Author: jenzug

Una cerveza, por favor.

Okay first of all: the swim suit (ever the eccentric). Second of all: the crazy bad hair “fix” after she chopped it all off herself. And finally: the fact that she looks and sounds exactly the same, except she can’t seem to get the words out around those huge cheeks!

I was reminded of this 2007 video of Ruthie “speaking sign language” today, as she stood on our front porch speaking to our (new!) Mexican neighbors in fake Spanish.

Yes, you heard me. And yes, it’s as embarrassing as you’re imagining.

“Hola!” she said. Then fired off a long string of “nodocomalannoporrolucawanna….” etc.

“Your hospitality is inspiring,” I said. “Way to welcome them to the neighborhood. But I’m not sure they’ll take your… um… Spanish in the spirit you intend.”

Fortunately, my new neighbor is awesome and has a sense of humor.

Date Night

Date Night at the BerlinerDate Night at The Berliner Pub

It’s been a slow year for movies, so we’ve been spending a lot of dates actually talking to each other. A new place just opened up near our house that serves German beer and a sausage sampler plate, which is both filling and cheap.

The place has tons of big tables for large groups or community seating, so we camped at the end of a table one evening and played Settlers of Catan.

I beat Bryan on this particular night, hence the hand on furrowed brow look in the photo. It was a full-on ass whoopin’ of Biblical proportions, and there was much rejoicing (by me).

Things I Have In Common With Don Draper

These are some of the things I accomplished during the last hour:

  • rearranged the icons on my iPhone
  • sorted and renamed my Google Reader feeds
  • added a few bookmarklets to my bookmarks bar
  • explored Pinterest
  • cleaned my desk
  • listened to the same song on repeat

This may not seem like much, but I consider it a fairly good hour’s work when facing a creative deadline.

Bryan and I started watching Mad Men on Netflix streaming this weekend, and I love watching the subtleties of Don Draper’s creative process play out during each episode. It seems – and I would agree with this – the creator never really stops creating. Whether engaging with family, reading the paper, or making love, there is a distracting thought spinning in the back of our minds, connecting everything we’re experiencing to the idea that’s been nagging at us.

And it’s maddening to get stuck in a tip-of-the-tongue suspension state, like wracking my brain trying to remember That Guy’s name and it’s just not coming to me.

Running sometimes knocks the ideas loose. So does rearranging the icons on my iPhone. Wasting time is not always wasted time.

One scene of Mad Men opened with Draper sitting in his office, smoking, staring at the wall in a haze of dim light. His boss walked in, hesitated, then said, “I still can’t get used to the fact you’re actually working when you do that.”

Yes, the creator must have space to mull it over, to let it sit, to knock it around a bit. It may not look like we’re working, but trust me… we are.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go for a walk.

Date Night

Catan at Calamity Jane'sDate Night at Calamity Jane’s in Georgetown.

I really like this guy. And I really like that he still takes me out on dates after ten years of marriage.

Even during seasons when we didn’t like each other much, we still went out on dates. They were awkward and we definitely were just going through the motions, but I think it kept us from allowing a great chasm of silence to develop between us.

Because there we were every other Saturday night, staring at each other across the table, sizing up where we were at.

Our dates are much more fun now that we’re madly in love again.

Here I am waiting for Bryan to make his move at Settlers of Catan. He loves to crush me, and spares no mercy for even me, his wife.

Which makes it even more rewarding when I take him down.

This just in…

Awww… I was disappointed that Bryan didn’t ride home with me today – on our anniversary. But it turns out he needed me out of the studio so he could record this video!

Whew. I’m so glad I didn’t bitch at him about that.

Anyhoo…

In the video Bryan tells the story of our engagement and reads the poem he wrote me to propose.

I KNOW!

*wipes tear*

I love you, babe. It’s been an awesome ten years.

Thanks to Adam for his part in these shenanigans.

Also: we’re playing around with the backdrop in the studio. You like? I think the pink needs a little tone-down.

I Got Married In a Prom Dress.

whimsical jen

True story.

I didn’t plan to get married in a prom dress, but I think it’s rather brilliant that I did.

It solved the problem of me…

  1. not wanting to spend a fortune on a dress I’d only wear once
  2. hating bridal shops where I’d have to act like a princess
  3. wearing white, which looks horribly unflattering on me

(Do you understand, now, why Liz Lemon and I are BFF’s?)

My mom was in town for the weekend, and she was determined to buy me a dress. I am a pear shaped tomboy who hates trying on clothes. Can you picture how much fun we had?

