I loved that dress, it was very Gone with the Wind. Thankfully I did get all but the small deposit back on it.

Now, at the time I wasn’t really aware of this, but there is actual etiquette on what gets done with the ring in a broken engagement. If the girl breaks it off she has to give it back but, generally speaking, when the guy breaks it off she gets to keep it! It’s sorta like a consolation prize or forfeiture of deposit. Exceptions are generally made for family heirlooms and the like (or if the ring was REALLY freaking expensive… although it’s more than a little gauche for her to know how much he spent but, then again, those sorts of rings require insurance riders so…). Anyway, by rights I should have kept the ring the first time around, much less the second, so I was a fool for giving it back.

And, for the record, he did ask me to marry him again. And again. And again. It was a long Winter. Then he went into the Navy and things got a little weird (more so than usual). The Navy didn’t work out for him so much. Let’s just say it’s not a good idea to write threatening letters on Naval academy stationery to a girl whose known to be a pack-rat and then list her roommates as character witnesses when you need that security clearance. I’m just sayin’!

So, yeah, I ended up engaged to this one twice. What was I thinking? Well, being the eternal optimist I was… who the hell knows?

Karma is not only a bitch, she has impeccable timing.

Now, it’s totally a coincidence (no, really, it is) that as I compose this post I’m just returning home from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert. Before I continue I just want to say that if you live in a place they are coming to and enjoy live music, laser light shows, pyrotechnics and some frickin’ sweet rock and roll/classical/Christmas music fusion then do yourself a favor and get tickets NOW! How is this not off-topic? Well, they have a song that, while not directly about drinking, takes place in a bar (Old City Bar (LP Version), from Christmas Eve and Other Stories). So there.

The next tune that comes to mind when I hear “drinking songs” is Alcohol by the Barenaked Ladies. Just a nice, fun, kicky song about booze to sing along with on those nights when you’re driving home (preferably not having been drinking) from somewhere way too late at night and you’re trying to stay awake long enough to get home. Oh, wait, maybe that’s just me…

Quick on it’s heels, though, is a song that has topped at least one top ## list of drinking songs and who can’t help but sing along with Thorogood’s last call lamentations? One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer by George Thorogood and the Destroyers.

Now, I have a teensy bit of a confession to make: I’ve never actually participating in a true, honest-to-goodness, stein-swaying drinking song breaking out in a bar. I suppose I should try our local Irish pubs a bit more often and see if it ever really happens. BUT! I have been to more than one Bardic Circle and The Wild Rover seems to be a popular sing-a-long of just that sort. Don’t worry if you’ve never heard it before, after the first chorus you’ll catch on easily enough.

Kris worked after school at Long John Silvers. I can still recall the combined smell of sweat and fryer grease and who knows what that seemed to permeate his uniform. Not exactly an aphrodisiac. But it was sweet that he’d stop by after work, late at night when Momma didn’t know, and tell me good night through my bedroom window.

This was one of those pivotal moments that you can’t help but wonder, every now and then, what if I’d said no? More importantly, what if I’d kept my plans (and generously offered private financial aid) to go to Bob Jones University for college and actually did the (somewhat) traditional college-work-family order? I’m totally cool with the way things turned out, overall, because hindsight is like that, and the thought of spending 4 years at the ultra-conservative college absolutely terrifies me now. But still, the what ifs do happen from time to time.

the other ADHD= Attention Deficit Heartbreak Disorder

Another little anecdote about me in high school: I developed, very quickly, a reputation for “picking up” a guy at every out of town convention I went to (and since I was a math geek, a latin geek and a bank geek, that was a lot of trips!). It was never sinister or lecherous or pervy or anything, I just seemed to attract at least one guy that was content to lavish me with attention for the duration of the trip. Patrick was a good example of that and he later became my boyfriend and so was David.

It’s tough to get enough attention when there are miles and miles between you and it’s pre-Internet and unlimited long distance cell phones. It was totally bad form on my part but David was tossed in favor of the nearer Kris. While I stick to my policy of “no regrets”, I do wish (at times) that I’d done things differently just then.

(and, for the record, I that’s a Flag Corps flag in my hands; 4 years marching Cougars, 2 in the brass section and 2 on flags–I still have both my horn and my flags)

My very own boulevard of broken hearts, as it were.

