The Ice Cream Cone Test

I love junk food.  Cookies, cupcakes, chocolate - but more than anything, I love ice cream.  I'm not sure when this love affair started.  Maybe in college.  My first roommate Heather, used to always eat a scoop of ice cream in the evenings out of a coffee cup.  Maybe we ran out of bowls, who knows.  I never asked her why she used a coffee cup or why I even remember that.....  Then while living in Tampa, TB and I literally lived around the corner from a Marble Slab.  It was heaven.  I'd drag him over there almost nightly.  I'd happily order up my concoction and TB would always order something - but seem unimpressed.  One of TB's major faults is that he is not a dessert person.  But I've gradually worn him down and I now catch him stocking up our grocery cart with ice cream - even without a subtle suggestion by me.

While TB and I were recently in an airport waiting on a connecting flight, he disappeared and came back with a surprise.  A large waffle cone with chocolate ice cream. Yummy! 

Like a greedy 4 year old, I reached out to snatch it out of his hands..... just as he was taking a big bite out of the side of my ice cream cone.   What????!!!!  A mouthful of my ice cream and my cone - all at once.   At that moment I realized two things:

1.  He bought the ice cream cone for us to share.
2.  He had just ruined it.

Now, I will admit that it was a slighly selfish thought to think this whole thing was for me.  I'm willing to share.  And I quickly conceeded that point.  But only that point.   He still ruined the ice cream cone. 

Everyone knows there's a proper way to eat an ice cream cone.  I mean we've all seen that messy kid that lets the ice cream get away from him and seems oblivious to it dripping all over his arm and clothes while he's eagerly chowing down.  Picture that in a grown man and you know what I experienced in that airport.

After his huge bite of our shared cone, I weighed my options.  I was willing to share, but that thought was based on a non-ruined ice cream cone.  Am I allowed not to share, if he ruined it?  Do I go buy my own?  Or do I still make an attempt to share?

As these thoughts are quickly running through my head, TB holds out his chocolate dripping hand to pass me the cone.  I hesitantly took the cone for my turn.  Seeing the gaping hole in the side of the cone, I had to take preventative measures and clean up his mess by licking up all the impending drips.   Which meant, I didn't get to eat any of the cone.  The best part. In the corner of my eye, I can see him working his way through a mountain of napkins attempting to quickly clean up the chocolate drippage before his next turn.   On his next turn and much to my horror, he takes another big bite of cone/ice cream and hands it back to me.  Again.  Preventative measures.  This back and forth went on for a few turns and then TB asks an interesting question.

"Oh.  I didn't know you don't like waffle cones.  Why aren't you eating any of the cone?"

Really.  The nerve.

I had to explain that because of his reckless eating style that I had to use my turns to make sure we didn't end up looking like 4 year olds with ice cream from head to toe and I just never had a chance to eat the cone.

After a thoughtful, "Hmmm." TB made an interesting observation.  He said, "I think the way we each eat the ice cream cone reflects our personalities."

Now that's a thought. 

TB dove in head first when he saw something he liked, without regard for the consequences.  He would fix those later, and maybe it didn't matter in the grand sceme of things if he ended up with ice cream all over the place.  At least he enjoyed the best part of the ice cream cone.

I took a step back and looked at the ice cream cone as a whole and came up with a plan.  Eat the ice cream at the top first since it has the potential to make a mess.  Then, when it's perfectly eaten and safe, it's OK to go for the ice cream cone.  All the while, monitoring the ice cream and it's potential for mess creation.

Is it a scientifically sound study?  Probably not.  But I think it does hold a bit of truth in our situation.

Conclusion:  Me.  Slightly neurotic.  Him.  Slightly less neurotic.

2011: In Review

When 2011 began, I made a few resolutions, wrote them down and left them in my planner/notebook.  If you know me - I live and die by my planner, so I saw those resolutions almost every day.  You would think that would mean I was successful in keeping those resolutions. Well.  Let's do a little review to see how I did...


1.  Take tennis lessons:   FAIL
I have no excuse.  There's a big tennis complex about a mile down the road from our house.  They offer lessons on a monthly cycle.  I just never signed up.


