today is proof i can write 791 words about absolutely nothing

Well hello.  I decided this week that I'd try to write here more, because I didn't write anything for a month and then after I published that post last week, I felt like I could write a novel.  I guess it's true what they say, that your muscles get stronger the more you use them.

That's why I try to lift weights four or five days a week.

Yea right.  When I feel like I need to build strength I buy a gallon of milk instead of a half gallon and spend the next week heaving it onto the top shelf of the fridge.

But nothing really remarkable happened this week, so I guess I will just write about what did happen.  Please set your expectations very low, or better yet, abandon them completely.

Let me first mention something that I haven't seen anyone talking about lately.

The weather.

Oh, I kid.  Everyone is talking about the weather lately because apparently Mother Nature is having a little bit of trouble with the change of seasons.  It was in the forties here Monday through Wednesday, it was in the sixties yesterday, and today and tomorrow are supposed to be 80.  We're back down to the forties on Monday and so I say to you, Mother Nature, for the love, please PICK A LANE.

Anyway we slept with the windows wide open last night.  I have a lovely habit of lying in bed from anywhere from 5 to 25 minutes after my alarm goes off in denial of the fact that it's morning, which is a tip that you'll hear from all of the productivity gurus.

This morning as I executed what I like to call my time of denial, I heard some weird, loud, chirping type of noise.  I thought it was the smoke detector chirping from a low battery, but the noise was not occurring at regular intervals.

Most normal people might just get out of bed and investigate, but not me.  I'd rather lie there indefinitely than get out of bed before the last minute possible.  I kept on listening and finally realized it was not the smoke detector.  IT WAS AN ACTUAL BIRD CHIRPING.  

HAPPY SPRING INDEED.

Shifting gears a bit to the subject of dinner.  When we first got married Matt got home from work before I did, so he cooked dinner every night.  It was lovely.  Now he has a different job and I get home first and cook, and then we switch off weeks doing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen.  

(I am re-reading this to check for spelling and oh my goodness this is so boring.  Next week would you like to hear how we divide and conquer the other household chores?  My word.)

Anyway this was Matt's clean up week but in an unprecedented turn of events he decided he'd rather cook.

How's that going, you ask.

It's...going.

I've noticed something very unexpected about myself, and that is that I apparently have some control issues surrounding the preparation of dinner.  I'm not going to win any Michelin stars anytime soon, but apparently I like things done a certain way.  

My way.  

There's a shock (not at all) for all who know me. 

So, it's been a growth experience for both of us me.  Last night we were having one of our new favorites, grilled veggie and herbed goat cheese paninis.  It's a Weight Watchers recipe but it is DELICIOUS.  I normally roast the veggies on a grill pan on the stove, but since it was so nice out, Matt put the veggies on the grill outside.

And then he checked on the apple trees he just planted, picked up some twigs around the yard and bundled them with twine, and even got out the weed killer and started spraying weeds all over the yard.  He got so excited with the promise of springtime activities that he forgot about the veggies.

We brought them inside and gave it the old college try because if you put enough goat cheese on anything, it can be delicious.

We then made grand plans for tomorrow and from the sounds of it, we are going to try to fit about 476 hours worth of work into one 80 degree Saturday - including but not limited to fertilizing the grass, pulling weeds and prepping the gardens, power washing the house and driveway, cleaning the patio furniture and setting it all up, painting the two back doors, replacing the mailbox, setting up the hammock, washing the cars, putting away the snowblower, getting out the lawn mower, and going for a long walk.

There will be no lounging in bed for me tomorrow morning.

I'll be up with those chirping birds.

it goes without saying that the first meal at the new table will be eggs

Here I am again to talk about my kitchen.  I apologize in advance if you're as sorry about reading kitchen posts as I am writing them.  When we started the kitchen renovation it was Labor Day, and we said we'd probably be finished by Thanksgiving, but FOR SURE by Christmas.

Well those same fools are now well past Easter and just hoping things wrap up by Memorial Day.  

Matt and I were discussing the ideal vs the actual timeline the other day, and he said, "Well, there were just a few aspects that I didn't expect."

"Like what?" I asked.

"For starters, I didn't expect Christmas to come so quickly."

Anyway, this weekend we put up the back splash, and with the exception of a few tiny finishing touches, we are DONE.  We went shopping for a kitchen table the other weekend and I had a picture in my mind of exactly what I wanted - farmhouse style, dark wood top, white or cream legs, and a bench on one side.

