It’s funny that even after almost six and a half years of marriage I’m still all about proving a point. Sure, I fully acknowledge marriage is about give and take, open honesty, and all things good. But let’s face it- we’re still women, and we don’t like being wrong.

Which means there are times in which we do silly things out of “principle” to ensure we’re always right.

Let’s begin in 2008.

When we first moved from Kuwait and into our house the previous owners left some pretty maroon curtains behind. I had my own plan for the curtains in the living room, however they were nice and I didn’t just want to get rid of them. So- Will thought they would fit nicely in his future “man room,” fill of OU crimson memorabilia and all things boy. I sort of scratched my head as to how regal curtains such as these would fit into the Room O Testosterone- but whatever.

We took them down and hung them nicely in the closet of Will’s future OU room.

And didn’t think anything else of them.

Last spring, the spring of 2009 mind you, I was in Will’s room and came across the curtains. I had intended to get them dry cleaned after taking them down but had long forgotten to do it, so I decided what better time to get these curtains dry cleaned?

I took them to my local dry cleaners that spring. The spring of 2009. I dropped them off- 4 curtains total (they were doubled up on each side of the rod) and was on my merry way.

Hmm… let’s camp out at the dry cleaners for a second. It’s somewhat necessary for the story.

To my knowledge there are only 2 dry cleaners in close proximity to me. This one, and another one. This one is what I would consider a “fancy” dry cleaners. Mainly because I’m a dork. It’s in a nice shopping center and the building is nice and the inside is nice and the people are nice, and well- it’s just nice. I feel like my clothes are properly tagged and put away and nicely cared for.

And the other one? Well it’s okay. I’m sure it’s a quintessential dry cleaners. Only, when compared to the “nice” dry cleaners, it just seems pretty dumpy. I don’t like going in there and I fear that as soon as I drop off my clothes they’re being worn my some old cougar with fuchsia lipstick.

So now that we have an understanding of the differences of my dry cleaning establishments, let’s move on.

A few days later I returned to the nice dry cleaners and paid and picked up the crimson curtains. I brought them home and put them in Will’s closet, where Will proceeded to tell me, “You know… those don’t look as thick as before. Are you sure you got all of them?”

Rolling my eyes “Yes, Will, I got all of them.”

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, I really thought these looked thicker.”

“Yes, Will. I’m sure. I wouldn’t have forgotten them.”

And then on and off for the next three days Will proceeded to make comments about how he really thought the curtains looked fuller before and how he was afraid I didn’t get all of them.

To which I continued to assure him that he was wrong, and I was right.

What’s funny about this whole scenario is that neither of us ever bothered to open the plastic bag they were wrapped in to count them.

Ha.

Anyway- about 2 weeks later, during the spring of 2009, I received a phone message from the nice dry cleaners. They had my curtains! I had in fact only picked up 2 of the 4 and I needed to get the rest! Opps. So now not only was I wrong, but I had to pick up the rest of our curtains and somehow explain to Will that he was right and I had not paid attention- despite promising that I had.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

Unfortunately, through a series of events, I never went and picked up the curtains.

And every three months or so, the nice dry cleaners (because they’re so darn friendly, of course!) called and left me messages to pick up my freaking curtains.

Only for some reason, like a bad episode of Seinfeld, the calls deterred me from going. Too much time had passed! It would be too awkward! I was “that annoying girl with the two curtains!” I just couldn’t do it. Not to mention I wasn’t going to be wrong. Let’s not forget that whole matter.

Which is funny too because at some point Will would have opened up the bag to hang those girly curtains in his man’s room only to realize he was missing two.

However, when you’re doing stupid things such as avoiding picking up curtains YOU OWN from your dry cleaners, you’re just not thinking logically.

...

Okay, so anyway-

Let’s not forget that throughout this time I still had to get my clothes dry cleaned. Only, I for sure couldn’t go to the nice cleaners! How could I show my face there? I was the weird girl with a complex that wouldn’t pick up her curtains FOR NO GOOD REASON. So, I had to resort to the sketchy cleaners.

And soon realized that I couldn’t do that for long.

And then it turned 2010.

A new year. A year of new chances. Perhaps I would pick up my curtains?

The truth is, by then I had totally forgotten about those curtains. I mean, it had almost been a year. A year!

So pathetic.

I was quickly reminded of the curtain issue yet again when I needed to get something dry cleaned. Only I didn’t and nicely laid the item to the side in my closet.

