So there’s like a slew of things-

very important things I might add-

that we need to discuss.

Only

I’m lying and there’s really not much worth sharing.

Actually…

I could share some pretty freaking HILARIOUS text messages back and forth between myself and sister involving all sorts of random topics.

But for the sake of sparing our pride it’s best I do not share.

Then there’s the fact that we have a mouse in our garage that we’ve been trying to catch for um

like two weeks now

but that sneaky bastard keeps outsmarting us.

It’s a genius mouse.

A genius mouse!

Like the freaking Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice.

I hate that guy!

So we’ve tried everything

and yet he’s somehow managed to escape from everything we’ve planted.

Except…

this week he was no where to be found,

and the cheese we left out remained untouched.

Which freaks me the crap out because:

A. It’s inevitable some awful smell is going to start permeating the garage because by some freak chance we actually managed to kill the guy with who knows what.(And don’t you love how I just assume it’s a guy? I mean we all know it has to be! He eats and leaves without cleaning up after himself! Enough said.)

B. There’s a bigger more skilled Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice that ate the late Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice and is now going to way, way, way outsmart us.

Like we’re going to walk out to our cars one day and he’s going to be smoking a pipe reading a Sherlock Holmes novel and asking for me to bring him his slippers.

Nice.

Anyway, it’s been eerily quiet this week and I’m not sure I like that. I mean, unless of course he is in fact dead and there’s no second mouse lurking around the corner.

Then we’re good.

Then of course there’s the fact that it’s GAME DAY.

Okay

Like in one hour it’s GAME DAY.

Yes.

I still say it with excitement in my voice. Who cares if we blow this year (okay I’m totally lying. I most definitely care if we blow this year… this is simply a psychological tactic to prepare myself for any potential future disappointment), I’m excited about game day.

I’m also excited about Olive Garden’s Never Ending Pasta Bowl.

We’ll be indulging after the game tomorrow. Hello fatness! Who am I kidding? I’ll get one bowl and be done (um… I hope anyway), but it’s still more economical to do it that way.

Sure Brittny… keep telling yourself that’s why you need pasta soaked in alfredo sauce.

Ramble Ramble…

I guess I need to get off so I make sure I’m up early enough to work off a small fraction of my lunch at the gym tomorrow morning. Hope you guys had a great Friday!

It never ceases to amaze me how often I watch Will and I following the patterns and behaviorism of our parents.

For instance, the other day we were talking about how it was taking someone freaking for.ev.er to order at the Taco Bueno drive-thru. I’m making all of these jokes and being goofy and then Will randomly spouts out, “Maybe she hasn’t had much experience with drive-thrus,” all serious and with great thought as if he was concerned about her social well-being.

...

I was more just complaining- but okay, if you want to get all serious on me.

“That sounds exactly like your dad!” I said, all creeped out.

Weird.

Or me.

If you irritate or annoy me you better be darn sure I’m going to let you know about it!-

under my breath and while I’m walking away of course.

Ugh! I hate passive aggressive people.

Ding Ding Ding- hello Brittny, welcome to your. life!

Sigh.

Anyway- it’s just funny to me how much we tend to resemble our parents from time to time, and I’m sure it becomes even more surreal after having kids

(Although, after today’s episode of MTV True Life: I’m Pregnant I’m pretty sure Will and I are pretty much on the same page of not having kids for a very long time.).

So I tell you all this because Will and I finally purchased a coffee table last weekend! We had to order it so it wasn’t ready until this weekend. We brought it home last night and decided around 10:30 to begin assembling it.

Oh- and I should probably mention that 10:30 is about our bedtime, so anything after that time can be equated to a drunk person trying to operate heavy machinery or a blind person giving you a perm. We’re simply not at our best after 10:30.

So we Will began working on the coffee table while I stood around offering moral support. The bottom of the table is a rich, dark, bronze-y metal so getting the screws to line up just right and fit the screws was sort of a challenge.

Oh- I guess I should probably show you the table so you know what I’m talking about. How rude of me!

