Dear City of Portland,
Last night you were terrible to me, my friends, and even my live in. It will be a long time before I forgive you.

Dear Verizon,
Thanks for being there for me last night. What? Never mind you were terrible to me last night too. Where was my network when I needed it most?

Dear Gas Station,
I never thought two words could make me so sad…”cash only”. Perhaps a backup plan might be in order for future “satellite troubles” due to inclement weather. Furthermore, if you are going to suggest I retrieve cash from the ATM located inside your filthy gas station, please ensure its working.

Dear Jetta,
Like always, you rocked it out. You ran on fumes when I needed you to, you were a champ on the roads, and I would never, ever abandon you roadside.

Dear Sam Adams,
Please update your resume.

Dear Hawaii,
We’re on our way.

I am loving this snowball fight in NYC...

I was feeling a little blue yesterday.

The live in brought me flowers

and let us sleep with the blinds open…

two of my favorite things.

Q&A with The Live In

E: Is this inconveniencing your TV watching?

TLI: Can I watch that too, or no?

E: I’d rather you didn’t.

TLI: {sigh and eye roll} TV gets muted.

E: How has your life changed over this last year since the blog started?

TLI: I feel like in the last year people know more of my unique tendencies.

E: Like what? {trying not to laugh}

TLI: Like the eye cream I use, or all the blogs about the little things I do that make people laugh.

E: Are you full of yourself?

TLI: No, I think I’ve hit super star status though. As the live in. I’ve got a secondary persona.

E: Like Tiger?

TLI: Not quite like Tiger.

E: A little bit like Tiger?

TLI: No.

E: Can you try and answer questions like you normally would, don’t try and use big words to impress people.

TLI: Okay. {TV gets un-muted}

E: Turn the TV off.

TLI: I’m watching this.

E: Have any of the blog posts embarrassed you?

TLI: Yes! The blog post about…? Which one was it? Which one was it? Do you remember which one it was?

E: No.

TLI: It was just a recent one, like in the last two months. Well the pretty boy post was one. If you want to print all the posts and let me go back through them I think I can remember.

E: No, I don’t want to do that.

TLI: What’s the next question? Are you making answers up for me? Do you have these questions already thought up or are you making them up as you go?

E: You’re being weird. Next question – when do you think the blog will end?

TLI: I think the blog has slowed down quite a bit in the last few months. So, I see that as the photography blog takes more of your time this blog will stop. Or, when we move to suburbia and out of the loft. Then it might just be called something different…like, “My crazy husband.”

E: I don’t see us moving to the suburbs anytime soon. Plus, the blog is about more than just you so; I doubt it would ever be called “My Crazy Husband”. Nice try. You’re right though, Life in a Loft will need to end if we move.

TLI: Alright. What’s the next question? Next question, please!

E: Are you ever nervous about what I am going to write about?

TLI: Yes, all the time. You get to see some of the craziness. The singing, the loud noises, the goofiness.

E: If there was one thing you can tell the readers what would it be?

TLI: That our life isn’t always that fun. We have relaxing days, we have quiet days, but we also do have a lot of stories. We’re like any other crazy couple. Are these good answers or are these bad answers?

E: They’re good. Do you ever wish we were less busy?

TLI: No, I like how busy we are. It makes life interesting.

E: How has being married to me changed you?

TLI: {long pause} Hmm…it’s changed me in the way that I see the world and want to see the world. I don’t think I would have traveled and done the things that I have without you.

E: That’s nice of you, I was expected more of a sarcastic answer. What’s your funniest travel memory?

TLI: Just the two of us or anytime?

E: Anytime.

TLI: I think the funniest is when we {Erica’s family} were in London and I got on the Underground going one way, but everyone else got on the train going the other way.

E: Yes, that was funny. Funny how you were the only one to get on that train. Do you think that on our next family trip you will do anything like that?

TLI: I am sure. I’ll find a way.

E: Let’s talk about living in the loft. What is the most challenging part for you?

TLI: The noise that I make that drives you crazy. From the TV being on 5 minutes past 10pm or going to get my water before bed.

E: Those things are annoying. In our next house I’ll install a drinking fountain next to your side of the bed. You drink at least a gallon of water throughout each night. Aside from the location, what’s your favorite part about living here?

TLI: I can see the TV from anywhere in the house.

E: You can’t see the TV from the hallway.

TLI: Pretty close.

E: Sometimes we call your closet your “room”. You’ve been known to go there for some quiet time away from me.

TLI: Yep.

E: Care to comment?

TLI: It’s the littlest, quiet room you’ve ever had!

E: Fair enough.

TLI: {grinning from ear to ear} What other barn busters do you have for me?

E: Do you think we’ll ever finish the painting?

TLI: Yes. The day before we put it on the market.

E: Maybe I’ll make that my 2010 resolution?

TLI: Yeah? Awesome.

E: What’s one thing that’s surprised you about living here?

TLI: How much we eat out. And how quiet it is.

E: I cooked a really good dinner last Sunday.

TLI: Yeah, but we still eat out way too much.

E: Well, should I make that my New Year’s resolution? Or stick with the painting? I can’t commit to both.

TLI: Both.

E: What’s your New Year’s resolution?

TLI: To run more.

E: Like from the cops or like Forrest Gump?

TLI: Like Forrest Gump.

E: Have you ever been arrested?

TLI: No. I have had a ton of cops in my house before but…

E: Why?!

TLI: Well…when I was a sophomore in college I was walking from my friend’s house to my house with a case of beer in my hand. I was of course underage at the time. In the distance I happened to see a cop on my way, so not wanting to get caught with the beer I decided to run back to my place. What I didn’t know what that there happened to be a robbery or kidnapping in the area and once the cops saw me sprint away they thought I could be involved in the robbery. I had just gotten back to my house and put the beer in the fridge when five cop cars pulled up outside my house. They knocked on the door and asked if they could come in to check things out. Of course I was freaking out and thought that this was all over the case of beer I had in my possession. After they were done searching my house they told me that something had happened and that they were on the lookout.

E: I can’t believe I’ve never heard that story before! That’s so you though. Who sprints at the sight of cops? I think our interview is over. Nothing can top that story…

Just Another Morning

The holidays do not stress me out. I share a pretty cool mom who takes very good care of us, so I literally can go home with the clothes on my back and be totally set. However, now that my sister is going Violet Beauregarde on me I don’t think I’ll be sharing clothes with her anytime soon. Regardless, we are totally taken care of and this makes my Christmas much less stressful.

That being said, I’ve been a mental mess lately. My schedule has been insane. My workload is heavy. And I’m about to check myself into mental rehab. Or go to Cabo, whichever is cheaper. I am not 100% complaining. But I am prepping you. Because in order to fully understand my little situation this morning, you must realize I am a wreck.

