Sunday, June 28, 2009
Enter: The germy, cough-y, sneezy petri dish of a gentleman who stood behind me in line at CVS this weekend. Who clearly didn't have a clue as to the meaning of "personal space." Much less how to respect someone else's.
Not only could I feel the spittle landing on the back of my neck with each warm, snotty, phlegmy breath he took, but I swear I could almost feel the itchy fibers of his wool sweater vest on the backs of my bare arms.
Have I totally creeped you out? Apologies. But seriously, what was this guy thinking? What did I do? I simply stepped out of line and turned my "I just have to run into CVS for some Tums" trip into a "I'll take those Tums and let's just take a gander down the pretty hair product aisle because you know I'm a huge sucker for fancy packaging and the newest spray/moose/gel/creme product that's come out onto the market" trip. You know, with a side of "Do you happen to carry any Haz-Mat suits in a size 2?"
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
There's no central air and the furnace is as old as our 92 year-old neighbor. We pay almost as much, if not more, for monthly rent than our friends with brand new 3 and 4 bedroom houses. Our kitchen countertop is made of fake butcher block (but it's a long way from the laminate countertops of apartments past).
Our landscaping is a far cry from anything you'd see on HGTV, but with a little weedkiller and a lot of patience, we've managed to do wonders with the little trees and bushes we've got.
Our house may be a rental and it may be falling a part, but for the first time in four years of apartment-living, we have our own fenced in yard, stairs to climb and multiple floors and rooms just ripe for our living in. We're living in a super cute college town, within walking distance of a downtown area chock full of restaurants and boutiques, mouth watering French bakeries and homemade Italian gelato shops.
Our yard gives Hubs and I a taste of what it's like to have to mow every. single. weekend. And shovel in arctic conditions. And seed and re-seed when it seems as if the local robins only like to eat the grass seed from our yard.
But secretly? I love this house. I love our little slice of suburbia. I love our little disheveled yard.
Just last night, I sat out in our yard with Sully, surrounded by citronella candles, relaxing on an old quilt, while we listened to a guy and his guitar put on a live concert in the park across the street. I listened to his beautiful voice as I watched handfuls of little kids dancing and running around the field. I watched parents mingle, many holding red Solo cups and imagined the conversations they were having.. Little Johnnie's last day of 1st grade, the plans for Little Jane's first birthday party. Who's summering where and who's husband just bought the new boat thats sitting in the lot across the street.
This is the town where Hubs and I went to college. Where we met, where we fell in love and where our roots first took anchor. Its where I learned how to be a nurse. Where I found my calling in Oncology. It's where I met my bridesmaids and my soul sisters. This town is full of memories. Just like our house.
Remember that time I cried because we couldn't fit our bureau upstairs and we had to put it in the kitchen? Or the time I almost got knocked out by the ceiling fan in our bedroom because I jumped up on the bed to get a closer look at the mammoth stinkbug invading my closet? I cried then too.. But those tears quickly turned to laughter once you came running as I explained the THUMP and the undecipherable screaming that ensued. Remember when we had to donate our perfectly good microfiber couch to Goodwill when it wouldn't fit in the living room? And we had to sit on the aerobed to watch TV?
I know how much you hate this house.
But I love this stupid, old, frustrating, falling-apart house.
Because home is where the heart is. And my heart is here.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
"I cannot go to school today"
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
There's a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
A printout of this poem sat taped to the glass medicine cabinet that hung on the wall of Nurse's Office in my grade school. You know, the medicine cabinet that held all of the important things, like cotton swabs, tongue depressers, lollipops and stickers. I used to stand in front of that cabinet and read this poem every time I found myself in front of the school nurse. Let's just say I was a regular. (Damn asthma). Well, today made me think of this poem. Why? Because today, I wish I could've gone to the school nurse.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Hubs: You and I? We're going to have a finances meeting later.
I will never forget my first car-buying experience which consisted of six hours in a Mazda dealership while I badgered my father about why Hubs [pre Hubs] hadn't yet proposed. Unbeknownst to me, Hubs had taken my father out weeks before to ask for my hand. It was a very long, very emotionally charged six hours. But I walked away with my first big-girl car.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Hubs and I went to see The Hangover this weekend at the constant urging of my brother who, immediately upon seeing it, texted me saying "you have to go see it. it's epic." Let's remember he's 17. And loved the movie "The Anchorman." (The only movie I have ever walked out on).
Needless to say, I always take his cinematic suggestions with a grain of salt. However, when I began to see/hear all of the buzz surrounding the movie, I knew I had to go see it. Plus, it boasts Bradley Cooper. And for no other reason than to stare at him for 96 minutes? Sure, I'll go!
It. was. hilarious. Do I think it's going to have a cult following a la Wedding Crashers? Maybe not. But I've already found myself spouting off a few key lines:
"Would you please put some pants on? I feel weird asking you twice."
"Is this hotel beeper friendly? ...'Cuz I'm not getting a sig on my pager."
"Is that a purse?' "No, it's a satchel. Indiana Jones has one!"
"I look like a nerdy hillbilly!"
And Mr. Cooper? I adore you. I've adored you since first laying eyes on you in 2001 in the movie Wet Hot American Summer. And then there was Wedding Crashers. And Failure to Launch. And Yes Man. And even though you were a total douchebag in He's Just Not That Into You, what with your cheating on your wife and your smoking behind her back and all, your hotness alone could almost have you forgiven. Something about those baby blues... Swoon.
If you haven't already seen this movie.. GO! NOW! DO IT!
Disclaimer: Bradley Cooper's got nothin' on Hubs and his baby blues.. Double swoon.