Here’s our new table. Chateau Rustique. I really like it. This picture doesn’t really do it justice. I’ll have to take a picture of the living room for you guys at some point.

Anyway- it’s just so funny to me how long it took Will to put the table together. He is such a perfectionist. One of the screws… nuts?… I have no idea. Screws! Yes- screws.  Anyway, one of those were stripped so Will had a hard time getting it to fit properly into the table. It took for.ev.er. I thought it was fine and perfect but Will, the “handyman” just like his dad, thought it could be better. I thought I was going to go crazy.

So- an hour and a half later my perfect coffee table was finally assembled.

I’m very pleased with our table. I am sort of afraid that it’s too big, but it might just be the fact that we spent a year without a coffee table and now I just need to get used to having one around.

I’ve already started to notice one thing about having this coffee table.

It’s another surface.

Another surface for Will to spread all of his junk atop.

That means more room for stupid crap mail and football magazines and newspapers.

Cringe.

His dad is a big time stacker of crap on surfaces.

Will is the same.

We have this gorgeous desk we bought last year which should really be displayed, only it’s hiding behind piles of Lord knows what.

I blame Will’s dad for this, you know.

My saving grace is that my parents are visiting next week and it will give us a good opportunity to overhaul his piles and organize everything the way it should be.

Let’s just hope it remains that way. Like father, like son I suppose.

Here’s to hoping.

Okay- so how many you of you guys noticed I totally spelled sandwich wrong in my last post?

What a moron.

I fixed it- so I just told on myself for those of you who thought I was a smart-y and would never spell something so elementary as sandwich with an “h” after the “w!”

Thanks for the credit, guys- you shouldn’t have. No really- you shouldn’t have.

Anyway, I felt like I owed you guys an update about what’s been going on my life. I know how much people love reading about the mundane and boring tasks of others, so I figured I owed it to the crowd three of you to let you know what I’ve been up to.

I used to be really good with updates, didn’t I? In fact- I have a whole category devoted to “annoying weekly updates!” I guess I should get better about my updating. Perhaps we should change it to “Annoying Bi-Monthly Updates” or “Annoying When I Get Around to it Updates?”

Anyhow, I always tell people that there just isn’t much going on in my life- which is probably true- but when I sit down to write this post I seem to be flooded with things to share. All trivial and not that exciting, but nonetheless something I feel like rambling about.

I guess the biggest thing is that my parents are coming to visit me for a few days next weekend. I’m looking forward to their arrival. I haven’t seen any of them since September, so it’s basically a year since we’ve spent time together. It’s been strange not having them around all the time like I did the first 25 years of my life. It will be nice to spend a little time with them next week. I’m looking forward to it. I’m also taking a day off next week which is exciting- followed by another day off the following week! I’m taking days off quite possibly at the worst time ever- but is there ever really a good time to miss work? I don’t think so.

I’m not sure what all we’ll do while my family is here-but I imagine a large portion of our time will consist of “visiting” and eating at places they don’t have in Kuwait.

Visiting.

That word makes me laugh.

Will’s grandma and mom always like to come and “visit” when they’re in town. I don’t know why that word tickles me, but it does. And when you say it you have to put a little drawl into it with special emphasis on the “v” and “i"- VIIIIsit.

Ha.

Sorry- I think I’m the only one amused by this conversation.

Anyway, so my parents are stoping by in route to take my sister to her new University. The exciting thing is that I will be joining my mom and sister there for a girl’s weekend the week after they visit me here in Oklahoma! Very exciting.

In not as fun news it looks like Al Qaeda was planning to attack Camp Arifjan, Kuwait which is pretty scary. That’s where I used to work. I was all totally freaked out and called my parents-

I reached my mom and she had no idea what had happened.

Nice.

I love how I’m an ocean away worrying and she’s having coffee like it’s any other day.

Ha- I guess I can understand Will’s parents angst the whole time we were in Kuwait a little better now. I love how we become all parental with our own parents as we get older. I think I even had the overly serious and concerned “mom tone” in my voice when I talked to my mom today. Scary.

