If he had, it would be a very different story.
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
And they all lived happily ever after
I am only laughing because Chad did not send this to me.
If he had, it would be a very different story.
If he had, it would be a very different story.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Our new normal
After Janice spontaneously took pity on me and literally forced us out to dinner, Chad and I found ourselves at one of our favorite restaurants last night with time to kill. There was a long list of people in front of us, so we cozied up to the bar with a glass of wine to wait it out.
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Men are from Mars...
...And yet another classic example of the difference between men and women. I came home from work on Friday to see this:
Chad's shoes sitting right on the kitchen table, which had been disinfected and scrubbed not 24 hours before. I waited to move them, more perplexed than upset. (Besides, it wasn't like sitting there longer would contaminate the table any more than it already was.)
When Chad got home, the conversation went something like this:
Me: Why are your shoes on my clean kitchen table? Were you worried that Lucy was going to eat them?
Chad looked at me with a blank stare. Clearly, I had missed the very obvious point.
Chad: No. I was trying to flatten the brim of my hat.
Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that?
Chad's shoes sitting right on the kitchen table, which had been disinfected and scrubbed not 24 hours before. I waited to move them, more perplexed than upset. (Besides, it wasn't like sitting there longer would contaminate the table any more than it already was.)
When Chad got home, the conversation went something like this:
Me: Why are your shoes on my clean kitchen table? Were you worried that Lucy was going to eat them?
Chad looked at me with a blank stare. Clearly, I had missed the very obvious point.
Chad: No. I was trying to flatten the brim of my hat.
Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that?
Friday, June 4, 2010
5 things I've learned about marriage
It's hard to believe we got married five years ago today. And while that's not as long as some people - say, our grandparents - we've outlasted most Hollywood marriages. (And it's about one-sixth of my entire life, but who's counting?)
By the time you read this, Chad and I will be off somewhere (heading to Baltimore's Inner Harbor, I just found out) taking a day off work to enjoy each other's company. As we approach this milestone of sorts, I've been thinking what lessons I've learned in the five years we've been married. Here, my sage advice:
5) Remember the four-minute rule.
I first blogged about the four-minute rule last fall sometime, when I had pledged to myself that I would be perfectly cheerful and calm for the first four minutes that Chad came home from work. It's really amazing how not flying off the handle right when someone opens the front door can change things.
4) Don't do something for another person. Do it for yourself.
Several years ago, when I was young and naive and apparently not thinking clearly, I promised Chad that I would always do his laundry. (He hates to do laundry - I mean, he has a visceral reaction to it. To postpone his need to do laundry, he would literally drive to Target and buy more boxers.) In hindsight, this was a really stupid agreement because, well, laundry is hardly my favorite chore either. For several years, I huffed and complained to myself about this task, not totally sure that Chad fully appreciated my weekly sign of affection.
About a year ago, I heard something that hit home in this area. A woman was bemoaning the fact that she always did an disproportionate share of work than her husband and kids, and was trying to figure out how to change that. The answer from whomever was smart enough to think this way: Stop thinking about these projects as tasks you're undertaking for them. That's just going to make you bitter. Think about them as things you're doing for yourself.
This new mantra applies to all sorts of undertakings. Ticked off that I'm always emptying the dishwasher? The other option would be leaving all the clean dishes in there, but I don't want to do that. (Chad would probably be perfectly fine with this scenario.) Sick of being the one who has to remember to pay the bills on time? I'd be furious if I ever had to pay a late fee. Not in the mood to clean up the backyard? Well, don't...but don't be mad if it doesn't "magically" get done, either.
PS: I still don't really love doing laundry.
3) Never, ever - no matter what - go to Costco together on a Saturday afternoon.
That's all I'm going to say about that.
2) You know that old saying, "Never go to bed angry. Stay up and fight."? Hogwash.
A cooling-off period is essential. An eight-hour cooling off period is ideal. There's nothing wrong with going to bed angry because, 99 times out of 100, you'll wake up and realize it was the most ridiculous argument ever. Then there are apologies all around, and you've had a good night's sleep on top of it. Case closed.
1) Appreciate the cracks.
Chad isn't perfect. I'm surely not perfect (you're shocked, I know). But, like our wedding gifts that are starting to see some signs of wear and tear (ie: a few chips in our plates and an odd number of wine glasses - we've broken three), I've come to smile at the little dings and nicks, both in our stuff and in our life. Some of them, only we can see. And I think that makes it all the more special.
