Me: It’s so humid today and I’m at the gym and it’s so busy and I’m sweating uncontrollably! I’m pouring! I’m so embarrassed.

P: Brittny, do you want to make me angry? 1. You went to the gym. 2. It’s humid which gives the effect of a sauna. So it’s like you worked out double. So jealous!

Forgive me friends for I have sinned. It has been several weeks since my last confession.

Because it’s been a while, I will plunge deep into my heart and provide you with quality, meaningful confessions.

Like this one:

1. My husband parks my car in the garage every.single.day.

No seriously- I swear.

I know.

Pathetic.

So here’s the whole back story.

When I was 16 I got a car and- like all 16 year olds- was very eager to drive and be TOTALLY responsible with it.

So the thing with my car was that it was really long and it barely fit in the garage. In fact, there were many times in which the garage door lightly smudged the back of my car. Not only that, but we had a two car garage growing up so it was a really tight squeeze fitting the car next to the big purple minivan. So- long story (somewhat) short- my parents parked the car in the garage for me. Yes, I was TOTALLY responsibile- but why risk me doing something stupid, right?

Right.

So- one night I was being TOTALLY responsible and coming home late. Instead of calling my parents and telling them that not only was I late, but I also needed the car put in the garage, I opted to be the “good” and helpful daughter and park the car myself.

As I pulled the car in the rear right side of my car let out a painful cry of torture-

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH

I couldn’t stop! I kept driving, thinking it would be better.

It was worse.

Definitely worse.

I totally dented in the side big time. Plus the paint was destroyed.

Good job kid.

I know.

Anyway- ever since that I’ve been very leery of parking in tight spaces. Mostly because I suck. Mostly also because I have this reoccurring nightmare of doing something terribly stupid again.

So anyway, since we have the truck now it goes in the big part of the garage and we park my car in the third garage door, which is a tight squeeze (ahem- for me- not for anyone else, I’m sure).

Will knows this awful and totally embarrassing garage story, and although it’s been 10 freaking years, he still doesn’t trust me with “baby #2” (did you guys know that’s what he calls his car? I know- he’s crazy).

So there you go- I can’t park my own car in my garage. How’s that for a confession?

2. When it’s just me and Will eating at home I cover my baking dish in foil so I don’t have to wash the dish and instead just throw away the dirty foil.

Because I’m just that lazy. No other reason.

3.  Sometimes I pretend to be annoyed whenever I scoop ice cream (cookies and creme) for me and Will because “I’d rather he do it,” but the truth is that is that I totally love doing it because I always (always, always) give myself the giant pieces of cookies.

ha ha. I feel like I need to go to crunches after confessing that…

Anything you need to confess to lighten your load? 

"I’m 26 years old and I still loathe buying tampons. You’d think that was something I would have grown out of- but, no.

I wonder why, too? I mean- I realize it’s no big deal. I must admit, though, I really love when you go for me.”

“Yeah- but I don’t.”

“I know- but like I said, I hate it. When you go people know you’re just being a wonderful husband. They know they’re not for you. When I go, however, it is very, very clear that those super duper sized tampons are for me. Ha- or it could also be the gallon of ice cream I buy with them. That probably gives it away too. I mean- it’s this whole thing! Do you get a cart for the tampons, or do you tromp around the whole Wal-mart holding them discretely by your side while you casually walk to the entire other side of the store for the ice cream? Do you-”

(cutting me off)

“Brittny- lately it seems like anytime you talk about things or tell me stories it’s like you’re blogging.”

“Nooo. You’re crazy. I just like to drone on about things.”

And then I hopped out of the truck and began my tampon/cookie dough mission (thinking all the while about telling you guys about standing in front of the cookie dough section holding a jumbo sized box of tampons).

Um- between you and me? After assessing the most recent stories I’ve told Will this week? Yeah, he’s right. I totally talk in blog.

A nearby community is holding their annual Woofstock event this weekend, and I’ve literally been excited for weeks.

Weeks.

Poor Will has had to hear me drone on and on about Woofstock this and that and how much fun it will be and “maybe we’ll meet some nice people.”

Only there is an underlying predicament which needs to be addressed:

Which dog(s) are we bringing to Woofstock?

Yes- it has become a “predicament.”

Sad, I know.

It’s like being Charlie from Willy Wonka and having a bright shiny golden ticket into a whole new world of amazement and perfection and dog utopia- but can only bring one dog.

What a toughie!

