tomorrow we buy the oreos

Spring has officially sprung here and I am over the moon.  This past weekend was particularly beautiful and I walked around for 48 hours like I've never experienced spring before.

"Look at how BLUE that sky is!"

"Have you ever heard birds sing so melodiously?"

"The air smells like perfume from all of the blooming trees!"

I feel like a new person.

The warmer weather has also inspired me to prepare fresher, healthier meals, instead of meals whose main ingredient is cheese with a side of cheese.  I bought tons of fresh fruits and veggies this weekend and even made myself squash soup, which, looking back, may have been a little misguided. 

Tonight after dinner Matt said, "Do we have any snacks?" and all I could offer was a handful of roasted almonds or some tortilla chips made from only chickpeas and sesame seeds and some sort of magic.

"No thanks, I was hoping for something more...mainstream," he said.

In other news, we bought a chiminea last weekend, and we had our first fire Tuesday night.  Matt turned the Phillies game on the radio and I brought out my new book and we listened and read and talked and the whole thing was so relaxing.  We canceled our cable a few months ago, and the price we paid for the chiminea was what we'd pay for one month of cable.  In my opinion, we've already gotten a 100% return on investment.

It was nice to have such a lovely evening in the yard, because it had been the scene of a traumatic experience earlier this month.  

When we bought this house Matt proclaimed he needed a riding lawnmower because it would take him 3 hours to mow the yard with a push mower.

My counter-argument was that it takes me 3 hours to clean the house, so I need a maid.

We got the lawnmower.

I'm sure the maid will show up any day now.

We found the lawnmower on Craigslist and got a pretty good deal.  Matt fired that bad boy up last Friday.  He made his first lap up and back and was grinning from ear to ear.  Mowing his own yard.  It was the moment he'd been waiting 27 years for.

And then on lap 3, the lawnmower died.  Among other problems, the engine block was cracked, and in case you're not up to speed on the going rate for new lawnmower engine blocks, I can tell you they're about $800.   Which is more than we paid for the lawnmower to begin with.

Let's just say it was a bad night around here, because we were pretty convinced we were going to be out the money from the first lawnmower, which we couldn't sell to someone else since in the current condition, PLUS have to buy a second.  We ran some errands on Friday night but neither of us were in great moods, and when we got home Matt casually mentioned he was hungry and I casually mentioned that he better get used to that feeling because we're never going to be able to afford to eat again.

It wasn't one of my finer moments.

On Monday morning Matt decided to try to call the man we bought the lawnmower from to see if they could work things out.  And I'm here to tell you there are still good people in this world because the man felt terrible, apologized profusely, and gave us every cent of our money back.

So the good news is that we now have a new working lawnmower and our lawn will be the envy of the neighborhood in no time.

And the great news is that we will be able to afford to eat another day.

Maybe we can even splurge on some mainstream snacks.

you lucky dog

My family had a dog named Sandy when I was very little, but she died when I was six so I don't remember very much about her.  After that, my brother and I made half-hearted requests for a new dog every now and then, but the requests never resulted in a new puppy because did I mention half-hearted?

And then Emily came along.

And she was OBSESSED WITH DOGS.

When Emily was in first grade, my mom sewed felt patches all over a white sweatsuit for Halloween, but Em wore that puppy costume long after October 31st.

And then Emily took things to a whole new level when she started barking and crawling on all fours to the door when the doorbell rang.

And in February 2003, we got Rosie.

There was some family discord about what to name our new puppy, but when we found out that she was born on December 27th, Emily's birthday, we all agreed that we had to name her Rosie, after Em's middle name, Rose.

Rosie was an English Springer Spaniel, and we quickly learned they weren't kidding about the "spring" part.  A few weeks after we got her, my dad made himself a big, juicy sandwich for lunch, put it on the table, and went out to get a soda from the garage fridge.  When he came back inside, the sandwich was gone, and Rosie had crumbs on her mouth.  Let's just say Dad was less than thrilled with her display of agility and speed eating.

