Happy BlogDay!

BlogDay is here! Oh boy!

Ok so maybe we just found out about this a few days ago, but nevertheless we are super psyched to be taking part in this wonderful day.

We have been enjoying writing to each other (and you, dearest darling readers!) on our blog so much, and through our blog we have discovered other A to the Mazing gals out there oozing fabulosity into the blogosphere.

That being said, it was rather horrifying and ridiculous trying to choose only five of our faves. As we're new to this, all these blogs are new to us - and the more blogs we read, the more blogs we love. But there are a handful who are special to us for reasons we denote below.

So today, on BlogDay, we honor these gals thusly.*

First up: Veronica from a bride in the making. Veronica was one of our very first supporters - she even posted about us! - and we love reading her chronicle of her wedding planning. Pulling off a fab wedding in NYC is not an easy feat, yet we have the utmost confidence that her nuptials will be fantastic.

Next: Bekah from Country Mouse. If the name of her blog weren't cute enough (I mean who did not have that children's book on the bookshelf back in our more innocent days?), her writing is refreshingly genuine. This post is one of the most courageous we have read. Kudos to you, Bekah!

So, one of us (Domestic Goddess Jen) was born in Chicago and has a soft spot for gals who are making a living there. Especially if they appreciate the Bean! But that is not the only reason we are singling out Jessica today. Her blog, The Everyday Adventures of Me in the City, is sweet and highly entertaining. She's one of those girls with whom you can't help but think you'd be bff even though you've never met.

Another Chicago gal and budding domestic goddess (!!!), Renee, has a delightful blog called A Beautiful Day in the Reneeborhood. Her live-blog post of the Olympic closing ceremonies is a classic. We love her dry, keen wit and the fact that she calls her new apartment Club Guac is hilare.

Last but definitely not least, we must recognize the gal who alerted us to BlogDay in the first place: Jenn from Free and Flawed. Her blog is so intelligent, we love the design, and Jenn is a superstar in the blogging community. She keeps us all motivated and organized!

You go gals!

There are so many other blogs that delight and inspire us. We will be sharing more of our favorites in the posts to come...

xoxo,

Sue and Jen, your DomestiGals

*Ok, so we are not following the BlogDay rules perfectly... oops. Maybe next year! In the meantime, we will still use BlogDay to spread good karma throughout the interwebs. Can't argue with that!

Breaking News from Londontown!

Sue,

So this weekend has the potential for true momentousness, as I JUST found out!

The Lawyer and I are running the Nike+ Human Race in London this weekend - an amazing race that is happening on Sunday in cities and countries all over the world. Apparently there are like a million people running. (Any other gals out there running this one?) So cool.

What's cooler? Wayne Rooney is running it too! Yes! Mr. Coleen McLoughlin of the Marchesa Wedding Dress of Dreams will be at Wembley with us on Sunday!

Remember that dress? That spectacular, amazing, gorgeous concoction of a wedding gown that she wore in June? Here's a refresher:

Photo courtesy of coleen-mcloughlin.net

Sigh. Heavenly.

Of course, while everyone else in the stadium (including The Lawyer) is keeping their eyes peeled for Wayne, I will be on the lookout for Coleen. I mean she seems like a fit gal - or WAG, as they call her on this side of the pond - she should be running too, right?

I will keep you posted. Obv. Have a great weekend!

xoxo

DG

P.S. Would love to hear other thoughts about that dress from you gals in the blogosphere! I mean I could never pull it off in reality, but I think she totally did, and I also think the dress itself is a gorgeous piece of high fashion. Thoughts? (Because I already know it makes Sue throw up a little in her mouth.)

Babies! Babies Walking and Babies Crawling!

Dear Domestic Goddess Jen,

We both have babies on the brain today!

You see, sometimes I can be sensitive. (If one considers talking about babies walking and babies crawling to be "sensitive"). I was just out shopping for baby gifts for something special for my lil' friend, Jane.

Jane is maybe the cutest baby ever! (Aside from my future children, and perhaps yours, of course). She's only 13 months, but I've seen her once a week ever since she was a couple of days old. She's calling everyone "mama" recently, is waving to strangers like she's the NYC Welcoming Committee, and has this funky tripedal walk where she uses both hands and then one foot and the other knee in order to get from one place to another.

Jane's such a cute little turkey!

Then, of course, last weekend I was at a work function with The Doctor and all of his fellow pediatric buddies. There must have been about 10 different babies there, and each one was more delicious than the next one. I got to hold a 7 month old 15 pound pork chop for about 2 hours and really, really, really wanted to steal him at the end of the night.

Okay, bleh, enough.

I was just wondering if any of our DomestiGals out there are pregnant and about to pop? Or, do you already have your own little Welcoming Committee?

Better yet, don't you want to see pictures of everybody's little dumpling? Let's just turn on the Brag Alert and let everyone post babies of their favorite babies ever!

Love,

Domestic Partner Sue (whose biological clock has temporarily been kidnapped by Domestic Goddess Jen!)

The Colossal Spawn

Sue,

I am embarrassed to admit this. I cannot even believe I have forgotten to tell you.

So The Lawyer and I have been working out with our trainer, Colossus, twice a week for about three months now. Have I mentioned I can now dead-lift one hundred and forty three pounds?! Hot, right?

Anyway, so we are both totally smitten with our trainer - not only has he transformed our bods, but he is just a great guy - and last week before our session, The Lawyer and I went on a very special shopping trip... because Colossus is having a baby! 

Yes, that's right. His girlfriend is about to pop out the Colossal Spawn. A baby boy, which is obviously just perfect. A little mini weightlifting machine! They just picked out a name, which I will keep from the blogosphere but let me just say it is a total gladiator name, which is genius. I seriously cannot wait to meet this little dude.

Plus, the Colossal Spawn gave us (me) the perfect excuse to shop at my FAVE store here in the UK, Cath Kidston. Wanna see what we got him? Prepare for your biological clock to be assaulted:

Image courtesy of Cath Kidston

It's a little cowboy dining set! Complete with sippy cup, spoon, and bowl with a suction cup to keep it on the table. We thought the cowboy theme was unabashedly American, perfect for our gift to Colossus and Spawn. (Plus, they didn't have a Gladiator/Barbarian pattern - cowboys are as macho as Cath gets.) Apparently the little (big) guy already has a closet full of clothes, so we wanted to get them something useful. 

