i bet cleopatra could afford any beauty treatment she wanted

First, I should start out this post by saying that our neighbor got a new hose.  And now I'm afraid she's discovered my blog.  But, her pool is filled and our yard isn't a lake, so I guess it all worked out in the end.

Anyway.

Matt texted me the other morning to tell me he had been in the elevator with the CEO of the giant company that he works for.

Those numbers shocked me because I work for a non-profit and am apparently a little out of touch with how much money business people can make.  There are no Ms where I work.  We are solidly in the G territory only.

But I am still willing to pay a price for beauty, and when I went to the dermatologist last week, she prescribed a lotion for my face to reduce a few scars I have.  She said something about peptides and how it rebuilds collagen, so I was ALL IN.  I know some people are all about natural products for your skin, and I get that, but I've struggled with my skin for a long time, so I can really get behind some potions and/or prescription medication.

 

In fact, last week Michelle texted me that she'd heard the secret to beautiful skin is Cleopatra's Choice Shea Butter, so she ordered herself a jar and was going to report back on the results.  I say if it's good enough for Cleopatra, it's good enough for me.

My prescription came in the mail yesterday and then, to continue on with the medical theme of the day, Matt and I sat down after dinner to look at my health insurance options because it's the least wonderful time of the year, open enrollment time.

Whomp, whomp.

(I've written this story on the blog before, but insurance is not my wheelhouse.  When I got my first job, I brought all my paperwork home to show my parents and excitedly shared with them that I could choose a cafeteria plan.  The reason I was excited about that was because I thought cafeteria meant lunch.  My dad broke the news that it's a type of healthcare plan and not a grilled cheese and carton of milk every day at noon.)

I tried to log in to the benefits website and kept getting an error message that my username and password were incorrect.  I did a search of my email inbox to see if I had the info saved in there.  I didn't find it, but what I did find was an email from the benefits website with a password reset every single June since 2012.

Nothing like a tradition.

As I worked on logging in, Matt said, "So, how much did you spend on medical expenses this year?"

He may as well have asked me how many blades of grass are in our yard.  I have no earthly idea.  Whenever I go to a doctor, I slide that insurance card across the counter and hope for the best, and then submit my receipts for reimbursement if I have to pay anything out of pocket. What I don't do is keep a running tally of all that in my head.

So, we pulled up the record of my expenses and it was like Great Grandma Laura moved in.

Turns out I've spent a lot of time (and money) this year at the podiatrist, dermatologist, and the dentist for a sweet night time mouth guard.  Matt said maybe we should just go ahead and add a line item to our budget for me to get my hair washed and curled every week like our grandmothers do because EVERYONE IS A COMEDIAN.

It's hard to predict what medical expenses this year will bring, but we did our best and then I went upstairs to wash my face and put on my new potion.  When I came back downstairs Matt gave me a kiss and quite literally got stuck to my face.

As it turns out, that stuff is like glue and I put on a liberal application.

"Umm, what is on your face?" he asked me.

"About $16.72 worth of magic," I told him.  

Although if it improves my collagen and peptides like I think it will, it's priceless.

I just hope it's covered by my new insurance.  If not, Matt might have to ask the CEO for a little bonus the next time he sees him in the elevator.

an excess of junk food, and fans

Matt and I went out to dinner on Friday night.  It was a beautiful night, and we sat outside and dined on organic, locally sourced cuisine.

Just kidding.

I had a drink called Mermaid Water, we started with an order of "junkyard fries" that had so much cheese and ranch dressing we had to eat them with a spoon, and then I decided to keep it light and ordered loaded nachos for my dinner.



It was delicious.

On Saturday, Matt walked outside to mow the lawn, and we discovered that we were basically living on waterfront property.  Our neighbor was filling her pool with her garden hose, but the part of the hose that was lying on the grass had sprung a leak, which she'd tried to repair with a band aid.

An actual band aid.  Meant for a paper cut.

