For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.
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For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.
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Can’t get enough of Giving Up on Perfect? Subscribe here, follow me on Twitter and join my Facebook page.
Life at my house is a little different these days. Mark has a new job, and we’re doing things differently than before.
From the time I was pregnant until just a couple months ago, Mark has worked evenings. And when I say “evenings,” I mean that he was gone from early afternoon to late at night, sometimes not getting home until after midnight.
In other words, for Annalyn’s entire life, we have never had family time during the week. She had time with her daddy, she had time with her mommy, and we all met up on the weekend.
It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, although it did drive me to blog. Then again, I hope you’d agree that my blogging isn’t a bad result, either!
A couple months ago, though, Mark changed jobs and now works (mostly) nights. So now, we have our whole evenings together. We also moved Annalyn’s bedtime back to 7:30, giving us even more time to play and eat and be together.
All this change has spurred more change. It’s all good, but change still takes some getting used to. The first two nights that Mark was home, I thought I was going to lose my mind.
He was just so . . . THERE! In my space! Sitting on my couch! Watching my TV! Looking at me!
Thankfully, I realized quickly that I was being a jerk. I apologized, and we adjusted. Ahem. We’re still adjusting. As a matter of fact, I came up with 10 ways (as in Top Ten Tuesday, of course) that we’re adjusting to change right now:
Those are the main ways we’ve been adjusting to all the changes going on. Does everyone in your family work, eat and sleep on the same schedule? Have you had to adjust to any changes lately?
This post will be linked to OhAmanda’s Top Ten Tuesday.
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In the town where I went to college, a pizza place on the downtown square served these things called ronzas. I’d never heard of a ronza before then . . . and I haven’t heard of one since then.
Apparently, in the outside world, they’re called calzones. Or stromboli. Or runzas. But a ronza? No. Nobody’s ever heard of that.
When I tried to find evidence of this long-remembered snack from my college days, I came up pretty empty. However, I did find a review of the restaurant (Pagliai’s, and that’s pronounced “polly-eyes,” just so you know.) on Yelp.com.
I had to laugh when I read it and realized it was actually written by my friend, Tim! He said, among other things: “In my opinion, [pizza’s] not the reason to go to Pagliai’s – it’s the Ronza. That’s right. A capital R because it deserves it.”
And that’s why even now, a few years later, Mark and I still crave the pizza snack every once in a while.
Because I’m a nerd (Go ahead. Try and debate that.), I looked up the terms with my favorite research tool. And according to Wikipedia, stromboli is a type of turnover filled with various cheeses, Italian meats or vegetables. The dough is Italian bread dough, and it originated near Philadelphia.
Calzones, on the other hand, are turnovers that originate from Italy and are basically described as a pizza turned inside out. And a runza is completely different: a yeast dough bread pocket with a filling consisting of beef, pork, cabbage or sauerkraut (yuck!) and onions, baked in various shapes.
And then there’s the Hot Pocket, of course:
| Jokes.com | ||||
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Anyway. While I don’t actually mind a Hot Pocket now and then, sometimes only an actual ronza will do. But since Pagliai’s is about a three-hour drive away, we’ve had to figure out how to make them ourselves.
Last week, I mentioned to Mark that I wanted to make one and said I’d probably do it the following night. But the next night, I forgot about that and said I was going to make tacos, and he said, “But…but…I thought you were going to make a ronza!”
Once I brought it up, he couldn’t wait to have one. So…he made it! And while I would have done things a little differently, it was still really good, so I thought I’d share the recipe.
Mark’s Ronza
1 lb. hamburger, browned
1 cup barbecue sauce
1-2 cups shredded mozzarella
4 slices bacon, fried and crumbled
1 can refrigerated pizza dough
Mix the barbecue sauce with the browned (and drained) hamburger and bacon. Unroll pizza dough on baking sheet sprayed with baking spray (or, as I say, on a cookie sheet sprayed with Pam). Spread meat mixture and then sprinkle cheese on top. Fold over dough and press edges closed.
Now, I would have sprayed the whole outside of the ronza (or brushed with olive oil, if I was real fayncee) and then seasoned with garlic and maybe a little basil.
But Mark just put a little extra cheese on the outside. To each his own, I suppose. (And believe me, it didn’t stop me from eating it!)
Cook according to pizza dough instructions. Slice and serve.
Mmmm….!
What do you call this type of food? And do you have any favorite foods from somewhere you lived before?
