Falling in Love...with Football

It was almost fall the other night. I could taste it. Literally.

The hand-picked apples were simmering in their sugar and cinnamon syrup- turning just soft enough to be wrangled into a rose-shaped pie. JUST BECAUSE. The turkey breast was crackling in our stove and I smiled because I finally finally figured out how to best utilize this weird contraption called a bottom burner. Our potatoes were cooked to Eccles' home perfection- soft inside and crunchy outside, the closer to french fries the better.

These homegrown beauties soon became...

Don't be fooled, this isn't as difficult as it looks. Just time-consuming!

The pup was weaving her way through my legs, her small fuzzy body tickling my shins. She looks less scruffy after a shave and a bath, a mohawk trailing down her spine to match Mr. E. He's in the living room just behind me doing his best to multi-task: one eye on his boiling ears of corn, the other on the Colts and Broncos game. We've never splurged for cable, and this isn't even on for love of the game. 

It doesn't matter who's playing, what the score is or who just grabbed that touchdown- football is the sound of fall. Listening to Al Michaels and my mind instantly hits calm. When I was at my first quarter of college and away from home for the first time ever, anxiety hit me so bad I wanted to roll up in my bed and cry, trying not to hit my head on all my open textbooks. But my roommates were out and supposedly the TV was available to all so I tuned in to Monday night football and the calm that washed over me was instant. The soundtrack to my perfect days.

I barely even watch the games. It's on in the background, a soothing sound of whistles and 10 second sound bites, of cheering and announcements. "The best this season" and "Offsides, number ninety-four". Baking is easier, more focused when I can half-tune into NBC. Tidying is quicker when I'm sneaking glances at the latest commercials for game day feasts and tail-gating Americans.

We may have woken in the middle of the night to heavy humid temperatures this week and used the air conditioning more than we ever have before, but every few days when we wake up the sky is a grumpy gray and the mountains behind us are shrouded in fog. It's not cool yet, but it's coming. I felt gypped out of our sweater weather last year thanks to an 80 degree Christmas, but I have high hopes for the coming seasons.

The view from behind our building

In the meantime I'll be grabbing the last of the summer produce and freezer-jamming myself silly in an effort to preserve sunshine in a PB and J.

This is the most delicious apricot-cherry jam I've ever had. Or made.

Mr. E on Service

You might even find that you like it.

Over the past few years I have learned that often times doing something that makes my wife happy ends up making me happier. Last week I talked about making the bed. Well it turns out that by making the bed every day, I have become dependent on a made bed. I can’t get a good night’s sleep if the sheets haven’t been pulled and straightened and the pillows are neat.

Now, this isn't the best example, but I think you get the idea. Since the beginning of our marriage, Mrs. E always talked about getting a dog. I had a dog once… let’s just say we didn’t get along. I was never a dog person. I think it runs in my family because my Mom used to tell us that she was allergic, but really she just didn’t want one. I didn’t want one. I didn’t want the responsibility and I didn’t want the headache.

Mrs. E always tried to convince me by saying things like, “you’ll love a dog, you just don’t know it” or “it’ll help you with your anxiety.” Instead, I used excuses like “the landlord said no pets,” or “I don’t like dogs,” but eventually the idea grew on me. I was acting tougher than I am, because in reality I’m a big softy for animals.

So we went to the pound and adopted Ripley (named after Sigourney Weaver’s character in Alien, believe it or not). I wanted to make Mrs. E happy, but I honestly think I love that little ball of fuzz more than anyone else ever could.

Sometimes life’s greatest joys come from serving others. I’m telling you, make your spouse happy and the feeling will reciprocate.

Mrs. E was right, I haven’t felt lonely once since this little creature came into our lives.

Mr. E on How He Does What He Wants

If there is one thing I have learned about marriage is that it is much easier to be happy if you make your wife happy first. Here’s one way I do it.

Now, when it comes to bread winning, Mrs. E and I have sort of a tag team (but she has a little more endurance than I do so she spends the most time in the ring). That leaves a lot of household work for me to do, and I’m really not very good at that stuff. But when work in the film business is slow, I spend lots of time at home, so I need to pick up the slack.

