Life in a Brighthouse: Moving out of the Dark Ages

In the past we had always taken pride in our lack of technology. We rarely watched our 400lb TV, and when television went digital, we just stopped watching all together. Unfortunately, when we were moving, Jeff "accidentally" dropped our beast of a TV and we finally felt justified in replacing it. We also got cable.

All my life, I've never had cable. I can't believe that I have lived my life up until now without the food network! I don't remember what I used to do on Sunday nights before they became completely devoted to Iron Chef America, Chopped, and Worst Cooks in America. I can't imagine an evening without Jeff standing behind me in the kitchen commentating while I cook dinner.

Cable has changed my life! I can't believe how much time I used to waste exercising and socializing. All that time, I could have been watching Star Trek reruns or catching up on Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. (On a sidenote, isn't Sully awesome? I love him!)

I feel so enlightened. Before cable, I never knew how a curling stone is made, that a dead pig can be substituted for a human body in most experiments, that a Toyota Hilux truck is indestructible, that Vulcans die from emotional breakdowns, or that Haricot Vert is just a fancy French term for green beans.

Thank you, Brighthouse Networks! I don't know how I ever lived without you!

TBN "Truely Bizarre Network"

Back to blogging after a brief hiatus. Not long ago, Jeff and I randomly paid a visit to the TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network) Studios in Costa Mesa, CA. At first we just drove by and couldn't help but notice the elaborate, stately building nestled between the South Coast Plaza and the 405 freeway. "Hey, its open to the public, babe. Let's go!" insisted my incredibly hot husband. Who could say no to such a beautiful man? And besides, I was a little curious myself. What kind of things did they sell in the "Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh Gift Shop"? We had to find out.




We were greeted just inside the gate by Jesus, who also starred as King Lionidas in the movie "300".



"Tonight! We dine in Hell!"



We walked around the gardens.





Anyone else feel like all the nativity characters should be holding wads of cash and winking?



Then we went into the building, which put the white marble columns and sparkling fountains in the garden to shame.


Please note Willy Wonka's great glass elevator

Apparently if you make it past Warrior Jesus at the gate, you then have to face the giant marble angel assassin in the foyer. Yikes! How many orphans had to starve so they could install that little beauty? Honestly, I don't know if I was more frightened by the menacing statues or the Sandi Patty album they were playing when we walked in.




Jesus' living room?






Jesus' gold plated piano?





Finally, a Jesus who doesn't want to kill me!




Unfortunately, Paul and Jan Crouch were nowhere to be seen. We were genuinely dissappointed. I was hoping for some fashion/makeup advice.

Jim Henson's inspiration for Miss Piggy?

Oh well. Maybe next time.

Poor Jesus. I'm pretty sure this wasn't what he had in mind when he came to Earth and died. It was highly entertaining though. If you're ever in Orange County, you should stop and check it out. I leave you now with one of my favorite youtube parodies. Enjoy!

Strawberry Blonde + Strawberry Festival = LOVE

Jeff and I took a trip last weekend to celebrate our anniversary. We arrived in Agoura Hills Friday night around nine. The hotel was warn and welcoming, once we got past the gatekeepers.

Not so scary during the day, but decently foreboding at night. "Nevermore!"

We slept in 'til noon Saturday and spent the rest of the day drinking ridiculously over garnished cocktails on the beach in Malibu.

I was really looking forward to Sunday because we were planning to go to the Strawberry Festival in Oxnard. I hadn't been since I was eight, and the only memory I had of it was getting to build my own strawberry shortcake. Picture a bowl full of strawberries and cake topped off with 3-4 inches of whipped cream. This is my version of Heaven.

Jeff was a little skeptical about the festival. I think he only agreed to go because I got so excited at the prospect, and he couldn't bear to disappoint me. We decided to get there early and beat the crowds. As we were pulling into the parking lot, Jeff's ears perked up.

"Babe, I hear a marching band. Their drum line sounds pretty good."

As we walked through the gate, Jeff's eyes got huge. There in front of us was the marching band, and surrounding it on all sides were booths selling every kind of food imaginable. This was Jeff's version of Heaven.
We listened to Oxnard High School's band perform while munching on strawberry popcorn. Then we headed for the vendor booths. The vendor area consisted of rows and rows of tents full of homemade wind chimes, tie-dye clothing, amateur art, chainsaw sculptures, and handmade specialty soaps. I bought a delightfully strange print from a Haitian "Modernistic Artist/ Chef Creole/ Vocalist/ Percussionist Extraordinaire" named Willie Louie Jean Paul. I'm NOT making this up. I don't even like Chihuahuas. I just thought this was awesome!