After going through my pile of clean/semi dirty clothes on the floor I came up with a pretty decent outfit for the day. I decided to compliment this outfit with a pair of zip up boots. Now, the boots are about a half size too small for me anyways, but when I put them on this morning they felt extra tight. And uncomfortable. Like I was in Geisha training or something. Powering through the pain in the name of beauty I went along with my morning. I chalked this sudden misfit of footwear up to my recently discovered gray hairs, as I do with everything that now looks, bigger, fatter, flabbier, or less Gisele like.

However, walking was a challenge too. It was awkward and made me feel extremely dizzy.

I am sure you’re all a little more intelligent than I, and have by now realized I had my shoes on the wrong feet. My only saving grace was that the live in had already left for work, and I avoided rounds of teasing. Or so I thought.

I love my work family almost as much as I love my real family. So, I made the mistake of telling them this story too. There was quite a bit of laughter to say the least. And, if that wasn’t bad enough someone who was only partially listening asked me how old I was when this happened to me. Well – it was THIS morning, so that’d make me about 28. I do believe she peed her pants from laughing so hard.

Maybe my mom can write a big L and R on the soles of my shoes while I am home…

It's My Blog Birthday!

Happy blog birthday to me!

On Saturday this little online diary will be one year old.

Thanks for reading, laughing, and having fun along with us.

In honor of the big day I’ll be posting a Q & A with…

the live in!

O Christmas Tree

The live in and I decided to get a Christmas tree this year. Last year we opted out. The year before that we made a pilgrimage into the forest (okay a u-cut farm) and found an oversized tree that barely fit in our loft.

This year we went 100% urban. We walked down to the Christmas tree lot, picked out a 5ft darling, and hauled it home. It was fun.

Bend, Oregon

When I initially thought about starting a blog I wanted to write about travel, restaurants, and new hot spots in the Northwest. Oh how I have digressed over the last year. Anyhoo, here’s a few of our favorite spots we visited while in Bend:

900 Wall:
900 Wall (formerly Merenda’s) is a must! The live in and I went for lunch…twice. Very reasonably priced, very good food. Their rotisserie chicken sandwich is to die for…

Powell’s Sweet Shoppe:
I really don’t think there could be a better candy store than this. Anywhere. It’s nostaligic, fun, and has everything! The live in made certain we stopped before our ride back home…he needed a little road candy.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy {late} Thanksgiving, my friends. How was your day?

The live in and I are spending a few days in beautiful Sunriver for a little rest and relaxation post holiday. Actually he’s currently at the gym which doesn’t sound restful or relaxing to me, but it’s one of his favorite things to do while on vaca. Go figure.

We arrived last night and I don’t believe we have ever slept so well. Apparently waking up a 6:30am to stick our arms down the cavity of a dead bird really wore us out.

This was the first turkey the live in and I had ever cooked.

There were moments when I wished we had agreed to that reality TV show just so we would have documentation of how ridiculous we looked. The live in had read that cooking the turkey breast side down to start was the way to go. An hour and a half into cooking we were to flip the bird breast side up. So we did this. However, how in the world are you supposed to flip a hot, greased up, 18lb turkey? After a few minutes of struggling with the thing and no luck, we decided to wrap the live in’s hands in foil to hopefully shield him from the heat and allow him to handle it. This still didn’t work as the beast of a thing was much too hot. So, we put hot pads in his hands and then wrapped foil around the two. It looked hilarious, and worked like a charm.

We also brined the turkey the night before. We disregarding the professional’s advice to not use a garbage bag and forged ahead with this method. My guess is that the cooking bags made specifically for brining are possibly a little stronger…and perhaps shaped to the form of a turkey? Because I will tell you…garbage bags are not.

I will say that the turkey turned out great. Seems like a lot of effort for a fancy chicken to me, but who am I to question years and years of suffering.

We enjoyed spending our day with the live in’s side of the family, and I truly hope you enjoyed your day as well.

p.s. more on Sunriver and Bend later…for now you can check out a photo here.

Thanks...

You know what is my fave?

Having awesome friends and family.

Thank you all so much for checking in on me…even my brother called!

I adored your comments, phone calls, and emails (one even made me cry it was so sweet).

I am thankful for each and every one of you…

xoxo,

erica

Bad Day

On occasion I will get an email or two from blog readers thanking me for blogging about a certain topic. It’s nice. It makes me think this little online diary of mine is worth publishing to all of you. I also get a few emails from readers who think my life, or the moments I share, is far more interesting than it actually is. Well…

Today was a bad, bad day for me. From start to finish. In fact, probably the worst day I have had since I can remember. However, there were positive moments. And, we choose our attitude.

My morning started with a photography shoot in John’s Landing. The shoot ended short after I fell down a flight of cement stairs. The sidewalk, mud, and my camera helped break my fall as I came to a skidding {not a joke} halt. I was bloody and beaten up. But, I didn’t cry. That would have been unprofessional. It’s one thing to flail down a flight of stairs like a dead body; it’s another thing to start wailing in front of client, right?! Not only was I beaten up, but so was my camera. The camera that was out of my budget in the first place was so longer working.

As soon as I got into my car and drove ten feet out of sight, I was sobbing on the phone to my live in. This actually can be put into the positive moment’s category for the day. He is the best.

Once at home I confirmed that the camera was out of commission and phoned my second client for the day to cancel. This killed me. I hated cancelling but even more I hated looking outside, seeing the beautiful weather and realizing it probably won’t happen again. At least not before Christmas, and these photos were for Christmas cards.

While I was icing my golf ball size bump on the knee the live in and I were playing around with the camera. Lo and behold, we figured out the problem. A little duct tape and I was back in business. I called my second client back and our appointment was back on. Another positive moment of the day.

I covered my body in band-aids in an attempt to not scare the children, grabbed my banged up camera, and limped downstairs. I am sure I made a great first impression on this family. Just sure of it. Actually, the family was great. They knew my day was off to a terrible start and couldn’t have been more kind.

If my killer first impression didn’t impress them I am sure the jail threat I received during the photo shoot did. I took them to the railroad tracks near my home for a few photos. A one car train rolled past in the five minutes we happen to be there. Four men took the liberty of stopping the train, and yelling out of their window that the police had been called and I was in violation of trespassing. Again, I didn’t cry. One, there was no sign indicating this “law”, and two – it’s not like I was at the railroad station. We were simply five feet from the actual road where cars and pedestrians pass frequently. Lastly, it was a great shot and I would go back in a second. Especially for an engagement shoot - it’d be perfect.

