No mas boyfriend

We are swimming in a sea of to-dos... reserve rooms, buy a tux, taste some cake. On top of actual work, it's another job in itself.

But it's nothing like I thought it would be.

It's so much better.

We cancelled our cable to save money for the wedding. But it's not a big deal, we do more talking now. We watch Netflix or Hulu, and drink beer, and talk about what color the napkins should be.

We're not taking anything too seriously. Sure, there have been hiccups. Hard decisions, fear of hurting feelings. But through it all, though it's only been a month, we have been experiencing a magical experience. Every now and again, in the middle of some discussion about whether to have heather grey or black suits for the groomsmen, one of us just stops and looks at the other. And we both light up with the realization that this is really happening.

I think for me, seeing him so happy is an incredibly happy surprise. And I guess for the last few years, I've felt a bit like I was in this alone. But I know now that that was never true. We may have been on different pages at points, but we were both equally excited to marry each other.

That's clear to me now.

The biggest surprise of this whole experience has been how he lights up when we talk about getting married. He's ready, like, right now. The venue we've chosen (yes, the contract is signed!) had a few dates available in 2015. And his response to me was, okay, let's do it! I don't care if it's June, July, August... let's do it! (It's October, I'm not THAT crazy.)

His enthusiasm has made this whole journey so much more than I thought it would be. We're in it together. Going to wedding meetings with vendors, even signing contracts... all of it doesn't feel like so much work when we're together. He's making this so much FUN for me.

I think about how long I've waited for this... how long WE'VE waited. And you know, I wouldn't take any of it back. It is so worth it to see the smile on his face when I told him I think I might have found the dress last night. :)

Floor cake and frozen wallets

Being engaged feels different than I thought it would. For the first week, K and I were so over-the-moon, Christmas-morning excited that we kept doing weird stuff. Sleep was heavy and dreamless, food didn't taste like anything, and K accidentally put his wallet in the freezer. I was constantly clammy and a volcano of exuberant emotions. I cry at the Kay commercials.

Other weird things we did:

- flipped half of our engagement cake upside down on the floor

- stepped on Linus' tail

- watched the Bachelor (and K liked it)

My sister told me it would feel different, and I didn't think it would. Neither did K. But something has just shifted between us. We're so much closer than we've ever been, and just so thankful for everything we have. We're CRAZY emotional (both of us!) and cry at the drop of a hat. 

I don't want to leave him in the morning. It's excruciating. And I'm more fearful when he leaves for work; he's carrying precious cargo now. My fiance! We feel like FAMILY. Actual family. And it's the most wonderful thing I've ever felt in my whole life. 

Being proposed to felt like all of the dreams I've ever had since I was little are coming true. To be asked to be someone's WIFE... what an incredible honor. I didn't think I'd really feel that much different. But I really do. Life has a color to it that it didn't before. And more than anything, I feel so so incredibly grateful for this season of our lives. 

But I'll ALSO be so happy when we get back to our normal world, where we sit on the couch and binge watch House of Cards with our mews. Because that's just always where I want to be. 

The Path of Life (An Engagement Story!)

My stomach just flip-flopped when I looked at the ring again. It's still so surreal. And you can see why, based on how I was feeling 12 days ago. 

But it's a beautiful place that I was able to get myself to, BEFORE the ring, and the overwhelming happiness. I'm proud of that place, because I did it for ME. 

And it made what came on Saturday so much more beautiful. 

The day started around 9am when we woke up. K made me a delicious breakfast sandwich, I gave him his valentine, and we read the police blotter aloud to each other. (It's a family tradition.) 

We cleaned up cat puke, put on snow pants, and packed up the growlers for the long drive to Windsor VT, where we were headed to #thelongthaw party at Harpoon Brewery. 

K had originally told me we were going to do a nice dinner somewhere, and then changed his mind once he found the event. I told him an outdoor beer garden was more up my alley anyways. 

On the drive, we talked about how we wanted our friends to be happy, how beautiful the scenery was, and I yelled at him again about how he had used a door that said "please use other door" the night before at Price Chopper. I told him he needed to learn to follow the rules. 

We arrived, grabbed a few Long Thaws and I kicked K's ass in baggo. (Or "cornhole", depending on where you're from.) We played some slightly-larger-Jenga, won a Harpoon scarf, and stood by the bonfire for a few hours. 

