18 years later...

On this day in history: 

1804 - Napolean Bonaparte was proclaimed Emperor of France

1860 - The Republican Party nominated Abraham Lincoln for President

1927 - The Ritz Hotel opened in Boston

1986 - "Singin' in the Rain" closed at Gershwin Theater NYC after 367 performances

and

1996 - Chris and I stood before our friends and family and were proclaimed husband and wife.

We both had to do a double-take when we realized that today marks18 years of us being married.  That's a really, really long time.  We've been together longer than it took us to graduate high school.  Longer than we waited to drive. Longer than Judge Judy has been on TV.

I love those couples where it just "works" - those #stillmadlyinlove #moreinloveafteralltheseyears couples, where marriage is effortless and the time flies because they are having so much fun. I am in awe of those couples.  I think we use to be one of those couples, but somewhere along the way marriage got hard.  There have been moments in the past 18 years where we did not like each other and moments where we didn't like ourselves.  There have been disagreements.  There have been nights where we went to bed mad and really just needed a good night of sleep before we could speak to each other.  There have been fights about money and mornings where we woke up on the wrong side of the bed. There have been misunderstandings and there have been mistakes.

It has not been 18 fabulous years of constant bliss or 18 years where I've loved every moment. It's been 18 years of learning to communicate and work together as a unit, raising kids who aren't always easy to raise, and committing to love another person who isn't always easy to love. 

So I don't celebrate our anniversary today because of the fairytale it has been.  I celebrate today because even though it hasn't been easy, we're still together, still committed, and still determined to love each other and figure out what that looks like in this ever-changing world and in our ever-changing lives.  I celebrate because we're still here, when it would have been easier at times to walk away.  I celebrate because it's actually been the storms and the strong winds that have made us grab a hold of this life together and grow our roots stronger.  It has been the hard moments that have made us consciously look at each other and say, "I still choose to love you, and I'm not going anywhere." 

Happy Anniversary, Chris.  18 on the 18th.  Thanks for navigating this life with me -- sometimes knowing where we are going and sometimes just being lost with me.  I'm glad you're here by my side -- I wouldn't want it any other way. 

xoxo

16 years and counting...

It has been a while since I have taken time to sit down and write, but I didn’t want today to pass without trying in my limited way to celebrate Mile 16.  It’s easy to mark our 16 years together with the big events – welcoming two girls into the world, saying goodbye to people we love, building our first house, promotions, vacations – but the truth is that who we are together is made up of small, maybe even insignificant moments that have made us “us.”  The quick kiss as we run out the door for work.  Impromptu cravings for spicy fried chicken.  Waiting for Arrested Development to return to TV.  Sushi dinners.  Feeding the dogs. Thursday night crazy cleanings to get ready for the house to be cleaned.  Making Good News Club snacks.  Jumping on the trampoline with our girls. Laughing.  Lots of Laughing.

Thanks for sticking it out with me all these miles, all these years.  In your cool, calm, patient way, you have been my biggest cheerleader.  You have taken good care of our family and somehow keep loving me despite my flawed way of starting things that don’t get finished, spending way more than my share of the money, working way too late much of my life, and losing my cool instead of counting to 10.

You are a perfect balance for me, and I am overwhelmed that I get to live life with you.  I genuinely love and respect who you are to me, to our girls, to your colleagues, to your friends, and to my friends.

Happy Anniversary to you, my best friend, my “other half”, my love.

xoxo

15 years and a 4-letter word

I am very quick to admit the things I love -- chocolate peanut butter cupcakes from Sprinkles, just about any shoe that Tory Burch designs, lunch with my closest friends, the color pink, and making things pretty. And that's just a small sampling.

Funny how I will squeal out in the middle of Nordstrom, "I LOVE this handbag!!" without a second thought. But I knew Chris Linebarger a very long time before I would even let myself admit that I loved him, much less whisper those words. "I love you."

It's easy to "love" things. We are not really asking them to love us back. We are just expressing our temporary adored-ness and infatuation with something that is most likely temporary. Seriously, how long do you think a Sprinkles cupcake lasts around me? And shoes that I have loved (enough to go into debt for at some points of my life) have eventually made their way to my Goodwill pile.

But loving another person -- well, that's different. Because we want to be loved back. And we want to know that we will be loved for a good, long while. And we want to make sure that we won't ever be tossed in the Goodwill pile.

