i like you. do you like me?

You know when you’re little and all you have to do is offer some Big League chew to your hide and seek partner and you have a friend for life?  Well, try that when you’re 27.  For starters, you can’t find big League Chew anywhere.  And secondly, they don’t offer hide and seek as a group class at 24 Hour Fitness.  But you get the picture…

Having moved to a new city with my husband less than a year ago, we’ve found that making new friends is way harder than it used to be.

When you’re in elementary school, everyone is your friend.  I think that’s also part of the sugarcoated kid philosophy that “everyone is a winner”.  Then in middle school, you flit in and out of groups based on how long it takes to get your braces off, or when you have your growth spurt or if you have early or late lunch.  But by high school, you’ve established a group of best friends you’ve now known for years that you have similar classes, sports, and interests as.  And by the time graduation rolls around you see your friends way more than your family.  (That’s also because parents are supes lame in high school.  Amiright?)

Enter college, when life is one big blind date and party rolled into one.  All you have to do is meet someone at a house party, have three too many drinks, and you’re declaring your friend-love for each other.  “You like wearing sweatpants?  I like wearing sweatpants!  We have to hang out this weekend.  You’re my new best friend!  Give me your number, I’m calling you tomorrow!  I’m sorry, I should totally know this, but what’s your name again??”  Come on, we’ve all had those conversations that make you cringe a little the next morning…  And while most of these encounters may not stick, the sheer amount of times they happen guarantees that you weed out at least a few besties from the plethora of crazy.

Cut to your late 20’s, when even one too many drinks equals three consecutive days in bed and a morphine drip.  (Not really but totally)  You can’t rely on parties and cocktails to make you “feel friendly”, as my best friends and I used to say.  You have to find new ways to meet people.  And once you do, it’s almost as if you’re dating them… First it’s asking if they want to get a drink.  If you’re lucky, you find that you actually like them and a few happy hour dates may eventually lead to a dinner.  And before you know it you’re standing outside the restaurant wondering if a hug would seem like you’re coming on too strong.  And you’re thinking “I really like you but I don’t want to seem like I really like you because I don’t want you to think I’m weird and scare you off”.

Adding another layer of difficulty is the fact that it’s not just me anymore.  As a married person I tend to hang out with my husband a lot (marriage happens like that) so there is also the desire to find couple friends.  And don’t even get me started on those first dates, because now not only are you wondering if the girl likes you, you’re also wondering if the guy likes your husband and the husband likes you and the girl likes your husband.

Sigh…. It’s exhausting.

Almost a year deep into our life in a new city, I’m realizing that the easiest way to approach friend dating is to use the word “friend” more loosely.  It doesn’t need to have the same meaning that it did in high school and college.  It actually shouldn’t have the same meaning it did back then.  As long as I still have my best friends, regardless of where we all live, there’s no pressure to find someone in my new city to get matching tattoos with quite yet.  Priorities change and people change so it’s okay to be a bit pickier, but it’s also okay to realize that you don’t have to love each new person to infinity-and-beyond… just so long as they have the same adoration of sweatpants that you do.  Well, sweatpants AND bloody mary’s.

(Image via)


oh! christmas tree.

So far in Casey and my 2.5 years of marriage and 5 years of dating, we’ve never had a Christmas tree together.  We usually have eleventeen celebrations to go to during Christmas week and since teleporters don’t exist yet, we generally spent a majority of our holiday time traveling from shindig to shindig.  Apparently real Christmas trees are super needy so it’s never made sense for us to get a tree and leave it neglected for most of Christmas.  In an effort to not be a complete grinch, I usually fashion together some resemblance of tree-type decor, which in the past has looked a little something like this:

charlie

Or this:

sad

But that ALL changed this year.  THIS year we’re staying in Portland for the holidays, and while I’m super super bummed to not be with family, the silver lining is a big glorious yummy-smelly Christmas tree that is currently taking up 1/4 of our living room/dining room/apartment/life.  We had a true Christmas tree-cutting experience when we went into the wilderness (ok a tree farm) and chopped that sucker down.  We also had a true Griswold experience when we attempted to tie 2 slightly large Christmas trees to the top of our friend’s Honda Civic.  And then we went a little further into idiocy and forgot to open the doors to the car before tying the trees on, an oopsies that we finally realized when we got to tying off the fourth door.  The result was 3 doors that were tied shut, 4 adults climbing through the backseat/windows of a car, multiple awkward looks from fellow tree-goers, and a partridge in a pear tree.

