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I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

About Me
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As part of our quest to support women’s issues, Katana Photography is excited to announce our first ever Celebrating Survival contest!
Having any kind of cancer is frightening and confusing. In recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Katana Photography is welcoming all survivors from all forms of cancer to participate…

Weekly Photo
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When I was looking to buy my wedding invitations (back in April), I found a lot of designers on Etsy. After narrowing it down to a couple different designs/companies, I contacted both for their pricing list. One was pretty significantly more expensive–almost $2 per invitation more. Which I think all…

Weekly Style
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When talking to people about photography, I hear one phrase over and over again: Kids and dogs are the hardest subjects to photograph.
I, personally, don’t have this problem with my clients…kids and dogs are among my favorite things to photograph. Maybe it’s because I like to have any excuse…

Weekly Puppies
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Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

Weekly Coffee

USS Compromise

Sean and I saw Star Trek. Why, you may ask, did I decide to pay $15 to see a movie based on a show I don’t even like? I have one word to answer that: Compromise. And it’s a bitch.

Back around Christmas, I got to choose a movie to see in the theatres. If you recall, there were several decent movies out in late 2008 (well, decent by my definition). There was Coraline and Gran Torino and Marley and Me (ok, maybe this won’t win any Oscars, but I loved the book)….but no. I chose the movie: Four Christmases. The most terribly, awful movie of ALL TIME.  It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t well written. In fact—it was seriously depressing. And as we left the theatre that evening, Sean leaned into me and made the simple statement: “You owe me.”

So I promised to see Star Trek.  The nerd mecca. A promise that I made thinking my scatter-brained boyfriend would have forgotten about by the time the movie came out in theatres. I was wrong. Sean has a supernatural memory when it comes to Star Trek—not so much when I tell him three times of my schedule—but Star Trek, that he’s got down to muscle memory.

Sean has shown me a few episodes from The Next Generation and I’ll admit it…a few were even fairly decent. (I like the one with Famke Jansen).  I even like a few of the Voyager episodes (I KNOW, I know, it’s the “worst” Star Trek Series).  But the thing I hate about most versions of Star Trek (TNG included) is that very few of the characters have distinct personalities. They all speak with the same tone and the same inflection and then there’s the low humming noise of the ship they’re on…..and all that white noise simply puts me to sleep. In fact, I usually request Star Trek to help lull me into a sleep at night. But in Voyager, there are a lot of different characters. There’s a strong woman captain (who admittedly isn’t always the best actress), and the charming doctor hologram dude, the ridiculously sweet Nelix and the super sexed up 7….there are tons of different character dynamics to relate to and keep me interested.

So, despite Voyager, I was somewhat dreading going to this movie, knowing how dull the other seasons of the show were. I dragged my feet the whole way to the theatre, taking a few shots of jager to help get me through the night.  Sean started reminding me of all the things that I DO like about Star Trek to help me “shut the hell up” as he so gently told me:
1) The movie has some hot eye candy.
2) It’s gotten great reviews, including a recommendation from Derrick, (Dustin Nguyen’s kick ass inker).
3) No previous knowledge of the plot is needed to understand the movie. (IE – You do not need to be a total geek to follow the plot)

I thought about these things a moment, all the while picturing the new Capt Kirk…naked.  After clearing my throat, I said:“Well, I do like the holoport.”

And you would have thought Sean’s head might explode. “HoloDECK, Colleen! It’s a holodeck, not holoPORT! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s a deck of holograms where the Star Fleet goes to act out earth-like scenes. Not a place to park your boat!”

Whoa. Geeks get really picky over the semantics of their shows. It’s a good thing I didn’t say this in the theatre…there may have been some sort of geek uprising which would have involved pasting pointy ears on me and exiling me to some snowy unknown land. (If you understand this reference, you are totally a trekkie)

“Ok, fine. Holodeck. Sheesh. I guess I would have known that if I LIVED AT HOME AND PLAYED LIVE ACTION ROLE PLAYING IN MY FREE TIME.” I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed dramatically.

He looked at me and spoke quietly. “Besides, the holodeck wasn’t yet created in this timeline.”

Now it was my turn to explode. “You mean to tell me that my favorite part of the show is not even in the movie?” I threw my hands up in exasperation.

“You didn’t even know what it was called! You thought it was a holoport.”

“Holodeck, holoport….they’re practically the same. Deck, port…boats come in to each.”

Sean just stared at me, blinking. “Boats dock in a deck? How is that even an argument?”

“It’s not.”

In actuality, the movie was pretty good…even without a woman captain and without 7 of 9’s tits, and the holodeck.  But don’t take my word for it because…I’m a doctor, damnit, not a movie critic!

