Olive Garden is a staple in our relationship. Judge us if you wish, but we have waited hours on multiple Friday nights, along with every tourist in Times Square just for a sampling of the delectable salad and breadsticks from the OG. We have created some funny memories during the countless hours spent waiting and feasting. Once we were trying to recall the OG slogan on their corny TV commercials. After some brainstorming, I blurted out with complete seriousness, "When you eat your family." This cannibalistic adage brings giggles every time we walk by an OG, hear an OG commercial or merely think of the true motto "When you're here, you're family."
Our most recent visit to the OG did not disappoint, especially because there was no wait. Like ravenous wolves we demolished the first pitiful offering of salad and breadsticks. At first we used our salad plates like civilized folk, but as we were nearing the bottom of the family sized salad bowl I was using my fork to fish the las
t slivers of carrot right into my mouth. Our waiter passed by with a look of disgust and practically snatched the bowl from the table. He inquired if we wanted more and in my mind I was thinking, Was that tacky to dig my fork into the bottom of the serving bowl? And said, "Why yes we would thank you." I of course then turned to Danny and referring to the fork incident said, "Was that unclassy?" He responded, "Were you using your fingers?" I shook my head. He concluded, "Then no." This is possibly why OG is one of the fancier dining establishments for date nights.
As of late, I have been accessorizing every so often with some studs and feeling pretty classy.
Today while out at lunch something inside my shirt was scratching my neck. I felt my front collar and what did I find? The label. Yep, my shirt was on backwards. Super classy.
We purchased this cherished piece in October and it seemed to complete my Christmas fantasies. The packaging promised 'Never Out lighting' which should have been the first signal of trouble. I finally removed the ornaments on our tree about two weeks ago, but I procrastinated disassembling the tree because one section of the pre-lit lights was out and I wanted to fix it before putting it away for the year. I justified the procrastination because businesses in NYC hadn't taken down their holiday décor so I figured it was alright that I hadn't either. But alas, I noticed last Wednesday that everyone was embracing the New Year and Christmas in the city was finally stored away. So I figured, with a little Google search, the instruction manual and my natural intelligence it was time to simply fix the tree and store it away for the year.
After an hour of fiddling with it, with my arms scratched and my fingertips cut, I gave up. Taking down the Tannenbaum was killing the Christmas spirit that was supposed to sustain me for the rest of the year. So I did what anyone else would do. I returned the tree to Kmart for full price. It was still within the 90 day return policy and although I feel a like we took advantage of the system, it didn't work and I'm not willing to invest in something that will bring tears to my eyes next Christmas season.
On a positive note, since we are down one tree in our apartment, I have regained the hallway closet which had become home to many things because the tree box took up so much space under the bed. Many families have a tradition of going to a tree lot and selecting their prized tree for the year and we seem to have started that tradition also. Our tree lot of choice is Kmart. We went to Kmart, picked out our fake tree, used it for a month and then got rid of it just like most Americans.
Lessons I have learned from this experience - next year purchase a non pre-lit tree and multiple strings of lights.
One of the things I love about our city is the shock value. Take an out-of-towner to
But, as Manhattanites, we too have places that bring a shock equivalent to the one described above. Danny and I went "out of town" on Saturday and visited the Target in the
With all the low prices, large packages of food, spacious aisles, full sized shopping carts, every item imaginable and the pure desire to never leave... you could say we were out of our element. I fared a little better than the husband because you can't take suburbia out of this city gal, but Danny grew up in a small town and did not frequent Target as much in his childhood.
Oh how we wish there was a Target in 
I have been sick a lot more this winter than in years past. I suspect the reason is the company I keeps on Sunday mornings, however that is another post for another day.
When I am sick and lying in bed, I try to make pacts with my white blood cells. Their part of the deal is to work harder and get me healthy again and I am to do everything I can so that they don't have to work overtime and can take a break for the remainder of 2010.
Thursday, as I was willing my white blood cells to speed up the healing process, these were the vows I was silently making:
I vow to become a Purell addict.
I vow to wash my hands with warmer water and for 2 full rounds of Happy Birthday.
I vow to wear mittens on the subway and never touch the germ infested poles.
I vow to Lysol my doorknobs and light switches as a hobby.
I vow to sleep longer and eat more fruit.
I vow to purchase those nasty multivitamins and take them daily (this probably will not happen unless we count Flintstone chewables).
