I've been thinking a lot about names lately, namely (har har) because I'm about to add one to mine- I'm taking Cute Boy's last name in just a few short months!
After much consideration, and given the fact that his last name manages to pack two W's, to O's, a J, and a CZ-sounds like-CH combo over three syllables whereas mine now is FOUR LETTERS, pronounced EXACTLY LIKE THEY LOOK, and given that it makes my entire name a total of four syllables.....well, let's just say I'll be retaining my maiden name for business purposes. I'm planning to hyphenate my last name legally.
But I really wanted to take on Cute Boy's last name, because I personally think it's important for a family to have a family name, and because one day I want to have the same name as my children.
Another reason I'm planning to hyphenate is that here in the great state of Indiana, you can't have two last names without one, and you can't have more than three names, and I didn't want to give up my middle name, which is Laine.
Which is apparently, as I learned today, A COMPLETELY CRAZY NAME. Unlike one, say, with multiple W's and O's, and J's and T's and Z's. Say that threetimesfast.
Now, I've had a lot of people tell me my middle name is unusual, but I've never really had anyone insist that it was wrong and then try to PROVE that to me...until today. I had to give the Victoria's Secret checkout girl my license so that I could return a bra (purchased as a possible wedding-day need but my awesome tailor didn't require it), and apparently, you also need an Act of God to return something to there, because this girl critiqued my entire license. Which led to.......
cashier: Oh look, they like, spelled Lane wrong on your license.
me: Nope, haha, that's how I spell my name.
cashier: No, no, like the street part, that's ok, but like, here in your name? That's wrong.
me: Nope, that's really how I spell my name.
cashier: oh. With an I? Like, not the street?
me: Yep!
me in my head: um, it's getting weird. It's my name. Just return this thing and sell me this other overpriced bra, mmmmk?
.........
cashier: Really?
me: Yes, I promise, really.
other salesgirl starts to stare at this point. Either she thinks I'm a crazy name misspeller (hah- funny- spellcheck dings that word) and possibly a psychotic killer as a result or she's mentally trying to tell her coworker: LET IT GO .
.........
cashier: apparently receives mental message Oh.
It's days like these, along with the times I watch/listen to my fiance spell his name for people after saying it and watch their brows furrow as they try to reconcile the letters they are hearing with the word they just heard that I'm really, really grateful that the first 29 years of my life were spent with such an easy name.
But I'm still really looking forward to having the hard one to add :)
Showing posts with label Cute Boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cute Boy. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Scene In Which I Think That Was The Holidays
So, the holidays happened.
I mean, I'm pretty sure they did. There was mid-November, and now it's January 1st, and I'm 99% convinced that in the six weeks between those two points I logged a couple thousand miles on my car, went to Detroit, went to Chicago, went to Detroit again, went to Toronto, wrapped a bunch of gifts, sent a bunch of cards, cooked a bunch of food, ate a bunch of food, and generally was merry.
The week of Thanksgiving I drove around solo a lot, and I spent a lot of that driving time listening to NPR, except for the one time I crossed a state line and the channel change and I totally thought I was still listening to NPR but in fact I'd tuned into the Christian Family Values network, and let me tell you, NOT the same.
We spent Thanksgiving at my parents house in Chicago with Cute Boy and his family, which was good for a lot of laughs and some very yummy food. It was Princess's first Thanksgiving with us, since we got her just after it last year, and she was amazed by the idea that the whole day was dictated by the process of MAKING, BAKING, and EATING FOOD.
We actually had to lock her out of the basement, where the turkey roaster was, for fear she'd pull a sneaky move a la the dogs in "Christmas Story" and we'd wind up with Chinese for dinner.
This, of course, from our dog with the, shall we say, discriminating palate, whose antics lead me to have to send texts like this:
Me -> Cute Boy: Princess just ate one of your socks and then barfed it back up. It's in one piece but it's really gross so I'm just going to throw it out.
After I thankfully was able to visit her just before Thanksgiving, my grandma passed away the week after the holiday and my family went to Detroit in early December. While I'm sad that she's gone, I am grateful that she was spared long-term suffering, and it was really nice to see some of my dad's immediate and extended family. I can't honestly remember the last time we all got together, even with just his brother and sister, and I was especially glad to get to spend some time with my only cousin on his side and am really looking forward to that relationship developing.
I hosted an end-of-year party for the amazing girls who help me out at lilly lane, for whom I have to thank for an incredible year with a record-setting number of weddings! The party was also a surprise baby shower for one of our gals, who is expecting the first lilly lane baby in January. We decked out the kitchen and living room in pink and Cute Boy demonstrated extreme tolerance for having a whole lot of estrogen in the house.
I watched Christmas Vacation and am completely, entirely convinced that Chevy Chase's character in the scene where he goes off on his boss for enrolling him in the jelly club is based off of one of my Uncle Bob's rants.
I got jelly for Christmas from Uncle Bob's daughter. Even though it was totally not a reference to that movie at all (she just knows how much I freakin' love Traverse City Cherry Jam) it was funny, because, um, see above if you don't know why that was funny.
We went to a holiday concert at Butler, my alma mater. It was on the same night that IU, Cute Boy's alma mater, beat Kentucky. Pretty much every single IU alum was glued to the TV.
He watched the score auto-update on his phone while chatting with other alums during the pre-concert reception.
That's love, folks. I'ma marry that boy.
I surfed the Interwebs and Etsy and found approximately eight million adorable, easy holiday crafts that I wanted to make and I bookmarked them all and then I made exactly ZERO of them, which is fine. And then my aunt, who is awesomely crafty when it comes to knitting, actually made me one of the crafts that I had had the idea for last year except that it never left the idea stage for me whereas she actually DID IT, and I LOVE IT, IT'S SO AWESOME, and I am totally going to try to do more of my ideas this year, and by more I mean AT LEAST ONE.
I earned major awesome-future-wife points by buying Cute Boy skis for Christmas, and let me tell you, I am going to remember this for the future, because this is how THIS went down:
1) I told Cute Boy I would buy him skis and gave him a budget
2) He went out and did all the research
3) He went out and bought the skis
4) I paid for them
5) He put them out on display in his "man-room" and told everyone how awesome I was
6) He wore them around the house and told everyone how awesome I was
7) He booked a ski trip with a pal (code for: girls weekend for me at home!)
8) He put them by the tree and I stuck a bow on them.
Guaranteed love of the gift + no wrapping + no shopping +points for me = CHRISTMAS AMAZINGNESS.
I also got him a calendar. It's a tradition.
We spent Christmas in Indy with my parents (visiting from Chicago) and brother, Cute Boy's folks and sister, my aunt, uncle and cousin, and "Grandpa Ed," the neighbor we got Princess from when he went into a nursing home last year. Which, if you're keeping tally, means that yes, I hosted Christmas Day Dinner for 12 people in our house.
Unfortunately, I was apparently convinced that we had, in fact, already recieved the kitchen and cooking things we registered for recently, like, say pots and pans and baking pans? Which led me to do a whole lot of dishes and scrape together a whole lot of interesting cookware solutions and have to send a couple texts to my future sister in law that looked like this:
Me -> Sister: Can you bring some water glasses? Ours all say Coors Lite.
Me ->Sister: Also, can you bring some spoons?
Sister -> Me: Like, regular spoons? Or serving spoons?
Me -> Sister: Yeah.....both please.
I talked to my Grandpa on Christmas Day, which was sad because he was missing Grandma, but then just sort of odd because I'm pretty sure he thought I was actually my dad the whole time I was talking to him, so either he wasn't listening to me or my voice has hit a new low, no pun intended, in sexy huskiness. Either way, meh, it's cool.
My brother learned to cook and made an amazing roast and a couple side dishes, and my mom brought a ham, and I made the rest of the meal and breakfast and snacks and they actually all turned out OK and it miraculously ALL CAME TOGETHER at the right time and then at the end of the night after everyone left or was outside or was passed out I poured my mom and I shots of rum and made her drink one with me because I never realized how freaking hard it is to host a huge holiday party.
We went to Toronto for New Year's to visit Cute Boy's pals and family who live there (Cute Boy is Canadian, eh? Have I told you that yet?) and, as always, I discovered something new about the city, namely:
While out to dinner at Pangea, an amazing, amazing, amazing restaurant that Cute Boy's best friend (and best man) is chef at:
*rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble*
Me: What the eff is that? Is there some sort of freaking underground train here that I don't know about?
Cute Boy: Ummmm........you mean the subway?
Me: Get out, Toronto has a subway?
Cute Boy: *hysterical laughter*
Whatever dude, I didn't grow up here, the subway is effing UNDER THE GROUND and I just totally hadn't noticed it yet.
And then it was midnight on December 31st and 2011 came to a close and I got to kiss this really adorable blonde dude and I realized that HOLY HELL, we are getting married in less than four months, and if you think the HOLIDAYS went by fast- well, hang on, sister.
Happy New Year to you all!
I mean, I'm pretty sure they did. There was mid-November, and now it's January 1st, and I'm 99% convinced that in the six weeks between those two points I logged a couple thousand miles on my car, went to Detroit, went to Chicago, went to Detroit again, went to Toronto, wrapped a bunch of gifts, sent a bunch of cards, cooked a bunch of food, ate a bunch of food, and generally was merry.
The week of Thanksgiving I drove around solo a lot, and I spent a lot of that driving time listening to NPR, except for the one time I crossed a state line and the channel change and I totally thought I was still listening to NPR but in fact I'd tuned into the Christian Family Values network, and let me tell you, NOT the same.
We spent Thanksgiving at my parents house in Chicago with Cute Boy and his family, which was good for a lot of laughs and some very yummy food. It was Princess's first Thanksgiving with us, since we got her just after it last year, and she was amazed by the idea that the whole day was dictated by the process of MAKING, BAKING, and EATING FOOD.
We actually had to lock her out of the basement, where the turkey roaster was, for fear she'd pull a sneaky move a la the dogs in "Christmas Story" and we'd wind up with Chinese for dinner.
This, of course, from our dog with the, shall we say, discriminating palate, whose antics lead me to have to send texts like this:
Me -> Cute Boy: Princess just ate one of your socks and then barfed it back up. It's in one piece but it's really gross so I'm just going to throw it out.
After I thankfully was able to visit her just before Thanksgiving, my grandma passed away the week after the holiday and my family went to Detroit in early December. While I'm sad that she's gone, I am grateful that she was spared long-term suffering, and it was really nice to see some of my dad's immediate and extended family. I can't honestly remember the last time we all got together, even with just his brother and sister, and I was especially glad to get to spend some time with my only cousin on his side and am really looking forward to that relationship developing.
I hosted an end-of-year party for the amazing girls who help me out at lilly lane, for whom I have to thank for an incredible year with a record-setting number of weddings! The party was also a surprise baby shower for one of our gals, who is expecting the first lilly lane baby in January. We decked out the kitchen and living room in pink and Cute Boy demonstrated extreme tolerance for having a whole lot of estrogen in the house.
I watched Christmas Vacation and am completely, entirely convinced that Chevy Chase's character in the scene where he goes off on his boss for enrolling him in the jelly club is based off of one of my Uncle Bob's rants.
I got jelly for Christmas from Uncle Bob's daughter. Even though it was totally not a reference to that movie at all (she just knows how much I freakin' love Traverse City Cherry Jam) it was funny, because, um, see above if you don't know why that was funny.
We went to a holiday concert at Butler, my alma mater. It was on the same night that IU, Cute Boy's alma mater, beat Kentucky. Pretty much every single IU alum was glued to the TV.
He watched the score auto-update on his phone while chatting with other alums during the pre-concert reception.
That's love, folks. I'ma marry that boy.
I surfed the Interwebs and Etsy and found approximately eight million adorable, easy holiday crafts that I wanted to make and I bookmarked them all and then I made exactly ZERO of them, which is fine. And then my aunt, who is awesomely crafty when it comes to knitting, actually made me one of the crafts that I had had the idea for last year except that it never left the idea stage for me whereas she actually DID IT, and I LOVE IT, IT'S SO AWESOME, and I am totally going to try to do more of my ideas this year, and by more I mean AT LEAST ONE.
