I am absolutely positive that if someone handed me a container of vanilla frosting and a plastic spoon and guaranteed absolutely zero implications would result from eating the entire can, I would do it.

If it wouldn’t affect my skin, cellulite, attitude, weight, or anything else, it would totally happen. I would seriously sit there and eat the entire darn thing. At some point, I would have eaten most of the canister. And the spoon would just get in the way. Which means I would likely be up to my wrist in vanilla frosting trying to get the last.scoop.out.

Pathetic.

Which is pretty much what I nearly did over my pre-birthday birthday cake this week. Only sadly, no one promised that there wouldn’t be any negative implications. Which means that I made a poor, poor decision. A word from the wise today: don’t eat vanilla frosting. It will only leave you lumpy. I can only hope I have learned from this mistake and that next year, as I approach 30 (AHHHH) I will not have a repeat of the previous year.

Mainly because I will probably be lying on the floor in a sloppy stupor over the fact that I am no longer in my 20s.

Pass the frosting. 

Hi!

It’s update time!

So now that I’m back in school, something had to drop in my life to ensure that I wouldn’t become a homicidal maniac irrational. I chose to let my house go.

It’s not a pit, but it’s definitely seen better days. I like to think of it as somewhere in between TLC Hoarders: Buried Alive, and Danny Tanner’s crib on Full House. In sum, my house probably looks like a lot of other irrational Americans who on a whim woke up one day and were like, “I know! I want to willingly endure two years of mental pain during the worst.economic.conditions.ever. so that I’m more competitive for positions that companies can’t afford to hire right now! AND I want to do it while working full time!” Brilliant!

Anyway- before I went off on the above tangent, I had a point I was getting to.

My point is that I usually use my breaks in school to do major deep cleaning of our house. I like to spread it out over the course of a week, to where I don’t spend an entire Saturday scouring every nook and cranny. Only, it’s Thursday night and I haven’t so much as picked up a sponge.

Nice.

Oh- and I ate eight cake batter pancakes and three tortillas slathered in two tablespoons of peanut butter for dinner tonight.

It’s like my whole being is out of kilter and is in revolt for doing anything responsible this week.

Yet at the same time that grandma within wants to scratch my eyes out for not picking up the freaking Swiffer duster and going at the ceiling fans.

Have you seen your ceiling fans!?

Unless you’re Danny Tanner I bet they’re bad.

Before I started school, mine were clean. In fact, I could have hosted a dinner party on each of the blades (Ha. “Hi! Please bring your own ladder- and healthy side dish!").

Not so much any more.

Eh…

Basically I’m trying to tell you that nothing is happening cleaning wise tonight and I feel incredibly guilty about it and am trying to pretend that I don’t care at all.

But you all CLEARLY see through me. Who spends eight minutes talking about not caring? I obviously do.

Sigh…

Okay- so let’s move on, yes?

I don’t think there’s a need to update you on school. I’m pretty sure you’re clear on how I feel about that.

As for other things…

Will
Will started a new job in March. He had been working for his dad, driving back and forth to his hometown. Not only was it exhausting for both of us, but it was ridiculous in gas money. So, we decided it would be most economical for him to do what he’s doing up here instead of down there, which meant he had to leave his dad’s business. It was sad for them, but definitely nice for us overall. And our gas bill. So that’s been a transition the last couple of months, but a very good one.

The Sooner season is fast approaching, which always makes him happy, as you know. However he also has the Thunder to occupy his time. The real question is- will we have NFL to watch this fall? My bet is yes. If I have to beg the owners and players myself, I will. Will might go off the deep end if they don’t play. Okay, I’m kidding, but I couldn’t talk about my husband without addressing sports!

We also celebrated seven years of marriage in March! Seven. Geez. I’ll elaborate more on that in a separate cover. Not today!

