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Weird is the word in Texas.

Transplants from the Bay Area, The Husband and I were super psyched to participate in the Keep Austin Weird 5k and Festival this past weekend where locals run in ridiculously “weird” attire to the beat of local bands (well, not everyone as evidenced by our hum-drum outfits left).

Had I participated, I might have mimicked a pixie of a woman in metallic blue tights and a hot pink tutu. It wasn’t the weirdest outfit out there, but it appealed to my flashy Tinker bell side. What can I say? She sparkled.

In many ways, this is Austin’s version of the Bay To Breakers. Except for one distinct difference: there was no prancing and dancing in the fog. We ran like slugs in upper ninety degree heat. I have now fully grasped the term: Hotter Than Hell.

But, the beer and the Texadelphia cheese steaks at the end of the 3.1 miles almost made me forget my wheezing breath and disgusting butt sweat. That is, until Austin’s resident cross-dresser– Leslie-- passed by in a tuxedo g-string and a cowboy hat.

Keep Austin Weird- Amen.

Photos courtesy of Dieter VonSchramm

I asked The Husband over our anniversary dinner at Chez Nous, a cozy French bistro in Austin, “What have we learned about marriage in the past two years?”

While he finished swallowing a hearty bite of flank steak, I pulled out my notepad and pen. The following is not a complete list, but it’s a good start. I encourage you to add your own.

1. You can never kiss enough.
2. Listening truly is an act of love.
3. Therapy is like crack for the newly-wed.
4. Comparing love handles is not “cute,” but a sign to squeeze back into our gym shorts.
5. Dirty dancing not only drives mortified teens out of the room, it’s just good clean fun.

It’s V-day, as in please service my vagigi, or what my sister calls, her pretty fine china. For Valentine’s Day, this is my request of The Husband. Like a true dear, he has promised to fulfill the assignment. If nothing else, he has a strong work ethic.

Can I be frank? It’s gotten fairly quiet in the bedroom. Hot, nasty married sex is just not happening in my house. I mean, we’re practically newlyweds (what is the cut-off date for this anyway? One year? Two? ), yet I find myself suffering from the same erotic apathy that plagues many of my married with children girlfriends. Too tired. Not in the mood. Don’t feel sexy. Although, coming from them, it’s understandable—they’re cleaning up newborn barf and chasing erratic toddlers around the house. What’s my excuse? I’m a stepmom to a moody teenager who stays in his room?

Earlier this week, I said to The Husband, “Our sex life sucks ass.” He nodded and said, “Agreed.”

We were driving to the grocery store (totally unsexy) and upon our mutual agreement that our private parts were becoming distant friends, we made a firm pact to regroup, refocus– get back on track. Effective immediately! “Tonight, you’re mine,” I threatened. “Prepare to be violated. And possibly bruised.”

A slacker sex life just isn’t acceptable.

We’re high functioning people. Professional perfectionists. Wannabe over-achievers. A slacker sex life just isn’t acceptable.

When we returned from the store, The Husband had already provided me with a detailed outline of what he hoped to achieve that evening. Step 1, Step 2, Step 3. A bit ambitious, but I appreciated he had specific goals in mind. His enthusiasm was infectious and I was optimistically upbeat.

We can do this, I thought.

But, by the time we got into bed later that night, we were both exhausted. “I’m so tuckered,” I whimpered. “I’m gassy,” moaned The Husband. The idea of throwing each other about, rolling around, mounting and dismounting—it sounded dreadful. The only position I craved was horizontal and unconscious with blankets on top. So, I suggested we make an amendment to the schedule.

I said, “If we don’t have sex now, then we HAVE to set the alarm for 6AM, and do it then. That’s the new rule.”

At 5:50 AM, the alarm went off. I looked at the clock and mumbled, “Snooze it.”

The Husband said, “We’re supposed to wake up and have sex.”

“Not yet. The love session doesn’t start until six. Ten more minutes. Snooze it.”

The Husband laughed at this. “Okay, we will begin lovemaking promptly at six straight up.”

I realize this isn’t the most romantic or spontaneous approach, but so far, it’s proven effective– So, what if we just started the routine this week. After reading this story in The NY Times: Reinventing Date Night, I have a hunch that our dismal sexual record of late might have to do with spending too much time in our familiar comfort zone. Check it out…

“Simply spending quality time together is probably not enough to prevent a relationship from getting stale… Rather than visiting the same familiar haunts and dining with the same old friends, couples need to tailor their date nights around new and different activities… several experiments show that novelty — simply doing new things together as a couple — may help bring the butterflies back, recreating the chemical surges of early courtship.”

