snow schmow

my canadian friends always make fun of me because when it snows, the state of NC shuts down. This time though, not only did we shut down, but our governor declared it a state of emergency before the snow even fell.

but imma tell you something. when it snows and you aren't prepared because it doesn't occur to you that your power might go out and if it does go out that it might stay out and you have nothing at your home to eat that doesn't require preparation of something with power not even peanut butter and your house is surrounded by trees so it's dark even during the day, well, it is a state of emergency.


i woke up at 130a to go potty and I am glad I did, because when the bathroom light wouldn't go on in Bill's bathroom (yes...we do not share a bathroom but we do share a commode at night), I knew something was wrong. I called the power company and reported our outage. I then proceeded to unpack the entire fridge and freezer into coolers and put them out on the front porch. I was so proud of myself and my knowledge at being a pioneer.

but my proudness was short lived, as it didn't take much for me to realize that a good pioneer I do not make. (Bill on the other hand says he never considered for even one minute I would be a good pioneer.) I think it was around noon, and my 50th (no lie) call to the power company that I started to cry. I was cold. I was hungry.  I had no snow boots, only too tight ski pants, too big ski gloves and a ski coat. So I could only partially participate in outdoor activities - not that I wanted to but still. I sent bill and his dad (and his dad's truck because it's not like either of us are prepared with 4 wheel drive) to the only place open - WALMART - to get sustenance for the rest of our lives because by this point it was clear we were going to die in this snow storm. Bill suggested that while he took care of our livelihoods at the walmart, I should call some pet friendly hotels in the area just in case there was some place we could go.   Naturally, Bill wasn't excited that the only place that "seemed" to have vacancy was the umstead where rooms are upwards of $600/night and the pet fee was $200 - but that did include a pet bed and pet bowl! Obviously, I had already figured out how we would pay for one dog, sneak two dogs in, and then bill could babysit while i went to the spa to relax and destress from the snow. Bill on the other hand said we could just continue to rough it. But miraculously, at 5 o'clock and the power still wasn't back on, the Hampton Inn must have had a cancellation because on my third try, there was room at the inn!

and all the angels sang glory hallelujah. and so did i.

we packed very hastily, including our walmart livelihoods, and treaded carefully to the hampton inn. they had snacks! and free beer and wine! dogs galore! heat! light! technology!!!!

and i was so happy i cried again.

and then i took a very hot bath in the very giant tub in our very giant presidential suite that we didn't even know the hampton inn had. but i was happy to have gone from pioneer to my more suited designation in this suite. even the peanut butter sammies i made us tasted better in the warmth and comfort of the presidential palace.

so all of that is to tell you that next time you make fun of the state of NC for shutting down in a snow storm or me for crying at the mere threat of snow? Well, that is fine. because it is true.

and then there was we. dad and me.

As the holidays approached, Bill and I started trying to work out who we would visit and when. Since it was his family's turn to get actual Christmas this year, and with our move and trip to Italy, we were trying to fit it all in during a more condensed time frame than normal. So we decided we would do Christmas with my family the weekend following Christmas, and we would share that time with my grandparents and that side of the family. 

When I called my grandmother to reschedule Christmas for everyone (since they had planned to do Christmas a different day), she told me they were going to do Secret Santa this year and asked me what I thought about that. I told her how successful Secret Santa has been with Bill's family, and how I thought it was a great idea. Grandmother and Granddaddy should continue to give to everyone, but all the kids and grandkids would just give to one other person. 

It turns out that wasn't what she had in mind. Secret Santa was appealing to her because it meant she only had to shop for one person, instead of everyone, and let's be honest, she's old, and she is trying to tend to my granddaddy, who has recently been moved into an Alzheimer's care facility, so I can understand shopping for less would be a welcomed relief. 

However, as compassionate and understanding as I may be, that didn't stop me from telling my parents that I thought secret santa with the Robertsons was a bad idea. And then, when it turned out my very own dad was the one doing the matching of santas, I reminded them that this was a bad idea and something was going to go wrong. I just had a feeling. Not to mention that this meant Bill and I had a really good chance of not getting the Costco gift cards Uncle Ronnie gives year in and year out and we love a costco gift card!!! 

Here is photographic evidence of the fateful day where we all piled in to my grandparents' formal living room to enjoy our very first (and what could potentially become annual) secret santa exchange. 

There's Bill opening his double crock pot gift (yes). There's a lot of people sorting their loot. And there's Uncle Ronnie chit chatting with Jack's girlfriend (and it is important to note here that the girlfriend has a gift on her lap). Oh and mom is next to Bill with her own double crock pot gift. 

What you don't see in this picture are either of my grandparents and their mountain of gifts, my aunt pam with her gifts, my brother because he was taking the pic, or my dad and me. You don't see dad or me and it could be because we were too busy opening our loot that we couldn't get in the picture. 

Or it could be because neither of us got a gift. 

We both gave a gift to someone else. 

But there was we, dad and me, who had no gifts.

In big brother fashion, Lee wanted to know what I got. So I said "nothing." Because I don't believe in dishonesty. And because I got nothing in the secret santa exchange. It was like a slow motion movie. Uncle Ronnie turned on his video camera to interview me (he literally interviewed me about what I got in the secret santa exchange, and how it felt to get no gift) and the whole room took a break from going through their loot to watch the live action interview. The room was silent. And everyone stared at me and kept saying "oh no." 

Finally I just couldn't take it anymore, I told the video camera this was all very awkward and could we please just go back to everyone opening gifts. 

My grandmother felt badly so she disappeared and came back with a gold box. Inside I found an interesting pair of black gloves with fur wrists. I have never been the reciepient of a handout. It was a humbling experience to receive what everyone can only assume was a regift. I mean, how else did my little ole grandma go buy and box up these gloves so quickly! 

Dad felt really badly too, especially since he was the one in charge of assigning the santas. I felt badly because no one even seemed to notice that he didn't get a gift either. And all I can assume is that somehow, in all the matching, my alzheimers' grandaddy got 2 santas, and forgot to go shopping (which isn't funny. But kind of is). 

But, I guess it's safe to say that Santa really does know if you've been good or not and the girlfriend must have been real good this year. I mean, how else do you explain how she - who none of us even knew, let alone knew she was coming - got a gift. 

And then there was we, dad and me, who got no gift for Secret Santa. 

bucket lists.

I love lists. You could even go as far as calling me a list maker. I write a to do list every day at work, and I write one every week for my personal things. And sometimes I forget to write things down, so when I do them, and remember I did them without my list telling me to do them, I add them to the list just so I can mark them off. It makes me feel accomplished I suppose.

A few years ago, I decided to make a bucket list. I wanted a way to keep track of the things I wanted to accomplish in life. Granted, some of them were silly (such as staying at The Grove Park Inn, The Inn on Biltmore and The Cloister...all with a hottie of course) and some were things that I would like to do but who knows if I ever will (such as learn Hebrew, sign language and finish my minor in German).

