A Much Belated Thank You to Sex in the City

I just saw a commercial on the WB for reruns of Sex in the City. It was during the final season that I met the Husband, and I cannot help but consider how much has changed since the fall of 2003. The show aired during my time as a single women in NYC, and I am grateful for it. If it were not for Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, being single on my 30th birthday might have felt very different. Pre- Sex in the City, people viewed the single thirty something woman as an oddity... someone who simply was not good enough for a man to propose to. After all, at thirty, why wouldn't you be married? Weren't you pretty enough to find a man who would fall in love with you? Perhaps it was your personality that drove them away. Let's face it, married folks pitied the thirty something single girl and twenty somethings vowed that it would never be them.

But that was beforehand. When I moved to Manhattan Sex in the City was in it's third season and all of my friends were jealous that I was living a life filled with glamourous parties, fascinating friends and of course, an endless string of romances. To be honest, this was not that far from the truth. Now let me pause right here and say that my life resembled more of a PG 13 version of the show, but living in the city gave me strength, freedom and energy. I met the owners and regulars at a bar around the corner, and soon felt comfortable stopping in any night that I was not "going out" My girlfriends and I had our "LBD" (little black dress) nights, each one introducing us to new adventures. During the day, I worked hard, but at night...

How quickly life can change. So there I was, about this time 2 years ago, in a little black dress, dancing on a couch at a party in some random stranger's apartment, with a seemingly random guy... the college friend of a friend. Who would have guessed this guy would turn out to be my husband?

But like the show, that part of my life had run its course. It was fun and more than that, defining, but it was time to move on. I just hope that Sex in the Suburbs is as good as the original...

From Move-In to Fixer Upper in Just Days

Tomorrow is the big move and it looks ike we may be up all night packing. Ugh. For once it ihas nothing to do with laziness. on the contrary, we have been working very hard to get the new house ready. Yesterday we painted the guest room. After a late night of trying to clean floors and closets and remove staples and other dangerous objects, at about 2am we fell asleep on the air mattress in the family room-- the one room that remains untouched. The Alarm went off at 7 and we were up. Things did not start off well. After the first coat of paint, we noticed everything looked uneven and seemed to have grey/blue shadows. The trim looked horrible (jagged edges and such. Turns out that the husband did as poorly in Art class as I. We finished painting and looked at the mess we had made. We were in trouble.

He turned to me. "This looks horrible."

I was shocked. I mean, he was right, it was horrible for sure, but my husband was always the one who managed to put an optimisitic spin on things... who worked to keep me from getting upset. When he saw the look on my face, he snapped back.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it will look better after the second coat."

We took a break and drove back to the city to get a car load of boxes. Our small NY apartment was filling up quickly as we emptied closets and any extra space was helpful. We came back and the husband worked on the second coat of paint, while I unpacked. To our suprise (and delight) that second coat seemed to do the trick. The room looked passable and we would be able to move furniture in.

Speaking of which... time to get back to the city and pack.

The Wonderful World Of Wegman's

After two years of ordering groceries online through Fresh Direct, I am not thrilled by the prospect of weekly trips to the supermarket. The husband on the other hand, is ecstatic.

"You don't understand," he says "Wegman's"

I admit, that I have only been to a Wegman's once, when we were upstate visiting his parents. It was impressive, I suppose, but I would still rather do my grocery shopping barefoot online, then drive to Wegman's, shop, stand on line (have I mentioned that I do not do lines? This was generally understood by the bouncers at the clubs I used to frequent, but somehow I have my doubts that a grocery store cashier will get this.

"The quality is unbelievable," the husband raves, "And the prices? Grapes are 1.99 a lb!"

Sure, the prices are better out in Jersey, but get me into a store, and I am going to spend. On Fresh Direct, I have my weekly list and we update it... Maybe switch up the cereal or fruit. Sometimes throw in a bag of chips... But everything is deliberate. I never pass through a check out line without grabbing an extra pack of gum, and honestly wandering around with a shopping cart it is easy to find a lot that is necessary. Looking at my husband, who is blissfully ignorant of my fears, I can tell that he genuinely believes that we will save money at the grocery store. I am willing to bet against that.... Any takers?

