FRA-GEE-LAY

The first floor of our building is partially occupied by a brewery.  We have a growler and frequently have it filled at the brewery.  L said we needed special glassware to use when imbibing said beer.  (Sadly, I got rid of all our combined stolen barware once we got married.  It was time for an upgrade.  Joe Carney, I owe you quite a few pieces of used glassware.  Sorry.)  I envisioned something along these lines:

Schott Zwiesel Hefeweizen glassware from Pottery Barn

This is what L purchased and proudly showed me earlier this week when they arrived:

Yeah, those are Playboy pint glasses.

Have you ever seen A Christmas Story? If you haven't, you must not have cable TV because it's on multiple times every year and always for a full 24 hours on Christmas Day. Anyway, you know the infamous leg lamp? The major award that is the lit-up sex in the front window?

I can relate to the wife in this movie.  L thinks these are pretty cool.  The word "classy" was thrown out in conversation (I think we know who used that as a descriptor).  All I can say is that this is L's version of a major award. 

We're having friends over for a dog date and drinks tonight and I'm cringing at the thought of L pulling these out, because the guys will probably drink beer.  I'll be shopping for alternatives, hopefully this weekend.

You better shop around

Once L and I decided we were going to buy our new place, we started discussing which furniture would make the cut and move with us and which pieces would be put out to pasture.  I was prepared for this; I knew he had strong feelings about the fact that mostly we only used my stuff from my single days or bought brand new stuff for our current place.  (In my defense, I had a full apartment of furniture that coordinated because I lived by myself for so long.  I didn't have anyone to contribute to the furniture.  On the other hand, L always had roommates and really only ever had to contribute his bedroom furniture and a sofa, and he sold the sofa before he moved up to VA, although he did replace it.  But why break up the matching stuff to use some random pieces of his when what he had was left over from college?  Do you want to use boy furniture from college in your home?  No matter how clean your boyfriend or husband is, the answer is probably not.  Especially when college ended more than a decade ago for your boyfriend or husband.)

We both agreed that it's time for new living room sofas and that we probably would like a sectional.  The first day we shopped for ideas, we went through Bassett, La-Z-Boy, and Havertys.  Y'all, La-Z-Boy is pretty much my own personal hell.  Why?  Because in a perfect world, I'd be able to convince L that we should get a sofa that would be a genre that would include something like this:

It's hard to see it, but there's a nailhead trim around the arms. But while I love the nailhead trim, I realize it won't be in for forever, so this sofa won't be invited into our home.

And yet, we spent an hour and a half in La-Z-Boy looking at sofas that look like this:

Champagne and Sprinkles and I call these sofas Muppet sofas (just throw some googlie eyes on the back part of it and you'll see what we mean) or marshmallow sofas.  Not only are they unattractive, but they are huge and very expensive.  What I learned about La-Z-Boy is that EVERYTHING must recline (NO) and not only that, but Americans are now too lazy and fat to pull the reclining lever with their hand; everything must be power-operated.  You know what we do NOT need?  A COUCH THAT REQUIRES A POWER OUTLET.  I was so over the store the second we walked in.  And we weren't even done for the day!  We still had Havertys left to go through. 

The second day we shopped, we went to stores that I selected.  This entailed spins through Arhaus (who makes a line of sofas that are classified as apartment sofas, which made me think of the episode of Friends where Rachel's sister buys pants and calls them apartment pants), Z Gallerie, West Elm, Restoration Hardware, Pottery Barn, and Crate and Barrel.  What I'm looking for: something attractive, not too modern, not overstuffed, and something that is not so deep that when you sit down your feet don't touch the floor.  When you're an adult, it feels really stupid to sit on a couch and not have the ability to put your feet on the floor.  This is proving to be incredibly difficult and I honestly do not understand why.  A few ideas of what I have in mind:

Pottery Barn's Comfort Square

Custom sofa from Bassett

Pottery Barn's Turner Collection

Do we see a general theme going here?  And yet, we walked out of La-Z-Boy with a price estimate for this:

Horrible.  It's huge, it reclines, it looks marshmallow-y... it was just bad.  To be fair, I think L was trying to be kind to the sales guy who had latched on to us (he tried so hard), but there's no way that sofa will be purchased and in our home.  Also, L didn't share my strong feelings about massive, over-sized sofas.  He told me at one point on the first day that he didn't really care what the sofa looks like, which made me laugh and ask him if that was why we were looking at a sectional that would require extra space to recline and that has the option of having a console wedge (complete with a cup holder, which is EXACTLY what I've felt every sofa I've ever had in any housing I've ever lived in was missing) thrown somewhere in the middle. 

We will not be purchasing a sofa that has designated receptacles for beverages. 

As it turns out, L does actually have an opinion about furniture, but he just doesn't know it until I point things out to him that I like.  Anyway, after all that, we decide to just live with what we currently have for the time being and upgrade once we get a better idea for how furniture fits in the new living room.

Also nominated by L for replacement/eventual upgrade: the coffee table, the dining room table and chairs, and the guest bed and bedding.  I agree with l about the coffee table FO SHO.  It's totes time.  I also agree with the bedding for the guest room.  I've secretly wanted to upgrade for a while but didn't think he'd understand why.  This is what we currently have:

It's fine.  The entire bed is what I used prior to marriage.  But I'm over it.  It's very 2004 and bland.  Plus, dupioni silk is not the best fabric for bedding.  My recommendation: never get bedding that you can't just throw in the washing machine.  Anyway, I pointed out this set at Z Gallerie and to my complete and utter surprise, L liked it:

He still does not understand Euro shams or their purpose, nor does he understand needing or wanting more than one, single accent pillow.  But I think the answer to that is that he doesn't have to understand it and he doesn't have to go with me on hunts to find accent pillows.  We went back and purchased it last weekend and the whole experience was a complete 180 from the first weekend we went shopping.  He wanted to show me cool light fixtures he'd seen previously and art work for the living room.  It was amazing!  I also realize that perhaps the difference is that we weren't looking at sofas.  Time will tell.

Since we agreed to hold off on the sofa purchase, we went through a period where we were at odds over what to replace first.  His thought: the guest bed.  Mine: ANYTHING in the living room since we will be using that area daily.  He tried to hold out but I refuse to look at beds right now when we have one that is functional and only one confirmed guest coming in the future and he will. not. care. what kind of bed he's sleeping in.  I agree that the dining room table we currently have is not going to match well in the new place and that it would be nice to have a table with an extension leaf, but it's also hard to reconcile ditching a good, solid-wood table for perhaps something that may end up being crap (although who am I kidding?  We are not replacing our table with something that requires home assembly and a manual in a foreign language).  Also, I have a very weird, sentimental attachment to this table because it's an antique.  It was my grandmother's.  I have no reason to feel attachment to it other than that.  Part of me wonders if we should just paint it (the current stain won't match the cabinets or flooring in the new place) and get new chairs, but that doesn't solve the size problem.  As for the coffee table, I totally agree with L's request to upgrade.  The problem is that he (inexplicably) dislikes glass coffee tables and he's taking a hard stand on this, which I find terribly annoying.  I asked him for an explanation and he thinks they are hazardous.  I pointed out that no one will be dancing on our coffee table and that glass is super easy to clean, but he just ignored me.  We went through something similar when I bought night stands for our bedroom without consulting him.  He would have preferred the night stands that matched the bed or the chest of drawers we bought; I disagreed and purchased some that have a mirrored finish.  I won that one and three years later, the only time he's commented about the night stands was the night he first saw them, so I assume it's fine.  The man just really loves and prefers big, wooden furniture.  This is problematic in a confined space. 