As Bill and I got to know each other, we talked about our bucket lists. I am pretty sure he told me mine was ridiculous because bucket lists were supposed to be fun. I guess when I compare his to mine, I can see why he would think that. His list consists of activities (like going to the Masters) and things that cause me to panic (like sky diving), and definitely not learning foreign languages and new skills.

When he told me he wanted to go sky diving, I told him he could only do that if there was a groupon because no way were we paying full price for him to maybe die falling out of a plane.

Well. It just happens there was a groupon for sky diving around the time of Bill's birthdizzy. He had 3 months to use it. and because I am a good wife, and I remembered when he shared with me his hopes and dreams of the future, so naturally I purchased the groupon. So the Sunday after Thanksgiving we trucked up to Lewisburg, NC to Triangle Skydiving Center so Bill could maybe die falling out of a plane.

We got there early, so it was good for me to be able to see others sky diving and while it gave me some comfort (since no one died falling out of a plane while we were there), it did leave some anxiety since Bill could always be the one it happened to. Of course when I shared my fears with him, he was very reassuring and told me if it was his time to go, it was his time to go.

Lucky for both of us, Bill made it!!! He said it was everything he thought. And like any man, the only complaint he had was that the holster was a little too close for comfort. But let's be honest. That's the least of what he gets for putting me through that kind of angst. Maybe he should think about that the next time he wants to do something life threatening. Or better yet, maybe he should just change his bucket list. There are plenty of fun non life threatening things to do in life, such as taking me to any of the places on my bucket list that I would like to go to with a hottie.

(as a side note, i am wearing that exact same outfit at work today!)

Christmas Greetings!!!

Growing up, I always thought when I got married, holidays would be a no brainer. We would spend them all with my family and that would be that. Well, apparently that's not how the rest of the world, or my husband, thinks. And so, since we did our first married Christmas with my family, it was his family's turn this year.

Since it's really a Christmas Day celebration with his family, we signed up to be greeters at church for Christmas Eve. This seemed like a good idea at the time because we could spread good cheer (and we all know I have a lot of that to go around, year round) and most importantly, we would get reserved seating. And if you ever go to church on Christmas Eve, you know seating can be a problem so this fact in and of itself made signing up to shake strangers hands a bonus. However, if you have ever known me, you also know shaking a stranger's hand is about the last thing I want to do. And I certainly don't want to have to talk to a stranger. Call me a grinch but I don't care if it is Christmas. I do not want to shake your hand or extend to you any kind of heavenly and holy mumbo jumbo that requires me to get near to you. Walking in to take our greeting position, I confessed to Bill that I was having second thoughts because shaking hands and hugging strangers was really just not my thing, to which he informed me I was in the wrong line of volunteer work if I was just realizing this now (apparently my mother must have had a hunch too since she txted me to remind to be nice and friendly to all the strangers I encountered during our greeting shift).  So, we came up with a game plan. We would just open the doors for everyone! We opted for the doors that we thought were the least popular. Little did we know those doors open up to a giant parking lot we had no idea existed (but i guess a good take away is that now we now know where we can park when they realize we've been parking in the reserved visitors' lot for oh about a year now). Everyone seemed appreciative of the double door opening they received as they approached the church, but let's be honest a "well this is some good greeting!" or a "aren't y'all the nicest greeters I've ever seen!" doesn't really make up for the completely weird looks we got at the same time. I mean, it's not like we got any training on this whole greeting thing. We only signed up to have our names in the bulletin and to get good seating.

About 5 minutes till the service began, Bill and I had had enough of the greeting so we left the doors to open themselves and went on in to to find our specially reserved seats. Turns out the extended family - yes EXTENDED FAMILY - of the other greeters had also found our seats. So we sat 15 on a row in reserved seating (the other greeters must have done a better job than us because they were not early or right on time for the service. They were so busy greeting they were a few minutes late). So much for not getting near to a stranger and so much for bonus of reserved seating on Christmas Eve. All of our greeting had clearly been in vain since apparently reserved seating doesn't equal spacious seating. Thankfully communion started and Bill read my mind when he leaned over to me and asked if I wanted to get outta there. Of course I did...my hands were just salivating for some sanitizer from holding onto the door handles so much, and as such, instead of returning to our seats after partaking in the elements, we just walked on out of the church. Ain't nobody ever worn their coats and taken their purse to take communion but then again, ain't nobody gonna hold these greeters down either.

But I guess if your good seating for being a greeter turns out to be a bust, you might as well at least beat the traffic by getting out of church early. Although, that may have something to do with our good parking since we do park in the visitors' lot...

tis the season...to go insane

Sorry for the lack of posting lately. I promised to be better, and then I promptly failed.

In a nutshell, since our anniversary (so, 3 months), we have done the following things:

a) bought a house
b) gone to Mexico (and almost died as you know)
c) done reno work at the house
d) moved into the house
e) had Christmas
f) gone to Italy for 2 weeks
g) gone skydiving

I have a long list of things to blog about. Stay tuned!!

further to the topic of packing.

for what it's worth...the only photographic evidence of our trip

While we're on the topic of packing, this seems to be a good time for me to share with you our recent trip to Mexico.

You might recall that last year for our honeymoon, we packed in one suitcase. This year, we were so excited to a) go back to Mexico and 2) each have our own suitcase. Since we are doing a bit of traveling in the next few months, we decided to splurge and get new suitcases. Bill got a grey one and I got a purple paisely-ish one. We said on more than one occasion how excited we were to use our suitcases.

The week of the trip rolled around and we both started gathering our packing essentials. I had so many visions of a repeat of our honeymoon with beautiful sunsets, romantic dinners and mimosas by the pool. Forget that the entire family was going to be there, we were headed to our second honeymoon!!! I pulled out all of my favorite maxi dresses, my beautiful new gold sandals, my brightly colored accessories, the flat iron, my best makeup and my brand new swim suits. (Of course, I did not bring a beach tote, a sun hat or sunscreen, but that is neither here nor there...) Bill on the other hand just pulled out more than one pair of pants for this trip and was ready to go.

It's safe to say that we were so excited about our new suitcases - and being able to take more than one - that it didn't occur to us this trip would be less than perfect. But let me tell you the following things about our trip and you can decide for yourself.