When I married Chris 15 years ago, I knew that I was going to live the rest of my life with my best friend. I knew we were going to laugh a lot, and we have. I knew that life would be more fun and more adventurous with the two of us together. But I had no idea how much I would be loved.

Loved with the kind of love that never ever stops.

Love that is there when I wake up in the morning and my hair is all yuck and I seriously need to brush my teeth.
Love that is there when I mess up.
Love that is there when I am ranting and raving about some stupid thing.
Love that is there when I spend too much on the AMEX.
Love that is there even though I need to lose "just-a-little-bit" of weight.
Love that is there when I leave my credit card at the restaurant.
Love that is there when I burn dinner.

Love that keeps going and going.

Chris, if there's one thing that has surprised me in 15 years, it is how you go on loving me, difficult as that must be much of the time. When I feel like I am playing tug-of-war with the world, you so quickly come to my rescue and help me pull. You silently show me love by doing more than your share around the house and filling in the gaps that I often create. You find ways to show love without words, but you also say the words, just in case I didn't know.

But I know.

And though I still may not scream in the middle of Nordstrom, "I LOVE Chris Linebarger!" everything inside of me does. And will. And will continue to always love you.

Happy 15 years of us.

xoxo

A Tale of Two Dads

Picture a young man -- some would say still a kid -- marrying his bride and getting commissioned into the Air Force. And just when they thought they'd figured out marriage and Air Force life, along came a baby girl. And then 16 months later, another baby girl came along. Not that the guy was disappointed, he just thought he'd have 4 boys, not two girls. Being Dad to two girls can be tough, especially when you didn't really have a Dad around to show you what being a Father is all about.

But he prayed a lot. And talked to the Mom a lot. And apologized a lot.

And that's how he became a really amazing Dad.

My older sister was a lot easier to parent than I was. I liked to do the exact opposite of what I was told. I liked to push the boundaries. I liked to make up my own mind. I liked to do things my own way. My poor Dad. But you know what? He stuck with me. It was frustrating, no doubt, but he believed in me. Actually, he believed in God and believed that God could do something good in my life.

Now picture another guy. Two years out of college, marrying his best friend. He was happy in his career and enjoyed traveling and being spontaneous. And then after 5 years of just the two of them, a baby girl came along. Exactly what he wished for in his most private prayers. And she stole his heart. She screamed a lot those first few months, but all he could do was hold her and love her and realize that the amount of time she would spend screaming would pale in comparison to the amount of time she would spend growing up and learning new things and becoming her own little self. Being Dad to a strong-spirited girl can be tough, even when you had a great Dad to show you what being a Father is all about.

But he prayed a lot. And talked to the Mom a lot. And apologized a lot.

And that's how he became a really amazing Dad.

Today I celebrate the two men I love more than the most eloquent of words could ever describe -- my Dad and my Husband. Two men who are great Fathers, not because they always know what to do or never mess up, but because they LOVE. They love God and they love their girls with that real love, that never-give-up-on-you, see-your-potential, want-the-best-for-you, be-available-to-you-at-all-times, trust-God-with-you, ask-for-forgiveness kind of love.

And that is an amazing way to be loved.

14 Reasons

1. You make me laugh. Belly laugh. Like no one else I know.
2. You always catch whatever is thrown at you. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. Seriously, you’ve never dropped anything I have tossed your way.
3. You do the right thing without ever being swayed. You never even toy with doing something that goes against what you stand for.
4. You are unstructured. It may be (besides our love for Styx) the only thing we have in common.
5. You are self-motivated and can make yourself do things that aren’t particularly fun. That is very responsible of you.
6. You do not steal my spotlight.
7. You see more potential in me than I see in myself.
8. You stand up for the underdog.
9. You are really humble. (Or maybe I see more potential in you than you see in yourself?)
10. You know that I am expensive to keep around, and on most days, that’s okay with you. Except on the 16^th of the month when you have to pay the AMEX bill, and you wish you had married someone else. If you only hate being married to me one day a month, I can live with that.
11. You can cook chicken perfectly. And coming from someone who usually avoids chicken, that is a big compliment.
12. You are a dog person.
13. You are dependable. You do what you say you are going to do.
14. I feel safe with you, and I trust you completely.