So for now, the moral of the story is that furniture sales people are the worst (waaayyyy too aggressive and poacher-like - JUST LET US LOOK!) but maybe the next time we go looking, it won't be so bad.  Or, maybe we'll end up with a muppet sofa and a super-matchy living room.  But if that happens, it probably means I'm dead or heavily drugged.  Watch for the warning signs, people.

Stay, stay, stay, stay for a while

Sooooooo... I've been silent for a while because we've been figuring out our lives.  L was unexpectedly approached by a recruiter back in April and he decided to hear what she had to say.  That ended up leading to a job offer in mid-June, so we had to decide if we wanted to stick with our original plan to move back to Austin sometime this fall or next spring or if we should stay here so he could take the new job.  He was informed on a Monday that the company was preparing an offer for him and the package came through on Friday afternoon.  We hoped and prayed all week that it either be low enough to where it would be easy to pass on or that it would be high enough to be an obvious "yes" response.  Of course, the offer was right in between, so we spent an entire weekend agonizing over whether or not L should take the job.  It was definitely one of the hardest decisions I've had to make in my life and certainly one of (if not the) hardest decisions L and I have made in our marriage.  Until then, I didn't realize how attached I'd become to the idea of moving home to Texas.  We literally didn't do anything that entire weekend except spend time together working on a puzzle while talking through the pros and cons of both staying and moving.  By late Sunday night, I told L that in my heart, I felt like he should take the new job.  It was too good of an opportunity for him and financially it would do a lot for the two of us.  L wasn't convinced yet, so he stayed up after I went to bed thinking through both options.  He still wasn't sure what he was going to say when I left for work the next morning, but I left feeling good knowing that he knew I'd be okay with whatever he decided.  The end of the story is that he had some kind of epiphany during his drive to work and decided that he needed to take the job offer.  So he did, and now we know we'll be here a while longer. 

I can't say enough that this was definitely a bittersweet decision.  It's a great opportunity for L, and by proxy, the two of us.  But it's hard to let go of, or at least defer, a dream you both mutually share.  L is really excited about the new job.  It's a big promotion for him and he likes the people at his new company.  They have some exciting long-term goals for him, which is great.  The hard part is that even though we have an idea of how much longer we'd like to be here, we're not sure how exactly we'll finagle a move back.  The new job is great for L, but it will also make it much more challenging for him to find a new job at the same level if he ends up leaving this one whenever we decide to move back.  But all that aside, we both feel at peace with our decision now.  L started the new job last week and it is going well so far.  It was really hard for him to leave his old position, particularly his boss.  His now-former boss has just been such a wonderful mentor to L for so many years.  L wouldn't have been in the position to even be offered the new job if it weren't for his former boss. 

So that's the big change that we used to usher in summer.  With this under our belts, we are now looking to start fresh in a new place.  More to come on that later when we officially know where we'll be, but keep your fingers crossed for us that we'll get the details on that ironed out this week! 

Who wears short shorts?

It's the end of another Monday.  Weekends are just never, ever long enough.  I have nothing to complain about, though.  The biggest problem we're having in our house is that L refuses to stop wearing sear sucker shorts.  (Seriously, this actually is a problem.*)  We're in the latter half of October in what is apparently referred to around these parts as an Indian summer (read: temps in the low 80s).  Temperatures like this must be celebrated and wholeheartedly embraced! 

Our one big event for the weekend was one particular football game.  We mutually decided it would be best to watch the A&M/Baylor game (aka, the last football L-Squared Bowl for the foreseeable future) separately with our own respective people.  Honestly it was for the best and you'll just have to trust me on that.  This is not where the sear sucker happened.  It was not quite warm enough when we left the house that morning for shorts.

The sear sucker happened Sunday. 

All day. 

L could not be dissuaded from it.  We were out running errands and eating lunch together.  Both in our shorts in October.  Some people?  Totally wearing jeans, boots, and sweaters (overkill for highs in the low 80s, despite the fact that it's full-on fall now).  L defied all fashion rules and flaunted sear sucker.

I did manage to get him out of them when it came time for dinner, which was lucky, but I think that was more due to the fact that the temperature had dropped a little and he didn't know if shorts would be acceptable attire.  Our dinner reservations were at Graffiato (finally!), so that was fun since we are big Top Chef fans.  (Very tasty, in case you are wondering.)

I had L pull down my winter clothing so that I could switch out my closet sometime soon.  I was going to hold off, but the shorts may actually hasten this process, much as I don't want to embrace cold weather yet. 

My life is so hard.


*This is not actually a problem.  I mean I currently have friends with fertility struggles. My mom's wallet was stolen today.  My manager's mother passed away.  Those are problems.  Sear sucker in October doesn't have the same magnitude.


Also, in case you are wondering, The Lovely Bones  is so creepy.  I may or may not be unwisely watching it right now.  Which is 11:34 p.m. on a school night.  Stanley Tucci, you are insanely talented.

Three is a magic number

Big news!  A couple months ago, L and I talked about it and agreed we should expand our family sometime in the next year by way of a pet.  Which means a dog, although after cat-sitting Allie a couple of times, I think he sees the allure of  a cat, given our our current lifestyle and the fact that we travel for extended periods.  This all means I search online about once a week for the perfect dog for us.  I know we will get a rescue dog of some kind; when I see how many dogs there are out there that need homes, it just doesn't feel right in my heart to get a puppy from a breeder.  Plus, I honestly don't have the time or desire right now to train a puppy. 

I'd originally thought we'd wait til after Christmas to bring a pooch into our house, what with going back to Texas and cold weather and all, but after all the travel L's done recently (and with lots more on the horizon), I'm reconsidering my timeline.  Weekends all alone are just not that fun.  But, there are some major things to consider at this juncture that keep me from moving full-steam ahead.  First, most friends of mine that have dogs have parents, siblings, or close friends near by to watch their dogs when they go out of town.  A lucky few even have friends with whom they take turns dog-sitting for each other.  We won't have that option here and that's going to limit our freedom on an extra level beyond just making sure that we come home frequently to let the dog into the yard.  I really don't love that part of this.  Food and toys won't make much of a difference in our weekly budget, but vet bills and the cost of boarding a dog while we go gallivanting off to distant places will certainly change things.  However, in regards to vet bills, I actually can opt in for pet health insurance through work.  Yes, my company offers pet health insurance in the benefits package.  I laughed when I read that section of the benefits package.  I have no idea if it's worth it to do that or not, but it's nice to know it's an option.

