My big fat Greek culture

So, I’m Greek, right? My ancestors laid the foundation of Western culture. We are the pioneers of systematic thought, democracy, philosophy, mathematics. Art. Literature. The Olympic games. Feta cheese. The world wouldn’t be where it is today if it weren’t for the Greeks.

But, the Greeks, over the centuries, have become batshit crazy. Look at their economy. What do you expect from people who take naps in the middle of the day, every day? While it’s a great practice when we visit (read: for VACATION), you can’t run the world's economy when you’re counting on other countries to take care of your problems because you're busy sleeping under your desk.

That’s blasphemy, right? Popou, I’m sorry.

We recently had our annual Greek festival at my church. I have forever loved this festival; I look forward to the food and dancing every year. This year was no exception. I planned to meet my friends Friday night for dinner and drinks, even getting a babysitter so I could enjoy myself in earnest. It was going to be a great night.

Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out that way. As soon as we arrived, I felt under the weather. I thought it would pass, so I did my best to enjoy myself. My mother could tell I wasn’t doing well and was highly concerned someone had given me The Mati.

Ah yes, The Mati. Example Numero Uno (that’s Spanish, isn’t it?) why I’m proud to be Greek.

The Mati is the evil eye. The evil eye is "a curse put upon a person to cause injury or bad luck for reasons of envy or dislike" (thanks, Greek culture websites!). Last summer, while they were in Greece, my mother was convinced my sister had been given The Mati. They went so far as to go through a xematiasma, a process where the “healer”says a prayer to rid the sufferer of the curse. If the victim does, in fact, have The Mati, both the healer and the victim yawn (you’re yawning now, aren’t you?) profusely. The healer performs the sign of the cross 3 times, spits on (or, perhaps, around) the victim 3 times and voila! (there’s some French for you) she is cured. 

Yes, the spitting. The Greeks love to spit on people as a sign of good luck. And always 3 times. So, word to the wise, if you find a Greek spitting on you, be sure to count the number of times he/she does it before deciding to punch him/her in the throat.

But, as luck would have it, you can protect yourself from The Mati. All you need to do is arm yourself with a particular charm, an all-seeing eye that acts as a protector from the curse. I was given one for each of my sons when they were born. Whenever anyone complimented them, the all-seeing eye was to protect them from… I don’t know what. The compliment? We also say “God bless him (her)” anytime anyone is given a compliment or praise so they don’t end up hurt. Or something. Like I said, we’re batshit crazy. But you can bet I do it anyway. I don’t want anything bad to happen to my children or nieces because I didn’t bless them after a compliment. Who wants that hanging over her head??

Needless to say, I was scared shitless slightly concerned someone had given me The Mati. It was the only acceptable explanation for my ailment, right? Forget science! My mother consulted my aunt (who is 15 months her senior, and therefore, more knowledgeable). My aunt, mercifully, explained to us both that blue-eyed people (which I am) cannot receive The Mati, we can only give it.  This is why the charm itself has a blue eye.  Woohoo!I have power! Beware!! Well, that’s a load off.

Of course, in the middle of this conversation, people were walking by, looking at us like we were – you guessed it – batshit crazy. Evil eyes? Blue-eyed people can’t get it? Brown-eyed people are doomed to live in fear of the blue-eyed people of the world? We SPIT on people?!

The good news is that I was feeling better by the next day and was able to get a souvlaki for lunch. OPA!

I need to invent a time machine

So, we had brunch at the husband’s uncle’s house on Sunday. I generally enjoy his family when we get together. They drink a lot are fun and entertaining and I always drink a lot enjoy the time we’re together.

This get-together was no exception. Everyone was in good spirits, the food was delicious; it was a good time. But, things took a turn for the worse for me soon after we arrived and I made one fateful decision. And if I could invent a time machine, I know the exact moment I would go back to change a decision I had made.

The moment an alcoholic beverage was offered to me.

If I could go back, I would politely refuse and kindly request a Diet Coke.

Instead, I stupidly accepted the proffered glass of white wine. Sure, it was only 1:00 in the afternoon, but what the hello? It was a beautiful sunny Sunday and the wine looked so refreshing. One glass with brunch couldn’t hurt.

Of course, one glass turned to 3 (the husband assures me I had more than 3, but 3 is what I remember and I’m sticking to it – as a matter of fact, I think the wine was laced with something and someone should be sued) and soon, I was swearing like a drunken sailor at the husband’s uncle because we don’t see them more often. I made the husband’s aunt cry by telling her how much we miss them. Then I was dragged out of the house by my ear it was time to go to my parents' for family dinner.