And did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until my nice little pile became a little ridiculous. Plus I’m pretty sure Will began to wonder what in the world I was doing.

“Oh sorry honey- I don’t want to risk you coming home while I’m sneaking in the curtains I swore to you were already there!”

Did I mention pathetic?

At the time it didn’t seem so awful. Only now do I realize how utterly ridiculous I was.

So, two weeks ago I got another call from the cleaners saying that if I didn’t pick up my curtains within 30 days they were going to get rid of them.

I mean, even nice dry cleaners have their limits, right? Understandably.

So I realized I was going to have to do something. I began laughing to myself over the whole entire series of events, which meant I had to share my story with someone.

My mom and sister are visiting for a couple of weeks, so I told the whole lame story to them- which made them laugh. Of course they had the same expected questions of, “Why didn’t you just get them!?” and “Didn’t you think about the fact that at some point Will would have found out there were only 2 curtains instead of 4?”

Good times.

Anyway, we had a good laugh about the whole thing and I decided that I was going to go in there and get those freaking crimson curtains. I was going to use the whole, “My phone changed and I just checked my messages recently” excuse.

You know, because that makes perfect sense.

So I was resolved to go and do it, only later that day I got a text from my sister telling me that she had beat me to the punch. Apparently my mom went and got them for me! And not only that, but that awkwardness I had feared for so long? Wasn’t there at all. My mom had used the truth, “I have been out of the country for a while,” which made me laugh. What’s really annoying is that I had already paid for the curtains! I’m so weird sometimes.

My mom had saved the day, and I really could have taken care of the whole thing an entire YEAR before, had I not been such a crazy.

The only thing that remains now is to bring them home, as they are currently hiding out in my parent’s house. After having to go through this whole rigamarole I wasn’t about to just parade them into the house, so I will sneak them in later this week.

Because that’s what crazy wives do. And they’re always right.

Always right.

After almost six and a half years of marriage you would think I would know by now not to ask my husband the loaded question- “Does this make me look fat?”

I mean- we all know how ridiculous it sounds coming out of our mouths, and we know how our husbands shudder the second they hear, “Does this (insert clothing item here -> X <- dress, blouse, skirt, bikini, stirrup pant) make me look...”

we don’t even have to finish the sentence. They know exactly how it’s going to end the second we start in.

At this point they mentally go into the fetal position.

Yet for some reason we feel compelled to ask anyway. It’s almost as though we anticipate a brutally honest answer- which is what our head totally wants, but let’s face it- our hearts and our saggy butts really want a different answer.

What makes me laugh the most is that Will has the same answer all the time. Again, you’d think by now I’d know not to ask- yet I do. Because that’s what women do. We silently torment our husbands with unnecessary questions we already know the answers to.

I mean, let’s be honest here- if we have to ask the question? You shouldn’t be wearing it. I think that’s a good rule of thumb.

Let’s agree on that.

Sorry- we were talking about Will’s habitually exact, right on par, answer, weren’t we?

Anyway, anytime I ask Will if something looks okay or fits alright or makes me look fat Will always answers safely.

“Haven’t you been losing weight?”

As if to say, “You’ve been losing weight, so of course it fits, right?”

Verbatim, word for word, that’s what the guy says. Such a people pleasing politician.

Then he always talks about how much I work out. As if to say that I could eat 4 deep dish pizzas and work out for 10 minutes and be able to easily hop right into a pair of skinny jeans.

What a funny guy.

Apparently Will “believes” that I’ve been consistently losing weight since the day we got married. In fact, at this rate I should be able to start shopping at Gap Kids this November.

And what makes me laugh just as much is that he thinks I really think he thinks that I’ve been losing all of this weight for the last 6 years (wow- there was a lot of thinking going on in that last sentence! I’m tired).

So after he gives me the, “Haven’t you been losing weight? So it should fit- right?” statement I laugh to myself and agree with him. I could have buttons busting left and right but I would still agree with him, just because he’s so funny, and really thinks he’s mastered the right way to answer.

Every now and then I’ll throw him for a loop and go into how I weigh more now than I did when we got married, but now I have a lot more muscle, and how I’m not necessarily losing weight but I’m toning up, etc.

And it really throws him off. As if I’ve totally shaken his steadfast, firm- AND RIGHT (ha ha)- answer. So I try not to incite panic in the poor guy.

It’s bad enough that I ask him, and then I have to challenge the fact that he’s saying I’m losing weight? “What more do you want from me, woman!?” is what I see when I go into my tirade.

