Prose & Converse

Ah mah gah… I loooooooove my husband!

000_0129_3976, originally uploaded by Monster Nikki.

…today… as I was thanking the Dear Lordy that my mom has a pool… and clearly, so was Reagan. Although you can tell she’s all: “Hey Ma, put away the darm camera, you’re totally harshing my mellow.”

Happy Summer!

Saturday night, I had the chance to get all dolled up and go out to dinner with one of my favorite friends, Amanda. (You’ve heard about her before- she was the one I went to see Sex & the City with- which I wrote about here.) The best part, though? We went to the restaurant Chris works at to taste the new menu we’ve been hearing so much about lately!

We got there a little early, so we ordered two Red Velvets- champagne with pomegranite juice- and sipped them outside in a cabana by the pool. We had the choice of sitting in the dining room or out on the patio, but we didn’t want to take up a large table so we chose a small two-top in the main dining room. We were lead to our table and were met with an ice bucket containing not one, but two bottles of champagne for us to enjoy with dinner.

Unfortunately, we were seated next to a table of three complete and total divas. Male divas. (Does that make them Divos? He-vas?) They were complaining about how warm it was in the dining room. To their credit, it was very warm in there- the main dining room is small and filled with tables, and because it was 100 degrees outside even though it was 9pm, it was pretty stuffy in there. They were being so catty, but it was kind of fun at first. I LOVE gay men, I really adore them. My old roommate is gay, and he still calls me his little Fruit-fly, which I think is much cuter than the standard “Fag-Hag.” But I digress!

I was wearing my hair down and curly, but due to the heat and humidity, I wrapped my hair up in a bun to get it off my neck. When the restuarant manager came over to say hello to me, he asked how everything was so far. I mentioned that I was really hot, from just coming in from outside. The Divos and the table next to me piped in and started bitching to the manager about the heat. The loudmouth of the group said, “Look at that poor girl, she had to put her hair up! Look how bad it’s frizzing! Her night is RU-INED!” as he pointed a manicured finger at ME. Uh, thanks a lot, pal.

The divos were paying their bill when the hostess came up to our table. “Ladies, why don’t you join us in our VIP dining room?” Well, she didn’t have to ask us twice. The spokesman at our neighbor table had just announced to us that he was a fashion stylist in West Hollywood. Amanda said, “Well, I don’t think I want to get up out of my seat and hear what you have to say about my outfit…” He immediately leaned over to get a full view of what she was wearing when his eyes landed on her jungle-printed heels. “You look FIERCE, sister! Love the shoes! You can’t go wrong… as long as you never, ever wear black shoes.” I’ll give you five bucks if you can guess what I was wearing.

I think they

“Well, that settles it. I’m sure as hell not getting up now,” I said, as I took a big swig of my champagne. Then I felt a bead of sweat trickle down from my leg, and said, “Fine, let’s go. What the hell do I care? I’m married, I don’t need you to like my shoes.”

“Honey,” he said, “If you keep that attitude, you won’t BE married for long.”

I was about to take my black shoes (which, for the record, are fabulous!) and kick him in his smart mouth, but Amanda jumped in. “She can wear whatever she wants- her husband is younger than her, adores her, and she’s great in bed!”

That shut him up. We took our champagne and stomped off to the patio, where it was much cooler. And that’s not just because we were no longer subjected to the superficial, pretentious chirping of three West Hollywood Divos, but it was literally cooler, temperature-wise.

We

On to the food! Chris sent us out a surprise first course: foie gras. I know it’s controversial, but I also know it’s delicious. It was rich and creamy and melted into our grateful mouths like butter. I didn’t take a picture because I could not be bothered to get out the camera when all I wanted to do was devour it.

Our next courses were a Prawn Scampi and an order of the Ahi Tiridito, which is a fancy-schmancy name for a poke-like dish of ginger-lime marinated raw ahi with red onion, red jalepeno, and cilantro, with crispy white sweet potato chips. The teridito was great, but the scampi kicked ass. Sorry, again, for the lack of photographic evidence. I was HUNGRY!!!

Check out the sexy sear on those scallops!

And now, without further ado, the entrees! Chris and I had been planning what I was going to have ahead of time, and because I couldn’t decide between the Filet and the Scallop dishes, the kind husband of mine told me he’d combine them for me. The filet was served on top of the perfect marscapone risotto and asparagus. (I got the morel cream sauce on the side because Amanda’s allergic to mushrooms and I wanted to share with her.) The seared scallops were resting on a little cloud of pommes puree (don’t let the French terms fool you, they are Highest Common Denominator Mashed Potatos- just don’t tell Chris I said that) with bacon jus and pomegranite gastrique.