Fire

Fire

Last week, I had Liza and Maddie over for dinner at the new apartment. There was much debate over whether we should go out or stay in and eat a meal cooked by yours truly.

“I swear I’ve improved since college.”

“Improved how much?” Liza’s voice oozed with doubt, even over the phone.

“Enough.”

“I have a six-year old, you know. They’re picky eaters.”

“Yes, I know. I have Sean. An equally picky eater, comparable to a six-year old.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Ok, Chef Colleen’s it is.”

So for dinner I decided on mixed vegetables, egg nog casserole and chicken in an apricot brandy sauce. To make the sauce, I needed to light the brandy/apricot sauce on fire to allow the alcohol to burn out.

“Ok, Maddie, stand back. Just in case…”

“Just in case what, Aunt Colleen?” Maddie’s eyes grew wide and her chin dropped to the chest.

“Umm, well…just in case, you know. There’s an accident.” I looked at Liza who pulled Maddie out of the kitchen and then at Sean who was slowly backing away from me as well.

Maddie shook her head, looked up at her mother and said through the side of her mouth: “She’s going to burn the house down, isn’t she?”

But I didn’t burn the house down. And the apricot brandy sauce was delicious. So THERE, Maddie. Ha!

Learning To Walk

Learning To Walk

Sean worked very hard to get her paws into these tennis shoes…

Next thing you know, she’ll be wearing my heels, stealing my clothes and borrowing my lipgloss for her hot dates.

Two Shiners

Sean goes to the gym a lot. I go to the gym occasionally. And by occasionally–I mean 2 to 3 times a week. This is the absolute maximum that I can convince myself to get motivated for. I despise it. I despise working out….though I despise gaining weight even more. So…the gym it is.

Several months ago, Sean and I were doing partner ab exercises together. You lay on that slanted bench thingy and throw a weighted ball back and forth as you crunch up. I use a 5lb ball. Sean uses a 12lb ball. There are universal hand signals…like holding a hand up means: STOP THROWING. Holding a finger up means: Pause, let me catch my breath. Holding a thumb up and pulsing it toward the sky means: Throw the ball higher.

Well, despite the fact that we had been using these exact hand signals for almost a year, Sean got a bit confused. When I held my index finger in the air, he apparently mistook my “PAUSE, I NEED A BREATH” signal for “throw the ball higher.”

Time slowed down. I first notice Sean’s confused face as the ball bounced from his fingers into the air. I watched as the weighted ball came closer and closer to my face. Before my hands could react to the signals my brain was sending (CATCH THE BALL! CATCH THE BALL), it smacked me square in the nose.

Tears streamed from my eyes and a trickle of blood dripped over my top lip and onto my tongue. Sean, of course, rushed to my side apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He tried to put an arm around my shoulder.

“Just…” I held my hand up, “give me a moment.” I stood up from the bench and paced for a bit, walking off the pain. I grabbed a paper towel and wiped the blood from my face. After a few minutes, I felt slightly better and returned to my extremely concerned boyfriend.

“I’m sorry…” he said again quietly.

“If it’s broken, you’re paying the hospital bill.”

He nodded.

“And if I need a nose job because my schnozz is crooked…you’re paying for that too.”

He nodded again. “Want to punch me in the arm? It might make you feel better.”

“I think punching you in the nose would make me feel better…with a 12lb ball strapped to my wrist.”

Luckily, my nose was not broken. Just bruised…giving me two black eyes.Two Shiners

The Bald Guy

This story has nothing to do with Luna….but…

Sean decided it was time to shave his head again. I prefer long hair on him (not like Fabio long, but boy band long…long enough to style, but not so much that it hangs past his earlobes), so once a year he’ll grow his hair out for me. Last week, he got fed up with the long hair, so he decided to trim it. Only, he forgot to put the safety on his electric razor…so, now he’s bald. And I mean, he was BALD for the first day or so. Like Ed Harris Vin Diesel type of bald.

The Bald Guy

We went to breakfast at our favorite Greek diner for Valentine’s Day. We go to this diner SO OFTEN that the two weekend servers and the owner know us by name. And when we walked in, the one server looked at Sean and lovingly fawned over the new (lack of) hair.

“You look Puerto Rican!” she exclaimed with a thick Brooklyn accent.

“Really?” Sean and I both said at once.

“But he’s so Irish pasty…” I looked at her doubtfully and then whispered, “Really, you don’t have to say you like it just to be nice! We’ll still tip well…” I winked at her.

“I’m not! I really like it! But I’m Puerto Rican, so…”

Sean and I had assumed she was Greek because she looks SO much like the owner. We had assumed she was the Greek daughter of the Diner’s owner. And while I tend to worry about making such statements…always attempting to stay politically correct, Sean thought nothing of it. “We thought you were Greek!” He blurted out.