Mom took to calling me heartless around this time. She might have been right, but I did _try_ to let them down easily. But truth be told I knew (or thought I knew) what I was looking for and once he stopped being that, well, what was I supposed to do: lie? pretend I was happy? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Still, I do kinda cringe when I think back on those boys, I could have been a smidge nicer after the breakups and stuff.

Some of my favorite movies are ones that use food as a central theme. The first that comes to mind is Like Water for Chocolate which, despite the need to “read” the movie (subtitles make it difficult to have movies in the background), is a wonderful story about passion. Even though it’s fictional, it’s still one of the best examples I’ve seen about the power of emotions and how they can affect food. Seriously, two people cooking the same dish from the same recipe with the same ingredients in the same kitchen can produce two different results; the reason being the intent or involvement of the cook.

Okay, okay, metaphysics aside, a more recent favorite in the same cuisine region is Tortilla Soup starring Hector Elizondo and a host of other true talents. Supposedly a Latino-version of Eat Drink Man Woman (I wouldn’t know firsthand, having not seen that one yet, but it’s on the list) it’s a fabulous look at family dynamics both around the dinner table and elsewhere.

Speaking of the dinner table, Soul Food is another feel-good family-dinner movie that I find myself stopping to watch whenever it comes on.

Since I’m me and I love to throw parties with themes and we almost always end up watching movies, I’d pick a couple of the above and serve food based on the movie’s regions or even dishes served therein. But that’s just me

For dessert I suggest, what else: Chocolat. I actually didn’t think I’d like this one too much but I’ve seen it several times now and my fondness for it grows with repetition. I think it might have been, at least in part, that I didn’t watch it closely enough the first couple of times and so missed a lot. This is what happens when I put movies on for background “noise” while I’m working on other things. (I call it the 007-syndrome, since I tend to do the same with Bond movies even though I know better.)

Now, there is one foodie movie I would not suggest–at least not to the faint of heart. When I was in Culinary School, my favorite chef recommended I watch a movie called The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover, which was described to me as British farce. Um, yeah… That movie is absolutely twisted and I would NOT suggest theming a dinner party to match. At least not to those with weak stomachs and a failing sense of humor. I would not call this one a comedy and was thrust thoroughly into a mood. My boyfriend at the time tried to cheer me up with Popeye but I could not be brought out of the depths that movie inspired. (Not that Robin Williams aping about as a spinach-swilling sailor is my cup of tea, but you gotta give him credit for trying!) If you _do_ want British farce and food, however, give Who Is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe a try, if you can find it.

And there we go.

I’m not sure what was worse, really, the hidden jealousy (that note I mentioned yesterday? I found out about from K, confirmed by Patrick) or the clingy, spineless-ness that followed. I know it was high school, but I guess even then I wanted someone self-possessed enough to be confident without being a bully.

And the whole Marines thing. Wow, that was the kicker. I had gone on the Band Tour over spring break and came back to find a gift from Robert had been left for me while I’d been out of town (an early birthday present to be exact). Inside, along with some CDs, was a letter that I swear to you read like a suicide note! Turned out it was just his way of saying goodbye as he shipped off to Paris Island. Let’s just say, once the facts came out, his Mom was not so happy with me!

Oh wasn’t this a fun story–NOT! So, here’s the skinny:

K was flirting with B, a guy from our school, already on this trip when they bumped into Patrick in the lobby of our dorm. I was dragged down there by K, unwillingly I might add, from my own room where I was pining for my boyfriend, Robert. (the teen angst is pretty thick, no?) Anyway! Patrick totally saw what was going on and figured I was a safer pal-around-gal than K. Not that there wasn’t flirting going on, I mean it was me–come on! But K went all green-eyed monster and refused to talk to me for the rest of the week.

Now Patrick was actually from one of the school that shared the bus up to Emory with our local high schools so, on the way home and with K still not speaking to me, I sat with Patrick instead. At one point I fell asleep (a common habit with me in moving vehicles, at least those that I’m not driving) and was leaning up against Patrick, who’d put his arm around me. Click. That was the picture that got Robert so up in arms (oh it was bad, there was an incident of a threat letter being hand-delivered to Patrick’s mailbox in Panama City, for example).

You would think that act alone was enough to make me walk away, but no. Tune in tomorrow for the final straw…