I recently saw another blog do a Five Things Friday feature. Five things I blank. Five things I last ate. Five books I want to read. You’re smart, Reader. You get it. Because I am out of original ideas today, I’m totally stealing that. I probably will not remember to do it next Friday, so cherish this.
The five last things in my Google image search history
1. Ryan Gosling shirtless:
Now, it seems pretty self-explanatory why any woman would want to search this. However, I was doing it to prove my point. Over dinner the other night, as most of our conversations usually go, The Husband and I debated Ryan Gosling’s body. Jason thought he was super cut-up and in-shape, I thought that other than in “Crazy Stupid Love”, he had a pretty average-dude body. Jason was pleasantly surprised to see that I was right. Although attractive, The Gosling is not in super-human shape.
Me to Jason: “Does this make you feel better about yourself? Is this like how I feel when I see Mila Kunis without make-up on??”
2. Mila Kunis no makeup:
I mean, this search was pretty obvious. If you’re a woman and feeling down on yourself, Google that and instantly feel better. Now, I think Mila is one of the hottest ladies alive. However, without makeup, I don’t think she’s much different than me.
Me: “Well, face-wise, anyways. Face-wise. We’re the same. She still has a smokin’ hot body. Well, actually my boobs are bigger. She has small yabbos. But I bet Max LOVES her yabbos.” (Hocus Pocus reference for those who are unfamiliar)
3. Mila Kunis yabbos:
Jason: How do you spell “yabbos”? No, Google. That’s Mila Kunis in a sweater. Mila Kunis on a magazine cover. I said yabbos. Yabbos!”
Me: Maybe only Max Denison knows what yabbos means. Maybe Google only knows “boobs”.
4. Mila Kunis boobs
I’m pretty sure you saw this one coming. This search confirmed that –
Jason: Oh yeah. You’re right. She does have small boobs.
Me: Yeah, but she really loves those little guys. She shows them in every movie. But if I had her body, I’d be naked all the time, too. Good point.
Because then the conversation was done and I had to paint my nails and I never commit to a color without first googling a swatch of it.
Five things Friday! The end!
For the last few months, I’ve been on an “I want a juicer” kick. I DON’T want to go on a juice fast, but thought it would be a great idea to supplement a healthy diet with a few glasses of fresh juice a day. I am NOT a very healthy eater. I am extremely picky. Lettuce is my favorite vegetable, so that should tell you something about my vitamin intake. If I can smoosh spinach in between some apples and pears and drink it, then I can trick myself into eating vegetables. You know — the same way you would a child.
The problem with juicers is that they are approximately one bajilliony dollars. I’m admittedly pretty flaky when it comes to health trends, so I didn’t want to waste that much potential nail polish money on something I may only use for a week.
Last week, The Husband and I made a random trip to a random Walmart. As we walked past the clearance aisle, he happened to see a juicer and pointed it out to me. It’s important to note that he was very much against buying a juicer because of my previously pointed out flakiness and the expense. We took a peak and noticed this was a $70 GE juicer on sale for $18. A quick iPhone Google search (Thanks, technology. What did people do twenty years ago? So many people probably wasted so many monies on garbage juicers.) showed me that this particular juicer had over 200 reviews and came in at 4 out of 5 stars. Good enough for me!
Yesterday, we took the juicer out of the box and put the Kitchen Aid Mixer away (I can’t be tempted to make cookies.) Jason was surprised at how easy the juicer was to set up and take apart. There are only three pieces. Snap, snap, snap and you’re set to go. There are only 3 power options – on/off, soft fruit (with a picture of a strawberry) and hard fruit (apple). He decided that he was wrong and the juicer WAS a good investment. He’s going to use it, too! Because it is so.damn.easy.
He showed me a few times what to do, and asked if I understood. Um, yes. Of course I did. It took you four seconds to put it together, and then you twist exactly one nob to A PICTURE OF A FRUIT. I can handle it. Does he not know I was in National Honor Society? Yes, you can throw that waste-of-paper instruction manual away, husband. Stop repeating the instructions. Stop showing me what to do! I’VE GOT IT. STOP PATRONIZING ME. I’M NOT STUPID.
Fast forward to this morning: I got up ten minutes early, excited to start my healthy, new lifestyle! I went into the kitchen and immediately realized I was in trouble when I had a hard time using the apple corer to, you know, core and slice my apple. After ten minutes of twisting and pushing the THREE parts of the juicer together, I decided that maybe it sort of resembled what we had going on yesterday. I put my glass under the spout, put half my apple in, turned it on…
And watched the apple explode all over the kitchen wall.
Guys, turns out I didn’t really know how to put it together.
I shut it off, spent the next ten minutes cleaning up my mess, drinking the six sips of juice I made, trying to take apart the machine and cleaning it. I was also late for work.
I should have known better. Obviously, he did.
Guys, I need your help with something. The Husband and I have discussed how, someday, we both would like to be in a position where we are able to adopt a child. There are so many children brought into this world and then neglected. Our family has so much love that we would like to share. So, when discussing how we would adopt our child, the conversation goes something like this:
Me: So, we’ll go to the orphanage..