By the time you read this, Chad and I will be off somewhere (heading to Baltimore's Inner Harbor, I just found out) taking a day off work to enjoy each other's company. As we approach this milestone of sorts, I've been thinking what lessons I've learned in the five years we've been married. Here, my sage advice:
5) Remember the four-minute rule.
I first blogged about the four-minute rule last fall sometime, when I had pledged to myself that I would be perfectly cheerful and calm for the first four minutes that Chad came home from work. It's really amazing how not flying off the handle right when someone opens the front door can change things.
4) Don't do something for another person. Do it for yourself.
Several years ago, when I was young and naive and apparently not thinking clearly, I promised Chad that I would always do his laundry. (He hates to do laundry - I mean, he has a visceral reaction to it. To postpone his need to do laundry, he would literally drive to Target and buy more boxers.) In hindsight, this was a really stupid agreement because, well, laundry is hardly my favorite chore either. For several years, I huffed and complained to myself about this task, not totally sure that Chad fully appreciated my weekly sign of affection.
About a year ago, I heard something that hit home in this area. A woman was bemoaning the fact that she always did an disproportionate share of work than her husband and kids, and was trying to figure out how to change that. The answer from whomever was smart enough to think this way: Stop thinking about these projects as tasks you're undertaking for them. That's just going to make you bitter. Think about them as things you're doing for yourself.
This new mantra applies to all sorts of undertakings. Ticked off that I'm always emptying the dishwasher? The other option would be leaving all the clean dishes in there, but I don't want to do that. (Chad would probably be perfectly fine with this scenario.) Sick of being the one who has to remember to pay the bills on time? I'd be furious if I ever had to pay a late fee. Not in the mood to clean up the backyard? Well, don't...but don't be mad if it doesn't "magically" get done, either.
PS: I still don't really love doing laundry.
3) Never, ever - no matter what - go to Costco together on a Saturday afternoon.
That's all I'm going to say about that.
2) You know that old saying, "Never go to bed angry. Stay up and fight."? Hogwash.
A cooling-off period is essential. An eight-hour cooling off period is ideal. There's nothing wrong with going to bed angry because, 99 times out of 100, you'll wake up and realize it was the most ridiculous argument ever. Then there are apologies all around, and you've had a good night's sleep on top of it. Case closed.
1) Appreciate the cracks.
Chad isn't perfect. I'm surely not perfect (you're shocked, I know). But, like our wedding gifts that are starting to see some signs of wear and tear (ie: a few chips in our plates and an odd number of wine glasses - we've broken three), I've come to smile at the little dings and nicks, both in our stuff and in our life. Some of them, only we can see. And I think that makes it all the more special.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Are you talking to me?
The minister at the small church Chad's family attends was preparing to give the Children's Sermon yesterday, which generally provides a few kid-friendly pieces of food for thought. He called up all the youngsters, including our two nieces and just a few other kids. They sat politely in the very front row.
He paused.
"Do any of you ever have a hard time making decisions?" he began.
Chad nudged me, leaned over and whispered, "You might want to go up there for this."
He paused.
"Do any of you ever have a hard time making decisions?" he began.
Chad nudged me, leaned over and whispered, "You might want to go up there for this."
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tossing and turning
We spent months hemming and hawing over whether we should buy a new house. While the prospect was enticing, we've decided to stay put and freshen up a few things here instead of dealing with the hassle of moving or spending gobs of money on a new place. Since then, I've been on a mission to get rid of the worthless stuff we never use.
After cleaning out and throwing away a huge garbage bag full of things from our kitchen drawers yesterday afternoon (I'll take Pens That Don't Work for $500, Alex), I tackled the basement. I cleaned out and put into the Goodwill pile a bookcase and a bunch of board games, then went through a zillion shelves in the utility room. I found stuff that was left here when we bought the place...six years ago! It was therapeutic.
After taking another armload of junk upstairs, I hustled back into the basement, nearly satisfied with my progress. But I started to wonder if I'd taken things a little too far when I heard Chad whisper to Lucy: "Just sit here and be really quiet. I'm starting to worry if we make too much noise she's going to throw us out, too."
After cleaning out and throwing away a huge garbage bag full of things from our kitchen drawers yesterday afternoon (I'll take Pens That Don't Work for $500, Alex), I tackled the basement. I cleaned out and put into the Goodwill pile a bookcase and a bunch of board games, then went through a zillion shelves in the utility room. I found stuff that was left here when we bought the place...six years ago! It was therapeutic.
