a new love affair

I have a new obsession.  A new love.  I think about it all the time.

No, it’s not Bejeweled Blitz (a terribly addicting game on Facebook).  It’s this:

Whole Foods.

I love it there.

The produce is beautiful and delicious.  The meat counter – Heavens to Betsy! – is unrivaled by our local grocery chain.  The cheese stand – oh, if only cheese did not wreck havoc on my digestive system – I would’ve eaten the whole stand. The. Whole. Stand. The gelato isn’t just gelato – it’s sexy gelato.  This gelato romances me from across the bakery, glowing all hot and sultry-like.  This gelato says, “Emily, please, just take a look.  Just a little look.

And then there’s the nut butter.  Fresh ground nut butter.  Nut butter the way that God intended.  Pure, unadulturated nut butter.

Heaven help me.

And let me tell you – this is true love.  I know a few of Whole Food’s faults already.  I know it is pricey.  I know the take-and-bake pizza is terrible.  I know that Annie’s Rice Pasta and Cheddar Mac & Cheese is nothing like Kraft’s.  Nothing.  Not even in the same ballpark.  It is sacrilege that they put this Mac & Cheese in a blue box as if to suggest that they are comparable to Kraft’s neon orange bliss.  Consider yourselves warned.

But these few faults are like finding out your husband is leaves the seat up.  You still love him, you just know to check before you sit in the middle of the night.

::burp::

Picture this:

Frank and I are sitting on the couch, watching old DVR’d Saturday Night Live episodes.  He’s leaning against me while I am trying to master this terrible game called Bejeweled Blitz.  My mother is addicted to the game, so if I ever want to relate to her again, I need to learn this game.

ANYWAY.  We’re sitting here and I burped through my nose.

You know, the polite way to burp.

But as Frank has explained to me on several occasions, this does not “descent” the burp.

So anyway, I polite burped and blew it out my nose – and onto Frank.

A few seconds later.

“Oh… ohh… EM! Seriously?? Did you just burp? What was that?  Seriously – that is nasty – really?  It’s not funny.  Stop laughing. It’s gross. I’ve told you before that is gross.  Why would you do that?  Why?  Seriously.  No, stop laughing.  You knew it was wrong.  Why?”

“Frank, c’mon, I mean, I didn’t realize it would be THAT bad.”  Although, admittedly, we just finished ravioli with pesto sauce and bread with chunks of garlic cloves in it. So yeah, I guess I kind of knew in the back of my head that it could get ugly.

Frank moves over to the other side of the couch.

“I gotta put this on the blog.”

“Don’t put it on the blog.”

“I have to.  I am trying to authentically document our life together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Frank shakes his head is clearly disgusted.  “You are the grossest wife EVER.”

A few minutes later, Frank is watching Community and giggling to himself.

“Oh, hey, Em, I realized today that I owe you an apology for something.”  I look over at him, surprised.  A rare moment indeed!

“Really? For what?”

Joy of joys!

Realization passes over Frank’s face.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to tell you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.  Oh man, the look on your face…” [insert uncontrollable laughter] “… it’s like that thing from Star Trek 2 that Kahn puts in the guy’s head to make him go crazy.  Blog that!”

And so I did.

three things: walking in the front door

Please do not judge me for these three things.

Pretty, pretty please.

So these are the three things that happened when I finally got home tonight.

1.  What died in here??

Frank and I have had a few cases of smellasitis.  Basically, it’s when something wreaks to high heaven.  The source of this odoriferous offense?  About 99% of the time it is the garbage and of the times it’s the garbage, about 90% of the time, it’s because I tossed old flowers in there.  When will I learn? When??  I nearly passed out when I walked in the door and knew instantly it was the smell of rotting flowers.  Oh, and did I mention that TODAY was garbage day?  Guess I won’t be using the garage for the rest of the week… yikes!

2. Mail Call.

So, I hate getting the mail. I think there are two experiences that turned me off to the whole “getting the mail” adventure.  First, there was the time that my friend mailed me friendship bread batter.  In a zip lock bag, in a manila envelope.  I’m surprised, quite frankly, that the batter didn’t explode a long time prior to making it to my mailbox.  Or maybe it did explode, but our friendly postal carrier simply didn’t care.  Regardless, I reached in for the mail one day and pulled out… a hand full of soggy batter.  Of course, initially I didn’t know that the white clumpy goo covering my hand was soggy friendship bread batter.  My initial thought was that someone threw up in my mailbox.

Second, there have been reoccurring incidents of spiders.  I do not like bugs.  If you are a bug, I am sorry, but I do not like you.  It’s a blanket statement, but it is 100% true 100% of the time.  Even butterflies sort of creep me out.  I know bugs do lots of great things and I am grateful for their service, but I do not like them.  Anyway, spiders have taken up residence in our mailbox.  I live in fear that when I pull out the mail, I will be greeted by a big black hairy spider.  In my worst nightmares, this spider is spewing friendship bread batter.  I know.  It’s rough being me.

