tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59437893193475076012024-03-05T11:26:51.741-06:00Random Adventures and Mindless ChatterEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-28019910679907306632014-02-14T09:37:00.002-06:002014-02-14T10:03:13.460-06:00ESPN is good for your marriage<br />
Conversation at our house while watching <a href="http://espn.go.com/espnradio/podcast/archive?id=2406595" target="_blank">Pardon the Interruption</a>:<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> I'm not complaining, but I still can't believe you like this show.<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Why? It's entertaining. I think I'd be friends with both of them in real life.<br />
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<b>Nate: </b>Of course you do.<br />
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<b>Me:</b> I'm serious. I think me and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Kornheiser" target="_blank">Tony</a> would really hit it off.<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> I'm gonna hate myself for this...but what on earth do you think y'all would have in common?<br />
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<b>Me: </b>Froyo. duh.<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> ??????????? I'm sorry, what?<br />
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<b>Me:</b> I'd totally take him on a froyo date. I'm so curious about what toppings he would pick. I know he'd have killer combinations and great life stories about how he came up with them.<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> *falls down on the floor laughing*<br />
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<b>Me:</b> I'm not sure what's funny. But consider yourself un-invited to our date. James Earl Jones and John Stamos will be there too. Your loss bro.<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> What is froyo anyway?<br />
<br />
*****************************************************<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><i>WHAT?!?!!?!?</i></u></b></span><br />
<br />
<b>Me:</b> Sweet baby Jesus, please tell me you are kidding.<br />
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<b>Nate:</b> I've never had it. It's just like ice cream, right?<br />
<br />
<b>Me:</b> *stunned silence*<br />
<br />
And that is how I learned that the man I've been with for almost 13 years, has never had frozen yogurt. I know. <i>I KNOW</i>. You are as shocked as I am. Bless his deprived little heart. Don't worry, I'm remedying the situation tonight. Because I'm the best wife ever. And, oh right, Valentine's day. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>And I need a test subject so I don't disappoint Tony one day</i></span>.<br />
<br />
So ladies, ESPN. Watch it. You'll be surprised what you learn about your spouse. All these years and the kid still keeps me on my toes.<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-72500403591330814382013-10-28T15:21:00.000-05:002013-10-28T15:49:07.621-05:00InspirationHey blog friends.<br />
<br />
I'd like to make some valiant attempt to excuse my absence from my little corner of the internet, but I've got nothing but questions...HOW is it already October...I mean, almost November? The days are long but the weeks sure are short, huh?<br />
<br />
But enough about that. A lot has changed since I was here last. We are expecting our first baby this May. The timing is all His, and so is the glory. I just turned 27 and I'd like to say I've mastered the art of being still, and patiently waiting on Him...but I'm still a major work in progress. He is ever faithful though, and I know I'm held extra close to His heart. He whispers, "I know, my child. I hear you. But I have so many things planned for you, and My timing, well, it's infallible." Thankful for His provision. Grateful for this tiny, and every growing blessing that we spent so many years praying for. Humbled. Oh, so humbled, by the love and support we've received so far. Each day that we stay pregnant, each hour He calms my anxiety, each minute we move closer to becoming parents...I am joyful.<br />
<br />
It seems like lately all I've done is ask people for prayer. For me, for Nathan, for this baby. I don't know that all of you out there reading this are the praying kind, or religious, but I know personally the power that comes when we call upon our Heavenly Father. Or send good thoughts. Or pause in silence for someone or something. And even though I feel like I've been given so much more prayer than I deserve, I'm going to ask for some more. Not for this momma to be, but for another mom. A fantastic one. Who has a gorgeous 3 month old baby girl named Leighton, who is the spitting image of her mother; and an incredible husband named Eric, who loves her like you wouldn't believe. This mom is 27 and very recently found out that the cancer we all celebrated her defeating, has returned. Her name is Lauren Barnhart Reed, but to me she's always been just, Barnhart. She is fierce in all aspects of her life. She is thoughtful, and generous, and some of my very favorite memories from college and beyond are with her by my side. She's honest, that one. And her honesty, and bravery, are qualities I've always admired. Oh, and her friendship? I cherish it as one of my life's greatest gifts.<br />
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She has a road ahead of her. One paved with uncertainty and pebbled with the unknown. But she is a fighter, and I've never believed in someone's capabilities (no matter the trial) as much as I do hers. Her friendship means the world to me, and I only hope I've brought half the joy and laughter to her, that she has to me. Will you do me a favor? One blogger to another? Will you pray for her, in whatever way you are lead? Be it for peace, for strength, for hope. Any positive thoughts, or energy you can send, do it. Please. You can leave them in comments here, and I'll send them her way, or just whisper them right where you sit. I'll be forever in your debt.<br />
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If you'd like more information on her diagnosis, her family and how else you can help, I've included links below to her Facebook page. Thank you, from every corner of my heart, for joining me in lifting her up. I truly believe our God is bigger, and there is complete healing in His name.<br />
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"But as for me, I will <b>always</b> have HOPE." Pslam 71:14<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/loveforlaurenreed" target="_blank">Love for Lauren Reed Facebook Page</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/love-for-lauren-barnhart-reed/100582">Love for Lauren Barnhart Reed | Medical Expenses - YouCaring.com</a><br />
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Always,<br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-90340229279744247532013-06-02T21:50:00.000-05:002013-06-03T10:50:21.906-05:00Warning: Full blown rant ahead<br />
If you get your feelings hurt easily, can't take a little language, have no sense of humor or can't take sarcasm for what it is, you should just come back here on on another day. Mkay? You've been warned. Proceed with <strike>wine</strike> caution.<br />
<br />
I love kids. Don't believe me? Take a look at any/all of my social media and browse the 900+ pics I've posted of my niece/nephews. See? It's borderline creepy, I know. For clarification, I also enjoy talking to my friends who have kids, and listening to their parenting stories. I <b>always</b> try to be as encouraging as possible during these conversations, because raising a child is <i>easily</i> the MOST overwhelmingly difficult (albeit, rewarding) job, ever. Yes, *surprise* I <i>do</i> understand that, even though I haven't been blessed with any children of my own (yet).<br />
<br />
Here's my issue...Sometimes, even without kids, we have terrible/awful, no good, very bad days. When this happens, one of your "non child(ren) having" friends may come to you with the need to decompress & lean on you for support. During said conversations, it is likely that these friends (without kids) will mention that they're tired, or stressed out, or feel like they're drowning or whatever. The bottom line is this: they/we are seeking affirmation and reassurance about our current set of circumstances from someone we love/trust/respect. So, when you flippantly disregard our feelings/emotions with phrases like "oh you have NO IDEA what any sort of stress <i>really</i> feels like, just wait until...insert "one-upping", over shadowing parent moment here, it makes me want to <b>punch you</b>.<br />
<br />
Here's why: We just talked about your kid, their interests, idiosyncrasies, dislikes, pooping schedule for like, an hour. I listened and was genuinely interested! Why? because I care about YOU and YOUR life and I love your kids because they are part of you. So, when it's my turn to speak, and you blow me off like I'm naive and silly for having/ feeling a certain way? I secretly want to throw a drink in your face. Why? Because I am in NO WAY trying to "out tired", "exhaust", "stress" you, or make any comparison about which of us has it worse! I'm just telling you about the current hardships/challenges in my life. All I'm after is a little compassion and encouragement...the same things I just blindly offered you.<br />
