El Sexo en la Ciudad

Despite my demeanor, sense of style, gravitation towards paisleys, and my mother's personal opinion, I am a man. It has occurred to me that as a man, there are a few things you must never do: Never ask for directions, never interact with the man at the urinal next to you, never let them see you cry, and above all else, never watch Sex in the City. Just when I thought I had this whole manhood thing nailed down, along came Julie.

Allow me, if you will, a little preemptive saving-face...

I love football, the gorier the horror movies the better, I have watched the entire Original Star Wars Trilogy (IV-VI of course) in one sitting, and... well... I am a complete nerd in nearly all respects (i.e. my last example). I wouldn't say I pride myself on my masculinity, as I find gender roles to be antiquated, and well, there isn't much to be proud of anyway. I always keep an open mind when it comes to movies and TV shows that are geared towards women. I never complain on Thursday nights when Julie puts on her Patrick Dempsey Snuggie and hunkers down for two-hours of "America's Funniest Hospital Workplace Sexual Harassment Suits", or better known as Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice, even if my film school background tells me to avoid them like the plague.

For those of you who have never watched these shows, they revolve around the careers and romances (as if they're separated) of hot-shot surgeons. Along with mixing the sexual melting pot of Seattle Grace Hospital, the doctors of Grey's Anatomy are challenged with odd and miraculous medical situations. "These two people are connected by a giant pole jutting through them both... It's just like my relationship with my boss."

As it would happen, the bedroom drama rarely stays in the bedroom, since every time we are shown a surgery, someone is bound to bring up the latest gossip. I can't imagine the patients would want to know where their heart surgeons hands had been prior to the operation. Good thing they are unconscious, otherwise they would find out that their surgeon isn't even anti-bacterially fit to prepare them a salad.

Private Practice, on the other hand, tones down the promiscuity (and the surgery) in favor of emphasizing the emotion of each medical sleepover, making Grey's look like its loose, party-girl cousin. Oh, and PP adds more babies, so obviously it's geared a little more towards men...

As I peruse the pink velvet case containing all six seasons of Sex and the City, it appears to be some sort of text book on monogamy. I don't know when I enrolled into Julie's School for the Giftedly Committed, but somewhere between Engagement Rings 101 and the Art of Painting Baby Rooms, I realized my window of opportunity to assert my manly spin on the relationship had long since been boarded up.

I cannot clearly recall how I agreed to start watching Sex in the City, or how I agreed to watch it enough times to have finished the entire series, plus two movies. As if clouded in an Ambien-induced haze, my memory of these choices are conveniently vacant.

I can't say I relate to any of the characters, aside from maybe some of the poor saps who dated the psychotic Carrie Bradshaw.

Charlotte was the one I found most attractive through most of the series, that is until she became possessed by some catty, racist, baby-crazy demon in the later seasons.

Miranda, the snarky one, provides the all too important voice of reason, always in true "Debbie Downer" fashion. You would think I'd be drawn to her pasty complexion and Irish blood, however with beauty being skin-deep and all, I have known better for some time now.

When Samantha isn't spouting some overly corny line as set up for a plot-driven pun, she can be genuinely funny. She spouts a fair amount of decent jokes throughout the series. The problem I have is that when retelling said jokes to family and friends I rarely get the response I'm looking for, I guess "dick" jokes don't really work out of context.

And finally Carrie... I don't want to be mean so I'll end it at that.

The men that appeared did add a bit of intrigue for me as I love picking out obscure actors. Whether it was Jim Gaffigan as the guy who never closed the bathroom door, Craig Bierko as an overbearing Jazz Man, or the reoccurrence of the guy who played Dexter's Dad and Raiden, in the second Mortal Kombat movie.

However, solace in the male roles was reserved only for these guest stars, as many of the main characters were just as intolerable as their female counterparts. I start with Julie's favorite, the Neo-Hippie, Applebee's-Lovin' Aiden. When he isn't acting like some kitschy Alaskan Radio DJ, he whines over Carrie's lack of commitment. I mean really guy, really, is Carrie really some wonderful prize that you just must lock down? By the time his character was introduced in the fourth season Carrie hadn't shown to be any great "catch", so why were all these men fawning over her so readily? Right! It's a TV show, I almost forgot.

Perhaps I watched out of the joy I got from changing the audio track over to Spanish on a whim, or pausing the DVD when one of the women were making a particularly heinous facial expression. The likeliest reason of all, is that since this was an HBO show there was always a very good chance of seeing some boobies. The be all, end all of the television-watching decision making.

Looking back, I'm glad that I watched it. Giving Julie the joy of sharing however many hours of her favorite show (I'm too afraid to count) has given me the ultimate trump card in choosing what will now run endlessly in the Hers and His household (not counting the frightening movie-experience I misguidedly forced us into with Paranormal Activity, as you will read in our next post...).

It gives me great pleasure to finally say "Farewell Prada! Hello Adama!" On to Battlestar Galactica!

*Julie would like me to acknowledge that when charged with the task going to the window to pick up the pre-paid tickets to Sex and the City 2 by myself, I was appropriately defiant.

Hers & His' Next Round of Hot Dating!

"Exploring the Sunnyside of Life"

J:
This week, Zane and I wanted to pick a date that really resonated with us. We selected 7 Walks because going on walks has been something he and I have always enjoyed. It’s a great go-to date that begins as a simple thought, but turns into an adventure! Typically once a week we go out on a weeknight and just explore our neighborhood, breathe in the warm summer air and catch up on our week. Some days we don’t need to talk at all, just walking together hand in hand is enough to reconnect us as a couple.

Z:
When we’re not following cryptic craigslist ads, or making use of some “buy 3 get ½ for full price” coupon we are searching for some part of the city we have never explored before. Having lived here for six years in three boroughs, I have seen that there are both a lot of great sights to behold, and a tremendous amount of blocks yet to be explored.

J:
As avid “people watchers” one of the greatest things about walking, especially in NYC, is soaking in the culture of whatever neighborhood you’re in. Hipsters in the Lower East Side, wealthy chic folk in the Upper West Side, geriatric Grecians in our area of Astoria.

Z:
Seeing as we've been walking a combined total of 48 years now, walking dates never fail at being easy and fun. Our history of going on long pedestrian travels dates back to our third meeting.

J:
When Zane and I first met we were introduced by a mutual friend at a party. Right off the bat we hit it off intellectually and had a very similar sense of humor. We ran into each other once more before finding each other online to continue our modern day courtship. I’m still not sure if I asked him out or just convinced him to ask me out, but either way we found ourselves meeting up one warm summer day in Union Square, one of my favorite places in this city.

