ice ice maybe

Well, I had plans to meet my friend Rose for lunch today, but woke up to an unexpected ice storm and all of the news stations were warning viewers to STAY HOME! DO NOT DRIVE ON THE TREACHEROUS ROADS!  After a few phone calls Rose and I decided that as delicious as the P.F. Chang's lettuce wraps are, they weren't worth the risky driving.  So we postponed our lunch date until next weekend and Matt I hunkered down all day.  It was the kind of day when I showered and got right back into pajamas, and the only reason to get up from the couch was to walk to the kitchen for a snack.

(Update: We were going a little crazy by mid-afternoon, so we drove to Sam's Club since it had warmed up outside.  We bought sandwich bags, two bottles of V-8 Splash, coffee creamer, and a broom.  I don't know how we were surviving without those items.

((Don't worry, I did change out of my pajamas for the outing.))

Speaking of ice, Matt and I went ice skating with my brother and his wife a few weeks ago.  That is remarkable because one of my biggest fears in life is maneuvering on ice.  Either on my feet or in my car.  I hate it all.  I am a girl who prefers dry surfaces and plenty of reliable traction.

Michelle loves to tell the story about how I left for class one morning during our junior year of college and she left our apartment a good twenty minutes later.  And who did she pass on College Avenue but ME.  I guess you could say that I was TAKING.  MY.  TIME.

Matt and I arrived at the skating rink first, and as we laced up I wondered aloud about who the first person was to say, "Hey, I've got a jackpot idea.  Why don't I attach a very thin blade to the bottom of my shoe and then slide around on this ice?"

Matt listened and then said, "I'm not sure, but right now I'm really wishing I didn't get rid of my skate hook."

I'm sorry, your what?

Evidently, Matt was quite the ice skater back in his youth and even had his own skates and a hook to lace them up nice and tight.  He would lace those skates up on Friday nights in 2001 and rule the rink.

This was all BREAKING NEWS to me, and suddenly I felt even more self-conscious about my atrocious skating skills because even though I told Matt to set his expectations for my skating abilities pretty low, I wasn't sure he was prepared for quite how horrendous I was going to be.

As the clock struck 7:40, the gates opened up for free skate and I managed to get myself from the floor onto the ice all while staying upright.

My sister in law was a figure skater back in the day, so she glided out of that gate and around the ice so effortlessly that it was like Michelle Kwan herself had graced us with her presence.  My brother was surprisingly coordinated on the ice for being a six foot seven guy who, on the ordinary day, is marginally to exceptionally clumsy.  And Matt was shaky for the first few seconds but then his skills from 2001 came right back to him because off he skated.

And then there was me, propelling myself around the rink by cautiously pulling myself along the boards.  After he finished his first lap, my brother skated up to me and said, "Laur! You're ice skating with your arms!"

As Matt approached, I push myself off the boards and right into him.  And I did not let go for the rest of the night.  I gained some confidence after a few laps (aka I was moving my feet a little here and there instead of just having Matt pull me along), and Matt said, "Now that we're going a little faster, make sure that if you fall, you clench your hands into fists so that your fingers don't get sliced off by the blade of a passing skater."

Well, TAKE ME BACK TO THE BOARDS.

Just as he shared that positive little gem, we came upon a man pulling himself on his stomach to the exit gate with a trail of blood behind him.

Matt shook his head and said, "...and that's why you need to clench your fist..."

The good news is that I managed to stay upright the entire evening and left with all ten fingers!

Today's ice/rain storm has created a pond behind our apartment.  When I looked out the window a little bit ago, I saw two ducks swimming around.  Once Matt learned about our new neighbors he headed out onto the balcony with his new duck call and had himself a little practice session.

It's supposed to get very cold tonight, so the "pond" will likely be a sheet of ice by tomorrow morning.  Perhaps I should go buy a pair of skates and get myself out there for a practice session too.

let's hope we don't need to buy a car for quite a while

On Saturday afternoon I went out with my mom and Mommom to help my uncle decorate his house for Christmas and then run some errands.  I got home around 4:30 and promptly sat down on the couch and fell asleep.  Evidently decorating and walking around the grocery store can really wear a girl out.

At some point mid-nap I heard Matt's voice say, "Do you feel like going to look at bedroom furniture?"  I thought maybe I was in the midst of a wonderful dream, but I opened my eyes and sure enough there was Matt's face, a few inches from mine and staring right back at me.