Except, we couldn't resist this:

Image courtesy of Cath Kidston

Yes, those are cowboys and covered wagons. I mean. Do you love it or do you LOVE it? 

All I can say is, I hope Cath is still making this pattern when I'm preggo with a boy. Sigh. Until then, at least we have the Colossal Spawn to spoil.

Ok, must go tame the biological clock.

xoxo,

DG

Wedding Day Channel Bliss...

Seriously?

No, seriously DomestiGal Jen? You put your finger ON THE REMOTE when The Lawyer walked in? Uh-huh.

By the way, did you purchase a vibrator yet? If so, please let me know ASAP which one you bought! I can't wait to hear how it goes with you and The Lawyer.

Or are you waiting to save the toys until the honeymoon?

Onto the topic at hand... I, too, love watching wedding shows. I know, I hope you didn't just poop in your pants with shock. Admittedly, I haven't watched any of these shows in the last 5 years, but back when I had a TV, I would watch TLC's The Wedding Story. I may or may not have cried hysterically every time the bride walked down the aisle and saw her husband-to-be for the first time.

Jen -- how am I ever going to preside over your wedding ceremony without crying? Oh, by the way, when you finally get engaged, are you going to put a picture of me as your yenta on your Knot wedding site as the reason you met? If so, I'd like to know two weeks in advance so that I can schedule a facial. Thanks.

Vainly yours,

Sobbing Sue

My Lost Televirginity

Nosy Sue INDEED,

Really? Could you not have left the vibe talk offline? (Rhetorical question, I know.)

And you are probably trying to scandalize me by pulling the one-two punch of vibrators and re-virginization in the same post, but I shall not be overcome by my blushing cheeks! Instead I will simply answer your question: no.

I'm actually glad you mentioned virginity because it reminded me that I actually have a confession. The Lawyer walked in on me doing something very naughty yesterday. I had been resisting this ultimate temptation for months, but yesterday I finally caved. What caused my weakness? Was it Phelps torso withdrawal? Or Hofbrauhaus-related alcohol and carb detox? Alas, I cannot put a finger on it - but I did put my finger on something else.

The remote control.

Sue, I must confess I have lost my virginity. My Wedding TV cherry has been popped.

Ack! And then The Lawyer walked in on me! He came home just as I was finishing the second of two back-to-back episodes of my new favorite show (since all my real faves don't air here, which is a tragedy to discuss another day), "Real Weddings from The Knot." I was just about to see how the Andersons pulled off a backyard wedding for EIGHT HUNDRED people! Alas, The Lawyer caught me red (and ringless) handed.

I also became acquainted with the Bumsteads who, frankly, put re-virgins to shame. They were virgins when they got married! Yikesaroo! Though I must admit even though that idea has given me the heebie-jeebies in the past, there was something rather endearing about these two. And I'm sure it had nothing to do with their last name.

And now I just scandalized myself a little.

OK, Domestic Goddess signing off.

xoxo

Oh, and P.S. How excited are we about BlogDay?! What a great way to spread good blogging karma throughout the interwebs!

Re-Virginization

Sigh.

Domestic Goddess Jen, I *hate* when you yell at me offline and tell me to talk about something other than vibrators! Sometimes, I swear, you can be so dull!

But, I do have one question.

When you and The Lawyer are finally engaged, are you going to do what those other darling damsels do and NOT HAVE SEX until you get married? You know, those people who "Re-Virginize" themselves until their wedding night?

I'm sorry, but I had to ask.

Did anyone else in our DomestiGals community choose to take a break from sex until getting married?

Love,

Nosy Sue

My Ancestral Awakening (Don't Tell Colossus!)

Fraulein Sue,

I have had an ancestral awakening. I have never been so proud of the fact that my last name ends in two - not one, but TWO - "n"'s. For real. I feel connected to my German heritage for the first time since being forced to act excited about it for "Ethnicity Day" in fourth grade.

Let me explain.

The BF and I needed to leave the country so I could come back in and validate my student visa. The perfect excuse for a Munich mini-break, no?

Mind you, I was not particularly interested in going to Germany. I had never been that enthused about my German roots. The language gets caught in your throat, the people seem a bit harsh and overly brawny, and the beer-guzzling is so not conducive to looking hot in a wedding dress. But seeing as we are only a two-hour jetlagless flight away from my ancestral home, there was really no excuse.

I have no idea where in Germany my family is actually from, but I have hereby embraced Munich as the land of my forefathers. What a great town! 

The glockenspiel! 

Underwhelming and overrated, yet nevertheless endearing!

The dirndls! 

I am set for slutty - I mean, traditional - Halloween costumes for life!

The weisswursts! 

I was in hog heaven (literally). 

Also? My new obsession now that the Olympics are over: Hofbrauhaus. Beers and pretzels as big as your head. Definitely not Colossus-sanctioned but a to the mazing. Not to mention the effortlessly fabulosity-oozing locals:

I am desperately hoping this man is my long-lost great-uncle.

My new affinity for my native culture does not mean we will be giving away beer steins as wedding favors, nor will the dress code be changed to "Lederhosen Chic." But still. I am thrilled to have discovered that I do feel connected to my beer-guzzling, big-boned ethnic roots after all.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Fraulein Jen

A Michael Moment

Sigh. Just - sigh...

Fabulous cover shot courtesy of Sports Illustrated and - in poster size! - Fine Art Limited

Ah yes, now that's what I'm talkin' about!

Sue, please do not bring poor, sweet, innocent, Alltime Olympian Michael Phelps into your discussions about sex toys. Until they make one in his likeness, that is.

Also, is it me or is he not wearing pants in this photo? AMAZING. Maybe I should order one of these posters for my dorm room?

(Yes, you heard me correctly: dorm room. But that's fodder for another post... especially since I'm still in denial about the fact that I will be sharing a kitchen with my fellow nerdy grad students in less than a month! Ack!)

Love,

Jen

Valentine's Day and Vibrators

Um, okay. So it's not Valentine's Day and it's really 6 months away. But, what better way to *prepare* for Valentine's Day than by getting that vagina in shape!

Wait, wait, Domestic Goddess Jen, don't stop reading yet!

I know I've horrified you and you're practically hail Mary-ing your way to your business school as we speak; however, can we just pretend -- for a DomestiGal Moment -- that we're getting your coochie snorcher in shape for The Lawyer?