<br />
I know your role as a parent isn't easy! But I guess my questions is this...since <i>when</i> does having children give you a free pass to be rude and or a colossal bitch? Because those "you don't know"/"I know more about" statements are two fold obnoxious. One? You don't have to live my life, so you aren't any more equipped to "know" how I'm feeling than I am to know what it's like to be in your shoes. The difference in this scenario is that I'm TRYING. Because, <b>spoiler alert:</b> I really couldn't care less about your child's shit schedule. And secondly? Some of us are <i>struggling</i> to make our own families. So, when you pop off about how "easy" we have it, or how little we "understand" (about the stupidest things like being tired), you're pouring salt into (what is for some) an extremely painful, open wound. It might not be intentional, but your overly-entitled, dismissive attitude is irritating...and on behalf of childless couples and basically the entire human population, I just thought you should know. I may not be a parent, but here's a solid little piece of advice, THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. We all need to try and do a little more building each other up, and a <b>lot</b> less tit for tat, "my life is far more trying than yours", martyr type, pissing-contest-comparisons. We should also eat more froyo, but that's a blog post for a different day.<br />
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End rant.<br />
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Well, I don't know about you, peaches, but I feel a lot better.<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
L<br />
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PS: this obviously isn't directed at all parents...but the flippantly dismissive attitude is something that has personally happened to me on MORE than one occasion; and I just needed to get it off my chest. Feel free to bring on the hater-ade. I realize this is far bitchier than my normal posts. Blame it on <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/123075002286260178/" target="_blank">shark week</a>.<br />
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PSS: For those of you on either side of this rant, that listen to and encourage your friends, even if their life is in a completely different place than yours? THANK YOU. You are a freaking rock star and are so appreciated.<br />
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PSSS: To all the of non parents out there, remember to reach out and initiate conversations and maintain friendships with the ones in your life that do have kids/families. Go the extra mile to remind them how awesome they are! And by all means, feel free to share this post with the ones who may be guilty of the above offense and don't realize it. I give you full authority to direct the heat towards me.<br />
<br />
PSSSS: thank you to a very sweet friend who encouraged me, promised to never talk to me about her kids' poop, and made me brave enough to repost this rant. You are my hero!Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-85785201003145825902013-05-06T09:13:00.002-05:002013-05-06T09:13:23.333-05:00It's a public service, really. <br />
Conversations this weekend:<br />
<br />
FRIDAY<br />
<br />
<b>Nate:</b> We forgot to take out the trash. Again.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Oh well. There's always next week. Not a big deal.<br />
<br />
SATURDAY<br />
<br />
<b>Nate:</b> The dogs are almost out of dog food.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Not worried. Toga and I just had Apple Jacks, So we're all set.<br />
<br />
SUNDAY<br />
<br />
<b>Nate:</b> You left the toilet lid open and I caught Lady drinking out of it. Again...<br />
<b>Me:</b> It's really of no consequence to me if the disgusting dog gets more disgusting. Don't care.<br />
<b>Nate:</b> I swear to God, you could literally fill BOOKS with the things you just don't give a sh*t about.<br />
<b>Me:</b> That's a book I'd read.<br />
<b>Nate:</b> *bangs head repeatedly against the counter*<br />
<br />
<br />
Apparently he's unaware how this marriage thing works?<br />
<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-30782053696185429082013-05-01T11:23:00.002-05:002013-05-01T11:44:43.887-05:00Self Indulgent <br />
Who? Me? Guilty. But not in the way that you would think. Or maybe it is, I can't really say since I'm not inside your head. Mine is crazy enough for 6 lifetimes, thankyouverymuch.<br />
<br />
So I've been doing this blogging thing <strike>religiously</strike>, <strike>occasionally</strike>, um. Pretty much whenever the mood strikes me. My track record has been below par at best, but I'm working on it. I have <b>always</b> loved to write, my follow through just sucks. I also over use commas like it is my life calling so I'm sorry about that, too. Except not really. I started and abandoned HUNDREDS of journals when I was a kid. Seriously. I couldn't ever find my "grove" for lack of a lamer turn of phrase. But blogging is finally a format I feel comfortable enough to come back to again and again. Mostly because I've completely abandoned any shame I may have had in the past. That doesn't mean I put every detail of my life on blast for the world to read, but I'm not afraid to. My goal is brutal honesty in dealing with this being an adult business. How am I doing so far?<br />
<br />
Spoiler alert: At some point, I even plan on writing a book. That's kind of where I'm going with all of this nonsense. I've actually started a memoir, and it's just as disturbingly distasteful as my blog. I'm at a point where I've got to decide which lines I'm willing to cross. Stories I'm willing to tell. Relationships I'm ok with exposing, for the good, the bad, the ugly. I'm curious to all you out there who take the time to read this, <b>what kind of things would YOU like to read about?</b> I'm obviously not a jack of all trades. I'd go so far as to say I've really got nothing figured out. But I can tell a kick ass exaggerated story. I've seen some pretty dark days. Really dark, actually. Some past, some present, and surely some down the road I don't even know about yet. I honestly believe they are behind every funny person you meet. Humor, at least mine, comes in turning life on it's head. Saying, "screw you" to circumstances I can't control and making it fun for everyone. My mom has always said, with every situation you have two choices. You can laugh, or you can cry. I think we all know where I stand on that.<br />
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So friendships, what things do you enjoy reading? For me, I like learning about life, through humor and sorted advice from other's experiences. Leave me a comment, or shoot me an email and tell me your guilty pleasures...you don't even have to keep it clean. I'm just that kind of girl. Seriously. Spill! By the way, I know there is more than one person in Russia out there stalking my blog! Internet high fives for the 735 page hits you've given me. And bonus zebra points to the blogger dashboard for giving me that golden piece of information. I'm such a creep.<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />
P.S. Don't judge me too hard for thinking I can write a book anyone beside my mom would read. Wednesdays are my day of inflated self importance. Blame the calendar.<br />
<br />
P.S.S. This is officially my 100th blog post. Where is my parade, Google?Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-65401728919851003682013-04-30T18:31:00.003-05:002013-04-30T19:59:54.273-05:00Once upon a time...<br />
I was a skinny bitch. And before you freak out, I'm not bragging. This is about to get all kinds of self deprecating so just sit tight, mkay? Here's the thing, I had absolutely zerooooo control over this fact. Hello? High school metabolism? Where the HELL did you run off to? Was it something I <strike>said</strike> drank? Oh, right. Beer. And wine. And Tequilla. Margaritas. Did I say beer? I did? Oh. So maybe it's not that big of a mystery after all...<br />
<br />
Anyway, here's what I've decided after 26 years on the planet. My worth is not tied up in my waist size. And in a relatively new, healthly living, fitspiration, just KEEP RUNNING TILL YOUR THIN universe, this hasn't always been true. Maybe it's my age. Maybe it's finally realizing I really <i>should </i>work what my momma gave me. Whatever it is, I'm sitting here today, on the other side of "whose body is this?" and I'm happy to report that I'm just that: I am happy! With every extra pound and un-toned muscle I'm <strike>cursed</strike> lucky enough to call mine. Jesus still loves me, so why shouldn't I? He's got this sh*t way more figured out than I do!<br />
<br />
Could I eat better, and go to the gym, run marathons (HA!) and do all those cool hipsters things (except for CrossFit, OMG don't even get me started...), sure. And some days, weeks, I do. But that <b>doesn't</b> make me a better person. It doesn't even always make me happy. Other days, like today, I already have a 12 pack in the fridge. I'm anxiously awaiting for the Rangers game to start and for my hunka-hubby-worker-drone to get his butt to the homestead so we can enjoy a few together. And guess what? THAT'S. O-K.<br />
