Annual Valentine's Day Parade

It’s been a parade of florists here today.

Colorful bouquets as cheery and bright as any Rose Bowl celebration.

Last year my desk was one of the planned stops.

I had my very own fragrant surprise and sweet card.

By the following week he fell off the planet.

Into the abyss of relationships that ended Soprano’s style.

Just this past December I got an e-mail.

From his girlfriend of two years.

She had been putting it off for almost a year.

She figured something was up when her live-in boyfriend got a package of chocolates and a cd on Valentine’s Day.

Doesn’t take a team of detectives to figure that one out.

Apparently I was the dirty mistress and didn’t even know it.

God I hope she dumped him.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Come Fly The Friendly Skies

So I met a boy. On a plane. Just trying to get the home after a long week of work. I’m still trying to hibernate. A new crush was the furthest thing from my mind. I was focused on my iPod, my book and a few hours of mind numbing day dreaming. Instead this happened…

I was in a rush (I usually am. I’m Type A and as I’ve been told, most Type A’s run late because we constantly over estimate our ability to get things done). No time to finish breakfast before boarding my flight. I try to casually toss my cup of dry cereal into the trash as I breeze by with my hands full of coffee and luggage. I miss and my Kashi explodes into the air like healthy bits of breakfast confetti. He is unfortunate enough to be sitting too close to my missed target. Luckily he’s a good sport about my poor aim. I smile, giggle an apology and explain basketball was never my sport. Go figure he’s cute. Of course he is. If I’m embarrassing myself they usually are.

Fast forward 30 minutes (the flight was delayed AGAIN and I had no breakfast). I’m walking towards my seat and notice breakfast guy on my flight. He seems to be sitting awfully close to where I should be dumping my bag and vegging for the next few hours. I quickly realize he is in fact sitting not close, but right next to me. What are the chances? I spill cereal on a stranger in the airport and he ends up being my seatmate. Oh wait… my special super hero powers are working again. I’ve managed to shrink the world into my own small orbit. Ask E… happens all too often. I can never be anonymous. Or do something anonymous for that matter.

Too good to be true. It was dumped into my lap. Or at least into his.

Although our flight wasn’t taking off, we were hitting it off.

You realize who is writing this blog right? It’s never this cute and sweet. There is always a punch line.

He has a girlfriend. As E said “go f’ing figure. This ALWAYS happens to you.”

Cutie cereal guy with good jeans, who runs and travels and seems smart and fun and NORMAL… has a girlfriend. Oh and a little salt in the wound… me he met his previous girlfriend on a plane. I bet she didn’t spill her breakfast on him though.

I can tell I’m still blushing (I’m sure my neck was red too) for most of the first hour of easy conversation. Several weird coincidences and a few bad dating stories later, he asks if I’m seeing anyone. I decide to spare him the details of my hibernation and simply answer with a resounding no. Eventually he fishes around enough to discover I’m open to set-ups. Or at least open minded enough to consider them.

Next thing you know, I’ve given him my info and have agreed to let a stranger set me up on a blind date.

Hello double stranger danger! Will I ever learn my lesson? Is that that hard to just say no? Moral of this story is TBD.


*** Update – Airplane guy’s friend emailed. We went out. It was fun. Seeing him again. Tonight. Might be the strangest way I’ve gotten a date. And that’s saying A LOT. Stay tuned for the inevitable crash and burn.

Think Before You Shrink

Ladies - A word of advice I firmly stand-by and share with my nearest and dearest girls...

Think before you wear tights on a date.

I am ALL for wearing skirts on dates. They are fun, flirty, feminine and usually quite comfortable.

I am also all about tights, for several reasons really:

- They suck us in and smooth us out
- They keep legs warm in the winter
- They are another great accessory we get to play with

However, if there is any chance you will be ending the evening with something more than a vertical kiss... think long and hard about what that could lead to.

Tights might look pretty darn cute under a skirt but I don't know many people that look good in tights alone (Lindsey Lohan... if you are reading this that goes for you too!!) Most girls know the smoothing is an illusion. A displacement of pudge. Tights (and Spanxx for that matter) are miracle makers not magic. Nothing actually disappears.

See where I'm going with this....

Skirt comes off and the extra few cookies you ate at the holiday party are not so cleverly hidden. They are now hanging out just between your bra and the band of your tights. Which, if you're petite like me, are most likely jacked up high enough to be not only unflattering, but also reminiscent of the way your first grade teacher wore her pants.