Z:
As a student at NYU I would take a long walk at the beginning of each semester, as a way of conditioning myself for the year to come. No matter what situation might arise where I had to forgo using public transportation, my legs would be prepared. These "Great Outdoor Walks" as they would come to be known were always done solo; they were in areas I had never been before, lasted several hours, taken without breaks, and were often spur of the moment. While our first date wasn't as epic as some of my previous endeavors (Such one from the upper east side, through central park to the west-side highway, then down to the eastern seaport totaling 200+ blocks) walking at a leisurely pace while getting to know Julie was much more enjoyable.

J:
The plan was just to meet up at noon and walk around the city, simple enough and great for two people who just wanted to get to know each other. I freaked out right before we met up because it had been weeks since our first chance meeting, would I remember what he looked like? Thankfully out of a sea of tourists came one cute familiar face eager with the possibilities of the day. We never set an end time to the date and thank goodness because our adventure swept us away and led us over half of the city – enjoying the market in Union Square, walking around NYU to learn about his college, exploring the less touristy areas with my own personal tour guide, eventually sitting on the Brooklyn Bridge for hours with some Cheez-Its and soda and playing a game we made up on the spot. How many cyclists pass us in 10 minutes? How many people with maps in their back pockets? Well that just turned into us checking out stranger’s butts.

We played getting to know you games, telling one truth and one lie about ourselves, making the other guess which was which. In the end, it was my best first date ever, and it was 12 hours later. We didn’t even end the date with a kiss, just a friendly hug, but I knew that butterfly feeling in me meant this was something greater than just a new friend.

Z:
Did I mention I didn’t know it was a date? At the time I wasn’t in the position to be looking for that kind of companionship, so when Julie and I had agreed to meet up it didn’t even occur to me that I might be inadvertently courting her. Having always gravitated toward female friends in the past, I didn't think much more of the outing than getting to know a new great friend. After twelve hours of hanging out, and tentative plans to see one another again in a day or so, it became clear to me that I just went on the best first date I ever had, without even realizing it.

It was probably for the best. Completely unabashed and not expecting any future romance I gladly laid all my cards on the table without nerves or care for how they may be perceived. While there is a lot of loaded advice out there on how to quell your nerves on a first date, none works better than going about it like you are meeting with someone who could be a good friend. It just happens to work out for me that I like girls who can tell a good dirty joke over those who have perfected their make-up/hair do.


J:
Did I mention he had a girlfriend at the time?

Anywho… Fast forward to today, Zane and I are making the most of our weekend, doing work all around the house, AC blasting. We’ve accomplished a lot, but what greater way to reconnect before the start of another hectic week than to go for a walk? And with friends.

Z:
On this weekend's outing Julie and I decided to make it a double date by accompanying our dear friends Jane and Melissa as they visited Queens looking for possible neighborhoods to move to. Their destination was an area called Sunnyside, which neighbors our town.

J:
Sometimes the greatest way to increase the love in your relationship is to surround yourself by other people you love. There’s no better chemistry than gathering with great friends and sharing in something you enjoy. So when given the opportunity to explore the unfamiliar neighborhood of Sunnyside, Queens with our friends Jane and Melissa, we jumped at the chance. They are in the browsing stage of looking for a new place to live and we were just feeling out the area and judging its good and bad qualities. (i.e. Margaritas)

Z:
Often times Julie and I walk around as though we are looking for apartments. After numerous moves over the past two years we have decided never to move again (at least not for five years or so). Still, we are constantly on the lookout for a real starter home, should we still be living here when a little bundle of torment enters our lives.

J:
Day dreaming about a potential future place to live is always fun and a great way to quickly find out what is important to your partner. Do you prefer brick to siding? Secluded or near a busy area? Is it private enough to have lots of naked time or do you plan to alienate your neighbors? I like being close to a park and then realized Zane’s definition of “park” was a little broader than mine. To me, a park is an area with grass you can hang in, to him a park could be an area with a basketball court. Just when you think you know a person… okay, so that’s not an extraordinary thing to learn, but it’s helpful in one day choosing a home.

Z:
Well excuse me, but my friend Apple Dictionary and I both seem to think that a park is “a large public green area in a town, used for recreation” shrubbery, or no shrubbery.

J:
Checking out the food scene in a new neighborhood is always fun. All four of us enjoy Mexican food and have forgotten great times had by all due to a few too many strong margaritas in the past. Sunnyside has a large amount of Mexican cuisine to choose from, so we ducked into a little place called Chips. The margaritas were strong, and the nachos were pretty decent. I’m kind of a nachos fiend, so they rated a 6 on my “Best Nachos Ever” scale. The best place ever is in Connecticut, but for New York City I haven’t found anything better than Blockhead’s yet. Mmm.

We even tried fried ice cream for the first time which was delicious and very refreshing considering it was a muggy 90 degrees out. But back to walking…

Z:
As we walked we sized up the neighborhood for our friends, the prospective tenants. As Julie was set from the get-go that this neighborhood was in no way comparable to our own it did yield some very nice features. Some of the more business-laden avenues were reminiscent of the best parts of Brooklyn, there were beautiful views of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building just down the road, and some of the blocks were jaw-dropping (one in particular jumped to the top of my list in terms of future homes).

As with many nice strolls you can’t really say that much “happened.” We walked around, saw some nice buildings, noticed a few places we would like to eat at sometime, and caught up with great friends. There was one moment when we noticed a vast courtyard filled with trees and park benches (pictured, us on one of those benches). This large apartment complex practically housed a forest (by New Yorkers’ standards) that more than made up for the disappointment Julie had with the “Park” next door.

J:
The local meteorologists had predicted massive thunderstorms and even put us in a tornado watch for the day, so the skies were quite ominous. However, no tornado was keeping us from having a grand old time! Up and down many beautiful, tree-lined streets, looking into people’s windows, judging people’s decorating choices. It was fun just walking all over until we got lost, then quickly using Jane’s iPhone to orient ourselves. We even had some excitement as the wild winds ripped a decorative piece off the front of an apartment building and it came flying down from 3 stories above! Everyone was fine and we decided to meander in a less dodgy area.

Z:
It wasn’t long before the rain came. After all the Doppler readings showing massive amounts of red, and dark clouds threatening a downpour, we were a little disappointed when all we got were about ten minutes of light sprinkling. I suppose the silver lining to those clouds were that we could continue our walk in partial shade as this was the last day of what felt like a week-long heat wave.

J:
The date was very fun and enjoyable; we all chatted about the latest news, their foster dog Alvin (adoptable now on PetFinder.com), our new niece Matilda and everything else in between. And when the rains came, because of course they did, we just kept on walking. We laughed as we all got a bit wet, but eventually the storm passed and we all chalked it up to being “refreshed.” The key to a fun date is to take the unexpected in stride and come out the other side laughing.