She came outside to check on things, and Matt went over to talk to her.  She told him she didn't know why the pool was taking to long to fill, and he suggested the leaking hose.  She acted like that was crazy talk even though we could all clearly see the ineffective band aid, but she offered to turn the hose off anyway while Matt mowed the lawn.  He said he didn't mind, he was really just concerned that her water bill was going to be very high, and that our grass wouldn't dry out instantly even if she turned off the hose.

She still insisted she couldn't see the water ponding in our yard and Matt said, "The birds are swimming in it."

It brought back memories of the time we called the police a few years ago because our yard was a lake.  It was wintertime and we thought a neighbor's pipe had burst, but no one was answering their doors.  The police looked around and found out the hose was running at the house two doors up the street.

Also, speaking of calling the police for non-emergencies, my friend called me last week to tell me that she'd called the police because she heard someone yelling "Heeeelp, heeeelp," in the woods across the street from her house.  The police arrived and it turns out IT WAS A GOAT.

She's new to country living.

Last night we went up to bed and turned on our multitude of noise machines.  I kid you not, we sleep with the ceiling fan, a window fan, an oscillating fan, a small fan on the nightstand, a humidifier, and a white noise app set to the sounds of rain on a lake.

Amidst the cacophony, I thought I heard something else.  Finally, I said, "Matt, do you hear that?  I think I hear someone."

"Yeah," Matt said, "I brought the Amazon Alexa up.  I'm just playing a little Bad Company."

Nothing like a little Bad Company as you drift off to sleep.  But maybe tonight we won't even need the music or the white noise app, because it's raining and we now have our very own lake in the backyard.

Time to buy a boat.

i wonder what he would say if he ever got a pedicure

Well, I got back from my work trip tonight, and luckily my mom saved me by picking me up at the rental car office so I didn't have to field questions about my exercise habits from my pal Romeo, like I did on Tuesday.

But that didn't stop me from asking the tough questions when I got home.  Matt made burgers for dinner, and while he cooked I sat at the island and floated out deep, philosophical scenarios, like "We have a pinkie finger and pinkie toe, so why do we have a thumb, but a big toe? Why don't we call our thumb our big finger, or our big toe our thumb toe?"

Can you tell I've essentially spent the last 48 hours all alone with my thoughts?

Of which there are MANY?

Matt responded by saying, "Well, It's actually called your PIGGY toe, not your pinkie toe."

Piggy?

"So, if you hurt your tiniest toe and had to go to the doctor, what would you say?" I asked him.

And he said, "I'd tell him that I hurt my piggy toe."

Let's hope his toes stay injury free for the rest of forever, and that this little piggy goes only to market and not to the emergency room because that would be quite embarrassing.

Anyway, my favorite thing to do when I get home from spending a few days in meetings and hotels is to take a nice, long walk in the woods.  Bring on the weekend and the fresh air and hopefully, a few walks.

among other things, a fish story

I took the day off today and spent it doing all kinds of exciting things, like cleaning all the windows in the house and going to the dermatologist.

The dermatologist did my first ever skin cancer check, and half a second in, she pointed to a spot on my ear and said, "How long has this been here?"  I had no idea.  I'd never seen it before.  And then she pointed out a spot on my forehead and asked, "How about this one?  Do you remember when it appeared, or if it's gotten darker or changed in size?"  

I'm not going to downplay this charming personal quality, but I could practically have a part time job with the amount of time I spend looking at myself in a mirror.  From the time I was a little girl my parents have said, "Oh, she loves to look at herself" and my mom jokes that I've never met a reflective surface I didn't like.  And she's right.  I can't even remember the last time I walked by our microwave without looking at my reflection in the door.  Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" could be my theme song.

So, the fact that I could not identify the age or appearance of these marks made me wonder whose face I've been staring at in mirrors and microwaves and shiny car doors for the last two decades.