All of this means that I am hesitant to get the mail.  Which means that mail sometimes piles up in our mailbox.  Which probably therefore means that our mail carrier curses when she gets to our mailbox, not knowing if she can jam another piece of mail in there. By the way, she/he does an excellent job – sometimes I have to put my foot on the post of the mailbox and pull really hard to get all of the mail out of there.

So, I got the mail today.  It was only 1/2 full of mail.  Only one bill, one magazine, one catalog and no spiders.  Brilliant!

Speaking of mail: Nordstrom is having their anniversary sale until August 2nd. Are you there Nordstrom?  It’s me, Emily…

3. It’s electric.

Our front hall light switch has always been a little tough to flip.  It catches a little bit when you flip it on.  Then one day it really got stuck, so I just pushed it over anyway … and heard a loud snap.  Since then, that light switch just loosely flaps in the wind and sometimes I am able to turn the light on, but mostly not.  The new development tonight is that if you slam the garage door, the light turns on.  So, that’s fun.

I think it’s about time we have an electrician stop by…

best buy

So we were buying a new computer yesterday.

Just a nice, small laptop for Frank.

The sales lady went to find “Dan” to see if he could help us make this new computer a little bit more compatible with Frank’s iPhone, without dropping $100+ for a new Microsoft Outlook program.

An unsuspecting man named Tom asked if we’d been helped.

Tom: Have you been helped?

Frank: We’re waiting for Dan.

Emily: Where is the bathroom?

Tom: Wait… what?  Dan is in the bathroom?

Frank (not missing a beat): No, Dan is waiting for you in the bathroom.

Tom (unphased): So you need Dan and you need a bathroom?

Us: Yup.

Ah, those cracker-jack Best Buy employees – you can’t put anything past them!

the adventures of ed **UPDATE**

Well, as promised, here is the scandelous dish on our dear pup Ed.

I came home the other night and walked into our bedroom.  Something seemed out of place:

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it initially…

But then I realized what was different…. what was … well, wrong.  Very. Very. Wrong.

Apparently Ed had raided my underwear drawer.

And I think he was just a little bit embarrassed about it.

I guess we know what Ed does when I’m at work…

Aw, Ed, you silly puppy!

***Update***

First things first – I did not notice that Ed’s hands were in the underwear until my dear friend Jamie pointed it out.  woops!

Second – I would also like to say that I did not, in my loneliness while Frank was gone, come up with this underwear scenario.  I have NOT fallen off of the edge of reality (yet).  Frank dressed Ed up before he left for work last week to make me laugh.  I do not ACTUALLY think that Ed does this all on his own.

three things: what I love on TV

… which could also be titled “TV Confessions.”

I wonder if Jesus reads my blog?

Well, regardless, here we go (sorry Jesus!):

thing 1: Kendra

I’m not kidding.  I love this show.  I can’t believe that I am putting this in writing, but that show ALWAYS makes me laugh.  And I believe, perhaps naively, that Kendra and her husband, Hank, are going to make it work.  It just seems like he loves her too much for it not to work… well, ok, I really don’t know anything about them other than what they edit the show for… but whatever – I LOVE THE SHOW.  It’s my TV sugar: doesn’t give me much value, but fills up some time.

thing 2: sci-fi

I love, love, LOVE sci fi.  Not the channel, but pretty much every show with a sci fi theme.  Frank and I watch an embarrassingly  long list of shows together – I’ve actually been banned from introducing Frank to anything else at this point.  We watch Chuck, Fringe, Flash Foward, Lost, and V. And I definitely think I’m missing something here…

thing 3: Greek

I know.  A show about collegiate Greek life.  I watch it.  I love it.  I’ve watched every. single. episode.  And really, there’s nothing you can do to stop me – except maybe take the show off the air.  Please don’t take the show off of the air.  waaah!!!

I need to get a hobby…

meet ed

Ed is our stuffed dog that has sat on our bed every day since our first married Valentine’s day in February 2004.  Ed has traveled from Naperville to Milwaukee to Oak Creek to storage (woops, sorry Ed) to the suburbs of Chicago.

Ed enjoys his time on the bed, I think.  I mean, he’s never complained.

And he’s really the perfect dog.  He doesn’t bark, he doesn’t shed, he doesn’t pee on our carpet, chew our furniture, or pass gas .

He’s a simple dog, really.

Hi, I’m Ed. How YOU doin’?

I’d lick you if I had a tongue!


Ahhh!!  Bright lights!  It’s the paparazzi!

I didn’t ASK to be famous.  I mean, it just sort of happened.  I’m a good looking dog, what can I say – oh, hold on, it’s my agent… Yo, dollface, how YOU doin’?

