Happy Anniversary!

Today's a big anniversary day for me.

Three years ago I was on Date #2 of my "31 Dates in 31 Days" Project.

See that picture? It was taken on January 16th, 2009. That guy in the picture is Joel. We'd gone to a dance recital in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Even though I'd known Joel already, I was really nervous. I'd just begun my project. Not to mention, a lot of people we knew would also be at the recital, including Joel's parents. We managed to say hello to a few friends before heading out into the near-zero-degree weather and strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge. And those were among the first steps I took that helped change my attitude about - well, everything. Love, dating, men. I'm so grateful for those days.

As for Joel, he's now married!

In fact, seven of the guys I met during the 2009 project are hitched. Of course, including my husband.

And today is my two year wedding anniversary. Yay!

I love this time of year when I can re-live all the good stuff.


Wanna' re-live my project with me? Check out the book!

When it Comes to Weddings, January is the New Black [Friday]

"Brides" January 2012 cover

If you don't own this magazine, all of your newly-engaged friends probably do. In fact, the January edition of Brides magazine is always its best-selling issue. That's because January - following the flurry of holiday wedding proposals - is high time for kicking off "enagement season."

The website WeddingWire says that its web traffic more than doubles between January and February. The Monday following New Year's Day always sees a surge in new membership for the site, and they say that's because one-third of all engagements are announced between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

January is the month when lots of women get distracted at work by the sparkle of their new rings. They spend less time on work and Facebook and opt for more time on The Knot checking off items on their "to do" lists and watching the countdown tick: Only 252 more days to your wedding! Some of them get so dizzied by the planning, checklists, and constant address requesting that they become future Bridezillas without noticing.

January 16, 2010

In all its craziness and fun, wedding planning moves to the forefront from January to March. That's when you'll hear local commercials buzz for big wedding expos coming to your convention center. Wedding planners, bridal gown retailers, and cake stores are ready for the rush of requests. After all, American weddings didn't become a $70 billion industry without preparation and fortitude. 

As for me, January is my anniversary month. To be more specific, this is my anniversary weekend.

Three years ago I embarked on my 31 Dates in 31 Days project.

Exactly one year later, I married the best man ever. But you can still call him Date #31 if you want.

So while my friends are flipping through their magazines and creating ideas for the best wedding EVER, we're away celebrating the fact that we don't need to plan all that wedding craziness anymore.


sources

A Very Disney Birth-Date

So, today's my birthday. And for the 3rd anniversary of my 31st birthday (that seems to be the most common milestone I mention these days), what I really wanted was to go on a date to Disneyland with my husband and live out the dreams and loves of my childhood. Among those loves was this guy:

I loved everything about Donald Duck. His sassy attitude, his spitting, his poor diction, his love for Daisy, his exhibitionism. Everything.

I even had a big Donald Duck night light that sat on top of a tall book shelf. There he was, high above me, watching over me at night as I fell asleep dreaming of seeing him at Disneyland. Eventually Night Light Donald's head fell off. What was left was just the bottom half of his body - duck butt and yellow feet - with a tiny light bulb shining out from it. I still loved that thing and felt as if Donald were close to me.

Over the years I've collected a bit too much Donald paraphernalia. Even our Christmas tree is donned with enough of The Don to have our own themed tree.

So today, my birthday wish was to see Donald again in real life. Ask him if he remembers me. Hug him and take a picture. But this was as close as I got:

I only held his cute face on my beloved ticket, next to my beloved husband. Okay, so maybe my birthday wish to see the D-Man up close didn't happen. But thankfully I have another handsome, funny, sometimes-exhibitionist man by my side to help my childhood dreams come true, and to watch over me as I dream of more adventures at night.

Goodnight dear friends! Thanks for all the birthday wishes throughout the day. It means the world to me to be remembered and to be in each of your lives.

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Grocery Store Songs

As Thanksgiving approaches, I've already had to make two unexpected trips to the grocery store. Which means every walk through the aisles of a grocery store can become more of a stroll down memory lane. In an instant, a song can have the power to zap me back into an emotional state of the past. While comparing the unit prices of brand named laundry detergent with generic, the radio version of Donna Lewis' "I Love You Always Forever" interrupts my thoughts overhead. I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile, embarrassed that I not only know the song but LOVED it. The words, the song - both stereotypical cheesy chick-loves-boy song of the 90s. The song itself is about a woman's flashback, thinking of past love and promises of forever.
I'll push the cart a little, singing softly enough for my body to feel my breath brush past my vocal chords, but not loud enough so that the nearby mom grabbing a 32 ounce bottle of Tide could hear me. Sometimes I sing the Alto line in the chorus, as if I'm singing backup in a studio - a very large studio with flourescent lights, people bustling with their shopping carts, and kids begging their mothers for Fruit Roll-Ups. I imagine myself during my college days, driving along the highway in my black Jett with the radio blaring as I shout along to the music.

