Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Far From It

He's supposed to wean himself off of crutches, but limping around the apartment is different than the long strides of the Saturday-shopping-minded so when we split ways in the middle of Target you can bet I was a tad worried. He hobbles, this handsome husband of mine. I spied him limping out of the personal hygiene aisle- a bag of mixed citrus and a pair of toothbrushes in one hand, a crutch in the other. His eyes were a little tired and his mohawk is too fuzzy.

We're what The Cowboy would call "takin' 'er easy". Mr. E's on a strict regimen of icing, anti-clotting aspirin and a narcotic that alternates between making him high and making him emotional. So you could say that Valentine's weekend was pretty fun.
He rules from the chaise- as un-tyrannical as the sick can be, though perhaps that's more a testament to my expert "sick-station building" than it is to his demeanor. Ottomans have been converted to a bedside table to hold pills, liquids, electronics and snacks. Crutches are within reach, the ice machine is fed regularly and the Playstation controllers are in constant charging rotation. We've even extended the TV from the wall (thank god for Costco wall-mounts).

I think I was more worried about the surgery than he was but it was over faster than I thought, he has more range of motion than either of us expected and despite the nearby pharmacy's attempt to blackmail us with his meds we're taking fewer pills than expected and feeling only slight discomfort but no pain. Can you play Mama Bear for your husband? Because I did this week.

So when he finally begged to get out of the house we decided to skate through Target for essentials. We're on a "no-spend" month after fantastic success last month, so our normal "buy-the-store approach" is curbed both by financial and physical necessity.

There he was, at the opposite corner of the store, shuffling his way towards where he knew I'd be. There may have been a few old ladies gently nudged out of the way with my cart, but I'll tell you what: I passed up those discounted chocolate covered Peeps like I didn't even see them.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Rampin' Up

Now I don't feel quite so weird complaining about the rug burn on my back (ahem) as I've been moonlighting as Mr. E's deadweight dummy for a month now.
In under two minutes, Mr. E is expected to sprint 200 yards, drag a 160 lb dummy, scale a 6 ft wall, run through a simulated tight corridor without losing his balance or touching the wall, run over un-evenly spaced railroad ties, cross a 4 inch wide balance beam and hop two 2-ft obstacles.
I have never been more proud of that smug face.
We have less than a week to go until the actual test, but things are looking pretty good. A little too good, actually. All of a sudden we're juggling knee surgery and the possibility of police academy! 

When did we get so old? All of a sudden it's surgeries and enrolling for 401(k)s around here. Please tell me it's cooler than it sounds or at least pass over the kool-aid ya'll are sippin'. Oh, is it prune juice flavored?​ We hear that has health benefits or something...​

Monday, February 2, 2015


"Oh, that's so cute, you guys match."
We exchanged looks and smiled.
Not this again.
We look awesome.
There's just something about dressing up that lends a sense of gravity to a situation. Even if that situation is watching old men in tiny rooms perform sleight of hand on tipsy audience members. We scored a visit to the Magic Castle last weekend and it brought back all sorts of memories. Mostly multi-colored spongy memories- Mr. E's favorite trick.
Of course, I'm partial to spongy memories too- just before Mr. E proposed with a flash and a bang on the beach he ramped up the excitement with some sponge bunnies.
We laughed and danced and ate and drank our way through the crowded corners of the Castle- photography strictly prohibited, unfortunately.
We learned some things:
-Whiskey sours are amazing.
-Irma, the playing piano, truly knows all songs.
-Uber is the most amazing service in LA.
-People still comment on the fact that when I put on a dress Mr. E's tie is guaranteed to coordinate.
Like that was new or something?

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Crossing Things Off

There's a list of 101 things to do with your significant other that takes up space on my fridge, a constant reminder to enjoy each other's company, to be irreverant and spontaneous and childlike when the mood strikes. We've crossed out a couple lines, things like... 
 -Perfect your guacamole making skills
 -Teach her how to build a fire (or him as the case may be)
 -Build a fort
 -Get lost on purpose
 -Have a spa day at home 
We've added some notes, crossed out others (get tattoos of each other's names?! go sky-diving?!) and I love to really look at it every few months to see how our relationship has changed.

I realized that we're tackling another line, number 25...."Go on a health kick together" 
This has been on my radar for a while and I've implemented it in smaller ways- reducing the amount of bread we buy, adding veggies to most of our meals, reducing the Nestle drumsticks...but we've rarely had the motivation to try anything drastic. Like...working out, for instance.

Well, Dan dug deep and found his motivation and now there's a goal in mind- a 2 minute physical assesment and 6 months of physical training in the Orange County Police Academy! And if there's anything more motivating to work out than the fact that your husband is trying to become a police officer, I'd like to know. Because I could use it.

So now we're really focused on what we're eating, and how often we're walking. Hiking three times a week. Walking at least 2 miles if we're not hiking. He's running on his own and the pull up bar is seeing a lot of use.

