Cat of the Year

On Friday when I got home from work, my cat Stockton was in the driveway, waiting to greet me. I got out of the car and watched as Stockton began twisting and turning on the concrete.. this is our daily ritual.

I get home. Stockton rolls around on the ground. I find it endearing. So endearing, that I think EVERYONE should get to enjoy his cuteness. So, I did what any proud mother/pet owner would do... I got out my camera to exploit him.

I ran inside after capturing his awkward/awesomeness to show The Husband.

"Look! Look what our cat does when I get home! Tell me its adorable... tell me its charming... tell me I'm right to think its hilarious! "

I proceeded to show The Husband my video.

I was expecting a big reaction. Side splitting laughter, at the very least. But no. All I got was this:

(bored, monotone) "Hm. Upload it to YouTube. Maybe you'll get a million hits."

Excuse me? No one reacts to my exploitation of my pet with weary disinterest!!! I was outraged!!!

"Fine then!" I said, "Consider it done!"... and I stormed off.

What The Husband should know about me is that I am a woman of my word. Perhaps he does not think our cat is hilarious... but I can guarantee that I will NOT share my trillions of dollars I get from my MILLIONS... no... GAZILLIONS of YouTube hits I get from my cat video. Cats are very popular right now, Stockon is sure to be a big deal.

Consider it done, Husband. Consider it done.

I present to you.... Stockton... Cat of the Year:

Watch it here.

Whatever happened to cool?

It seems like everything was so much cooler when I was younger. Trees were bigger (and cooler), rocks were cooler, and playing outside with nothing but a few sticks and my imagination was WAY cooler than it is now. When did things start becoming so un-cool?

One summer my younger brother Jake and I spent the week at my Grandma’s house in North Ogden.

One day, while we were playing outside (with rocks and sticks and imaginations) we spotted a real, live MOOSE.

A moose! Walking up and down the paved streets of North Ogden Utah. We were ecstatic, as you can imagine. I had never been so close to a moose in my entire life. Jake and I hurriedly ran inside to tell Grandma about our encounter. She (for our protection, I’m sure) forbade us from leaving the house.

So, we did the next best thing to interacting with a moose… we found a window.

We smashed our faces up against the window and watched the towering moose wander around the neighborhood. He looked like he was having the time of his life, being the center of attention of this little suburban neighborhood. I half expected him to pull on his tap shoes and do a little soft shoe number for us.

Once the moose was out of sight and Grandma thought it was safe, we were released from the confines of the house. We immediacy ran out front to see if we could catch one last glimpse of the moose. We searched up and down the street. Jake spotted him first.

Jake: “Torrey look! There he is!”

The moose was just turning the corner. We desperately wanted to follow him, but we were afraid we would get in trouble by doing so. Instead, we sat under a tree on the rocks out front and speculated about the origins of the moose.

(Jake - Bottom Row, far right. Me - Second Row, second from the right).

Jake: “Where do you think he came from?”

Me: “The forest, of course.”

Jake: “Cool!”

Me: “Did you see how long his legs were?”

Jake: “I bet he could beat up Dad.”

Me: “I doubt it.”

Jake: “We should name him Gonzo.”

Me: “You want to name EVERYTHING Gonzo.”

Jake: “It’s a cool name.”

Me: “What if he’s a girl?”

Jake: “Gonzo can be a girls name.”

Our conversation continued on with a million other similar comments and retorts until a man in a uniform approached us.

Man: “Hey kids, have you by chance seen a moose around here?”

(Classic child abductor material. Am I right? Really though, if I were to nap a kid I would definitely go with the whole “I’ve lost my moose” routine. Because it works!)

Jake and I looked at each other, eyes wide and full of excitement.

Me: “Yeah, we have, and we can take you to him!”

We hopped off the rock and without giving a second thought to Grandma and what she might be feeling when he grandkids turned up missing, we began the great moose hunt.

The street in front of Grandma’s house was on a hill. We had last seen the moose at the top of the hill, so we turned right and headed that way. As we began our trek, we quizzed the man.

(Good idea, question the strange man AFTER you’ve left the safety of your grandma’s yard.)

Me: “Is that moose your pet?”

Man: “Uh, no. I’m with animal control. I got a call to come take care of the moose.”

Jake: “Is his name Gonzo?”

Man: “Um… maybe. I don’t know.”

Me: “What are you going to do with him?”

Man: “Well, first we need to find him. Then we’re going to help him take a nap… with a tranquilizer gun.”