In the end we were out for a good 4 hours walking and enjoying time together. If you are planning this for a first date, I highly recommend it. Pick an area neither one of you know and just get lost. Literally. Some of the places we stumbled upon were quite romantic. We trespassed into a very lovely courtyard of an apartment complex to take some photos. Don’t be afraid to pick a place to perch for a bit and just have some face to face time. It can be easier to talk to someone walking next to them, but to connect a bit more, make sure you get some eye contact in. And as Baz Luhrmann croons “Wear sunscreen.”

Zane’s Review:
Perhaps I am bias towards aimlessly wandering, but I think that casually strolling through a new part of town is about as good as it gets when it comes to simple, memorable, and inexpensive dates. Especially if you live in an urban area where there are a lot of little details you might normally overlook in your day-to-day life, walking can bring a new gratitude to the place in which you life. However, in the same respect, finding a new trail through nature could spark the same revitalization of appreciation.

Adventuring excites the imagination with all sorts of endless possibilities. Even for the more conservative dater who wishes to stay within her or his comfort zone and stick to the beaten path, wandering gives that feeling of being adventurous and outgoing. Just as long as you’re prepared to walk a few miles just to wind up where you started.

I give this date idea 10 “pairs of comfortable walking shoes” out of 10.

Julie’s review:
Happy times had by all. Tired feet and a small buzz from the margaritas. In terms of our first date of walking, the whole adventure would rate a 10. Today’s walk was a solid 8. It was a great adventure and a fun new area and great company, but I’m saving the higher numbers for some more out on a limb, adrenaline pumping activities. We stayed a little close to our comfort zone this time around and came out comfortably pleased.

My $345 Manicure by Julie

There once was a girl from... Mass.
Who finally kicked her nail-biting habit in the... butt,
After what felt like a year,
Her nails were long, lovely and clear,
And she was ready to give them some pizazz.

Off to Brooklyn she drove with delight,
To see her friend Jordan, and hang out for the night,
She looked all over to park,
And found a place just as it got dark,
Then walked to the spa in setting sun light.

The name of the place left them confused,
"Polish Nail Spa" the glowing sign mused,
Was it Polish the spoke?
Was this some sort of joke?
Or was it polish that the nail spa used?

The girls entered the salon at seven,
All the machines and chairs looked like heaven,
They waited forever,
Then were mani-pedi'd together,
And loved the work by the craftswomen.

The place locked its doors at nine,
But kept us to dry, saying it's fine,
We tried to hurry and go,
But they made the dryers continue to blow,
And at ten at night we finally left to dine.

With pretty fingers and toes we went to Lobo,
The guy waiting on us probably thought we were loco,
With delicate hands, and gauze on our feet,
Starving, we ordered a million things to eat,
And devoured a gallon of queso.

Rolling our way down the sidewalk,
We rubbed our full tummies and had girl talk,
I walked my friend to her door,
Told her we should do this more,
And set off to go get my car down the block.

I rounded the corner to find,
An empty space that once had been mine,
My car nowhere in sight,
I had quite the fright,
And then noticed the "No Parking" sign.

"NOOOOOOOO!" I screamed from where I stood,
I would have banged my head on my car if I could,
How stupid of me!
I wonder what's the fee?!
How will I get to work? Oh, this wasn't good.

The dinky little sign, that alerted me of my fine,
Had a phone number on one line,
Which I quickly called,
And a man slowly stalled,
Then told me I couldn't get my car until NINE!

With head hung low I walked back to Jordan's pad,
Who tried to make me feel not so bad,
She gave me some jammies,
Which softened my whammies,
And I texted goodnight to my lad.

When I woke I resolved it was a new day,
And put all my bad feelings away,
I hopped in a taxi,
And accepted THAT fee,
And with the help of an iPhone found the way.

The place was ghetto and shady,
Amidst car parts and refuse, there was a lady,
She went by the name "Red",
Probably 'cuz of her head,
Strictly business demanding I pay HER fee.

I walked to my poor impounded baby,
Would have hugged her if it didn't make me crazy,
She had been through a lot,
Then my eye was caught,
An orange ticket glowed from the wiperblade-y.

All I could do was L-O-L,
This night had turned into "Parking Fee Hell"
I got in my car,
Still had to drive quite far,
And oh, had to go to work as well.

Bumper to bumper I travelled the B.Q.E.
Laughing at how much this all would be,
I stopped by the house,
Changed into a clean blouse,
And tallied the numbers as I pulled into P3...

Nails for 30, Dinner 32,
23 for a cab - since I had to,
165 to the lot, 95 to the state,
Total: $345 but my nails look great!

Another gem from the Kitchen of Hers & His

Don't Forget to Vote!!!

We posted a poll in our June 2nd entry about joining HotDateIdeas.com and have asked YOU the reader to pick one of our dates!

You can still put your vote in!!! (Maximum one a day, but you can come back each day to stuff the ballot box!)

Currently it's a tie between Rock Climbing and Riding Segways... which I don't understand why an afternoon of knitting didn't make it to the top, but whatever. So BREAK THE TIE!! Or make Bingo Night the new leader! Or suggest something else and form a rally to gain support and make THAT the new winner!

Either way, scroll on down to June 2nd and place your vote now (and again in 24 hours)! We'll keep the polls open for another couple of weeks, so you've got time to get every one of your Facebook friends to visit our blog and make decisions about our lives.

YES YOU CAN!

Not-So-Dirty Dancing

The first of our "10 Weeks 10 Dates" guest blogging at HotDateIdeas.com


J:
When given the challenge of going on 10 dates in 10 weeks with my boyfriend of almost two years, Zane, I first thought “well at least it locks him down for another couple months” and secondly thought “what a perfect way to mix up our routine of just sitting in front of the television.” Now don’t get me wrong, we aren’t very boring people, but we do enjoy our comfort zone just fine the way it is. My idea of wild is going for sushi instead of pizza. Zane’s idea of romance is finding a video game for 2 players. We were in need of some hot dates.

Z:
Julie and I try to make a point of going out regularly on dates. Over the past year or so we have each had our struggles in finding jobs so we are deeply ingrained with ideals of being frugal. Often times we would consider walking down a favorite street or splurging on a particular kind of junk food to constitute a “date.” Anything to break up the weekly schedule of TV shows we are enslaved to.

J:
Being the initiator of most of our more daring outings, I instinctively started going through the site to pick and choose what I thought would be fun for us. Zane had agreed to participate in the 10 week challenge so he was at my mercy and couldn’t back out of something new to instead go see Marmaduke in IMAX. Ironically my biggest complaint in our relationship is that I’m always wearing the pants, but of course I’m the one who’s taking them out of Zane’s drawer and putting them on. Maybe this challenge would benefit from a little role reversal, which for most would mean the opposite, but for us means I have decided to become a woman! The first step to womanhood? Learning to follow a man’s lead…

Z:
For our first outing as HotDateIdeas correspondents, Julie and I sought out a simple and cheap idea that many would likely write off as being too far outside of her or his comfort zone. Ballroom dancing lessons.