I love you, always forever
Near or far, closer together
Everywhere, I will be with you
Everything, I will do for you

Back then I would sing it theatrically, as if declaring my love to an invisible, perfect boyfriend. I never knew the words that well, but I sang whatever words my soul felt appropriate at the time. Whichever words sounded right, fit the moment, fit the rhythm.

Say you'll love and love me forever
Never stop, never whatever
Near and far and always everywhere and everything


I used to feel the passion and promise of those words, wondering what they really felt like: forever, always, everywhere, everything. I remember thinking/hoping/praying that every boyfriend would be my last. For four minutes in the grocery store, I forget about the wobbly wheel on my cart and feel a tinge of longing for the soft clutch of my car, zipping into fifth gear, and longing for love and all that came with it. The music descrescendos with distancing repetition of the chorus. I shake my head thinking about how devoted I was to my imaginary love, push my wobbly cart a little faster, and hope that U2 comes on next.

Relationship Recipes (for Disaster)

Today I was baking (a rare occurrence these days) a new Fall recipe from a friend: Pumpkin Spice Chocolate Chip Muffins. As I poured the bag of semi-sweet chocolates and debated - Should I save a handful to eat? - I had a flashback to a defining moment with an old boyfriend.

Years ago, I was in the kitchen with the boyfriend and one of my close girl friends. We were making chocolate chip cookies - that standard TollHouse Recipe on the back of the bag of chocolate chips. Boyfriend cut the top of the bag of chocolate chips, poured a little more than half into the batter, and tied the rest of the bag up, setting it aside.

"Wait," I said, "what's up with holding onto the rest of the chocolate chips?"

"Well you don't want all of them in there," he said. "That's just way too many."

My forehead clenched in curiosity and concern. I looked to my friend with a raised eyebrow. "How can anyone ever have too many chocolate chips?" I asked.

"I know!" she agreed. "If anything, there's never enough! Who wants a chocolate chip cookie without the chips?"

I nodded. "Isn't that why they're called CHOCOLATE CHIP cookies?"
Boyfriend nodded, heeding the passive instruction, untied the bag and poured the rest of the chips in.

I shook my head and wondered, How in the world could I ever get along with a man who doesn't believe in the "chocolate chips" of chocolate chip cookies?

Although that wasn't a narrow-minded, deal-breaking moment, it ended up being one that I thought of often when I would tell people how different we were. It was almost like that guy I dated in college who hated sushi. I didn't understand it. How does anyone HATE sushi? I wondered if I could ever spend the rest of my life with a man who didn't see the life-changing value of a spicy tuna roll. 

So how important is a person's palate when it comes to relationships?

I'm married to a meat-eating food snob who refuses to eat macaroni and cheese that comes out of a box. In fact, he calls it "yellow death." And I'm a pescatarian who still adores all the bad foods from childhood. We figure it out. We can agree on the important things. We both love chocolate chips.

Here's the recipe to those delicious pumpkin treats. I think it'd be yummy with some cream cheese frosting on top. Let me know if you make them, tweak them - and if you set aside any of the chips!

Pumpkin Spice Chocolate Chip Muffins

1 box Spice Cake mix

2 eggs

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 1/3 cup water
1 15 oz. can pumpkin
1 bag chocolate chips

350 degrees, 15-20 minutes

11/11/11

When I was a kid I would see the numbers 11:11 on a clock and make a wish. Who am I kidding? I STILL do this!

Do you make wishes on palindromes? Today at 11:11 on 11/11/11, I sat in the empty living room of our new place and had a Zen moment of thanks and meditation. Just a quiet moment to be grateful for everything I have (and don't have) and to remember that things tend to work out for the best. I guess it makes sense that today is also Veterans Day. Moments like that keep me in check.

Can you tell my husband's trying to keep cool?

Okay, so speaking of Palindromes, it makes me think of a song by one of my husband's most favorite comedic inspirations: Weird Al Yankovic. The song, B-O-B, is written with palindromes, in the tune of Bob Dylan. (My favorite line: "go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog.")