Fitness
Much like Will and sports are me and working out. I realize I just told you of the carbicide that I just inflicted on myself, so it’s probably hard for you to take me seriously now. I knew I should have left the pancake part out! Eh- you all know me well enough to know that there are times in which I will most definitely have a tub of frosting in my house.

I will, say, however I haven’t been eating as much crap this year. You may have noticed that stock in Betty Crocker has taken a nose dive. I got so fed up of working out for nothing. I would spend hours in the gym trying to get “muscles” when all I was really doing was barely accomodating my giant caloric appetite. It’s hard to have muscles when they’re hiding under layers of cake batter pancakes!

Anyway, I’ve cut out a lot of the crap (which Will loves… HA) and have started to see better results. In fact, I feel like I need to show you guys that I no longer walk around with a box of cereal in my left arm at all times. Well, not as often anyway. I took this tonight, after the lovely plain white flour binge fest. I might as well have eaten two cups of sugar. Hopefully you can tell that I have teeny shoulder and bicep muscles trying to peek out (hello!), and not a mound of vanilla frosting sitting on my arm. Ugh. Vanilla frosting. Don’t remind me.

It’s right about -----> here <------ where I would now post my workout.

But I just ate eight pancakes.

I'm in no condition to offer workout advice.

I’m just glad I don’t pee eight times a night… yet
So I also turned 28 about a month ago. Yeah, I realize some of you are already there and past- but it’s still a milestone. I was convinced that 27 was still “mid to late twenties” (but really? who am I kidding? Everyone knows I was in my late 20s. I was just in denial for a year. Why do I feel like I’m going to be 29 FOREVER?).

Sweet Will is not a flower guy, mainly because I’m a cheap miser, however he had pretty pink roses sent to my work which totally brightened my day.

I intended on posting deep thoughts somewhere around there but for some reason I spent hours posting pictures of my OCD outlet picture taking instead.

Clearly I have a little more maturing to do in my old age.

Trying to Avoid Sleeping in the Car
Will turned 30 last summer and for his very belated birthday we’re making a trip to Florida for the OU-Florida State game. I know you’re shocked.

We also decided it would be nice to take a (Very, Very, Very) cheap trip somewhere around Christmas this year. Will suggested going to Minneapolis. If you’ve read for a while you know that every year in Kuwait we’d come back for vacation in Oklahoma and first stop over in Minneapolis. It sort of became our little spot and a place close to our hearts. Will thought it would be fun for us to do that again this year.

I think he’s sweet.

But at the same time, we haven’t gone on a trip that wasn’t OU related in a while and I thought it might be nice to do something we haven’t done yet. I suggested Vegas, but Will said we can’t go to Vegas at Christmas. He didn’t come out and say it but I feel like he thinks it’s sacrelige or something. I suggested a few more places and he hasn’t been too enthused just yet. We don’t want to spend very much at all. In fact, I think we’re considering this as more of a mini getaway instead of a full blown vacation. I mean, I don’t want us to sleep in the rental car, but we also don’t want to give away the farm.

Or Lucy.

So, I’m back to the drawing board. Somewhere in between scrubbing our shower and losing four pounds this week I’m going to look into all inclusives. Surely he’ll go for that, right?

Perhaps the biggest update
Oh- and by the way- my parents bought the house one door down.

Do you love how I calmly throw that in?

It’s like I need my own reality television show.

Because then I would have a reason to clean my house.

Oh- and they’d probably capture some interesting moments for sure.

My dad is still in Kuwait working full time, but my mom is currently staying here while they sort of figure out what they’re going to do (and all roads eventually lead right down the street. Actually. Not even really down the street. That would mean that you could ride your bike there or maybe even take a quick drive. Not walk outside and be in their driveway.).

Oh, and let’s not even get into the fact that I STILL HAVEN’T BLOODY GIVEN HER A GRANDCHILD.