My job is sort of inherently mobile and I had the bright idea that I could use some of the 20-30lb boxes as weights if I was getting really desperate. So while everyone was on break and grabbed a box and lifted it over my head, only to hit my forehead as it came tumbling out of my hands. Unevenly distributed weight can do that when lifted abruptly.

I am not a smart woman. Though maybe I'll be a little more toned....

Monday, January 19, 2015

Protein Packed

There was already a line three people deep at the deli counter. And these people meant business- hickory smoked, cajun-style, all-American business. Mr. E, ever the carnivore, was unfazed and stood in line.

This week we're shopping at a new-for-us grocery and we found ourselves...with a lighter bill. And healthier eating habits. Eating better starts with buying better and all the tips and tricks to buying the right foods at Ralphs just didn't stick. I tried to keep to the outside aisles (meat, dairy, produce...and wine) because you get less processed foods there, right? But I was still straying into enemy territory to grab pasta sauce or toilet paper and finding myself face-to-face with cheesy crackers and boxed dinners. I throw them in because ease-over-nutrients, amirite?

Well if Mr. E was intent on eating cleaner in preparation for some upcoming physical changes, then just call me Support System. So we ditched bright lights and brightly colored packaging for the bulk bins and abbreviated aisles. Sprouts is like Trader Joes save the tiny parking lot and inflated egos. Well, maybe some of the egos are least one third of the store is wine.

I was perusing their bread selection- rosemary sourdough, anyone?- when Mr. E dumped his packages unceremoniously into the cart.

"Do you want to know how much deli meat I got?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"I didn't know how much to order. So I ordered the same weight as the guy in front of me..." He trails off as the recent thump-sound finally clicks in my brain. I peer into our cart.

There, nestled amidst the tiny bags of veggie chips, squeezing the life out of our poor clementines, is an almost three pound weight of sliced turkey.

I look back at my husband, who shrugs.

"I've never ordered from a deli counter before."

We've eaten sandwiches at least once a day for the last week and a half.

Monday, January 12, 2015


How are your neighbors?

Do you know?

Are you friends? Landlord-hating-buddies? Passive-aggressive door-slamming competitors?

Do you...accidentally listen to their middle of the night fights while giggling in the bathroom because their window is open?

During a lull in History Channel's Vikings, (pleasegowatchthis) we heard it....

A theme song we know by heart.
how i met your mother
This show was an integral part of our dating years. It was something we could always come back to- laughing at Barney's attempts to pick up chicks, laughing at Ted's inability to understand anything about anybody, laughing at how close Lily and Marshall's relationship was to our own...

But we have so moved past this show.

Only to have it repeated four to five times a night. Every night. On the other side of our couch wall.

Every so often Mr. E will come in as I'm getting ready for bed and shrilly whisper, "They're watching ANOTHER one."

We smile and laugh and wonder how long it will take them to please finish.

We've moved from Vikings to Planet Earth to Friends. And then late one night, we heard it....

No one told you life was gonna be this waaaaaaaaayyyy....

Dan ran into the bedroom with some serious eyebrow game: "They're watching Friends! Those BITERS."

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Year's End

We have a cherished New Years Eve tradition of forgetting to count down the last ten seconds of the year. This year we didn't disappoint.
There's something about ringing in the New Year completely by accident- being so caught up in our conversation and our friends and our card game and our drinks that I can't possibly keep an eye on the clock. When I do check the time- usually the microwave or the oven because analog clocks are terrible timekeepers- I'm either ten minutes too early or 30 minutes too late.
So we're sitting at a dining table, sliding playing cards across the holiday tablecloth and trying to remember the rules to a game only one of us has played before. We're two or three drinks in, we've just finished home-cooking one of the best meals we've ever made (carne asada, homemade Ceasar salad, roasted rosemary and thyme potatoes and carrots in case you were wondering) and the heater has made us completely forget that it is currently 26 degrees outside and snow is on the ground. The dogs are blessedly quiet (though that's not an anomaly for Ripley) and the jazz station we've turned on is cranking out the perfect soundtrack for lulling us to sleep through the year change.

One of us chances to look up and all of a sudden we're screaming. It's 11:59 and we are going to miss it. All the carefully prepared champagne (because if not now, when?) and grapes to symbolize our good months and toasting is going to be late and at least two of the four of us are really only awake for this singular reason.

So Mr. E goes to pop the champagne and Oliver is bringing out yet another flight of glassware and I'm hiding under the counter with my back turned because I have a fear of loud noises (or fear of the anticipation of loud noises, whichever sounds cooler) and in the bustle we missed it.

But it doesn't matter.

Because this year is full of anticipation.

Because this year we have goals.

Because this year is the year we enjoy.

And we're off to a pretty good start- snow on the ground, greasy pizza in town, pre-released movies for Oscar-judging and endless card games in a year-end vacation in the mountains of Idyllwild.

My word for this year is enjoy. What's yours?