On a given day, I rarely get all the things done around that house that I should. There are a LOT of dishes in the sink and maybe I don’t get all of them clean… or any of them. The floors are getting dirty, but we aren't having company over until the end of the week, so why clean them now if I’m going to have to do them again in a few days? It can wait, right? And the garage… that’s just too much organizing to do in one day.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting on the couch in my pajamas watching the soaps all day… I don’t wear pajamas and I prefer video games, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t want you to think that I’m lazy and that I don’t get anything done, I just want to let you know that sometimes there are days that you are more productive than others.

This is why I make the bed. Every day. Without fail. This is the constant that I give to my wife. So when she comes home from work and the house is messy, there’s no room to wash her hands in the sink, and the dog hasn’t been on a walk, I still have something up my sleeve. She will come into the bedroom to change and see that her place of relaxation is neat and waiting for her.

I make the bed so that when she ends her day and slips into the tightly made sheets, she will know that her husband thought of her while she was away.

Pros and Cons

I know this is a lot of home-related posting- but all of my craft projects are packed away! Besides, cooking and baking is more in the manner of "eat what's quick" lately, so bear with me.

After being in the new house for a month and some change, it's time to total the tally marks in favor and against this new apartment.

The stove clock is broken. We hit one o'clock four times a day.

This is actually dinner, guys.

There is only one bathroom. We might have cockroaches. But they're actually tiny cockroaches, only one at a time and only in the bathtub. They sort of look like Wall-E's buddy until they're squished. The steam from our shower sets off the fire alarm. There's a bathtub. With a seat. Aaaaand a scum ring I'll have to clean once a week.

Air conditioning.

Our drawers are too tiny for dividers. The hot water goes from "meh" to "sixteenth degree burns" in .6 seconds.

There is no room for our grill.

Our stuff is actually in three different places.

This is how I figured out my gallery wall....

It costs $11.50 to do all of our laundry for two weeks.

I am getting mad crazy organizing done, yo. Remember, this is what it looked like when we moved in!

 I love it, but now that the house is organized and put away, let's see about that job, shall we?

Dilemma Solved

Ask and ye shall receive.

A while ago I posted my decorating dilemma: how to hang my gallery wall in our new bedroom. After a few nights of rearranging and some very well-timed Pinterest pins (thanks, Jenny!), we slapped all those suckers on the wall!

No frames were harmed in the process, though our pride might be bruised.

I'm more of a "hang it then fix it later" type of gal, but this drives Mr. E batty. So to compromise I traced all of our frames onto packing paper and taped them to the wall so we could move them around as we pleased. No holes, no spackle, less mess.

The arrangement we decided to go with

Then, when you want to hang, add a little dab of toothpaste to the back of the frame where the nail should go, level and press against the wall. You get a dab of paste right where you need to hammer the nail with no extra holes.

That little blue dot is toothpaste

After a while I got a little toothpaste happy- where I was putting toothpaste willy-nilly on frames that actually had hangers...

But they're all finally up and frames aren't littering the floor anymore, so we're all good. Phew.

It's all about utilizing your space wisely in such a small apartment, so the opposite wall looks a little something like this...

Now if only it wasn't so freaking hot.

Instructions on How to Move

Now that I'm all unpacked (say whaaaaat?), here are my tips. From a self-proclaimed pro with too much time on my hands.

Moving isn't easy, whether it's down the street or across the state (or country), but there are some pretty simple rules to follow to keep the stress levels down at a manageable level. Think "Eat my Feelings" vs. "Pull my Hair Out"

1. Move alone
That's right, first rule of thumb is move by yourself. In fact, the more selfish you can keep this act, the better. Not only do you know where everything is, but you KNOW EXACTLY WHERE EVERYTHING IS. Who needs a detailed box-by-box list of what is packed where? Only you can be blamed for breaking that family-heirloom deviled egg platter you've never used.