<br />
I went to work today. My dogs have been fed/played with. I put some laundry in the dryer (for the fourth time. Stop judging me). And if I'm being completely honest, the LAST thing I am thinking about is getting bikini ready. I.just.don't.CARE.<br />
<br />
I'm not turning my nose up at all you health conscious, clean eating, do gooders out there. Do you boo boo. Follow your arrow wherever it points. Do I think some days you are lying? Yes huh. No one <i>likes </i><b>not</b> eating ice cream. Don't even try to convince me otherwise. I don't believe in Scientology either. But that's really neither here nor there. Except that both concepts seem completely outrageous. <br />
<br />
I guess what I'm trying to say is this: Love yourself. Whether you're in a newly fit body, one that's sporting an exaggerated body part (side eyes to my gigantic ass that did NOT exist before 2009), or growing a new person (here's looking at you baby mommas!), it's YOUR body. And it's just that. A <u>body</u>. You are a SOUL. Although you may try, you can't dictate the vessel you were given when you arrived in the world. We <b>can</b> control what we do with it. Me? I choose to write rambly* blogs with seemingly no direction as I try to figure out what my life is about. I choose to cuddle my baby nugget niece/nephews. I choose to eat popsicles for breakfast more often than I should, and stay up way too late making memories** with my best friend. And I'm good with that. Kapeesh? <br />
<br />
Let's make a deal. You be you, and I'll be me. And if that looks like sit ups and kettle bells at 5 am, terrific! And if it looks like, cookies for dinner...we are probably already best friends. Let's STOP trying to <i>be</i> each other, and work on being the best version of ourselves. Stop with the never ending comparisons and start loving being YOU. Because sugar tits? I already think you're the bomb diggity. <br />
<br />
Happy Tuesday my sweets! <br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />
*spell check tried to tell me this isn't a word. That skank has obviously never been to my blog before. Read a book blogger, this is happening. <br />
<br />
**Sex. Sorry mom! Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-2620754138759547262013-04-25T16:05:00.001-05:002013-04-25T16:05:15.702-05:00And then I won the lottery<br />
Yes, you read that right. But if you're familiar with this blog, you know I have a tendency to exaggerate. Like that <a href="http://laurenhunke.blogspot.com/2012/10/i-robbed-bank.html" target="_blank">time I said we robbed a bank</a> (which I completely stand by) except that we really just bought a house.<br />
<br />
I guess I should back up a little. I've mentioned it in passing, but back in November I got super sick and found myself in the hospital for two.whole.weeks. Oh right, and did I mention I was hospitalized on THANKSGIVING, the holy day of FOOD and wasn't allowed to eat. Or drink. Or anything? Let me just tell you, it was a whole new fresh kind of hell. And I was, um, intolerable? Bless my husband's sweet little heart. He actually snuck me a tiny TINY piece of dark chocolate just to get me to shut up for a minute. That's love y'all.<br />
<br />
Anyway, fast forward to about a month ago. We have an agent through <a href="http://www.aflac.com/" target="_blank">Aflac</a> that handles our secondary insurance policies. He comes by once a year, we resign the same paper for our policies, he brings donuts, everyone wins. Here's where things get exciting. Me, being the fab grown up (*snort*) that I am, completely forgot I even took out a policy with them. It was like a billion (read 3) years ago, the payments come out of my check before I ever see it, so it kind of just slipped my mind. I can hear you laughing at me. Hush.<br />
<br />
Like I was saying, I only forgot about it until <strike>donut man</strike> Aflac guy showed up. We got to chatting and I told him about my little illness escapade, which was when he not-so-subtly reminded me about my policy. And that they are for temporary disability, and hospital stays. This is the point of the post where I SHAMELESSLY promote getting on board with a secondary insurance policy. Ya'll? Their commercials are not, I repeat, NOT a joke. The paper work for the claims were all of 3 pages, and both my policies paid out. To me. IN CASH. To the tune of: I now owe <b>not one dime</b> for any of my 900 hospital bills, have enough money left over to buy a Louis Vuitton purse (if I was in to that, but I'm totally not), a year's supply of popsicles (totally more my style), AND still put some in my savings account because blah I'm-married-to-a-responsible-wannabe-grown-up-who-won't-just-let-me-piss-it-all-away. RUDE.<br />
<br />
Moral of the story? A magical duck showed up and gave me a bag of money all because my colon hates me and I had to miss Thanksgiving. Like a friggin adult version of the tooth fairy. Or something like that.<br />
<br />
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some serious bomb pop vs. lick a color frozen treat decisions to make.<br />
<br />
Happy Thursday friendships!<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-41424969683453991882013-04-23T12:13:00.001-05:002013-04-23T12:13:10.010-05:00This isn't really a post<br />
Hey y'all. I'm sure you've heard that google reader is about to bite the dust. And if you're like me, and shamelessly lurk and read blogs until ungodly hours of the morning, you're going to need a place to go. Don't fret! I have the answer. You are so welcome.<br />
<br />
Go <a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/2978902/?claim=bk5sg8jwyqn">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>! It's completely free to sign up, and it puts all your favorite bloggities in one place. Super convenient.<br />
<br />
Like I said, this isn't really a post. But I'll be back with some craziness soon, promise.<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-43701922465448364922013-04-17T19:25:00.001-05:002013-04-18T08:18:35.956-05:00'Lotta Rage? Little Rascals.<br />
Y'all. This week? Someone let the crazies out. More specifically, me. I'm on the loose, two glasses (read:cups. Like the big ones) in, with unsupervised access to the Internet. So there is a very real possibility this might not make sense. But that sounds like your problem, not mine. Write drunk, edit sober: Take 1.<br />
<br />
So I posted this on insta the other day: <br />
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and for the most part it was extremely well received. I'm lookin at you ma, Frankie says relax! I made it out alive and well enough to tell the story. So I thought I'd expand on it a little. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure where you live, but in my world, every single road I drive on is under construction. Side eye: 121 & 114. Oh, right. I have a mildly related confess sesh. That traffic all of you are having to deal with every friggin day? It is God's direct attempt to teach me patience for the 900th time. Which makes me solely responsible for the terrible cluster...and for that, I'm sorry. <br />
<br />
I know you've all heard the "women are bad drivers" stereotype. That's also probably my fault too. I'm good at <strike>a lot</strike> <strike>a few</strike> like 3 things. Driving isn't necessarily one of them. Although I'd like to point out I didn't get my first and only speeding ticket until I was 25. So in the grand spectrum of bad, I'm just to left of below average. To counteract this, I try and be a courteous driver, and pay it forward when I can. But nothing irritates me more than people who flat out <b>ignore</b> warning signs. Ones that say things like "this lane ENDS"...as in, no more pavement, so get over. Now. Yes you, princess. The construction workers are even looking out for the <strike>women</strike> idiots and put up 20 of them, in bright shiny colors, with flashing arrows so even the blind have zero excuse. If you're new to this route? You get a free pass. ONCE. But I swear on all things Southern that I see the <i>same</i> people ignoring the signs every.single.morning. Don't believe me? One lady drives a tan Buick, has a bad bleach job, chain smokes with her windows UP, and has a student on the honor roll. Yes, im that observant. She is not alone. There are an unlimited number of drivers "cutting" (for lack of a less kindergarten phrase). They think its totes adorbs to go speeding past everyone who READ the signs, until surprise! they run out of pavement and are forced to slam on their brakes so they dont DIE. And finally, because they live in the land of self righteous entitlement, they get grouchy when no one will let them over... like its some big mystery what happened. To these people, on behalf of all drivers, I'd just like to say: we hate you. <br />
<br />
So today. Despite my better judgement, and even though it was clearly my turn, I let what I can only assume was a drunk truck driver in an 18 wheeler go in front of me. Mostly because I saw him blindly fly across 4 lanes of traffic and oh-hi-you-are-way-bigger-than-me-please-go-ahead-and-for-the-love-don't-squish-red-car-Thanks-and-Gig'em. I didn't even get mad. I just let him merge. Its traffic, he's clearly late for his meeting at some douche canoe convention (which explains the trailer), so I paid it forward. Calm, cool, collected. <br />