The other thing that makes me hesitant to jump into the world of pet ownership is that I know pets just don't live forever.  One of the hardest things I've ever had to do was put the cat that I grew up with to sleep.  I wasn't anticipating it (I was keeping her for two weeks as a stress reliever for myself) but she was old and had had kidney problems for a while.  Thanks to my first job out of college, I was able to spot the signs of impending death (I mean everyone learned that at their first job, right?) and blah blah blah, I suddenly found myself asking JG and EBG to go with me to the vet one night*.  It was horrible.  And it broke my heart, because that kitty was a soul mate of mine on a certain level.  Five and a half years later, I still miss her and I still sometimes forget that she's not there when I go to my parents' house.  Honestly, it's scary to know that when we get a pet, I will face that same loss and heartbreak again.  But to be fair, the only reason it hurts when they go is because you have so much fun and love them so much while they are with you.  And I promise that's the end of the Debbie Downer part of this post.

So back to the fun stuff.  I've come to realize I want either a miniature dachshund** or a small beagle.  They fit the size (small-medium without being too extreme on either end, so, like under 25-ish pounds; basically, if our dog decides not to remember the training commands we teach him/her, I don't want it to knock people over or reach your waist if it jumps on you), personality, and grooming requirements (while long-haired dogs make the cutest of pups, I do not care to deal with constantly cleaning up long dog hair everywhere).  I mean in an ideal world, golden retrievers and labs wouldn't be quite as big, weigh as much, or shed, but that's not the case.  If you know me or you've read my blog for a while, you know that my parents' dog, Boomer, is a dachshund and I love him to pieces.  He's just so hilarious.  I don't know what the attraction is to beagles, but as long as they are small, there is something about them that I keep going back to.  Here's my most recent list of potential candidates to join our clan:

Allie McBeagle 

Blake

Caramel

Charlie

Fenway

Gracie

Maurice

Rolo

Tiny

Tucker

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a sucker for the background stories on all these pups.  L already wrinkled his nose one time at sweet Gracie because he saw that she's a senior.  At the beginning of my dog searching, I totally admit I was turned off at the idea of getting an older dog, but it's so sad to see how many older dogs are out there that no one wants, and it's just because they're older.  I always see them and read their stories and think, "I could love you!"  I'm an easy target.  This is largely why I'm not allowed to go to Target alone on Saturday afternoons (it's right next door to PetsMart and Saturdays are when they always have their adoption events).


*By the way, want to know what good friends are?  Good friends are ones that will go with you to the vet to put your pet down and will stand by you while you cry your eyes out waiting for the end.  And then they take you home and check up on you.  I have some really good friends.

**FYI, I know that dachshund is spelled weird.  It's German.  But for the record, those Hs are silent and you do pronounce the C.  I used to have a picture of Boomer as my desktop background on my work computer.  I recently worked with someone for about 4 1/2 months and she would frequently comment that she wanted to get a a dachshund some day except she would pronounce it dashund.  So annoying.  Do not do this.

Driving slow on Sunday morning... and I never want to leave

In light of the fact that the Saturday morning date didn't pan out, L made pancakes for breakfast on Sunday.  We'd talked about making breakfast together, but he charged ahead without me and put it all together himself.  I do have to say that one of the things I love about L is when he surprises me and does something sweet. 

In this case, I was happily getting dressed for the day and suddenly L was calling me into the kitchen for coffee, pancakes, and bacon waiting for me.  This was my plate:

Yes, that's a smiley face.  He made me a smiley face pancake with the blackberries we had in the fridge.  He knows my favorite is blueberry pancakes*, but when you don't have blueberries, you just gotta make do with whatever's on hand (fyi: blackberries work well.  Good balance of sweetness in the pancake and tartness in the berries).  I immediately started laughing because how can you not laugh or at least smile when you look at your plate and see a smiley face staring up at you?  (Plus, I'm a sucker for the cuteness.)  L's explanation for the smiley face (aside from the fact that he knew I would like it): he's practicing for whenever we have kids.  Because he wants to be the kind of dad that makes pancakes for our family on the weekends.  And if our kids want a face on their pancakes, he wants to know how to make awesome faces with various kinds of fruit.


I am very lucky to have L.  He's a good man and a really good husband.  I love that he does sweet things for me when I don't expect it and I love that he has a long-term vision for us and our life together.  He will be a good dad some day.  I hope everyone is this lucky.


*Of course the best blueberry pancakes can only be had at Uncle Vernon's Kitchen** at Camp Fern, but I'll take whatever I can get. 

**Uncle Vernon's Kitchen is not an actual kitchen.  Anymore.  I think there was an actual kitchen like 60-ish years ago, but it burned down or something.  Now UVK is an open fire with a griddle over it.  You smell horrible after it, but the pancakes cannot be topped.

Bubbly Toes

At some point during our dating relationship, I remember L asking me what he could do to get calluses off his feet.  I remember showing him the foot emery board I had and telling him to get something similar or a pumice stone.  He dutifully went out and got pumice stone with a handle and has been using it ever since, although it is now cracked due to a couple of suicide attempts.  I read a blog called Capitol Hill Style and Belle is a big fan of the PedEgg, so I went on a mission to Bed, Bath & Beyond (knowing they were bound to have them, what with their whole wall display dedicated to As Seen On TV products) to find one for L.

Yes, we are now the proud owners of His and Hers PedEggs (the idea of sharing just seemed gross and unsanitary).  Hooray for pretty feet!  L tried his out on Sunday morning on DRY FEET.  Am I the only one this grosses out??  I immediately had a flash back to the time when, circa age 3, my sister and I were playing in my mom's bathroom (???) and I decided to use Mommy's razor and "shave my legs", although I don't think I really understood what I was doing or what my mom was doing when she was using this thing on her legs.  I definitely didn't use water or shaving cream- this was a straight-up dry shave and something I most certainly DO NOT RECOMMEND.  I remember stinging cuts on my leg and a lot of blood and a lot of tears.  Note to you parents out there: teach your kids to not touch your razors and keep the covers on them, just in case.  And maybe keep them out of reach. 

Anyway, L looked at me like I was crazy when I freaked out about the dry PedEgg use.  Anyone have any knowledge of whether or not you're supposed to involve a good foot soak with these or if it's okay to use dry?  Please advise.

