JMU Love

I need this, right?  

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I think this is going to have to be my little shoot-yeah-you-made-it-through-another-school-year gift to myself.  Plus, it'll look pretty awesome on our [future] yellow living room walls.

If you are reading this and you are married to me because you met me and fell in love with me while we attended school at JMU, you could even buy it for me for our upcoming anniversary.  I wouldn't be mad.  (It's bookmarked.)  xoxo

Did JMU Really Beat Virginia Tech?

Yeah they did!

I don't normally give a rat's ass about college football, but today I do.  (Matt always cares about college football, and what I thought would be a Sophie's Choice type of situation really isn't.  Matt's giddy about the win.  So is Mitch.  When I got home today he demanded that I put on his JMU collar.)

The first weekend I was at JMU, our football team headed south to Blacksburg to get pummelled by Virginia Tech.  The score was something like 69-0.  It was out of control bad.  Later I learned that Virginia Tech actually pays JMU to play the game in the first place--a sort of ego boost, I suppose.

Today, a little more than eleven years later (has it really been that long?), JMU trounced those silly turkeys. 

JMU's not a big football school--hell, the football team doesn't even play in division one.  And that's precisely what makes this victory so remarkable.  A few nights back, Virginia Tech came close to beating Boise State, a team that's supposedly very good (and could win it all, I guess). 

And now, tonight, they lost to JMU.  I wonder if Mickey Matthews was just having the Dukes watch inspirational pep talks from Coach Taylor in the locker room?

Because I can tell you one thing: Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose.



Oh, to be in Harrisonburg right now, singing the fight song and actin' a fool.



Oh, and one more thing.  Looks like someone's been talking to Miss Cleo.

Who Knew New Jersey Was So Nice?

When we were in New York City (which I like to say the way the old ladies did on those old Pace Picante salsa commercials), Matt and I stayed in a one-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side.  It was pretty cool because it was only about six blocks from Central Park, and Matt and I enjoyed being pretend New Yorkers for a couple of days.



And because we had a small (very small!) kitchen in the apartment, we thought it wise to bring a bag of pantry staples.  Matt and I don't normally eat out all that much in our regular life (too expensive and too bad for us), and by Wednesday of last week, day four of vacation, I felt like a big swollen sack of salt and grease because we'd eaten out for almost every meal.  Enter the pantry staples.  I really loved having the kitchen because it allowed us to eat one of our very favorite simple meals, pasta with butter and parmesan cheese, not just once, but twice that day.  So we saved between $80-100, and I found myself one step closer to having my wedding rings fit again.

We had to check out of the apartment on Thursday morning, drive across town (six miles and an hour and a half) to Brooklyn to drop our stuff off at Best Friend's "apartment" before heading to the Mets game.  We returned there after the game, and got to hang out with Best Friend and his good friend Kensie for a couple of hours before leaving the city life.

Let me tell you something about Best Friend.  He's completely in his element in Brooklyn.  He and his friend started their own farm, A Moveable Garden, where they grow organic produce and then sell it to the fancy restaurants around the city.  Best Friend moved to New York and became a farmer.  And he and Kensie, who have been friends for years and years and years, are essentially an old married couple now.  They live together in Kensie's studio space (Kensie is an artist, and is apparently quite good. I know nothing about art.), give each other tattoos when they get bored (Seriously.  Matt says they both look like they go the the funniest, most ironic prison.), and cook amazing meals on a hot plate.  They sleep on cots and don't have air conditioning.  And you know what?  I've never seen them happier. 

(left, Best Friend.  right, Kensie.  I stole this from Best Friend's Facebook.)

And then we left for our next destination, our friend Trina's house in the country in New Jersey.  We decided to leave New York at 5:30 p.m. via the Holland Tunnel, which took approximately 2 hours, after that is was only another hour to Trina's house. I don't know that we'd ever been so happy to see corn fields or to drive on quiet country roads as we were that day.  Trina's house was peaceful and nice, and Missy joined us the next evening.  It was great to just sit around and catch up with old friends. 

And there was Jonas, Trina's 6-month old Chocolate Lab.  Matt and I had been going through dog withdrawal, and we immediately fell in love with Jonas. 

Jonas also has a dog cousin named Toby.  Toby is perhaps the fattest dog I've ever seen in real life.

Both dogs had great personalities (though we were partial to Jonas), and it warmed my heart to be able to cuddle with a pup after a few days without my dogson Mitchell. 

Our time in Jersey was quiet and relaxed, but fun.  We ate cheeseburgers and hot dogs and talked and laughed and played Apples to Apples and basically just enjoyed being reunited with our old friends, Missy and Trina. 