Jeff thinks I'm insane.

Next we decided to grab lunch. Jeff had a boring old tri-tip sandwich. I opted for a strawberry glazed chicken skewer. MMMMMMM. Lunch in hand, we made our way to the main stage to see who was playing.

The band was called "Mini Driver"(like the actress only smaller?). It consisted of four grown men in rock star costumes singing and playing to Black Eyed Peas and Lady Gaga tracks. Once again, NOT KIDDING. In the presence of such absurdity, there was only one thing I could do... dance...with this guy:

After my dance floor workout, I decided it was time for round three of festival food. Roasted corn on the cob and strawberry wine for me. Curly fries and strawberry beer for Jeff. Yum!

By this time, the crowd was getting thicker, the sun was getting hotter, and the BBQ smoke was stinging my eyes. We both were ready to go, so we bought two flats of the world's greatest strawberries, and I got in line to make myself a bowl of strawberry shortcake that would put my childhood memories to shame.

"So, how did you like the Strawberry festival, Babe?" I asked Jeff as we searched the crowded parking lot for our car.

"Oh my gosh! The food! The crazy people! The amazing strawberries!"

We set one of the baskets of berries between us in the car and munched on them the whole way back to Bakersfield, the perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

Ode to Mom - Better Late Than Never

Meant to post this on Mother's day, but things sort of got away from me.

Ways my mother tortured me as a kid, and the reasons I'm so thankful:

1. She insisted on correcting my grammar.

Me: Mom, can I have some ice cream?

Mom: I don't know, can you?

Me: Where's the ice cream at?

Mom: Rebekah, don't end your sentence with a preposition. It's unbecoming. Now, what did you need?

Me: I've forgot.

She also insisted on using vocabulary generally reserved for for SAT testing in everyday life. My sister and I were never "grounded", we were put on "restriction" or"temporary privilege suspension". Nothing was ever "pretty" or "good". Things were always "resplendent", "exceptional", or "prepossessing".

In my cretinous state of adolescence, I tended to take umbrage at my mother's attempts to instill in me a firm grasp of the English language. I found her magniloquence pretentious.(Thank you Thesaurus.com) I did not understand at that time that she was doing in my daily home life what most schools in this state fail to do in 12 years: instilling in me the ability to communicate with anyone on any level.

As the great Ludwig Wittgenstien said (according to Google), "The limits of my language are the limits of my mind. All I know is what I can communicate and comprehend."

2. My mother made me clean, cook, sew, and garden.

I resented and resisted it for the most part. The cooking and gardening I didn't mind so much, but I couldn't help feeling that I was being groomed to become the perfect 1950s housewife.

At age 17, the day of reckoning came. I moved out of the house and into my first college dorm. My freshman year at college I was surrounded by girls who had never lifted a finger in their lives, so I took advantage of them. I cleaned their rooms, and did their laundry for cash. Thanks, Mom!

3. She didn't let me have a boyfriend until I was 16.

She should have made me wait til I was 20.

4. She never spoiled me with the latest trends.

I can remember wanting the name brand clothes as a kid (BUM Equipment, Stussy, L.E.I.). That stuff was pretty expensive and my mom didn't believe in wasting money for the sake of my vanity. I also really wanted Nintendo and cable TV. Everyone else had that stuff! I felt so deprived. Mom always encouraged me to look inward to find my self-worth.

"Why would you want to waste your mind on video games or television?, she would ask. "Do you want to go to the library?"

I learned pretty quickly that if I wasn't ever going to have the things I needed to be truly "Cool", I would have to establish myself in other ways.

Please note the extremely uncool flowered turtleneck.

In 5th grade I decided to learn to play the tuba. I wrote poetry. I painted. I read. I embraced my general lack of coolness. Jeff is the same way, and I think that's one of the things I love most about him. He has never been concerned about having the latest and the greatest things. He needs very little to be happy. Even as adults, we take pride in our ability to revel in lameness. We don't have IPods, Wiis, new furniture, or cool cars, but we have a ton of fun together. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I can honestly say that in retrospect, I consider it a blessing to have been raised counterculturally, and I certainly feel better off for it. Mom, you did a great job! I hope that one day I can be half the mother you have been. Happy Mother's Day!

A Little Retro Fun

One of my greatest memories is the time I spent at the rollerskating rink as a child. My uncle owned a limousine service, so he would often ferry my cousins, my sister and me to Skating Plus in style. We felt like celebrities. I spent hours skating around in circles under the glistening disco ball, the pink wheels of my barbie skates squealing in time to the latest hits by TLC, The Real McCoy and Michael Jackson.
The hours passed like minutes, and before long, a familiar announcement came over the loudspeaker.

