i wonder if i could get the benefits of AARP

I wake up at 6:45 every morning.  

Well, that's not completely true.  Matt leaves by 6:20, and when he leaves he kisses me and says "Bye, sugar snap/buttercup/pecan sandy/starlight," or any other of an assortment of names.  It's different one every day.  I always make sure I'm awake when he leaves so that I can hear the name of the morning because ADORABLE, but the second the front door closes, I go back to sleep.

I wake up 25 minutes later and rush around for the next 35 to 40 minutes.  I shower and do my hair and pick out my outfit and my jewelry and iron and pack my lunch.

This week I decided that a lot of those things could, and should, be done the night before.  So all week I've been packing my lunch, picking out my outfit and jewelry, and ironing at night.  And I've noticed that mornings are a lot less hectic and I have more time to spend on my makeup and my hair.  Which means that I've been wearing lip gloss and mascara and my hair is actually completely dry and styled when I leave for work each morning instead of slightly damp and pulled back in a clip.

And I'll be honest.  I've left each morning thinking about how much better I looked.  I even sent Matt a text on my way out the door on Monday telling him how lucky he is to be married to someone so good looking.

What can I say? I'm humble.

Today I had a jackpot outfit picked and some great hair going on.  I had to be in court for a hearing first thing for work, and our case was being heard in front a judge I hadn't met before.  After the hearing ended, he called me up to the bench to talk to him. 

"Good morning, Your Honor," I said very respectfully, trying to get on the judge's good side.

It was all for nothing though because he then he proceeded to tell me that I am the spitting image of Allyson Schwartz.

That name might not mean anything to you, but she is running for governor of our state.

And she is SIXTY FIVE YEARS OLD.

I about HIT. THE. FLOOR.

Maybe my new strategy isn't working as well as I thought.

Tomorrow it's back to damp hair and a last minute outfit because I can no longer spend the time at night ironing and preparing my clothes.  

I will be too busy applying anti-aging cream.

have a salad, but please don't wash your plate until the laundry is finished

I am sitting next to Matt on the couch, and he just looked over at me and said, very solemnly, "You know, if the corn crop goes under one of these years, we are going to be in deep trouble."

Well.  

Now that may not be an unusual statement to make if we were watching a show about corn, or if one or both of us is involved in the farming industry, but we're watching baseball and neither of our jobs have anything to do with agriculture.  And in my twenty five years on this earth, I've spent exactly zero minutes thinking about the corn crop and the potentially catastrophic events that could ensue if it ever goes south.

Evidently that only makes one of us.

Matt and I didn't live together until we got married less than two months ago, which means that we are learning new things about each other every day.  Exhibit A: Matt's feelings on the corn crop. 

I have also learned that living with Matt means that I will never have to worry about things like being unprepared when the power goes out (which happens a lot here) because he has a few flashlights placed strategically around the condo, and the really impressive thing is that there are batteries inside those flashlights, AND they actually WORK.

I am more the type of person to decide one day on a whim that I should have a flashlight for possible power outage purposes, go to the store and buy a very adorable one, assume that there are working batteries included, come home and place that adorable flashlight in an important, unforgettable hiding spot, and then completely forget where that unforgettable hiding spot is when the power actually does goes out.

Not Matt.  He is (thankfully) a man who is prepared.

He is also a man who cannot resist a grocery store sale and for that reason, we will never run out of condiments or granola bars, and we laugh in the face of low potassium levels.

 

I am not without my own quirks.  Just this weekend I spent a solid half hour explaining to Matt why I don't like to to conduct two water-centric events simultaneously.  For example, taking a shower while the dishwasher is running, or doing a load of laundry while someone is hand washing dishes.  And that is because, naturally, I don't want one appliance to get better water than the other.

Because that makes sense.

I think I've spent too much time thinking about it.  I should probably focus my thoughts on something that could have a more devastating impact.

Like a less than stellar corn crop.

Or running out of salad dressing.

it will bee a while before i can relax

Well, Matt and I have been married for six whole weeks now, so we decided it was high time that we add a pet to the mix.

And so, we got a little turtle.  This is a picture of him last night as he got acquainted with the apartment.

Oh, I kid.  I will never share a home with a member of the reptile family, which is something I made clear to Matt before the wedding day since he grew up with two lizards names Ozzie and Harriet, and a snake that "got loose" in his house and was NEVER FOUND.