Missy was supposed to introduce us to her new boyfriend Derek, but he was conveniently busy that night (read: she has invented this Derek).  The next day she disappeared for a while, and then showed up at Applebees with a very nice young man who claimed that his name was Derek.  Yeah, okay.  Nice try, Missy.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream

I wax nostalgic about my days at JMU, if you haven't noticed already.  Because my family was, oh, CRAZY, I didn't return home during the summers after sophomore year.  Instead, I would stay in Harrisonburg in my big empty house, and I would do things like paint kitchen cabinets (orange and yellow!) and try to quilt (one patch!) and watch Family Ties.  I couldn't cook anything but oatmeal and pasta at that point in my life, so I was a frequent visitor of the eateries around town.  And because "being healthy" wasn't terribly high on my to-do list when I was twenty-one, sometimes I would just go to Kline's.

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Ohmahgod, Kline's.

Kline's is a staple of life in Harrisonburg.  It's just this old-fashioned little ice cream stand, but it's so good and so fun, and for that reason it's one of the first things you hear that you must do when you go to JMU.  I don't know if it's changed or not, but Kline's always had three flavors: chocolate, vanilla, and the flavor of the week.  The ice cream was f'ing amazing.  Hell, there were times that Caitie and I would roller skate to Kline's to get some ice cream.  (How very 1950's of us.  Also, is there anything more fun than roller skating?)  And when I worked at BW3 during the summer, if the shift was slow, then we would allow a server to get off early, only if they agreed to take Kline's orders for the entire staff, wait in the long line, and deliver them to us.  It was basically win/win.

And we'd all go apeshit for Kline's on the weeks that Chocolate Peanut Butter was the flavor of the week.  (Also, imagine how difficult it is to carry and drive with six ice cream cones.  It's hard.)

So when I saw this recipe on Annie's Eats for Chocolate Peanut Butter (a flavor combination sent down to earth from the gods) ice cream, I knew it was something I absolutely had to try.

And I'm happy I did.  It takes me back to those lazy summer days where I had nothing better to do than to sit on my porch and drink gin and tonics and talk to crazy Tex across the street.  (Tex = old crank across the street who had a terrible life.  He and his twin brother, Rex, had been in the rodeo but then his brother got killed in the rodeo when he got smushed by a cow or something.  His life only got worse from that point, and he was more than willing to tell you about it when he was yelling at you for parking on the street in front of his house.)

Now, I'm  not as happy about the fact that I might need to go invest in an entire new wardrobe because of how much of this stuff I'll be eating.  Did I have it for breakfast today?  Yep.  Sure did.  Will I have it for lunch?  Perhaps.

Anyway, here it is.  The only change I made was that I used two cups of heavy cream instead of two cups of half and half, because that's what I had in the house and because I, apparently, want to die young. (I'm sure that half and half is fine, if not better.)

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream (Adapted from Annie's Eats, who adapted it from David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop)

Ingredients

2 cups heavy cream
¼ cup unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
½ cup sugar
pinch of salt
½ cup creamy peanut butter

Directions

Whisk together the cream, cocoa powder, sugar and salt in a large saucepan. Heat the mixture, whisking frequently, until it comes to a full, rolling boil (it will start to foam up). Remove from the heat and whisk in the peanut butter, stirring until thoroughly blended.

Chill the mixture thoroughly, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

(Note: This ice cream is very peanut buttery, which I like because I like peanut butter more than I like chocolate.  If you're more of a chocolate lover, than you may want to use less peanut butter.)

For Real, Though, Who Threw That Pan at Me?

Spring break has been spectacular.  The weather has been so perfect that it's seemed fake, I've got a tiny bit of sunburn on the backs of my legs--not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that summer is fast approaching--and I haven't been this relaxed in a loooooooooooong time.  I'd be a damned liar if I didn't admit that I miss my child:

But my birthday gift from Matt's parents is helping to soothe the pain.  If I haven't said it before, I have some of the greatest in-laws around. 

This has nothing to do with anything, really, but I want to share a story.  Back at JMU, one of my friends was buying beer at the local Food Lion.  Ahead of her in line was a gigantic woman wearing a mu-mu (moo-moo?) who was buying a single toothbrush.  When she moved forward to pay for her toothbrush, an entire ham fell out from underneath her mu-mu.  She looked around, seemingly surprised, and yelled out, "FOR REAL, THOUGH, WHO THREW THAT HAM AT ME?"

Happy Easter!