After that I went home to wait for Enterprise to come pick me up, because I was renting a car for a business trip this week.  Romeo arrived promptly at 3:45.  I rent cars all the time so I feel like the Enterprise people are old pals.  As we pulled away, Romeo looked at my leggings and my Nikes and said, "So, you going jogging later?"

Yikes.

I didn't have it in me to admit that I was wearing the outfit purely as athleisure apparel.  I want to simply LOOK like I am in pursuit of fitness, but really have zero intention of working out.

So in that respect, I guess, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

I lied through my teeth and said, "I already went."

Romeo responded, "I'm a runner too.  How many miles did you do today?"

Houston, we have a problem.  That problem is that I have not run in my life, ever.

I didn't know what to say because I had no idea what an "average" run is.  Is it one mile?  Four miles?  Ten miles?

I paused for a moment and then decided to just come clean.  "Well, I didn't really...run, exactly.  I just...walked."

I appreciate Romeo for not laughing at me.  "Like, power walk?" he said.

No, Romeo.  Like, regular walk.  Around the block.

Then Romeo started asking me why I don't run.  I told him I don't like to run and he wanted to know what I don't like about it.

Finally I said, "It's too much effort.  And walking around the block is better than nothing."

By that time we were at Enterprise, and when I got inside, a young girl who looked about my sister's age started to help me.  She asked me for my driver's license and when I handed it over she practically passed out.  "Well, whoa," she remarked.  "You look REALLY young.  I mean, for your age and all.  I mean, you could practically pass for one of my friends."

And then I followed her out to the Chevy Impala not knowing if I should feel happy that I look young or depressed that I am now the age college students consider old.

She chatted away telling me how she's an intern and just started last week and then she popped the trunk of the car to show me where the spare tire is located.  The car was inconveniently backed halfway into a bush so I just nodded from afar and thanked her for the spare tire info.  And then she tried to close the trunk, and kept closing branches from the bush inside of it, chatting all the while about how my job sounds really cool and she'd love to go on business trips someday and did I ever drive an Impala before and who in the world would back a car halfway into a bush?!

I had to literally TURN AWAY so she wouldn't see me laughing as she got in the driver's seat and pulled the car forward several feet so that she could close the trunk without sending me off with half a rhododendron hanging out the back.

And in that moment, I thought that even though I might have more questionable age/sun spots on my face than I did 8 years ago, I don't miss being 20.

When Matt got home, he went out back to check on the chickens and the garden while I finished dinner.  He came back with a strange look on his face and said, "Things are fishy out there.  LITERALLY."

Do you know what was in our yard?  A GIANT FISH HEAD.

I don't even know what to say about that, except it was o-fish-ially the weirdest Tuesday every.

he even brought a tennis ball to the wedding

I wrote this post on May 23rd, which has long been my dream wedding date and favorite day of the year.  I think "May 23rd" sounds so pretty and always imagined it on a wedding invitation.  That particular dream died on March 8, 2014 when Matt and I vowed to love each other forever, through good and bad.

Speaking of the bad, Matt just requested me to slice the cheese for the cheese and crackers he takes for lunch with a paring knife instead of a steak knife like I did last night (desperate times) because it made his cheese "groovy."

And everyone knows there's nothing worse than groovy cheese.

Anyway, Michelle texted me tonight about the significance of the day and that's how you know you have a good best friend.  She remembers your favorite fake wedding date.

She also remembers our real wedding date because it's right around the time her car is due for inspection, which she found out the hard way when she got pulled over on the way to our rehearsal dinner for expired tags.

Speaking of weddings, Matt's youngest brother got married this past weekend, and in preparation for the wedding festivities, I decided to figure out a way to acquire an artificial tan because everyone looks better with a tan.

I briefly considered a spray tan, but that felt like a lot of money to spend on pure vanity, and then in the Sunday paper last weekend I found a coupon for $3.00 off L'oreal Sublime Bronze tanning towels.  I picked up a box, followed all the directions, and was so excited to see the results the next morning.