In the car, I knew things weren’t going to end well for me. I didn’t feel drunk until the fresh air hit me and I realized I had to act normally for other people. It was like leaving a bar while it was still light out.  It felt wrong. In the uncle’s house, it was easier; everyone was drunk and probably didn’t notice what an idiot I was being. I was now going to my family’s house where no one was drunk.  Yet.

We arrived at my parents’ and it was obvious to everyone I couldn’t stay for dinner. So, the husband and I left our children to their own devices (I hope someone made sure they ate something other than dirt a well-balanced meal) and went home. Where I promptly took out my contacts (and left them to shrivel up on the bathroom counter), changed into my PJs and passed out went to bed.

It was 6:30. PM, people.

I woke at 3am, not knowing where I was or how I got there. I’ve seen these events take place in movies. Where the heroine 1) awakes with a start, 2) checks to see (a) what she’s wearing and (b) who she’s sleeping next to, but I’ve never had that happen to me before. Not even in college.

I find I’m normally a great drunk. I generally stick to my limit and hardly ever don’t wake with a hangover. The same can’t be said for yesterday morning. At 3am, there I was, trying to figure out how I blacked out. I remembered most of brunch and sort of going to my parents’ house, but after that? Nada. (Luckily, the husband later informed me that I went straight to bed, which would explain why I remember nothing. So, that was comforting.)

But here, it was 3am and I was wide awake. As I should’ve been, after 9 hours of sleep. I never get 9 hours of sleep. So, I went downstairs to watch TV. After 3 movies, 1 round of dry heaves, 2 popsicles and 2 Diet Cokes, I was ready to take on the world.

But, it got me thinking. White wine and I are not really friends. She may call out to me like we're best friends, but we don't have good times together.  My last experience with white wine was about 10 years ago. It was the husband’s birthday and we were celebrating with his family (again, his family) for dinner. My MIL had these wine glasses the size of fishbowls and kept refilling my somehow-always-empty glass. I don't even like the taste of white wine. 

So, I was drunk before we even left for the restaurant. We ordered a bottle of wine (my suggestion – idiot) of which I drank over half, came back to their house, where I tripped over… carpeting. We had a Christmas party to go to that night after this dinner, where I fell backwards over a couch. In a skirt. Legs in air.  

It was, again, time for me to get dragged out by my ear go.

White wine is a bitch.

See, if I had that time machine and could go back to that night, I would do it all differently.  I would’ve kindly requested something nonalcoholic. I would’ve been sober at the Christmas party and not let some very personal information slip into the wrong hands. Several wrong hands (thanks, Mar, for reminding me). I wouldn’t have accidentally shown everyone my naughty bits. I would’ve gone to church in the morning. I would’ve gone to the football game for which we had (50-yard line) tickets.  I wouldn't have spent most of the next day vomiting and begging the husband to save himself. 

And I wouldn't have to hear about it every time I drink. 

On the other hand, time travel would also come in handy to fast forward through the hangover part. 

Scientists need to up their game. I can’t take much more of this.

How to get a brand new fridge, cheap (a step-by-step guide)

So, you:

1.  Buy a fridge "out of box" at your local appliance store on Sunday (to get the special pricing).

2.  Get it delivered on Tuesday. 

3.  Somehow, get the delivery people to bang up the freezer door upon delivery.

4.  Have them come back on Thursday to replace said door.

5.  Make sure new freezer door doesn’t match current freezer door.

6.  Let them offer to come back Friday to give you a, wait for it…

Brand.  NEW.  FRIDGE!! 

(Read:  “In the box” (!!))

Not that I'd ever do this on purpose, of course, but it worked for me!

Those mushrooms are called Goombas?

So, my boys have recently discovered Super Mario Bros.  I'm not talking Mario Kart or whatever the kids are playing these days.  I'm talking the best of the Nintendo games, circa 1985.  (The fact that we play the game on our Wii and not the original Nintendo is not at all relevant.)  

I love this game.  It was pretty much the only game I ever played on Nintendo as a kid.  I vaguely remember playing a game where we had to do the 'up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, Start' to get 100 extra lives, but, mostly, my game was Super Mario Bros.  I remember the excitement we felt to learn all the secrets, from the hidden coins and extra lives to the warp zones, and how thrilled we were when we finally saved Princess Toadstool from that dragon thing. 