I mean- it’s not like I wake up in the middle of the night and see her hovering over my side of the bed with a sonogram machine in hand “just to make sure” or anything, but still… between her and Jenny, and our seven years of childless marriage- yeah- I can’t really expect it not to come up.

I say all this for blogging material (hi mom!), but honestly it’s been nice. I spent three years away from my family, after being close in proximity for 25 years. I don’t think any of us anticipated that after three years we would be this close in proximity though, right? Because everyone close to me knows that it’s free game on here (haha). So hopefully my family can be good sports and know that I actually love how my sweet mom cuts up canteloupe for me and offers to mend my clothes, and make dinner, and go to church with us. It’s nice.

Let’s Call it a Night
I’m sure there’s more, but I just did a quick preview and wow- the odds of anyone reading this is pretty low. Even my dear old mom probably tuckered out at those freaking awesomely fierce arms (oh and I’m kidding by the way. They’re not fierce. I hope one day though!). My point is that I probably need to pull back the throttle on the lengthy post. Unfortunately I think it’s a little too late!

Eh.

I have a few more days until my summer class begins. I wonder if I can commit to posting once a week during my class? That’s not bad, right? Then I have a whole month off so I for see more consistent posting- and house cleaning- then.

That’s all for now, but as always, more to come…

I literally sat in dog puke for an hour last night.

It was only when I got up and Will looked at the couch and said, “I think a dog threw up a little on the couch!” that I realized that a dog had in fact thrown up.

And I had sat in it.

For at least an hour.

And had no clue.

It’s been one of those days all week…

(and I’m done with my class next week which means I owe you a really big giant update)

Okay- before we go any further. stop what you’re doing, and go read the third bullet here.

You’re thinking, “Eh- there’s no need for me to go read that post. I hate reading linked posts. I know you’re type.

I’m your type. I get it.

...

Okay, now that you’re back and get that I’m completely crazy (you know… incase the above outburst wasn’t telling enough), here’s something that might make you laugh a little this fine Monday morning.

Monday

Tuesday

Wedneday

Thursday

I was running pretty late that day therefore did not have time to document that yes, I did bloody hell remember to unplug the straightener.

Friday

Now- don’t be fooled. I know at first glance you’re thinking, “Hey! That’s the exact same picture!” Only it’s not. Trust me, it’s not.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Mission Failure.

Friday

I woke to Boz violently gagging at 1:42 a.m. this morning.

Turns out the kid had barfed everywhere.

Oh sorry- not everywhere. That would imply that there was no place for me to step, or that I needed a fire hose to adequately clean my house.

That was not the case.

He did, however, puke six different times, in six different places.

That was fun.

Especially in the middle of the night.

It was like an early Easter egg hunt.

Only there was most definitely no chocolate bunny at the end of the trail.

Happy Friday! 

I have not forgotten about you sweet blog! Quite the contrary.

Contrary?

Who says contrary?

I mean, besides 80 year old librarians and Mary Poppins.

Quite the contrary.

Nice.

I wonder if I’ve ever said, “quite the contrary” on this blog before?

If I was feeling proactive, I’d do a search.

But I’m not.

Plus I’m pretty sure I haven’t. I mean- I’ve posted about this and this and even this on here. There’s no way I’m saying something all formal and serious like “quite the contrary” on this blog.

I know what it is, though.

It’s school.

You start graduate school and all of a sudden start annoying the crap out of everyone around you-

To include yourself.

All of a sudden you become a deep critical thinker, analyzing each and every thing. From the way the news anchor says “could,” to the way the back of the ceral box reads. Everything suddenly has deeper meaning and absolutely can’t be taken at face value.

“You’re telling me you’re hungry… but are you really hungry? What is hunger? Do you speak of spiritual hunger? Academic hunger?...”

See? Annoying. Turns out Will was just hungry. In the very literal, “Whataburger with cheese and a large fry” sort of way.

BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT “I’M HUNGRY” MEANS.