There were several other “worst day” moments that worked their way into my day, however I’ll spare you. You can feel good in trusting me when I say; it was a truly bad day.

But, like I said, we choose our attitudes. And victim is one thing I am not. I hope this insight into my terrible day helped just one person feel better about theirs. I am thankful for my live in and for my parents. I am thankful I didn’t get hurt worse. But I guess if I actually did go to jail it would have made for an even better story…

The Allison Inn and Spa

I was lucky enough to spend my day at the newly opened Allison Inn and Spa. I have to admit, I was a bit skeptic about a “luxury” hotel and spa in Newberg but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I would highly recommend The Allison to anyone looking for a bit of luxury not too far from home. It’s very well done…from the spa, to the rooms, to the common areas.

I am working on booking a weekend for the live in and I as we speak…

I am back. And, feeling much better. I was able to get away {for work, but still} for a few glorious days in New York City. I stopped thinking about all the things that were bugging me back in Portland and have resolved to letting go of a few things. People are rude, and perhaps don’t always follow the golden rule, but…my friends, there is a whole lotta world out there. It makes certain things look really, really small. Enough said.

Blessings to all.

p.s. more on NY soon.

Hi friends.

I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from blogging,

and truthfully won’t be fully back until the middle of next week.

I miss blogging regularly but

this little break has been much needed.

See you soon!

xoxo,

erica

I am loving this travel style guide. 

So true, so true. 

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Happy Birthday to my sweet, sweet Mom!

Thanks for being the best mom and mom in-law anyone could ask for!

Dear Bryce,

Remember when we were playing that ridiculous game of Uno Spin at the cabin?

Remember how you and I kept cheating…not to win but to hopefully end the game?

Remember how mad Emilie got at us when she found out?

She was a level 5 (seriously mad).

 That was fun.

xx,

erica

Spotted:

...Vinnie Chase in Paris!

(Sorry, I am channeling my inner Gossip Girl.)   

I let out a little scream at work when I heard the news…

Cirque du Soleil is coming to Portland with their show, KOOZA!

Presale tickets were just announced

and I couldn’t resist sharing the news with you, my friends.

Don’t miss out…

Poor Mr. Cunningham

Remember my mention of Joan, our building’s maintenance person? Well now she has the live in scared…

Yesterday I received a call from the live in at 8:30am. Now, we talk a lot during the day but he never calls me that early unless 1. He has gotten into a traffic altercation. 2. He “forgot” to tell me we had company coming over that evening. Or 3. He is being stalked by Joan, the maintenance women.

This time it was reason #3.

As the live in was headed out of the building to his car Joan appeared “out of nowhere” according to the live, but come on let’s keep it real. She probably came out of the maintenance closest if you can believe that. Regardless, she appeared and said to my live in, “good morning…it’s Mr. Cunningham, correct?” Stunned and shaken he replied, “yes, yes it is.”

Apparently this exchange of sentences was enough to send the live in into a conspiracy so tangled only a {true} Cunningham could conceive of it. The live in does not understand how this woman knows his name and now believes she is stalking his hot body. To be honest, I don’t know how she would know his name either. We do have our cars registered to the building and maybe she has access to that list so that she can monitor the parking garage? Who knows. I will say that the live in rocks a suit to work everyday and although this can be quite pleasing to the eyes he just doesn’t seem like Joan’s type.

I listened and sympathized with the live in as he described the situation over and over. He is clearly scared. Perhaps I should start escorting him to his car each morning…

Need A Good Book?

My little book club and I just finished
reading The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.

I thought I would pass on this
recommendation to you...it truly is a great book.

 I already have a list of people
waiting to borrow my copy…

My Week

It’s been a week since I have truly blogged. Friends, time is flying by within the walls of our loft. And it doesn’t help that the days are literally getting shorter and shorter either.

Anyhow, here’s a little of what’s been up this past week:

• The live in has slept on the couch the last three nights in a row. Apparently he felt like taking up snoring and that’s not really welcomed in our bed. I am sympathetic to his nasal issues to a point - however during the middle of the night when he feels like cuddling up about two inches from my face and then letting out a bone curdling log saw, I have little tolerance. Now, before you jump to his defense you should know two things. 1. Our couch is awesome for sleeping on. 2. The recent sleeping arrangements were entirely his choose. Apparently it beats getting kicked in the shins all night.

• I found out that someone I do business with reads my blog. Random, but cool. Hi Laura.

• I am in texting jail. I have a small (okay, medium size) celebrity crush on Chad Ochocinco, who is a bit of a twitter king. I am not on twitter, I don’t tweet, but I thought it might be cool to “follow” Chad as the kids say. So I set up my little account and starting following. The guy is funny. Then I thought it would be nice to have his twitter updates sent to my cell. It would be like a little treat a work, something to break up the day – not to mention a great conversation piece.

By the way, the live in did not understand the relationship I had with Chad. Honestly, I felt like he was a bit jealous.

One morning while I was getting ready the live in asked if I had an unlimited text plan on my phone. I told him I did. Of course I did. I am 28, texting is rad, obviously I would have an unlimited plan. He asked, he said, because just that morning I had already gotten 20 texts from Chad. Before 7:30am my time…no joke. Later that day (and 15 texts later) I double checked with my phone company that I truly had an unlimited plan. Turns out I actually don’t. Chad had already used up 75% of my allotment for October.

He and I broke up that day.

• And lastly...
The live in needs to go to DVR school. Badly.

New Blog

I had so much fun taking photos of Meghan and her family that

I thought I would create a seperate blog for photography,

and the amazing people who let me join them for a few hours of fun...

Please check it out....here. 

xoxo,

erica

1950's?

The live in and I are helping out at the Aids Walk this Sunday. It’s a volunteer group based out of Wells Fargo, which is where the live in works. Last night we went to the mandatory volunteer training session (blah!) and we were asked to introduce ourselves to the group and explain where we worked. The organizer assumed everyone there worked for Wells Fargo and he was more or less asking them to say which part of the company they worked in. I do not work for Wells Fargo. So, I introduced myself as “Troy’s wife”. In other words, good bye self identity…hello 1950’s. What was I thinking with this answer? Plus, poor live in. I looked a wreck and he was looking his usual GQ self. I still had pieces of bun in my hair from the hamburger I just devoured. And I refused to take my coat off because “I didn’t want to stay long.” So, picture a really sloppy Eskimo with out of control hair, and you have your visual.

On the way out of the bank from our meeting there was a group of homeless people making camp for the night. One woman looked at me and with the most sincere voice said, “God bless you, you take care.” I am pretty sure she thought I was one of them (or would be soon). This didn’t offend me. She was nice. Then another guy yelled, “watch out for Chase”. And the live in laughed. It was funny.