After taking another armload of junk upstairs, I hustled back into the basement, nearly satisfied with my progress. But I started to wonder if I'd taken things a little too far when I heard Chad whisper to Lucy: "Just sit here and be really quiet. I'm starting to worry if we make too much noise she's going to throw us out, too."
Friday, January 22, 2010
The (for the most part) perfect man
I’ve said before that I made a list in my early 20's with my requirements for the guy I wanted to marry. (I've still got the list, and I really need to take that out to see how it compares to what I ended up with.)
Anyway, while Chad is out tonight playing poker, I am catching up on TV. And at the moment, I’m on my third Oprah – I watched Sarah Palin, an episode about addictions, and now I'm in the middle of watching a 41-year-old woman who can't find a husband talk about what she wants in a man.
So they bring this "millionaire matchmaker" in, who asks the single gal to make a list of what she's looking for in a guy. Here's what's on her list:
So this made me think about my “list” from many years ago, and take a closer look at this woman's requirements. And then I realized: Holy crap.
That’s Chad. Every. Single. Item. On. The. List. He doesn’t even drink out of a straw!
Except, unfortunately for the single gal, he’s married.
Anyway, while Chad is out tonight playing poker, I am catching up on TV. And at the moment, I’m on my third Oprah – I watched Sarah Palin, an episode about addictions, and now I'm in the middle of watching a 41-year-old woman who can't find a husband talk about what she wants in a man.
So they bring this "millionaire matchmaker" in, who asks the single gal to make a list of what she's looking for in a guy. Here's what's on her list:
- Honest
- Intelligent and street smart
- Intuitive
- Passionate
- Strong
- Confident
- Considerate
- Funny/silly
- Athletic
- Decisive
- Generous/good-tipper
- Likes animals
- Doesn’t smoke
- Good genes
- Good looking
- Never been married
- No kids
- Doesn’t have a Facebook page
- Doesn’t drink out of a straw
- Likes sweets
- Handy but can afford to have someone else fix it
- No tattoos or piercings
- Has a big family and likes/talks to everyone in it
- Successful in whatever he tries to do
- Has good style
So this made me think about my “list” from many years ago, and take a closer look at this woman's requirements. And then I realized: Holy crap.
That’s Chad. Every. Single. Item. On. The. List. He doesn’t even drink out of a straw!
Except, unfortunately for the single gal, he’s married.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Five things I learned at the grocery store
Time: 7:15 - 8:00 p.m.
Place: Safeway, King Street, Alexandria, VA
5) Do not go shopping when hungry, stressed, or - heaven forbid - both. I bought twice as much as I should have. Fortunately, most of it passed the "healthy Chad" test. Unfortunately, I leave for New York in four days, so the $20 of fresh produce I had in my cart may not have been the wisest choice.
4) A New Year's Resolution around here seems to be being more friendly. More people than usual said "excuse me" or "pardon me" as I was trying to squeeze myself around their cart, their children, and their indecisiveness. (I, on the other hand, was perfectly decisive. I just bought everything in sight.)
3) The New Year's Resolution of my Safeway must not include re-stocking merchandise when the shelves are totally bare. As usual, they were out of the chicken that was on sale. They were also out of English muffins, juice, eggs, and about five varieties of soup.
2) Unlike many of my friends, I like it when people call me ma'am. It doesn't make me feel old. It actually makes me happy. And my cashier tonight was very friendly, most notably with a soft-spoken, "Would you like help with your bags, ma'am?" at the end of my checkout experience. (See "lesson learned" #4.)
1) If I go to the store to get dinner, Chad will make it. I win!
Place: Safeway, King Street, Alexandria, VA
5) Do not go shopping when hungry, stressed, or - heaven forbid - both. I bought twice as much as I should have. Fortunately, most of it passed the "healthy Chad" test. Unfortunately, I leave for New York in four days, so the $20 of fresh produce I had in my cart may not have been the wisest choice.
4) A New Year's Resolution around here seems to be being more friendly. More people than usual said "excuse me" or "pardon me" as I was trying to squeeze myself around their cart, their children, and their indecisiveness. (I, on the other hand, was perfectly decisive. I just bought everything in sight.)
3) The New Year's Resolution of my Safeway must not include re-stocking merchandise when the shelves are totally bare. As usual, they were out of the chicken that was on sale. They were also out of English muffins, juice, eggs, and about five varieties of soup.
2) Unlike many of my friends, I like it when people call me ma'am. It doesn't make me feel old. It actually makes me happy. And my cashier tonight was very friendly, most notably with a soft-spoken, "Would you like help with your bags, ma'am?" at the end of my checkout experience. (See "lesson learned" #4.)