1. I had been fighting an infection the two weeks before the trip, so I was on an antibiotic that made me feel less than great. If it was a side effect, I had it.
2. Our flight from RDU to Houston was delayed because of a frozen lavatory. Yes. The bathroom was frozen.
3. We missed our connection in Houston because of this. We were supposed to fly first class too!
4. After raising cain, the airline did rebook us on the next flight - FOUR hours later (and on business class wtf) and give us meal vouchers.
5. Sunday and Monday and Tues. partial were great. We enjoyed the sun, the pool bar, the golf course, the spa.
6. Tuesday at lunch was my last meal. It was room service pizza and it was delicious.
7. I spent the next two days being very unlady like. I guess when you speed date, you don't get to experience EVERYTHING before marriage. Safe to say we've experienced it now. I was also very rude as I just could not muster the energy for any family meal.
8. Thursday morning Bill made me go to the hotel hospital.
9. The Mexican doctor hooked me up to an IV for severe dehydration and infection.
10. After 2 hours on the IV getting fluids and antibiotics, I was feeling good!
11. I felt so good, I went to lunch by the pool.
12. My body didn't know how to respond to the back and forth temperatures, so after about 15 minutes, I got the chills, panicked and got sick all over again. I told Bill I thought I was going to die.
13. The sweet Mexican doctor had to come back to our room - with his doctor bag! - and check my vitals. He waited while my body starting regulating and told me I wasn't allowed to leave the room until after 8p and if I did then, it should be only for a small walk. He also assured me I wasn't going to die in Mexico.
14. I drank 3 bottles of Mexican pedialyte and it.is.disgusting. Although, this may be just Pedialyte in general and not anything to do with it being Mexican.
15. So is gatorade after about the 5th bottle.
16. I was able to fly home without too many visits to the loo.
20. We got off the plane and I announced I wanted to eat some mashed potatoes. I hadn't eaten anything since Tues. except 4 french fries, half a tiny bagel, and two saltine crackers.
21. The antibiotics caused major acid reflux and after being unable to sleep and doing research on an acid reflux friendly diet, I learned that mashed potatoes are not part of it. Neither is mac and cheese (which I also had an hankering for)
22. Sunday morning, after taking shots of apple cider vinegar, I was able to eat two eggs and a bland salad. Praise!
23. Thanksgiving rolled around and I was able to eat everything in sight.
24. It has been almost 2 weeks since I got sick and I am finally feeling normal again.
25. I didn't have to wash very many clothes from my suitcase since pretty much nothing got worn. Talk about over packing!!

Thankfully I am alive and getting well-er (also huge shout out to my hubby who gave up most of his vacation to take care of me), so clearly this means I - WE - deserve to go on another vacation so we can actually enjoy it! And clearly I will need to buy all new outfits because the ones I packed for this recent trip, while unworn, are now tainted with the memories of being sick in Mexico. Sorry I'm not sorry about that.

another adventure of stupid packing

For the past several years, my extended family has gone apple picking together.  I haven't ever been for various reasons but this year, I decided it was time. My cousins have super cute kids and with the addition of Lexie, adopted from China earlier this year, I just couldn't miss out on another year of apple picking with the fam! The plan was half the fam would stay at my parents' house and the other half would stay at Uncle Luke's house (about an hour from the orchard).

The whole week before, I tried to do my due diligence and ask the appropriate questions. I mean, it's probably good to remember that I am the girl who my parents took strawberry picking and I was unable to find any berries anywhere in the fields (that were apparently full of berries). So, clearly I had some questions. They were harmless questions such as what should I wear? Where will we pick apples? What kind will we pick? What will we snack on? How long does it last? And most importantly, is it considered manual labor?

I guess mom got tired of all my questions because she told me that people who had so many questions maybe shouldn't go apple picking since they seemed to be so burdened about the whole thing.

Well, since that made a whole lot of sense, I decided I would just stop asking questions and just go with the flow. You know...because I real good at going with the flow.

And because I do what my mama says, I also packed well for this trip (or so I thought). I thought since surely no one had given me any type of warning about apple picking, that it must not be that hard, or that hot, so I could feel confident that looking cute was the best option. So I packed a skirt, a cute top and my fave gold flip flops. Mama may have been mad at me for my questions but no way was she gonna be mad at me for not looking cute!!

Well. It turns out apple picking IS considered manual labor. Turns out you may or may not have to walk over 2 miles throughout the orchard. And while there are a lot of apples laying around, most of the good apples are high atop the trees. Turns out that all of these things are only exacerbated by the heat that is unusual for the time of year. Luckily for me, Eli loaned me a great t shirt so I didn't have to risk messing up my cute shirt. However, I was on my own with the skirt and the sandals.

Needless to say, I wasn't exactly the most comfortable apple picker to pick apples. It's probably also important to point out that earlier that morning mom AND Bill had suggested I bring a change of cloths to Uncle Luke's house (where we were all gathering for supper afterward) so I wouldn't have to sit in my apple picking outfit all night. But since I always know best, I said I didn't need to do that. I mean, I wasn't going to get that hot or dirty. So, while everyone (and by everyone, I mean the entire extended family on this apple picking trip) enjoyed a delicious dinner in clean cloths, I enjoyed mine in a hot and sweaty skirt, shirt and unmentionables.

And then I wallered around on the furniture because I wasn't going to miss out on cousin snuggling time just because I was dirty!

At least I got the first shower when everyone staying at my parents' house got back. And some good insight into what apple picking actually is for all my future apple picking excursions! No more questions from this girl. But only when it comes to apple picking.

Bye Felicia

Over the weekend, we drove home to Charlotte to celebrate my birthdizzy early with my family. The boys went to the driving range, and the girls (well, Barbara, mom and I) went to Ft. Mill to a butcher shop mom likes to get steaks. I couldn't leave without getting something for my main squeeze, so mom got 6 steaks, and I got 2 filets and 2 lbs ground beef to take back to Raleigh. Guess we'll put off becoming vegetarian for another few weeks.

Eli showed up for dinner, which was delicious by the way (mashed potatoes, green beans, steaks, banana pudding and carrot cake, all made in my honor and not Lee's like he likes to think), and then the presents started! The family gave me a beautiful new pair of Jack Rogers. This in and of itself is important because the only pair of Jacks I have ever owned I got on eBay and I'm pretty sure they were pre-owned, and they are just gross at this point. So I am really excited to have a brand new pair I can call my own! (and yes, I did put the old ones back on eBay, and yes, they have already sold, which is even grosser because at least when I bought them, they didn't look like they had been through the streets of New York...). Eli gave me a gift card to use towards home improvements (because hello we are under contract!) and Bill gave me the Kate Spade bag I had ordered - ya know, from him - during the big blowout sale a few months back. These beautiful new designer gifts made me feel  better about my outfit choices for the weekend since mom had announced she wanted to go out to breakfast the next day, and I of course, had packed stupid (or smart) and only brought gym clothes.

Shortly after the gifts and the singing of birthday songs, Eli became a refusatory and refused to take Bill and me for a ride in her new car, refused to help clean the kitchen and refused to quit lounging on the porch sofa during dinner. But we won't talk about that.

