My man is hilarious

Yesterday I found this picture on another blog I read.
I noticed that the front door is almost exactly the same as our front door, so I sent it to the ear doctor. Plus I really think that couch is pretty rad.

The ear doctor responded with this comment, "What’s that girl doing in our house with her ugly dog?!!!!" (he's not a big fan of fluffy girly dogs)

To which I responded, "She’s our new neighbor who wants to go for a wine tasting and wear rubber boots even though it's not raining. We should take the old gross horseshoe out of the garage and nail it to the wall in our dining room."

To which he responded, "Did she ride her cruiser bike that has a abnormally large wire basket on the front for her hideous dog over to our house on a Sunday afternoon for a mimosa brunch on 32nd and Lowell (a very trendy spot in our neighborhood fully of awesome restaurants and hipsters)? Are the rubber boots plaid? Is she wearing a scarf when it’s 80 degrees outside? Does she also have a huge beanie that she wears so that it’s only partially covering her head/hair? Does she love tea?"

And that, my friends, is why my husband is not a blogger...

what are your three?

Today I was challenged to think quickly of 3 things I know. Things I absolutely *know* to the depths of my soul. I was given 10 seconds to think of what I know. Here's what I thought of:

1. The ear doctor loves me...fully, unconditionally


2. I love my house because it's not just the structure that shelters me from the unexpected snow storm that happened this morning, but because it is my home


3. I am so blessed that it shocks and humbles me like nothing else

technical difficulties

Today my little niece Charlotte turns 4. How has time passed so quickly?



This morning we skyped with her and she was so excited from opening presents and wired from eating mapley-syrupy-pancake-birthday-cake that she couldn't sit still. Her body was literally vibrating with joy.



And I love that I could actually see that...thanks to Skype.





oh, skype, how i love thee.



But there is something that I just can't stand about it, and I have drawn up a diagram to help me explain my slight frustration:









When my eyes are looking at the image of my loved one they are pointed slightly down because the camera is offset from the skype window on the screen. So I feel like my connection to the person on the other end suffers. In an attempt to make sure they know I'm listening to them, I move my eyes from looking at them on the screen and stare straight into the camera.





But then I sometimes miss seeing their expression change in response to what I'm saying.





And that bugs.





Am I taking crazy pills? Anyone else relate? What do you do? Just live with it?

not my brightest moment

Last night I organized a pizza making party for 15 teenagers at my church building.

I thought it would be easy because I picked up pre-made dough and pizza sauce from whole foods and had a mountain of pre-shredded cheese.

I thought the fact that there were two ovens and pizza stones at 500 degrees would make the whole activity seamless.

About 10 minutes into the event I realized this was NOT going to be easy.

Cheese was flying everywhere.

There was so much cornmeal on the ground I kept slipping and sliding while holding piping hot pans.

The pizza makers didn't know how to stretch, or roll out dough. They got crazy with the toppings so they looked more like towers of pepperoni than nice flat food.


After about 47 minutes of furiously slinging a jillion small pizzas into and out of the oven one of my favorite little 12 year old girls came over, gave me a hug and said, "Katie....you look really tired"


At which point I wanted to melt into a puddle, cry and say, "yes, yes, I'm EXHAUSTED!"


But instead I just turned around and pulled 3 more almost fully cooked sauce covered dough balls from the oven.


It's official....I would never make a good Pizza Hut employee. There goes that dream....

a bit of a low

Well, there was no morning dance party for us today.

Yesterday the ear doctor found out some pretty crappy news. The grant application he wrote last year to get his dissertation funded didn't even get READ by the committee who reviews them. It was quite the blow to our little family.

So, in order to cheer my man up I decided to take him to one of those Brazilian steak houses for dinner. The kind of place where guys in funny pants walk around with meat on swords and make you feel bad if you say that you're full and can't possibly eat another mouthful of beef without exploding.

Dinner was awesome...but the hours of food poising I've experienced since have been less than joyful.

So now the ear doctor feels doubly bad that he didn't get the grant AND his special dinner caused me a special morning of laying on our bathroom rug.

I told him that my problems weren't his fault...it's those @%$*&#% gauchos!

New traditions

Well, today is day 2 of our new household tradition. And I'm loving it so much that I have officially decided that it will be a part of our life from now until the end of time.

What is it, you ask?


Morning dance party.


Both yesterday and today the ear doctor and I played a rockin tune and danced for approximately 3.5 minutes before I rushed out the door to join the rest of the rat race.

This morning the jam was MJ's Rock With You.


I'm not really sure why, but that short interlude with my man, my dog jumping 3 feet in the air to join in the fun and the king of pop made this day seem not only managable, but really fun and exciting.

Do you have any tricks to help the day seem brighter?

Under the influence

Saturday I had my first full-blown allergy attack of spring. It's simultaneously awesome and horrible. Awesome that spring is here, horrible that my head might explode. I end up sneezing and sneezing and sneezing over and over again until people start turning around to look at the incredible sneezing girl like I'm a side show offering at a three ringed circus.



