Tales of Me and the Husband

weekend news.

i brought florida to cold (quite cold really) and snowy massachusetts this weekend beginning with the mar-a-lago turkey burger and pear chutney.  they were decent… certainly… but not as good as i expected or worth the trouble that a unique burger like this brings, in my opinion.  oprah rarely steers me wrong, but in this instance, she may have.  sorry, o.

i may have liked them better sans pear chutney because that had cinnamon in it and cinnamon in a dinner entree really throws me off.  in my humble opinion, cinnamon belongs in dessert, only dessert.  attempts to prove me wrong are welcome.

but, all was remedied with this delicious delight.

a key lime pie.  
*technically regular limes… still count?

deeelicious.  i found it via this lovely little site but i think it is originally a gourmet magazine recipe. and it is seriously easy (even the crust).  so if you are craving warm weather but mother nature just won’t give in, then take control and make some of this.  you won’t regret it (unless you hate key lime pie).

note: i didn’t make it only to compete with my dear friend ahnika.  in addition to the competition, i wanted to eat it.  so i did.  while this is no lemon souffle, it was delicious.

best part is that the kids aren’t too keen on key lime pie… therefore, more for me.

——————–
also, more will be coming shortly on my etsy site.
i am waiting… and waiting… and waiting for some things to arrive in order for me to continue.
so, while it appears that i may have completely bailed on my little shop, i have not.

nyc snapshots.

nyc trip +’s:
time w/ ashley–love her / good food w/ lots of garlic / the city in january, it’s just nice / ashley’s adorable apt. / seeing the empire state building all lit up christmasy / the promise of frozen hot chocolate from serendipity in the future / ashley’s iphone that makes getting around easier / sparkling red wine… who knew? / getting to go back in not too long / seeing where the o mag takes place / getting my own row home on the bus–by pretending to be asleep AS SOON as i sat down, not likely
nyc trip -‘s:
kinda cold and i find that cold hampers style / ashley’s loud radiator… not her  fault.  get there pronto, superintendent. / the woman on the ride home on bolt bus who had a one-syllable cough/bark every minute on the minute the. entire. way. / model reject / sharing a seat on the way there with a guy who was desperately trying to have all the elbow room–and i was there first. / missing the man / not getting even 1 pic of ashley AND i / having a strange convo in a duane reade with a guy who asked me what i would think of his invention of chocolate mint  toothpaste (sorry dude, im not buying it)

Say hello to the reject.

So, I really didn’t think I’d be writing about it if I didn’t make it… but if I had made it, I’d definitely be writing about it if for no other reason than to say, “Look at me!  I am soooo hot!”  But, I think it’s important to be real (especially in 2010… a new decade always calls for a renewed dedication in the quest of all things real and genuine, or something like that).  So, keeping 2010 in mind, and my ever-present interest in being real with all ya’ll, here goes nothing:

I am a Wilhelmina reject.

It’s true.  I just finished a 24-hour jaunt to NYC to
a) become a model and
b) visit my friend Ashley who now works at O Magazine!

a) didn’t so much work out but b) did!

Backstory: I’ve thought about / slightly pursued modeling in the past.  And by pursued, I mean gone to an agency and had them say something like, “You’re-tall-so-learn-the-runway-walk-and-come-back-in-a-bit-for-your-portfolio-to-be-shot.”   At which point I would go home full of vim and vigor, strap on a pair of heels, practice for about 20 minutes, and give up.

The runway walk is not easy.

Then, on average, two years would pass and I might get a renewed interest in being a model.  But, as a 25-year old, I am old for modeling.  Who knew at 25 you’d be too old for anything?  But it’s true.  Wilhelmina cut-off for open call is 25, so, as some sort of last ditch effort, I hopped on a Bolt Bus, left my inhibitions and family in Boston, and trudged (not so much trudged–I wore pretty heels) up to Wilhelmina on Park Avenue to burst out of the elevator singing, “Heeerrrreeee I am!”

(You will soon see that it would’ve been completely misguided and hilarious if I had done that.)

What actually happened was that I sheepishly, amidst 15 other girls doing the same thing, handed them my little sheet with my measurements, age, all that good stuff, and a few photos taken by a photographer awhile back, to then sit in the waiting room with all the other aspiring and perspiring model wannabes.

