I now pronounce you “MAAH-WEED”.

Being goofballs as usual; Summer, 2006.

Being goofballs as usual; Summer, 2006.

On March 6, 1999,  The Man and I got married.  Or, “MAAH-WEED”, if you happen to be like me, and can’t utter that word without hearing the voice of Long Duck Dong saying it in Sixteen Candles–always a classic, favorite of ours.

Regardless, we’ve been hitched for 14 years, which means it’s actually the 2nd anniversary of the dreaded, “7-year itch”. Which, btw, never happened to us–at least not to me. Or to my knowledge. But second anniversaries are still technically the honeymoon phase, right? So with that in mind, I’ll just say it’s our second, so we can celebrate like newlyweds, and draw stares from people thinking, ‘look at those two…they need to get a room’…lol 🙂 Fifty more years, and we’ll reach the milestone my parents would have, if they were alive today. HOLY COW…in 50 years I’ll be 91. Am I really thinking about canoodling at that age?

Somebody freaking smack me, will ya?!!

All kidding aside, I treasure all the years we’ve earned, and moments we’ve shared together, including the awesome, the crappy, and the ‘WTF just happened’ ones. Marriage is a package deal. Reading between the lines of traditional matrimonial vows proves it. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health? Pretty strong evidence. If you’re really committed, it can be summed up with this statement, and you can move on to the reception: You get what you get, and you don’t pitch a fit. However, in the event you do toss caution to the wind, and throw a hissy….try not to go to bed mad. That’s the best piece of advice I can offer. Spending eternity with your soul mate can be hard work….but well worth the effort. Seriously.

Now. A tribute to THE MAN. 

The Top Ten Reasons A Divorce Lawyer Will Never Get My Our Money

1. The Man is frat-boy hot. In. Every. Way.

2. He understands that he lives with 4 females, and never leaves the seat up. Ever.

3. If one of The Beans is sick, The Man automatically takes the couch for the night (or the week), so she can sleep with me. Could be a selfish move, but still.

4. Despite, at first, saying the music was “kind of strange because of the violin”, he has become a diehard DMB fan, and completely understands that summer vacations must be planned around the tour schedule every year. It’s glorious. You can read about one of our adventures here. 

5.  He loves animals, and never scoffs when I announce it’s time to take in a new baby. In fact, at the moment, he wants a puppy. I do not.

6. When I said we needed to take the family on a 2000+ mile, cross-country road trip to Alabama, because I was homesick, he trusted me. Both times. 

7. The Man swears he’s Southern, attended the University of Alabama, and played football for my beloved Crimson Tide. He also claims we met there, and I just don’t remember. All lies. He was born and raised right here in Los Angeles.

8. Regardless of what I cook, it always ‘the best meal I’ve ever made’, and he thanks me for it. Even if it’s ramen noodles or delivery pizza.

9. There is never a shortage of cheesy jokes and silly nicknames for everyone and everything, because The Man’s cup runneth over with them. It’s both maddening and endearing simultaneously.

10. I know he loves me fiercely, without restraint or condition, and we have walked through Hell with each other to get where we are. Everyday, we choose to keep on going…with each other.

You can’t divorce that.

Happy Anniversary, dear. I love you.

Stolen moment; Street corner in Silver Lake; 2011.Photo-bomb by EZ-LUBE.

 

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The very first sleepover

The first sleepover has happened.

That is, with Sweet Pea and one of her 2 BFF’s. Who, btw, will be referred to throughout the remainder of the post as “J” 🙂 And in honor of the momentous occasion…a first sleepover for two 6-year-old besties…. I planned a girlie adventure, and set the bar kinda high. Shocker, huh? I settled upon a trip to a little girls’ paradise. Stay with me. I swear I’ll get to the details (and pictures), but first I have to tell you about what happened on the way over the hill.

 

(a bit of expository information ) 

The room Butter Bean and Sweet Pea share is a source of frustration. I can’t keep it clean and organized, and they won’t. Therefore, it is, quite honestly…the bane of my existence….on a daily basis. So I normally just leave it alone to avoid going bat-shit crazy. However, if company is coming over, I spit shine the entire house. Including their room. I imagine that most of you do the same with guests approaching the doorstep, right? If you don’t, you either have a housekeeper, or you’ve achieved a level of “I don’t give a rat’s ass” that I aspire to. Regardless, in my Friday morning, mad dash to clean shit stuff up, I happened upon a scrap of paper in their room upon which the sentence “I love ____” was written about six times. In a row, in Sweet Pea’s 1st grade handwriting. There was a name in the blank, but I’ve left it out to protect the innocent…lol. Anyway, I sort of giggled at the discovery, left it where I found it, and moved onto the organization of doll clothes and barbies into designated wooden bins.

