the short version is that we made it home safe and sound

I had a big week last week.  I left Tuesday morning for a work conference several hours away, stayed there until Friday morning when I went to a few meetings, packed my car, made the three and a half hour drive home, ate a lunch of nacho cheese Doritos and a pumpkin spice latte at a turnpike rest stop, arrived at my apartment for the quickest transformation from sweatpants into a wedding outfit in the history of the world, and spent the night at a family wedding.

I collapsed into my bed late on Friday night and stayed there until 11:30 on Saturday morning.  I managed to pull myself out of bed and shower before noon, but that's where all motivation was lost and I just put my bathrobe back on, climbed into bed, and read a book. 

Please imagine my surprise when I heard a knock at my front door a few hours later and peeked out the window to see Matt.  Surprise visits are a lot more adorable when I'm wearing a cute outfit and some lip gloss as opposed to the state I was in at that very moment, but what can ya do?  FOR BETTER OR FOR BATHROBES AND DAMP, UNCOMBED HAIR.  

I opened the door and told Matt to hang out real quick in the living room while I changed, but I ended up taking my grand old time changing because I figured that poor Matt might need a while to process the fact that he's marrying a girl who stays in her bathrobe until mid afternoon.  

Saturday's weather was beautiful, so once I was properly dressed and lip glossed and ready to re-enter the land of the living we went over to a state park to walk on the trail for a few hours.  It was such a pretty day.

Then a friend called and invited us over for a last minute pizza/wine/bonfire night, an invitation which we accepted because that is like the perfect Saturday night trifecta.

Unfortunately that's when things started to go downhill.

As soon as we pulled up to their house and Matt put the car into park, tons of white smoke began pouring out from the hood of his car. 

We certainly know how to make an entrance!!

(Matt is going to read this and say that I am exaggerating and that it wasn't tons of smoke and it most certainly was not pouring out of the hood.  To which I say any amount of smoke coming from the hood of a car is not a good thing but yes, I may be exaggerating a bit.)

Strangely, Matt didn't act surprised by this alarming sight, and after popping the hood and poking around for a few minutes, he nonchalantly mentioned that he had been working on his car that morning and evidently, something had gone wrong.  I won't pretend that I understand the technicalities of his explanation but I know it had something to do with antifreeze.

Luckily our gracious host drove Matt to Auto Zone to purchase something to rectify the problem.   The two of them came inside a while later and assured me that the car was GREAT, NEVER BETTER, A COMPLETELY SAFE VEHICLE IN WHICH TO BE TRANSPORTED HOME, but unfortunately that wasn't true because about three minutes into our return journey, the car kindly alerted us that it was overheating.

WELL HELLO THERE, WHITE SMOKE.  SO NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

The good news is that Matt was able to turn the car off before the engine burst into flames.  The bad news is that we were on the teeny tiny shoulder of a highway in the pitch black.  

Matt is usually a pretty even keeled kind of guy, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him scared.  Actually maybe more like one finger.  And that would be Saturday night.  

He turned the flashers on but we were in sort of a precarious position on the roadway and I don't think I helped to set his mind at ease when I got out of the car and held my cell phone up.  Because sure, the motorists who are barreling towards us at upwards of sixty miles per hour will certainly be able to see a small four inch LED screen and steer away from danger.

Matt said it would be safer to stay in the car so I got back in and tried to tell jokes because apparently that is what I do when I am nervous.    

You know what I'm thankful for?  Friends who will meet you at night on the side of the road with a gallon of water to hold you over until you can get to the store.

You know what else I am thankful for?  Fiances who go into Wal Mart to buy anti-freeze when a fun Saturday night ends badly, and come out with s'mores.

If we got stranded again, at least we wouldn't have to worry about going hungry.

 

although 'highway to the danger zone' probably isn't wedding day appropriate

Matt currently shares a house with a few of his buddies, and last week this bad boy became a part of their dining room decor.  

It's an old, gigantic, fully functional jukebox complete with boxes of records and an unlimited supply of tokens.  