And the truth is, nothing. Again, if I have to ask I shouldn’t wear it. I don’t know why I even bother asking.

Because I’m a woman. There’s really no other good answer.

Here’s to pants that fit well!

Yes. I get it. My last twenty-five posts have somehow centered back to food. I clearly have a problem. I should be on Maury or Montel or The View discussing my awful obsession with frosting and dinners and celebrations that center around both.

Or maybe just the sick obsession with frosting.

I realize the food posts need to stop. However, today something happened that I simply had to share. I found myself hovering over the sink thinking, “Wow. I really don’t want to tell anyone about the shame I just experienced.”

And then five minutes later I was in the car laughing thinking, “Ahaha, I have to tell someone about this.”

So here we are.

Tomorrow is Will’s birthday. Yesterday we drove down to Will’s parent’s house to celebrate his birthday. We went to eat and afterwards Will’s mom sent us home with a dirty cake.

Heh heh. Dirty cake.

Doesn’t it just sound sleazy? Like you need to be listening to Keith Sweat or R. Kelly while you take the lid off? Or like you should be slathering it in some sort of edible oil?

Sorry for the visual. Let’s get back on track.

Anyway- dirty cake. Us. Taking it home.

We brought the cake home but didn’t have any last night. Which meant there was untouched cake in my house for more than 12 hours, which is pretty much a miracle.

In fact you may want to check page 22A of your local newspaper. I bet I’m in there.

So today for lunch I had to run to the post office to mail off my transcripts for my school application. I had already brought my lunch to work with me, so there was really no need for me to go home for lunch yet somehow I found myself getting into the car, as if on autopilot, and driving home. You know, to let Boz and Lucy out. Wink.

So I get there, let them out, and am standing around the kitchen thinking, “What am I doing here?” Knowing full well what was really going on in my mind. The cake.

So, I play with a little fire and open the fridge- and there it is.

In fact, as I opened the fridge I’m pretty sure I heard some Marvin Gaye playing in the back of the Crisper area- and as soon as I shut the fridge the music went away.

I peeked it open again, to be greeted with the same sound. Only this time I exercised some degree of willpower and got a nectarine.

Because, as we all know, nectarines are just as satisfying as chocolatey cake, yes?

I finished the nectarine and really realize I need to go back to work.

I mean that is Will’s cake! His mom made it for him! It’s meant for us to share it together in honor of his special day. What sort of sick, awful, hormonal person eats their husband’s birthday ca…

And before I could finish the word, there I was. Standing over the sink trying to slyly carve out a tiny piece of dirty cake so that Will would never know someone sampled it before he did. Only the tiny sliver soon became about half a cup.

Wow.

An all time low, I thought to myself.

So what was I to do!? I couldn’t let Will know I was such a selfish awful wife!

Think, Brittny, Think!

Ahaha!

If you’ve ever had dirty cake, you know that it’s topped with whip cream.

So, in my genius, I went to the freezer and pulled out our gigantic tub of Cool Whip.

Because, as you know, every two person household has a costco size bucket of Cool Whip in their house.

I went to work, almost artist-like, filling in the “tiny” hole I had created, and spreading the oreos overtop.

Brilliant.Before I knew it- Tada! Good as new. Like I never ate a giant hole through Will’s birthday cake.

So now I don’t feel so much like a heel. Now I simply feel like I need to spend all week at the gym.

I made myself laugh, so I figured I’d share the moment with you all.

Happy Monday!

Before we get started I just have to laugh and share. So I just wrote this post and reread it and see that on this same page, just a few posts down, I posted about cake in April. Nice. Does this mean I have a problem? Actually… don’t answer that.

Will turns the big 3-0 next week.

The big one.

Well, one of the big ones. A major milestone for sure.

We decided in honor of the big event we would take a trip. However, with a trip to Branson for his dad’s 60th right around the corner, Theresa’s wedding, oh and a small insignificant nuissance called OU football season, we decided it was best to put the trip off a few months.

Plus, I think I’m way more into this birthday than he is. Likely because it’s not me who is turning 30. It’s him.

So we’re doing a trip later this year or early next but I still obviously need to acknowledge the day of his birth right?

I mean, in my mind sure a belated birthday trip is great and all but to me it’s just a great trip at that point. You’ve been 30 for 5 months. In fact, let’s just celebrate your 30th and a half birthday while we’re here, yes? So to quell the craziness in my mind I have been pestering Will nearly to death about making plans for this weekend.

