Thank Goodness the Todd Side Knows Etiquette

Every once in a while Rick throws out an etiquette fact that I am frankly shocked exists at all, and even more shocked that my husband knows. As his hick of a Midwestern wife I can tell you I am proud when I write a thank-you note within a month of a gift.

Today I learned that hand delivered letters are not sealed. That is correct, if you hand deliver a note you only fold the envelope flap into the letter, you do not lick and stick. Who wouldda thunk?

Another etiquette fact: A waiter should never show you the back of his hand. If he does, he should apologize.

Anyone know where either of these throw-backs come from? Anyone wanna guess which side of the family will teach kiwi-McTodd which fork to use when?

Best Valentines Day Ever

For a couple years Rick and I have fantasized about having the perfect mattress. A mattress that had the magically ability to isolate each of our nighttime movements from the other. I proposed two twin beds a couple years ago (and bring it up every once in a while after a particularly poor night's sleep). Rick did not find this amusing, although I still maintain that 1950's couples had it right back when the amazing wonder mattress had not yet been developed by NASA's top scientists.

Yes, that is correct, after a year of saving money and meeting some professional goals we have finally purchased a TemperPedic mattress. Serendipitously it arrived yesterday on Valentines Day. I cannot tell you how much I love this mattress. It is perfect in every way (except the fresh from the factory smell that is supposed to dissipate in a day or so).

Reasons Why I Love This Mattress:
* In order for the mattress to function at its best the room must be at least 65 degrees. No more thermostat at 55 during the night.
* I cannot feel Rick moving and kicking his feet while he dreams of skateboarding or snowboarding or mountain biking - and he always does.
* He cannot feel me get out of bed 3 times a night to pee (being pregnant rocks!!)
* I cannot feel our dog jump on the bed, walk in a circle three times, and flop down. This she does almost every other night at MY end of the bed.

On another note, my latest symptom of pregnancy:
Two days in a row I have made my lunch (a veggie burger and salad), and left the natural gas stove burner on the entire day until Rick came home and asked "Did you leave this on all day?". Really, two days in a row. And the worst part - my desk is at our eat-in-kitchen table, not 6 feet from the burner.

Finally Done With First Trimester...

As you can guess from the title, I am pregnant, and very excited. I haven't decided if I like the "Rick and I are pregnant" team approach to the announcement, or if I will stick to the more biologically possible "I am pregnant." Either way, both of us are thrilled. We have been able to see the little blob twice as I have needed a follow-up ultrasound. I wish I could see our little fetus every week because it is truly amazing. During the last ultrasound (10.5 weeks) the little strawberry (nick-name based on approximate size) waved its flippers at us. I think we woke it up.

Due date is August 23rd. Perfect timing as I would love to be 8 and 9 months pregnant during the hottest time of the year in Virginia.

We will find out gender (I want to know, Rick doesn't, but as I am pregnant we are going to find out). Names have been a slight problem. Rick and I tend to feel strongly opposed to each others suggestions. Like, how in the world does he want a son named Xander (fabulous Buffy reference aside), or Keifer (love Mr. Sutherland, but it sounds like an unfortunate and embarrassing sound). The only male name we can agree on is Jack.

Girl names are better. We are fond of Nora, Margot, and Allene (Rick's grandmother's name).

Suggestions are welcome...

O, so my latest pregnancy symptom is generally common, yet personally surprising: vivid dreams. This week my dream theme has been that I am pregnant and yet drinking pints of whiskey, smoking tobacco cigarettes and "left-handed cigarettes" (as my old EMT partner Felton called them). I even spend time in the dream rationalizing that: "it's okay, its lungs aren't even developing yet." Last night I dreamed an old co-worker and I were smoking joints in my grandmother's guest bedroom.

Down The What?

Just learned the correct version of a phrase I have said incorrectly for years. I was on a conference call with clients when a woman asked whether the correct phrase was "down the pipe" or "down the pike." I answered that I was sure it was "down the pipe", another co-workers answered "down the pike." Hmm, so we spent a minute googling and sure enough it is "down the pike." Strange. I then asked, "What does that refer to anyway, a channel carrying blood down the shaft from the point of the pike?" (At this point I think I completely weirded out my client). But of course that isn't it. It refers to "pike" as in a large road. Duh. Turnpike.

I think I'm turning Southernese

OK, I think I'm turning Southernese. Thank god my mom doesn't read this blog, or she'd be quite sad. We had a superbowl party. No, that's not any more southern than anything. What we did at the superbowl party was. We fried a turkey. I know, everyone does it. But where I come from, yeah the snooty northeast, turkeys are roasted, with lots of basting and stress. None of this simple fry it for 45 minutes. We also had several of our friends over to help us eat it. It was awesome. (you may note, although if you do you're way uptight, that I'm going back and forth between 1 and 2 spaces between sentences. Apparently 2 spaces has been deprecated, as in it's no longer cool, but I still do it).
Frying a turkey:
First, find a fryer. Fortunately my co-worker was kind enough to lend us hers.
Second, buy lots of cheap oil in big boxes from Wal-Mart.
Third, lots of heat, as seen in the photo to the left.
Fourth, measure how much oil you need by putting the turkey in the pot and filling it with water, then taking the turkey out, and using that much oil.
Fifth, after heating that oil to 375-400 degrees, so it's good and dangerous, insert turkey.
This next photo illustrates the insertion step:

Note the extra flame beneath the burner. This is caused by the superheated oil flowing over the top of the pot because 1) I didn't cut a big enough hole in the bottom of the turkey, and 2) the turkey was still wet from step #4 above. As most of you know, water and superheated oil don't mix that well.
Sixth, hold the turkey 1/2 in the oil for quite some time while you slowly displace enough fuel, err, oil, to get the turkey into the pot.
Seventh, we've gotten through all the fun steps, so finish cooking the turkey and then enjoy it with your friends.

Oh, one last thing: Go Giants!