I earned major awesome-future-wife points by buying Cute Boy skis for Christmas, and let me tell you, I am going to remember this for the future, because this is how THIS went down:
1) I told Cute Boy I would buy him skis and gave him a budget
2) He went out and did all the research
3) He went out and bought the skis
4) I paid for them
5) He put them out on display in his "man-room" and told everyone how awesome I was
6) He wore them around the house and told everyone how awesome I was
7) He booked a ski trip with a pal (code for: girls weekend for me at home!)
8) He put them by the tree and I stuck a bow on them.
Guaranteed love of the gift + no wrapping + no shopping +points for me = CHRISTMAS AMAZINGNESS.
I also got him a calendar. It's a tradition.
We spent Christmas in Indy with my parents (visiting from Chicago) and brother, Cute Boy's folks and sister, my aunt, uncle and cousin, and "Grandpa Ed," the neighbor we got Princess from when he went into a nursing home last year. Which, if you're keeping tally, means that yes, I hosted Christmas Day Dinner for 12 people in our house.
Unfortunately, I was apparently convinced that we had, in fact, already recieved the kitchen and cooking things we registered for recently, like, say pots and pans and baking pans? Which led me to do a whole lot of dishes and scrape together a whole lot of interesting cookware solutions and have to send a couple texts to my future sister in law that looked like this:
Me -> Sister: Can you bring some water glasses? Ours all say Coors Lite.
Me ->Sister: Also, can you bring some spoons?
Sister -> Me: Like, regular spoons? Or serving spoons?
Me -> Sister: Yeah.....both please.
I talked to my Grandpa on Christmas Day, which was sad because he was missing Grandma, but then just sort of odd because I'm pretty sure he thought I was actually my dad the whole time I was talking to him, so either he wasn't listening to me or my voice has hit a new low, no pun intended, in sexy huskiness. Either way, meh, it's cool.
My brother learned to cook and made an amazing roast and a couple side dishes, and my mom brought a ham, and I made the rest of the meal and breakfast and snacks and they actually all turned out OK and it miraculously ALL CAME TOGETHER at the right time and then at the end of the night after everyone left or was outside or was passed out I poured my mom and I shots of rum and made her drink one with me because I never realized how freaking hard it is to host a huge holiday party.
We went to Toronto for New Year's to visit Cute Boy's pals and family who live there (Cute Boy is Canadian, eh? Have I told you that yet?) and, as always, I discovered something new about the city, namely:
While out to dinner at Pangea, an amazing, amazing, amazing restaurant that Cute Boy's best friend (and best man) is chef at:
*rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble*
Me: What the eff is that? Is there some sort of freaking underground train here that I don't know about?
Cute Boy: Ummmm........you mean the subway?
Me: Get out, Toronto has a subway?
Cute Boy: *hysterical laughter*
Whatever dude, I didn't grow up here, the subway is effing UNDER THE GROUND and I just totally hadn't noticed it yet.
And then it was midnight on December 31st and 2011 came to a close and I got to kiss this really adorable blonde dude and I realized that HOLY HELL, we are getting married in less than four months, and if you think the HOLIDAYS went by fast- well, hang on, sister.
Happy New Year to you all!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The Scene In Which I Did Stuff This Summer. When, You Know, I Totally Didn't Blog.
Instead of ignoring the fact that I pretty much just neglected to do anything on this blog for, oh, four months out of the year, I decided I'd take you all on a little sneak peek into what I called "The Summer I Was Totally Busy, Yet Nothing New Happened," and by that I mean, we just sort of spent a few months doing the exact same things we'd been doing the months before.
Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful for the summer I had! Cute Boy and I got to move into our new house, spend some time doing repairs, I was thrilled/ amazed/ humbled by all the weddings we did at the studio, and of course, we've been planning the wedding....and I managed to do most of it without causing bodily harm or hilarious damage to myself. Hence, no blog.
So here's what we did:
Celebrated a fabulous friend on a fabulous fortieth!
Rolled right through the big one- and kept on going! Totally unrelated I'm sure, the car spent at least two days of every month in the shop this summer for assorted issues.
Made some flowers. Put some in bouquets. Put some around cupcakes. Put some on cakes.
Power washed the porch. Thanks Dad! Admired the cool stylized power-wash-sprayed name. Realized that the amount of dirt on our new porch was such that my dad could literally spray my name into it. Kind of shuddered.
Went to see Dispatch in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Elias, Carry You, The General, and pretty much every song they played live. Had a discussion with my fellow concert goers about how the youth of today have absolutey no pot-smoking-concealing skills. Debating blogging about that. Forgot. Took zero photos.
More flowers for tables and bouquets. Tons of amazing flowers this summer.
Took naps on the bed. Took naps on the chair. Took naps on the floor. Went to the groomer's. Went swimming. (I want this life.)
Got paint. Put it on walls. Put it on clay pots. Stopped painting, had guests in town, and went to an Indians game. Caught the game winning ball- great shot I got of that, huh?!? Yeah.
..........that's all folks! Thanks for checking out the summer! :)
Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful for the summer I had! Cute Boy and I got to move into our new house, spend some time doing repairs, I was thrilled/ amazed/ humbled by all the weddings we did at the studio, and of course, we've been planning the wedding....and I managed to do most of it without causing bodily harm or hilarious damage to myself. Hence, no blog.
So here's what we did:
Went to the 500. Bought a house. Took a picture of it before we ripped it up. Ripped up yarn. (Princess.)
Celebrated a fabulous friend on a fabulous fortieth!
Made a ton of flowers.
Rolled right through the big one- and kept on going! Totally unrelated I'm sure, the car spent at least two days of every month in the shop this summer for assorted issues.
Went to see Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Solsbury Hill live (with a transition to an orchestral Simple Gifts at the end. Gah. OMG). Nearly cried. Took zero pictures.
Tore out the weird pass-through, tube-TV, 1980s wannabe entertainment center. Ripped up the vaguely off-white-long-ago carpeting. Searched for new flooring. Bought new floors and had *help* transporting them home (Finnigan).
Made some flowers. Put some in bouquets. Put some around cupcakes. Put some on cakes.
Power washed the porch. Thanks Dad! Admired the cool stylized power-wash-sprayed name. Realized that the amount of dirt on our new porch was such that my dad could literally spray my name into it. Kind of shuddered.Went to see Dispatch in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Elias, Carry You, The General, and pretty much every song they played live. Had a discussion with my fellow concert goers about how the youth of today have absolutey no pot-smoking-concealing skills. Debating blogging about that. Forgot. Took zero photos.
Made some more flowers. Some went in a tent. That was a long day.
Organized all my books into alphabetical order (Whatever, OCD.). Counted the number of each book (by author last name) to see which I had the most of. Debated writing a blog post about said counting. Forgot. Hung with some pals for 4th of July and checked out the new Tiger Forest at the Zoo on a quick break from a Zoo wedding setup.
More flowers.
Got new floors! Got a rug from Old Time Pottery. Got towed from Old Time Pottery. Got to experience Mom's first tow truck ride with her. Got the bill. That was fun. Debated writing a blog post about it. Forgot.
Made some brides happy! These four plus (in June, July, and August only) 31 more. Love happy brides!
Though I guess you'd be happy too if you got to eat cake. More flowers on cakes. Yum........
Got a fireplace! Got framing around a fireplace. Got walls around a fireplace. Took a nap.
Went to go see Indigo Girls in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Devotion live. Took zero photos.
Went to an EDM festival. Finally remembered to take some photos. Went backstage. Thanks future seeeeester!
Went to Atlanta with Brother for the second (hopefully annual) Cousins Trip. Got stalked by Earl Grey. Saw whale sharks at the Atlanta Aquarium. Crawled through the kid tubes. Went to a Twin Peaks themed bar that did not have pie. Heated discussion ensued.
More flowers for tables and bouquets. Tons of amazing flowers this summer. 
Took naps on the bed. Took naps on the chair. Took naps on the floor. Went to the groomer's. Went swimming. (I want this life.)
Got paint. Put it on walls. Put it on clay pots. Stopped painting, had guests in town, and went to an Indians game. Caught the game winning ball- great shot I got of that, huh?!? Yeah...........that's all folks! Thanks for checking out the summer! :)
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Scene In Which We Buy (Another) House, and Life Is (Still) Pretty Normal
If I haven't posted much over the past few weeks, it's because things around here are starting to seem a little....repetitive.
The dogs are blowing their coats....still.
I'm cleaning out closest for Goodwill and trying to purge a bunch of crap before we move.....still.
I'm doing admin on Mondays, cleaning on Tuesdays, meetings on Wednesdays, creating on Thursdays and Fridays, and setting up weddings on Fridays and Saturdays. And while I love my job (I LOVE MY JOB!) this will pretty much continue from now until the end of October or the first week of November. So.....still.
We're working on planning the wedding....still. (Get back to me this time next year. We'll be three days out!)
We're buying a house! ..........again. Yep, we've made an offer that's been accepted on another house in an area we love! Now it's just time to wait for the inspection and cross our fingers that these people aren't murderers who have hidden the bones of their prey in the walls, since that's pretty much the only horror left to find during an inspection process for us. Or that they have mice.
Life is at a blissfully normal, still-going pace right now, and while it doesn't leave me much to blog about, I'm happy to take a break now because I know there are more blog-worthy tales coming up in my future.
Because one of these days we are going to GET a house, inspect a house, and actually CLOSE on a house.
And then, my friends, Cute Boy and I are going to pack up all our crap and move.
Into our house.
Together.
So if you'll excuse me...I'm going to go nap while I can :)
The dogs are blowing their coats....still.
I'm cleaning out closest for Goodwill and trying to purge a bunch of crap before we move.....still.
I'm doing admin on Mondays, cleaning on Tuesdays, meetings on Wednesdays, creating on Thursdays and Fridays, and setting up weddings on Fridays and Saturdays. And while I love my job (I LOVE MY JOB!) this will pretty much continue from now until the end of October or the first week of November. So.....still.
We're working on planning the wedding....still. (Get back to me this time next year. We'll be three days out!)
We're buying a house! ..........again. Yep, we've made an offer that's been accepted on another house in an area we love! Now it's just time to wait for the inspection and cross our fingers that these people aren't murderers who have hidden the bones of their prey in the walls, since that's pretty much the only horror left to find during an inspection process for us. Or that they have mice.
Life is at a blissfully normal, still-going pace right now, and while it doesn't leave me much to blog about, I'm happy to take a break now because I know there are more blog-worthy tales coming up in my future.
Because one of these days we are going to GET a house, inspect a house, and actually CLOSE on a house.
And then, my friends, Cute Boy and I are going to pack up all our crap and move.
Into our house.
Together.
So if you'll excuse me...I'm going to go nap while I can :)
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Scene In Which We Buy A House!!
We bought a house!!!
After several weeks of searching for homes (and one unsuccessful, adrenaline-pumping 24-minute mad dash to submit a bid for a house we wanted that had gone up for auction that day) Cute Boy and I finally narrowed our search down to four, two smaller homes we liked in an area we loved and two larger homes we loved in an area we liked, about 10 minutes away from the first area.
The day before we were scheduled to look at them all, we learned that House #4 had sadly accepted another offer. Since we had loved that one, we asked Realtor Brad to find other houses in that area that might be on the market. Unfortunately, there isn't too much out there right now- apparently, folks tend to stay longer in those homes. (Green light!)
We did schedule one "mystery showing" for the end of the day, and took our parents and Justin's sister to see our top three choices. Each had their pros and cons, and let me tell you, they're easier to see through the eyes of others. (We didn't end up liking house #4, so I haven't included it.)
House #1:
My mom: This is cute!
Me: Yeah, I really like it.
My mom: The yard is nice, but are those businesses you can see over there?
Me: Yeah...that's the Mousetrap.
My mom: Whaaaaa?
Me: It's a bar.
My mom: Oh.
..........
.........
My mom: Well.......
House #2:
My dad: This is nice. I have a few ideas for easy ways you can make the rooms bigger, too.
Me: Yeah?
My dad: Yeah! See, I don't think this is a load bearing wall.....
Me: Uh huh.
My dad: So what you do is cut this wall out....
Me: Uh huh....
My dad: ......move it over here, move this door, move this window........
Me: Uh huuuuuuh....
My dad: .....then in THIS room, move THIS door here.......
Me: Um, I think we should go to the next house now.
House #3:
My dad: I like this house.
My mom: I like this house.
My future mother-in-law: I like this house.
My future seeeester: I like this house.
Cute Boy: We love this house.
