t hear him the first time, so he repeats the question while muttering something about being late. I sheepishly answered, “Sure, I’ll look forward to it” with all the enthusiasm I can muster after one sip of coffee. I’m thinking that I could always feign I wasn’t awake enough to make rational choices at that time of day.

Work gets in the way.

Work was slow today. I had three customers all day. Its Tuesday. It’s summer. It’s graduations, vacations, and the implosion of Delaware interstate 495. People just aren’t into furniture buying right now. I get it. I’ve been doing this commissioned job long enough to know it comes in cycles. What I wasn’t prepared for was that at the end of my long shift, I felt the need to reward Daryl and I for our healthy lifestyle determination. To hell with earning a paycheck today! To hell with healthy living! Let’s go shopping! For me. For clothes that aren’t baggy and a smaller belt.

I could hardly wait to text Daryl that I had opted out of exercise in favor of vodka drinks and Tuscan fries at one of our favorite watering holes outside of Media. That in-depth highly paraphrased “textversation” went sort of like this:

Ed: “Hey babe! Let’s not go to the gym tonight. Let’s go have drinks and food at LaPorta and then let’s go clothes shopping at Penneys at Granite Run Mall.
Daryl: “ok”
Ed: “That’s it? That easily you want to drop the gym for vodka and a few snacks? You have no willpower at all do you? Why do I even try?”
Daryl: “Is this a test again?”
Ed: “What? Whatever are you talking about? (damn, he knows)”
Daryl: “In that case, I’m thrilled that you decided that we could forgo healthy living to go shopping at Penneys with my Associate discount card. I love it when you make all of our decisions! (All sort of condescending emoticons with kissing hearts and grinning teeth… Blah blah blah)”

Shopping requires stamina. Relationships require stamina. And vodka.

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three words equal one date.

Last Saturday evening, I decided to “enhance the dating experience” of Daryl and me. These “ideas” seem to POP into my head on my days off while I’m tooling around obsessing running errands, viewing porn reading the news on the internet, or just sitting on the crapper playing Bejeweled Blitz in an easy chair reading a good biography.

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Our “dating life” has not gotten stale, mediocre, or even lack-luster after eight years together, however, with our conflicting work schedules we often go days without dates, weeks without sex, and months without a good vodka tonic. Sometimes it feels as though we’re two disabled Carnival cruise ships passing in the night.

So occasionally, I just like to… what’s the term I’m looking for… “raise the bar?” Yeah, I’ll go with that for now. I’m fortunate that Daryl is so adept good at tolerating embracing my ideas to be creative in our relationship. I always enjoy the look on his face when I present these brainstorms over a glass of pinot noir and some English cheddar cheese when he gets home from work. It’s usually a look of a deer in headlights bewilderment, followed by feigned understanding and capped with a sigh smile, a nod and him obligatorily enthusiastically asking “how do we get started?”

“I’m not suggesting initiating new toys, or boys, or boy toys into our dating repertoire,” I explained to him,” I just think we can use tools to make the date more meaningful and thought out.” He shuffled for another piece of cheddar as I sipped my wine and began to explain that on Sunday (his day off) and Monday (my day off) that we could give each other three words that begin with the same letter and must be “incorporated into the date” somehow.”

He washed the cheese down with what I thought was a larger than normal gulp of the wine and continued to wait for more explanation. “For example,” I responded, “Water, Wish, and Wine! You have to come up with a date tomorrow evening that somehow involves those three words! Easy-smeasy right? (thinking to myself that I am NEVER again to use the phrase “easy-smeasy” while presenting an idea of ANY kind).” I must admit that I sort of had a preconceived idea as to how this date could happen quite easily and inexpensively. I’m thinking in my head that a quick trip into West Chester to the Court House fountain, throw in a couple of pennies, grab a glass of wine and a salad at Iron Hill, and BINGO! We’ve enhanced the dating experience with water, a wish, and wine!

Not so fast. Daryl didn’t seem to make the “W” connection quite as quickly and looked a little panicked. Okay, I’ll concede that I DID push this on him without a whole lot of warning, and I thought that perhaps we needed a little time to digest this plan as we finished up dinner for the evening.

The next morning, as I was sipping coffee on the sofa while listening to pretty birds chirping outside while unfriending a few tired folks on FaceBook, I received a phone text from Daryl who happened to be in the bathroom down the hall (how DID we ever survive without smartphones?) that said “Transportation, Transparent and Tradition. Use one or all three in our date tonight.”

I was ecstatic! My idea was accepted!

