My Project

It sucks being a match-maker.  I can't help it, but I'm always trying to match my single friends.  I have two successful marriages for which I can take full credit.  At one of the weddings, the preacher even called me out during the ceremony! 

It's a curse though.  Recently, I've been trying to find a match for an old high school friend.  I thought it would be so easy.  I know him so well and since I was a 13 year old kid.  He's a decent and loyal person and he's even very handsome with a perfect jaw line, straight white teeth, greying blond hair and he weighs exactly the same as he did in high school.  A total "boy scout," he's never even smoked a joint, he played football at a major university and he happens to be a bone fide oil mogul with more money than he could ever spend...

So...apparently he somehow comes off too desperate for love.  I mean, he's looking hard.  I'm introducing him to beautiful, successful women who don't "need" a man, but who seek the companionship of one and they see the needy, insecure side of this almost perfect guy before the first course is served.  

What do I do with that?  I can't just throw him out there to the desperate girls.  That wouldn't be good for either of them.  Do I send him to a counselor?  He wants it to happen for him yesterday and so do I, but I want to be careful with him at the same time because I've known him for so long and I know it all comes from a good place.  He seriously seems defeated and outright depressed when a girl won't return his calls.  The girls are nice enough about it I guess, but just like, "um, no thank you."

This one is a challenge and I'm like the Roman gladiator at the coliseum of love. 

Let Them Eat Cereal

I've had it with my picky eaters.  I'm done trying.  If it were up to them we would have spaghetti five nights a week and tacos the other two.

We have one of those wooden message signs in our kitchen which reads, "Menu: eat it or starve."  I'll admit I bought it just because I thought it was cute, but now I really mean it...and meanly.

Basically every time I cook something that I think the entire family will enjoy, the kids turn up their noses and harrumph and whine until I dump the contents of their plates into the trash and either quickly fix yet another dish while my plate gets cold or point to the fridge and say "cereal."

For example, last night I made a simple meatloaf, cornbread stuffing and sweet potatoes.  And the thing is, they have eaten meatloaf plenty of times.  Same goes for stuffing, I mean what kid isn't down with stuffing?  But Noooooooooo, neither kid liked any of the stuff I'd prepared.  They elected instead to have Honey Nut Cheerios.  I wanted to scream.

I'm so tired of fixing "kid food" like macaroni and cheese and lasagna.  Uhg!  There was one night recently when I had fixed a nice dinner of my husband's favorite "pork chops and cabbage" with some fresh snapped green beans on the side.  The kids of course "tried it" and unceremoniously spit it back out onto their plates.  I then desperately made quickie mac and cheese for the boy and scrambled eggs for the girl, thereby dirtying at least four more dishes.  Fun.  It would be nice to be able to prepare only a couple of things for dinner and have some variety there throughout the week.

I don't buy chips or sodas or even ice cream...ever.  We do however always have plenty of breakfast cereals and toaster waffles on hand.  "Easy and quick" is definitely on the morning menu in this house.  Basically due to that being the only "junk" food ever available, the kids end up having cereal for dinner many times during the week when they "dis" my dinners.  Serves them right I say.  I'm done feeling guilty about that.

New motto in the Staglik household: "eat it or starve" (or eat cereal for dinner)!  It not just a decorative piece of art anymore.

And My Kitchen Stayed Clean

Thanksgiving was a great success!  No one cooked and no one cleaned up.

This was the second year in a row our small family decided to go "out" for Thanksgiving and it is our favorite new "tradition" going forward.  Yesterday we had a private room at one of the city's most critically acclaimed restaurants with great service, incredible food, and flowing Cakebread for over three hours!

The highlight of the day was when our NYC-dwelling niece appeared as a server, water pitcher in hand, to surprise her parents and grandma!  It made me cry it was so exciting.  We got it on video and we all watched it over and over again.

Although I love seeing all of our extended family, I also dread the "work" that goes into it, the preparation, the cooking, the cleaning and how it takes hours and even days to prepare for a feast that lasts thirty minutes tops.  I just have to be in a certain mood and moody as I am, I haven't seen that mood for sometime.

I hope this preference towards Thanksgiving reservations isn't setting a bad precedent for our kids.  I mean, we all grew up relegated to the "kid's table" and family all around and now I'm teaching my kids to sit quietly and order from a menu or fill their plates from the brunch buffet.  I would offer though that the time spent with the kids is more quality time, since I'm not distracted with food preparation and details.  Plus, it's so nice with the kids a bit older now and able to cut their own meat for example.  These are the best years.  They are generally well behaved, interesting, clever, polite and conversant young people at the dinner table and did I mention no one has to clean up afterwards.

Yes. This is how our clan rolls.  ...and a good time was had by all.

The Buck Stops Here

I saw this on Pinterest and it rings true to a point of severe annoyance:

"People won't remember all the times you helped them, but they'll never forget the one time you don't."

I don't know who said it and it's loosely paraphrased I suppose but it encapsulates a lesson I'm still learning about my need to "rescue" people.  Why is it that when I help and help and help (ad nauseam) someone in both small ways and with the really HUGE stuff, it always goes due South at whatever point I pull back...even a little??

The latest lesson I'm learning is from a college student who in all likelihood will be academically dismissed at the end of this semester, especially at the rate they're going.

We had a deal though.  I thought it was clear and reasonable:  you make good grades, work hard, and take school seriously and we'll help you.  After two consecutive semesters of constant partying, indignant alcohol consumption and utterly dismal grades, isn't it safe to say their end of the bargain wasn't honored?