1) If I go to the store to get dinner, Chad will make it. I win!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
It's what inside that counts
With Lucy spending her days in most parts of the house, we need to remember to shut the upstairs bedroom doors and two doors on the lower level every time we leave. Otherwise, she gets bored while we're out and finds herself a project (remember September's toilet paper incident?). But with it being coat weather and all, Chad has a hard time remembering to shut the door to the hall closet after grabbing his jacket in the morning (and I'm long gone by that point, so it's not like I can do it for him).
After coming home for several days to scarves and gloves and hats scattered around the living room, but trying to stick to my goal of not nagging -- at least on this -- here was my solution last Friday:
(Who knew I could write with my left hand?) The closet door hasn't been left open since!
After coming home for several days to scarves and gloves and hats scattered around the living room, but trying to stick to my goal of not nagging -- at least on this -- here was my solution last Friday:
(Who knew I could write with my left hand?) The closet door hasn't been left open since!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
A matter of thyme
Since it's been a dreary and chilly weekend, we decided that chili sounded good for dinner, but we had to get it made before the Bears play the Falcons.
We were in the kitchen trying to figure out what ingredients we still needed before Chad headed to the store. Rummaging through our spice rack, I asked, "How much thyme do you need to make your chili?"
Chad looked up with a blank expression on his face. "I don't know. I think I'll just start making it as soon as I get back from Safeway."
It took me ten seconds to understand what he thought I asked.
We were in the kitchen trying to figure out what ingredients we still needed before Chad headed to the store. Rummaging through our spice rack, I asked, "How much thyme do you need to make your chili?"
Chad looked up with a blank expression on his face. "I don't know. I think I'll just start making it as soon as I get back from Safeway."
It took me ten seconds to understand what he thought I asked.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Hot and cold
My friend Linda, who is one of three people who reads my blog, scolded me today for not updating in a week. I must first add that Linda is in that stage of pregnancy that you just don't want to mess with and apparently it's a slow week at work for her. But I'll be darned, she's right.
I do have a good excuse for not updating. Life is busy. B-U-S-Y. (I am actually supposed to be starting on a work project right now but have become momentarily distracted.) In fact, Chad and I are both so busy that we chat online more than we talk in person. I'm hoping this only lasts a few weeks.
Here's our latest conversation. I had just gotten home from work and noticed that Chad was on IM, meaning he was still sitting in his office:
I will take this moment to recognize the love/hate relationship I have with our thermostat. We installed the thing on Inauguration Day to save money on electricity (one of my New Year's Resolutions, remember? -- in fact, one of the only ones I'm sticking with). Anyway, they told us to install it wrong and the heat ran nonstop without warming the house for a week before I called the company and they set it straight. Our electric bill was two times higher than usual that month because of their faulty directions--so much for saving energy--and even my letter to the CEO, which was quite poetic might I add, was not convincing enough for them to pay half of it.
So I definitely did not include it in my list of favorite things, which I really do need to update, and was actually quite bitter about this whole experience. I seriously considered taking it back but I didn't want to have to spackle and repaint the wall again.
And then the summer came. And the heat. And our handy $100 thermostat saved us at least $200 in bills. (I know this because I've kept track of every bill we've had since 2004...so believe me when I tell you, this was no fluke.)
That's not to say the thermostat doesn't have its problems. For example, I can't figure out how to change it from "cool" to "heat." But it's not a huge deal. Isn't that what husbands are for?
I do have a good excuse for not updating. Life is busy. B-U-S-Y. (I am actually supposed to be starting on a work project right now but have become momentarily distracted.) In fact, Chad and I are both so busy that we chat online more than we talk in person. I'm hoping this only lasts a few weeks.
Here's our latest conversation. I had just gotten home from work and noticed that Chad was on IM, meaning he was still sitting in his office:
6:48 PM me: Still there, I see.
Chad: yeah, hoping to head soon
6:49 PM need to go see if mark is still here though so that might delay me
me: ok
6:50 PM well lucy is sitting here looking out the window for you and i am waiting for you to come home so you can help me turn the heat on. [It is currently 60 degrees in our house.]
Chad: ha, u can't figure that out?
6:51 PM me: you have to reset the whole thing so i'd rather wait for you
6:52 PM Chad: k
i'm going to swing by downstairs and then head out
bye
I will take this moment to recognize the love/hate relationship I have with our thermostat. We installed the thing on Inauguration Day to save money on electricity (one of my New Year's Resolutions, remember? -- in fact, one of the only ones I'm sticking with). Anyway, they told us to install it wrong and the heat ran nonstop without warming the house for a week before I called the company and they set it straight. Our electric bill was two times higher than usual that month because of their faulty directions--so much for saving energy--and even my letter to the CEO, which was quite poetic might I add, was not convincing enough for them to pay half of it.