But we finally made it home with our grand fir tree and after 30 minutes of finagling, we got that baby firmly grounded in it’s new tree stand home.  I should now mention that up until that point we collectively had 3 ornaments – when you never have a tree to decorate you tend to not accumulate them.  Who knew?  We quickly realized that we needed to invest in some ornaments that could truly enhance the beauty of our tree.  So on Sunday we got all dolled up and made a trip to the dollar store… and 30 minutes later we walked out of that joint with over $11 worth of fine holiday trimmery and a slightly expired Mountain Dew… and approximately one hour later we returned to said dollar store to exchange our decorations.  We realized after leaving with our fancy finds and walking around for 5 minutes that every single one of our ornaments in our bag seemed to be (for lack of a better word) defecating glitter all over us, causing us to look like a couple of Lisa Frank stickers.  Let it be known that I hate glitter with a passion, I consider it to be the chlamydia of the crafting world.  Eventually we exchanged those glitter bombs, got home to decorate, and the rest is history:

treez

It has yet to be seen how Gus will fully react to the tree.  We tried to keep ornaments off of the first few feet of the tree but that does not stop him from jumping up and trying to eat them.  For now he’s settling on eating just the pine needles.  Which definitely does not, if you’re wondering, does not make his big potty smell piney-fresh.


that is one grand dog.

My mom and stepdad came for a visit this weekend and I loved every bit of it.  My mostest favoritest part of the weekend was spending some QT with my mom… but coming in a close second was watching her interact with Gus.  My mom is a what I consider a dog bystander, she doesn’t love or hate them, she tends to avoid interaction, but she does however, have a heart of gold when it comes to any animals’ overall well-being and care, and our dog in particular.  So you can imagine my excitement and amusement when she finally got to meet our little boy and made great efforts to love him almost as much as we do.

Granddog

What I imagine they’re both thinking…..

Mom: Please don’t make me regret putting my face so close to your face.  I know we’re practically strangers but I feel that since you’re my granddog, we can have an unspoken agreement and connection that will allow us to coexist over the next few days.  And as time progresses I think that I will find myself actually enjoying tolerating your company.  I might even go so far as to say that you are changing my overall view on house dogs.  All of this hangs in the balance of this photo.  Please don’t fart on me.

Gus: Squirrel?!

Love you and miss you mama!  Gus says what up.



happyhappyhappy…

You know how when you say a word over and over again it starts to lose it’s meaning?  I just did that with the word ‘happy’ while trying to think of a name for this blog post.  I’ve now forgotten what it means and how to pronounce it.

The End.

Just kidding, I’m back.  Phonetics restored!

So, the husband and I just watched the documentary Happy last week.  And I must say, it was a good ‘un.  The director, Roko Belic, spent several years tracking down happiness and what actually makes people happy all around the world.  Not surprising, money and status had little to no influence on people’s overall happiness.  In fact, the average American is no happier than a rickshaw driver living in the slums of India.

The whole film really made me think about why I put so much value on certain things that ultimately will not make me any happier (like clothes)… and why I don’t devote the time and energy to things that I already know will (like really really cute clothes friends and family and good health).

There’s a personal mantra of sorts that I’ve been saying to myself lately – “Play an active role in your own life”.  Instead of allowing myself to wallow in negative feelings, I should be doing things that I know will make me happier.  Whether that means getting my arse outta bed to work out in the morning… or not freaking out because the toilet paper is sitting on top of the dispenser and not actually on the dispenser (!!!!!??!!!!!!!)

…..deep breaths everyone…..

Anyhoodizzle, I highly recommend the film.  It most certainly influenced me in a positive way.  And that’s the whole point, right?  Right.

Now, please repeat anyhoodizzle over and over and over again and see if it loses it’s meaning…


have you?