We met Al a year or so ago here in Los Angeles. I'd never seen my husband starstruck before, but I swore he was about to pee his pants talking with Mr. Weird.
"Mr. Yankovic," I said, "my husband says he listened to all your songs growing up, so I guess I have you to blame for his sense of humor."
"I'm so sorry!" he said, shaking his head.

Tomorrow night, we'll go see Mr. Yankovic in concert at the Pantages Theatre. Yes, this is going to count as our big date night this week. What kind of dates will you have this weekend? And how are you celebrating this palindromic day?

What No One Told Me Before I Got Married

After reading the latest scientific study on marriage and weight gain, I decided to dust off an old blog post that's been hiding in my "drafts" file, too embarrassed to crawl out and share itself with the world. I wrote the entry a year ago (September 2010 -- eight months after my wedding) but wasn't ready to publicly express my feelings. Today I'm feeling much better, so I think I'm ready to pull out this old "diary entry" and share a bit.


Husband and I were engaged for just a few months before we moved across the country and were married. During all that time of packing boxes, quitting my job, booking caterers/photographers/venues/flowers, and having the general pre-wedding craziness, there was also talk about what life was going to be like AFTER the wedding.

I was going to adjust to a new home, a new career path, a new life with a new man, and even a new name. I felt as if I were entering the Witness Protection Program. It seemed ridiculous to feel sorry for myself when all of my changes were really good changes. But still, change is change. It takes time to get settled and I knew the major life alterations would soon hit me hard. I knew I would eventually freak out about my instant bulk of life changes. My groom was probably going to have to deal with my insanity once the dust from our fairy tale wedding settled.
I predicted I would have some sort of identity crisis around six weeks after our wedding.
I did. I just didn't expect that crisis to last several months.

I still don't really know my new name. I'm still not quite sure about my new career path. I still don't understand the constant sunny weather of Los Angeles (oh Fall, how I miss you!). But what I did not expect is the biggest change of all -- being BIG.

Similar to the Freshman 15, I've been granted the growing Post-Wedding Waistline. This expanded way of living is new to me. I quickly went from being the tiny girl who pranced around on her wedding day to a bigger model. I cry about how my pants no longer fit. I donate all my old cute clothes, assuming my days of being the skinny girl are over.
Whenever I admit this weight gain to my married friends, they get it. "Oh I know," they say, "that's totally how it was for me!"
Well then why didn't you warn me?? I could have invested in plenty of pants with elastic waistbands before?

I've heard all the reasons. Apparently this is my "happy weight" since I can now "let it all go." There are even studies that say couples who are married or living together tend to be more chubby than their single friends.

I guess this makes sense. There are plenty of times in my life where a breakup always ended up being an unexpected diet plan. Now that I'm paired up, I'm happily enjoying my husband's skills in the kitchen (I never cooked when I was single) and adopting new eating habits (mine plus his, so maybe I'm eating twice as much).

My sweet husband adapted so easily to our new life together. And he's been oh-so-sweet and patient with my adjusting. And now, we're are blissfully inviting some healthier habits into our home. Oh how I will miss daily desserts.

Marriage Makes You Fat

Just a few days ago, the scientific world was deeming a life of singlehood as an early death sentence. Now, the scientists are reminding me of something that my scale and I have been dealing with over the last 19 months: Marriage is now scientifically proven to make women fat.

Are those the options now? Die single young or live life fat and married? Scientists, why do you pigeon-hole my future based on my marital status?

Post-wedding weight gain is one of those secrets married people hide from their single friends. At least my friends did.
For me, the weight gain hit hard only a month or two after our wedding. I'd moved across the country from walk-everywhere-New York City to keep-your-butt-in-the-driver's-seat Los Angeles. I began writing more. I worked from a home office. I had few friends so I spent a lot of time alone. And I went on the pill.
All of a sudden, I noticed the size 2 jeans in my drawer remained untouched. They laid a little too perfectly in my drawer, looking like they were freshly pressed and ready for sale at The Gap. They'd been replaced by bigger sizes of pants and became the long-lost cousin of my now-preferred yoga pants. I thought I would somehow quickly lose the pounds. I refused to buy bigger pants, thinking somehow my body would readjust to its "natural size." It didn't.
Fast forward to today. I still love my yoga pants. I've finally made my way back to the gym. I have some friends now. It's all good.