So I definitely did not include it in my list of favorite things, which I really do need to update, and was actually quite bitter about this whole experience. I seriously considered taking it back but I didn't want to have to spackle and repaint the wall again.
And then the summer came. And the heat. And our handy $100 thermostat saved us at least $200 in bills. (I know this because I've kept track of every bill we've had since 2004...so believe me when I tell you, this was no fluke.)
That's not to say the thermostat doesn't have its problems. For example, I can't figure out how to change it from "cool" to "heat." But it's not a huge deal. Isn't that what husbands are for?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
A stitch in time
I consider myself a relatively reasonable person, but I've come to notice I have a tendency to get ticked off about something and assault Chad the second he walks in the door from work. My tirades are usually about the dog, I admit, but sometimes about our house (messy), our spending (too high), my job (stressful!) or our dinner (too late). The good news is that apparently I'm not alone -- other people do this, too!
Of course, I didn't really pay attention to all of this until I was reading something about Dr. Phil's "four-minute rule." The first four minutes of your conversation set the tone for the rest of the evening, he says--which is so true--and how you act in those four minutes can literally be the benchmark for the rest of your night. (For those of you who think I'm being sexist, this absolutely positively goes both ways!) Still, I've been really making a mental note on this for the last few weeks and I've started to notice how much of a difference it's made.
So when I came home from work tonight and saw that Lucy had taken a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom and made a nest with it, just like last week, because we had forgotten to shut the door -- again -- I waited until Chad had been home for 4 minutes and 1 second to point it out. And even then I was nice about it. But it was still his turn to clean it up.
Of course, I didn't really pay attention to all of this until I was reading something about Dr. Phil's "four-minute rule." The first four minutes of your conversation set the tone for the rest of the evening, he says--which is so true--and how you act in those four minutes can literally be the benchmark for the rest of your night. (For those of you who think I'm being sexist, this absolutely positively goes both ways!) Still, I've been really making a mental note on this for the last few weeks and I've started to notice how much of a difference it's made.
So when I came home from work tonight and saw that Lucy had taken a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom and made a nest with it, just like last week, because we had forgotten to shut the door -- again -- I waited until Chad had been home for 4 minutes and 1 second to point it out. And even then I was nice about it. But it was still his turn to clean it up.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A little prayer
Dear God,
Please give me the patience to deal with my husband, who the doctor has put on crutches at least until his MRI tomorrow morning. You know as well as I do that Chad doesn't do well when asked to sit still.
Oh, and please heal Chad's knee quickly. (Can you maybe make the results tomorrow be a sprain instead of a tear? That would be super.)
While I'd love to have Chad at home more nights, I don't really want to know what it's like to have to go an entire season with him unable to play softball or football. He might make me take up arm-wrestling or something to get his competitive fix and, well, that just wouldn't be a good deal for any of us.
Amen.
Please give me the patience to deal with my husband, who the doctor has put on crutches at least until his MRI tomorrow morning. You know as well as I do that Chad doesn't do well when asked to sit still.
Oh, and please heal Chad's knee quickly. (Can you maybe make the results tomorrow be a sprain instead of a tear? That would be super.)
While I'd love to have Chad at home more nights, I don't really want to know what it's like to have to go an entire season with him unable to play softball or football. He might make me take up arm-wrestling or something to get his competitive fix and, well, that just wouldn't be a good deal for any of us.
Amen.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Numbers game
On the way to the gym this morning, Chad was bemoaning the fact that he couldn't remember the combination of his new padlock.
(Side note: We left our old gym for a brand-spanking new one that's both amazing and about 40% cheaper...it was a no-brainer, even though I miss the guy who reminds me of Grandpa Howard.)
At any rate, this new gym has lockers and you need to bring your own lock to store your stuff. We bought a pack of two padlocks a few weeks ago, both with the same combination (super-smart if you ask me, as long as you're not trying to keep something from your husband or your kids). But for the life of him, Chad can't remember the combination.
"It's really easy to remember," I told him. "It's the age you look, the age you act, and the age you are."
The combination? 27-12-32.
I'll bet he doesn't forget again!
(Side note: We left our old gym for a brand-spanking new one that's both amazing and about 40% cheaper...it was a no-brainer, even though I miss the guy who reminds me of Grandpa Howard.)