Well.  I shot up off that couch and ran to the closet to get my purse and in all of my excitement I blinked a contact lens right out.  As I searched the floor for the missing contact and the medicine cabinet for some eye drops, Matt said, "Don't rush, I'll be a few minutes.  I have to go put on my ......." and here is where I naturally assumed he was going to say "shoes" or "jacket."

No.  Do you know what he had to put on?

His negotiating pants.

I don't even know what that means.

Actually, I found out what it means when he walked into the bedroom and pulled the jeans that he'd worn to go duck hunting that morning out of the hamper and said, "Be honest, how bad do they smell?"

Since Matt owns only ONE PAIR OF JEANS (I KNOW-we are going to remedy that in the new year) I told him they smelled positively fresh as a daisy because I was not about to let some poorly planned wardrobe situation ruin my chance to get a new bedroom set.

On the drive to the furniture store, Matt, aka the self proclaimed King of Deals, outlined his strategy.  When he was all finished he said, "You just have to promise me one thing.  That you won't get mad if we walk out because they don't throw in a free box spring.  It's all part of my strategy."

And this is the part where I thought it might just be easier to continue sleeping in our low bed.

When we got to the store, an older salesman named Joe greeted us and gave us some information and told us to enjoy our shopping.  We looked and looked and looked and finally decided on the set we liked, and Joe came over to check on us.  He and Matt discussed bundle pricing and discounts and Matt must have said "Joe" no less than fifty thousand times.

"Joe, could you tell me how much it would be to add the dresser instead of the chest of drawers Joe?"

"Joe, that's great, thanks Joe.  Now, Joe, can we talk box springs Joe?"

As Joe walked away to get a price on box springs I whispered, "Can-you-please-stop-saying-Joe-so-much?"

"Just try to go with it," Matt said,  "It's a negotiating technique."

Joe came back and gave us the news that a mid-grade queen size box spring would cost $139, but if we did buy it, he would give us 10% off the rest of the furniture.  I'm no math whiz but I know 10% off is better than no percent off so just SHOW  ME MATT WHERE TO SIGN.

JOE.

However, the King of Deals cramped my style when he said, "WOWEE, ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS, JOE?  Joe, I'm going to be honest with you, I have never paid that much for a box spring Joe."

I WANTED TO MELT INTO THE FLOOR AND DISAPPEAR.

Although between my "I just woke up half an hour ago" look and the sad state of Matt's negotiating pants, we probably did look like $139 could make or break us.

Joe laughed nervously and said, "Well, that's actually a pretty good deal for a decent quality box spring.  Can I ask you when was the last time you bought one?"

NEVER, JOE.  We currently sleep on very low bed that requires only a mattress and no box spring.  Which is the very reason we are here this evening.

Because Matt is no easy sell, he told Joe we needed a minute to think things over and we walked back to the easy chair section so Matt could Google the going prices of box springs and I could rock and recline furiously and tell Matt about my plans to stage a coup if he denied that offer.  I've been sleeping a mere eight inches off the floor for the better part of a year now.  I'd pay TOP DOLLAR for a box spring.

You will never guess how the story ends.

We bought the whole kit and caboodle and it is scheduled to be delivered between 8 am and noon tomorrow so Merry Christmas to me.

And next weekend?  We are going jeans shopping.  And there will be no haggling.

Even if I have to hide the negotiating pants.

the only downside is that i can never again leave the house in pajamas because i might run into someone i know

I feel it's only fair to update on my rowdy hotel compadres from last week.  Apparently they were members of some sort of football team, and at 11:30 their coaches went door to door, confirmed that everyone was accounted for, took all electronics, and announced lights out.  By 11:37 you could hear a pin drop.  I slept the sleep of angels and woke up more well rested than I've been in weeks.

Which was good because Matt and I moved the next day.

On Friday, we lived here.

And now, we live here.

Matt and I spent the past year living about thirty minutes away from the town where we grew up, which to most people probably isn't a big deal but to us, it was.  We moved there last January because it was closer to our offices at the time, but now we both have new jobs.  I work from home a lot and Matt takes the train into the city, so basically our only location requirement was that we live near a train station.  Our lease was up so we decided to move back because, in the wise words of Bon Jovi, who says you can't go home?

(Except for my dad.  My dad says we can't go home.  Which is why we're living in an apartment exactly 1.4 miles from my parents' house and not in their guest bedroom.) 

