The Lucky One

A few days ago, Hannah stumbled upon a photo of the Husband and I from our wee early days as a married couple. Incredulous, she blurted out, "Wow. You MARRIED that guy?"

I laughed, maybe a little too hard, and then pointed out the error of her ways.

You see, it's not supremely surprising that I married the skinny, quiet, smart gymnast that was the Husband so long ago. After all, he was handsome, thoughtful, and hopelessly in love with me.

What's more amazing is that HE married this:

Yikes.

God bless the poor ignorant fool.  He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

The sin of gluttony is a bad one

Last night, we got a rare treat with the Husband actually being in town.  We were sitting in the back yard together, relaxing, catching up, and more than a few of us were craving something sweet.

The Husband said he had an idea for a fabulous dessert and ordered all of us in the car.

He refused to tell anyone where we were going, even me, and the suspense in the car was palpable.  We threw out possible guesses and named several ice cream parlors, bakeries, and restaurants along the way.

With each passing mile, our mouths just salivated.  I expected at any moment for us to pull up to a new, untried place, and was giddy with excitement.

Not to mention, by this time, extremely hungry.

Imagine my horror surprise when we pull into the parking lot of Burger King.

I half expected him to yell "Gotcha!" as we pulled back out again and headed to our real destination.

Sadly, that WAS our destination.

Shock turned to annoyance as I said, "Burger King?  What. the. eff?"

Annoyance turned to disgust when he told me what he wanted to order from there.

Internet, I give you the worst dessert in the history of mankind:

image via

On principle alone, I refused to try it. Even when the gluttonous sounds of pleasure emanated all around me, I did not give in.  There are just some things that should not meet.  Some worlds that should never collide.  I might eat my weight in cookie dough, but I certainly never do it with cured salty meat in the batter.

I do have some class.

And I will never know what possessed the people at BK headquarters to combine ice cream and bacon.

Probably the same mental illness that possessed my Husband to drive 20 minutes to buy it.

Dear Husband...

While you were out this week, you missed a lot of exciting things.

First, we joined a gym! I know you will be totally thrilled about it. I am sort of sure I mentioned it on the phone, but sometimes you are busy not listening to my chatter working and miss things. Things I KNOW I told you about. And never accidentally forgot to mention or anything. Ahem.

You see, Chase had to complete a swim test for scouts and, seeing as how he missed doing it at scout camp last year due to a family vacation, the local community gym was our best option.

Once inside their beautiful facility, I looked around me and it was as if the heavens opened and a vision was granted to my eyes. I saw all kinds of greatness. I saw myself working out there like three times a day. Which would, of course, cure me of my cookie addiction, and bring on truckloads of weight loss, thus enabling me to achieve my lifelong goal of being mistaken for a young Grace Kelly. Everywhere I go for the rest of my life.

I also saw our children, racing on their bikes after school and swimming a few laps, thus enabling them to release pent-up energy and complete homework with joy and excitement.

All of this will be occurring while puppies, rainbows, and unicorns fly around us, naturally.

It's going to be great.

Once we, uh, you know, start working out there.

This week also introduced an old friend to our lives: The 4th Grade Recorder. I was hoping to have Hannah save all her practicing for the weekend so you can enjoy it as much as me, but her eagerness has dashed that dream. She has been tooting away for what seems to be hours, but is, in reality, only about ten minutes. It's, well, awesome. And highly valuable to her education, I am sure.

Lastly, you missed the gourmet feast of Tortizzas (think pizza tortillas) brought to us by Chase as a required lab in the sixth grade home-ec class. While it might not become the newest trend in culinary sophistication, it was a meal NOT prepared by me or purchased as take out from anything ending in 'ickdonalds'. He was thrilled with his success, and has since made them every day as an after-school snack for himself. It's quite honestly a welcome reprieve from his creatively inspired "homemade chocolate milk" that was more sugar than milk, and left a mess on the counter, cupboards, ceiling and floor. Tortizzas only leave a mess on the counter. It's great.