Hello, I have discovered a product called Sexerciseme. So, you see, it's not really just for the pleasure of your itsy bitsies! This vibrator is designed so you can take a break from all those kegel exercises you are practicing with Colossus, your personal trainer.

(Stop pretending you're actually doing bicep curls and squats with Colossus -- you haven't fooled me for a second.)

Anyway, I obviously have a collection of 4 different vibrators and I can't wait until you catch up with me! Let me know which one you decide to buy and we'll go from there. Actually, better yet, charge it to The Lawyer's credit card and we'll all have a field day!

By the way, let's call your vibrator "The Michael Phelps." I mean, duh, you'll be using it on your delicate China Dishes, so it's only fair that we keep the Olympic theme going.

Ew. Who just said that?

;)

With love,

Domestic Partner Sue

Who is the Smokingest Olympic Hottie?

Dear Sue,

This is rather a sad day, no? The Olympics are ending, which means it will be four more looong years before we are once again able to so easily gaze upon the vast torso of Michael Phelps. Sigh.

Indeed, the only thing bringing me comfort and solace today is anticipating the improvements in television technology - I mean HD is so great, imagine how crisp the swimmers' abs will be in four years! That, and the fact that I will finally be able to get a full night's sleep again. Are you as Olympically sleep-deprived as I am?

Before we bid the games a final adieu, I would like to ask you and our fabulous readers a very important question:

Who is the smokingest of the Olympic hotties?

For your consideration, I obviously must submit Michael Phelps. While he may not be classically handsome, he is humble, well-spoken, and an overall cutie patootie.

But I must also nominate Ryan Lochte (next to Phelps up there) for our Smokingest Olympic Hottie Award (or SOHA, obv). 

I also think that other guy with the bare chest should be considered (sorry, Unisuit Guy, but we can't include everyone).

I'm not sure who else has been generating hottie buzz in the US, but here in the UK there are these two hunky rowers who are bringing bling back to Britain, Mark Hunter and Zac Purchase:

Who else are we feelin', ladies? Or has Michael Phelps just swum away with all of our hearts? Who will bring home the SOHA?

Sue, eager to hear your thoughts. Gals, leave your votes in our comments section! 

Adieu,

Jen

Money and Wedding Etiquette

Dearest Jen,

You were *much* needed here in the Big Apple the other day. My friend, Dana, and I were completely lost without you. Dana has been with her boyfriend for about eight years, and the other day they decided to get engaged -- just because.

Actually, she forgot to tell me she was engaged for about 2 weeks. You see, I’d like to take a DomestiGal moment to explain that Dana – like me – is not a blushing-bride-in-waiting. She’s a little more “traditional” than me, I suppose, because she’s actually going to have a wedding. But, in the end, she didn’t really care about transitioning from her Domestic Partnership status to Wedded Bliss.

Which brings me to my question.

This question has to deal with wedding etiquette. You see, she doesn’t want to have a bridal registry and get a bunch of useless Tupperware and china dishes that she’ll only end up breaking or selling on eBay. Instead, she wants hard cold cash.

However.

Clearly it’s tres rude to just say, “Give me cash, not cheesy gifts” on your wedding card invitation. But how should one go about doing this?

One of her friends told her that she should just register on The Knot, get all the gifts, and then exchange them for cash. But then she has just made all her friends pay for shipping, and it seems just as mean-spirited to do such a thing.

Thoughts out there in DomestiGal land?

How have the rest of you dealt with this not-quite-as-delicate-as-your-cooch issue?

Love,

Domestic Partner Sue

DomestiGals Heart... In the Heights!

My darling DP,

Inspiration takes on many forms. For you, it may be a good, comprehensive poop. For me, it may be an airplane seat bedecked in my potential wedding color palette.

But not everything in my life centers around my wedding plans (well, not directly anyway). Today I'd like to give a DomestiGals Heart Shout-Out to the blessed soundtrack that got me to, and through, the gym today.

You think it would have been a cinch to get my butt off the couch and over to the gym - I mean, my nuptials are only like just under 13 months away! - but today I needed something else to get me going. What finally got me to throw on my sneaks was remembering I had the "In the Heights" soundtrack on my iPod.

Not that I've seen the show. My mom saw it, though, and loved it. Oh, and it won like an effload of Tonys too. Mom and I popped in the soundtrack as were driving to Chicago to get my student visa in July, and I was hooked! I listened with rapture and read the plot synopsis and lyrics along with the music, and by the finale I had tears streaming down my face. I haven't been this into a musical since "Wicked" and before that "Rent" (obv). The music is so intricate, I hear something different every time. I am counting down the days until the BF and I are back in NYC and can see the show for ourselves. And I'm already stockpiling Kleenex for the occasion.

Gives me chills just thinking about it. I got chills while running on the treadmill today!

Have a listen:

And watch the genius of the show's writer, Lin-Manuel Miranda, as he accepted his Tony:

I mean. Do you love it or do you LOVE it? Pass me the tissues.

xo

DG

This is about YOU, Sue.

Oh Sue,

I do not even know where to start with you.

First of all, please tell me you only forgot to blog about your anniversary, but that you did in fact remember to celebrate it with your beloved. And if you did forget to wish him a happy anniversary, I don't want to know. I mean I have been planning The Lawyer's second anniversary present since, like, the week before our first. But this is not about me.

Also, you got the correct season and year of our wedding, but the wrong month, my dear. Not that I am prepared to spill our actual date into the blogosphere, as I fear the sans-ring-jinx-potential, but I just want to make sure you are properly preggo at the right time.

Aha! Bet you thought the vision of you with The Good Doctor's spawn in your womb and no wedding ring on your finger presiding over my dream nuptials would scandalize me! Alas, no.

What is slightly unnerving, however, is that it seems you and Jewish George are starting to veer in quite different directions when it comes to turning the DP into a big M. I thought you were both cool with being in a post office worker-sanctioned Domestic Partnership. I mean, you're like my token alternafriend. All my other friends are or want to get married. I need someone in my life who adds a little diversity (and I don't just mean your half-Asian hotness).

But this is not about me. I just want to make sure that you are continuing to be true to yourfabself and that the lines of communication between you and Save-the-Children-Man are open and functioning as efficiently as Michael Phelps' freestyle.

I have enough things in my life to worry about right now, from starting my MBA to picking out wedding favors. Please do not add to the load.

(Not that this is about me.)

Love to you,

Jen

Oops! Our anniversary!