What do you think? Does marriage make people gain weight? Is this a reality you're willing to accept?

One Year Later...

As my husband and I recently celebrated our first wedding anniversary, I couldn't help but think of how things have changed in my life in just one year's time.
Make that two years.

Our anniversary weekend also marked the second anniversary of the launch of my life-changing dating project. I miraculously met a bunch of amazing men who opened my eyes to the greater benefits of dating and love, and somehow I ended up meeting one guy who seemed to be "the kind of guy I would marry."
A year goes by and I become Mrs. Johnson.

As our wedding day approached, I quit my job, packed my NYC apartment, moved across the country, and predicted some sort of nervous breakdown would occur a few weeks after the wedding. It pretty much did. I had somewhat of a major identity crisis. And it lasted... a few months. Or maybe I'm still going through it. I'm not sure.
I dealt myself a bunch of major changes quickly: walking away from my career, flying away from my city, moving in with a boy, becoming "Mrs." So-n-So, and changing my name. Such a doozy.
Change is fast. Transition is slow.

Anniversaries can serve as great moments to reflect how far we've come, to forgive ourselves for not coming further than we'd hoped, and to give ourselves a little bit of a clean slate.

It's also a nice excuse to go on vacation.



images 1, 2, and 3 taken by MegRuth Phototgraphy

What's in a name?

For the past year I've been trying to figure out my new name.

Boys don't have to deal with this. They are born as Sam Smith and they stay that way. Girls? We have somehow traditionally been stuck with the decision making. Shall I just take his name? Should I keep my maiden name? Should I hyphenate?

A few years back I was really anti-name-change. I had just started dating a guy and we were sitting among a bunch of friends when this same discussion came up. From across the room he argued, "WHY wouldn't a girl change her last name? That's so dumb. She's part of a new family now, so she should change it."
"Well..." I piped in earnestly, baffled by his ignorance, "I'm not changing my name."
We stopped dating.

When I married Mr. Johnson I quickly became Mrs. Johnson. Maybe it's because I was in my 30s when I married. Or maybe it's because I had my whole career using my maiden name. Or maybe it's because there is only 1 Tamara Duricka in this world and (according to all-knowing google) there are more than 1,094 women named Tamara Johnson... I've been having a hard time with the switch. This has been a bit more than an identity crisis as I try to figure out which name to stamp on the front of my new little book.

These are the thoughts that go through my head...
*I did this project using my maiden name, so keep my maiden name as part of it.
*I'm married now. This is about a cynical girl who wanted to be better at dating and was surprised when she ended up married. Be sure to use your married name somewhere.
*Use all three names. It'll be fine even though it's a mouthful.
*Don't use all three. No one should, unless your name is awesome like Jennifer Love Hewitt. Besides it gives away the ending.
*Johnson is simple and easy to pronounce. The maiden name isn't, so drop it.
*There are already at least three other authors who have used 'Tamara Johnson' (two with a middle initial)
*Go totally different and use your given middle name: Tamara Jane Johnson. It's cute (and secretly my favorite).
*No. No one knows you as that name, why would you use that?
*Does it really matter? You will be lucky if anyone other than your mom actually reads that thing anyway.

I've chatted with a few women who've debated their name changes over the years. They get married and use their married name. Then they change back to their maiden name at work. People think she got divorced. Or she actually gets divorced. And then maybe she remarries.

In many ways, I hate the fact that women have been forced into such a traditional role. Why is it our choice? Why can't they change their names? I remember that old boyfriend said to me in heavy defense, "Women should change their name. You're becoming part of a whole new family! What will your children call you?"
"Uh... MOM."

But this name-changing opportunity does give us a chance to own our own identities. What do we want people to call us? How much of a statement is a married woman making if she chooses her husband's name? Is it an even bigger statement when she doesn't?
I have a friend who took her husband's last name when they married only under the condition that he take her maiden name as another middle name. Apparently it was much more difficult at the Social Security office for him to add a middle name than it was for her to change her last name. I had struggles at the Social Security office too when I kept having to clarify "keep my entire name. 'Duricka' is just a second middle name. So four names altogether: Tamara Jane Duricka Johnson." They still got it wrong, forcing me to walk back in their and clarify. Again.
The government must be so accustomed to American women dropping their maiden names that they have no idea what to do when we come up with something different.
Is this all too archaic? How important is it really?