14 of about 100,000 reasons why living life with you is my favorite thing. It makes me laugh to think about how long you were in my life before I realized that I didn't want the rest of my life to exist without you in it. I knew there was something amazing about us when I started thinking that “Linebarger” wouldn’t be such a bad name to have. Ah, what young love will do…

14 years later, I’m glad I traded my name for Linebarger, and I’m glad I said “I DO.”

And I still DO.

For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. In good and bad. In happy and angry. In agree and disagree. In fulfillment and disappointment. In contentment and frustration. In rational and frazzled. In assurance and questioning.

I DO.

Even on the days when we’ve let each other down. Or we feel out of sync. Or we need to push the re-set button. Even on the days when life is hard or parenting is hard or doing the right thing is hard. And on the days where we want different things and can’t reach an agreement.

Even then, I DO. I choose you.

And I truly only have one reason.

I am absolutely crazy in love with you.

Hello again

I knew my hiatus from blogging had gone on far too long when my husband showed up with a new laptop yesterday and said he hoped it would encourage me to increase my activity on Pop Rocks for Breakfast.

He's just that kind of guy. And he knows that amidst all the busy-ness of being Me, and being his Wife, and being ChellBell's Mom, and being hopelessly determined to accomplish more in every given day than realistically possible, I love to write. And I miss it.

Thanks sweetie, for my new laptop. But thanks, sweetie, even more, for knowing what inspires me and encouraging me to do it.

Speaking of inspired, I just found this blog and wanted to pass on some words that gave me inspiration-induced goose bumps.

"I think the beauty of twinkle lights is the perfect metaphor for joy.

Joy is not a constant. It comes to us in moments - often ordinary moments. Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we're too busy chasing down the extraordinary moments. Other times we're so afraid of the dark that we don't dare let ourselves enjoy the light.

A joyful life is not a floodlight of joy. That would eventually become unbearable.

I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude, and inspiration."

-Brene Brown


Happy Friday, friends. I hope we meet back here again very soon.

My Dad's better than your Dad

HA! Just kidding (maybe...). My Dad is pretty cool, and I'm crazy about him. Crazy enough that I wanted to marry someone who would be as amazing of a husband as my Dad is to my Mom and as great of a Dad as mine has always been to me.

Mission Accomplished.

Happy Fathers Day to the 2 men I love the most in life, and who have, in so many ways, influenced who I am and who I strive to be every day.

(chellbell took this picture!)

The Teenage Years

ChellBell invited a sweet friend to spend the night last Friday night.  The girls played so well together, and at one point I realized that it had been totally quiet upstairs for about 30 minutes.  So being a nosey Mom, I snuck upstairs and pressed my ear against Chell's bedroom door.  This is what I heard:

Amber:"Ummmm, LIKE, I wanted to get my ears pierced, but my Mother soooooooooo wouldn't let me!"

ChellBell: "That's TOTALLY wrong, and, ummmmm, Mom's should just try to be sooooo cool."

Amber: "Oh, I, LIKE, LOOOOOVE that top you're wearing!  

ChellBell: "Thanks, it's TOTALLY my favorite.  I just LOOOOVE the color sky blue."

On and On.  I was instantly transported back about 25 years to the land of Valley Girls.

But ChellBell doesn't normally talk Valley Girl, so I popped the door open a little bit more to get a full understanding of what was going on.  Each girl had a cell phone against her ear, and, even though they were sitting 4 feet apart, they were talking to each other on non-operating cell phones.

I had to ask the question.  "What are you girls playing?"  

The answer?  "Teenager"  "We are pretending to be teenagers talking to each other on the phone."

My first thought?  Why on earth would anyone want to pretend to be a teenager??  I can totally understand pretending to be a highly compensated doctor, or a teacher who changes students' lives, or even a famous rock star.  But a teenager?? 

The teenage years are tough.  You're starting to come in to your own, but you're not quite there (can you hear Britney Spears singing, "I'm not a girl, but not yet a woman").  Hormones rage.  Acne appears.  You're no longer that cute kid that you were 10 years prior.  You're a teenager.  Growing and learning about yourself and the world around you.  Trying to be comfortable in your own skin.  Wanting to be liked.  Wanting to be loved.