From Amanda

A food writer I am not, so please accept my term “foodgasm” as a blanket summary of the awesomeness that was before me.

Amanda ordered the Alaskan Halibut, which came with a brown butter sauce with fingerling potaoes, Bloomsdale spinach, capers, and tomatoes.

Alaskan Halibut

Suz: Amanda took this by just lifting the camera up above her head and shooting straight down.

Even though I had already had three other forms of seafood that evening, that didn’t stop me from attacking Amanda’s plate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t eaten all year. Amanda and I were technically splitting everything, which is why I will shamelessly share my favorite picture of the evening: me, leaning over my clean plate to attack the halibut. Manners, schmanners- my husband is the shizzzzzzz and the halibut was scrum-diddly-umptios.

Mr. and Mrs. Chef Cantwell

We brought dinner to a close with coffee & Kahlua, and beignets, and I think I was the happiest camper that restuarant ever did see. I was pretty close to popping a button off of my vest, if that’s any indication. We were even graced with a visit from the chef himself, who better not pose for pictures and hugs with every delighted diner… I’m very lucky he made an exception for this one!

It was by far the best meal I’ve had in ages, if not my entire 27 years on this planet. We were treated like queens (after being insulted by queens), but even if I wasn’t doing the matress-nasty with the chef, I’d STILL think the food was amazing. I’m looking for an excuse to go back there ASAP… just as soon as I buy a pair of shoes that aren’t black.

Are you gonna finish that?

So there’s this guy named Deke… he’s basically the Alton Brown of photoshop. Anyone who plays around with photoshop needs to see this video:
DekePod: 101 Photoshop Tips in Five Minutes

And how did I find such a gem? Well, because I subscribe to Photojojo! They claim to find the best photo shiz anywhere… and by gosh by golly, they’re right. But don’t take my word for it…

As far as other photography-related websites go, y’all know that I Big Pink Heart www.exposaroonie.com, so if you know anything about anything, you’ve probably checked it out already.

Since I still don’t have the hang of photoshop, I do a lot of editing with www.picnik.com, which is supa-easy, supa-fun, and supa-fly.

There’s also a site I love called Unphotographical, which doesn’t actually have pictures- instead, it’s a written description of missed photo-ops.

Ok, so now you tell me: any great sites for newbie photographers (or about photography in general) that you love? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Sharing is caring!

As much as I wanted to participate in this week’s Exposaroonie Photo Challenge, I just couldn’t pull my shiz togeths on time. I was still excited about the theme (VINTAGE! Hello! ME LOVES!), and decided to shoot it anyway, deadlines be darned! So, although I’m not officially playing along this week, I thought I’d share my photo anyway!

I totally wanted to play dress-up for this challenge, but there was just no way that was going to happen. (In retrospect, I’m actually really bummed that I didn’t kick myself in the boom-de-ay and just do it instead of watching every episode of What Not To Wear in my TiVo. Meh!) Instead, I drove out to one of my favorite local landmarks today- an old carwash. And the rest, as they say, is history… or actually just photoshopped to resemble history.

Rancho Mirage, circa 2008

Happy 4th of July, my peeps. Thought I’d share an essay I did for my writing class last semester: four paragrahs on what patriotism means to me.

There was once a time when patriotism meant sending your husband or son off to war and tying a yellow ribbon ‘round the old oak tree. In 2008, things are no longer that simple. Americans are divided about the actions our country is taking, both on our own soil and overseas. However, war is nothing new for our country, nor is rebellion to war. It is possible to remain patriotic, even if one disagrees with the choices being made by our government. Essentially, that is what being an American is all about- having a voice, and using it. Being patriotic doesn’t mean that one has to agree with everything going on in our country, but rather, to show respect and take action. To me, patriotism is about showing pride in our country through education and participation.

With a new Presidential election on the horizon, there is constant media exposure given to our potential candidates. To be truly patriotic, everyone should take some time to do a fair amount of research on the candidates and the issues in this coming election. Consideration also must be given to the source, though. Many media outlets are biased to presenting information from either a Liberal or Conservative standpoint, so it is best to collect information from a variety of sources. The liberty we have to make choices should not be taken for granted, so take pride in the privileges granted to Americans and make educated choices.