I made it through the day, but at 3 am on Sunday morning I'd had enough. I finally caved at took a Benedryl. The split second before that sweet little pink and white capsule passed my lips I thought, "this might make getting to church on time a challenge..."



And it did.



The ear doctor attempted to wake me up at 9:45 (for our 10 o'clock service) and I felt like a surgery patient fully alert, but trapped in the drugged web of anesthesia. I couldn't make my body move.



So at 10:30 when the drugs wore off I threw on a dress and made my way to our building.



I probably shouldn't have been driving.





I spent 90% of the remainder of the service staring off in space and giggling at how the speaker said the word prayer funny. She really emphasised that the word had two syllables. Pray-ER, pray-ER, pray-ER. Hilarious stuff when you're stoned.





So when, at the end of church, I was sitting by myself trying to detox I didn't find it strange when someone in my congregation approached me and began to express her condolences on my recent infertility. She went on to tell me that her daughter was also having a hard time getting pregnant and how it took her years to start having babies.



I just kind of looked up at her with glassy eyes and said, "I'm not trying to get pregnant at all"



And, at the time, I wasn't phased at her response when she said, "oh really? I thought I'd heard somewhere that you were trying and couldn't get pregnant..."







But now I'm super annoyed.

getting my groove on

Last night the ear doctor and I hosted a daddy/daughter event for the girls in our church aged 8-12. In my mind this was a perfectly coordinating activity with cute favors, beautiful decor, fun games and delicious homemade food. The kind of event that made people feel really special because someone took the time to work so hard, you know.

And then I realized that my guests would be 8 year old girls and 30 year old dudes.


So we met at our neighborhood bowling alley, had pizza delivered and made our guests buy their own sodas about the snack bar.


But guess what? It was awesome. Everyone had a great time and I didn't do too horribly at bowling (122 thank you very much).

The funny thing about me and bowling is that it really brings out my inner Rock StAWr! I mean, when those big white pins go flying I just can't help but lift up my arms and commence violent and furious fist pumping. It doesn't help when the alley is blasting Michael Jackson. And I don't really have the self control to contain myself even after I turn around and notice that one of the dad's had his camera out video taping my antics.


So if you happen to see a crazy red-head dancing around like a fool at a bowling alley on facebook today I wouldn't be surprised. It's me.

He's so smart

I just found out that the ear doctor was awarded the Outstanding Doctoral Researcher Award 2011 from his department.


He just sat down to his computer, opened it up and got an email totally validating all the hard work he's been putting in for the last 3 years.


I'm so proud of him I might just explode. Great work, babe.



Now get to work....no resting on your laurels...

Envision

OK, so I fully know this is lame, but...


I was watching the Hellcats sometime in the last week and the episode was all about finding purpose in life by "following your bliss."

As embarrassing as it is to admit, the writers on the CW got me thinking. Am I following my bliss? Do I even know what it would look like if I were smack in the middle of my bliss?

So for the past few days I've been thinking about what would be my most blissful experiences and then see if somehow they could become my daily reality. Things that someone actually PAYS me to do.

Have you ever heard of a job where you spend the first 2 hours of your day up to your ears in dirt...planning, prepping, caring for, harvesting and maintaining your garden? Only then to go over to your perfectly designing bakery and serve up your delicious baked goods to people on their way into work.

You then get to take a long lunch with your sweetheart. Each and every day.

The afternoon is filled with technical work. You pull up your computer, design something really great for a client's home. You call a contractor and he immediately starts demo on the problem. You put your computer away by 4 pm and have the entire night to spend cooking dinner and playing games with your family.

Because that life? my personal bliss

Symbol of our love

Last week the ear doctor spent an entire day judging a high school science fair. And he had a blast. He came home and told me all about the really smart kids, the projects that parents clearly did for their offspring and the attempts at science that some of the less technically gifted kids put together.

And then at the end of his description of the day he presented me with this beauty.

This is what marriage is. Always being on the lookout for what will make them really happy.

Astronaut Katie

Friday afternoon I got to climb into the first article of the new space capsule that I'm working on.

Definitely the best day of work I've had at this company.

Design advice

Hey all-

I got a new little entry table for our house on craigslist last night. It's a little beat up and a bit more formal than the vibe we've got going on in the rest of the house so I was thinking of painting it some happy color. What do you think?







I suggested yellow or green to the ear doctor and he thinks bright colored furniture isn't great for anything but a kid's room. Do you agree?

Young girl

Did you see the Justin Bieber movie? Because I totally did.

I went because I am an unapologetic fan of pop culture AND the kid is kind of a phenomenon AND I was in a bad mood that nothing but a cheesy movie could correct. And I have a confession...it totally made me cry.

Not in that crazy Bieber-fever hysterical 10 year old girl way. Tears of adulation weren't rolling down my cheeks and at no time did I pledge my undying love for the teenager.


Here's what happened.


I guess the people on team Bieber wander around at the beginning of each show and find some fans in the nose-bleed section. Then they surprise them with front row seats and the little girl melts into a puddle of tears and thanks her lucky stars that Justin Bieber cares about her, personally.