Dear Jen,

Thank goodness for our DomestiGals' community; without them, you'd be lost for advice. As you well know, I would rather have severe diarrhea than talk about wedding rings. Or engagement rings. Or, well, anything related to ceremonies in general. That said, I applaud and encourage you finding your support system with these other DomestiGal Divas!

So, ahem.

The other day, I may or may not have forgotten to blog about the fact that it was me and The Doctor's anniversary. Our 2 year anniversary! And he was so sweet when he got back to our 5th floor cockroach-free walk-up from his trip to California. The second he walked in the door, he goes, "Sweetie! My darling wife. I want you to be my wife, don't you want to get married?"

My Domestic Partner response? Surely you can guess what it was. Well, I ignored him of course.

It was 2:30am for Michael Phelps' sake!

This is, sadly, the 3rd conversation we've had in a week about whether or not we should get married. He brought it up before he left for the West Coast, and the conversation went as follows:

Handsome, dashing Doctor: "Sue, do you want to get married? I was talking to my mom about it today."
Slutty Sue: (No reponse.)
Wonderful, save-the-dying-children-in-the-ER Doctor: "I mean, you must want to get married, right?"
Sue: "Sweetie, are you projecting again? I'm really fine the way things are as Domestic Partners. I thought we discussed that we didn't want to rush things."

Then, the conversation at tonight's dinner:

Jewish George Clooney: "I am really enjoying wearing my ring on my wedding finger. Have you tried it out yet?"
Shlossed Sue: "I love the way things are. I figure we can stay Domestic Partners for a while, see how we feel, and then maybe consider getting rings. And see how we feel."
JGC: "But what about when we have kids?!"
S.S.: "Then we can see how we feel with kids."
JGC: "Don't you want to marry me? I promise we won't even have to get engaged -- I know you don't want an engagement. But I was thinking I want a platinum wedding ring. What do you want?"

Obviously at this point I promptly asked for the check, paid it, and then raced home so that we could snog. (That is what you people say in England, isn't it?)

Darling, Jen. Do you think that instead of having my coochie snorcher examined by your fine English vaginal doctor, I could have my brain evaluated?

Please advise.

I mean, now that Ellen and Portia de Rossi are married, does that mean that I have to get married as well???

i.dailymail.co.uk

I wanted to be the knocked up, unmarried minister presiding over your October 2009 wedding!

Already dreaming about the oversized (cheese) balls,

Sue

Engagement Ring Feedback Required

Sue,

Big engagement news! No, not mine. It may still be in the wee hours of the morning over there in NYC, but rest assured if The Lawyer had popped the question with the Ring of Dreams, you would have heard my shrieks of joy from here.

But big news nonetheless: a fellow lady of leisure friend here in London just got engaged to her beau! Very exciting. They are currently away on vacay in a romantical location perfect for question-popping, so I will have to wait to hear all the details. The Lawyer and I have very different guesses about her ring - and in fact we took a bet on what it looks like. Questions abound. Did he surprise her, or had they discussed what she wanted? Trendy or classic? Mayjah bling or refined rock? Super-sparkly (i.e. round brilliant or cushion cut) or geometric elegance (i.e. emerald or asscher cut)?

Seeing as you have um, undeveloped taste in nice jewelry, Sue, I thought I would pose a couple of questions to our readers. 

Gals out there in the blogosphere! It is time to let your blingpinions be heard!

For those of you DomestiGals who are happily engaged or married, take a lingering look at the rock on your finger and tell us: how much say did you have in its selection? Did you decide to aim for current trends (micropavé, vintage/retro, non-traditional center stone, etc.) or stick with a timeless design (round solitaire)? 

For those of you Domestic Divas who are dating, dominating, and maybe thinking about your own Ring of Dreams: how much do you want to participate in the engagement ring search? Do you already know what you want or will you leave it up to your man? If you had to choose, what would be your Ring of Dreams?

Please, ladies, share your thoughts. We all know Sue is just not up for this sort of dialogue, and my friend's engagement has me going girly-girl ring crazy over here!

xoxo,

Jen

Almost Thirty and Still Dirty, Twenty-Seven and in Food Heaven

Sue,

I mean I am not even going to acknowledge the "swallow" comment. That being said, Madonna's level of hotness (which, granted, has been fluctuating due to the A-Rod scandal and ensuing ginormous donation to her charity) is indeed A to the Mazing and nothing you will not be able to attain. IN TWENTY YEARS.

As for the big 3-0, let's try to relax... and focus on my wedding. Shall we? I certainly can think of no better distraction! Am I a good friend or what?

So as you know, my pre-MBA reading and career prep is piling up around me. Thus I decided it is time to get back to my wedding planning. Yes - before you ask - there is still no rock in sight... but that will not deter me from planning my fabulous future nuptials!

In fact, I have news: we booked a caterer! Big Wedding Decision Number Two - well, technically, Number Three - can be struck from the list! We have the Location of Dreams, and now we have the Caterer of Dreams.

As you may recall, I had been fluctuating, much like Madonna's hotness, between two companies. Ever the only child that I am, I (we) basically chose the caterer who gave me (um, us) the most attention. And I'm not afraid to admit it! Plus, the chosen ones are also willing to serve a "local delicacy" (read: cheap-o Chinese noodles from a strip mall restaurant that taste surprisingly good if you add enough vinegar) requested by The Lawyer and didn't turn down their noses at our somewhat simplistic menu ideas. They just called our taste "Americana." Genius! Bring on the mac 'n cheese balls!

Please do not take advantage of the easy pun here. No one needs to hear more about how I will be serving balls at my wedding.

More plans to come!

Love,

DG

Confronting the Pap - as in Smear, not Arazzi

Dearest DP,

First of all, I must clarify the following: I would not qualify my crush on Michael Phelps (and possibly Channing Tatum, and, okay, Colin Firth too) as adulteress! Or even adulterous! Crushes are healthy. They keep life interesting. Besides, you should feast your eyes upon The Lawyer these days. Colossus has him looking waaaaay hot. So. Just wanted to clear that up, you pheisty Phelps phanatic you!

Now then. In the interest of TMI, I would like to fill you in on how I spent my morning (now that Mr. Phelps is no longer gracing our big screen TV with his mile-long abs).  Today marked my first foray into the world of British private healthcare.  'Twas time for my annual physical, so now that I am a dependent on the Lawyer's Insurance of Dreams (For real! Everything gets reimbursed! It's so much better than the crap insurance I had when I was actually employed.) I made an appointment at a local private clinic.