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Now, imagine my surprise when Mr. Yaris (yes, I know. I'm was as just as shocked as you are) comes flying up outta nowhere, honking at me like I'm in the way and wants to jump in front of me. NOT.HAPPENING.BRO. I don't do that level of nice before 9am. I do side eyes, exaggerated huffs, grunts, and sarcasm. And since Big Rig just helped himself to a piece of my patience, you can take a number, sweet cheeks. This is a matter of principle. Now, Sit down. Consider this penance for your terrible choice in car. <br />
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I know I sound delightful (*ahem*) but it was very evident I had the right of way, and this particular morning I was going to take it.<br />
What I hadn't anticipated was the driver of the clown car FLIPPING OUT on me for making him follow common driving etiquette. He rolled down his window and started cussin me. Hard. And, since obviously that wasn't enough, flipped me off with not one, but both hands. We are literally at dead stop, playing some twisted version of chicken, so I got to see all of this in slow motion. And y'all, I don't know what it was, but his utter lack of emotional control made me pull out my go to argument winner. The Little Rascal wave. This is a staple in mine and Nate's marriage arsenal, along with <a href="http://laurenhunke.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-lesson-in-domestic-violence.html?m=1" target="_blank">punching each other in the face</a> ...but thats old news. Honest to God, if you are ever on the losing end of a fight, do it. People don't know how to react and you'll win by <strike>running away</strike> default. Today's encounter with Yaris was no exception. Maybe he thought i did this: <br />
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Because the face he made? <br />
<br />
Priceless.<br />
<br />
Something about the look, combined with the knowledge that I had, with very little effort, ruined this guy's ENTIRE LIFE (at least in that moment) made me start laughing uncontrollably. You know, because I'm really mature. It's not that serious. In fact, nothing in my life is as serious as this man's stance on his morning commute. <br />
<br />
If it makes you feel better, I let a caravan of church buses get in front of me in the go fast lane without batting an eyelash. I really am a courteous driver. I just have a zero tolerance policy for cuttsies. And truck nuts. Moral of the story? Bitches get stitches. Side stitches. And today it was from a hysterical case of the giggles. Oops. <br />
<br />
Always,<br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-46274877834280392692013-04-08T17:46:00.001-05:002013-04-08T17:46:41.677-05:00Sometimes...<br />All you need is your bubba. I miss you, E. <br /><br />"The End of Time" <br />-The Band Perry<br /><br />Here I am, standing firm,<b> as the ground shakes beneath me.</b><br />I send you away with my own hand. <br /><b>I try and try to remember, that for now it's for the better, but there's a Southern kind of tragic blowing in. Oh it feels like the beginning of the end...</b><br /><br />Well the Alabama moon, fell from the sky, and the sweet tea wells ran dry...<br />Somewhere out there, you're finding yourself, but back home it's the end of time...<br /><br />I'm scared to death, pick up your phone: outside, I hear the bells ringing. <b>Bringing ruin to all that we have ever known. Pick up your phone, I need an answer. Come home and call off disaster! Cause I feel tonight our Cotton Land might fall. Oh I'm cracking like the plaster on the walls...</b><br /><br />Well, all of the cotton, it died in the fields. The little babies cried the blue from their eyes. Somewhere I'll bet, you're living it up...but come home, before the end of time...<br /><br /><i>I'm so proud of you...and I miss you like crazy these days. Can't wait to hug your neck when you get home.</i><br /><br />Always,<br /><br />Sister <br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-15797154168429548712013-04-03T11:11:00.001-05:002013-04-03T11:13:16.737-05:00Perspective, Level: Husband<br />
Conversation with Nathan:<br />
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<strong>Me:</strong> Today sucks. It's raining, my head is pounding, my hair is ratchet, I'm tired, I'll never understand taxes, and we're out of chocolate milk. <br />
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<strong>Nate:</strong> Oh. Is that all?<br />
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<strong>Me:</strong> ......???<br />
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<strong>Nate:</strong> Well, I just mean, it could always be worse. <br />
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<strong>Me:</strong> I doubt it. Obviously you weren't listening. <br />
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**to which, he responded with the following picture ..(that I was unaware existed, until today)**<br />
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<strong>Nate:</strong> You could be back there. Getting admitted into the hospital. Missing Thanksgiving. All while I force you to wear newspaper hats and photograph you for my own entertainment. Oh, just as an aside, you should feel confident in my ability to support you as a candy striper if my corporate gig ever falls through. I've got mad skills. I don't know what you're complaining about, you're <em>so</em> lucky. <br />
<br />
Touche', husband. Touche'. <br />
<br />
Also? You're a dead man. <br />
<br />
Always, <br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-53675771729668525922013-03-25T10:18:00.004-05:002013-03-25T10:18:54.223-05:00Murder, revisisted. <br />
<br />
Title explaination <a href="http://laurenhunke.blogspot.com/2011/07/everything-i-watch-is-about-murder.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />
<br />
Recent phone conversation with my husband.<br />
<br />
*RING*<br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: Are you serious right now?<br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: Um, Never. Doing?<br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: You know what I'm doing, I'm upstairs. <br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: Ok fine. I'll play your game, semantics police. What are you <em>watching</em>. <br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: The Hobbit. This is ridiculous. We are in the same house. <br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: Come down here and hang out with me! <br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: Again, no thanks. I told you I'm not watching a documentary on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeffrey_Dahmer" target="_blank">Jeffery Dahmer</a>. I don't care if it was at <a href="http://sxsw.com/" target="_blank">SXSW</a>, it's weird. <br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: Oh that's already over. And it.was.AWESOME. <br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: Awesome? I'm sure his victims would beg to differ. <br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: Whatever. Now I'm watching this show about a lady who killed her husband with horse tranquilizers and then burried him in the desert. <br />
<br />
<strong>Nate</strong>: I'm actually <em>afraid</em> to grow old with you. <br />
<br />
<strong>Me</strong>: I don't know why. You'd never see it coming. <br />
<br />
And then he hung up on me...?<br />
<br />
Rude. <br />
<br />
<br />
Always, <br />
<br />
L Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-26847718662053368192013-03-22T15:14:00.003-05:002013-03-22T15:14:55.037-05:00These are a few of my favorite things<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re new here, HI! If you’re a repeat customer, DOUBLE HI! Now that we’re all acquainted, I want to share something with you. I’m a dog person. That is also an extreme understatement, but I'll let the following story explain...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So it’s December, and we’re moving into our new house. Yay! WEEE!! SO EXCITED. But wait…I hate packing. And moving. And unpacking. So as you can imagine I was just a peach to deal with at the time. Which is probably why I found myself in a truck, full of our crap, driving to Fort Worth, at night, all.by.my.self. (cue Celine Dion, because I know for a fact you just hummed that song to yourself). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Something else you should know about me, besides the dog person thing, is that I require an abnormal amount of “adult” supervision for someone who is technically a grown up. That’s pretty much the main reason I got married. I digress. So I’m driving a truck full of stuff, and have <em>almost</em> successfully made it back to the house without incident or injury…and that’s when I see it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">THE MOST HORRIBLE THING I’VE EVER WITNESSED. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ya’ll. This guy is walking down the street, and has an adorable little pitbull trotting along behind him. For a split second I assumed this was the man’s dog, until he (and I’m not even a LITTLE bit joking) turns around and roundhouse kicks this dog in the face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m gonna let that shock sink in for a minute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Seeing red? Because I had murder written all over my face. So, being a “dog person”, I roll down the window and scream at the guy. Turns out I’m a bad ass (just let me) because he ran off. So I pull into the parking lot nearest to the dog and as soon as I get out<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of the truck he runs up to me. THE sweetest. And since it is cold, I decide I’m gonna bring him home for the night and deal with the consequences of the previously mentioned grown up I live with later. Ask forgiveness, <em>not</em> permission. DUH. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I get homeless dog in the truck, and am about to climb in after him when some moron lays on their horn. This scares the already terrified pup and he jumps out of the truck and runs straight into the intersection. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes. I flipped out. Yes. I jumped in the truck and followed him…into a not so nice neighborhood. <strong>Sketch</strong> would be putting it nicely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And here goes round 2 of saving this dog. I know, I'm the nicest, right? Remember that...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I park the truck, jump out (leaving the door open) and start walkin in the dog’s direction when I hear this guy laughing. I look up, and he’s standing in the doorway of his lair, cackling. Thinking maybe this is his dog I’m chasing, I ask. He says no. Indignant, I ask what the hell is so funny…and he just gives me one of those head jerks toward somewhere behind me. So, naturally, I turn around…and quickly see what he finds so damn amusing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My truck? The one with half our belongings in it? Is steadily <strong>BACKING ITSELF STRAIGHT INTO THE STREET</strong>. I have to sprint, <em>SPRINT</em> to catch it, jump inside and slam on the e-brake to make it stop. Which it does…literally 15 feet shy of hitting the building across the road. Turns out I didn't put it in park, so much as I did <em>reverse</em>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">OH and you’ll love this. The dog? It followed my stupid running ass, so when I slammed on the brake, the door, which was STILL open, nails the him right in the face as it swings closed. So…yeah. He’s not exactly speaking to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">EPIC. FAIL. Level: I almost wiped out an entire neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Moral of the story is I didn’t save the dog, but the ice cream I rewarded myself with for not killing anyone was delish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh right, I’m also an ice cream person. Dogs and ice cream. Just a few of my favorite things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Always,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">L<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-83392997584300007712013-03-18T10:07:00.001-05:002013-03-18T10:08:07.103-05:00Midnight Rooftop Adventures<br />
Alternately titled: Reason number 5,362 that my husband should never be left unsupervised. Especially at night. <br />
<br />
What up moonpies!? Certainly nothing since I last blogged, right? Honestly, what could possibly go down in a measly four months? Maybe your life is different, but mine has been super uneventful. Just: closing on our first house, Thanksgiving, unexpected two week hospital stay, moving into aforementioned new house (with as much grace as a pack of blind/deaf sled dogs), Christmas, Yanke visit, New Year, Valentines, and Saint Patty's. <br />
<br />
Happy 2013 Y'all. I suck. Whatever. <br />
<br />
How about I make it up to you with an awesome story about my careless husband and his special needs dog, mkay??<br />
<br />
The first thing you need to know is that Nate has the most obnoxious work schedule ever. He never works more than TWO days in a row, before he gets a day off. Ass hole corporate America goon. This really isn't important, except that it irritates the ever loving fire out of me that he gets to stay up late/sleep in EVERY Wednesday and Thursday. Rude. <br />
<br />
Moving right along. Cue Wednesday night. Mr. "ha ha it's my Saturday and I'm gonna stay up late and play video gamesssss" is doing a stupid happy dance as I drag my butt to bed. Annoyed.<br />
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Ya'll, what happened that night, I couldn't make up even if I day drank tequilla and did a head stand. He calls me FRANTIC the next morning on my way to work. Heavy breathing and all. And this is the story he tells me:<br />
<br />
"So I was playing Xbox. And Lady had to pee. And I didn't want to go alllll the way downstairs (*insert eye roll here*) so I just let her out on the rooftop deck. Anyway, there was this zombie I was killing and all the sudden I heard something above my head. I thought it was just the surround sound so I ignored it. Then I remembered about the dog, so I opened the door to let her in...and she was GONE. <br />
<br />
*heart stops* *I envision mass paranoia as I report to the authorites that my handicapped, common sense impared pitbull is now on the loose*<br />
<br />
Nate continues: So I walk all the way to the edge of the railing, and turn back towards the house, and I find her... ON THE ROOF. And I quote, "like the SANTA part of it!!!" (translation: the very top).<br />
<br />
THE ROOF YA'LL. Dog. On the roof. Husband. In his underwear, yelling at said dog. At midnight. <br />
<br />
Me? Laughing so hard invisioning all of this that I choke on my chocolate milk. Don't start with me. 26 year olds can drink chocolate milk for breakfast. It's very hipster. Now pay attention! <br />
<br />
Ridiculous story short, he climbed over the railing, picked her up, and carried her back to the safety of the deck. The dog and my half naked husband both survived with no injuries. Except to their pride, because I obviously ridiculed him to no end, and then blogged about it. Wife of the year, I know. <br />
<br />
Marriage is awesome. I can't wait to embarass our future children together. <br />
<br />
Always, <br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />
P.S. Dear neighbors: relax. We will get the hang of this grown up thing one day or another. We're here to help God teach you patience. You're welcome. <br />
<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-25750186299342694572012-11-12T10:50:00.000-06:002012-11-14T15:54:45.347-06:00JOHNNY FREAKING FOOTBALL<br />
Go ahead and roll your eyes if you must (since the Crimson Tide wasn't able to)...if you know me, you HAD to know this post was coming. <br />
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<br />
I BLEED MAROON!<br />
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And none of this band wagon, t-shirt fan nonsense. I root for my boys every year. And for as many seasons as I can remember, all I catch from people is crap.Why? Because our team hasn't been a winning one in a very long time. But we hold on hope because, well, it's in our blood. WE are the 12th man...and we will take the heart ache, because we are just that loyal. For those of you who don't know, Texas A&M left the Big 12 in a history making move and joined the SEC. A winning conference. THE conference by many people's standards. And Lord have mercy did we hear it all. "A&M will never make it in the SEC", "Y'all are going to have your maroon asses handed to you all season", "The Aggies are going to be the joke of the conference" and blah, blah, blah, blah, blahhhh. <br />
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Personally? I wasn't surprised by any of those comments. Yes, we made a big move. Yes, we have a new coach, and if history serves as any reminder, odds are we aren't going to bring much to the table. So I kept my trash talking mouth closed, my hopes high, and held my breath every Saturday since the season started...and prayed for a miracle. <br />
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And it worked. We've lost 2 games, but they were anything but a beating. We stepped up, and we started WINNING. And then we got to this Satruday. Texas A&M vs. Alabama, the defending Naional Champions and #1 team in the country. Everyone was expecting a masacre. There was NO WAY the Ags, even with an on the road winning streak, stood a snowball's chance in hell against the Crimson Tide. <br />
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And then came <a href="http://www.secdigitalnetwork.com/NEWS/tabid/473/Article/239055/the-making-of-a-legend.aspx" target="_blank">Johnny Football</a>. By the end of the first quarter we were up 20-0 and my heart was racing faster than I can ever remember. The game was EPIC. Alabama came back with a vengeance, but in the end, my Aggies won the game. Dethroned the #1 team and walked away with a 29-24 victory. (I literally just got chills typing that...not even sorry!)<br />