My brother and I were talking about The Notorious Sandwich Incident of 2003 this weekend.  We both thought that after Rosie's brazen act she wouldn't make it 13 more days in our house, let alone 13 more years.

But she defied the odds.

That's not to say she stopped eating forbidden treats.

There was the time she ate 30 lollipops intended to be Emily's class Valentines.  She gave herself away because she emerged from her candy binge with lollipop wrappers stuck in her long, floppy ears.

One time she ate a platter of gourmet chocolate covered pretzels my mom got from her students.

And when she was definitely old enough to know better, she ate the two layer heart shaped cake I made for my parents' 25th anniversary.  I came home from work on my lunch hour to ice the cake, and it was gone.

Just this past October, my mom and I returned from an afternoon of shopping, and Rosie was standing in the hallway surrounded by empty Halloween candy wrappers.

They say chocolate isn't good for dogs, but it never bothered Rosie.

Rose loved to be outside and in the water.  She went with us on vacations to the lake and for hikes in the woods.  She loved to be in the backyard, drinking from the pond and chasing squirrels and laying in the sunshine.

But mostly, she loved to be with her people.

She usually laid in the middle of the hallway, where she could see the kitchen and the family room, and keep an eye on the front door.

At night she'd drag her bed out to the family room to be with everyone.  She'd get all settled in and fall asleep, but when she heard the television click off, she'd jump right up and trot into her crate for bed.  

You could always count on Rosie to hear the garage and be waiting for you at the door when you came inside.

And if she was outside alone for too long, she'd come looking for a friend.

She wasn't allowed upstairs, but when someone went up, she'd wait patiently on the landing for them to come back down.

She was a dog, but for thirteen years, she was part of our family.

And she was Emily's best friend.

I don't think any of us appreciated Rosie's loyalty and unconditional love more than Emily did.

Over the last two weeks, Rosie's health declined.  On Friday, my parents knew it was time.  I went over to see her one last time after work, and I sat down next to her on the floor.  She was weak and tired, but she picked her head up and put it on my knee.  Up until the very end, she really loved her people.

And her people are really going to miss her.

Easter was egg-cellent

Well now that it's been two weeks since Easter, I guess it's about time I write about it.

For the first time this year, we had Easter brunch instead of Easter dinner, and I have to say it was a fantastic idea.  I was responsible for bringing two things, so I made bacon wrapped asparagus and a french toast casserole.  Typically I do a practice run before bringing something to a crowd, because while I'm definitely improving in the cooking department, things can still be a little dicey when I try a new recipe.  But I threw caution to the wind for my Easter contributions and made them for the first time, and it was a huge success.  The only mistake I made was "accidentally" doubling the butter in the french toast casserole, and I have to say, it wasn't a bad thing.

Also, the cutest baby in all the land came to spend her first Easter in Pennsylvania and despite all the candy my parents bought, I think she was the sweetest thing about Easter.

Emily was home from college for the weekend.  My mom had the day off Monday and planned to drive her back to PSU bright and early for her 10 am class, so I took the day off and joined in the fun.

And fun it was.

We left at 6:00, so by 9:30 my mom and I were at the point where we found everything, especially ourselves, completely hilarious, and Emily was at the point where she was ready to crawl out the car window at a red light.

We dropped Em off for her class and made plans to reconvene at her dorm at 11:15 so she get her luggage and load the car up with her winter clothes to send home.

Which meant my mom and I found ourselves with an hour to kill on our old college campus.

So we decided to walk around and take pictures at various Penn State landmarks and text them to Emily in class.

The creamery! My freshman year dorm! The student union! The library! Em's favorite study spot! The lion shrine!

We met back up with Emily after her class and she did a combo eye roll/grin about the pictures, so our plan was a total success. 

I wonder if she will ask us for a ride back anytime soon.

the bar has been set

I wrote a few weeks back about the ease and convenience of renting cars for work trips.