Another way to show patriotism is to participate in the systems established by our forefathers. Many men have died to allow us these rights, so we would be remiss in our duties to neglect them. To truly support our country, participation is required. Voting is a great way to take action, although there are many others. Writing to a congressman, signing petitions, and even participating in jury duty are all effective means of contributing to our society. As Americans, we are not required to agree with every action the leaders of our country take, but we are enabled and encouraged to communicate our opinions. To use the outlets provided to participate in the choices being made is being patriotic.

One of our country’s most patriotic anthems proclaims, “I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free!” In a time where our leaders are under scrutiny for their actions, we can still take pride in the way our country allows us the liberty to have a voice, and to use it. We are provided the opportunity to be involved in the direction we take in the future and to contribute in what steps to take from here. Patriotism is about being passionately involved in the future of our country. That is why we should all raise our voices together and sing along, “There ain’t no doubt, I love this land, God bless the USA!”

Chris works. A lot. A lot, as in six- sometimes seven- days a week. A twelve hour day is a short shift.

He had this crazy schedule when I met him, and so I’ve adapted to it. I’m the kind of person who needs some alone time, so I usually don’t mind having a few hours of peace and quiet after I get the kids to bed. I can catch up with blogs, homework, tv, reading, and housework (always in that order) while he’s at work, and then when he gets home, we usually hang out for an hour or two before I pass out comatose and drooling. It works for us.

WHO AM I KIDDING? I miss him like crazy. I try not to complain about his schedule, because I know he hates being away from me and the kids as much- if not more- than I do. I try to put on my brave face when he’s walking out the door, to not throw a tantrum about the fact that my very heart is being ripped out of my body for the next twelve to fourteen hours. Then I hear his car drive away and pout.

I found a lovely blog written by a lady I can relate to oh-so-very much, and I think the name pretty much says it all: Desperate Chefs’ Wives. Ha ha, how punny! I love it! In this post, Hilary shared a video that totally sums up how I’m feeling today. I had to share with you: (for the extended version of the video with behind-the-scenes stuff, see Hilary’s post!)

Chris got home about a half hour ago, and as we sat outside, catching up about our days, he hooked the collar of his t-shirt up over his nose.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh, I just wanted to see how I smelled. Speaking of smelt, I’d really like to put those on the menu.”

(Smelt being a fish, of course. Took me a minute, but I finally put two and two together. This is my life.)

Not too long ago, I shared this picture from our wedding:

Of course, that’s us Cantwells up front (with baby Reagan making a cameo appearance under my dress, that sneaky little girl) and in the backgroung, that’s our Wedding Band- our friends- Metroid. Now, in Metroid, we have three guys that I’ve known for the last seven or so years. Countless nights out with them, dinners, BBQs, hangover breakfasts, crashing at houses, hooking them up with my friends, becoming best friends with their girlfriends, bartending with them, babysitting their kids on New Year’s Eve… lots of history with these boys.

What started off as seeing their band play free all-ages shows at the local skate shop has now developed to national tours and an EP being released tomorrow on iTunes. I am so proud of them for finally seeing a literal pay-off for their years of hard work. And they deserve it, I think they are all talented as hell. I haven’t made it to many of their shows since the marriage and the baby, due to obvious limitations, but I now can show my support by spreading the Metroid gospel.

Check them out! Metroid on iTunes and Metroid on Myspace. Their live shows are some of the most fun I’ve had out of the house, so if you’re into the debauchery/live music scene, they have a list of upcoming shows on the MySpace page. Tell ‘em Slayer sent you- they probably won’t punch you. At the very least, download a song or two- or better yet, the whole EP! The music is catchy and booty-shakin’ and my kids knew all the lyrics (to the older songs) before they even knew their ABC’s. So, come on, show a little love for a local band on the verge of something great… and because I’d really like to see them on the cover of Rolling Stone in a few years and be able to tell everyone within ear shot that I knew them way back when.

Video blogs 3 and 4… I wish I had some kind of snazzy editing software, but I don’t… so enjoy our Blair Witchy vlogs in their raw and rambly glory.

*Views expressed in these videos are those of the actors and not representative of the opinions of Prose and Converse*

Before you go watching, let me forewarn you that this is gonna be 10 minutes of your life that you will never get back. Click wisely, and don’t say I didn’t warn ya… (and to all the vegans out there… sorry.)

