Why I Say Yes :: The Love Files

Last night, around 9:30 PM, my husband looked me square in the face and seriously asked me if I wanted to go out into the cold.

Part of me wondered if he had a fever.  

"Wanna come out in the snow and watch me shovel and Duke run around like a mad man?"

He meant it, I could tell.  While I have no idea why he asked, and despite the reasonable part of my brain that said "Heck. No.  I don't like frostbite, thankyouverymuch," I went anyways.  Because as far as its in my power, however much he asks, I try and tell my husband "Yes" when he asks if I want to come with him.

It wasn't glamorous.  There was no particularly blog-worthy photo to show.  So I just took one, so I'd remember.  I want to remember that he asked me.  He asked me to be with him, to do with him.  He wants me around.  He wants to share things with me, even if its biting cold wind and annoying (and never-ending!) chores.  

I want him to always choose me, and so I try to say "yes" as much as possible.

Its the reason I've gotten up to go "hunting" at 4:00 in the AM (Yes, they make a 4 o'clock for mornings, too!  Who knew!?) and the reason I have actually sat and watched him play a video game a time or two.  For as long as he wants me around, I want to be there.  

This doesn't mean that I don't do my own thing, or that I watch him live his life while I sit in the stands.  We do plenty apart, and there are times he comes with me for stuff, just because I've asked.  It all just boils down to being each other's buddies.  I don't know if its the best marriage technique.  I don't know much of anything about marriage, other than what pertains to Handsome and our first 6 1/2 years.  But I do know that this works for us, the tagging along.  

I've had friends who say they want to do things, and so you ask or invite, and they decline.  Which happens, not a big deal.  Until its the 145th time, and then you're just done asking.  I don't want him to ever be done asking me.  It seems silly, but when I've got my head on straight and a good perspective, it almost seems like he's proposing all over again.  A little far-fetched, sure, but the truth is he's choosing me, and that's pretty much all I've ever wanted.  So that's why I say "yes".

Have a great weekend, friends!  Say yes to someone, even if they're asking you to leave your house at 9:30 when its 27* out and you're wearing leggins.  It might seem like a small thing, but these little "yes"'s, they add up into one big "you're important to me" and that is a beautiful gift.

<3 M.

I Love Being Married :: Giveaway

**WINNER**

Amy Klein

************

Warning: this post is mushing, in an "I have so many feelings and they're oh so very nice sort of way" not in an "old banana" sort of way.  Although the title kind of gives that away, so if you clicked through and now you're feeling surprised...

Let's be honest.
Handsome is the only one who actually looks good in this picture.
But the post is about him, so I'll allow it.

I'm in love.

I am.

With my husband.  And I'm not even sorry about it.  Not even one bit.  Usually, I just call my MIL and tell her how much I love her son, because what MIL doesn't want to hear that?  And besides, if she's buying me questionable undies as stocking stuffers anyhow (no lie - I couldn't bring myself to open my stocking in front of grandma!), I'm pretty sure she knows it.

I feel like I just over-shared.

I apologize.

Please try and remove whatever mental images you've conjured.

Anyhow, I've been thinking about the bible verse that says "Marriage is to be honored by all..." (Hebrews 13:4) and I know that when we publicly rag on our spouses, it doesn't honor marriage.  I also know that when our marriages are rockin' and we don't admit it, that's not honoring marriage either.  So here is me, saying that my 5-year,7-month marriage is rockin', and I'm oh so glad.

Here's a short list, from this week, of how my #babydaddy is making me fall in love with him all over again.

I fall in love when Handsome:

- prays for us to be brave, and I didn't even know we needed to be
- talks about buying RG her first rifle, and the fun they'll have as he someday teaches her about gun safety.  <Because she's gonna love that!>
- takes me to a musical, and we both enjoy it.  <"Better than the movies" he says!>
- rummages through the cupboards and eats whatever he finds, like in-house dumpster diving
- takes an extra 15 minutes to put his shoulder holster on just right, like a 63 year-old retired cop, so that we can go to the grocery store
- takes our dog running and calls him his buddy
- pretends to complain about nice things, like having too much food or getting smooched as soon as he walks into the house
- follows me around while I get ready, telling me his stories from the days he's been at work

Seriously, I'm over the moon.