Sunday we all got up early for breakfast the The Terrace Cafe in Southpark. Much to my mother's delight, I had discovered a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt in my bag, so when combined with my new treats,  I looked cuter than expected. It turns out Eli felt ashamed because she showed up for breakfast too! (Since I chose not to talk about her bad behavior above, I failed to mention that she went home to Hickory in a huff when she finally did decide to get up off the porch sofa). We asked Eli what she did when she went home alone and she said she watched the boy with the striped pajamas and it made her very sad to be alone, and then Lee reminded us all of the scene from Friday when Felicia flips out and leaves, and everyone just says "Bye Felicia."  Eli didn't much like that comparison and said she was not a Felicia, but dad made everyone laugh when he said "Look Mary Elizabeth! There is a name for how you act. It's called a Bye Felicia!"

In the end though, Felicia didn't cry at breakfast and everyone had a good time. And here is some photographic evidence (only of the no tears, not of my cuter than expected outfit)

A home is where the heart is.

That may be the case in most instances, but if you ask Bill, a home is whatever I see and decide I want to live in. Actually, I'm pretty sure his exact words were: you live and die with each house we see. Whatever that means.

Back in June, I convinced Bill we should start looking at houses. You know...we had lots of time, but it would be good to start looking so we could see what was out there and determine what things we like and what things we don't.  We knew the area (approximately 3-5 miles from our apartment), either inside the belt line or just outside, and under a certain amount. Only one problem with that search criteria: in that area, if it's affordable, it hasn't been updated since it was built. And did I mention we wanted minimal work?

We thought about building a house in basically the only place new homes in our area were being built. We could get a brand new house for the right price. So we talked to the builder. We picked out a lot. We picked out the upgrades we would want. We got the pre-qual from the bank. And then I made the mistake of redlining their contract (hello, day job) and all of a sudden, the builder got grumpy. In reality, we could live with everything as is except for the $12,000 non refundable deposit. I won't get into the logistics, but once they realized we weren't stupid, and weren't going to just fork over that amount of money to never see again, they got grumpy and we walked away. And I was depressed.

So then we (ok let's call it for what it is. When I say we, in the case of the house search, I mean I) fell for the Lindsay house. 5 bedrooms, including 2 on the first floor so my whole family could come from out of town to stay! Formal living room and dining room. Finished basement. Exposed beams. IVY ON THE BRICK. Huge windows. Charming. Sure, nothing had been updated since it was built in 1970 something. But look, these cherry cabinets are custom! All we need are new appliances and flooring. And the two toned toilet could be replaced. Oh and we could change out the puke green tile in the master because that closet is worth it. And I could still get a farm sink in the kitchen. It was a win win. Except Bill didn't love it. So I cried. And called off our house search.

Until the Dixie house (because you know I was still secretly looking at houses online). If you know anything about Raleigh, you know that Dixie Trail is such a cute little street. And who wouldn't want to say they live on Dixie! Except the house was literally the size of our apartment. And needed work. And just because I wanted to put rocking chairs on the front porch and Barbara could run around in the perfectly fenced in back yard did not mean it made sense to move into a house that size just so we could live on Dixie Trail. So I cried. (by the way, it still hasn't sold and even though it keeps dropping in price, Bill still isn't interested. Rude) And of course I said I would never try to look at another house again, and that we would just stay in our apartment FOREVER.

Then there was the house on Oberlin. Nothing what we had in our search criteria, but a great home and worth a look. It was awesome. Granted, it's only real flaw was the fact that it was really only 2 bedrooms, but on Oberlin, it would just increase on value. So we put in an offer and got promptly outbid. By 3 other bidders. So we walked away. We both may have cried that day. And had to eat our feelings for dinner. And called off the house search once again.

But because I have continued to secretly search, there have been several houses in between, including a beautiful bungalow with a guest house that needed to be demolished and a basement that needed finishing. Of course, my argument there was that if we just don't try to use the basement - I mean, with no access to the main house, it's not like it would be hard to ignore it - and we didn't look at the guest house, then it was perfect! Oh and we can't forget the tiki hut that has little tiny shingles glued to the walls and is basically ugly inside.

So we will see what happens. Like I said, we aren't in a rush! We have plenty of time! We love our apartment! I just don't know how many feelings I have left to get involved. Which is probably good since we decided to put an offer in on a house today and I Have declared I will not get emotionally involved OR mad at Bill if it doesn't work out.

But I guess we will have to see about that. Because I secretly already have decorated it and made a list of things we will need. But don't tell Bill because we've already had a talk about how I will need to practice patience with this home and how I can't go out and just buy a bunch of furniture to fill it up.

Rude.

hot yoga with the boss

Recently, my current boss was telling me about his love for shows like Revenge, 90210 and the OC. I guess he felt insecure because then he reminded me that he was married with children and loves football. I assured him that unless he made me go to hot yoga with him where he then took his shirt off to reveal a rose hip tattoo, I promised to never question his masculinity.

Then I realized just how often that exact topic has come up since it happened. That being the hot yoga with your boss who then takes off his shirt to reveal a rose hip tattoo. And since it clearly didn't come up here, it might as well come up now.

I have practiced hot yoga with my boss (this sounds kinky). Who just so happened to be the General Counsel of a billion dollar company. He also was a tiny man. Not only was he much shorter than me, he was a triathlete so he was also much fitter than me. And once he found out I was into yoga, he wanted to come with one day since he was looking for a new studio. Now. There are many things that could go wrong in this scenario, but none of them bothered to cross my mind at the time. I can say though from experience that hot yoga with your boss is just in general not a good idea.

There were probably 50 people in the class, so our mats were close. and of course he wanted to sit next to me since he didn't know anyone else. The room is a million degrees, so we were sweaty. And as a result of said sweat,  he proceeded to take off his shirt. As if that wasn't weird enough - for me to be doing hot yoga with my shirtless boss after work - the shirt removal revealed a single rose tattooed on his hip bone.  Now, because he was a tiny man, his rose hip tattoo took up basically his entire hip. And I'm not gonna lie - I noticed it. I mean, put yourself in my shoes for a minute. I'm a hot yoga. With my tiny boss. Who has taken his shirt off. OF COURSE I AM GOING TO LOOK AT HIM PEOPLE.

And promptly fall out of whatever pose was going on at that moment because I just cannot stop laughing. Judgmental I am not.

And you know, since yoga is supposed to be everyone's own practice, and talking has never been seen as anything but a distraction, all I could do was shake and tremble in silent laughter. And of course I put myself in child's pose so I could laugh into the mat. He whisper yells at me that I better not be laughing at him and if I can't keep a secret he will kill me.

Remember. This is my tiny boss. and he signs my paychecks. and now he has made yoga a violent place by threatening to kill me.