History, lest ye not repeat yourself.

Last night I was changing from my work clothes into my leisure outfit, because a girl's gotta be comfy at all times, when Matt yelled from the dining room, "URGENT, URGENT.  I NEED A SHOE IMMEDIATELY."  I grabbed the closest shoe I could find, a very delicate ballet flat.  However, when I arrived in the dining room and saw the creature we were up against, I quickly surmised that my ballet flat was no match.

I switched the flat out for one of Matt's sneakers while Matt inspected the intruding creature a little more closely. 

It was a bee.

A killer bee.

Since Matt didn't want it to fly away when he came at it with his shoe, I grabbed a giant can of hairspray so that he could disable it before the sneak-er attack.  I provided Matt with the shoe and the hairspray and then I ran into the bathroom and locked the door because I think when we said those wedding vows six whole weeks ago there was a line in there about the husband killing the bugs.

Well, I heard Matt douse that bee with more hairspray than I wore to my junior prom, and then he stomped it, and vacuumed it up.

And it kept buzzing.

And buzzing.

And it was still alive when Matt took the vacuum canister out to the dumpster an hour later, with dust glued to its entire body, courtesy of the liberal hairspray application.

The downside to this whole episode is that now we have a quarter can of VO5 extra hold hairspray on our floor. 

The upside is that we still have a place to live, because if it had been up to me to deal with this situation alone, I would have packed my bags and moved out, naturally.

So now I'm just holding my breath that we don't have another intruder.

At this point, I think I'd prefer a pet lizard.

we have the "old" part mastered, when does "wise" come?

Late Sunday morning Matt and I made a trip to Lowe's so he could buy some lumber.  He had big plans to spend the afternoon making a picnic table and I have to admit, I admire someone with that kind of ambition for a Sunday afternoon.  My goals for the day included painting my nails and taking a nap.  

Well, we were standing in the middle of the lumber department when I felt my throat start to close.

I sat in the car while Matt loaded the lumber and wished away my swollen glands.  While Matt has big dreams of owning an F-350, he currently owns a smallish sedan that is very practical, but not made for hauling lumber.  So once he finally got everything loaded in, we had to drive home with the trunk open and a giant orange flag blowing in the wind and alerting other drivers to the contents of our trunk.  

It was very sleek.

We made it home safely, and I laid down on the couch where I spent the next eight hours falling in and out of sleep and hoping that my family writes a good obituary because surely, this was the end.

Meanwhile, Matt spent his afternoon on the patio and check out the results.

Now that is impressive.

Long story short, I went to the doctor on Monday and next year, I will be getting a flu shot.  Matt had a dentist appointment Monday night, and when he came home his mouth was so sore that he couldn't chew.  Combine that with my sore throat and inability to swallow, we were looking at a dinner consisting solely of liquids.

Also known as, suppertime at the nursing home.

At least we have a nice table where we can sit together to sip our broth.

business as usual

The weekend after Matt and I returned from our honeymoon, I was stricken with sickness in the form of a cough and congestion.  Initially I thought it was simply a cold, but when I was still feeling lousy two weeks later and waking up several times each night coughing, I suspected it was something more serious. 

Memories of happier times...

But did the persistent symptoms and sleepless nights cause me to call the doctor?  Of course not.  I didn't make that call until I had a coughing fit in Target that was so bad I had to leave.  Apparently I can put up with sleepless nights, but clearly being interrupted while shopping that is a situation that requires some sort of urgent remedy via a medical professional.

I left work early the very next afternoon to head to the doctor.  In the exam room I highlighted the coughing spells and made sure to add some extra drama, and even told the doctor that due to a neighbor's faulty home alarm system we were sleeping with two very loud fans in our bedroom, and my coughing still woke both me and Matt.

She asked me if I ever gasped for air during the coughing and while technically I hadn't, I hesitated with my answer just long enough to put some reasonable doubt in her mind.

The doctor checked me out and then diagnosed me with a sinus infection.  She wrote a prescription for the sinus infection but not the cough, so I asked her if she had an over the counter alternative she'd recommend. 

"Well," she said, "honey sure works great."

Doc, I haven't slept a solid night in two weeks between my neighbor's faulty alarm system and my moderate to severe cough.  I am looking for a prescription for Robitussin with codeine and authorization for a refill or five.