Today is May 18th, and Chris and I have now been married 13 years.  Thirteen.  We are now teenagers!  Life with Chris has been good these past 13 years, but there are some very teenager-ish things about being married this long.  We're not as cute as we were 10 years ago.  The "new-ness" and bliss of the newly-wed years have cured, like copper that used to be shiny and now has a very weathered patina.  But we've grown comfortable with each other.   And we can finish each other's sentences.  We know how the other thinks.  Sometimes blemishes start showing up that never popped up in the early years. But we work through those things.  And the patina gets darker.  

Even after 13 years, we're growing and learning about the world around us.  Still wanting to be liked.  Still wanting to be loved.

Chris, you do such a great job of loving me.  You somehow over look my faults and you just love me.  It's a privilege to walk through life next to you, seeing the world through your eyes and sharing my vision with you.  I'm crazy about you, still.  So hold my hand, and don't ever let go.

I love being a teenager with you.

If you see a man scowling...

If you see a man scowling in the Dallas area,  it is probably my husband.

It started last Wednesday when the notice went out that ChellBell's school was shutting down because of a confirmed case of Swine Flu.  Shortly thereafter, her after-school program director called to say that the children from her school were not allowed into the building for fear of contamination (even though she was riding the bus to the facility with kids from other schools and most likely spreading any swine germs that she could possibly have, but no one mentioned that potential risk).  So Chris left work and picked ChellBell up.

And then last Thursday, Chris worked from home with ChellBell there, which evidently yields little productivity.  Then later that evening, I left the office only to find that my car battery was dead.  Fortunately, a co-worker was able to take me home since neither of us had jumper cables. 

So then Friday morning, Chris and ChellBell had to take me to work Early for an unusually early meeting that I was unable to reschedule.  Early with a capital E.  And Chris had to run around getting my car started and the battery changed.  With a seven year old in tow.  Which evidently can be very annoying and frustrating.

And now we're on Saturday, and today I "strongly encouraged" my sweet husband to do the two things in life that he dislikes most -- spend money and do yard work.  We went to view ChellBell's formal portraits this morning, and Chris has now invested in a 22x28 portrait that will be passed down through the generations.  It's breath-taking.  And the price seriously took Chris' breath away.  So much so that he didn't speak to me for about an hour.  Until I took him to Sprinkles and got him red velvet, and that seemed to make everything better.  And then we came home and did yard work until the sky started pouring rain.  Chris H-A-T-E-S yard work, and the gift of red velvet seemed to wear off quickly.

He is a little scowl-ish right now.

I am hogging the computer and ChellBell is watching the new Jonas Brother's show.

And Chris is probably wishing more than anything that he was a bachelor right about now.

So I will wrap up this blog and show him a little love.  And maybe get a second job to pay for my portrait and a landscaper, so I can get back in good graces with Chris.

Hopefully the scowl won't last too long.

Month-o-Love Day 14: Comfy

Day 14: I heart...

Comfortable

So you already know that one of my bad habits is buying shoes that I am in love with, but the truth is that I love to shop for everything, not just shoes.  I am a shopper.  There, I said it.  It's the thing my husband likes least about me.  I love shiny and new, and the fact that my clothes won't fit into my closet (my cup runneth over) is a sign that I probably have too many.  

As much as I get excited about new stuff, I have one pair of jeans that I wear all the time.  I love them.  They are comfortable and have probably been worn a few too many times.  But they fit better than any other pair of jeans, so regardless of the fact that they look "loved", I continue to wear them and will choose them over even my new stuff.  

There's nothing like a good pair of jeans that fit, that feel right, that have been worn-in, and that feel plain comfy. I don't think there is a better feeling than comfy.  Just plop-down-on-the-sofa, hang-out-and-be-yourself, not-having-to-suck-in-the-belly-to-look-skinnier kind of comfy. Can I get an amen?

Chris and I have been married for 12 years, and it has been 12 years of favorite-blue-jean kind of comfy.  It's easy being with him. I would say it's the easiest part of my life.  Even when I haven't brushed my teeth in the morning, he wants to kiss me.  When I've had a frustrating day, he understands.  When I need a sounding board, he listens.  He cheers the loudest when I attempt something new.  He understands that I need time with girlfriends. He puts up with my moods.  We have debates but rarely fight.  We laugh a lot. I know he would rip the heart out of his chest if he thought I needed it more than him.

We're complete opposites, and we're okay with that. Somehow it just works.  