(Matt and I spent the last two hours watching Breaking Bad, and now we're watching What a Girl Wants.  I'm definitely having bad dreams tonight.)

Richmond It Is!

No, not really. Don't get your hopes up just yet, Mid-Atlantic-ers.

Let's rewind to Valentine's Day 2000, freshman year at JMU.

I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. I wasn't when I was single, and I'm not now that I'm not. I think it's pretty stupid, really. Plus, I'm not that into hearts or the color red, so, eh.

What I AM a fan of is boys who sing. (Lucky for me I married one of the country's greatest singer/songwriters, a man whose hits include "All I Need is a Mitchacle" and "Blinded by the Dog.") And even though I know it's cheesy as can be, I love me some all male a capella singing. Like love love.

And on Valentine's Day ten years ago, all of JMU's a capella groups put on a Valentine's concert. I went with a hoard of my friends (hoard of whores?), and we sat there for several hours with our eyes wide open and giant smiles on our faces, watching cute boys sing love songs.

My favorite group was Exit 245.


And thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, I've found a picture from that night. That guy in the middle, the one wearing the wings, the one my friends and I called "Wing Boy" for the next decade, his name is Jeff. Maybe I stalked him? Just a little?

But that boy all the way to the left? His name is Matty F. He was the first Matty F. that I almost married. (True story. Even though he doesn't really prefer the company of women, we almost got married during college in an attempt to get better financial aid and to be able to register.) That Matty F., the cute singing one who was sassy as could be, worked with me at BW3 and became one of my good friends. He called me Keaton (it was at the height of my Family Ties obsession), and we called him Focker (or sometimes we'd change the vowel).


Focker graduated from JMU and began a career in education, and after several years, decided that he hated it. So he decided to pursue his dream: to open a cupcakery, Frostings.


And I'm so proud of him! My own cupcaking obsession stems from my desire to go to Frostings every day. (Since I can't make the 8-hour drive every day of my life, I had to learn to bake. It's served me well--well, except for that whole "Wii Fit calling me obese" part.)


Check out Matty's apple cupcake! Focking amazing!



Okay, now here's why I have decided that the Matty F. that I actually did marry and I are going to be moving to Richmond. Tonight I went to Frostings website and saw this:

Forget Flowers... Surprise Your Love with Cupcakes and a Song

Cupid's Choice Cupcakes (choose half or full dozen)

Delivery to his/her home or office

Serenade performed by the Cupcake Duet

Personalized note card

Long stemmed rose

Valentine's Memory to Last a Lifetime

$49 (half dozen)

$59 (full dozen)

Supply is Limited

Email us for availability and song list

Soooooo, let me get this straight: cupcakes and singing boys? Would the cupcake duet sing "All I Need Is a Mitchacle"?

It's settled. We're moving to Richmond--by Valentine's Day. Maybe I do love this holiday!

Madison for Keeps

Oh, JMU alumni!

In case you haven't heard about this already:



This is how they sucked me in.

"Remember the campus tradition of holding doors for others entering a building behind you? Giving to Madison for Keeps continues that tradition. Please hold open the opportunity for students who want to stay at Madison. This program will run through December 31st, but don't wait — make your gift today."

And if that doesn't pull your heart strings, maybe this will.

Vending Machine Opus

One day when I was a little kid, I walked by a soda machine and pushed one of the buttons just to see if I could get a free drink. And wouldn't you know it, I did? I hadn't put in any money, but I got a free Coke. And so began my love affair with the vending machine.

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This love affair continued through middle school, where I learned strategies to get more free snacks. These strategies mostly included shaking, kicking, and otherwise abusing the machine, only to get a bag of Skittles to fall out.

As I got older, I learned that there was karma involved in vending machines. On more than one occasion I was the victim of vending machine vandalism. I would pay for my snack, but the coils would turn on an empty space, and I would get no snack. Vending machine karma.

So I stopped abusing the machines. I was wiser and more mature, and I would be a decent citizen of the world. Part of being a decent citizen means not kicking vending machines.

When I went off to JMU, my whole universe began to open up. I had new friends and new opportunities, but, just as fascinating, I also had a new wide world of vending machines to enjoy. These machines included hot chocolate machines, machines that gave fountain soda with crushed ice, french fry machines, ice cream machines, and more. The snacks and beverages in these machines were far superior to anything I had experienced before. AND, I could use my meal plan to buy the stuff. No cash required, just my JMU ID. It was. . .amazing.

Ocean Spray ruby red grapefruit juice was one of my favorites; it was great for breakfast and it was good with cheap vodka.

