Signs You've Hit the In-Law Jackpot:

• You arrive home from work to find MIL making chocolate chip cookies from scratch
• They don't mind you watching Lost and Dancing with the Stars on the one family television despite not having any previous involvement with the shows
• They create early Easter Egg hunts in your house with very challenging egg locales which lead to victorious yet exhausted married couples:

• They see your blog post about Pajama Jeans and buy them for you for your birthday

In case it was unclear, The Hubs' parents did all these things. And more. But let's focus on the final item, shall we?

PAJAMA JEANS! You are mine!

And they arrived in perfect timing, because they finally showed up the last evening before Judy's departure. Here, for your viewing pleasure, is a picture slideshow of how the process went.

Receiving the package. Hoping PJS are inside.

They are! They are inside!

Modeling product, both before and after putting on the free t-shirt that came with PJs:

Don't they look just like jeans? Michael thinks so. Now the question is whether or not Pajama Jeans fits into my work's policy on "Casual Fridays."

In Law Visit Day Two

I don't know if you'd heard, but Coral was the color to be wearing Sunday morning. And I take my matching seriously. And in case you were wondering, Fred's mug says "Goddess" on it.

We went to the Farm at South Mountain. This is such a charming little place. It's got an outdoor patio cafe, but it's also a working farm. So they had crops that you could walk through, stalls with produce for sale, and little areas where you could buy and sell crafts.

Seems like Fred enjoyed it, eh?

Later, we all watched Minute to Win It. If you remember from my earlier post, I really like this show. One of the tasks was to balance three golf balls on top of each other. You have ONE MINUTE TO WIN IT!

Well, I thought this seemed like an impossible task. But the guy on TV did it, and so did Michael!

Are you impressed? I am.

Take a Hike

The first full day that Michael's parents were in town, we decided hike South Mountain. Check out this Mountain Man:The first half mile or so was easy going, but it soon turned into Cliffhanger-esque peaks.
I love meeting other people on hiking trails. Please keep in mind that Michael and I are capable hikers, but by no means professionals. We can get up and down the hill, but aren't the type to carry Camelbacks or jog down the face, doing a strange little dance trying to navigate around slower-goers. Meeting serious hikers on the trail isn't usually possible because they're so intent on keeping pace, getting a workout, etc. On Saturday, however, we met the funniest group of randoms on the trail with us. Hiking up a trail while huffing and puffing is only made funnier by making jokes about your struggles with people equally not in shape.

Can you believe Judy hiked the whole way in her New Balance slip-ons!?!
Here's us at the top! We had a nice view of Phoenix and Ahwatukee.

Sweet Victory!

So on the way back to the car we came across the largest dog we'd ever seen. So large we asked if Michael could take his picture with him. Here he is in all his 200 lb glory. Can you imagine having to scoop up that backyard?

Onesie Pun.sie

I don't know about you, but after giving birth, I don't think I'd want my newborn advertising that his mom is a whale.
In other news, YAY! My In Laws are in town! If you don't hear from me in the next few days it's because we're all too busy running around town sipping margaritas and touring the best that Phoenix has to offer.

The Icing on the Cake

Have you heard about my obsession with sweet treats?

I’ve been working with some others at the office to coordinate a mini baby shower for my coworker, Remi, who is due next month. Problem is, our office often feels a little empty since people are always gone at meetings, out of town, speaking engagements, etc. So we decided to merge the baby shower in with another office meeting to have the most possible people in attendance. The most convenient meeting: Sexual Harassment Training.

That’s right. A Sexual Harassment/Baby Shower. It’s a natural match.

Michael got me a set of cake decorating tools for my birthday. I love them. I’ve got dyes, piping bags, flat-faced spatulas, icing tips and more. So naturally I volunteered (demanded) to make the cake for the shower. I was so excited to make a cake that looked like a baby. But after finding out that Remi doesn’t really like cake, and prefers pudding pie, my hopes and dreams were dashed. But my baby cake dream would not lose its grip on me.

So I made both.

Does the baby cake kinda look like a very bald, very cold (but content) old man to you?

I faced a matter akin to Sophie's Choice in whether to post the picture of Remi cradling the cake like a baby, or the one of her gleefully digging in. Once again, I decided too much cake is better than too little.

Coworkers Ashley and Rosie wanted to get in on some picture action. I can't be sure, but I think they liked the cake.

Now the question is, what kind of holiday do I need to invent next to give me a reason to make another cake?

