Prepping (Alone in the World)

C- I just knew it would hit the fan when the news of Hurricane Sandy started filling the airwaves. Realizing that electricity and gas were going to be compromised due to a power grid collapse in the northeast, I had to tap into my most masculine qualities as a hunter/provider. Without causing any panic I started stock piling and taking all necessary precautions to bug in with my beautiful girlfriend. I wanted to ensure that she would feel comfortable and protected inside even though anything would be possible outside. Once the power went out, all my preparations became worthwhile. About a week later our electricity came back on and all was well.

M- Welp, at least I know now that it'll just be me, myself, and I for the apocalypse. Without batting an eyelash or budging from the couch, C responded with a reassuring Oh, okay to my A HURRICANE is coming! Not exactly the response I was looking for. Why wasn't he concerned? He must have a plan, I thought (I hoped). For weeks I urged him to buy batteries, bottles of water and canned food to get us through what was to come. And for weeks, he looked at me like I was foolish. That is, until the electricity finally went out (he says he was watching MSNBC when it happened but I'm pretty sure he was playing Playstation). It was at that moment that something in him snapped.  Unfortunately that thing was his will to live. He laid down and closed his eyes as if the world had officially ended. But babe, I said in bewilderment, it's still daylight out... we still have time to go buy supplies before it gets dark. I couldn't tell you what he said to me in response.  Everything that came out of his mouth at that point was incomprehensible. Gibberish like. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was dementia. I was losing him for sure. Pull yourself together!, I yelled. I tried everything I could to lift his spirits but my beating him in UNO seven times in a row did nothing for his morale. I even tried reminding him of all the doomsday tactics he had learned while religiously watching shows like Revolution and The Walking Dead. But nothing could motivate him. Thankfully we got our power and heat back after a week. He was one day shy of eating our pet goldfish, Wellington, for dinner. Wellington is made out of wood, by the way.

 

 

Update: C has since spent hours watching Doomsday Preppers. I'm not sure what for.

 

*Our deepest thoughts and prayers go out to all who were seriously impacted by Hurricane Sandy.

A Tree of Our Own

C: We always spoke about moving in before we moved in. We spoke about where we would live and debated our respective hometowns to be the better choice. We discussed matters of importance such as where the closest bars and beer distributors were. Oh and the less significant -  proximity to work and budget. We spoke about everything in order to make the wisest choice.  When we finally found our palace of an apartment, we had a wonderful experience choosing paint colors and shopping for furniture. We had a number of pleasant visits to Ikea and Home Goods, joking and selecting decor and such with mutual ease. I thought the hardest part about moving would be getting all of our stuff into the apartment and it kind of was. There wasn't any space for my stuff! She filled all the dressers and both closets. She was considerate and gave me space underneath one of our side tables. She also suggested I get rid of some of my clothes and other necessities. I'm not sure where my things are now but hey, the apartment is really nice!

M: They were NOT kidding when they said you really get to know someone once you move in together. It was a little difficult packing my belongings with him saying No, you can't take that and No, we won't have room for that every two seconds. No no no no no. Who invited the Party of No to this affair? He didn't even want to take the furniture I had. Which makes all those long, painful hours at Ikea and other relationship-trap stores even more mind-boggling. He'd pick out a piece of furniture (with great excitement, might I add), I'd subsequently grab it for our cart, and before I could say Great choice, babe! he'd hit me with a Why would you get that? You know we don't need that. Now, I know what you're thinking. Same thing I was thinking: Huh? But didn't he just say... hmm. He would of course pair this Jedi mind trick with a look of judgement that implied I was out to plummet us into debtor's hell. After going through this a dozen times, I got tired of his Dr. Jekyll/Hyde furniture/spending act and decided he should do the shopping alone. He suggested this was a sign of my not being enthusiastic about the building of our home. Far from the truth. What I lost enthusiasm for was unpacking all of his "necessities". It was a good thing he convinced me to pack light. There would have never been enough room for my things and his BOXES upon BOXES of t-shirts (which all look the same, by the way), basketball shorts, and life-size toys. I've tried to explain to him that man cannot live on t-shirts alone, in an attempt to get at least one more drawer in the dressing room. But I just got relegated to a fabric box instead of the dresser (he needed more space for his socks). I guess I could always store things at work.

