Someone's having a birthday!
Originally uploaded by Cindezio
Happy Birthday, Brian!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
I love the idea of traditions... the more outrageous and silly, the better. Having been together now for just over a year (17 months to be exact), Brian and I are starting to repeat some of the activities we did last year... thereby starting our own traditions.
Typically every fall, I get nostalgic and emotional... in a good way. Happy to have such great childhood memories of the exciting fall season. The crisp weather, the falling leaves, the smell of bonfires, the taste of apple cider. I love fall.
Last year was my first autumn in the city, so I felt the need to drive out to the country, see some farms and turning leaves. I used to go to a pumpkin patch as a kid and I loved that whole experience, so I researched farms in the area and decided to take Brian to the best looking Google result. We were willing to make the hour long drive because the website made the place look AWESOME.
One crisp Sunday morning, we ate granola bars and hit the road. Little did we know we should have packed food for the day... the trip ended up being slightly longer than expected. After a wrong turn or four (and the bickering that goes along with getting lost), we finally arrived at the farm, starving and cranky. What was intended to be an idyllic country pumpkin patch ended up being a carnival filled with screaming children. We couldn't even walk from our car to the hay ride without tripping over 17,000 kids along the way. Somewhere amongst all the chaos, standing waist deep in whiny brats, Brian and I locked angry eyes and, without a word, headed back for the car. We ended up at the farm's affiliated home-cookin' restaurant down the street. After a semi-delicious meal, we considered returning to the patch to hunt for pumpkins, but anticlimactically just bought 2 from the lobby of the restaurant and called it a day. "Maybe next year," we sighed.
Come September of this year and all I could talk about was my pumpkin patch. I promised to take Brian to the one I used to visit. It's small and certainly no carnival. Come to think if it, the hay ride is quite pathetic. But it's my pumpkin patch - I know it and love it, so there.
We hopped in my car, grabbed some bagels with cream cheese from Lenny's Deli ("grabbed" can be debated, but that's another story), and headed to my home town. Since we had to drive through Davidsonville to get to the farm, I decided to swing by the two houses I grew up in, although in Davidsonville, "swinging by" is more like a 30 minute detour. But the houses were neat to look at and it felt good to be back on those roads I used to be so familiar with as a kid.
I finally made it back out onto the main drag and headed towards the pumpkin patch, until... we hit a road block. They closed the tiny little bridge that crosses the Patuxent and it wouldn't be such a big deal except that the fastest detour that I knew of was going to be at least another 30 minutes of driving. By this time, we had been in the car for almost two hours and I was just ready to get pumpkins, already. Brian urged me to take the long way and get us to this place that I would not shut up about, but seeing as though we were going to pass at least two other farms on this detour, I couldn't justify driving any more than I already had.
We stopped at Doepkens' Farm, where there's a different mosaic made out of mums every year. I bought a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. Then we trekked across the street to an official Pumpkin Patch, trudged around the fields, kicked a couple gourds, then finally decided to just buy two tiny pumpkins from their big bin to display in our front window.
So, yet another anticlimactic ending to our autumn adventure. I smell a tradition...
Typically every fall, I get nostalgic and emotional... in a good way. Happy to have such great childhood memories of the exciting fall season. The crisp weather, the falling leaves, the smell of bonfires, the taste of apple cider. I love fall.
Last year was my first autumn in the city, so I felt the need to drive out to the country, see some farms and turning leaves. I used to go to a pumpkin patch as a kid and I loved that whole experience, so I researched farms in the area and decided to take Brian to the best looking Google result. We were willing to make the hour long drive because the website made the place look AWESOME.
One crisp Sunday morning, we ate granola bars and hit the road. Little did we know we should have packed food for the day... the trip ended up being slightly longer than expected. After a wrong turn or four (and the bickering that goes along with getting lost), we finally arrived at the farm, starving and cranky. What was intended to be an idyllic country pumpkin patch ended up being a carnival filled with screaming children. We couldn't even walk from our car to the hay ride without tripping over 17,000 kids along the way. Somewhere amongst all the chaos, standing waist deep in whiny brats, Brian and I locked angry eyes and, without a word, headed back for the car. We ended up at the farm's affiliated home-cookin' restaurant down the street. After a semi-delicious meal, we considered returning to the patch to hunt for pumpkins, but anticlimactically just bought 2 from the lobby of the restaurant and called it a day. "Maybe next year," we sighed.
Come September of this year and all I could talk about was my pumpkin patch. I promised to take Brian to the one I used to visit. It's small and certainly no carnival. Come to think if it, the hay ride is quite pathetic. But it's my pumpkin patch - I know it and love it, so there.
We hopped in my car, grabbed some bagels with cream cheese from Lenny's Deli ("grabbed" can be debated, but that's another story), and headed to my home town. Since we had to drive through Davidsonville to get to the farm, I decided to swing by the two houses I grew up in, although in Davidsonville, "swinging by" is more like a 30 minute detour. But the houses were neat to look at and it felt good to be back on those roads I used to be so familiar with as a kid.
I finally made it back out onto the main drag and headed towards the pumpkin patch, until... we hit a road block. They closed the tiny little bridge that crosses the Patuxent and it wouldn't be such a big deal except that the fastest detour that I knew of was going to be at least another 30 minutes of driving. By this time, we had been in the car for almost two hours and I was just ready to get pumpkins, already. Brian urged me to take the long way and get us to this place that I would not shut up about, but seeing as though we were going to pass at least two other farms on this detour, I couldn't justify driving any more than I already had.
