A spot of adorable with a chance of "awwww!"

I knew I shoulda blogged earlier. Cuz I was funny earlier. Now I'm just sad and mopey and red-eyed because I watched the season 9 premiere of Grey's Anatomy and obviously had to face all the stuff that happened in the last finale that I'd been ignoring and in denial about all summer long.
I got attached. I'm sorry.

But seriously, this was funny. And cute. Way super cute.
I was at work today. Which, reminder, I work at a tactical store. We sell vests and pouches and all sorts of gear for the gun-toting types. Attachments for weapons, apparel, a wide variety of knives and such. It's pretty sweet. I also know nothing about any of it. But I'm learning. Slowly but surely.
Today a guy came in with his, oh, probably four year old daughter and some dude who I guess was his brother. Not a crucial part of the story. Though I'm sure he's a great guy. He bought a balaklava so he's good in my book.
But the four year old, now she was definitely in a good mood and very happy to be spending the day with daddy. She would run up to where my friend/coworker Calli and I stood and would peep in her little baby talk, "That's my daddy! My daddy..." and then mumble some stuff about his shoes cuz we got on a shoe kick. While we were on said shoe kick she wanted to make a big deal about her (actually adorable) crocs she was wearing.
Only....she couldn't really say "crocs".
So this four year old is running around the store repeating over and over again, pointing at her feet,
"These are my cocks!"

Then she about knocked over an entire display and tried to play hide-and-seek in the dressing room closet. I'm pretty sure she made my whole day.

Not of Any Importance

Actually I'm not being angsty and dramatic with that title.
There's just really nothing important going on in here today so....you've been warned.

I'm a little upset. Mark and I made the most fabulous dinner today and I would really love to show you. I'd really like to display the succulent pork chops Mark marinaded and cooked up in our George Foreman as well as the cheesy rice and steamed broccoli that all went together smashingly well.
I really would.
Except for I can't.
One reason is my fault, because I don't know where my camera is. Which is bad enough in and of itself.
But last week my phone had a seizure and went for a permanent hiatus from life, apparently. RUDE. I was home from work and watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy and crying my dumb eyes out because I watched that episode where ______ dies. Which I should know not to watch because I know so-and-so dies. But anyway. I was home and messing with my phone. Checking facebook or something menial like that. I set it down. Suddenly, I wanted to know what time it was. A normal enough practice. I picked up my phone and....the screen wouldn't light up. I thought back to when I last used it and was 80% sure the battery couldn't have died out within the time I hadn't been using it. Plus, I didn't hear or see it shut down. But I took it to my bedroom and plugged it into the wall anyway.
Still wouldn't come on.
Mark got home and of course fiddled with it and pried off the backing with a tiny screwdriver.
I took it in to the Verizon store the following day and they couldn't even troubleshoot it. But there was this huge mess with getting into my account because I'm on the family plan with Mark which is under his dad's name. So I didn't know any passwords, which the guy made very clear when he said,
"If you are a user you'd know the password."
Well, scuuuuuze me, mister.
So he gave me the warranty/tech team number so I can call them and get more info.
Except for this.
I can't call them because MY PHONE IS GONE.
So I get the password from Mark that night and go in again the next day.
But guess what.
It's not the right password.
So I ask for a phone I could use and I call Mark and my father-in-law from their little office handheld but nobody answers. I talked to Mark later about it and he said the area code was from Nebraska....o.0 thanks for that Verizon.
Sooooo I still don't have a phone and it's been a priceless Instagram day and I'm upset.
But I made cake (one of those instagram moments) so I'm better.

Speaking of which I gotta go start whipping up the frosting for said cake. Toodles!

Story #2

Y'know what? Screw you serving size suggestions.
"They're more like guidelines than actual rules."

I just read a whole chapter in my Musical Theatre textbook on Gilbert and Sullivan which naturally included a large section on Pirates of Penzance so I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the pirate days of my life.

And also I'm eating a whole box of Rice-a-Roni myself because, well, it's yummy and I'm a fatty.

So Iowa! It looks about like this;

Pretty much. All the time.

I've actually told Mark the story of how

on every family trip we ever took to Iowa

it was almost "tradition" for my Dad to recite his

"corn and beans" gag.

Which basically consists of him pointing to one side

of the road and say,

"Well here you got your corn....."
then point to the other side,

"And here you got your beans...."

And go on like that for a few miles down the interstate.

He did not disappoint this time around.