 

Then, on the way to The Grove, this conversation happened:

J: I wonder where _____ lives? 

SP: I don’t know.

Me: Who’s ____? (knowing full well who it is, because I have seen this little boy’s name written 3 hours earlier)

J: He’s a boy in our class.

SP: (giggling, but remaining silent)

Me: Oh. Who likes him?

J: I do. And so does SP.

SP: So does ___!!! (insert name of the other BFF who isn’t present)

Me: Wow. He’s popular! Why do all of you like him?

J: Because he’s hot!!! Except for that tooth. Something needs to be done about that.  

Me: What??!!

J and SP, in unison: He has one tooth that is really big.

J: And kind of crooked.

SP: And he’s eight.

(giggles all around, including me–because I simply can’t believe what I am hearing)

Remember, they are six years old, so it’s all incredibly innocent, and cute, but the magnitude of their observation is not lost on me. 

With this, Sugar Bean, in her infinite, 13 year-old wisdom says “This is going to be a problem in about 7 years.”  I should add, that Butter Bean has remained silent the entire time, and I am waiting for her bombshell, which never comes. *whew* Not sure I could take much more, quite honestly. The conversation ends as a One Direction song comes on, and I am subjected to “road trip karaoke” for the next half hour. Swimming in a sea of awesome, right?

A view from the front seat.

A view from the front seat.

The good news is, we made it to our destination, which was The American Girl Store, where we had an appointment to have Savannah’s, Lauren’s, and Sally’s hair done. Before you ask….yes. They have an in-store salon for such affairs, and you can pick the hairstyle you want from a page full of possibilities, priced according to the complexity. Just like in real-life. If you want highlights, you gotta pay. The prices max out at $20, which is a far cry from what I fork over when my roots shine through, but still. I am not a doll. So, here is a glimpse of what it looks like. Notice SP’s doll…Savannah…sitting in the chair behind them 🙂

Sweet Pea & J, in front of the  AG  Hair Salon

Sweet Pea & J, in front of the AG Hair Salon

While the dolls were being treated to hair makeovers, we  I decided to explore the store, and take advantage of a photo-op spot inside, and outside 🙂

J, BB and SP with "Saige"...AG's Girl of the Year.

J, BB and SP with “Saige”…AG’s Girl of the Year.

 

Dolls with cool hairstyles? Check. Cool outfits for dolls? Check. Let's roll.

Dolls with cool hairstyles? Check. Cool outfits for dolls? Check. Let’s roll.

 

After looking at every possible corner of the store, we picked up the dolls and headed out the door and across the street to our next destination….

If you live in LA, and you haven't been, you suck. Seriously. Go there now.

If you live in LA and haven’t been, you have no soul. No excuses. Go there. NOW.

Honestly, I never order dessert, hate chocolate, and avoid sugar like it’s acid. Not because I fear weight gain, or cancer, or any of the other effects said to be the result of too much sugar…but simply because I am not a sweet eater. My taste buds just prefer sour or salty. However, I do appreciate a good candy store, and holy hell….DYLAN’S is the very best one I’ve ever visited. The candy in there could have been laced with crack and I would have bought it for The Beans  (plus one), simply because of the way it was displayed. And the background music was a remix of the theme from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” AND “Ice cream and Cake and Cake”. Talk about suggestive marketing. Screw subliminal…Dylan has it going on, and I’m certain he knows it.

Look beyond the adorable little girls, into the mecca of sugar heaven.

Look beyond the adorable little girls, into the mecca of sugar heaven.

Bags of candy in hand…and a call to The Man to see if he was gonna meet us (NO)…and we decided it was time to eat, for real. So, this was the scene at dinner:

Obviously, I couldn't be IN the picture, but I was honored to have these cuties as dinner companions.

Obviously, I couldn’t be IN the picture, but I was honored to have these cuties as dinner companions.

Major props to our waiter, Michael, for enduring the high intensity sugar-rush that took over immediately after their food was consumed. I really hope the tip was enough 🙂

The ride home was priceless. More road trip karaoke involving “Trouble” by Taylor Swift, which Sugar Bean managed to record on her phone, but I can’t figure out how to upload for your enjoyment. Major fail, I know. My apologies. But the night continued to be a party. Fingernails were painted, popcorn was popped, movies were watched, farting noises with a strategically placed straw in an armpit resonated at unnatural volumes(gee…I wonder who taught them THAT?).