At any rate, this new gym has lockers and you need to bring your own lock to store your stuff. We bought a pack of two padlocks a few weeks ago, both with the same combination (super-smart if you ask me, as long as you're not trying to keep something from your husband or your kids). But for the life of him, Chad can't remember the combination.
"It's really easy to remember," I told him. "It's the age you look, the age you act, and the age you are."
The combination? 27-12-32.
I'll bet he doesn't forget again!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
My new love
Nine times out of ten, when I get a recommendation from someone (a new product, a magazine, an article, a website), I'll check it out. When I get that same, completely unsolicited recommendation from someone else, I can't move fast enough.
And that's how I met the Pioneer Woman. "Met" is a loose term, I suppose. After all, I just know her from her website. Thanks to my friend Megan and someone-completely-different-than-Megan-though-for-the-life-of-me-I-can't-remember-who-exactly, who mentioned to me weeks ago that I should check out this site, I have become obsessed. In a good way. I think.
Long story short: This woman left a high-powered, big-city lifestyle in her mid-20's after accidentally meeting the man of her dreams, who just happens to be a cowboy, in a local bar near her hometown in Oklahoma. After falling in love, she abandoned her
thoughts of going to law school in Chicago and now lives on a ranch in Oklahoma (though she's hardly "roughing" it -- I've seen pictures of her house). She home-schools her four kids, helps her husband on the farm, and documents their life on her blog.
She also takes amazing photos, regularly updates a section about cooking, and gives things away. And she never takes herself too seriously. I appreciate a little dollop of humor to go along with everyday life.
Oh, and in all of her spare time, she just finished writing an online book about how she met and fell in love with her husband, whom she calls Marlboro Man. (It's kind of sick how much someone can accomplish a 24-hour period, isn't it? It's all I can do to go to the gym and go to work and walk the dog and keep my house clean.) Check her out for yourself, but don't get mad at me when you look up and three hours have passed.
So anyway, I love her. It's not that I love her like I want to marry her. It's that I love her like I want to be her. After spending the last week soaking in everything I can on her blog, and I'm nowhere close to finished, I feel like I've known her forever. For some reason, how she writes and what she accomplishes makes me feel so incredibly inspired. More than Oprah does, and that's saying something.
I want to take more pictures. I want to write. I want to move to the country, which I've said before). My three biggest challenges: I don't know anybody who wants to give me any land, I'm not sure what I'd really do there, unless the Pioneer Woman is looking for an understudy, and I don't think Chad wants to be a cowboy. (That said, I may have talked him into letting me spend a lot of money on a new camera and taking a few classes, which is something. All I had to promise is that I wouldn't make him carry it around.)
So, in lieu of cashing it all in and moving to the country, for now, I will live vicariously through the Pioneer Woman and soak in all the inspiration she gives me.
And that's how I met the Pioneer Woman. "Met" is a loose term, I suppose. After all, I just know her from her website. Thanks to my friend Megan and someone-completely-different-than-Megan-though-for-the-life-of-me-I-can't-remember-who-exactly, who mentioned to me weeks ago that I should check out this site, I have become obsessed. In a good way. I think.
Long story short: This woman left a high-powered, big-city lifestyle in her mid-20's after accidentally meeting the man of her dreams, who just happens to be a cowboy, in a local bar near her hometown in Oklahoma. After falling in love, she abandoned her
thoughts of going to law school in Chicago and now lives on a ranch in Oklahoma (though she's hardly "roughing" it -- I've seen pictures of her house). She home-schools her four kids, helps her husband on the farm, and documents their life on her blog.
She also takes amazing photos, regularly updates a section about cooking, and gives things away. And she never takes herself too seriously. I appreciate a little dollop of humor to go along with everyday life.Oh, and in all of her spare time, she just finished writing an online book about how she met and fell in love with her husband, whom she calls Marlboro Man. (It's kind of sick how much someone can accomplish a 24-hour period, isn't it? It's all I can do to go to the gym and go to work and walk the dog and keep my house clean.) Check her out for yourself, but don't get mad at me when you look up and three hours have passed.
So anyway, I love her. It's not that I love her like I want to marry her. It's that I love her like I want to be her. After spending the last week soaking in everything I can on her blog, and I'm nowhere close to finished, I feel like I've known her forever. For some reason, how she writes and what she accomplishes makes me feel so incredibly inspired. More than Oprah does, and that's saying something.
