Pseudo marriage science

It’s Friday!!   Welcome to ‘The Chronicles of a Reluctant Housewife’ where I document my love/hate relationship with my current occupation.

I don’t really have much to say about house-wifing today.  I have been going about my routine (although it may not look like it around here, like I said, I’m not great at the housekeeping) with no great shakes or mishaps.  Although I did accidently create chorizo croutons the other night, which was a bummer since the chorizo was the starring feature in the meal, but there it is.  Feel free to steal that one for your next salad, just give credit where credit is due. 

I have been trying to finish this book for a wedding/marriage centric book club.  I’m not going to give you the title because the book is pissing me off, but it’s about the ‘science’ of a good marriage.  It is basically a collection of dubiously analysed (by the author) scientific studies about love and marriage and how to spot if your marriage is doomed.  So far it hasn’t given any advice if, after doing the numerous Cosmo-type quizzes, you find that your marriage is doomed.  I’m currently on the chapter that tells you to expect your marriage to be unsatisfying when you decide to have children.  Don’t fight it, just go with it and know that it will get better when they go off to college at 18.  That’s assuming, of course, that they will go to college and/or move out at 18.  In fact that is a big issue with the book.  It is very American, middle-class , college-educated–centric.  It assumes everyone reading it is of the same background (which actually might be an accurate assumption when thinking about who is more likely to have the time and interest to read a book about marriage).  I haven’t yet read anything about marriage that I hadn’t already learned through a year’s experience (and four years living together prior to the wedding) or our pre-cana exercises.  I wasn’t expecting any brilliant insights, but I also wasn’t expecting statements like; “Wives don’t like sex, husbands don’t like housework, therefore if husbands helped out with housework they would get more sex.” Or “If you want to find your ideal mate, go off birth control pills because they interfere with your ability to sniff out the correct pheromones and you may end up with someone less than ideal (in evolutionary terms). 

????????????

I don’t know if I can continue on.  Although I was interested to see if it gets any better.  It hasn’t yet.  But, on a more positive note, it has made me think about our little marriage (almost a year old now) and I think we are doing fine and will be fine into the future, although according to the book we may have a shaky road for the following reasons; a) we didn’t ‘date’ b) I was on birth control the whole time c) we moved in together following a very long distance relationship d) we are of differing educational levels e) we are of different cultural backgrounds and f) we expect affection and some level of equality (which will inevitably lead to disappointment). 

I call bullsh*t.

I also think I am going to stop reading these books and analysing our baby marriage.  I mean it hasn’t even been a year yet.  We are best friends, we are very aware of the hurdles ahead, we are different in a way that it awesome (like peanut butter and chocolate) and more importantly, we took vows that we take very seriously.  This may be a wildly-optimistic statement, but if we can weather international moves, advanced degrees, unemployment, visa applications, (not to mention that crazy four week international wedding whirlwind) etc. basically without a support system other than ourselves (OK parents, calm yourselves, we know you support us from afar), I think we can handle quite a lot. 

That being said, I’m still heading to the book club meeting tomorrow.  We’re wearing fascinators!!!  I will do almost anything to wear a fascinator.  Plus there will be wine and cakes.  Need I say more?

Hello Sunshine!

I had somewhere to be this morning (shocker, I know) so I was up and dressing relatively early.  I had an idea in mind for an outfit, but when I tried on the skirt, it was way too big, as was the next one.  (So another trip to the tailor is necessary.)  Then I grabbed a new skirt to try out and it immediately created a fun outfit that I was excited to wear.  This doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it is great.  When you get it right and the weather is working and the outfit is ‘appropriate’ for the day’s activities and it’s comfortable, it makes the day that much easier to take on.  I walked out the door, the sun was shining and the wind more breezy than gusty.  I picked up a banana at the offie (shared a familiar smile with the owner) and waved down the bus, and even managed a ‘cute’ little run and possible hair flick.  It was almost like a movie montage when the plucky heroine is heading out into the world to take on a new job or outlook.  Then, on the bus, Dave Matthews came up in the shuffle on the iphone.  Judge me if you will, but I do love me some Dave.  I caused me to smile and I realize that I have stopped listening to Dave for some reason.  I’ve stopped listening to a lot of music I really loved.  A lot of it is from my University days and it makes me remember when I thought I could take on the world.  I was a little too cocky back then, but a little of that cockiness tempered with age and experience might do me some good.