Now, there are about a gazillion marriage books out there.  And I'm sure there's some good ones, and I know that there are some not-so-good ones.  A book won't make or break your marriage, but I'll tell you this - the good ones often give me a little check, and some perspective.  There is one book that I can point to ("other than the bible" says the baptist-raised girl, but she does mean it!) and say "this book changed my marriage".  That would be The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands by Dr. Laura Schlessinger.

Well, it changed the way my marriage would be, anyhow, since I checked it out of the public library a month or so before I actually got married.  I thought it was a joke, that it was just funny stories about being married.  Nope.  Dr. Laura, lays down the law, and gives great advice.  The best part, for me, is that the book is peppered with other people's stories.  I love vignettes!  Her two main pieces of advice: Choose wisely; Treat kindly.  Simple, but soooo critical!

Thus in an effort to honor marriage, I thought I'd give a copy of the book away.  You can have it in paperback or e-book version, winner's choice.  This is also a great book to give to a newly engaged lady, or as a bridal shower gift.  Just sayin', even if you're not married, you might want to enter.  Plus, winning is cool.

Use the rafflecopter below to enter to win.  Giveaway will go on through Weds at 11:59!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

<3 M.

Oh, and Dr. Laura has no idea who I am.  This post is not sponsored.  Duh.

Letters To My BabbyDaddy :: Talk To Me

Hey Love.

I love translating you for others, too
#appleBOTTOMjeans

My handsome, handsome love.  Particularly now with the mustache and soul patch facial-hair-that-shall-not-be-named G-O-N-E gone.  We decorated the tree last night, and you actually participated.  You've been actually participating a lot lately, and I find myself wanting to grab ahold of those moments and just squeeze them until I've made sure to get all of the specialness out of them.  But that's not what you're supposed to do with moments like that.  I know this, but I forget.  You're teaching me, by example, to just enjoy them.  Notice them.  Then keep right on living, so that you can have more moments.  

When we talk, even just on the phone for a "hey where are you at okay I'll be back soon" type of chat, I notice that we have our own language.  We've got our own names, like puddin' and handsome, sweet thang and donny, but there's more than that.  Over our years, it seems we've developed our own special blend of north & south speak, melded together with insider information.  Its not abnormal to hear "Grab some pop while you're at the store, eh?" and "dadgum, this youngin' is trying to eat the sweeper".  I like to fancy that we'd be an anomaly to language investigators, were they to watch us.

Then we've got the whole who-needs-to-say-a-whole-sentence thing going on, which makes me feel like we're jiving as nothing else can.  A simple "Hey Mariah, where's the..." followed by "In the basement, back right closet shelf" can find the paper towels without any previous conversation.  It doesn't always happen like magic, but its enough to know that I know you.  

I love knowing you.

Talk to you soon.

<3 M.

My Husband Cleans, and That's a Problem

I know.  We've all got 99 problems, but a husband who cleans 'aint one.

Except for me, it is.  And not a problem in an "I've got to change this, I won't stand for it" type of way.  I'm not stupid.  I realize when I've been handed a precious gift.  Its a problem in a "Mariah has issues she has to overcome by the grace of God" type of way.  In a "My husband nearly lost his head today" sort of way.

This picture has nothing to do with this story, except that it also occurred today.
And yes, it was this amazing.

Let me explain.

About a month ago, Handsome decided that he wanted to have a cleaner house, and he was going to do something about it.  This change was motivated by many things, notably RG's impending mobility, and the desire to model responsible, adult behavior for our bambina.  Good things, really.  And he was serious about his willingness to do the cleaning.

I should be thrilled.  And part of me is thrilled.  Its really nice that he does the dishes, and knows where the vacuum (one "c", two "u"'s, in case you have trouble with that word, too) cleaner is kept.  The problem was that I had trouble listening to him say "I am going to keep the kitchen more clean" and not hearing "You don't keep the kitchen clean enough".  It wasn't what he was saying, and it wasn't implied, but it was heard, all the same.