I see you everywhere. Aside from the Range Rover Sport, you are the next Main Line mobile. Women decked out in shiny baubles from head to toe drive you, what appears to be effortlessly, from grocery store, to salon, to soccer field. Just today I watched from the deck as seven of you drove by within the hour. I will admit, I have been drooling over you for quite some time, especially in Ice White or Black Sapphire.
But not anymore. Driving you was a huge disappointment. Honestly, I was shocked and appalled. I expected a much smoother ride. I did not imagine it would feel as if I were driving around in a truck. Granted, you have nice torque, but for the love of all things holy, it felt as if I was driving around 8 or 10 tons. And where's all of your shiny gadgets? I had recently come off of test driving a 2009 Toyota Highlander and that baby was fully loaded! I mean, seriously. You couldn't even have an automatic back hatch? Puh-lease.
And let's not even discuss your snotty salesman. Steve over at Toyota? Way cooler. Or the fact that you were covered in dog hair. That "Bob" the salesman kept referring to as "must have been the Bichon." Weird.
Thank you for crushing my dreams of ever owning an XC-90 (unless it's the new 2010 which unfortunately costs about as much as the downpayment on a future house),
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Haven't you learned anything from reading my blog? I know, I know. This wasn't on the list of "potential new cars for the M household" that I blogged about a couple of months ago. Rarely can I ever make up my mind about anything and always am I changing my mind on what I want next... Seriously, Hubs, I don't know how you do it.. Put up with me, that is! But I love you for every bit of it. So, there it is.. The Volvo XC90. But.. maybe in white? Or black.. Decisions, decisions.. Plans to test drive this weekend!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Despite the occasional eye-roll, I am so thankful that Hubs lets my inner Martha (as in Stewart) shine, by allowing me free reign to fill almost every room in our house with a vase full of fresh flowers. In my book, a room is not fully decorated unless it boasts a pretty blossom (or two! or ten!)
There's seems to be something in the air that's making for a hellish work week for everyone lately, no matter where you work, and throughout the unneccessarily chaotic and overwhelming day today, I kept thinking about these flowers, especially the magenta peonies and couldn't help but smile.
After snapping a few photos of my nightstand, I noticed that Hubs' nightstand looks drastically different than mine. As in, desolate, drab, rather monochrome and lonely- different. It's well, a guy's nightstand!
You don't quite follow? Here's a few more pictures of my nightstand:
Yankee candle Beach Walk (adore the relaxing scent and bonus points for matching the theme of the Master Bedroom), the mandatory vase full of fresh flowers, coral/seashell frame of "The Married Ones" and a starfish trinket box that holds the jewelry I wear on a daily basis.
And now, the Mr.'s nightstand:
Portable DVD player for those lonely nights sans Hubs where all I want to do is curl up in a ball and watch movies in bed (Hubs is anti-television in the bedroom, a story for a whole other post!), a nickel and chrome monogrammed Catch-All for Hub's watch, money clip, loose change and whatever else the boy manages to collect in his pockets, another picture of "The Married Ones" and lastly, a handcrafted coconut shell crab from our Hawaiin Honeymoon.
Now do you see what I mean? Such a guy's nightstand!
You know, shy of the neon beer sign and bottle koozie (which he may or may not have stashed in that top drawer!)
I will admit, I imagine I would grow a little curious if Hubs started demanding that his nightstand be decorated with fresh flowers and candles and whatnot. Hehe!
Monday, June 8, 2009
bog boy tomatoes, hot peppers,
strawberries, a creepy-crawly purple plant,
bsail and curly parsley
Mmmm.. Strawberry smoothies..
Peppermint and Spearmint for a summer's worth of Mojitos
Hubs says the secret is in the mixing of potting soil and topsoil. I think it has a little to do with the 2 teaspoons of miracle grow plant food I mix with each gallon of water I lug out onto the deck every Sunday morning. In a leaky pitcher, I might add. Hubs, you think we can spring for a watering can now? You know, one of those cute ones I pointed out a HomeGoods last weekend? I'm just saying...
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Hubs is a sugar cone kinda guy. I loathe sugar cones, much like I detest the waffle cone. It's too.. serious. I, however, drool at the thought of a fresh cake cone. It makes me think of my childhood. Plus, it's undoubtedly the better cone.
So, who's side are you on anyways? Are you a sugar cone lover? Or a cake cone lover? Let's jsut say, I think it explains a lot...
Friday, June 5, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
You suck. It has been decided, due to your immense suck-age, you should be stricken from the work week.
Dear Over Jovial Patient,
Thank you for repeatedly referring to my ponytail as "scraggly" and "scruffy." I cannot help it that my hair can barely be brought back into a high pony without a few whispy stragglers fighting to stake their claim on top of my head. Unfortunately, I was too concerned with finding your chemotherapy orders and placing them in pharmacy in a timely fashion, to worry about my appearance. Having only met for the first time today, you and I do not have that kind of rapport in which we can make fun of each other.
Promising to use a little extra hairspray next time,
Dear Oblivious 1986 Dodge Neon Driver,
Thank you for paying no attention to the Interstate whatsoever while maintaining less than the posted speed limit and practically sideswiping my vehicle in an attempt to perfom some sort of kamikaze lane switch while chatting away on your cell phone. Oh, what's that? You couldn't see me? Maybe that's because the duct tape you were using to adhere you side mirror to your door was obscuring your view.
With utmost disdain for your craptastic driving skills,
Dear Tuesday, Wednesday Thursday and Friday,
You'd better be on your best behavior this week. Or else I may be reduced to a tantrum-throwing, excess wine-drinking lunatic.
All my love,