J:
Dance class has always been intriguing to me, and it’s been tricky to find a way to justify us going without having some sort of looming reason *cough* wedding *cough* or just our biannual audition for Dancing with the Stars. I think deep down I was ready to pull my baby out of the corner and dance on a log with some hungry eyes. Little did I know our adventure would be less of a sexy Dirty Dancing and more of a virtuous Footloose.

Z:
Dancing is an activity that Julie has tried to coax out of me on numerous occasions to no avail. Apparently watching me do the dishes to “Ms. New Booty” isn’t enough excitement for her.

JZ:
Over the years, we have found that the single best resource for free stuff and events is somewhat unsurprisingly Craigslist.org. They have websites for almost every corner of the country and their murder rate has significantly decreased in the past couple of months, I think. Lo and behold they had all sorts of listings under classes, and sure enough, there was a free ballroom dance class.

Z:
Like animals and ottomans in the past, Julie took it upon herself to scour the ‘list and signed us up for our first “Hot Date” before alerting me. I had taken ballroom/salsa-dancing classes in college, as an unsuccessful attempt to meet ladies, so the idea wasn’t too off-putting to me.

J:
Now, if we had been a little wiser we should have signed up for a salsa class, it probably had a little more heat. Word to the wise, think about what type of vibe you want to get from your outing before signing up. Sexy passion? Salsa. Milkshake at the ice cream parlor? Ballroom. Shotgun wedding? Line dance.

A couple exchanged emails with the anonymous organizer and we were signed up for a hot free date at 1pm on a Sunday. Rawr.

Z:
According to the brief Craigslist description, and the vague dialogue between Julie and the mystery dance poster, we really had no idea what we would be in store for. For those of you who know us well (as in, has ever read our blog. Namely the post about our first year anniversary) you would know that we are gluttons for punishment. As someone who gave a bit too much consideration into the offerings of being a male model by some strange middle-aged man on the street, I don’t often look before I leap when attempting to make myself more adventurous. Fortunately for your incumbent date experts, our experience turned out rather wholesome this time around.

J:
The anxiety was high as we boarded a subway to go into the city to go to a building we never heard of before and partake in some brand new event. Was this going to be a tiny group gathering? Would we have to dance with other people? Were Bob Fosse and Martha Graham just trying to get us to their apartment to swing? We had no idea and that was half the fun/terror.

Z:
Seeing the Manhattan Center quelled some of our nerves, since it wasn’t some small dimly-lit apartment above a Laundromat but rather a large, fancy theater. As we passed an eclectic group of people exiting the elevator our imaginations began to run a little more rampant with much more grandiose imagery. Were we to be two of a few hapless suckers standing in the center of a giant classy ballroom while being barked at by a thickly accented man in a unitard?

J:
We entered the fancy building right near the famous Macy’s on 34th Street and road the elevator to the “Grand Ballroom.” It felt legit until we arrived and saw a very motley crew of folks sprinkled about a giant carpeted ballroom as burly crew men struck an elaborate multimedia set on a big stage. Uhhh?

Z:
Entering the ballroom struck us with feelings of awe and confusion as it was nothing like what we anticipated.

J:
I saw young girls in flip flops and no one seemed to be coordinating anything. Were we just bamboozled?

Z:
The herd meandering around could not accurately paint a clear picture as to what we were about to undergo. To the right, there was a concession stand displaying rows of stacked plastic cups, a single coffee canteen and a large cardboard billboard picturing a young boy looking upset. A massive stage was the focal point of the room with a baby grand piano and two large white projection screens. All around us were clusters of people musing over whatever great experience had just ended.

J:
After nervously wandering about (and secretly being relieved that we didn’t have to dance and could go home) I asked a security guard if this was supposed to be a ballroom dance class. He said yes, it hadn’t begun yet but we were indeed in the right place. Crap.

Z:
Were we here just in time for the dance portion of the “let’s feed the needy” convention? Why are some people eating pizza? Don’t you think that haggard little boy would like some pizza? As my mind flooded with trivial ponderings one man stepped forward to begin the show.

J:
A man came over the microphone to tell us it was time to begin. Eagerly Zane and I met eyes and then we were told to have ladies on one side, men on the other. Excuse me?

I began flashing back to 8th grade and standing against a wall at the school formal, hoping someone would ask me to dance. The room felt huge as I could barely see Zane’s facial expressions in the shadows of his face. Did he have “what the heck are we doing” eyes as well?? There was this sense that people sort of knew each other and the fancy event prior to class had yet to be explained, I saw Zane make a friend on the testosterone side, but the estrogen half seemed more occupied with which cute boy they’d get to waltz with.

Z:
Right off the bat the man explained how this was the last session before “graduation.” Without doing a thing we were commended on our great efforts and those of us truly striving to be all we can be may move ahead to try out for the competition. As with most things I chalked these somewhat odd remarks as me just not listening closely enough. He introduced who would be our instructor for the evening, his lovely talented daughter… from Harvard.

J:
This fatherly figure began to talk about the importance of dance and respect and gender roles. How his fancy dancer daughter is so great and how she’ll teach us to be great too.

Z:
As a senior at Harvard, she is one of the top dancers at the Harvard ballroom dancing team. Did you know ballroom dancing is the largest competitive club at Harvard, for Harvard students? Did I mention she goes to Harvard?

I was beginning to wonder whether this was the opening speech for a dance class or college orientation.

J:
He went on to tell how keeping distance is important and proper touch is key to a beautiful cooperative dance between a man and a woman. I remembered in 6th grade when we were taught square dancing (yes, I grew up in a hick town) how all the boys used it as an excuse to feel which girls were wearing bras and which ones didn’t need them yet. Agreed, proper touch and respect are key.

Z:
The operative word throughout the two and a half hour course was “respectful.” There is nothing wrong with being respectful, I respect Julie very much, but when looking for a hot date idea “respectful” isn’t often one of the words you’d typically punch into Google.

J:
He threw in some terms for organizations I wasn’t all too familiar with and then I started piecing it together. We WERE in the middle of Footloose.

Z:
Lo and behold we were amidst a youth group directly after their service. I can’t really tell whether being around teenagers, who have not been allowed to touch anyone of the opposite sex until now, sparked any flame between Julie and myself. In the eyes of most of our dance partners Julie and I were considered as two close friends or better yet… siblings.