Let's just say it turned into a maxi skirt kind of day.

YIKES.

The streaks evened out by the next morning and at the rehearsal dinner someone even asked me if I'd been spending time at the beach. 

Nope, just in the sunless tanning aisle of Walmart.

The wedding went off without a hitch.  The boys all got ready at our house, including our two year old nephew, Anthony.  He'd screamed his head off at his suit fitting the night before, so everyone was a bit apprehensive about getting him into the getup for the big day.

We all kind of walked around all morning avoiding the elephant, or the two year old, in the room.

Finally, Matt and I took on the challenge and about halfway through I had visions of Anthony walking down the aisle in suit pants and the pajama shirt he was wearing, which was camouflage and said "my hero wears hunting boots, I call him daddy" with a big Bass Pro Shops logo.  Something tells me that wasn't exactly what his mother had in mind.

In order to get him to wear the suit, Matt and I promised him everything under the sun.  Candy.  Cookies.  Ice cream.  Several donuts.

A puppy.  

A BOAT. 

Sorry to his parents.

At one point Matt tried to distract him with a tube of tennis balls (I don't have any idea where they came from because I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that we have never once played a game of tennis), and he wailed and said BUT I WANT A BLUE ONE TOO.  Matt disappeared while I tried to wrestle on the clip-on tie and came back with one of the tennis balls wrapped up in blue painters tape.

I almost gave him a standing ovation.

WELL DONE, UNCLE MATT.

In the end, Anthony's suit all worked out and he and Matt were thick as thieves all day.

Maybe next year Matt and I can renew our vows on May 23rd, and Anthony can wear that suit one more time.  We'll make sure to have tennis balls on hand.

And maybe some groovy cheese.

that pearl is a real gem

I had a different post planned for today, but then I stopped by my parents' house in the afternoon and those plans changed.  The reason I stopped at their house was two-fold.  First, I was going to let their puppy Pearl out for a little bit, and second, they have central air.

On the other hand, at our house we have doors that won't close because the wood has expanded and three wall unit air conditioners whose combined age is probably well over 100 years.

I am not joking.

Good times.

God love these two jokers who bought this house in frigid December and didn't give a second thought to central air because "we love fresh air and summer!"

Anyway, a few months ago I wrote a post about my parents' puppy, Pearl, and their creative tactics to keep her off of the furniture.

(Pearl was totally unimpressed.)

Today, I thought I'd give an update.  Here's a photo from this afternoon.

(Pearl remains totally unimpressed.)

You may notice that the balloons are gone, but long live baby gates and chafing trays.

When I got to their house I took Pearl outside, sat down on the chair, and before I knew it, she took my flip flop right off my foot.



I wish I could read her mind.









Meanwhile...




After many minutes of pleading with her to give me back my flip flop, I finally resorted to distracting her with a handful of Cheerios and swiping it back when she wasn't looking.

Naturally, she was thrilled to have the Cheerios and I bet if I could read her mind, right now she'd be saying, "I win."

wolves and rattlesnakes and...coffee...

On Friday night my parents and sister came over to celebrate Mother's Day a little bit early.  We had pizza and pina coladas and took a bunch of pictures, including the family trademark "popping" pose.

We got some nice ones but I especially love this mid-laugh one.

On Saturday morning my mom and I left bright and early to go to my brother's house.  He and my sister-in-law are expecting another baby in August, so we had lunch with them and did some nursery prep.  Babies require a LOT of equipment for being so tiny.

When we got home, my mom and I went to Petsmart and Sam's Club (where I bought minced garlic and organic milk and oh my word this is boring).  I'd taken a Bendryl at my brother's because of allergies and when I got home, I laid down on the couch and the next thing I knew I was waking up two hours later from an antihistamine fueled nap.  I felt like Rip van Winkle.  It was glorious.

