is it weird i felt emotional about this milestone?

My girlfriend Rose and I talk on the phone several mornings a week, typically when I'm driving into work.  My blue tooth is set up so I can talk hands free, but my car is SO LOUD that it is nearly  impossible for the person on the other end to hear me and I have to disconnect it.  Rose called as I was driving in this morning and when I answered, she screamed "HEY! I HEAR YOU'RE IN YOUR CAR AGAIN."

Yes, yes I was.  And then as I pulled into the parking lot at work, Old Blue hit a big milestone.

100,000 miles.

That's a lot of miles. 

My parents bought Old Blue (which was ironically brand new) and I packed the trunk and drove home from my college graduation to start my life in the real world.  

Which meant I drove right back home to mom and dad's house for a year and a half because #EnglishMajor.

I drove Old Blue to interviews, and my first real grown up job.  And then I crammed that trunk full of all of my worldly possessions and moved into my first apartment.  A few years later I packed the trunk again and drove back to mom and dad's, where I stayed until I packed it one more time and drove to our new condo after Matt and I got married.  

I've driven to weddings and funerals and baptisms and graduations and into the driveway when we bought our house.  I've driven to big work meetings and thousands of regular days at the office and one time I had to drive a detective to a court hearing while I had the snapshot device from Progressive Insurance Company and it beeped every time I accelerated too quickly or hit the brakes too harshly.

Between visiting the beach and my brother, I've driven to New Jersey a bunch of times, which is where I got my first (and only!) speeding ticket.

I drove Old Blue to Maryland with my brother the last time we went on family vacation just the five of us, and the next summer I drove my Mommom to meet my parents and Emily for a few days at a lake in upstate New York.

I've spent a lot of time with Emily in the passenger seat, and consequently spent years saying "passenger door ajar" in my best automated voice trying to convince her the car was talking to her.  

I've sung probably well over 100,000 songs from behind the wheel.

I've written a lot of stories about Old Blue on the blog and it seems I've always been a little unusually overprotective of a car.  

I went to a wedding shower at a fancy place where valet parking was the only option.  I've never had a valet park my car before and I am almost embarrassed to admit that I was nervous handing over the keys.  Would he turn the lights off?  Would he put the emergency brake on if he parked on even a slight incline like I do?  Would he press the lock button twice just to be sure?

-----

I dropped Old Blue off for inspection the other night, and I was very nervous about the whole situation for some reason.  I felt like a mom taking her child to the first day of school.  Completely ridiculous, I know.  But evidently she impressed all of the mechanics with her peppy gas pedal and highly enthusiastic air conditioning system because she passed with flying colors.  And she was safe in the dark, rainy parking lot overnight.  That may or may not be because I left her with strict instructions not to fraternize with the pickup trucks and the tough looking Toyota that was parked next to her.  Just kidding about that last part actually.  It was the Mazda I told her to avoid.

I also wrote about the time I left the windows open when it rained and I had to tragically spread kitty litter all over the seats to soak up the moisture.  

And the time battery died while I was pulled into a stall at Sonic.  

I never wrote about it but I also had an automotive AND minor emotional breakdown in the Dunkin' Donuts drive thru a few months ago.

Maybe I need to cool it with the fast food.

Matt changed the oil once a few years ago and forgot to put the cap back on, and I drove to a work training two hours away without the oil cap on.  When I arrive at my destination I thought it was just foggy, but it turned out smoke was pouring out from under the hood.  A colleague's husband came over with rags and my friend Jen stood in the giant oil puddle I'd created in her CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTINS and helped me wipe oil off of everything under the hood.

That's a good friend.

Since then Matt's successfully changed the oil and the brakes and even dutifully did a full inspection when I told him my foot was feeling a little tired, like it was working a bit harder than usual when pushing the pedals.  

He's actually addressed many non-specific automotive complaints over the years.  

And he made this label a few years ago and put it on my driver's side mirror, where it still remains.