Apparently my cough wasn't bad enough to warrant a prescription, but I hightailed it to CVS to pick up my other prescription and a large bottle of honey - NATURE'S COUGH SUPPRESSANT.

In the interest of full disclosure, I also picked up two Reese's Easter eggs on my way to the pharmacy counter to get my medicine, which turned out to be in the form of a NASAL SPRAY.

DISGUSTING.

Matt called as I was walking to my car, and the timing of his call was perfect because I was able to share with him the wonderful news that his new bride would be self-administering a nasal spray every hours hours around the clock for the foreseeable future.

I've never been so attractive.

It turns out that I wasn't the only one having a bad day.  Matt was calling to see if I could "come save him at Acme," where he'd unfortunately found himself at the end of the checkout line with a basket full of food and no wallet. 

Last week was not our week.

I'm happy to report things are going much better this week.  

Although, there was really nowhere to go but up.

the first half of his name was right

My sister was in a school play called "Smile" this weekend.  My parents put an ad in the program from them, my brother Philip and his fiance Alex, and me and Matt.  

Except the program typist typed "Mary" instead of "Matt."

Welcome to the family.

i really do love where we're living

Matt and I are currently renting a condo while we save for a house and get adjusted to the whole BEING MARRIED thing.  The condo is on the small side but it's nice, and we can look out our windows and see beautiful, old, tall trees and a lake, and every night we walk six minutes to the woods where we hike on a trail along the creek and that is what I imagine heaven is like.  However, it turns out that the actual CONDO LIVING thing is requiring far more of an adjustment than we anticipated.

One thing we are learning is that the electricity goes out here on a regular basis.  And by regular, I mean a few times a week around 10:30 or 11 at night.  It's never off for too long, but always long enough to reset the clocks on the microwave and oven.  It went off this past Monday, and when everything kicked back on and reset, so did our neighbor's home alarm system.  Evidently those neighbors were on vacation because the alarm went off at any time that ended in 3 or 8 straight through until yesterday.

The alarm wasn't a problem when we were home during the evening, because we were busy and talking and hardly noticed it.  However, it was so loud when we were trying to fall asleep that Matt wanted to call the police the other night.  After some discussion we decided that a call to local law enforcement was too drastic a measure, so we resorted to sleeping with two fans on full blast all night to drown out the alarm system. 

The alarm situation came to a glorious end last night.  Matt went to bed early because HELLO, PEACEFUL, UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP, but I stayed up to watch some Fox News and paint my nails a lovely shade of Lacey Lilac.  And that's when the channel on the tv changed from Fox News to The Big Bang Theory. 

With the remote control on the coffee table. 

I picked the remote up, and changed it back to my show. 

And then the tv changed back to The Big Bang Theory.

And what ensued what a television battle with an unidentified neighbor who was intent on watching some Big Bang Theory.

Evidently someone in our complex has a remote control that controls our television.  And we control theirs.

Which is terribly convenient.

Here's the thing.  In order to make a cell phone call from our condo, you practically have to wait until the third Tuesday of the month and then hang your head out the window and stand on one foot and turn around three times while crossing your fingers. 

We have TERRIBLE cell phone service due to what is apparently a roof and walls made of concrete.  Yet our tv remote control powers right through that concrete and puts a major kink in the Wednesday evening television plans.

The silver lining is that these tv channel battles won't go on forever. 

Sooner or later the electricity is bound to go off. 

honeymooners

i'm back, and i'm married

When I started this little blog I named it Oh Laura Darling because I had the dream of one day marrying a man with the last name Darling.  I have a different last name now, but it's not Darling.  And I couldn't be happier about that.

My mom told me I need to write a post about the wedding but I struggle with writing about The Big Things.  My wheelhouse is more stories about something crazy that happened while I was grocery shopping or how I spilled coffee with a significant amount of peppermint mocha creamer all over my desk at work (true story coming soon to a blog near you).

March 8th was the best and most perfect day I could have imagined.  When it was all over that night I was standing in front of the mirror taking off my veil (and removing the fake hair that made my fancy low bun so voluminous) and I started to cry.  I am not typically a crier, so Matt came right in and asked, "Are you okay?" and I sobbed, "YES, I'M FINE.  I'M JUST SO HAPPY." 

Luckily for Matt I've managed to keep my tears and my fake hair in check since March 8th.  But I am still just so happy.  

And just in case anyone was wondering what it looks like when the bride's wedding ring is dropped during the ceremony, allow me to show you...