The baby conversation has been a big one in our house lately.  I mean, we’ve been married for over two years, we’re in our late-20’s (gulp.) and most importantly – all our friends are doing it!!  But we’re just not quite there yet.

So, while my oven remains bunless for the immediate future, I can’t help but crack up at this website and imagine sending it to everyone I know when I’ve hit my ninth month of pregnancy.

Have you had that baby yet?

 

 



house huntin’.

Who asked that guy?

In case I haven’t mentioned it, the hubs and I are looking into buying our first home.  Which is so very exciting.  But also so very scary.  The whole situation makes me feel like Jessie Spano.

Anyway, a few weeks back I found myself super bored at work and wound up on the HGTV House Hunters website.  Long story short, I submitted us and we are now being considered for the show.  We have a few hoops to jump through, but how cool would that be?  We could be celebretards!  Then I could finally rub elbows with people like the Olsen Twins and Pauly Shore.

However!  According to Casey, it “doesn’t sound that fun”.

…????….

I mean I know it’s a long shot, but come on!

My favorite part is at the end when the two people tell each other which place they liked the most, as if they haven’t discussed it prior to being on camera and it’s news to both of them.  “Which house do you like best? #2? Me too! Oh I’m so relieved!”  Duh guys, you obviously talked about it before you got on camera.  Can you imagine if you really had to keep it from each other until that very moment and you actually wanted two different houses?  Now that would be some reality TV.


let’s go campin, ya’ll!

We’re taking a little camping trip this weekend, for two whole nights.  While that’s definitely not a marathon camping trip by any means, it’s bound to be an interesting experience.  Gus (monster dog) hasn’t quite warmed up to the whole camping experience yet.  The last time we went he ate so much dirt and foliage that his Big Potty was black for two days.  He also gets freaked out by any sort of noise he hears during the night.  It’s the city dog in him, he’s used to sirens and loud homeless people, not birds and rivers.

Speaking of being a city dog though, I actually had a woman stop me on the street the other day because she was so impressed that Gus was going Big Potty on the concrete instead of the grass.  ……. Ummm…thank you…?……. This conversation also took place midway through Gus’s bathroom break.  Luckily, he doesn’t have stage fright so he finished like a champ.

Anyways, back to camping.  The worst Gus spectacle occurred when he was tied up to one of our folding chairs and heard a noise, freaked out and took off, pulling the chair on his leash behind him.  He then turned around, thought that the chair was chasing him and got even more freaked out.  Luckily the chair hit a bump in the road and Casey was able to tackle Gus to the ground.

Ok, the last part didn’t happen, but it makes for a better ending.  It’s not as funny to say that Casey grabbed Gus’s collar and safely brought him back to the site where I was cussing under my breath because I couldn’t get the fire to start with my crumpled InStyle magazine kindling.

Cheers to the weekend!

Images via


ode to scarves.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with September.

On one hand, it’s JUSTNOTFAIR that summer is coming to an end.  The hubs and I hit a turning point this spring/summer when we actually started to meet and build some pretty great relationships with new people that we’ve met in Portland.  And we find ourselves constantly busy with festivals, happy hours and hikes.  (Please don’t read too much into this – I can still count my Portland acquaintances on one hand… and one of those acquaintances may or may not be my husband.  And another one may or may not be my dog, Gus.  And a third may or may not be the Starbucks barista who notices when I’ve worn heels one day and flats the next.)

On the other hand, I love fall!  Crisp air… golden leaves… and pumpkin lattes at every local coffee shop.  I also find myself much more physically active when the temperature cools down a wee bit.  It’s so much easier to go for a run when I’m not weighed down by the 17 food cart delicacies I tried the previous day at one food fest or another.  Fall is also the time when I can get away with shaving my legs every other (ok, maybe every 3rd) day.

But the bottom line is, my scarves are getting a little peeved that I’ve been weeping into them nightly, telling them how much I miss them.

So, for the sake of everything cotton/polyester blend, I am fully embracing fall with open arms.  As long as those arms are chock full of pumpkin spice lattes.  And scarves.