A few months ago Matt came inside and said, "What happened to your car?"  I didn't know what he was talking about but sure enough, there was a GIANT scrape on the front bumper.  Obviously the only explanation was that someone hit me while I was parked in a parking lot.  But I told Matt that it wasn't a big deal, I hadn't noticed the scrape and neither would anyone else.

And then my parents stopped by that weekend and my dad said, "Hey Laur, what happened to your car?"

Bunch of eagle eyes around here.

My sister was home for spring break last week and we went to the store so I could buy some skincare products, namely those consisting of collagen and retinol because as I told her, I'm starting to look my age.

And I think the same can be said for Old Blue.

But here's to the next 100,000. 

May we both age gracefully.

i wish i had some ice cream to eat with my humble pie

Well I was all set to write a blog post tonight about our weekend snowstorm and power outage, but I've gotten sidetracked.

Actually I didn't have to write the post from scratch, I just had to type it, because I wrote it out with a pen in my notebook by candlelight this weekend just like the bloggers used to do in the 1800's.

I turned on the TV and was scrolling On Demand for the true crime section so I could fire up an episode of Criminal Confessions to watch while I typed, just like Ma Ingalls would have done, when I came across an entire genre entitled "For Your Dog."

With TWENTY SIX shows.

I clicked on it out of sheer curiosity, and these aren't shows ABOUT dogs.  They are literally shows FOR YOUR DOG.

There is even one show that just shows clips of dogs watching other dogs on television.  So dogs watch dogs watch dogs.

I think dogs are great, but have we perhaps gone a bridge too far?

And if you can believe it, the shows aren't even all free.  Some of them cost upwards of four dollars and ninety nine cents.  I don't even watch movies for MYSELF on demand unless they cost zero doll hairs.

When I was a kid, my family was watching a home renovation show and the homeowners illuminated the marble counter tops in their bathrooms.  As you might imagine, this decor choice cost a pretty penny, and I remember my mom telling us kids that if we ever had enough money to have illuminated marble counters in our bathrooms, she hoped we would donate it instead.

And so for probably the last twenty years, my family has used the phrase "illuminated marble" when we're talking about something that's a little over the top.

I think paying $4.99 for your dog to watch television might fall into the illuminated marble category. 

I shared those wise, fiscally conservative thoughts on Instagram and then Matt said, "Don't let me forget to plug in the Cozy Coop tomorrow so the chickens aren't cold when it snows on Wednesday."

Well.

I may not have illuminated marble, but I do think I might be living in a glass house. 

if backseat driving was an olympic sport, i'd win gold

Last Wednesday it was almost 80 degrees outside.  I smiled the minute I walked outside and pretty much didn't stop all afternoon.  I even took a nice long walk before dinner.  There is a 7:04 pm sunset in the 15 day forecast because we change the clocks soon and I feel like there is a light at the end of this long, winter tunnel.

Now, it's been rainy and gray since that glorious day last week and I'm pretty sure Don Henley was in Pennsylvania in February when he wrote Desperado for The Eagles because he was spot on in the verse: "Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime, the sky won't snow and the sun won't shine, it's hard to tell the nighttime from the day."

YES, TO ALL OF THE ABOVE, DON.

But despite the lousy weather as of late, there have been plenty of good things going on, starting with the Winter Olympics.  Matt and I had our traditional viewing of Cool Runnings, one of my very favorite movies of all time, and spent many nights on the couch stating we could "totally do that."  The other night during the snowboard half-pipe, Matt said, "I bet I could stand up right now and jump and do a 1440."

I think that's a case of, it's harder than it looks.

That also goes for ice skating.  The last time I was ice skating was about 4 years ago.  Matt and I went with my brother and sister-in-law, Alex.  Alex got right onto the ice and glided around like a graceful swan, Phil and Matt surprisingly have some skillz on the ice, and meanwhile I literally propelled myself by pulling myself along the boards.  I did not let go for one single second.  My brother said most people ice skate with their legs and I ice skate with my arms.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Also, I tweeted a post that apparently 266 people thought were funny.  It cracked me up because my tweets typically get anywhere from 0-2 likes, always from someone related or married to me.