I would say we’d bring all 4- but are you kidding me!? Not only would Wil and I end up in marriage counseling from all the, “You’re letting the dogs walk YOU! Get ahold of them, Britter! How did you manage to let go of the leash!? Teddy has officially taken out the Woofie Snack Table!”

It would go something like that= and that’s just the way WE would behave. That doesn’t even count the way the dogs would behave.There’s just no way we could bring all four. It would be pandemonium and we would most certainly end up blacklisted from any furture Woof event.

So- I’m leaning towards taking one Big and one Little.

But who!?

Lucy would represent the “Littles,” but I’m not sure who will represent the Bigs.

Rocky is by far our best behaved dog. He is so loving and wants to please you and is very obedient. However, I’m apprehensive to bring him because of the fact that he’s so freaking gigantic and I don’t want to overload him with a million dogs to play with. He’d be hard to keep on a tight leash because he’s so strong- and although obedient, I know he would want to go play with the other dogs.

Teddy, however, is WAY terrible. We call her Marley because she’s so hyper and has been difficult to train. She’s most definitely our most beautiful dog, however, she’s just so darn hyper and jumpy that I know she would maul everyone in sight with her excited-ness.

It appears as though I’m analyzing my dogs for you guys:

a. Like they’re children

b. Like you freaking care

Trust me- I realize that both are ridiculous.

So- I’m leaning towards me carrying Lucy in a carrier while Will keeps Rocky on a leash- because he’s way more capable of maintaining a leash than I am.

Wow.

Listen to me.

I make fun of people like me.

Weeks, guys, weeks! That’s how long I’ve been talking about this weekend.

About an event- for dogs!

I seriously need to get out more.

Although I’m beginning to realize how ridiculous I sound about my Woofstock zealousness, I will most certainly post pictures for you all to share in our fun.

<3

Tomorrow we’re going to OU’s official Red and White game. It’s a scrimmage they do every year and is somewhat of a big deal around here- for sports fans anyway.

It’s funny to look back and see that four years ago this time I was doing the exact.same.thing. I guess life is cyclical a lot of times.

So- even though we’ve missed the last 3 Red and White games, Will and I are restarting this tradition. Although there are a lot of times during the week in which I miss our life in Kuwait, it’s days like today in which I think about how a normal American weekend sounds nice.

I’m trying to talk Will out of the Ted’s part though because it’s my “birthday week” and darn it- I should get to choose what we have, right!?

Okay- I know I’m stretching here…

So Saturday should be fun and I’m looking forward to it.

Oh- and did I mention I’m going to try my darndest to go to the gym before the game? In some really sick way I’m tempted to text The Gym Nazi to see if she wants to meet up with me….

Because I’m insane.

I’ll let you know what I decide.

If I don’t post in a few days please come looking for me as there’s a good chance my body parts will be strategically stuffed within gym equipment.

Oh wow- that would really be a bad way to go…

Okay no more psychotic murderous gym talk.

Anyway- so the verdict is still out about whether I’m going to text The Gym Nazi- but between the two of us? I so am.

Okay so anyway- Sunday is Easter.

Yay for Easter Sunday.

I’m not going to get into the whole importance of Easter discussion in this post, but I will say part of me is sort of blah about Sunday.

Okay blah AND excited.

If that’s at all possible.

And- I’m pretty sure it’s not…

Which therefore means I guess I need to choose whether I’m blah or excited.

…

How about we split the difference and just say I’m neutral about Sunday?

My in-laws are “surprising” me on Sunday because my birthday is next week. They’re going to drive to our house with a cake and my present and have lunch with us after church.

It’s really sweet and thoughtful- I know. Not only that, but Pat called Will and wanted to get me a birthday cake I really would like.

I seriously heart boxed strawberry cake with regular old canned vanilla frosting on my birthday, and Pat is going to take time out of her busy weekend to “surprise” me with my favorite cake.

I say “surprise” me because Will absolutely knows I would kill him if my in laws up and showed up without any sort of advanced notice.

I mean REALLY! He knows I have to create the fake house before people come over or he would be the one stuffed within a treadmill belt (um- totally kidding about that- don’t arrest me).

I guess the “blah” part is the creating the fake house part. I was really hoping I’d get to be lazy Sunday afternoon, but it doesn’t appear that will happen.

Oh well- it’s still a nice gesture and I should focus on that I suppose.