Poor guy, he thinks I'm loony and wanted to know why I kept twisting the things he said around into something negative.  This all came to a head today, when he asked me, as though it were a new idea, if I could maybe, after Riley was done playing with her toys, pick them back up.  I nearly came. un. glued.  And my thought process was 100% defensive, 100% prideful, and 100% wrong.  I actually went through the stages of grieving, for some weird reason.

Denial:

"Oh no.  OH NO HE DI'NT.  He is not coming up in here and telling me my business.  Is he telling me how to keep house?  Seriously?  No.  No way.  This isn't happening."

Anger:

"Like I don't do that already?  Like I don't pick up after her?  I mean, seriously, I didn't do it this morning, but for the past 9 months I've been picking up after her, and for the past 5 years I've been picking up after him, and if he thinks he's going to pass judgement ON ME..."

Bargaining:

"Well, if he thinks he can say these things about me, I'm going to unload on him where I think he's failing.  That's right.  I might not have picked up after RG this morning, but he left his pants in the bathroom..."

Depression:

"I can't believe he'd says something so hurtful.  Why doesn't he appreciate what I do?  Does he think its easy, being basically a single parent over 50% of the time?  Why is he so mean?  My life is so hard, and he doesn't care."

Husband Happy

This day is done.  We've wrapped it up and we're calling it a huge win, as far as days go.  As far as bloggy things go, it might not be a win, since the only picture I took today was this: 

Boys are so fun.
They let you shoot up their birthday presents, and they're happy about it!

This morning, I dropped my little bean off at her lovely lovely babysitter's, and headed to pick up handsome from work.  I had big plans, all of which I had made in my head and none of which I had verified or scrutinized too closely, so we ended up walking around a community track for the better part of an hour to kill time until the gun shop opened.  And although I was frazzled and disappointed and a leetle stressed at missing my Saturday morning with RG, I shoved all of those feelings down in the dark dungeon of "things that are not real and therefore should not impact your attitude/be used to make decisions" and enjoyed my 2 miles with my hubby on his second day of being 29.

Letters To My BabyDaddy :: Travel Warriors

My love.

I would call you tonight and tell you this, except we left your phone in PA.  And by we, I obviously mean that I did.  But you didn't blame me.  Because you're a team player like that. 

And just like the team player that you are, you drove us South for over 13 hours straight yesterday.  We made it, we survived our road trip.  If its all the same to you, I'd prefer to never need to survive that road trip again, because I'd prefer to never attempt it again.  But if I have to attempt it, I'd rather do it with you than with anyone else.

We're different, you and I.  These differences that once seemed small, even unnoticeable  are being brought to light daily as we learn to parent together.  I'm more high-strung  you're more laid back.  I'm more intentional, you're more "go with the flow".  We complement each other, although we sometimes forget to compliment each other.  Without you, well, we both know what a mess I'd be.  And we also both know that you'd fall apart without me (phone retention skills aside).    

So instead of calling you and telling you how much I'm in love with you and that I miss you like madness, I'm writing it on here, for all the world (except you) to read.  Thank you, my love, for all of the ways you play for the team and not for the individual glory.  Thank you, that do not go after selfish ambition or vain conceit, but instead put others before yourself.  This is a learning experience.  You're so skilled at things that I often forget that you're trying to figure out this parenting-as-a-couple thing the same as I am.  So with my thanks, I want to remember to offer you grace, to give you room to learn and improve, as you've given me.  

I love you, D-mag.  For a million and 7 reasons.  For the record, number 1,000,002 is that you didn't once ask me to drive yesterday.  xxooxo

<3 M.