So now you've lured your hot date home, enticed him enough to create "interest" and now you look like the woman who taught him to read and wash his hands after using the bathroom. I'm pretty sure you'll be kissing him goodbye instead of good morning.

It's a crash not a crush

Friday night. January. At home. On my couch. ALONE. I don’t know if I am more excited by the new episode of Friday Night Lights (darn that writers strike) or my first two movies from my new Netflix subscription – The Break-Up and Notes on A Scandal.

You see… I am hibernating. I am taking a break from life. Specifically my social life and any chance I could have at interacting with the opposite sex. If it was not completely freakish I would hang a sign above my head that says… Keep Out.

Over the past few weeks I’ve realized I don’t have crushes. I crash. Really crash and burn is more like it. And this recent burn was just the compounding incident that sent me over the edge.

A few weeks ago when I realized I was an accidental dirty mistress thanks to McDreamy’s lying, cheating ways I swore to my mom that I was done. Her hopes of ever having grandchildren were probably pretty close to toppling after that incident. But no… That very weekend I met someone. He was a friend of a friend. Highly recommended. Handsome, fun, smart, blah, blah, blah. A few great dates. Cute texts (ugh… I hate texts and I was still excited by these!). I hadn’t felt this hopeful since Brittney’s second attempt at rehab. Finally, I had met someone who had promise. There were no warning signs (namely no girlfriend, stalker tendencies, or abnormal attachment to his boys) he followed through when he said he’d call, he wanted to meet my dog (sigh)… Needless to say, I was crashing. Hard.

I think crush implies a slow process. Have you ever tried to crush a can? It takes some effort and is deliberate. People usually plan on crushing something. When you crush you make room for something else. How often do you hear of people being involved in crushing incidents?

A crash is quick, unexpected and unplanned. It takes your breath away and scares you a little. Your adrenaline flows and the moment or moments are relived over and over. Time is spent trying to figure out at what moment it suddenly happened. Crashes are dangerous. And my love life is never safe from the disaster that is a crash.

You know where this is going right? I crashed and now I’m feeling the burn. Over the course of a weekend I went from feeling giddy to grumpy. Mr. Eligible Bachelor went from dreamy to devilish faster than you can say Happy New Year. And the “happy” was most definitely missing from my Happy New Year. Could the cliché that she was younger and blonder really be any more annoying?

So this grumpy chik got herself a subscription to Netflix, is going to have the cleanest apartment in the city, put her new KitchenAid mixer to good use and tonight I might start working on the Keep Out sign for my front door.

Hi my name is Chik and I'm an addict...

I’m an addict. I can’t help it. Sometimes (who am I kidding… every time I type the darn website into my browser) it draws me in. I think… oh I’ll just read one and then next thing you know I’ve virtually attended a dozen or more complete strangers weddings! It’s like late 20 something, single girl crack. I look at the pictures, read their proposal stories, steal ideas for my own wedding one day in 2057, admire their bling, think how I would never wear a gown so unflattering. Why do I care to look at strangers weddings? Sometimes I get tired of going to weddings of people I actually know (this is probably because since I’ve been single I’ve attended 73 weddings all alone). Geez… half the time I think I might just elope so why can’t I help myself? Just like other addicts, I’m just trying to get a fix. Maybe to fix the afternoon if I’m feeling lonely or bored. It’s like a little pick me up minus the calories. Or maybe because I’m a glutton for punishment and I just want to be sure I know when The Troll is engaged so I can stop wondering (all other serious ex’s are engaged or married already). So you see… it’s not just stranger weddings I’m fascinated with. I’ve also discovered yet another way to internet stalk people from my past. First there was google, then myspace, then linked-in for professional reasons, but theknot.com is really in a category all its own. I can type in the bride or grooms name and viola… I have discovered their wedding webpage. Let’s be honest. Half the time I google someone it’s to figure out what’s new in their lives. And when you’re my age most often the “new thing” is marriage (or babies – yay my first girlfriend just had one last week). Why play around on google to find someone’s status when you can simply go straight to a wedding source. So… with all this site has to offer how can I not get sucked in just a little bit?