Single Ladies

Last weekend was my first weekend flying solo in a loooooong time. Normally I dislike when L checks out for weekend trips, but this time I was excited. I had lots of things I wanted to do and a few that I needed to do but didn't want to do on a weekend when L was here because I knew they'd be best accomplished without him (for example, shopping for a bachelorette party gift).

On my list of things to do:

• See Something Borrowed or Water for Elephants on Saturday morning (I really enjoy seeing movies by myself now for some reason.  I take this as a sign that I am old.)
• Find aforementioned bachelorette party gift
• Hit up either Eastern Market or Courthouse Farmers' Markets
• Stop in at my favorite jewelry vendor before hitting up the produce
• Weed in the front yard (if weather permits)
• Dinner one night with my sorority big sis, her husband, and our mutual friends that they are staying with
• Read a lot of my current book selection (Gone With the Wind - if you haven't ever read it, I highly recommend)
• Watch lots of movies at home
• Bake
• Go to Target and experience the new Calypso line firsthand

It took me 3 malls and 12 stores over the course of 2 days and a combined total of roughly 9 hours of shopping to find the perfect gift, and I didn't even think I was being that picky.  I came to realize that finding lingerie for well-endowed women that is pretty and/or fun and NOT tacky or cheap is apparently not easy.  This is definitely an untapped area where someone could make millions of dollars.  ANYWAY, due to the time suck that was my shopping trip, I wasn't able to get much else done.  I did manage to check the following off my list: bake, have dinner with friends on Friday night (they were the recipients of my baking efforts), buying the bachelorette party gift, a bit of reading, a stop by Target, going to Eastern Market, and seeing my fun jewelry booth.  In my defense, it was super rainy all day Saturday and off and on on Sunday, so it wasn't a good weekend for yard work.  (Also, just a word of advice: the Target website is FULL OF LIES when it tells you that your local store has all the cutest items in the Calypso line.  Mine had 3 trees of stuff and it was the ugliest things.  Sadness and utter disappointment and frustration!)  I also managed to squeeze in a 5 hour phone call with my mom on Saturday night.  Yes, my life is so exciting at the ripe, old age of 30!  I stay in on Saturday nights sometimes and talk to my mom... for 5 hours.  L was shocked and wanted to know what in the world we talked about.  The answer: everything.  Literally, everything.  This is what happens when you live across the country from your family.

One of the things I decided to finally try while I was at Eastern Market was the fresh pasta!  I opted for butternut squash and goat cheese ravioli.  I made it for dinner on Monday night (hooray for a successful Meatless Monday) and used Giada's recipe for a brown butter and sage sauce.  It was good, but a bit too rich for either L's or my taste.  Next time I aim to try the crab ravioli and make a marinara sauce for it.  Here's a pic of our ravioli dinner:

At least it was colorful!  The green is sage and the red things are dried cranberries.  Honestly, I love that the ravioli is striped.  Different fillings have different color stripes on them.  Cute and appealing to look at!  It's a party on your plate and in your mouth.

So yeah, that was my weekend solo.  Good thing I enjoyed it while it lasted because this weekend is shaping up to be fun and games on Saturday and flight of the bumble bee on Sunday as we prepare for a Week of Parents.  That's right, we'll see 75% of our combined parents next week and they are ALL STAYING WITH US (albeit, not at the same time.  No overlapping, but no breaks in between them).  Hooray for a one bathroom house.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Is it gross that I floss my teeth at work? I find this to be the most effective way to make sure I floss. My new thing is that I can’t leave for the day until the spaces between my teeth are clean. I HATE flossing. I’ve never been good at being diligent in my flossing efforts. Obviously that means that I’ve had a few teeth cleanings that have turned into blood baths. Lovely. Consequently, many years ago I started flossing regularly anywhere from 2-4 weeks out before each teeth cleaning. You’d think that would turn it into a habit, but even when I’ve come close to making it a habit, I end up giving it up shortly after my teeth cleaning. I’ve made flossing a new year’s resolution before and I flossed daily for about 3 months, if I recall correctly. However, it clearly didn’t last, and when the next appointment resulted in my first and only root canal to date, I promptly issued my floss a cease and desist order.

Continuing on with teeth talk, L and I both had our semi-annual teeth cleanings within the last week and a half. Mine was two Wednesdays ago and one of the issues I raised is my shifting lower teeth. I had braces from 1995-1997 (8th to 10th grades, in case you were wondering) and religiously wore my retainers until somewhere towards the end of college. I only stopped because several friends SWORE my teeth were permanently set. For anyone out there considering stopping and who may also have friends saying the same thing, I ask you, are you friends dentists or orthodontists? Because if not, they have no basis for their claims. And of course in the process of moving 4.5 times over the last 7 years, I have no idea what happened to my retainers. As I sit here typing this, I’m trying to remember what I did with them when I found them while I was packing up my Austin apartment. I have no idea. I know I considered throwing them away but I think the guilt of knowing how much my parents paid for them and how long I had to wear braces to get my teeth straight prevented me from going through with trashing them. I do know that the last time I tried to put them in, it just felt like they were trying to make my whole head implode by way of my mouth.  Here's a picture of my mouth on October 24, 2009:

Not the most helpful since you can't see my lower teeth, but it's the best I could do.  Also I would've gotten closer up, but it distorted the pic a tad too much.  Plus, it's an excuse to look at my dress.  ANYWAY.  Prior to my braces, my teeth weren’t terribly crooked to begin with; I had one tooth that was a little bit out of line, but it didn’t mess up my smile and you couldn’t really tell unless you were looking at my teeth from an aerial p.o.v. Over the last 2 years or so, that tooth has slowly but surely shifted back into it’s pre-braces position. Another tooth is starting to turn slightly, and it’s the one that bothers me the most because it’s front and center. Again, you can’t tell unless I unhinge my jaw and give you an overhead view, and even then, apparently it's still hard to see. I maintain that it feels like the edges of a jigsaw puzzle when I run my tongue over them.  Anyway, back to the point at hand: I mentioned to my dentist (who is AWESOME all the time, btw, but especially because he totally cleaned my teeth for free because he was running late and I was nice and patient about it all) that I was bothered by the teeth shifting. He assuaged my fears and told me they are still incredibly straight, despite how it all feels to my tongue, and that he’d make me a retainer if it starts to really bother me.  This will probably happen.  That means I'll be sleeping in them.  HELLO, SEXY TIME!!  Except not so much.  A note to everyone out there, though: my dentist shared with me that as you age, your lower jaw essentially reforms itself and your teeth end up crowding together.  This is why teenage friends are just totally wrong when they tell you nothing will happen if you don't wear your retainers.  So if you have some, WEAR THEM.  Or if you have a permanent retainer, just be happy about it and never have it removed.