On the way home I told the live in that the way I introduced myself was a poor life decision. He disagreed. I also told him I refused to wear the Wells Fargo Volunteer shirt they were threatening to make me wear. He disagreed with that too.

Portland Fashion Week is here!

I encourage you all to go check out this fun event.

My friends and I have made it an annual thing…

...

Boulbon

The live in and I are in love with this little town in Provence.

We are dreaming of our daily bakery stops,

our afternoon dip in the pool,

and the perfectly prepared dinners...

{Boulbon, France}

...

The Story

A few of you have asked about the back story behind the stolen Paris umbrella mentioned in my last post. The story is this…

While we were in Paris a few weeks ago we encountered some drizzle. So during our stay we borrowed umbrellas from our hotel. {thank you, hotel}. On the day we were to fly out it poured. We’re talking Portland plus Seattle type of rain. However, we only needed to walk about 150 yards from our hotel to the Metro. Once on the Metro we’d never have to surface again, thus avoiding any further rain.

The live in had been eyeing the umbrella already. It’s nothing special though, just your standard black umbrella with a wooden hook like handle. I used it as a cane some days when I was feeling extra tired. Really the cane should have been about four or five inches longer though so I just came across as a homeless women with an unfortunate hunchback.

Regardless of the short 150 yard walk, and the armfuls of luggage we were already carrying, of course the live in swiped the thing. Never mind the hassle it was to carry it in the wind and rain while trying to maneuver our luggage over cobblestone streets. Remember our close call at the Paris airport? Well I left out the part about us being even further delayed while the live in was forced to check the umbrella in a large plastic bag normally reserved for checking car seats. This was necessary because apparently the French put umbrellas into the potential weapons category.

And, so do the Americans we found out. We waited extra long in Chicago for this jewel of an umbrella to come out of the “high risk” conveyor belt as we prepared to go through customs and re-check our bags. At one point the live in got so tired of waiting {and fearful we’d miss our connection) for the umbrella to come through he said we were going to leave it. If you’ve traveled internationally before you know this.is.not.possible. You can’t just ditch half the luggage you started with mid-way through your day. You must claim all baggage before being allowed on to your connecting flight. Otherwise you are seen as a bit of a security threat.

Finally amongst the pets, and guns, and other concealed cargo, our prized umbrella came through.

And that is the story of the stolen umbrella from Paris.

Dear Fall,
I like you. A lot.

Dear Verizon,
My live in is even more mad at you now after the mean text you sent me today. You will be hearing from him.

Dear Chuck Bass,
You make my heart flutter.

Dear Kitchen,
I rocked you.

Dear Lightbulbs,
Please stop burning out. We are too lazy to buy more of you.

Dear Stolen Umbrella From Paris,
You may get used this week.

Dear Live In,
You looked amazing today.
You are fiercely loyal to those you care about.
You knew it was Hilary Duff’s birthday today.
I love you.

Busted

I think my live in might be special needs at times. Last night this was confirmed.

One of the ways we save money is by being super frugal and cheap in areas. Like toothbrushes, for example. I cannot remember the last time we bought one from the store. We either steal new ones from my mom {she buys the nice kind} or we use the toothbrushes our dentist gives us.

Last weekend I threw away my old purple toothbrush and opened a new one from the dentist. It was red. We have a toothbrush holder with four spaces in it. I always use the space to the far left, and the live in always uses the space to the far right. Remember, the live in can be a princess, so he also has a toothbrush in the shower. It is red.

Throughout the week I started to notice that my new red toothbrush had been getting moved from its home on the far left of the holder to the space on the far right. I also noticed that at times it was wet. I only live with my live in husband; we do not have pets or ghosts, or vampires that live here too. So, I asked him why he was using my toothbrush. He denied it. Over and over. And although I knew it was him, I really hadn’t caught him using it and started to question if it was actually me who put it away in the wrong spot. I should tell you that the live in normally has a red toothbrush in the holder also. Except last weekend when I replaced my purple one with the new red one I don’t remember it being in there.

The last time I remember questioning him about using my toothbrush he thought I was crazy. Like in my mind I thought it had been too long since we’d had a good fight about nothing and so I created this whole toothbrush slander against him.

However, last night he got ready for bed at the sink while I was still in the shower. When I got out my toothbrush was soaking wet and on the right hand side of the holder. He had already gotten in bed, so I open the bathroom door and ask why he used my toothbrush. Again, he denies it. He then proceeds to say that the toothbrush in question is really old and is actually his. I explain, again, that it’s my new toothbrush, straight out of the box last weekend. By this point we are screaming at each other. He tries to say that the bristles are worn and this proves it’s his. The bristles look pristine. Mint condition. Then he claims that I threw away his red toothbrush that was formerly in the holder, only to replace it with my new one. Yep, totally busted…I love throwing away his toothbrushes in the hopes that he can get mine equally as gross. Then, it dawns on me. His lazy self hasn’t even unpacked from last weekend when we were at Jeff’s wedding.

I march over to his extra large cosmetic bag that remained unpacked, open it up, and find…his red toothbrush. The same one he swore over and over again that I had been using or perhaps even thrown away.

For a week now I’ve been asking him about this. And for one week he never once thought about his unpacked toiletry bag. Today, he’ll tell you that this is a classic case of “miscommunication” and we can learn something from it. I’d tell you that it’s a classic case of the live in and the only thing that can be learned is that we need to ask our dentist for a different color toothbrush other than red.

Mystical

I have red hair. A normal year round job. And I live in Portland. This means I have pale skin, and a farmer’s tan. Well more like a modern day farmer’s daughter tan…but you get the picture. So, in preparation for Jeff’s wedding I went spray tanning.

Have you even been spray tanning before? Kind of intimidating, right? First, there’s the whole turning orange possibility, then there’s the actual machine itself, not to mention the human error factor. My good friend gave me specific instructions on where to go, which tan to get, and how to work it.

I arrive at the recommended tanning salon and ask for the recommended tan only to be told that the machine had just broken and wouldn’t be fixed until the next day. Not going to work for me. So, I went to a different place in my neighborhood that I knew absolutely nothing about...

I was greeted by a Mouseketeer. She was peepy, tan, and miniature. We did not bond. She spoke like a valley girl, but acted like I was the dumb one. She also really, really loved tanning. So I attempt to ask her a few questions about the tan I was ordering.

Erica: Will this make me look orange?
Tween Valley Girl: Mmmm…well…I prefer the beds.
Erica: Yes, so awesome for you…will this make me look orange?
Tween Valley Girl: No. Actually, a lot of really, really pale girls like it. And if it does look orange just scrub really, really hard in the shower and then you’ll love it! You’re gonna love it!

