Saying Goodbye to the 2's

One of my very best friends is turning the big 3-0 in a few weeks.  No matter which way we try to slice it, turning 30 is a big deal.  The 3 somehow automatically makes people expect you to be a responsible adult.  It’s not like you’ll ever say “Oh, those 30-somethings, they’re so crazy, hahaha!!”  

In the 2’s you can still get away with “20-something.”  In the 3’s, you’re hanging onto every. single. year.  

“I’m not in my mid-30’s…I’m 33.  Get it right!”  Or at least that’s what I’ll be saying.  

I’m 28 at the writing of this post, soon to turn 29 in a few months myself.  The milestone birthday of my BFF has prompted me to reflect on my own feelings about turning 30.  Here’s what I’ve come up with:

• Children.  Children happen in your 30s.  Supposedly it’s better to have them in our 20s, but there’s really nothing we can do about that now.  I actually think having children in one’s 30s is preferable.  I got to spend my 20s as a selfish girl living in the big city.  It’s nice to have gotten that out of my system before bringing babies into the world.
• Travel.  As in, now I have the money to do so, but I better hurry up before those children come along.  I need to get to Morocco, Turkey, Egypt, and all other exotic destinations where strollers are more difficult to navigate.
• Settling down.  This could mean settling down with a person, but really Mr. S and I have been settled for years now.  It’s more like, settling into a routine that is, well, pretty lame.  It’s already started to happen to me.  My weekdays are completely predictable…gym schedule, tv schedule, they’re all set in stone.  Will my life be as spontaneous as it was when I get to the 3?  
• Having nice things.  Ooh this is probably the best part about getting older.  The NICE THINGS.  Nice clothes, accessories, vacations, etc.  This also goes hand in hand with…
• Money, money, money.  Not that there is an infinite amount of it, but there is definitely more than when I was in my early 20s.  However, I can see my superfluous spending dwindling in my 30s…see again “children,” and add “mortgage.”

So that’s what I have so far.  And honestly, it really is about turning 30.  For some reason 40 doesn't seem as scary as 30.  50 might be scarier...I’ll let you know when I get there.

The Chunk Chronicles: Part 1

Hey folks, the Chunkster here.  Just wanted to check in and introduce myself on this blog thing the girl is always rarely on.

So far, so good in my new digs.  The girl is pretty nice, but the boy is way better.  He's super awesome and we're already best buds.  I think the girl is a little jealous so I throw her a few cuddles here and there, but I really love cuddling with the boy more because he lets me lick his lips.

The first few days were a little rough.  Everything smelled weird, so I had to sniff, sniff, sniff and pee, pee, pee on everything until it all smelled better.  The only tricky thing are the garbage bags, because they always smell different.  I cried a couple of times when the boy and girl left me alone in my crate, but I figured out pretty quick that they were coming back for me.  Plus, they leave me in the crate with some delicious peanut butter too, so you know, that helps.

The worst part about the boy and girl is that they don't let me sleep on the bed.  On my first night I went up there to get comfy with them, but they kicked me off the bed.  WTF man, I'm cuddly, I'm cool, I'll keep your feet warm...  On my next try, I got a little more stealthy and made it to the bench at the foot of their bed.  I thought it was a good compromise...you have your space, I have my space.  But again, the boy airlifted me off the bench onto the floor.  Dude, I wasn't even on the bed, I was on the bench!  How rude!

Well, that's all for now.  I believe another nap is calling my name.  Check ya later!

- The Chunkster

Chunkmaster Flex in da house!!

I’m sure not all of you believed me when I said wasn’t goingto do any wedding planning or wedding thinking for one whole week.  Maybe this will help convince you – we got a dog!!  I know, I know, the amount of life events going on in our apartment right now is insane.  Truthfully, we are a little more excited about the dog than the engagement.  My parents offered to throw us an engagement party in a few weeks and our response was, “But that’s the date of Chunk’s welcome party…”

Introducing Sir Chunkmaster Flex of Carnegie Hill.  You can call him Chunk for short.

So, we don’t have him at home yet, but are going to pick him up from his foster moms’ apartment this Friday – and we are SO EXCITED!  So, for all of you wondering how I was going to occupy my anti-wedding week, I will be doggy-preparing and doggy-proofing our apartment.  The checklist of getting ready for a new dog vs. planning a wedding is so much easier to wrap my head around.