Then there's L.  These are L's teeth, pictured below at our wedding (it only seemed fair to use a pic of him on the same day):

We've known for a while L's teeth aren't bad, but they aren't fab, either.  It's not like he has a snaggle tooth or something; they just aren't super straight anymore.  His Austin dentist asked him repeatedly if he'd ever considered braces (and the answer is not since he got them off in the early '90s).  I have no idea what his excuse is for shifting teeth.  Sometimes I get him confused with a friend of mine from high school, whose retainers somehow got thrown out a train or bus window on a boy scout trip to DC in 10th grade.  (Yes, I had friends that did boy scouts all the way through high school.  They were all Eagle Scouts and not at all dorky.  L was an Eagle Scout, too, which is probably one of the big reasons why I sometimes forget that story isn't about him.)  Anyway, L went in for his teeth cleaning the other day and was told he grinds his teeth.  Apparently he needs a night guard. 

That means I'll probably end up with two retainers and he'll have a night guard. Really puts you in the mood, doesn't it?  I mean can you imagine how that will go?

"Hey, let's french"

"Mosduwnefow"

"What?"

"Sorry- I need to take out my mouth apparatus."

And then the spit-covered retainer or mouth guard is going to have to be removed and placed in a case. 


Anyone else turned on by this??  On one hand, at least we're married.  I would have been mortified if a new boyfriend had ever seen me in my retainers.  On the other hand, marriage does not really make this okay.  Retainers and mouth guards are the oral equivalent to sweat pants and crocs.  Marriage is not an excuse to wear sweatpants and crocs all the time (and actually, let's go ahead and say those are never okay to wear EVER).  The only difference between sweat pants/crocs and retainers is that sweat pants/crocs don't help you maintain your appearance the way the retainers do.  Added point of conflict: I'm a big proponent of trying to maintain some sense of mystery in our marriage, which is why we make sure our bathroom is always only occupied by one person at a time (the idea of peeing or tooting* in front of him = MORTIFYING and unbelievably disgusting).  It's also why I refuse to wear the footed pajamas that he gave me for Christmas in 2008.  I just don't believe you can come back from seeing your wife dressed as either a giant baby or the Easter bunny (moreso the baby one).  So what do you do in this situation?  Right now I'm praying that my teeth will shift back on their own or that a new way to straighten teeth (or prevent further shifting) will be invented so that we don't become the gross couple with mouth pieces who have given up on life. 

*Also, how funny is the word TOOT??  That's totally one of the words that will make me laugh EVERY. TIME.

Stray Cat Strut

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're back after a 10-day absence!  Sorry about that.  Last week was a really long week for me, work-wise, and we also had a house guest that occupied our evenings. 

This little lady is Allie and she belongs to Mr. and Mrs. FBI.  Mr. FBI is working on a special assignment in another state for a while, so Mrs. FBI went to go visit him for several days.  Allie needed to be tended to, so I asked L if he would mind if we cat-sat for 5 days and to my complete and total surprise, he agreed without any coercing on my part.  Back story: although he grew up with several dogs throughout the course of his childhood, he is not an animal person.  He's one of those people that doesn't dislike animals/pets, but he would absolutely be 100% okay never having a pet of his own and if we weren't married, he wouldn't ever get one.  Luckily he already knows (and has known for a long time) we will get be pet people, just not yet.

Anyway, I picked up Allie on Tuesday night and she returned to her home on Sunday night.  She really is a sweet little kitty with a gentle yet perpetually curious personality.  L and I found that she LOVES closets (she spent a large amount of time going in and out of them and even learned out to open them when they were completely shut), hiding under the guest bed, sitting in windowsills (as seen in the first picture) and behind TVs, and that she is definitely a climber, as seen here:

If I was going to give her a cheesy motivational-speaker theme for her stay, I would call it Allie: Reaching New Heights.  Because yeah, that's her at the top of a closet.  Saturday morning, I found Allie in the top of the closet in our little office/den, which was shocking in that there was no logical way for her to get up there, but somehow she managed to do it not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES.  Let me tell you, when you're responsible for someone's pet and you can't find them anywhere even though you know it is in the house, and you start looking all over the place and calling her name to no avail, it makes you panic.  But luckily she does respond to her name and when I went to the closet floor for a second search and said her name, I heard a little meow from up high, and sure enough, there she was.  Getting her down was an issue all three times (she was all about splaying all 4 legs to try and grab onto the wall and the drawer she's pictured on top of, but luckily I'm bigger and stronger than her so it wasn't much of an issue) because she really liked it up there.  She actually tried to get down on her own once, but she shifted her weight and the drawer slid, which scared her, so I still had to come to the rescue.  I expected Allie to like the windows and the TVs made sense to me (due to the warmth they radiate), but the closet fetish and climbing were new to me.  I had a cat growing up that I loved, loved, LOVED and one thing she definitely didn't do was jump/climb on furniture.  I'd occasionally catch her on my desk from time to time or I'd wake up to find her trying to drink out of my water glass on my night stand on the rare occasions I'd have one there.  Also my mom kept fresh flower arrangements on the dining room table and for a short while during my junior high years, my cat went through a phase of getting up around 6 a.m. and pulling stems out of the arrangements and trying to bring them upstairs to me before school.  Mom and Dad would find flowers strewn all up and down the staircase and down the hallway to my room.  What can I say?  She loved me and wanted to bring me presents. :)  Anyway, back to Allie.  Since my cat wasn't into walking on furniture, it was a big change to host a little kitty who is very much into that sort of thing.  Kind of annoying, but what do you do?  She's a cat.  Our solution was to crate her at night and keep her out of the bedrooms and office during the day.  This did not prevent her from learning how to open the sliding door to one of the hall closets and curling up on top of the luggage, but no harm, no foul.

L had fun playing with Allie and her ribbon.  He'd never played with a cat before, or at least not like that.  Honestly, watching cats act nonchalant while keeping one eye on their prey and then pouncing is kind of hilarious.  Allie is much more like a bull fighter (it's basically a top speed run-by pounce instead of a tackle) when she plays with her ribbon.  Here's a pic of me playing with her and the ribbon:

L went so far as to say that he enjoyed her 900 times more than he thought he would, which is pretty impressive for anyone but especially him.  We both have commented that we kind of miss her already; it's funny how quickly you get used to having a little furry friend around.  Who knows, maybe we'll be expanding our family with some kind of pet sooner than we'd thought!  Time will tell.  We need time to figure out what kind of pet we'd get, anyway.  The one thing I didn't love about Allie (besides her high closet shelf fetish) is that she sheds (and yes, I realize pretty much all animals do), which I'm not used to.  But it's part of the deal.  A factor we keep in mind on a much lesser degree is that both of our moms are allergic to cats, as is my sister and plenty of our friends.  But you know what?  None of those people live here and so far, all of them have visited once and only my parents have made plans to come back for a second visit, so we're not totally ruling out the idea.  But until we're ready and we live in a place where whatever our chosen pet is welcome (our current house is only cat-friendly), we'll continue pet sitting for our friends here.