 

Luckily the ring was located so we were able to get to the important part...

eye yi yi

Well, I woke up this morning and made the unfortunate discovery that my left eye was red and bloodshot and sore.  Over the past week I’ve been getting a lot of mileage out of the joke that “these Olympics have ‘costas’ an eye,” but now I’m regretting every single time I said that.  

I’m getting married three weeks from today, and I can’t afford to have some sort of strange medical malady on March 8th.  It was bad enough that I went to the dentist for a cleaning last week and my jaw popped out of place after my fluoride treatment.  I immediately called the hygienist to inform her that SOMETHING WAS AMISS and she came over, inspected, and calmly said, “Ahh, yes, I see.  The mandible has simply disengaged.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you could re-engage it please because SPEAKING OF ENGAGED, I’M GETTING MARRIED IN A MONTH AND MY MANDIBLE NEEDS TO BE IN TIP TOP CONDITION.”

Actually, my dentist appointment was doomed from the start. I got a phone call, text message, and email confirming the day and time, and I wrote it on my calendar for Tuesday night at 5:45.  I upped my brushing and flossing game in the days leading up the appointment and by Tuesday afternoon I was ready for the big moment. 

I fought rain and rush hour traffic and walked into the extremely crowded dentist office, battle worn and weary, at 5:43.

The receptionist greeted me but then said, “Laura, do we have you on the list for tonight?”

“Sure do,” I said, “5:45.”

She flipped through the appointment book and then sympathetically said, “It’s actually…at 5:45……..tomorrow.”

Well.  Now that’s embarrassing.

I was so ready to show off my freshly flossed teeth that I showed up to the appointment TWENTY FOUR HOURS EARLY.  I suppose it’s better than twenty four hours late, but still not ideal.

Let’s hope that this eye condition doesn’t result in a trip to the doctor’s office because if it does, I will need to write that appointment day in stone.  Until then I’ll just be standing here in solidarity (and in a very dark room) with Mr. Costas. 

Eye’d appreciate good thoughts for the both of us.

 

also notable: these were on a table with the sign "thought provoking books"

I guess you're going to need the second if you spend too much time on the first.

anyone want to give me the basics on navigating via compass?

Well, tonight I am coming to you live from the tundra.  Not really, but I’m looking out the window at the snow falling in what is approximately the 235th winter weather event of the season, so it feels more like Alaska than Pennsylvania.  

Last week my office was closed on Monday for snow, and for ice on Wednesday and Thursday.  Rumor has it that the office hasn’t closed for snow since NINETEEN NINETY SIX, so three days off in one week was unprecedented.  

Our area was hit with a pretty bad ice storm on Wednesday that took down trees and power lines all over.  Hundreds of thousands of home were without electricity and streets were closed due to downed trees. 

I am staying at my parents’ house until the wedding (luckily we didn’t lose power), and Matt is staying in the condo we’ve rented about a half an hour away.  

The condo is in the most beautiful location.  It’s right next to a tiny little lake and nestled amongst tons of old, tall trees.  In fact, I took this picture on the day we moved in (Yes, it snowed.  Yes, it was awful.) because LOOK HOW PRETTY THE SNOW LOOKS ON THOSE OLD, TALL TREES THAT I LOVE SO MUCH.  It is GOING TO BE SO FUN TO LIVE IN THE FOREST.

Except do you know when it isn’t fun to reside below hundreds of tall, old trees?

During an ice storm.

Matt lost power at the condo on Wednesday, but by Friday afternoon the electricity was back on and things were looking up weather-wise, so I headed there after work.

Unfortunately when I got off the highway and attempted to turn down the one and only road I know to get to the condo, I discovered that it was closed because of downed trees and wires.

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

The condo is in an area I’m not at all familiar with yet and on top of that, I am not exactly what you’d call a navigational genius, so I decided to just keep driving straight on the road I was on.  Because eventually I had to hit an intersection with a main road.  Right?

As it turns out the roads in the area are twisty and hilly and extremely dark and evidently, intersections with main roads are FEW AND BAR BETWEEN.  And, OH YEAH, MY PHONE HAD SHUT OFF so I was unable to call for help and/or directions.  

After several minutes of driving on windy dark roads, the song “Compass” by Lady Antebellum came on the radio and while I love that sing, what I didn’t want to hear at that moment was THE RADIO MOCKING ME AND MY DIRECTIONAL SHORTCOMINGS.  