We waited.

About six (seriously, that’s it) minutes went by and a man entered saying, “If I call your name, you don’t fit what Wilhelmina is looking for right now.”  Somewhere between the fifth and tenth name, mine popped in there.  “Screw you, Wilhelmina!  You don’t know what you’re missing!!” I yelled at the guy, then slapped him across the face.

In reality, I sadly grabbed my pictures along with the other rejects, and got on the elevator to leave while the non-rejects said, “Don’t let the elevator hitcha’ on your way out, suckas!!”

But here’s the thing.  The few that stayed were soooo not the ones I would’ve picked.  Seriously.  Not just saying it because I’m bitter.  Okay, I am a little bitter–not cause I wasn’t picked–but because based on only a few pictures–absolutely no real-life contact–I wasn’t picked.  What happened to a good old-fashioned hello and looksy-up-and-down?  I could’ve charmed them with my firm handshake and a little exaggerated swagger as I clicked my way to their office in my heels to talk about my potential future paycheck.

But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.  So, I’m letting you in on my sad rejection.  I’m not sure I’m going to entirely give up though, so maybe there’ll be more news in my future.  Maybe a Boston agency–doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like Wilhelmina, Elite, or Ford–but NYC just wasn’t meant to be.  Tear.

Still, I said it once and gosh darnit, I’ll say it again……. screw you, Wilhelmina!

{If a Wilhelmina agent somehow happens upon my blog, and decides I am what they’re looking for, I take back both “screw you’s.”}

For the record, it was sooooo nice to get home to my totally supportive husband who has been so full of pep-talks for me (“Lots of famous models have had rejections before they made it!  Don’t give up, Bridget!”) and our totally comfortable bed.  I really like the guy.  And our bed.

{I think the pep talks are all coming from this pipe dream he has of his wife being a lingerie model.  I dunno, I’m just sayin’…}

But, stay tuned and I’ll have a few pictures of the fun that was had before this sad little state of affairs took place.

Food, glorious food.

recipe from barefoot contessa
3 T good olive oil
1.5 cups chopped red onion
2 carrots, unpeeled and chopped
1 T minced garlic
4 lbs. tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1.5 t sugar
1 T tomato paste
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
3 cups chicken stock
1 T kosher salt
2 t freshly ground black pepper
3/4 c heavy cream (yes, please)
heat oil in large pot over medium low, add onions and carrots and saute for 10 minutes until tender.  add garlic and cook for 1 minute.  add tomatoes, sugar, tomato paste, basil, chicken stock, salt, and pepper, and stir well.  bring soup to a boil and lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 30-40 minutes, until tomatoes are very tender.  add cream to the soup and process through food mill (i don’t do this, i just put it in a blender and the skins and seeds are pureed) discarding dry pulp that’s left behind.  

Steven, I wear the pants. Always and forever… the pants are mine.

Steve has a fear of being “whipped.”  Whoppishhhhh!  

He doesn’t want to see himself become emasculated which, perhaps, maybe, who really knows, I have the tendency to do to the guy.  Just sayin’…

So, sometimes, his fear of this can become quite annoying when I really don’t feel like I am being controlling/bossy/I-wear-the-pants at a given moment.

But sometimes we can joke about it.  And those times can be quite fun.

Yesterday, for instance.

Me: “I’m going to A to Z (see… my New Year’s resolution!) today at 4:15.”

Him: “No.  You’re not.  You’re staying here.  That’s an order.”

Me: “Nope.  I’m going.”

Him: “I’m ordering that you do go to A to Z.”

I go to A to Z.  He thinks he’s won.  Let the man dream.
I am on the way home from A to Z.  I make a call home.

Me: “I’m stopping by Market Basket on my way home for a few things.”

Him: “I order that you come home.  You cannot stop.”

Me: “I’m stopping at Market Basket.”

Him: “I order that you stop at Market Basket.  Do not come home without those things.”

Poor guy.
And just for viewing pleasure,
and because he’s quite yummy
(the husband agrees… it’s okay), 
a picture of a guy who probably was not whipped.

