I am FREAKING OUT

FREAKING OUT. FREAKING OUT. FREAKING OUT.

Did I mention FREAKING OUT? Yeah. I’m FREAKING OUT.

Boris, the Spider

Matt and I saw this guy hanging out above our garage after a trip out this afternoon. I saw him all the way from the road. He’s huge, the picture doesn’t really do him justice. I was standing about 5 feet away when I shot this (thank crap for zoom lenses!). Matt named him Boris (“Boris the Spider,” The Who).

I’m scared to walk on that side of the garage since I might have tried to kill him with a broom (he’s hiding somewhere). I’m also convinced every dark thing I see on the floor of the house is Boris, it is freaking me the fuck out.

Really?

Do you know anyone who eats cereal out of a box … with a spoon?

Really?

Being told you might not have to go to work on a certain day, calling and being told to come in is the worst thing to ever happen at 545am. Ok, maybe not the worst, being awake is the worst.

We were only off by a few days

For about six months (until last week) Matt and I were convinced that today was our anniversary. We were, um, wrong.

Here’s to a year and 344 days and no less than a million more to come. I love you, Matt.

Ode to Screaming Babies and Delayed Flights

I saw this today and I couldn’t help but think maybe I could do it again …

I know I can’t. I just don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about it. The two years while I was flying the “friendly” skies was amazing, but I’ve moved on. I once heard that once you start in the business of airplanes, you’ll never leave. I know this to be true, not only for me, but my other aviation friends also. I started working for an airline when I was 18. They say it only takes five years to be hooked forever, and I did it for seven.

This week it’s been a year since I quit (I couldn’t handle flying anymore with my stomach problems). I miss it a lot more lately than I ever thought I would. I miss the travel, the adventure. I miss being able to wake up in Amsterdam one day and three days later in Tokyo. It’s got to be the free flights I miss most though.

I’m happy with my life right now and know that I would never be able to pick up and fly leaving as easily as I did when I was single. I know that it wouldn’t be the ideal job it was a year and a half ago when Matt was traveling for work almost as much as I was. I know that it’s a lot different now and it’s not at all feasible.

Something still makes me miss it – but not the screaming babies and delayed flights part.

Deep Thinking

“I wonder what people did before the internet.”
“Chores.”

I wonder if he’s trying to tell me something.

I’m No Farmer

The title is actually supposed to read, I’m No Mother-Fucking Farmer. For some reason, I decided to hold back a little bit. It’s common knowledge that no one is actually ever JUST a farmer, they’re always a Mother-Fucking Farmer (for sure Em is one). I never inherited the Mother Fucking Farmer gene. My dad can grow the shit out of some tomatoes and jalapeños, from what I can remember. My mom? Can’t grow a dandelion.

I can grow stuff, but I have a hard time remembering I’m growing it.

We live in a condo. We have no yard. We have a balcony, a balcony on which I can grow stuff. This year, I started off with a pot of peppers, a (HUGE!) pot of tomatoes, a long trough of herbs and a long trough of wild flowers. I ended up with well, nothing. Two tomatoes that were COVERED in these gross green bugs. A few sprigs of cilantro that had already went to seed (is that what it’s called when they turn into coriander before they’ve probably grown? I don’t know) and basil that never got bigger than a thimble.

I’m sure that it probably might have been that I forgot to water my plants. When it’s 6am and I’m barely functioning enough to go to work, I have a hard time remembering to water plants. Part of it might be that the only vessel I have to water my plants is the same thing I have to water the dog – a 4 cup measuring pitcher. It’s not terrible, but it’s definitely not a hose.

So, well, that’s probably the reason my plants died … it didn’t rain enough this summer.

Today I decided that the “plants” had run their course (yeah, they all died) and it was time to dispose of them. The plants are out on our balcony, which causes another problem: dragging the plants through the house to get them down to the garbage. I wanted nothing to do with these plants being in the I had just threw a tomato down onto the driveway because there were bugs (STINK BUGS! on our balcony! almost in our house!) on it.

I basically ran the pots through our house, down a flight of stairs and onto the driveway; however, not before I shook the living HELL out of them while on the balcony (to make sure I wasn’t bringing bugs into our house). Lucy thought I was fucking crazy. Last year I just threw the pots directly into the garbage bin from the balcony (I think this might have been, um, the best idea ever).

Lucy’s always been kind of interested in the balcony, but now she can actually go and sit out there and enjoy the (lack of!) sunshine. At first, she hated it. She stood at the door and panted for a good 20 minutes.

Now? She’s loving it outside on the balcony.

I’m loving not looking at the dead plants on our balcony anymore. I’m not loving that I’m going to be forever looking for bugs that migrated during the move.

Jumping off the Bandwagon

Ok, it’s not really a bandwagon. And I don’t think I can call it a diet (even though it really is). “Lifestyle” might be a better phrase. Either way, I would give anything (ok, almost anything) to be able to eat the pepperoni pizza that’s in our refrigerator right now.

I hope Matt will understand when he wakes up for his breakfast pizza (or whatever) and um, well, there’s a lot less pizza than when he went to bed.

A girl has her needs, ok? Mine just happen to include pizza and breads of all types.

Gluten Free Photo Contest

I’m pretty much in love with this picture (and the recipe), so when Simply … Gluten-Free announced a gluten free photo contest, I know that I had nothing to lose in entering. So, here is my entry …