Here was Matt's one and only requirement: he didn't want it to be as narrow as our last table, which could get crowded if people were eating on both sides and we had serving dishes in the middle.  He came just short of bringing one of our dinner plates with us to the store to make sure any prospective table was an acceptable size.

What he did bring with him was his own personal tape measure which he used upwards of one hundred times.  He measured furniture I wasn't even remotely interested in and had a wonderful time.

It reminded me of the time my parents went shopping for a toaster, and my dad traced a slice of bread on a piece of paper to bring along to the store so he could make sure the entire piece of bread fit inside the toaster when you pushed the button down.  

Matt and I looked at a few chain furniture stores first, but we didn't see anything, so we decided to go to a local store called Gamburg's.  Gamburg's sells some fancy pieces and as we walked around I felt a little bit like I wasn't quite adult enough to be there, but no one kicked us out so we shopped on.

We wandered around the first floor of the store and saw a few kitchen sets we liked, but as we got to the stop of the stairs on the second floor, there it was.  The table of my actual dreams.

I practically kissed it.

I told Matt "Well, there it is.  The one I've dreamed of," and he said, "Wait, you've actually dreamed about a table?" he asked.

Sure have pal,  it was only of the only things that got me through the weeks when our kitchen looked like this and I was clinging to any shred of hope I could that we could actually eat a meal in there again someday.

The next morning I stopped by my mom and dad's to drop off a bag of frozen potatoes (long story) and my dad was home. He said, "Mom told me you got the kitchen table of your dreams.  That's great.  But if I ever have an actual dream about a kitchen table, I'll know things are bad."

So it seems like dreaming about furniture may be a girl thing.

When I got home Matt was just coming home from a trip to Lowe's.  He had a bag with a few tools and a kitchen mat.

It was, brace yourselves, a giant chicken.

I didn't say anything, but glanced around the kitchen and saw the following items:

Matt stood in front of the rug for a minute, just looking at it.  And then he said, "I don't know.  I  mean, I like it, but do you think we are becoming those weird chicken people?"

Sorry to say Matt, but I think it's too late in the game to worry about that.

I think it's eggcellent.

what i read: march edition

Well it's time to link up with Steph and Jana and share the books we've been reading!  I'm back in my reading groove and have six books to share this month.  I've been sharing my books as I read them over on Instagram too!

First up is Rose Harbor in Bloom by Debbie Macomber.  This won't win the Nobel Prize, but give me a story about a woman who runs an inn in a town called Cedar Cove, a couple of quirky friends, a few romantic dilemmas and I'm a happy camper.  It was a quick, easy read.  You can't go wrong with Debbie Macomber.

Next I read All The Summer Girls by Meg Donohue.  I chose this because it's about a girl from Philadelphia who takes a trip to the Jersey shore with some old friends, and I live in Philadelphia and grew up going to the Jersey shore. I love books that are set in places I am familiar with.  I'll be honest, that's about all this book had going for it.  It was your typical book about three friends who meet up at the beach after several years apart and they have turned into different people and secrets are uncovered but their bond of friendship is strengthened.  But it was nice to read about summer at the beach in the middle of yet another snowstorm.

Several weeks ago my mom suggested Need to Know, and it was finally my turn on the waiting list at the library.  I read the whole book in two days.  It's going to be a series and a movie, and I could not be more thrilled.  I highly recommend it.  Here's a summary: The last thing that CIA analyst Vivian Miller expects to see when she finally accesses the files of a suspected Russian sleeper cell is the face of someone close to her. Someone she thought she could trust with her four children. Someone whose exposure as a Russian spy will destroy her hard-fought career. Miller panics and deletes the file. She knows she's only delayed the inevitable exposure…unless she can use her skills to extract herself and her family.  

After that I read My Story by Elizabeth Smart.  I cannot say enough about this book. It was very difficult to read because it details the circumstances of the kidnapping and everything Elizabeth Smart endured for the next several months, but the strength that she had to survive that torture, and the perspective that she had then and now is really unbelievable.  She is incredible.

One of Us is Lying was up next.  It's pretty popular right now, but in case you haven't heard about it:

Pay close attention and you might solve this.

On Monday afternoon, five students at Bayview High walk into detention.
    Bronwyn, the brain, is Yale-bound and never breaks a rule. 
    Addy, the beauty, is the picture-perfect homecoming princess. 
    Nate, the criminal, is already on probation for dealing.
    Cooper, the athlete, is the all-star baseball pitcher.
    And Simon, the outcast, is the creator of Bayview High’s notorious gossip app.
 