I was working on yet another application yesterday and I noticed something about my CVs.  I rework it slightly with each go around and yesterday I looked back over the numerous versions.  I noticed that they have slowly started to actually reflect who I am, as opposed to who I think HR want.  My ‘personal statements’ have gone from very professional concise statements with lots of buzz words to a much more honest blurb about who I am and what I have to offer (I mean, I used the word ‘flair’ in my last one.  Am I a TGI Friday’s waitress?).  I have also started to add back in all my jobs (like waitressing) and am currently working on a ‘other interests and activities’ section.  I don’t know if it is strategically prudent, but I started to feel like leaving out all my jobs and experience based on what I thought an HR person might be looking for was being unfair to myself.  All of these experiences make up the person I am and the ‘skills’ I can bring to the table.  It felt like I was ashamed.  The same thing with the cover letters.  They have gone from matching ‘duty specs’ to my own skills to concentrating more on my interest and enthusiasm for the job as well as my suitability on paper.  Again, I don’t know if this is good idea strategically, but there it is.  I am going with a reckless (some-what) abandon strategy. I’m mean, at this point, what do I have to lose?

On the subject of denying parts of myself, I have a confession to make.  I have been denying parts of myself here as well.  I have been reluctant to post photos or write about topics that might seem frivolous, or that I don’t have a lot to say about, but I think I am going to go for it.  And so, in the spirit of putting more of myself out there, I have added a photo of myself on the sidebar and also added some contact info on the ‘About’ page (just in case).  And today, in honour of the feel good outfit (that I have since changed out of because I felt it was going to waste while I sat here writing and working on applications) I am sharing it with you.  (please excuse the questionable quality)



Behold, the fun and flirty

So go, put on a fun outfit, listen to some ‘Dave’ (or your equivalent) and be a little cocky.  Let’s see where it takes us. 

Seasonal Linen Swap

Yesterday, after a series of stuffy nights, I decided it was time to make the seasonal swap of duvets.  We received a gorgeous cotton bedspread for Christmas and it has been staring at us for months.  We began to feel a bit guilty about keeping it in storage while we sweat under the winter duvet.  So yesterday I pulled the bedspread out of storage and hung the duvet outside to air before it goes into storage. 

And then it rained all day.  All day.  And while I didn’t discover any leaks, the house was a bit cool and damp, so when we crawled into bed I was concerned that I might have jumped the gun with the switch.  We discussed briefly and decided that our combined body heat would be enough to keep us cozy, we just had to wait a bit.  Really, this means that Pete’s body heat would keep us warm. 

Except it didn’t.  Or at least not for me.  It might have been too much to ask of him, I mean he was sleeping.  All night I was waking up, curling tighter into myself and checking that the bedspread was still covering me on all sides.  I think it is a weight issue.  The duvet has a comforting weight to it.  You know it’s still there keeping you warm.  The bedspread is so light that I kept thinking it had disappeared in the night. 

Finally, at 4, I got up and got a cheap fleece blanket from the living room, wrapped it around myself and then crawled back under the covers.  It did the trick.  Why didn’t I think of it sooner?  And this got me thinking, why is that when half-asleep you can add 9 to any number without issue, but cannot fathom how to get warmer? 

Does anyone else experience this?  During the day, I can’t add 9 to anything without discreetly counting it out on my fingers, but at 6:47 in the morning when Pete’s alarm has gone off for the fifth time, I can tell you immediately that I have until 6:56 to sleep.  It took me five hours of tossing and turning and snuggling closer to Pete and curling in on myself before I eventually got up and got another blanket.  Perhaps it has to do with physical activity verses mental activity, but I gotta tell you that my mind can keep me awake more effectively than a mid-night trip to the toilet which includes navigating stairs. 