2.  Run a 1/2 marathon:  SUCCESS

This was probably the hardest resolution I made in 2011 and somehow managed to achieve it towards the beginning of the year.  If you missed it, you can find the deets here.  All in all, it was a grand time and I'm planning on signing up for another one soon and hope to beat my time. 


3.  Take cooking classes:  FAIL

I'm ashamed to admit that I put minimal effort into this one....... I checked out some classes online and then...... that was about it.  I have no excuse.

4.  Take a wine class:  FAIL

Ummmmm.  Same as above.


5.  Learn to knit:  FAIL

This one is definitely a fail, but I'm going to make a few excuses this time.  I found a class which met  every Saturday for a month.  Our travel schedule was absolutely crazy this past year - so it took most of the year to find a month were I was actually home four Saturdays in a row.  And then a week before my first class, it was cancelled.  It seems I was the only one signed up for the class....... I suppose there isn't much interest in knitting classes.  My spirits were a bit dampened after the cancellation - so I never looked for another place.  Excuses excuses.

6.  Recycle:  FAIL

Still a fail, but I did print out the county's application for recycling boxes.  Just never quite mailed it in with the check.  Seriously - you can't do this online?

All in all, I'm proud of my one success story here, but a little embarrassed I didn't put much effort into a few of them.  I'm still working through my resolutions for 2012, but a few of these might carry over.  We'll see.

Here's to a happy and successful 2012!

Christmas Decorating. With Shoes On.

TB likes to say that I grew up without shoes.  While that is definitely a bit of an exaggeration, I did grow up in a small town.  And I'm talking small.  A few hundred people.  A two-way stop as there was no need for a four way stop.  One police man.  A post office.  A town maintenance man named after a cut of beef.  And that's about it.  I grew up not knowing how the flag on a mail box worked - since there was no mail delivery.  I had no idea until I left for college, that you could get pizza delivered to your home, since the the delivery drivers wouldn't come out as far as we lived.  While I've since moved on to bigger towns and cities, there are still some things that I can't quite get a handle on.  As I recently found out, by the stark difference in picking out a Christmas tree in small town USA versus Atlanta.

There was no black Friday shopping at the mall growing up.  We reserved that day for something a little more special.  Every year on the day after Thanksgiving we would all head out to the Christmas tree farm to pick out that year's tree.  Aside from the turkey, it was the most exciting thing about the Thanksgiving weekend.  On the main highway (if you could call it a highway) going through town, there was a small sign indicating where to turn for the farm.  Way back in a corner of a cow pasture, behind a small farmhouse you could see a patch of Christmas trees.  No need for us to pull up to the farmhouse - we were regulars.  There was a gate of sorts to get into the pasture - so one of us would always jump out of the truck, unlatch the gate and we'd drive through the pasture (avoiding the cows of course) and head straight to the patch of trees.  All three of us would jump out and try to find the best tree - it was always a competition of sorts to see who could find the tree that made it home with us.  At some point during the process, a rickety old truck would come driving through the pasture and the tree farmer would get out with his handsaw.  The tree farmer was the grandfather of my brother's classmate, so we definitely had a tie to him - but it didn't matter, he always remembered us.  He helped us cut the tree down and my dad would ask, "How much?".  In 18 years, the price never changed.  $20.  My parents tell me the price still hasn't changed to this day.

Flash forward 10+ years to Big John's Christmas trees located down the road from the TB house.  Similar to the farm from my childhood, Big John's is located just off the main highway.  Except this is a real highway.  And no cow pasture.  Big John's is set up in the Kroger parking lot with a full out cash register  and pre-chopped trees.  Shipped all the way to us in the big city from small town South Carolina. The selection and ambiance weren't quite the same as I was used to, but we did select a mighty fine looking tree - no saw needed here.  While this "tree farmer" hasn't known us for 20 years, he seemed nice enough and said he'd help us tie it to the car (no truck owners in this family).  I was curiously watching how this would happen, since I wasn't exactly sure how this worked.  How does one tie a tree to a car without messing up the tree?  To my horror, the tree man ran the tree through a netting machine of sorts which bundled the tree up into a tight little package.  TB assured me that our carefully picked tree would snap back into place as soon as we got it home and cut the wrapping off.  I reluctantly agreed not to make a scene since no one else seemed to have a problem with the tree wrapping method.  We were then directed to the cash register and asked if we had a coupon.  A coupon?  For a tree?  Seemed like a weird question to me - why would we need a coupon for a $20 tree?  Well.  Perhaps when your tree isn't $20.  I'm ashamed to admit how much we paid for the tree at Big John's - we'll just leave it at NOT $20.