Going to a private doctor in the UK is like going to a hot tapas restaurant (and apparently much more palatable than the alternative: the National Health Service). You pick and choose from their menu of services, each of which comes with its own hefty price tag.  Today, besides the usual dishes, it was necessary for me to indulge in a pap smear, which - I was rather gobsmacked to discover - was conducted by the general practitioner himself. Um, awkward! 

My doctor was perfectly nice - very British, very proper. His wedding ring shone handsomely on his ring finger. He was wearing a gorgeous bespoke suit with a pink and blue striped tie. His office had big windows and a beautiful fireplace, with nice art on the walls. I felt like I was in his living room. Pretty darn swankified.

Also in his office? The examination table. 

Dr. Proper took my family history, checked my height, weight, blood pressure, and listened to my chest. Then he left the room as I dropped my pants and put the loveliest, softest towel over my legs. Upon his return, I spread 'em as he requested, and the deed was done swiftly. No stirrups (woohoo!).

But still. I am a little weirded out by this, you know? I miss the linoleum floors, fluorescent lights, paper gowns, and general sterility - both literal and figurative - of my NYC gyn's office. I felt bad for having to drop trou in the middle of this guy's gorge digs. He seemed fine with it, but afterwards I had to fight the urge to apologize for exposing myself to his collection of ancient Roman coins and plush furniture.  Not to mention sullying the silky-soft Egyptian cotton towel. 

Still feeling a bit sheepish, but I know I'll recover. Maybe I'll go watch some creepy stalkerish vids of Michael Phelps on YouTube. Not that I would know how to find them.

Love from papland,

DG

Madonna is Fifty!

Dear Jen,

I would just like to take a moment of respect to re-celebrate Madonna turning 50 over the weekend.

I mean, look at her in Perez's blog.

And then, again, with Justin Timberlake:



As you would say, dear Domestic Goddess, she's A to the Mazing.

Which brings me to my next point. In about 3 months, I'll be turning 30. I realize, at this point, that I really have nothing to worry about. Women in their 40s are seriously hotter than women in their 20s. If anything, I should be thrilled to be getting older, no? I'll be hitting my sexual peak in my 30s (lord help The Doctor for being 10 years older than me), and should probably be seeking Cougar-status and dating younger men in my early 40s (like I said, The Doctor's 10 years older than me so we'll have to strike a deal). Let's look for a moment at Kim Cattrall who's dating a 29 year old. She's hot, and also just turned 50.


www.hollywoodcollectibles.com

Regardless, I have my turning 30 Fitness and Nutrition routine (Hey, if you're able to get a personal trainer 2 years before your wedding, I'm allowed this, right?)

1. Thou shall not eat popcorn every other night (even though you pop it with grapeseed oil and butter.)
Punishment: 10 Squats, 10 Pushups and 10 Butt Squeezes

2. Thou shall not drink wine like it's a spiritual potion every day of the week (even though the French can drink copious glasses of red wine and not get fat, we don't hate them)
Punishment: No reading of gossip magazines for 1 month

3. Thou shall not consider your walk to and from the subway station enough exercise (even though, hello, get someone from the suburbs to walk .25 miles in heels and convince them it's not a workout)
Punishment: Yoga classes down the block -- and conveniently closer than the subway.

4. Thou shall not consider french fries a vegetable (even though half of my health clients try to pass this off as substantial nutrition for the week)
Punishment: Sweet potato fries!

5. Thou shall chew -- not inhale -- your food every day between now and November.
Punishment: I'll have to swallow, well, you know. And you know I hate to swallow.

In my mind, the DomestiGals, like Madonna and Kim Cattrall, are ageless.

We are, right?

Love,

29 and counting

Michael and Me and our Adulteress Crushes

Dear Jen,

Well, since The Doctor is currently out of town, I guess it's okay for me to talk about Me and Michael Phelps. Apparently we're not the only gals talking about him and whether or not he has a girlfriend!

Check out this site here:

They include comments from girls that include "We love you Michael!" to "Dude, that guy needs his teeth fixed." (Damn the girl who wrote this!) Then, of course my favorite comment was the following: "I do not understand how Michael Phelps can be straight. He is too deep and has too much soul to be a straight man. I find it hard to believe this. The straight press at the begging of American girls and young women with their pants on fire will provide lots of smoke to satisfy them in their heat, but I wonder if Michael isn't gay."

Um, I love gay men assuming all good looking guys are gay. Actually, I must admit that here in NYC I tend to think, "Gay until proven straight." But that's another posting.

Regardless, let's take a DomestiGals moment to watch him and this Michael Phelps Sexy Tribute, courtesy YouTube. (DomestiGals Disclaimer: We are tres anti-exploiting people for their looks since people always exploit us for our own sexiness; however, we are keen observers of human anatomy, which is why we watch this video on repeat with a tall glass of milk)



Jen. I have a burning question. Is Michael Phelps sexier than Colossus, your personal trainer? Or is it a hot and heavy competition??

Just a few more hours before my Domestic Partner gets home; until then, I'll be pretending to swim in my bathtub while watching all the Michael Phelps music videos that have come out in the last week. "Accidentally in Love" may or may not be one of my favorites. But shhhh... don't tell anyone.



xx,
Sue

5 Reasons to Marry Michael Phelps

Sue,

You and I may be happily off the market, but for all the Domestic Divas and Domestic Bachelorettes oozing fabulosity out there in the blogosphere, I have a proposition. Nay, a plea.

Please, please, one of you - find, date, and marry Michael Phelps!

Watching the Beijing Olympics has been inspiring and moving on many levels. Perhaps chief among them is witnessing the Olympic idol that is Michael Phelps, and daydreaming about eating Nutella off his torso.

Sigh.

Ok, so his ears stick out a bit and apparently he's a little awkward on land due to his innate fishiness, but here are the five reasons that he is super dreamy Olympic husband material:

5. Considering his penchant for gold medals, he clearly appreciates bling. Bodes well for an engagement ring, wedding band, and assorted anniversary gifts, no?

4. And hello endorsements! This guy will be rollin' in the dough after these Olympics. Snag him now, so he'll know to put some of that money away for your Ring of Dreams. And what a ring it will be! (See reason 5 above.)

3. How cute is he with his mom and sisters in the stands? Beware of his mama's boy potential, of course, but he clearly appreciates fabulous women.