OH- important note: In addition to helping out our friends, we had a selfish motivation here, which was seeing if Allie could eliminate our little rodent problem or at least figure out where they were coming in from. Allie recently made a name for herself as a huntress while staying at her aunt and uncle's house (we're told there was quite a bloodbath involving 2 mice... shudder), but luckily she did not find any mice to slay during her stay here.  It seems that whatever was under our bed ate the entire box of poison bait in the attic and left the house to find water/die.  Hooray!  Hopefully that's the end of that.  And now I'm too grossed out to say anything more.  Sick.  But hooray for sweet kitties!

Awake My Soul

Here’s a fun little story for you. Last night, I got in bed around 11 and fell asleep around 11:45. I assume L feel asleep around the same time, but who knows. I was sleeping peacefully until 4:06. I woke up because I knew I was hearing something out of the norm, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was pretty groggy, so I laid there listening, trying to make sense of what was going on. I was hearing something that sounded like material crumpling.

The noise stopped, so I took the opportunity to put on my glasses and get my bearings. This is what our nightstands look like:

My nightstand sits directly in front of a vent for the A/C/thermostat, and I keep a stack of magazines on the open shelf below the drawer. Occasionally, a magazine cover or page will ruffle and ripple with the breeze of the air coming from the vent, but that is usually much quieter than what I’d just heard. A few minutes later, the noise started again and it sounded like it was coming from under the bed or nightstand… definitely up close by our heads. And it was definitely something getting crumpled. I was pretty sure we didn’t have a robber hiding under our bed crumpling balls of paper, so I felt pretty confident that the noise-maker was of the unwanted animal variety. What’s a girl to do in a situation like this??? (It should be noted that I have a horrible imagination that totally goes off the deep end from time to time. It does not help that I saw When a Stranger Calls and When a Stranger Calls Back way too many times as a kid. The dude at the end of WASCB that’s painted to blend in with the wall at the end left an indelible impression on me and it STILL freaks me out. So of course there was a small- however improbable you may believe it to be- possibility that a man could have been disguised as carpet and waiting to grab our feet as soon as we got out of the bed.)

Obviously the answer is wake up your husband and scare the crap out of him. Here’s how I managed that! I wanted to make sure I wasn’t crazy and that the noise was real. I’d only heard it twice, and in normal circumstances (read: not at 4:00 a.m. when the house is usually silent), crumpling paper/plastic/cellophane doesn’t scare me. Because I’m not a crazy person (usually). So L needed to wake up and hear it, too, just in case he could tell if it wasn’t an animal and it really was a scary man playing mind games with us by hiding under the bed and crumpling stuff in order to wake us up before murdering us with a stuffed animal machine, a la that crazy lady in that one season of Nip/Tuck (btw, I miss that show, but only the good seasons. I totally didn’t watch any of the final season). Anyway, in an effort to be as non-jarring as possible and NOT clue in the crumpling bandit to the fact that we were aware of its presence, I laid my hand on L’s chest and whispered that he needed to wake up and not make any noise and be very still. In hindsight, that would probably have scared the DAYLIGHTS out of me because I would immediately have thought there was some sort of imminent danger, like an intruder prowling around our hallway, but oh well. Luck was on L’s side and it was just something making noise under the bed. I quickly explained to L in the quietest. whisper. EVER. what was going on and that I needed him to hear what it was. And of course the noise didn’t start again for a full 6 minutes (during which time I’m sure L was thinking I was insane for waking him up to hear nothing). We listened to the noise a couple of times before turning on the light and actually speaking in normal inside voices. We agreed it must be a mouse, but then neither of us wanted to look under the bed (especially not me since it was on my side!). What was baffling both of us was the idea of why a mouse would be in our bedroom (SICK) and what in the world it was crumpling up.

And then I remembered something. For Halloween, we’d gotten a mixed bag of Hershey’s candy, and one of the varieties was little packets of Hershey’s kisses. There are roughly 3-4 kisses per packet. We still had a couple of those in January and one day I thought I wanted a little chocolate, so I grabbed a packet and was going to do something with it (eat it?) and I put it on my night stand instead because I got distracted by something else (probably something shiny). So fast forward a couple of days and I was vacuuming and knocked the nightstand with the vacuum and the packet of kisses fell off the table and under the bed, behind the bed skirt. I meant to pick them up but I forgot to, so I told L about it and we both agreed that had to be what the mouse was eating. The closest we got to looking under the bed was moving our pillows and peeking between the mattress and the headboard to see if we could spot anything. We saw a little bit of the Hershey bag, but what we could see didn’t look damaged and we didn’t see any fur. The possibility was still there that it was a man dressed as carpet and eating our old Halloween candy.

L asked if I wanted to go sleep in the guest room. I considered this but the way he phrased it didn’t indicate that he’d be joining me. Plus, that would mean a smaller bed AND that we’d have to change those sheets this weekend, too. I decided I’d rather be in the same room as him (I can’t even fathom what would happen if this scenario played out in a room where I was all alone. I would probably be dead or at least paralyzed with fear). L insisted that I was just going to keep freaking out all night at any sound, but I told him I’d just turn the TV on and put it on a sleep timer and fall asleep to that instead of dead silence punctuated by the sounds of a rodent candy party. So after more hemming and hawing on it, we stayed in the bed, turned on last night’s Gray’s Anatomy, and watched the entire episode. We were both too wired to sleep. Somewhere in the last 15 minutes or so of the episode, we heard our new bunk mate scampering in the wall and up into the attic or on the roof (I feel pretty confident that we’re unlucky enough to have this dude residing in the attic). We finally fell asleep sometime after 5:30, which made for a super-sleepy morning today.

L worked from home today because he’s been feeling nauseous every morning this week (pretty sure he’s pregnant) and today he actually did barf. Poor guy. He’s feeling better now, though, and he went out and bought a mess of traps and mouse/rodent bait and then set them all up all over the house and attic. We’ll be filling gaps in the floor and baseboards with foil tonight and this weekend.

What are YOUR exciting weekend plans???

Hungry Like the Wolf

For Valentine's Day, L planned a whole day of activities for me on Sunday.  I planned a "special" meal (which just means a slightly fancier meal than what I'd normally cook on a week night) for Monday night.  For our V-day dessert, I decided to make this cake:

Because why not?  I can't remember the last time I made a cake, and I'm pretty sure I've never made a full-blown cake entirely from scratch.  Oh, and that's not actually my cake (photo is courtesy of SouthernLiving.com).  Mine looks pretty similar, just no chocolate curls and shavings on top.  I stopped at ganache.  Every day this week I've had a small slice after dinner and I've taken even smaller slices to work for a little sweet bite after my lunch.  It's a rich cake, so a little goes a long way.  Based on the sizes of the slices L's cut himself and the speed with which he's consumed them, he clearly hates it. 