After we lost Arkam to another adopter, we started looking for our future pup online.  It took longer than we thought it would because we were so heartbroken over losing Arkam.  We met a few other dogs, and while they were cute and well-behaved, the emotional connection was never there.  We finally found Chunk and are so happy we did because we think he’s the best dog ever.  Chunk was rescued from the AC&C by the Bully Project.  They've brought him back to health and put him in a loving foster home, where he has been for the past 2 months.  As soon as we saw his pictures online, we were in love – like stupid, goofy, giggling school-girl love.  After stalking Chunk online for 2 days, we arranged for a meet and greet at his foster moms’ apartment, hoping and praying that he was a good match for us – and turns out he is!  We’re told Chunk is great with people (I can verify this since as soon as we sat on the couch, he sat on my feet waiting to be hugged) and great with most dogs (he sometimes doesn’t get along with other large male dogs).  We will be able to continue Chunk’s training, teaching him to have better leash manners and to focus on us when we are out for walks, rather than all the trees, garbage bags, lamp posts, and other animals (who can blame him, I’m sure they all smell fantastic).  We are so grateful to the Bully Project and his fosters for rescuing and  taking such good care of Chunk, and showing him all the love they did. 

To answer the burning question, he is a 4 year old pitbull mix (looks like there could be some Lab in there, but we don’t know for sure).  Every time we tell this to family and friends, the immediate reaction is “Pitbull?!?  Oh no…”  

Oh yes.  And before you go bashing the breed and start judging us, we acknowledge the pitbull history and are aware that dog aggression is in their DNA.  However, Mr. S and I believe that every dog should be judged individually and that with proper socialization and the proper owner, pitbulls can be wonderful and devoted pets.  And after interacting with Chunk, we have no doubt that he will fit in right at home with us.  We are not claiming ignorance of the breed – we fully accept the responsibility of owning a pitbull, which includes disciplined training, careful and thoughtful interactions with other dogs, making sure Chunk is an outstanding member of the community (pick up that poop!), and hopefully educating the general public about the breed.  I don’t know if I’m ready for the prejudice against my new family member, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that nobody has a reason to not like him.  And, I mean, how could you not love this face?

I am going to be a bald bride

Let’s face it, I’m a bad blogger.  I go off into the world and have all these fantastic /mundane experiences and never report back to you, my devoted readers.  For that, I apologize.  And to make it up to you, here’s a doozie of a blog post for you – Mr. S and I are engaged!

::: Trumpets, confetti, disco ball lighting :::

Mr. S proposed yesterday at Mama and Papa Rice Ball’s home in NJ, along with Pops (Mr. S’s dad), and Bro J and Bro J’s girlfriend, A.  I should have seen the signs earlier, but didn’t really get what was going on until Mr. S started making a speech about how much he loves me and wants to love me forever.  At least, I think that’s what he said…my ears stopped working at some point.  Only then did I realize that we were toasting champagne glasses at 11:00 am on a Sunday and why Mr. S requested we have breakfast with our parents (although in my defense – if someone told you “Hey, let’s go to Denny’s for breakfast,” would you be expecting a diamond ring at the end of it?)

Since he put a ring on it, I’ve been through a range of emotions… excitement, awe, disbelief, excitement again and then…anxiety.   Well-meaning friends and family want to know where, when, who, how, etc.  And the type A planner in me wants to get started right away and give them the answers – date, venue, family, friends, dress, shoes, hair, make-up, flowers, rings, music etc.  Cue anxiety.  Where do I even start?!?! OMG my hair is going to fall out.  OMG I am going to be a bald bride.

This whole range of emotion took about 4 hours to cycle through.  My solution:  F it.  I am going to F it and not think about anything wedding related for one week.  But, Urban Rice Ball, what will you be doing with yourself for one whole week?!  How can you abstain from the planning process?!  It will be hard, I’m not going to try and kid myself.  I’ve had to stop myself a few times already from googling, “I’m engaged, now what?”   I’ve found admiring my new ring and calling Mr. S “my fiancé” as often as I can helps to pass the time…  Here, maybe it will help you pass the time as well.

Edit: Since the time of writing to the time of posting, I admit to registering to theknot.com.  Also, Mr. S wants it noted that he did not propose at Denny's.