Otherwise, things here are going rather well. We're holding our own and anxious for the weekend to arrive. The boys have big plans for you to take them to the movies, and I have big plans to sleep late, watch some Downton, and maybe eat a few Tortizzas.

Oh, and go to the gym.

See you soon, love.

Stie

P.S. This is me attempting to re-enter the blog world after an almost unprecedented four week absence with no excuse to offer you whatsoever. I offer my apologies and assurance that all is well in our neck of the woods. Busy, but good.

Just when you think there's nothing to post about...

Last Friday, the Husband lost his iPad.

He left it on a Delta Airlines flight to who knows where.

Yes. The brand new iPad that I surprised him with on Christmas morning.

The iPad that I so sneakily hoarded funds in order to keep a surprise from him, rather than just plunking down the American Express.

And, due to my incredibly sneaky hoarding of funds, when its loss came to our life, there was no American Express to step up and replace it.

I asked. But, strangely, they weren't interested in replacing an iPad that they didn't help us purchase.

Jerks.

We both have been in mourning about it for several days now. [I mean, thank heavens our diamond shoes are still safe. At least THAT gives us some consolation in our bleak, bleak trials of life.]

Well, yesterday afternoon, the Husband received a call from Delta that we never thought would come.

The iPad? Not lost! Turned in by some good samaritan and on its way to St. Louis. It's traveled to a few cities and seen the sights, but it will be in our hot little hands come Wednesday.

I know it's trivial, and I know it's just a thing, but it makes me oh, so happy.

There really ARE some decent people left in the world.

And wherever they are, whatever they are doing, I hope life sends lots of good things their way.

I'll never say no to you, whatever you say or do...

Internets, I married a good man.

A man who doesn't hesitate to say yes. A man who supports me in whatever I do. A man who selflessly gives time and time again.

And recently, when I mentioned my desire to [someday] get this, he smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and told me I should get it.

I don't have to be told twice.

And now, as a result, my basement currently looks like this:

Not everyone is as excited as me. Clearly.

And some of us are a little TOO excited for my taste:

While others of us will use any excuse to throw their brother into a wickedly awesome headlock:

Though ultimately, with promises of chocolate chip cookies, I eventually get something closer to what I'm looking for:

And even though I have some idea no clue what I am doing, I think it's going to be a whole lot of fun figuring it out.

P.S. Anyone know the name of the movie that the title comes from? Hint: It's a musical. And a good one at that.

The Resistance

Have you heard? The world is going to end tonight. The righteous will be taken up to heaven, while the rest of us will be left here to burn with the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bernie Madoff.

Exciting.

I have every confidence that I will NOT be taken up to heaven with the righteous, as my sins are quite grievous. Just ask Hannah. She reminds me of them daily.

In fact, she started a club in our family a few weeks ago which she named The Resistance. There were only two in our family worthy enough to be granted admission into The Resistance - herself and the Husband.

They had many secret meetings in which a charter was offically drafted. Rules were made and promises of loyalty were said, the breaking of which would result in death and chastisement from Hannah (a fate probably worse than death).

The rules of The Resistance are this:

1. No swearing EVER.
2. No use of substitute curse words (like frick, eff, beyotch, and crap)
3. You can like Lady Gaga's songs, but not her personality or her clothes
4. No eating any food from McDonald's (especially diet cokes)
5. No repeating words or lingo from the old tv show Battlestar Galactica
6. No wearing of immodest clothes

Since I am pretty much guilty of at least four of the six cardinal sins of The Resistance, there is little chance for my salvation. And as the boys are guilty of violating rule number five on a daily basis, that leaves them behind for the burning, too.

Instead of crying repentance and begging her forgiveness, I'm stocking up on ice, diet coke, People magazine, and preparing myself for the worst. While I don't think it will be entirely pleasant to sit in a burning pit of fiery damnation for all eternity, I kind of picture it won't be all that different from Missouri in July.

In a way, I think eternal damnation for me will be quite familiar and homey.

Nice.