After yoga, he didn't even bother to ask what I was laughing at. He just says something along the lines of he used to be single, had to impress his girlfriend at the time, they were drunk at a guns n roses concert and so he decided to get a rose tattooed on his hip to express his masculinity to her.

oh. okay.

I'm sorry but i still think about that rose hip tattoo on that tiny man.

a fall porch.

I've never felt much inspired by the changing seasons, but this year is different. Last year, I got really into Christmas (you know...my first married Christmas) and this year, I'm really into fall. Well, for the time being at least while it actually IS fall.

My good friend Karoline posted a picture on Facebook of the fall wreath she made for their door. And I immediately wanted one. Karoline is so talented and should be a professional do it yourselfer. She walks into Michaels on a mission. I walk into Michaels feeling crafty and inspired, walk out a hundred bucks poorer and go home and feel overwhelmed.

As you can imagine, I was so excited when she said she would make me a wreath and ship it to me!!

And now I present to you our fall porch!!!

I am so in love with it. It was definitely a team effort. The wreath, perfectly made by Karoline and perfectly hung by Bill. The door mat was a surprise I had sent to our house for Bill in honor of our (note: our in this case our really means his) favorite team. I purchased two of the pumpkins and the lantern at the Teeter but it looked dinky - not to mention I really didn't know what I was actually supposed to DO with the lantern -  so we got some hay, some mums and some additional pumpkins. Bill is responsible for the arranging of the props. He also is responsible for how great our hanging mums look. Before those were there we had two really dead Boston ferns hanging because the porch doesn't get much sun, and neither of us watered them for pretty much the entire summer. Oh and in the corner you'll see the leprechaun plant Aunt Libby gave me when we visited her house for Sunday lunch back in March. Like all my plants, it has a multitude of lives and is currently living a good one in the one sunny spot we have on our fall porch.

And now, I give you this quote by one of my fave writers, F. Scott Fitzgerald:  Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

Man, isn't that the truth? So much life that now I am thinking about the Christmas wreath I know Karoline is going to make me. And my Christmas porch (because what is a wreath without its porch?) that will not include the light up train station my sister loves or the giant blow up Santa because I sold him on Craigslist.

Anniversary Weekend!

Our anniversary weekend started off on the right foot with a stop by Biscuitville for some chicken biscuits (with cheese, thank you very much) and some diets. (Yes, Natalie, when you wrote on my facebook that you hoped we ate lots of chicken biscuits, you had no idea that we already were doing so!)

Back when we were making plans for our anniversary, we decided we wanted to go somewhere that neither of us had been, but that wouldn't be too far away. After many great suggestions from facebook friends, we settled on Columbia, NC, where a friend from college owns a B&B. I for one had never heard of Columbia, NC but it turns out, it's precious. We read an article in Our State Magazine about it, and determined that was our destination!

So, we headed east, first with a stop in Edenton, NC. I hadn't ever been to Edenton, but it's super romantic (yay!) and cute. On the way, I read TripAdvisor reviews to Bill about the different restaurants in Edenton, and we settled on a little bistro based on one review about their reuben sammie. It was TASTY. We did a little browsing in Bloomingdeals, a local consignment shop not to be confused with Bloomingdales, and then headed to the water front. We stopped in at the visitor center and got a little history lesson (did any of you people know that there was an Edenton Tea Party - yes, same as the Boston tea party - that was hosted by a woman and it caused quite a stir with the town and their menfolk over in England?) We contemplated a boat ride, and got shunned from the lighthouse (private tours only apparently) and then made an excellent decision to stop in at the soda shop and get an ice cream cone before heading to Columbia.

We had reservations at The Brickhouse Inn, which is one one end of the main - and maybe the only - drag in Columbia. I can't believe I didn't take any pictures of it! We had some time before we could check in, so we did a little window shopping in this man's antique store. Turns out he retired from New York to Columbia and opened an antique store. I thought that was interesting but also pretty cool because he was living his dream! We left there, walked 100 feet more, and took a walk on the boardwalk, through the swamp. It was so peaceful and really beautiful. Funny that the boardwalk ends right across the street from the local wine shop, and even funnier how thirsty one can become while walking through the swamp. Needless to say, we stopped by for a taste of local wine and a smoothie.

After our wine tasting, it was time to check in, shower and get ready for dinner at Old Salt Oyster Bar, which my friend also owns. Everyone was so welcoming, and the space was really cool. We had an app of cheese and crackers, and Bill had a steak and I had crab (local! Columbia is a big crab hub for the east coast). And.It.Was.Delicious. For dessert, we had our wedding cake topper!! And an entire bottle of prosecco.

The cake tradition was really fun! My friend from college, Anna, made our wedding cake. She owns a bakery in Wilmington - One Belle Bakery - and is super talented. She's been on TLC too! I was really excited about having a famous pastry chef (is that what you're called Anna?) do our wedding cake and it was so yummy. So yummy in fact that there wasn't anything left except our cake topper, and Bill and I only got a smidge at the cake cutting. So we had been looking forward to eating an entire layer of this delicious cake all on our own for literally a year.

It was pretty good too! I mean, it wasn't as fresh as I imagine it was the day we got married, but considering it had been sitting in a freezer - with live flowers on top - for a year, it was pretty good.

The next morning, we had a HUGE southern breakfast before heading back home. I had never stayed in a REAL B&B but after that breakfast, I will definitely be trying to make it a habit. Anyone who knows us knows we enjoy our meals. We had breakfast casserole, hash brown casserole, biscuits, cinnamon bread, the best bacon I've ever had, and some other dishes I can't even remember.

So after we rolled ourselves to the car, we headed back home. And promptly stopped at Biscuitville for one last weekend chicken biscuit (not to be confused with a weekday chicken biscuit. Because they are very different).

And now our anniversary is over. And we've been married for more than a year. Onward!

one year later.

Dear Bill:

I can't believe our one year anniversary is almost here! We have the cute little B&B booked, our wedding cake topper ready for defrosting, and I hope the perfect new dress I had delivered this week fits.

It took me so long to find you. So many tears, so much deep, heart felt pain, so much anxiety. And then, all of a sudden, there you were.  And you became everything to me, almost immediately. It was only a few weeks in that we planned to get married, and here we are, haven't even known each other for two years, and we've already been married for one.

It is such a privalege to be your wife and to do life next to you, with you. It makes me sad to think of all the people who don't know your heart because they are missing out on such a gem.

You are so funny, so kind, so smart, so gentle, so sweet. After all, I do call you my sweet boy bill. I feel like you have taken the words Bruce spoke over us at our wedding to heart and have tried your best to uphold them during the course of our marriage. Every day, I wake up feeling so loved and so accepted. I feel like every day you take from your store room of love and add to mine. Even on my worst days, when my insecurities and my fears from the past come creeping up, you love me through them and remain steadfast in your gentleness and love. You show grace when I don't deserve it  and you show patience when I know inside you just want to gouge your eyes out. Or mine. You are my hero.