Jake: “Cool!”

Me: “Will it hurt him?”

Man: “No, it will just knock him out so we can transport him away from humans.”

At this point we had made it to the top of the street. Suddenly, I saw a big tall ball of fur out of the corner of my eye!

Me: “There he is!”

The moose was in a nearby yard, just standing there, looking all sad and confused. Poor little moose didn’t know what to do with all of those driveways and mailboxes surrounding him.

Jake and I started to run toward the moose. The uniformed man stopped us.

Man: “Hang on there, don’t get too close. Just because he’s in this neighborhood doesn’t make him any less of a wild animal.”

The man radioed his position to his fellow Animal Controllers.

Suddenly, an entire SWAT team of Animal Control personnel arrived on the scene. They were rappelling from the roofs of houses, some parachuted in, others climbed out of man holes… ok, not really. But a bunch of them really did show up (in boring ol’ cars).

One of uniformed man’s associates quickly got out the tranquilizer gun and propped it up on his car. He took careful aim at the gigantic beast…. And then he shot it.

The moose didn’t seem to notice that he had been shot. He slowly started to walk around the yard, but he quickly became drowsy and soon tumbled to the ground.

My eyes immediately welled up with tears and I began to cry uncontrollably. The uniformed man tried to console me.

Man: “It’s ok, he’s not dead…. he’s just asleep.”

I was not convinced. I had been pretty trusting of the uniformed man up to this point, but how was I to know his buddy hadn’t switched out the tranquilizer dart with a bullet at the last moment? The uniformed man approached the moose and poked him to ensure it was safe to be near.

Man: “Look, he’s still breathing. See? Do you want to come touch him?”

Jake swiftly ran over to the moose and began petting him.

Jake: (whispering in the moose’s ear) “Hey Gonzo, it’s ok, no one’s gonna hurt you, they just want to help you get home.”

I was still wary of the whole situation, but I wasn’t going to let my little brother get all of the face time with the moose. I inched closer and closer to “Gonzo” until I found myself kneeling by his side, petting him.

Man: (grabbing a tuft of Gonzo’s hair and pulling it out) “Here, keep this, as a way to remember him”.

The uniformed man gave each of us a hand full of moose hair.

By this time Grandma had realized we were missing and had come to find us. She couldn’t get too upset at us for running off, after all, a 900 pound moose had just been shot right before our eyes. Tranquilizer gun or not, that is a pretty horrific experience, especially when strange men started ripping the poor animals hair out.

So, instead of scolding us, Grandma took us home and gave us Ziploc bags for our moose hair and ice cream cups to eat.

When we got home from our exciting week with Grandma, I carefully laid my packaged moose hair in my top dresser drawer. I would often retrieve Gonzo’s hair and just sit and look at it. I never took it out of the baggie though, I was too scared that the air would damage it and it wouldn’t last as long (and now that I'm reflecting back on this story, I'm pretty sure something was mentioned by one of the Animal Control people about the moose being rabid... so I could have been subconsciously afraid of contracting rabies by touching the hair... yes, I know that is impossible... but, just sayin'.)

Man, that moose hair was SO COOL. Probably the coolest.

What sort of things did you used to find SO cool?

Late Night Conversations x 2

(While lying in bed, in the dark, as The Husband is about to fall asleep.... this is when I have my deepest thoughts.)

Me: "Hey."

Husband: (clearly annoyed) "What?"


Me: "I get confused. What's the difference between a paraplegic and a quadriplegic?"

Husband: "Are you being serious?"

Me: (slightly offended by The Husbands total disregard for my deep question) "What? It's confusing sometimes, don't you think its confusing?"

Husband: "What does 'quad' mean?"

Me: "I don't know."

Husband: "Think."

Me: "Um.... (thinking) Four? Four."

Husband: "Good. So a quadriplegic is?...."

Me: (light bulb) "Someone who can't use their FOUR limbs!"

Husband: "Good.. and that would make a paraplegic?...."

Me: "Someone who can't use TWO of their limbs!!!"

Husband: (dripping with sarcasm) "You're SO smart."

Me: "Rude."

(After some more time pondering....)

Me: "So... if 'quad' means 'four' ..... that must mean that 'para' means 'two'. So... if someone can't use just ONE of their limbs... does that make them an unoplegic?"

(Insert seemingly endless uncontrollable laughter from The Husband here.)

Husband: "Seriously?"