During this whole process, I kept comparing my childhood Christmas tree buying experience with this year's and TB didn't quite understand my being perplexed by the whole process.  All he could say is, "Well.  You did grow up without shoes."  Hmmm.  Interesting point.  I guess this is how people with shoes buy trees.  I suppose I'd better get used to it.  I like my shoes.

The "wrapped" up tree

The "unwrapped tree"

The Coincidence of All Coincidences. In a Bad Way.

A very bad way. 

We recently scheduled a dinner date with another couple who also likes to eat good food.  It was our turn to pick the restaurant and there was one that I had been really wanting to check out.  So I went ahead and made the reservation at the restaurant.  The restaurant that will not be named. 

Our evening started out just fine, we were seated right away, drinks were ordered, appetizers ordered - and then it all went downhill.  Downhill in a way where we crashed and burned at the bottom on the hill.  And then exploded.

As we were enjoying our tasty looking appetizer of the "cheese plate", TB decided to tell the story of a recent episode of Andrew Zimmern "Bizarre Foods".  The episode was about Andrew visiting a city in Italy that makes this special cheese in which maggots live in the cheese.  For real.  Maggots in cheese.  You open up the wheel of cheese and just eat around the maggots.......   You really must click on the "Maggot Cheese" link below and watch the video before you continue reading this.  Really.  You should watch this.  Go ahead.  Click.

Maggot Cheese

Done?  Story continued below....

As TB was just beginning to recap the video above, we saw a horrified look on our dinner mate's face.  He had just sliced into a piece of cheese, was about to place it on a cracker and noticed something moving.  Something small.  And white.  Maggot.  IN THE CHEESE.  No kidding.  Imagine seeing that video above happen right before your eyes.

A live maggot.  Wiggling in the cheese at the restaurant not to be named.

Long story short - our meal was free.  The restaurant was horrified.  Probably not as horrified as we were - but still horrified.  We lost our appetites.  And got out as quickly as possible.  And will not be back to that place.  Ever.

Worst dining experience ever. Bring on the hair in the soup, the bug in the salad and the finger in the beans. I can top it. Maggot. In. The. Cheese.

Maggots in the cheese.  While telling a story about maggots in cheese.  How weird is that?

I've Always Wanted My Man to Smell Like........ The Pope?

Once a month or so we get a publication in the mail called The Georgia Bulletin.  It's a little newspaper about the goings on of the Catholic church in Atlanta.  Mixed throughout the articles there are usually advertisements about Catholic schools, religious movies, church bookstores - you know, the usual - very targeted advertisements.

We usually thumb through it, perhaps read an article or two and then toss it. The same thing happened this month; however one of those very targeted advertisements caught my eye.  See below:

An aftershave that smells like the Pope?  I'm not sure about you, but when I think of aftershave, I think of a rustic manly smell.  I think TB's current Old Spice says something like, "smells like wilderness, open air and freedom".  Corny?  Yes.  But I suppose it makes sense.  And it probably works well from an advertising sense.  But the Pope?  Nada.  I just can't make any sense of that.  This puzzled me so much that I thought maybe if I visited the website I could understand it a bit more.  I did find a further description of the product - but did I make more sense of it?  Nope.

Benedictus - The marriage of linden blossom from Benedict's native Germany with frankincense from the Holy Land and bergamot from Italy creates a subtle and dignified fragrance, befitting a man of finely cultivated tastes. Barely perceptible is a nuance of citrus, and as it evolves, a discrete hint of musk. The overall impression is one of understated elegance.  A slightly astringent and balsamic quality makes it a soothing and refreshing aftershave.

$27.00

"Befitting a man of finely cultivated tastes?"  With that description, my mind immediately goes to the Pope.  Right?  Doesn't yours?  But hey - at $27 and free shipping to the US, what a steal!

Upon further investigation of the website, I did discover that if Benedictus isn't exactly your speed, there are other options.   Made from the "private formula of Pope Pius IX" no less.  Christmas is coming up after all. 

Airport Dating. The Non-Creepy Kind.

