The Adventures of Mrs.Movie Snob

On one of our first dates, Matt took me to Luby's for lunch. I remember sitting there giggling over a heap of fried okra (and other delectable cafeteria fare) and thinking, "This guy someone I want to know." Just a few hours earlier, he had picked me up, drove me to the mall and told me he wanted "to buy me something pretty." Indeed he did. No expense was spared, in fact. After, we ate Luann Platters and   toasted our sweet tea in plastic cups. The bar was set pretty high. I couldn't have been happier. And that's my Matthew in a nutshell. He treats me like a queen wherever we go - be it a fancy boutique or a greasy diner. The world is our stage and we're always having a ball. Ask anyone. It's funny to me that two people who swore they would never EVER get married turned out to be really good at it. We fight, sure. (Boy! We've had some good ones!) We annoy each other almost daily. (Just put the dishes in the sink, ok?!) But we also laugh. ...

I don't have a dad. I never have. The S.O.B. is out there somewhere. Just nowhere I've ever known about. I've only ever been Debbie's daughter. I was briefly a step daughter - by law - to a very cruel man that my Mother married when I was a child. Father material, though, he was not. The only positive male role model that I can remember early on is my Grandfather, Inez. And when he was around, which wasn't too often because we lived far away, I'd feel like a princess. Still do. (All his granddaughters do. He's our hero.) So, when social media is saturated on Father's Day with images of loving, attentive, present Daddies, I find myself in foreign territory; somewhere on the outside looking in on a strange exhibit. I equate it to going to a history museum and staring blankly at a scene set in olden days. I can't relate. That's how they lived? How strange. I'm not sad, really. Or jealous. Anymore. I'm at an age where I can take...

My husband has taken a mistress. It's time to come clean. She's been in our lives now for a little over a year. In fact, most of you know about her. It may surprise some of you that I am reacting so calmly and haven't gone full Latina . (A fate to which he has been warned) At this point, however, I feel it is more beneficial to the three of us if I not only accept her but embrace her very existence. Put down your pitchforks. Her name is "Father's Creed." Matt's book. Yes, the Sully family has a new member. For now anyway. She visits him most days at work. She is waiting for all of us every night when we get home. And I'm pretty sure she's along for most of our outings. Matt knows her intricately. And I am happily, finally , getting some one-on-one time with her too. I don't write this to grumble. I'm over-the-moon proud of "Father's Creed." And I'm very much enjoying Matt's excitement at each milestone. This ...

Sunday afternoon at a grocery store in the suburbs. I haven't witnessed such unbridled egomania since I watched the news last Black Friday. Niceties are thrown out the window. Road rules are forgotten. (Stay to the right!) The volume is turned way up and your only defense is to keep moving, and keep moving fast. If you abide by the rules, you'll get in and get out, groceries in hand and if you're lucky with very few defensive wounds. Today, I was in the midst of this mess. All was going well. Then you get in line behind cash-and-coupon-Clara. You know who I'm talking about. She's in her early 50's. She had a change purse. She had a coupon organizer. She had a question about every damn item scanned. She had all the time in the world. What she didn't seem to have was a damn clue. I stood watching her. I didn't have much choice. I was about 4th in line and the people ahead of me were absolutely fuming. And just when we were about to make some headway --...

So here we are kids. 2019. The future. Even as I type that date it seems surreal. Like I'm going to wake up at any moment to find that this has all been a dream and it's really still 1990. Like most other couples we know, we rang in the new year very low key;  dinner with friends and then a few pints and some karaoke at our local pub we've aptly nicknamed "The Winchester." (Bonus points if you get that reference) Christmas always comes and goes like a hurricane and even though we wanted a "quiet Christmas, just us, " the holiday season is always a chaotic to-do list; shopping, cooking, parties, school assemblies. By Dec. 31, I am both mentally and physically exhausted. Add to that a few bonus days off of work, leaving my internal clock flashing 12:00. I heard Matt ask more than once, "What day is it?" More than once, I had to check. And then BOOM!, it's the New Year and we're all supposed to get back to adulting, schedules, school...

Oh, the intricacies of a relationship. Those wonderful moments that happen when no one else is around. All of my best friends are now coupled. Surely, you know what I speak of: The picking of a fight. Even as I sit here writing this, I am completely clueless as to what the hell just happened. Our typical Thursday family dinner was...typical...light, even, The three of us finished our supper and giggled over Isabel's new Magic Trick kit. Good Sully family memories. The yooj. ("usual") After teeth brushing, morning preparing and kid-tucking-in, it was adult time. As I settled on the couch to check my Insta, I glanced at the man-show on the tv, "What are you watching?", I asked. I was immediately met with a snarky and defensive remark from the husband. I responded. Only to be cut off with another snarky and defensive remark. "Umm...what the hell's your problem?" I don't much shy away. There was an infuriating little giggle as if to say, "...

A few nights ago Matt and I were watching an old episode of  Sex and the City . Well, I was watching. He was half-listening and playing on his phone. "Ugh. I hate these scenes when they're talking." First, don't you dare dis my show. Second, "What do you mean?!" "It's so forced. Life. Love. Clever quip.  We're so funny !" He said mockingly. Taken aback for a second, I looked at him utterly confused, "That's how girlfriends talk. We're much more clever than men." Cue eye roll. He knows I'm right. Still, I couldn't help but wonder, (see what I did there?)  What the hell do men talk about? I thought back to a few recent conversations we've had after a "Guys Night." There have been some major developments among our group of friends in the last few months: 3 big moves, a hospital stay for a sick kid, new jobs and general adulting. Lots of material for in-depth discussions.The day-after exchange...