So the next day?
We bought that house :)
Or I guess I should say, we put an offer on that house, it was accepted, and we are currently in the process of inspection/finalizing/insurance/preparing for closing in LESS THAN A MONTH!! Keep your fingers crossed for us that everything goes well!
After several weeks of searching for homes (and one unsuccessful, adrenaline-pumping 24-minute mad dash to submit a bid for a house we wanted that had gone up for auction that day) Cute Boy and I finally narrowed our search down to four, two smaller homes we liked in an area we loved and two larger homes we loved in an area we liked, about 10 minutes away from the first area.
The day before we were scheduled to look at them all, we learned that House #4 had sadly accepted another offer. Since we had loved that one, we asked Realtor Brad to find other houses in that area that might be on the market. Unfortunately, there isn't too much out there right now- apparently, folks tend to stay longer in those homes. (Green light!)
We did schedule one "mystery showing" for the end of the day, and took our parents and Justin's sister to see our top three choices. Each had their pros and cons, and let me tell you, they're easier to see through the eyes of others. (We didn't end up liking house #4, so I haven't included it.)
House #1:
My mom: This is cute!
Me: Yeah, I really like it.
My mom: The yard is nice, but are those businesses you can see over there?
Me: Yeah...that's the Mousetrap.
My mom: Whaaaaa?
Me: It's a bar.
My mom: Oh.
..........
.........
My mom: Well.......
House #2:
My dad: This is nice. I have a few ideas for easy ways you can make the rooms bigger, too.
Me: Yeah?
My dad: Yeah! See, I don't think this is a load bearing wall.....
Me: Uh huh.
My dad: So what you do is cut this wall out....
Me: Uh huh....
My dad: ......move it over here, move this door, move this window........
Me: Uh huuuuuuh....
My dad: .....then in THIS room, move THIS door here.......
Me: Um, I think we should go to the next house now.
House #3:
My dad: I like this house.
My mom: I like this house.
My future mother-in-law: I like this house.
My future seeeester: I like this house.
Cute Boy: We love this house.
So the next day?
We bought that house :)
Or I guess I should say, we put an offer on that house, it was accepted, and we are currently in the process of inspection/finalizing/insurance/preparing for closing in LESS THAN A MONTH!! Keep your fingers crossed for us that everything goes well!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Scene In Which We Are House-Hunting! (Advice, please!)
It's official- Cute Boy and I are shackin' up!
We've been on the hunt for a few weeks now, checking out properties in and around Indy, and to be honest, I'm a little surprised at how well it's been going.
I think it's because Realtor Brad was due for some good house-hunting karma with me. A few years ago, Realtor Brad toured my brother and I around a couple places within our budget.
Including one with bullet holes.
We were due for some good houses, is all I'm sayin'.
But back to our search! Cute Boy and I are looking at a few different neighborhoods in town, and over the course of looking at about 15 or 16 different houses, have narrowed it down to two areas we like, with two houses in both areas.
And this is where, YOU GUYS, I am struggling.
I love them all.
There are things about them all that I don't love.
But there are lots more things I love.
In an ideal world, I want the adorable paint colors and awesome finished basement of the first....along with the neat 1930s features and neighborhood proximity of the second.....along with the backyard, deck, master bedroom bathroom & extra vanity of the third, with the open layout and split-level features and kitchen of the fourth......
.....but I can't have that.
Which is fine.
But I need some help, pals! When YOU were looking for the house you are in (especially if this involved purchasing/renting/obtaining said house with your significant other), how did YOU decide which one was the best for you? What features did you find you valued most highly? And, following the choice you made, what things did you realize later you didn't really care about?
We've been on the hunt for a few weeks now, checking out properties in and around Indy, and to be honest, I'm a little surprised at how well it's been going.
I think it's because Realtor Brad was due for some good house-hunting karma with me. A few years ago, Realtor Brad toured my brother and I around a couple places within our budget.
Including one with bullet holes.
We were due for some good houses, is all I'm sayin'.
But back to our search! Cute Boy and I are looking at a few different neighborhoods in town, and over the course of looking at about 15 or 16 different houses, have narrowed it down to two areas we like, with two houses in both areas.
And this is where, YOU GUYS, I am struggling.
I love them all.
There are things about them all that I don't love.
But there are lots more things I love.
In an ideal world, I want the adorable paint colors and awesome finished basement of the first....along with the neat 1930s features and neighborhood proximity of the second.....along with the backyard, deck, master bedroom bathroom & extra vanity of the third, with the open layout and split-level features and kitchen of the fourth......
.....but I can't have that.
Which is fine.
But I need some help, pals! When YOU were looking for the house you are in (especially if this involved purchasing/renting/obtaining said house with your significant other), how did YOU decide which one was the best for you? What features did you find you valued most highly? And, following the choice you made, what things did you realize later you didn't really care about?
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Scene In Which I Am In A Book!
Hey kids!
Just your average Monday morning...did a little laundry, checked email, caught up on a few blogs, and OH HEY, I'M IN A BOOK!! It's called Single.Women.Entreprenuers and it's available on Amazon!
I'll back up.
Several months ago, I met the amazing Erin Albert by chance via another Indianapolis entreprenuer, Tiffany Benedict Berkson- friend, neighbor, entrepreneur and history guru- as they grabbed a cup at Starbucks.
As Erin was in the process of speaking with Tiffany about the book she was currently working on (single women entreprenuers) Tiffany shared with Erin that I'd spent the past few years working on my own business and was now self-employed.
Erin and I exchanged info, and several days later she contacted me about sitting for an interview for her book!
Needless to say, I said yes.
The premise of the book, I learned, was to profile successful women entreprenuers who had all been unmarried (single, widowed, divorced) at the time they began their own business and print the interviews they gave.
Despite the fact that I started dating Cute Boy about, oh, thirty seconds after quitting my job to pursue my business full-time, I was single at the time I started lilly lane, and single at the time I left my full-time job, so I qualified.
And was interviewed.
And got really excited about the book.
And then realized that a LOT of women in the book are passionate female entreprenuers with years of experience who can speak eloquently, forcefully, and factually about statistics, trends, and a myriad of other topics on why women are better entreprenuers than men and why single women make better entreprenuers and why women need to be considered authorities and a LOT OF OTHER STUFF THAT I DID NOT TALK ABOUT, because what I DID talk about was how I really liked flowers and didn't like fundraising and my dad started his own business and I was like hey, this seems cool, I think I'll go do this now with NO experience and NO training and NO real foresight, but hey, it worked!
So I'm a little bit worried that next to these other women, I'm going to sound a little different.
Which I'm OK with.
Because if I'm being honest, I DIDN'T have a ton of experience when I started my business. I hadn't, and still haven't, read eight thousand books about the subject. If this book had existed prior to my starting, the odds that I would have stumbled across it, purchased it and read it are probably pretty slim. I'm just not that person. I didn't take a class, didn't write a 90-page business plan, didn't raise capital, and didn't do a whole lot of other things that maybe some other people do.
Which is actually pretty fantastic, because at the end of the day, I'm thinking this book exists to show women that you don't have to fit a mold to be a successful entreprenuer- you just need a good idea and decent work ethic.
You might learn a few other lessons, too.
But you'll have to get the book to find out!
Just your average Monday morning...did a little laundry, checked email, caught up on a few blogs, and OH HEY, I'M IN A BOOK!! It's called Single.Women.Entreprenuers and it's available on Amazon!
I'll back up.
Several months ago, I met the amazing Erin Albert by chance via another Indianapolis entreprenuer, Tiffany Benedict Berkson- friend, neighbor, entrepreneur and history guru- as they grabbed a cup at Starbucks.
As Erin was in the process of speaking with Tiffany about the book she was currently working on (single women entreprenuers) Tiffany shared with Erin that I'd spent the past few years working on my own business and was now self-employed.
Erin and I exchanged info, and several days later she contacted me about sitting for an interview for her book!
Needless to say, I said yes.
The premise of the book, I learned, was to profile successful women entreprenuers who had all been unmarried (single, widowed, divorced) at the time they began their own business and print the interviews they gave.
Despite the fact that I started dating Cute Boy about, oh, thirty seconds after quitting my job to pursue my business full-time, I was single at the time I started lilly lane, and single at the time I left my full-time job, so I qualified.
And was interviewed.
And got really excited about the book.
And then realized that a LOT of women in the book are passionate female entreprenuers with years of experience who can speak eloquently, forcefully, and factually about statistics, trends, and a myriad of other topics on why women are better entreprenuers than men and why single women make better entreprenuers and why women need to be considered authorities and a LOT OF OTHER STUFF THAT I DID NOT TALK ABOUT, because what I DID talk about was how I really liked flowers and didn't like fundraising and my dad started his own business and I was like hey, this seems cool, I think I'll go do this now with NO experience and NO training and NO real foresight, but hey, it worked!
So I'm a little bit worried that next to these other women, I'm going to sound a little different.
Which I'm OK with.
Because if I'm being honest, I DIDN'T have a ton of experience when I started my business. I hadn't, and still haven't, read eight thousand books about the subject. If this book had existed prior to my starting, the odds that I would have stumbled across it, purchased it and read it are probably pretty slim. I'm just not that person. I didn't take a class, didn't write a 90-page business plan, didn't raise capital, and didn't do a whole lot of other things that maybe some other people do.
Which is actually pretty fantastic, because at the end of the day, I'm thinking this book exists to show women that you don't have to fit a mold to be a successful entreprenuer- you just need a good idea and decent work ethic.
You might learn a few other lessons, too.
But you'll have to get the book to find out!
Friday, January 28, 2011
The Scene In Which I Have A Sparkly Ring On An Important Finger
That's right kids, Cute Boy and I are ENGAGED!!
This may not be big news to most of you- in fact, anyone who actually knows me already has heard the news, given that it happened on January 6th - but for the lurkers out there, you're in the loop!
Side note: I actually don't know if I have blog-lurkers or not. I mean, I'd like to think I'm all cool and awesome and there's people out there that have never met me but like to read my blog, sort of like I kind of blog-stalk follow people like the inspiring Angie over at Bring The Rain (please note, if you have never read her blog and decide you have an hour or two or four to read her story, I don't recommend you do it at work, because you will cry at your desk and have to go home early....just sayin'.) or Pioneer Woman, or people that are married to people that I knew in college but I've never met like Jessica, or of course the hilarious Ali at Cheaper Than Therapy, who, by the way, doesn't know it yet but is about to become my new best friend because we are both Midwestern girls marrying Canadians and she lives in Toronto and Cute Boy is FROM Toronto and we just got ENGAGED in Toronto and we walked around Yorkville where she talks about window-shopping at Anthropologie and WE saw Anthropologie and I was all like, OMG, any second now a woman in kick-ass cat-eye glasses is going to walk past me and I'm going to be like "OMG ALI!" and then we'll be best friends.
Which is probably why I didn't notice? as we were walking around Yorkville? that CUTE BOY WAS TRYING TO PROPOSE.
Oh yes.
Honestly, if you know me, you'll be shocked by the end of this post that I DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING.
To rewind a bit, we've been talking about getting engaged for awhile now, along with making all sorts of other fun plans about buying houses and keeping our foster dog forever (we hope) and eventually having some of those tiny humans that resemble us, and even picking out said sparkly ring things :)
Christmas passed with visits to both our families, and New Year's was spent with friends in Indy. Shortly after New Year's, we planned to make a trip to Toronto (our fourth in a year). With Younger Brother planning a short getaway at the same time as our vacation, the fabulous Princess and Finnigan needed a place to go for the week, and when my parents offered to take them, we said yes. Figuring out how we'd get them there (my folks live three hours away) Cute Boy volunteered to drop them off during a day trek to Chicago with a friend, ostensibly to buy skis for the friend.
Because GOODNESS KNOWS, there aren't skis to buy in Indy!!
And YES, I BOUGHT IT. Hook, line, and sinker. No questions asked about why they'd drive three hours to Chicago for skis, no inquiry when the trip only took about eight hours (not really that long to shop, by the time you include travel back-and-forth) and not even saying a word to the friend who was supposedly going with, because - get this- Cute Boy told me not to mention it in front of our other friends, and I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS WEIRD, AT ALL.
Looking back I think a tiny part of my brain registered that asking too many questions might ruin a surprise. Fortunately, this translated mentally into "Don't question it too much or YOU'LL be the one driving the dogs to Chicago!"