Ah that Ed, he’s such a card.

three things: on the ice

We love, love, LOVE the Blackhawks.

And we are NOT fair weather fans.  We used to go when it was just us and the Wirtz family at the games.

And even though it was just us and them at the games, they never bothered to send a Christmas card.

Hrmph.

Anyway, since we love, love, LOVE the Blackhawks, there are a few things you should know about our familial obsession.

Thing One: Dance Like You Mean It!

Whenever the Hawks score a goal and the Chelsea Dagger goal music is played, Frank and I give eachother “high fives” and dance.

Yeah, that’s right.  We dance.

And I don’t care who knows about it.

When a goal is scored, you freaking stand up.  And dance.

Don’t fuss with me.

Thing Two:  NO TALKING (when the puck is on the ice)

When Frank and I were first dating, I reviewed some fun facts about hockey to prepare for our first hockey game date together.

And I shared this information with him liberally.

Unfortunately, I would only remember to tell him about the fun facts when the puck was on the ice.

Our relationship almost ended before it began because of my disrespect of the “NO TALKING” rule.

Thing Three: There is No Such Thing as Lady Like at a Hawks Game

If you ever attend a hockey game with me, you should prepare yourself.

I may seem like a nice person, but, figuratively speaking, the gloves come off when I go to Hawks game.

There isn’t a hit too hard (well, except for the Wisnewski hit on Seabs, but that’s a discussion for a different day) or a fight too wild.

I’ve been known to yell, on more than one occasion, “TAKE THE GLOVES OFF AND GET HIM! GET HIM!”

Does this concern Frank?

I don’t really know.

I’m too busy yelling to notice.

three things: marriage edition

I was just thinking today, outloud, about how far Frank and I have come since we were first married.

I’ve only really witnessed a few marriages up close and personal – my parents and my maternal grand parents.

And both were marriages were/are very fiery, passionate, yet humorous, pairings.

I guess they raised my tolerance level for my own marriage.  Which is good because, man, Frank really tested my limits.

And from time to time, I tested his…

Here are three things about our marriage:

Example 1.  The Shower.

When Frank and I were first married, he liked to test the boundaries (many of you who know me in real life know these stories – so you can feel free to skip ahead).

Frank thought it was quite novel that now that we were married, it was for LIFE.  And he liked to see exactly how long I would let him live.

His first test of the longevity of our union was simple: pour cold water on me over the top of the shower.  Awe-some.

Unfortunately for him, I got wise and I could hear him running the water in the kitchen and yell at him pre-emptively.

When that got old (which was rather quickly), he decided to go for the grand-daddy of all shower pranks: he threw cold water over the top, flushed the toilet and turned off the lights.

And he’s still alive today.

Example 2. The Bugs.

When I am stressed out, I dream about weird things.  When we were first married, I had a very stressful job and we had a bug infestation. Specifically, the bug infestation was a colony of earwigs.  You know, the ugly bugs with pinchers on them?  In one night, Frank killed 19 of them in our master bedroom.

It was nasty.

As a result, I would dream about bugs crawling on me and I would wake up at 4 a.m., turn on all the lights in our room and pull back the covers.

Thankfully, the only thing I found in the bed was a very confused husband staring back at me.

One night, as we were falling asleep, Frank gently brushed my leg with his finger, mimicking the sensation of a bug crawling on my thigh.

Squealing, I jumped out of bed, turned on the lights and pulled back the covers.  Frank grinned back at me, proud of his accomplishment.

“FINE!” I said, snatching my pillow off of the bed.  “I will sleep on the COUCH!”

Sidebar: If you know nothing about Frank, you should just know that he HATES being startled, especially by people jumping out at him. Continuing on with the story…

As I stormed down the hall, Frank realized that he went too far and followed me out to the family room.

What he didn’t know is that I ducked into the laundry room.

As he passed the dark laundry room on his way to the also dark family room, I jumped out at him, yelling.

Frank screamed.  I smiled.  We both went back to bed and eventually fell asleep.

Example 3. The Penny.

There are a few things that happen in our marriage that Frank and I are fully aware of, but we don’t say anything about them.  I can’t tell you about the most current examples of this because, well, Frank reads this blog and it would break the code of silence prematurely.

When we were first married, there was a penny on the floor of the kitchen.  I’m not sure how it got there, but when I noticed it I wondered if Frank would pick it up.

And Frank wondered if I would pick it up.

For months, we walked around this penny in the kitchen.  I even washed the floors around the penny.

We said not a word to each other about the penny.

One day Frank’s mom was visiting and she saw the penny and bent down to pick it up -but I stopped her.

“Oh, no, go ahead and leave that penny there.  I’m waiting to see if Frank will pick it up,” I explained.

She sort of cocked her head to one side and looked at me, puzzled.

She still does that.  Our marriage often causes people to pause and wonder.

And I don’t blame them.