Please for my sanity say a prayer that Pat doesn’t say anything about the miracle of BIRTHdays and how they celebrate LIFE and how 26 years I was being BORN and how special NEW BORN BABIES are on their BIRTHday.

Because I seriously might launch a wad of strawberry cake up against the wall.

Ha-

Who am I kidding!? You guys know I could never waste a good cake.

That’s blasphemy.

Baby steps.

I hate them.

I would much rather take big giant leaps and get to where I need to be instead of tiny methodical steps.

The truth is in some cases, baby steps are far better- and giant leaps don’t always work.

Especially when it comes to money.

Last night Will and I went back to school.

The school of Dave Ramsey.

The school of Baby Steps.

FPU (Financial Peace University).

I’m so very excited to begin this journey with Will (and cheat off of him in class- ha ha). We’re one week down with 12 more to go.

Our baby first step is to get an ample emergency fund established as.fast.as.we.can. One of those “Duh stupid- of course you need an emergency fund!” but also one of those things that can be tough to do in this day and time we’re living in. Like I’m sure many of you, so much of our future is (ha or WAS) in the stock market. We’ve each looked at what we can do to make sacrifices and are going to do to grow our emergency fund. We also came away with homework to do this week which I think will be very enlightening and beneficial.

I have a feeling some of these baby steps we go through each week might be a little tough, but I know the end result will be so worth it. I just want everything to be paid off and in its right place tomorrow!- but then we go back to the baby steps versus the giant leaps. It’s a process that doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a lot of chopping away each and every day. But why can’t it be easy?!

Ha- I guess that’s the same thing as asking why I can’t lose 15 pounds in a week!?

I’m really excited to do our homework together and meet again to see what else in in store for us. I’m up to the challenge, even if it causes a little pain.

But then again- learning how to take baby steps really never is an easy thing.

More to come… <3

The following is an “everyday,” typical email exchange with my sister. My emails are in bold, hers are regular.I realize the fat talk gets old after a while, but I promise we switch topics from Panamanian prisons, to calculating tips, to even our own reality show during this conversation- so hang with me.These took place on two different days, but they flowed so well I lumped them together. Let the madness begin...

I just ate a whole pint of chocolate ice cream.

And it wasn’t even GOOD ice cream.

I think that that calls for me to use the elliptical tomorrow for the first time since last summer. I feel like I should celebrate this red-faced, sweaty momentous occasion with a donut or something.

**

Ha ha. I just had a large Java Chiller from Sonic- which is basically a whole pint of chocolate ice cream with a hint of coffee. I didn’t go to the gym at all this weekend and I had olive garden WITH dessert yesterday.

Fat.

**

Ughhh I KNOW. And- ugh i just don’t want to go back to school. I say we quit talking crap and book the tickets.

PS- I hope your Olive Garden dessert was good.

**

It was. Black tie. Yum. Plus I had fettuccine (um how in the world do people expect you to know how to spell that!?) which- well- you know how amazing that is.

We’ll sort all the logistics out when we get there. Although “fat,” I’m sure some Panamanian would love to give us a job at Panama Jacks waitressing. The only trouble is that I would suck at getting proper change and would most likely get us fired in a hurry.

**

Ha, that’s SO TRUE. Somehow the tip would be like “10% of 100” or something. Then we would get charged with embezzlement for taking an extra 80 dollars. Then wind up in Panamanian prison. Which wouldn’t be all bad, considering we could be the Scolfield’s. I definitely get Lincoln.

I’m sorry I can’t type properly, my fingers are so huge, swollen, and fat from the dairy I just consumed.

A flower shop would be nice! We could go the simple route an own a cafe, and employ Panamaniann business students (who know how to calculate tips so we wouldn’t be
getting screwed).

Are you at work?

**

We are so resourceful- your plan is brilliant! Actually- I used to think we sucked at being resourceful but then we went on the cruise and functioned totally fine in like 19 cities. I know for sure we’ll kick butt on amazing race one day.

I’m having 2 PB sandwiches for lunch. Why do I feel nostalgic all of a sudden? Like I need a blue mat to nap on and a carton of milk??

**

My favorite food ever. I decided a while back that if I was living on a deserted island alone for the rest of my life, peanut butter and/or reeses would DEFINITELY be my food of choice. Seeing as I wouldn’t have to worry about all the saturated fat I was consuming since I would never see anyone ever again, it works. What about you?