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In my old age, though, my vending machine interactions have become much less enchanting. In fact, about 30% of the time I seek sustenance from a vending machine these days, the experience ends in disappointment, frustration.

The only vending machines I really patronize are those at my school, and the snack machine is about ten years older than I am. It won't take dollar bills--not even the super crispy ones!--and half of the buttons don't work. And the soda machine has just as bad a performance record even though it is brand new.

And why don't these machines work? I imagine that it's because they live in a place full of obnoxious teenagers, and we all know that teenagers are notorious for vending machine abuse. Just wait until they experience vending machine karma. They'll rue the day!

On Collars: A Post from Mitch

Hey guys, it's me, Mitch. I haven't really been posting too much lately because I've been so busy barking at the squirrels in the back yard. I mean, those squirrels are ALL OVER the place, and they keep throwing acorns at me. I hate squirrels. They're right up there with cats.

Anyway, today I was going to show you my collection of collars. I have lots of collars. I'm kind of like Madeleine Albright with her pins; my collar indicates my mood. (PS--I'm pretty sure I'm taller than Madeleine Albright.)

Anyway, look at some of these cool collars I have. All of my collars but one came from Old Navy--before Old Navy started to suck. I must say, the quality of the collars at Old Navy has really been declining in the past few years. . . But that's a rant for another time.

Back to collars.

This is my holly collar. Obviously, I wear this one during the holiday season. It's probably my least favorite collar.

I really love this striped collar. It really complements my eyes and coloring, and I always get compliments when I wear it about what a handsome dog I am.

This blue one's pretty cool. It's plain, but some of the bitches like plain.

This is one of my favorites. This is my tie collar, and I wear it whenever I have to go to the office or attend a conference for work. This collar means business, and I look dapper whenever I'm wearing it.

Today I put on my Halloween collar. I love the skulls, and people really fear me when I'm wearing this one. Added bonus--the skulls glow in the dark. It really freaks out my mom and dad.

I've been wearing my James Madison University collar a lot lately. Even though I didn't go to James Madison, my mom and dad did, and I went there once to visit. They have the best grass and hills!

This afternoon I put on my Halloween collar with my JMU one. When it gets cooler outside, sometimes I'll dress in layers like this.

And my mom and I took a three-hour snuggle nap. When I looked up at her, I noticed that she was wearing a JMU tshirt. "Hmph," I thought to myself. "Is Mama trying to be me?"

And then she commented on my Halloween collar and wardrobe choice, and I think she got an idea. I hate it when Mama gets ideas, unless those ideas are about making me food or taking me for walks or car rides.

And the next thing I knew, there was Mama, wearing those damned pants she hasn't taken off since Thursday, the ones with the skulls on them. SHE IS TRYING TO BE ME!

I told her she better change her clothes immediately because it's so embarrassing when a dog and dog mom are dressed alike. I'll never be able to show my face at the park again!

But she refused. I'm so mad right now. Just wait until I tell Daddy about this.

You know how much I hate cats. The worst kind of cat? A copy cat. Hear that, Mama? You're the worst kind of cat!

Best Friend Portraits

Matt and I first started dating in September of 2002. I spent A LOT of time at Matt's apartment, hanging out, drinking, watching Friends and Jeopardy and The Daily Show. It was my senior year of college, and looking back, it was one of the most fun times of my life. I was surrounded by wonderful friends and roommates and coworkers, I had just started dating the boy I would eventually marry, and the whole world was ahead of me.

Oh, and that was when I became friends with Best Friend. Best Friend (whose real name is Alex Luther--yes--LEX LUTHER!) was one of Matt's roommates. At the beginning of the year he was not on the lease and did not have a bedroom in the apartment; instead he slept in the closet of one of Matt's other roommates. It wasn't a big closet, either. In fact, it was just long enough and wide enough for Best Friend to lie down and sleep. Best Friend doesn't need luxury.

Best Friend and I hit it off immediately. He's my favorite kind of person: cranky, smart, creative, kind of quiet, hilarious, dry sense of humor, mean on the outside but kind on the inside, quirky as can be.

This was during the time of the apartment party at JMU. Neither Best Friend nor I was a big fan of that party scene, so we had to find ways to entertain ourselves other than kegstands or dancing to the latest Nelly song. We decided to lie to people. Although we had only known each other for a week or so, we decided to convince people at the party that we were best friends, and had been best friends since we were children. To make the lie more believable, we began to refer to one another as Best Friend. (An exchange between us would go something like this: "Hey, Best Friend, whatcha doin'?" "Oh, nothing, Best Friend, just working on writing our best friend sitcom." "Cool, Best Friend, can I help?" "Sure, Best Friend. Maybe afterward we'll go get some chocolate milk.")