"Ladies, your limousine has arrived. Please make your way to the exit."

All through my childhood, the rollerskating rink always made for a perfect Sunday afternoon.


These days, my idea of a perfect Sunday afternoon is a little different. Usually it involves at least two hours passed out on the couch with the television on. Last weekend, however, in a moment of nostalgia-inspired spontaneity, I announced to my husband that I was craving a little time on the rink.

"Sure, Babe!", he replied enthusiastically. "Oh, and by the way, I'm awesome at skating!"

He wasn't kidding. Time had not had the same cruel effects on his skating ability that it had had on mine. I attribute this to the fact that Jeff has always been tall and thin, whereas my proportions have changed significantly since age ten. Jeff could hardly suppress his amusement as I wobbled, teetered, and fumbled awkwardly though the obstacle course of six-year-olds. I used to be so good at this! My husband immensely enjoys any activity that allows him the opportunity to show me up. He whizzed gracefully past me, the picture of perfect coordination.

Soon after our arrival, a delightfully effeminate young gentleman announced that it was "like totally time to, like, move to the thenter of the rink and, like, form a thircle!"

"Finally, " I thought, "a chance to get a Diet Coke and sit down!"

But Jeff had other plans. He grabbed me by the hand and drug me into the circle with all the little kids.

"Come on, Babe! Who doesn't love the Hokey Pokey?," he teased.

"ME!"

The music began and with extreme reluctance, I did my best to "shake it all about". Now I know why Jeff loves the Hokey Pokey so much. To him, watching me try to dance in skates is definitely "What its all about".

All in all, our afternoon of retro fun hit the spot.

In summation:

Pairs of brightly colored rental skates: 2
Six-year-olds nearly killed: 4
Times I fell on my butt: 2
Blisters: 0
Licorice Ropes consumed: 1
Excellent Sunday afternoons: 1

How Jeff Unwinds: Part 3

Because there's nothing more relaxing than a massage chair, an old issue of US Weekly, and the soothing aroma of Acetone. In truth, his feet are so big and nasty (size 15!), he needs professional help.

Why is She Rolling Her Eyes...Again!?!

Date Night: Attack of the Flaming Cheese

It was a fun and interesting night tonight. Jeff and I found ourselves, for the first time in weeks, with free time, energy, and extra money all at the same time. Usually by Friday we're both so exhausted that we just throw on our pjs, order in, and stare blankly at the TV til we fall asleep on the couch. Tonight, however, inspired by my newly purchased yellow strappy sandals, I decided we should hit the town.

Jeff really wanted to see the movie "Date Night", so we got all dolled up and headed to the 7:40 showing at the Maya (which beats the pants of Edwards Cinema any day!). Since it only came out today, I'll assume that most people haven't seen it yet. I don't want to spoil anything for you, but this is one of the funniest and best movies I've ever seen. Tina Fey and Steve Carell played the most believable, adorable, hysterical married couple I have ever seen on film. The guy behind me in the theater was laughing to hard he kept spitting popcorn at the back of my head.



When the movie was over, we decided that, even though our stomachs ached from laughing, we had better eat dinner, so we headed to Goose Loonies. Our waitress set herself on fire. I'm not kidding. Jeff ordered Saganaki, or as he calls it, "The Flaming Cheese". So our server brought out the cheese, and the shot of 200 proof alcohol, and the matches. She had curly hair full of highly flammable stying products. You do the math. To make matters worse, I couldn't stop laughing. Even before Jeff threw his water on the poor girl, I was nearly on the floor. I told Jeff he shouldn't have ordered me that Long Island Iced Tea.

After a delicious dinner, we left a 50% tip for our poor charred server, and headed home. We were both so exhausted from laughing all night that we changed into our pjs, and sat on the couch staring at the the TV until we both passed out.

How Jeff Unwinds: Part 2

Hammock in the mountains - check

Obnoxious parody American History textbook - check

Freshly baked Brownie - check

Cozy down blanket - check

He just needs a Snuggie!

How Jeff Unwinds

...because there's nothing better at the end of a hard working day than candles, lavender scented bubble bath, a cold Corona, and the latest issue of Drum! Magazine. Does my man know how to unwind or what? All he needs is one of those avocado face masks and he's set!

Donkeys and Elephants: A Love Story

In light of recent propaganda surrounding the newly-passed health care bill, I give you the story of a forbidden love between a Democrat and a Republican. Two households, both alike in dignity...