Emily came home from college this weekend with her roommate.  I went to the mall with them on Sunday afternoon and I felt like I was transported back to middle school because we made stops at  The Icing, Bath and Body Works, and Auntie Anne's.  1999 called and wants their parachute pants back.

We also stopped at Primark where I shelled out eleven dollars of cold hard cash for this giant letter board.  I feel like the potential is endless.

Emily drove us to the mall because she got a new car this weekend.  Em has had her license for six years and she's driven me exactly zero times.  I ALWAYS offer to drive because, well, I like to.  The mall is a mile from my house and I sat in the backseat and gave instructions like "Watch those mirrors" and "Careful, this turn is a little tricky" and "People fly around this curve so be aware."

We had my dad's birthday lunch on Saturday and we all checked out Emily's new wheels.  Annie hopped right in, and despite the fact that the car was not even turned on, she buckled up.  She was so proud of herself.  You should have seen her face when she found the button to lower the window.

Also, she couldn't be more adorable.

In a final piece of breaking news around here, the Fig Twig has a leaf.  

I repeat, the fig twig has a leaf.  Send me all your best fig recipes.  It's okay if you need to dig deep in a recipe binder to find them, I probably won't be needing the for a solid two years.

Maybe I will have learned to ice skate by then.

everyone's a comedian

On Valentine's Day, this photo popped up in my memories app.

It seems healthy eating is something we do in February because tonight our wild and crazy snack was a piece of ancient 12 grain bread (the grain varieties are what's ancient, I just bought the bread this week), toasted, with a few sprays of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.

Or, as Matt calls it, Believe It, It's Not Butter.

And in full disclosure I topped mine with a quarter block of I Can't Believe It's Not Cream Cheese.

Last week I told Matt, who is the car maintenance manager, that I was out of windshield wiper fluid.  I didn't mention it again, but the other day I tried to wash my windshield and plenty of washer fluid came right out.  When Matt got home from work I said, "Don't worry about filling up my wiper fluid. It must have just been frozen last week and has thawed with the warmer weather, because I used it today and it turns out I have plenty!"

And he said, "That's because I filled it."

Tonight, as we made our toast, I narrated the whole play by play experience like an Olympic commentator and by the end I was CRACKING UP.  Matt was laughing too, and just as I was thinking this may be the funniest thing I've ever done, he said "I am mostly just laughing at how hard you make yourself laugh."

It's true.  I am my own biggest fan.  You know that quote "feed me and tell me I'm pretty?"  Change that to "manage my car maintenance and tell me I'm funny" and I call that a HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.

I'm not the only one around here who likes to land a good joke.  Matt recently requested that when he makes a joke, I rate it on a scale of one to ten.  I'm a tough critic, but we settle for nothing less than top notch comedy at our house.

And plenty of washer fluid.

february books

Well it's time for the monthly book linkup with Steph and Jana, and I'm excited to see what everyone has been reading because I need some inspiration.  I haven't read much yet in 2018, but it was freezing cold and rainy on Saturday and I read an entire book.  I picked up The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time at the thrift store the other weekend for a quarter, and I'd say I got my money's worth.  The narrator is a fifteen year old boy with autism, and reading the book from his perspective was really interesting. He discovers a murdered dog in his neighborhood, and begins a quest to find out who did it, but ends up uncovering a lot more.

This month I also read Girl, Wash Your Face, by Rachel Hollis.  Rachel is one of my favorite people to follow on Facebook and Instagram, and I've read her fiction series and have her cookbook, so I was excited to read her first non-fiction book.

 

I'll be honest, I find a lot of books like this to be major eye rollers.  But I really enjoyed this one.  Rachel shares a lot about her family's experience with foster care and adoption, which I found interesting because I work in that field.  She didn't have an easy childhood and graduated high school early so she could move on her own to LA, where she worked her way up in an event planning company until she could start her own, and now she owns a multi-million dollar media company.  I appreciated her advice, and her motivation and determination is contagious.