2. One (aforementioned) word: torso.

and the Number One reason to marry Michael Phleps:

1. He is the greatest swimmer and Olympian of all time, and truly seems like a nice guy to boot. Need I say more?

Get on it, ladies! And please keep us posted on the conquest. I'll supply the Nutella.

xoxo,

Jen

Ode to Dy

Sue,

Every trace of the teenagers is gone!  Phew!  Bless my Dyson.  My house is mine again.  Of course, that means I need to buckle down and actually be a little bit productive.  I fear, with the arrival of my pre-MBA course reading and career services preparation (that I have been informed in no subtle way is "COMPULSORY" - whoa! Settle down, folks!), that my lady of leisure days are drawing to a close.  Horrifying.  Seriously.

But I will not go quietly!  I will continue to plan my wedding despite the lack of an engagement ring!  I will strive to be the best Domestic Goddess I can be despite the fact that I will soon assume another, much less fabulous title of "grad student"!  Most importantly of all, I will remain dedicated to my Dyson and the dust-free, teenage grit-free environment it provides.

In fact, so enthused am I about my Dyson that I came up with a little ditty today (with kudos to Beethoven, obv)...

Ahem.  Here goes.

Ode to Dy

Dyson, Dyson
I adore Thee

God of Suction

Lord of Clean

Bunnies of dust flee before Thee

Hail Thee to the homey gleam 

Suck the dirt of jogs and errands 

Rid the house of my hairballs

Not that I have grody split-ends

But they add up 'gainst the walls

Housewives join the mighty chorus

Which the morning tasks began

Dyson love is reigning o'er us

Vacuum love leaves time to tan

Ever cleaning march we onward

Fabulous in the name of "wife"

Joyful suction brings us sun-ward

In the triumph song of life

I have too much free time.  I know.  And I am cherishing every second of it.

Love,

Jen, the Domestic Goddess 4evah!

Dooce Indeed!

Dude.  I LOVE Dooce! (Obv.)

This is a revelation!  Something we actually have in common!!  I never thought you'd be interested in a blog about a mom and her kid and her husband - alas, Sue, to hear that you are a fellow admirer of Heather B. Armstrong has warmed my heart.

And, I mean, could her daughter Leta be any more adorable?  Wait - don't answer that unless you are currently in a pro-baby phase.  You switch between pro-baby and anti-spawn so fast I can never keep track.  It was rhetorical anyway because the answer is NO, that kid could not be any more gorgeous.  I love how Heather B. Armstrong (sounds so professional, eh? Makes me wish I had a middle initial... or a maiden name) quotes conversations she's had with Leta.  But my favorite thing about Dooce is how Heather writes a letter to Leta every month.  Totally inspiring and heartwarming.  To those of us with active biological clocks, anyway.

Which brings me to my next point!  Just in case you thought I was joking about strolling for strollers in No.Hill... I took this photo with my iPhone a few hours ago:

Yes, that says "the pram shop."  Have I made you lose your lunch?

Lots of love to the lunch-lost lady,

Jen

Dooce this.

Dear Jen,

I think I officially know what your (our?) goal should be in life after you stop being a DomestiGal of Leisure and complete your MBA. To be, as Heather B. Armstrong writes in her blog Dooce, a "Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) or a Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker." Think I'm joking? Check her out at Dooce where her mission statement is "Talking a lot about poop, boobs, her dog, and her daughter. Dooced: to lose one’s job because of one’s website."

I mean, Domestic Goddess, seriously.

• You're beyond obsessed with vacuums, you kind of have me wondering what you're actually doing with that hose all day long. (I can't believe that you and The Lawyer are so messy that you have to vacuum every day.)

• You actually had a good time with teenage girls (that are not your own) this past week. That's just freakish.

If I get one more behind-the-blog-scenes email from you about your bridal woes, I might have to go all Taiwanese ape-shit on you and travel to London to lovingly do the following:





With great affection,

Sue the Sane

Survival of the Fabulousest

My darling DP! 

I have survived!  My house may be full of meringue crumbs, I may spend the next two days washing sheets and towels, and the kitchen might need a industrial-level disinfection, but I survived my teenage house guests.

And here is the better news... my biological clock is still intact!  PHEW.

You know, I really feared the worst.  But even though I spent two full days entertaining, feeding, and cleaning up after these girls, I am in fine form this morning and ready for my most thorough date with Dyson ever.  I will obv keep you posted on that, because I know you care.

Anyway, I couldn't help but think, as my fridge was being raided, my living room torn apart (of course they wanted to sleep in the room with a Wii, big screen TV, and computer instead of our lovely lavender guest room), and my dishes dirtied, that teenagers aren't so bad at all!  They're a little lazy and a little smelly, but I really didn't mind them.  Fancy that.

Frankly, I was kind of hoping their visit would quell my biological clock.  Alas, no success.  I think I'll go take a walk through Notting Hill to see the latest Bugaboo stroller styles and colors.

Tata!

xoxo

DG

Partnership Rings: Right Hand to Left Hand

Dearest Jen,

Please confirm that those Brits really do wear their engagement/wedding/partnership rings on their right hands. I don't want all our European readers to be confused from my blog post title.

Today, the Doctor told me that he was experimenting and wearing his usual "ring-finger" ring on his left hand (in the States, the wedding hand... in India, the hand you wipe your ass with, but I digress). Anyway, it was tres cute to hear. He asked that I move my fancy-looking ring that I wear on my right hand and move it to my left as well, to "see what it's like" as he found it to be rather powerful.

I think he's just feeling sensitive and cutesy, as we just spent a fabulous weekend with my family up in the country. We went hiking, wine-tasting, cheered at the tractor-pull (hello, I'm from farm-country), and got harassed by my mother.

The priceless conversation I had with my Asian mother this past weekend included the following:

Judgemental Asian Mother (JAM): "So, what form of birth control do you guys use?"
Horrified Domestic Partner Daughter (HDPD): "What did you ask?"
JAM: "You heard me. What kind of birth control do you use?"
HDPD: "Ma, please!"
JAM: "I'm just wondering, Sue. Mama loves you and wants to know."
HDPD: (Lying) "Condoms." (Ahem, we don't really, but I had to make up something.)
JAM: "Oh, terrific! You know, you three girls were all condom babies, which means you may accidentally get pregnant! Hurrah!"

So, apparently it's fine by my rather-conservative Asian mother that I get knocked up since we're in a Domestic Partnership. In fact, I can just imagine her praying to her buddhas every night that I get a buddha-belly stat.