The part of my brain that told me not to question things? Is not typical. And did not come with us to Canada. But that's further along.
At any rate, we trek to Canada. We encounter our usual friendly welcome at the border (Canadians= thrilled to welcome you into their country. Americans= typically not thrilled to welcome you BACK into YOUR country. No joke.)
We drove through to Toronto, where Cute Boy dropped me off at the home of some of our friends, then left with three of his buddies to head to Buffalo for the World Junior Hockey Championship Game. And believe me when I say, this game is a BIG DEAL.
They didn't get back until after midnight and it was after 1 in the morning when we arrived at the condo of the friends we usually stay with in Toronto, so naturally, we slept in. Waking up on Thursday morning with everyone else at work for the day, Cute Boy proposed a lazy tourist day in Toronto- strolling through the streets up in Yorkville, walking down Yonge street, maybe heading over to Nathan Phillips Square to ice-skate at the public ice skating rink. Naturally, YES! was my answer to this.
And then we have a lovely day, folks. We window shopped, I kept an eagle-eye out for blogger Ali, we chatted, we held hands while wandering the streets, we stopped for snacks and drinks at a cute little pub, and Cute Boy even tolerated- nay encouraged! - a little browsing at a Yonge street boutique that I will absolutely need to revisit on a future trip, because seriously, the cuteness, and it was cheap. Like $8 sweater cheap.
So by the time we wound our way back to the city center and it was getting on towards 5 PM, we'd been walking for awhile and starting to think about heading home, and the amazing dinner we'd be having later at Pangea, a restaurant where one of Cute Boy's best friends works.
Or at least, I WAS STARTING TO THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS, and Cute Boy was still thinking about something else entirely.
As I'd discover later.
By the time we got to Nathan Phillips Square and the ice-skating I'd been excited about earlier in the day, I was a little over the idea. Skates were $10 or so per person to rent, and while it was absolutely adorable out there on the rink with the snow falling gently (I know, RIGHT?? ROMANTIC. RIDICULOUSLY ROMANTIC.) off to the side....well.....all the benches were snowy, and I'd just gotten new boots that day and I didn't want them to be full of snow, and there were no lockers, and we'd bought a couple things and I didn't want to leave the bags lying by the side of the rink and, well, I was trying to be nice to Cute Boy, who I know FOR A FACT based on previous attempts to go ice-skating does not actually like to attend these kinds of public-skate things, because he likes his hockey skates and he likes being on the ice during practice and he really doesn't care for public skate.
So I said we didn't have to skate.
And Cute Boy said it was fine.
But I said we really didn't and I didn't want to get my butt wet on the snow or have someone steal our packages.
And Cute Boy said he'd carry the packages.
And I said I didn't want him to do that because then he wouldn't be having any fun and I knew he wouldn't anyway and I didn't really want to skate for too long because I had to go home and shower for dinner.
And Cute Boy said fine.
And we left.
So ladies and gentlemen, let me state for the record: I AM A TOTAL SUCK, and ruined what might possibly have been the most adorable proposal in history, on the center of the ice in the lightly fallen snow in Toronto with my Canadian ice-skate loving fiancee.
BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO GET MY BUTT WET AND COLD.
Can I just tell you, readers, how much I really really really really really really wish I had never known "The Plan" was to propose on the ice?? Devastating. Still.
But things happen for a reason, and as we headed away from public skate sans diamond ring, bought hot chocolates and strolled towards home instead, I had no idea that I'd come thisclose to getting engaged just a second before.
Back at the condo I got ready for dinner while Cute Boy hung out with his friend. I packed a bag, because we were planning to drive over to Cute Boy's aunt's house that night and spend the night there (yes, on a Thursday night, and yes, we'd be arriving around 11, and YES, I did actually question the plausibility of this story, but was told to "just GO WITH IT!" so I did, thankfully.) and we headed out to find a place to have a drink before our dinner.
Only, as you might have guessed, we weren't spending the night at Cute Boy's aunt's. Instead, he pulled up at the lovely Sutton Place Hotel, said, "Surprise!" and got out of the car.
AND THAT'S WHEN MY BRAIN REALIZED THE WHOLE DAY WAS LEADING UP TO GETTING ENGAGED.
I frantically tried to shrug the thought back, because if I was wrong, I was going to be severely disappointed and not enjoy the lovely romantic evening he had planned with a hotel and a fantastic dinner. So I casually inquired if we should "bring our bags up to the room before we head out??" trying to suss if there was a surprise within.
"Oh, yeah, we can do that if you want," he said.
We got to the room.
"Nice," he commented. "What's the view like?"
"Looks nice!" I said. "There's a balcony!" (More sussing.)
"Cool. I'm going to the bathroom." he replied.
But the balcony wouldn't unlock, so instead I unpacked some things from my bag. When Cute Boy came out of the bathroom, he asked about the view and then- strangely- freaking attacked the balcony door until he wrenched it open.
It's entirely possible he broke the lock.
Regardless, we went out on the balcony to look at the city view in the night lights with the snow falling and it was INCREDIBLY lovely and, well....you can guess what happened next....the trip to the bathroom was actually to fish my ring out of its hiding place in his wallet, and my adorable man proposed right there on the balcony!
And then I starting giggling.
And then I started crying.
And then I started hugging him.
And then two minutes went by.
And then he inquired as to whether or not I wanted to give him a yes anytime soon.
Oh, yeah.
That "saying yes" thing.
I forgot to do that.
So I did.
And THAT, my dears, is the very long story of how Cute Boy and I got engaged, and a little snapshot of what the poor man is going to have to put up with from me, aka "The Woman Who Questions Everything," for the rest of his life.
I'm really lucky he loves that about me.
Most of the time, anyway.
This may not be big news to most of you- in fact, anyone who actually knows me already has heard the news, given that it happened on January 6th - but for the lurkers out there, you're in the loop!
Side note: I actually don't know if I have blog-lurkers or not. I mean, I'd like to think I'm all cool and awesome and there's people out there that have never met me but like to read my blog, sort of like I kind of blog-
Which is probably why I didn't notice? as we were walking around Yorkville? that CUTE BOY WAS TRYING TO PROPOSE.
Oh yes.
Honestly, if you know me, you'll be shocked by the end of this post that I DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING.
To rewind a bit, we've been talking about getting engaged for awhile now, along with making all sorts of other fun plans about buying houses and keeping our foster dog forever (we hope) and eventually having some of those tiny humans that resemble us, and even picking out said sparkly ring things :)
Christmas passed with visits to both our families, and New Year's was spent with friends in Indy. Shortly after New Year's, we planned to make a trip to Toronto (our fourth in a year). With Younger Brother planning a short getaway at the same time as our vacation, the fabulous Princess and Finnigan needed a place to go for the week, and when my parents offered to take them, we said yes. Figuring out how we'd get them there (my folks live three hours away) Cute Boy volunteered to drop them off during a day trek to Chicago with a friend, ostensibly to buy skis for the friend.
Because GOODNESS KNOWS, there aren't skis to buy in Indy!!
And YES, I BOUGHT IT. Hook, line, and sinker. No questions asked about why they'd drive three hours to Chicago for skis, no inquiry when the trip only took about eight hours (not really that long to shop, by the time you include travel back-and-forth) and not even saying a word to the friend who was supposedly going with, because - get this- Cute Boy told me not to mention it in front of our other friends, and I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS WEIRD, AT ALL.
Looking back I think a tiny part of my brain registered that asking too many questions might ruin a surprise. Fortunately, this translated mentally into "Don't question it too much or YOU'LL be the one driving the dogs to Chicago!"
The part of my brain that told me not to question things? Is not typical. And did not come with us to Canada. But that's further along.
At any rate, we trek to Canada. We encounter our usual friendly welcome at the border (Canadians= thrilled to welcome you into their country. Americans= typically not thrilled to welcome you BACK into YOUR country. No joke.)
We drove through to Toronto, where Cute Boy dropped me off at the home of some of our friends, then left with three of his buddies to head to Buffalo for the World Junior Hockey Championship Game. And believe me when I say, this game is a BIG DEAL.
They didn't get back until after midnight and it was after 1 in the morning when we arrived at the condo of the friends we usually stay with in Toronto, so naturally, we slept in. Waking up on Thursday morning with everyone else at work for the day, Cute Boy proposed a lazy tourist day in Toronto- strolling through the streets up in Yorkville, walking down Yonge street, maybe heading over to Nathan Phillips Square to ice-skate at the public ice skating rink. Naturally, YES! was my answer to this.
And then we have a lovely day, folks. We window shopped, I kept an eagle-eye out for blogger Ali, we chatted, we held hands while wandering the streets, we stopped for snacks and drinks at a cute little pub, and Cute Boy even tolerated- nay encouraged! - a little browsing at a Yonge street boutique that I will absolutely need to revisit on a future trip, because seriously, the cuteness, and it was cheap. Like $8 sweater cheap.
So by the time we wound our way back to the city center and it was getting on towards 5 PM, we'd been walking for awhile and starting to think about heading home, and the amazing dinner we'd be having later at Pangea, a restaurant where one of Cute Boy's best friends works.
Or at least, I WAS STARTING TO THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS, and Cute Boy was still thinking about something else entirely.
As I'd discover later.
By the time we got to Nathan Phillips Square and the ice-skating I'd been excited about earlier in the day, I was a little over the idea. Skates were $10 or so per person to rent, and while it was absolutely adorable out there on the rink with the snow falling gently (I know, RIGHT?? ROMANTIC. RIDICULOUSLY ROMANTIC.) off to the side....well.....all the benches were snowy, and I'd just gotten new boots that day and I didn't want them to be full of snow, and there were no lockers, and we'd bought a couple things and I didn't want to leave the bags lying by the side of the rink and, well, I was trying to be nice to Cute Boy, who I know FOR A FACT based on previous attempts to go ice-skating does not actually like to attend these kinds of public-skate things, because he likes his hockey skates and he likes being on the ice during practice and he really doesn't care for public skate.
So I said we didn't have to skate.
And Cute Boy said it was fine.
But I said we really didn't and I didn't want to get my butt wet on the snow or have someone steal our packages.
And Cute Boy said he'd carry the packages.
And I said I didn't want him to do that because then he wouldn't be having any fun and I knew he wouldn't anyway and I didn't really want to skate for too long because I had to go home and shower for dinner.
And Cute Boy said fine.
And we left.
So ladies and gentlemen, let me state for the record: I AM A TOTAL SUCK, and ruined what might possibly have been the most adorable proposal in history, on the center of the ice in the lightly fallen snow in Toronto with my Canadian ice-skate loving fiancee.
BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO GET MY BUTT WET AND COLD.
Can I just tell you, readers, how much I really really really really really really wish I had never known "The Plan" was to propose on the ice?? Devastating. Still.
But things happen for a reason, and as we headed away from public skate sans diamond ring, bought hot chocolates and strolled towards home instead, I had no idea that I'd come thisclose to getting engaged just a second before.
Back at the condo I got ready for dinner while Cute Boy hung out with his friend. I packed a bag, because we were planning to drive over to Cute Boy's aunt's house that night and spend the night there (yes, on a Thursday night, and yes, we'd be arriving around 11, and YES, I did actually question the plausibility of this story, but was told to "just GO WITH IT!" so I did, thankfully.) and we headed out to find a place to have a drink before our dinner.
Only, as you might have guessed, we weren't spending the night at Cute Boy's aunt's. Instead, he pulled up at the lovely Sutton Place Hotel, said, "Surprise!" and got out of the car.
AND THAT'S WHEN MY BRAIN REALIZED THE WHOLE DAY WAS LEADING UP TO GETTING ENGAGED.
I frantically tried to shrug the thought back, because if I was wrong, I was going to be severely disappointed and not enjoy the lovely romantic evening he had planned with a hotel and a fantastic dinner. So I casually inquired if we should "bring our bags up to the room before we head out??" trying to suss if there was a surprise within.
"Oh, yeah, we can do that if you want," he said.
We got to the room.
"Nice," he commented. "What's the view like?"
"Looks nice!" I said. "There's a balcony!" (More sussing.)
"Cool. I'm going to the bathroom." he replied.
But the balcony wouldn't unlock, so instead I unpacked some things from my bag. When Cute Boy came out of the bathroom, he asked about the view and then- strangely- freaking attacked the balcony door until he wrenched it open.
