Sparkle!

Dr soc and I are going ring shopping this weekend! Color me excited! Also, color me "helpful."
Dr soc has a really good idea of what I like (mainly because I showed him pictures) and he was a grad student for 7 years and old habits die hard so he took notes. Seriously, he put it in a word document.
There's a lot of stuff I know about jewelry. But there's also stuff that I don't know. Like where to get it.
dr soc: So, where exactly do we go?
me: Not sure on that.
dr soc: do you know anything as far as going to a store in the mall vs a family jeweler?
me: Nope. Honey, I don't actually know anything about buying jewelry. I only know how to receive it.

Media firestorm

This was my twitter feed Friday/Saturday:
Spazzella: though not officially engaged, Mike and I are starting to look at wedding dates, venues and set up a joint email account for registering.
--2 seconds later--
I'm squeeing like you wouldn't believe!
-- The next morning as I continue to squee--
I've been released me down the bubble of tulle path. I have already priced 4 different venues. he has no idea what he's unleashed!
And thus the twitter/facebook firestorm of "are you engaged?!?! questions. Which is a very fair question. The short, and official for the moment answer is: no, we are not engaged . Dr soc has not proposed, we are still calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, and I have booked nothing and/or put money down for the happiest day of our lives. YET.
As a way of calming everyone, including myself, down, I offer up this explanation tweet: not officially. but we were looking at time frames, budget calculations and how much $ to save, and I took off to the bot w/out looking back!
Which I did. I just got really, really excited and thus took off running into "plan" mode. And a dear dear friend got just as excited as I did and added fuel to the excited fire.
So while I created my own little hurricane of crazy and had to do some damage control, I'm still completely excited about it. I was never this excited about my other engagement or wedding. I have no hesitations and I can't wait. And as a final thought, I leave you my last tweet of the firestorm: don't worry my dears, when mike pops the question, we'll inform ya'll in a much more personal way than announcing it via facebook or twitter! this was my

Do You Take This Man AND His Wives?

I've been watching the tv show Sister Wives. It's a reality show that follows a polygamous family in Utah, and it chronicles their lives without the cloak and dagger blurred faces and voice distortion ticks of tv.

The sociologist in me says, it's an alternative type of family and people should accept that. If we are willing to accept single parents, gay parents, step-parents, and grandparents as parents, half siblings and blended families as social norms, then why should multiple parents who love their children be deemed unacceptable? It's a caring family and they don't seem to be doing anything illegal. And I doubt they would expose themselves and their lifestyle on tv if they were doing doing anything of the sort. They may have alternative lifestyle, but they aren't stupid. All the children, as many as there are, seem to be ok too. So that part of me says ok, let them be.

The other part in me can't understand why any person, man or woman, is ok with sharing their spouse. I'll admit to being selfish and want dr soc for me and me only. All mine, all mine, all mine!

But while I don't understand that lifestyle and know it's not for me, I'm not judging them for it. Really. I give them credit for braving the criticism and trying to be open about their lives. Good luck!

It's All In Who You Know

So, I have a BA in sociology. (I really do! The fancy piece of paper came!) Dr soc has his PhD in sociology. (And a BA and MA while I'm lauding his accomplishments.) Did I mention that we both got those aforementioned degrees from the same school?

Yeah. Like that doesn't look scandalous..

But it's actually not. He received the PhD August 2009 and was out of the graduate program by the time I switched to sociology in around October 2009. There was never a teacher/student relationship, and it's not like he would have crossed the line if there was anyway, since he still won't make out with me in his office.

Well, anyway, we may have never crossed paths while at UK, but we knew a lot of the same people. And that would be due to him knowing who all my teachers were since they were grad students of sociology and he was in grad school with them for 5 years. And not that it came up, but we felt it best to just not mention "us" in the department.
But once, just once, I let one of my teachers know who I was dating. I had needed help on a few problems and had gone to office hours. We were just chatting about things and thus the following conversation:

teach: When do you graduate?
me: December!
teach: Cool! What are you going to do after graduation?
me: I'm moving to Charlotte and there I'll try to find a job and then get into grad school there.
teach: Are you going to go in into library science? And why Charlotte?
me: Yeah, I am and my boyfriend accepted a job there this summer. So I'm joining him after graduation.
teach: Oh cool. What does he do?
me: He teaches at a community college.
teach: Does he have his PhD?
me: He does.
teach: Where did he get it from?
me: Here....from UK
teach: Really? Cool. What does he teach?
me: Sociology...
teach: And he got his PhD here?
By this point I know if I keep evading it's just going to look worse and worse. So I figure letting one person know isn't the end of the world, and we're adults about this.
me: Yeah...yeah, it's Mike soc.
teach: NO way! (his face face lit up with recognition.) That's awesome! Tell him I said Hi!
me: Will do.