I must say that reading your post about housing teenage girls for the next couple of days is the best form of birth control out there.

Love,

Mother of a Future Bastard Child

Domestic Goddess Takes on Teenagers

Dearest DP,

Rings!  Fabulous!  I must admit I do hope you see the light - no, not the glorious rays of light emanating from my future Ring of Dreams, the metaphoric light - and decide to show your commitment to The Doctor by wearing a gorge engagement ring - oh no wait - partnership ring on your ring finger.  Did you find any you like?  Moissanite?  Mokume Gane?  Details, woman!

As for me, well, you may not be hearing from me for awhile.  I am preparing my biological clock for an attack of a most gruesome nature: teenagers.  In my house.  For two days.

That's right.  The Lawyer and I offered to host an expat family friend's two teenage daughters for a couple of days.  And they arrive in approximately 90 minutes.

Now, I have known these girls since they were babies.  I lived over here in England with their family for a couple of summers, so I am kind of the big sister they never had.  Or at least I was.  I haven't seen them for a few years so I have no idea what the dynamic will be now that they are adolescents.  Ack!  I mean I was a terrible little witch when I was in middle school, and an insecure mess in high school (well, at least for the first year or so, until I embraced my nerdiness and gained a little fabulous and became quite cool, actually).  I know I will be able to handle anything that comes my way.  But I cannot speak for my biological clock.  For her, I fear the worst.

Which is probably a good thing, since I'll soon be starting grad school and all.  Not exactly the time to get knocked up.  Oh, and before you remind me yet again, I am also neither married nor engaged.  Right-o!

Ok, I'm off to rev up the Dyson before the girls arrive.  Wish me luck!

xoxo

DG

DP Gal Gone Mall Wild

Dear DG,

Ug.

I really hate shopping. I mean, really, really hate to shop. The Doctor and Sister #2 tried to take me shopping today, as they're horrified by my uncreative wardrobe. If I ever had a day where I wore something other than a tank top and jeans, I think I'd be unrecognizable. I did, however, take a break from squirming my way out of trying things on by wandering by the ring section.

Yes, it's true. We tried on rings. Again.

The first time we tried on potential partnership rings was in Chinatown. When I told my mom -- my Asian mom -- she was absolutely horrified. "Why would you ever be looking for rings in Chinatown? Don't be disgusting!" Said like a true Taiwanese woman.

Today, I decided to class-it-up a bit, by making Ring Trip #2 in a suburban mall.

Sigh. Darling Domestic Goddess, could you and I be more polar opposites?

* You shop for rings at Tiffany's, and I look for rings 50% off at a strip mall.
* You want to get married at this exquisite country mansion, and I insist that my domestic partnership "ceremony" be at the bank.
* The Lawyer pays for you; I pay for The Doctor.

Yes, this is a friendship made in DomestiGal heaven, no doubt. Forever and ever, my dear friend.

Love,

Sue, DP

PS: I just love how hot the Design-her-Gals made us look. But, I have to ask, am I cupping your ass in the photo? No doubt due to how sculpted Colossus has made it become!

Olympic Hormones?

DP,

WHAT is my problem?!  I mean it was one thing to get teary watching that cute octogenarian lesbian couple tying the knot in San Fran a couple months ago.  But I just flipped on the Olympic Opening Ceremony while I eat my sushi for lunch, and I seriously almost choked on my salmon nigri.

I don't know what it is!  It's gotta be more than the whole ring theme, right?  I suppose it's just the thought that these athletes who are parading around are the best in the world at what they do - which is phenomenal enough in itself.  And also that their entire lives have led up to this moment, to these games.  Huh.  Uh-oh... as much as I would like to believe that not everything in my life makes me think about my wedding, the idea of one's life leading up to one big event... uy yuy yuy.  This is getting embarrassing.

Speaking of embarrassing, this is why I heart the BBC:

You know I could not be less into politics, but I must describe this a to the mazing moment that just occurred.  So all the teams are coming out one by one, being announced, waving to the crowd, etc.

Then Iraq comes out - with only about six athletes - and the crowd goes wild. Like, bananas, cheering.  While the announcers are talking about the "challenges" these athletes have had to "overcome" to get to the Games, the camera cuts to W and Laura sitting in the stands, awkward grins and blank stares plastered to their faces.  GENIUS.

Anyway.  I should probably turn this off before the Americans make their entrance.  I might lose it, and we're having company over for dinner tonight so I really can't have puffy bags under my eyes.

Have a great weekend, hot stuff!

xo

DG

Lady Who Lunches

DP my darling,

First things first - lest you thought that I was so distracted by our fabulous new Design-Her Gals to catch your last line there - you don't look good in white? Are you kidding me? That's what our ever-expanding blogroll is for, my dear, so that you can see for yourself that plenty of brides get married in wedding dresses of color. For starters, check out Offbeat Bride - including a whole gallery of red wedding dresses -

Not that I'm trying to convince you to get hitched, because goodness knows I would not be able to handle your whining.

Let's move on, shall we?

Just wanted to let you know that I just returned from a three and a half hour ladies' lunch with a girlfriend of mine here in London, a fellow lady of leisure.  And it was fabulous.  I had two glasses of wine with my goat cheese pannacotta and braised lamb with roasted veg (okay while I promise to not take on much of the lingo or - worse - a fake accent while I'm over here, I have started saying veg. You know me and know I used to abbreviate everything in NYC anyway so I am ALLOWED VEG, okay?) and then split a chocolate fondant for dessert.  Definitely not Colossus-approved, definitely fabulous in every way. Especially the wine.  How is it that wine tastes so amazing in the afternoon?

Alas, now it's almost - oh no wait, it's quarter past - 5pm and I really have not done much with my day besides bask in my fabulosity.  Sigh.  Perhaps I'll go watch a little telly and eat some bonbons.

(Kidding. Of course I don't really say telly and bonbons have been banned from our house due to our Colossal diet makeover. I think I'll do laundry instead.)

With love from leisureland,

DG

DomestiGals Heart... Design-Her Gals!

Dear Sue,

You may have noticed a cute, clever addition to our site today which also happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to us! Our new image is courtesy of Design-Her Gals - and I do mean courtesy, because they helped us with the design and site integration every step of the way! (Well, except for the outfits and accessories. That was all me. Obv. I mean if I could find a wedding dress that looks like that in real life, I'd be set!)