Our wedding was perfect to me; an absolute dream. I love looking at our wedding album and remembering every little detail and how full our lives were that day. I loved that so many people loved us enough to celebrate with us as we started our life as one. I remember our honeymoon and how much fun it was, being totally relaxed and away from the day to day stresses life can bring (me more than you because I can over analyze and be anxious about things until I am blue in the face. You on the other hand are go with the flow Bill and seem to have mastered the art of not worrying. And I love you for the balance you bring to our life).

I  knew taking our vows wasn't something to be taken lightly, and I knew marriage would be hard. And plenty of people told us the first year of marriage was the hardest. Of course, I don't think either of us really believed that. I mean, we were in a whirlwind of love and joy and celebration. What could go wrong?

I remember the fear we felt that cancer had returned, and the pure elation we felt when it turned out to be a false diagnosis. I remember the joy of new jobs and the excitement of a new place to live. But I also remember the stress of new jobs and the stress of moving. I remember the feelings of (whatever you want to call them) from taking a financial planning class and learning to manage our money now that we were one, and I remember how trying it was for us to have only one working car for a few months. I remember being in debt, and I remember the feelings of relief to wash over us when we no longer were.  I remember the excitement of our first married trip. I remember so much laughter, so much fun, so much life lived together in this first year.

This first year of marriage has shown me just how selfish I can be. I would be lying if I said shifting my focus from me to us wasn't hard (and it IS different than dating. I don't care what anyone says). Sometimes, I just want to do what I want to do and buy what I want to buy and go where I want to go and make huge life decisions without explanation and without having to check in with you. But, that defeats the purpose of teamwork, and I don't want to be in a marriage where we aren't on the same team. Over the past year, I have learned that the long term benefit of being selfless outweighs the short term benefit of doing things my way all the time. I have learned that the more I strive to serve you and to love you well, the better I am as a helpmate, and the better our marriage is. I have learned that self sacrifice is a daily choice and as long as it's with you, it's a choice I want to make day after day. It's also a choice that has made me even more grateful for new mercies every day, because there are a lot of days where I mess up, and I need another chance.

This first year of marriage has been such a source of joy and has brought meaning and purpose to my life. I love so many things about you and even when we have hurt each other, you're the only one I want to do life with. You complement me in so many ways and don't let me take myself too seriously. You bring fresh insight to my thoughts and you don't seem to mind all my feelings, even if they are just a whole lot of the same ones! You don't mind my lists, my love for MTV,  my belief that Barbara is human, you appreciate the little things I do for you, you bring me flowers often, you affirm me and you encourage my dreams and hopes for the future. To quote Taylor Swift, your hands are rough but they are where mine belong.

Sometimes, I still lose my breath and have to pinch myself because I never thought I would find this love, and even now, it's still sometimes hard for me to believe it's real and it's mine. It just never occurred to me that such goodness was waiting for me. I don't feel deserving of you at all but you are my living proof that our God is a God of grace and mercy and second chances. You are my answered prayer and evidence of His faithfulness.

So here's to our first year of marriage. I am so excited for the ones to come.

Mr. and Mrs. Lunes

Speaking of Rue La La, they have had a lot of luggage for sale lately. This has prompted a few conversations/reminiscings of our honeymoon to Puerta Vallarta, Mexico.

For starters, I think it is important to note that Mexico may or may not have caused me to hold the first ever temper tantrum of our relationship (don't ask Bill though because he and I have a difference in opinions when it comes to my "temper tantrums").

So, our honeymoon was gifted to us from his dad and stepmom. They have a time share and each kid had been gifted a week for their honeymoons anywhere they wanted to go in the time share network and we were cashing in on our turn! We thought about going to Hawaii, since neither of us had been, but we were working on a condensed time line and the nice places were already booked solid. We did find a hotel a mile from the beach with a murphy bed that was available, but I just wasn't too interested in sleeping on a bed that falls out of the wall for my honeymoon. So I cried.

Then Bill did the unthinkable and suggested Mexico and I cried even more. I did NOT want to go to Mexico, no matter how many nice beautiful romantic hotels Bill showed me. Let's not forget, I had been on a Ladymoon to a Sandals in Jamaica years earlier, and I wanted my honeymoon to be better than that, and that was going to be hard to beat, and I just knew if it was to be beaten, it was not going to be by Mexico. I meant, they have a drug carttel in Mexico and I wasn't trying to get killed (or do drugs) on my honeymoon. So I cried. I stamped my feet. I slammed some doors. and yelled repeatedly "I do not want to go to Mexico! Even if it is free!" (Side note: as I write this, I am surprised Bill still went on a honeymoon with me at all because it appears as though I was being ridiculous).

Well. We ended up in Mexico. Somehow I managed to see through my tears and we found a beautiful resort called Secrets in Puerto Vallarta. It is basically the Sandals of Mexico. The reviews on TripAdvisor were fabulous (we all know how I love my reviews!) and it was a new property and they had a honeymoon package where they would put a sash on your door and rose petals in the bathtub - and even though we all know I feel like hotel bathtubs are pretty creepy, the idea of it was just so romantic and I just got so excited and forgot all about how much I hated Mexico an hour earlier.

So we book our hotel and our flights and that was one more thing off the wedding to do check list. Bill said to remind him to get his luggage from his dad's house so we could take that. Well, because I am a world traveler (and have only carry on luggage), I somehow got it in my head that we could only take one suitcase PER COUPLE on an international flight. ONE SUITCASE PER COUPLE. Bill just couldn't quite understand, but just went along with it for some reason. And since we could only take one suitcase per couple, Bill asked his dad if we could just borrow his largest suitcase. And then we packed both of us for an entire week in one suitcase. I think Bill was only allowed to bring one or two pairs of pants, one pair of shoes and some bathing suits. which sounds fine when you're going to the beach, except we were going to an all inclusive and they have all those weird dress requirements for the restaurants. So Bill was just going to have to switch out his outfits and we would both wear repeats because we just were not going to pay to check an additional bag past our one suitcase per couple. (side note: it must have been wedding frenzy because the tickets clearly say 1 bag per person checked for free but that's neither here not there).

When we got there, all the English speaking Spaniards thought the last name Monday was hilarious (Bill told me to just wait till I took his name and then I would understand. And yes, sweet hubby, I too now say I am "Monday just like the day of the week" so you were right) so they referred to us as "Mr. and Mrs. Lunes." All week long. Even the card on our roses in the room said "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Lunes." And then somehow, one of the waiters decided Bill's first name surely must be Allen. So ALL WEEK LONG it was "good morning Senor Allen. Hello Mrs. Lunes." We thought this was hysterical. Mainly because if Bill did introduce us by name to the waiters, he definitely didn't make up our names, so we have no clue where they got the name Allen.