Of course I told dr soc about it and him and my teacher were friends so it wasn't that big of a deal. But it was still funny.

Animal Instinct

me: Will ikea load stuff in my car for me?
LB: I don't know if that's a service they offer, but you are a pretty girl and can probably get someone to help you.
me: That's what I told mike! When I said that he looked at me like I had set women back 50 years. Stupid phd and social equality beliefs.
LB: Silly mike. doesn't he know that no amount of policy or social structure will win out over pure animal instinct?
me: I think he tries to ignore that because then he thinks his schooling was in vain. Whereas I exploit it to my advantage. This may be why he calls me the worst sociologist ever.
LB: Or perhaps you are the best...
me: That's my theory. Don't ignore the inequality, just use it to your advantage.

Note: I don't think his 11 years of school (7 of them grad school) and 3 degrees in sociology will find this conversation quite as funny as I do, nor will it change his opinion on my sociologist status. However, my 8 years of schooling (all undergrad baby) and 1.5 degrees thinks otherwise. And since it is my blog, voila!

Sun Spots Make The World Go Round

At some point the girl dogs have learned they have a sister, and it's been somewhat calmer around here. Granted, they still antagonize each other like sisters, Jules hasn't grasped the Bailey probably wouldn't try to eat my head if I didn't put my head in her mouth concept yet, and Bailey gets jealous and butts in if Mike starts to pet Jules and not her. (I pet Jules and Bails is all whatevs. Mike pets Jules and she barrels in like: Hey! Hey! Me too! Um Bailey, he might like you more if you weren't so crazy. Just saying.)

But sometimes, a little extra help from mother nature helps the calm along. A LOT. Because this is what I had this morning:

a sun spot big enough for two!

A few minutes later one of them hoped up and did something spaztastic and ruined the Kodak moment. But it was nice of mother nature to help out for a moment.

PS: Happy Birthday Amy! (I may have considered the dogs' calm as thier birthday present to you...)

Time Flies

Note: I have a really, really hard time not being "helpful."

me: Honey, I think I may want an oval cut with this setting.
dr soc: Ok. Why?
me: I think it's pretty. But, you know, I haven't asked you, what do you like?
dr soc: I don't know, no idea really.
me: How do you not know what you like?!
dr soc: You realize that I haven't looked at this stuff to form an opinion one way or the other. And especially not in comparison to your years of it.
me: It hasn't been years!
dr soc: Oh really? Since when then?
me: Hm, I probably started learning/caring about the 4 c's back in high school... oh.
dr soc: Yeah, if that doesn't count as years then let me know what does, k?
me (muttering): damn.

Let's Make a Deal

My dishwasher decided to stop working. Um, I'm going to go out on a domestic limb and admit that my past relationships have not been strong enough to withstand this. This relationship with dr soc is because I know we'll both take care of the dishes for the moment and I don't keep score. I just know from previous experience that when I am the only one who does the dishes I get resentful.

Some back story: I have lived with a boy before. And I stress the boy part. We moved from a tiny apartment with a loud dishwasher to a huge apartment with no dishwasher. Well, the huge apartment had one, but it was still in it's box and sat there in the kitchen for 3 months before the landlord came through and finally sent someone to install the gdmn thing. Because I don't mind doing the dishes and I hated taking out the trash more, I struck this deal with my ex: I'll do the dishes in the new place if you take out the trash. He agreed no problem since he hated to do the dishes as much as I hated to take out the trash. We may have even shook on it and it worked. For about a week.

Because someone took the trash for dishes deal as a licence to leave a collection of dirty dishes throughout the apartment, damaging whatever cookware he wanted, sometimes stacking the damaged cookware on the counter and in the sink, and then telling me I needed to do the dishes soon, especially since he was nice enough to get them started by squirting a glob of dish washing liquid on them. However, if I asked him to take out the trash because it was over flowing, it went in one ear and out the other, plus I was nagging and deserved to be ignored. The arrangement stayed in place even after the dishwasher was installed which made things even more volatile. The rational there was that he was doing the dishes every time he put something in the dishwater, and therefore was helping me out on my portion of the deal. Since I was supposed to do all the dishes, taking out the trash was a job he could do if he remembered or felt like it.