The best way to do this is to make sure that your significant other is working 60+ hours a week, driving an hour to and from work so that he (or she) is really tired when they get home. That way you're both so exhausted from working (you're packing and they're job-ing) that the SO physically can't help. At least that's what he said.

2. Wait until the last second to paint
Come on. You've been staring at those walls for weeks now, knowing that they need to get done, but nothing burns the fire under your butt like working on a deadline. Put all of those procrastination skills to use so that by the end of your six-coat work out, you're STILL able to see the blue glow on the wall- and it's not the reflection from your smelly tarp/dropcloth either.

3. Make sure you watch the entire season of something
 It doesn't matter what it is. Anything. You need something on in the background while you "pack"- by yourself. So dig deep and watch that show that you've never seen all the way through. My personal favorite was Charmed- good grief those ladies can't act.

4. Move on a weekday
Tetris-skills can be used in everyday life, folks! So when your current landlord has a fumigation appointment on the first but you can't hire a truck or corral people to help out until the third, that's when you've got to get puzzle-solvin' smart. Figure out which of your things are the most important and pack your new car with those things.
The rest can sit out in the fumigated garage.
That has an unlocked half door entry visible to the street.
Awesome.

5. Lose your momentum
No, really. Lose it. Lose it like your middle school diary. Lose it like that first pound of the new diet. Lose it like your cookies on a roller coaster. Because there's nothing better than wallowing in the middle of a paint-scented room, knowing that the carpet needs cleaning, the clothes need to be packed and all of your foodstuffs need to be mobile in 36 hours. That's the best feeling in the world.

FYI, someone needs to come up with that sarcastica font, ASAP.

Decorating Dilemma

I'm reaching the end of my rope but, sadly, NOT the end of my frames. We have two huge empty walls in the bedroom and so many frames and pictures and art pieces I don't know what to put up and what to store.

I really liked the frames I had above the couch in the last house- hollow gray and white frames that graced our the altar at our wedding. It's just that sort of modern touch with sentimental value that I'm crazy about, but we have so many frames to choose from I am a little overwhelmed.

In an effort not to create a shotgun effect on the wall, I used the packing paper we had left over from moving to trace the frames and added the color in the middle- so I could eyeball my placements.

These are the two displays I have so far, but I'm open to suggestions! What do you think?

A little long on the wall and Mr. E wasn't crazy about the line.

Shorter on the wall and a little more compact, but the two sides mesh better.

Nails and Colgate Regular Paste

There's a ritual that occurs around 8pm every week night. Mr. E rattles the screen door and Ripley goes wild. Her tail wags so hard it carries the momentum of her hind legs so she essentially crab walks at high speed around the house, teeth chattering, waiting for him to open the door. When he does his face instantly lights up- it's only this once that I'll share that smile, the one that's meant for wives and significant others, the one that releases worries and cares in the comfort of home. He beams it at her in full force.

We meet eyes right before he does a nightly "sizing up" of the house. He's not looking at how much was put away today, or what chores I completed or what's unpacked. He's weighing which nightly decorating project he'd rather not do. I save the really important stuff for him so that when we sit down on the couch six months from now and he complains that our pictures are crooked or should be on the other wall, I can tell him that he had just as much say in it as I did. It's my ace in the hole.

Last night in particular we decided to decorate the desk- arguably one of the few areas in the house that's more "his" than "mine". He wants to decorate with action figures. I'd like to decorate with old cameras.

The issue is hanging. We suck at this like Olympic winter sports (come on, I'd rather watch the gymnastics than the skiing!).

We've tried eye-balling.

We've tried levelling.

We've tried measuring.

We've tried poking holes in paper where the approximate hooks are.

Two hours and eight taquitos later we're covered in drywall dust, smearing toothpaste all over our espresso wall cubes of varying sizes, balancing on tip toes and trying our best to reign in our tempers despite the fact that all we'd like to do is smash the damn cubes to pieces with the hammer. Oh, wait. Just me?