Tipping the Scales

When we weren't out partying like it was 1999, last weekend was mostly spent getting things done around the house. We finished painting a room, but I'm going to wait to post 'after' pictures until we get more furniture in there.

We also headed up to Fountain Hills to see my mom and look at some furniture. We ended up buying a dresser from a Craigslist posting, and it is currently standing lonely in our garage after its final coat of paint from last night. While we were up there, we went out to lunch by the Fountain.

We had a rather unpleasant experience at a place that used to be called the Overtime Sports Grill, and now I believe is called the All American Sports Grill. It was a gorgeous Arizona spring day. People were falling all over each other to sit on the patio overlooking the Fountain, ready for a great meal and ... terrible service.

We waited For.Ev.Er to place drink orders, receive drinks, get refills, be served the wrong food. But the food was good and the view was even better. All of this would have been fine if not for the Ordeal with the Check.

Let me say right now that it is almost without exception that I tip 20%. I've been a server, I know what it feels like to get a dollar tip, or nothing at all. I know what it's like to have tips be your main source of income, since you're only actually being paid $2.23 an hour. So yeah, a part of me thinks that servers would be happy to get a 20% tip from my bill because I was always happy to get one.

Sunday was one of those very rare times when I/we considered leaving less. The service was just that bad. Not only were our very polite requests not being met, ("Um, that Diet Coke, remember? Could I get a refill please?") but they were met with quasi-rudeness. They weren't even that busy! We were pretty surprised when the bill came out with 20% automatically added for tip. For a three person table. Unheard of!

Under normal circumstances, we probably would have just paid the 20%. But since the service was so poor, I guess we just wanted to point out to management that it's not okay. They informed us that they just tacked on the tip to make it easier for servers since it was so busy that day. Michael reported this news back while I glanced around at some empty tables. The problem was that the servers probably got so sloppy because they knew they were already getting 20% tips! They had nothing to prove, nothing to earn, since they were already getting a pretty generous tip!

How much do you tip?

Minute to Win It

The mood is tense. The crowd is screaming. The music is blaring. The lights burn hot on the skin of the one contestant at center stage. Everything is on the line. It's all or nothing. We all wait. With the eager intoxication of competition, we all watch...

... as a woman uses twenty marbles to knock over a pencil standing on end ten yards away.

She has a minute to win it.

Oh, dear Lord, but this show is ridiculous. SO WHY DID I LOVE IT SO MUCH?

This show has people performing the strangest, most pointless tasks. But when the poor woman was on her third and last attempt trying to grab two rubber balls around the stage while blindfolded, I was almost shaking on the couch sending her mental waves, to the left, curse you! To the left!! Her determination in plotting out her attack, the quiet moment that passed between host and contestant ("You can do this. You know you can do this."), the short huffs of breath just before her minute (TO WIN IT) began.

Something about this show is just something I want to be a part of.

The complete randomness of the tasks (keep two feathers in the air for a full minute using only your breath) makes you want to see them accomplished. Makes you want to try it yourself in the comfort of your living room. I know I'm not the only one. You could have heard a cricket chirp in the room after the woman couldn't keep her feathers up. People were on their feet screaming their brains out, and I can't blame them for a second. Lord knows I screamed "SHE DID IT!" after the previous task with such gusto that Michael was startled in the other room.

A part of me thinks that this is just good clean fun to help me wind down my weekend before returning to work. Another part of me thinks that this is one step in the direction of mindless TV along the lines of Requiem for a Dream.

Either way, I'm planning on tuning in next Sunday night to watch a guy spend sixty seconds trying to balance three golf balls on top of each other. Are you?

The Midnight Oil

We went out last night. We got home at 2 am!

Not that this is headline news or anything, but for us it has become the exception rather than the rule. Maybe we're just not huge 'going out' people? Maybe we're just so tired from our work week that, even on the weekends, we just like calling it an early night? Maybe we're boring married people?

I'm twenty-four years old. I know that many (I hesitate before saying 'most') people my age are out at the bars and clubs every Thursday-Saturday night, viewing Snookie from Jersey Shore as their lifestyle inspiration.
The truth is, I'm thrilled not to be in that scene every weekend. Sure, I get my urge to have a GNO (one's in the works for some friends and I to go to First Fridays soon), or to go dancing. But I'm pretty happy to move away from that being my weekly agenda. Will you answer my new poll?