And we go on and on like this. She takes me to the room, literally acts out every step of the process, tells me how “freaky” it’s going to be, and then skips away to read her Miley Cirus biography. At this point I have a strong dislike for her.

I tan and walk out of the room. On my way out of the building she mentions, “oh by the way, you will smell. Not kidding.”

Erica: What do you mean, I will smell?
Tween Valley Girl: Yes, it will smell so bad. But, only you can smell it. No one else can.

Who is this girl? And who would ever hire her?

But, like clockwork two to three hours later I was smelling up a storm. Smelling and itching and gettin’ my tan on. I also had Miss Tween Oregon to thank for the lovely tan lines around my ankles. Perhaps she could have advised blending in the tanning solution rather than creating a line? But, she didn’t.

The next morning it was mani/pedi’s with the rest of the bridal party. I loved my nail technician, he was awesome. I bet he was friends with Miss Tween Oregon. He took the liberty to judge every inch of my skin from the knees down…out loud. “Oh, you went spray tanning”. Laugh, laugh, laugh. He also took the liberty to assume that because I was fake enough to go spray tanning I was, of course, fake enough to die my hair. This was the only explanation for the fact that my sister and I do not share the same hair color, in his mind.

At the end of the day, I am glad I went. I didn’t end up looking orange, the smell kind of wore off, and I got rid of my tan lines. Plus, it makes a good story I guess…

Crazy Rad

Need a little inspiration to get you through the rest of the week? Watch this video. Do it now. I hope you go nuts like I did. Even more inspirational is the making behind the video, watch it here.

Rehearsal Dinner

My brother got married last Saturday!

Here are some photos I took at their rehearsal dinner.

It was quite lovely.

My mom and dad held the dinner at Willamette Mission State Park outside Keizer, Oregon.

It was the perfect setting for a fun evening.

Complete with handmade s'more packets, BBQ, and beautifully decorated tables...

{click on image to enlarge}

Well Done

My friends, I have so many stories to tell you from this past weekend but currently the only thing on my mind are the events that transpired yesterday at work.

It was nearing lunch time and I had drawn quite a crowd surrounding my office {okay, cubicle – but let’s dare to dream}. I’d brought leftovers from the night before, when I made dinner, and I was giving the play by play of this rare event. It actually was quite an event, there was even a dog chase involved…but I digress. I was also weaving in stories from Julie & Julia and explaining why Julie Powell has now fallen on my bad list. But, this is merely my opinion and solely based on rumors floating around the web, so ask me in person or do some internet stalking of your own if you care.

Did I mention it was also “no makeup Monday” for me? Yes, I walked out of the house without an ounce of makeup on. I rarely wear anything more than mascara and blush anyways but trust me, when you’re a prime candidate for eye-lid lift surgery mascara is your BFF. And, have I told you I am a recovering H1N1 victim? Yes, my case was so intense I was actually diagnosed over the phone….by.my.mother. She also told me to not tell anyone “we” thought I might have the swine flu because, and I quote, “you won’t make any friends that way.” Of course I told everyone.

So, we’re all surrounding my luxurious “office” gabbing about food and how domestic I looked with my brown bag lunch when a freakin camera crew (lighting, microphones, etc.) storms the scene. I assure you, this isn’t an exaggeration of events at all. We are getting ready for a big multi-day conference next week and, apparently, this includes filming people at their most vulnerable moments while asking them surprise questions. Oh, and this will be shown in front of hundreds – including executives.

Of course they asked me a question. Why wouldn’t they? They probably thought I was an intern or something what without my sidekick mascara and leftover H1N1 snot running down my face. But, I rose to the occasion and answered the questions with poise and grace. Well, not really. I am pretty sure I might get a demotion actually. Mid-way through the interview the guy holding the lights scratched his face…I asked him (during filming) what he was trying to sign me. Not smooth. I also asked (during filming) if it was trick question I was being asked. Turns out it wasn’t.

While the live in and I were getting ready yesterday morning he asked what I had on my schedule for the day. I told him I wanted to talk to avoid contact with as many people as possible…fly under the radar so to speak. Well, that’s a teeny bit ironic now isn’t it?

The Loft is Getting Gross!

The live in and I were in a small state of panic this morning. Just ask my poor sister who happen to be calling during said state of emergency. She called three times for a good old fashioned rant session but, instead of the standard “hello” I answered the phone with a disappointed “ugh, I thought it might be her calling, not you.”

You see, our housekeeper of four years had gone MIA. {Now, before you roll your eyes and think “it must be nice” you should know…it is nice. And, it’s the sole reason the live in and I are still happily married.}

Well before leaving for France we’ve been trying to reach her, only to get a message saying the number had been disconnected. And friends, our loft is starting to get gross. Our bathroom is growing pink fuzz everywhere and I have been forced to wear socks or slippers so as not to get the floor crumbs and dust bunnies stuck to my bare feet. I begged the live in to use the swiffer last night, but after one round in the kitchen area he called it quits. Fair enough.

This morning we came to the realization that, aside from the swiffer, the windex, and the broom, we didn’t even have the supplies/tools/armor to clean ourselves. We needed to either make a run to the store, start recruiting other help, or step up our stalker status. Clearly, we went with option three.

I summoned my inner Bounty Hunter and took to the web. Turns out everyone is on Facebook. Including several other people who share her name but, when pink bathroom fuzz and our spare house key is involved stalker status sees no limits. Messages were sent, and a few hours later we had contact.

Turns out it was a classic case of lost cell phone. We’re back on the schedule. And this makes us very happy. So happy, the live in did a fist pump.

Dear Live In,

Thank you for staying up late with me on Thursday night helping me prepare for my presentation. Sorry you had to cut your workout short, but I just couldn’t concentrate down in the gym with that albino doing his weird stretches.

I love you for telling me to “rock ‘em sock ‘em” over and over and over again

…even though you were screaming this.

xo,
b

Eiffel Tower

Here are a few Eiffel Tower photos of ours....

it's a pretty special place.

Soon...

I am currently reading the book, Julie and Julia. I know, how trendy of me. Judge if you want. What’s even more cliché is that I read most of this book while eating my way through France.

Never mind that. My sister advised that I would relate to this book and, like always, she was right. I will say Julie has more of a mouth on her than I do, although if you ask my Mother I am well on my way to relating in that category as well. The point is, I did relate. And, I have made a decision.

I am going to start cooking more.