He's scowling and I'm swallowing "I told you so's" with a chaser of Moscato when we finally reach a consensus that you can't tell it's a tiny bit un-level anyways. We lock eyes for a second and I am reminded how incredibly lucky, blessed, and loved I am to have this man in particular by my side.

He destresses by playing a video game and I by reading and we're curled next to each other despite the heat, basking in each other's presence. I'll forget the next day is our anniversary and he'll forget to take out the trash like I asked him, but in the end it's details, details and our life is a bigger picture than we know.

Tomatillo Salsa

Is anyone else on a personal life quest to find the best salsa out there? No? Just me? Well that's okay. We'll fall on those swords salsa bowls like the martyrs chips we like to eat.

We've gone through quite a few different salsas in our time, young and inexperienced though we are. Fire-roasted, chunky, filled with veggies, more like ketchup, so hot you can't touch your nose, all shades of green, lime-flavored, now with mangoes, fresh from the garden and restaurant staples. Now, we can add making our own to the list.

Mr. E and I have this back-breaking addiction to lime. Can't get enough, squeeze it on everything to make it taste better (edamame, anyone?), drown it in juice and serve it up. I was singing to the salsa gods when the restaurant I briefly worked at had an amazing enchilada dish with tomatillo sauce- it was to die for. And then I got fired and now we hate them. I found a similar sauce at a different local restaurant and vowed that if THEY could re-create it, I could too.

I'm not sure I was entirely successful, but this salsa was pretty good all the same. I did a quick Google-search for green salsa and came across a Cafe Rio knock-off from Our Best Bites- great how-to there, too!

Green Salsa
2-3 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 large onion, minced
4-5 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
1 green pepper, chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded and membranes removed if desired (and I desire. Always.)
8 tomatillos, husked and quartered or halved
1/2 bunch cilantro, coarsely chopped
1 tsp. Kosher salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 1/2 tsp. cumin
4 c. chicken broth

2-3 Tbsp. sugar (optional and to taste)

Saute onions and garlic in a large pot until fragrant*. Combine tomatillos, cilantro and both peppers in the blender. If things aren't blending very well add chicken stock. 

Pour the tomatillo mix over the onions and add the rest of the ingredients. At this point I transferred to the crock pot to cook for four hours on low- I figured we liked slow-roasted stuff and there wasn't anything particularly raw in the mix, so I wasn't worried about thorough cooking. The mixture turns from a bright shamrock green to a deep Halloween-witch warty type of green and that's good.Serve with chips or on homemade enchiladas but make sure you make extra for your hungry father-in-law because he'll eat you out of house and home. At least he liked it. 

I really liked how much the chicken broth added to the salsa- not an ingredient I ever would have thought of. I think, in the end, there was too much chicken stock or not enough veggies on my end, so it was a little saucy and less chunky. Plus we could have always added more lime. The recipe says the tomatillo is enough, but I say never.

*In making this salsa I cried. Profusely. Mr. E is not an onion eater (of any kind, ever) so I've spent the last two years subbing out onions for radishes- similar texture, sometimes the same bite and not so bad! But I figured heck, it's salsa, you've gotta have the real thing. So in cutting an onion for the first time in 2+ years, that odor hit me like a ton of bricks. Mr. E walked into the room, glared at me and walked out again to leave me in a eye-leaking mess next to that damn onion. Once I started cooking them (and the garlic) it wasn't so bad, but it'll be a while before I try that again.

Link up! Wow-Us-Wednesday, Penny Pinching Party, Tutorial Tuesday, Not Just A Housewife,

DIY Phone Holder

I have sat on this project for a long time. I found it somewhere out there on the internet and I thought, "Well, gee, we go through a lot of lotion bottles. AND I have a tendency to lose my phone if we're traveling. So this is totally do-able!"

Well sure.

It takes one month to hold onto the mostly empty lotion bottle.
It takes another two weeks to cut the lotion bottle with a box-cutter (only because I'm a perfectionist and I like rounded edges).
Let it sit for two months in your craft box.
Take two weeks to choose which scrap of fabric you'll use.
Take two more weeks to sit the fabric and the bottle together in plain sight, hoping that this will encourage you. It doesn't.