J:
We learned some steps and then the boys had to pick a girl to practice with. It really felt like speed dating, but with a sexist vibe. Girls anxiously stood there while the men crossed the length of the room and politely asked “May I have this dance?” Was I allowed to say no? I could only think of poor Zane having to work the nerve up time and time again to ask some stranger to have her toes stepped on. If it weren’t for me approaching him in the first place, we wouldn’t be together today. (I’ll save that tale for another hot date blog) Maybe this wasn’t about me becoming a woman but both of us gaining more confidence. So in the end, Zane and I danced with a combined total of a dozen people.

Z:
I can’t say I really enjoyed pairing off with strangers. Not being a fan of chit chatting I labored through pleasantries of “Where are you from?” and “Why are you here?” It was nice seeing what stage different people were at; to go from an older woman who is incorporating moves they haven’t taught us yet, to dancing with a girl still audibly counting.

J:
We’d seek each other out partway through to compare notes and see each other’s progress. I’d give him inside scoop like we were FBI agents. “Pssst we’re in the middle of a church’s youth group.” Next time around “I think this girl is trying to convert me.” “Someone just asked if you were my brother!” “The group is only comprised of 18-21 year olds!” I’d learn something new each time my partner changed. Luckily I had no trouble being asked to dance. I was like a cougar compared to these boys. But it didn’t make it any less nerve wracking. I think I left sweaty palm imprints on everyone’s shirts and noticed a couple people wringing out their hands after my hearty handshake goodbye.

Z:
The thrill of the unknown did create some excitement during our date. As avid people watchers we were treated to a plethora of sights to nudge one another over. Leaving the center we were filled with stories of awkward moments and speculation about how it had all come to be.

J:
It was neat growing my skills a little with the help of strangers and then reconnecting with Zane and noticing such instantaneous improvements! We may have both been beginners, but by the end we were pretty darn good. We learned the Cha Cha first and the Waltz later on. The class lasted almost 2.5 hours and it was the biggest workout I’ve had in a while! After the Cha Cha I gave in and kicked off my heels and did the rest of the class barefoot like the tweens around me. In the end I was pooped but felt very accomplished. Zane and I had developed a new skill, and it felt like a new secret language of dance just between the two of us (and a few dozen Christian children).

Zane’s Review:
In terms of being a “hot date” I found that learning to dance (particularly ballroom dancing) is best for couples who have been together for a long time. Abiding by the rules, you are only allowed to dance with someone once before you take up another partner, so any couples looking for a fun “get to know you” activity should probably look elsewhere (unless of course they are looking to “get to know” other people). As an experienced couple, learning a skill together (together, meaning in the same room) is very beneficial.

You will be able to make eyes at one another from across the room, which can be romantic for some. For Julie and I, it was more of a “What is going on? Can you come over here?” Our experience may not have been particularly “hot” but it was a valuable afternoon that left us with the skills to spice up any party situations thereafter. As for an exciting outing with your honey, the payoff is more long term.

For new couples, I give this 3 “looks like she and that stranger are having more fun on this date than I am” out of 10.

For couples who have exhausted all of the “get to know you” conversations, I give this 7 “well at least I’m not stepping on her feet” out of 10.

Julie’s Review:
I wouldn’t say it was a “hot” date because it involved half of a middle school, but it was adventurous. Zane and I compared notes and agreed it’d be a great way for our single friends to meet new people. Like speed dating, but less sitting down. You have to be pretty secure in your relationship to just part ways and go off dancing with a bunch of strangers for an afternoon, but it is nice to meet new people.

It gave me a little bit of that new relationship butterfly tummy when I’d catch a glimpse of my cute guy across the room intently trying to get the steps right. Also, dancing together as adults is an exciting activity, one less often enjoyed except at weddings or boisterous clubs. So having an afternoon of light conversation while waltzing across a room was pretty neat.

I really enjoyed the change of pace and as we walked back to the train with our tired wobbly legs I couldn’t help but smile and softly whisper “1…2… cha cha cha” with each stride. (8.5 out of 10)

Hers and His Join HotDateIdeas.com!

We are proud to announce that Hers and His is taking its show on the road. No, we're not moving again, and no physical roads will be involved. Rather, we are hitting the information superhighway (as the mid-to-late-nineties would call it) and will be writing for HotDateIdeas.com as part of a "10 weeks 10 dates" editorial.

Julie and Zane are going to hit the city like a sock full of pennies as they venture out of their comfort zone and find out what makes a hot date! We will then recant our ventures in true Hers and His fashion.

We wish we could bring you all along on these dates with us but I think that might break the whole "hotness" aspect of it, except for maybe the "Have an awkward third wheel remind you how lonely they are, at the park" date. Rest assured we are not leaving this place behind as we have far too much going on in our lives these days to leave you all in the dark.

So check out our series of 10 Dates in 10 Weeks!

As a way of getting you all involved, we would like to know what date you think we should go on! We have quite a few surprises already planned, but are always open to suggestions!

Which "Viewer's Choice Date" should Zane and Julie do?
	Sailing
	Horseback Riding
	Riding Segways
	Wine Tasting
	Rock Climbing
	Golfing
	Bingo Night
	Other (Leave it in a comment below!)
pollcode.com free polls

Welcome to the Family!

Hers and His would like to welcome the newest member of our family, our beautiful niece...

Matilda

Born May 31, 2010 at 10:34am

7lb 5oz 19.5 inches

We couldn't be more overjoyed to be Unkie Zany and Auntie Julie!!!

Hers and His For Sale: Adventures in Baby Sitting

As we all know, in order to be a valued member of society you must trade services for money. While typically J and myself gravitate more towards selling organs on the black market and charging admission to our world-renown, politically correct minstrel show, this monetary venture came about via the desperate plea of an old acquaintance of J's.

What do two self-respecting mid-20s lovebirds do on a lazy Sunday afternoon, you may find yourself wondering? Lay in bed doing crosswords and dreaming of the future? Have brunch and stroll around the park hand in hand? Play in a sandbox and praise the Lord we are nowhere near childbearing years? Bingo!

The latest “well, what’s the worst that could happen” adventure Z and I took on involved an old boss of mine, a spoiled 2.5 year old and a variety of characters that even we couldn’t make up.

Like most impromptu baby-sitting ventures, ours started in the food court of a Whole Foods. For those of you unfamiliar with the locale, it is a grocery story for people with money who like to think their entire diet consists of organic food. As Hannah Montana and Tiger Lily [names have been altered slightly to protect the undeserving of a shout out in our blog] finished up their lunch of sushi and organic mac and cheese, we arrived to take out pint-sized subject away from her all too eager mother. After a short bit of catching up, it was time to throw out the soiled food containers and diaper, which typically wouldn’t deserve much notation, though seeing as the diaper was removed right there in the center of the food court I thought I should mention it.

