Comfy Couch

It was late when I received the text that the lights were on and the House on the Corner was no longer empty. It was a bit later when I finally made it to the House on the Corner. I did not immediately reach into the closest to pull out socks, was the House on the Corner truly warmer than usual? Unbelievable. He did dishes as we chatted through the weeks event. He's that friend.

As he scooped out ice cream, he's that friend, I eyed the couch downstairs. "Are you even allowed to eat on it?" I asked, knowing that as the owner of the couch he is the only person who can actually give the go-ahead. He's that friend.


We made our way to the couch (not an exact replica above but similarly GINORMOUS and COMFY). The conversation went from one end of the spectrum to the other. In a moment of lull, in the lull of a moment ... however one would word that ... both Friend and I fell asleep. I HAD NO SOCKS ON, NO BLANKETS! I fell asleep on that GINORMOUS and COMFY couch.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the company of Friend. But he's that friend that doesn't get offended, no rather he joins in the napping or starts the napping. He's that friend. I like that friend. I think I'm going to steal the couch and allow friend bi-weekly visits. It's GINORMOUS, I'm going to need help getting it out of the House on the Corner as well as convincing Friend that it truly belong in the Nook. Dang it that the owner is my most GINORMOUS friend. Dang it that the owner looked for months before finding this GINORMOUS and COMFY couch. Dang it that I have a guilty conscience, I'm that friend.

As long as I'm that friend ... I'll continue to head to the House on the Corner and enjoy the GINORMOUS and COMFY couch along with the company, he's that friend.

Loving Life

Happiness is...

• A good sandwich with the right cheese!
• A Thursday night date
  
• A nap
• A laugh at the expense of yourself
  
• A new niece
• A Friday morning text from Dad
• An understanding that 'messed up' is not as awful as it may initially seem
  
• This ... THANK YOU SHONDA!
  

Have a lovely weekend!

Baby Girl!

It's official ... SHE'S HERE! I'm an Aunt, the cool-french braiding-spoiling-trip taking-giggly-cuddling-AUNT!


SHE's the cutest thing I've ever seen! I can't wait to meet this little one! Good work B & A! SHE's perfect!

REMINDER

Dear Winter ... Did you miss the memo?

____________________________________________________
Memo
To: Winter
From: Spring
Subject: Transition
Date: 21 March 2009

I'll take over now.

Have a great vacation we'll see you right before Thanksgiving,
Spring
____________________________________________________


In other words ... BACK OFF! My snuggie is in CA for some reason.

Loyal True Aggie Here

Well Known Fact: I was raised in Chicago.
Well Known Fact: I was raised in the theatre.
NOT As Well Known Fact: I LOVE SPORTS. Well, everything but golf (sorry T, we tried!).

Baseball. Check. Alright, this is listed first because truly I can't sit through nine whole innings. I can make it to the Seventh Inning Stretch, TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME, and then I'm ready to go. I can make it through the whole game if we don't show up until the bottom of the Third and the HotDog vendor is close.

Rugby. Check. Brigham.

Soccer. Check. This love took time to cultivate and I've got demands, I can watch the World Cup and any game involving little children. I have a feeling however, as the little children turn into bigger children I'll still be watching the corner kicks.

Football. Check. How can you grow up with the children of Glen Kozlowski in the city of Mike Ditka and not know the difference between a tightend and a runningback? Impossible. You can't have a Sunday afternoon with Grandpa if you aren't clear on the downs and flags.

Basketball. Check. BJ Armstrong. Bill Cartwright. Horace Grant. Scottie Pippin. Michael Jordan. Reread the first line if this post if you are still confused.

And so today, as I took my lunch with a group of about twenty men in the lunch area watching the USU Aggies battle Marquette I laughed a bit to myself. I laughed a bit harder as the guy from the ISS team looked at me completely shocked as I threw a bit of a fit at a flagrant foul that was not called. I enjoyed watching Stew Morrill on the sidelines, its been too long. I might have been the loudest, not truly surpising, right?, as the last forty seconds were played. I had comments for most of them, comments I would share with Spencer Nelson had it been seven years ago and we shared our biology hour. For now ... WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! AMAZING PASSING GAME! YAY WILKINSON! WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! CON CUIDADO WITH THOSE REBOUNDS! WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! SLOW IT DOWN! SWEET QUALE! WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! WOW, STEW IS STAYING PRETY CALM! WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! DANG THOSE FREE THROWS! WATCH THE PERSONAL FOULS! DANG IT WILKINSON! DANG IT!Alright Aggies, its been seven years since a game has been won during March Madness. I'm not going anywhere. We'll try again next March!

Happy St. Patrick's Day - to One and All

When you grow up in a city (or 30 miles north of a city) that does this to the River each year you grow up loving St. Patrick's Day.

Perhaps it started as a child with the green eggs, green pancakes, green macaroni and cheese, green cottage cheese ... you get the idea. Grandma would speak in her Irish accent and Grandpa would remind us to pinch anyone not in green.

Or perhaps it was in Second Grade with Mrs. Volpe. Lon the Leprechaun was highly anticipated for weeks. We wrote him letters, he sent back letters and then, before we made it to school on St. Patrick's Day he had snuck into our classroom to leave 4 leaf clovers, golden coins, and other treats for us. He left us quite the extensive and decorative (Leprechauns have AMAZING handwriting and drawing skills!) note on the board promising a lifetime of St. Patrick's Day cheer and love. I certainly believe it and look forward to Lon's visits to my house!