Me: "Yes, seriously. 'Uno' means 'one', and 'plegic' means.... 'can't use' or something like that... So, logically, a person who 'can't use' 'one' of their limbs would be an 'unoplegic'."

Husband: "Or, more appropriately, you could say they have a BROKEN ARM or a BROKEN LEG."

Me: (rolling eyes...) "Semantics. It's a 'po-tay-to', 'po-tah-to' sort of thing.... Unoplegic, broken leg. Same difference."

Husband: "Good one babe. Good one."

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is our relationship in a nutshell. Clearly, I'm the brains of this operation.

A Lost Art

With the exception of being able to pee standing up, I am a stalwart proponent of the idea that women can do anything men can do (and technically, we CAN pee standing up… it just comes with slightly itchy and uncomfortable consequences).

But, I've noticed, that as the equality of the sexes strengthens, chivalry (remember this?) has become a lost art.

Did you know that men used to open doors for women?

I’ve taken to pushing the button that opens the doors for you (intended for those in wheel chairs). This is how it goes down:

Me (pushing button): Oh my! (flirtatiously) Why thank you, what a gentleman. You know, you’re a dying bred.

Handicap Button (as door opens): Buzzzzzzz.

Me (coyly): (giggles) I am flattered, but you know, I’m a married woman.

Handicap Button: CLICK!

Me: Thanks again, have a great day!

Handicap Button (as door closes): Swoosh.

Courtesy, Generosity, Valor, Gallantry, Thoughtfulness. Women swoon over men who emulate these traits.

Did you know that my Great Aunt had NEVER filled up her car with gas until after her husband passed away? A 70-something year old woman with a good 50 plus years of driving experience under her belt and she had never filled up her own car. Why? Because it used to be part of her husband’s chivalrous Saturday ritual: Get up, mow the lawn, wash the cars, fill the cars up with gas. What a hunk!

Can you imagine being the gas attendant working the day Aunt Carmen had her first pump experience?

Gas Attendant (after noticing a car has been sitting at the pump for nearly half an hour): (knocking on driver’s window) Excuse me, ma’am?

Aunt Carmen (rolling down window): Oh finally! I need a fill up and (handing attendant a $5 bill) my windows could use a good washing as well.

Gas Attendant: (giving back money) I’m sorry Ma’am, but this is a self-serve gas station. You can pay at the pump or inside.

Aunt Carmen (obviously “put-out”): Oh. Well, that’s not a problem. (saying more to convince herself as she gets out of car) I can do this. Now, let’s see… (starts pushing buttons… removes gas pump and looks around precariously) … this must go…. HERE! (shoves gas pump in wheel well).

Gas Attendant: Uh…. Ma’am….

Aunt Carmen: Now, to pay! (gets out $20 bill and tries to feed into credit card reader… after some struggling) Why isn’t this working?! (bill falls to the ground in a crumpled up wad) I know! It must not take bills. (gets into coin purse and attempts to put coins into credit card reader).

Gas Attendant: (rolling eyes) Here… let me help you.

Epic, right?

I’ve always day dreamed about getting ready to cross the street at a busy intersection in a rainy New York City (in my favorite pair of Louis Vuittons…. this is a day dream, remember?…) when the reincarnate Sir Walter Raleigh, standing next to me, lays his coat over the dubious puddle in my way so as to protect me (and my designer shoes) from getting soaked.

Giving women flowers, helping us out of cars, offering us your jacket, holding the umbrella, introducing us to your acquaintances. THIS is what separates the men from the boys and please, BELIEVE you me when I say this, the world could do with fewer boys and more men. Believe. You. Me.

Well, as you can imagine… as these feelings of frustration at the absence of gallantry in our society have been on my mind, I haven’t been at all shy about vocalizing my opinions…. to The Husband.

It didn’t dawn on me how well The Husband listens until I got into my car Monday morning to drive to work. As I was backing out of the driveway, I glanced at my dashboard and noticed that I had a full tank of gas. Suddenly my mind was flooded with flashes of exceptionally kind things The Husband had done for me this past weekend. He opened the door for me at church, he made me dinner, he gave me a foot rub, he got me a glass of water in the middle of the night, and now, he filled up my car with gas?!

Although he didn’t shower me with flowers or spoil me with jewels… I realized that I have got a serious hero on my hands. Someone’s getting lucky tonight.