I want to take more pictures. I want to write. I want to move to the country, which I've said before). My three biggest challenges: I don't know anybody who wants to give me any land, I'm not sure what I'd really do there, unless the Pioneer Woman is looking for an understudy, and I don't think Chad wants to be a cowboy. (That said, I may have talked him into letting me spend a lot of money on a new camera and taking a few classes, which is something. All I had to promise is that I wouldn't make him carry it around.)
So, in lieu of cashing it all in and moving to the country, for now, I will live vicariously through the Pioneer Woman and soak in all the inspiration she gives me.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Down the road
As I rode a bike down the two-mile stretch of country road to Grandma Cathy's this afternoon on a perfectly wonderful spring day in Illinois, I got to thinking about the particularly memorable times I've made that trip:
- The years when I was old enough to ride a bike by myself but not old enough to drive. Many summer days involved back-and-forths to Grandma's and Grandpa's for milkshakes, lemonade, ice cream, or just conversation.
- Whenever I got sick and mom was working I'd head down the road. This included a two-day stretch in college after a brief hospital stint and when I came down with the flu my junior year in high school, stopping at home just long enough to pick up my pillow before showing up so pathetically on her doorstep.
- After arguing with my mom at the age of 9 or 10 (I was a strong-willed child), I decided to run away from home. I packed my little suitcase and Mom found me walking down the road halfway between our house and theirs. I'm pretty sure if I had made it all the way there that I would have just been taken home, but they may have fed me first.
- With our entire bridal party on our wedding day (four years ago tomorrow) when we played croquet and took pictures by an old barn and enjoyed a low-key celebration in the midst of wedding-day chaos with some of our favorite people in the world.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Cooking class
On Monday night I made a beef and shrimp stir-fry from scratch without having to go to the grocery store for supplies. I was quite proud of myself, as I don't deviate from recipes very often but needed to since I was not in the mood to go to Safeway for $5 worth of ingredients. Chad took a picture of this to commemorate the occasion. He wanted to title this picture, "Ellen finally cooks." (He loves to give me grief for not cooking every single night of the week, but don't let him fool you. He actually enjoys making meals a few nights a week. Or at least that's what I tell myself!)
He then focused his attention on the dog. I asked Chad why he was taking more pictures of Lucy than me, to which he replied that "Lucy does a better job of posing." So here she is, too, sitting patiently nearby and hoping for something to fly out of the wok:
He then focused his attention on the dog. I asked Chad why he was taking more pictures of Lucy than me, to which he replied that "Lucy does a better job of posing." So here she is, too, sitting patiently nearby and hoping for something to fly out of the wok:
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sports widow
Within 24 hours, Chad has played his first sport of the season (football last night--they lost 3-0...a puny score, but they played great defense against a really good team) and the Cubs' season opened. He's in a quandary right now because he can't decide if he wants to watch the college basketball championship or the Cubs vs. Astros. In these moments, I remind myself that I really did want to marry an athlete and sports fan.
I think I've quietly convinced Chad to pull back on a few leagues, so this spring he'll only have softball double-headers on Saturdays and Tuesdays plus football on Sunday nights. Oh, and on Mondays and Thursdays he has volunteered to "fill in" on two other softball leagues. I'm nearly positive that is guy-code for "I'll play every week, just don't tell my wife I've committed," but I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
As Rachel said to me the other day, "At least when your kids are involved in stuff like this, you'll already be used to the schedule." No kidding, I said. And if I play my cards right, Chad will be their coach so I can spend a quiet night at home!
Here's a recap:
I think I've quietly convinced Chad to pull back on a few leagues, so this spring he'll only have softball double-headers on Saturdays and Tuesdays plus football on Sunday nights. Oh, and on Mondays and Thursdays he has volunteered to "fill in" on two other softball leagues. I'm nearly positive that is guy-code for "I'll play every week, just don't tell my wife I've committed," but I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
As Rachel said to me the other day, "At least when your kids are involved in stuff like this, you'll already be used to the schedule." No kidding, I said. And if I play my cards right, Chad will be their coach so I can spend a quiet night at home!
Here's a recap:
Football season opener
Cubs lead 3-0
Lucy, under the couch, already tired of this nonsense
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Chatty Cathy
Twelve hours after take off, I was on another flight back to DC after a successful but tiring day in New York. Before being able to turn on my iPod, the stranger next to me sparked up a conversation. (I hate when that happens. I am not a fly-and-gab kind of person.)
But because he was nice enough and because, well, it was too early to turn on any electronic devices, I got roped into a chat.