And then the next morning I easily and conveniently drove my rental car right through an EZ pass entrance on the turnpike instead of the cash ticket lane, and racked up a forty one dollar and fifty cent toll even though I only drove eleven miles.  Apparently when you exit without a ticket they charge you the price from the VERY FIRST ENTRANCE.

Literal highway robbery.

But, I decided to give renting another go, and my mom drove me over to Enterprise this afternoon to pick up a car for a work trip tomorrow.  As we pulled into the lot, she scanned the available vehicles and announced her prediction. "There's not much here today.  You will probably end up with that white minivan."

And then I walked into the rental office and Jake behind the counter said, "There's not much here today.  How do you feel about that white minivan?"

"That would be fine I guess," I told him.  

But then at the last second I added, "Is that all that's available?" because it doesn't hurt to ask.

"Let me check what's in the bay," he said, and walked over to the little garage area.  I always thought that's where they washed the cars but evidently it's where they hide the luxurious options because Jake came back to the counter and said, "It's a Jaguar.  Would that be okay?"

After checking to make sure it wouldn't cost any more than the standard (read: cheapest available) car that my nonprofit employer's Fiscal Hotline had approved, I set off in style in my very own Jaguar.

I parked the car in the street when I got home, and went inside and said to Matt, "Could you come outside real quick and make sure I parked close enough to the curb with MY JAG?"

The look he gave me resembled the one he gave me the other night when I laced up my sneakers and announced I was going to go for a run.

That is to say, complete and utter disbelief.  

But he walked to the front door and what to his wondering eyes should appear but a shiny black Jaguar.  

We went outside together because he wanted to see how many liters were in the engine and something about torque, and I wanted to read the manual for a few practical things like which buttons adjust the mirrors and how do I turn on the defroster?

On my drive home I'd noticed that behind the steering wheel there were two big buttons.  One had a "+" and the other had a "-." Naturally I thought they were for the radio volume, so I pushed the + while I was at a red light and the car sounded like it was going to take off.

After I adjusted my mirrors and found the defroster, I said to Matt, "what do you think these big buttons behind the steering wheel are?"

"Oh those?  Those are your paddle shifters." 

It's official.  I'm in over my head with all this luxury.  

As I was upstairs packing my suitcase for my trip tonight, Matt came into the bedroom and said, "I've been doing some research and that car?  It goes zero to sixty in 5.1 seconds."

Well, we will just see about that tomorrow morning as I merge onto the Pennsylvania turnpike.

Via the cash ticket lane, of course.

all because i'm high maintenance

Matt wasn't feeling well last night so he went to bed a little early and I decided to hang out in my office to paint my nails and watch one more episode of The West Wing because I'm about at the point where I'm ready to write in Jed Bartlett for president on my actual ballot in November.

As I was watching President Bartlett give the State of the Union and applying a second coat of OPI's "Ce-less-tial is More," I heard a tremendous crashing sound.

I couldn't tell where it came from, but obviously it meant someone had broken into our house.  I sat so still in my chair for about ten seconds, and then I did what any reasonable 27 year old woman would do and RAN to the bedroom, woke Matt up, gave him a whisper version of what happened and requested that he check the doors/windows/closets to locate the intruder.

After he stared at me for a few seconds, he got up out of bed and did just that.  I stood in a safe spot at the top of the stairs, and after a few minutes Matt turned the corner and said, "Well, there's officially no one in this house but us."

After he checked out front for a getaway car, we both went to bed.

And then this morning I went into the shower and found this.

It appears my intruder was just an over-filled shower caddy.

I guess I didn't buy one that was equipped to handle all of my products.

Tonight at dinner we talked about the "break-in" and Matt said, "I don't think robbers typically break in to a house at 10:00 at night.  When all the lights are on."

YOU NEVER KNOW.

And today I'm buying a new shower caddy.