Certainly the love has only continued through the years, no matter where I find myself. It's the only time of year you'll find me smiling in the kitchen. We love to go a bit overboard with the celebrations for St. Patrick's Day! How many pies do you really need? Just enough for each family, each friend, and each coworker! That's a lot of green dye and a lot of mess but A TON OF IRISH FUN! We attempt to speak like we were raised in Ireland but none of us have succeeded in mastering that accent quite yet, mine turns into a Spanish/Indian mix of sorts (dont' ask!). Some years we'll be out on the back porch in 78 degree weather, laughing at the crown created and the mess left in the kitchen. Other years I'll be laughing as the snow falls as we walk along the riverside. This year we celebrated early and will celebrate late - we sure know how to drag out a Holiday!

Wishing you were all here with me to celebrate 17 March! Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Honesty Please

No need to divulge the ins and outs of it all. Bottom line ... Cass' class sings it best ...



... or perhaps the great Alexander Pope in his Essay on Man (a FANSTIC read I'd recommend to all) summed it up succinctly when he wrote ...

An honest man’s the noblest work of God.

To Be Domestic ...

It's been a long time coming ... a very long time. But now is the time ... so let's get it out there. Admittance is the first step in having a problem. I am not domestic, I know ~ you are shocked. While living in CA I attempted but was more often than not saved by Rob in the kitchen or reminded that going out was easier than staying in for meals. I would be asked my opinion on a paint color or a swatch of fabric and it would be a quick yes or no response rather than the elaborate why and wherefores as to how I would see fit to proceed in the decor of a room. I can clean and I can organize, I LOVE TO DO THOSE THINGS, but much beyond that in way of building and filling a home is going to be left up to my many designing friends who I'm sure are thrilled with the future prospect of free consultations with a gal who really won't have much of an opinion. And to fill a home with sweet scents ... oh my, not my cup of tea.

For example, Mark and Jay bid on the "Stuffed Pork Chops, Home-Made Mashed Potatoes, Ornate Salad, Home-Made Rolls, with the FAMOUS BROWNIES," and they had to bid high. This was the TOP seller of the evening, obviously! However, I chopped things, I put things into a bowl. I was not in charge of anything but the salad that evening ... so when Mark made the comment, "This might be the best meal I've ever had ..." I looked across the table and then simply announced, "I had nothing to do with it." We laughed and all complimented Chef Rob for the delicacy in front of us.

I tried the make the brownies once here in UT to send back to CA ... bless my own sweet lil' heart for that ... I muffed that up pretty well and have vowed to attempt it again in a kitchen with Rob close by. After that I had Rob deliver the brownies, made by Rob, when I felt that they were needed.

So when The House to the North comes together not only in decor that astounds me, I appreciate the beauty once it is created, but also constantly smelling of rare cheese melted into avocados and precisely cut pieces of meat on a panini or a dessert that will knock your socks off, socks that I MUST have on ... all I can say is I like being at said House to the North.

You may not be able to tell from this picture (which I have been trying to find an adequate reason to post since taken in Jan!) as I gave the ridiculously fantastic pajamas and profound literature to him ... but this man cooks the panini's and makes things beautiful. And when he goes to bed I come out to watch the other half of the dynamic duo create this beautiful, to see and eat, cupcake below ... FROM SCRATCH (I don't even think Grams makes things from scratch anymore ... I don't know if Mounts ~ not including Rob ~ have ever cooked from scratch that was not slanted or too salty or too something). That's red velvet folks, truly. Look at that color!

One day I've been told I'll be willing to learn, have the time to learn, have the desire to learn ... or live in a house with white walls, furniture that was in the display window at the one stop furniture outlet, an empty fridge, and a drawer full of the BEST take-out menus in the city.

Something Else ...

I LOVE WINDY DAYS! I do. I love windy days. But not as much as I love windy nights, windy clear nights. I LOVE WINDY NIGHTS!

*******************************************

As I was driving down from their house I found myself in a bit of a daze, I had known that such would come after my visit in Centerville. I was driving to a distraction ... a little fast.

When I saw him flip around I pulled over, there was no other car on the road and I could not imagine there was a close drug bust he'd just gotten radioed about. He flipped his lights on as he pulled up behind me. I pulled out my license, realized my insurance and registration were still in my other purse due to the constant rental car life, and wanted to scream.

"Hi there"
"Hi Officer," I wished I were back east in a city where my face looks like Uncle Matt, Indianapolis' favorite Public Relations Officer and 'family consideration' comes into play when nieces drive too fast. There was some small talk, some questions ... most of my answers were short. I was not certain whether or not I was going to be able to get out of this one.

As Officer Centerville swaggered back to the bright lights I put my head down onto the steering wheel. This certainly was a final stamp on the long weekend. My mind and heart were trying to reconcile the events that had transpired and my foot, as per usual, was heavy on the gas. I deserved what was coming, 16 miles over ~ Mrs. Shepard would have grabbed my face and said 'that's really fast,' she would have been right.

I heard his door shut too quickly, that was not enough time to verify everything and write a ticket for Kathryn French.

"You seem to have driving without thinking about driving, you seem a bit distracted."
I apparently can't even hide things on a dark night to a police officer. "Yes, I am afraid I am. I am sorry officer." I could not come up with more than that.
He smiled, knowingly almost, as he handed me my license and only my license. "Okay, get to where you're going ... slowly." He patted the top of my car as he walked back to the bright lights.

Thank you Mr. Centerville Police Officer, I might love you a little bit.