That's it for me this month.  I just started Laura Bush's book Spoken from the Heart, and I have War Brides on my nightstand to start.  Any great recommendations?

i'll be making ALL the fig jam in about eight years

For the last few years, Matt has been talking about getting a fig tree to add to the "orchard" portion of our backyard, which consists of a plum tree and a peach tree.  We think.  We haven't actually gotten any fruit from either tree yet.

Anyway, he has been researching online for a while, and finally bit the bullet and placed an order last week.  It cost $50.00, which seemed a little pricey to me but he selected the two gallon tub and predicated that it would already be about four or five feet high, so we could plant it this spring and have figs by fall.

Matt anticipated the delivery all week, and today, it arrived.

Please prepare yourself for the new addition to the orchard.

I laugh every time I look at it.  I'm calling it the fig twig.

On the plus side, we won't have to worry about pruning it for a while.

budweiser is giving the entire city free beer

Well, I'm sure everyone has been on the edge of your seat waiting for an update on last post's trifecta: the ceiling, the tent, and the water meter.

The ceiling is finished.

Our neighbor Diane dragged the tent fifteen feet back into her yard where it still remains to this day so Matt did not have the opportunity to trash pick it, much to his disappointment and my delight.  Diane must have put something inside the tent to weight it, down because while it's blown and flipped around, it hasn't moved from it's anchored spot.  

I remain unclear as to why one would randomly set up a tent in late January.

As for the water meter, let me just share this word of warning.  If your water meter is hypothetically broken, and even though you call the water company right away, they can't come out for months, let me caution you against uncharacteristically liberal water usage during that time.  Because the repairman might hypothetically come out and tell you that while the meter gauge was broken, it still records usage digitally and it's time to pay the piper.  

Or, pay Aqua Water Utility company, as the case may be.

Ask me how I know.

Those long showers and extra loads of laundry cost a pretty penny, and if we can't make the mortgage payment next month I might have to ask Diane if we can sleep in her tent.

Also, it's a big week around here because the Philadelphia Eagles won the Super Bowl, for the first time EVER.  I shared two weeks ago how the police department greased the light poles downtown with Crisco to prevent climbing.  People still managed to climb them, so this week they broke out the good stuff.

Hydraulic fluid.


They even had shirts made.



And then the Eagles won and the city went crazy.  Actually, the majority of the celebrations weren't destructive, but a few bad apples can spoil the bunch, or knock down some light poles, despite the hydraulic fluid.

The victory parade is on Thursday and they are expecting THREE MILLION people downtown.

Matt and I were talking about Justin Timberlake's halftime show, and Matt said, "I don't get it, is Justin Timberlake even relevant anymore?"

I know.  God bless him.  I didn't marry him for his pop culture knowledge. 

However, in full disclosure, I should admit that I thought "dilly, dilly," the Budweiser catchphrase that has gone completely viral, was a term that President Trump invented.

A la "covfefe."

I had no idea it was from Budweiser.

And then the "Philly, Philly" trick play was key in the game, and Nick Foles became the first quarterback in a Super Bowl to throw AND catch a touchdown pass.

(If you play that video you can hear the quarterback and coach talk about calling the play).


I should also admit that I am not an NFL fan and I did not even watch an Eagles game until the division championship two weeks ago so BANDWAGON, PARTY OF ONE.  

But I was able to scrounge up some Eagles green nail polish for this week and read 5492 articles online about the Eagles.  



And for them to have such a season with a coach that just two years ago was called the worst coaching hire in the NFL, to lose the starting quarterback in week 14 and then to make it to the Super Bowl, only to beat the PATRIOTS with our BACKUP QUARTERBACK, it's a story you can't help but love. 

I drove to work yesterday and all of the billboards on the highway said YO PHILLY, WE DID IT, and it made me so happy.

  
The host of the radio show I listen to on the drive home said he hopes that this is the year every single Philly sports team wins their championship.

I think that's a pretty big jump but go ahead and wish for the moon, Philadelphia sports fans.

Dilly, dilly.

Or Philly, Philly.

things are getting intents around here

There is currently a man in the laundry room looking at our water meter, two men in the kitchen working on our kitchen ceiling, and a camping tent in the middle of the backyard that does not belong to us.