At The Three Sons. 

Another tradition with my family.

Obviously we found some pretty stylin' hats.

Their sweaters and jackets are 

the softest and most wonderful things on the planet.

Plus, Okoboji University pride, y'all.

That there is Lily. 

Lily and her tongue.

Meet Trudy.

She's too cute for words.

And the SILKIEST puppy your fingers

will ever meet!

It's hard to see, I know.

But that's a tin can with 

Ireland all across the front.

If there's anything more perfect for us to 

store spare change in to save up for a 

trip to Ireland....

There isn't.

Another tradition;

Garage sales.

These aren't just your saturday morning sales, people.

These are ads in the paper,

lots full of junk that sell weekly.

Sittin' on the dock with puppy.

Doesn't get much more perfect, I tell ya what.

Favorite trip of our marriage, so far.

And we're only 6 months in! 

Dis is gon' be goooood!!

Smatter scatter!!

This would be that long-winded status I was speaking of earlier, those of you lucky enough to be my facebook friend.
Actually, it's probably right on that facebook badge I have here on the blog page. So you are welcome to enjoy my wit, as well. That's what you're here for, I suppose.
Kudos to you, my friend.

You know what's pretty great?
Having a job, first of all.
Then having two jobs is a plus. Especially when one of those jobs doesn't really feel like a job considering you love what the job consists of.
And then, getting a call from your dad while you're at one of said jobs (which of course you don't answer because you're a good employee....) and when you listen to the voicemail later, you about drop the phone when he says something like,
"Another check from the school came for you..." (MCC has been throwing mail at me like dolla billz at them exotic dancer ladies) "and well, I had to check for you, I mean I had to make sure it was ok and...it's for about, oh 6 or I think more around 7, yeah 700 dollars...."
And that's about all I heard.
Oh, except for this.
"Of course, you probably knew this was coming...."
Nope. Sorry Dad.
Was not aware that MCC was going to drop a buttload of money on my face. But uh, thanks?

And hey. I'm not one to turn my nose up to money. So....cool beans.
And now, a list of things I'm too excited for at the moment...

it's appropriate because Harry Potter

Santa, baby.....?

Story #1

I realize that I technically already told one story about our trip but....it was more of an afterthought, at-the-end, not very relevant story.
But this is how it really went.

We slept (but didn't, really) at my parents house that night and woke up 3 o'clock on the dot to shlump into the shower and stand there sleepily in the water hoping the droplets would be enough to spray away the dirt and grime of human living. I am that annoying person and did actually put make-up on before we left. But if you saw my mom you would understand. She is the most immaculate and attractive almost-70-year-old woman you will ever meet. I've never seen her looking rundown and frumpy. Never. So if she can do it, I can very well blot my face with goop, too.
We wanted to head out at 3:45 buuuut I think we were actually on the road more like 4:05.
I slept on the car ride to the airport. Naturally.
Checking our bags was interesting. We only had to check the one Mark and I were bringing, since we just crammed both of our necessities in one large suitcase and my dad's duffle. The line was miles long because apparently 4:30 in the morning is the ideal time to fly everywhere and anywhere.....there was a large group of hippie musicians headed to europe for some extravaganza music fair thing. I mean dreadlocks and rainbow tie-dye and strange orange mohawks with rattails at the end and tattoos and gauges and all kinds of piercings. Obviously my dad had multiple conversations with all of them. We actually had to drag him away to get headed to our gate on time.
We walked up to the gate and they almost immediately called our boarding group. Our timing was quite excellent.
On the plane, Mark had the window seat, I sat in the middle with my mom on my other side and Dad right across the aisle. It was nice to be all seated next to each other. Mark and I leaned over and watched out our tiny little window as the orange-vested workers flitted about and did their business.

I joked that I could see Woody, Jessie and Bullseye running around on the tarmac. Good ole Toy Story.

We even got to observe as they loaded the baggage to the underside of the plane. We scoured the carts for the luggage we were bringing. I spotted my dad's first as it was on top of the pile closest to us. They began unloading and as bags disappeared one by one we finally spotted our huge red monster of a bag. It was underneath a long blue golf bag at the very back of the cart.

As more and more bags got loaded it was beginning to look as if ours would be the last one they'd take off the cart. It came down to between ours and the blue golf bag. The dude hefted the golf bag and set it right back down on the cart and grabbed our bag. We cheered quietly, because obviously it was a competition. He stuffed ours under the plan, went back for the other but a tall, official looking guy came jogging over, shouting and looking very intense. He motioned vehemently with his hand across his throat and Mark read his lips shouting, "No more! No more!"