So I learned several important lessons there. First: that he was a disrespectful peter pan and not leaving neverland anytime soon. Second: I require a dishwasher wherever I live from now on to keep the peace. And third: making deals and keeping score are not what a healthy relationship and love are about. Dr soc and I help each other out not because we struck a deal or because we feel obligated to do so, but because we love each other and appreciate what the other person does. He makes a living and supports us, and I take care of a fair chunk of the housework while he's at work. So while my current lack of a dishwasher is an inconvenience, it's not going to be a chink in the armor or the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Earth Science

Dr soc and I were taking the dogs for a walk and had the following conversation.

me: Since I'm running so much right now I'm not bothering to keep my feet really pretty. I'm taking care of them, but there's really no point in doing my nails this moment.
dr soc: What do you mean taking care of them?
me: Girly things. What I really need is a pumice stone to help with the rough patches. I had one at home but I didn't bring it with me in the move. I can get one no problem, but I just haven't gotten around to it.
dr soc: What's a pumice stone?
me: Its a stone you use to soften and scrub rough skin. I think it's hardened lava or something to that affect.
dr soc: Molten lava?
me: I guess.
dr soc: Hey, you know what I heard in that? Sarah wants a volcano!

Why Yesterday Sucked

Yesterday at 12:30 I took the GRE. It didn't go well. I was going to take it back in February, but I knew I wasn't ready, so I postponed it to March.

I studied, but not as well as I should have. I made the flashcards. I knew/learned cold about 75% of the top 200 GRE words. I took the practice test. But you know what I learned the most when I was studying? That I hate to study. It's so hard for me to get in that mindset first off, and as I recite words and definitions to the dogs, I keep thinking how much I'm not getting this and I get frustrated. And then I start to feel stupid. Which then sets me down the "who am I kidding I'm not smart enough to get into grad school mindset." I didn't want to keep postponing the test, so I figured I would put on my big girl pants, take the test, get a base score and go from there. By no means did I want to do bad on the GRE, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. And then, being the spawn of asian worry (thanks mom) I psyched myself out all the way leading to test day.

I didn't feel ready, I was nervous, and I had a lot of people cheering for me. Combine that with my self fulfilling prophecy so I took my low score really hard. I actually scored right around average, which isn't bad. It's not stupid, and for goodness sake I'm trying to get into grad school and people who do that are not stupid. But to me, it's a low score, I won't get into school with it, I'm so disappointed and it hurts.

But after the test was when it got worse. I then fought traffic for an hour, my gps got me little lost and I ended up in South Carolina, I was hungry from having just taken a 3 hour test that I didn't do well on, and it was freakishly hot day so I was sweltering in my car. I'm cranky as fck, and I come home to dr soc's hopefulness and phd. And then I read the good luck message my bestest buddy sent me and I am just heartbroken. It's one thing to disappoint yourself, but now I've disappointed other people too. Meltdown number 1 ensues.

Dr soc and I took the dogs for a walk and I started to calm down a bit. And then he got the mail which is nothing out of the ordinary. But what was out of the ordinary was I received a thin letter from the place I interviewed at last week. Thin letters from job interviews are like thin letters from college's you've applied at. And even though I knew what it was before I even opened it, reading we found someone else better fit for this position was the one-two punch my day didn't need. Bring on melt down number 2.

I didn't really want that job to begin with but that doesn't make it sting any less. The timing just sucked on it. Granted, getting it the day before or today wouldn't have been any better, probably worse. But it still sucked.

Monday I'll start over. I'll keep looking for jobs, and I'll figure out when to take the GRE again. I'll study differently and get my scores up. I'll find some sort of income even if it's part time working at target. But for the moment, I'm just going to lick my wounds, wallow in self pity and cry.

Go Team!

dr soc: Who are we meeting up with?
me: Um, Priya and John, Shyam, Kartik, his brother... I don't know exactly. Most of the brown team.
dr soc: What? The brown team? Why do you say that?
me: Because most of them are Indian. Brown team.
dr soc: You...you... you can't say that!
me: What? They call themselves that!
dr soc: Yeah, themselves.
me: Hey, I'm part asian. I'm part of the group, I can say these things!
dr soc: You're the worst sociologist ever.
me (muttering): Or the best....