On Sunday afternoon I got a bee in my bonnet and decided to clean the back patio.  I even dragged the furniture into the yard and hosed off the quarter inch of pollen covering it.

I also spent the day keeping up with my sister's Snapchat.  The reason we celebrated Mother's Day on Friday was because Emily left for a school trip on Sunday morning.  She is taking a Native American studies class and is spending the next few weeks on a reservation in Minnesota.  The drive from Pennsylvania to Minnesota is not a short one, but she Snapchatted along the way and cracked me up.

Emily promised my mom and me that she would keep us posted on her journey, so you can imagine how thrilled I was to get these types of updates.

She's so descriptive.  I almost feel like I'm right there with her.

The weather here was gorgeous yesterday, so I decided to go for a walk after dinner.  At one point, I was walking through a field and there was not another human as far as the eye could see.

I was listening to my favorite song and the sun was setting and there were deer everywhere and I might have even teared up a little bit because can life get any better than this?

And then I heard a strange noise, it wasn't going away, and within a few seconds I'd convinced myself it was a rattlesnake.  The fact that I don't even know if rattlesnakes live in suburban Philadelphia didn't enter my mind at that moment.  Instead, I broke into a flat out run, but the snake just followed me more aggressively.

After several awkward strides I realized it was my car keys jingling in my front pocket of my hoodie.

When I got home, I was sitting in the kitchen when I heard a TERRIBLE animal sound come from right outside our back door.

It went on for several seconds but by the time I got the outside light on, I couldn't see anything.  My sister texted at just that moment to tell me she had arrived in Minnesota, so I let her know that I heard a wolf or fox outside.

And she said, "A wolf?  Really, Laura?"

I could see her eyes rolling from 1400 miles away.

It's probably best that she's the one spending the next few weeks in the great outdoors.  I'll be enjoying the outdoors too.  Just in the form of drinking coffee on my clean patio.

that time matt was tased

The last time I wrote about our attendance at the Citizen's Police Academy, Matt hadn't been tased yet.
 (The English major in me has gone back and forth on the past tense of taser several times.  Is it tased, or tasered? The officer teaching our class says 'tased,' but he also says 'burgled' so I take his verb conjugation with a grain of salt.  On the upside, the attorney at work this week asked which form of "compli/ement" to use when referencing a group of attorneys, and my English degree and I were thrilled to have the correct answer for him.)

Anyway.

We arrived at class the night of the taser presentation, and the officer slid a three page waiver across the table to Matt and said, "Can you just sign this?"

The paralegal in me said LET'S READ EVERY SINGLE WORD, and also, IS ALL OF OUR INSURANCE UP TO DATE?

Matt did indeed sign the waiver, and then we waited one entire hour while a detective came in and taught us all about tasers and why they're so effective.

In short, because they're debilitating.

STEP RIGHT UP, MATT.

After we had a quick break for soft pretzels, Matt was called to the front of the room.  At that moment, several (handsome) young men walked through the side door.

"Are you the paramedics?" asked a woman in our class.

"No ma'am," they said, "We are the SWAT Team.  We're just here to watch."

And then, Matt was tased/tasered.  I stood at the back of the room and couldn't even watch, but here he is afterwards with a few of his adoring fans.

The taser makes your muscles contract 19 times per second, for five seconds, and when the electric charge ended, Matt said very matter of factly, "Well, that hurt."

He said it was the worst pain he's felt in his whole life, and will never do anything to get tasered.

Which means he is going to have to give up his life of crime.


All jokes aside, the officers talked at length about how tasers have changed policing significantly, in a positive way, and how they're so grateful for that option.

We finished our Citizen's Police Academy classed a few weeks ago, and with all the controversy surrounding police departments these days, I have to say that I'm thankful for ours.

I know that nobody is perfect, but our police department is one whose officers reflect the citizens they serve and values the community they serve in.

And don't worry, I'm not considering a career change.  I could hardly stand straight under the weight of that vest!