Turns out he's a real estate attorney for Verizon and has been for 22 years. Learning that he lived in Alexandria, I pictured him in one of those giant homes in the neighborhood where I walk Lucy. I was surprised to learn that he lives in Park Fairfax, a cluster of quaint, modest townhouses--and has for many years. He's not married (that I could tell), takes the bus to work downtown, seems to be the world's biggest penny-pincher (for example, he doesn't shop at Costco because he doesn't go through three or four rolls of paper towels in an entire year, he says), and was not in the least bit flashy.
Thinking back, actually, this guy did a lot of the talking. And most of it I couldn't care less about. That said, the hour passed as quickly as it would have otherwise.
What I really wanted to ask him--the incessant question that wove in and out of my mind during the entire conversation--was what on earth he spends his money on. A single guy living in a small townhouse making big bucks in corporate real estate. I really should have inquired because this is going to bug me for awhile.
I got home and was still obsessing about this guy to Chad. "But how do you think he spends his money?" I said. "Do you think he just invests it all? That's so boring!"
Chad stopped what he was doing, turned around, and replied: "That's exactly what you'd be like if you hadn't married me."
Touché.
But because he was nice enough and because, well, it was too early to turn on any electronic devices, I got roped into a chat.
Turns out he's a real estate attorney for Verizon and has been for 22 years. Learning that he lived in Alexandria, I pictured him in one of those giant homes in the neighborhood where I walk Lucy. I was surprised to learn that he lives in Park Fairfax, a cluster of quaint, modest townhouses--and has for many years. He's not married (that I could tell), takes the bus to work downtown, seems to be the world's biggest penny-pincher (for example, he doesn't shop at Costco because he doesn't go through three or four rolls of paper towels in an entire year, he says), and was not in the least bit flashy.
Thinking back, actually, this guy did a lot of the talking. And most of it I couldn't care less about. That said, the hour passed as quickly as it would have otherwise.
What I really wanted to ask him--the incessant question that wove in and out of my mind during the entire conversation--was what on earth he spends his money on. A single guy living in a small townhouse making big bucks in corporate real estate. I really should have inquired because this is going to bug me for awhile.
I got home and was still obsessing about this guy to Chad. "But how do you think he spends his money?" I said. "Do you think he just invests it all? That's so boring!"
Chad stopped what he was doing, turned around, and replied: "That's exactly what you'd be like if you hadn't married me."
Touché.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Til death do us part
American Idol is my favorite show and the only one I watch religiously. This season, my favorite contestant is Danny Gokey, a 28 year-old church music director from Milwaukee. He's got energy, a good attitude and he can sing. (Seriously, if you have not watched American Idol this year, it's good. It's on Tuesday nights on Fox.)
Right before the American Idol auditions last summer, Danny's wife passed away during surgery to repair a heart condition. He still wears his wedding ring. It's a quiet but lovely gesture to a person who was taken from his life far too early.
This, of course, got me thinking. Watching the results show last night before bed, I turned to Chad, who was barely awake.
E: If I die, are you still going to wear your wedding ring? [I of course hope to live to an old age but still think about these things.]
Chad gave me a suspicious look that implied he thought this was a trick question.
C: [pause] Do you want me to wear my ring if you die?
E: Oh, I really don't know. I was just curious.
C: I imagine I would for awhile, but then I guess you get to a point where it's time to move on.
That's also where I fall in this whole dilemma. If I die within the next 20 years, someone please nicely tell Chad after a year or so that it would be okay if he wanted to take off his wedding ring and move on. And also, for the record, I hope he finds someone else wonderful who makes him very happy and who doesn't nag him as much as I do.
I hope Danny finds someone too.
Right before the American Idol auditions last summer, Danny's wife passed away during surgery to repair a heart condition. He still wears his wedding ring. It's a quiet but lovely gesture to a person who was taken from his life far too early.
This, of course, got me thinking. Watching the results show last night before bed, I turned to Chad, who was barely awake.
E: If I die, are you still going to wear your wedding ring? [I of course hope to live to an old age but still think about these things.]
Chad gave me a suspicious look that implied he thought this was a trick question.
C: [pause] Do you want me to wear my ring if you die?
E: Oh, I really don't know. I was just curious.
C: I imagine I would for awhile, but then I guess you get to a point where it's time to move on.
That's also where I fall in this whole dilemma. If I die within the next 20 years, someone please nicely tell Chad after a year or so that it would be okay if he wanted to take off his wedding ring and move on. And also, for the record, I hope he finds someone else wonderful who makes him very happy and who doesn't nag him as much as I do.
I hope Danny finds someone too.
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