Then, Karl noticed they did sleigh rides through the beautiful Path of Life Garden adjacent to the brewery. Neither one of us had any idea just how beautiful it was. 

We saddled up next to a bunch of sweet L&D nurses from Boston into the sleigh, and it drew us away from the brewery through this garden. 

The garden itself (http://greatriveroutfitters.com/garden-story) is 14 acres, and the man who built it has been working on it for 16 years. The horse-drawn sleigh pulled through the tunnel into the garden, and we huddled under blankets as we viewed the sculptures representing the various stages of life. 

A few minutes in, K turned to me and said, "we should go snowshoeing back through here when we get done." To which I replied: "that sounds like a lot of physical labor. I would rather drink beer by the bonfire." But he insisted, so once we were done with the sleigh ride, we compromised (I put on my snow boots instead of snow shoes) and we walked back into the garden the same way we had just come on the sleigh. 

He told me there was a distillery next door where we could get vodka after, and I said that was the carrot on the end of my stick, motivating me to walk through the snow.

I then insisted we take a selfie at the entrance to the tunnel, which would turn out to be the last photo we have on record of being boyfriend and girlfriend. 

As we entered the garden, K walked ahead of me, gripping my mitten as he steered me towards the first stage of life, "Birth". It was a huge hedge maze, a little overgrown since it was winter, and it led to the next stage, which is "Adventure". 

I stopped him at the entrance and said we were going to get lost in there. And since nobody else was around, I was frightened that we would be found in the spring, thirsty skeletons in the center of the maze. 

He turned around near the entrance, surrounded on all sides by hedges, pulled me into a hug, and held me close for a few seconds. Then, he said to me: "Honey, I feel like your strengths are my weaknesses, and my strengths are your weaknesses." Then he pulled back from me, looked me in the eyes and dropped to one knee. 

I held my mittens over my face and sobbed uncontrollably while he held out the ring. Then, I didn't know what else to do, so I dropped to my own knees and hugged him back for a solid two minutes. It was very Monica and Chandler. (Whose engagement, ironically enough, was what my sister and brother-in-law were watching at that very moment.) 

Finally, facing me with tears in his eyes, he said "well, is that a yes?" And of course I said... "YES!" He said, "okay, do you want to take off your Bear Paws so I can put this ring on?" 

Just as he placed the ring on my finger, we both stood up to embrace. And just like magic, the sky burst with a whitewash of big fat snowflakes that didn't stop until we got home that night. 

We called my sister immediately after and told only she and my brother-in-law. Then, we decided to save the rest of the phone calls for tomorrow. We walked over to the Silo, a distillery located next to the garden, and had our first gin/vodka tasting as fiance and fiancee. (I still can't figure out how to type those weird thingies on top of the 'e's.) 

After an insane journey through the last few years, many ups and downs, and lots of very difficult conversations between the two of us, I wouldn't take any of it back. It made us stronger, it taught us that we can stay together through hard times and support and love each other through it, and it has made me the most THANKFUL bride-to-be there ever, ever was. 

Friends and family reading this, I just want to thank you for staying by us and supporting us through the last years. We could not have done it without you, and we will continue to need your support through our engagement and marriage. After all, what good is your happiness if you can't share it with the people you love? 

PS: Browse this blog with caution, some of it is raunchy and curs-y. But it's all me, and I can't say sorry for that. Stay tuned for more enchanting stories of seating charts and cat vomit. 

Sleep-a-sutra

I managed just fine in my twin-sized dorm room bed. It was cozy, in fact, and comfortably housed more than one of us on the rare occassion that a girlfriend was too drunk to walk home alone. (We slept head to foot, don't get crazy now.)

When I got my own apartment, I graduated to a full-sized futon, then my very own queen-sized bed. A real luxury, coming from humble army-cot beginnings.

When I met K, he had the holy grail of beds. A KING. With high count thread sheets and EVERYTHING. (He's a diva for bedding, which is obviously the only reason I stay with him.)

When K works away from home, I have the whole bed to myself. I enjoy the freedom to starfish myself in the middle (if I don't have 3 cats taking up prime real estate on the bed.)