Rewind to the Friday night before our mini saga began, Z and I were returning home from a night on the town when we found ourselves behind a mother and her children. She kept chastising her little boy to “walk nice!” and insisted he hold his little sister’s most likely sticky mitt. Z and I laughed at the idea of “un-nice” walking and even did a little impersonation of our best attempt. Little did we know a mere 12 hours later, as monkey girl swung from both of our unsuspecting and weak arms (while we were in the middle of crossing a highway, mind you) that we too would reach for that ambiguous phrase. “Walk nice!” we insisted over and over as we checked our watches for how much time remained. Damn, we were only 10 minutes in.

For those unsure, not-nice walking can consist of:

Dropping to your knees mid-step

Freeing your hand from an adult’s and sprinting away

Running full tilt out of a Whole Foods and into a crowded sidewalk

Becoming dead weight and expecting your hand holding teammates to pick up the slack

Embarrassing wiggle-walking in a crowded area (okay, that one was Z)

Part One of the longest 3.5 hours of my life involved ice cream.

Despite Tiger Lily being quite a good sport even with the whole public bare bottomed-ness, her mother felt it was necessary to sweeten the deal by proposing that J and I take her out for ice cream.

“Hey, grab a cone while I finish up my shopping.” What? We don’t get to use the stroller? Wait, you normally don’t insist she holds hands? (Not on my watch!!!!) Um… can I spare two bucks for the cone?

As we sat there getting the low down on our plans, I could only think of the empty wallet I had come with. Z and I had just spent the last of our cash getting bagels for ourselves. As Hannah Montana told us the do’s and don’ts (mostly do’s!) of watching her child, I zoned out wondering how I could sneak away to find an ATM to afford the teeny ice cream cone she had just been promised. Fake illness and duck out to a store? Busk in the streets for 2 bucks? I bet Tiger Lily could get us at least a buck just based on cute points. As the panic rose in me that I would embarrassingly have to ask for 2 dollars from her mom, out came the wallet and I was very gladly handed the cash. Wait… just two bucks? No ice cream for us?

Suffice it to say, the “ice cream man” looked and sounded much like what you’d picture if you heard that the creepy older fellow from your block just bought an ice cream truck. He sat high up, like the gatekeeper to OZ. Peering out of his service window down at us street folk. The mobile sweets dispenser and all the images of the ice cream man’s creamy and crunchy wares displayed on the side dazzled Tiger Lily.

Tiger Lily’s eyes widened when the small soft-serve-filled cone crossed the open window. The cone appeared like many had before it; cool, delicious and hurdling to a quick and tasty demise by way of a toddler’s mouth and wardrobe. This however was no the fate for this extra small chocolate ice cream cone.

While Tiger Lily did thoroughly enjoy her frozen dessert, it was not nearly with the insatiable and vigorous gusto one might expect from a candy-equipped child. Every lick was methodical, every bite deeply considered before undertaking. J and I felt it was our duty to stand watch on “drip patrol” as Hannah Montana is not the type of mother to be so flippant about a few expectable chocolate stains.

Side note: If ever tasked with watching a child, bring ten fold the number of napkins you expect to use. And a hose.

Part Two of our adventure took about an hour. It involved the following:

Hannah Montana: Change her into her “park outfit.”

Tiger Lily: No!

Us: Please?

Tiger Lily: No!

Repeat as needed for one hour.

I may not understand this yet because I am not a parent, but what are with all the costume changes? I’ve done plays with less quick changes than the average toddler goes through in a day. I still don’t get why the first outfit was not park approved, but maybe one day I’ll figure it out.

It took me one hour to figure out how to get her to change on her own accord. Luckily it also took Z one hour to untangle the kite he was assigned to untangle by Hannah Montana. I am so proud of my process I almost don’t want to share, but in case you moms and babysitters need the help one day (though I don’t support your waste of clean clothes!)… “My First Spanish Words Board Book” has 2 pages listing off all the items of clothing a child would need. One by one I asked Tiger Lily which item was her [insert poorly pronounced Spanish word here] and she would point to it on her and I would make her take it off.

Nalgas, lol.

One by one until each article had been changed and I felt like a dirty perv. But… success! Off to the park! Oh, did I mention which shirt we were given to change her into? It read, and I quote “DAMN it feels good to be toddler!” Now I am all for supporting the rights of little people, but the expletive seemed a little unwarranted. And why put your child in profane clothes when sending them out with strangers? We were already being glared at as the helpless destitute parents who had no control over their adopted looking child, why add to the fire with judgment for clothes that only encourage potty mouths?

Oh and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m quite certain a “babysitter” is someone who acts as a temporary guardian for a child, not a temporary assistant. It is not “baby receptionist” or “baby’s yes man.” When given the task of getting the kid out the door nowhere in the qualities of servitude that defines babysitting is maid to, you know “clean up whatever toys she pulled out in her room.”

I mean, DAMN!

Part Three: The Scooter of Death.

What do you give a child who can’t even hold your hand long enough to stay close to you on the sidewalk? A scooter!!! Because there’s nothing better than watching the child you were just assigned to keep alive for the next few hours dart off into the horizon going 90 miles an hour with a helmet wobbling all over the place because “that’s ok, she likes it loose.”

Oh how sweet it is, being on the Hudson. The air is filtered, the nature carefully landscaped and the water looking so good you could land a plane on it. After passing one awesome playground after another, we finally arrived at the complex designated for the 2 – 3 1/2 year olds.

Z and I flipped for it and he won stroller-pushing duty while I was on scolding duty. I like to call it tough love but I think it more resembled a bad episode of 16 & Pregnant. When we reached not the first, not the second but the third playground Tiger Lily was so excited there was no time to remove her scooter helmet. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, she could have hopped back on that death trap at any second and I wanted her prepared. Also, I didn’t want us to have to go through the ordeal of putting it on her again. So what if I knowingly turned her into the “Helmet Kid” on the playground? Maybe a little innocent teasing will humble her a bit.

I honestly was so busy chasing after her and saving her from certain death that I didn’t notice how everyone thought she was so advanced for being so “special.” “You know, I think making kids where helmets all the time is a great idea,” one yuppie mom coddled. I think the “Oh crap, did I leave her helmet on” face gave way that this wasn’t a tactic, just sheer incompetence on my part. Her neighborhood safety watch radar probably went off as she then asked “How old is she?” I shrugged and said “I think 3.” To which the alarm on her face was quite entertaining. I let her worry for a minute that Z and I were just really nice baby snatchers who brought their captives to sand boxes in the richest neighborhoods and then said “Oh, she’s not ours, we’re just watching her.” She gulped and asked “How’s it going?” I winced and replied “Not good” as our little dear dumped sand in the eyes of the lady’s son.

I could appreciate Tiger Lily’s ability to play competently in the sandbox. While sharing may have seemed like an abstract concept to her, she at least could muster the motor skills to not break the colorful plastic shovel, and the presence of mind not to then attempt to use the broken tool, like the poor putts sitting next to her.