Jason: Nope. That’s not real. I don’t think it’s like a movie.
Me: … so we’ll go to the orphanage and all of the kids will be playing outside on this very run down playground, surrounded by a broken fence…
Me: … and then we’ll look around the playground and there will be this precious little girl in the corner, probably five years old. She has very ratty clothes on and her brown hair is in pigtails, but they’re messed up and the red ribbon holding them together is frayed and falling out. And she will be reading a very old book…
Jason: Right. Because the orphanage doesn’t have new books for her to read.
Me: Right! Now we’re on the same page. So she’s reading a very old book, and the cover is torn, but I think she’s probably reading Little Women. She is very advanced for her age. And one of the other kids throws a ball and it hits her in the head, and she tears up, but she doesn’t cry. She just keeps reading. So then we’ll walk over to the head mistress…
Jason: So we’re in the movie “Annie?”
Heather: … and we tell the mistress we’ll take that one…
Jason: You’re not at an animal shelter. It doesn’t work like that.
Heather: … and, of course, she’ll be shy at first. But we’ll take her home and she’ll take a big bubble bath and she’ll sleep in her bed with fresh sheets and she’ll have a whole library in her room and she can read anything she wants and she chooses one and will come crawl into bed with me and asks me if I can read with her and that’s when we’ll bond.
Heather: So, that sounds like a great plan, right?
Jason: That’s not real life.
Heather: So someday, that’s what will happen, right?
Jason: … Sure.
So, what I need from you, Readers, is just to tell my husband that duh, that’s exactly what adopting a child is like. Probably. Thanks a bunch!
I love a reason to celebrate – to get dressed up, go somewhere out of the ordinary, drink fancy drinks and eat some cake. You can never forget to eat cake when celebrating. So, as we approached our first wedding anniversary, I decided that it should be celebrated in style. Well, as much style as our budget would afford, anyways. I started scouring Groupon and the likes, with the hopes of scoring a cheap weekend getaway. I came across one for Niagara Falls – a destination that is close enough to drive to, but far enough away to be considered a mini-vacation.
The Husband planned our honeymoon and Aruba was planned for us. While trying to plan our first anniversary trip, I quickly became overwhelmed by the amount of choices in front of me – different hotels, different attractions, different restaurants. It dawned on me that I’ve never actually planned anything more than a road trip for us.
I opened up Excel and created a spread sheet rating the hotels by price and amenities. Eight hotels in, I realized that they were all exactly the same and totally different. I went to one of my favorite blogs, On The Edge, and asked other readers and commenters for recommendations. Someone had suggested The Tower Hotel. A quick search in Google showed me that this hotel was what we wanted – chic, modern and romantic. I researched online prices and then remembered reading somewhere on the interwebs that you can get the best price on a room by calling the hotel directly. I reserved our room for two nights and was able to get it for $60 less than the online price. High five.
So on Friday the 29th, we road tripped the 5 hour drive to the Falls, passing time by listening to a ridiculous podcast, Mike and Tom Eat Snacks (where comedians Michael Ian Black and Tom Cavanaugh literally eat snacks. They operate on the PER system – pick a snack, eat a snack, rate a snack. It’s raunchy and hilarious and informative, all in one! Check it out!)
We had a seamless check in and went upstairs to our room. The room was very pretty, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Apparently, Canadians are big on windows, because there was also one in the bathroom – which over looked the bedroom. “But Heather, that doesn’t make sense. That means that if someone is on the toilet, people in the bedroom would be able to see them! That’s weird!” you say. And you are correct. The bathroom had zero privacy. I’m not even quite sure why they bothered putting a door in there. I know we’re no longer considered newlyweds, but that doesn’t mean that we need to watch either other do our bizness, amirite?! Naturally, I obsessed over this the duration of our trip, begging Jason to leave the room whenever I had to go to the bathroom (He wouldn’t. I may or may not have cried at one point. I’m ridiculous.)
On Friday, we made our way down to the falls, scoring post card-worthy pictures. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny and 50*. While we almost left our coats in the room, there were plenty of people bundled up in boots, North Face jackets and scarves. It was easy to see who was from Canada or New York, and who was from anywhere else.
We went to Clifton Hill to check out the cheesy tourist attractions. (Side note – I love cheesy.) We paid $22 to walk through a mirror maze, which had flashing disco lights and Michael Jackson’s “The Man in the Mirror” on loop. It was horrible and awesome. We ate lunch at Boston Pizza (Are we missing something? I’ve heard of NY, Chicago and California style, but Boston?) where we ate a spicy perogi pizza which was obviously as delicious as it sounds.
Eventually, we made our way back to our room. We walked in to a bottle of white wine and an anniversary card from my girlfriend, Liz, and her family. It was super thoughtful on so many levels (especially the levels where she knows we love booze and always choose white over red!) Its little things like that surprise that take you back a moment and allow you to see how loved and blessed you are.