Letters to My Babydaddy :: My Champion

Dear Babydaddy,

I know that it has been more difficult than we thought it would be.  I know that I'm more difficult than you thought I would be.  But you've been a champion.  My champion, to be exact.  Like when I'm tired but I just keep trying, and you pull me close and tell me that I'm such a good mom.  Or when you keep baby so I can have a blissful 20 minutes alone at the grocery store.  But you're especially awesome when I tell you that I feel like I don't know when I'm doing.  That's when you really came through.  Because you didn't commiserate, you didn't just pat me on the back or say "that's okay".  You told me I was wrong.  You pointed out the ways that I do know what I'm doing, the times when I do know how to take care of our Bambina.  That encouragement, that affirmation, it was gold, honey.  You. complete. me.  

The fact that you talk about baby #2 without hesitation makes me think that you're a little bit crazy, but I'll keep you.

<3 M.

Legacies :: Great Grand Style

Its that time again.  That time that always follows the best of times.  Because Handsome has the more restrictive schedule (read: any schedule at all), we always plan visits around it.  And so when people come down,they generally stay for as long as he can get work off.  Which means on the  morning that our visitors go home, he also goes to work, and Duke & I (and now, RG) are left in the house, with the remnants of good memories and a fridge full of restaurant leftovers.

G&G came down this weekend.  That's how they sign their cards, every time - <3 G&G.  They are Riley's great-grandparents.  I'm so glad, so blessed, so happy that Rileygirl has had a chance to meet her great grandparents and make memories with them.  I have similar memories with my great grands, ones that I only actually remember because they were captured on grainy VHS and watched over and over again as kids.  And now, my girl will have memories like that, and hopefully many more!

I can't wait to tell her how her Grammy missed her so much that she braved 12 hours in the car with Grampa & his driving, a feat Gram claims as harrowing and death-defying.  I can't wait to tell her how her Grampa, a bear of a man who values hard work above nearly all else, took vacation days just to come see her.  How they both waited with anticipation while she slept just for the next time she'd wake up and they could see her precious face again.  How Gram, even though her knees hurt, would climb the stairs, "Just to peek in".  

Wake Up Call

The following story is mostly for me, just so I don't forget.

****

Handsome woke me up this morning when he got home from work.  "Get up!" He said, and attempted to pull me out of bed by one arm and one leg.  "I have something to show you."

He dragged me to the baby's room.  For a brief second, I thought maybe he found the baby.  You know.   Because the baby was... lost??  Clearly I was still mostly sleeping at this point.  

And then he pulled up the window shade.  Told me to look.

It was the sunrise.

"I thought my truck was on fire" he told me, as he hugged me and let me soak in the beautiful, flaming sky that marked the morning of our bambino's due date.

****

I love this man of mine.  I love that he wants to share things with me, to show me stuff that he thinks is awesome.  That he tells me all of his stories, even when they're long.  And about the specific gun clips/magazines he wants to buy.  Even then.  

<3 M.

Playing Games with Two

My husband.  Golly gee, I just love him.  I've been mooning over this guy, and lucky enough to hold his hand, for over 10 years now.  FOR-EV-ER.  He's pretty much my favorite, bar none.  Even when he says atrocious things like "No, that's not too much cleavage.  There's more coming out of the arm holes than there is in the front, anyhow." 

Bless him.

Anyhow, my biggest concern with the arrival of this new baby is that I'm going to have to share.  Him.  My favorite person ever.  For the past 5 years, as long as we were at home, it was just the two of us and I had his undivided attention (assuming I could hide all of the electronic gaming devices, but that's a story for a different time...).  And now, when we're home, I'll have to split his attention with a tiny human.  Horror of horrors, I tell you what.

However, what's done is done, and I'm sure it won't be as big of a sacrifice as I'm building it up to be.  Or if it is, we won't mind because we'll be so head-over-heels in love with this mini "us".  But as I've mentioned, life will change.  The number of spontaneous trips will dwindle.  Nights "out" will become memories.  We don't have family around, and although there are several lovely people who have offered to watch our progeny for us, I just know that we probably will not take them up on their offers as much as we could/should.

In preparation for such an event, we've made a short list of spur-of-the-moment things we can still do with a baby.  

