party people
i went to a birthday party this weekend. stag.
hunkiest was out town at party of his own; of a stag nature as well.
yet the naughty these boys seemed to have found was of whiskey and lack of bug spray like.
for all his clinker and glee as he packs up his shiny 9 iron and polished 3 wood, that boy never fails to ring home, like a kid sick at camp, wishing to be picked up early.
he asks me what the beasts are doing, as if by some miracle they've suddenly acquired a new, people, {opposable thumb requiring} skill since he left town.
um, they're doing math homework??!? they're sleeping of course!! that's what our beasts DO baby.
we count the days, sometimes hours until he walks back through the door to his "family".
silly, but it's the kind of thing that still has me plan outfits days before i see him.....my brain's always working on our next date.
although hunky and i do enjoy each other's smile, chat and smooch, one of our strongest suits is our ability to hang separately.
at my party, the beautiful birthday girl wore a sash of pink and a tiara of tinsel;
i walked in knowing few and left loving many.
i wrapped my heart around a freckled girl with amber hair, who sat for hours with a strawberry taking each and every single seed off the pretty fruit; just because it felt scientific. she was sweeter than any candy colored cupcakes we ate together.
i ate a cobbler baked with berries and i felt a baby boy, who although won't officially be here until june, make his party presence felt in his momma's stomach.
a grand time had by moi'...and i couldn't wait to ring up my beloved and share.
date night
hunky and i continue the courting into our third year of marital happy.
we adhere to a strict date night rule.
{basically only that we have one, once a week}
me and him. him and me. face to face. well, more like my forehead to his chest. he is rather tall, my fella.
he talks, i jabber, he listens, i devour, he laughs, i shriek.
he smiles. i melt.
and although he typically misses the fashion fabulousness i bring to our evening's out,
he never neglects to make me feel choice and only.
maybe it was truffle oil frisée or the french fries with cinnamon ketchup?
but this weekend's date night still has me blushing.
happy weekend
my sweets,
what yummy concoctions of bustle have you whipped up for the weekend?
hh and i are finally celebrating year #2 of marital bliss {albeit a bit tardy} at a local resort.
for the second anniversary, it is customary to gift cotton.
i'll double dip my chip into that salsa bowl of tradition:
i just wish these linens came with their own handwasher.
preferably something in an ed burns/mark ruffalo mashup.
still nowhere near as hunky as the mister though.
happy weekend loves.
kreativ blogger
i'm sure there was some sort of mistake.
i'm so not worthy of such an award,
but, in what i suspect was copious amount of black tar heroin consumption,
the divine deborah of dumbwit tellher bestowed the very generous kreativ blogger badge upon moi.
to say i have procrastinated is putting it mildly: she gifted me march 1st.
tis how i roll. i'm still sending out wedding invitations, and we're coming up on our 2nd year anniversary.
i tend to fall behind.
part of my hesitance has been the job of summoning up 7 personal items of substance and circumstance to impart upon, you, my loveliest of readers.
i can easily give you 7 things that are annoying and compulsive. but the former......i gots nuttin.
rather than try to dazzle i will go for the informative route. these may not be sparkly, antic facts, but all are true and differentiate me from the all the other mouthy, half-japanese/half caucasian, childless, compulsive eating, newport beach housewives around here.
1. i am terrified i will be the worst mother ever. we're talking joan crawford style wretched. i'm in love with a baby i haven't even conceived. but i'm deathly afraid said child will be asking hh for someone more adept and competent with her first words.
2. i love gummi bears. but only the haribo brand. and only the orange and yellow bears. i won't touch red, white and green. they taste like someone else's regurgitated jello shots: a senior graduation trip to puerta vallarta i'm still trying to forget.
3. i like to have things planned way ahead of time. and i make lists like ina garten makes cobblers.
i'm a moronic-scheduling-maniac, who writes everything done in my filofax (yes, i still live in the 1990's), re-syncs it in my blackberry, and triple confirms it to my desk calendar. i even schedule my spontaneity.
4. i take multiple baths everyday.
5. crickets. i hate crickets. i also hate silence which, in effect, is pseudo-crickets.