It’s true. I’m so much more in the dirty slut mood when we take the wrong exit, get lost in suburbia and have to ask the mailman for directions back to the freeway. I desperately want to avoid slipping back into our familiar slump: consensual abstinence, so between now and sundown, I’ve got to come up with something ridiculously novel. Perhaps even unlawful. I better start drafting an outline right now.
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Action Item #1: Have hot, nasty married sex

Image courtesy of The New York Times

Here’s what I want to know. Many of you have written about your relationship with your husband’s ex– The one that goes by the popular title: Bio-mom. Some of you get along famously, some do not, some are still trying to make nice, some won’t hear of it! Whatever your circumstance, where are your husbands on this? Does he have a strong opinion or a preference on what type of (if any) relationship you have with his ex? Does he want you to be friends? Or does the idea of the two of you chatting on the phone and meeting at the Outlet Mall make him squirmy? If you and the ex become pals, would you describe it as an exclusive sisterhood or do the three of you– new wife, ex-wife and the man that brought you together– hang out? I apologize for all the questions, but I’m so very curious.

This is the forum topic I’m putting out there this week. I’m giving it a supermarket tabloid title: Do our men want us to be pals with the EX?

Does the idea of the two of you chatting on the phone and meeting at the Outlet Mall make him squirmy?

When my husband and I first got together, he was still pretty tight with his ex-wife and he tried to facilitate a friendship. Basically, I’d just drive over to her house with him to pick up the kids and stand quietly in the entryway while they discussed homework and weekend schedules and then I’d watch the kids give mom lingering hugs and kisses goodbye. It was usually awkward– I felt like an outsider, totally insignificant and yeahhh– I pretty much hated it. I usually drank a lot afterwards. I was big into the dry martinis back then.

I appreciated The Husband’s gesture to push us together, but I made the argument more than a few times that this was not his job, but rather our work (hers and mine) to do if we wanted to establish a friendship. So, we tried (not whole-heartedly) and it never really took off– not yet anyway. Sometimes I wonder if we do become friends (the kind that get together for lunch and shameless gossip) where will The Husband fit in? Sitting at the table with us or stashed at home? Left out or one of the girls?

Ladies, do spill.

To be perfectly honest, family dinner has been one of the biggest challenges for me as a new stepmom. Perhaps that sounds ridiculous, but until I settled down with The Husband and his man-children, I hadn’t sat down for mealtime with such monotonous regularity since I was a teenager. The Husband is used to the routine (he’s been doing it for years), but it’s taken me the better portion of the past year to digest the idea that dining at home involves more than just cheese and crackers. That said, I think it’s important for a family to set aside a chunk of time each day to connect, but there are those days when I think I might gag before the meal is over.

Family dinner has been one of the biggest challenges for me as a stepmom.

Surely, you say, dining with your ready-made family can’t be that much of a chore. It’s not that I can’t handle it (in fact, sometimes I’m perfectly entertained), but dining with children is not what I would describe as a relaxing experience. Especially, when you’re sitting across from kids who are not biologically your own and who developed their unique conversational style (bickering and often interrupting), and quirky chewing habits long before you came along.

I’m usually good for a solid stretch of four to five days and then I need a break. When I don’t get one, I become antsy and very afraid that the slightest gripe (this cheese smells like a flea collar) or primal influences (But, I like to eat couscous with my hands) might send me into hysterics so really, my negligence is doing the kids a favor.

As you can imagine, it was with great giddy pleasure that The Husband and I indulged last night in an expertly served and meticulously prepared eight-course meal outside the home. Mind you, we weren’t the only ones who abandoned their kitchens on a Sunday night. There were 25 of us who sat together at long, candlelit tables (sans kids) in a downtown art gallery; this is a growing trend in Austin: the Supper Club. Our meal took four hours to consume and included chestnut soup, scallops with caper and apricot relish, prime rib with yogurt and red wine jus and a chocolate tart with pomegranate sorbet that sent me over the edge.

If it sounds hoggish, it absolutely was, and if we’d left the boys at home alone with a pot of rubbery penne and four-dollar Ragu, I’d be suffering this morning from a guilt induced stomachache. But, they’re still out of town on winter break! The family dinner routine won’t start up again until tomorrow and by then, I’ll be ready to sit down to a simple meal at home with familiar faces.

Want to read more about dinner at Izzy’s house? Read this. Interested in hosteria verde supper club? Check it.

Happy New Year from The Husband and me.

In an effort to share some stepmom resolutions with you, I will utilize a photo/caption game made popular by a friend of ours, a quirky filmmaker living in Albuquerque.

Here’s how it works. You think of an idea and then you act it out when the first flash of the camera goes off. Enjoy.

Train for a full marathon. Nothing takes the edge off stepparenting like the high from natural endorphins.

Throw myself and my blogger girlfriends that Stepmom Shower I’ve been talking about where we all sit around in our wedding dresses, sip champagne and get our toes done.

And say a sweet thing or two about our indulging husbands, of course.

Resolve to drink less?

Or more?

Prepare one gourmet-licious meal once a week that expands the boys’ palettes and elevates my status to Stepmom Extrordinaire.

Here’s to a happy and healthy and entertaining 08.