St Patty

I'm getting dressed today and I realize I have very little green in my closet. Fortunately, I have 2 green sports bras and some under-roos that have green in them which I put on, and I have an army green tank top so I won't get pinched by any leprechauns.

Mike however, does have enough green in his closet but has opted to not wear any today for some reason. He'll wear green for the party we're going to tomorrow, but he has enough green so that he doesn't have to repeat the outfit. So I don't know.

And I told him as he was leaving for work this morning that he better be careful because his lack of green might warrant him a leprechaun pinch. While I don't think any of his students have the balls to pinch him (you know, he still won't make out with me in his office even though he can lock the door.), the same can't be said for any of his coworkers or his girlfriend who can get a little pinch happy.

Interesting Analogy

dr soc: We need eggs.
me: No we don't, there are still at least a half dozen left.
dr soc: But they're past their expiration date.
me: That doesn't necessarily mean they've gone bad. At least check them before you throw them away and waste the money. I know how to test them, it's fine.
dr soc: How do you check them without breaking them?
me: You submerge them in water. If it sinks it's good, if it floats it's rotten.
dr soc: Like witches?
--pause while I think about that--
me: Yeah!
dr soc: Cool!

Beware the Ides of March

Yesterday the universe told me to make engagement chicken* by thawing out the frozen chicken in my freezer and me having a bag of lemons to cook with. And then we had 2 mini pies for desert because it was pi day. (3.14! I am a dork, but I have pie, so I declare a win. (despite charlie sheen's bat sh*t crazy overuse of the term, pie always has been and will continue to be a solid win)) The universe made this happen for me.

However, the universe also got dr soc stuck in traffic for an hour whilst driving home from work, thus keeping him away from the engagement chicken for a while. So the universe seems to be telling him other wise.

*It wasn't actually "real" engagement chicken because I deemed the amount of lemons and lemon juice the recipe specifies an asinine amount and I don't like food that's too lemony. So I stuffed onion, celery, carrot, garlic and lemon in the chicken and roasted the thing. Maybe the universe is telling me that I am not desperate and don't need a lemon chicken to spend the rest of my life w/dr soc.

But lets go back to that my freezer thawed out the frozen chicken in my freezer part. Because last time I checked a freezer was supposed to freeze things, and keep things that are already frozen, frozen. Thawing a whole 5 lb chicken seems counter-freezing. The stuff at the bottom of the freezer was still frozen though. And today, dr soc woke me up to tell me the top half of the fridge decided to stop working as well, and spoiled most of the stuff in there. (I may have an aluminum-clad stomach and can handle more than dr soc, but I don't know of anyone who could handle chunky milk.) I salvaged what I could and moved that to the bottom half of their respective (not) cold units, but this sucks. I want to keep checking to see if it's still cold, but I don't want to loose whatever tiny amount of cold that is in there by constantly opening the door. Someone is coming by to look at it tomorrow morning which is good, but we've already lost a lot of food.

But here is what I thought this morning when dr soc told me the fridge was not working. Et tu refrigerator? Et tu? Beware the Ides of March indeed!

Dinner Tonight

So remember that stuff lemon up chicken and get ring mentality I made fun of? (See 6 posts ago.) Guess what I'm making for dinner tonight?

Yep. A lemon roasted chicken. Though this decision was made when I discovered that the frozen chicken in my freezer was not frozen (everything else in in the freezer is ok though which is odd) and I have a bag of lemons that I need to cook with as well. NOT because all I'm fingers crossed and hoping for a ring. Well, I am, but I don't expect this chicken to expedite that. Not because he's not ready, (yes you are honey) but more so because logistically there hasn't been enough time between the initial chicken/ring conversation and now to get something.

Oh, and we're having pie for desert. But that's also due to circumstance and that it's pi day, not the hook him apple pie insurance policy that's attached to the recipe.

Mommy Dearest

I was talking w/my mom on the phone after my interview and I was telling her about the MIA printer cords. She completely understood the horror story daap flashbacks, but then I think went into mom mode and tried to fix the problem*.

mom: Well what kind of printer is it? What kind of cords do you need?
me: It's an hp something or other. I don't know the model number off hand. Mike has an hp as well but not the same model because we already tried to swap cords and his wouldn't fit my printer.
mom: Hmm. Ok, we'll I'll just bring all the cords we have here when we visit in a few weeks and maybe one of those it the right cord.
me: Mom! No, I can get a printer cord here, it's fine. And besides, why would we have spare hp cables laying around the house? (my dad used to work for Lexmark, and hp is a competitor. Talk about printing with the enemy.)
mom: Good point. Ok, yeah, you can fix this printer thing on your own.

