4 things I didn't know about myself

Count the months, peeps, because E-dizzle and I have been married for 4 big ones. We’re basically experts.

I like to think that we’re out of the honeymoon stage, but I still get the “No, you’re definitely not” response when I tell people that. I actually like to think that we skipped it altogether because I want to believe that E and I keep it pretty real, but people tell me that’s not true, either. Why on Earth is no one letting me have my cake and eat it too?!?!

Because I like to think that I’m a pretty reflective person (us communicators tend to be), I was simultaneously doing the dishes and thinking about my four experience-filled months of marriage.

And then my brain got interesting. I realized mid fork rinsing that I’ve learned a few things about myself since being married. Just when I thought I had me all figured out…

1. The chance of me having a slight obsessive-compulsive complex is no longer a chance; it’s fact. You wouldn’t think it matters how one stores their toilet paper, but oh baby, it does. And you think there’s more than one way to make the bed? How dare you. There’s one way, and it’s my way (hello, 5-year-old brat me).

Let’s give credit where it’s due. To my husband, you are way too patient and gracious. 

2. I can be a woman of double standards. But only when it comes to cleaning. I think. Like, I’ll ask the hubby to help me clean, but I’ve always got some critique with his methods. What is wrong with me?

3. I work against myself. I always complain that Eric and I need to eat healthier, but then I make things like stromboli. Or steak. Or the Cinco de Mayo spread I talked about here. I’ve threatened myself and E with eating salad for an entire month, but let’s be honest – we won’t. And so I’ll just continue my method of eating what I want and working out the bare minimum so I don’t blow up like a balloon. And E will just keep eating, because his metabolism is crrraaazzzy.

4. I may become a cat person. Not that I was ever anti-cat. I’m just more pro-dog. What really matters is that I’m really just anti-animals in the house. It.will.never.happen. The only exception is a fish. Or a labradoodle, if I ever get one. I can't even explain how much lint/animal hair drives me crazy.

Anyways, we’ve agreed that we will have pets when we have a backyard and outdoor pet homes for them to stay in. But when it came to species, we differ. E = cats, me = dogs. But I’m warming up to the idea of cats, and I proudly admit it’s because of the Internet’s gift of lolcats. I can has cheezburger? GENIUS. Thank you, Lolcats, for giving Eric and I random 15-minute spurts of classic entertainment.

The cat that began it all.

I weirdly hope I’m done learning things about myself for a while. But then again, maybe I’ll discover I’m the missing link to the Avengers being more awesome, or that I’m a closet wine connoisseur. But then, I’d have to drink something else besides Moscato or Reisling, and that’s just not happening. 

Cinco de Yummo

Let's get something straight.

I am in no way a cooking expert. If that's obvious, good.

Today was a fun day for us. We went to the West Bottoms and checked out some awesome antique/flea markets, where I got the little gem you see below.

The perfect solution for the awkward, above-the-stove space.

Then we went and saw 'The Avengers' at a theater the architecture firm I work for just got done renovating. Super cool theater + Avengers? Holy awesome. I loved that movie. By marriage, I'm a DC Comics gal (c'mon, who beats Batman?). But seriously...The Avengers.

After that, we did some big-girl camera shopping...that's all I'm disclosing for now.

And then, it was Cinco de Mayo celebration - marriage style time! We're pretty low-key people, so our Cinco de Mayo consisted of an awesome feast that we co-prepared (complete with margaritas).

Here you have it, folks. Fajitas, margaritas, chips from a tortilla, and...guacamole?

...We both knew that rhyming couldn't last forever.

Describe our meal in one word? Delicious. Two words? Super delicious. I can't even explain.

Afterwards, we laid on the floor to let our stomachs expand, and then I side-kicked it up as Eric watched a couple episodes of 'Dr. Who'.

The things I do for my husband.

"Don't take tomorrow to bed with you."

Norman Vincent Peale said that.

One of my uncles (we'll call him 'C') called me earlier this afternoon to catch up real quick. Uncle C is another one of my favorite relatives...if I had favorites. He's smart, very driven, successful, a great Christian and has a super-awesome family. C has spent the past few months trying to find me a job, and today he called with another opportunity just in case I wasn't liking my newest arrangement (I told him I am, and he spared me the lengthy pitch).

And then we really got to talking.

I've been extremely blessed to have wise family members. My parents are definitely a few, but I've got some really great grandparents, aunts and uncles. As C asked me how being married, having a new job and life in general was, I confronted him with something I've been thinking about for a while - can life in fact be too good?

I feel like E and I have started off a little backwards. We both have been fortunate enough to land some pretty great jobs, we love where we live, we have infinitely-beyond-awesome families and we have each other. I've heard so many stories of people's first year of marriage that I was quite scared thinking about what mine would be like.

So I told C, a little bit jokingly, that I'm just waiting for something not great to happen - that it feels like things have started off too good. And then C taught me a lesson that neither of us had scheduled in our Outlook calendars.