And it's awesome.

Since its arrival in the dining room, we've spent hours playing "Guess That Tune."  I've learned that Matt's go-to songs are typically by either Elvis or Led Zeppelin, whereas I am partial to selection A-8, Highway to the Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins. 

Can't put us in a box.

The jukebox is filled with classics and has given me tons of thoughts for our wedding.  One of those thoughts is that we probably shouldn't dance to Cheap Trick because we did so in Matt's dining room and my hip is still slightly sore from a particularly enthusiastic twirl right into the buffet table.

My other thoughts include songs that I'd like to play, and this is really all perfect timing because the item on the to-do list getting the most attention right now is music.

I've emailed several DJs, and last week I got a phone call from a company that I had contacted.  The woman I spoke with asked about our wedding and OF COURSE I told her (all) about it.  She asked what we were looking for music-wise, so I told her we're pretty simple, but we like country, classics, and wouldn't hate the occasional eighties ballad/rock song/Broadway show tune peppered in.

As far as what we don't want, I told her that while one or two Flo Rida songs is okay because I do love me some Flo, other than that we're not really into rap and hip hop.  I then may have gone onto a little bit of a tangent about how I want wedding music that is romantic and wedding-ish and that everyone knows and not a bunch of hip hop songs.

She "mmm-hmmmed" and "okayed" very politely and then she said, "Can I take a few minutes to tell you a little bit about our company?"

I said yes because I love a good sales pitch and that's when she told me "Well, we were founded by Jam-Master Jay of Run-DMC..."

Wow.  Wish I had known that you were founded by the DJ of one of the most famous hip hop groups of all time before I climbed up onto the old hip hop soapbox.

Oops.

So needless to say we're still on the search for a DJ.  I'm sure we will be able to find someone who can play exactly what we're looking for, but if that's not possible, we can just haul the jukebox over.  

You can always count on Elvis and Kenny Loggins.

it can only go uphill from here

I have a weekly routine of going to the bank and the gas station every Saturday morning.  Sometimes I will swing by the car wash or the grocery store or the post office depending on the week, but the bank and the gas station are non-negotiable items on my Saturday morning agenda.  

And I usually stop at Dunkin' Donuts first and treat myself to a pre-errand caramel coffee. 

This morning was no different, and as I pulled into the drive through line at Dunkin' Donuts, I was greeted with no less than twenty eight signs informing me that PUMPKIN FEST IS HERE, we have PUMPKIN MUFFINS and PUMPKIN COFFEE and WHITE CHOCOLATE PUMPKIN MOCHAS and PUMPKIN, PUMPKIN, PUMPKIN.

Because I am a marketing company's dream, it took me .3 seconds to decide to hope on the pumpkin bandwagon and when I pulled around to order, I said "Good morning, I'd like a medium pumpkin coffee with cream and sugar, please."

And then the lady said, "I'm sorry, we don't have pumpkin flavors."

Well that's odd, because the entire perimeter of your property here is filled with signs claiming the opposite.

I settled for an iced caramel almond coffee and I'll admit, 'twas delicious.  

Next on my list was the gas station, and it was EMPTY which made my morning since I have lots of issues surrounding maneuvering at crowded gas stations.  I parked my car, slid my debit card, and started to fill up.  

Or so I thought.

I was washing my windows when I glanced at the screen to check the gas progress and saw that the screen said, "PUMP STOPPED, SEE CASHIER."

Here is the part where it's important to note that I HAVE NEVER paid for my gas inside.  Not ever.  I ALWAYS pay at the pump.  But I put on my big girl pants and walked inside and told the gentleman behind the counter about the message on the screen at pump 6.

The man had a thick accent, but he told me that they'd been having trouble with the card reader at that particular pump, so he could try to swipe my card at his register and see if it worked.  "But first," he said,  "you will need to tell me the amount that you would like."

