the operaaaaaaaaaa!

opera2Ever been to the opera?  Until last weekend I’d never seen one but had always been pretty curious, especially since I l.o.v.e. musicals and plays.  So when husband won two tickets to the show Tosca through work we were pretty pumped to check it out.  So on Friday night we got all fancified and headed to the theater – excited but unsure of what to expect (just like when we go to Taco Bell).

And we kinda hated it.

Let me just say that opera goers are on a whole other level.  Since we live in Portland, we kind of figured that people would take “dressing up” casually.  Like maybe just tuck in your flannel and comb your beard and call it good.  Yah, no.  We definitely missed the memo on proper opera attire.  Had we known the dress code was mid-century grandparents – husband would have tried to grow out a Monopoly man mustache and I definitely would have brought my elbow length satin gloves.  But no, we failed.  However, I did have some wool mittens in my purse so I wore those while drinking my pre-show wine.  You know, fitting in.

The opera itself started out pretty great and exciting… the singers were amazing and the set was pretty cool.  But then it got boring, and then I thought it got better, but then I realized, no, it was still boring.  It was all in Latin, which I was expecting.  BUT I wasn’t expecting a giant screen above the stage with English subtitles.  It was super distracting.  And I mean, I get that’s it’s an opera, but does it really take 45 seconds to sing “paint it black” in Latin?  I never knew the vowels were so high-maintenance.

Worst part though?  At the end of the first act when everyone was applauding, the guy next to me did the thing where you close your eyes and then clasp your hands together and sort of shake them at the performers.  Like, proving how moved he was by the performance.  I’m pretty sure my eyes almost rolled out of my face.

opera3

Anyways, I kind of felt bad for not falling in love with it – and maybe it was just that I didn’t like that particular show.  But it definitely wasn’t my cup of tea.  Not at all.  You know what is my cup of tea?  Pizza.  Which we ate, when we left after the first act.


the bowl that was super.

It’s Monday and I’m in a post-Super Bowl haze.  I’m fairly certain I ate enough crap dip and chips to go into hibernation for the rest of the of the winter because even my fat pants are working overtime today.  But!  It was fun – we hung out with friends, drank some drinks, I gained another chin… all part of the Super Bowl tradition.  Right?  Wait, right??  No?  Just me? Moving on.

Did anyone else get a little uncomfortable watching Beyonce gyrate onstage?  I mean, she’s a mom for pizza’s sake.  And the hair!  Before her performance started we made up a drinking game to drink every time she flipped her hair.  We’re all dead now.

I’d also just like to give a shout out to the power outage.  If not for that situation we would have missed the puppy bowl!  I am fully investigating how to get the job as puppy bowl referee.  Best gig ever.  Also, thanks power outage for this.  I think that guy in the suit probably pooed hisself.

Oh!  The commercials.  Definitely not the best SB commercial line up ever but I totally loved the Taco Bell Viva Young and the Best Buy Ask Amy spots.  I could have gone without the Go Daddy commercials.  And how awkward was the random Calvin Klein guy striking poses in his undies?  Maybe it’s just me but it felt slightly out of place when mixed in with the likes of Doritos and Stevie Wonder.

Anyways, it was a successful Super Bowl (well I guess not for the 49ers. whomp whomp).  But for me at least, it was good times.  But to make amends for yesterday’s Super Bowl of chips, please say hello to my lunch….

juicin

And breakfast.  Oh!  And dinner.  I’m doing my very first juice cleanse.  It’s actually not too bad so far.  Although I’m considering asking the juicer (weird career title) to create me my own special juice – that includes crab dip.  Baby steps, people.


letters to my life.

smooch
Dear husband, come home from your work trip.  I miss you.  And I’m really sick of taking the dog out.

Dear popcorn, it’s been a while.  Let’s rendezvous tonight.

Dear rendezvous, you’re like, crazy hard to spell.

Dear hair, why do you look so confused today?

Dear Dad, I miss you.  Thanks for the really sweet text this morning.  You rock my socks.