L had to go to Charlottesville for work yesterday and he called me tonight on his way back into town.  Prior to his departure, there was about 2/3 of the cake left (it's a 9").  He told me he and his co-worker were going to pick up food on the drive home, but then asked me if there was any cake left.  I know I like cake and I know I enjoy chocolate, but seriously???  How would one normal girl with a very normal appetite eat TWO-THIRDS OF A 3-LAYER CAKE IN 24 HOURS???

And that's what I asked L, which made him laugh, which made his co-worker wonder what was so funny about cake.  Apparently he was really just wondering if the cake was still good or if I'd thrown it out.  And now he knows to put more clarity around questions like that, because a wife doesn't want to feel as though her husband views her as the proverbial fluffy kid eating cake with icing smeared all over his or her face.

But seriously, this cake is really, really good.  Just don't think about what's going into it while you're making it and eat it sparingly once it's ready to be eaten.  Definitely worth the time and effort.

Oh, Oh It's Magic! You Knooooow

Yes, it's a post about magical things.  Specifically, magical food and magical products.

On Friday night, L and I had dinner with an old friend of mine (we go all the way back to 1985) and her husband.  They just moved up here and we thought it was our duty to introduce them to one of our favorite restaurants, Founding Farmers.  (Side note: if you're ever visiting D.C., whether you're with me and L or not, I highly recommend eating a meal there.  Just delicious. In fact, if you stay with us, it's highly likely that we'll take you there if we can get reservations.  But if not, we'll take you somewhere equally delectable, so fear not.)  After yet another home run of a meal, we headed home and conversation turned to rest-of-the-weekend plans. 

L: "So is there anything you want to do this weekend?  Anything you need to get done?"

Me: "Nope.  Just work out.  And look into more churches to visit.  Anything you're interested in doing?" (Another side note: we've been trying to find a church to attend regularly.  So far, we've struck out, but we're continuing our search.)

L: "Well, I was thinking we could work out tomorrow morning and then come home, clean up, and I could take you to Georgetown for lunch.  And then maybe we could go to Kiehl's."

Let's pause for a moment so I can fill you, my dear reader, in on some backstory details.  1) L hates Georgetown, especially on the weekends, because the traffic is always a total Cheesecake Factory.  Generally it takes as long or, in many cases, longer to get down M and park as it does to get TO Georgetown.  To be fair, we don't live that far from it, but still.  It's kind of ridiculous.  2) When I went on my girls' trip to Las Vegas last fall, L was on a simultaneous boys' trip, also to Las Vegas.  Apparently while there, he tried one of his friends' face products and decided that he particularly enjoyed the Kiehl's Facial Fuel Moisturizer.  3) L has never before cared about facial products.  Santa (aka, my mom) gave him some after-shave in his stocking for Christmas 2009, and it's still sitting unopened in our bathroom cabinet.  Thus, color me intrigued when the man announced he'd maybe like to go to Kiehl's, especially since I don't use their products regularly after a bad reaction one one eyelid (???) from their avocado eye cream last spring. 

Anyway, back to the conversation:

Me: "Sure, that sounds great.  What's at Kiehl's?"

L: "My face is very dry.  I tried some of B's face lotion and I really liked it, so I want to get some."

Me: "Well that sounds good.  Let's make sure to do that tomorrow."

So, after our weekly Saturday morning work out, showers, and a quick lunch at the Italian Store (which. is. AWESOME.), we headed over to Georgetown to solve his winter dry skin woes.  I dragged him into Blue Mercury because I'd seen it for months and months and never been in, but given that we were on a mission for face products, it seemed feasible to coerce him into joining me.  He agreed and was especially excited that they had Kiehl's products there, but we opted to hold off on purchasing so he could see the entire store. 

We ended up at Kiehl's and after reviewing their entire mens' line in all of five minutes (I couldn't persuade him to try anything or ask the staff any questions- he just wanted to grab and go), he decided to go for a package deal.

Kind of cute and Valentine's-y, yes?  This is what was inside:

Also a bar of soap.  Definitely more than just the Facial Fuel moisturizer he'd intended to get, but the man loves a deal and couldn't resist this one, and far be it from me to deny him facial products when I have a gazillion when you count washes, moisturizers, and all the different make up I own. 

L used all of the products on Sunday night and immediately wanted to show off his handiwork by having me feel his face (extra smooth and soft, if I do say so myself).  He announced that he liked it all, but the shaving cream was not his favorite.  It was pretty cute that he was so excited about it. 

So to the ladies out there, if you're looking for a gift for your man, apparently some Kiehl's products is a good one.

Walking On Broken Glass

L's contribution to our collection of drinkware when we got married was filled with items made solely from plastic, few of which matched and even fewer that weren't commemorating some sort of event.  There's nothing wrong with a commemorative, plastic cup, but those are what I've been referring to as "to go" cups for several years now because I don't mind not getting them back.  Consequently, among other things, L and I put glassware on our registries when we were getting married.  On our Crate and Barrel registry, we opted for Charlie highballs and double old-fashioneds

Water goblets

Oregon champagne flutes

and some wine glasses that don't matter for the moment.  In the 14 1/2 months we've been married, I/we have managed to break one piece of all of the glasses pictured above.  This is shocking to me because that the five years living on my own prior to us getting married, I never broke any glassware.  Plates?  Yes.  I think I managed to kill 2 salad plates and chip at least one more.  And a dinner plate of one of my roommates in college.  But never glassware.  You'd think I was coating everything in butter with the way I manage to break our glasses.  For example, the champagne flute that died never even got used- I was hand washing it when we first moved in and dropped it in the sink as I was rinsing off the soap.  I was thrilled.  That prompted us to get a dishwasher the following week (hooray for old houses that haven't been updated!!), although we found out that our wine glasses and champagne flutes don't fit in the top rack of our dishwasher, so we're still hand washing those.  But Mom pulled through and gave me one of those rubber mats that you put in the sink when you're washing breakables, so that's helped.  The Charlie pieces and the water goblet all met their demises due to being dropped or- even better- putting them IN THE DISHWASHER!  I don't even know how that one happened.  One second it was all in one piece, and the next it had a big chunk missing.  Weird!  One of these days I'll be making a trip to C&B and stocking up on one piece of all of our glassware.  Until then, let's hope I stop breaking stuff.

Building a Mystery

Something super weird is that this spot randomly appeared on our duvet:

It sort of resembled urine, but I can tell you with absolute certainty neither of us wet the bed.  Especially not the foot of the duvet.  Plus L's been gone for the majority of the last 8 weeks, and I found it the night before I went up to visit him.  It's possible that the stain had been there for a couple of days but I think I would have noticed.  It was definitely dry when I eventually did find it.  Neither of us has any idea how it got here or what it really was.  Luckily it came out when I washed the duvet (which happened immediately upon discovery).  Any thoughts?  There's no leak in the ceiling in our bedroom and we don't have pets.  Bizarre-o.