There. In black and white it has been said. And I am not talking freaking PB&J or the likes of either. Meals. I am going to start cooking meals. Perhaps it’s my child bearing hips coming in {just a phrase, people}, perhaps it’s the two week European food tour I just got off of, I don’t know. But right now it sounds like a good life decision.

Of course, I won’t start this new regime right away. We’ve only been back in the loft for three nights. And, of course, I am not giving up eating out entirely. That would fall into the bad life decision category if you ask me.

I will say…soon. I’ll let you know how it goes.

One Crazy Day

Being gone for two weeks without cell phones, regular access to email, and TV other than the BBC and CNN International can be kind of strange. While we were gone there was an engagement, a new baby born, a college graduation, and my brother – wait for it – found.a.job! And a good one too. The live in and I are very proud of him.

Leaving Paris on Friday was, to say the least, a little rushed. The live in and I aren’t necessarily racking up the frequent flyer miles every year, but we certainly aren’t newbie’s either. Trip after trip we’ve learned a few things that make our travel experiences even that much better. However, for some reason the one thing we can’t learn is how to get to an airport on time. This has always been an issue for us, regardless of the country.

From the time we woke up in Paris to the time we went to bed in Portland it was just over 26 hours. There was not one point during any of that time where we sat down in an airport. We managed to arrive at the airport in Paris just in time to hear, “Chicago! Chicago! The baggage door is now closing.” So we shouted back, “Chicago! Chicago! {while waiving our passports in the air like Charlie when he found the Golden Ticket} pa-leaz don’t leave with out us!” They hurried us to the front of the line, checked us in, and told us to cut in front of any security lines we came to. We sprinted along and came to our gate just as the boarding has begun. We had made it.

Never once did we get a lecture about arriving to the airport two hours in advance for international flights, and for that I thank all of France. You were nice to us. You waited for us. And you never judged, at least not to our face.

We had a connection in Chicago that was, to say the least, and little chaotic. It’s always nerve racking going through customs in the US. It takes forever, and there is always the moral debate about what to claim. We were bringing back wine and herbs from Provence, which could go either way with them. My mind always says to claim clothes. Tell them you bought only clothes and they won’t blink…tell them you bought wine and unlabeled herbs and you’re probably going to get a full cavity search. However, when the passport agent asked if we were glad to be back home, the live in started talking to him about college football season and he never asked us another question. Good travel karma we have. And it’s a good thing we have nice travel karma because during this time {while cell phones are prohibited and will be confiscated} our phones were ringing over and over again from our pockets…

During our connection in Chicago we had just enough time to grab some food. We decided on McDonald’s, which was the greasiest food we could find. I tried to order a hamburger by pointing and making a circle with my hands, forgetting that English could now be spoken. The live in tried to order a milk shake, which when the McDonald’s girl told him they did not make those, he replied “then I’ll just have a regular drink” followed by a long stare. She said, “like a Coke”, trying to coax a response out of him. He stared again, and then I jumped in and informed her we had already had a long day, sorry for the ratard-ness, and yes please a coke will be just fine. We make good travel buddies, the live in and I do.

It was a crazy day.

We are happy for all of our friends and family and the exciting events that happened while we were gone. However, right now, I’d really like to go back to a cell phone-less, TV-less, regular email-less environment we had grown so found of. Its just nicer.

We're back...

The live in and I are back in the loft after an amazing vaca.

More stories and photos to come...

Lake Louise

Last but not least...

Lake Louise, Canada

The Sartorialist Book

The Sartorialist Book

Oh, this is definitely on my wish list.

Wouldn't it be cool if I spotted him while in Paris?

Or better yet...he spotted me...right.

We can dream...

{the sartorialist}

Perfect Homemade Pasta

Also on my wish list...the perfect homemade pasta dish.

I would say I’m 70% there.

I’ve banned sauces from a jar and

have come up with a delic garlic cream sauce,

but still have a ways to go…

{via volavale}

Urban Chicken Coop

An Urban Chicken Coop

I know there's a urban chicken bandwagon right now,

but I am jumping on it.

Perhaps after the loft we'll have chickens...

the live in has already agreed.

Guatemala

Guatemala

{Lake Atitlan}

{via nunavut}

Gusto

Gusto

{In our mind, one of the yummiest restaurants in the world}

Cuba

Cuba
{fingers crossed this becomes possible}

{via Marcelo}

{via scaturchio}

A Wish List...

A wish list of sorts, coming to you daily

via photos.

First up...

An African Safari

{via Stefano}

A Sweet Idea

I fell in love with this idea spotted on project wedding. Clearly, I won’t be needing bridesmaid’s gifts in the future, but any special occasion will do. I also think this idea would be great using children’s books or cookbooks.

A Bumpy Flight

Did I ever tell you about our trip to Disneyland? Well, did I tell you about our flight down to Disneyland?

We were on this plane…

As soon as we saw this would be our plane the live in’s face said it all. It was a look of pain, anger, and humility…child, please*. I knew there was a 50/50 chance he would refuse to get on, and luckily this was the last flight of the day otherwise I don’t know if this story would have ended the same way.

It runs deep, his Orange does.

*Major bonus point if you get this reference.

Well, my friends, it’s 8pm and I have given up on packing.

I know my sister would not approve of my sparse suitcase,

but I know she wouldn’t be surprised either.

I have scheduled a few random posts while I am gone…

see you all in a few weeks.

xoxo,

erica

...

The D List

In a little over a day the live in and I will be peacing out to Portland and saying hello to France. I don’t think there is any way to fully express to you how ready we are to leave. It’s something intense.

Of course I will miss you, my friends, but there are quite a few things I will not miss while we are gone. Here they are:

• Our building’s maintenance women, Joan. I see her every morning as I leave for work and although she always manages just the slightest smile and wave, I know she is secretly judging me as I speed out of the parking garage with wet hair at already 15 minutes past 8am.
• The new friendly guy at VideoRama. I liked the silent, cool guy who used to hand out free tax advice and never smiled.
• Our dishwasher. I think its breaking.
• Our Quiznos. We are in a major fight and I hope this two week hiatus reminds them to not take me for granted.
• Our vacuum. It is broken.
• The TV.
• Watching people try to use the parking meters. I’ve seen it take up to 6 people before one car was fully paid for. I have also seen it take up to 6 people to figure out where to put the parking sticker once paid for. Hint: follow the directions, they won’t mislead you.
• The Toyota Prius. You really have to pay attention when crossing the street these days; they’ll sneak right up on you. It should be considered the new silent killer.

Almost Here...

When we hear phrases like, “you’re turning into your mother” or “you used to be so different” we often cringe. Not because our mothers are un-cool {in fact, Emily has a pretty rad mom} or because we feel like different is bad, but we cringe because there is change happening and often times we have no control over it.