What’s funny is that the last few days I’ve been feeling this intense need to just slip away somewhere- and then I’m slapped back into reality with the news of the Mallorca bombings and Al Qaeda threats in Kuwait.

Perhaps it’s a sign that I need to stay put a while?

We shall see.

So moving on- work has been busy, but that’s to be expected this time of year. I suppose it’s a good thing to be busy given the economy, right? Perhaps that’s another reason I’m feeling the urge to go elsewhere. I’m sounding like a pessimist, aren’t I?

Will and I are gearing up for football season to begin here in a few short weeks.

I take that back.

Will is gearing up for football season. I’m sort of along for the ride. I can’t believe that it’s already here! Will has been devoting hours each week to his fantasy football draft and has been listening to sports radio anywhere we go- convinced all along that “this is our year.” I hope so- but I hope that every year.

Once again- sounding like a pessimist!

It IS going to be our year!

Is that better? Do I sound convincing?

Truth be told I’m looking forward to football season. Despite the fact that I lose virtually every Saturday and Sunday for months at a time (ha) I actually enjoy game day. Will is like a little jolly kid, we always have a great time together, and I rarely have to cook- unless it’s a home game and we have people over. Which I don’t mind. It’s a win-win for everyone. Unless we’re losing. Then it’s just a win-lose. Or is it a lose-lose? I’m confusing myself. Let’s stop talking on these terms.

Will is going to the first game versus BYU. It’s at the new Cowboy’s stadium so I’m a little jealous, but I’ll be having plenty of fun with my mom and sister that same weekend so I have nothing to complain about.

Aside from the fact that my shins are killing me from running (need new shoes, maybe?), having a spoonful of peanut butter and chocolate frosting with my dinner, and buying a new coffee table for our living room there just isn’t that much more to share.

Hopefully your lives are much more eventful than mine. And if not, hopefully you don’t pain your readers by making them read on and on about your parents coming to VIIIsit or how you’re excited about football season.

Hope you’re having a good week!

I locked myself out of the house this afternoon.

But wait- there’s more.

There’s always more.

I keep waiting for a time in which my bad fortune no longer follows me, however that time has yet to come and once again reared its ugly head in the form of a locked door today.

Let’s get started.

Okay. So today is Will’s birthday. Yay for Will’s birthday!

I was determined to make today great.

Which was my first mistake.

I should know by now that if I’m out to make a day great something is lurking around the corner to squash my plans.

Will I ever learn?

Work was really busy all morning and I really needed to work through lunch, however I thought it might be a good idea to run home today, check on the doggies, and grab a quick lunch- which is what I did.

As I finished my lunch I noticed it was raining pouring outside. I thought I better get an umbrella to take with me to avoid the downpour, only I realized my umbrella was in my car- and Will had my car today.

Aha! I remembered I had a random umbrella out in the garage. So- barefoot and all I ran out to the garage (closing the door behind me, of course) and grabbed the umbrella. As I went to enter the house it happened.

The door wouldn’t open.

I then began to feel a little panicky, sick to my stomach and started experincing that yucky upper lip sweat.

I pryed and jolted and yelled (you know- because yelling always unlocks bolted doors) but nothing happened.

I then got the genius idea to use a screwdriver to leverage the door between the frame.

Um, the terrible dig marks in the door frame clearly yell, “That wasn’t a good idea you freaking moron!!!”

Yeah- so don’t do that.

So then I began to get totally irrational and ridiculous. Like a mad woman. “I know, I’ll run and thrust my body against the door to force it open!”

Okay- so I didn’t really do that, but trust me- I was quite irrational nonetheless.

So… what to do, what to do…

I had a pair of nasty old tennis shoes and a pair of tacky black cheap-o flip flops.

Choices, choices.

I lifted the garage, opened my umbrella and started knocking on doors up and down my street.

In the rain.

The pouring rain.