It's entirely possible he broke the lock.
Regardless, we went out on the balcony to look at the city view in the night lights with the snow falling and it was INCREDIBLY lovely and, well....you can guess what happened next....the trip to the bathroom was actually to fish my ring out of its hiding place in his wallet, and my adorable man proposed right there on the balcony!
And then I starting giggling.
And then I started crying.
And then I started hugging him.
And then two minutes went by.
And then he inquired as to whether or not I wanted to give him a yes anytime soon.
Oh, yeah.
That "saying yes" thing.
I forgot to do that.
So I did.
And THAT, my dears, is the very long story of how Cute Boy and I got engaged, and a little snapshot of what the poor man is going to have to put up with from me, aka "The Woman Who Questions Everything," for the rest of his life.
I'm really lucky he loves that about me.
Most of the time, anyway.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Scene In Which, If I Tweeted, Today Would Look Something Like This
When Twitter first became popular, I started and briefly tweeted under my corporate name.
Then I realized I liked making flowers much more than I liked tweeting about them.
Plus it wasn't easy to do, because I don't have a smartphone, because, ummmm........I break nice things.
But today, if I tweeted, would look like this (and yes, I know these are more than 140 characters. Deal. #perfectionist):
Dear makers of doggy "doody" meds: something about the medication to make the Fab Finn stop pooping is making him throw up. #thanks side effects
Dear moms of Indy: Just drove past a dad pulling his twin toddler daughters around in the snow with a rope attached to those "silly saucer" activity seats. #genius #parenting FTW #not recommended use
Dear driver of large van: yes, we are playing chicken due to the unplowed side streets, however, turning left directly in front of someone else is still not allowed #rules of the road #moments of douchery #snowplow fail
Dear week: you have missed the memo regarding vacation and general ability for laid-back-edness. Also, please add at least ten hours to yourself tomorrow. #back to work
Dear patrons of 4-way-stop-signs: here's how it works. The firstperson who stops is the first person who goes. I totally acknowledge that you've safely stopped and counted to one-onethousand two-onethousand three-onethousand, however, it is still the other person's turn first if they were there first. #rules of the road
Dear unnanamed Mass Ave restaurant: no matter how good they taste, brownies are not made from vanilla cake mix and I remain a teensy bit disappointed #dessert fail
Dear Cute Boy: I can't wait for our date tomorrow night to see Wicked. I <3 you! #oh the cuteness
Then I realized I liked making flowers much more than I liked tweeting about them.
Plus it wasn't easy to do, because I don't have a smartphone, because, ummmm........I break nice things.
But today, if I tweeted, would look like this (and yes, I know these are more than 140 characters. Deal. #perfectionist):
Dear makers of doggy "doody" meds: something about the medication to make the Fab Finn stop pooping is making him throw up. #thanks side effects
Dear moms of Indy: Just drove past a dad pulling his twin toddler daughters around in the snow with a rope attached to those "silly saucer" activity seats. #genius #parenting FTW #not recommended use
Dear driver of large van: yes, we are playing chicken due to the unplowed side streets, however, turning left directly in front of someone else is still not allowed #rules of the road #moments of douchery #snowplow fail
Dear week: you have missed the memo regarding vacation and general ability for laid-back-edness. Also, please add at least ten hours to yourself tomorrow. #back to work
Dear patrons of 4-way-stop-signs: here's how it works. The firstperson who stops is the first person who goes. I totally acknowledge that you've safely stopped and counted to one-onethousand two-onethousand three-onethousand, however, it is still the other person's turn first if they were there first. #rules of the road
Dear unnanamed Mass Ave restaurant: no matter how good they taste, brownies are not made from vanilla cake mix and I remain a teensy bit disappointed #dessert fail
Dear Cute Boy: I can't wait for our date tomorrow night to see Wicked. I <3 you! #oh the cuteness
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Scene In Which I -Heart- Canada.
We're back! (And by back I mean REALLY back....because I forgot to post this last week after saving it!)
Thanks to the falling of 4th of July over a weekend this year (read: no weddings for Becky, extra vacation days for Cute Boy) we were able to take off for a vacation to Canada, where Cute Boy hails from.
And I -heart- Canada.
We stopped in Detroit for an evening to see my cousin, her husband, and her two cuties B & E. Speaking of things I heart? Those kids.
In preparation for our trip, I'd gone to Nuture to pick out baby gifts for her two kiddos, as well as two little girls we'd be visiting in Canada.
Because I don't have kids, I kind of forgot that clothes aren't the most exciting gifts to recieve when you're 3....especially when you're a boy.
After recovering from the nearly-tearful letdown, we managed to scarf some yummy pancakes together before Cute Boy and I headed out to drive the rest of the way to Toronto.
Apparently in Canada they celebrate this wacky thing called Canada Day. It's three days before our Independence Day and basically celebrates the same thing with the lighting of lots of fireworks.
Which, since you asked, we got to watch from the 23rd floor patio of Cute Boy's good friends who dwell in downtown Toronto. Heart their condo. Heart their friendship.
Speaking of things I heart, small-towns-that-you-can-nearly-miss rank right up there in fondness for vacation places, so I was pretty happy the next day when we hit the St. Lawrence Market for some excellent provisions, loaded up the car, and headed up to Apsley, a blink-and-ya-missed-it town northeast of Toronto.
Anyplace with driving directions that include "when you get off the highway, keep going until you turn at the Coffee Time" is pretty much awesome with me.
We spent a yummy weekend basking in the sun and lake at Cute Boy's aunt's cottage, hanging out with several of his uncles and five of his teen-ish aged boy cousins. Heart. Heart them tons. Had a blast getting to be surrounded by all that energy all weekend. (Seriously? These kids have endless energy.Possibly fueled by their ability to ingest entire refridgerators worth of food in single gulps.)
Beyond boating, breaking tubes (ahem...ask Cute Boy about that), and grilling lots of yummy things to eat, we also achieved such milestones as 1)learning how to turn on water 2)learning how to start a boat 3)learning how to lock and unlock doors.
It was a big weekend.
Heading back on Monday, we chilled in Toronto another night before heading out to the 'burbs to "Nine & Dine" (golf & eat) with friends there and stay with Cute Boy's uncle and aunt for the night. Because we're awesome like that, it was the hottest day of the year in Toronto. Great day to golf :)
All in all, an awesome vacation!! Thanks everyone who hosted us!!
Thanks to the falling of 4th of July over a weekend this year (read: no weddings for Becky, extra vacation days for Cute Boy) we were able to take off for a vacation to Canada, where Cute Boy hails from.
And I -heart- Canada.
We stopped in Detroit for an evening to see my cousin, her husband, and her two cuties B & E. Speaking of things I heart? Those kids.
In preparation for our trip, I'd gone to Nuture to pick out baby gifts for her two kiddos, as well as two little girls we'd be visiting in Canada.
Because I don't have kids, I kind of forgot that clothes aren't the most exciting gifts to recieve when you're 3....especially when you're a boy.
After recovering from the nearly-tearful letdown, we managed to scarf some yummy pancakes together before Cute Boy and I headed out to drive the rest of the way to Toronto.
Apparently in Canada they celebrate this wacky thing called Canada Day. It's three days before our Independence Day and basically celebrates the same thing with the lighting of lots of fireworks.
Which, since you asked, we got to watch from the 23rd floor patio of Cute Boy's good friends who dwell in downtown Toronto. Heart their condo. Heart their friendship.
Speaking of things I heart, small-towns-that-you-can-nearly-miss rank right up there in fondness for vacation places, so I was pretty happy the next day when we hit the St. Lawrence Market for some excellent provisions, loaded up the car, and headed up to Apsley, a blink-and-ya-missed-it town northeast of Toronto.
Anyplace with driving directions that include "when you get off the highway, keep going until you turn at the Coffee Time" is pretty much awesome with me.
We spent a yummy weekend basking in the sun and lake at Cute Boy's aunt's cottage, hanging out with several of his uncles and five of his teen-ish aged boy cousins. Heart. Heart them tons. Had a blast getting to be surrounded by all that energy all weekend. (Seriously? These kids have endless energy.Possibly fueled by their ability to ingest entire refridgerators worth of food in single gulps.)
Beyond boating, breaking tubes (ahem...ask Cute Boy about that), and grilling lots of yummy things to eat, we also achieved such milestones as 1)learning how to turn on water 2)learning how to start a boat 3)learning how to lock and unlock doors.
It was a big weekend.
Heading back on Monday, we chilled in Toronto another night before heading out to the 'burbs to "Nine & Dine" (golf & eat) with friends there and stay with Cute Boy's uncle and aunt for the night. Because we're awesome like that, it was the hottest day of the year in Toronto. Great day to golf :)
All in all, an awesome vacation!! Thanks everyone who hosted us!!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Scene In Which We Have A Perfect Day (And Then Lose Some Brain Cells) And Other Random Things.
Today was a lovely day!
Following somedrunken debauchery fun times at a wedding last night, Cute Boy was feeling a bit rough this morning. Having enjoyed myself as well - on top of delivering two events and setting up a wedding that morning - I was a little slow on the upstart too.
(Random side story? I did NOT have sore feet, because at the wedding last night, they had awesome baskets full of flip-flops for all the girls to change into! BEST IDEA EVER!)
Back to the morning.
First off, I slept in.
Which means "later than 7AM."
It was awesome.
Then I made amazing french toast with the world's best cinnamon bread and we crashed on the sofa, tuning into and then (wait for it) actually watching the entire "Amy Fisher: My Story."
I blame french toast coma.
At any rate, around hour 3 of laying on the couch I started to feel like I was in danger of my ass becoming permanently glued to the seat, so I dragged Cute Boy up and we headed to Holiday Park for a walk with Finn, who, ohmygodLOVED running in and out of the river.
And then we came home and turned on - wait for it - The MTV movie awards.
And for the past hour have been watching and listening to such brainiacs as Nicole "Snooki" from Jersey Shores (who, when outside on the red carpet, presented an award prior to the show and then looked behind her for the celebs to appear to collect it ROTFLMAO) and Kristin Stewart, who is really excited about winning her award "I guess."
I really, really, really do not want to watch Jersey Shores in Miami this summer, but I have a sinking feeling I'm going to wind up hooked.....if only so I can see it if that crazy short girl gets punched again. Who's with me???
Following some
(Random side story? I did NOT have sore feet, because at the wedding last night, they had awesome baskets full of flip-flops for all the girls to change into! BEST IDEA EVER!)
Back to the morning.
First off, I slept in.
Which means "later than 7AM."
It was awesome.
Then I made amazing french toast with the world's best cinnamon bread and we crashed on the sofa, tuning into and then (wait for it) actually watching the entire "Amy Fisher: My Story."
I blame french toast coma.
At any rate, around hour 3 of laying on the couch I started to feel like I was in danger of my ass becoming permanently glued to the seat, so I dragged Cute Boy up and we headed to Holiday Park for a walk with Finn, who, ohmygodLOVED running in and out of the river.
(This exists!! In INDIANAPOLIS!! Doesn't it make you think of strolling around in European parks?? Love.)
(On the pillars at Holliday Park - my new favorite quote!)
(Finnigan is so stinkin' cute!!)
We met up with Cute Boy's sister and her pup Olly and then had a looooong late lunch at Plump's in Broad Ripple, which BTW? two thumbs up on the wraps.
And then we came home and turned on - wait for it - The MTV movie awards.
And for the past hour have been watching and listening to such brainiacs as Nicole "Snooki" from Jersey Shores (who, when outside on the red carpet, presented an award prior to the show and then looked behind her for the celebs to appear to collect it ROTFLMAO) and Kristin Stewart, who is really excited about winning her award "I guess."
I really, really, really do not want to watch Jersey Shores in Miami this summer, but I have a sinking feeling I'm going to wind up hooked.....if only so I can see it if that crazy short girl gets punched again. Who's with me???
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Scene In Which I Can See The Future, And It's Covered In Vomit
When I was a kid, my mom was the one who took care of us when we were sick. My dad might help out, but when the chips were down (or, er, coming up) in the middle of the night, it was Mom who got out of bed and dealt with the puker.
