Tag Archives: Brasilian

The Worst Winter Weather

For Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop, I intended to write on prompt #2: describe your worst winter weather story. However, as I explained to Mark the particular story I’d chosen (how my 23rd birthday was ruined), he pointed out that really, this is the story of HIS worst winter weather experience. He’s totally right. He’s also gracious enough to let me write about it anyway, as long as I acknowledged I’m tweaking Mama Kat’s prompt.

In Ohio, snow comes Oct. through April. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that we had an honest-to-goodness blizzard in March, but it was, mostly because I had plans. See, Mark and I had been married for almost a year at that point, but only been living together a couple of months. He was finishing his Masters as I was starting mine, so he moved back in with his parents and commuted the 3 hours to visit me on weekends. As you can imagine, it put a kink in socializing with other couples.

But not for our birthday! Our birthdays are in the same week and I had planned a small joint celebration dinner party. Our good friends Megan and Scott were coming over and I was making the Brasilian meal I make every year for my birthday: pastels and black beans and rice. This was just the sort of thing I imagined we’d do as newlyweds.

Then the blizzard hit. The day of the party.

Early in the day, I realized I was missing a few ingredients and asked Mark to go to the store. The roads were questionable, so he decided to walk the 8 blocks to get there. I called him a little later b/c I’d forgotten to add something to the list and unbeknownst to me he was already halfway home, so he turned around and went back. NOTE: If I’d KNOWN he’d left the store I would have told him to forget it. Just sayin’.

Halfway through making dinner, Megan called to tell me that their car was stuck and they wouldn’t be able to make it. I was so disappointed! Stupid snowstorm! Well, the roads were pretty clear by then, so Mark decided to go pick up Scott and Megan. Our car was snowed in too, so he gave a kid with a shovel some money to dig us out. The car moved about 5 feet before getting stuck again, and that was that.

Mark and I enjoyed our Brasilian meal by ourselves and stayed home for a few days. I believe even church was canceled that Sunday. And come to think of it, I never fulfilled my promise to Megan to cook her a Brasilian meal. It was the worst winter weather for me because I lost my chance at our dinner party, and for Mark because he actually had to go outside in it.

Here are some pictures from Blizzard 2008:


And can I just say? I am LOVING being in California now!

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Beating Murphy’s Law

Murphy’s Law of Motherhood: When you really, desperately need human interaction that doesn’t include phrases like “Let’s change that stinky diaper!” and “Ba-baaa-ba-ba,” that is when the universe will intervene to try to prevent it.

I’ve been looking for a playgroup, or class, or SOME way to meet women. A few ladies in my congregation get together two or three times a month to have lunch at the park, which I love, but I need something more often, especially as Menininho is getting older.

Finally, after some repeated (loving) nagging on my husband’s part, I signed up for a formal group. There are dues and thrice weekly outings and mothers’ nights out and family parties and guest speakers and the whole nine yards. Last Thursday they were meeting at a local library for a Mommy and Me story time. I got all dressed up, even did my hair (!), picked out the baby’s clothes carefully (jeans & a button down), and we drove 30 minutes to the appropriate library. Naturally, the event had been canceled and no one had changed it on the group’s calendar. Lame.

Today was my 2nd chance: Mommy Mall Walk. So of course, this is the one morning in the history of our being married that my husband misplaces his keys. We spend a half hour looking around the house, which of course means I’m not browning the stew meat for tonight’s feijoada. Just as I tearily hand Mark the keys to my car so he can get to work, the keys magically appear out of the back of the diaper bag. Say it with me: Hallelujah!

Almost as awesome? I manage to brown the meat, get dressed, get the baby dressed, and packed up in enough time to stop by Starbucks. Am I the only person who feels just a little more adult/put together/confident/cool carrying a cup of Starbucks hot chocolate? Probably. But that’s ok, because this post isn’t about Starbucks, it’s about how

Ohmygosh I carried on conversations, conversations with full sentences, with a group of other women whom I had never met and who were really nice!

I’m going back on Friday.

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