Meet the G-Parents

This afternoon Fiji and I travel to the mysterious land of East Michigan. Jealous? You should be. We are going to be right across the lake from Canadia. Woohoo. And he is introducing me to his grandparents, which is where we will be staying (and sleeping in separate rooms, obvi) for the whole weekend. He told me to bring a book. Or ten. Despite the fact that old people kinda scare me (I know, I'm age-ist. Whatever.They smell funny. Except for my grandparents. They smell nice.), I am really looking forward to meeting them and spending time with them. Apparently his g-pa is quite witty. And now that he's suffering from alzheimer's, he basically says whatever comes to mind. So, basically, we are twins. Hopefully this time I won't get housed and black out like when I met his parents.

In other news, I think I have a problem and it's quite serious. I don't think I like TV anymore. There, I said it. Isn't that WEIRD?! I get bored. And lose interest and start staring off into space. I don't even know who I am anymore. I even tuned out while watching The Hills. THE HILLS?!! I need help. Am I a grown-up?? Oh dear god.

It's a BOY!

HBee had her BABY!! It's a BOY! And he has a bunch of red hair and white eyebrows and lashes! CUTENESS to the MAX! I can't wait to meet the little man! Congrats Hbee and DrewDog!

BABIESSSSSSSSSSS! Well, BABYYYYYY!

(Hi. I'm a spaz.)

Ummmmmm...

A scientist just walked by whistling, "If I only had a brain..."

No lie. It's funny cause it's true. On SO many levels.

Breakdown

Last night I had a slightly minor to severely major mental breakdown, depending on who you ask. I'm on the fence about the whole ordeal. I may have blacked out. That or I'm too ashamed to remember.

Anyway, lately I've been having some issues with the CTA. Mainly, the people with whom I share the CTA. Because clearly it's MY mode of transportation and I am so obviously being the generous and gracious one in allowing other passengers to ride on my train. This is where the problem stems, I presume. It's just that I am beginning to despise these people, really for no reason at all. Just their mere existence annoys me to no end. And I recognize that this is a problem. I've admitted it, which is the first step I think. So there's that. The next step would probably be to chill the fuck out, but I'm not there yet. It's just that I see the same people. EVERY. DAY. And they all infuriate me. And all for their own uniquely frustrating reasons. It's odd.

So then on top of all of my neurotic public transportation issues, we had to go grocery shopping. Yeah. Let's throw the angry, impatient chick in a grocery store filled with thousands (it felt like, at least) of indie hipster yuppies and a brand new check-out boy and see what happens. I mean, SERIOUSLY. We were waiting in line three times longer than we were actually shopping. After about 5 minutes, I was all, "Babe. I am in a very bad place right now. I'm serious. I think I'm losing it." And he was like, "Do you need the keys to the car?" And I was all, "Um yeah. But I can't leave you here. All alone." And he was all, "Yeah. That would be way harsh." And then I'm all, "But I may die. Right here. In Whole Foods. Aisle 3." And he's all, "Look, abbe, the suns coming up." And I'm all, "OMG. It is. What day IS this?"

20 minutes later (for reals):

Check-out boy [VERY confused look on his face]: Ummm, what are these?
Tilly: Green beans.
COB: Ohhhh. Yeah. Heh heh.
Tilly: ?
COB: And this?
Tilly: An apple.

I'm not even (really) joking. It was that bad.

I'm lucky to be alive. (And so is he, come to think of it.)

UPDATE: Stealing from Julie's idea, because she's the coolest, I just checked to see what I was up to this time last year and OMG! The surgical shoe! The AwkRoomie and AwkDog!! Ahhh, memories.

I've Never Blushed SO BADLY in All My Years of Living My Life

Literally.

After Fiji's nephew was dunked and everyone promised to not let the little guy become a superdupersinner, the attention was unfortunately all directed towards me. And I really hate being the center of attention. HATE. Anyway, so we're all standing around, taking pictures and stuff, etc etc. And the pastor basically asks Fiji who he is and yadayada. Then he looks at me. And asks where I fit in. I'm all, "I'm just the girlfriend of the godfather" and point to Fiji. THEN he goes on and on about what my "background" is and how I'm dark-skinned and he can't believe I'm not italian and yadayada...THEN he's all, "Ohhhh. I heard about you. You know, we do WEDDINGS here too. Aren't you two planning a wedding SOON?"

Tilly [the blushing begins]: Ummm, uhhh, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Pastor: blahblahblah...WEDDING...blahblahblah...

Fiji: __________________

Tilly [Serious BLUSHING]: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....Ummm, No.

Fiji's brother-in-law: All I said was that you were a keeper!