I've come to the conclusion in the past few weeks that we don't lead a normal life.  We keep an odd schedule.  To say the least.
Between both of us having traveling jobs, weddings, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties and football games - we have hardly had any time at home.  Much less for a date.  So what did we do?  We improvised!

It all started 2 weeks ago.  I was flying home from a work trip on a Thursday evening - TB was connecting through the Atlanta airport - from work, but continuing on to a bachelor party.  He had a bit of time between his flights and it happened to coincide with my flight landing.  Perfect!  So we had a nice date at the Wendy's on the main concourse at ATL.  We caught up, shared some fries and it worked out wonderfully.


The next Thursday, I was flying home from a work trip and TB was once again connecting in ATL but continuing on to another trip.  We did a bit more planning and had a nice sit down dinner in concourse B.  Glass of wine and all.  But we did split the check, since we were both expensing our dinners..... perhaps that wasn't romantic.  But it sure was economical.

The following Monday morning, we both had flights out of ATL at the same time.  TB headed to NY, and I was headed to Orlando - but we had time to share some Starbucks and biscuits.

At this point, I'll take what I can get.  I've even done some research on airport restaurants and I hear there's a good one on concourse E called One Flew South.  Yes, it's true.  An airport restaurant that doesn't have fried food as half of the options.

As I was trying to find some pictures for this post (because it never occurred to me to snap a photo of our airport dates), I found a whole bunch of photos of that movie - Up in the Air.   None of them really struck my fancy, so I kept looking.  Until I hit the jackpot.  It appears that TB and I are not the only ones who like to meet up at the airport.   This find was so interesting that it trumped photos:

www.meetattheairport.com.

For realz.  Check it out.  The website claims that you can meet new and exciting people all over the world.  Read the excerpt: 

"Meeting someone new at the airport is fun and exciting. We've all thought about it while waiting for our flight. It's a bit of adventure that adds spice to your everyday life. MeetAtTheAirport.com can now make a fantasy a reality. Find fellow travelers that are looking for that added sense of excitement that you only get when meeting someone new. Share a drink with an attractive stranger in the totally safe environment of a public airport. Perhaps, share a brunch or romantic dinner while waiting for your flight and explore the enticing possibilities that are presented to you. Romance, friendship, travel companion, networking... The possibilities are endless. If you're tired of reading a magazine while waiting for your flight, don't hesitate, register now."

Add spice to your life?  Make a fantasy a reality?  All I can imagine is some scandalous happenings.  In the airport bathroom perhaps.  Remember that senator a while back that got caught meeting fellows in the airport bathrooms.  I wonder if he ever used this service?  

You have to create a profile to see any other details and although I love a good investigation,  I was too chicken to do that.  I could only imagine the creepy characters.  This will make you wonder the next time you see a couple having a drink at the airport......  It could just be someone like TB and I, or it could be someone that got bored of reading magazines and decided to meet an attractive stranger.

Keep Left

Driving on the left side of the road is reserved for the UK and Australia.  At least I thought.  But it looks like I was wrong.

For some weird reason, the US Virgin Islands require you to drive on the left - which we quickly discovered on our recent trip.   But they have American cars with steering wheels on the left.  And most tourists in the USVI are Americans.  So we have American cars, American drivers - but you have to stay left.  Hmm - looks like a lot of confused people to me.

There are signs everywhere that say, "Keep Left".  And when you rent a car, the rental agency nicely reminds you several times to "Keep Left!".  All of these reminders are nice in theory, except that they can also create additional confusion.  For example:

An American guy is driving his American car, with steering wheel on the left - except he has to drive on the left since he's in the USVI.  His navigator wife is giving directions from the paper rental car map and sees a fork in the road.  Being a nice navigator, she says:

Navigator: "Up here, you'll want to keep right."  To which American guy replies:

American guy:  "But I'm supposed to keep left."

Navigator:  "No.  Drive left, but keep right"

American Guy:  "What???"  "How do you keep right when you're driving left?  Would that be a right turn?  And right turns are different when you're driving left."

Navigator:  "What???"  "OK, keep left"

American Guy:  "But I thought I was supposed to keep right!!"

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

We only had our rental car for one day and opted for a taxi after this.  Luckily there wasn't much driving on this vacation and we spent most of our time out on the water.  Where left and right didn't matter.