**

That is hilarious- and a very valid point. I think I would go with that too, or perhaps pasta. I could eat loads and loads and if I was able to take different sauces too (which is something I assume you have to negotiate in when preparing to go to a deserted island forever...) I’d be set for life.

And happy.

When do you leave for Kuwait?

**

I leave on your anniversary. Thank the Lord. Its been 3 weeks since I was there last and I feel like it’s been too long. How could anyone possibly think I like it here? AHHHH I need to start this Panamanian flower shop business ASAP.

**

We ought to make a countdown to the semester’s end and you move back. Seriously. What’s you’re last day of school? How fun would that be!? I could make the first half and you could make the 2nd half. We wouldn’t have to make it a chain or anything, but just something you could pull off and throw away.

The chain reminds me of the one in Mareena Towers. As crazy as it sounds, when I look back that summer was pretty fun

(Just FYI- if you’re curious you can read about this time during the summer of 2005 archives)

**
Oh my gosh me too. It was the weirdest time of my life, such a crazy transition period. I have a playlist for that summer titled “MIA” for 2 reasons: 1) we never left that apartment 2) M.I.A’s “bucky done gun” was a very integral part of that summer hahaha. But yeah, it’s so so bittersweet to think about that. It’s the last time we’ll have ever lived together under one roof.

**

I think we should SERIOUSLY send these back and forth emails to someone, plus our goofy videos and make them make us famous. We should have a reality show about creating our Panamanian flower shop. ha ha. How great would that be? Plus highly entertaining. Seriously- I’m in need of that. People are so fickle. Family is forever..

**

OMG YES, a reality show about the making of our new life. Do you know how well that would work? We could start this season while we’re still apart, so it would mainly focus on the emails. And then we could start season 2 when we’re in the same country and ahhhhhhh tiny orgasm, I think viewers would LOVE US. You live in America, the land of endless possibilities- make it happen!

**

sidenote- her email above makes me laugh every singly time. Tiny orgasm HAHAHAHA...

Seriously- I’m literally laughing out loud right now. It’s a little embarrassing and I’m glad everyone is gone to lunch.

**

Sorry to disregard your last email, but I blame you for the fact that I just consumed 7 servings of peanut butter with honey since you reminded me of peanut butter, which then reminded me that I still had some in my cupboard, and BOOO, NO ALLI.

Haha anyways, seriously? Will you PLEASE look into a director? Because even if we get one season and they hate us, we’ll still get a book deal (uh, you can write it) and then a few endorsements. OH! MAYBE WE CAN BE THE NEW FACE OF ALLI. I love it.

**

Very good and valid points. Okay so I assume you’re about to go to bed. Oh- and want to know something funny? I had no idea that we sprang (sprung HAHA springed? I have no idea...) forward this weekend. dad had to tell me. Too funny. Anyway- that means we’ll be an hour closer now so that’s really great!

Alright, I’m off to file some stuff. I’ll be in constant contact with you tomorrow. Have a good night and talk to you tomorrow!

**

Wait, ugh, I have no idea how many hours apart we’ve been this whole time. I usually just say 8, wherever I am in the world. “Oh you’re in Kenya, great, only 8 hours away!” “You’re in St.Petersburg, brilliant,. 12 your time, 8 my time” ……I never usually think there’s any other time in between. Please tell me we’ve always been 8 hours apart since I moved.

**

Just so you know- I’m lying when I tell you this- yes, we are 8 hours apart. I’m such a good sister, right?

<3

I have to double up on today since I was a slacker on Monday and didn’t start the week out right.

The road to year three was sprinkled with adjustments, but by that point we were pretty much pros at handling the scorching Kuwait heat, the annoyances of the job, and any new changes that came our way.

I like to call our road to Year Three The Year of Honesty because I think it was at this point that Will and I got really close and began to really grow into each other and our life. The dust had finally settled long enough for us to get used to something and adjusting to life the way it was. I feel like being overseas made us really rely on each other. We shared and we confided. It was a year in which we really began to search within ourselves about our future together, our plans in Kuwait, and everything in between.

The road to year 3 we spent a long vacation in America during the fall, going to all the big OU football games. We also made a trip to Miami in 2007 to watch the Colts win a Super Bowl! It was a lot of fun. Oh- and who could forget our trip to Dubai in May of 2006!? That was such a great trip-and I almost forgot!