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Ya'll? Saturday was the best gameday of my Aggie life. I sports cried. Judge me if you will, but I know I wasn't the only one. Everybody loves an underdog story, and for those of us who stand by our team, win or lose, this weekend was worth any disapointment in the past, or in the future. This weekend the AGGIES were on top, and I was on cloud nine. <br />
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Way to go Ags. I couldn't be MORE proud to be a part of such an indescribable community. My Aggie ring is shining a little brighter, and I'll be wearing maroon every day for the rest of the season. <br />
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A&M! GIVE US ROOM! <br />
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WHOOP!!!!!! <br />
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Always, <br />
<br />
L<br />
Proudest Member of the Fightin' Texas Aggie Class of 2009!<br />
<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-35434769140154832322012-11-05T09:24:00.003-06:002012-11-05T09:32:24.590-06:00A lesson in domestic violence<br />
People fight. Married people? They are no exception. And any married person who tells you otherwise, is a big fat liar....or, has their life much more together than me and the hubs do. Either way, I'm here to tell you that sharing your life with a boy ain't no picnick, and some days...you just want to punch them. <br />
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Cue Thursday. I got home from work, and captain bossy is all, "hurry up, lets go, we're gonna be late, blah blah blah". Let me back up a minute. Did I mention that he was off work ALL day...just chilling at home on the couch eating cheetos? And I was getting home from the world's longest day at the office, literally still climbing out of the car when he started all this nonesense? I think it goes without saying that I was grouchy. I was even more annoyed with the fact that we've been at this for ELEVEN years. You'd think by now this kid would know how NOT to push my buttons and turn me voilent.<br />
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Anyway, we were headed out to eat with his parents for my birthday and he was so sure we were gonna be late. And that my tardiness was super rude. Did I mention it was also ONLY 5:15? *insert eye roll here* <br />
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So we're bickering. And I'm getting more stabby by the second. Fast forward 30 minutes and I'm practically planning out where to bury his lifeless body, and he's still all, "yap yap yap you're inconsiderate". As we get closer to the house, he's tells me he doesn't want me to ruin dinner with my bad attitude. I beg your freaking pardon?! I politely informed him it was MY birhtday dinner and I'd be as hostile as I felt like...and he could bite me. <br />
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Now he's begging me to, "get in a better mood" and all I can say through my gritted teeth is how very much I would like to punch him. In the face. Twice. <br />
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What happened next, I never saw coming. Like, at all. He stops the car. He looks at me and asks, "if you punch me, can we be done and have a good time tonight?". My face must've been screaming YES, because before I could answer, he grabs my already balled up fist, and knocks himself upside the head with it. HARD. As in, his glasses fell off his face. <br />
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And y'all? I was INSTANTLY in a fabulous mood. All my frustration was gone. And as I sat there and stared at him, we both just erupted into laughter. I felt better. He was happy because I wasn't grumpy. And although it might have been the most disfuncntional fight we've had to date...I've never loved him more. We had an awesome time at dinner, and I was given the best blog material in marriage history. Gateway domestic violence for the win. <br />
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Hot mess, party of two? Your table is now available. <br />
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Always, <br />
<br />
L<br />
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<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-27541371008595756192012-10-28T20:11:00.001-05:002012-10-28T20:11:12.300-05:00Happy BirthdayThere were a lot of things I missed out on blogging about when I went on my hiatus. None of them were more final than the loss of the greatest man I've ever known. Today is his birthday, and this is for him. <br /><br />"See You Again"<br />Carrie Underwood<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3109.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3109.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Said goodbye, turned around, and you were gone, gone, gone. Faded into the setting sun. Slipped away. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3110.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3110.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />But I won't cry cause I know, I'll never be lonely. For you are the stars to me. You are the light I follow.<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3111.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3111.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I will see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry, you with me. Till I see you again. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3112.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3112.jpg' border='0' width='217' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I can hear those, echoes in the wind at night. Calling me back in time. Back to you. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3113.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3113.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />In a place far away, where the water meets the sky. The thought of it makes me smile. You are my tomorrow. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3114.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3114.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I will see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry, you with me. Till I see you again.<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3115.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3115.jpg' border='0' width='395' height='395' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Sometimes, I feel my heart is breaking. But I stay strong, and I hold on...cause I know. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/28/3116.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/28/s_3116.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I will see you again. <br /><br /><br />Until then, all my love. <br /><br />Always, <br /><br />L<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-87252690069518432672012-10-23T16:13:00.001-05:002012-10-23T16:17:57.068-05:00I went to jail<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">In keeping with my robber theme, I thought I'd share an extremely unpleasant experience I had last week. One where I literally went to jail. Well, chicken jail. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">This was one of those "if it can go wrong, it will" kind of mondays. And all I wanted to do was go home, watch trash television, eat fried chicken, and color with my new glitter crayons in my Lisa Frank coloring book. In that order. Incredibly mature, I know. Just let me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">So, on my way home from the longest day EVER, I stopped at the Golden Chick. And this is the series of events that followed...<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Unless you live under a rock, or are really in to some fad diet, you are familiar with standard drive through establishment etiquette. You pull forward, you order, you drive past the 1st window (because apparently there is some kind of fast food inside joke that I'm missing) and pay/get your food at the second window. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">WRONG. Enter bitch on wheels. 22 inch platinum wheels to be more precise. Oh and a spare. On the back of her <em>not</em> SUV. This woman, bless her heart, almost made me kill her. And let me just say this...I would have been applauded by everyone else at Golden Chick that day. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">She pulls forward. She orders. She pulls forward. She REVERSES. She hangs out the widow with her phone. She orders some more. She pulls forward. And I shit you not, she reverses and adds to her order AGAIN. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">You know that big nasty vein that always shows ups on a murders forehead right before they snap and kill everyone? Mine was clearly visible. Throbbing in fact. Oh but don't worry. This story gets way better. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">So now it's finally (15 minutes later mind you) my turn to order. Here is where things just get asinine. The people tell me they are out of chicken. I did mention this is a CHICKEN place, right? So, I decide this is just not gonna happen for me. I can't wait another 15 minutes for you to cook more. I'm over this day and most certainly over this food chain. So I decide to leave. I look behind me...