Brookfield Wannabe

The magazine, Real Simple, asked its readers, "What is the secret to a good marriage?"

Here is the response that I liked the most.

Sent in by Cecilia Saad from Washington D.C.:

I once asked an elderly neighbor this very same question.  He and his wife had been married more than 50 years.  He replied, "Oh my dear, it's really very simple.  My wife and I agreed long ago that I'd make all the big decisions, and she'd make all the little decisions.  And in all these years together, there just haven't been any big decisions.

Ok, so not one of my more profound titles, but it certainly catches your attention, right?

With the heat running practically 24/7 in our house, my sinuses have been killing me, which reminded me of an interesting on-line article about "neti pots" that I recently read. 

Before I give you the link to the article, I have to say that:

a) I have not tried this myself; and

b) I don't think I will ever try it because it kind of grosses me out. 

The neti pot is an instrument used to irrigate your nasal passages.   If you don't believe that anyone would actually do this, check out this YouTube video.

(Now, if anyone out there reading is willing to admit that they have tried this and wants to share, feel free to comment.)

 That's right folks -- Here at Brookfield Wannabe we are committed to bringing you the hardhitting news  :-)
 

1.  Some of the doors on my minivan are frozen shut.

2.  The Spouse actually complained about going to the Golf Dome (although I note that it did not actually keep him from going).

3.  The Preschooler put on her hat AND her gloves without a fight when going to dance class.

4.  The cat refuses to get off the fleece blanket on my bed.

When it gets into the subzero temps like this, I am always reminded of a similar night in high school when some of my girlfriends and I decided to go see "Night of the Comet" at Westown Theater.  It was a bad decision all around.  I don't know what our parents were thinking, letting us go out on a night when it was about -20 or so.

There were about six of us crammed into Grace's little blue Nova.  What I mainly remember from that night was being trapped inside the car because all the doors were frozen shut. We tried to open the windows. They were frozen too.  And because we were teenage girls in an age without cell phones, panic ensued.  Thoughts of our frozen bodies being found in the Nova raced through our heads half-seriously.

Finally, I think two of us were able to force open one of the passenger doors.

Had the movie been good, the evening might have been worth it.  But "Night of the Comet" was bad, really bad... like "no discernible plot" bad. 

But the night in general made for a good story, one we occasionally still recount when we get together on cold nights like this. I heard on the news that, with the windchill factor, it could feel like -30 tonight. 

I'm staying in and fighting the cat for the blanket.

 

The Spouse has not been watching the Packers' games lately because The Spouse has convinced himself that he is a jinx.  So, we didn't watch the Seahawks game (yes, The Spouse was that serious!), and I've been kicking myself ever since.

I'm not athletic.  I don't watch sports.  I don't play sports.  But I am a Packer fan.

I've been lucky enough to attend two games at Lambeau.   Both of them were in December. Each time I wore long underwear, sweats, a parka, a hat with earmuffs over the hat, three pairs of gloves, three pairs of socks, and two of those heat pads in each of my boots and I still froze my "assets" off.  I loved every minute of it.

As we watched news clips of the Seattle game, I remarked to The Spouse that I wasn't sure if I could endure doing all of that if we ever got tickets to Lambeau again.  He asked if I would go if I could sit in one of those heated luxury boxes.

I said no because that's for wussies.

To really experience "The Frozen Tundra," you must sit in the cold, packed in like sardines, with the cold from the cement floor seeping into your toes and spreading up through your body to numb your brain (which is why you agree to wear the cheese wedge on your head and paint your face green and yellow), all the while screaming your head off and hugging the complete stranger next to you each time the Packers score.   That, my friends, is a Packers game.

 So, to all of you heading off to Lambeau and below zero temperatures on game day, god bless 'ya.  You are better men than I.  I'll be with you in spirit though.

Go Pack go! 

I have a new guilty pleasure: the television show Cashmere Mafia. 

For all you Carrie Bradshaw fans who need a fix, Cashmere Mafia is kind of like Sex and the City but toned-down for network TV. It airs on Wednesdays at 9:00 p.m on ABC.

Like Sex and the City, the show is about four women and their friendship.  But these particular women became friends in business school (think Wharton), and fifteen years later, they are all Prada-wearing, Blackberry-wielding, take-no-prisoners business execs in New York. 