**** (Totally relevant side note!) ****

As I’ve been writing this post, this song has been stuck in my head (Which is not surprising, considering I have a congenital play list called “Show Tunes” continually playing on repeat in my brain):

WARNING – this is not the most wholesome of songs… listen at your own risk.

End of relevant side note… End of relevant post.

Late Night Conversations

Last night as I was lying in bed I turned to The Husband:

Me: “Hey, what’s the name of the Jetson’s dog?”

Husband: “What?"

Me: "The Jetsons. What was the name of their dog? I can't think of it."

Husband: "Uh….. Leroy, I think.”

Me: “What?! No, EL-roy is the brother, the dog’s name is (thinking…. thinking…) Astro!”

Husband: “Oh, yeah.”

Me: (singing) “Meet George Jetson! His son Elroy. Daughter Judy. Jane, his wife…”

Husband: “Boy.”

Me: “What?”

Husband: “His BOY Elroy. Its ‘boy’ because it rhymes.”

Me: “I don't get it. What's it supposed to rhyme with?"

Husband: "BOY. ELROY."

Me: "Oh…. (after some time) And what was the name of the robot Maid?”

Husband: “I have no idea.”

Me: “Something that starts with an ‘R’..”

Husband: “Yeah, that sou..”

Me: (interrupting) “ROSIE!”

Husband: “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Me: “Yeah.”

After some silence, sitting in the dark.

Husband: “What made you think about the Jetsons?”

Me: “I don’t know… I just think about them a lot.”

Husband: “Really? That’s weird.”

Me: “Well, I think its because I wish I had that cool contraption they have, where a tube drops down over you and then five seconds later it has done your hair and make-up and has dressed you in the cutest outfit ever.”

Husband: “Weird.”

Me: “Yeah, I guess so. I can’t help it though. I always think about the Jetsons, probably on a daily basis. My mind just always wanders to them. The Jetsons and Rescue Rangers…. (Thinking again…) Hey, what’s the name of the girl mouse on Rescue Rangers?”

Husband: “Gadget. Because she is always fixing everything.”

Me: “Oh yeah… and wasn’t there a fat one too?”

Husband: “Monterey Jack… because he liked cheese.”

Me: “Oh yeah!”

After more silence.

Me: “Wasn’t there another one? I mean, besides Chip and Dale?”

Husband: “No, I think it was just the four of them.”

Me: “Really? I swear they had like, a little guy who was their friend.. like a bug.”

Husband: “Yeah, I think Gadget had a pet lightening bug.”

Me: “What was his name?”

Husband: “I don’t know… Buzz or something…”

Me: “Buzz? That’s a dumb name for a lightening bug. It should have been something like ‘Blinky’, or something… “

Husband: “Yeah, that’s it. I think it was Blinker.”

(SIDE NOTE: His name is actually ‘Zipper”, he’s a green fly and he is NOT Gadget's pet.)

More silence.

Me: “Who was the bad guy?”

Husband: “I don’t know… I think there were lots of bad guys. It changed every episode.”

Me: “FAT CAT!”

Husband: “What?”

Me: “Fat Cat! He was their arch nemesis.”

Husband: “If you say so.”

Me: “I’m positive about this one.”

More silence in the dark.

Husband: (singing) “Chi-chi-chi-CHIP and DALE! Rescue Rangers. Chi-chi-chi-CHIP and DALE!”

Me: (Singing echo) “Rescue Rangers!”

More silence.

Husband: “I can see why you think about Rescue Rangers a lot.”

Me: “Really?”

Husband: “Yeah, that song gets stuck in your head.”

Me: “I know.”

Longest silence yet.

Me: “Hey, remember that one with Baloo?”

Husband: “The Jungle Book?”

Me: “No, the one where they flew a plane… (thinking… thinking… ) Tailspin!”

Husband: “Go to sleep.”

Me: “Yeah… I think about that one a lot too.”

Husband: “GO. TO. SLEEP.”

The Bandwagon

A while ago The Husband and I canceled cable to save money. It was a difficult time for the both of us. He was lost without his beloved ESPN and I was positive I was going to die without the Food Network. Surprisingly… we are both still alive and well. In an effort to alleviate some of our separation anxiety, we signed up for Netflix which we can stream through our Apple TV (Merry Christmas from Torrey’s work for that lovely little number).