And then came bedtime, which got off to a fantastic start, and ended with me making the 10 minute drive  to her house, with a tearful J at 12:30 am. Bless her heart, she fought the good fight, and wanted to stay, but just wasn’t comfortable.  I totally get it. First sleepovers are scary at six.

Wait..who am I kidding? First sleepovers are scary. Period.

But there is always next time 🙂

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The night I was styled by a ‘hooker’ :-)

Admit it…the title sucked you in, didn’t it? LOL. 

So you should know, she’s not REALLY a hooker. It’s a term of endearment that dates back to 2007, when I met a great circle of mommy friends on a (now defunct) website known as CityMommy (oh how I miss that site!). Anyway, after chatting night after night in THE RANT ROOM (thanks, Nicole), about everything from sex and parenthood, to fashion and celebs….we all had the grand idea to meet IN PERSON! And that was the night, one Heather Lerner started calling us ‘her hookers’, and it just stuck. Since then, we have all referred to each other as hookers. A merry band of mommies who have absolutely zero in common with the real women who can rightfully claim that title, aside from the fact that we’ve obviously all had sex at one point or another in our lives.  Go figure.

In the 6 years that have passed, the lot of us have either become more successful at the job we already had, or taken on other jobs in addition to the very important one of motherhood. I’ve become a voice-over actress and writer, Andrea’s now a chef, Kate has a floral design business, Alexandra is THE BEVERLY HILLS MOM, Shemaine has a successful scrapbooking business, Roxanne has an online boutique and Heather..is now our fashion and jewelry stylist extraordinare! 

So I ask you…do have my shit covered, or what? And these women just make up a handful of my talented friends! I’m one lucky bee-yotch 🙂

Anyway, it’s Awards Season here in Hollywood, and if you are in any way (including 6 degrees from Kevin Bacon) connected to the industry, chances are you have either been to a ceremony of some kind already, or you are gearing up for THE BIG ONE this Sunday night! Such was the case with The Man and me last Sunday night. We attended the Motion Picture Sound Editor’s Guild Awards (aka The Golden Reels). A great networking opportunity to mingle with talented colleagues and marvelous people in general, as well as a helluva an excuse for a much-needed date night (and some even more needed hotel sex). But of course I needed something to wear, and I knew just the hooker to call! Now, without further adieu..here is what she hooked me up with. And no, the irony of ‘hooked me up’ is not lost on me.

Can I just say how much I LOVE this ensemble?

Can I just say how much I LOVE this ensemble?

Now, to tell you “what I’m wearing”, so you can get the look too 🙂

My dress is by Lavender Brown. You can visit their Facebook page for information on the line, and to see pics of other pieces in their collections. I. LOVE. EVERYTHING. THEY. MAKE.  Gorgeous clothes in beautiful colors and fabrics at reasonable prices. You can’t go wrong here, ladies!

OH…THE JEWELS….. are all by Stella & Dot. If you don’t know Stella & Dot, then shame on you. Consider this an introduction and invitation to get cozy and become obsessed like me. Oh, and I can help you with that, btw… Just click here.

Around my neck, I am wearing the Gitane Tassel Necklace in silver and the Maya Pendant Necklace in labradorite  and on my right wrist is one of favorite pieces….the Bardot Spiral Bracelet in silver….which I wear almost everyday. Even with yoga pants and flip-flops. That’s how much I love it!

Here’s a close-up shot of the fabulous jewels I was dripping in

To die for. All must-haves.

To die for. All must-haves.

Another gorgeous piece I picked up while being styled for the Awards ensemble, and am now wearing with my Maya pendant on a daily basis is the  Interlock Cross Necklace  pictured below, on my very-much-in-need-of-a-spray-tan-neck.

Isn’t it just DIVINE?????

IMG_1366

Of course no recap of the evening would be complete without showing you MY BEST ACCESSORY…….

The Man and me in front of the step and repeat. So glamorous...lol.

The Man and me in front of the step and repeat. So glamorous…lol.

**Oh, and if you were wondering, I didn’t go barefoot. My shoes were nude, leather pumps with a hidden platform by Steve Madden. They are great and all, but hey…I don’t know him personally, and had to pay full price for the kicks. Sadly, no hook ups for this hooker.