6. my left pinky toe lies horizontal. i was born with it this way. we call it bitch toe.
7. i am always cold. i wear a fluffy, cozy wrappy all the time to keep warm. even in 100 degree costa rica sunshine i had goosebumps. it's no longer adorable to my hh, but to still to get his attention i dramatically cry out, "baby, i am frijoles!!".
yes, i know this translates to " i am beans." BUT i like the way it almost sounds like "i am freezing", and it makes him smile.
so there you go. my seven things. it only took me 4 months to figure them out, put them to paper, and post.
i'm apparently supposed to tag the kreativ blogger onto 7 other blogs to keep the party going.
argh!! i hate that i have to narrow it down to 7....
duel living, jeune marie, sweet nothings, reverie, trust your style, with love from pittsburgh, and audrey onassis.
feel free to accept the tag if you like or pass it on to your discretion.
thank you again deb. you set the standard, oh goddess of katy, texas.
happy weekend
talk to me billy goats. what's playing in your ears this weekend?
the in-laws are arriving and i'm brushing up on behavior best.
i'm on bended knee asking for sweet, continued slumber.
my old friend, insomnia, has been knocking of late.
we know what a bad date the medicine cabinet and i last had;
i now know not to answer that text.
counting buddhas and drinking tea to hopefully remedy this bout of sleeplessness.
cheers to a restful weekend.
come visit me today with the adorable girls at sweet nothings.
they graciously invited me to guest blog. love them!
and when the world is through with us, we've got each other's arms....
A father is always making his baby into a little woman.
And when she is a woman he turns her back again.
~ Enid Bagnold
happy father's day.
the things i'll do....
dear me how i love that hh o'mine. let me count the ways.
for months he's been wanting to behold all things blue-faced, 10 feet tall, and sapiently humanoid.
in 3-d no less.
i have thrown out every excuse possible:
swine flu
christmas
new year's
i'm too sad for haiti
olympics (brandi?)
i'm too full from a cupcake binge
i hate james cameron and it kills me to give him money
blue faces don't go with my outfit
i've stalled this outing forever. i was still hoping hh would come to his senses, and remember we don't like movies like this. wasn't that part of the whole courting process? netflix nights where we'd watch documentary after documentary. he seducing me with his cerebral cortex and matinee idol good looks. me gushing over his mismatched, bare bachelor apartment, shaking my head at ridiculous other girls whom might care about decor and design (this still makes me giggle).
where did avatar fit? did he not know me?
bribing me with an extra hot latte (he knows me) we set off for the 3:30pm saturday showing. we sat, for what seemed all of lent, and watched a silly story with amazing special effects.
hh was happy. happier was i who still gets giddy from holding my husband's hand in a dark movie theater.
off i go
goodbye weekend. good riddance to pity.
nothing like a visit with adored aunt charla to send the scary sadness away.
grilled cheese and homemade lentil soup help too.
new week. fresh start. favorite detests the mopey; he's always commanded a certain dignity. a characteristic his two siblings consistently and miserably fail to supply.
i ferociously ride into this headwind of hurt with my heart lifted high, shoulders square, wearing my sincerest smile.
i get to love.
that's not just icing. that's icing and rainbow sprinkles.
click image for source
in my skin
i've checked my birth certificate; it says orange county. i've been to therapy searching for possible memory repression; nope, i've lived in southern california my entire life. then, why tell me why, is san francisco the only city in the world where i feel like i'm in my own skin?
hh and i took off for the weekend. and as always i felt like i had come home.
home to cooler temps, higher buildings.
art in every cranny.
sunlight glistening all things glossy and brilliant.
people embracing all religions and faiths.
our favorite hotel, understated and elegant.
with a spa tranquil enough to tame your toughest tension.
i think i used up all three canisters of that green tea shampoo and body wash....sorry.
goji berries, walnuts, and a tonic prepped me my go to therapist, gary reyes. i see this foot master every time i'm in the city.
this is where i fell asleep post massage. i'd like to think i reposed like a fairy princess (think aurora): lips pursed, forehead smooth, ankles crossed, toes pointed. but let's face the facts. it was a 90 minute massage. i was most likely snoring; i woke up with drool on my pretty frette robe, my face had massage table ring around it, and my hair resembled tumbleweeds from gary's fantastic grand finale scalp rub.
i did manage to pull it all together for a dreamy vietnamese meal with hh, where we shared bo bia and cassava corn ravioli. super romantic. i cried i was so happy.
we always talk about moving. but we've got such a wonderful life where we ARE. full of the BEST friends and family. if only we could transport them all up north.