We are having our water meter looked at because our water bill has been a whopping zero dollars for the last few months.  We, and by we I mean Matt, called the water company as soon as that first bill arrived back in November, but the earliest they could schedule an appointment for us was today so we have been enjoying free water for the better part of three months.  I took my last extra long shower this morning, and did one last load of free laundry.

The men are working on the kitchen ceiling because sometimes you've gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run call a professional drywall contractor.

Our ceiling was a mess due to styrofoam faux wood beams spending 60 years adhered to the ceiling with construction adhesive, and while Matt and I can paint, install a floor, install cabinets, and Youtube our way through some plumbing projects, we cannot repair sheet rock on an eleven foot ceiling.

As for the tent in the backyard, I have no explanation.  I woke up and it was there.  I texted a pic to Matt and he said it probably just blew in overnight.  I told him I hope it blows back out because there is no way I am going outside in the frigid temps to wrestle someone else's tent.  He said, "I hope not!  I might keep it."

It is still trash picking if the trash blows into your backyard?

I follow a Facebook group for one of my favorite podcasts, Sorta Awesome.  Someone posted this in the group the other day and I cracked up, but I couldn't think of any examples from my own life.

And then I went into the kitchen to make dinner, which included Italian sausage, and proceeded to take the sausage links out of the fridge, remove the casing, mash it up, and then cook it.

I didn't need the whole package, so I looked up more recipes for sausage, and so many called for ground sausage.  I DID NOT KNOW YOU COULD BUY GROUND SAUSAGE.  Since we've been married, we have meals including Italian sausage on a fairly frequent basis and for four years I've been uncasing sausage links and mashing it up with a potato masher like some kind of culinary amateur.

Now that we have this fancy new kitchen, I feel like I need to step up my cooking game.

Someone who cooks sausage like I did belongs in a tent in the backyard.  

At least the hose water is free out there.

i need a bigger driveway so i have room to park my bandwagon

For as long as I can remember, my dad has one response when someone mentions the Philadelphia Eagles and it's become a joke in our family.  He says, "Hey, the Eagles are going to the Super Bowl!"  It doesn't matter if they had a big win or lost seven games in a row, my dad always says, "Eagles are going to the Super Bowl!"  

He says it sarcastically because over the last two decades they've had a few decent years but are typically very lousy and extremely overrated, and also, we prefer college football.

Until this year.

After their win against the Falcons, my dad texted us all his famous saying.

And last week the Philadelphia police chief ordered city workers to spend Sunday morning smearing Crisco on metal light poles in the city in advance of the NFC championship.  

Which we won.

By a landslide.

The Eagles are going to the Super Bowl.

I posted a picture of one of the Crisco Cops on Instagram and so many people asked why they needed Crisco on the light poles.  I guess Philadelphia is a unique city in terms of how the fans celebrate, because climbing light poles is a form of celebration.

Speaking of Philadelphia quirks, the Pope came to Philadelphia last year, and his visit was shortly after Hitch Bot, the worldwide hitch hiking robot, met his demise in the city of Brotherly Love.

A local radio station created something called Pope Bot, to show that Philadelphians could be nice, and Pope Bot traveled around the Philadelphia and South Jersey area for several weeks before the arrival of the Pope.      

In honor of the Eagles going to the Super Bowl, the radio station created a Bird Bot.  The Bird Bot has spent this week hitch hiking around the area and will hopefully make it to Minnesota for the big game.  It's been so funny to keep up with on social media.

I hope someone takes a picture of him climbing a light pole before he leaves for Minnesota.

Now, I'm off to paint my nails green.

spring fever in january

On Tuesday I drove a hundred miles through the mountains in a terrible snowstorm to get to a work conference.  That's a story for another day but it involved me behind the wheel of a giant pickup truck from Enterprise Rent-A-Car and literal white knuckles.

But then yesterday, it was almost SIXTY degrees here.  Obviously there was only one option for the afternoon and that was to go for a long walk outside. 

Hurry up, spring!