This post will be linked to Mouthwatering Monday, Tasty Tuesday, Tuesdays at the Table, Tempt My Tummy Tuesday, What’s Cooking Wednesday, Friday Food, Foodie Friday and Food on Fridays.
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Short version:
Great movie. Really funny. Highly recommend.
Long version:
From the second I saw that Steve Carell and Tina Fey were starring in a movie together, I’ve been determined to see Date Night. The premise looked funny – boring married couple stumbles into crazy adventure – but it probably wouldn’t have mattered.
Teaming up the lead characters from The Office and 30 Rock was a comedy dream come true.
Of course, I can identify with a boring married couple struggling to maintain a regular date night. I had a hankering to see a movie for a few months before we managed to get this outing on the calendar.
But I never expected to identify with the unexpected adventure part of the movie.
So excited for our upcoming date (and a bit of a control freak planner, if you haven’t heard), I looked online for movie times early in the week. I had free movie passes for the new theater/restaurant combo, but just in case we decided to do something different, I wrote down the showing times for three different theaters.
After hearing a friend’s review of the theater/restaurant and realizing that this date would serve as our anniversary celebration, we decided to eat dinner at Bravo and then go to the movie (instead of eating at the theater while eating).
Side note: I’ve been to Bravo maybe three other times, and I think I’ve gotten the chicken marsala every time. And loved it. But this time, I didn’t love it nearly as much – I only ate about half of it! Next time, I will definitely be ordering myself some pasta.
We enjoyed our dinner, eating and chatting and generally taking our time. Afterwards, we (okay, I) did a little shopping, because the movie didn’t start for another hour. Then, we headed to the theater.
When we got there, though, we found out that the theater wasn’t showing our movie! According to the cashier at the ticket counter, they’d never shown the movie. You’re telling me The Internet was WRONG? WHAT?
Okay. New plan.
The movie we’d planned to see started at 7:35, while the movie at the new theater (right across from Bravo, incidentally) started at 7:10. It was now 7:02. And even though they’re just a mile apart, the traffic between the two theaters is always ridiculous – and even more so on Saturday night.
But Mark thought we could make it. So we ran (fast walked) back to the car and hit the road. Mark dropped me off at the door, and when I ran (fast walked) into the theater, their clock read 7:12.
“Are you still seating for Date Night?” I asked.
No. They were not. Because the movie was sold out. And the next showing wasn’t until 9:25. “Ugh, that’s SO LATE!” I whined to the cashier, sounding like half of a boring married couple on their date night.
Okay. New plan.
Theater #3 had a 9:10 showing, and somehow that seemed infinitely better than the 9:25. We got back in the car and headed downtown. This time I was driving, so I dropped Mark off at the door while I headed to the parking garage.
And then my cell phone rang. It was Mark. The movie was sold out. Already. And had been for hours.
Seriously? What the heck? It’s not like we were trying to see Harry Potter 14 or something! But apparently I was not the only person whose Facebook friends had been raving about Date Night.
Okay. New plan. Again.
We drove BACK to the theater/restaurant, bought tickets for the oh-so-late 9:25 movie. Then we spent the next hour walking around Marshall’s like a regular boring married couple.
Finally we got to see the movie. And while we didn’t like the new theater/restaurant and their logistics/seating/etc. (and did I mention that I left our free passes at home, because we’d decided to go to the other theater?), we loved the movie. It might have been past our bedtime, but we laughed through the whole thing!
Only a few times did it seem like we were watching Michael Scott and Liz Lemon. And only one scene – in a strip club of sorts – was annoyingly inappropriate for this boring married couple’s viewing. But married or not, if you’ve ever been bored with your life and longed for some excitement, you’ll identify with these funny characters.
Overall, Date Night (and our date night) was so funny and so worth our driving all around town to get tickets!
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Shortly after I transferred to the copywriting department, the ad agency hired another writer. He disappeared for hours at a time to nap on the downstairs couch, and he once convinced me to drive him to the hospital. Because he’d broken a needle in his arm.
I mean, he fell on the stairs and cut his arm open. Whatever.
He was a weird person to sit next to, but aside from the hospital road trip, my most vivid memory of him is the day he decided to debate whether or not I was a part of Generation X.
He did not know who he was messing with. (Although to be fair, I did not know how irrational a strung-out creative could be.)
Since getting engaged at age 19, I’d been fighting for an older image. I did everything I could to seem mature and wise. Because getting told, “But you’re so young!” gets old well before you do.