Happy Valentine's Day, Chris.  I love how comfy we are.  I love that we fit well together.  When it comes to love, I don't need shiny and new, because I think we've got a good thing going.  A good thing that's going to last a long, long time.

Will you be mine?

xxoo

Lucky Thirteen

When I was in the sixth grade, living out our glorious (sarcasm) ten-month USAF assignment in Montgomery, Alabama, my parents packed up the car and drove us to Atlanta for a long weekend. I remember two things about that trip.

Everything started with Peachtree.

and

Our hotel did not have a 13th floor.

It was on that trip that I learned about superstition and the unlucky number 13. I didn't exactly understand the whole thing. How strange that they could just decide to not have a floor 13.

Chris and I are one day into thirteen years of marriage, having celebrated our 12th anniversary yesterday. It was a low-key weekend, and we didn't do much to celebrate besides paint ChellBell's new bedroom and go to Ikea (which is a real act of love for Chris).

It's a sweet story how Chris and I got together in the first place. But getting together and staying together are two totally different things. And sometimes we look at each other in amazement that we -- as complete opposites -- have made it this far and actually had a pretty good time in the process.

Now on our thirteenth year, we have:

Lived with 3 dogs

Had 1 child

Lived at 4 addresses

Owned 3 refrigerators

Owned 6 cars

Gone on zero bike rides together

Been on a TV show one time

Attended one church

Ridden in one limousine

Had 2 fights that we both remember

Burned through 7 blenders

Gone to Six Flags together 8 times

Worked for the same company one time

Each had a multi-night stay at a hospital

Sat through jury duty 5 times

Watched the series finales of BeverlyHills 90210, Ally McBeal, Friends, Frasier, X-Files, Seinfeld, Will & Grace, Studio 60, Everybody Loves Raymond, and The Drew Carey Show

Learned that Chris really does like broccoli, brussel sprouts, and bleu cheese

I have also learned that:

Chris puts my happiness above his own

Chris works hard to help out around the house

Chris always checks the doors at night

Chris will always catch whatever is tossed to him

Chris is a great cook

Chris encourages me to use my creativity

Chris likes for me to have good friends

Chris is not jealous

Chris is convicted to do what is right

Chris is concerned about our financial future

Chris makes me laugh

Chris sings in the shower

and Talks in his sleep

Chris is good at his job

Chris is still my best friend

So who knows what this thirteenth year will bring. But given the chance, I wouldn't dare take this thirteenth out or skip it. Lucky or unlucky. Better or worse. Sickness or Health.

Because I can't imagine living life without you, Chris. Or imagine finding a better partner in marriage or parenting. You're kind of cool. And you rock my world. And I love you.

tons and tons

LEAP-ish kind of year

Leap Frog

Lords a-leaping

Leapin' Lizards

Look before you leap

Leap of faith

It's Leap Year, so today is our extra day -- our freebie -- to enjoy the month of February just a little bit longer. While we're leaping, here are some things I am Leaping for Joy about today:

Our construction is finally finished, and besides a little bit of touch up paint, we are DONE with home improvement for a while. (And if you know me, you know that is a total lie, because I will always find something to improve upon around the house. My patience and pocketbook indicate, however, that it probably will not be on this scale for a long time).

The little dog has been behaving himself. Quite well, actually. He even gets to sleep on the bed with us now (one of Chris' great ideas -- couldn't resist that little face...). He is getting to roam the house while we're at work for the first time today. I'll let you know if we're still leaping for joy in about 9 hours.

There were extra boxes of Tag-a-longs, so I ordered four more.

Sweet times with sweet friends.

What are you leaping for joy about today?

My husband gave me Fritos and Bean Dip for Valentine's Day

After a medium-rare filet, baked potato, green beans, and just a taste (or two) of Chocolate Thunder Cake (or was that Thunder Thigh cake?), this girl is ready to turn in and call it a day. Another Valentine's Day.

Sitting at dinner with Chris and ChellBell, I was amused to watch the tables for two, as the couples looked dreamily into each others eyes, making the nervous, gratuitous giggles when the other said something the least bit funny. Happy to be with that person (or some person) on Valentine's Day. It is fun to be in love on February 14th.

Am I still in love? That's an interesting question after 11, soon to be 12 years of marriage. I am. Yes, I definitely am. But being in love means something totally different now than it did when we were dating. And even something different from when we got married. Being in love now looks a whole lot like the time when we weren't in love.