So far, it's been a good decision.  My brother and his wife live in the same apartment complex, and they helped us move on Saturday.  My parents came to help too, and they brought hoagies for lunch and the leftovers fed us straight through until yesterday.  Matt's dad came by on Saturday afternoon, a friend stopped over tonight, I saw three people I knew while food shopping on Sunday and I ran into Matt's best friend at WalMart on Sunday night.  Last night we ate dinner at Matt's parents' house and my friend Stacy and I have big plans to resume regular "exercise" in the form of mall walking.

All that to say, I AM SO HAPPY TO BE BACK.

Matt and I unpacked until we literally fell into bed on Saturday night.  I was determined to get every single box unpacked that night but we were totally exhausted and I honestly cannot even remember anything after about 7:00 p.m.

We had a baptism on Sunday, but when we got back from church Matt said, "Okay,  I'm going to go into the bedroom for one hour.  And when I come out, everything in there will be unpacked."  And sure enough, one hour and a lot of Italian opera music later (I don't even know), the bedroom was done.  I finished up the kitchen and living room, and then we trimmed the Christmas tree and kicked back on the couch and admired our handiwork and listened to Christmas music and watched the yule log on TV.  It was very cozy and lovely.

However, the mood turned serious when we decided to go to bed and Matt looked at me and said, "Okay, now I think we should just have a quick meeting about what we are going to do in the event of an emergency.  If there's a fire, we will obviously try to make it down the stairs.  If the stairs are blocked, we will go out on the balcony and climb down.  It won't be easy but we can do it.  I'll be there to help you."

Well.

Nothing like ending the weekend on a high note.

Speaking of high notes, last night we went shopping for a new bedroom set.  We currently sleep in the bed Matt bought when he moved into a house in the city with some buddies a few years ago.  His bedroom was in the attic and the slanted ceilings were too low for him to get a normal bed, so instead he got a bed that's just about eight inches off the ground.  So when I said a few paragraphs above that we fell into bed, I meant that literally.

In fact, one of the guys Matt lived with in that house came over tonight for the grand tour of our new place and he said to Matt, "Dude.  I totally forgot how low that bed actually was."

We hoped to get the bedroom set before we moved but then somebody had to get custom made orthotics that weren't covered by insurance.  And do you know what custom made orthotics are?  I mean, besides trendy and youthful and sophisticated?

Expensive.  So the bed purchase was postponed a few weeks but THE TIME HAS COME.

As we looked around the furniture store last night I said, "I wonder if they will offer us a deal."

Matt whispered, "Well, you might not know this but I am the KING of deals."

You learn something new every day.

In the end we didn't get anything because, in an unprecedented turn of events, we could not get anyone to help us.  Usually furniture store salespeople are all over you like white on rice, but that was not the case last night.  They were sitting behind the desk in the back playing games on their cell phones and watching TV and completely ignoring us.  Matt was especially disappointed because he was wearing his dressy work duds, which he thought would indicate to the salespeople that he was just made of money and they'd be clamoring to assist us.

So we took one last loop around the store as Matt proclaimed, "I came in here tonight to buy a bedroom set.  I was going to spend some real money in here tonight if only someone would help me," but his efforts were in vain.

We aren't giving up though.  We plan to hit the ground running (or more realistically, walking) again tomorrow.  And we're in this for the long haul.

I do have new orthotics after all.

in the end, the cinnamon scent is worth it

When Matt and I voted tonight, there were several local candidates at the polls.  While I signed in, Matt chatted with one of the candidates, and he looked awfully familiar to me.

That's because he was.  I'd met him a few weeks ago.

While Matt was hunting last Saturday morning, I enjoyed a leisurely morning with several cups of coffee and all manner of morning television.  Around 10:30, the doorbell rang.  I had ordered a dress online and it was scheduled to arrive that morning, and since I work from home and have a husband who is addicted to Amazon.com, I know our mailman always rings the bell when he leaves a package at our door.  So I opened the door in my fresh out of bed, pajama clad state, and to my surprise, there was a man in a suit standing there.

Note to self, next time, use the peephole.

The man was holding a stack of political pamphlets, and he asked me if he was at the home of a registered voter named Matt.

I didn’t want to tell him that Matt was out and I was home alone because STRANGER DANGER, but he asked if he could ask me a few questions and since I love nothing more than a good poll, I was all in.