I immediately started thinking about how I could incorporate these three words into a fun-filled, exciting, worthwhile date. The first word that instantly stuck in my head was of course, “transparent.” I thought Saran Wrap, right? It’s obvious, overt, and just plain obscene!

Sigh.

I dug the Saran Wrap out of the bottom of my foil and baggies drawer (oh yes, I have snack baggies, quart baggies, gallon baggies, zip lock, and even color strip baggies… it’s pathetic) and took it to the bedroom where I was going to “test” how this would work. I didn’t get too much “wrapped” when I realized that this would most definitely NOT be pretty. So I thought about using invisible Scotch Tape on my nipples! I could hardly contain my self-brilliance. How hot would it be to see me with “transparent” tape on my erect fleshy nipple? Then I tried to pull one off of as a clump of hair followed.

Sigh, again.

I finally decided to just make peach Jell-O with homemade whipped cream and a fresh slice of peach on top for dessert. “Transparent” down, two words to go.

The “tradition” part was easy. I just incorporated that into our traditional clinking of the wine glasses at the beginning of our meal. I most likely could have come up with something better on this one, but considering the timing, I went with it.

“Transportation” was more difficult to figure out. I thought that perhaps a ride to “Kiwi Yogurt” in town would be a fun way to relay transportation, but since I had used a dessert for another word, I was at a road block. I finally decided to dig out a game that we used to play called Mille Bornes. It’s a card game that originated in France and required us to interact while moving along in an imaginary car race to the finish line. It was a perfect solution considering the winner had choice of the after dinner um… prize.

So it’s not the finale of the Bachelor, or Game of Thrones, but it DID give us the opportunity to have a little fun with a little effort. I can’t wait to try this again next week!

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waiter… there’s a kiwi in my drink.

 I’m sitting here after dinner watching a rerun of Sex and the City on E. It’s the one where Miranda has a date with a guy that licks her ass and she’s unsure how to react. Speaking of anal licking… I had a shitty day at work. I’m pretty much sick of being nice to people to get them to buy a sofa and an accent chair. I have days like that.

When I came home I wanted to rip into several pieces of greasy Kentucky Fried Chicken, a box of chocolate truffles and half a pepperoni pizza. I was fortunate tonight. Daryl saved me from comfort food frenzy.

Sort of.

He decided to chef tonight since he was off today and he likes to reciprocate for when I cook during the week. I had some Tilapia in the freezer and he got some asparagus and rice. Daryl decided to “experiment” with our cocktails. Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE cocktail experiments. Some of my “absolut” favorite drinks have been born completely by accident. As long as there is lots of ice and lots of Vodka, USUALLY you can’t go wrong. Right?

Earlier in the week, Daryl had brought home several kiwis (approximately 20) from a school function he had attended. Who the hell needs 20 kiwis? Anyway… he decided to try to “incorporate” some of these kiwis into our cocktails. For some reason, when Daryl bartends he likes to include fruit chunks into the beverage. I’m good with that. Texture, I like to call it. Pieces of orange or pear floating in my drink is great! It makes me feel like it’s truly GOOD for me instead of 3 million sugar calories from the mixers.

Tonight though, the kiwi drink was green. Not a pretty green. More like something you’d clean bugs off the front of your car green. He tries. He really does, and I so appreciate his misguided sense of adventure, however, this time I sipped and smiled, then sipped again as I tasted something that reminded me of… what’s the image I’m looking for… wait for it… GRASS. Yeah, grass! NOT the kind you light up either. The cocktail tasted like someone’s lawn. Daryl caught on quickly and replaced it with something orangey and fruity. Whew. Crisis averted.

Dinner was lovely.

After I cleaned up the kitchen, I decided to turn on the laptop and blog on our cocktail hour. Daryl headed to the dining room table to play some sort of supermarket game that he’s been collecting pieces for. I never do those things. I tried to do it once with some cookware “stamps” and we ended up with three sauce pans that I never use except once I used one as a hammer.

This current game is called “ACME’s Sizzlin’ Summer Giveaway!” I’m not completely sure how it works, but apparently you have to collect sets of stickers to claim over 10 million dollars in prizes and coupon offers. After a few minutes while I’m deep into Trey and Charlotte discussing the name of Trey’s penis, Daryl exclaims, “See! We are already are on the road to savings! Here is a coupon for 25 cents off for a container of cottage cheese!” He was seriously excited. I was less than thrilled. He then said that said he hopes we don’t win the backyard makeover prize, because well… we don’t have a backyard.

I got up to go the bathroom and the dining room table was covered with thousands of… okay HUNDREDS of these little sticker things… oh alright dam it there were maybe 30 stickers tops. I wonder if the contest includes a new boyfriend prize.

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