Dear big brother, I miss you too.  Even if you didn’t like our beer :)

Dear meatbag, why did you have to awkwardly growl during my meeting today?  You’d just had a banana.

Dear Friday, where you at gurl?

Dear leg hair, yes, I see you.  No, I don’t care.  My husband is on a work trip.

Dear new sheets, I can’t wait to rub my face in you tonight.

Dear cheeseburgers, I really miss you sometimes.

Dear new sheets again, nevermind, I don’t feel like making the bed.

Dear 4AM wake up call, you’re an a-hole and I am dreading seeing you tomorrow.


brews & boys.

basecamplineup

This past weekend my pops and older brother came to Portland for a little visit.  We ate and drank and laughed and sight-saw… sight-seed… went sight-seeing. And since it was their first time here it was only fitting that we hit up a couple local breweries to do some tastings. Now, listen.  Growing up in the Midwest, beer options rarely extend past the point of Miller, Coors or Root.  I mean, until I moved to Portland I considered Blue Moon to be a fancy, complicated beer.   (Although anything with a fruit wedge on the side of it will always be considered fancy in my book… of fancy things.)  So I could totally understand when after the first few sips, my brother was less than enthused about trying something that has been “fermented at high temps to make the most of our house yeast strain, creating a late fruity tartness that plays out nicely with the lingering hop character.”  It sounds like a science experiment.  Nothing like a Coors Light, which is by definition a “light beer”.  No need to expand on that one, we all know what tapping the Rockies tastes like.

beercollage meandbear

Anyways, it was an experience for them.  We had fun.  My Dad giggled.  And then we ate big ass sandwiches.  Literally.

sammiches

Thanks for the fun, I miss you boys already. xx


cough it up, dog.

piggybankDogs are expensive.  And let me tell you why.  It’s not just because of their food (although that shiz is craycray expensive), or all their toys (even though my dog has a toy box that would rival most childrens’) or even the vet bills (but seriously, my dog should have his own HSA account).  Nope, it’s because my dog actually eats money.  For reals.  Gus actually owes me more than $22.  And I’m fairly certain he has no intention of paying me back anytime soon.

What happened was Casey and I went out to drinks with a friend who was in town visiting.  One drink turned into all drinks and by the time we got home we were pretty “tired”.  So we brought the pup to bed (yes, he sleeps with us, underneath the covers to be exact) and immediately crashed.  But apparently Gus wasn’t ready to let the party be over though because he waited until we fell asleep and jumped off the bed, went through my purse, located my wallet, pulled out my cash and proceeded to eat it.  $22 of it.  Well, I guess technically it was about $21.60 based on the amount of scraps left over on the carpet.

First of all, how rude!?  Second of all, that sucks.  $22 is no huge amount of money, but it could definitely have bought me a bloody mary to cure my morning-after haze. That morning I definitely did a google search for “what to do when your dog eats your money”…  Yah, that was weird.  Thankfully I’m not this person, although kudos to them for actually taping poo money back together.  Anyways, my search told me that I was pretty much screwed and there’s no “dog ate my homework” clause from the US Mint to get my money back.  Basically my only option was to sift through his “deposits” (heyo!) to scrounge up pieces of the digested money.  Yah, no. Thanks a lot Uncle Sam.

Bottom line, I have no hope for getting my money back.  Waa.  But the next time I owe someone money I plan to toss them my dog and call it even.

moneydog[ the remains of my hard-earned money ]


we ARE the biggest losers.

In case anyone is wondering about the results of our Biggest Loser contest… our scale actually broke before we could have our weigh in.  Hmmmm… probably a sign that we should actually take the contest seriously.  Or maybe it was a sign that it was doomed to begin with.

We went with the second one.