We stopped at Doepkens' Farm, where there's a different mosaic made out of mums every year. I bought a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. Then we trekked across the street to an official Pumpkin Patch, trudged around the fields, kicked a couple gourds, then finally decided to just buy two tiny pumpkins from their big bin to display in our front window.
So, yet another anticlimactic ending to our autumn adventure. I smell a tradition...
Thursday, October 18, 2007
In a recent episode of The Office (You don't watch it? You should.), Michael and Dwight decided they'd win back more customers by hand-delivering gift baskets than if they used Dunder Mifflin's new online ordering system. As we do during every episode, Brian and I laughed and laughed.
Last night, the doorbell rang. Brian and I both did our typical doorbell pause-and-stare, running through the hundreds of possible scenarios. Kids asking for school donations, cops asking about our neighbors, a friend stopping by for a beer, flower delivery (ha!), solicitors of the Baltimore Sun requesting our subscription... the list goes on. He was closer to the door, so thankfully he answered.
Brian was greeted by a woman handing him - guess what - a gift basket! She said something along the lines of "Looks like they really want you back as a customer!"
At that point, I broke into giggles thinking about Michael Scott and I have no idea how Brian could keep a straight face as this woman spoke to him. She was representing the Nielsen Company and was pressuring Brian to once again become a Nielsen household.
In his last residence, he signed up for the rating system and got the equipment attached to his television. When he moved, it was a huge hassle to schedule an appointment to remove the equipment. They left multiple notes left on his door (Hi! We've been trying to contact you! Please call...) until eventually, the representative was forced to wait outside the house in his car until Brian came home. It was pretty scary to have someone jump out of his car yelling "Mr. Wagner" just as we were unlocking the front door, albeit the guy was about 4'9" and had a pocket protector. In any case, the whole experience left a bad taste in our mouths.
Currently, we have a land-line phone in the kitchen that we never use - I don't even know the number. But guess who knows it! The Nielsen Company! They're good. They call a lot. If I happen to answer, I'm rude and say I don't have time for this!, hang up, and then promptly return to my important activity of staring into the refrigerator. If Brian answers he's nice, he takes the survey, he helps to keep quality programming on our television networks. Like The Office.
So when this lady arrived at our door, he took the time to listen to her spiel. He gave her feedback regarding his previous quality of service with the company. Despite trying to reject the gift basket, he said he wasn't completely against the idea of reenlisting with Nielsen. He used me as an excuse, said he had to check with me before making any decisions and like magic, she left.
We're still in discussion about it... whereas, I'm not against the company tracking my television habits, I'm skeptical of the inconvenience the equipment might cause. We'd have to schedule installation appointments and probably answer more phone calls and take more surveys... and quite honestly, I'm just too busy watching TV to be bothered.
She insisted that we keep the gift basket regardless of our decision, but I'm afraid to open it for fear of her returning to demand the macaroons.
Last night, the doorbell rang. Brian and I both did our typical doorbell pause-and-stare, running through the hundreds of possible scenarios. Kids asking for school donations, cops asking about our neighbors, a friend stopping by for a beer, flower delivery (ha!), solicitors of the Baltimore Sun requesting our subscription... the list goes on. He was closer to the door, so thankfully he answered.
Brian was greeted by a woman handing him - guess what - a gift basket! She said something along the lines of "Looks like they really want you back as a customer!"
At that point, I broke into giggles thinking about Michael Scott and I have no idea how Brian could keep a straight face as this woman spoke to him. She was representing the Nielsen Company and was pressuring Brian to once again become a Nielsen household.
In his last residence, he signed up for the rating system and got the equipment attached to his television. When he moved, it was a huge hassle to schedule an appointment to remove the equipment. They left multiple notes left on his door (Hi! We've been trying to contact you! Please call...) until eventually, the representative was forced to wait outside the house in his car until Brian came home. It was pretty scary to have someone jump out of his car yelling "Mr. Wagner" just as we were unlocking the front door, albeit the guy was about 4'9" and had a pocket protector. In any case, the whole experience left a bad taste in our mouths.
Currently, we have a land-line phone in the kitchen that we never use - I don't even know the number. But guess who knows it! The Nielsen Company! They're good. They call a lot. If I happen to answer, I'm rude and say I don't have time for this!, hang up, and then promptly return to my important activity of staring into the refrigerator. If Brian answers he's nice, he takes the survey, he helps to keep quality programming on our television networks. Like The Office.
So when this lady arrived at our door, he took the time to listen to her spiel. He gave her feedback regarding his previous quality of service with the company. Despite trying to reject the gift basket, he said he wasn't completely against the idea of reenlisting with Nielsen. He used me as an excuse, said he had to check with me before making any decisions and like magic, she left.
We're still in discussion about it... whereas, I'm not against the company tracking my television habits, I'm skeptical of the inconvenience the equipment might cause. We'd have to schedule installation appointments and probably answer more phone calls and take more surveys... and quite honestly, I'm just too busy watching TV to be bothered.
She insisted that we keep the gift basket regardless of our decision, but I'm afraid to open it for fear of her returning to demand the macaroons.
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