And maybe a home alarm system.

next time i'm hoping for a convertible

I've had to do quite a bit of driving for work lately, and since Old Blue is getting up in mileage, I've decided it might be a good time to start renting a car for these longer trips.  Last week my mom and I walked at the park in the afternoon (the spring weather and my mom's hand me down Fitbit have turned me into a new, motivated girl), and she dropped me off at Enterprise after our walk.

As we pulled into the lot, she said, "Wow, look at that fancy Dodge Charger.  I bet that's the car you'll get."

Then, after a scan around the lot, she spotted a plain jane sedan parked on the side and said, "Actually, you will probably that one."

And I agreed with her because I work for a non-profit and all employees are specifically instructed by the Fiscal Hotline to request the most basic car available.

And then I went inside and the man behind the counter said, "Would you like the Dodge Charger today?"

WOULD I EVER?!

I confirmed that the price would not change, because the last thing I wanted was a call from the Fiscal Hotline, and five minutes later I was driving home in a brand new vehicle that had settings for the "climate," and not simply heat or ac, and with the key sitting in the cup holder and not the ignition because TECHNOLOGY IS SO FANCY THESE DAYS AND THE CAR TURNS ON WITH THE PUSH OF A BUTTON.

I left early the next morning for my meeting and as I merged my spaceship onto the turnpike I realized the Charger really had some get up and go under the hood.  So please imagine my panic when I glanced down at the digital speedometer and saw 91 flashing on the screen.

After I slammed on the brakes I realized the speedometer was set to kilometers per hour.  Whew.

I knew I wasn't going that fast.

I returned the Charger on Thursday night with a heavy heart, but on Saturday morning I was back at Enterprise to pick up a new car for this week.  This time I got a cute Jeep Cherokee, which has a smooth ride and an old school key that actually goes into the ignition just like God and auto mechanics intended.

The Jeep seemed a little simpler and more my "speed," until I went to the gas station.  And had to read the manual to figure out how to open the gas cap.

And then I tried to pop in a CD and learned it has no CD player.  It has a USB port, and an SD card port, but no CD player.

Technology has officially PASSED ME BY.

However, in addition to automatic and four wheel drive, the Jeep does have have settings (options? gears?) for sport and sand/mud.

And I have the Jeep until Saturday.

I think an off road adventure is calling my name.

It's just too bad I won't be able to listen to a CD while I drive through the mud.

what's been going on

We recently cut down the majority of an old crabapple tree in our backyard.  We thought we could do it all in one weekend because the tree looks practically miniature when you're gazing out at it from the kitchen window, but when you're out there chopping it down, it is gigantic.  

Plus, we are working in a swamp because our yard still hasn't dried out from the great garden hose tragedy of 2016.

---------------

I took off of work on Friday to drive to Penn State to pick Emily up for spring break, and my mom let me use her car.  She told me she had some CDs in there, and when I reached into the console, I found this. 

JACK. POT.

I listened three times on my drive there, and started it again for the drive home.  After a few songs Emily rolled her eyes and said, "Wow.  You even sing the instrumental parts."

That's when we turned on the radio.

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Emily had a job interview today and I drove her.  It wasn't even my interview, but I was so nervous on her behalf that I that I was distracted from my driving and drove by the place three times before I could actually turn into the parking lot.   I could tell my navigational issues weren't calming Emily's nerves, so I tried to give her a little pep talk as I attempted to get in the correct lane for the third time.  "Think about it like this Emily," I told her, "It'll be over in an hour.  And you'll either get the job, or you won't."

My motivational speaking tour will be kicking off any day now.

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Annabelle came for a visit this weekend and she's still the cutest baby around.

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Em and I walked outside today.  God bless two digit temperatures that start with any digit 5 and above.

all you need is love and the appropriate level of humidity

One day late last week, I noticed that our neighbor Diane's patio was covered in water.  It was a sunny day and the temps were above freezing, so I figured the icicles on her house were melting.