So I’m going to share something really goofy and personal with you guys-

every year of marriage (except for the first :( ) Will and I have made a short little video capturing what’s going on in our life. Check out our third anniversary video:

I’m such a goof. I like doing this though. It’s not too long- and just captures a glimpse of something I will always want to look back on as we go farther down this journery of marriage.

The road to Year Four I’ve entitled The Year of Not Much. Nothing really too big seemed to happen. We just sort of coasted. We worked, we vacationed (at home again woo hoo!), we tried to enjoy the weekends (when I’d actually get one). Not too much happened. We made a trip to Jordan, which was amazing, and we went home for Christmas.

While we didn’t know it at the time, I think the Lord was preparing us for the road to Year Five. We just didn’t know it. Sort of funny to watch this video knowing what we know now, right!? And yes- we will most definitely be taping from a different “venue” this year. ha ha

Tomorrow’s the big day! 

Without a doubt, the road to our second year of marriage was what I called The Year of Changes. In April of 2005 my mom and sister followed my dad over to Kuwait, and in May of the same year we did the same!

It was a whirlwind of a move (and you can read all about it in my spring/summer 2005 archives!).

We began our stay living with my parents in an apartment. It was tough, but when I look back on it I’m thankful for it.

Will had a job, but I had yet to get one. My sister and I spent that whole summer of 2005 literally locked inside the apartment day after day with nothing to do- but when I look back on it I’m thankful for that too.

We even took our first trip together, spending about a week in Qatar (um- once again, you can read about all that in the archives).

We went back home for Christmas that year and made a pit stop at the Mall of America and even caught a Packers game. It was lots of fun.

Will and I had a lot of adjustments to get used to- a new job, living with my family, eventually a new apartment, selling our condo back home, a new country, new customs- it was all so new!

But we managed- and came out stronger for it.

The road to year two was full of so many transitions and changes, all which I’m so thankful for. It was so fun moving to Kuwait and experiencing everything for the very first time. In fact- I’m starting to miss it just typing about it!

The road to year two was full of lots of fun- but most of all- lots of gigantic changes. It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come!

So Will and I did some hanging this weekend.

I’m fully convinced we could never (never EVER) have a “fixer upper.”

In order to maintain a healthy marriage, we will only be able to buy new homes.

I’m not kidding.

I don’t think I’m the only married woman who has experienced the strife of home project fights with their spouse- right?

What is it about trying to do a home project together that seriously brings out the worst in both parties?

I seriously need a grant to study this stuff.

I have this mirror I got ages ago- when we were first married. We’ve been needing to hang it up for months now and have just been putting it off-

probably because we already know how seriously grumpy we get when having to embark on such efforts.

I know as married people we should be all googly eyed and adoring and supportive.

“Oh here, sweetie! Let me hand you that hammer. You look a little dry- would you like some lemonade?”

But the reality is that we’re normal. Very normal.

And screw lemonade.

We recognize that stuff like this only ends up in ridiculous arguments and therefore avoid such tasks at all costs.

Because we love each other- I’m willing to have bare walls.

Sure, we’ll hang a few things throughout the course of the year- but I’m always sure to try to space them out so as to avoid too much “Home Depot Tension” around our place.

I know I’ve said this like a MILLION times on my blog- but Will and I would seriously seriously end up in major marital trouble if we ever had to go on The Amazing Race.

It’s not that we don’t love each other- we so, so do.

It’s not that we can’t work together- we really, really can.

There are just a few certain things we don’t do well- and home improvement projects are one of those certain things (and for some reason I tend to liken The Amazing Race to one super giant home improvement project).

We literally spent our entire Saturday attempting to hang this mirror.

“You’re not helping at all!”

“You’re not telling me what to do!”

“For the thousandth time- will you PLEASE hand me the freaking hammer!!?”

“Is the mirror crooked?”

“I already told you- I don’t have a good eye for these things!”

“Yes you do- is the mirror crooked?!”

“Um, no? It looks great...”

20 minutes later and 4 holes in the wall…

“The mirror is crooked! You said it looked great!”

...

Yes, it was quite a day.

I hate the grumpiness it causes, but am always happy with the results.

Now- if there’s only a way to get rid of the grumpiness and move straight to the results… that would be great.

I still have so many bare walls in our house, and I’m afraid there’s lots more hanging in our future. Hopefully we’ll start to be pros at this stuff.

And if not-

at least we have lots of other wonderful happy things that bind us together and strengthen our love.

Too bad home improvement projects aren’t one of those things- but I guess that’s why God invented The Doghouse.

" />