We downloaded Super Mario to our Wii a few years ago, and, I swear, I played every day after school work for a week.  It brought me back to the 4th grade - in my parents’ basement, fighting for a turn while watching my brother and his friends try (unsuccessfully – ha!  you jerks!) to rescue the princess.  Now as an adult (sort of), I could play to my heart's content.  No fighting with brothers or neighborhood kids.  I still remembered all the hidden coins and extra lives.  How to jump on the double Goombas and knock through the Koopa Troopas (thanks, Wikipedia!). Not to mention the wonders of the warp zones.  Why go through the whole game when you can warp?

The game was simple then.  You could only go in one direction, forward (a doy), and you had to pass each level before going onto the next (well, except for that warping thing).  It's not that way with current games.  I watch my 7-year-old play his Star Wars and Indiana Jones games and I am a) confused and b) bored out of my mind.  I just don't get them.  How do you win?  How do you know which direction to go?  When do you know it's over?  Is it ever over??

I admit it took me a long time to master SMB.  I think I only saved the princess once, but I did it.  It’s a memory I didn’t know I lost… until I went looking for it.  I did beat the game, didn’t I?  I’m sure I did.  I had to have… right?

Anyway, my family was over on Sunday for dinner and my mother and I talked about our old Nintendo while we watched the kids play.  She doesn't remember us ever owning a Nintendo.  To add to that, she doesn't remember us owning an Atari, either (seriously, where was this woman while we were all in the basement fighting [literal fisticuffs] over next turn?!).  At least I'm (somewhat) aware of what my boys do. 

I might be bored to death by their games, but I do know about them.

Before dinner was ready, my 7-year-old asked me to play a round.  I snatched the control away from him so fast He handed me the control in a mannerly way.  I showed them where several hidden treasures were and how to kill those pesky ninja turtles.  For a moment, I was the Coolest Mom in the Whole. Wide. World.  I rocked!  I got us to Level 5!

Of course, it was short lived as I quickly reverted back to being a big meanie (according to my 4-year-old) by forcing them to turn off the game and eat their (delicious & nutritious) dinner.

But, for a fleeting moment, I was awesome.  It lasted only as long as it took for me to die (with my several extra lives), but it happened.  And I will cherish it forever. 

Currently

So, my sister thinks I need to do one of these. Not sure why, but here you go, Mar.

Currently…

Current books

I took out about 5 books at the library on Monday. Don’t ask me why. Oh, fine, I’ll tell you. I make my book selections lately by scanning what’s being showcased at Target. There. My secret is out. I’ve started with One Day. So far? It’s kind of dumb. Thanks, Target.

 Current playlist

Currently, I am listening to my “tonight” playlist, which I made last summer for a party we hosted. It has a lot of fun, upbeat, summer-appropriate songs on it. Since it’s January, I have to do my part to forget that it’s winter.

Current color

This is a hard one. If you ask my sister, she’ll tell you my colors are black, gray and black. I admit I have about 9 black cardigan sweaters (and I just now remembered one I recently bought! 10! Hooray!).

But, as a little girl, my favorite colors were pink and purple. And I’ve since gone back to them. 

Look, I live in a male-dominated house.  There’s only so much blue one can take.

Current food

As I am on the P90X2 meal plan, I am currently eating chocolate fruit! Fruit and protein! Vegetables! Lots and lots of vegetables!  

      

Current favorite show

Um, the Bachelor? Only so I can make fun of it?

Current needs

Well, 'need' is a pretty strong word. The Beatles said that all you need is love, but I think food and water top that. And sleep.

Current outfit

Oh, I look supercute today. Black yoga pants.  Tank top.  Gray hooded robe.  But let's pretend I'm wearing this:

Current excitement

I was able to add images!

Current mood

Apprehension – I do another P90X2 routine in an hour.

Current indulgence

Chocolate chip cookies Pinterest – my funnest waste of time

Current triumph

I was able to add images to my blog! (did I say that already?)

Current bane of my existence

Paper.  And Nerf gun bullets.  They're multiplying by the second.

Current #1 item on my wishlist

To get over my silly fear of flying so I can happily go here:

 

And go back here: 

Current new years resolution

To not have a new years resolution – damn!

Oh, it's been brought.

So, I started P90X2 over the weekend. I’ll admit, I was pretty excited to start a new exercise routine. While I gave up in the 7th week of P90X (don’t tell anyone), I’ll admit, I did feel better while I was exercising regularly (don’t tell anyone). And, as you know, I’ve been fairly sedentary the last couple months, so I needed someone to kick me in the ass.

And, boy, did he.