Simple Things
christina is hosting the simple things today.
a call out to bloggers to "show what we appreciate, and what we are grateful for - no matter how big or small, these things may seem."
if christina asked me to dig ditches with her all day long in the hot sun, i'd be the first to sign up.
in an effort to help the haiti rescue and rebuilding, she is giving one dollar to doctors without borders for every participant.
thank you christina for inspiring me daily. here is my laddleful of love to you:
katie's simple things 1/27/2010
freshly scented, french milled soap
clean, empty notepads. ready for my days' plans, ideas, and aspirations.
homemade morning coffee. french pressed with ground cinnamon. a mug reminding me what matters most.
waking up in the middle of the night holding hands with hh.
fresh, inexpensive, trader joe's flowers on my desk
our sweet tree standing tall again. post storm destruction. so glad we were able to keep you in the family.
peanut m& m's, and don't you dare try to substitute plain!!!!!!
profanity. terrible, i know. i'm a good girl otherwise. i just like to swear.
perfume before bed, after my bath.
afternoon naps.
mornings. the promise. the second chance.
this song.......it renders me tear faced every time i hear it. but happy, oh my god, i'm so damn lucky kind of tears.
it's hard to have animosity in your heart with this music in your soul.
i'd love to twirl on fence posts with you, na-na-na'ing to this song.
happy wednesday. love, katie
I Succumbed!!
well, if HH doesn't want me putting up a bubble gum pink, Christmas tree (again,) he should be a little more courteous whilst primping for his Sunday 6am tee time.as he channeled his inner John Daly, whacking the silly white ball through the dragon's mouth, the early awakened beasts and i begrudgingly made the most of our unexpected wake up call. we decided to yield to madison avenue, the malls, markets, and plain ol' holiday madness. the four of us surrendered to starbucks: their evil eggnog lattes 1 friggin day after Halloween?!?!!?! we put up the christmas tree.two french presses later, we four were cutting a rug to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass Christmas Album (a must for tree decorating) and erected the pepto bismo-like sapling.why such a hue for a Christmas tree you ask? well........my mother IS Christmas. i think last year she had 7 trees? each more beautiful than the next with tulle, crystals, feathers, fresh flowers, real life fairies, etc. Preston Bailey would have pee'd himself. one gigantic wall in her house just........nutcrackers (giant, wee, grisly, angelic, russian, asian, ???) there isn't a room in her house that does not emit clover, amber and orange spice. the woman knows how to stage a holiday home. one walk through jane's house during christmas time, BOOM!!, osama bin laden, on his knee's, saying the apostles' creed, giving his life up to jesus. she's that good people.anyhow, i know my time constraints: limited. and i know my talent for being crafty: nil. i need a tree that requires zero ornaments that comes pre-lit!! and what girl doesn't want a pink tree?!?!?! i may not convert muslims with this tree, but i may help some boys come out of the closet. it's the season to give people!!!!!!TA-DA!!!!!!
One Year
One year today you became my HH (hunky hubby.) I'm still twirling that you picked me (you're pretty lucky yourself mister.) One year and i still sometimes get a little nervous when your name comes up on my phone screen. One year and i still want you to come home early every night from work. One year and your teeth flossing joke still makes me laugh night after night. One year and I'm definitely OVER your inability to help me recycle the plastic bottles in the house (do we need to even go there why we EVEN have plastic bottles, honey?) One year and not a day (more like an hour) goes by without thinking I can't wait to tell him this. My sweet boy, we may not be the type which "completes" one another, but I'm definitely less Dre without you as my Snoop.p.s. one of my favorite blogs a cup of jo is on her honeymoon. in her absence she's guest blogging "our secrets to a happy marriage." they're all very different, as are all marriages. i'm enjoying them immensely. enjoy.