Obviously, while away in his hotel bed, he has adopted the starfish as well. Because lately, THIS has been happening:

Yes. K sleeps like a percent sign, DIAGONALLY across the bed. With his head on MY pillow. Leaving me to curl up in a tiny corner of the bed, laying straight as a pin, because I can't even turn over without falling off of the bed.

What's even better? He is one of those people who sleeps like a rock. You cannot. Wake him. EVER. I've tried everything: gentle nudges, poking him, smothering him with a Carebear... NOTHING WORKS.

One night, I got up to go to the bathroom, gave up and came back to bed on the other side of him, because there was more room.

I love to cuddle, but at this rate--I think I had more room in that army cot of a dorm room bed.

Samuel

Last Sunday, one of our cars broke down. On Wednesday, the heat went out in the house. And on Friday, the TV exploded.

I have been carless for a week and a half, working at the kitchen table wearing two sweaters, a flannel, and a scarf, and unable to watch Dawson's Creek.

Which is why at 2pm yesterday, in the middle of Sears, I uttered the following words that most boyfriends only dream about:

"Pick out a new TV. Whichever one you want."

I didn't give a fuck. I just wanted to watch Pacey and Joey make out.

Baby Samuel's first car ride home.
And yes, K buckled him in.

2 hours later (I kid you not) we were driving home with Baby Samuel in the backseat. K said we could call him Sammy, but I told him he was a fancy TV and deserved to have a proper name.

We had checked 4 different stores, made our assessments and agreed on a reasonably priced TV that is really quite nice.

And so, though I am still carless, K fixed the heat, and I can watch Real Housewives of BH in HD and see who really has had the most work done.

Fucking SCORE.

A frustrating day

Can you tell we're sisters? Both on a mission for cake.

Yesterday started off beautifully and ended in tears of frustration.

I took my sister to a bridal show in the morning, which was absolutely fabulous. We had a great time, ate lots of cake, and enjoyed sister time. It was what happened after that that put me over the edge.

While I was at the bridal show, K worked on his mom's car (which she very kindly loaned him while he works on his own.) I followed him home after the show to make sure there weren't any problems.

20 minutes into the drive, he slowed to 15mph in a 30mph zone. I knew something was wrong.

He's so damn cute when he can't figure out how to fix something. He does this thing with his hat, pulls it off then puts it on again so it's not quite on his head right. He walked towards my car apologetically, and tried to verbalize why he thought it had stalled. He stood for a minute then tried to start it again. Thankfully, it went, and we continued home.

A quarter mile from home, the car chugged to a stop again. He tried to restart it, then got out and did the hat thing again as he walked to my car. As frustrated as I was, the look on his face melted my heart.

Both exhausted, we parked my car at the house and walked back to the Jeep to push it home. We held hands in silence until we got there.

I steered while K pushed the Jeep down the road in the dark. Suddenly, I saw headlights behind us. A man got out, and without hesitation, left his own car running and joined K. I looked in the rearview, nerves shot, and tears poured down my cheeks. What makes a person do such a thing? Stop and help complete strangers at his own inconvenience? I was so grateful I couldn't find the words. We managed to get it home, and shook the man's hand to thank him.

We got the car to the driveway, and stood outside in the cold for 2 hours, winter hats on, lights pointed towards the engine. I handed him screwdrivers while we both made "that's what she said" jokes through our own frustrations. An hour in, he looked up at me and said: "God, I love you."

I smiled, and it was in that moment that I realized I had chosen right. Not once did he get angry or yell, he was just sorry. And thankful. And that's how I know we'll be able to make it through whatever life hands us.

Accidental Porn Star

"Is that 3G? It looks super fast." -my friend Jill, on the stand-in that I put in K's stocking until the real one came in.

Last night, I was brushing my teeth before bed when I heard K answer a call from his side of the bed, where he had already set up camp.

It was one of his friends, so I figured it would be a quick conversation. (Guys are like one-word phenoms on the phone, right?) I came out of the bathroom to change into my PJs when I heard K discussing the Facetime feature on his new iPhone.

I didn't have my glasses on, so I couldn't see what he was doing. I went about my business and tuned him out. I was just about to take off my jeans when I heard:

"Yeah, it puts you on speaker. You just do this. Here, can you see me?" 

I squinted in his direction across the dimly lit room where I was about to get my sleep on, and quickly realized he had activated this video chat, and I could very well be the main star in this XXX no-pants video.