Fiji's sister: Hey! Look! Tilly's BLUSHING!!

Fiji: ___________________

Tilly [Tomato-faced, staring at Fiji, eyes pleading for help]: Well, ummmm, yeah. Well, it REALLY helps when you keep STARING at me and talking about me blushing. Thanks.

Fiji: _________________

Fiji's father: Why are you letting him make you BLUSH?!

Tilly [sweating profusely] : I blush really easily. I don't know. Ahhhhhhh! (Stop looking at meeeeeeeee!)

Fiji: ______________

Finally someone in the group of 20 or so watching this shit show feels my pain and diverts attention back to the BABY, where it should have been the whole time. And I run away. Well, not really, but I give Fiji the look of death and pretend to be engrossed in the videocamera lens. Which, who are we kidding, I totally was. My brain had practically shut-down after that fiasco.

Fiji comes over and acts as if that did not just happen and as if my life just wasn't entirely ruined. (Me? Dramatic? NEVER.) He tries to put his arm around me and I practically punched him in the face with my glare. He was like, what? And I was all, "THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP THERE. You couldn't have said something or something? Broken the awkness of it all? Taken all there pressure off me? Did you NOT see my face????!" And then he's all, "Oh, it was fine. Who cares?"

I almost shot him (with my devil rays), just to watch him die.

But, I'm practically a mennonite, so I just went home and ate cheese.

*In other news: Michigan beat Penn State!! I have something to LIVE for again! We sold the jeep (Fiji cried. Almost.) and now the Bubaru is back in action! We took the train back home which was all sorts of fun! We watched movies and drank wine and ate peanut M&M's. Jealous??

**In other OTHER news: We got the newest follower of Christ a sterling cup with his name and birthdate engraved. Some may say I went the classy route this time. Others may say I'm lame. Others may say nothing.

The One Where I Gush Like a Little Girl

Wednesday we attended the final night game of the regular season at Wrigley. We sat so close I could've smacked Soriano's ass as he rounded first base. I cannot even begin to explain the excitement. It was just so exciting. (See.) After we rallied to a 3-2 victory over the Reds, Fiji and I danced in our row of seats and sang our beloved Cubs mantra. He twirled and twirled me. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Then I almost fell down. Yesterday my stomach hurt all day from Old Style, hot dogs (or veggie burgers, depending on your meat-eating status), nachos, and peanuts. We had decided that we needed to eat EVERYTHING you can eat at Wrigley, you know, for that one last time (during the regular season). And we did. We're winners. Vegan Fiji even ate some nacho cheese. (It's not-cho cheese. Get it?) Anyway, sometimes I have so much fun with him I could die of happiness.

This morning in spin, SpinGuy (who, btw, I'm no longer crushing. It was a very short-lived crush. As in, he got a haircut. The end.) was getting all visually motivational and shit (per usual). As we were warming up, he asked us to visualize sometime in the past week or month or year when we felt pure happiness and joy and who was around us at the time, etc. Then the same for when we felt excited, when we felt proud, and then when we felt challenged and had gone out of our comfort zone. For me, each separate emotion and experience was one with Fiji by my side. It's not just that he makes me happy(which he does), it's that I am happy when I'm around him. It's not that he challenges me (although he does), it's that he makes me want to challenge myself. And even when I was out of my comfort zone, he was there. By my side. Holding my hand. And I cannot imagine my life without him. And I never want to.

And then we gave him a camel.

Fiji's nephew is getting christened this weekend and Fiji, as the godfather, has to stand up there and dunk the little dude. Anyway, my job (that I gave myself) is to find a fun, unique, interesting gift to give him. And my question is this:

Would it be weird or totally and completely awesome if we gave him a camel?

Personally, I think it would be out-of-control awesome. Mainly because, uh, hello, we can GIVE him a CAMEL. Well, he wouldn't technically have it like in his crib or anything, but we'd be giving it, in his name, to some farmer in Africa.

It's either that or some trees. Trees are clearly cool and all, but slightly bore-bore. Thoughts?

p.s. The featured product are sheep. SHEEP! Also, a can of worms! AWESOME to the MAX.