Life has its bad moments. Some will be minor, and some will seem like there's no recovery. Those are facts we can't escape. But if there's one thing either of us have learned from another awesome uncle, it's that life is way too short to wait around for the downs. I don't know why I'm programmed to stress about things I have no idea about. My husband has assured me that, even though he is a computer programmer, I cannot be un-programmed (something about me not being a computer).

I invite you, dear readers, to partake in a challenge with me. It's more of a life journey (ye-ah, we're that close already). If you're like me, and you like to stress about silly, important things that you have no idea if they'll even happen, don't. Practice with me a mentality that relishes in every day's blessings, a way of thinking that steers clear of worrying about tomorrow, or next week, or five years from now.

*I dedicate this post to all of my fellow college grads, because thinking about the future is scary. And not thinking about can be even scarier.

We're not art people.

Our first First Friday.

We’ve tried really hard to be. Not like, let-me-give-you-a-not-so-brief-history-of- Michelangelo people, but general appreciators. And I think we’re kind of failing.

On Friday, we checked out this great Kansas City thing called “First Friday” – it happens on the first Friday of every month. It’s basically a ton of art galleries opening their doors (some with free wine!) to the general public, and lots people walk through the galleries and socialize in KC’s Crossroads district.

Here's my evaluation. Walking around KC on a gorgeous evening, in my favorite maxi dress, holding hands with my husband? Awesome. Trying to understand and love super abstract art in cool, hipster galleries? More difficult than I thought.

I don’t know why I try force this insane love for art on myself. My taste for art is pretty much limited to home decor, and I'm having a tough time expanding my horizons. I know art is great because not everyone has to have the same interpretation, but when I think back to Friday’s experience, I don’t remember interpreting anything. I remember a super anti-Christian exhibit, and then it all blurs together.

Today’s conclusion:  art’s not really our thing, so we’ll treat it more like a coworker – if we understand what it’s saying, we’ll engage. Otherwise, we’ll just smile politely…and try to avoid awkward eye contact. 

Loadin' up

When I was an actual athlete, coaches always preached the age-old rule to load up on carbs the night before big games or track meets. Translation:  I ate a lot of spaghetti in high school.

That said, I don't accept just any pasta. If I ever deny your spaghetti, it's not your fault. I'm extremely picky. I'm usually starving with absolutely no cravings if I order pasta in restaurants.

So as fate would have it, I'm married to a pasta lover. Chicken fettuccine is my hubby's favorite foods. I've refused to make it yet; my mom's recipe that E loves has two sticks of butter in it. I tell him the delicious smell of noodles, chicken, and creamy sauce is just his brain denying that he's eating a plate full of heart attack.

All that said, some things have changed. I still haven't caved and made chicken fettuccine, but I did discover this recipe a few weeks into our marriage, and since first taste, it's become a favorite of E and I. It's opened my eyes to the pasta world, end it really could not get easier.

Here's what you need:
- 10 oz. penne pasta
- 14.5 oz. diced tomatoes
- fresh basil
- 3 oz. feta cheese
- water (for boiling)
- medium sauce pan
- medium skillet

First, bring your pasta to a boil. While doing that, start heating your tomatoes on low-medium heat. You want them to be bubbling, but not splattering juice all over.

Add as much basil as you like. Instead of shredding, I just tear the leaves up into fourths. 

Drain your pasta and add the tomato-basil mixture, and top it all off with the feta cheese. (Sorry I forgot to take a picture of the cheese. I was too distracted by my appetite.)

And there you have it. We usually eat this pasta as a side dish, but most recently made it a main by adding some chicken to it. It's one of the most delicious meals I've made in 20 minutes.

You should also eat it with fresh bread, because bread is good.

Elephant in the room

With this whole new life, I'm-married thing, it still hasn't really sunk in that I'm kind of a different person.

Don't worry. I'm still a girl, I still like clothes, and I still eat...a lot. Mainly, I'm just talking about my name. Actually, that's the only thing I'm talking about. 

I was pretty excited when I settled into my new cubicle and saw this: 

Something about seeing my new name printed on something "official" gave me a sudden burst. For one, people can finally pronounce my last name correctly on the first try. Second, I've got a pretty above-average husband (sorry to be mushy). Third, I really like the elephant. 

And no, no one knows why the marketing department's logo is an elephant. 

Man of the grill

Let the records show that my husband is (so far) extremely helpful in the kitchen (when asked to be).

But gosh, that man can grill.

Lately, I've been subtly proposing to Eric that he take the cooking reins for a week. The whole "you should walk a mile in my shoes" bit.

Although he swears that having a week's responsibilities is way too much pressure and much too big of a step, he did offer to take the mother of all non-holiday related meals...Sunday dinner. 


E-dizzle brought his triple-A game today. We're talking sooooo delicious I wanted to take a bath in it. (King of the apartment castle said no.)

Feast your eyes upon our...feast. Grilled pork chops (real pork chops, meaning they're not store-purchased), Eric's amazing fried potatoes, and some delicious sweet corn.

Take it from me ladies. If your guy can cook an amazing meal, snatch him up because the food baby is totally worth it.