Recently I have realized I fall into this category of wondering who I have become…

My friends, I am in love with OSU football. And it’s fierce. Two, three years ago I was going to games as a courtesy to the live in. I was bitter about waking up so early. I was in pain as the cold fall air flooded over me tailgate after tailgate. I {and I can’t believe I am saying this} never wanted us to go to a Bowl Game, as this would drag the season on even longer into winter. Today, I have turned into A MAN. Perhaps the live in has slowly been putting some sort of football love potion in my water? Or, perhaps, I have given in and realized just how sweet it is.

It was yesterday that I fully realized how head over heels I am. I was at work listening to a presentation of sorts when the next speaker was introduced…they ran through his bio…he was a USC graduate. Something came over me {probably the love potion} that made me yell out asking if he could “remember” this game. Who does that…and at work?

Needless to say, I can’t wait for September 5th. I have no issues with getting up early now, I crave tailgate food, and I need my AC/DC Thunderstruck as we roll into the 4th quarter. And above all, I am so grateful for our wonderful tailgate gang.

I don’t know who I have turned into but I can’t wait, Beaver Nation…can’t wait.


**Correction...it's not Thunderstruck in the 4th quarter, it's TNT. I am rather embarrassed by this little mistake as TNT IS my absolute fave. Beaver Nation, please forgive me.**

Don't Go Weekend, Don't Go!

Oh, weekend…must it be over?

We rocked our weekend. We have been planning it for weeks, and it did not disappoint. What did we do, you ask? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And, believe it or not, it actually takes a teeny bit of planning to “do nothing”. Or, as a few of my friends put it, be “anti-social”.

Normally a doing nothing weekend gets ruined by one of us breaking our pact and either making plans or picking up the phone when a notorious dropper in-er calls. This weekend that was not the case. It was just us, Entourage, True Blood, and one huge pot of chicken noodle soup.

I hope your weekend was just as nice.

Text Etiquette 101

What’s the policy on stalking your own husband? I mean, technically it wouldn’t be so bad, right?

A couple of days ago we were waiting in line while the live in ordered coffee. He handed me his blackberry while he grabbed his wallet. Of course I looked through his messages – who wouldn’t? I came across a text that read, “we are totally pregnant :)”. Yes, you read right. We are totally pregnant, smiley face.

Who is the baby’s mama? Should I fight for the loft and the rental house in the divorce, or just the loft? How soon can I change my last name back? All reasonable questions, all running through my head.

After Matlock like questioning, turns out it was a mass text sent by an over eager co-worker who, after months of “trying”, is like a day pregnant. Perhaps she should take a class {led by me} on text etiquette? First order of business would be: drop the “we” from the message and insert “my husband and I”…otherwise, honey, you just come across as a hussy.

I guess I’ll put the stalking on hold for now. But, I’ll definitely be channeling Veronica Mars for the next nine to ten months…

7 Year Itch?

7 years ago yesterday, the live in and I were married. 7 years ago today, the live in and I were off to Greece. Yesterday the live in asked what I wanted to do to celebrate our anniversary. I told him I wanted to go back to Greece. He said he would take me to the Greek Cusina. Now that’s sweet.

I love my live in.

It’s funny because so much of what I write about on here is about him. Many of our real life friends now refer to him as the live in too. Although I have often questioned if I should be putting our private lives on the interweb for everyone to see {after all, I don’t want to get a Jon & Kate or a Nick & Jessica}, I am actually quite grateful for this forum. This blog has made me realize just how much fun we do have, how crazy rad our lives can be, and how much I truly love him.

Our relationship is far from perfect. But, it’s exactly what I would pick for myself if shopping for marriages were possible.

Thank you, my live in, thank you…and happy real anniversary.

{Ah, Greece}

No Secrets For Me

Yesterday I spent my lunch hour shopping, which was a much needed break from work; however I have since found myself with an unusual case of buyer’s remorse.

One of the stops I made was at Victoria’s Secret. I never shop here. Since I discovered Nordstrom lingerie and various dot com lingerie, Victoria’s Secret has been a thing of the past for me. Not sure why I went in, but I did. The first area of the store I came to, I loved. Everything was soft and comfortable looking. The colors were muted and sweet. Then I realized I was shopping in the equivalent of the “old lady section”. I wasn’t actually looking at lingerie, I was looking at nightgowns. My grandmother would have happily worn what I was looking at, and the only other ladies shopping in the section were at least 55 or older. I chalked this little mix up to low blood sugar and moved on.

I perused the store in its entirety and actually found a few things I liked. {And, they were age appropriate.} I walked away, hot pink bag in tow, feeling just fine. Until…I watched So You Think You Can Dance.

One of the dancers was wearing the “top” I had just bought. I kid you not. Sure, they removed a few of the bells and whistles from the original garment, but it was the.very.same.top. I feel like the store should have placed a sign over the outfit that read, “Will see dumbed down version of this very thing on national TV…tonight. Please cover your partner’s eyes.” But, they didn’t and now I have the be-dazzled hooker version of some dancing top.

Now I remember why I never shop at Victoria’s Secret…because everyone else does…including the cast of So You Think You Can Dance.

Love is Like Battleship

I am sure the award for “most delinquent blogger” is out there somewhere and is currently being engraved with my name on it. My apologies for the lack of real blogging lately. I have been busy trying to keep up with my live in husband…

Today the live in called from his office as he was re-programming his new blackberry. {For those keeping track the live in is now on blackberry number five. The last one fell victim to him accidentally leaving it in his pocket while rafting.} During this phone conversation he casually asks me what the electrical outlets look like in France. Like I have flashcards or something to identify every country’s outlets, why would I know this? I told him we have one at home and he can see it tonight. He then asked if I could look it up online. Remember, he is calling me from his office…where he has access to the same world wide web I do. I told him to look it up himself, to which he replied…and I quote…"because I am busy thinking.”

I could have gone so many directions with his reply. However, after nearly seven years in this Battleship like game I know to remain focused. The real question here is why he needed to know so bad? We are leaving for France in a few weeks, we have the outlet adapter at home, and the only thing he really needs to plug in is his iPod. And then, just like in Battleship, he makes a wrong move. He let it slip that he may have a connection to gain world access on his new blackberry. This is the hardest part for the live in…leaving his dear blackberry state side. I am sympathetic to his withdrawals; however world access is not in our travel vocabulary. This will not happen, or I can guarantee he will be on blackberry number six as his phone gets tossed into the Mediterranean by moi.

Truly, it’s for his own good.