I Went GO BLUE All Over Town

Hi. And Go Blue. So, we finally won one and completely destroyed the Irish until I actually kindasorta felt bad. But not really. In addition, I managed to drink my face off for 12 hours, go to see Rilo Kiley, sit in the last row (literally), and repeatedly and constantly spill my beer all over the girl seated in front of me. I was dancing like a crazy lady and apparently I was the only one. I honestly cannot understand how people can resist dancing to/with Jenny Lewis! Honest. She rocks my world. As Fiji explained, "I mean, her legs go to her neck." He was not joking. She wore a sparkly gold shimmery dress slash shirt. At one point, I left to get a closer look and danced and danced (by myself) and then just LEFT. The show. By MYSELF. No clue. Fiji and LadyPedro were just like, uhhh what? Then I called Fiji like 17 times and breathed heavily into the phone. And didn't SAY anything. Again, no clue. Then I put on my pajamas and RODE MY BIKE over to my friends house. Where I proceeded to talk in circles and provide them with some late-night entertainment. Apparently my favorite phrase of the evening was "I am so NOT drunk. I can't believe how I'm NOT even drunk!" And they were all, Um, yeah. Then they convinced me to sleep over since, you know, biking home in my pajamas at 2am "not drunk" was not the most brilliant idea I've ever had. And even made up a bed for me in their guest bedroom. And then I snuck out the back door and rode home. Again, NO CLUE.

I made it home safely (clearly, I'm here), but I couldn't figure out how to unlock the door in my not-drunk state. And I got very confused. But I am a genius, so I made it inside. Then I slept on the couch. I woke up around 6am MAD at Fiji. He was like, seriously? And then he recounted the details of the evening and then we wrestled. He claims he loves me, even when I'm crazy and even BECAUSE I'm crazy. Isn't that neat?!

And this is why alcohol in moderation is my friend and alcohol by the boatload is my enemy. We're frenemies. And I think it will always be that way. Good times.

Winston

Winston was my first nephew in a way. A very special nephew at that. Before my brother and sister-in-law were married, they adopted a puppy and named him Winston after Winston Rodney the lead singer of Burning Spear. Winston was a unique dog. A loyal dog. A very, very special dog. He grew to be 165 lbs, with paws the size of my hands. And jowels that established him as a serious slobberer. While staying at my parents house he would drink from his water dish WAY more than usual just to prance around the house leaving "slobbers" all over the floor, cabinets, and furniture. My Mom caught onto his little trick and each time she heard him lapping it up, she'd call out to my brother, "Winston's REAL thirsty this time!" And he would run into the kitchen with a towel and wipe Winston's jowels clean. Just when we'd all turn our backs, there he'd be--back at his water dish...slopping it up.

Saying Winston was protective is a tremendous understatement. He was fierce, but the most well-trained dog I have ever met. And with the birth of each new baby, he was their protector. When my brother's family lived in a semi-rough neighborhood, no one fucked with them. Ever. But he was also so playful. The kids would ride on his back throughout the house. They would pull and tug at his jowels, his tail, his ears while he would just sit there. Never showing any sign of annoyance, impatience, or anger. He was the big brother and would do anything for them.

Winston was my brother's best friend. My brother would cook dinner for him and they would ride around town together. Everyone knew Winston. He was unforgettable. He was such a unique breed that everyone asked about him as we walked down the street. I remember the first time I visited my brother and sister-in-law in Northern California and they picked me up from the little airport down the mountain from their place and as soon as I got off the plane, I saw the three of them. Waiting for me outside the VW bus. I sat in back with Winston, who as a puppy was already as big as our dog at home. He sat next to me in the back seat, licking my hands only after my brother told him who I was and that I was part of the family.

My Mom called me on Monday while I was riding the train home from work. I could sense the tears in her voice as she informed me, "Winston died." I immediately covered my mouth with my hand, preventing the cries from breaking. It came out of nowhere. I was speechless. "He was nine," she explained, "and had lost a lot of weight this summer (down to a puny 150lbs), but he was playing with the kids in the yard just yesterday."

He lived a full and happy life, surrounded by his family. Surrounded by people who loved him and cared for him. And put his needs before even their own. We love you, Winst. Always.

Sangria Makes is Allllllllll Better

Saturday was a rough ROUGH day in the Tilly household. For the second week in a row, my team suffered a bone-crushing, soul-destroying loss. It hurts me. Deep within my soul. I am now going to have re-assess my "fandomness" and decide whether or not I can allow something that I have absolutely no control over to ruin my weekends/life. Fiji is scared. Of me, mainly, and my propensity for becoming Evil Girlfriend when Michigan is losing/being dominated by no-names. We didn't even watch the second half and instead chose to start binge-drinking. Which to me at this old age means having three or four beers. So sad. BUT yesterday I made this peach white sangria with grapes and raspberries (and peaches, duh) and that made it allllll better. Alcohol (in moderation) is my friend. And makes falling asleep before 9pm a cinch. And waking up at 5:30am harsh and evil and cruel.

Best Year of My Life

One year ago today. My life is forever changed.