In fact, I’ve been annoying him so much he may die and never make it to 30.

“29 year-old man dies just short of his 30th birthday due to wife’s constant nagging for a ‘plan.’”

I can read the headlines now.

Will’s mom always makes a cake, which is so great and thoughtful and delicious and great. But I want to make one too. Which is wonderful in my mind, right? One cannot have too much cake. There is no such thing, and I’m sure it’s written in some sort of statute somewhere confirming I am correct.

Will doesn’t want me to make another one- “One is plenty,” but we all agree above that the statute will not allow me to just settle for one. I have to produce one as well. I don’t make up the rules. I mean, I don’t even like cake all that much.

(lying. totally lying through my teeth)

So I found out today that Will is going to spend most of the weekend running back and forth from his parents town getting our cars detailed, which is what he really wanted for his birthday.

With all of this time on my hands (when I’m not scouring the house, volunteering at the senior center, and working on my secret patent) I figured I’d make something delicious.

Only, I have this awful feeling I’m going to make it and then as I sit there waiting for Will all day I will find myself in a goey frosting stupor, wearing chocolate and crumbs all over my face.

It is a definite possibility.

Hey, I figure 30 is a big enough celebration to be shared.

Bring on the cake.

Disclaimer: The decision to eat an entire cake all by myself for Will’s 30th birthday in no way hinders my decision to shed a few pounds for Theresa’s wedding. Actually I’m lying. It does. It really does. Please disregard this post. I would delete it but, well, I’m lazy.

I think there’s something about getting older that seems to squeeze the fun spontaneity and creativity out of a person. I was convinced that would never be me. Ha! Let a mortgage and responsibilities turn me into a boring old tool? Never! Well- here I am at home on a Friday night blogging. I might as well be drinking Metamucil and reading an AARP magazine. Perhaps the lack of creativity and the pain I experience trying to squeeze some amount of pithiness on this screen has kept me from blogging- oh, you know, for like a YEAR now.

Did you guys know that when I started blogging, way back in 2005, when my posts were actually pretty funny (and annoying. I went back and read some the other day and wow- I found a way to add a smiley face to freaking EVERYTHING. It really annoyed me. A lot. In fact I contemplated going in and removing the thousands-yes thousands- of smileys that occurred from 2005 to about 2007 but I refrained) that it was mostly right after I moved to Kuwait and wasn’t working? Translation- I had hours upon hours of time on my hands to create brilliant works of art (okay- I’m kidding, but you get the point). I would spend a ridiculous amount of time phrasing each post. Putting a lot of thought and love into every smiley face I placed (haha).

Then I started working. I use that term loosely. My boss once told me to shop online for work. Yes. No lie. Your tax dollars hard at work. Which meant once again I had plenty of time to blog and pontificate and create smiley works of art (again- kidding with the works of art stuff).

And then I changed jobs. And was actually busy. However, I still had access to my blog at work which meant I could type a few sentences (with smileys of course ) here and there and by the end of the day have a full fledge post ready to go.

And then we moved to America. Where I had tons of time on my hands all of a sudden. What a weird feeling. I should have been a blogging machine! Yet I wasn’t. When I look back at the decline of my posting it all started when we moved back, which is sort of weird. I’ve contemplated it before and there are a lot of reasons. Don’t worry. We won’t explore them. I guess I thought being back here would make me more consistent and it did the total opposite.

So lately I’ve wondered if I actually still like blogging anymore. And I haven’t come up with an answer. I hope it’s okay to be this honest with you. I really don’t know if I like posting anymore. I used to love it. It was my “passion.” My “thing.” Wow! Getting a little crazy with the quotations. They may be the new smileys.

That’s me being honest. I don’t know how I feel about blogging anymore and honestly it sort of makes me feel sad. It makes me feel sad that something so important to me could possibly not be important to me anymore. I know it sounds silly to feel sadness when I think about it, but I do. How is it that you can feel so strongly and so resolved about something at some point in time only to change your mind? I mean, I know that sometimes circumstances change the way you feel about something, but my blog didn’t change. I didn’t really change… I just sort of stopped caring. Why do you think that happens? I mean, I still enjoy writing. In fact I’m willingly freaking enrolling myself in school to pursue my masters- where I will be writing and writing and writing until I might want to die. Yet, again, I enjoy writing. It’s something I like. So why the blog lapse? I know that’s what you’re thinking.

