Today is the 2nd anniversary of the biggest party Patrick and I have ever thrown. Also, the day we got married. Also, the day I ugly-cried in front of roughly 180 people. For some of you seasoned vets, the idea of just two years of marriage makes you say, "Aww, how sweet, still newly weds. They have no idea..." I'd like to respectfully pooh-pooh the idea that we're naive just because we're still so newly wed. Because how could we be but otherwise? Until the future arrives, knocks on our door, and politely introduces itself, we're all naive as to what's in store for us. I'm sure bad times will come for us, as they inevitably do, but I count myself blessed that we'll have several solid years of happiness under our belts to help buoy us through whatever storms come our way. So, no, we don't have any idea what we're in for. But one idea I'm very, very clear about? My old (young) man is my number 1 favorite thing on this planet. ...
One of my favorite shows is "King of the Hill," and this weekend I went on a mini-marathon of King of the Hill episodes. Inspired by one of my favorite characters, Peggy Hill, I decided yesterday that we needed to make SpaPeggy and Meatballs for dinner. If you aren't familiar with "King of the Hill," well, shame on you. Still, I will acquiesce to your burning curiosity to know what the frank "SpaPeggy and Meatballs" just might be. The different between Peggy's SpaPeggy and regular spaghetti is simply that she adds "regiano cheese and just the right amount of sugar." (She is her own number 1 fan and cheerleader, so obviously that minor personalization, if you can call it that, warrants renaming the meal after herself.) Once I'd decided to make SpaPeggy and Meatballs for dinner, I realized the ground meat was in the freezer and I didn't feel like defrosting it. I quickly edited the meal down to just SpaPeggy, sans meatballs. I...
One day last week, as I was leaving work, Bruno Mars' song "Gorilla" came on the radio. This song is super popular and catchy. And super raunchy. Talking about legs in the sky and making love like gorillas and stuff. So inapprop. Before last week, I just thought of it as such--a raunchy, albeit catchy, song. Since two Saturdays ago, however, I can only think of one thing: actual gorillas doing it. Everyone has told me lately to enjoy sleeping in while I can. So, naturally, I wake up before 7:00 on Saturdays--my one day to sleep in--so that Lizzie can have breakfast and the pleasure of my company. She insists, and I cave. (Perhaps I'll be a bad parent. "You want Oreos and Kool-Aid for breakfast? Okay. If you insist.") Anyway. I'm going to tell you something I'm positive you don't need to be told at all. There isn't much to watch on the major networks at 7am on a Saturday. After flipping through the channels repeatedly that morning, I fin...
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