My poor friend E is usually the recipient of my latest find on theknot. Today I sent her a sweet proposal story (of a stranger nonetheless and she had to ask "who are Tricia and Chad again??"), a few weeks ago she was privy to find out a random guy from college, who was DEFINITELY not the settling down type, was now in fact married (cute proposal story included on that one too). I believe that discovery led to approximately 3 hours of e-mailing about certain people we could not believe were married. And then ironically enough, I ran into said dudes old roommate that same weekend and had to play dumb about the marriage knowledge. And that my friends is precisely why I know this is a true addiction. Addicts are usually in a state of denial. And until today I’ve been there. Consider this my first step towards cleaning up my life. I am on the path towards recovery. I’m hopeful by this spring I will be free to find out about life and weddings the way god intended… via text.

Pumpkin Bar Bumpkin

In honor of my very favorite time of the year (the build up to football season is a close second)
I want to share a recipe I tried this past weekend (to take to a football party of course). These will be making an appearance at my family Thanksgiving Fun Fest!

These are Pumpkin Chip Bars and they are quite tasty. In fact, someone who tried one (or 5) let me know these made it onto his "top three desserts" list. Wow!

As always I've made some slight enhancements to the original recipe (Martha Stewart baking cookbook from last winter). Instead of using Pumpkin Pie Seasoning I mixed my own (cinnamon, allspice, ginger and nutmeg) and I replaced the suggested semi-sweet chocolate chips with milk chocolate. Also - my friend decided to add cream cheese frosting to a few and that seemed to go over really well!

Ingredients
Makes 24.
2 cups (spooned and leveled) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon pumpkin-pie spice
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 package (12 ounces) semisweet or milk chocolate chips (I prefer milk chocolate)
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line bottom and sides of a 9-by-13-inch baking pan with foil, leaving an overhang on all sides. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, pie spice, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

With an electric mixer, cream butter and sugar on medium-high speed until smooth; beat in egg and vanilla until combined. Beat in pumpkin puree (mixture may appear curdled). Reduce speed to low, and mix in dry ingredients until just combined. Fold in chocolate chips.

Spread batter evenly in prepared pan. Bake until edges begin to pull away from sides of pan and a toothpick inserted in center comes out with just a few moist crumbs attached, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool completely in pan. Lift cake from pan (using foil as an aid). Peel off foil, and use a serrated knife to cut into 24 squares.

New Driver

Wow… a month and a half with nothing. So this is what happens when you make a personal vow to blog about bad dates and then suddenly have none. It’s not that I’ve been having no dates. Just no bad dates. Wow… I can’t believe those words were typed on a keyboard anywhere close to me! I’ve actually been going on good dates with a boy. “The boy” as my mom and I have taken to calling him.

A few words about my mom. She knows me. I mean REALLY knows me. It’s creepy sometimes. She just gets me. Gets it. And remembers EVERYTHING (except of course the smattering of childhood memories I swear to have that she claims never actually occurred – hello riding on the fire truck in South Carolina). Anyway… I digress. My mom has learned over the years that she must absolutely not put a label on my love life. Other than labeling me as her eternally single and fabulously independent daughter. Those labels I can handle. The labels about my love life I cannot. Over the years she has graciously adopted my favorite term of “just being.” I can be someone’s friend, I can eventually (a way far off until I feel totally ready to commit to that kind of title eventually) be someone’s girlfriend. The in between period is called “just being.”

Through this most recent “just being” phase I’ve discovered something. The dating game is a lot like learning how to drive. And refresher courses should really be mandatory for those of us who temporarily had our license suspended.

There are signals and signs. Some are mixed and confusing and you always pray “Wrong Way” isn’t referring to the lane you’re driving in. Accelerating and breaking are common. Sometimes it’s only in anticipation and other times it’s in response to your fellow drivers. Either way… whiplash is no fun. I think about some of my friends who were so eager to hit the open road. While I on the other hand, was a little more cautious, thinking how scary it all seemed. I took it nice and slow and avoided the major highways until I felt safe on the backroads. Eventually we all got there, some faster than others. There those “rules” everyone knows to follow that are glaringly obvious like a giant Do Not Enter sign straight ahead. No talk of religion or politics or god forbid ex’s. Remember Do Not Enter is there for a reason. Sometimes if you go down that path you might get stuck. In the end the worst thing that can happen is feeling like you’ve been hit by a Mack truck or have reached a Dead End.

Learning how to drive isn’t all bad though. When you do eventually hit the open-up road it can be really fun. Wind in your hair on a beautiful sunny fall day can’t stop smiling kind of fun. You want to show off your new car to all your friends. And you can finally forget about that old model you thought was great at first but turned out to be a real lemon. It’s a great car for learning but not a keeper.

Just like we learned in driving school… sometimes we stall and just need a battery recharge to remind us how to get going again.