So in the category of seasonal swapping of linens, this housewife receives a fail.  Perhaps I needed to check the weather more thoroughly or wait until we were sure that we were in summer (which can be difficult in London, I admit).  For now, the beautiful new bedspread is staying, but I am layering a Massai blanket (which is deceptively warm for its thinness) underneath in an effort to avoid last night’s dilemma and perhaps add some reassuring weight.   And just in case, I have positioned a second light throw within reach of my side of the bed. 

On storms, silicon and showing up

I have insomnia.  I’ve had it for years.  A few years ago I used to use a thunderstorm CD to help me fall asleep.  Then I joined the circus.  Thunderstorms ( and rain in general) now give me panic attacks.  I’m not joking. 

When you live in a circus you are basically living outside.  The only thing that stands between you and the elements is a bit of fibreglass, a layer of insulation and some tacky wallpaper or woodeffect wall covering.  Also, most RVs and house trailers are made to be driven on highways to a campground and parked a few times a year.  Driving an RV over almost every road condition known to man and off-roading on a daily basis and parking on unlevel and unstable surfaces is not the way to maintain the vehicle.  Also, these vehicles are meant to be in used in pleasurable weather and stored away from the elements in the not so great weather.  This is not possible when in the circus. 

In my few months on the circus, my motorhome and I experienced snow and freezing temperatures, blazing hot temperatures, high winds and tornado warnings, and lots and lots and lots of rain.  In my first weeks I woke to a sopping wet couch and carpet more than once.  I slept on my couch because my bed was wet from a new leak numerous times and on days when the rain was relentless and I was stuck in my house all day, I would exhaust entertain myself by wringing out dish towels and calculating leak rates. 

Eventually, I became a bit better at preparing for and dealing with precipitation.  After setting up each morning, it was not unusually to see me on my roof with a silicon gun patching leaking seals.  By the time I left the road, every window on my house had been re-sealed with silicon at least twice.  I became obsessed with weather forecasts  (like everyone else on the show) and finally found a practical use for all those cloud quizzes from my undergrad meteorology course.  On days which rain was predicted I took precautionary measures by levelling my house in such a way to direct water runoff toward the strongest seals and away from problem areas and positioning towels under particularly stubborn leaks.

However, no matter how prepared I was for the actual water, I could never prepare for or eliminate the sound.  For some reason, no one has yet to be able to explain it to me, rain hitting a motorhome is deafening.  The incessant sound of pounding rain would drive me crazy.  On the rare occasions that I had no leaks and could escape to a friends’ house, I would be amazed at their acoustics.  If not for the inescapable dampness, you would never had known it was raining. 

In our current flat, when it rains, it sounds like being back in the motorhome and I suddenly go into leak anxiety mode.  I race around checking for leaking windows and straining to hear the distinct plop, plop of an indoor leak.  The fact that our gutters are crap and send sheets of water flowing down the walls and windows doesn’t help.  My skin gets that weird electric feeling like before you do something terrifying (like say zip-lining when you aren’t that comfortable with heights) and I can’t relax or concentrate.  I literally pace the house continually checking. 

It’s the antidote to the romantic memories and feelings about the circus.  It’s remembering that it can be a b***h of a hard life that requires skill, endurance and commitment that is only gained through perseverance.  It’s a reminder that the show will go on despite the mud and the rain and that means you need to find a way to go on as well or get left behind. 

There is a bit of a life lesson there I think. 

I started writing this post as a pithy way to ignore the storm and my leak anxiety and pass along a little personal experience but I find it has led me to something I have been thinking about and struggling with in the last few weeks (oh who am I kidding, the last year).  Yesterday marked a year since I finished my PhD.  A year gone, with nothing much to show for it except two new titles (with accompanying paperwork) and few more recipes and a few less pounds. 

In my worst days on the circus, days when I only went a few hours without crying, days when I was wet and cold and out-of-range and truly on my own, I found the strength to keep driving and showing up every morning to a new lot and a new day knowing full well that it was going to be another day full of tears and doubt and, inevitably, mud.  I remember two days in particular that presented me with an easy opportunity to turn off the route and head back to Cleveland and a flight home.  But I didn’t.  I kept showing up and it turned into one of the best experiences of my life. 

At the risk of cueing a music swell in the background, it’s time to start showing up again. 