Besides, I actually was a little bit mature. Some might say boring. But we’re going to say mature.
I blame my cousins. Five, six and eight years older than me, they were my role models, the older siblings I didn’t have – and the reason I have always felt comfortable with people a few years older than me.
So when my co-worker thought it would be funny to call me “Generation Y,” I was having no part of it.
I double-checked my facts, since it’s now been a few years since I researched this topic. And the consensus is still that Generation X consists of anyone born between 1965 and 1980.
Yes, some people say the cutoff is 1976, but I’m not buying it. [Because I was born in 1978. Okay? I’m not going to beat around the bush here.]
But we don’t have to go strictly by the numbers. Let’s take a look at some of the characteristics of my generation.
Talking ‘bout my generation . . .
It’s interesting. After an extensive round of searching on Swagbucks, the most common kind of sites that popped up were management sites (“How to manage different generations” or “How can Baby Boomers work with Gen X and Gen Y?”) and marketing sites (“How to sell stuff to Generation X”). But I think the information still applies here.
Generation X is the first generation of “latchkey kids.” One site described the typical family structure like this: “Mom, Dad and 2.47 kids. Three bedroom, two bathroom home with double garage and a dog. Your parents were divorced by the time you were fifteen. Then it was mom and your new dad, your real dad, his girlfriend and her two kids.”
Well, my parents aren’t divorced, but we did dive headfirst into some dysfunction about halfway through my childhood. And I was definitely a latchkey kid for a few years, doing extra chores and taking care of my little brother and cousin. So this one is pretty spot-on for me.
However, the same site says Generation X views their parents as absent workaholics who were too permissive. No, no and no.
Generation X created independent individuals who disdain authority and dislike bossiness. Hmmm. Am I independent? Yes. Do I disdain authority? Well, okay, sometimes. Sometimes I have an attitude. It’s not pretty, but it happens. I think I know everything – or at least more – than whoever is trying to boss me around.
Grrr. I don’t like this one. On the upside, the description goes on to say Generation Xers are generally pragmatic (as in practical? I’ll take it.) and risk-takers (I’d like to be. And maybe I was once or twice.).
Generation X likes sharing, spending time with friends and hanging out. They also like “activities where you can die doing it, like bungee jumping and white water rafting.” Wellll . . . we’re batting about 500 on this thing. Do I like “chilling,” as one definition put it? Sure. I’m more of a doer, but I enjoy my sit on the couch and watch a movie time. But life-threatening leisure activities (and that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one)? No thanks.
Generation X is likely to have several careers during a lifetime, and a work/life balance is important. Clearly, I’m all over this one. Several careers? Check. Quit a job after getting completely burned out? Check.
Several different sites credit this attitude to growing up in the 80s, when they saw their parents remain loyal to companies that didn’t return the favor when the economy tanked.
I don’t know if that’s where my own tendencies came from, but I definitely fit this part of the description.
Generation X has diverse musical tastes. Ah yes, the statement that started me down this path. Kansas City’s new “Gen X Radio” says it plays music that Gen Xers love: retro, grunge, hip hop and hair bands. And they say it in a British accent. As I do love those genres and the music the station plays – and a British accent – I must be Generation X.
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Almost every one of the sites that described Generation X ended with a disclaimer that we shouldn’t stereotype anyone in any generation. So apparently I’m not the only one who doesn’t fit perfectly into the box!
Given all this, it seems that the only reason I have clung to my Generation X card is because I was desperate to be seen as older – or at least wiser, more responsible and to be taken very seriously.
Of course, since turning 30, that doesn’t seem quite as important. Or is it since having a baby? Either way, I’m feeling my age more every day and might not balk so much if someone considered me a part of “the younger generation.”
But the numbers don’t lie. And 1978 falls smack dab in the tail end of the generation span. So no matter how much older my cousin, my college advisor, my friend’s husband, my brother-in-law, my cousin and my weirdo co-workers are than me, I’m still a part of their generation.
Am I an angry slacker who wears flannel shirts and pants on the ground? Nope. But I am cynical enough (of, you know, “The Man”) to disregard some of the definitions I read while researching my fellow Gen Xers – and independent enough to create my own definitions.
What generation do you identify with? Do you attribute negative or positive connotations to any generation?
Sources:
http://www.sustainable-employee-motivation.com/generation-X.html
http://www.demandmade.com/terminology.html
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