I remember hitting my limit, the end of my patience, the stick-a-fork-in-me-I’m-done moment. We were in the middle of Downtown Seattle’s shopping district and I blurted out, “WHY DO I HAVE TO WEAR A FREAKIN’ **WEDDING** DRESS TO THIS GODFORSAKEN WEDDING?”

And that was my lightbulb moment: on the corner, somewhere near City Center mall, pitching a bridal fit.

From there my mom and I marched into Cache where I elbowed past a gaggle of teenage girls, tried on this fabulous sage green dress, and paid only $200 for it.

And it looked FABULOUS on me!

afterglow

Ten years ago today I got married in that dress.

I love this picture of us in those blissful moments right after the ceremony, because I still feel the way I look in this photo. I still adore being married to him.

Well, maybe still isn’t the right word, since I’ve thrown many objects and harsh words at him since that day…

No, still still applies. There are no mountains without the valleys, as they say.

Parsons GardensParsons Garden, where we got married.

HoBBQ: Playing It By Ear.

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For the last seven or eight years we’ve hosted a BBQ once a week at our home. You bring something to grill and a dish to share, we provide the deck, an awesome music mix, and s’mores for the fire pit.

Four or five years ago a little guy we love (who’s not so little anymore), referred to our home as The House of BBQ. The name stuck, and so we now host the annual summer House of BBQ (#HoBBQ on twitter).

Except.

We are more than half way through July, now, and we have yet to host a massive HoBBQ event. It seems we’re in a season of introversion, of selective scheduling, of wagon circling.

We’re busy this year. Not necessarily in schedule, as we often go through busy seasons on the calendar. But my brains cells feel taxed, my creative juices depleted, my ability to handle large crowds…fragile.

We used to schedule dates in advance and blast them out via twitter, but this summer it’s been more like this…

Me: “You wanna BBQ tomorrow?”

Bryan: “I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead.”

[The next day]

Me: “You wanna BBQ today?”

Bryan: “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Me: “Should we invite anyone over?”

Bryan: “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Me: “I can’t think that far ahead.”

[A couple hours later]

Me: text to friend: “we’re BBQing, want to come over?”

Friend: “When?”

Me: “now.”

You get the idea.

At first I felt panicked, guilty, like a failure for not being able to handle it. Folks emailed or called us out on twitter this Spring, asking when our first HoBBQ would be scheduled, and I just couldn’t imagine it happening.

But I think I just need some space to refill my cup so I have more to pour out.

So I just wanted to let the locals know we’re still here, and we’re still BBQ’ing.

Mostly.

Zugcycle Ride

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Bryan and I used some money we were gifted at Christmas this year to buy new bikes for ourselves. The kids have always had wheels, but we were getting left in the dust as we walked along behind them on the river trail.

A couple weeks ago we dusted them off for the first time and went for a family bike ride. And “dusting off” is not just a figure of speech, either. We store them on a stacking bike rack in our dining room, which means they don’t get dusted just like everything else in my dining room.

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I’m pretty sure I haven’t ridden a bike since I was twenty-two, so I was part terrified and part invigorated. But at least I know how to use my brakes, which is more than I could say for Ruthie. She narrowly avoided flipping herself over a parking curb at the bottom of a hill, but thankfully we all came home in one piece.

In which I get a wife.

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My house is full. All five rooms. Four adults, four kids, three family units.

A few weeks ago my friend, Lacey, moved in with her two kids, occupying our remaining two rental rooms, while a single guy rents the third. Her kids are the same age as mine, and they’ve been friends for about three years. Right now it mostly feels like one really long slumber party, but I’m confident it will all start to break down very soon.

I thought this many people in the house would feel overwhelming and crowded. I thought I’d be cooking and cleaning 24/7 to keep on top of it all. I thought I’d be breaking up fights between the kids every five minutes.

But it’s actually been going surprisingly well.

For those of you who mutter daily that you wish you had a wife… well I have one now. If I cook, she cleans up. And we do chores together and swap laundry days. It feels pretty spectacular to share the load.

Bryan even has all four kids playing a daily I Spy game in which they pick up clutter from the front door to the back door, earning quarters if they’re willing to bet on a job well done. I dare say the house is cleaner now than when it was just us.

The other day Lacey made a joke about being my sister-wife. I laughed, then I stopped laughing. She said, “Maybe that was inappropriate.” I said, “Well, only after I thought about it.” Then we laughed again and Bryan just shook his head at us.