Chris and I met my Junior year in college (he was just a wee Freshman) and became good friends. We had each other listed as #1 for the "back up" date. You know, the person who will know other people at the party and be able to entertain themselves should you find a "real" date while you're there.

We weren't in love. We weren't going to be in love. Because we didn't even consider love when we were with each other. We were just good friends. Comfortable, true, silly, candid friends. No pretense. No unspoken expectations.

And then one day, we fell in love.

I knew. And he knew. It just fit. With that "this is going to be forever" kind of fit. And it still does. It's comfortable. It's comfortable and true and silly and candid, just like it was when we were good friends.

Okay, so there are the sparks. Definitely sparks. Sometimes fireworks and sometimes sparklers.

But the solidarity of the relationship isn't judged by the size of the spark. Solidarity is when one holds the match book and the other strikes the match. You do it together. You do life together. Like great friends. No pretense. No unspoken expectations.

I'm so happy that my best friend turned out to be my forever-and-ever love. Comfortable, true, silly, and candid. Not only do I love you, my sweet, but I really like you.

(and I love my Fritos and Bean Dip a hundred times more than any Valentine candy!) XXOO

The Trundle Bed

The construction on the house is still going on, and we have had to move out for a while. Who knew this would be so invasive?

So we're staying at my Mother-In-Law's house.

end of posting for the day.

Just kidding.

It has been very kind of Chris' parents to open their home to us. And I worked in a deal that if I went, both dogs got to come with me. (Because if Mama doesn't get to stay at a Mama Hotel, the doggies don't get to stay at the doggy hotel). Chris' Mom -- ChellBell calls her Mimi -- Mimi doesn't like dogs. If Mimi used the word hate, she would probably reserve it just for dogs. I think dogs make her think of filth.

But the dogs LOVE their Mimi. When she walks in the room, the tails start wagging, and all the little dog and big dog can think of is how to get in Mimi's lap and lick all over her face. I can't say that I stop them, because it is kind of funny to watch.

So let me preface this next part by telling you that Chris' parents are missionaries typically living in Hong Kong. They happen to be on Sabbatical and are staying in a house that one of the local churches has available for missionaries.

The house is fine (and actually one of the nicest ones they've gotten), but it was definitely not designed for both missionaries and their displaced grown-up children, with grandchild and two dogs in tow. We had an option of two bedrooms, one with a set of bunk beds, and one with a twin bed and trundle. We chose the latter.

The trundle is like a big drawer that pulls out from under the twin bed. It has a wooden frame, and the mattress sits down in it. It is seriously like a drawer. Just almost big enough for a short person. Chris determined it was not big enough for him, and placed dibs on the twin bed. So I got the trundle. But then ChellBell decided that she did not want to sleep in the bunk beds. So that made two of us in the trundle. ChellBell comes with about six stuffed bears and her new American Girl Doll. So that really was like having four of us in the bed. Then the big dog decided he would join in the fun, and of course he can't do anything without the little dog joining in as well. So there we all are. In the drawer. Chris sawing zzzz's and snoring loudly atop the comfortable soft bed. The rest of us just squirming and fighting for every free inch of space.

So after several nights of sleeping in the drawer and complaining about my achy muscles and not getting sleep, Chris decides that it can't be all that bad, and that he will give it a whirl for a night and show me how to do it without complaining.

Needless to say, Chris is cranky and cantankerous this morning and should be avoided at all costs. Additionally, he is determined to get back into our house this evening, even if we have to breathe in fumes for a few days.

When God closes a door, He opens a Window... Chris does the same thing.

We've been having some issues with the door that goes to the back yard. Not actually the door, just the doorknob. So being the Handy Mandy that I am, I went to Lowe's and bought a new handle and lock set. To my surprise, I successfully changed the lock on the back door. But when it came to the handle... well, that was a different story.

The point is that we've had the new knob/handle to install, but I couldn't figure it out, and the old one has mostly done its job, so no new doorknob.

Chris got up at 6 AM with the dogs this morning and found himself unable to get out the door to the back yard. The knob will turn, but the little latchy-thing doesn't budge at all. So, being half asleep and surrounded by yelpy dogs, he picked up the little dog and ordered the big dog to follow and traipsed through the front yard, around the side of the house, and through the back yard gate.

Did I mention he was just wearing underwear?