• Easy hikes to local waterfalls
• Visits to the lake
• (paved) Bike trails with a pull-behind cart
• Picnics
• Backyard bonfires
• 22 pistol practice Walks in the forest

But for nights when we need to stay in, we need ideas too.  I found this list on pinterest, but I wanted some other options, too.  That's where the games come in.  I love board games.  I do.  And so does Handsome.  You wouldn't know it by our extensive collection (Two.) but we do enjoy them.  Problem is, I always forget what games are fun with only two players.  Of course, we could invite people over, but then I have to share my darling husband's attention, and we all know how I feel about that. (see above)  So I've compiled a compilation of two-person board games.  

Boggle .  Jenga .  Scrabble .  Yahtzee .  Battleship .
I know he'll cheat at all of them, but that's part of the fun.

I'd love it if you have any other suggestions.  Y'all have been so helpful with the "What I'll Miss" question that I thought I'd throw another one your way.  But before you mention it, let me tell you just how much of not-a-chance there is that D & I will play Chess.  Zero.  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.  Not Happening.  I'm not a chess fan.  Really, I don't like games that require intense strategy or thinking.  Makes me go crazy.  Please bear that in mind ;)

<3 M.

On This Morning

On this morning, it's still dark.  It seemed dark as night just 40 minutes ago when I accidentally woke up.  I had to good fortune of sleeping the night through... wait, no, now that I remember it, I did wake up once.  Either way, I slept pretty soundly (really wish I wouldn't have remembered that, I liked the slept-the-night-through version better).  I then realized I had had the even better fortune of waking up about 10 minutes after Husband's alarm should have gone off.  Then it's hurry-scurry to get him out the door on time.

On this morning, I wanted to lock the door, instead.  Pull down the blinds (because we've finally got some in the bathrooms!), and stay in here today.  Claim a contentious objector day, and simply not participate in the goings ons around us.

On this morning, I wanted to turn towards my love, snuggle up, and slip back off to dream land for at least a good 4 more hours.  Then it would have been pancakes.  I've been dreaming about pancakes for about 4 days now.  Not my "healthy" pancakes.  Not my usual flapjacks.  Big, fluffy, syrup-stealing, stick to your ribs pancakes.  And some bacon, if I had some.

On this morning, I wish I had bacon.

via

What I Haven't Shared

Most of my life is an open book.  You know when I've baked too much, what I wear on my feet, and how really really ridiculous my dog is.  But one of the reasons I started this was to be more open about my actual self, not just the witty, self-depreciating, creating-addicted self.  To give more voice to the me that I felt few people knew.  

So I did that for a while.  I shared what was on my heart, even when it was ugly or worrisome or embarrassing.  And then lately, I've been avoiding it.  Really, ever since I got back from PA.  Heck, maybe even before I left. But purposefully, I've been avoiding my heart ever since PA. 

Oh, lovely PA...

The trip was fantastic, and I got to see so many friendly faces.  The love they poured out for me & D'man and this bambino was overwhelming.  And then, Sunday morning, I went to church.  The sermon was on... something.  Something about not hoarding.  I was paying attention, don't get me wrong, but I was also just basking in the feeling of being in the place where I had grown up in my faith.  Just enjoying it.  Then came the wrap-up.  Pastor T, he said something to the effect of, "How do you apply this?  How does this actually impact your life?  Well I'm glad you asked." and he went on to say that, while most of us struggle with a storage issue - too much stuff, there are those not too very far away that struggle because they have nothing.  

Let's just say, he had my attention.

Then he said that winter was coming, and up in PA, it gets cold.  He had been in contact with some homeless organizations, and they named a lack of shoes and coats as their chief problem for winter.  So today, prepared or not, they would be collecting our coats and shoes.  If you wanted to give them.  If you could give them.  If God so moved you to give them.

