WashingTina

The year is drawing to a close, so it's natural that one might become reflective about the days past and those to come.  I don't usually make resolutions because nothing comes of them.  Sure, each year I hope to exercise more (futile), eat better (a little on, a little off), and myriad other things that amount to nothing special.  And each year I do some of the things and don't do others.  The real resolutions that matter are those that are less of a lifestyle change and are more of a goal--get a new job, buy my own home, travel to Europe.  What you may not know is that this blog was my New Year's Resolution for 2010.  Sick of spending years thinking that I'd write "someday," I made a conscious choice to spend time this year writing what I want to write about and not simply writing for work.  When you're a flack, you spend a lot of time writing to advance other people's missions.  WashingTina is my mission. And I think I've done a pretty go...

Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year.  This year, I believe I heard the first notes of Christmas music around October 15.  Shortly after that, red, green, and gold started adorning windows and counters and just about anything that wasn't able to run away on its own.  I really love Christmas, but I have to say, this oversaturation is getting more and more out of control each year.  The one Christmas phenonmenon that really drives me bananas is "Christmas music." I don't mean O Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night, or even Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  I'm talking about such earsplitting dittys as Christmas Shoes (the story of a poor child who wants nothing more than to buy his dying mother a pair of new shoes for Christmas -- a real spirit-lifter), Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses (which tells about the near misses of a silver-tongued woman and "the guy I'd been chasing all year"), and my personal favorite, the vomit-inducing  " ...

I'm trying something new here at WashingTina . . . I've joined a gang.  Not what you think (puh-leeze, if you've been reading this blog for even a little while, you're not thinking gang anyway.  I'm about as likely to join a gang as Justin Beiber).  I've been recruited by my friend Susie Kline over at Motherhoot  (and she is a hoot, so check her out) to join her Blog Gang.  The idea is that a group of bloggers all blog on one topic once a month or so, and then link up together.  Today's topic is marriage.  When I got the email about the topic, all I could think of was that scene in The Princess Bride (one of my favorite movies): As I've mentioned before, WH and I have been married for two years . I can remember our wedding like it was yesterday -- all of our friends and family together for one day to celebrate together with us.  I remember my dress and the flowers and the music and the face of everyone who was there.  I remember th...

Let it be said that WH and I love Christmas.  A lot.  Here's what neither of us can stand: the adverstising.  One advertising phenomenon in particular makes us both spew.  It's something you may not have noticed, but that once I point it out, you'll never be able to ignore it again.  During the holidays, the commercials feature what I've heard called the "Unicorn Man."  He's that guy who is attractive, eligible, and smart, with a chin dimple who gives gifts like Lexuses (or is the plural of Lexus, Lexi?) and diamond tennis bracelets to his unsuspecting, yet adoring wife/girlfriend/mistress (In one instance he even comes home from Africa for a cup of coffee with his little sister, but that's really not relevant here).  He is the man who the commercial people have dreamed up, but who does not exist . . . just like a unicorn.  Evidence below: WH really hates this commercial.  Every time we see it, it sends him into fits -- and h...

It's the stuff that movies are made of: a couple's two sets of parents meet each other for the first time.  Ben Stiller's practically built a career on awkward family relationships.  But WH and I could give the Fockers a run for their money.  WH and I had been together for several years when we finally got the 'rents together for dinner.  We met at a neutral location, La Tomate (one of our favorites), for dinner.  Everything went just fine until we got to dessert.  Sure, it was a little more formal than usual, as these things are when people don't know each other well.  But our after-dinner treats really brought out the best in us all.  WH and Dear Old Dad are fans of port, which is perfect with dessert.  There's a particular port called Cockburn's .  You can get your mind out of the gutter (at least momentarily), it's pronounced coe-burn.  But who cares really?  It looks like cock-burn and that's how we say i...

It's the holidays . . . time for traditions.  I'll admit that I am a freak when it comes to traditions.  There's little I love more than a good tradition, especially at Christmas.  There was a while there when I must say we (me) were a little nuts in my family about Christmas traditions.  The list was long and specific.  Every year when my sister and I were growing up, my grandparents on my mother's side would stay at our house on Christmas Eve so that Christmas morning we could wake up and open presents together.  It just wasn't Christmas if we weren't all together, getting up too early, in our pajamas opening gifts.  Also on Christmas Eve, we would go across the street to my friend the Lady Doctor 's mother's house for a party.  My best girl friends were there and we'd exchange gifts before retiring to wait for the sound of Santa's sleigh.  People grow up, parents move, and grandparents get sick -- things change, and so, too, mu...