Anyway, one person upon whom they selected to bestow front row seats was a middle aged, balding guy. At first I thought it was kind of strange for him to be attending that show...until I noticed that he was wearing a white T-shirt with BIEBER written across the front in rainbow puffy paint and covered in homemade music notes. The camera panned over to his little daughter dressed in a matching shirt and I just lost it.

Here was a dad who was dressed in a ridiculous shirt and was attending the concert of a teenage boy he probably would have never heard of but for the love he had for his daughter.




How could I not tear up?



20 years ago I WAS that little girl. My dad WAS that guy. He lovingly subjected his ears to the off-key, overproduced sounds of New Kids on the Block while my friend and I swayed in rapture to Please Don't Go Girl.


To be honest I don't even remember a single second of the show...other than my dad being there, loving me and buying me a blue bubblegum ice cream cone.

On this Valentines Day

To my wonderful husband,

Oh sweet darling, how do I love thee? Let me list the ways...

Thy care and love for our sweet precious canine doth warm my heart with an deep, fervent and persistent glow.

The way your eyes doth take on an eerily possessed quality when we, together, consume the sweet, cool goodness that is fresh homemade ice cream at our favorite local parlors.

The smirk that overtakes thine face when thou feign fatigue at my incessant photo-taking.

The way thou are always excited for a most auspicious occasion wherein we both may, perchance, consume some chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick.

The dueling battles in which we both engage to prove our mettle and establish our domination.

Your shapely form while clad in the garb of my ancestors.

The way thou dons thine cap in support of the weaker competitor to demonstrate your unflagging support of those to whom thou has dedicated thine ardor

The strength of thine arm, the tireless protection it affords, thine immovable dedication to moral uprightness and truth.

The blueness of thine eyes, the warmth of thine smile, the perfection of thine head for filling out a typical Englishman's cap.

blast from the past

On the way back to work from grabbing some Wendy's for lunch (GAH! Bad food choices!) I pulled up next to a truck with this load strapped to the flat bed...








...and if you didn't see that and immediately think of starting a bonfire then your undergraduate experience was a lot different than mine.




BTW did you notice that beautiful blue sky? Finally the weather is back to normal here in Colorado! Hooray!

On the John

When I was little one of my favorite things about my grandma's house is that she had a big book of jokes in a magazine holder bolted to the wall right next to the toilet. We never had any reading material in the bathroom and I thought it was SO COOL that she had this book in their for some entertainment.

But I never actually adopted the practice in my own bathroom until I married the ear doctor. He's always bringing stuff into the bathroom to pass the time. Lately the reading material is getting REALLY good...

Can you see what that is, sitting there on our wicker laundry hamper? No? Need a close up?

Exciting, huh?!?! Now you know what kind of wonders await you if you ever have the chance to swing by Colorado for a visit at our house.

SIDENOTE: This morning the ear doctor told me that the author of this article lives in Canada with a whole herd of deaf white cats that he studies auditory/brain development. Now, that'd be something to see, right?

Being a grown up

Another thing we did while my mom was here? She helped me pick out RED lipstick. And I mean RED.

When I wear it I either feel like a saucy minx...

...or like a kid who just finished her red Popsicle.

Workhorse

My parents always tease me that when they visit I always ask them to work on our house. They (somewhat loudly) state how they just can't seem to get a trip to Colorado without it entailing trips to a hardware store. They brag that they could drive to the closest Home Depot with their eyes closed.

So when I found out that my mom booked tickets to come to the Sound of Music sing-along with me I was thrilled. And determined. I was NOT going to ask her to work on our house in any way shape or form.

The show was awesome on Friday, seriously, SO fun. See? Really fun! The ear doctor totally missed out!

And on Saturday I had plans to relax and eat and chat but as the snow started to fall and an idle second was spent relaxing on the couch my mom looked around and saw the stack of framed pictures on the ground that I'd been too lazy to hang she started rooting around for a hammer and some nails. And hour later we had this.

And then we still had some time to kill so we ran to the fabric store and whipped together cushions for the chair my dad made me a two years ago!

So much for just sitting back and relaxing! I never want to be teased again for "MAKING" my parents work on projects when they come to visit. Because I'm pretty sure my mom wouldn't have it any other way!

frightening scenarios

Monday night I was attempting to clean our laundry room. It's in the basement of our 80 year old house and has a 2 foot deep cement shelf about 4 feet up the wall. I was gracefully attempting to climb down off the shelf and my stupid wet, slippery crocs skidded on the top of the slippery, wet step stool and sent me hurtling through space.

I prevented my early death by strategically placing my rear on the sharp corner of the dryer.

And now am seriously considering 3 very scary possibilities:

1) no one may ever read my blog again since I admitted that I own and wear a pair of crocs

2) I may be inclined to tell the story about how instead of being killed by a dryer 5 years ago I managed only to pee my pants in front of my super cute boyfriend

and/or

3) a picture of my very purple bruised butt cheek may find its way to the internet...