Last night was fun! One of Michael's friends was in town with her boyfriend. We picked them up at their hotel downtown and drove into Old Town Scottsdale to see the sights. For the record, I saw plenty of Snookies out there. We ate some Malee's on Main, then walked over to the Rusty Spur. We love the Spur for a hole-in-the-wall non-Scottsdale-esque bar in Scottsdale, but there just wasn't any room to squeeze in there. Plus the vibe of the night was a little lower-key, so we walked over to Kasmierz.

Do you know what the coolest thing about Kasmierz is? There is no outward signage indicating that a dark, cool wine bar is inside. If you don't know it's there you'll walk right past it. It's not flashy, it's not loud. And just walking through the door makes you feel like you're part of an exclusive group of privledged individuals who even know the place exists.

We had a great time hanging out with Amelia and Alex. We didn't even realize how late it had gotten 'til we were getting ready to leave. Not bad for a couple of boring married people, eh?

Weekend Update

Last weekend was altogether too short, methinks.

We had a good one. First, we started work on our third bedroom. We had a really ugly and thin chair rail taken down, that part of the wall re-surfaced, and started painting! Do you think it’s inevitable that when you buy a home, you automatically think that they were morons? Nothing against our previous owner, but he was really careless with some jobs around the house. We think our previous owner must have been against painter’s tape on principal, because the outlets have paint smeared on them and the window rims are also covered, as is one unobtrusive yet still annoying patch of now-blue gray carpet.

The worst part is this – I KNOW I took a “before” picture of this room. I just don’t know where it is. I’ve looked on a total of 3 computers, plus a look-from-afar of my mother in law of her computer in Indianapolis! I fear I might just have to settle for a lonely “after” picture of this room. We’re continuing work on the 3rd bedroom, but it’s now mostly just finishing touches, art and decorations in time for the visit from Michael’s parents at the end of the month.

I was so glad to spend time with family and friends this weekend. On Saturday we did a group celebration of 3 birthdays in the family – me, Shannon and Kai. The family got together at Caffe Boa with two other couples – JP and Shan brought their friends Bethany and Vince, and we brought Amy and Erik. Good food, good wine, good company. And check out this cheeseballs face:

Do you like Michael's new ear piercing?

(JUST KIDDING, Judy and Fred! Only an optical illusion.)

The next night we got together with Jaye, Derek, Lyndsey and Tim at the Yardhouse. Although it was sort of to celebrate my belated birthday, I wasn’t allowed to drink! I’d left my ID in my purse from the night before. Oh well, no celebratory toasts for this birthday girl. But I did get a birthday Lemon Soufflé. Yum.

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

Do you enter drawings for prizes very often? No? I don’t either.

I was informed over the weekend that I was the sole winner from a Chick-fil-A drawing! My big prize: 10 FREE MEALS! I was almost bizarrely happy about this.

When I received the congratulatory phone call, I could barely even remember entering the drawing. I was only in this particular Chick-fil-A because it was within walking distance of where my car was being serviced. While waiting for a scrumptious chicken biscuit, I meandered over to the Condiment Counter and must have entered my name, because I won.

Because my husband is such a dream, and because he works closer to this fil-A location, and because he charges only a small fee for his services (10% of winnings = 1 meal), I asked him to pick up the coups (as in, ‘coupons,’ not a governmental overthrow) during or after work. When he picked them up today (after hearing from the Marketing gal that I was rather excited about this contest) he gave me this very important information:

It was not a random drawing. It was a contest to guess how many Valentine’s Day hearts were in a huge canister, and whoever guessed closest won.

Glorious Triumph! Don’t you feel that this informational snack makes this whole thing more spectacular?! To have earned those meals makes them so much more satisfactory! To have spoils thrust upon me, not because of chance, but because of my cunning use of intellect!

QUESTION: Would you rather be extremely lucky or extremely skillful? (I won’t acknowledge your claims that guessing the number of Valentine’s Day hearts in a glass canister doesn’t exactly count as skillful, because I did have a strategy. Now that I’m reminded about the contest, I remember exactly how it went down. No, I won’t share my strategy with you, because I wouldn’t want to give you an edge as my future contest competition. Okay, fine, I’ll tell you. If you promise not to enter the same contests I enter. I took a roughly 1” cube of space and counted how many were in that space. I then used reason, judgment, and sorcery to decide how many square inches were in the canister. A X B = Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner. Walla! [That’s the country girl’s version of “voila,” if you didn’t know.])

I would rather be skillful. Because at least skill is dependable, luck might run out.

Cheers, Chick-fil-A at Mesa Riverview!