One boy was more than delighted to prove that this was a socialist sandbox, as he gleefully handed off all of his worldly belongings to anything nearby with hand to receive them. “Here have my shovel that my parents so diligently labeled with my name.” “Here have this truck that that other boy is no longer playing with.” I’ll just help myself to some of your water here…” “Oh that’s not okay? That’s cool, that’s cool I have my own.” “Here would you like some?”

Did I mention her son’s name was Rocket? Like, legitimately, Rocket. And in case I worried I had misheard her and her husband calling to him, I noticed all of his toys had been clearly labeled “Rocket.” I thought they were just challenging (or should I say “Challanger”ing) him by naming all his sand tools after a spaceship. “Shovel?” No, rocket. “Rake?” No, rocket. But instead, they had turned their son into a new age hipster victim, who along with Apple, Maddox, Pilot, and Blanket joined the ranks of children who will one day despise their parents.

Speaking of spaceships, (no really, best segway ever) there was a child on this playground who made our Helmet Kid look like Stephen Hawking. I didn’t catch his name, but we can call him Buzz, he was sporting an all out full body space suit. “I like your space suit buddy” I said as his dad rounded the corner. “It’s my costume!” he proudly stated, hands on hips, just missing the plastic fishbowl atop his head. His father’s pride was lacking as he prepared himself for a lifetime of more costumes, and perhaps even some high heels.

J overreacts! Buzz may enjoy wearing costumes as a kid, but who doesn’t?? I know, I sure spent a fair share of time as a child dressed like a Ghostbuster, and look at me; I have a pretty sweet life with a beautiful woman! Cross dressing only occurs when I’m out of clean laundry, or it’s dark when I get dressed, or I have been spending too much time with John Jameson, or it’s a Thursday. Purely happenstance.

We all took turns shoving our respective kids down this crazy twisty slide, Z was at the bottom to be the catcher and Buzz’s dad went down with his child. Why not? I thought as I flew down after Tiger Lily had just completed her turn. Well geez those slides are dangerous! I skidded my way down, leaving half my elbow on the slide and just wanting Z to kiss my boo boo better. But before I could whine too much, it was time to color. And nothing gets between me and my coloring.

I had come prepared, though I did not know what “prepared” meant until I saw the suitcases that Hannah Montana had packed for us to constantly occupy Tiger Lily with. Maybe I’m old school, but I think plain paper and crayons will get you a lot further than 12 different bubble blowers and Frisbees and kites and scooters. And sure enough, she loved it. Wore down every last one of my new crayon tips to sheer nubs. (I never said it wasn’t a lesson in sharing for me too!)

Tiger Lily proudly carried as many of the pictures as she could all the way home, clutched tightly in her little paws. When we got home to present our pretty pictures to her mom, her first words were “Oh, was there an organized event?” Um, no. “So you just, drew?” Um, yes. “Because often they have people there doing big organized things, it’s pretty great, maybe next time you should see if they have that going on.” Sigh.

As J squared away the most awkward of dealings as to “well how much is your Sunday afternoon worth to you?” I kept an eye on the little ragamuffin who was enjoying the snack we were supposed to have brought for her. Considering this profile I’ve compiled of Hannah Montana and her brood, you would think that she would know of some sort of brainiac video series that would inject knowledge and proper behavior directly into a kid’s brain, but alas no, Dora’s pompous cousin Diego was all there was. Even with the knowledge that the show goes far enough to teach remedial bilingualism but then falls flat on it’s face when any questions arise.

Well all our worries are over! Diego cleaned up the major oil spill in the ocean!!

…with a vacuum. Man, BP should have thought of that.

Before parting, J took one last opportunity to instill some useful knowledge in the developing mind of a child. Tiger Lily sat at the kitchen bar, attempting to sneak some chocolate from a small colorful dish, after being enticed by Dora and images of a giant tree made of chocolate, you know, where chocolate comes from. Not wanting to pass up on the concept of a child sitting at a bar

J insisted, “Ask mommy for two fingers of milk.”

Tiger Lily “Two fingers of milk please!”

After a shared enjoyment of youth spouting an inappropriate phrase Hannah Montana went on to give in to the candy fix. But amidst her delight, little Tiger Lily let out a pint-size fart.

Hannah Montana “Now what do we say when we pass gas?”

Tiger Lily "Two fingers of milk please!”

Overall the day was pretty good. Z and I had earned every last penny we were given at the end of the evening. We took the hour-long train ride home, looking as if we had just survived the running of the bulls. I brought home enough sand in my pants and shoes to recreate our own little sandbox here in Astoria, but we’ll only invite people who share their toys. After an hour of scrubbing and anti-bacterializing, we had washed away the hard parts of the day and left only the feeling of relief. Relief that we have a cat who behaved himself all day and didn’t get into any trouble while we were gone. A cat who would love us no matter how long we left his helmet on.

The Hers and His Guide to Bathing Your Cat

Our new guest blogger, Buster, has become a key player in the Hers and His day to day adventures. So much so that we've taken a temporary hiatus from writing to catch him up on all he's missed in the past year since we've started the blog. Now he knows what he's in fur in the years to come, and he gets what is funny and what's funny to Zane. Let us resume our tail of loving and learning...

[Editor's Note: Now that we're cat people, expect about 75% of our posts to be about our cat, and 20% to be written by our cat. The remaining 5% will just be photos of our cat being so cute you just won't know what to do with yourself.]

So when we first got Buster, his foster mom gave us the low down on everything there was to know about him:

• His name was Smokey.


• He was a Russian Blue.


• He was skittish.


• He likes baths.

Things she left off that list:

• Buster is a wayyyy better name than Smokey.


• Russian Blue's are hypoallergenic.


• He is not skittish when your TV is no longer at the highest possible volume level it can go while tuned to the Latin music station.


• He likes water.

Being new proud parents, we wanted Buster's transition to be as easy as possible for him. So in the first week, we changed his name, cut off his balls and brought him on a 3.5 hour car ride. If he was going to survive living with us, we'd throw him in 100%. He aced the test and was a GREAT trooper! The meds might have helped with that. The doctors warned us he might be acting a bit stranger than normal after the surgery and we assured them that we had no idea what normal was, but we would love him till his balls stopped hurting. In an effort of solidarity, Zane agreed to stop licking his no-no area as well for the 2 weeks of recovery. I think Buster appreciated the sense of brotherhood.

Over the next four weeks we learned Buster's likes and dislikes and found that he LOVES water. Running, stagnent, in a bowl, in a tub, he sees it, he wants it. We have timed him and from the second the faucet turns on to the time a whisker is in your toothbrush, takes about .01 seconds. Constantly he is waiting for you to shower or brush just so he can watch the wonders of water. Where does it go once it goes down the drain? Where does it come from out of the spout? Why do I gross everyone out when I lick the drain stopper? What's so bad about having your legs licked dry after a shower?