I was raised in a conservative Christian home by conservative Republican parents who did their best to instill in me a strong sense of family values and personal responsibility. Hats off to you, Mom, and Dad. You did a great job.

Six years ago, I brought home a boy named Jeff. He was handsome, Godly, musically gifted, a lover of children and animals and me, everything I could ask for. My parents prepared the standard Fowler family spaghetti dinner. My dad told the story about how he made a hole in one the first time he played golf in 8th grade and walked away from the game because it was "too easy". Everything was going smoothly...UNTIL

Dad: So, Jeff. We might as well get down to it. Are you a Republican or a Democrat?

Jeff (innocently): Democrat

Me: Dad! I didn't know. Really! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!

Mom: Really Jeff? Are your parents Democrats as well?

Jeff (sensing impending doom): um... y..yes

Me: Honestly guys, I had no idea. We really haven't been dating that long. His family is so nice. I mean they're Christians! I just assumed...

That night, I knew what needed to happen. My relationship with Jeff, wonderful though it was, would have to end. He was a tree-hugging baby killer.

Ironically, that night Jeff was making the same decision I was. How could he continue in a relationship with a gay-hating war-starter?

After a VERY long conversation and way too many Sonic Cheddar Poppers, we came to the conclusion that neither of us really lived up to the others negative assumptions. We decided to temporarily call off the break-up. Then we made out.

Six years later we are a happily married, politically moderate, couple, and our families get along just fine (as long as no one mentions Obama or gay/lesbian representation in movies).

Tax Returns and Pipe Dreams

Our tax return came in the mail today, and we were pleased to discover that it was significantly more than we figured when we filed. I don't know why or how, but I'm not arguing with the IRS on this one. We are so excited.

We decided that we would each make a list of 5 things we wanted to spend the money on and then compare.

Jeff's List

1. Pimp out the Malibu with some custom paint and 24 inch rims.

2. Buy the fancy 2 ply quilted toilet paper

3. Order a 20oz steak at Tahoe Joe's

4. Buy a pipe, walk around with it, and refer to everyone as "My good man" in a British accent

5. Buy a suit of armor

Becky's List

1. Have laser hair removal done on my armpits

2. Learn Kung Fu

3. Buy these boots and wear them on a night out with Jeff's parents

4. Invest in emerging markets (Just kidding!)

5. Buy one of those IRoomba vacuum robots. Glue googly eyes on it, and give it a fun name like "Vac Attack"

We'll probably pay off bills and save for summer, but it really would be nice to own a suit of armor and gold plated boots one day. That's when we'll know we've made it.

I Love Lamp

A couple of weeks ago, while playing "Would You Rather" with some friends, I drew a challenge card that said this: "For sixty seconds, explain how electricity works". I then proceeded to explain my fifth grade science fair project for which I tested the conductivity of various materials. In short - Pennies and paper clips conduct electricity. Plastic spoons and Fruit Loops do not. This is the extent of my knowledge on the subject.

Yesterday at a yard sale I bought three old lamps from a little old lady. They were beautiful... to me. I could see the potential. All Jeff could see were the frayed fifty-year-old wires and dusty cobwebs. "I'll clean them off and rewire them" I assure him as I handed the lady my ten dollar bill.

"Becky", Jeff said, "remember game night?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You're not rewiring anything. You can't even reset the breaker when the electricity goes out."

"Uh, Babe. That's why God created Google. Duh!"

Then I proudly carried my newly-acquired loot to the car.

Fast forward to this afternoon at Home Depot in the lighting section. I'm standing in front of a huge wall of wires and starting to panic.

Kevin the Irish/Scottish sales guy: Can I help you with something, Lass?

Me: Yes, I have these really old outdoor hanging lamps that I need to rewire.

Kevin: What parts would you be lookin fer then?

Me: I think I need a bulb holder screw in thing, a cord, a plug-in thingy, and whatever makes them all stay together and not explode.

Bless his heart. Kevin managed to figure out exactly what I needed, and he even gave me a quick tutorial. I left Home Depot, light kits in hand, confident and ready for an evening of fun with electricity.

It was actually much easier than I thought it would be. I wrapped wires around around a few screws and ran some cords through some holes just like Kevin had shown me, and presto, instant garden ambiance. Check it out.

I'm so proud of myself, but I have to admit that I still have absolutely no idea how electricity works.

