Pig & Pepper

Okay, the big day is here!  My new shop is open!  Go to Pig & Pepper to see all the deliciousness! 

A big thanks to k2 Imaging for putting together the awesome photos, they look amazing!

Why you don't try to talk to your husband while he's watching football:

Me: "I'm going to turn off the air conditioner and open all the windows, okay?"

Him: "Okay, that sounds great."

[me opening windows]

Him: "Hey why are you opening the windows?  The air conditioner is on!"

Me: "I just told you I was going to turn off the air conditioner and open all the windows and you said 'Okay.'"

Him: "Oh, did I?  Well, I'm watching the game!  That's why they have commercials: they are not for advertising, they are so you can talk to your wife."

duly noted.

Breeziness, Swedishness, and Wonderfulness.

On several occasions today it was pointed out by friendly neighbors that we are always gone.  And it is true.  Between our two full-time jobs and the weekend trips to here or there, we really spend very little time in the house that the 30 year mortgage built.  But I do love this house.  I love it especially much on days when it's not so blistering hot and all the windows are open and breezing the breeziest of breezes through the every which part of our little home.  It makes me want to never leave this house.  And for the weekends to last forever.  And for every season to be so very much fall-like.  Oh but I'm so excited for fall!

We had a date to the IKEA just this last Friday night and let me tell you something, you know you are married when your idea of a date involves returning curtains and wandering through aisles of Swedish dinnerware on a particularly stormy Friday night.  Do I even remember what the single me did on Friday nights anymore?  I don't think that I can remember a whole year ago to the non-married weekend nights of dates of bowling and long drives and silly phone call conversations.  But the married me was with married Kyle on Friday so we found ourselves a new Swedish duvet cover and some Swedish curtain rods and set for home to watch a movie in our breezy home that I love so much.

And Kyle did that thing where he spends no less than twenty minutes picking out the perfect movie only to select a manly action movie.  But then, you see, his conscience caught up to him and told him to watch a chick flick with his wife.  And so he did.  And all were merry and bright.

Other bits of weekend wonderfulness include:

1. sleeping in my own bed

2. "Mr. Zesty"

3. a real real double date night with the abby and jason

4. the most lovely and non-grasshopper-infested yellow dahlia blossom

5. a photo shoot with my sister

6. a mini bedroom makeover

7. 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets (but really, I still can't get over it)

8. mint chocolate cookie ice cream

9. catching up with the kevin and suzi and snuggling their babies

I could go on but Kyle just informed me that he has a one hour break before his next fantasy football draft and so I must go to take advantage of this rare opportunity to actually talk to my husband today.

I love him.  But I do not understand him.

A Particular Disappointment

A particular disappointment in the life of the married is the difficulty of surprise.  You see, when one shares a residence and a bank account with a spouse, it is nearly impossible to sneakily purchase a gift and have it arrive via the United Parcel Service without the spouse first finding it. 

I thought surely I had covered my bases by using my own zero-balance credit card to make the purchase.  Kyle would certainly never suspect there to be any charges on it!  And I could pay the balance in cash at the bank!  Brilliant! 

There would be the problem of delivery, yes, but Kyle is predictable.  He only enters and exits through the garage door and has never seen the plate of cupcakes that has been sitting on our doorstep for three days (twice) so there is no way he would notice a small package there either. So you see?  The bases?  They were covered.

But the one time he notices something on the doorstep is the one time it happens to be something for him.  (I am just sure the grasshoppers had something to do with it)  The package also happened to arrive the same day as our new 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets (yippee!).  I believe his overeager enthusiasm for new bedding also was to blame.  He tells me as I come home and discover the open packages that he thought the gift was "something that came with the sheets." 

Yeah. 

Okay.

At any rate, he was excited about my gift and a happy early anniversary to you too, babe.

Belly Up

This is the only way I like to see grasshoppers: dead.

I found him this morning.

Bwahahaha!

Demon Spawn

Allow me tell you a tale of sadness and rage.  A tale from the garden.  One that involves giant demon grasshoppers from hell and the beautiful, yet brief life of a dahlia blossom.