Anyway, I’ve thought about a few options if I’m going to keep this thing active. I think I will try them and see how it works. Don’t worry, I will not now go into some long drawn out vow to post. Scouts honor.

Wow. You guys got like this whole long blog history. Definitely more than you wanted or bargained for. I will say, though, I have this feeling few people are reading my blog these days and the crazy thing about that is that it makes me SO HAPPY. I know I said I wouldn’t get into the reasons why I went “dark” (Ahh! Again with the quotations!), but I will say that very issue is definitely one of the reasons. I went from being a blog attention sleaze- pay attention to me! Read my blog!- to really resenting the fact that people I knew personally were reading my blog and judging me and that the potential for running into them at Walmart was all of a sudden a real possibility. That is one thing that I really hate. Which can be remedied I suppose…

Okay. Enough of the blogging talk. I’m annoying myself which means you- assuming you’re still reading- are VERY annoyed. Oh, sorry, I mean “very annoyed.”

So there’s actually been some things going on in my life. Where should I start?

Let’s not waste time elaborating on crap. I’ll just give you the high points.

I got a promotion this year! I now how a fancy, shiny “Sr.” in my title. Something about being a senior- a S-R-period- is so exciting to me. I was pretty excited about it.

I decided to get my Masters. Mainly because I’m a glutton for punishment and obviously don’t like myself very much. I’m going to study Organizational Communication. I tried, really tried to make myself get my MBA- because really, isn’t every other Masters a waste?- but the more I looked at everything and considered the whole package I wanted to drive a stake in my left eye, so I decided if I was going to willingly go back I should study something I would like- hence the degree choice.

Will and I are the same. Actually, we’re pretty darn good. We went through a rough patch over the last few months, which was the first one we’ve had in our 6 years of marriage, which I guess is pretty good? I don’t know. I guess it’s normal, which is what I had to realize. For so long I was used to us having this picture perfect life and marriage and then to go through a period where I was frustrated all the time was sort of like a reality check- like “Hello!! You’re freaking NORMAL. It happens sometimes.” You know? Anyway, it was sort of like- “Ahh, okay- so this is what that whole for better for worse stuff means.” (Wow. Again with the quotations. Sorry! I will now supplement with a smiley. Because we all agree they’re so darn great, right? )

I turned 27 this April. Which isn’t old, yet in some ways it seems as though it sort of is. My 20s are starting to come to a close and I’m a big fat grownup. I have been for quite some time now, but turning 27 really hit me. Not necessarily in a bad way.

Will turns 30 on the 27th. Which may hit me harder than it hits him. We shall see. Will’s dad turns 60 this year and we’re going to do a weekend a Branson (a quick whirlwind weekend full of lots of driving there and back) to celebrate. Will and I hope to take a trip for his big day but it will be postponed.

Still no babies. Which makes our families sad. But it’s just not something we’re talking about yet.

Speaking of families, I did mention to you that my parents are moving two doors down from me, right? If THAT’S not enough to thrust me back into the blog world quite honestly, I don’t know what is.

I still eat like crap most of the time. I don’t think there’s any need to elaborate on that. Besides, there’s like a daily story about it.

I got a personal trainer for a month and it was so freaking great and I loved every painful, sweaty, drippy, yell-y minute of it. I only wish I could afford him all the time. Plus I’m pretty sure it would allow me to justify a calorie increase. Bummer I can’t really justify it now.

We have a wedding tomorrow and Will gets to dress up again which is exciting since I never see him in a tux. In fact that’s one of the reasons that I’m still awake.  I couldn’t take off work today, so he went to the rehearsal by himself and I stayed here. He’s on his way home (it’s a 2 hour drive) but I figure by the time I get to sleep he’ll come in and wake me up so I might as well just stay awake. And possibly eat something terrible. I rarely stay up past 10 but I’ve been told that people that stay up late snack. I believe it’s called a “midnight snack?” (AHH! Attack of the quotations). Yes… a midnight snack sounds great.

So I think that’s the recent highlights since my last post. I guess in a sense, the highlights were of themselves a bit of a snack. Tiny pieces of information totally unhealthy for you yet necessary at midnight.

Help me to remember to tell you guys the life group story. It’s pretty funny and worth telling but I think I’ve written enough for tonight.

And it feels good to just get on here and unload. Really good.

Thank you blog, for putting up with my crap and just being here.

Thank you friends, for reading and understanding.