When the one month mark hit for his flea treatment (via a flea and tick shampoo), we actually believed what his foster mom had told us. Buster LOVES baths! And how could he not? He's always getting in the water and loves being rubbed. Why not combine the two???

If you ever have this thought, please learn from our mistakes.

Step ONE: Trim his claws!!!!! Momma didn't think about this one and it left Zane looking like he was an emo teenager.

Step TWO: Find a cat who loves BATHS.

Step Two was where we really ran into some issues. But you see, once you commit to terrorizing your cat, you've got to follow through. The little furball sure was adorable all wet and skinny! His big ol' eyes just glowed with joy as he splashed and splashed his way through his first bath with his new parents. Yes, it took two of us. 4 hands to help? No no no... do you even know us?! 2 people because...

Step THREE: Film your cat being given a bath!

You're welcome folks. Sit back and enjoy our new baby having his first bath. Please don't mind the nudity, we're still figuring out how to get him to wear pants, let alone a bathing suit.

It’s like Russian Roulette with Penises

Just this last week Julie and I played host for one of our dear friends, the purported “reason we’re together” Jameson. While he had planned to stop by a few weeks prior, his flight was canceled due to an impending snowstorm, and seeing that he lives states away in Arkansas he is very much at the mercy of such natural factors. This time however he made the harrowing journey by car in what would be a 20+ hour ride. Are we really that worth visiting you ask? Yes, yes we are.

The weekend turned week visit was very enjoyable. With visits to old friends, good food and copious amounts of Video Gaming and Movie Watching there were many good times to be had. There was one evening in particular in which our fun loving threesome welcomed a fourth, all thanks to our dearest friend “The Internet.”

I’m assuming many of you have heard of Chat Roulette. If not, it is as the title suggests, much “like Russian Roulette with Penises.” No, there is no violence involved, and while our application of it did involve a revolver it was not in the way I’m sure many of you are so unintentionally imagining. The basic principle is that you have three windows, your typical instant messaging chat box, a window showing what is being captured through your web cam, and a venerable “window to the world” which displays the feed form random other people’s web cams. At the top, as simple button that states “Start Playing” or “pull the trigger” as it would more appropriately be titled.

You are then linked with someone, anyone, anywhere in the world. Whether they are young, aged or gross you are free to interact with them however you please. While most often people use this freedom to display their “happiness” towards this newfound technology, others were simply like us; some bored fun-loving drunk just looking for some good, plutonic connectivity.

Fortunately having Julie in our motley crew afforded us a few extra seconds with these strangers to pitch our plea for attention, given that most of the people on the other end are 17-29 year old males who want nothing more than to chat up fine honeys.

While communication seemed limited to pantomiming and cryptic instant messaging we decided the goal for the evening should be to play a full game of Clue with a stranger. With our board set we scoured the seedy bed/computer rooms of fellow chatroulettians, looking for someone to humor us. After countless rejections and erections we finally found a young lady who seemed all but mildly interested in playing with us.

All was going surprisingly well. We would show her her cards and when it was her turn to roll, we would place the camera to where she could make an informed decision about which direction to head. For a moment I thought I had it figured out. I did not have any of the cards involved in my first guess and no one had any cards to show me, so naturally I thought I had gotten a hole in one. That would not be the case however since Jameson was accidentally looking at the cards of our roulette friend.

With the hand hiccup behind us we went on to play a fairly standard game of Clue. Everyone knew what he or she was doing and having a voiceless competitor somewhere out there in the world worked out just as it would if she were ther. That is until her connection cut out.

Just like that she was gone. We knew nothing about her, no way to contact her and no way to know how close she may have been to getting to winning it all. Like ships passing in the night we met up for about 90% of a board game then moved on, never to hear from one another again.

The Jingle Monster

Howdy blog followers!

So much has happened since our last post! We've bought a car, opened up a restaurant and sold our souls to the Devil. Just kidding!

We have been home, like always. Except we've spiced things up at home quite a bit. We decided to take in a homeless child. He's pretty scrawny but we try not to tease him too much. He had a tough start in life, we found out some jerky kids pushed him into the train tracks before his foster mom rescued him from certain death. Since then he lived in a house with other foster boys and girls, but they were so needy. He needed a home of his own. So we took him in. So far he's done okay adjusting.

He doesn't play as much as we expected him to. We bought him all sorts of toys to take his mind off his old foster siblings being so far away in Brooklyn. Potty training has been interesting. I heard when kids have it rough they often mess their pants in order to show a sense of control over something. Well, our little buddy sure is testing us! But never fear, even new Dad Z is handling bodily fluids with the grace I'd always hoped of him.

He sure can be sweet, still too scared to sleep on his own, so we let him snuggle up between us at night. But boy do kids get up early!!! I hope the scampering doesn't wake the neighbors! We've found that if you just lock him into a room he lets all his crazies out... that's in one of those parenting books, right?

Most recently we've had two major incidents occur. We decided to make our new little guy a eunich. His voice was pretty sweet and youthful, but a little castration was all it took to get him singing all those high notes! Zane has signed him up for the local choir so he can get closer to Jesus. (Happy Easter by the way!)

Secondly, a nighttime goblin has begun to terrorize our little boy. I appreciate the fantastical imagination of a youngster, it shows great promise for an artistic future. But this creature is bordering on insanity. What has been happening is at bathtime in the evenings, the "Jingle Monster" comes round and harasses our poor guy until he can't take it anymore. He tries to locate the pesky noise but inevitably fails. If you stay real still you can evade his monstrous grasp, but the second you are lulled into a false sense of safety.... BAM! "jingle jingle"

So far our adoptive son has decided to lick the noise to death. He has its whereabouts pinpointed down to a small range of space just below his chin. Imagine if you will someone egging someone on "I bet you can't lick your elbow!" And you're all like "Yeah huh I could so!" and then you leave it at that but when you get home that night you totally get in front of a mirror and stretch your tongue until it hurts seeing how close exactly you CAN get to it. Yeah, that awkwardness. That is the only way to fight the Jingle Monster. Video forthcoming if Zane can handle his situation with the Technology Monster. It swings by and gives him the ability to capture moments on his phone and then... BAM! Memories get trapped on his phone never to be shared again.

So, that's all from the homefront. We're considering renaming the blog to reflect this great moment in our lives of growing our family. Hers & His & His? Duck, Duck, Kitty? Thoughts?

Oh yeah, our son is a kitty cat. April Fools! (I know it wasn't funny, but still, he's like a child.) Okay, now's your chance to "Awww" at how cute he is!!!