Blog.

I feel like writing a blog today
even though I have nothing to say.
I could talk about fish, I could talk about whey,
besides, who reads this blog anyway?

Yesterday I got a new chair
It was out by the garbage, but looks rather fair
I always wanted one that was shaped like a square!
I hope my husband don't know I found it there.

Sunday I played with all the rats,
I fed them, and held them, and hit them with bats.
I didn't really, it just rhymes, fats,
slats, flats, mats, cats, acrobats.

This is the end of my useless blog
but it was fun, and I used my nog
I can't wait till it rains, so I can catch a frog
but for now I'll play with my dog.

Poverty.

Michael and I were married at 21.  Both of us were 21.  I had a head start on him, (which ended up being useless, because what does an Associates of Arts get anyone these days?) and he was fresh off of his mission, with almost zero work experience, trying to find a job that respected a resume stating: "Two years of Volunteer service."

We moved into our 419 square foot home, with what little we had.  Michael was still wearing clothes from high school (my favorite states, "I love Lakeside Football, but I came to see the band," depicting a pumped up football player, with steroid patches and all, biffing it on his face), while I made a poverty-pact with him, to stop buying new clothes.

Everything we owned was thoroughly loved (meaning worn) hand-me-downs.  We took a queen size mattress from his brother, who left on a mission.  We got a set of green corduroy couches from my parents, who had purchased the set for $200 at a second hand store several years before. We stole hampers from our parent's homes (My laundry hamper was always labeled "Serena's" so I'm pretty sure it was legit).  We furnished the corner of our home meant for dining with a small table left out beside a dumpster, whether left dead, or hoping for a new life, we could never be sure.  But it fit in the 7' by 5' spot nicely.

All of these things have been complete blessings in our lives.  However, since the time we first moved in together, the whole dining room idea has been abandoned, with the dining table being amputated to become a coffee table.  The mattress has been flipped several times to avoid wearing our body shapes into the foam indefinitely, and the couch has become a deep cavern, in which only the bravest of souls can find their way out of after a good movie, or serious nap.  At this point, I am convinced Access must have a qualifying detail about the amount of second-hand furniture in ones home, at least under a Chiropractors Only plan.

When Michael and I were planning on getting married, we often (meaning always) were blessed (meaning smothered) with good advice.  My favorite bit was, "You're going to be really poor the first little while, but that's going to be the best time of your life.  You really grow together when you've got nothin."  Cynical as I may sound, it is unreservedly true. The moments when we stress about having nothing, are the moments we realize we have everything.  Even though climbing out of the couch is a two person ordeal, and our teflon has been previously scratched, our marriage is stronger than ever, and our love never lacks.  It is great.

Michael.

I'd like to take a moment and credit my husband.  He is incredible.  This guy has hardly been home from his mission for a year, and he's working pretty much full-time, and going to school full-time, and he's a full-time husband!  This guy does so much in a day, sometimes I can't even believe he's real.  Today he's taking his finals, then heading off to work for a 7 hour shift, and we won't see each other until 10:45 at night.  A normal day follows something like this:

1. 7:30am Wake Up
2. 8:00am Leave for School
3. 8:40am - 2:30pm Classes
4. 3:00pm - 10:30pm Work
5. 10:45pm - 12:00am Spend time with Wife
6. 12:00am Recharge. Repeat.

This man is just incredible.  He deals with so much all day, gets good grades, works so hard he receives constant kudos from his boss, and then comes home to me.  He comes home excited to sit down and relax, play with the dog, and watch TV.  But then there's me.  Raging hormones and all, I hug him, kiss him, get him a drink, and by the time the night is through I've fallen apart about at least two meaningless things, used a roll of toilet paper blowing my nose, and downed half the chocolate in the house.  And what does he do?  After his long day, without a break or a rest, he holds me.  He tells me everything is going to be alright.  He tells me I'm beautiful.  He gets me another roll of toilet paper.  He comforts me, patiently, until I am calm.  Then he straightens the sheets, fluffs my pillow and tucks me in.  Sometimes he comes straight to bed, and other times he takes a moment to straighten up the house, finish the dishes in the sink, or make sure I have clothes ready for the next morning.    Either way, he always gives me a kiss before I fall asleep.  And before he leaves for school the next day, before I've even begun to stir, he always gives me a kiss on the cheek, and he's gone before I realize it's morning.  

Christ once asked, "What manner of men ought ye to be?"  

My husband answers that question every day.

Fluid.

Can I just start out by saying that for being made of 80% water, I am one big sissy.  And for that matter, so is my husband.  Think about it.  Every morning we wake up and we have to deal with so much fluid. Within the first 10 minutes of the day, what do you do?  You pee, you blow your nose (if you're not so lucky, you pick it), you brush your teeth and try not to drool everywhere, and you pick boogers out of your eyes (that is probably the least of our worries, thank goodness).  (If you'd like to add something to the list, comment, but I think my point stands.)  We wake up, possibly even in a puddle of drool (though I like to reserve it for a good nap) and we are bombarded with nasty, leaky, gooey, sticky fluids.  We're disgusting.  And on top of that, we're supposed to donate significant time of the day to making more fluids, specifically, eight glasses of it.