Our bag was literally the last one to get loaded on the plane. Whew!

I also thought I heard some poor man with a horrendous, snuffling snore but turns out it was just a pug seated in front of my dad. Apparently dogs fly, too? He had a little jacket on that said, "Emotional Support Dog". Way to be, puppy. Way to be.

Flying is fun :)

An Easy Start

I've been contemplating and agonizing how to begin this epic journey of documenting the [absolutely perfect] vacation Mark and I just enjoyed this past weekend for quite a few days. I took my journal with me   (cuz I was not about to haul along this monstrous laptop as a technological distraction) so I could write down the events as they happened so my memory wouldn't be a problem.

Truer words, ne'er spoken.

Anyway. That idea bombed. Who wants to take time to scribble a bunch of words when they could lounge in the soft grass with their husband, sip lemonade and feel the cool breeze off the lake? Or fish? Or swim? Or go to a rock concert for FREE? Or eat more food? All of which, and more, happened during the past 5 days. More to come on those events later.

So now I have the task of trying to take myself back a couple days and actually remember what it was like, rather than reading how I felt at that moment and translating it for you guys like I originally planned.

But I did take pictures!

I've found that I bring my camera along on trips but I forget to take it out and keep on shooting frames! I come back from an adventure and look through the memory card and there's 3 pictures. Total. One of him from the back walking somewhere. One of the both of us making terrible faces because we can't manage being attractive people. And then one of a plant or something.

And I get super disappointed.

So I determined to make this adventure different. And I did a pretty good job. As you may or may not find out over the next week or so, depending on if you come back after this smatterblog post.

Awkwardly enough, I'm starting at the end of this story. So far into the end, it actually just happened this morning. And this morning is not part of our vacation at all. This morning is back-to-reality-phase. Mark leaves for work in about twenty minutes and I'm left to unpack, laundrify and actually clean our apartment like I didn't do before we left which I knew I wouldn't be happy about later. And I was right. I'm totally not.

But we also wanted to try and get another chapter in on our book this morning and began the search for said book. Because we took it on the trip with us (no pictures of that, apologies), we looked in the suitcase and my "carry-on" aka stuffed to the brim purse. Alas, no book. We discussed our respective last sightings of the book and found that we had differing opinions.

I remembered getting into the car with my parents to head home and Mark handing me the book for some reason, like I was the proper book handler and he couldn't put it somewhere in the car. But I was deadbeat tired so I [memory lapse] did something with it and fell asleep on Mark's shoulder the whole way to my parents house where we had to take separate cars to our apartment.

But Mark remembers me laying my head down in his lap during our descent in the airplane into Phoenix and moving the book from off his lap to the plane floor. Now I'm panicking because I don't remember my exact actions from that time. I knew I did move the book because it was not as kind to my ear as his soft leg was but I could not grasp a single image in my mind as to what I did with it then. 

So his version was entirely plausible. I might very well have left our book on the plane. The book we bought for this trip. The book we were barely halfway through and I was enjoying quite thoroughly. The thought of that possibility was making me so sad I almost started crying. I wouldn't have any idea how to remedy that situation. Is there a lost and found at the airport? That would be nifty. At least I hadn't left the late wedding card with $50 in it from my aunt. Then I probably would've pounded my head on the wall and really cried.

He saw that I was quite upset and backpedaled, "I'm sure it's just in your parent's car, Hope. Let's just assume that." 

I just nodded and continued loathing my terrible memory and cursing my idiocy.

And then I came here to blog. I was on facebook and suddenly remembered a certain picture I did take. We were walking to the parking lot at the airport, my dad and my husband dragging the suitcases behind them, my mom and I trudging along in the back. It was super hot and gross. I thought Instagram would be thoroughly entertained by our predicament (it's sad the things I decide are important enough to be broadcasted to the world). So I snapped a photo with my phone.

Here it is.

It's appropriately blurry because we were all so tired that's about what the world looked and felt like. 

But behold! The book is IN HIS HANDS. 

I was right.

The book is safe.

Not with us, but safe. In a hot car in the middle of september on the other side of the valley (it seems). Meeehhhh.

Also, I was right.

Hah.

Annoying wife taking pictures of everything saves the day. 

Boom, baby.