New Year’s Resolutions (only to be forgotten next week).

1. dance more (though new year’s eve fulfilled a few months’ worth; 
and yes, the bra was red– and the flash brought it out!  it was not showing all night long, dudes.)
2. inspired by julie & julia, cook boeuf bourguignon
3. visit a to z more frequently (my work-out destination)
4. learn more about our country’s history–minus trips to jamestown, va.
(particularly vietnam war)
5. learn to meditate
6. be a better wifey to this guy
7. and a better role model for these guys
what are yours?

Happy 2010!

Though 2010 is indeed the year we are entering, it feels as though it is closer to 1997 or so here at my parent’s house.  Why?  Oh, they use dial-up internet.  Yes.  Dial-up.  Just to post this here little blog took me a mere 20 minutes.  So, this is to account for my blog-absence.  I told my Mom this morning,

“My blog followers would really appreciate it if you got wireless internet.”

That might be going a little far, but waiting 5 minutes for your page to open is like watching paint dry… cold molasses drip… water boil.  Painful.  So, maybe it’s a lesson in slowing down this new year and not being so interested in instant gratification, the American way.

I still look forward to my wireless when I get home.

But anyway, happy new year to you!  Hope you are surrounded by people you love and people who love you tonight and everyday thereafter.

Something’s Gotta Give.

Have you seen this movie?

I have and I really like it.  Diane Keaton–class act.  Jack Nicholson–can’t go wrong.  Amanda Peet–fabulous teeth.  Keanu Reeves–ehh, I’ll take him or leave him.  Gorgeous home in the Hamptons–yes, please.

When my Etsy store takes off, which I’m thinking is going to happen any day now, really, it’s simmering, just waiting for blast off, then I might treat myself (and my family, of course) to a home in the Hamptons just as nice as the one Erica Barry (played by Keaton) lives in (apparently I’m not the only one with this obsession).

And, if you’re good, I might invite you for a weekend.  We will drink pomegranate martinis, eat fresh bruschetta with basil and sauteed vegetables and fresh shavings of Locatelli cheese, and listen to Astrud Gilberto and do yoga on the beach in the mornings to our heart’s content.

Then we’ll fly across the country and spend the remainder of the week in Cameron Diaz’s “The Holiday” home.  Deal?

It’s a plan.

Merry Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas Eve to you and yours.  The incredibly exhilirating, and exciting updates over the last few days of my life include:

  • celebrating my 3rd anniversary with the husband (I’ve made it three years!  In those three years, I’ve learned A LOT (some the hard way, some the easy way) but have definitely learned more about the crazy man I married and have fallen harder for him); #1 tip to making our life work (which it does, most of the time): frequent dating.
  • we’ve travelled to philadelphia and then on to williamsburg, where we are now.
  • spent $69 to get the family into the jamestown settlement in the cold, virginia air for about 3 hours.  word to the wise: not worth it (in fact, i think they’d have to pay me to see it a second time).  when i asked steve what he thought: “i LOVED it!”… it’s a wonder we make this thing work.  i don’t have nearly the appreciation for history that he does.
  • got gracie a gentle-leader today after we left her chain collar at my parent’s house in pennsylvania accidentally and spent yesterday in williamsburg while she literally dragged and pulled us from place to place.  not fun for gracie and certainly not fun for us.  have a dog who pulls?  i recommend the gentle leader.
  • the last hour?  listened to the lovely sounds of shooting as the men-folk watch ‘band of brothers’ on christmas eve.  ahhh, the melody that is war.  and on christmas eve… perfection.  not.  another word to the wise: swipe the tv remote before the men get it.
  • had a haagen-dazs vanilla ice cream with chocolate/almond coating.  delicious.
  • watched the holiday last night.  love love love it.
  • asked nathaniel what his idea of a perfect christmas would be.  he said, “truth or a lie?” my mom said, “lie.”  he said, “this (referring to williamsburg/history/family).”  teenagers… gotta love them.  but then again, he proceeded to say that his favorite christmas is a tv remote, sofa, and food… so should we be insulted?  i don’t think so.
  • now i am going to go swipe the tv remote and watch a christmas movie with those interested.  
and like i said, Merry Christmas (Eve)!
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