--The conversation continues about something else and eventually turns back to the when they visit--

mom: We don't need to get a hotel do we?
me: No! I have a 5 bedroom house (yep), you even have your choice of room color, green or orange. And they both have a bathroom close. Why would you think that?
mom: I don't know. Anyway that's good.

--yadda yadda yadda--

mom: I'll also bring all yours and Amy's gel packets that are here.
me: I have those too. We have running stores here too. I went and got my supply for this spring.
mom: Ok well I'll bring them anyway.
me: Mom...do you think I live in the middle of nowhere? It's not impossible for me to get stuff.
mom: No, I don't think that... It's just....
me: It's ok mom. Bring the gels, I'll eventually use them and I know you don't, and they keep a while. This way you can stop hauling them around with you every time one of us runs a race.
mom: Oh good. I'm tired of doing that.
me: Ok, good. Amy and I can both get things where we live. Now you just have to stop buying them, ok?
mom: Yeah, I'm tired of that too.
me: see, problem solved.

* I love my mom and I think we have a pretty good respectful relationship as far as mother/daughters go. But you have to admit she's a little nuts! I blame the asian.**
** dr soc hates it when I pull the race card, especially if I refer my mom as a "crazy asian," Something about his social equality phd. I also think he fears/wonders if I'm going to go nuts like my mom. Let's face it the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Yet he's more than ok with our kids claiming asian/mixed on a scan-tron, especially if that means they get scholarship money. And besides, I think marrying a half asian (slightly crazy or not) gives him more street cred as a sociologist. So there!

Newer Model

Dr soc and I would rather eat our weight in glue than go antiquing.

But I don't hate all antiques though (like jewelry. As of late I can't stop looking and oohing and ahhing over antique looking settings and have I mentioned how much I really really love these halo w/pave diamonds setting? (size 5 honey. You're welcome)). I hate crap that's old and busted, but tries to pass itself off as an antique. Vintage furniture or a retro style I can get behind. The 1/2 degree from uc exposed and allowed me to appreciate different aesthetics and older time periods.

However, dr soc is usually of the school of thought that newer/shinier version is the better version. (though he doesn't care for Ikea style too much, and if we're being honest, the furniture's not my favorite either. It's too low. Though we both like Crate and Barrel). And while I agree with him on that for certain things like technology, I don't apply that philosophy to everything.

Like trading me in for a newer model one day. There's still the unfair standard that men get better with age like a fine wine, whereas for women aging is a cardinal sin. It wouldn't be hard for my sexy as hell phd boyfriend to get a younger shinier model if he so desired. Fortunately though, I look young enough as is, will probably continue to age gracefully thanks to my asian half, and by the time that I do start to look old and busted, dr soc's eyesight is already terrible and he probably won't be able to tell. Oh, and yeah, he's also a really great guy and who loves me for many other reasons besides the superficial, and appreciates my maturity, (though maybe not my penchant for squealing over sparkly things) and wouldn't dare go for a newer model.

That and he knows if he does go the mid-life crisis by way of newer model route, I won't pussyfoot around and will take everything, including his dog. So we're good.

Flashback

I needed to bring in a few copies of my resume and reference contact sheet to an interview I had this morning. First: interview, yay! And it went well I think, so phew. But that's not the point of this post. Let's go back to the "needed to bring in a few copies of my resume" part.

My resume is a saved word document file I can email and/or print when I need. Since moving to Charlotte, I've only uploaded and attached it as I've been applying for jobs. Printing a physical copy is a perfunctory thing, so I figured I would do that before I went to bed last night and then get a good night's rest so I could be on my A-game.

I haven't had to use my new (to me) printer yet, so it stayed in it's box until last night. As I'm starting to set it up, I discover there are no cables of any sort in there. A few extra ink cartridges, all color and no black ink, but no cables, not even a power one. So for the moment I have an expensive paper weight. Normally in a situation like this, I would just save the file to a flash drive and print it on dr soc's printer, but his is out of ink. Which we knew because that was why I was setting up my printer in the first place. And my extra ink cartridges won't work in his printer either.