That set me over the edge and before the tears forming in my eyes could blur my vision too much, I pressed the power button on my phone and against all odds, it turned on.  The timing was perfect because I was coming up to a red light and saw a sign that said “Route 320, turn left.”

I called Matt to ask him if route 320 was the road I wanted because he knows things like route numbers whereas I am more of a “LET’S CALL THIS BUTTERCUP LANE OR SOMETHING EQUALLY AS MEMORABLE” kind of girl.  

The phone connected except here’s the part where I need to tell you that CELL PHONE SERVICE AT OUR NEW PLACE IS AWFUL.  I'm really rethinking the initial glamor and novelty of living set back in the hills and trees. 

Catching every fifth syllable during a conversation a real precious thing, especially when you’re trying to get time sensitive clarification on whether or not you should turn on a road that’s approximately 300 feet away.

By the time Matt understood my question and I understood his answer, I had passed the intersection and also the opportunity to turn left onto Route 320.

As luck would have it the very next intersection was one that I recognized, and I navigated the remainder of the trip with no problem.  As long as you don’t count the fact that I drove right past our driveway.  

I'm hopeful that when I drive there tomorrow the roads I know will be open to traffic again.  If not, it may be time to invest in an actual compass.

and now we're pretty much all caught up

Last night Michelle asked if I’d like to join her and some friends for drinks after work, and I said yes because I’m not one to turn down a glass of chard on a Friday night.  The only caveat was that I was hesitant to drive because we got a few inches of snow yesterday morning and I have not had the best luck with snowy roads this winter.  

The short explanation is that a few weeks ago, it started snowing as I was getting ready to leave for work.  Because I apparently operate like the US postal service and neither rain nor snow nor dark of night will keep me from my duties, I decided to brave my four mile commute anyway.  

I ended up sliding most of the way, and when I was just a few blocks from my office I got stuck at the bottom of a hill and had to abandon ship and walk the rest of the way to work.   Uphill.  In the snow.  In patent leather high heels because I still have not learned to wear boots on snowy days.  

There may or may not have been tears involved.  

I’m still recovering from the whole experience, and when yesterday’s snow threatened the morning commute, I called about six people to get their takes on the road conditions and polling them about whether (or should I say, weather)  or not I should drive to work.

Spoiler alert.  I drove and everything was totally fine.  

Long story not short at all, Michelle was game to drive last night.  She piloted us with confidence and didn’t even flinch when her anti-lock brakes slid us through an intersection or when a deer darted into our path on the highway. 

This morning I woke up at the crack of 9:00 ready to take on the day.  However, a check of the weather reflected that it was in the single digits outside.   So I showered and then promptly got right back into my pajamas and set up shop on the sofa and spent the next I’m-embarrassed-to-admit-how-many hours reading and eating and watching eight episodes of The Pioneer Woman.  

Around 3:00 Matt called and asked if I’d like to go out to dinner and I said yes because I’m no fool.  And then he said, “Ok, I’m leaving now.”

RED.  ALERT.  

I knew that there was no way I could change my clothes, put on makeup, fix my hair, and clean up the blankets/books/pillows/snack setup I had going on in the living room in the fifteen minutes it would take Matt to get to my apartment.  So instead I sent him a message that said, “Ok, but don’t judge me when you get here,” and hoped for the best.

I pulled myself together and we had a great dinner and then a romantic date to Lowe’s where we spent serious time in the lumber department because Matt has some grand plans to make himself an Adirondack chair.

And now it’s time for my pink leopard broom and I to go sleep.  Yes, I’ve started taking my broom into my room at night, not to ward off any would-be intruders but rather because the people who have recently moved into the apartment above us are apparently also housing an elephant or nine.  Additionally, all evidence points to them being nocturnal, because they don’t make a sound all day long and then suddenly between the hours of midnight and 6 a.m. they vacuum (OH, THE VACUUMING), play musical instruments (I’ve heard a clarinet and a drum set), drop bowling balls onto the floor repeatedly, scream, cry, run, and jump.

I have been awoken from a deep sleep many a night to one or more of the above sounds.  And when that happens I hit the ceiling with my pink leopard broom and even though it doesn’t seem to do much good as far as noise goes, it makes me feel like a very big deal.

Maybe I should bring it along in my car the next time it snows.

Couldn't hurt.