The hotel was everything the reviews (and Bill) said it would be. It was beautiful, clean and romantic. It was without a doubt, the perfect honeymoon. We met some fun friends (shoutout!) whom we have stayed in touch with and actually seen since our honeymoon. We stayed up late (not taking baths. But it did look pretty! and smelled like roses!) and ordered room services just because we could (note: breakfast sausage at 2a in Mexico may turn out to be vienna sausages) and we watched Mexican Hatfields and McCoys (which is a great series if you haven't gotten into it).  We showed up at the pool every morning at 9a and our waiters would bring by our morning pick me up. (Mom, you'll be glad to know we were the only people at the resort who ordered diet cokes as their morning pick me up instead of tequila...obviously that is an afternoon pick me up! i kid, i kid). At 11 every day they hosted water aerobics. Right in front of our chairs at the pool. And every day at 1050 they would say "so today you do aerobics?" and every day at 1051 we would say "not today, maybe tomorrow" and then our waiter would bring us our lunch, which I have exhibited here. Yes, every day for lunch we ate exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. every day. and it was wonderful.

Every day we picked out an activity to do the next day - we had high hopes of kayaking, scuba diving, yachting -  but for some reason every day our only activity ended up just being us telling the pool staff we would participate in water aerobics the next day because we were too  busy chowing down on delicious burgers and watching aerobics today. Oh wait, that's false. We did venture off property to Happy Hands Massage Parlor for a massage, and Bill did hold some sea turtles close to his face before releasing them. I only took pictures so as not to contaminate my hands with salmonella.


Watching the little turtles was really a cool experience and I was quite proud of myself for only telling the story of the Arabian who asked me if I wanted to see his turtles at Myrtle Beach only a few times to strangers. My arabian accent is pretty cool if you are curious about it.

So this brings me back to my original point. Luggage has been for sale on Rue La La a few times lately, and we do have free shipping. Turns out, since Mexico ended up being a dream instead of the nightmare I knew it would be when the drug cartel came for us, we decided to go back again this year with Bill's whole family! I found some  beautiful luggage we should purchase, one bag for each of us since you know, we get a free checked bag per ticket. But Bill said no, we would just get his luggage from his dad's house and use that. Luckily for Bill, whether we use his luggage or buy new luggage, he gets his own bag this time. And more than one or two pairs of hankies for the week.

ooo lah lah for rue la la

When I lived in Charlotte, I had a friend who introduced me to Rue La La. And by introduce, I mean she got a credit when I bought something. So of course, in turn, I have introduced friends in hopes of getting my own credits!

I have bought a lot from Rue La La at a discount. I mean, I think it's a discount. Maybe it's just the thrill of buying "designer" online when I should be working, but whatever it is, it is hard to say no to a Rue La La box on your doorstep (and in the words of my friend, "I always say Ooo lah lah for Rue La La").

The greatest perk about Rue La La is that once you buy something, you get 30 days of free shipping. So you can imagine how much my purchasing power goes up during the 30 days of free shipping.

The other day, they had mattresses on sale. Now, Bill and I had just discussed getting a new mattress. Our mattress is a hardly used before now mattress from the lake, and the guest bedroom mattress is my old mattress that rolls to the center, so no use in switching that over.  However, apparently, in typical Bill fashion, when he mentioned maybe getting a new mattress, he didn't mean right away. He just meant eventually. Sort of like if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But when I heard mattress, I got all kinds of excited because I had just seen that Rue La La was hosting a Sealy boutique that week.

And I already had free shipping.

Except when I mentioned this to Bill, he was less than enthused. Actually, his words to me were something along the lines of "just because you have free shipping on Rue La La doesn't mean we should buy a mattress online."

I mean, i guess he had a point. I just really like a good deal, and somehow, free shipping on a MATTRESS made me feel like I would be beating the system somehow.

The Monday Fundays Are Still Alive!

We are here! I promise!!!

I gotta be honest...it's hard being the perfect wife, having a full time job, and keeping up a blog. Plus, I've been struggle city for awhile now with whether or not it even makes sense to have a blog anymore. I mean, I don't feel like we are particularly interesting or exciting. My life seemed much more "bloggable" (to me at least) when I was single, and I didn't have a care in the world.

But now I do. I want to protect the little family Bill and I have built the past year, and even if that little family only consists of us, plus Barbara, well, I still want to protect it and hold it close. But then there is that other part of me that wants to still blog, and share our funny little life with the world. And then there is this other part of me that feels like maybe our lives aren't that funny, or interesting, and who wants to read about it when it's not? I mean, we watch Dateline on Friday nights and 48 Hours Mystery on Saturday nights!

But, the past few weeks, I've gotten a few asks about blogging. And I've shared that I have a list of things I have been wanting to blog, but I haven't because I've let my fears of being a loser blogger take over. So, after some encouragement, for the one thousandth time, I am going to try again!

guess who's back, back again.  we'll see how long this lasts.

the time a boyfriend helped me move

Shortly after Bill and I met, I decided to move and because Bill was smitten with me (naturally), he offered up his services to help me move.

Now. I had never had a boyfriend to help me move before, so this was exciting. Up until this point, it had always been my dad, my brother and my brother's friends helping me move. They were already on the hook to help me move again this time, so having a boyfriend help was an added bonus.

There are several things to note about this particular move (and you may surmise what you will about how they may or may not have affected the outcome of this moving experience).

1. The weather report was calling for a huge ice storm that week.
2. Bill offered to let me use his dad's truck so I didn't have to rent a U-Haul (score for being thrifty!)
3. Because I had a boyfriend to help, I was under pressure to be on my best behavior.
4. My brother was involved.

Moving was scheduled for Saturday. I had taken Friday off work so I could finish packing and organizing - I was really overwhelmed with this move for some reason and at one point, my mom had called and asked if she and my dad needed to drive up from Charlotte to pack everything up because she was "sick of hearing me cry all the time about moving." Apparently, I had given off the impression that I would pack a box, then sit and cry (ok, so that may have been what actually happened in the weeks leading up to this move). So as you can imagine, I needed that day off work to finish what I had started. Well. That day, it snowed and iced. All.Damn.Day.

I woke up Saturday morning to an ice-capade. What a nightmare. I immediately called my mom (hello! mom in another city to the rescue!)  in hysterics that I was never going to get moved. She alerted my dad that I was already freaking out, and he in turn called my brother and told him to stop by Lowe's to get ice melt on his way to my house. The tree house I was living in had like 15 stairs, so with ice melt on them, there should be no issue getting me moved. If only we had known the ice melted stairs would be the least of our problems on this day. At this point, Lee was doing as he was told and brought some ice melt for my stairs. The friends start showing up, and the boys got to work. By this time, the ice had started melting so everything was wet. Soaking, sopping wet, including the back of Bill's dad's truck. Obviously I hadn't thought about a tarp or anything, and didn't want to ruin any of my blankets, so if anything got wet in the truck, well, that was just what was going to have to happen. (Until my mattress got muddy. Then I realized the err of my ways).