He had his friend on speakerphone, so I couldn't yell at him. Instead, I resorted to diving behind the closet wall, and making urgent, angry facial expressions and hand gestures in his general direction.

He quickly disconnected the video chat and hung up the phone.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"What? I was Facetiming." 

"If you didn't notice, I didn't have any pants on in the background."

And here it is... 
"Oh, don't worry. You can only see my face blown up on the screen."
Comforting, thanks Ray J.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I didn't wake this morning with a burning ambition to enter into the adult entertainment industry. Plus, how fucking awkward would it be when I see your friend and he's like... oh hey. I know what your undies look like."

What's the moral of the story, kiddies? Be careful where you Facetime.

So, are you a Mac girl?

Before I met K, I was a bit of a wild child, going out all the time, hanging out with friends, and unfortunately, doing a bit of online dating.

There came a point when I knew who I was and what I was looking for, but I just couldn't seem to find everything in one person. Something was always missing. I'd meet a perfectly nice guy and we'd date a few times, then I'd realize that the "spark" just wasn't there. Then I'd go for the opposite, where there was plenty of spark, and none of the kindness or compassion I wanted. One guy, AJ, stood me up for an entire day when he was supposed to pick me up and take me to a BBQ to meet his friends. Nine hours (and no phone call or text) later when I called him repeatedly, he claimed he forgot that we were supposed to hang out that day. I promptly cut it off.

I was tired of dating, and I had reached the point where I was ready to give it up for awhile and just enjoy being with my friends. A friend of mine was having a birthday party at a bar a few hours away that weekend, and excited to get out of town, I decided to go. We all met at her apartment first, where one of our friends came by with his friend.

When I first saw him, I thought he was a total dork. He was quiet, wearing a short sleeved collared shirt with a big coffee stain on it. He was REALLY tall, and I felt kind of bad for him because he didn't know anybody besides the friend that he came with.

It was pouring rain that night, and I was still smoking then. Four of us, including K and I, went outside to huddle under the awning of an adjacent bar for a cigarette. The quarters were tight, and K was really quiet. A few drinks increased my courage, so I started to chat with him. As the conversation continued, we talked about our siblings, what we look for in people, and dating. I matched him sarcastic quip for sarcastic quip, and he seemed impressed. I told him I was a graphic designer and he stopped for a moment and said: "so, are you a Mac girl?"

And that was it.

After chain smoking 2 more cigarettes in the pouring rain, not wanting the conversation to end, we went back inside the bar and he bought me a beer. (Magic Hat Number 9, I'll never forget that.) My friends had moved on to another bar, but I wasn't really concerned. I kept waiting for a deal breaker (I have a child, I hate my ex, I mooch off my parents, I'm broke, unemployed, a douchebag...) Nothing came up. With every turn of our conversation, I started to let myself hope that he could actually be someone I could hang out with.

Three hours (and several Magic Hats later), we were literally running down the street declaring our love for each other and inviting strangers to our wedding. He gave me a piggy back ride and I stuffed a twice baked potato into his mouth like wedding cake. Now that I know him, I see how completely uncharacteristic this was for both of us. But at the time, we didn't care. We went back to my friend's apartment, where the rest of my friends were stacked like cordwood in the living room, and fell asleep holding hands. He met my pink gingham Heart Po the first night we met, and he didn't think it was weird. Nothing happened that night except for sleeping, and I had to get up early the next morning to get back home to my newly adopted kitty, Linus, who I had left for the night to come up to the party. I took the initiative and put my number in his phone. I had never been so brave before, but I felt something inside me that knew this was something I didn't want to pass up.

And 3 years later, we live together with our Brady Bunch family of cats and Carebears. And I'm thankful every single day that I went to that birthday party and chain smoked my face off.

Online Dating: Plenty of Awesome

Online dating. It's been years, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I gave it a shot. I went on Plenty of Fish today determined to find someone's profile to make fun of, but when I looked at the few who appeared at the bottom of my screen, it broke my heart instead. How can you mock someone trying to find love? There ARE some hilarious ones though. One of which, was MINE.