I think of dear Samuel Clemens, who would still have been one of the best authors of all time had he stuck with his real name and not gone with Mark Twain. Does it really matter what we call ourselves? Isn't it more important that we deliver something substantial to the world than what we call it?

When my parents divorced, my mom kept her married name. That way people would know she was our mom. Plus, the paperwork is a hassle. Then she remarried and considered keeping my dad's last name. My step-dad wasn't too keen on that idea. So she changed it to what is apparently the most popular Irish name: Pat Kelly.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
-Romeo and Juliet (Act 2, scene ii)

What do you think about your name? Have you changed it? Would you?

In-laws, Outlaws, and Healing from the Holidays

My in-laws make me sick.

At least that's the conclusion we've all decided. Ever since our Thanksgiving family visit, I've been dealing with the flu. This is par for the course when it comes to family time.

The first time I visited my then-future-sister-in-law, her children all had the nastiest case of the flu. Each kid walked around carrying a big bowl just in case someone else was busy throwing up in the bathroom. I quickly found myself in line, barfing in their toilet.
Somehow my low energy and unattractive presentation didn't leave a bad impression on the family. We all get along really well. And I mean that legitimately, not just because this is a public forum or anything. It's often joked that I married my husband because I was so in love with his family, which... is probably partly true.
But the fact is, I still get sick every time we take a trip to see the in-laws. With so many nieces and nephews, I guess they pass around bugs to everyone. If we don't get sick while we're on vacation, we come home and the virus settles in, forcing us to stock up on ginger ale, tissues, and Saltine crackers.

My brother married well, too. His wife comes from a big, inviting family. They aren't all technically my in-laws, but I still consider them family. More like out-laws.
My husband and I get sick visiting all of them too.

I suppose a few days of the constant destined bout of the flu or a cold or some other unnamed virus is a welcome luxury compared to the awful relationships some people have with their new in-laws...
Granted, I'm still in the first year of marriage. So I still have plenty of time to make my new family sick of me.

A Year After "YES!"

A year ago I woke up early in the morning (well... 9am) for a little canoe ride across the lake with Number 31. We pulled up to a little island, dragged the canoe onto the land, and enjoyed the changing leaves on the shore. We started taking pictures."Tam, what kind of face would you make if you were really mad at me?"
"What kind of face would you make if I got down on one knee and pulled this ring out of my pocket?One year later, so much has changed.
I was Ms. and am now Mrs.
We went from east coast to west coast.
I worked with hundreds of people, now I work alone.

But I am still happy and hopeful. I still have big dreams.
I still consider 9am "early."
And I am still so glad I said "YES!" that day.

How have you changed in the last year? How have you stayed the same?

Married!

From "hopeless romantic"... to bride!

One year after my "31 Dates" adventure, I married the man of my dreams!

thanks to MegRuthPhotography for the wedding pictures!

We're happy as can be!

{A Follow-Up}

So where did we leave off?

Oh yes.

Last you heard, I had just finished my whirlwind, life-changing adventure. I had gone out on Date #31 with this guy, Evan. You remember him, right?

Well.

Since then, I've been writing the book version of my story, 31 Dates in 31 Days. I've also been giving myself some breathing room, enjoying New York City, travelling... and most of that has been with Evan. We've been having a lot of fun!

In the last eight months, we've travelled to DC, Philadelphia, L.A., Sacramento, Seattle, Portland, and just last weekend we were in New Hampshire. That's where he gave me this:

Haha!!!! Yes! I'm serious! Evan and I are ENGAGED!

We haven't set a date yet, but it will be soon (as in December or January)!

I've been lucky to become friends with the other 29 guys I met (one is even Evan's roommate now and another was on vacation with us when we got engaged!).

It's funny. I'm sure all the guys who went out with me probably just see me as this chick they took out once for a few hours. But to me, they each hold this magnificent, special place in my soul as a teacher and friend. It's pretty remarkable and I will forever be grateful for my 31 Dates.

I'm nearing the finish line on my book (still no publisher, so please keep your fingers crossed for me!), which has been a learning experience in itself! What an incredible happy ending to the story, right?

So in the next couple months I'll be planning a wedding and finishing the manuscript! Wow! Too fun!

Thank you so much for being part of my fun adventure! I started out looking to learn something (anything!) and not only ended up changing my perspective on love and life -- I also met the man of my dreams! From cynic-of-love to fiancee... Can you believe it?

Neither can I!