Only, Simon never makes it out of that classroom. Before the end of detention Simon's dead. And according to investigators, his death wasn’t an accident. On Monday, he died. But on Tuesday, he’d planned to post juicy reveals about all four of his high-profile classmates, which makes all four of them suspects in his murder. Or are they the perfect patsies for a killer who’s still on the loose? 
 
Everyone has secrets, right? What really matters is how far you would go to protect them.

The chapters are short it sucked me in immediately, and I kept telling myself "Just one more quick chapter" and before I knew it, I had been reading for another hour.  I was a little bit bummed with the ending when I read it, but the more I think about it, the more I think it's not because the ending was bad, but because I was mad I didn't solve it.  I was CONVINCED I had the whole thing figured out and it turned out I was totally off base!  I won't be quitting my job to become a detective.

The last book I read was Unplanned, which is the story of a woman who was a director of a Planned Parenthood clinic and became pro-life.  I know there are many different opinions on this topic, but in the beginning, Abby writes about how it's important to read about people who believe in things you believe in, and people who believe differently.  It was really interesting to me to learn how she got involved with Planned Parenthood in college, and how her beliefs changed slightly overtime until she ultimately quit after moving pretty high up in the company and spending a large chunk of her career there.  It was a compelling read.

So that's it for this month.  Right now I'm reading Talking as Fast as I Can by Lauren Graham, and have several I'm excited about lined up after that.  I read most of the books this month under a blanket in front of the fire, but I'm optimistic that next month, most of my books will be read in the hammock!

Did you read anything great this month?

take it from me and never trust a mirror inside of a greeting card

Well, I'm back, by popular demand.

And by "popular demand," I mean exactly two people have asked when I am going to write a new blog post: my brother and my mom.  But, I aim to please and so I bring you this slightly unpolished post with a weak narrative structure because my new motto in life is "done is better than perfect."

I haven't written anything here in nearly a month, which is not to say that a thousand blog worthy moments haven't occurred.  In fact, there was the moment just this past Sunday when we swung by the car wash after brunch in our Easter finest so that Matt could wash the horse manure out of the bed of his pickup truck.  As we pulled in, the attendant said "Foot off the brake, keep it in neutral and hey! The farm called and they want their manure back!" 

And a happy Easter to you too, car wash man.

Matt got the deluxe wash which I thought was appropriate given the state of his truck and the fact that it was a holiday.  My great-grandmother always used to fill up with premium gas on Christmas as a little treat for her car and I love that so much.

Of note since my last post, Matt and I celebrated our four year wedding anniversary, on March 8th.  It fell during the week of Emily's spring break, and due to busy schedules and two very unfortunate snowstorms, the only night Emily and I could get together was the 8th.  Em is moving to Minnesota (I don't want to talk about it) the day after graduation so I really wanted to see her over spring break.  I asked Matt 467 times if he minded if I went out with Em even though it was our anniversary.  He told me 467 times that he did not mind and so on March 8th, I picked Emily up and we hit the Applebee's for some appetizers, and Target and Marshall's for some bargain priced skin care.

Emily likes all things beauty, and when we walked into Target she asked me, "So what exactly are your skincare goals? What do you feel like you need?"

And I told her "Well, I feel like I am starting to look my age.  I am in search of the fountain of youth."

What I ended up with was not quite the fountain of youth, but several serums, some sort of hyaluronic acid, an eye cream, various hydrating sprays, and rose hip oil that Emily promised would anti-age me in no time.  And so, for the last 26 days I've been diligently smearing those potions on my face twice a day and while no one has mistaken me for a college student, I don't think I look any worse.



And I would know, because as my mom has always said, I've never met a reflective surface I don't like.  I spend more time looking at myself in the mirror and other various reflective surfaces than your average bear. 

I'm so vain, I sure do think that song is about me CARLY SIMON.

Anyway, given the skincare efforts, it was perfect that when Matt gave me his anniversary card, he said, "I got you one with a mirror in it, because I know how much you love to look at yourself."

I laughed and then I obviously took an immediate glance down at the card's mirror.

And, well, yikes.









Let's just say those new skincare products are fighting a bigger uphill battle than I initially realized.

Matt came downstairs tonight and announced that he is hosting an event here on Friday evening, and I'm the guest of honor.  He's calling it GAWA.  Greatest American Wife Awards.

I don't want to be overconfident but I have a pretty good feeling that no matter the state of my collagen or my under eye circles, or how they've changed in the last 4 years, Matt's still going to pick me to win. 

And in the end I think that's really all that counts.

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.