So in honor of our contest a-no-go, we ate these lemon bars made from the Smitten Kitchen cookbook.  So good!  So good!lemonbars


a winter walk.

footsiesIn Portland, it’s really easy to get hit with the winter blues.  The gray skies, the rain, the cold, the damp air… it’s the perfect recipe for let’s-just-stay-in-and-watch-movies-type of lifestyle. (see: fort building for adults)  Which can totally be fun for a while, but eventually leads to me going stir-crazy bananatown in my apartment due to lack of fresh air on skin.  Luckily we live in such a great spot with super easy access to the river so we try to take advantage of it as much as possible.  It’s even worth dodging the homeless people on the sidewalk and inhaling second-hand weed as you walk by… because damn, it’s purty.

redbridge pupwalk

[ likely barking at another dog… or a plant.. or probably just a gust of wind ]

papaandpuphuzzahbridgeorama

portland, i love ya.


a classic case of fort hips.

Happy Monday!  How was the weekend?  Ours was so so good!

On Friday we had the genius idea of building a fort in our living room.  So we did.  And it was awesome.  We watched movies and had a slumber party right there on the floor.  I felt like a kid again. Until 3am, when we had to get up and go to our bed because my hip hurt from sleeping on the ground.  Yep.

Regardless, I think we may need to instate Fort Fridays into the Thompson household.  So much fun!  I may just have to invest in some hip protectors.

Our fort:

sleepless night of playtime.Lynchburg, Virginia 

Yah right!

THIS, is our fort.  And it’s awesome.

fort

 [ fort image via ]

 


bare it all.

Losers

Have you ever seen The Biggest Loser?  Somehow I’ve managed to avoid getting sucked in for the past 13 seasons but last night Casey and I took the plunge and watched the premier of Season 14.  It’s safe to say we’ve found our new Sunday night ritual.  If you didn’t see it or haven’t seen previews, the biggest draw is that there are kids on this season.  Adorable, sweet, squishy kids!  I think that’s primarily what sealed the deal for us… but to be honest, compared to every other reality show the contestants on this one seem like genuinely nice people!  Who knew they existed in “reality”??

What really gets me is the contestants insane strength to not only participate in the physical aspects of the show but to do it all and bare it all on national television.  They are starting the show at likely the heaviest they’ve ever been and within the first day they’re stepping on a scale and wearing nothing but spandex shorts and sports bras in front of millions of people.  Can you imagine?!?  I mean….. my holiday muffin top is hyperventilating at the thought of it.  Just, no.

Maybe it’s the fact that these people are so inspiring… or maybe it’s because we went out for a giant breakfast AND THEN shared a family-sized pizza earlier yesterday… but we decided to take a cue from the “Losers” and have a little contest of our own.  However, we’re not quite as intense as Jillian Michaels, so instead of multiple months we’re only committing to a week.  Whoever loses the most weight, percentage-wise, by next Sunday gets to enforce 30 minutes of whatever activity they choose.  Get your head out of the gutter people – we’re talking backrubs and eyebrow plucking, the stuff we both want each other to do but hate having to do for each other.  And fear not, we’re not going to beat ourselves up at the gym.  We’re just going to make it a priority to be active and make healthy choices this week… and maybe order just a large instead of a family-sized pizza.

So stay tuned, it’s gonna be a nail-biter!

(image via)


13 is a lucky number.

resolutionsI generally don’t make New Year’s resolutions.  To me, there’s something unrealistic about resolving to change something about myself at the stroke of midnight.  I mean, resolving to eat healthier is a great goal but let’s be honest, on January 1st you can usually find me in a sweatpants ball on my couch eating ALL the greasy and salty things because I celebrated a little too much the night before.  So it’s like I’ve already failed miserably.  On day 1.  No thanks.

But I’m not a total resolution Grinch.  I actually have big plans for 2013.  So this year, instead of making a list of all the things I want to change about myself, I’m going to look forward to all the moments – big and small – that will make 2013 a great year.  Here are some of the things I’m excited to do this year:

Volunteer. Take a cooking class. Take a trip with my husband. Blog more. See my best friends. Run another 1/2 marathon. Keep a journal. See more live music. Swim in the ocean. Teach my dog to fetch. Skype with my family. Get a massage. Take more pictures. Go on a road trip. Buy a house.

2013, let’s do this shall we?

(photo by David Keochkerian)