Friday, August 26, 2011

Don't Look Behind the Dryer

Luke and I sometimes feel like we live in the Money Pit house, except instead of being a big, glorious estate, it is a small, kinda crappy townhouse. You wouldn't think we would have that many problems, seeing as it was only build like 10 years ago. I am pretty sure I have t-shirts older than that (all of which have required far less maintenance), and I know in terms of buildings, that's really not that old.
Which is why anytime anything goes wrong, I throw an unholy fit, complete with foot stomping, hair pulling and smoke streaming out of my ears. It's just how I roll.
My husband is a firm believer in the philosophy of "throw money at it until it goes away," whereas I prescribe to the school of thought of "no way dude, that takes money out of the shoe fund." So we are do-it-yourselfers. Sort of. Usually we are "do-the-best-you-can-until-you-screw-up-and-then-call-Dad"ers.
So when the dryer stopped, um, drying, I immediately go into panic mode while Luke starts flipping through sales ads.
"This one is nice. And it's red."
Upon realizing how much washer/dryer combos actually cost, Luke quickly changes his tune.
Which is how I got stuck behind the dryer.
Not stuck like, "oh, this is slightly uncomfortable. I don't care for it."
Stuck like, "Call the reinforcements. And order pizza. We are going to be here for a while." I felt like a Chilean miner back there, all covered in lint and dog hair and for some strange reason, Monopoly money.
But I came out of it $1.26 richer ($152.26 richer, if you count the Monopoly money). I guess that is a win.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Weddings, Nostalgia, and Fighting with Bears

I love weddings. I do. I love the beautiful dresses, the happy celebration and the fact that two more people are on their way to being boring old marrieds like me. At each ceremony we attend, my husband tenderly holds my hand during the vows, looking at me adoringly, and I can see just what he's thinking: "Yes! Someone else whose idea of fun will soon be watching 'Chopped' and eating ice cream in sweats." You know what they say, misery loves company.
But more to the point, I love receptions. Any event that centers around dancing to cheesy love songs and eating cake is so up my alley. The wedding I attended this past weekend did not disappoint, because in addition to getting my groove on to the dulcet tones of Ke$ha, and eating delicious, delicious cake, we got to drink with bears. My friend had her reception at the zoo, with cocktail hour taking place at the bear exhibit. Fabulous and exciting, though it would have been moreso if the bears would have been serving hors d'oeuvres or mixing drinks or something (they weren't even dressed for the occasion - did no one tell them that it is tacky to wear white if you aren't the bride? Way to go, polar bear).
Regardless, it was a fabulous event, and I wish the couple nothing but years and years of boring happy marital bliss. And if they ever need to get their fill of watching Food Network on someone else's couch, I will gladly offer ours.