First, he asked if I knew who Matt would be voting for next week.  I wanted to say, “Well sir, he is currently hunting and when he gets home he will turn on the Nascar race, so that should give you a pretty good idea about which way he leans politically.”

But instead I just answered all of his questions and then went on with my Saturday, which included shopping with my mom and a trip to the spa and dinner with Matt’s mom, and I arrived back home that evening feeling ALL KINDS OF RELAXED.

I walked in the house and the smell of cinnamon overwhelmed me. 

Since the beginning of the fall, I have looked at and smelled and considered the purchase of a bag of cinnamon scented pine cones at the grocery store. However, the grocery stores keep the pine cone display outside due to the overpowering cinnamon scent, so by the time I am ready to check out I totally forget about them and thus, I have spent this whole fall pine cone-less. 

It’s been tough, but I’ve powered through.

So, back to last Saturday.  After I recovered from the smell, I looked around the condo to see pine cones, everywhere. 

They were here.

And here. 

And even…here, strategically spread out for maximum scent dissipation.

Now, Matt enjoys home decorating as much as the next guy, which is to say, hardly at all.  And by the look on his face, I could tell there was an ulterior motive for the pine cone displays.

“I bought you these pine cones today,” he said.  “And…I bought some other things…and you might not be thrilled about them.”

I braced myself and asked what the purchases were.

“Well, I bought a bag of Kit Kats.  And..a two year membership...to...the NRA.”

I only wished I had that information earlier in the day to share with our local representative along with the hunting/Nascar info.

But as it turns out, he and Matt talked for quite a while tonight and he actually lives on our street. Maybe one of these days he will stop by again and they can continue their conversation.

And I can explain why we have pine cones all over our house and everything smells like cinnamon.

it's been a while

Well, after several requests to write a new post, here I am.

Let me clarify my use of several in that sentence.

My mom asked.

Michelle also mentioned the other night that it was time for me to write a new post, and when I told her I couldn’t think of any funny material she suggested I look through our text conversations for inspiration because WE ARE HILARIOUS.

I did find a bunch of conversations that made me laugh until I had tears in my eyes, specifically one about Michelle igniting a small kitchen fire in an ambitious attempt to make homemade candied pecans.  

However, what struck me was that I tend to send to Michelle one type of text quite frequently.  Here is a sampling.

 

 

 

Apparently I need to be more diligent in checking that my hot appliances are indeed turned off before I leave the apartment for the day.

You could say that things have been status quo around here.  I did email myself two pictures earlier this week with grand intentions to write humorous blog posts about them, but unfortunately, I cannot remember the witty posts that I had drafted in my head.  Fear not, I will still include the photos for your viewing pleasure.

 The joy I get out of parking next to a car just like mine is immeasurable.  Don’t worry, mine isn’t the klassy one with the duct taped bumper.

Michelle and I did some spring cleaning the other night.  We emptied our fridge of all expired products and were left with only the pictured contents.   

 

At least we won’t be thirsty! 

 And that box of baking soda is doing a bang up job keeping our Gatorade and mayonnaise SUPER FRESH.

So it looks like grocery shopping will be on the itinerary for this weekend.

 Matt came over last night and we logged another exciting Friday night in the record books.  We got sandwiches for dinner and went all wild and crazy and ate in front of the TV while we watched an episode of How It’s Made.  Unfortunately the featured item of the episode was bacon, and once I saw those raw pig bellies get sliced in half I completely lost my appetite.  Notably, Matt was eating bacon on his sandwich as we watched and IT DID NOT PHASE HIM ONE BIT.  

As Matt was leaving I went to give him a hug goodbye and could tell he was about to sneeze.  When I was growing up, my dad could sneeze so loud it would ring the doorbell.  Matt gives him some stiff competition in sneeze volume department.  

So, when I sensed the sneeze was imminent, I made a big deal of VERY WILDLY AND DRAMATICALLY backing away and taking cover.  Unfortunately my dramatic scene was unfolding just as Matt was bringing his hand up to cover his face and there was a bit of a mid-air collision, resulting in me hitting myself, hard, on the lip. 

After we established that my lip and I were going to be just fine, Matt hugged me and said, “Laur, the next time you’re hugging me and I'm about to sneeze, maybe the best strategy would be to just back away very slowly and very calmly, and I'll do the same.”

Write that on a Hallmark card and stick it on your mantle.

Happy weekend.  Time for me to make a grocery list.