If it seems to you that this blog entry is a shameless plug for Chick-fil-A, YOU’RE RIGHT. I am being paid by them. In the form of all white meat chicken pieces, chicken biscuits and all the Polynesian Sauce a girl could dream of.

Scratch that. They aren’t paying me. I EARNED IT.

Third Time's a Parm

Because I was gone last weekend, Michael did the grocery shopping last week. Michael and I have very different styles of going grocery shopping. I attack with more of a meal plan approach, while Michael operates more of a random selection method. I'm not saying one is better than the other (mine totally is), I'm just sayin.

One of the items Michael chose was an eggplant. To be honest, I had almost given up on eggplant. I've made it two different ways at home (on the grill and an oven-fried technique that was a bit of a flop) and didn't like it either time. Michael claimed to have enjoyed it, but I had my doubts. Until he bought one this week, trusting its preparation to me.

So since we had an eggplant in the house, I thought it'd be nice to try to make eggplant parmigiana as one final attempt to reconcile my relationship with the purple wonder. I kept thinking it about it all week, but the stars just weren't aligning. One night Michael had a work dinner. One night I went to a play with Jaye (The Light in the Piazza - it was so fun!). One night I had to work late at a conference in town. So I jokingly hinted that Michael should make it, or we wouldn't have it at all. Truly, I was kidding.

So imagine my surprise when I arrive home to a husband cooking eggplant parmigiana from scratch! With the recipe book open and everything! *Swoon!*

True, he had only slightly over-cooked the first two pieces.

Causing the kitchen filling up with smoke, explaining why I saw the windows open from outside.

But, let me tell you, Eggplant and I have reconciled. We've made amends. We've put our differences behind us (on my part, a snobbish prejudice; on it's part, an odd bitter and metallic taste) and become besties. How could you not, with a scrumtulescent meal like this one:

Gather Round! Big News!

We've gone INTERNATIONAL!!!

I signed up for Google Analytics so I could see how many people are visiting my blog. So I've been shuffling round to their site every few days to check. One interesting little feature is that it shows you a little map of the globe and where your readership is coming from. I normally just overlook it because (obviously) all of my readers (which, before getting Analytics, I thought numbered in at 3) are in the US.

Well today Canada was lit up! I officially have one person who read my blog in Canada!

First stop Canada, next stop the world!

I can't really think of many people in our nothern neighbor who would be interested in what I write about. So I have no idea who this Canadian is, or if s/he stumbled upon my blog by accident and thereafter scurried off to go gloat about gold metal count or something. But I'm excited nonetheless.

Canadian: Ahoy! Welcome! I really like your National Anthem. Michael and I couldn't get it out of our heads during the Olympics.

San Antonio Revisited

Let's just say that, after my conundrum known as trip home, I'd be okay not taking a flight for a few more months. We arrived at the airport around 1pm Texas time and I arrived in my home at about 1 am Arizona time. This was after a day of exhibiting. We had a lot of delays and a lot of airport food. (Listen. If you are going to be in Houston any time soon, I highly recommend the BBQ food at the Pappa's place in the E terminal. I am NOT kidding. That food was better than the food we ate at a very popular restaurant on the river walk.)

I had a good time in San Antonio. The conference was actually well-attended and we got a lot of good leads.

I did go on a River Cruise! (Alone - my boss opted out) It was really nice, though we were packed like sardines.

And I went to see the Alamo, despite a fellow exhibitor's recommendation against it. ("There's just nothing to do." Which is true, except to stand there and stare at it. Which I did.) I got reprimanded for touching the walls and for trying to take a picture, so I left in shame. The best part was reading Travis' last letter to the US Army for backup, saying that he "will never surrender!" (emphasis his)

I know Crockett is everyone's favorite, but I think Travis was hunkier.

If you can't read the engraving, that's Travis on the left and Crockett on the right. I don't know about you, but I'd choose a man in uniform over a man in suede fringe any day.

Though I doubt either brave leader would be happy about his fighters chatting so amicably with Santa Anna's troops! Definite side-eye for this, soldier!

That Train Keeps A-Rollin'

On Down to San Antone.

Johnny Cash was such a dreamboat. Don't you just love a man in black with a deep voice?

Greetings from San Antonio! I'm here for work; my organization is exhibiting at a conference for school curriculum development. We're staying at the Hilton Palacio del Rio, and I'll admit that I judged it upon first glance. Let's just say it didn't quite look like a Palacio ('palace', for mis amigos sin Espanol) from the outside. But inside, I found it cozy if a little out-dated, and the rooms are perfectly nice. I've got a deep and wide king-size bed to myself. I think my revelling in its vast expanses will last approximately 7 minutes until I start wishing the Hubs was there to steal my covers and poke me when I start elbowing him in my sleep.