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t find any leaks in the house (not surprising) but wouldn’t it have been a great end to the story if I did?  Living and learning and all that?  Oh well, maybe in the movie I do.  Because, let’s be honest, we all  imagine our life could be a movie one day, right?

Asparagus!!!

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter A.  A for Asparagus.

I didn’t eat Asparagus until I moved to London.  I don’t know why I agreed to eat it in the first place, I mean it looks bizarre and not at all appetizing, but I will never look back.  It is currently asparagus season and if you can get fresh asparagus it is like 5 million percent better.  Today I bring you the two ways we eat asparagus around here. 

Simple Grilled Asparagus

What you need:

Fresh asparagus, hard bottoms trimmed

A little olive oil

A stovetop grill pan

Parmesan shavings & lemon juice (for garnish)

What you do:

After trimming the asparagus, spray or gently drizzle with olive oil. (a little tip, if you oil the asparagus on the grill, or oil the grill, it will smoke you out of your kitchen)

When the grill is really hot, lay the spears out, perpendicular to the grill ridges.

Let the asparagus sit here until they start turning a richer green, then turn over so they are equally ‘marked’ by the grill.  The timing really depends on the thickness of the asparagus.  If you have a diverse range of asparagus width, I recommend putting the thicker ones on first.

When ready, gently lift the spears off the grill onto a plate.  Drizzle with a few drops of lemon juice and garnish with parmesan shavings.  Done. 

You’re welcome!

Creamy Prawn Pasta

What you need:

3 servings of raw jumbo prawns

4 large cloves of garlic, crushed

Asparagus spears (at least 10, more is better, obviously), trimmed into about 1.5 inch sections

5 fl. oz. double cream

Olive oil

Pasta for 3, whatever kind you prefer (we do bowties)

Salt & pepper

Fresh basil  (optional)

What you do:

Get your water boiling and throw in your pasta (feel free to salt or oil as you prefer).  With a little olive oil, sauté up the asparagus pieces to your liking and remove to a bowl.  Turn off the heat and add a little more olive oil.  Let it cool a bit and crush the garlic directly into the olive oil, then turn the heat on (this keeps the garlic from browning too quickly in the oil).  When the garlic is a delicious golden brown throw in your prawns.  When they are nice and pink and curled in on themselves (meaning cooked), throw the asparagus back in and then pour the double cream over the mixture.  You may want to turn the heat down a little here.  Let the cream bubble away, stirring occasionally until it starts to thicken.  Season with salt and pepper to your taste.  We prefer freshly ground black pepper and Maldon sea salt flakes (they just make you feel like that much better of a cook).  Your pasta should be done at this point, so dump it out, rinse it and mix it in.  Serve immediately.  Garnish with fresh basil leaves,  if you like basil.  Pete doesn’t, so we usually leave this step out. 

(We first made this recipe with peas instead of asparagus, which is a good option if there is no asparagus to be found)

Go forth to your local farmer's market and get your asparagus on!

Head from Hades

Yesterday I thought I was dying or something. 

I usually have a dull ache headache through *this* entire week.  But this week I have had throbbing headaches.  Like hard to concentrate, throbbing headaches.  But yesterday, it turned into the headache from hades.  No joke.  I was feeling productive and wanted to get some work done so I took some ibuprofen and 30 minutes later I thought my head was going to split open from my nose to my neck.  Seriously.  I know I have the flare for the dramatic, but this was seriously the worse pain I had ever experienced.  I was stumbling around the house trying to find something to make it better.  I drank a bunch of water thinking I was dehydrated, then I hate some heavy food thinking I was hungry.  Then I started to throw up, violently.  Which did my head no favours. 

I was desperate to figure out what was wrong.  First I thought maybe it was TSS because they wouldn’t put that warning on the box if there wasn’t a chance, so I immediately executed a removal.  Of course, no difference.  Because it’s never TSS.  Then I started to get shaky.  I briefly thought about calling 999 but, as always, I wouldn’t be able to open the door and they would have to break it down and it’s a rental…

My head was splitting open (in two directions now), I was violently puking, and now I was cold.  Maybe I had a fever.  Then I thought of a second diagnosis.  All this plus the hormone spike last week, I was sure, ectopic pregnancy.  Now this is no joke.  I kept putting it out of my mind, because there was no way, but it kept sneaking in.  So I got Pete to pick up a test.  Of course, my eggo isn’t preggo (you can breathe now, Mom).  Finally, I emptied my stomach and crawled into bed with a wet washcloth and tried to empty my head and breathe evenly. 