As we did last year, my husband and I do the first DVD together. I always enjoy doing this stuff with him. He used to train a lot in his single days, so he knows a lot more about exercise than I do. Plus, it helps to have someone tell me if my form is good (I want to punch him in the throat if he tells me it’s not, but that’s neither here nor there).

So, there we are, in our new basement, with our new TV, prepared to sweat. And then Tony’s big head comes on screen (he doesn’t really have a big head, it just looks ginormous on our gigantic TV screen – Hi Tony!). Okay, fine, I am happy to see him. While he irritated the crap out of me the first time around, I found myself missing him after I quit like a baby stopped.

(This, of course, did not make me start back up again, but don’t tell anyone.)

The first exercise is something core related. When he says, “Core”, I hear “Pain”. The first thing I notice is that I am way more coordinated this time around than I was the first time doing P90X. So, that’s something. That’s about the only good thing I can say. We finish the routine without dying (okay, second good thing I can say). I wasn’t even in that much pain afterward (fine, three good things).

I come back for more the second day. This is where I almost die. And watch the woman on screen (with a cute haircut) do all this with a smile on her face. A smile. Bitch.

PS.  My 4-year-old is in the basement with me this time, playing with his Legos. While I am dying a slow death.

“What will this be like for him,” I wonder, as I gasp for air, “watching his mother die right in front of him. All because of stupid exercise? How could I scar him like that? I should quit. I mean, think of the children.”

It’s no coincidence Plyocide sounds a lot like suicide.

But, as you can plainly see, I do not die. I get through the routine a little worse for wear, but I survive. And, even though my 4-year-old shows me up with one move, I feel good that I got through the entire routine without shutting the TV off with an “Eff that.” I should be rewarded!

My reward, however, is sore muscles. It hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. But, I was much worse last time, so that’s something (four good things!). And, I rather like the pain (five!).

I could totally be the spokesperson for P90X2. Where IS that phone call?

Bring it.

Happy pinning!

So, I received an iPad for Christmas this year. Or, rather, my husband had 2 and he, after 6 months of me asking for one of them, reconfigured one of his to me. Thanks honey!

To be honest, I didn’t really want the iPad, so I didn’t care if I ever got it. I have an iPhone and a Mac (yes, we are an Apple Family), so I didn’t really need it.

That is, until I got it.

Man, this thing is fun! My sister has had her iPad for a few months now, and gave me a bunch of apps to download. Flipboard (I still can’t figure out the purpose of this one, but whatever), Whiteboard (this is a really good one for the kids) and Pinterest (this one has become an obsession of mine).

Pinterest is a site used to organize and share images you find interesting. You “pin” these images to themed boards (decorating ideas, party ideas, etc.) to your home page. You can repin other people’s pins and follow fellow pinners (how many variations of the word pin can I use in one sentence?). You can’t just join the site, though. You have to be invited (which I was – thanks, Mar!). So, now I have my own boards and can pin anything I want to them. It has become addicting to see what ideas I can steal borrow from others, what foods look good, what exercise routines seem fun doable not horrible.

…

Okay, let’s be real. This site actually holds no value for me. While I have pinned good ideas to my boards, I have yet to use. A. Single. One. Also, I can’t figure out why my one cousin continues to pin pictures of wedding dresses and bouquets. She’s been married for over 20 years. And, I swear, she’s on this thing 24 hours a day. No way can you pin that much and have a life.

But, I do enjoy seeing what’s out there. And, the ideas are good. We have a long winter ahead of us (ugh), so any crafts I find I can do easily with the boys will be a hit (if I ever use them). My sister has made some recipes from the healthy recipes pin on my board. And, I’ve looked at a 28-day food detox challenge on my cousin’s board, took the quiz, and learned that I don’t need a detox. Whew! Woo!

And then there’s Polyvore. It’s another website I’d never heard of, but easily fell in love with. On this site, you can browse fashion trends other people in the community have put together. They match tops with bottoms, add shoes and accessories. It’s really fun (if you’re into that.)  (Which I am.). Not that I can afford any of these items, but it’s still fun. It’s like playing dress up with your Barbie when you were a kid. (Of course, not the Barbie of today. This year, my niece received Streetwalker Barbie [from my mother!]. Sigh.) And once you put together an outfit, you can pin that to your board on Pinterest (or, if you’re like me, skim through what others have put together and pin things I like. “Did you put this together?” “Yes. Yes, I did.”).

I now know how my sister (and, apparently, my cousin) can be on the iPad all day long.