In a pretty white dress.

A pretty white dress.

In tacky black cheap-o flip flops (I figured that went better with my dress… in that trashy sort or, “I like to dress up but have no regard for what I wear on my feet” sort of way).

No one answered.

Why would they? They were al at work- where I needed to be.

Up and down the street. Finally! Someone answered. This woman across the street had just had a baby and was home- thank God for your baby woman! It was if God allowed you to have your kid so you would be home at this exact.moment.in.time.

Okay- so maybe not, but it did feel a little like a divine moment after trudging up and down my neighborhood in the pouring rain, pretty white dress, and tacky flip flops.

Anyway- she was gracious enough to let me in and use the phone. I called Will- who was not in town today (of course!). He told me to call a locksmith and work it out that way.

Oh- and he was annoyed that I managed to lock myself out.

Happy birthday honey!

Anyway, the lady told me that she could just go ahead and take me back to work so that I wouldn’t have to wait for a locksmith and pay for him to come out. I thought it was so nice of her to offer. I have very nice neighbors. I graciously accepted, took my tacky flip flops, got in her car and went back to work.

As we rode back I realized that there were a few bad things I had failed to think through when deciding not to call the locksmith.

1. My purse was in the truck, totally exposed for all the world to see and steal.

Genius Brittny.

Will tells me time after time, “Brittny- bring your purse inside and don’t leave it in the car!” And for once in my life he was so very right (actually, he’s always right about this one...). My freaking locked house was beyond safe at this point. I could most certainly confirm all doors were locked! Sigh…

Then there were the doggies.

The doggies stay in a kennel all day long because you may remember they’re quite naughty and cannot be trusted to roam around the house all alone.

Just recall this post or this one or this one.

Good times.

Anyway- they’re bad doggies and cannot be trusted.

And I had left them in the house.

All alone.

Home alone doggies.

To roam free.

And chew my wood.

And the shoes I was wearing as of 11:30 this morning and should have been wearing as I was riding to work.

I could just imagine what was happening to my house.

What a mistake to leave them out!

Sigh…

Will loved finding that out.

Oh- and I didn’t tell him. I just let him come home and be surprised.

Surprise! Happy birthday!

Anyway… it’s been quite a day.

Will picked me up from work and I felt back because I had to have him drive me to get his cake oh- and I had intended to get his birthday card on the way home too. Opps.

So- there you have it.

There’s probably a ton more I’m leaving our and need to share but Will wants me to watch “Dating in the Dark” tonight because this guy on his favorite sports talk radio was talking about how funny it was.

I think it’s weird.

But hey- it’s his birthday, and I did leave our kids home alone today.

Oh- and locked myself out.

Let’s not forget that one.

Genius. 

So Will has a pair of pants he uses to do stuff around the house in. I call them “work pants.”

Today we discovered they had a small hole in the crotch- and Will asked me to “fix them.”

Fix them.

As if I ran around the house in a big fluffy skirt and pearls and had breakfast prepared at 6:00 on the dot each morning. Perfectly prepared eggs over easy- never too runny.

Sigh.

The truth is that I’m no Donna Reed.

Times are tough these days in America and I really thought it would be a good idea to help stretch these work pants- so I went to Walmart today in hopes of finding a sewing kit.

Only Walmart- the place that has “everything-” did not have a sewing kit.

So I opted for a needle and thread and a prayer that all would work out.

But we’ll get to that part soon.

So I began aimlessly threading my needle, wandering in and out of the fabric.

Um- it pretty much looked like a three year old hacked away at it. Remember those yarn paper weaving arts and crafts things you used to make?

It looked like that.

You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?

Trust me. That means it was bad.

It was at that moment- when I realized I sucked and was cutting the yarn and hopelessly pulling it out- that it hit me.

I think as a whole we’re not nearly as domestic and self sufficent as we used to be.

I mean think about it- I freaking slapped pudding into a pre-made pie crust and topped it with cool whip and called it a pie.