The best part of my room is the view. We are staying right on the famous San Antonio Riverwalk. Just outside my balcony is this charming sight:

Note: I didn't take this picture, I found it on Google.

There are shops, bars and restaurants, but I'm most intrigued by the River Cruises that take place up and down this little diddy. I told my boss that I am going on a River Cruise with or without him.

One thing my boss and I noticed is that San Antonio doesn't seem like an over posh or nice town, the whole place has a general 'old' feel to it. But it's exceptionally clean (not counting the actual river water, which might or might not be radioactive). And that is what makes this town so nice.

Even the convention center is pretty!

Again, picture from Google

You can see one of the little River Cruise boats going up the river as it goes under the convention center. Do you think my boss would notice if I mysteriously disappeared on my way to the bathroom tomorrow and returned 45 minutes later with riverwind-swept hair and a dreamy expression?

What a Card

My birthday was yesterday! It got off to a wonderful start when the Hubs gave me a card first thing. Isn't it beautiful? The pretty colors, the different textures, the romantic writing inside. . .

Only... Here is a picture of my bulletin board at work.

Here's a close up.

Michael gave me the same card last year. The second I saw this year's card I started laughing because I instantly recognized it from the one in my office. The good news is that I held on to the card because I loved it so much. The bad news is that I'm now considering if Michael got a twofer deal on the cards and just didn't think I'd notice.

I'm kidding. Michael had no idea about the card double feature, and therefore responded with a "Birthday FAIL!" when I timidly told him about last year's card. He must REALLY feel those poetic words on the card if it called out to him two years in a row. I plan on cherishing both cards until the end of my days.

Michael told me he's going to go out and purchase every one of these cards out there so that he can give me this card every year for the rest of my life. I don't know how I feel about this.

We walked to a little hole-in-the-wall Indian food place for dinner, then walked to Baskin Robbins. (Do you know that there are people out there who just call it "31 Flavors"? Isn't that weird?)

Do you believe in the 'Save the Best for Last' method? I'm a large proponent of it. When I was little, I ate those Spaghetti-O's with Meatballs, and I would eat around the meatballs until I just had a bowl full of little lumps of mystery meat. And then I'd eat all the lumps at once! I'd sometimes do this with my Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream.

If I had done this last night, I would have only had four or five little lumps of dough in the bottom of my cup. I can imagine myself staring sadly down at the small collection. Needless to say, Baskin Robbins, I was disappointed in you. Luckily Michael let me have a few bites of his Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream, which he said was, "Like eating a piece of cheesecake on a cone," it was so full of cheesecake chunks.

We ended the night by watching Modern Family in our sweats, and the Hubs played with my hair. I know this doesn't sound like a very exciting birthday night, but it was perfect for me.

A Distinguished Fellow

Michael has glasses!

Aren't they sexy? He only has to wear them in scenarios of eye strain, like reading for long stretches, or working on the computer all day at work. In this case, we were in a movie theater with Amy and Erik going to see 'Shutter Island'.

Don't you think he looks like Clark Kent?

Or do you think he looks more like Harry Potter? Or Zach Quinto?

Please vote in my new poll over there ---->

Boot Scootin' Boogie

Our nephew, Kai, turns three on March 5th, but we were able to celebrate his birthday with him this Saturday. (Thank goodness - I'll be out of town next weekend). Shannon was the image of a composed mommy, juggling pizza slices, cups and tokens at Peter Piper Pizza.

Kai wasn't too thrilled at this point because he wanted to be off playing games. Can you blame him? I can't.

Although Kai couldn't exactly reach the pedals (an obstacle quickly overcome by Dad's help), he was a surprisingly good driver.

This is when I learned that Kai is what we like to call an "icing man." Please note the abandoned cupcake on his plate that has already been licked clean.

I thought about taking after my nephew to go in for a second cupcake, but I had to save my appetite for dinner. Michael, Mom, Dad and Dad's out of town guests went to Rustler's Rooste for dinner. Knowing that it was a western-themed joint, I was able to break out my cowboy boots!

If you've never been there before, it's a great time. They have a slide that you can take down to your table, or just for fun. Mom and I had to elbow some kids out of the way to get to the front of the line.

They also had some great live music, to which Michael and I were able to two-step to at the end of the night.