"Okay," I said, "Well, I have a Ford Focus which I think is a twelve gallon tank, and I'm almost on E, so I'd say about ten gallons, please."

Listen, one thing that surpasses any language barrier is laughter.  And he laughed.  OH, DID HE LAUGH.  Because by "amount," he meant DOLLAR AMOUNT, NOT GALLON AMOUNT.

I wanted to just melt into the floor and disappear.

This was not my morning.

Here's looking at you, Sunday.

one of these things is not like the other

When I checked the mail today, I discovered an Ikea catalog, some Yankee Candle coupons, and this...

I guess word is out to retailers nationwide that I'm engaged to a hunter.

At least I know who to call if we decide to feature some personalized camo accents on our wedding day attire.

eye've been better

Well, I've been 25 years old for ten days now, and while I could say that embracing my new age has been a breeze, that would be a lie. 

For starters, I've noticed an alarming new development.  Each morning when I wake up, my eyes are puffy.  Not in a "something is wrong, I need to call the doctor" way, but more of an "evidently these twenty five year old eyes could have used another hour or so of sleep" way.

So, I have begrudgingly started a new morning ritual that includes a cup of coffee and a cold compress on my eyes.

My life is very glamorous.

As if the puffy eye situation wasn't bad enough, I have misplaced my toaster.

I can't even explain how that happened, all I know is that I discovered it was missing when I tried to toast a bagel the other morning.  A lengthy search turned up nothing.  To make matters worse, my tiny apartment kitchen only has approximately two square feet of counter space and six cabinets.  There aren't many places that it could have gone.

This past weekend Matt and I left my toaster troubles behind and drove to the beach.  On the way down we daydreamed about where we will live after we get married.  Well, one of us daydreamed and one of us talked seriously because the reality is we need a place to live in seven months and we will never get one if we just say WOULDN'T IT BE SUPER FUN TO HAVE A SPIRAL STAIRCASE AND A WRAPAROUND PORCH AND A YARD WITH A WEEPING WILLOW TREE SOMEDAY?

We briefly discussed the pros and cons of living in the country and then I defined how close I would like to be to a Target and a Macy's.

Lead me no further than three miles from a major shopping mall and a plethora of well respected hospitals in case I come down with a terrible sickness or this puffy eye situation becomes more serious.  But don't lead me close enough to either of those things that we live inside Philadelphia city limits.

A few hours later we were on a fancy boat, cruising around the bay feeling the sunshine and the sea breeze and that's when I looked at Matt and said, "My biggest dream is to one day have a tiny house on the water in a little town and own a boat."

So it's safe to say that only one thing is for sure about our future home, and that is that whether it's in the country or on the water or next door to a Macy's, Matt better plan to keep a very close eye on our toaster.

matt gets all the credit for figuring out the metro

Last weekend Matt and I took a little trip to Washington, D.C.  I was in charge of the itinerary and Matt was in charge of the navigating, which was a combination that worked out perfectly.  Except for the time I took charge of the map in an attempt to lead us to the Air and Space Museum and we ended up at some strange sculpture exhibition and I had to act like it was a totally intentional stop on our tour.

The first thing we did on Thursday was visit Arlington National Cemetery.  Well, technically the first thing we did was eat lunch, which took place at a diner where I ate a fantastic sausage egg and cheese biscuit and Matt ate chocolate chip pancakes because IT'S NEVER TOO LATE FOR BREAKFAST.  Then it was on to Arlington.  Matt had never been there and I hadn't been since I was about ten years old, and it was quite an experience.     

We spent several hours there, and then stopped by the Air Force Memorial on the way to our hotel.  

 When we arrived we went swimming for a little bit because because I LOVE to swim and how often can you have handstand contests with your fiance on rooftop pools in Washington D.C.?

After our swim, Matt and I planned to get ready for dinner and go out for cheeseburgers to continue on our healthy eating kick, but we hit a bit of a road block when I made a tragic discovery.