Sunday Confessions... On Monday

Yes, I know, Sunday Confessions are generally kept to... well, Sunday.  But I was late with the quilt post, and then I was going to put these up last night, until Duke left and went to bed and I thought "You know, perhaps my dog has some sense afterall." and I took myself off to bed.  Of course, that line of reasoning just goes to show how sleep deprived I was, as Duke is currently out of my good graces for the time being.  (He (reportedly) has no manners, ate a stick of taffy and a plastic bag full of coconut oatmeal crispies off of the table, and refused to let a friend into our home.  I guess that's confession 0: I have a poorly behaved pooch, and no idea what to do about it!)

So anyhow, it's late, but it's here.  And I've included pictures of German dancing, to make up for the lateness.  That's right.  I know your weaknesses.

Some Favorites For You

This Sunday is a lovely one.  I'm in Phoenix, and we've got a high of 85 brewing.  I've almost got a grip on this whole Pacific Standard Time thing, although I don't know that I'll ever fully master it.  There's going to be a kick-butt presentation given in approx 50 minutes (by me!) and then I'm planning on some delicious dinner at a yet-to-be-decided-on restaurant.

And so, in honor of all that fantastic-ness, here's some things I wanted to share with you:

My taco recipe.
Hardly seems right to talk about tacos made by a Northern gal whilst sitting in the land of Tex Mex,
but I'm bold like that.
Here's the link to the recipe (secret is in the carrots, I swear!)
Here's the link to the seasoning.
Oh, and my all-time favorite shells .
Really, its the whole package.

Our new couch!
This couch is an attempt to make our awkward front room slightly less awkward.
After Handsome & I got it in the house, we both sat on it in silence for a moment.
Then he turned to me.
Said, "It's still awkward."
It is.
(anthropologie: from a consignment store near us)

And now for my always favorites:

Holiday Time

I've been having holidays lately. Not in the British sense, where they say "holiday" but mean vacation (egocentric much, self?).  No, more in the way where days and events feel special, where there is a hint of anticipation in the air.

For example, eating this awesome chocolate bar today?

While munching on it (and I did munch on it - I think sometimes it tastes best when your teeth are full of chocolate, ya know what I mean?), I suddenly felt like it was Easter.  And while I know that Easter is not all about chocolate, it is a taste/smell memory, and always takes me back.

And then, last Thursday, when Handsome finally had a full day off (first time in 8 days) we were just hanging out, chilling and laughing.  It was 100% fabulous.  And it felt like Christmas.  There was an expectation of great things in the air, a fun & relaxed festival of a day.  I asked if we could get a tree, but Husband said no.  Didn't even think about it.  Just "Hey, can we get a Christmas tree today?" and then "No."  

I tried not to let it kill my buzz :)

Merry Easter,
TFW

The Day (I thought) I Lost My Husband

I'm only now able to talk about it.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic.

ASIDE: What's the difference between melodramatic and dramatic?  I surely don't know.

But I was shaken up quite a bit.  

LOST!

Here's the story:

D-man (it's weird not to type "Handsome" now... I'm never satisfied) left the house around 12:15.  To get to his clinical by 2:00.  He'd probably arrive closer to 1:30, but earlier is better.  I talked to my wonderful man around 1:15, and he said his clinical was re-scheduled for 3:00, but he's gonna get there early and study until it was time.  

I went on my way, lived my life, and did class and other things until about 5:00.  Had a phone message, when I got out of class, from D's buddy that asked if I had spoken to Dante.  Apparently, according to my message, my husband had never shown up at his clinical.  Weird.

Crafty Shout-out!

Yo peeps.

I need your help, yo.

I've got two problems (but my dog ain't one).

Well, I've got 3 problems if you consider how thug I'm feeling right now to be a problem.  I don't.

Problem 1:  I can't read this without tearing up

Kind of ruins my whole thug cred, doesn't it?
credit here

It was read over us on our wedding day, and it always makes me cry.  Especially now with the whole "laughter of children" thing.  *sob*

Problem 2: I need the above tear-jerker on my wall, in some format.  Canvas, paint, children's wooden blocks, whatever.  I just need to be able to see it every day.  But my creative juices aren't flowing.  So I need your help.  How would you do it?  How do you think I should do it?  If any of you have any idea, please share.