Best Friend and I would improvise the most elaborate lies about our childhood and the history of our friendship. We convinced so many people that we had been friends since we were nine, that we went on vacation together in Disneyworld and he got poison ivy on his feet and had to ride around in a wheelchair--but it was okay because then we got to go to the front of all of the lines. We convinced people that in the eighth grade we had an "experimental summer," the details of which are not blog appropriate. We played off of each other's lies beautifully, and in the event that somebody didn't believe us, we would go one step farther.

After knowing each other for two weeks, Best Friend and I decided that we needed some proof of our lifelong friendship. We found this proof at Wal-Mart's portrait studio. Best Friend portraits, we decided, would make it undeniable that we'd been friends forever. Plus, they only cost $3.95 for like 1,000 pictures.

Tell me these aren't the best Best Friend portraits you ever did see.

I was donning my newly-purchased jean jacket and nail polish from the Mary Kate and Ashley line, and Best Friend was wearing a tshirt with a dinosaur and a hat with a bald eagle. I believe my great-grandfather had owned a similar hat at one time. You can't see it in the picture, but there is a rope on the bill of the hat. Rope = classy.

And for some reason he had been walking around with an empty cigarette in his mouth for days. He refused to take it out. Quirky.

Best Friend and I were laughing so hard during our portrait session that I was crying. The Wal-Mart photographer was NOT AMUSED. She pulled down the Christmas background (which we did not request), and yelled--seriously, she yelled!--"BE SERIOUS! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" which only made us laugh harder.

Below is my favorite of the Best Friend portraits. We actually made tshirts with this picture on it and would wear them at the same time. There was a minor falling out, though, when Best Friend lost his in a beer pong-related bet.

Our lives have taken us in different directions since, and we don't talk all that often, but Best Friend is and always will be my best childhood Best Friend.

JMU Reunion!

During the wedding weekend, Matt and I got to reunite with several of our old college buddies. Clarissa, I mean, Larissa was there, and so was her boyfriend, Tedd.

Poor Tedd. Matt and I decided that he is a keeper because he not only has the patience to be with Larissa, but he also had the patience to hang out with her and all of her old college friends, and to be fun and cool throughout. At no time did he scream or head butt anybody, which is more than I can say for myself.


At the wedding, I actually got to see some people from high school (Bethy and I went to Westminster High together and then both went to JMU). It was really nice to see people I hadn't seen or talked to in 10 years, and it was amazing how I succumbed to peer pressure in their presence.

Chorus of high school classmates: Everyone take off their shoes!

Me (even though I don't really want to): Okay! [kicking off shoes]



Bad choices. In spite of the pedicure I'd had earlier that day, by the end of the night my feet looked like this:

It really wasn't pretty. And here's Brad. Like most of us, Brad had imbibed too much. He decided that he would put his head in a shoebox.

And I decided that I would put my dirty Wal-Mart foot in his mouth. I don't know why I decided that was a good idea, and I don't know why Brad 1.) let me put my foot in his mouth, and 2.) let me take a picture of it. Like I said, bad choices.

VERY bad choices. It was around this time that I screamed at Brad for biting my toe, fearful that he would mess up the fresh coat of nail polish.

Matt hung his head, ashamed of the woman he married and the friends he's made.

Later, after the toe-biting/pedicure-ruining incident, we all migrated to the room that Brad, Missy, and Trina were sharing. While there, Porky Jean made an appearance. Brad and I were eating some leftover pizza, and even though Brad had his own piece of pizza, he tried to steal mine. My animal instincts took over. I shot him a look of death, head butted him [very, very hard], caused him to drop his pizza on the floor, shoved the rest of my pizza in my mouth, almost choked, picked up his pizza from the floor, and inhaled his, too. Bad choices all around. (Also, how have I avoided the H1N1?)

On Sunday morning, dehydrated and craving protein-rich greasy food, we all headed to Alexis's Diner before our painful drives home. Matt explained to Brad that he should never enter a gross out competition with Mandy, and he should never try to come between Mandy and food. Missy listened and agreed.

Brad remained in disbelief about the greatest head butt of all time.

Trina wondered if a lawsuit may come of this episode. Could she be the lawyer if she was a witness?

And Missy decided that Brad was annoying. She plotted ways to kill him, the whole time wishing that she had been the one to deliver the painful head butt.

In the years since we've left college, everything has changed. And yet, somehow, nothing has changed at all.