We don't live in the middle of nowhere, and I could easily do a google search and find the nearest 24 copy/print place, or run to a 24 hour big-box store and get the right cables or ink for dr soc's printer. But those things take a little time, and it's just past 11 o'clock by this point. By the time I would have gone out, shopped, returned home and printed a few copies, it would be after midnight and I then I would still have to get ready for bed. So I start having nightmare flashbacks to my daap days. The staying up all night, racing against the clock to get drawings done, have them ready in time to take to the printers the second they open, running out of ink halfway through a print job, and everyone else's printer in use and/or in the same situation as yours. Just bad, stressful flashbacks.

I'm sitting at my desk rubbing my temples because I know that this is a remediable situation, but I'm crippled behind my flashbacks. But dr soc saved the day/night. Seeing my frustration, he said he would run out and get the ink for his printer in the morning as I got ready. Which he did and then printed the copies I needed this morning while I did my makeup. I got to go to bed at a reasonable hour, I had enough resumes and reference lists in the morning, I didn't have to rush and made it to the interview with time to spare, on my A-game. I know printer ink may seem somewhat trivial to some, but to me he was my knight in shining armor. God I love that man!

Storm Trooper

My (dr soc's) house doesn't have a storm door at the moment, which is another home improvement project that's been added to the list. I want it for that layer of plexiglass security when we get Jehovah witnessed (while we live in a no soliciting neighborhood (love!), people don't always obey that (don't love). The only soliciting I approve of, in fact, highly encourage, is girl scout* cookies.), but mostly to contain the dogs so that they don't bolt to and out whenever the front door opens.

But as I was taking the dog(s) on walks (which have gotten a little better since that post**), I noticed I didn't see any storm doors anywhere. Since we have a home owners association and regulations, we thought they might not be permitted. But then, one walk, I happened to look at the right house and low and behold, a storm door!

Having spotted that one, I started to keep an eye out for other storm doors. It wasn't as hard as finding a needle in a haystack, but they were few and far between. So far I've found 10. But because I've been looking for storm doors, I may or may not have secretly have been calling myself a storm trooper...

*I hope I don't have to be a scout mom of any kind later in life. I'm all for Sharktopus and Dinocroc having a few activities, but dr soc and I both hate the wilderness and scout moms don't like me either. Me being a scout mom would be like throwing me to the lions den. However, I will fully support these organization by buying their food goods from my children's friends.

**At first I was afraid they could read. Then I realized they just mastered the fist/nose bump trick and we're still working on the don't lick your ass on the couch bussiness, so getting onto the internet, finding my blog and then reading it might be a bit of a stretch.

Dirty Laundry

I have an ex-fiance. Which, saying that 2.5 years ago would have made me break down into inconsolable tears, if I had managed to say that at all. But now, it's just part of my past and I accept it as that. (Doesn't mean all has been forgiven and forgotten and I wish him the best of luck or any other of that sunshine zen business. Still lots of anger and bitter you know). The point is that it's just a fact to me now. And while it may be in the past, that doesn't mean you or someone has to like it or need to be reminded of it with physical evidence.

Since the engagement ring (squee!) card has been seriously thrown into my field of vision, and I am a squealy, romantic girly girl, I have a hard time not being helpful and showing/telling/squealing to Mike about what we (uh huh) want his ring to be. And having already worn a ring, there's a precedent he (and me) wants to surpass (which it will, no matter what it looks like (ok, maybe not completely no matter...). A better/healthier relationship gives you a different focus other than the material aspect of it. Still, shiny+Sarah=squee!). Because I have the grace of an elephant when it comes to jewelry, eventually I just told him what my old engagement ring looked like. Which I didn't think had too much of an impact on him. But, turns out, dr soc is a little more sensitive to that than I thought. And here is how I know:

We were traveling recently and accumulated some dirty laundry like you do. I keep a reusable bag in my suitcase for the aforementioned dirty laundry. When I/we get home it and it's contents are thrown into the wash and c'est toute (that's french for that's all). We're getting ready to go someplace and dr soc is looking around wondering where as to put his laundry.

me: Oh honey, here's the laundry bag.
dr soc --takes it from me--: Thanks. --Notices the bag has a logo on it but doesn't recognize the name-- What's the name on it?
me: Oh, it's from the jeweler from where my ex got my center stone.
dr soc --his lips tighten just a little bit--: Oh. --shoves his laundry into the bag with gusto, packs it with a little more force than necessary, then drops the bag like 3rd period french.-- Well then I will most definitely put my dirty clothes in there now.
me (to myself, and a little smug* if we're being honest): Hmm, guess he's not as blase about it as I thought.
me out loud: Well, honey, you can see what I put in there too.