AND

AND

I even complained about not being able to use INSTANT pudding.

Wow. How said is that!?

Sure- it technically is a “pie"- but seriously? That’s no pie.

I can barely sew a button. I will if I’m in a pinch, but the truth is that I have like 3 items of clothing that I plan on taking to a seamstress simply to sew.on.a.freaking.button! Seriously- I suck.

Do you guys realize that basic sewing used to be a household MUST like a decade ago? It’s so crazy to me to think how much things have changed over the years. It seems like are a lot of these sort of things in which were very common just a couple decades ago but are not as widely practice these days. Um- like making our husbands breakfast every morning, or stitching a dime size hole for crying out loud!

Yes- I realize it’s because we’re “out there” in the world, making a difference, changing the world, being amazing career womans AND wives and mothers. I get it.

I mean- sure I realize I suck for not being able to sew my husband’s pants, but the truth is that I’m in good company. I’d say there’s quite a few of us out there that don’t “make” our pies.

We hide dirty dishes in our oven when unexpected company comes because (gasp) there are times in which our house isn’t spotless.

We’re no Donna Reeds.

I’ll admit, I felt a little discouraged tonight when I couldn’t simply fix a tiny hole in Will’s pants. I should be able to do that! I should be capable of weaving a piece of freaking thread neatly in and out of a piece of thin cloth and taking care of my family! How hard can this possibly be!? Apparently pretty tough.

So I’m sitting here throwing myself a pity party because I’m not Donna Reed.

And I know you guys may think less of me-

but I want to be a Donna Reed.

There. I said it.

I want to wear high heels and make breakfast for Will and never sweat when I’m cleaning the oven. I want to be able to freaking sew.a.hole. for crying out loud!

more pity partying

So here’s what I’m thinking.

There are definitely things I can work on to improve my household. Small things.

The big things- you know- the seriously HUGE crisis things like sewing a pair of pants (ha ha)- I figure I’ll handle one case at a time.

...

Actually.

Guys-

maybe I am becoming a little bit of Donna Reed.

I mean- it’s 2009.

I can’t sew my husband’s pants.

I admit it.

However I know exactly where to go to get it fixed the right way. The first time.

I call that being smart. And resourceful.

Not only that- but I mean, while someone else is doing what they’re good at, I can work on doing something marvelous!

Like baking a real pie,

or- you know, painting my nails…

We’re living in a different time and Donna Reed is evolving. I guess it’s not about living our life like they did in the 50s. It’s about living smart in Donna Reed fashion, but also enjoying the modern technologies time has afforded us and combining the two into greatness!

So, although I can’t sew my poor husband’s pants, I can make a mean pie. And wear high heels. And paint my nails. And dial the pizza guy.

Genius.

xo,

The New Donna Reed

Will swears that cook and serve pudding is far superior than instant.

I totally disagree. The film situation with cook and serve alone is enough to deter me from standing over a stove stirring constantly for 12 minutes waiting for the freaking crap to boil.

Oh wait.

Standing over a stove stirring constantly for 12 minutes waiting for the freaking crap to boil is enough to deter me from cook and serve pudding.

Will has been begging for me to make some cook and serve pudding for a couple weeks now.

This in and of itself is alarming to me. Who begs their wife to make them cook and serve pudding?

No really. Who does that? An old family recipe layer cake made from scratch with homemade frosting I can understand. Cook and serve pudding? Really?

Anyway, because I try to be a good wife I made Will cook and serve pudding tonight- and not only that, but I put it in a crust.

Therefore can call it a “pie.”

Could I stretch and say I made a pie?

Um- probably not… All I did was stir (for a million minutes- watching that stupid freaking pudding threaten to burn the sides of the pan), and pour, and top with cool whip. That means I made it right? Ha, of course it does.

Between you and me? I could have made instant pudding and I doubt Will would have been able to tell the difference, although he swears up and down that he could. Who knows…

So I “made” our pie around 8:00 tonight and really want to have some. Only it takes 3 hours to set- which would put it at 11:00. Granted, it’s only a few minutes -and who knows? By the time I finish this post it very well could be 11- but it seems very random to me to eat dessert at 11.