I roughly traced the outline of the back of the holder and gave myself a little bit of room so I could fold back any extra fabric. In the same vein I traced the outline of the front part of the bottle, allowing extra to fold around the sides of the bottle and onto the back.
Keeping the fabric in place was really tricky. Of course I chose a really slippery fabric, so trying to stretch the piece so there were no wrinkles was a major pain. My saving grace was the sticky residue left over from when I peeled off the lotion bottle stickers. I could stick and stretch until I was ready to paint with Mod Podge.




















Most of my strokes were horizontal, both because it looked better and also because when I tried stoking vertically the weight of the brush and the tug of the fabric moved the whole gooey mess. 

There may or may not have been some choice words said. But, as always, I persevered  The back doesn't look fantastic, but the front was flat, and that's all that matters.

I did the front in the same way, but instead of gluing the allowance over the side, I folded it so there was a sort of hem around the cut edge of the bottle. Again, the sticky residue came to my rescue and I was able to fold and temporarily stick the hem to the bottle until I was ready to paste it down.

I think the fabric lost some of it's sheen when I glued it, but I didn't mind too much. The print was kind of bright and eclectic so you can't really see any of the imperfections.

Overall I'm not sure that I'll use this very often, but it was another project finished. At least it'll free up counter-space! :) 

Link up! Savvy Southern Style, Penny Pinching Party, Tutorial Tuesday!, Show Me What Ya Got!  

Home Alone

Husband,

Ripley and I missed you today. Though I think I missed you more than she did. We laid spread-eagle on the couch hoping to entice the cool air through our curtains and into the room. No such luck, but that may have been because she and I tried to compete for Biggest and Most Content Sigh. She won.

We spent a lot of time in the kitchen, too. This is to be expected when I need to use up 25lbs of flour before we move. Still not sure if we'll have a place to put food storage, so our bulk items may have to be used up in two months time. Of course, this is my favorite kind of challenge so while I made pizza crust (you're welcome) I tried a new recipe for oatmeal bread. Six hours of rising and waiting and failing to double its size later, I've deduced I hate making bread. Hate. It. Crusts don't count.

I did all the things around the house today that we keep meaning to do but never get around to. You know, the ones that I've put on list after list in an effort to motivate myself (and you!) but it never really happens. What do they say about doing the same thing over again and expecting different results? Oh, stubborn, that's right.

When I couldn't handle Ripley's doe eyes one more minute (even after the bone she ate in 10 minutes flat) we went for a walk. You always start out, "Ripley! Do you..." and she cocks her head to the side, pupils wide, tail paused for a split second until she can't take the excitement anymore and she bounces off your shins and slides on the kitchen rug in her effort to get outside. We don't even need to finish the sentence.

Around Gilbert's house, past the house we're sure sells drugs, the newly renovated dream house I wish they didn't paint such an atrocious yellow, the sidewalk with the nocturnal cockroaches and the stoplights that are always out. It doesn't matter how fast I try to walk, her little legs are always scuttling faster, pulling me down the sidewalk, past the shops, the bars, the restaurants, the other dogs. 

I want to remember all of it before we go- before we're out of this house and this little-big town and onto becoming full-time adults, the two of us...and the dog. I want to remember doing whatever we want that makes us happy, together or apart, with or without each other. 

But just for the record, I think doing stuff with you is a million times better than doing anything without you. It's a good thing we like each other. 

Wife

LOVED This Week

Apparently this week I was lovin' some plants. This was the first week our jasmine bloomed. We rent a little house that just happened to inherit some INSANE jasmine out the backdoor- which is actually the front door more often than not. So starts the season of spending all of our time in the backyard just to soak it up until we have to move!

This week Greg was gifted with succulents which he graciously decided to share. Yeah, we water our succulents with syringes. And coffee dregs. But it's nice to look at something living at the office!!

 Is using the work camera stealing office resources?