Because really, what is a blog for if not to publicly and anonymously humiliate yourself for the sake of entertainment? You're all welcome. I'm DYING to show this to K, because it is ironic how much he fits what I wrote:

I snort when I laugh
I'm looking for a best friend first who makes me laugh until my cheeks hurt, who will sit in the corner of a bar with a pitcher of beer between us, slinging off-color jokes back and forth or discuss philosophy over four cups of coffee each until we've forgotten what time it is. I'm 24, a graphic designer with a childlike optimism looking for someone soft-hearted, intelligent--even dorky--and cute. I'm definitely a smartass, but compassionate. I love a man with a sense of humor who can carry on a stimulating conversation. Send me a message, I'd love to hear from you. Photos appreciated!

Stifle your giggles, bitches. This baby snagged me a perverted cop, a law student, a leather-clad furniture designer who may or may not have been gay, and a good man seeking a tender girl.

To say my dating life pre-K was interesting is an understatement. Thank GOD I found what I was looking for: a man who will dress up like a giant carebear for me.

Here we are, carrying on a stimulating conversation and discussing philosophy.

The Proposition

A guy at the bar on Saturday leaned over suggestively and whispered that if I ever wanted to leave my boyfriend, he'd be next in line. I pulled away from him quizzically, wondering if he was serious and took careful inventory of my life.

K drives me crazy sometimes. He really does. Xbox, dirty socks lying all over the house, and saying the word 'retard'... makes me want to chase him down and beat him over the head with a nerf bat.

But when I got home from our girls night yesterday and saw him standing in the driveway, I looked into his eyes and had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to full-on sprint across the driveway, jump into his arms and hug him. It's this feeling I can't describe--like a candle lit from the inside that tips over at the sight of him and warms my entire soul. It makes me glow.

After all of the heartache in my life, I never thought I'd ever feel this way about someone, and it brings tears to my eyes when I realize how incredibly lucky I am. Some days, I want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible and just breathe him in.

This man is my world. We share a home, a life. He made me believe in love again, made me trust again. He gets my jokes, he balances me out. He knows how to calm me down when I'm flipping out. And he dressed up as a giant carebear for me. He's more than my boyfriend, he's my family.

So my answer to the random stranger who propositioned me was a knowing smile and a shake of my head. He just didn't get it. And maybe he never could. There's just no room in my heart for anyone else.

Happy Slutoween! Or, Carebear-Palooza.

Happy Slutoween, everybody! Hope you all had a fab weekend. We had our annual par-tay here at the house, despite the atrocious snow storm that rocked much of the Northeast. Snow, schmo. We just wanted to play some beer pong.

As I sit here, I'm still dressed in my carebear costume. Because let's face it, one of the perks of working from home is making your own dress code. And fuck it, I'm going to dress like a carebear if I want to. It's halloween, after all, and I'm a grown up, so I can do what I want.

I just have to share a few photos of the amazingness that K came up with for these costumes. I am one lucky lady, because let me tell you that that man knows how to work a sewing machine. And he taught me too, so I was able to help a LITTLE this time:

Me, K, and our friend R: K did ALL the hand stitching!

Carebear amazingness. (Sans creepy mask)

Carebear tummy bump.

The butt is by far the most amazing part. Thatswhatshesaid.

I am one lucky lady to have a man who is willing to dress up like a giant carebear for her. A good time was had by all, and I managed not to spill beer OR dip on my tummy. Added bonus: the carebear mittens function as potholders AND beer openers. SCORE!

Mad Cow Disease

I've been living in an adorable quarantine bubble, working from home, sheltered from the swine flu and SARS that the rest of the world working in actual offices has been contracting and sharing. I didn't realize how good I had it. Until now.

I woke up Sunday and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Sniffly, sneezing NON-STOP... coughing... and then the headache sets in later in the day. I must have Mad Cow. By the time I went to bed last night, even my FACE hurt from sneezing so hard.

When you're single and live alone, you can lay around in your PJs like a snotty mess for three days, surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues and abandoned ice cream bowls watching Lifetime marathons and funneling Thera-Flu.

But now that K and I are living together, I feel a subconscious need to at least ATTEMPT to keep it together, get semi-dressed (PJ bottoms and a sweater was as far as I got) and keep my tissues in a neat pile (instead of strewn about the coffee table.) At least until I reached the headache point of no return, when I stopped having the energy to care and allowed myself to succumb to the sickness.