And then you start saying stupidly long ridiculous words you’d never normally say in casual conversations with friends. Words like loquacious or nefarious. Who the hell says loquacious when they’re talking about football coaches!?

No one!

And then at some point you realize, “Hmm… someone just saw me blow a giant bubble with my watermelon Hubba Bubba bubble gum. Something seems incongruent here.”

Incongruent!?!

There you go again!

Let’s put it this way- if I’m not annoying you yet, I’m annoying everyone around me. And if I’m not annoying those people yet (and trust me- I am. I really, really am)? Well, I’m annoying myself. Moreso than normal. 

I’m not sure what hurts the most- introducing incredibly unnecessary words into my previously limited vocabulary as well as analyzing every.single.thing.ever-

or knowing I have over a year left of this scholastic pain.

Definitely the last one.

I am indubitably convinced it is the latter.

As you may recall, Will and I made the move to Kuwait during the late spring of 2005. When we got there, we lived with my parents and sister in an apartment. Defintiely not ideal living situations for 5 people! Not to mention the fact that when we moved there, I was still unemployed. The summer of 2005 was interesting. At the time, it was a mix of fun and pain, but now that I’ve been removed from the situation for several years, I look back and think it was such a great time in my life. Something I needed and learned from and appreciated. Something I wouldn’t trade.

The summer of 2005 was full of a lot of navigating. Learning the ropes of living in Kuwait. Getting familiarized with the culture, the area, all the different cool things that existed in this new world…I learned about the dust storms and kitchen fans (check out this post), running out of water, and all sorts of other things. Seriously, if you get bored, you ought to check out the summer of 05 archives. Good times.

I learned a lot, and it was nice to get to learn it with my sister. Because I was unemployed and had no Kuwait license yet, P and I were homebound during the day. All day. For months. Literally- the only time we would get out of our apartment complex would be on the weekends with our family, and then at the bottom of our building to get bread from the bakery. So- it’s not like I need to tell you this, but- we didn’t get out much. I would shower and that’s about it. Poor Will. Literally days of no makeup or doing my hair. Sexy.

P and I became pretty good at staying home all day, everyday. We even had a system. Will would get up at like 4 in the morning to be able to leave for work, so I would get up with him, go back to sleep, we’d wake up, have breakfast and watch Home And Away- this incredibly porpular Austrailain show. I would clean the apartment. We’d have lunch- which often consisted of thin crust cheese pizza from Pizza Hut. Then we’d freak out over how much we were eating and go work out. Sometimes we would swim, but that ended quickly because the building owner would watch us and it would creep us out. We’d spend time on the patio outside too, looking at life go on while we were stuck inside. Then we’d make dinner. We tried to actually take time to make real meals for our family since we were home all day and they were at work for 11 hours straight.

I remember one time in particular we were having a bad day. I don’t remember why, but I remember being pretty bummed, mainly because I wasn’t able to find a job. I was on edge. I was irritable. I was not ready for anything to go remotely wrong. Plus I had just cleaned the house. We had decided to make homemade baked chicken strips with our own breading. So- we put the chicken in a big gallon size bag that had lots and lots of breadcrumbs in it. P was in charge of coating the chicken. She began coating the chicken, and then ended up just shaking the bag to try to coat it evenly. Only the bag wasn’t sealed. And chicken and breadcrumbs when every where. And I seriously freaked out. In fact, I think there was a time in which P and I actually named that day, “The Chicken Finger Freak Out.” Because I remember literally screaming. I don’t think I screamed a word- I just screamed and I think I totally terrified P.