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64 years ago today**

 

Mama & Daddy...December 9, 1978

Betty & Buster…December 9, 1978

…the good-looking, silver-haired couple in the photograph above went to the preacher’s house at 8am and got hitched. Then, after making sure she would be excused from school that day, drove to Nashville for their weekend honeymoon. He was 19, she was 16, and they are my parents.

As the story goes, Daddy saw Mama crossing the street uptown, some 8 months earlier, turned to his friend and said…“You see her? I’m gonna marry that girl.” Standing at about 5’5″, sporting body measurements rumored to have been 36-24-36, along with blue eyes and blonde hair, she was the new girl in town. Although he hadn’t met her yet, it didn’t take long. He actually asked her out on the spot, for later that night, and she accepted. The only catch was, she was to be his buddy’s companion…on a double date, and he didn’t tell her that until after she agreed. Yes, you read that right. He tricked her! Turns out, Daddy already had a date lined up for the evening, but didn’t want Mama out of his sight, so he set her up, and I’m sure threatened the poor schmuck who was to be her date if he so much as THOUGHT about putting the moves on her). Buster Romine was a smoothe operator, yes he was! Anyway, after that night, he marked his territory by peeing in her front yard or something (not really, but it sounds like something he might do, right?) and diligently courted her. Picked her up and drove her to school in the mornings and back home in the afternoons, in addition to spending the between hours with her as well. Being in a small Southern town back in 1949, my Papa thought folks might start to talk, tarnishing Mama’s reputation, so he told Daddy they better go on and get married. So they did.

And the rest is history.

Romine History. 

You see, they went on to build a life together and stage a marvelous, somewhat locally famous–or infamous, depending on whom you ask–giant family circus. Not Duggar-sized huge, mind you, but one shy of Jon & Kate Plus 8. You can even read about some of the family shenanigans here, on my sister’s blog. Daddy was a plumber-electrician with a genius level IQ who complimented Mama’s homemaker/gifted seamstress roles very well. Out of that early morning matrimonial union, sprung….3 sons and 4 daughters. All the sons have good cooking and sewing skills, while the girls know how to fix a toilet and wire an outlet; the products of practical, common-sense raising. As a band of siblings, we would kick some serious ass on “Survivor: Brothers and Sisters”…lol. Among us, a Navy Seal who served our country in Vietnam, a well-known calligrapher/artist (who also has a nursing degree), another registered nurse, a kick-ass event planner & caterer, a retired prison guard (and damned good plumber-electrician), an EMS dispatcher/ writer/ blogger/ baker/ forensic photographer  (what can I say? she wears a lot of hats) and me–lucky number 7. You can dig through the archives to find out what I do, besides write. Go on, it’ll be fun!

To date, they have…

22 grandchildren

25 great-grandchildren already…..with 4 more on the way 🙂

The love they shared was deep and lasting. Passionate and messy….flawed yet flawless…wildly playful but seriously tamed…focused and distracted…whole yet fractured. In other words…real.

By example, my daddy set the bar high for all the men who showed serious intent while crossing paths with his daughters. He worshipped my mama, and no doubt would have sipped her bath water as if it were the finest champagne of the rarest vintage. And likewise, Mama sent her boys into the world as Southern gentlemen, raised to appreciate, admire, provide for and protect their wives. I’d say we are a damn lucky brood, we Romines, wouldn’t you?

Buster and Betty’s legacy is far-reaching, and sure to continue thriving well-beyond my destined time on Mother Earth. I hold such fond memories of Daddy singing “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” to Mama as they danced around the kitchen, or on the back porch on a summer evening. Oh, what a glorious voice he had! Mama’s eyes lit up like Roman candles whenever she heard it. Fitting, as the eyes are the windows to the soul, and he certainly spoke to hers. True soul mates. They embodied the meaning of love and respect for each other, stuck to their vows and REALLY took to heart the phrase:

for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…

until death do us part

They died just as in love, as they lived. Daddy first on February 20th, 1994, followed by Mama on September 6, 1995. On this Valentine’s Day, I wish to dedicate this post to their memory as shining examples of true sweethearts. I love and miss them every single day!

**Okay…to be fair, it was actually 64 years ago on Monday, February 4th. But due to the fact that it’s about the sweet love affair between my parents, I wanted to feature it on Valentine’s Day. So… I waited 10 days to publish it instead of doing it on their anniversary. I know, I suck… lol.  It’s the thought that counts though, right?  

 

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