Archive for December, 2012

Domestic Partners

December 22 2012

At CMU, you can register a domestic partner to extend certain privileges to your significant other, such as health care, access to the gym, and a free bus pass!  Dave and I decided to register at CMU.  After looking through the paperwork, we gathered all of our supporting documents (shared bank account statement, a copy of the lease, and a print-out from my insurance naming Dave as my beneficiary).  At HR, we met with Elizabeth and another person who was in-training.  He didn’t learn much from this meeting, other than how to make a copy of our lease, since we had all of the materials ready when we arrived. We were there for no longer than 10 minutes total.  As we were leaving the office, Dave says to me “you may now kiss the domestic partner” and gives me a big kiss.  For the rest of the day, he kept calling me his “domesticated partner.”

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The Crust

December 10 2012

With pizza, it’s all about the crust.  But, it’s hard to make good crust at home.  Usually, I cheat and just purchase pizza dough at the store.  Dave, however, does not like the store-bought pizza dough, so he has investigated the secrets to a good crust: buy the dough from a pizza place, and use a pizza stone and pizza paddle.  When this month’s issue of Everyday with Rachael Ray came in, I decided to make it with the dough from a local pizza parlor.  We don’t have the stone and paddle yet, but I followed Rachael’s recommendation to use an upside down cookie tray as a fake pizza stone and to place the pizza on parchment on a second tray.

The lesson I learned: don’t follow recipe directions for store-bought pizza dough with pizza-parlor-bought pizza dough. We placed the dough on parchment paper … and it stuck.  When we were eating, Dave was biting the pizza off of the parchment like you bite candy dots off of the paper they come on.  I used a knife to scrape off the filling of the pizza from the crust/parchment.  The pizza was delicious, but a complete and utter disaster.  [The stone and paddle are on our wedding registry though, for anyone reading who wants to make Dave happy].

Tap Dancing

December 4 2012

When I was a senior in college, I worked part-time at Lockheed Martin in King of Prussia.  Living on City Ave with my roomie Kathy, I woke up very early to start work around 6:30 a.m.  On occasion, I would be leaving the apartment just as Kathy was arriving home from an all-nighter of painting.  Neither of us was particularly pleased at that hour.

As I only worked part-time, I would come home in the early afternoon and go straight into thesis-mode.  One day, I was particularly exhausted (I think I had only an hour of sleep the night before) and walked from the front door straight to my bed, tossing my shoes off as quickly as I could.  Then, I collapsed into my bed.  Just as the muscles in my back started to release, I heard a knock at the door.  I thought about ignoring it, but they persisted.  When I answered the door (in my socks), the person yelled at me for walking around the apartment in heels.  I looked at them inquisitively and they looked at my feet confused.  Apparently, they heard me walk in and I woke them up from their 2pm nap.  Tough cookies.

Later that day, Kathy came home and our friend Meghan came over.  I asked Kathy if she knew how to tap dance.  She said yes, and started to teach us how to tap dance.  We learned the gallop and the train.  The three person train went all around our apartment, well, mostly in circles from living room to the dining room to the kitchen to the office to the living room … Somewhere around lap three, we heard a knock.  This time we all hid in the kitchen and pretended not to be home.  The three of us were hiding under the window (I think we were on the 3rd or 4th floor) crouched down beside the stove, whispering “what do we do?”  As if to answer our questions, our friend Josh called my cell phone.  He was actually an RA in the building and we thought we’d be able to have him scare away the guys from downstairs who were at our door:

“Hello” I whisper

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, but I think someone is at my door.”

“I am at your door.”

That was the last time we heard from the guys who lived below us.