Click on the image and you will be whisked away to their fabulous site, where you can design lots of different gals (it gets addictive - watch out!) and then make them into cute products like stationery, business cards (or, in my case, calling cards), to do lists, letterhead, you name it! You can design things for you or for someone else. Ooh! They would make perfect gifts for the ladies in my wedding party! Must remember that.

But enough about me. The best part about Design-Her Gals products is that 5% of every sale goes to the Gal To Gal Foundation, which supports stage IV breast cancer patients and their families. Women looking out for each other - what is better than that?

Love,

Jen

Fusion Finances and JewAsians

Dearest Domestic Goddess,

My lord. While you were busy figuring out what monogram is going to be on your wedding invitations and bathrobes, I was asking The Doctor the following question, "Darling, if you die and I'm already dead (even though I'm 10 years younger and fabulously fit), to whom should our possessions go?" Of course, at this point my only prized possessions are my laptop and my various assortment of vibrators, and those should probably be buried with me.

Why was I asking such a horrid question? Because, in Domestic Partnership land here in Manhattan, we've got our follow up appointment with our Financial Advisor (i.e. "Our Relationships Savior").

We had to sit down today for two hours and discuss forming our future living wills, our investment strategy, when we plan to retire and die, how outrageous we are about spending lots of money on wine and sake, why his insists on throwing his underwear all over the apartment, Italian-Japanese fusion (the newest downtown trendy delight) and other only-necessary-in-NY-but-possibly-London sort of financial things.

The amazing thing is that I would rather be spending hours talking about finances then looking at monograms. It's sounds so terribly WASPy, my dear Domestic Goddess. You see, here in Asian Dragon-Jewish Doctor (JewAsian? Jew(y)ellow?) Couplehood, we just don't think of these things.

That said, I want whatever you want. (I'm sitting here, trembling in my seat, for fear of pissing off Bridezilla-in-Waiting). They are all stunningly beautiful monograms.

I mean, obviously I'm just jealous.

Don't you see? The real reason I don't want to get married is because Asians simply don't look good in white. It so doesn't go with our skin tone.

xx,
Twinkie

Monogram THIS!

Sue,

On a scale of one to get a frickin' life, how pathetic is it that my first thought when I was jarred awake this morning by the garbage men at the undomestic goddessly hour of 7:30AM was, "Ooh! More time to get crackin' on our monogram!"

In case you don't know the all-important icon to which I refer, the monogram not only symbolizes your first minutes and hours as a married couple, but it also adds personalized style and sophistication to the overall design of the wedding reception. Yeah, I doubt you had one of these at your post office ceremony. Basically, the monogram should capture the vibe that you and your beloved wish to capture at your wedding and for the rest of your lives. So, you know, no pressure on my mad design skillz or lack thereof or anything.

Because I refuse to actually pay for someone else to put our monogram together for us. So I am determined to find one that fits us! And in fact, I have a few possibilities. Let me know what you think!

[Please note that I am still marrying The Lawyer. Initials and wedding date have been changed to protect his innocence.]

Number One - "Antique Chic":

Number Two - "Classy Classic":

Number Three - "Classic with a Twist":

Number Four - "Classic with a Shout":

Well? Thoughts? Do you like any of them or do I need to go back to the drawing board (or, in my case, PowerPoint slide)?

xo

DG

P.S. A big THANK YOU to the ladies who have commented on their faves of the above choices - keep your input coming! (Since Sue is really not helpful when it comes to things like this...)

Bridezilla Schmidezilla

My dearest and favoritest Domestic Partner,

Okay, so you are also the only gal I know who is in a legal domestic partnership, but that doesn't mean my love and admiration for you are any less,

Fear not! Just because I stayed awake for my entire red-eye flight from Detroit to London reading my new crop of bridal mags from cover to cover does not - I repeat, does NOT - mean that I will go all bridezilla on your yenta-cum-ministress ass.

I am the first to admit that booking our wedding location and starting the planning process before getting engaged, yes, without an engagement ring on my finger, is unconventional - though I must also say that it is much easier to browse vendors' websites without being blinded by the rays of glorious light emanating from my Ring of Dreams.

I will also admit that commencing Bridal Boot Camp and counting grams of protein with over a year to go until my nuptials may be a little intense - but remember, I am a Domestic Goddess! I don't work, I Dyson! What else am I going to do all day if I'm not exercising vigilance over my increasingly hot physique?

You can also give thanks to the High and Mighty Internet for keeping me sane in the coming months - okay, YEAR and months. There are a ton of fabulous, grounded brides-to-be out there: Veronica from NYC, Kelly and Natalie in DC, and even a gal in LA who is planning a $10,000 wedding! I mean how crazy can I possibly go?

Love,

Bridezilla in Waiting?

Jen,

I laughed hilariously over the fact that you took a picture of all the bridal magazines you bought. I laughed, but then I stopped a few seconds later with a thought that left me in horror.

Are you a bridezilla-in-waiting?

I know I agreed to be your Naughty Pastor who presides over the ceremony, but am I going to come out of the wedding rehearsal with a black eye and a broken arm? I mean, it's okay if I am, I just want to be prepared.

Thankfully, none of my friends have traditional weddings (or get married), so I've never been privy to this sort of person. I'm wondering if you'll be my first.

Here are a list of my concerns and grievances:

1. You already have a psychotic (but hot) trainer, Colossus, over a year before you get engaged.
2. You've been emailing me every 5 minutes about how much protein you should/should not be eating.
3. Your wedding location place is booked.
4. Um, am I playing the piano at your wedding and saying "You may now kiss the hopefully-back-to-normal bride"?
5. You've been swimming in all your bridal magazine cutouts and pasting them all over your room so now The Lawyer has no place to sleep next to you. (Okay, this may not be true, but this is what I envision).

Just for clarity to all our new friends out in google-andia, you are not -- I repeat -- not yet engaged. Right?

What's going to happen when you officially get engaged?

I think I'm going to check out http://www.bridezilla.com/ and see if they have a support center for Nervous Nellies like me. I'm worried that I'm going to open up a package from you in the near future, and it's going to be a Nutella bomb from all the chocolate you haven't been allowing yourself to eat over there in London.

Let it be known right now, I hope we're still friends a year from now.

For now, I'm happy with my domestic partnership over here in Manhattan. After all, if my ass has an extra jiggle in it from eating the full box of Annie's mac 'n cheese, it only gets The Doctor more excited.

Love,

Sue