My mother used to always try to convince me to go into the nursing field.  "There's lots of jobs!" She'd say.  "It pays well!"  Well screw that.  I'd happily poke a hundred people with needles, but when it comes to the fluids, not a chance.  Same thing with dentistry.  "Be a dental assistant, or a hygienist, it makes great money and good hours!"  Drool.  That's all I have to say.

Nest Egg Spring Cookies

If you are lucky, you had a fabulous Easter holiday.  If you're smart you commemorated Christ with respect and reverence.  If you are healthy, you gorged yourself on goodies.  Oh, and if you're totally wise, you stocked up on mini Cadbury eggs before they all sold out this morning at half-price (I'm totally hitting that up later).
I bring up the need for Cadbury eggs, because this Easter, I came up with the most darling Nest Egg Cookie recipe.  I stocked up on mini eggs because it was SO GOOD I'm going to have to make more.

I have babies on the brain.

(By the way: revel in this moment when I get girly, and my satirical-writer-ego sits in wait.)

So these cookies were super duper easy to make, and totally cute and good.  (Unfortunately, I find that the cuter something is, the less good it is. Fondant. Point proven.)  These are super yummy.

Ingredients:
Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookie mix (Or plain Chocolate Chip mix)
Oil or Butter
Eggs
Sweetened coconut
Cadbury mini eggs
Mini muffin pan

Super Simple Execution:
1.  Follow regular instructions on cookie mix package to make cookie dough.
2.  Grease mini muffin pan (unless non-stick).
3.  Roll dough into balls just smaller than 1 tbsp.  They should fill the mini muffin pan cups halfway.
4.  Roll dough balls in coconut, making sure to coat evenly, and thoroughly.
5.  Place coconut-covered dough into mini muffin pan cups.  If desired, press a tiny bit of coconut onto top of dough, for extra texture.
6.  Press a finger print into the center of each cookie.
7.  Bake cookies at 375˚ for 5 minutes, or until coconut is golden.
8.  Remove from oven, and immediately press Cadbury mini eggs into cookie centers.  Press in rather deep, otherwise eggs will fall out of the nests when cooled.  This step must be done quickly.  I made my husband help.  Alternate use of one or two eggs for variety.
9.  Let cool.
10.  Share.  If you want to.

Clues.

So there's one thing that has grown to make me absolutely crazy about being a woman.  First of all: We have so many sensations!  This whole cycle business fills our daily life with so many pains; Stabbing pains, deep throbbing pains, soreness, aching pains, head aches, belly aches, not to mention all the unmentionables that go along with it all.  Secondly: If you're looking for clues about being pregnant, all these very prominent discomforts, that should be (and are) considered as signs of pregnancy, are completely and utterly useless.  If you flip through any informational guide about fertility you'll find some sort of chart that reads as follows:

Signs of Pregnancy:

• Abdominal pain (also caused by impending menstruation).
• Sore breasts (also caused by menstruation).
• Spotting (this may also be a cause of menstruation).
• etc.

So we have all these wonderful "green light" signs to know if we have yet conceived, but they might as well just be the green light to stock up on tampons.  Each month I have one or more of these symptoms more or less, and in my impatience, I stock up on everything.  You should see the 16-year-old cashier's face when he rings out maxi pads, panty liners, tampons and a couple pregnancy tests all at once.  You should probably not see my face when I'm trying to decide which to use first.  Anyways, I'm sure we all wish that there was just a big flashing light on our cervix that said, "You did it! You're pregnant!"  Unfortunately, the best option we have is to wait nine months and see if a baby pops out.  Good luck, ladies.

Blah.

Blah: adj. The often overwhelming lack of excitement, desire or care of anything; The common case of Blah can be easily identified by use of the phrases, "hm," "mmhm," "uh," and "huh" in place of full sentences, or even basic words in general.  In fact, during a strong case of Blah, language skills are activated solely by the amount of chocolate consumption, but usually only %6 of the time is full language use restored.  Communication may increase upon use of other variables such as 1) quality of chocolate, 2) quantity of chocolate, 3) home-made-ness of chocolaty goodness, and 4) the Cadbury egg.  Other symptoms of a case of Blah: Excessive sleeping and frowning; a lack of appetite (exception of chocolate), also a lack of energy, interest, and/or blinking.  TV viewing and pointless crying may also exceed regular expected amounts.  How to treat a case of blah: Buy chocolate.  If you are feeling these symptoms personally: a) get someone to buy you chocolate, or b) steal your husband's.  He didn't need it anyway.