Martin and I just challenged each other to find the better pizza deal. Normally, our pizza bill for a family of five is $25, but with Miss C at a sleepover, we wanted a smaller order. Clacking away on our laptops, I looked up and saw him furrowing his brow which made me optimistic that my clever idea was totally going to win.
My total for a large with three toppings (one side pepperoni, one side bacon/pineapple) and dessert cakes for the kids = $19.44.
His total for two mediums (one pepperoni, one b/p) and dessert cakes for the kids = $19.43.
I should know better.
I was in the middle of this yesterday…literally. It was a lock-down of a few federal buildings due to threats made against the government. My two coworkers and I were walking out of the building to lunch when we were suddenly swarmed by police cars and police personnel coming from every direction.
The photo here looks to be taken some time after the incident. That corner was PACKED with police vans, vehicles, and cops. We were waved across the street and onward to our lunch destination, where we received the “shelter in place” text updates on our phones. So after reporting our whereabouts, we stayed at the Native American Museum enjoying hot chocolate and Tres Leche Cake for dessert until the “all clear.”
Fair warning: I’m gonna gush about my spouse in this post.
Between the winter weather and his hand surgery/recovery, we let things slide the past few months. Our diet. Our gym/activity routines. Our routines in general. Everything. And because we’re no longer the spry young things we were when we first met, our metabolisms rewarded us with some extra weight.
In the past, it was nothing to make some minor lifestyle adjustments, add a half hour at the track, skip some dessert, and be able to zip up the nice jeans without thinking about it.
[dropcap style=”font-size: 60px; color: #000000;”] M [/dropcap]artin and I celebrate 12 years of marriage this weekend as both our legal and church ceremony dates fall neatly over the weekend.
Even though we’ve observed more than a decade of anniversaries, I’m still not done talking about the best day ever. And I’m lucky that Martin still likes to talk about it, too, because it’s fun to think back to the day we were surrounded by our friends and family from both Germany and America, and pledge ourselves to a lifetime together.
Best of all, our girls are at ages now where they want to hear all about it, too. Lord knows I have plenty of photos to share with them. The smartest thing I did for my wedding was invite my friend and colleague Phillip, an aspiring photographer with his own digital camera equipment. In addition to my father who insisted on taking photos with his film camera equipment throughout the day (he literally walked me down the aisle with his camera tucked into his jacket), my friend Phillip was given free reign to take as many photos as he wanted, too.
And I got all of those high-quality, beautiful photos.
This year, I’ll be showing the girls all those photos and telling them everything I remember about that day. I’ll also be taking my wedding dress out of the trunk and let them step inside of it, too, if they want, pointing out to them that it wasn’t the dress that made me so gorgeous that day, but the love and happiness I felt — and still feel — for their father.
For this Flashback Friday, I’m posting this slidehow of photos that haven’t been posted yet here on the blog.
It’s the season for blizzards and Girl Scout cookies, both doing their due diligence to wreck my diet and fitness routine.
We put in two orders with two little friends, a mix of chocolate, peanut butter, coconut, and minty goodness. It’s tradition.
Every year, the packaging features new photos of Girl Scouts doing the things Girl Scouts do: canoeing, helping others, etc. There are also quotes and information about the organization, badges, and other relevant information. Continue reading →
Last night, as I gave the men in my house Air Force-authorized buzz cuts, Martin was teasing me, asking if I was going to get up extra early and make him coffee/breakfast as he does for me when I go to work. The thing is, though, he has to leave the house no later than 6 a.m. on a Saturday to get to the air base on time.
Martin and I stepped out onto our back porch shortly after midnight to go look up. I considered waking up the girls, as we’ve done in the past during such celestial events, but both of them crashed pretty late and they need their sleep.
Besides, it was nice to step outside and be alone with my husband, illuminated by nothing but the moon.
I went in to Urgent Care this evening to get my hand checked out after a dramatic reaction to chigger bites. Nothing serious: just seriously annoying. Over-the-counter meds weren’t helping, so I got a prescription for it, and all is well.
Nevertheless, as I walked out of Urgent Care this evening, Martin sent me a text, telling me to stop by the cafe where we get our fave Afghan food on my way home.
The cashier knew exactly who I was and she had my dinner hot and waiting for me to take home.