This dahlia, to be exact.

I have been watching it every day, anxiously awaiting it to bloom because, for Pete's sake, not one of my flowers have yet to bloom before the grasshoppers devour them.

So today I came home to find a four-inch grasshopper clinging to my precious flower and making a savage meal out of it.  That grasshopper soon died.

 

And I may have cried about it (the flower, not the grasshopper).

Is that pathetic?  Nevermind, I don't want to know.

I then whipped up a hot sauce spray and sprayed all my flowers because it's the only thing I could find in Internetland that is said to deter grasshoppers.

Not long after, I opened the front door to find this staring at me

I believe it may have been out for revenge, but I came prepared with my bottle of Spectracide and sprayed the last bit of life out of him.  I laughed my gloriously evil laugh and watched as he struggled to hop away.

Hop no more demon spawn!

And stay out of my flowers!

Fantasy Shmantasy

I know you've heard it before: I married a sports fanatic.  But only recently did I realize that this enthusiasm also extends to the realm of fake sports.  Excuse me, "fantasy" sports.  And while on the subject, I would like to propose that there is little that is masculine in the name "fantasy" even if it is sometimes tied to such things as football.

Due to wretched traffic, I didn't get home from work until 6:00, at which point I had to craft a quick and easy dinner so Kyle could be ready for his second of four fantasy football drafts promptly at 6:45.  And believe me, not a minute past 6:45 did he retreat to his man den to prepare for the draft.  I did , however, convince him to look away for a second to give me a goodbye kiss when I left the house at 7:05.

I returned home at 8:30 to find that he had just finished the draft and was especially cheerful the remainder of the night.  He even shared the last bits of his caramel ice cream with me.   And that, my friends, is my idea fantasy.  Ice cream.

Oh, one more thing.  In case you forgot, the "biggest game in Boise State history" is September 6th.  Yeah, it's kind of a big deal.

A Bit of Where We've Been

A couple weeks ago we ventured out on a tremendous road trip to Colorado.

There was a lot of driving.  And a lot of change in scenery.  And a lot of that nervous feeling of adventure that you sometimes get when you find yourself in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

But we did stop in Grand Junction for a delicious picnic along the way.

And managed to find a really ghetto campground somewhere between Glenwood Springs and Kremmling, Colorado where we happened to survive a solid nine hours of terrific thunder/lighting/and pummelling rain.

We braved Trail Ridge Road (and it really wasn't so bad).

It was actually quite beautiful.

And took us to beautiful places.

We attended the wedding of a couple of good friends.

Ate delicious buffalo burgers with these friends.

Danced with little friends.

And stole babies from friends to pose for pictures with other friends.

Miss Me?

Have you missed me?  Wondered where I've been? 

.......................

No? 

Okayfine.  Well, I'm back from another four days in Colorado.  This time, I was not so much camping and hanging out with old friends and such.  But, in very fact, I was working my feet to the bone (really, my feet are still throbbing) at another Denver wholesale market thing.  I've tried all different ways to explain to people what it is and what I do there, but let's just say I worked like crazy and came home with a suitcase full of accessories: jewelry, hats, watches, sunglasses, and scarves. 

Want in on the madness?  I'll post some of the goods for sale here shortly.  Probably this weekend or something.  I just need some time to get the feeling back in my toes.  And to enjoy the perfectly clean house that Kyle made for me while I was gone (he even organized the pantry!). 

P.S. Have you ever heard of 1500 thread count Egyptian Cotton sheets for under $100? 

Because mine are on their way to my mailbox!  In white!

And trust me, they are just as dreamy as they sound.

Also, it reminds me of Brittany Murphy's phony rockstar boyfriend in that movie where she babysits Dakota Fanning.  Anyone else know what I'm talking about?  "Sheets of Egyptian Cotton...."

Would you like some too? 

The Unfriendly Thoroughfare

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The road has not been very kind to me these days.  Last week I got chased down and spit on by a man on a motorcycle who proceeded to shout obscenities at me for miles.  But isn't it one of the most offensive things to be spit on?  I do think so. 