So I get a call from my sweet husband at work today, who says in his studly-man-of-the-house voice, "Well, I fixed the door problem..." Which surprised me, because he'd had a miserably busy day, and I was amazed that he'd found time to fix it or call someone to come out to the house.

And then he continued, "When you get home tonight, just open the window by the kitchen table and let the dogs climb out." (Like some kind of new -- HUGE -- doggy door. And oh, yippee, it's 35 degrees outside!) And if that isn't bad enough, he adds, "The little dog got it the first try, but I had to show the big dog how to do it a few times before he would jump out."

Unfortunately, I do not have any footage of Chris demonstrating the Doggy Door -- um, window -- but I do have a clip of the poor, confused dogs, just wanting to come in the back door.

PS. I found Christmas stockings for the dogs this weekend at Old Navy. The red one says "Naughty" and the green one says "Nice". Perfect!

Welcome to my Junk Drawer

Many of my friends are incredibly organized, and I covet that trait. I spend a ton of time and money at The Container Store and subscribe to Real Simple magazine in hopes that I will one day become organized - a place for everything and everything in it's place... Typically I can hide my flaw behind closed doors and in bins, so no one would ever guess. But if you open up the drawer underneath the kitchen telephone -- the "junk drawer" -- you will get a great visual of my true lack of organization. It's the drawer where we throw all the little things that don't quite have a place.

So this is kind of a "junk drawer" excerpt -- all the things that don't really have their own place but are worth sharing.

Item #1:
Last Sunday, ChellBell went to cheer practice and attempted her first cartwheel since the horrid broken arm incident. I suggested it, and she looked at me with that are-you-out-of-your-mind look. But then her best friend, Anne, did a beautiful cartwheel, and ChellBell just had to keep up (love that healthy peer pressure). Her cartwheel isn't quite what it used to be, but at least she's back in the proverbially saddle... The coach was sweet and gave her the VIP cowbell for practice that day to reward her bravery.

Item #2:
My birthday was Tuesday, and Chris suggested we spend the night cleaning the house. We ended up going to the mall and bought 12 pair of socks for ChellBell because she's always losing socks.

Item #3:
Last night Chris and I were scheduled to have date-night (sadly the definition has changed significantly over the years...). The accompanist for my singing group was having his senior recital down in Dallas, and afterwards the girls in the group were hosting a small reception for him at one of the member's (absolutely stunning) home. Chris got ChellBell squared away with the sitter and met me after work so we could ride down to the recital together. Now don't get the idea that Chris was in any way excited about going. I requested that he join me for the evening so he could hear this gentleman's talent -- an absolutely gifted pianist.

Unfortunately, we got a bit of a late start to the recital but thought we would quietly sneak into the Hall. We got down to the University about 15 minutes after the start time. My blood didn't start to boil until we had circled the campus three times -- now 45 minutes late -- trying to find a parking spot. The recital was only supposed to last an hour, so we decided to give up and head over to the reception site. At this point I really, really needed to pee.

We reached the reception home, but no one came to the door (I guessed they were still at the performance). The bigger problem was that I desperately needed to find a restroom. PANIC. I jumped in the car and told Chris to haul it to the closest restaurant or public bathroom. We drove and drove -- I'm starting to get stretch marks at this point -- and found ourselves at the Popeye's Chicken in the not-so-nice area that surrounds the incredibly-nice area where the party was to be held. Popeye's or not, Nice area or not, I had to go, and nothing was going to stop me. Except that someone was in the Ladies bathroom and the door was locked.

So I used the men's restroom.

There is no way that I am going to describe that restroom to you because you would lose your appetite for the next three days. Suffice it to say that it was the worst restroom experience ever. (Except that I actually got to pee, and that was quite a relief)

Meanwhile, Chris decided that he needed to order a "snack" in exchange for restroom usage. So we waited in the line at Popeye's for 20 minutes. Of course we had to wait in a scary Popeye's Chicken with a nasty bathroom for 20 minutes instead of enjoying a nice evening of music and champagne. That just makes sense.

Finally, we made it back to the reception, and a few friends were there. We waited around for nearly an hour, and still no guests (I guess the supposedly 1 hour recital turned into a 2+ hour show), so Chris and I finally headed home. And picked up Number 1 combos from Wendy's for dinner.

And that was date night.

What Drug-Free means to me...

