be still my heart...

...for I am living with my very own Weekend Warrior. Matt, still a softball rookie, had a run-in with second base on Sunday. When I asked him if it hurt, he modestly said, "Well, I guess I have this little tingle that could be called pain..." Man, what a tough guy.

we partied like it was 1999

There's nothing like a wedding to bring back that lovin' feeling. We shook it like polaroid picture and poured some sugar on me. I could keep going. We also rode the train...a choo choo ride it up. Congrats Kristina & Ben!

thirsty thursday

So, it was 4:30 on a Thursday, and I was drinking a gin & tonic. Yes, I was alone, and yes, I know that drinking alone is pathetic, but I wasn’t really drinking. I was doing three things: shopping online, breaking in the loveseat, and watching Seinfeld and the local weather. I just happened to be thirsty at the time. Anyway, it was a field day for the local weathermen and women—tornados here, baseball-sized hail there. Boy, were they excited. All of a sudden, I hear this scratching. This desperate, strange scratching. Vegas was outside, but she never scratched at the door. She would much rather launch herself full-speed into it and make a big thud. After a few minutes of listening to this unpleasant noise (recall here that my slow response time is likely due to the generous shot of Beefeater I gave myself), I decided to investigate. As I got to the kitchen, I heard this violent drumming. It was raining, might I say, cats and dogs. I opened the door, and a sopping wet Vegas shot past my leg, stopped, and shook. What a bad dog parent I am, eh? What's worse is that I did it again a few hours later.

new duds

We finally broke down and decided to buy furniture. Now it looks like someone actually lives here.

the new deal

So, after six years of living together, I have finally accepted that Matt is just plain bad at doing the dishes. I know that I’ve griped before, but this time we have found a solution: I do them instead. The mood in our house has since gone from confrontational to blissful.

The old way:

Me: “Matt, I swear, if you don't do the dishes tonight, I will dump them in the backseat of your car.”

Matt: “Go ahead.”

Me: Undecipherable growling followed by stomping and chocolate eating.

Now, the counter is miraculously clear every night. Matt spends his newfound free time sitting in his new recliner watching old episodes of Friends and real estate infomercials. I’m not sure that the new deal is really fair for me, but I figure I’ll make up for it by spending some quality time with my Visa card.

electricity, electricity

A few songs have been playing on repeat in my mind lately-namely when I'm blowdrying my hair and blow a fuse. See, the charms of an old house are many, but the drawbacks are a real pain in the ass. Like not having enough power to blowdry my hair in the living room when the air and fan are on in the bedroom. Geez. What were those 1940's builders thinking? One song is "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" by The Flaming Lips. You can hear it at www.flaminglips.com (it's on the "At War With the Mystics" album). It poses an interesting question for my underpowered self: "With all your power, what would you do?" Well, if I had power, I would first become less familiar with the dripping wet trek down to the breaker box.

summertime slacka

So, yeah. It's been a while. What can I say? It has been a beautiful summer, and Vegas kept us busy rolling in dead stuff left and right. If any of you are still out there, I make you a steadfast promise not to fall off the face of the earth for months again. Until, perhaps, next summer.
This week, I present...the guts of our summer vacation.

1. We went swimming at grandma's house.

2. We did lots of homework.

3. I ran my first marathon.

4. I learned that partially eaten shoes can, in fact, be comfortable.