It was one of those moments where I had just reached my limit and the breadcrumbs flying everywhere was more than I could handle. And P was there. She was there to help clean up the mess and she was there to laugh about it with me. She was there to make me realize it was going ot be okay. She was just always there when I needed her most. Somewhere around that same time, during the height of my frustration of living with my parents in a matchbox and being uneomployed me and P did something silly. I remember we had gone out with my family that night and it was sweltering outside. We were hangingout downstairs by the pool for some reason. P and I got restless and bored and were already in a goofy mood. Plus we were hot, so we ended up both getting a running start and jumping into the pool together, clothes and all! What a sight. That just helped keep things in perspective for me. Things don’t always go as planned, but you just hav eto dive in and go with the flow. And I was lucky enough to have my sister right there with me.

During the Summer of 2004 I was a newly married college student. That summer I was taking one class and working at the university- which was only like a 30 hour a week job. Put it this way- I had lots of time on my hands. This allowed me lots of time to hang out with P.

For some reason that summer we thought it would be fun to take up tennis. Let’s keep in mind that neither of us have all that much athletic ability. Sure, P was a cheerleader, and yes I work out at the gym- but please let me assure you, that does not convert into athletic ability. Will is always trying to get me to play basketball with him, and I’m just pitiful.

I’m getting off track!

Anyway- because we were so awful we would go in the middle of the afternoon, the height of summer heat and misery and pain, so no one would see us. I’m surprised neither of us suffered from heat exhaustion, really.

We would stand on opposite sides of the net and P would serve and it would hit the net and bounce back to her feet.

Then she’d serve and it’d fly over the net and I’d be swinging in the air on the left side, when the ball was on the right side.

Then I would try to serve and it would go flying, or it wouldn’t pass the net, or it would go into the other court.

We were awful.

We volleyed back and forth a few times- in the course of the whole month we devoted to tennis- but that was the extent of it. My mom and Will would occasionally go with us in the evenings. Will would try to play with us, but unfortunately he has no “off” switch. He is always in competitive game mode, out to win. He had fire in his eyes, and I swear had he been bald I would have mistaken him for Andre Agassi. So while me and P just wanted someone to gently hit the ball back and forth with us, Will was out for war. He wanted to hit the ball hard, he wanted to win, he wanted to make us hate him. He would frustrate me for not just freaking playing “nice” and I would frustrate him for chasing after the ball nonstop and not being able to hit anything. Fun times. Hmm, maybe this Spring I’ll convince to give it another go! What do you think?

Happy Valentine’s Day!! <3

P was a big Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen fan back in the day. Although- who wasn’t in the mid 90s? They were so darn cute!

I remember after Full House they ventured off on their own and did their own video series which was BRUTAL for my young teenage self.

I remember babysitting P one time and having to sit through one of those movies and watch it over and over and over. I also remember one in which they sang about eating broccoli and chocolate.  Yes. Together. Who does that? I’m pretty sure I fell asleep during that one. I was lucky I didn’t wake up with a permanent marker mustache or frozen panties.

I was a very reliable babysitter. 

Do you guys remember what life was like before PS3, and Wii, and all that other interactive virtual reality goobly goo?

Haha, sorry about the “goobly goo.” It seemed like the right thing to say. Let’s move on.

Anyway- before all that “goobly goo” on the market, we didn’t have games that could gauge our movements, or remotes we could use as bowling balls. We actually had remotes connected to a video game system and we had to sit stationary to play them. Ah the good old days…

Well during the height of my childhood, the Super Nintendo was king. Do you guys remember that? How could you not!? Super Mario Brothers was the coolest thing since snap bracelets and NKOTB!

Well I like to consider myself a “guru” of the game. A professional, if you will. Much like Barbies (Ahem, see Day 5). I didn’t need a pesky four year old bothering me while I was “gaming,” you know? So- in order to make P feel like she was playing and part of the game, I would put it on two player mode. Only- instead of plugging in the other remote control, I would only use mine, therefore making me both players.

I would give P the other remote and tell her how GREAT of a Mario player she was. Better than me! “You just beat Bowser, P! WOW!” And she bought it.  And she felt like a million dollar bucks because she kicked my butt in Mario Brothers.

Ha.

Being a big sister definitely had perks.