Eventually it went back to a throbbing ache, as long as I didn’t move.  Pete came home and cleaned up the detritus, rewet my washcloth, got me some ginger ale, made me some toast and apples, and then ordered Chinese.  I got me a good man. 

So what was it?  Did I just experience my first migraine?  If so, what’s the trigger?  I was mending Pete’s new sports coat when it got called up to the show.  So was it the sports coat or was it the domesticity?  Hhhmmmmmm……….

It’s Friday!!  (and Eliza Doolittle Day) Welcome to ‘The Chronicles of a Reluctant Housewife’ where I document my love/hate relationship with my current occupation.

Musings

I know I am late posting today.  I have no excuse except to say that I don’t have much to say today.  But here are some of the things I have been thinking about today.

I had a doctor’s appointment late in the afternoon and it was the only thing on my mind.  I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.  It was an appointment to ask for help.  This is something I struggle with frequently.  I have a very hard time asking for help.  This appointment was a big step for me and it was taking all my mind power.

I’m not sure where this reluctance to ask for help comes from.  Maybe a left-over from a misconstrued idea that being independent meant never asking for help.  Which is ridiculous, I think. It’s one thing to expect help, it’s another to ask for it.  And actually, I struggle with both.  In my worst ‘only-child moments’ I expect assistance whether it is warranted or not.  I know this about myself and I am trying to be more aware of these moments and nipping them in the bud.  But I am also working on asking for help.  On top of that, graciously accepting the help that is given freely.  It’s a process.

I’m enjoying getting dressed everyday.  Although, to be honest the outfit I start out with is not the one I take off at the end of the day.  Inevitably, I add a few layers and the shoes comes off in exchange for my mukkalucks.  It’s fun to get dressed but I don’t know if it is dress for success really.  I have no direction with the outfits.  It used to be that I would have a situation in mind when dressing which would direct my choices.  In school, it was a particular class (I distinctly remember picturing every outfit in Mr. Keller’s math class), in University it was the JAYWalk, now I usually think about the Underground.  Ridiculous, I know, but I am very aware what people around me in the tube are wearing and I assume others are as well.  I mean how can you not be when your face is inches from a stranger’s bottom or armpit or chest.  I particularly notice shoes since I have learned to train my line of sight to the floor or else I end up accidentally staring at someone.  Ok, it’s not accidental.  Where am I going with this? I don’t know, but right now I am just playing dress up.  Soon, hopefully I will have a bit more direction in choosing outfits.  I have thought about posting some pics of my outfits, but I’m a bit crap at posing the photos.  We’ll see.

I think I need to start limiting my online time.  I have become a bit obsessed with constantly checking blogs and facebook.  I don’t know what I am expecting.  A lot of the time I am disappointed in what I find or, worse, it makes me feel like I am failing at life.  So many of the blogs I read are filled with women that say things like, “be authentic and authenticity will come to you.”  This might inspire some people, but I find it old hat.  What these ladies rarely talk about is how hard they have worked to be able to say things like, “let money flow through you and it will come back to you.”  Are you kidding me?  Honestly, my constant checking is my version of having a quick gossip over tea or coffee during the work day.  I want giggles and gossip and maybe a fabulous sweater or beauty tip.  Perhaps I just need to change my blog list. 

All that being said, perhaps this wasn’t the best post.  But I will end it on a high note. 

We bought tickets for Royal Ascot today!!!  Talk about fabulous fashion.  And the hats!!  I can’t wait.  We are going with friends to celebrate both our one year anniversaries (two weeks apart).  I am tempted to recreate a Liza Doolittle moment but I will restrain myself.  At least in my cheering.  Although, after a day of drinking champagne I can’t make any promises.  But more importantly, this means that I am in the market for a fabulous hat.  I can’t wait!

I hope to do better tomorrow.  Feel free to pose questions or suggest topics.  I'm all ears.