You simply eat the whole thing so as to ensure there are no jagged edges to haunt you in your sleep.

My MIL made me my annual double decker strawberry birthday cake and brought it up yesterday afternoon.

It’s not just any strawberry cake.

It’s pretty much the best strawberry cake I’ve ever had. It has crushed up real strawberries in it and everything. It’s delicious. And it’s fruit. So it’s healthy.

I shared my cake with the family yesterday- cutting four nice sized slices.

It left a little more than half after that.

Then Will and I, being incredibly slothful and fat, had another generous piece each after our evening walk last night.

So then there was less than half.

Then I came home for lunch today.

And started “evening out” the cake.

A sliver here. A cut there.

You know… to even it out.

Two giant “even-ing out” slices later and there were just two nice size pieces left.

Fat.

Then I came home from work.

Went for an hour long walk outside.

And came home and killed the rest.

Two pieces.

By myself.

After already eating like literally half a cake in a 24 hour span.

I’m pretty sure that type of gluttony is outlawed any other time except for your birthday week. 

All is well in the world of Norman. Bradford is back. No seriously- I think I saw a grown man cry yesterday when it was announced.

Weird.

Will is going to freak when he finds out I decided to crank out a post at 10:30. We’re supposed to leave in five minutes. Eh- timeliness is overrated. Plus, it’s my duty to drive my husband crazy, right?

So last night we had a bowling party at work. Oh guys I am the world’s worst bowler. Perhaps it’s honestly because I don’t really care, or maybe I truly do suck. Whatever the case- I suck. Nonetheless I still had a really good time. In fact- I was the worst bowler in the office- which typically isn’t a crown you would want to wear- except for the fact that the loser got the cutest pink bowling pin with black polka dots. I love it. We’ll forget about the fact that it says “pin head” on it. That can easily be turned to face the wall, yes?

Today is game day! We’re headed to Ted’s and then the game. I think today is the first day in a week in which the sun will be out all day! I love cool sunny fall days. They’re the best.

So remind me to tell you guys about my embarrassing moment this week. Why is it that when I get embarrassed instead of keeping it to myself I tell the whole world? Who knows.

Anyway, Will is beckoning. I suppose I won’t keep him waiting.

This time.

Have a great day!

More to come…

Year One: Roses, a Card, and Chocolate

Year Two: Roses and a Card

Year Three: Roses

Year Four: Card

Year Five and Seven Months: A Gigantic Box of Dunkin Donuts Chocolate Cake Donut Holes

And the clothes come off as if you had been sent a tennis bracelet.  I mean- what beats Dunkin Donuts?

It’s all about romanticism really.

<3

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 looks like you got a good workout,” the gentleman said to me as he exited the cash advance store and I walked out of the gym.

As I felt sweat drops trickle down my back and hit the pavement I let out a little laugh, “Yeah. I guess I did… I’m glad it’s over!”

He smiled.

As I got into my car and he got into his old red truck he looked at the younger man in the passenger’s seat, maybe his son, and sighed and said, “Well, it looks like we’re okay for a few more weeks.”

And then they drove off.

I don’t know why the whole brief moment grabbed hold of my heart today. I watch the news. I know the economy is awful. I know people are hurting. I know people are losing their jobs. I know people are losing their houses. I know all that, but for some reason that man’s tired eyes and worry to provide for his family struck me hard today.

I sat in my car and let the air hit my face for a few seconds as I thought about that man- and every other person right now in the same situation- and felt humbled.

So often my mind is so centered on what’s coming for me next. The next purchase for our house, the next trip we can save up for, “things” I want. I don’t think it’s all bad to think about those things, and I’m not consumed by them, but I must admit I have the case of “the gimmes” much more than I probably should.

As I sat there in my car I was reminded of how blessed, how truly blessed Will and I are. We have what we need, and God has truly blessed us. It’s so easy to think about “more” and the newest thing and what’s bigger and better than what you have, but this morning I remembered how good I have it. How good God is to us and how thankful I am for all He has done for me.

Times are tough, and like most everyone else we’ve been affected by the economy, but as I pulled out and drove home I began counting my blessings. Thanking God for the provisions he has made for me.

I have no idea what the future holds for my small Oklahoma life, but I know that today the Lord spoke to my heart today and refocused me on the bigger picture- which can be easy to lose sight of.

Off to enjoy the day. 80% chance of rain in OKC. The game should be a BLAST tonight.

Can you sense my sarcasm?

<3