Your lights are on, but you’re not home
Thinking of the blog you call your own
Your heart sweats, your body shakes
Another post is what it takes

You can’t sleep, you can’t eat
That becomes your next tweet
Your throat is tight, you can’t breathe
Another comment’s all you need

Whoa, you like to think that you’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah
Its closer to the truth to say you cant get enough,
You know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to blogs!

You see the signs, but you can’t read
Got problems with RSS feed,
You click links in double time
Clear out your reader and you’ll be fine

You can’t decide to rant or rave
A witty post is all you crave
And if you’re not in the mood
Just take some pictures of your food!

Whoa, you like to think that youre immune to the stuff, oh yeah
It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough, you know you’re

Gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to blogs.

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blogs

Me & My Sister

I spent nine glorious, self-absorbed years as an only child. The thing I wanted most in the world, more than a puppy, more than being a back-up singer for Debbie Gibson, more than every Swatch Watch ever made, was a sister. I asked for one for three consecutive Christmases, before I became aware that Santa stuffed stockings, not uteruses. (Uteri?) Less than a week after my ninth birthday, my mom had the first of my three siblings, my brother Ernie (named after his father and grandfather, not the Sesame Street citizen). I wasn’t disappointed, not for a second. It was more of a, “Hey, he’s cool! LET’S TRY AGAIN!” One year and 364 days later, my wish was granted. Hello, Jadyn Marie! Four years later- less than a month after my 15th birthday- my brother Tyger was born- and yes, that’s his real name. Not only did I finally have the sister I’d always wanted, but the two bonus brother siblings, whom I adore equally- just on a different level. (Oh, and just sayin’- we’re all Leos. My poor mother.)

Having a sister is like having a best friend who, for the most part, HAS to like you.  It’s having someone who will laugh at all your stories, but secretly knows which parts you’re exaggerating. It’s having someone to vent to without all that annoying “back-story” BS. It’s not having to put on makeup or a bra or even brush your teeth when you’re hanging out- although they’ll be the first to tell you when you need to. With an eleven year age gap, we never fought over the same boy, stole each other’s clothes, or argued over whose turn it was for the telephone.

I moved out of the house when she was still in elementary school, but I was never too far away. I had a few babies of my own. She became an aunt at 8. Back in the summer of 2006, we started spending more and more and more time together, until it got to the point where she would spend nearly every weekend at my house. I wasn’t “babysitting” her anymore. She was a teenager now, her own glorious person, and I loved getting to know her on that different plane.

Now? Now she’s pretty much my best friend. Of course, it’s unnatural for a 27 year old and a 16 year old to be the best of friends, but what we lack in mutual experiences, we make up for in similar genetic coding. While I was a teenager and she was the kiddo, I felt like a second mother to her. I still feel that way, but it’s been diltued with a strong, deep friendship, and the happy medium between the two is a simple word: sister.

I am blown away by how amazing she is as human being. She’s thoughtful and kind in a way I never was at that age, and still have to try to be now. She is gorgeous on the outside but that’s got nuthin’ on her heart. She’s a great person- with a little bit of teenager in her blood, but for the most part, she’s reached a level of maturity where we can have amazing conversations about feelings and thoughts and aspirations and I’m all, “Holy sheet, she’s still in high school? If I hadn’t held her in my arms the day she was born, I would not believe that she’s only sixteen.”

We’re a paradox. Not like this:

 (That’s a pair o’ docs!) or this:   (a pair o’ Docs!) … more like this:

 I mean that we’re totally different temperments, but still finish each other’s sentences and like most of the same things. (And hullo, we look nothing alike. Not even if you squint. Drunk.) We even talk the same way, only she has this habit of tacking on an extra syllable to everything- “no” sounds like “noah” and those things you make s’mores with? They’re “ga-haram” crackers. Ohemgee, I think this is the cutest thing of my life but I think she’s totally sick of me asking her to repeat herself while I giggle and try not to hug her.

 Because I just don’t say it enough, I wanted to talk about my amazing Seester. I love you more than ice cream and girl scout cookies, more than Jenny Lewis, more than Target… MORE THAN CHICK-FIL-A. (In our family, that’s huge.) Aw crepes, I’m gettin all teary-eyed just typing it. Just… sniff sniff… thank you. I love you!

Why, just this very morning, I was doing the outlet shimmy, trying to fit my hair dryer AND iPod dock into the same outlet. This is a battle that would be non-existent if I had this FRIGGEN BRILLIANT invention. For less than $10 bucks, you can say goodbye to the outlet shimmy.