Family lore tells the story of the time my brother got ridiculously ill - and failed to "aim" correctly. For several hours Mom changed sheets, cleaned the bathroom, and otherwise dealt with the contents of Younger Brother's stomach. When my dad woke up at 6:30 AM to get ready for work, he surveyed the cleaning supplies, sniffed the air, and inquired casually, "One of the kids get sick last night?"
Today, I got a glimpse of the puke-future.
I was putting on makeup and getting ready for a morning meeting when Cute Boy came into the bathroom.
"I think the dog threw up," he announced.
I paused.
"You think he threw up, or he threw up?"
"Well, I mean he threw up kind of."
Finnigan does this thing where he gets coughing attacks and kind of spits up, so I inquired, "Was it spit, or actual puke?"
"It was mostly actual puke. I think."
...........
"Ohhhhhkay......thanks?"
"Yep. I'm going to go now," he said. "Bye!"
"Ok, I'm going to clean it up. Where is it?"
"At the end of the bed."
"ON THE BED?"
"No, on the floor."
"Ok, thanks babe."
I have seen -and cleaned- the future. And while there are no babies imminent for Cute Boy and I (we're kind of enjoying that thing called "dating" right now, thanks)I do plan on having them someday, and I do assume that at some point they will puke.
And now I know whose job that will be.
Family lore tells the story of the time my brother got ridiculously ill - and failed to "aim" correctly. For several hours Mom changed sheets, cleaned the bathroom, and otherwise dealt with the contents of Younger Brother's stomach. When my dad woke up at 6:30 AM to get ready for work, he surveyed the cleaning supplies, sniffed the air, and inquired casually, "One of the kids get sick last night?"
Today, I got a glimpse of the puke-future.
I was putting on makeup and getting ready for a morning meeting when Cute Boy came into the bathroom.
"I think the dog threw up," he announced.
I paused.
"You think he threw up, or he threw up?"
"Well, I mean he threw up kind of."
Finnigan does this thing where he gets coughing attacks and kind of spits up, so I inquired, "Was it spit, or actual puke?"
"It was mostly actual puke. I think."
...........
"Ohhhhhkay......thanks?"
"Yep. I'm going to go now," he said. "Bye!"
"Ok, I'm going to clean it up. Where is it?"
"At the end of the bed."
"ON THE BED?"
"No, on the floor."
"Ok, thanks babe."
I have seen -and cleaned- the future. And while there are no babies imminent for Cute Boy and I (we're kind of enjoying that thing called "dating" right now, thanks)I do plan on having them someday, and I do assume that at some point they will puke.
And now I know whose job that will be.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Scene In Which It's Just A Snowy Saturday
There's probably a more clever way to start a post about snow than "It snowed in Indy last night," but despite waiting for one to come to me, it hasn't happened. Yet.
So.
It snowed in Indy last night.
As far as Midwestern snow storms go, it wasn't a bad one. We got about 9,000 feet or approximately 8 inches, depending on who you hear it from. A couple cars probably slid off the road somewhere (but those were undoubtedly manned by out-of-state drivers, 'cause Hoosiers are accustomed to driving in snow given that it happens every year here).
I am fortunate enough to live on a street used as a main thoroughfare for people who live in Carmel, Fishers, Geist, and other NE Indy neighborhoods to get home from down
town, so -dictated largely by the fact that if any of those cute commuters had to find an alternate way home through big, bad downtown Indy they'd freak - my street is often one of the first plowed in the city. True, the plows coming through often mean that I then have to scrape four layers of gunk off my car, but hey, it's also the one time each year that the drivers on Delaware actually observe and, even (gasp!) OBEY the 35mph speed limit, so my odds of "death by driveby" as I try to scrape out my car are lessened. WIN!
So driving, and street plowing, are not my major beefs with this particular snowstorm, you see.
Shoveling, however, is.
There's a perfect storm of things happening here, you see.
First and foremost, I pre-emptively shoveled a path last night. Frickin' guaranteeing that I'd be laughed at by Mother Nature.
Secondly, I really, really, REALLY wanted to get snowed in today. I wanted to be stuck at home with my pjs, my dog, my seven channels of HBO, the awesome purple yarn I am making someone (myself, maybe) a funky criss-cross scarf out of and the awesome multicolored yard from Mom that I am making someone (someone else, but I don't know who yet) a skinny pompom scarf out of, and have everything else in my life be cancelled.
Third, both Younger Brother and Cute Boy are out of town this weekend, leaving me to handle the transferring of 8 inches of slush-and-snow off the walkways by myself (not that it would be different if they were here, because Cute Boy has his own house to worry about and Younger Brother tends to be oblivious to these kinds of homeownership chores, but dang it, you KNEW we'd get more snow when I was alone to handle it!)
So you see, it wasn't a massive surprise to wake up this morning and find that of the 7 inches dumped on and around my house, about an inch had felt compelled to stick to the pathetic brown blades of grass sticking up out of my lawn, and the rest had drifted sideways to coat my steps and walkway in anywhere from 4- 24 inches of snow.
Super.
There's really not much more to the story other than I'd like some credit for hauling my butt out there and shoveling a decent path through the mess, especially knowing that Cute Boy is out of town and unable to give me a backrub for
the next few days because HOLY HECK, shoveling snow makes me feel like I'm 85 years old.
Seeing Finnigan play in the snow makes it better though, because seriously, that dog is adorable. You would think that a blind dog would hate the snow for covering up all his scent markers, but HE. LOVES. IT. He loves it SO. MUCH. I wish I had a video to show you all how he runs back and forth and play-bows to the snow like it's going to move and play with him. Adorable.
In other news, I dreamt about baking last night, which I think is a sign I'll have to stop later and pick up some cupcake mix and icing - that is, if the frantic "Run On The Grocery Stores" last night hasn't thoroughly depleted the supply in Indianapolis....because you just know that everyone and their mother ran out to stock up their cabinets last night on the extremely unlikely odds that Indianapolis (say it with me: a city that gets snow EVERY year) would be blanketed in such an inexplicable amount that it would render us incapable of functioning.
(I almost went into a "years later, the discoverers would find the lost city of Indianapolis under the tundra" Pompeii-esque narrative here, but decided not to as that was really the only funny line I could come up with besides "sadly, the lack of hand-held can openers would spell the demise of the residents and their supply of canned goods after the power went out.")
I think I need to call an end to this post while I still can- after all, I've got to head back out in this snow soon! Hope you are having a wonderful Saturday.
So.
It snowed in Indy last night.
As far as Midwestern snow storms go, it wasn't a bad one. We got about 9,000 feet or approximately 8 inches, depending on who you hear it from. A couple cars probably slid off the road somewhere (but those were undoubtedly manned by out-of-state drivers, 'cause Hoosiers are accustomed to driving in snow given that it happens every year here).
I am fortunate enough to live on a street used as a main thoroughfare for people who live in Carmel, Fishers, Geist, and other NE Indy neighborhoods to get home from down
town, so -dictated largely by the fact that if any of those cute commuters had to find an alternate way home through big, bad downtown Indy they'd freak - my street is often one of the first plowed in the city. True, the plows coming through often mean that I then have to scrape four layers of gunk off my car, but hey, it's also the one time each year that the drivers on Delaware actually observe and, even (gasp!) OBEY the 35mph speed limit, so my odds of "death by driveby" as I try to scrape out my car are lessened. WIN!So driving, and street plowing, are not my major beefs with this particular snowstorm, you see.
Shoveling, however, is.
There's a perfect storm of things happening here, you see.
First and foremost, I pre-emptively shoveled a path last night. Frickin' guaranteeing that I'd be laughed at by Mother Nature.
Secondly, I really, really, REALLY wanted to get snowed in today. I wanted to be stuck at home with my pjs, my dog, my seven channels of HBO, the awesome purple yarn I am making someone (myself, maybe) a funky criss-cross scarf out of and the awesome multicolored yard from Mom that I am making someone (someone else, but I don't know who yet) a skinny pompom scarf out of, and have everything else in my life be cancelled.
Third, both Younger Brother and Cute Boy are out of town this weekend, leaving me to handle the transferring of 8 inches of slush-and-snow off the walkways by myself (not that it would be different if they were here, because Cute Boy has his own house to worry about and Younger Brother tends to be oblivious to these kinds of homeownership chores, but dang it, you KNEW we'd get more snow when I was alone to handle it!)
So you see, it wasn't a massive surprise to wake up this morning and find that of the 7 inches dumped on and around my house, about an inch had felt compelled to stick to the pathetic brown blades of grass sticking up out of my lawn, and the rest had drifted sideways to coat my steps and walkway in anywhere from 4- 24 inches of snow.
Super.
There's really not much more to the story other than I'd like some credit for hauling my butt out there and shoveling a decent path through the mess, especially knowing that Cute Boy is out of town and unable to give me a backrub for
the next few days because HOLY HECK, shoveling snow makes me feel like I'm 85 years old.Seeing Finnigan play in the snow makes it better though, because seriously, that dog is adorable. You would think that a blind dog would hate the snow for covering up all his scent markers, but HE. LOVES. IT. He loves it SO. MUCH. I wish I had a video to show you all how he runs back and forth and play-bows to the snow like it's going to move and play with him. Adorable.
In other news, I dreamt about baking last night, which I think is a sign I'll have to stop later and pick up some cupcake mix and icing - that is, if the frantic "Run On The Grocery Stores" last night hasn't thoroughly depleted the supply in Indianapolis....because you just know that everyone and their mother ran out to stock up their cabinets last night on the extremely unlikely odds that Indianapolis (say it with me: a city that gets snow EVERY year) would be blanketed in such an inexplicable amount that it would render us incapable of functioning.
(I almost went into a "years later, the discoverers would find the lost city of Indianapolis under the tundra" Pompeii-esque narrative here, but decided not to as that was really the only funny line I could come up with besides "sadly, the lack of hand-held can openers would spell the demise of the residents and their supply of canned goods after the power went out.")
I think I need to call an end to this post while I still can- after all, I've got to head back out in this snow soon! Hope you are having a wonderful Saturday.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Scene In Which I Go Skiing and Other Winter Tales
Last week, Cute Boy had MLK, Jr. day off from work and decided it was time to do something fun.
Now, remember, Cute Boy is Canadian, so naturally his idea of fun is to throw on a significant amount of clothing and go do something weird in freezing cold conditions, like run around on ice with blades attached to your boots while you attempt to maim your fellow man with large blocks of rubber propelled by sticks and the occasional punch to the groin, nose or head- i.e.; hockey.
My idea of fun usually involves less cold and/or violence, but because I've been working on this "trying new things" thing, we decided to go skiing.
Or rather, we decided that Cute Boy would go skiing, and I would attempt to learn how to go skiing.
Cute Boy's sister decided to come along for the ride, namely because she was at risk of her Canadian citizenship being revoked as she hadn't been skiing in a number of years.
We donned (or, you know, stopped to purchase and THEN donned) our respective layers of ski clothes. In my case, I was looking to fill two objectives: 1)Insulation; 2)Padding. Therefore my clothing of choice included knee-high socks, padded hiking winter socks, hot pink long underwear leggings, sweatpants, waterproof ski pants, a patagonia level-3 shirt, a thin-cotton turtleneck, a thick-cotton turtleneck, my down coat, a hat, and fingerless mittens to wear under ski gloves borrowed from Cute Boy.
Remember that scene from "A Christmas Story" where the kid gets all bundled up by his mom and then starts freaking out and she unwraps the muffler and he goes, "I can't put my arms down!" and she tells him to put his arms down when he gets to school and wraps him back up?
Yeah.
We arrived at Perfect North, rented our equipment, and suited up in a reasonable amount of time, considering it was difficult for me to tell the difference between a right boot and a left boot, not to mention requiring a lesson in both putting on skis and putting on your other ski glove when you've already got one on.
Then we hit the slopes.
Or rather, the bunny slope.
Despite the sign warning "Friends don't let friends teach them how to ski," I was fairly confident in Cute Boy's ability to teach me the basics- my only concern was how quickly he'd become frustrated with my frequently anticipated falls.
I'll spare you the story of my three successful runs down theridiculously steep sheet of ice they called a run gently sloping bunny hill, except to say that there were waaaay too many people on it for the fact that most people there don't know how to ski yet and seriously? I do not like being passed by 5-year olds.
Following the bunny hills we ventured to a higher start point on the bunny hill, and after one run of that, Cute Boy and Cute Boy Sister decided I was ready to go up on a lift.
Ummmmm, I'm not sure about this......