As he continues his enthusiastic tirade on the joy of shopping for Wegman's and all the great meals he will now be able to whip up, I just smile. Poor thing. He is in a dream world and he seems so happy there. I do not want to wake him up. Realistically though, we don't cook now because he gets home too late from work, and adding the time for the new commute certainly isn't going to help things. But as he gleefully smiles at me, with visions of a shopping card and no concept of time, I say nothing. He is now talking BBQ and I try to appear enthusiastic as thoughts of steak cooked at midnight outside in the increasingly chilly weather comes to mind. But maybe he is right. Maybe we will have gourmet dinners every night and enough money left over to pay for the car and the insurance and other suburban necessities.

HGTV... it may be reality TV, but it's a far cry from reality

Late at night, in our little brownstone apartment, the husband and I have taken to watching home makeover shows on HGTV, Fine Living and Discovery Home. We watch rather unworthy couples find and purchase homes and are left wondering what on earth they do for a day job so that they can afford these homes. These shows seem to note location OR price, so we spend time guessing where these houses are or how much they cost. We nod in agreement as the couple makes fun of the previous owners taste, and at least half the time, end up equally mortified by what the new owners do. If only we were in charge...

This Saturday, armed with keys to our new house and a 5 minute drive to Home Depot, we attempt to make the house "ours" We strip wallpaper, pull up carpet and paint. Our rather ambitious agenda has left the lovely house we bought looking like a fixer upper. And we move in next week. Brilliant. Now that we have trashed the place, where are we going to put our stuff? That is, assuming we pack on time. We have not yet started that project... The good news is, in spite of minor injuries, and endless sources of frustrations, the husband and I never argued with one and other. It may sound a bit odd, but given all of the stress, it seemed like a fairly major accomplishment.

City Mouse

If I was having any doubts about leaving the city, they were chased away by a furry little critter. Yes, we found a mouse in the apartment. And apparently I am terrified of mice (who knew?) I ran out of the apartment screaming and hid out across the street at Borders till the husband came home. We set traps and after several days, of the mice (yes, I quickly realized that we had more than 1 mouse) running around the apartment, stealing the cheese from the traps and generally freaking me out (city mice are not shy), we finally caught 1. And then another. Hopefully we have got them all, but we are going to set out more traps tonight. I know, it was just a mouse (can you imagine how I would have reacted if there was a rat???)

Moving never looked so good. And we do have a contract with an exterminator for the house (passed along from the previous owner), with a warranty saying that there are no bugs are rodents presently.

Closings

Yesterday was the closing. I am now a Jersey wife and in my first official act as such, the husband and I celebrated with a journey to Costco. I had never been there before. Let's face it, I was raised in the type of wealthy suburb where I the two times I did venture inside a Sears (we had parked on the wrong side of the mall) I sheepisly hurried throught the racks of discount clothing with my eyes downward and lived in fear for weeks that someone had seen me walking out of the Sears...

But back to the present, where I have just bought a house and frankly do not have the money to by toilet paper role by role. We met my sister and her one year old daughter in the parking lot, and made our way inside. Jeans sold for 12 dollars. It was hard not to cringe as I passed by the starched dark denim with bold yellow stitching. I may have given in to the idea of saving money by buying bulk toilet paper and towels, but if I ever start wearing Costco fashions... So we bought nearly $300 worth of stuff. Mostly cleaning stuff and lots of detergent. Yes, we will now have a washer and dryer (no more washn' fold) and we now have a dishwasher (no more take out salads eaten with plastic utensils... well a lot less anyway) Bulk shampoo, soap, razors....

Then we stood in line. Yes, I the girl once known for my skills at getting bouncers to allow me to bypass the lines at the best clubs in Manhattan, was standing behind a ginormous shopping cart filled with bulk products. My husband disappeared into the crowd, enthusiatically babbling something about bulk underwear.