Because I’m a horrible vacation planner, we had no plans for Saturday (our actual anniversary) other than a fancy, schmancy dinner overlooking the falls. The hotel valet suggested we take the 20 minute drive to Niagara-on-the-lake, which has several wineries (see: our previous affections towards alcohol) and a cute little village to walk around. We decided that we trusted the valet, because his name was Tim and Tim Horton’s is from Canada and we base all our decisions on food. With no plan and barely a map, we made our way out there. We had no way of knowing which wineries we should stop at and decided that if there were plenty of cars in the parking lot, than it must be a good joint to hit up. We first stopped at Reif Estate Winery, where we did a 3-glass tasting. It was here that I was introduced to ice wine. The bartender warned us that many people dislike it, thinking that it’s too sweet. At this point, I’d like to interject to share with you a conversation The Husband and I had the day before:
Jason: Peeps are so gross. I don’t understand why you like them. It’s literally a stale marshmallow covered in sugar.
Me: Um, yuh! It’s a marshmallow COVERED in SUGAR!
Hopefully, that helps you understand that there is no such things as “too sweet” to me. Ice wine tastes like a delicious juice box, that gets you drunk quick. Needless to say, Jason was quickly declared the designated driver.
The next winery we stopped at was Peller Estates (Coincidentally, this is where the wine from Liz came from.) Peller Estates was HOPPING! Super crowded. Don’t worry though, guys. I was able to squeeze my way up to the bar, where we skipped pleasantries and moscatos and got right back into drinking MORE ice wine. (If you’re wondering whether or not I bought nine bajilliony bottles, the answer is no. Ice win is like $40 a bottle. Too rich for our blood. But feel free to buy it and send it to me. It doesn’t need to be a special occasion. Just because.)
We eventually made our way down to the village, which reminded me of Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls. It was just super precious, with lots of little bakeries and boutiques. We grabbed some coffee and sat down at a little café, where we quickly began playing one of our favorite games – Create Life Stories and Dialogues For People Passing By.
That evening, we ate dinner at The Keg Steakhouse (and, yes, before you ask, I DID get chicken.) We had a table that overlooked the falls at sunset. It was spectacular. After dinner, we went back to our room to eat our cake. (When we got back from our honeymoon, we noticed my mom saved our cake topper in the fridge. We decided it would be fine to eat a little, and then save the rest for our first anniversary. Except, we accidently ate it all because it was delicious! I called our baker, Fluffalicious, last week and she promptly made us an anniversary replica, which we brought with us. Pretty much the same thing, right guys?)
We popped our wine, ate our cake and made several (mostly ridiculous) toasts to each other. The whole weekend was the perfect way to spend our anniversary.
(I realize this is an insanely long post, but I didn’t want to deprive you of any details!! Which is why I’ll also mention that a couple hours after getting there, when we were first walking down to the falls, we passed an American family consisting of a mom, dad and a 7ish year old son. As we passed them, the father and son were walking ahead of the mom, singing “I like boobies. Boobies are like waffles…” “But, Heather! What does that even MEAN?!” you ask. Nobody knows what it means, reader. The Husband and I spent our entire weekend singing it and trying to figure it out. Nobody knows. But it’s damn catchy, I know that much!)
When we got married, I was positive nothing would be different. We had been together nearly five years at that point, and had lived together almost the entire time. Jason truly knew me better than anyone ever had, or ever would. He knew that, even if I went to the bathroom before I get into bed, that without a doubt, I’d have to get up one more time before I fell asleep. He knew I was neurotic. He knew I was impulsive. He knew I was single-minded and short-tempered, ambitious and emotional. Yet still, he wanted to spend his life with me.I knew that he was compassionate and loyal. I knew that he had more patience than any man I had ever known. I knew that he had no problems making a fool of himself in order to get me to laugh. I knew that he was bright and funny and charming. I knew that I wanted to fall asleep next to him every night, as long as we both shall live.
So, in the days leading up to the wedding, we’d both roll our eyes and shake our heads “no”, whenever “well-wishers” asked if we were nervous. Was I nervous I’d trip walking down the aisle? Yup. Was he nervous he’d mess up his vows? Yup. Were we nervous that the food would be bad or that a freak snowstorm would show up? Of course. Was either of us nervous about getting married? Of course not. How would things be any different?
After a year, I can admit that I was wrong (something he knows I rarely do). Things are different. We are husband and wife.
Husband and wife.
I’m still learning what that means.
- That if someone gets pissed off, too bad for that guy,‘cause you’re married. Get over it.
- That when you fill out an In Case of Emergency form, the name you list is your spouse.
- That if you got pregnant, nobody would be shocked or upset. In fact, they would celebrate.
- That when you plan a day off from work, you now have to coordinate it with two different employers.
- That it’s all about compromise, baby. Want to spend time together but want to do different things? Then pop General Hospital on the computer while he plays MLB The Show on the Playstation.
While several things have stayed the same (He is still charming. I am still short-tempered.), our bond and relationship has changed in a way that I had never anticipated.
We have the same last name. We are a family.
Being married means that my beloved is mine and I am his. In good times and in bad. We are each other’s rock, each other’s safe place.
We are a family.
(Because I’m sure you are all as nostalgic as I am, here is a link to some of our wedding video. Please feel free to watch it, swoon and tear up, as I do on a weekly basis.)