The clothes are fabulous.  The banter is pithy.  But I am not completely sold on it yet due to one storyline that just bugs me.

One of the women has been married for 15 years.  For years, she has known that her husband is "stepping out" on her, but she puts up with it.  Then, she finds out that he is currently having an affair with someone she knows, and instead of kicking him to the curb, she stays with him because she doesn't want to be alone.  She then plots to even the score by having a fling of her own.

So, basically, this strong, intelligent, successful woman becomes stupid when it comes to her cheating spouse.  That's the part I can't stomach.

The third episode airs tonight.  I'm still hoping that she'll dump him.

(The spouse dislikes the fact that all the men on the show are portrayed as "dogs," but he says he will continue to watch with me.)

*******************

Speaking of intelligent, successful women, did you hear that Oprah is starting her own cable television network?  The Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN) will replace the  Discovery Health channel in 2009. 
 

They will come... and put in a dentist's office. 

Is it just me, or does it seem like all the new buildings in Brookfield seem to house

a) banks;

b) medical professionals' offices; or

c) dentists' offices 

First case in point:  The new buildings on either side of Grasch's. 

Second case in point: The proposed 97-foot tall building, Fountain Brook Crossing.  The lead tenant?  You guessed it... a dentist's office.  

I don't have anything against dentists.  I'm just saying...

But back to this Fountain Brook Crossing.  Back when the development was initially proposed, it was lauded as an architectural "gateway" for Brookfield; it still is.

Can anyone explain to me why Brookfield needs a "gateway"?  Seriously.  Is it the new "sexy" architectural term?

When I first started this blog in 2006, I wrote about a then proposed Brookfield "gateway" at the intersection of 124th and Capitol ("Toto, We're Not in Tosa Anymore"). 

I didn't get it then, and I still don't get it now.

(BTW - fellow Brookfield blogger, Kyle Prast has posted some detailed blogs on her site regarding Fountain Brook Crossing.

On a recent talkshow, Trisha Yearwood, the country singer, stated that a southern lady could say anything at all about another lady so long as she prefaced her comments by saying, "Bless her heart."  I am now going to talk about a female relative of mine.  Bless her heart.

"Aunt Betty" is a very generous woman.  She loves to give gifts, and her family and friends are the recipients of her generosity.

On the other hand, she has no qualms about re-gifting.  I know this first-hand.

I don't have any problems with re-gifting.  Heck, I've done it myself in a pinch.  I know there are some who think that the practice of re-gifting is appalling and is in bad taste.  I tend to be more practical.  If I know I'm not going to use it, why not give it to someone who will?

You can't just go re-gifting any old thing though.  I have certain rules I adhere to.  First, the gift must be unused and in good condition, and if at all possible, still in its original packaging. Second, the gift must be something that I think that the recipient will really like/use.  For instance, several years ago, we received a clock.  Although it is a perfectly fine clock, until I find someone who I think would really want/like a clock shaped like the continent of Australia, it will remain in my possession.    

The third rule, however, is the most important re-gifting rule.  You must destroy all evidence that indicates that you were the original recipient of the gift.   That means removing all labels and tags; checking to see if there are personal notes hidden within the packaging; and ensuring that the gift is not engraved with your name, a personal message, or any sort of date.

So, the preschooler received a Christmas gift from "Aunt Betty."  She had already gotten one that had her name on it, but Aunt Betty had "extra" gifts, gifts that were prettily wrapped but had no names on them.  Aunt Betty distributed these remaining gifts to the children in a random manner.  So, the fact that my daughter had gotten this particular gift was purely by chance.

When she opened it, she was delighted to see that it was a fairy ornament.  Fairies are very big in our house. 

When we got home later that evening, she wanted to put the ornament on the Christmas tree.  As I unpacked the fairy from the box, the first thing I noticed was that the fairy was carrying a heart-shaped charm that said "friend."  Then, I noticed that front of the box indicated that the ornament was from 2005.  I started to laugh.

But I stopped laughing when I recognized the handwriting on the top of the box.  It said, "To Betty, From Cora." 

"Cora" was my mother; she died in 2006.

And by some strange twist of fate my daughter, not one of the other children, ended up with this fairy, a gift that had originally been bought by her grandmother. 

Needless to say, we're keeping the fairy. 

But there is this decorative candle set we got...