I'll tell you something, though. I never realized what I was missing OUT on, having someone to take care of me when I'm sick. I powered through while I lived by myself, sulked around for days, not wanting to be a bother to any of my friends. But to have someone get you Chinese food, make you tea, and sit on the couch watching bad movies all day with you? PRICELESS. This is SO much better than taking on SARS solo.

The Strap Perfect is a two-man job.

The strap perfect is a genius invention. Especially considering racerback tanks are in this summer. But the adherence of the SP isn't a solo mission, unless you want to end up ass over elbows on your closet floor.

I tried unsuccessfully to put the strap perfect on by myself several times before I gave in, unpretzled my arms and humbly requested assistance. The problem is: I'm not double-jointed. Or a contortionist.

And let's face it: you don't want to walk around looking like white trash with your straps all hangin' out. And if you're an ample-busomed lady such as myself, you can't go commando. Maybe back in my skinny days, but certainly not now.

Thankfully, K is very helpful when it comes to the SP. He's also good at tucking the boob pads back into my bathing suits when they come out in the wash. Coincidence? I think not.

So we've negotiated a Strap Perfect Assistance contract through racerback season, and hopefully I won't need to pop and lock my way through dressing myself each morning.

The Husband Test

I've had a bipolar week, okay? Awesome happy high on Saturday, and THEN... yesterday. I was on my way to return the keg from the par-tay and go see my sister for dinner after work when I pulled out of the driveway and my car started smoking.

Of COURSE this would happen on a day that K is traveling for work. Fucking awesome.

I stopped the car, popped the hood (yes, I can make it through that much by myself) and called K, trying to keep my panic and yelling to a minimum.

Epic fail.

K: Hello?
Me: HELLO?? MY FUCKING CAR IS ON FIRE.
K (totally calm): What? Honey, calm down.
Me: HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?? MY CAR IS SMOKING. IN OUR DRIVEWAY.
K: Oh shit honey. Okay... where is the smoke coming from?
Me: THE HOOD!? HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW?
K: Where exactly? Can you tell?
Me: Under the giant black plastic thing!!
K: The valve cover?
Me: YES.
K: Okay, well why don't you check the oil--just see if you need to put a little more in. You should be okay until I get home.
Me: Well how the fuck do I do that?? I'm already fucking late. This is so FUCKING STUPID.
K: You pull out the dipstick, it should say 'engine oil' on it.
Me: The yellow one?
K: I'm not sure. Does it say 'engine oil' on it?
Me: NO. It doesn't say ANYTHING.
K: Okay, well pull it out-- and let me know where the oil line is between 'FULL' and 'ADD'.
Me: It doesn't SAY add. It just says 'Min' and 'Max'
K: Um... okay. Well where is the line at?
Me: I don't know! It's in between!
K: Are you sure you're checking the right dipstick?
Me: How many fucking dipsticks are there??
K: Well it should say 'engine oil' on it.
Me: WELL IT DOESN'T.
(long pause as I survey the hood...)
Me: (sheepishly) Wait. I found another one.
K: Does it say 'engine oil' on it?
Me: Yes.
K (patiently, resisiting the urge to say "I told you so"): Okay. Well pull that one out.
Me: It's at 'Add'
K: Okay, well you just need to add a little bit of oil and then you should be okay until I get home.
Me: (freaking out) WHAT? I don't know how the hell to do that!! What the FUCK, THIS IS SO STUPID. I FUCKING HATE THIS. I'M ALREADY LATE, AND NOW I JUST SHOULDN'T GO.
K: Honey, you can do this--it will only take a minute.
Me: I HATE THIS!! FINE! WHAT DO I DO?
K: Okay, the first step is... go upstairs.
Me: FOR WHAT?
K: Sit down at the kitchen table.
Me: (grumbling)
K: Grab a carebear, give it a hug.
Me: (starting to snicker)
K: You're not doing it, are you? I don't even think you're actually hugging a carebear.
Me: (finally cracks a smile) Fiiiiine. You know, you're the only person who can actually calm me down after a mood like that, right? I was like Home Depot Crabby times ten.
K: Well it's not easy to do.. but I try.

And there it is, folks. The Husband Test. To see if your boyfriend will make a good husband someday and figure out how to get you out of a Home Depot angry mood while you are screaming at him. K passed with flying colors, he knows carebears are my weakness.