Rats, Michael Jackson, and Conflict Resolution

We had a little bit of a rough start this morning. Our cat, Egypt, killed a rat and left him on the back steps for us. Apparently Jeff and I have different opinions about how to properly dispose of a dead rat. I felt sorry for the poor little rodent and wanted him to have a proper burial. Jeff was late for work and thought the trashcan was as dignified a resting place as a rat could expect. We compromised by putting the poor little guy in a shoebox and singing "Taps" before dumping him in the garbage. Both of us left for work upset.

After work, I spent the afternoon planting flowers in the backyard. Egypt helped. Jeff got home around seven, hungry and tired, so we settled in on the couch for bbq chicken pizza and Michael Jackson's "This is It".

Throughout the course of the movie/concert, we were both struck by the way Michael (or "MJ" as him minions called him)talked. Anytime he had an issue or wanted to make a change, MJ spoke very meekly, always careful to emphasize "The Love". It was pretty strange.

So now, in honor of Michael Jackson, I'll recount for you our rat fight from this morning in "MJ Speak".

Jeff: Nature has taken it's course and reclaimed this tiny furry creature.

Becky: So sad. I feel his spirit with us here. We must honor it.

Jeff: I'm sure he loved the trash when he was alive. Returning him to the trashcan would be the best way to show him love.

Becky: You know, on this planet all of nature is family, and we should bury him like we would a family member. The world should be full of love. L.O.V.E. Love is the only thing that matters.

Jeff: God Bless You. God Bless You.

Egypt: Are you saying I don't get to eat my rat for breakfast?

Attack of the Killer Tail

I brought Bug home as a three-week-old kitten
with every intention of finding her a good home
somewhere else. When our other other cat, Ellie, started carrying her around the house in her mouth and bathing her, we knew she was destined to stay. She was so adorable. We had no idea she would grow up to be the mentally unstable cat that she has since become.



This wasn't just a one-time thing that we happened to get on camera. Bug does this ALL DAY.

Jeff identifies with her a little. After
all, his mom did have to take the tail off of his Halloween costume when he was a kid. Why? Because it was super scary! Duh! Thank God nobody ever told him that lizard tails grow back.

The Little Drummer Boy

See, this is proof that Jeff was taking dangerous fashion risks long before he met me. Sorry, Honey!

Twilight and Fitness

Okay, so I have to confess. I'm reading the Twilight series. It started as a bet, and before I knew it, I was a little hooked. I don't have posters on my wall or a t-shirt that says "Team Edward" (I'm totally for Team Jacob!), but I've definitely become a fan. Last week I finished reading "New Moon", and decided that I wanted to see the movie. So after and entire day of pleading and bargaining, I managed to get Jeff to not only see the movie with me, but to go to the dreaded Dollar Theater on a Friday night. The movie was okay, about as good as the book. I do have to say, however, that when I read the book, my imagination did not do Jacob justice.

When we got home, I asked Jeff what he thought of the movie.


"It was stupid! Bella is annoying. Why would she go for the pale scrawny fickle vampire, when she could have Jacob, who is HOT?! By the way, do you think I should start working out?"

Fast forward a couple days. Jeff and I are being couch potatoes while watching an infomercial for P90X. Why is that always the only thing on? Apparently, if we have $120 and 90 days, we can look like this:

This may just be the total body makeover we've been waiting (since Friday) for. We're totally ordering it.

How Jeff Won

So I'm pretty sure that my only readers so far are my mother and my sister. In light of this sad truth (sorry Mom and Laurel), I'll keep this story delightfully PG.

I should preface this with the fact that Jeff rarely wins. When he does, I tend to pay heavily. I think its happened twice since we've been married.

This afternoon I asked Jeff what he wanted for dinner, and he suggested that we barbecue. It was a great idea, but I pointed out to him that we were out of charcoal. I knew this because I used the last of it last week. In a rather bold and uncharacteristic manner, Jeff protested.

"No, we have charcoal under the BBQ"

I knew that the empty bag was sitting there, so I told him to go out and look. If he found charcoal, I would um...do something that he really likes. ;-)

However, if the charcoal was gone, he would give me a 30 minute foot rub. (It's been a while since my last pedicure, so Jeff was taking quite a risk, or so I thought.)

Jeff readily agreed to the wager, and headed out the back door to prove me wrong. I sat in the living room waiting to hear the token expletive that would mark the moment of my victory. It never came. Instead, in marched my husband triumphantly holding our little grey cat ,"Charcoal", who often sleeps under the BBQ. Damn!

Welcome to Our Blog

Our very formal and well-rehearsed welcome video.

Some Funny Disneyland Pics

Well, we've been home from Disneyland for a little over a week, and I'm still going through all of the pictures. Here are a few of my favorites. Enjoy!