My head fell into my hands. Could this be offensive? Are we gonna be cast out of our favorite diner?

Luckily, she just laughed. “I’ve worked here for so long that I now consider myself Greek-a-Rican!”

The Thought That Counts

“Thank you for thinking of me, baby.” I stared at the t-shirt in my hands. Seriously? The boyfriend! goes to Las Vegas and this is what I get? It’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts…

“It’s the Borg! From Star Trek!” He looks at me excitedly…like a puppy waiting for its positive reinforcement.

“Ohhhh, THAT’S who that character is! She’s much cuter as a character,” I run my fingers over the animated Borg on the t-shirt, “Like Peak-A-Choo or one of those cute Japanese characters.” I’m impressed with myself and the fact that I knew who Peak-A-Choo was.

“The Borg IS NOT Peak-A-Choo! You can never compare those two things ever. Again. Or you will be single.”

Now, I know when to choose my battles. Star Trek is what used to be Sean’s mistress…like his dirty little secret. He was embarrassed of her–afraid of what the implications were of obsessing over something so stereotypically geeky. But, you know what, honey? You ARE geeky. And it’s one of the many things I love about you.

And in the past couple of years or so, he finally started to truly own the fact that his dirty little mistress…those slutty Star Fleet Officers…make him a nerd. And I have accepted the fact that I am in an open relationship. Me, Sean…and Captain Picard.

So, this shirt said a lot while saying nothing at all. I accepted graciously, happy that he had thought of me in the city where prostitution is legal, and knowing that it would most likely never see the light of day. It would most likely become part of my pajamas…

However, this weekend at Comic Con……………..

The Thought That Counts

I had a reason to where it with pride. And it was a hit, folks. It was a hit.

Saved By The Mug

Saved By The Mug

For a year now, Sean has been trying to get me to drink out of his ugly ass Star Trek mugs. I despise Star Trek…I’m always competing with that stupid show for Sean’s affection. (kidding) But I do hate the show. It’s so boring and will instantly put me to sleep with all of its monotone talking and white noise in the background.

So, the week we were moving, we realized that we needed to keep a few plates, glasses and silverware so that we could…oh, you know…survive for the week. And Sean–that punk–ONLY kept his Star Trek mugs. I tried everything to avoid using them. Cupping my hand under the faucet to sip water that way…but it seemed inevitable. I was going to have to drink from the horrid Star Trek mugs. And just as I was pulling a mug out of the cupboard to pour myself a glass of milk…I saw a package sitting on my counter from Sean’s cousin, Jeannie (who frequents this site a lot…HI JEANNIE!) And inside this care package was not only delicious home-made biscotti…but THIS MUG she bought for us in the Bahamas:

Saved By The Mug

I drank from that thing every single day for a week…Jeannie, you are forever on my good list.

ARRRRG.

Reason #1 why the Weekly’s haven’y been updated: I cleared the cookies off my computer and did an overall spring cleaning of my hard drive and erased my stored password to this site. And of course, I could not remember it to save my life.

Reason #2: I moved. And I think most of us have moved at some point in our lives and know what an effing stressball everyone becomes during one.

Reason #3: During the move, I somehow misplaced my camera cord that uploads all my images…big problem when my Weekly posts rely on photographs. I blame Sean. It’s not necessarily his fault…but I still blame him. I’m sure I could find an indirect cause that links back to him at some point. (Kidding, kidding…all you Sean-lovers out there, don’t get too bent out of shape. I don’t blame him…this time)

Reason #4: Did I mention the move? Because really…that’s all I got going for me. That and laziness.

Why I Refuse To Share A Bowl Of Anything With Him Anymore

Sean: “Do you want any more?”

Me: More than those two small bites I had? Yes, I want more. Sheesh, if I don’t eat fast around you, I don’t eat at all.

Sean: So you want more?

Me: Grr, don’t do that!

Sean: Do what?

Me: Ask me if I want any more when what you really mean is, ‘I WANT THE REST.’”

Sean: That’s not what I mean.

Me: Buuuuullshit. You just don’t want to admit you want the rest of it so you make me say that I don’t want anymore first!

Sean: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Me: Oh, you know. Just say it. SAY IT. SAY that you want the rest of it. Sayitsayitsayitsayit….

Sean: Ok!! Yes, I want the rest of it, but I also want to make sure that you don’t want any more.

Me: Ooooh. Someone’s oh so political suddenly!

Sean: It’s true!

Me: THEN WHY DON’T YOU JUST SAY THAT YOU WANT THE REST OF IT?

Sean: BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU WANT ANY MORE.

Me: No you don’t.

Sean: YES I DO.

Me: NO.

Sean: YES.

Me: Fine, fine! You win. I DON’T WANT ANY MORE!

Sean: Cool. Can I have the rest?