(Available at an amazon.com near you!)

I think I just might have set a new world record- 10 tweets in 20 minutes.

I’m only a little embarrassed now.

(Evidence hidden here (more…)

As y’all probably already know, starting July 1st, the new cell phone law goes into effect in California, saying that cell phone use while driving is prohibited unless you’re using a hands-free device.

About that…

Well, who wants to go out and spend more money on phone accessories? Not me, that’s who. Not to mention the pain-in-the-boom-de-ay quotient of tracking said accessory down. Just what I need, another errand on my mile long list of things that I try to get done but end up ignoring because I HAVE TV AGAIN!

Which brings me to the point of this post- to tell everyone about the website FreeHeadset.org. For the cost of shipping ($3.98- less than a regular coffee at Starbucks*) they’ll send you a free headset. (I have no idea why, except that maybe they had some bad karma in a past life or something, and they’re trying to play nice now.) They have tons of cell phone models to choose from, and several options of headsets that are compatible. I ordered mine today- because sometimes, I would rather talk on the phone when I’m driving because the other option? Well, it starts with Hannah and ends with Montana, and I can not be held responsible for my actions after listening to her for hours on end.

Just thought I’d pass this info on to you- because I might have some bad karma that I need to make up for, too.

*practically

1. Camp Rock Camp-Out/Rock-Out, 2. Maddy, 3. S’mores , 4. Indoor Marshmallow roast

Last night was the long-awaited Disney Channel premiere of Camp Rock, the new Jonas Brothers movie that I haven’t stopped talking/twittering about. Remember what happened last time I was stoked on a movie? The night itself, with all the movie-related events, ended up being way better than the movie itself. Such was the case with Camp Rock.

Don’t get me wrong- it was cute. And I just realized that I was about to get into an in-depth review of a Disney Channel Movie. Oh. My. Gawwww. Stopping. Stopping!

My sister, her friend Danika, and my brother’s girlfriend Meagan- who are all 16- came over to watch Camp Rock with the kids and me. We decorated with streamers, had “camp food”- hot dogs and s’mores- and then made our own music video after the movie. I am way too old to have that particular kind of fun- which is why I’m so lucky to have been blessed with a daughter who is old enough now to be into that, so I have an excuse to be. YES!!!

Now, when is High School Musical 3 coming out?

As I was taking Brady to school this morning, I asked him if he was happy it was Friday.

“Oh yeah. I don’t like Thurdsdays. Fwidays are better!” he said.

“Why don’t you like Thursdays?” I said.

“Well, because it’s a school night. And it sounds like third, but it’s not the third day of the week.”

I was impressed he had put that much thought into it.

He continued: “And mostly because it sounds like turds.”

If you haven’t had enough video of my kids…

Brady, dancing:

(Thank you to my seester Jadyn for uploading this!)

Ever have a bout of the hiccups so bad that your chest feels like it’s imploding six to seven times in a minute? That happened to me last night, and as I laid in bed in misery, diaphram jolting, Chris told me to get out of bed because he had to show me something.

Getting me out of bed once I’m in for the night is like trying to steal a bleeding gazelle from a lion, mid-feast. But he had that really cute look on his face. I couldn’t say no. Well, I did say no- just not that convincingly. I untangled myself from my web of blankets and soggy pillows that were arranged just so- hiccupping all the while.

The lights were off. “Where’d you go?” I asked. No reply. I looked around the living room for a minute, and then padded out to the kitchen. “Chris? Are you in here?” Nothing.

“BOOOOOOO!” Chris shouted, as he leapt out at me from behind the refridgerator.

I let out the most bloodcurdling scream. I jumped three feet in the air. I did that reflexive movement where your arms fly akimbo and then clutch your heart. “WHAT (gasp) THE EFFWORD (gasp) IS YOUR (gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasp) PROBLEM?” I hissed, voice trembling from the shock.

“Are they gone?” He asked, like a little excited schoolboy.

“YOU SCARED THE BEJEEZUZ OUT OF ME!”

“But they’re gone, right?”

“I probably woke up all the babies! I probably scared them to death!”

“Nah, they’re heavy sleepers. I cured your hiccups!”

“Ef you, I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“But it was the only way to get rid of your hiccups!”

“Yeah, only you just took a few years off my life, scaring me like that.”

“You would have just spent them hiccupping anyway.”

“What if I peed my pants?”

“Well, that probably would have been a more interesting blog post.”