We went up the lift.
To everyone's surprise, especially mine, I was halfway decent at skiing! The hill we cho
se was fairly gentle and sloping, and my first "real run" was a success, despite one or two falls. Basically, I was having trouble turning on my left side, and would panic when I couldn't turn as fast as I wanted to. With the option of slowing down via tree or slowing down via snow skid, I was opting for the snow skids and sort of "control falling" as I worked on learning to stop.
Whatever, they're MY falls and I'll justify them any way I want.
After a couple runs down the nice hill, CB and CBS decided I was ready for my next challenge- another hill that was "just a liiiiittle bit steeper." What the heck! I was ready!
I was not ready.
I SOOOO was not ready.
To give you an idea of how not ready I was, the hill consisted of two parts: first, a steeper hill that ran about 50 yards or so before depositing you on a plateau, after which you went down the larger, slightly less steep hill.
Number of falls on the first part? At least three.
I should have learned my lesson from that much but noooooo, I tackled the run.
It wasn't pretty.
I was laughing/crying/trying not to die too much to remember all the details, but I'm pretty sure I fell at least twice in less than 5 feet, I think several other skiiers nearly ran me down, I know that on several occasions Cute Boy had to stand in front of me to help me get up, and I think my finest moment was somewhere around halfway down when I sat down in the snow after a fall, threw my poles about a foot in either direction, and announced to everyone within 50 yards that I was NOT. HAVING. FUN. ANYMORE.
I'm not sure how we fina
lly made it down, but it was at this point that I wanted/needed/demanded a break, so while CB and CBS went on a few more runs, I headed into the lodge for a simultaneous cool-down and warm-up.
I'm pleased to say that after regrouping, I did put my skis back on and head back out for a few more runs (though no more down the Hill O'Death.) Sadly, I missed accomplishing my goal of skiing an entire run without falling by the narrowest of margins and by the misfortune of winding up skiing next to some shithead 16-year old kid who wouldn't get off my butt and let me do my "swishy S's" across the run and sent me plunging into my last fall of the day (punk).
At least I left with my pride....if not a bruise on my butt that would stay with me for a week or so afterwards. But despite the number of falls I took, I'm actually looking forward to going again!!
Little did we know that skiing day would lead to a most pleasant run of January weather, during which even I (aka the coldest person on the face of Earth) ventured outdoors in just a sweater and scarf. Sadly, this weather came to a screeching halt two days ago, and despite the fact that I enjoyed the gorgeous sun today, HOLY MOTHER it is cold out there. Poor Finnigan froze his paws three times on our requisite "walk" around the block- which today was more like a sprint, given that it was one of those days where your snot kinda freezes in your nose when you breathe.
Have I mentioned we booked our tickets for Florida in March yet? We did. I can't freaking wait.
Have I mentioned that we went to Toronto over New Year's? We did. It was awesome. I had the best time seeing the sites, drinking Tim Horton's, and hanging out with some of Cute Boy's friends and I am really really looking forward to going back in the summer when it isn't 4 degrees out.
We also spent a hilarious night with some friends last weekend where I continued the "trying things that I don't think I'll be good at and thereby don't try so I won't be embarrassed" trend, by playing both Sing Star and Wii Bowling and OH MY GOODNESS, I love me some Sing Star and some Wii Bowling. I am already pumped for a rematch of Sing Star with some of the girls and can't wait until Cute Boy wants to play Wii Bowling with me.
In other winter tales, I have been asked to participate in the "Super Knits for Super Bowl" project, in which myself and other Indianapolis-based knitters will be making nearly 8,000 blue-and-white scarves for 2010 Super Bowl Volunteers to wear while they help out with the big event! I'll keep you posted on my scarves and how they turn out......that is, of course, if the NFL doesn't wind up with a lockout season. Apparently we're in danger of that (though this could have been resolved since Cute Boy told me about it last week- since let's be honest, I would be clueless if he hadn't explained it.)
And in final winter news, I've spent several of these cold dark days looking at studio spaces for my home business to be, well, not a home business in anymore! Yes, fans, the dream has come true and we are officially calling the experiment of quitting my job to do "this flower thing" a success. Keep checking back for more info when I find a space- I'm sure there will be lots of fun opportunities for me to battle inanimate objects as I work to paint, build, move and otherwise set up a new studio!
Hope Old Man Winter is treating you well, and let's all hope the groundhog does whatever he's supposed to next week so that we don't wind up with more winter!
Now, remember, Cute Boy is Canadian, so naturally his idea of fun is to throw on a significant amount of clothing and go do something weird in freezing cold conditions, like run around on ice with blades attached to your boots while you attempt to maim your fellow man with large blocks of rubber propelled by sticks and the occasional punch to the groin, nose or head- i.e.; hockey.
My idea of fun usually involves less cold and/or violence, but because I've been working on this "trying new things" thing, we decided to go skiing.
Or rather, we decided that Cute Boy would go skiing, and I would attempt to learn how to go skiing.
Cute Boy's sister decided to come along for the ride, namely because she was at risk of her Canadian citizenship being revoked as she hadn't been skiing in a number of years.
We donned (or, you know, stopped to purchase and THEN donned) our respective layers of ski clothes. In my case, I was looking to fill two objectives: 1)Insulation; 2)Padding. Therefore my clothing of choice included knee-high socks, padded hiking winter socks, hot pink long underwear leggings, sweatpants, waterproof ski pants, a patagonia level-3 shirt, a thin-cotton turtleneck, a thick-cotton turtleneck, my down coat, a hat, and fingerless mittens to wear under ski gloves borrowed from Cute Boy.
Remember that scene from "A Christmas Story" where the kid gets all bundled up by his mom and then starts freaking out and she unwraps the muffler and he goes, "I can't put my arms down!" and she tells him to put his arms down when he gets to school and wraps him back up?
Yeah.
We arrived at Perfect North, rented our equipment, and suited up in a reasonable amount of time, considering it was difficult for me to tell the difference between a right boot and a left boot, not to mention requiring a lesson in both putting on skis and putting on your other ski glove when you've already got one on.
Then we hit the slopes.
Or rather, the bunny slope.
Despite the sign warning "Friends don't let friends teach them how to ski," I was fairly confident in Cute Boy's ability to teach me the basics- my only concern was how quickly he'd become frustrated with my frequently anticipated falls.
I'll spare you the story of my three successful runs down the
Following the bunny hills we ventured to a higher start point on the bunny hill, and after one run of that, Cute Boy and Cute Boy Sister decided I was ready to go up on a lift.
Ummmmm, I'm not sure about this......
We went up the lift.
To everyone's surprise, especially mine, I was halfway decent at skiing! The hill we cho
se was fairly gentle and sloping, and my first "real run" was a success, despite one or two falls. Basically, I was having trouble turning on my left side, and would panic when I couldn't turn as fast as I wanted to. With the option of slowing down via tree or slowing down via snow skid, I was opting for the snow skids and sort of "control falling" as I worked on learning to stop.Whatever, they're MY falls and I'll justify them any way I want.
After a couple runs down the nice hill, CB and CBS decided I was ready for my next challenge- another hill that was "just a liiiiittle bit steeper." What the heck! I was ready!
I was not ready.
I SOOOO was not ready.
To give you an idea of how not ready I was, the hill consisted of two parts: first, a steeper hill that ran about 50 yards or so before depositing you on a plateau, after which you went down the larger, slightly less steep hill.
Number of falls on the first part? At least three.
I should have learned my lesson from that much but noooooo, I tackled the run.
It wasn't pretty.
I was laughing/crying/trying not to die too much to remember all the details, but I'm pretty sure I fell at least twice in less than 5 feet, I think several other skiiers nearly ran me down, I know that on several occasions Cute Boy had to stand in front of me to help me get up, and I think my finest moment was somewhere around halfway down when I sat down in the snow after a fall, threw my poles about a foot in either direction, and announced to everyone within 50 yards that I was NOT. HAVING. FUN. ANYMORE.
I'm not sure how we fina
lly made it down, but it was at this point that I wanted/needed/demanded a break, so while CB and CBS went on a few more runs, I headed into the lodge for a simultaneous cool-down and warm-up.I'm pleased to say that after regrouping, I did put my skis back on and head back out for a few more runs (though no more down the Hill O'Death.) Sadly, I missed accomplishing my goal of skiing an entire run without falling by the narrowest of margins and by the misfortune of winding up skiing next to some shithead 16-year old kid who wouldn't get off my butt and let me do my "swishy S's" across the run and sent me plunging into my last fall of the day (punk).
At least I left with my pride....if not a bruise on my butt that would stay with me for a week or so afterwards. But despite the number of falls I took, I'm actually looking forward to going again!!
Little did we know that skiing day would lead to a most pleasant run of January weather, during which even I (aka the coldest person on the face of Earth) ventured outdoors in just a sweater and scarf. Sadly, this weather came to a screeching halt two days ago, and despite the fact that I enjoyed the gorgeous sun today, HOLY MOTHER it is cold out there. Poor Finnigan froze his paws three times on our requisite "walk" around the block- which today was more like a sprint, given that it was one of those days where your snot kinda freezes in your nose when you breathe.
Have I mentioned we booked our tickets for Florida in March yet? We did. I can't freaking wait.
Have I mentioned that we went to Toronto over New Year's? We did. It was awesome. I had the best time seeing the sites, drinking Tim Horton's, and hanging out with some of Cute Boy's friends and I am really really looking forward to going back in the summer when it isn't 4 degrees out.
We also spent a hilarious night with some friends last weekend where I continued the "trying things that I don't think I'll be good at and thereby don't try so I won't be embarrassed" trend, by playing both Sing Star and Wii Bowling and OH MY GOODNESS, I love me some Sing Star and some Wii Bowling. I am already pumped for a rematch of Sing Star with some of the girls and can't wait until Cute Boy wants to play Wii Bowling with me.
In other winter tales, I have been asked to participate in the "Super Knits for Super Bowl" project, in which myself and other Indianapolis-based knitters will be making nearly 8,000 blue-and-white scarves for 2010 Super Bowl Volunteers to wear while they help out with the big event! I'll keep you posted on my scarves and how they turn out......that is, of course, if the NFL doesn't wind up with a lockout season. Apparently we're in danger of that (though this could have been resolved since Cute Boy told me about it last week- since let's be honest, I would be clueless if he hadn't explained it.)
And in final winter news, I've spent several of these cold dark days looking at studio spaces for my home business to be, well, not a home business in anymore! Yes, fans, the dream has come true and we are officially calling the experiment of quitting my job to do "this flower thing" a success. Keep checking back for more info when I find a space- I'm sure there will be lots of fun opportunities for me to battle inanimate objects as I work to paint, build, move and otherwise set up a new studio!
Hope Old Man Winter is treating you well, and let's all hope the groundhog does whatever he's supposed to next week so that we don't wind up with more winter!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Scene In Which Cute Boy (L)Earns His Name
Many of my faithful followers (all SIX of you now......woooo!) know that I've been spending a lot of time back and forth from Indy to Chicago this past month, and will be continuing to do so for the next couple weeks.
This weekend, instead of making the trek back to Indy, I stayed in Chicago to dog- and house-sit for my parents while they were away. Now, don't get me wrong, spending a weekend with their two pups and my little guy is a pretty pleasant thing to do, but because Cute Boy decided to make the drive up here to visit, I was pumped.
It was a great, fun, relaxing, awesome weekend. We ate deep-dish pizza, took the pups for a long walk on a gorgeous fall day, hung around downtown on Saturday, went to Field Museum and saw the "Real Pirates" exhibit, ate at a fun restaurant, saw Jersey Boys, slept in and made yummy Sunday breakfast, and even caught some of the game before Cute Boy had to head home. I even introduced him to a childhood staple that he'd never seen before: The MOLD O' RAMA.
Segue to: A Random Side Note.
Mold-O-Rama's, if you haven't been so lucky as to have seen one, are amazingly awesome toy-making machines that make you a cheap monochromatic hollow plastic toy RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. You simply insert your $2 (and don't even get me started on how it used to be $.50!) and the machine, in all of it's 1950's glory, revs to life, pumps liquid plastic through tubes into a mold that pushes together, then releases to show off YOUR NEW TOY as a nifty pusher-thing deposits it into a vending-like bottom, where you gingerly pick it up whilst trying to burn the least amount of skin off of your fingers and hands.
