Chef Boyardon't

Nick has started school again and that always sends me in a downward spiral to the pit of extra laziness doom. How can lazy get more lazy? Believe me, it is possible. On Tuesday I decided that I was going to use my gluten free cook book that I just had to have, which has been sitting on my shelf unused since I bought it. I was hungry, really hungry so I started thumbing through the recipes trying to find something that my Nick would approve of. So I found fettuccine carbonara, sounded amazing. This recipe had more than three ingredients so I knew I was in for a real treat. Oh and did I mention it called for actual, more than usual, expensive cheese that I had to buy from the cheese Cono Sur at Harmons? Yes, serious business here people. I decided I only needed a small push cart and I should have seen this as a bad omen right away. The bars along the bottom were in the most inconvenient, awkward place and I stopped counting after fourteen times of my shins taking an abusive beating by this terribly placed bar. Well unfortunately what should have been a short trip meaning less shin fractures turned into an unusually long amount of time in the grocery store. You see, when me and Nick go grocery shopping it is more Nick shopping and me pushing the cart drooling over oreos and grandma sycamores bread so I am not much help. Therefore, I know where nothing is. I befriended five associates and the cheese man. The best part was when I got to the last ingredient I couldn't find, dry white wine. I couldn't find a single associate because they were all strategically hiding from me so I asked the meat man if he knew where I would find such a thing. He looked straight at me, smiled and said, "the liquor store." Not wanting to look like a total idiot I smiled back and said, "Well it was worth a try, thank you, I will go there." Did I? No. Should I have? After this next half of the story I would say yes. After an hour shopping for six ingredients I returned home only to discover that this means I have to use the stove top, and three pans at the same time. I placed the fire department on speed dial, put on my sassy apron and Enrique Iglesias then fist bumped Shelbie. I had the bacon splattering, the pasta water boiling over and the eggs in the sauce heating to much and almost beginning to scramble. I felt like I was on the Food Network challenge, or Worlds Worst Cook. But I was determined. My phone buzzed and it was Nick texting me and asking if I would start him some pasta. This was like a second wind, knowing that somehow our brains communicated and I picked the perfect recipe out of three hundred. I cracked it out like Martha Stewart on speed, and after that I even had time to make him a desert with pears, cinnamon and half and half. I wish I would have video taped the whole thing. Especially because after I was finished I loaded all the dishes into the dish washer that would fit, wiped off the table, and tried to get my heart rate down to a normal level before Nick came in because after he did and we finished eating he looked at the pile of dishes still in the sink, the spill over marks on the stove and the bread crumbs and informed me that I know how to make a mess. Then part of my memory that seemed to have still been missing came back and reminded me that I don't cook and its not because I can't, it's because it makes a mess and that makes Nick's life miserable. It is back to frozen pizza's and cereal. Now off to the liquor store.

We All Have Our Match

When they say you know a lot about a person when you look at their underwear drawer I laugh. I laugh even harder when they say you know a lot about a person when you look at their sock drawer because with Nick and I, it is terribly true.

Exhibit A

Nick's sock drawer. Not only organized by color, but by type AND brand. So what does this say about Nick? Cleanly, organized, mature, he sets goals and he is 5'10". I might start hiring him out ladies, look at his good work and I will make sure the price is fair. (Nick, I know you are reading this via email and I haven't cleared that with you yet but you have a talent.)

Exhibit B

Mine are all shoved into a tiny little compartment. What does this say about me? Lazy, careless and oh my gosh is that a pair of nasty hospital socks? I know it definitely doesn't scream goal setter but I wasn't allowed another bowl of peanut butter crunch until my socks were paired. However, nobody said anything about them being paired to their match.

Nick has now allowed me to have the whole closet and has bought himself a dresser because every time he had to go into the closet we have the same conversation...

Nick: You know...

Me: Don't say it, I know.

Nick: It is so easy to put your clothes in the drawers so they fit.

Me: Yeah I know, I will do it later.

Nick: You are so weird.

Me: Not weird, just lazy.

Somehow the Word Idiot Doesn't Cover It

Mitchell and I went out shopping last week and bonded over Tai Pan soup bowls and honestly the most lame vanity plates we have ever seen. Ever going on a vanity plate scavenger hunt? Go to Tai Pan, it is the parking lot of vanity plates and escalades parked on snowbanks because they can. On the way back we laughed, sang and talked about how much we hate the weather. Upon turning into my parents neighborhood, we were met with about three inches of ice with a little layer of snow on top. My parents have a curve in the road that is about 90 degrees and typically when you go around it you can spin your back tires a little bit and fishtale for some fun. (This is how you have fun in Utah and everyone knows it so keep that in mind before you judge me.) Well I decided that I was going to do that however it was completely unsuccessful, like most of my diet plans. I flew straight forward like my tires were on the asphalt and no snow at all. I saw a brick fence and a light post right in front of me and I was quickly trying to decide which I would rather hit. We flew up over the curb and somehow miraculously wedged right in between the two which meant that somehow my car hit the sidewalk and did an 80 degree turn and ended up on the neighbors grass/sidewalk. There were no centimeters to spare on either side. I don't think I could drive through that going 2 mph intentionally trying to get through it. Observe for yourself and let this be a lesson to everyone to make sure there isn't a brick fence staring you in the face when you decide to be reckless.

Happy Anniversary #3

2007
2008

2009

2010

Today is mine and Nick's 3rd anniversary and boy has time flown. I know it is so annoying that everyone says that but I just did so there. The other day I was going through Nick's special book and reading letters and notes that I had written him and remembering all of the fun things we did together and it just reminded me of how much I honestly love him. I am sure there are times when he thinks that I don't becuase I am acting like a T-Rex who hasn't had anything to eat but a pudding cup and a slice of cheese but he should just know that I do. I remember the day Nick told me that he loved me and I am grateful for remembering that. I am not going to go into detail but just know that it was extremely late at night and I was on a little plug in headset telephone in my sisters room where I would sit and we would talk for hours ever night while I held a little wire into place until my hand fell asleep because if I didn't, it would sound like someone crinkling bubble wrap into the speaker. I am really glad that I don't have to do that any more but we still have our late night conversations. It is my favorite time of the day, we are so busy after work that we hardly get any talking in so it is nice to just relax and laugh or vent or exaggerate, whatever I see fit. A lot has happened in three years and we were both saying the other day that if anyone told us that we would be where we are in three years we wouldn't believe it. We are so blessed to have what we have and I am so blessed to have Nick. Oh and on a side note to make Nick feel really good I will mention that Nick told me happy anniversary first with no reminder, he really is one of a kind.