<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">This is when I realize that I am literally TRAPPED. With 3 cars in front of me and 2 behind me...who all have NO problem with spending the remainder of their evening at the Chick. No path of escape is available aside from abandoning redcar and walking home. So, there I sat. For the next 30 minutes. THIRTY.MINUTES. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">And you want to know how they assured me they were sorry for my wait? A free dinner? Negative. One extra roll. ONE. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Worst.Apology.Ever. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The moral of the story? I got fresh, hot, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, colored the most fabulous rainbow leopard this side of a gay pride parade and I only had to serve an hour in chicken jail. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Hashtag lifefail. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Always,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Noteworthy','serif'; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">L<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-57930135832612585582012-10-17T17:30:00.001-05:002012-10-17T19:52:07.850-05:00For catchy title see below(**EDIT: it has been brought to my attention that I should clarify that I am, in fact, a responsible adult. I am NOT a bank robber. I am a productive, working member of society, perfectly capable of borrowing/paying a mortgage loan from any financial institution generous enough to lend it. I should also state that the title and contents of this post are completely, 100% an exaggerated attempt at satire. Oh, and Im not really a witch either. End edit***).<br /><br />Balls. Being a grown up requires more thinking before blogging than I'm used to. <br /><br />*insert eye roll here* <br /><br />Original post:<br /><br />"I robbed a bank"<br /><br />Oh hi. You like how just lured you in with a flashy title while simultaneously glossing over my multi-month absence from the blogosphere? Me too. Suffice it to say that my new life as a burglar has kept me busy. <br /><br />Ok. I didn't rob a bank. But I did buy a house, which is practically the same thing. I mean, seriously!? Who in their right mind would lend me a stupid amount of money for a house?! And not just any house. A magical house. FULL of whimsy. And awesome. Nobody, thats who. Therefore I must be a bank robber. Or...stop. A WITCH. Go with me on this. Two weeks ago, my nephew informed me that my eyelashes were spiders (hey lash blast, thanks for nothing), AND I saw an owl one morning on my way to work. Combine that with the voodoo I pulled on the bank and the fact that it's October...my letter from Hogwarts should be arriving any day. It's totally ok to be jealous. <br /><br />But for real, we did buy a house. And I'm so in love with it, it should be illegal. We will be closing in a few weeks, and I'm so excited! I don't want to jinx anything so these few pictures will have to hold you over until everything is official official. And yes I meant to say it twice. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/17/2375.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/17/s_2375.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I know what you're thinking, and I can assure you, that IS a spiral staircase. And original, 1940's hardwood floors. I die.<br /><br />Peace, love, and pumpkins!<br /><br />Always,<br /><br />L<br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-42640705164170627842012-03-01T15:59:00.001-06:002012-03-01T15:59:30.501-06:00Holy Sickness Batman<br />
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Yep. That just about sums it up. Going on 10, TEN days of being sick. Currently on my second round of antibiotics and steroids, THIRD round of cough syrup/pills and I think I've annihilated about 4 inhalers. Lung transplant anyone?<br />
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Anyway, I have a bunch of cool things to blog about. Like pinterest projects I've (halfway) completed, wedding showers, trying unsuccessfully to sell NINE puppies (any takers? no seriously, they are adorbs. you want one, you know you do!), Yankee coming to visit in TWO WEEKS and all kinds of other stuff. Buuuuut that's not happening today. Maybe this weekend. If you're lucky.<br />
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Grouchtastic doesn't even begin to cover my attitude lately. So all of you who are actually dealing with me in real life, consider yourselves saints. Especially hubster.<br />
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Peace, love, and bronchial congestion...<br />
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Always,<br />
<br />
LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-36333990387714364702012-02-21T09:12:00.001-06:002012-02-21T09:13:32.148-06:00Too good not to share.<br />
"...I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself.
I’d committed to “the End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile
the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as
good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my
control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take
responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it." <br />
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The above is an excerpt from <a href="http://theweek.com/article/index/99512/the-last-word-he-said-he-was-leaving-she-ignored-him">this</a> article I stumbled across a few days ago. Hubs and I both read and loved it. No matter where you are in life, relationship, marriage, I think it is worth the read. Navigating your life with someone isn't always butterflies and roses. It's work. Sometimes (a lot of times) you aren't both in the same frame of mind emotionally, spiritually or otherwise. What this woman was able to do, for herself, her children, and for her marriage is more than admirable. The lesson of being their for your spouse, by whatever means necessary, comes through loud and clear. <br />
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Here's to taking responsibility for our own happiness.<br />
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Always,<br />
<br />
L<br />
<br />
<br />
http://theweek.com/article/index/99512/the-last-word-he-said-he-was-leaving-she-ignored-himEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-42031831952560594992012-02-20T08:26:00.000-06:002012-02-21T09:13:56.830-06:00Short and Sweet...<br />
...it's better than nothing at all, right? Just wanted to post this adorable-melt-your-heart-into-tiny-pieces picture of B and Uncle Nate.<br />
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I'm so happy to report that Bryce is finally HOME and doing amazing. All 3lbs 10oz of him. And, since life likes to mess with me, I am, of course, sick as a dog and cant see him just yet. But not to worry, he knows his YaYa loves him, I'm sure of it :)<br />
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OH, and because I'd just like to kill you with adorableness:<br />
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If that doesn't make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you might want to hightail it on over to Oz and ask for a new heart. Robot.<br />
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More updates about life and bridesmaiding and all that jazz soon, I promise. But hopefully this will tide you over in the mean time.<br />
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Always,<br />
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LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-73701749719133129602012-02-07T10:28:00.000-06:002012-02-07T10:29:19.993-06:00B is for: Bryson, Bridesmaid-ing, and a blogging comeback<br />
Oh hey! Remember that one time I used to blog? But then the inevitable "i can't commit to ANYTHING" syndrome kicked in? And life got busy and this little slice of the internet machine was left to collect cyber cobwebs? Yeah, that just happened.<br />
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I'm not sure how many of you are even still out there reading this, but I do know one very persistent Yankee (who BTW will be here in MARCH) that is on the verge of physical violence in regards to my lack of blogging. So if anything, this one is for you dollface.<br />
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So, since I have over a month of things to catch up on, I thought I'd just give each post a letter theme, you know, like on Sesame Street? Clever, I know. And yes I realize I skipped the letter A. It's pretentious and gets all the recognition for being at the beginning of the alphabet and I've got no time for a stuck up letter stealing the show. I decided it's time that another letter get to shine; so, as should go without saying, B was the obvious choice.<br />
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Ok, all of that was total bullsh. I just happen to be a fan of alliteration and as the fates would have it, I had three things to talk about that started with a B. You're welcome.
