heidi klum stole my saturday

Prior to Saturday, I had no opinion of super-über (she's super super) model Heidi Klum. I now love her. And hate her. She has stolen my free time with her horribly addicting show Project Runway. I watched it for the first time on Saturday...and sat through four-six (I lost count) hours of it. Do I really care whether Kayne is over the top or Michael has great presentation skills or Uli makes great use of prints? I obviously do since I couldn't get up to do a thing.

all about matt

Matt is now quite the roofing pro. The roof might not look quite as pretty as it once did, but it is officially patched.

He also had a softball breakthrough. He safely slid twice on Sunday. And the guys were proud of him for finally getting his new pants dirty.

He was obsessed with getting recliners but never ever sits in them. He occasionally sleeps in one of them, but whenever I'm awake, I steal the one with the "optimal TV view" as Matt says.

the lovely forecast

So, of course, we have a roof to fix, and this is what we have to work with.

da roof...da roof...da roof is, well, crap

What, you ask, is Matt doing on our roof? Yesterday our neighbor pointed out to us that a bunch of our shingles were falling off. Grrrrreat. Just what I wanted to hear. When we bought the house a year ago, one of the selling points was the "New tear-off roof in 1999". It sounded good at the time. Roofs are generally meant to last more than seven years after all. Evidently, not ours. Once Matt got up on our roof and held on for dear life, he discovered that entire rows of shingles just slid out from under him. Yes! Just what I was hoping. I love spending half the day at Menards and the other half throwing stuff up to Matt on the roof. He managed to not break any bones and get the job half done before leaving for softball. I can't wait until tomorrow night.

vegas's secret admirer

It was only a matter of time before Vegas snagged herself a boy/girlfriend. Today, Matt found a plastic bag hanging on our fence. Instead of the trash he expected to find inside, he discovered a fresh canister of tennis balls and a teething dog bone for Vegas. How sweet. It appears that our little girl has wooed some neighbor into buying her treats. Her sugar daddy remains annonymous. Maybe we'll catch them in the act next time.

thank you nfl

You might be aware of a little NFL schedule change this year that landed Monday Night Football on ESPN. Since we don't have cable, that leaves us SOL. I'm one of the cable holdouts that refuses to pay $50-60 per month for that which I consider an inalienable right.

Matt forced me to change my mind. When learning of the many lonely Monday nights he would spend without football, he demanded cable. "Damn it. I am a salaried professional. I can afford cable TV."

So, we dished out the cash for cable. Not regular old cable, however. I'm talking digital cable with the fancy remote (I want to mention here that the remote is used, like a hotel remote, and you know what you can find on those...I promptly Mr. Cleaned it) and receiver. I have never had so many channels, so many options to sit on my butt and load on the cellulite. Tonight, I watched the end of The Breakfast Club; saw Alton Brown cook up scallops three different ways; witnessed a light fixture being made out of contact paper; and am currently watching a tied Twins' game. I know I will regret this decision sometime soon, but for now, I'm going to focus on figuring out just what the hell is the appeal of Laguna Beach.

birthday cake ban

Damn birthday cake. It got me again. I devoured this one in five days flat. Pretty impressive, huh? Cake might as well be crack to me because I seriously can't stop. I don't even cut a piece and put it on a plate. I open the box and slowly cut off sliver after sliver, eating right off the knife, until an entire row is gone. It's quite pathetic. Because I lack all self-control, I have decided to ban my favorite food from the house altogether. Cupcakes are still allowed however. How can something so little be bad for me?

Don't answer that.

wifely advice

Never buy your husband a recliner...he will soon forget how to get out of it.

massive head cold maureen

Do any of you remember that sketch on SNL, Massive Head Wound Harry? Dana Carvey played this guy who went over to his friends’ house with this huge gash in his head. His friends are like, “Hey, Harry. How are ya?” Harry’s like, “Well, fine, other than the, you know, massive head wound I have.” And then, as if Harry’s life just could not get worse, his friends’ dog starts chewing on his wound. It doesn’t just nibble either--it really goes for it. It’s a super gross sketch, but since I saw it 15-ish years ago, I have never forgotten it. How does it relate to my cold you ask? It doesn’t. But doesn’t “Massive Head Cold Maureen” sound funny? I thought so too.

it's matt's 26th birthday..."and that's sexual"

Oh, Mr. Breitzmann has turned the corner to 30. To avoid sounding old, he repeated continuously, "I'm still mid twenties." To avoid feeling old, he went up to Soup for a little golf and liquor.

the fam

matt hitting his amazingly long drive on 4

sarah getting her crane machine fix

amy & scott

after a few vodka red bull's, matt does a mean "buffalo soldier"

vegas the love machine

I realized yesterday that Vegas has special powers. I suspected it a while back when she somehow convinced my dad, the dog hater, to pet her and give her a steak bone. Yesterday, she fully convinced me. We (as in Vegas and me) were chatting with Dee, our next door neighbor. Vegas jumped on the fence and clawed at her arms, leaving long, dirty streaks. When that was not effective at gaining more love, she pawed at her chest and glasses. Dee laughed. Vegas then chewed on Dee’s arms. Dee laughed and moved away for a second before petting her again. Dee then determined that Vegas was thirsty and proceeded to let Vegas drink water from her glass. Dee is sick and older, mind you. The potential for puncture wounds and butt falls was enormous. I was kind of glad when it was over and Dee left still hole-free and walking.

look ma--we match

After eleven long months of having an almost-cool bedroom, I finally dished out $20 for a comforter at Target. Yup, it happens to have the NYC skyline on it and perfectly match the rest of our room. Pretty cool, huh? Who cares that it's marketed for college freshman.

the great minnesota get-together (summer is ova)

Summer would just not be summer without a generous helping of batter dipped, deep fried, food on a stick. Enter the Minnesota State Fair. I took my niece Schyler this year and taught her all kinds of good things...like how to eat a deep fried candybar like a lady.

fergie ferg's in the house

So, I'm being mean here and might get a dreadfully catchy and somewhat bad song in your head. I have had Fergie's damn "London Bridge" song careening through my brain for days. I don't hate it or anything--I happen to kind of enjoy dirty songs about architecture, but come on. Every few minutes, I catch myself humming, "How come every time you come around, my London, London bridge wanna go down like..." I can't be singing this song at work! At this point, I would welcome "Tom's Diner" or "Jenny From the Block."