And then, on Saturday morning, we noticed that our side yard and backyard were filling up with water, which led us to believe that the source of the forming glacier was something more substantial than a few icicles.  

Since the temperature was about, oh, FIVE DEGREES, we assumed that Diane had a frozen pipe that burst.  When she got home, Matt knocked on her door to alert her to the flood, but she didn't answer.  So, we went on with our lives like newbie homeowners without an insurance-related care in the world and woke up on Sunday to a pond in our backyard.

And our side yard.

And a damp crawlspace.

So, we did what any responsible homeowners would do and called the police department for the second time in as many months.

It's only a matter of time until the put us on a do not call list.

When the officer arrived and surveyed the damage, he said, "Whoa.  I've never seen anything like this."

Our neighbor still wasn't home, so the officer and Matt looked around next door, and after searching for the source of a few puddles the officer discovered that the water was actually coming from the next house up.

Specifically, their garden hose.

Which they'd left on, running at a moderate to full blast.

I peeked out the kitchen window while the officer woke up the homeowner and she came outside in her pajamas to learn that her garden hose had been running for days and flooding the yards of the next five houses and probably racking up quite the water bill.

Ironically, while there were six inches of water in our backyard, the inside of our house was hovering around 12% relative humidity.  By comparison, the annual average humidity in the Sahara desert is 25%.  We'd purchased a humidifier the week before, but it broke and flooded and ruined our bureau and I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

But, it was AWFUL.  Every time we touched a light switch, sparks flew.  Our voices were hoarse.  And both Matt and I woke up in the middle of the night Sunday because of dry air.

HOW HIGH MAINTENANCE IS THAT?

Finally, at 2 am, as I leaned over the glass of water on my nightstand and took deep, dramatic breaths, Matt said, "Do you want me to go to WalMart and buy a humidifier?"

Forget the Valentine's Day chocolates and flowers.  True love is a man who is willing to go to WalMart in sub zero temperatures at 2 am to buy you a humidifier.

In the end, we decided to tough it out.  We'd ordered a new humidifier online and it arrived Tuesday, around the same time that our backyard started to dry out.

And Matt did get me beautiful flowers for Valentine's Day.

I've done some research on orchids, and they can last forever, as long as the humidity is right.

One way or another, I think we can make that happen.

10 things you don't want to hear or say during a home renovation. and we've heard and said them all.

"I'm going to turn the power back on.  If you see smoke or hear a loud pop, run."

"This project might require me to rent a dump truck."

"Do you smell some sort of burning smell or is that just me?"

"I saw on Pinterest..."

"The floor needs just one more coat of polyurethane."

"Well, that paint color is brighter than expected."

"I think I measured wrong."

"Uh oh.  The paint leaked through the drop cloth.  Onto the freshly refinished floors."

"Let skip the wallpaper removal and just rip the walls down and put up new drywall."

"Well, we know for next time not to leave the door open before we sand the hardwood floor for four hours or the whole house will get really dusty."

snow and dinner and chocolate milk

As I believe I've mentioned a time or twelve, I've been under a travel ban at work since October, which meant I could only leave my home office one time per week.

I wouldn't necessarily consider myself an outgoing person, but being home alone, all day, four days a week was killing me.  I am my own biggest fan and I was even getting tired of myself.  The travel ban was lifted last Thursday, and because I felt like a free woman, I scheduled a meeting for 9:30 the next morning.

And the next morning, it snowed.  The roads were just wet, but because I hate driving in any form of winter precipitation, I left two hours early to drive 30 miles. 

This week, I had another morning meeting scheduled, and when I opened the door to leave I saw this outside.  

I PANIC when I have to drive in actual snow, so I decided to turn on the news to check the weather and traffic.  However, we canceled our cable this week, and the only channel we are currently getting is the local ABC affiliate in SARASOTA, FLORIDA.  Well, according to Suncoast 7, the weather was just lovely.  Not a snowflake in sight.