I had forgotten all of my makeup.  ALL. OF. IT.  I didn't even have so much as a chapstick to my name.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror for about ten minutes trying to convince myself it would be okay to go without for a few days, but in the end vanity prevailed and we made a pit stop at a grocery store on the way to dinner so that I could get myself some mascara for goodness sake.

Matt had zero desire to browse the makeup section with me while I picked up the must haves, so he told me he was going to grab a few necessities and then he would come find me when he was finished.  Apparently we both have liberal interpretations of the word necessity because ten minutes later Matt appeared with his: a six pack of Sam Adams' pumpkin ale, Triscuits, and a can of Easy Cheese.

Well happy vacation, indeed.

On Friday Matt and my perfectly made up self spent the morning at the National Zoo and then metro'd it over to the National Mall where we saw the Washington Monument, the Roosevelt Memorial, and then went back to the hotel because MY FEET, DID I MENTION THEY WERE KILLING ME?  

 

 

 

We came back into the city in the early evening and took the last tour of the day at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing because we are fascinated with how money is made.  

After we got our tickets I said to Matt, "So, do you think they'll be giving out any free samples?" because I am so clever and witty.  And then the tour started and the first thing the tour guide said was, "I'll start off by answering the most common question I get.  No, there are no free samples."

Well.  

I guess I'm not as creative and original as I thought.

On Saturday we joined half of the world on the National Mall and saw all of the major monuments and memorials, the White House, the Air and Space Museum, the Museum of American History, the Capitol, the Library of Congress, the American Indian Museum, the National Archives, and the Supreme Court.

Later in the evening we went out in Arlington for my birthday dinner.  We walked up and down the streets and looked at the shops and the high rise apartments and the restaurants, and didn't pick a place to eat until 9:00.  How wild and crazy.  When we sat down I got a fun, fruity drink, and then when the waiter came to take our orders and I got shepherd's pie.  

What can I say? I'm a 95 year old in a 25 year old's body and I like meals that are all in one dish.

I woke up on Sunday morning to Matt singing a dramatic, heartfelt rendition of Happy Birthday, and holding a slice of cheesecake.

Not a bad way to ring in 25.

i've been at the lake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

might just be time for botox

One thing that is never lacking around our apartment is humility self-confidence.  Michelle and I consider ourselves to be experts on every subject from foreign policy to parenting even though we have absolutely no experience with either.  And we are absolutely positive that we are gorgeous. 

This belief was validated a few months ago Michelle's boyfriend mentioned that he downloaded an app that scans your face and then rates your beauty on a scale of one to one hundred.  He thought the results were totally inaccurate as he and others were scoring numbers that were lower than anticipated, so he was planning on deleting it.  Michelle asked him to keep it until we could give it a try, and so he came over and we scanned our faces and I'm proud to report that we scored in the high 90s.

Higher than ANGELINA JOLIE.

We bring our scores up frequently, and by frequently I mean at least once daily.  

Listen, it's almost impossible for a couple of 96s to stay humble.

A few weeks ago Michelle read an article about Olay's Total Effects Anti-Aging Night Cream, and started using it.  After just a few days she reported noticeable changes and could hardly keep track of the compliments she was receiving, so of course I hightailed it to Target toot suite to pick some up some of this miracle cream for myself. 

I even got the facial scrub because go big or go home.

For the past several weeks I have been using both products with much noticed success.  

Or so I thought.

At work on Thursday, my phone rang.  It was the HR manager from my company.  She works in the main office which is about two hours away from my office, so I don't see her a whole lot, but when I do I try to make pleasant small talk with her because I'm no fool.  I know whose good side to stay on.

She had a  few clarifying questions about a few forms I had recently submitted, and after she asked them she said, "Oh, one more thing.  Are you over age 45?"

I'm sorry, did you call the wrong person?

FORTY-FIVE?

Here I am liberally applying anti-again night cream to my 24 year old face in an attempt not to appear 30 prematurely.

But 45?  I didn't know I had such an uphill battle.

Maybe I should ask Angelina Jolie for some tips.