'Cause I Want It All or Nothing At All

Excerpt from our dinner conversation last Friday night:

L: "I remembered what I want to get up early tomorrow morning and do: go to the gym"

Me: "That's fine.  I was already planning going to yoga."

L: "Okay good"

Me: "The other thing we need to do is get that wedding gift and 2 baby gifts for your friends.  We HAVE to do that this weekend.  The babies are both like a month old and the wedding already happened."

L: "Whose wedding gift is this?"

Me (said with an eye roll): "Adam's!!"

L: "Oh yeah.  (brief pause)  Where do we need to go for all these?"

Me: "Bed, Bath, & Beyond for the wedding gift.  I'll have to look up store locations for the baby gifts"

L: "Then we'll have to get up super early to do all that."

Me: "Really?  Why?"

L: "Because I'm going to use the smoker like we'd talked about a few days ago and I'm starting it at 11 because it needs to go all day."

Me, bewildered: "11!  What are you smoking?!?!"

L: "The pork shoulder and the ribs we bought on Sunday"
Me, in a very alarmed/panicked tone (I couldn't help it): "What?!  Why are you smoking ALL of it??"

L: "It takes SO LONG to smoke anything.  It's so annoying to set it up AND you have to be there the whole time the thing is going.  If I'm going to have to be at the house all day, I just want to do it all at once and get it overwith."

Me: "But L, WHO IS GOING TO EAT ALL THAT?  We are TWO PEOPLE.  There is NO. WAY. we need that much food OR that we can eat that much food."

L: "We'll eat the ribs tomorrow night and then figure it out with the shoulder.  We'll just eat it for the whole week."

Me, thinking: There is no way I want this much pork.  How am I here again dealing with the mass meat fetish???  How did I honestly not see this coming?  Doesn't he realize we STILL have leftovers in the fridge from THIS week even though I've been eating them for lunch every day?  So many thoughts.  So many thoughts RIGHT NOW about how much I dislike this plan.

L: "Fine.  FINE.  Whatever."

Me: "Oh my gosh, don't be mad about this.  We do not need to make this. much. food.  Definitely use the smoker, but this just seems ridiculous!"

Scene.

Yeah.  L's plan for Saturday was to go work out and then come home and smoke everything in the freezer (okay not everything, just everything that we'd bought for future use with the smoker).  We bought a pork shoulder and ribs last weekend at the store, but I was still so thrown off by the broccoli attack that it literally NEVER occurred to me that he would think about making both items at the same time.  NEVER.  I had a small hand in selecting the meat, but again, I was so thrown off by the broccoli incident that of course we came home with a 5-pound shoulder.  I remember making a point to tell him at the store that when we smoked the shoulder, we should have people over and hang out.  Like, during football season.  Because we'd already be home all day anyway watching games and people like to eat while they watch.  He was on board at the time.  I woke up earlier than him on Saturday morning and looked at how much the pork shoulder weighed (5 1/2 pounds) and resolved that a multi-meat smoking session just would not happen.  Especially since he wouldn't be here this week to eat whatever leftovers we had because he had to go to Phoenix for work.  Luckily, once L got up he recognized the error of his ways and agreed to hold off on the should and just do ribs and 4 chicken wings that were in the freezer.  This was extra good because the ribs were much bigger than either of us remembered.

The end result: L has stumbled into a dry rub recipe that can only be described as magical.  We're talking freaking DE.LISH.OUS.  The smoked chicken was just so good.  I wanted a whole meal of just the chicken, but unfortunately we only had 4 wings, so that was really more of a hint of the future chickens we'll smoke.  It was all so good that it didn't need sauce.  And best of all: I wasn't left to eat pulled pork all by myself for the entire week.  WOO HOO!!!

Locked Out

Guess who locked herself out of her house this morning, not 5 minutes after L left in a cab to the airport?

Nothing will make you panic more than knowing you might not be able to get into your house or car for 4 days without the aid of a locksmith, and you don't know of a locksmith to call.

We have a front door that automatically locks when you close it.  You have to have a key to open it when you’re outside.  In the 10 months I’ve lived in our house and the 11 months that L has lived there, neither of us has done this before.  Luckily, I did manage to grab my cell phone on my way out the door (I’ve been accidentally leaving it at home a lot recently, which sounds scary but seriously- who do you talk to on your cell while you’re at work?) so I was able to call L and ask him to turn around and come back and let me in the house so I could drive to work instead of being stuck outside for 4 days.  L really is my knight in shining armour.

Pretty sure we'll be hiding a spare key somewhere outside the house for future lock-out emergencies.

Lyin' Eyes

Being that it's summer, there's not a lot of really good, non-reality TV on (except for Mad Men and, of course, guilty pleasure True Blood).  Imagine my excitement when I learned that ABC Family was going to start airing a new teen drama series called Pretty Little Liars.  I immediately set the dvr to record it.  ON THE BIG SCREEN.  Yes, this was going to be a serious relationship. 

I didn't have time to watch it until 2 episodes were already recorded and L happened to be home that night.  While I have no problem getting him on board to watch Mad Men and True Blood, I figured he'd roll his eyes and go do something else while I watched PLL, like he normally does during my Gossip Girl and Greek viewings (yes, I just said it.  I watch Greek).  However, what I neglected to factor in was how pretty the main characters all are.  I can only asstume that's what hooked him, because make no mistake about it- he's been keeping an eye on the TV each week since then and somehow managed to end up on a blog last Monday night discussing how similar Pretty Little Liars and Gossip Girl are, which is strange because he doesn't read blogs and he claims he doesn't like either show.  He had a quasi-logical explanation for how that happened but I don't remember what it was. 

Hot Child in the City

There are some things I feel compelled to share.  L is all about nesting this weekend or something.  He hasn't left the house since we got home from Movies in the Park on Friday night, which is fine.  He spent yesterday helping me with laundry and chores while I made brownies (from scratch!!) for a JL event that was last night. 

1) L is using his smoker today to make some ribs for dinner tonight.

2) Today L is also rearranging his t-shirt drawer.  He opted to model one particular shirt for me.  I think it's quite fitting for today since he's going to be in the backyard working with meat (he's smoking ribs; please note that I purchased the meat this time so we'll only be making enough for the two of us as opposed to the whole neighborhood). 

Just your average Sunday morning cup of coffee with your bad-ass husband who's not afraid to show how bad-ass he is by wearing sleeveless t-shirts.  If only he had some short jorts to wear with it. 

I know, I know- I'm so lucky.  Men like this don't come along very often.  Ladies, try to contain your jealousy.


PS- Sorry for the poor picture quality.  Dealing with the bad camera phone here, people, which means no flash.  I feel like I'm back using my mom's old Polariod or my FisherPrice My First Camera.  Neither of them had flashes and you better believe that not many of my first photography attempts turned out well.