Of course there are some kinks to be worked out, but we’re working them out as we go. That’s the important thing. If we waited until they were all worked out before pulling the trigger, she might have never moved in.

Because in my opinion, there are certain things in life one has to ponder carefully – like what shoes to wear when it rains from the sun, whether to get your salted caramel scoop in a cup or cone, or if you should go with short hair this summer or keep it long.

But when a friend says – Hey, I need help, and you have rooms for rent! Can me and the kids move in? – you say yes without thinking too much about it and trust all the details will work out.

And they always work out.

Bootstrapper Family

“Gotta go sew a Tyvek tent. I blame YouTube and marrying crazy.”

My friend posted this to her facebook page the other day. I have no idea what a Tyvek tent is, but I know the sort of person her husband is and that these things usually start with a wild-eyed idea, followed by a wife who rolls her eyes but secretly enjoys the adventure of it all.

I, too, married crazy. Only I’m not sewing outdoor gear to survive the inevitable collapse of the American economy and life as we know it, I’m buying a domain for every Big Idea, starting a new adventure every six months, and green-lighting gear purchases that spark a little twinkle in my husband’s eye.

In my wedding vows I said I would follow Bryan through seasons of hot dogs and caviar, through dry and plenty. This is because he warned me what life with him would be like. He warned me that I wasn’t signing on for a suit and tie, nine to five, salaried existence, but that our life would be filled with curves and cliff hangers, surprises and disappointments.

In retrospect, I’m so thankful he prepared me for this. His ideas are adventurous, sometimes costly, and usually risky, but the man is an entrepreneur at heart and I knew what I was getting into. Occasionally I forget who really rows our Strange Boat and panic, but for the most part I chuckle, roll my eyes, and go with it.

We always end up having fun, and are happiest when adventuring together.

To that end, I introduce Bootstrapper Studios, our multi-camera HD broadcast video studio, located in Seattle’s South Lake Union neighborhood. I’ve been spearheading much of the admin and set design for the studio, and can’t wait to show off photos when it’s complete, so stay tuned.

Getting out of Dodge.

Sun.

We went camping with friends this weekend, which was the perfect way to wrap up an incredibly busy and stressful June.

Sunrise game of CatanSunrise Game of Catan / Photo by Bryan Zug.

I love the way Bryan loves me, the way he continues to woo me in marriage. He invites me to himself – to follow, to engage.

I’m not a morning person. I love to sleep, and waking up early makes me grouchy. But when the sun is rising over a misty, tree-lined lake and your husband invites you to play Settlers of Catan while everyone else is still sleeping…you’re suddenly very awake and happy.

Sign of a full day.

Of course the kids fell asleep on the way home. Why wouldn’t they? Caked in dirt, cheese puff dust, and slightly dehydrated, they earned a nap.

Mrs. Grumpy Pants and the Terrible Tuesday

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You know what I do a lot? I do a lot of yelling.

Like today, for instance. I gave the kids a list of chores to do, after which they were to get screen time and a trip to the farmer’s market.

Did they do their chores?

Of course not. They screwed around in their room, and somehow their window screen was punched out and is now laying on the deck.

So what did I do?

I started yelling. Because I’m a yeller. And my disgust is best communicated with great volume and adrenaline.

Technically it wasn’t necessary to yell at them. They were on a time limit, so I could have just ignored their antics and let them deal with the consequences of their folly when the timer went off. Maybe they would get their act together, or maybe they would feel the weight of NOT getting their act together.

But no. I had to rob them of either opportunity by yelling.

I made it about me. I was mad they weren’t listening to me. I felt out of control. I took their disobedience as mockery of my authority and identity. I viewed their actions as a big Fuck You to my worth as a mother.

There might have been some of that, but mostly they were just screwing around. You know, the fart on your sister’s head kind of screwing around. There was no conspiracy to make me look bad in front of the dog.

I haven’t talked about my anger issues here in a long time. Mostly because I’ve been busy, but partly because I’ve been talking about my anger issues for about seven years.

Seven.

Years.

While I’m not the same person I used to be, I’m definitely not who I want to be. I would give anything to be able to laugh it off, or roll my eyes, or shrug and say, Whatever, you guys are NUTS.

But no. I take it personally and yell. Still.

Okay okay, so I’m probably being a little mopey. It was a bad day, to be sure. But as usual, I perceive every day is as bad as Today. But thankfully, there’s tomorrow. And hopefully there will be no yelling.