Then yesterday a man in a Jeep and army fatigues flipped me off and shouted unmentionables out his window after he cut me off and nearly knocked me off the freeway. 

And then I got stuck in the world's worst traffic jam late at night, just an exit away from home.  Apparently some bimbo was driving the wrong way on the freeway and hit a police car.  I thought for sure the jam was construction related which caused feelings of hatred for the Utah Department of Transportation, but those hateful feelings were quickly ameliorated once I saw the fifteen police cars and the two smashed up sedans.  How can you hate someone who has been in an accident?  Even if she is a bimbo. 

Even riding the bus hasn't been working out so great these days.  You see, someone has decided to cancel my bus stop and now the buses are all irregular and moody and by the time my bus finally arrives, there are 75 angry businessmen and myself standing on a street corner cursing silently (and some not so silently) the Utah Transit Authority.  But at least on the bus I can sleep.  And I'm safe from the motorcycle meanies, bimbos, etcetera.

I sense that God is testing my patience and love for idiotic strangers and moody bus schedules.  I would fear my test scores should not be very high except, except not once I did retaliate with shouting words of hate.  I did not strike back with saliva.  Neither did I concede to use my own token finger in a moment of weakness.  So actually, I think I did pretty good.  But if the road could please behave for awhile, I would really appreciate it. 

I'm starting to hate driving.

There are just too many shades of white these days

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In our house are four bedrooms that are each a different color:

Dark Green

Baby Blue

Lavendar

Pink

And we've decided to paint them all white.  Do you know how many shades of white there are?  There are way too many, that's what.  After thirty minutes of deliberating we settled on Benjamin Moore Glacier White, neither of us really caring one way or the other.  But now... I'm having second thoughts.

White?

Really?

I mean, I love white, but the rest of our house is definitely not white. 

Will it clash? 

Look out of place? 

Be too sterile? 

Or boring?

Should we have gone with Ballerina White instead of Glacier White?

Glaciers are cold. 

I don't want a cold room. 

But cold would probably be nice in the summer. 

But summer is about to end and then there will be plenty of Utah cold going around.

But ballerinas are so pretty...

Basically I've come to the conclusion that we have much too much house for me to handle.  There are too many decisions, too many rooms, too many choices, and much too many whites for my simpleness to process.  I want there to be a sense of continuity from room to room but I have so many ideas that are all so different that it just feels impossible to achieve.

I'm going out of town this weekend and Kyle is going to paint the lavendar room (aka his office) Glacier White.  I will keep my fingers crossed. 

I mean really, how bad could it be?

For Kyle

Eleven months ago we wed

And now we share the same queen bed.

I know it drives you crazy when

I sleep through my alarm and then

You still get up before I do.

Instead of one sink, 

We need two.

Today, 'cause love for you I hath,

I brushed my teeth in the guest bath

So you could shave your face just so.

You need sink space too, I know.

My handsome Kyle, you're so great.

You sometimes let me sleep in late.

And let me watch my favorite shows

Even when you hate them so.

But marriage equals compromise

And never ever telling lies.

And so there's something you must know,

About your favorite TV shows.

When I watch ESPN with you

I don't really have a clue.

But I watch 'cause I love you.

The Nerve

I made snickerdoodles for my young women's class on Sunday.  I could tell Kyle was a little put-out that all thirty-six of them were not for him, but he didn't even try to eat my cookie dough as I was baking (that's a first!) and he sounded only slightly disgruntled when I explained they were for the twelve and thirteen year old girls at church.  After church I had approximately ten cookies remaining.  And this is the point where I should have counted and labeled each one because by the end of the night they were gone! Vanished!  I kept thinking to myself, "How could I have eaten so many of those??  Kyle only had a couple..."

And 24 hours later the secret came out.

He had stashed them away!

His own private stash!

Of the cookies I had slaved over!

He just hid them away!

And then he ate them for lunch!

Can you even believe that?