So I've throttled back.  Significantly and with ample warning but now I'm the bitch who "does nothing" to assist.  Makes sense.

Don't worry, we'll keep paying for your cell phone and I'll continue to send you grocery gift cards when I can.  No.  Don't count that as helping, really.  Just keep telling everyone how you're "on your own."  And when you get kicked out of school in December, you can commemorate it with another tattoo.  Classy.

It sucks to see potential in someone and have reasonable expectations for them.  It sucks too to see someone idolize and emulate low-achieving losers and find pride and fulfillment in how fast they can complete a keg stand two nights in a row.  Did I mention classy?

This is "enabler" signing off.

Big Bad Wolf III

Unbelievable.  Seriously.

My 78 year old uncle was arrested AGAIN over the weekend, this time in Bienville Parish, for another slew of methamphetamine charges.

OMG, as he is out on bond number two for the baker's dozen or so drug charges from December and March...  Maybe now, they'll keep him jail?  Ya think??

I don't get it. His arrogance is confounding.

Please Louisiana justice, do it right this time.  I mean, what does it take??  This time they're even charging him with DISTRIBUTION!

Maybe my sorry uncle is a big Breaking Bad fan, trying to channel the Brian Cranston character...nah...Cranston doesn't get caught ever, much less three times in ten months.

Pining for Pinehurst

OK, so I'm no geography expert but I always thought of North Carolina as so...well, NORTH.  I mean it is an East coast state and it's pretty far from South Texas.  We just returned from a trip there and it seriously felt like home.

I'm such a sucker for a giant front porch and rocking chairs and this resort had more square footage on their many expansive porches than we do in both our house and the lake house combined!  And never have I seen more rocking chairs.  Ever.  Also, everybody had an accent not totally unlike ours and there was cornbread at every meal.  Southern.  How is it that it takes two airplanes headed NE to still be surrounded by Southern hospitality and grits??

I really enjoyed myself.  I could sit on the porch for hours...wait.  We did.  I have to say though, a mint julep is still just too much for me though.

The highlight of the trip and really the main purpose was when my husband took my son to play the very famous Pinehurst #2 course.  It's the Ryder Cup course for God's sake and they got to play it!  I'll have you know, that not a single bit of photographic evidence did my husband remember to preserve!  Really??

And as a side bar, I'm reminded of an old Rosie O'Donnell joke.  "Golf is not a sport.  Golf is men in ugly pants walking."

Good Guys Come From New Jersey

So I jumped out of a cab in lower Manhattan and leisurely entered my hotel room at Washington Park.  I sat down, took off my shoes and proceeded to fish my cell phone out of my purse to check for missed calls or messages.

IT WASN'T THERE.

"OMG, where's my phone??  It's gotta be in here, pockets??  Where is it...the cab...I checked for texts when I first got in the cab!  Why didn't I write down the cab?  Who really remembers to do that, seriously?? "

My heart began to pound and I suddenly realized it was true.  My phone just drove off in one of how many thousands of cabs in NYC?  I grabbed my husband's phone and immediately began calling my own.  I knew the ringer was on the loudest setting and my husband's number comes up with little red hearts so I figured anyone who spotted that incoming call would know it was an important contact.

My husband was freaking more than me of course because it was hitting him that not only was my iPhone 4S in this taxi, it was nestled in one of those snap-type phone cases with my Visa, my Texas driver's license and my gas card.  Yup.  It was all there, and as the time ticked by it was tough knowing that likely ten more people were in and out of that cab by now, as the 30 minute mark came and went.

And then finally, after probably 50+ repeated calls from my husband's phone, someone answered!!  "Is this your phone?" the man's voice said.  "Yes! Oh my gosh, where are you, I'll come to you."

What followed over the next three hours, restored my general faith in humanity.

The guy sounded like he was walking fast and in a hurry.  Really?  In NYC, crAZy.  It was almost noon and the guy was explaining how he couldn't meet me until 3:00pm because he was late to a meeting.  He gave me an address in midtown, told me he'd meet me there in three hours, his name was Joe, he was wearing a grey suit and then he hung up.  GASP!

Although I had an instantly good vibe from the guy, after the call ended, I started to get REALLY paranoid.  What if it was some brilliant ruse to have full-on access to my Visa for three uninterrupted hours.

Needless to say, it was a very long three hours.

We ended up going to the address he gave a full hour early to check it out and see if it even was an actual place.  Turns out it was a big, modern office building with a spacious lobby so we just decided to get comfortable and wait.

In the mean time and out of severe and increasing paranoia, I "killed" my Visa just to be safe, though the Visa rep did confirm there had been no charges.

Then at 2:50, I called my phone.  No answer.

At 2:55, I called again.  No answer.

At 3:00, I called again.  No answer.

At 3:05, I called again.  No answer.

At this point, I commented to my husband that we may have just been had.  Just then I spotted a tall guy in a dark suit exiting the building and hanging out of his leather portfolio, I glimpsed the red leather wrist strap of my phone case.

I yelled, "JOE!"

He turned around and said, "Tara."

Whoo Hoo!  He WAS a good guy.  He really DID have a meeting!  I'm getting my phone back!

I couldn't help myself, I was jumping up and down and I bear-hugged him before I even knew I was going to.  He wouldn't take any "thank you" money from my husband.  I told him that his mom must be very proud of him and then said something like, "you must be from the South!"  He laughed and said, "What?  Nice guys can't come from New Jersey?"

It was decidedly a Summer miracle on 34th street.  And, nice guys do come from Jersey.