I feel rusty at this. I've been keeping all my crazy pent up in my brain, or just unloading on the hubs, so typing all this up feels kinda silly. And kinda rambley. Oh well. You decided to click the link, what does that say about you?<br />
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Anyyyway. Lots to talk about so lets get to it.
First, and most importantly, I'm a YaYa again! That's right, I am the proudest most smitten aunt to a new little nugget of sunshine. World, meet Bryson (Bryce) Louis Hunke. Born 2/4 at 9:12am, weighing a whopping 3lbs 2oz.
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Now, since I have been the world's worst blogger lately, I never filled y'all in about the not-so-ideal pregnancy my sister-in-law had. Suffice it to say that she was on bed rest for about 2 months, and after many doctors visits, (most importantly counseling from the incredible Dr. Daum) they determined, for whatever reason, that B wasn't growing enough. So after only 34 weeks of "cooking" it was time for him to make his grand entrance into the world. He came out screaming, and is doing remarkably well. He can breathe on his own, but the CPAP machine just makes it easier on his little lungs, and doesn't force his little body to burn as many calories. Momma is recovering well from her C-section (she's a trooper!) and Dad is an incredibly proud papa. We SO overjoyed about this perfect teensy addition to our family! Any prayers or well wishes for my SIL's continued recovery, and fast weight gain for little B would be more than appreciated.<br />
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What was the other B thing I needed to talk about? Oh yeah, bridesmaid-ing. Yes, i just made that into a verb. Anything can be made into a verb by adding -ing. Read a book.<br />
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So I have the pleasure of being in not one, but TWO weddings this coming April, which makes March the month of bachelorette parties. It's ok to be jealous. I'm actually in charge of throwing one of them, and as Maid of Honor I really hope I don't screw it up! If any of you reading this are KJ's bridesmaids, scouts honor I'm putting together the email with all the weekend details and you WILL see it this week. I swear. If you don't, please bombard my facebook telling me how big of a slacker I am. Seriously. I'm actually co-hosting another shower this month, which, since I obviously SUCK at multi-tasking, has taken center stage.<br />
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None of that is really the point. All the showers/parties aside, I just can't wait to stand next to two of my absolute best/closest friends, on their special day. It's an honor I don't take lightly, or for granted. Both of them stood beside me on my wedding day, and I can't wait to do the same for them. <br />
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I was reminded the other day, (when I was literally on the verge of a panic attack because of all of the activities and things I have coming up/am committed to) how blessed I am. All of the things I have going on, are good and happy things. Wonderful, life changing things, that I am so fortunate to be a part of. Even when I'm overwhelmed I just keep telling myself that.<br />
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It also helps that my husband is the bomb. No seriously y'all, you know that "made for TV" marriage bliss that every romcom force feeds you? The vomit inducing, all encompassing happiness that, as of our first few years of marriage had been elusive at best? We've found it. (Technically, we'd had it all along...we'd just gotten lazy, and needed a tune up, but that's a post for another day). We had to work at it. And we will have to keep working at it, everyday. But that's a responsibility I will happily take on. I am married to my best friend. We get to play house, build forts and watch Saturday morning cartoons together, for the rest of our lives. How bad ass is that? Going on 11 years and the kid still gives me butterflies, and is the best part of my day. And I'm <strike>happy</strike> abundantly joyful.<br />
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How's that for a blogging comeback?<br />
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Always,<br />
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LEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-20051696350431543912011-12-25T20:41:00.001-06:002011-12-25T20:41:53.878-06:00Dad plays KinectBest. Christmas. EVER! Hahahahah!!!<br /><br /><p align='center'><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/SZQcwd_bRHI" width="400" height="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SZQcwd_bRHI" /><param name="quality" value="high" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><!-- Fallback content --><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZQcwd_bRHI"><img src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/SZQcwd_bRHI/0.jpg" width="400" height="300" />YouTube Video</a></object></p><br />Ps. The sound effects are ALL him. This is the gift that just keeps on giving. <br /><br />Always, <br /><br />L<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5943789319347507601.post-7047229160371726952011-12-10T09:07:00.002-06:002011-12-10T09:07:00.056-06:00An Open Letter to my Pitt Bull<br><br />
Hey Lady, <br />
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We need to have a little chat. Let me start by saying that I love you. I really do, but some things have got to change. Your gas? Girl it has gotten WAY out of hand. Waking up to a methane gas burning my nose AND my eyes isn't exactly my idea of a good morning. I'm thinking this might have something to do with the fact that you eat cat shit from our yard. In fact, that might be the cause of your unbearable breath situation too, but we'll touch on that a little later. <br />
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Let's address this other thing you do in the morning. You know what I'm talking about. That thing where you decide the world needs to be awake at the crack of dawn and you somehow think you were appointed WAKE THE WHOLE EFFING HOUSE UP queen? Unacceptable. If you roo in my face before 7am one more time I will end you. <br />
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Oh and when it rains, and there's that noise in the sky? It's thunder. Yes we heard it and NO climbing underneath me and shaking profusely will not make it stop. If you have to do something to calm your nerves, bother Toga. Lord knows that's why we have TWO dogs. Entertain yourselves. <br />
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I'm not completely insensitive though. I know you recently lost your partner in crime/best friend. It was hard on all of us and I'm working on your dad to try and get a replacement. But if you keep up with these obnoxious shenanigans you are going to be lonely for a LONG time. You are not helping either of our cases by being such a pain. <br />
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And lastly, I want to congratulate you on your recent discovery of your unnatural jumping abilities. Kuddos on being able to clear the sorry excuse for a fence we have in the back of our yard. Here's the thing though. Next time you decide to do this at 11 at night...be prepared to sleep OUTSIDE. Yes I said it. And I'm not above praying for it to thunder all night either to teach you a lesson. Chasing you around the neighborhood in my pjs is not something I have the patience for. So knock it off. <br />
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I know you think I have officially retired your kennel but consider this your final warning. Shape up or prepare for lock up. <br />
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Sincerely, <br />
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MomEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999912130650231612noreply@blogger.com0