Once upon a time, about 4 or so years ago, my 4-year old niece was helping me browse in Marshall's. She pointed to a shirt, told me it was cute, and I asked if she thought her mom, my sister, would like it. "Umm, it's cute, but it's not my mama's style." Ever since then, anything that I don't quite like "is not my mama's style." I tell you that to tell you this. For a while I have been ready to get rid of our living room furniture. I'm incredibly grateful to have it, as it was given to us in good condition for the low, low cost of FREE. Me likey the free stuff. However, "it's not my mama's style" and Patrick and I agreed we'd like to eventually have furniture because we like it and not just because it was $0.00. Well, big news on that front. Hold the phone, hit pause on your walkman (oh, you have a discman? Pardon me!), and listen to this: We bought a couch! Oh, silly you. You thought I was going to s
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
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.
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