We did it! Surprise party for the big guy!

Well kittens, we did it. We surprised K! I honestly thought he knew all about the party, or at least most of it, since he came home from work and immediately mowed the lawn, found the pans of cheesy potatoes I hid in the fridge, and helped me keep the house clean. Turns out, he didn't know.

Great SUCCESS!

A carebear birthday all around.

The weekend was initially supposed to be gorgeous, and three days before the party the weather report called for rain. My whole plan to get him out of the house was to take him on a cruise at a nearby lake, and when we woke up to rain, I panicked.

My sister and his best friend were on their way to our house at noon, and low and behold my worst nightmare--at 12:30, half an hour after we were supposed to have left, K sat in front of the TV, unshowered, playing mortal kombat.

The kitchen, complete with baby pictures of K.

I gave his brother the death stare, and he and his gf helped me get him moving. We left the house under the guise of going to a car show in a neighboring town, and I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally left the house. I sent my sister a text:

"The eagle has left the nest."

While we puttered around at the car show and shopping, my sister and his best friend came to the house and decorated EVERYTHING. We spent a few hours out and about, then we convinced K to get us back to the house.

We pulled into the driveway, the garage door opened, and all you could see were our friends and family all standing there with birthday hats on. I was honestly moved to tears, it was so incredibly cool. The look on K's face was priceless, and I am so glad we were able to surprise him.

The slip n slide... and yes, he actually went down it.

We all had a great time at the party, it was a late night filled with a slip n slide, birthday cake, presents, and a little (okay, a LOT) of alcohol. We had friends and family travel several hours just to be there, and I feel so incredibly lucky to have them in my life. Thank you to everyone for making the day great! :)

The sweatiest birthday cake EVER.

It's 88 degrees in the house. We forgot to put the air conditioners in before K left for work again, and so I've been sweating my ass off. Not to mention the fact that I've been baking like a maniac, trying to make K a cake for his bday.

I was in the middle of mixing the cake ingredients, (box, not from scratch--you kids put too much faith in my domestication) one meal already in the oven with 16 min to go, when I realized that there is one thing you can't make a cake without.

Fucking eggs.

I'm sweating, I've got a meal already in the oven, but I HAVE to get this cake baked before K gets home. Not to mention I'm doing this all on my lunch break (thank GOD for working from home on days like today.)

Pop quiz, hot shot. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

I had two options: wait until the potatoes were out of the oven, turn OFF the oven, run to the store after my lunch break (which I NEVER do, I get anxious just thinking about it.) Or grab my purse and run to the store with 16 minutes left on the timer, leaving my oven on and cooking. Most of you know that I am borderline OCD when it comes to the oven, and I check it about three times every time I leave the house. At least. So choosing option B was a tough choice, but I REALLY wanted that cake done before K gets home.

So I squealed into the parking lot, dashing around dodging seniors and small children like they were cars in Frogger. I pictured myself as the pixelated amphibian, hopping from aisle to aisle with precision. I even knew which aisles I needed to hit before I went into the store.

I made it back to the house with 4 minutes to spare. I have truly never been prouder of myself. I sure hope K likes his cake. I tried not to sweat in it too much.

T-minus two days until the surprise, people-- wish me luck!

The Big Surprise

You thought I was kidding, didn't you?

So tomorrow is K's 30th birthday. I don't think he ever reads this (much to my chagrin), so I'm pretty sure I'm safe in divulging details to you guys. And if you are K, then you better stop reading right now or I'll give you a noogie.

For the last several weeks, I've been planning a surprise party/BBQ for him scheduled this coming Saturday. I FORGOT how stressful it is to plan a party like this! I mean, it's hard enough to have a party at your house (with the cleaning, getting food together, keg, etc.) without having to worry that some of these things are going to give away your secret (where the eff do you hide 30 burgers, enough cheese and crackers for 8 people, a keg and a helium tank??)

I'm still trying to figure out a way to get him out of the house on Saturday. People are coming over at 3, so I figure if I can get him out of the house around noon and go do something for a few hours, we can be back here at 3:30 for the surprise.

I'm SURE that he knows something is up. It's really hard to keep a straight face when he suggests we go on VACATION this weekend and I have to stumble on my words and make up a reason why we CAN'T go this weekend. Like that I have an imaginary doctor's appointment that I absolutely cannot miss. People stop asking questions when they hear 'pap smear.'