At first we watched exactly 1 bazillion movies. Good ones too: Jewel of the Nile (Romance AND Action? Genius)…. Food Matters (Watch this NOW)…. Grown Ups (Pee your pants funny). And some not so good ones: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (Can I please have those 112 minutes of my life back?)… 8 Seconds (maybe I just didn’t understand it because I’ve never ridden a bull)… and Salt (I wanted to like this one SO badly… but just couldn’t).

Then we got sick of movies. I think Scott Pilgrim pushed us over the edge. So, we moved on to TV series. Now, here is where I have to make a major confession… I am TV series inept. I blame it on Food Network and TLC. Why bother with any “popular” TV dramas/comedies when you have Paula, Buddy and THESE. (yum.)

THANKFULLY the husband is a bit more well versed in pop culture than I am, so he planned out our series line up.

First up! Prison Break.

Yes, I know. We’re a little late to jump on the bandwagon with this one. BUT! Have you seen it? It is a must see. The problem, is that I get a little TOO into my programs. While watching this, I would worry all day about what was going to happen to Sarah and Michael next. It doesn’t help that every episode ends on a total cliffhanger. We lost a lot of sleep while we were watching Prison Break. Not only because we would stay up late watching episode after episode, but also because I was CONVINCED Theodore Bagwell was going to attack me in the middle of the night.

The husband was glad for Prison Break to be over… I had a not so secret crush on Tweener, Sucre and Linc…. And also maybe Mahone…… and Kellerman…. And maybe Michael too. I even tried to make The Husband buzz his head. We are both SO glad we finished Prison Break.

Next…. Lost.

Again, we’re a little late to jump on the bandwagon. But.. WOW!!!! I used to balk at the many obsessive Lost fans I was acquainted with. I used to think “Really? It can’t be THAT good”… but it is…. Ooohhhhh, it IS!!

Again, I am getting a little too into my programs (and we’re only on season 3). I had a dream the other night that I was married to Sayid… and suddenly I’ve been stricken with the fear of flying. I’ve also had the Lost credits song stuck in my head for the PAST. 4. DAYS. (Yes, I have a crush on Jack, Sawyer, Jin, Desmond and of course Sayid). Don’t worry… we’re not TOO sick of Lost yet. We must push through!!!

Now, I am hooked on Glee.

I don’t feel like I’m AS late to jump on the bandwagon with this one… seeing as it is still in production, but I continue to ask myself why I thought Glee looked so dumb before. The Husband refuses to watch this one with me. I think its because instead of clutching him at all of the scary parts (see Prison Break and Lost) I am jumping on the couch singing at the top of my lungs… and rewinding and re-watching all of the duets until I can perform every word and harmony flawlessly.

I have a secret crush on Puck… but I have mixed feelings about this crush.. since Puck is technically (on the show) a “High School student”… I’m a creep, right?

Anyway… that’s it for now. Once Lost and Glee are over, we’ll need another bandwagon to be too late to jump on. I’m thinking the 9 seasons of The Beverly Hillbillies!!!

Of course, I’m only kidding….

Or AM I?

What I am thinking

Do you ever wonder what some people are thinking? I do on a regular basis. I constantly find myself thinking "Really? REALLY???!" I mean, people can't really be THAT clueless, can they?

This past weekend the Husband and I went to the new Harmons grocery store down the street. I have to say, its pretty much incredible. Any grocery store that also has an in house gelato bar AND date night cooking lessons will have me as a patron in a delicious low-fat heart-beat.

Our real purpose of our Harmons outing was to check out the new digs, but while we were enjoying a cheese sampling with our artisan bread we decided to pick up a few groceries.

We made our way to the dairy aisle (at which point we also sampled fresh strawberries in cream). I reached for our go-to milk of choice - Fat Free. Suddenly, the man standing next to me strikes up a conversation:

Man: What kind of milk have you got there?

Me: Uhhh.... (showing him my milk)

Internal Me: Who the h*!# are you?

Man: Oh no. You need the good stuff, go for the 2%.

Me: Heh heh (nervous laugh).

Internal Me: I'll buy whatever milk I want to buy.

Man: Why aren't you getting the good stuff? Oh, I know, you're watching your weight.

Me: ..... (silence).....

Internal Me: EXCUSE ME?!?!?! I mean, yes, but... what's it to you? And what gave it away? My spare tire? The love handles? The chubby arms? My thunder thighs?!

Man: Have you had any kids?

Me: Uh.. no.

Internal Me: WHAT?! Are you asking me because you think I look like I've had kids? Who are you again?