So I took eight thousand deep breaths, put on my big girl snow boots, and headed out.  And I made it around the block before I turned right around and came home and waited an hour for everything to melt.  

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During the past few months, I have become a self-professed meal planning pro.  And then Tuesday the wheels fell off and I realized I had no dinner plan. It was snowing outside, of course, which meant I was not venturing out to the grocery store for ingredients and had to work with what I had.

I employed the strategy of "If you put enough cheese on it, it will be delicious."  

When Matt came home from work and asked what was for dinner, I actually said the words, "Tuesday Pantry Surprise."

At least it wasn't my other cleverly named go-to last minute option, a YOYO dinner. 

You're On Your Own.

--------------------

Matt usually wakes up at least an hour before I do.  He kisses me goodbye, but he gets dressed in the pitch dark so  as to not wake me because I am a girl who enjoys her sleep.  This morning, because I had another early meeting (BACK TO THE REAL WORLD), we were up at the same time.

And at 6:15 in the morning, he carried on the most chipper conversation about how turkey lunch meat tastes better when it's "ruffled" on a sandwich as opposed to laying flat, just like chocolate milk tastes better when the chocolate is added after the milk is poured into the glass as opposed to before, and how he couldn't believe I've never tried Ovaltine.

You know what I think about at 6:15 in the morning?  Where is my coffee and how hot can I get the shower?

Opposites attract.

at least i didn't write crossfit

I had a doctor's appointment first thing Monday morning, and when I checked in, the receptionist handed me an updated patient information form to complete.

I LOVE filling out forms like that, and the questions started out pretty basic.  Do you wear your seat belt in the car?  Do you smoke?  Has your insurance information changed?

And then, I got to the question "Do you exercise?"

I wrote "yes."

The next question was "If yes, how often?"

I wrote "three times per week."

The next question was "What type of exercise?"

And here is where I cannot explain what sort of dishonest, self-inflated athletic version of myself took over, but before I realized what was happening, I'd written "jogging."

 JOGGING?!

My mom and I walk moderately paced laps around the local mall every few days.  That is the extent of my exercise routine.

In fact, I jog so infrequently that I can remember the last time it happened.  It was Memorial Day weekend TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN.  Michelle and I had rented a place down the shore and had to catch the jitney to the bar. and we jogged about a block to the jitney pick up stop.

But there, in ink, on an official medical document, I claimed I was a jogger.  I panicked for a few seconds.  I certainly couldn't cross it out and write "walking," because that would look dumb.  I also couldn't ask the receptionist for a new form due to grossly exaggerating my exercise level, so I just left it there and hoped that the doctor wouldn't choose to question me about my jogging habits.

And thankfully, she didn't say a word about it.

But I feel like I should jog this week.

Although, maybe I should wait until Memorial Day.  Why break tradition?

and i was the english major

My brother and sister and I have a group text, and it really gets busy during election season.  Last Monday, as the Iowa caucus results came it, let's just say there were a lot of corny jokes.

It was a-maize-ing.

I knew the group text would be busy on Saturday night because of the Republican debate, but I didn't realize we would be discussing such controversial topics.

Can't wait until convention season.

all 732 trips to home depot were well worth it

Back in December I wrote about tackling our first room renovation in our new house - my office.  This picture of the office is from the online listing.  You can obviously see why we couldn't pass up this house! 

And this is what it looked like the day we moved in.

After we pulled up the carpet, we discovered that the floors had some sort of stain on them, and not the kind of stain that's supposed to be on a hardwood floor.  It took a LOT of sanding (And dust. Oh the dust.  I am still dusting.) and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide to bleach the stain out.

Then it was time to paint the walls, stain the floor, and put up new baseboards and window woodwork. 

And now, it looks like this. 

We still need to get blinds and hang some things on the walls, but I love it.

 My new office called for a new coffee mug.

 I'm going to need that coffee to tackle the next project - wallpaper.