I think the pressure of having a boyfriend helping me move (i mean hello, a boyfriend helping you move is serious! It's like putting a ring on it!) was just too much for both my brother and me to handle. I had to play it cool so Bill would think that if I was this easy going and laid back about moving, then I must be that way about everything else in life and he should definitely lock it down quickly. And Lee had to play it cool because if he went crazy, Bill would judge me for having a crazy brother and would never see me again. And Lee had already been told by my mom not to screw this up for me. Haha.

So anyway, after the second trip in the truck, and a tree house still full of furniture to be moved, my brother decided to ask the most obvious question that I am sure he and all of his friends were wondering: "Meredith, why didn't you rent a UHaul? This is so stupid. It's going to take us 15 trips to get everything moved if we are only using this truck. I am renting you a UHaul." Except I didn't want a UHaul to be rented. I wanted to use Bill's dad's truck. Duh.

Lee had made up his mind my moving process was not going well, or quickly - and it wasn't -  and he was going to take charge. But I didn't want Lee to take charge! I needed to be in charge so Bill would see how great I was at being in charge and coordinating and organizing! So I did what anyone (ok maybe just any Robertson) would do. I flipped my %$#@. I screamed, I cried, and of course I called my mom.

And then I went and locked myself in my car. Nobody could be mean to my feelings if I was locked away in a car. According to Bill, I sat there heaving and crying and he didn't know what in the world was going on. So he went inside. Where he and all the boys stayed,  eating the pizza I had been SO KIND to arrange to be delivered as a thank you for helping me move. My brother apparently stood in the doorway talking crap about me and laughing about what a hysterical woman I was. Bill decided he needed to do something. So he brought me two pieces of pizza. I'm sure he thought I would at least say thank you, come get in the car and talk to me. But instead I rolled the window down - mind you tears are still streaming down my face - just enough for him to slide the pizza in and then I rolled it back up and off he went, back to the treehouse full of boys.

He says the sight he saw when he looked back at me is a sight he won't soon forget: me crying hysterically with a phone in one hand talking to my mom and a piece of pizza in the other.

I honestly don't know what is so memorable about that sight. Hasn't everyone freaked out and eaten pizza at the same time while their brother stood inside talking crap about his sister to her new boyfriend who had offered to help her move?

words of wisdom from my boss.

this week, I was asked if I had a tweeter.

"Yes, I have a tweeter. I only use it to complain to companys. and to cyber bully the teen moms." i told them.

"meredith, i think you should have disclosed your reality tv obsession on your resume." said my boss.

and then, somehow, someone brought up the fact that I was a synchronized swimmer in college.

that fact, by the way, is disclosed on my resume.

#hatersgonnahate

gluten free, grain free, grass fed

many of you know about my beautiful little barbara. and many of you know that like any good mother, i will skip buying things for myself in order for my sweet child to have only the best. for example, bill and i may have to eat hot dogs in order for barbara to eat grade 5 dog food (and let's be honest, she'll probably eat some hot dogs too), but she will eat only high grade food. i think it's safe to say that someone in our house will always be eating well, but it may or may not always be bill and me.

The other day, in addition to buying Barbara a giant pink NC State collar (you know, because she too agreed to be a State fan upon marriage), Bill picked up a sample of this food called "Taste of the Wild." It just so happens to be the Wild Boar formula and actually has roasted wild boar in it. Which is perfect since Barbara makes piglet noises when she eats every night. Roasted pig for our favorite little piglet!

Barbara went NUTS over this food. And it was dry food, mixed with her normal, also high grade, wingaling wet food (yes, this child literally gets chicken wings for supper). So Bill, being the doting father he is, called the pet store to see if it came in a wet food formula. Oh yes, they said. And then they went on to tell him that dogs who lick their paws or have tear stains may have gluten or grain allergies. Funny. Barbara does both. Here I was thinking her tear stains were from her crying because she missed us so much, but it turns out she cries because she has an allergy!

So you can imagine what happened next. If you imagined BIll and me spending hours online pricing out the Wild Board Stew at various pet food sites, then purchasing exactly a whole case of it to be delivered within 2 days, then your imagination is spot on!

And if you imagined me feeling bad for making fun of all those fad people who claim to have a gluten allergy, and simply must eat dried out gluten free waffles, well you are wrong. I'm still not sold that everyone in this world has a gluten, grain, potato allergy, but isn't it funny how we react when we find out our children may be suffering? There was absolutely no question in mine or Bill's minds that Barbara simply must need to go gluten free so her tears will stop staining her beautiful face and her paws will stop being so tasty to her.

next up: a pair of vegan toms to go with her gluten free, grain free, tear unstained face.

snowmageddon 2014

if you know me, you know that i have quit skiing. After having one too many panics attack, the last of which was at the top of the big hill in the middle of Squaw Valley two years ago, I threw in the towel, sold my skis on craigslist and i haven't looked back. in general, i just don't love snow anymore. it causes too much heartburn and headache. it makes the entire world just shut down. and i do NOT have time for that.

so you can imagine my chagrin when Big Weather announced on the radio AGAIN that we were expecting snow. I just had too much going on last week to deal with more snow. Barbara isn't exactly impressed with snow, we had errands to run, I needed to grocery shop for the beach trip, I needed to wash clothes, I needed to be able to freakin' leave the house (notice work is not included in these items. I did not NEED to work although I did have to at some point in there). Plus, let's be honest. When are the weather men ever really right on par with their weather guesses anymore? So you can imagine the state of panic I was in when the sky opened up last Wednesday and dumped snow all over the Triangle.

At 1p I got a text from Bill that he was leaving work and was on his way to get me. The snow was starting to fall and he wanted to get out of Durham and back to Raleigh before the roads got bad. Except apparently everyone in Durham and RTP had the exact same thought at the exact same time. At 115, Bill picked me up. At approximately 120, I began to cry. The roads were already parking lots, people were abandoning their cars and walking, tires were spinning, everyone was in a state of duress. I just knew we weren't ever going to see our home again. We were going to be stranded and die. And Barbara was going to die because no one would be able to go check on her.

Somewhere along the way, Bill informed me that I was not very good in a crisis and he didn't know if he would put me on his lifeboat. I managed to stop planning our funerals long enough to ask "you wouldn't save my life?" To which he responded: "well, I would. but i would knock you out cold first."

22 miles later and four hours later, we did finally make it home. and in case you were wondering, i still hate snow.