Man: Well, you know, everything changes when you have kids. Your whole body changes when you have kids.

Me: Ha ha... yeah...

Internal Me: Ha ha... yeah....

Man: You know, both of my daughter have both had kids and they're both really skinny. Here let me show you a picture.

At this point the man flips out his wallet and proceeds to find pictures of both of his daughters (note, the pictures were those senior picture glamour shots... from the 80's. I found it sad that he didn't have a more recent photo of his children).

Man: See, this one here has had four kids, and his one has had three. Want to know how they keep their figures?

Me: Um.. sure.

Internal Me: Why is this happening to ME???

Man: They both run. In fact, they've both run half marathons. That keeps you in great shape. You can eat whatever you want when you run, even 2% milk if you like.

Me: Yeah.... I guess cardio is the trick.

Internal Me: Thanks for the advice, man I've never met before in my life. I will definitely take your words of wisdom to heart. (Ooozing with sarcasm here friends).

By this time, the Husband has noticed that I have been spending WAY too much time in the dairy aisle and he has come to save me. Seeing that I am deep in conversation with a strange middle aged man (which honestly is not that uncommon) he stands patiently next to me while I finish up the conversation.

Man (to the Husband): Oh, is this your wife?

The Husband: Yeah.

Internal Me: SAVE me Husband!!!! Prove that you love me and save me from this most awkward of situations.

Man: Well, you're one lucky man. (Said with a wink and a smile).

The Husband: Ha ha... yeah, I am.

Internal Me: SOS!!!!

Man: Well, Happy Mothers Day!

Me: Thanks.

Man: Oh wait, you're not a mother yet, are you?

Me: Uh....

(I this point I am so flustered with the whole situation, I just starting saying things... don't judge.)

Me: ... Uh..... No, but I have a mom. Does that count?

Man: (FINALLY sensing the awkwardness of the situation) Yeah, I guess.

Then we went our separate ways.

So, here is the questions... What was that man thinking?!? I was beside myself, I am STILL beside myself. What a completely bizarre situation.

What's worse is that I left the grocery store feeling like a beached whale. I honestly drink Fat Free milk because I like how it tastes (odd, I know). But, maybe I should pay more attention to what I'm eating... maybe I need to work out even MORE.

On the drive home, I confessed my insecurities to the Husband.

Me: Do you think that guy was right? Do I need to watch my weight?

The Husband: Babe, I've been watching your weight lately, and its never looked better! (said with a wink and a smile.. and a suggestive eyebrow raise).

Me: Hey! (To be said as if saying "You and your filthy mind")



Internal Me: Best. Husband. EVER!!!!

Backstreet's back.. Alright!

Hello? Is this thing on? Is anyone there?

Wow... has it really been a year? I guess it has. I can't say I find it too surprising that I have neglected my blog for so long. I mean, really, its ME we're talking about. But, what do you know, I've caught the blog bug again. For all I know, this singular post could satisfy that blog bug, but for the sake of all of my devoted readers (hey mom) I hope its not.

Let me give you a brief run down of this past year.

I was training for a marathon, but then found out I have bum knees (yes, plural)...

So, I stopped running several miles a day, but continuted to eat like I was... (that was fun)


My little brother left on a mission for Tahiti (really? Tahiti? More like a vacation if you ask me..)


My other little brother got married to his sweetheart which only made me feel ancient...



My cat Malone ran away from home (He is probably living with a mountain lion lady friend..)

Leaving Stockton our sole pet (make that OBNOXIOUS pet...)

(Side note... is it creepy that I take pictures of my pets? I guess that's what you do when you don't have children...)






We took on a blonde sister-wife... wait, no, that's me with a wig on...

I turned into a super-hero...


The husband turned into a Lumber Jack...


And NOW, one year later, my baby sister is 16 (I'm sure she'll love this picture)...


Oh, and I've started working out again... which has been surprisingly, my favorite part of the day.



And this is me now. The same person that left you... only sexier.

So, that's it. That's my update. Sounds like an exciting life, yes?

I don't know why I feel the need to give an update of my life on this blog. Like, I can't blog without explaining where I've been. I guess I feel like if I don't explain what I've been up to, you'll think "This woman can't be trusted! I cannot read her blog without suspicion! There is no explanation for her year hiatus".

Then again, mom (my sole reader), I'm pretty sure you know what I've been up to.... right?

Regardless, try to read my subsequent posts without suspicion. Please and thank you.

It's good to be back.