And get this: suppose someone gives me an awesome idea, and I do it, and I love it for ever and always.  Suppose that.  Then I'd probably have to send said person a present of some sort.  I'm just sayin'.  I'm a giver.

Off to do the ugly cry,

TFW

Since the Dawn of Time, Part 3

I started this story many many moons ago.  Parts 1, 2, and 4 are in the archives.  However, since I do things in my own order (Remember the curtains?  Bathrooms are still without.) I failed to ever write up part 3.

Basically, Part 3 is how we ended up here

I'm a maverick, what can I say.

Years ago, I had been pestering pressuring gently reminding my boyfriend Handsome that (1) Graduation was in 1 year, (2) I would be moving after graduation, and (3) Most weddings take approximately a year to plan.  Just as an FYI, no pressure.  Definitely not nagging, no, not me, never.

I finally decided to give up on the gentle reminders.  If H didn't mind that his 5-year deadline was fast approaching, then I was determined not to mind either.  I mean, I didn't give up entirely, since I was still crying to my mom at night, telling her that I'd have to end up moving to SC without Handsome, and wasting the last 5 years of my life, and on and on.  But I was trying desperately to be content with my current situation.

Enter July 4th.  I love the fourth of July.  The fireworks, the hot dogs, the overwhelming love for America; I buy into all of it.  And Handsome knows that I love it.  I really thought, this year, on our 5th 4th (wrap your head around that) spent together, I thought that would be it.  Don't get me wrong, I didn't expect the whole sky-writing thing.  Heck, a ring inside a hot dog would have worked for me.

Evening came, evening passed.  Fireworks went off.  We watched, we cuddled, I started to hold my breath.  If I would have kept holding my breath, I would have turned blue & passed out.  No ring.  No promise.  No happily ever after that night.  Torture would have been easier.

#honorhim

Lets start out by saying that I'm not the best housekeeper in the world.  Okay?  Are you all okay with that?  Because it's just fact.  I'm well aware that it is something that could be changed or worked on, as it's mostly habit, but it's just not ever something I worked on much.  Also for the record, I'd like to state that Handsome knew this going in.  I'm sure, when we were dating, I usually had my room clean when he came over (don't worry, we only hung out in there with the door open, and usually the company of my lil' bro.), but at the same time, it was obviously only a surface clean.  

We're talking there may have been cobwebs.  Judge me if it makes you feel better.

Anyhow, Handsome did not grow up in a house with the same laisse faire attitude towards housekeeping.  Handsome himself didn't do much of the work, but his mother worked tirelessly to make sure their home was clean and spotless.  And we're talking deep clean, take a toothbrush to the grout lines, clean.  But since his attitude about it all was pretty lackadaisical (aren't you just loving my words today?!), I thought we made a nice pair.

Then H got old.  Or hit his head.  Or was abducted by aliens.  Either way, about 6 months or more ago, he came home and started telling me all the ways that the current state of the house was not up to par.  He may have even started with "You know what your worst failing is as a wife?"

Best Worst Night Ever

So, when we last left each other, I was setting up the tent for an impromptu backyard campout.

What?  You haven't been waiting with baited breath (I love that saying for some reason) for me to fill you in on the rest of the adventure?  Please, dahling, you're fooling yourself.  You live and die on these pages here.

Alright, back to the story.

So, I set up the tent, and Handsome went to work on getting a campfire going.  Because we all know that a campout isn't a campout without a campfire.  Or without grilled food.  So I started grilling, and then ran out of propane, then ran and got some more propane, and then resumed grilling.  We at at 9:30.  It was most definitely an adventure.  Riveting, really.  We should have just eaten Jiffy Pop.

Can you believe that Handsome had never done the Jiffy Pop thingy?  Oh my, we loved that as kids.  That and the colored popcorn.  Any one else ever do that??  You should know something else.  Something about those new flat marshmallows.  One isn't enough for a s'more.  Its just not.  Two, with chocolate sandwiched in between, is perfect for a s'more.  Just so you know.