But even if he does know something is up, there are still little details that he won't know about. Like the present that my sister, brother in law JB and I all pitched in and got him. Or his surprise guest. Or the fact that I have five giant carebears sitting at my kitchen table with birthday hats on right now. This is not a joke people. We are serious about birthdays in this house.

So while I vomit from the pressure of trying to keep this party a secret, stay tuned for the details of how this shin dig works out. And wish me luck! :)

WHAT THE SHIT. No MORE OF THESE!

K and I no longer measure the length of time we've been together in years... we measure in Call of Duty releases. So far, we've survived Modern Warfare, World at War, Modern Warfare 2, Black Ops, several stupid map pack releases in between, and now MODERN WARFARE 3?

When I say survived, I mean HE survived. The wrath of me, when he stays up all night and comes to bed at 5am. 

K has strategically failed to mention the release of this new gem, probably with good reason. Have I mentioned I effing HATE call of duty? With the firey passion of a thousand burning suns.

I know there are plenty worse things he could be doing that I could be yelling about, but Call of Duty is a thorn in my SIDE. And I want to punch it in the face.

Maybe I'm really just mad at myself for joining K's dirty threesome, trying to learn how to play and subsequently being mocked by all of K's online gamer boyfriends.

It looks like it's going to be another stormy Call of Duty season. I'll batten down the hatches. And stock up on US Weeklys to keep myself entertained.

First rule of yard sale: don't talk about yard sale.

The first rule of yard sale is: don't talk about yard sale. If you keep the uproar to a minimum, we may have a better chance of snagging the hot items. Like Nintendo cartridges. Or VHS tapes.

We had our town wide yard sale this weekend. K and I stumbled upon it last year by chance, driving home hungover from a night at a friend's house. It was early, my head hurt, and I was thirsty as hell, but the call of my neighbors' used items lured me with its siren song.

Yard sale is by far the best day of the year. It is like Christmas (minus the Santa), and I wake up with the excitement level appropriate for such an occasion. This usually calls for jumping on the bed in my PJs and making my stuffed pegasus repeatedly and vigorously hug a very sleepy K until he stirs out of slumber. 

The faux bear rug--a big hit with the kitties.

Last year, we scored our kitchen table and chairs for $40. Awesome, right? We also managed to make it home with a faux bear rug and a suit bag that we got for $1 each. SCORE. 

This year, we woke up a little late. But it was okay, because the weather was a little crappy anyways. We got dressed, drank some coffee, read the police blotter, and we were on our way. We walked around and found a few items that we loved--I got some candle holders for $3 and... a CAREBEAR! For 50 cents! Now THAT is a deal.

Nothing pleases me more than walking down the streets, waving to my neighbors. I am like the homecoming queen, and I would straight wear a tiara if I wouldn't be shunned from Yard Sale.

We learned a valuable lesson this year at Yard Sale, however. We found a coat rack that I was dying to have, it was only $2! And it was in pretty good shape. K insisted that we come back around and pick it up on our way back home since we didn't know how heavy it would be. When we came back around on our return trip, the coat rack was gone. Second rule of Yard Sale: grab 'em while the gettin' is good. Or cry yourself to sleep that night.

Candles I scored this year-- $3 for both!

And the real prize... Bedtime Bear! He lights up and EVERYTHING.

Happy Hump Day!

I know it's not really hump day. Wednesday is hump day, right? The day when people across the world feed into their inner beastly desires, run around in their birthday suits, and do it like they do on the discovery channel.

Which is what I actually thought, until K clarified the meaning of hump day for me... one week ago.

Let me recap the convo for you:

Me, talking to K on phone last Wednesday while he was away for work: Man, this has been a long week.

K: Yeah, but at least it's Wednesday!

Me: Ooh that's right! Hump day! You'll just have to run around your hotel room and hump the fresh linens.

K (long pause): You DO know that hump day is a term that means the middle of the week, signifying that the rest of the week is all downhill from here? 

Me (tilts head in confusion): You mean... it doesn't mean that everybody humps?

K, laughing hysterically: Um, no. 

And that, my friends, is how I learned about the birds and the bees. And how inappropriate my thought patterns are. Kindof like the time I learned what blumpkin means. But we'll save that for another post.