*having been guilty of a jealousy bout fairly recently, and also having been on the unfortunate ugly receiving ass hole end of it other times, it was a little gratifying to feel that I mattered)

Engagment Chicken

Apparently, if you make this chicken, your boyfriend will propose shortly after.

Pictured: a lot of women's hopes and dreams stuffed up a chicken's butt.

While it's no secret that I want to get married and start a family with dr soc, I find this Pavlovian way of thinking: roast chicken to get ring very ugh, deceitful and desperate. Speaking from experience, deciding to spend the rest of your life with someone is not a decision to take lightly. And getting engaged, while romantic and life changing is not something that should hinge on stuffing lemons up a chicken's butt.

So I'm reading the recipe and the comments out loud as dr soc cleans this kitchen, and note that I roasted a chicken for dinner a few weeks ago, but dr soc has yet to drop to one knee. But that chicken it was underdone and used an apple/onion combo as the aromatics, so my lack of a ring with that chicken is clearly my own fault. (Once cooked all the way through it was good, it just took forever to get there!)

However: this silly stupid chicken story became a perfect gateway for dr soc to ask me what my ring size is and what I like as far as engagement rings go. Let's take a moment and squee about that shall we?

SQUEEEEEEEEEEE! OMG sparkly! Exciting! Squee squee SQUEEEEEE!

Ahem. Right, ok then, Yes, story at hand. Dr soc has asked me what I like as far as engagement rings go. And because I am super super helpful, I pull up about 4 different jewelry sites and navigate through them simultaneously. While oohing and ahhing the whole time and educating dr soc in the 4 C's of diamonds.

But dr soc is a visual learner, so babbling away wasn't making too much sense to him. So I took his needs into account and plopped the laptop in his lap while I sat next to him and explained things. (See? I'm so, so helpful!) He was a pretty good sport about it but he got overwhelmed pretty quick. And he wants to keep some surprise in there, so I think he just wants some parameters and he'll take it from there.

me (helpful): This setting is a cathedral setting which is pretty, but this and this setting seems to work better for this diamond cut and I have the fingers for a marquis cut, but it's not my favorite cut and there are so many different styles out there and ...

dr soc: (eyes wide) Can, um, can you write all this down for me somewhere? I just...yeah, write it down.

me (cheerfully): Sure!

dr soc: Ok...good. (by this point, his breathing starts to get really labored)

me: (concerned) You ok? You're breathing pretty hard here. Is it your allergies or is the computer screen too much for you?

dr soc (laughing nervously): I'm.... I'm not sure.

me (helpful again): That's ok, we can close the computer screen for the moment and you can distract me with watching Top Chef.

dr soc: Ok. (note his breathing calmed down here)

So, looks like he's not quite as excited as say, me. But that's ok because I am am supportive and can help him! But joke's aside, he's thinking about it which is awesome and I'm happy.

Now pardon me while I go squee some more now.

It's All In The Phrasing

Dr soc can say some really sexy/sweet/nice/romantic things to and about me. Other times, not so much.

Like what he said the other day after seeing my sweaty gym clothes strewn across our bathroom floor.*

dr soc: It's like...you exploded in the bathroom!

me: That's....that sounds disgusting.

*Because I am a sweat monger, I come home from the gym pretty sweaty and head strait (ish) to the shower. While I wait for the water to warm up (if I don't come out of the shower with 1st degree burns I don't consider the water hot enough btw) I shuck off the gym clothes and leave them on the bathroom floor to "dry out" a little bit. Later on I throw the clothes in the gym clothes laundry basket and fabreeze so we don't asphyxiate ourselves before laundry time. He just happened to be in the bathroom after the "dry out" part and before the "later on" part.

What I Talk About with My Girlfriends.

Girls talk. A snippet from an email chain post 3rd date with dr soc:

me: He owns his house, has a very cute and friendly dog and well, ya know. He's a grown up and I like him.
J: owns own home and has a dog are good indicators of keeperness.
me: and his furniture matches.

A year and a shared address later, plus the whole "death is the only acceptable reason we will accept for leaving the other" reasoning, I'd say his keeperness is in good form!