ChellBell's school just finished up with Red Ribbon week, which is the Drug-Free portion of the annual curriculum at her school. I must admit that I was a little shocked to hear that the first graders, and even the Kindergartners, were going through a drug awareness program at such a young age. This is, of course, reflective of my age, and the fact that no one really mentioned drugs in school when I was growing up.

So one of ChellBell's homework assignments was to write a few sentences and draw an accompanying picture about "What Drug-Free Means to Me". She drew a picture of herself with a big smile, playing with the big dog (I guess he was drug-free also?) and wrote "Drug-Free is when I am helthy and do not have any bad drugs."

Obviously Drug-Free week is all about bad drugs, but I don't know how much time is spent actually explaining that there are good drugs as well. My best friend, Bec, is a drug dealer. For a pharm company, that is... It's funny that she always has a trunk full of elixirs and pills that can take your allergies away, lower your cholesterol, or take care of any, um, problems that your husband may have. These are the good drugs.

Yesterday I had Root Canal Part 2, because they couldn't finish the root canal the first time around (which only happens to people who loathe the dentist, you know). So I mustered up all the brave-ness in me to go for the second round. The only saving grace in the Root Canal saga has been the prescriptions of valium that have accompanied it. That little pill takes away the fear of the dentist so he can stick me with needles and pull the nerves out from under the tooth, and I just laugh as if we're at a picnic. I walk out of the appointment (actually stumble out with my husband holding me up) remembering very little. Evidently, after my first appointment, I told the staff how wonderful they are and asked if we could take them all to dinner. After yesterday's appointment, I evidently sent a couple of e-mails that made no sense. And my cell phone indicates that I placed a call to my sister last night, but I do not remember that at all.

ChellBell was interested in why I was so loopy after going to the dentist, and Chris told her it was because of the drugs I took. Wrong Answer! This morning she told me that Daddy had let her in on the little secret that I had taken drugs yesterday, and she wanted to remind me that it is "very, very baaaaaaaad" to take drugs and that they are not healthy... Wow -- launch into the whole discussion of prescription drugs versus off-the-street drugs. Not how I expected to start off my Tuesday morning.

But I think we're all set now, and we all understand the difference. Next week I'll be going in for a crown to top off my root canal. Just warning you in case you see an incomprehensible excerpt here on this site or receive a strange e-mail from me. Just blame it on the drugs...

RAH RAH REE, kick 'em in the knee...

It's ironic how time flies at the speed of light some days and on other days just seems to stand still (like waiting for the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy). Time in marriage is the same -- there are days when it seems like we exchanged vows just yesterday, and other days when I question that it was only 11 years ago.

Chris and I exchanged traditional vows and agreed that "for better or worse" we would still love each other. I remember having a flash of what the "worse" would look like: having to fit his ghastly LazyBoy recliner into my decor, or having to someday succumb to buying an artificial Christmas Tree... The horrors of blending two lives together.

Who knew that three little letters would actually top the "worse" charts for me. No, I don't mean those three letters -- I'm talking about the NFL. As if defying the holiness of the Sabbath with football isn't bad enough (in addition to Monday night games and pre-game shows and during-the-week commentaries), the Fantasy Football phenom hit and every football-watching male began to live out their little boy dream of owning a football team. Chris was right there with them, sucked in, and the $100 he invested in league fees (for each League he joined, I might add) was the smallest price in comparison to the monopoly on his time and priorities. Statistically speaking, I don't know how many marriages fall apart over the NFL, but it certainly does contribute to a high percentage of women's bitterness. This is why, men, Valentine's Day falls in February. It is a chance to make up for the football season. A time to redeem yourselves.

I have been bitter for 11 consecutive football seasons and honestly, it's exhausting. So this year, I say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Thus the creation of (drum roll, please) the Powder Puff fantasy football team (represented by a pink helmet, of course) right in the middle of Chris' Football League, Pigskin Glory. Our evening discussions now revolve around words like "bye weeks", "Wide Receiver" and "projections" and names like "Antwaan Randle El" and "Plaxico Burris". It's funny how the creation of Powder Puff was really more to annoy my husband (and believe me, with my #2 standing in the League, it's pretty annoying to him), but between you and me, this has actually become somewhat addicting, and I'm pretty sure I'm hooked.

So my only dilemma now is what I'll be getting Chris for Valentine's Day...