And because Cute Boy is cute, and therefore understands and enjoys my nostalgic desires, we made 2.
Which turned out to be a good thing, really, because we left one in the cab on the way home. If anyone finds an orange stegosaurus plastic molded toy in the back of a Chicago cab, please let us know.....we miss Stegi.
But other than that devastating loss, it was a great weekend, and Cute Boy left this afternoon to return to Indy.
And apparently decided to catch up on reading my blog.
And apparently hadn't read the August post in which I first named him Cute Boy. Because.....
5:42PM Cute Boy Cell: "I'm anonymously and I think affectionately known as CUTE BOY to your followers??!!"
So, to Cute Boy: Yes, yes that is your moniker, yes it is an affectionate term, and I'm glad that you like it.
And to all else: Yes, Cute Boy is indeed cute, for many of the reasons you might already guess and for many more you may not already know, and very probably for many that I don't already know. So even though it might embarrass him a little, here's just a couple of the reasons for the name.
Because in addition to being well, cute (c'mon girls, he's blond, blue-eyed and athletic..... fellow glasses-sporting brunette bookworms of the world, can I get some applause??) Cute Boy also makes me laugh. And he likes to hold my hand (ok, sometimes). And he is just the right amount of a sarcastic a** sometimes, and a totally nice guy the rest of the time. And he likes my dog. And he drives to Chicago to visit me. And he thinks that I'm adorable and endearing even when I'm doing things that are totally not adorable or endearing liketripping over my own two feet AGAIN and headbutting the nearest inanimate object being a little clumsy. And because he thinks it is great that I want to do things like make Mold-O-Ramas to commemorate a fun day together, and because he really understands that that's what I'm doing when I want to do silly little things like that.
And that, folks, makes him Cute Boy.
This weekend, instead of making the trek back to Indy, I stayed in Chicago to dog- and house-sit for my parents while they were away. Now, don't get me wrong, spending a weekend with their two pups and my little guy is a pretty pleasant thing to do, but because Cute Boy decided to make the drive up here to visit, I was pumped.
It was a great, fun, relaxing, awesome weekend. We ate deep-dish pizza, took the pups for a long walk on a gorgeous fall day, hung around downtown on Saturday, went to Field Museum and saw the "Real Pirates" exhibit, ate at a fun restaurant, saw Jersey Boys, slept in and made yummy Sunday breakfast, and even caught some of the game before Cute Boy had to head home. I even introduced him to a childhood staple that he'd never seen before: The MOLD O' RAMA.
Segue to: A Random Side Note.
Mold-O-Rama's, if you haven't been so lucky as to have seen one, are amazingly awesome toy-making machines that make you a cheap monochromatic hollow plastic toy RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. You simply insert your $2 (and don't even get me started on how it used to be $.50!) and the machine, in all of it's 1950's glory, revs to life, pumps liquid plastic through tubes into a mold that pushes together, then releases to show off YOUR NEW TOY as a nifty pusher-thing deposits it into a vending-like bottom, where you gingerly pick it up whilst trying to burn the least amount of skin off of your fingers and hands.
And because Cute Boy is cute, and therefore understands and enjoys my nostalgic desires, we made 2.
Which turned out to be a good thing, really, because we left one in the cab on the way home. If anyone finds an orange stegosaurus plastic molded toy in the back of a Chicago cab, please let us know.....we miss Stegi.
But other than that devastating loss, it was a great weekend, and Cute Boy left this afternoon to return to Indy.
And apparently decided to catch up on reading my blog.
And apparently hadn't read the August post in which I first named him Cute Boy. Because.....
5:42PM Cute Boy Cell: "I'm anonymously and I think affectionately known as CUTE BOY to your followers??!!"
So, to Cute Boy: Yes, yes that is your moniker, yes it is an affectionate term, and I'm glad that you like it.
And to all else: Yes, Cute Boy is indeed cute, for many of the reasons you might already guess and for many more you may not already know, and very probably for many that I don't already know. So even though it might embarrass him a little, here's just a couple of the reasons for the name.
Because in addition to being well, cute (c'mon girls, he's blond, blue-eyed and athletic..... fellow glasses-sporting brunette bookworms of the world, can I get some applause??) Cute Boy also makes me laugh. And he likes to hold my hand (ok, sometimes). And he is just the right amount of a sarcastic a** sometimes, and a totally nice guy the rest of the time. And he likes my dog. And he drives to Chicago to visit me. And he thinks that I'm adorable and endearing even when I'm doing things that are totally not adorable or endearing like
And that, folks, makes him Cute Boy.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
The Scene In Which We Go To The State Fair. Twice.
Let me just start by saying that I absolutely **HEART** the Indiana State Fair.
Seriously, what's not to love about a place that has fried Oreos? Not to mention adorable animals, fun 4-H displays, fried Oreos, biodisel trains, fried Oreos, music and dance, truly awesome people watching, fried Oreos, lumberjack shows, and all the knockoff sunglasses you ever could have dreamed of?
Did I mention fried Oreos? Oh I did. Thanks.
Growing up in another Midwestern, farm-filled state, I had been to State Fairs before, but nothing like this. Back then, you picked a weekend date you wanted to go, weeks in advance. On the morning of the fair you woke up early and packed a bag with a sweatshirt in case it got cold, a T-shirt in case it got hot, a rain slicker in case it rained, and an assortment of other items. Then you got in the car and drove for an hour or two or ten million (hey, I was a kid). Then you finally parked the car in the middle of a field somewhere, shielded your eyes to the horizon, located the mirage that was the Fair and started walking. Approximately ten days later when you finally arrived, you saw some animals, rode the burlap-sack-mega-slide, ate some corn and an Elephant Ear, and called it a day - and man, it was a GREAT day, too.
Then I moved to Indianapolis. Where the State Fair is. Which means that if I happened to have another craving for fried Oreos in the middle of this posting, I could save it, drive over there, buy some, and drive back before they got cold.
This, friends, is FANTASTIC.
The second best part of the Indiana State Fair is the people-watching. Especially if, like me, you write a blog that sometimes centers around the silly things people do or say.
For example.
Last weekend Cute Boy and I went to the Fair for a couple hours to eat yummy food, check out the animals and just kind of walk around. During the course of this walking we passed an outdoor amphitheatre.
Now, I'm willing to concede that outdoor amphitheatres can be used for a variety of things.
However.
This one was set up with a big stage with the Stihl logo plastered everywhere. And two of those posts that lumberjacks climb with those spiked shoes. And lots of logs strewn about. And lots of big, old-fashioned lumberjack saws on posts.
"Oh, hey!" a woman behind us announced to her friends. "Do you think this is where the lumberjack show is?"
Seriously.
Back to the food
part.
For you Fair newbies, I have three rules for the Fair and they are Pacing, Sharing, and Don't Waste Your Taste Buds.
Pacing means just that. Seriously, the Fair goes for two weeks. Even if you're only going to attend once, don't eat everything in the first minute/hour/day/trip. I've seen this rule be violated and it's not pretty. Cute Boy and I did well this year- pineapple whip, curly potato, and Hot Wisconsin Cheese during our first trip, and corn dogs, chocolate-covered bacon (this was actually kind of gross but the guys liked it) and fried Oreos on the second trip with friends.
Sharing is another pretty self-explanatory one. One fried Oreo is great. Two is yummy. Three is heartburn. Four is vomiticious. Therefore, naturally, one serving is four Oreos. Note: Sharing must also be combined with Pacing. For example, even if you are getting ready to call it a day, you and your friend should not order both the fried Oreos and the fried Pepsi at the same time and split them. Trust me, this Does. Not. End. Well.
Finally, Don't Waste Your Taste Buds. The State Fair is the one time each year that I allow myself to eat complete junk,
repeatedly, without guilt or any attempt at balance (though not without heartburn). This is just not the kind of splurging that you want to waste on, say, a hot dog.
Sometimes you can combine the two best parts of the State Fair into one experience- like the people wearing the COPS shirts that sat at our table over by the curly potato booth.
COPS, as in, C.O.P.S., as in, Christians Obediently Preaching Salvation. The shirt posed the question, "Wha'cha Gonna Do When HE Comes for You?" which is, apparently, from Ephesians....though I can't say I remember the Bible using too much hip slang like that.
Yes, I totally snuck a photo while pretending to shoot Cute Boy with our curly potato, which probably means the answer to that question is some variation of going to hell. Regardless, whatever I do, I hope it involves fried Oreos.
All in all, it was a great year for the State Fair- I'm already looking forward to the next one!!
Seriously, what's not to love about a place that has fried Oreos? Not to mention adorable animals, fun 4-H displays, fried Oreos, biodisel trains, fried Oreos, music and dance, truly awesome people watching, fried Oreos, lumberjack shows, and all the knockoff sunglasses you ever could have dreamed of?
Did I mention fried Oreos? Oh I did. Thanks.
Growing up in another Midwestern, farm-filled state, I had been to State Fairs before, but nothing like this. Back then, you picked a weekend date you wanted to go, weeks in advance. On the morning of the fair you woke up early and packed a bag with a sweatshirt in case it got cold, a T-shirt in case it got hot, a rain slicker in case it rained, and an assortment of other items. Then you got in the car and drove for an hour or two or ten million (hey, I was a kid). Then you finally parked the car in the middle of a field somewhere, shielded your eyes to the horizon, located the mirage that was the Fair and started walking. Approximately ten days later when you finally arrived, you saw some animals, rode the burlap-sack-mega-slide, ate some corn and an Elephant Ear, and called it a day - and man, it was a GREAT day, too.
Then I moved to Indianapolis. Where the State Fair is. Which means that if I happened to have another craving for fried Oreos in the middle of this posting, I could save it, drive over there, buy some, and drive back before they got cold.
This, friends, is FANTASTIC.
The second best part of the Indiana State Fair is the people-watching. Especially if, like me, you write a blog that sometimes centers around the silly things people do or say.
For example.
Last weekend Cute Boy and I went to the Fair for a couple hours to eat yummy food, check out the animals and just kind of walk around. During the course of this walking we passed an outdoor amphitheatre.
Now, I'm willing to concede that outdoor amphitheatres can be used for a variety of things.
However.
This one was set up with a big stage with the Stihl logo plastered everywhere. And two of those posts that lumberjacks climb with those spiked shoes. And lots of logs strewn about. And lots of big, old-fashioned lumberjack saws on posts.
"Oh, hey!" a woman behind us announced to her friends. "Do you think this is where the lumberjack show is?"
Seriously.
Back to the food
part.For you Fair newbies, I have three rules for the Fair and they are Pacing, Sharing, and Don't Waste Your Taste Buds.
Pacing means just that. Seriously, the Fair goes for two weeks. Even if you're only going to attend once, don't eat everything in the first minute/hour/day/trip. I've seen this rule be violated and it's not pretty. Cute Boy and I did well this year- pineapple whip, curly potato, and Hot Wisconsin Cheese during our first trip, and corn dogs, chocolate-covered bacon (this was actually kind of gross but the guys liked it) and fried Oreos on the second trip with friends.
Sharing is another pretty self-explanatory one. One fried Oreo is great. Two is yummy. Three is heartburn. Four is vomiticious. Therefore, naturally, one serving is four Oreos. Note: Sharing must also be combined with Pacing. For example, even if you are getting ready to call it a day, you and your friend should not order both the fried Oreos and the fried Pepsi at the same time and split them. Trust me, this Does. Not. End. Well.
Finally, Don't Waste Your Taste Buds. The State Fair is the one time each year that I allow myself to eat complete junk,
repeatedly, without guilt or any attempt at balance (though not without heartburn). This is just not the kind of splurging that you want to waste on, say, a hot dog.Sometimes you can combine the two best parts of the State Fair into one experience- like the people wearing the COPS shirts that sat at our table over by the curly potato booth.
COPS, as in, C.O.P.S., as in, Christians Obediently Preaching Salvation. The shirt posed the question, "Wha'cha Gonna Do When HE Comes for You?" which is, apparently, from Ephesians....though I can't say I remember the Bible using too much hip slang like that.
Yes, I totally snuck a photo while pretending to shoot Cute Boy with our curly potato, which probably means the answer to that question is some variation of going to hell. Regardless, whatever I do, I hope it involves fried Oreos.
All in all, it was a great year for the State Fair- I'm already looking forward to the next one!!
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