A Pinch of Salt

C: Let me start by saying, maybe, I'm a little bit of a mama's boy. That said, cooking is sort of an expertise of mine. Whether it's breakfast, lunch or dinner, I deliver. Once in while I'll refer to recipes, but typically I like to trial cook. Some of my best dishes are a result of just going with it. I went to school to teach art, but if you thought I went for culinary, I wouldn't be upset.

M: Let me start by saying his mother told me I had to be honest with him about his cooking... no matter how much I wanted to avoid hurting his feelings. I won't lie - knowing that he would be responsible for most of the meals once we moved in together was a bit terrifying. I knew, and he acknowledged, that he had never really cooked before. But what else were we to do? He gets out of work before I do and so it was only fair that he be the one to cook meals. The conversation during which we came to this loving compromise might have involved me saying something along the lines of You better have dinner ready by the time I get home or I'm outta here!... But that's irrelevant. Now, I'll give him some credit. He was diligent about his domestic duties. I've never eaten so much cereal and salad in my life... for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He sure does deliver. There were a few soggy/soupy plates of rice, to which I responded Great job, babe! There were also some leathery steaks, to which I exclaimed Delicious! I mean, what more could I really say? I did appreciate the fact that he was trying and the one time I attempted assisting him in the kitchen (out of love... for our taste buds), he sucked his teeth, threw up his utensils and stormed out of the kitchen. I vowed I would just continue to eat whatever yummy and stomach-threatening concoction he came up with. Until he made oatmeal... with about as much salt as the Dead Sea. After a gag or two, I attempted to give my usual Wow, this is so good! but the cement in my mouth wouldn't allow for it. I could feel all the water I had ever drank evaporating. Before my body completely shriveled up, I spit out the oatmeal and yelled For the love of God stop cooking and get some help! I don't remember what happened after that. I passed out due to rapid dehydration.

Update: We are proud to announce that C is still cooking, it is in fact going well, and no one has died of food poisoning. We would like to thank the recipe books and Mama C for her culinary tips and coaching.

Morning Serenade

There are two sides to every story.

C: There are some days I am moved to share a little song. Something that expresses the romance she evokes in me. I admit, I may not be a vocalist but, I just want to serenade her. Unfortunately, she doesn't understand this aspect of romance the way I do. She's ungrateful.

M: It was another night of little sleep. After all the house work of the evening (cooking, cleaning, etc.), we get to bed late and the anxiety of a high stress job wakes me up a dozen times throughout the night. My heart sinks each time I wrongfully wake up. I know eventually the alarm clock is going to ring and that a Redbull will not get me through the 11 hour work day that awaits. But as it must, 6am rolls around all too soon and I drag my zombie like body out of bed. I had only been up maybe 5 seconds before a crazed madman lunges at me from around the corner of the kitchen. It's still dark outside, and thus also inside the apartment. The only thing I can really make out through the darkness is the crazy in his eyes. In my exhaustion induced state of delirium, I try my best to quickly assess the situation: Is this a nightmare? Is he here to rob us? Why is he screaming Katy Perry's "Firework" at me? Is that... my boyfriend? Yes. Yes it was - My cruel, insensitive, Katy Perry loving boyfriend relishing in the act of frightening his exhausted, overworked, defenseless girlfriend at 6 in the morning. Which is why I had to punch him. 

Heart Shaped

Watercolor #1

Do you like the way we look as a watercolor paintings?

Frame courtesy of Pink Sherbet.

Brainstorming...

Meet Him and Her.

Sketch #1

Thank you for visiting our blog! We have decided to write and illustrate "the good, the bad and the nutty" of love. Feel free to comment and share your stories!