Although- let’s face it- time means nothing to me when it comes to desserts. That’s crazy. It’s like saying vegetables are bad for you. Or hypercolor shirts are appropriate work attire. Um actually? I’m pretty sure hypercolor shirts are inappropriate at all times.Do they even make hypercolor anymore?

Sorry- getting distracted. Back to pie.

So I’m leaning towards eating a piece of pie and going straight to bed.

Because I’ve always heard that’s a GREAT idea (ha ha).

You know, for someone that “doesn’t think cook and serve pudding is all that great” I sure am staying up late to scarf it down, aren’t I?

Ooh- and you know what else?

After living in our house for only a year (actually- still less than a year) we finally decided to clean out our whirlpool jets and are going to try out the tub for the first time!

Oh- please be assured I’ve cleaned the tub many times before that- I just never ran the whirlpool and got the previous owner’s yuckys cleaned out.

Anyway- I think we’re going to eat pie and try out the whirlpool.

hmm- or try out the whirlpool and eat pie.

Ooh- OR have pie and then try out the whirlpool and then have pie again.

Okay just kidding. You have to have SOME limits right?

As you can see, my Saturday night has been out of control. But you guys know me well enough by now to know that’s the norm.

Hey guess what? It’s almost 11. I made it! I really made it! (ha ha. Wow. This is really sad).

Yay for cook and serve pie (I guess).

Have a good evening- and happy mother’s day to all my lovely blog friend mommies, and to my lovely mom as well.

<3

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? 

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.

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.

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I seriously need to go to the gym.

And clean our bathrooms.

Did I tell you guys I have a strict cleaning regimine?

I think I did.

Why do I feel as though I need to tell you again?

Oh-

probably because I’m totally procrastinating.

Big time.

I believe that’s why.

But for the sake of needing to post, how about we just pretend it’s because, “The Public Needs to Know.”

Good idea?

I think so.

Moving on-

Okay- so I clean a different room in my house every week day.

And for some really ridiculous and nerdy reason, I oftentimes (Hmm- is “oftentimes” a word? I don’t think so. I should most definitely use spell check to verify. But that would mean I was being proactive and not procrastinating- which we’ve already established I’m doing… let’s just roll with it being one word, okay?) try to clean the bathrooms on Sunday in order to have “a day off” during another part of the week. What a nerd. I know.

So in all truthfulness, today isn’t even an actual “scheduled cleaning day” for me, yet I’m avoiding it like the plauge.

Because I’m officially crazy.

And no other reason.

The gym?

Yeah- I have no excuse for that. I just don’t want to go- plain and simple.

So instead I sit on the couch lamenting about how I need to do these two things and not actually doing them.

Because apparently I want to balloon into a million pounds and appear on Dr. Phil for having one of the most hazardous houses in America.

That’s the only thing I can think of as to why in the world I’m not getting off the freaking couch and doing something productive.

And can I share something- between the two of us, of course?- sometimes Dr. Phil seriously annoys me.

I mean yeah sure, he’s Dr. Phil and great and wonderful and helpful-

but sometimes he really annoys me.

I won’t get into it- but seriously? Yeah…

Anyway,

I’m sitting here wasting valuable time that I could be cleaning doing absolutely nothing. I already know I’m going to do these things- I know it- it’s just a matter of seriously dragging my feet.

And having absolutely no desire to do any of the above mentioned items.

Oh- and I would apologize for starting virtually every sentence with “and” (because I think my former English teachers would most defintiely be shoving a #2 pencil in their right eye)- but again, I’m procrastinating and obviously showing my crazy wreckless abandonment for the important things in life.

Or something like that…

So I guess I will stop wasting the afternoon and get started.

I seriously miss Ranjii (my maid in Kuwait).You have no idea.

Sigh…

Enjoy the last of the weekend! I know I am (ha ha).