And this after I had given him permission to eat my chocolate covered gummy bears.

The nerve.

And do you know what he tells me?  "Every Post has a stash."  He says this so matter-of-factly and as if I should have known this all along. 

Where have I been?

This totally explains why he tried to hide the Chewy Chips Ahoy in the pantry underneath the hamburger buns that one time.  (But I do have separate thoughts on Chewy Chips Ahoy which involve feeling that if you're going to buy store-bought cookies, then they might as well be crunchy because even chewy store-bought cookies will never be chewy like homemade cookies)

And so I baked a few dozen chocolate chip cookies.

And guarded them with my life.

I ate cookie dough all by myself.

And packaged them away tightly.

Except I felt sorry for him when he told me I was mean like a mother and so I gave in and shared my stash. 

 It's those pouty blue eyes, I tell you.  They just get me every time.

But I am plotting my own private stash...  and this time I'll not give in. 

Delicious

doodle by me

So I have a delicous bottom.

Or how else am I to interpret the eight ridiculous mosquito love bites?

(I just counted.  There really are eight)

I mean really, of all the places to bite me, did it have to be there?

And how is one supposed to feel about all this itchiness anyway?

As a side note, I find it rather awkward to say "bottom". 

It just sounds so... proper.

And I am nothing if not improper.

Ambushed.

photo by me

I ventured out of doors to rescue the few plants we have from a suffocating death by morning glory.  And then I was ambushed by the yard:

mosquitoes

mosquitoes

mosquitoes

grasshoppers

grasshoppers

mosquitoes

grasshoppers

praying mantis

mosquitoes

grasshoppers

and more mosquitoes

Fifteen minutes of rapid weed-pulling resulted in a dozen or more mosquito bites (most of which were through my clothes! those beasts) and I remembered why I absolutely hate grasshoppers.

The praying mantis can stay. 

We're all for piety here.

But something will need to be done about those grasshoppers.  I mean, they are HUGE.  And they are many.  And they are gross and jumpy and they are eating my dahlias which are all on the verge of blooming, if only the grasshopper savages would leave them alone.  Why can't they just eat the morning glory, for Pete's sake?

And then I slipped and fell in the shower and screwed up my knee.

But we are having more thunderstorms and so I am happy still.

Bonne Tempête

photo by me

Today was one of those days that began with the wonderfulness of a good thunderstorm.

How I do love my thunderstorms!

And in the very early morning?

Even better.

So I didn't get my own two seats to myself on the bus. 

But at least I had my thunderstorm.

And yesterday I got to snuggle a new baby.

And at this very moment, another friend is having her baby!

Thunderstorms and babies.  Could life be any better?

Also, Dr. Pepper for breakfast.

And so what if I spilled it on my sweater?

I got to lick it off myself.

Things are looking good, you see.  It's all in the weather.  These are the kind of omens you look for when something wonderful is about to happen.  And I do know something good is on the horizon.  I just know it!

I know this is true because Kyle found my watch!  My long-lost-for-a-whole-four-days watch that he had given me for Christmas last year and that I cried about losing.  He found it.  In my makeup bag.  I guess that sort of tells you how much use my makeup bag has been getting these days but then again isn't that the beauty of summer?  Less makeup, you know.  Also, less blow-drying. (It's just really too hot for that kind of thing anyway)

But I tell you what, I was feeling so good after this morning's thunderstorm that I even blow-dryed my hair and pulled the mascara out of my makeup bag.

Thoughts for a Monday

I do, in fact, have an ingrown toenail.

Kiwi is both a delicious fruit and a curious bird.

Group fitness classes scare me.

I wish I had more Swedish Fish.

My freckles multiplied exponentially over the weekend.

What happened to July?

My birthday is in fifty-six days.

I lost my watch.

I cried about it.

Chelsea's dress was pretty, but why all the fuss about her wedding?

Considered going back to school.

Frozen yogurt.  Frozen yogurt.  Frozen yogurt.

I really loved that song until it was stuck in my head for three days.

I dreamt about The Cheesecake Factory.  And Chevron.