Back at the house, we unloaded the car as I tried to escape the uncanny feeling that I was becoming my mother (don't get me wrong. LOVE her, but just didn't expect to become her...)

Allergic to Suburbia

I did not sleep much last night. The Husband had gone upstate to get the used car his parents were generously donating to us. He seems eager to drive, which I really don't get. Sure, I like the convenience a car offers, but that is what taxis are for. Actually assuming responsibility for the car... Maintaining the car, driving the car. Ugh. Too stressful. Meanwhile, back in our apartment, I am getting ready for bed and I see him. Behind the garbage. It is a mouse.

We have NEVER had a mouse and I freak. I hate to sound like a wimp, but I was really a mess... Certain that I was going to step on him, or perhaps that he would crawl over me when I went to bed. It is almost midnight, but I call the husband. It is midnight, and I cannot imagine what the inlaws think, but this is not good. The husband tells me not to worry, that the mouse is more frightened of me than I am of it. He tells me he will "take care of it" tomorrow. Fantastic.
So I carefully make my way into the bedroom, leaving alll the lights and the TV on. Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, because the alarm wakes me at 7 am. I have an 8am appointment at the allergist.

So as the husband drives down route 80 to bring back our new car and take care of all the paperwork (registration, tests, etc), I head to the allergist to get a better sense what I may expect to find in our new neighborhood. The husband wants a pet, and I am thinking that a cat would be far easier than a dog, but I do recall that I was allergic to cats as a kid. Moments after the allergist pricks me with a tray of "environmental" allergans, I am in agony. No joke. Not exactly itching... sort of burning... an excruciating and unbearable sensation. So there I am sitting, trying to read a magazine and look inconspicuous as I wait the 20 minutes necessary for the full effect. After about 3 minutes, I am back in the nurses office.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be annoying, but is something wrong? Really wrong? Is it supposed to feel like/look like this?"

The nurse takes one look at my blotchy lumpy arm which is already double the size of my other arm and her eyes bulge. Not a good sign. Shouldn't she be used to seeing people react to this stuff? She immediately brings me to a room and calls in the doctor. His first comment- Unbelievable. Apparently I am VERY highly allergic to grass and trees (and dust mites, cockroaches, ragweed...) Great.

"what about the cats?" I ask?

"Not sure" says the Doctor. Apparently, thanks to my reaction to the grasses and trees, my arm is too swollen to really tell. But they will re test next week, he assures me. Great.

Less then 4 days till we close on the lovely house in Jersey....

MetamorphMrs.

Today he suggested we get a Costco membership. He seemed unnaturally excited at the prospect of getting a great deal on bulk toilet paper. I was suddenly struck by the fact that this was it. I am leaving Manhattan and making the ultimate transformation from a life blissfully free of any grown up responsibilities to become a Jersey wife who shops at Costco. Why am I doing this?

Well, to begin with, we have bought a house. A house was necessary, I assure you, particularly during football season when our small 1 bedroom apartment became a war room of sorts for the 3 fantasy football leagues my otherwise perfect husband was obsessed with. Suddenly, he managed to occupy the (only) couch, the (only) TV, the (only) computer... simultaneously, constantly and with an intensity I had never seen before. In our new house, he can relish in this ritual to his hearts content in our family room, while I will be free to do whatever I want in the rest of the house.

The house... I have not lived in a house for nearly 15 years. Not since I left my parents home for college at the age of 18, swearing never to return to Jersey and lead the yuppyish life of my parents. Little did I know that not only would I return, I would give my left arm, if we could afford the lifestyle my parents enjoyed. After a very frightening and depressing house hunt, we did manage to find something in our price range that we could afford. It had the space. It was walking distance to the train (35min commute to NYC). Safe, even pleasant, neighborhood. So we did it. We took all of our savings and wrote a check for this house in Jersey where we are going to start our life together, and if we are lucky begin a family. We officially close next week.

The beginning.