This trip will be our longest ever. Which, in other words, means this trip will be the most the live in and his blackberry have ever been apart. Ever. I can already see him eagerly powering on in the Chicago airport as we return home…

Nice try, live in, nice try.

A Thank You Note

Dear Live in,
Thank you for asking me out on a noon time date today.

Please ask me out again.

Same lunch spot, per favore.

xoxo,

b

...

A Letter

Dear Mr. Sandman,

Please send some good sleep to my sweet live in and I tonight. The sound of a siren, a motorcycle revving, or a street fight might help. Please re-direct several semi-trucks to drive right outside my parent’s quiet suburban home. If you are feeling especially generous you will schedule midnight road construction too. You see, Mr. Sandman, were are not sleeping in the loft again tonight. We are sleeping far away where the sound of crickets and frogs fill the nighttime air. To ordinary people this may be soothing. To us, it just’s not busy enough.

xoxo,
erica and her live in.

...

3rd Time's a Charm?

I really didn’t think I was going to write about this subject. It wasn’t a secret, all of our friends and family heard the story weeks ago, but perhaps it wasn’t blog appropriate I thought. However, in light of the most recent chapter in this story, all bets are off.

Hopefully by now you can understand the sweet, sweet marriage my live in and I share. It’s one of humor, patience on his end, constant BFF status, and totally throwing each other under every bus we can find.

Well over a month ago the live in lost his wedding ring. Of course we were sad, we turned the loft upside down searching for it, and after quite a bit of time had passed and no sign of the ring we decided to move on. Or so I thought…

We found a ring we both loved. The ring needed to be ordered in the correct size so the live in went down to the jeweler {alone} to determine what that was. It never crossed my mind that he would need a guardian for this task. Fast forward a week later, the ring has been delivered, and the first thing out of my mouth is, “it seems really, really loose.” He assures me it’s not. This banter continues back and forward for the better part of a 3 hour drive to visit my family. Once there, every.single.person. tells him the ring is too loose. We pull and tug on the ring, easily getting it to come off. He finally concedes.

I return the first ring and order its replacement. He refuses anything but a half size down. Again, I didn’t think he needed a guardian for this decision. Fast forward another week, and the smaller version has now arrived. Again, it looks really loose to my sister and I. Again, he assures us it is not. I leave it.

Sidebar: Another rad characteristic of our marriage is that we {mainly he} tend to share information that may cause rage in front of other people.

The next day we are in the bank, sitting at a desk being helped with some business. The bank also happens to be the live in’s place of work, and although we are taking care of personal business, we are being helped by several of his employees. About half way through the meeting he slides his ring off, gives it to me, gives me a look of sheer fear, and says, “this is a teeny bit too loose I think.” My response, “I am going to neck punch you right now.”

Today I went back to return the 2nd ring and I am pretty sure they assumed I had been left at the alter…again. They treated me as if I would start crying at any moment, until I explained the situation…again. His 3rd ring should arrive next week.

I truly hope this is the end of the story, for everyone’s sake.

On Second Thought

Last week the riveting topic of Spring Cleaning got brought up. The unanimous opinion was that Spring Cleaning is a bit overrated and tasks that fall into this category should be more efficiently dealt with at the time of a move. In other words, the back of a closet, the junk drawer, and the toiletries should remain untouched until moving boxes are involved. Otherwise, who really cares?

However, my opinion may have just changed.

I was having a few friends over this week and on the menu was cheese and crackers. My sister, my live in, and I were in the grocery store picking out items for the evening. When we came down the cracker aisle I waived it off, telling them we had plenty of crackers at home. I mean plenty.

Perhaps it was a hostess’s intuition, perhaps it was sheer luck, but something said we’d better open the crackers we have at home and make sure they are still good. After all, I couldn’t exactly recall when they were purchased. We opened the 1st box…they were all natural, all organic, whole wheat – maybe that’s why they tasted a little dry? We were onto the 2nd box. Not good. Couldn’t figure out why though. 3rd box. 4th box. Not good at all. In fact, they tasted so bad we immediately spit the cracker back out, drank some water, and made faces that looked similar to that of a screaming newborn. 5th box…still terrible. 6th box? So freakin’ awful the live in brought it about two inches from his mouth and the stench was so strong he had to throw it away. We’re talking, really, really bad here friends.

6 boxes later (and a trash bag full of reject crackers) we checked the expiration dates. 2004. Hmm. The oil in the crackers had gone rancid. We were eating extremely expired food. I was about to serve my guests extremely expired food. Not only could my digestive system not handle this, I would have lost any street cred I once had as a party thrower. And that, my friends, would lead to clinical depression of the worst kind.

Even better…we had to have moved those crackers with us when we came to the loft, the 2004 expiration date it a dead giveaway. We couldn’t even abide by our ‘wait till moving day to clean out the pantry’ rule. Who are we?

Maybe now that we have more shelf space we can transfer the Top Ramen we moved with us to the more convenient cabinet…that stuff NEVER goes bad, right?!

A Random Act of Kindness

This last Friday one of the nicest things happened to us since living in this neighborhood.

We were walking from Jo Bar, home of the best drink in Portland, and we were met by a man carrying a huge bunch of freshly cut lavender.

He was giving away free bouquets to strangers on the street.

It was so impactful to see the faces of surprise and gratitude as he walked down the sidewalk offering the flowers.

Their fragrance covered the blocks as he passed.

We were headed to a little party that evening and passed the lavender on there…

{A really grainy camera phone pic}

MO...Mission O-ccomplished

Hello, my friends, long time no see. I am in the midst of a little self praise. I love setting goals for myself, and I love even more the feeling of actually moving toward reaching the goals. Currently my goal is to be more “lady like”.

I come back to this dream every summer…and fall, and winter too, but generally most often in the summer. You see, I hate shaving my legs. I absolutely loathe it. I often wonder what celebrities do in this area. I can’t imagine someone with unlimited financial resources actually shaving their own legs. Laser hair removal? Waxing? What’s their answer? If I weren’t saving up for my eye lid lift, I would be saving for total hair removal of the fiercest kind. Until then, I am stuck with the old fashion razor and cream method.

My poor live in. My other qualities must out weight this teeny tiny issue, because it’s very rare to find me with silky smooth legs. Not even on our wedding day did I shave. Not even on our wedding day.

However, since I don’t know of an AA meeting for shaving, I will proclaim to you my friends that I have been clean for four weeks now. This is a big deal. Sure, I have to wake up 25 minutes earlier than I normally do because I have the speed of a 14 year old. Sure, my knees have razor burn every.singe.time. But, I am clean. I can wear skirts now. I can go swimming. My life has no restrictions now.

I don’t know if I would necessarily fall into the “lady like” category, but I do know my legs would.