Thoughts on love, friendship, and vampire demon babies

Most of you know of my love of bad movies. There are few guilty pleasures I enjoy indulging in more than watching a Lifetime original movie or something equally awful (a low-budget rom com, anything starring the Olsen twins, etc.) and making fun of it the whole time.*

Luckily I know many people that can appreciate an ABC Family special as much as I do, and one Valentine’s Day some years ago my little sister and I hosted a girls night in which our single friends came over and we watched some of these choice flicks and had ourselves a good laugh (a wide selection of Little Debbie snack cakes were also involved. It’s a long story).

I remember thinking at the time how this was a great way to spend Valentine’s Day—no elaborate plans or high expectations, no need to get dressed up or stressed out. Just an excuse to spend time with loved ones while doing something silly and random.

Fast forward to this Valentine’s Day, when Mike and I decided we would celebrate by cooking a nice dinner together and watching a movie at home. On a whim I selected what I’d heard was one of the crown jewels of the “so bad it’s actually awesome” movie genre:

And oh my friends, it did not disappoint. Like the other Twilight movies that preceded it, Breaking Dawn is deliciously awful: Terrible acting, the cheesiest dialogue this side of daytime TV, and—heaven help us all—a handful of talking wolves thrown in for good measure. What more could you possibly want? Perhaps a total bloodbath of a childbirth scene involving a c-section performed by vampire fangs? Done and done.

The best part was that Mike totally appreciated the crappiness of this movie right along with me. Although he kind of scratched his head when I suggested watching it, he was a good sport and we both ended up laughing through Bella and Edward’s awkwardly long wedding makeout session, shuddering at the sight of R. Patz’s gnarly teeth, and continually marveling at the extent to which Stephenie Meyer drew on her Mormon roots to create that twisted little fantasy world of hers. I mean really, Bella getting married at a ridiculously young age, acting nervous beyond all reason about her wedding night (granted, homegirl was about to engage in some potentially deadly vampire sex, but still), getting knocked up on the honeymoon, and giving her child some fugly name pieced together from her family tree? Is this a fictional character we’re talking about or half of Provo’s female population?

I guess by most standards our way of celebrating Valentine’s Day was decidedly unromantic, but to me it was perfect. I’ve never really put too much stock in the whole traditional “red roses and candlelight” take on Valentine’s Day in the first place (although Mike bringing me flowers and an extremely thoughtful gift was definitely appreciated), which is why I enjoyed it even as a single gal watching crappy movies with her girlfriends.

Nowadays I just consider myself extremely lucky that the person I spend the holiday relaxing and laughing with is my husband. As odd as it sounds, I guess the whole “marry your best friend” cliché has never rung more true for me than when I realized my husband and I were both cool with spending a holiday devoted to romance collectively cringing at the sight of a pregnant-yet-even-more-freakishly-pale-and-scrawny-than-usual Kristen Stewart sucking down cupfuls of human blood (really puts my relentless snack pack cravings into perspective, no?)

Oh, and in case you were wondering, both Butch and I are Team Jacob. Although neither one of us really understands what that imprinting crap was all about.

*Why this has not translated into me jumping on The Bachelor bandwagon yet remains a mystery, but maybe one day I will join the rest of you guys and start watching that train wreck.

What I would have liked to blog about today

Today I would have really liked to post about how sweet it was to see the Patriots beat the Giants in the Superbowl. I would have talked about how yesterday’s victory almost took away the sting of the loss in 2008 and made me forget all about the conflicted feelings I have as a Patriots fan. I might have even included pics of Masha, Smeegs, and I (the only Pats fans in attendance at the Knaphus superbowl party, as usual), celebrating with plates of Leslie’s superbowl bread while images of Tom Brady hoisting the Vince Lombardi trophy played on the TV in the background.

But alas, that was not meant to be. And I’m guessing no one reading this really cares about the outcome of the game anyway, so instead of writing a sports-related rant I will just post some photos of my dog dressed up in the puff coat that makes him look like a small, furry version of a ‘90s rapper.

It even has the classy phrase “Pet Life” embroidered on the hood. Tupac would be so proud:

Now all he needs is a gold chain with a “Rigg Daddy” nameplate and his ensemble will be complete.

Oh and for the record, I am normally anti dog clothing and things of that nature, but when I found this little number for like 5 bucks at the Overstock.com store I couldn’t resist. Here's hoping this isn't a slippery slope.

Snips and snails and puppy dog tails

That's what little boys are made of:

Last week was the "big ultrasound" and it confirmed my doctor's initial assessment that our baby is a boy. And, more importantly, he seems to be healthy and developing well. I totally had a Juno moment (fingernails!) when the ultrasound tech went through and showed us his liver, kidneys, etc. We could even see all four chambers of his tiny heart. Even though I knew that stuff was there, seeing it on the screen made it seem so much more real. And we have less than 20 weeks to go until we meet the little fella. Crazy.

When Opposites Attract: Home Improvement Edition

This is how it goes around our house:

Me (looking at upholstered headboards on pinterest): I want one of these sooo bad! Why can’t we ever get anything nice and why is our bedroom so ghetto and awful and life is just so hard!!!

Mike (glancing over my shoulder): I could make that.

The next day:

Mike: I built a headboard out of some spare wood that I had and got some free foam from a carpet guy. Let’s go pick out fabric so we can get this finished.

Me: Whoa aren’t we moving a little fast? Before we pick out fabric I need to sift through all the options and figure out exactly what I want and price match cause upholstery fabric is super expensive and I should probably get some swatches and maybe buy some fabric online and agonize over it and return it and then get some new fabric and go through the process all over again. It could take a while.

Mike: Let’s just go look.

Lo and behold we end up finding fabric for like 3 bucks a yard that day. So then it’s up to me to figure out how to upholster the box spring to match the headboard and I’m thinking that I’ll spend the next couple of weeks attempting it and failing, but then my rockstar of a little sister comes over and pretty much does the whole thing for me because she is the greatest ever and also shares my husband’s strange addiction to DIY projects. We finish by midnight that night using a slight variation of this tutorial (Smash came up with the brilliant idea of sewing the fabric onto a sheet instead of onto the top of the boxspring. Genius).

After a coat of grey paint left over from our living room and some new lamps, a room that I thought was bound to remain a total eyesore for years is actually looking decent in a matter of weeks and all for about 100 bucks (not quite perfect yet, but it’s getting there. Also, this photo makes it look like the headboard is the same color as the wall but in real life it’s darker):

The embarrassing “before” picture. We seriously put zero effort into this room and it ended up being a random mess of old wedding gifts and cheap furniture (Hey Annie, recognize the Al Rounds masterpiece? Oh, the memories):

This whole project was a great reminder of how Mike balances out all my complaining, overthinking, procrastination, and complacency by simply getting crap done. The man’s a keeper.

It’s also an experience I should probably remember when he wants to build yet another outhouse-looking shed in our backyard this summer.

Just a few things I've been loving lately

1) Judging by my addiction to TV shows on Netflix, it’s a good thing I’ve never been introduced to say, crack cocaine. Or even alcohol for that matter, cause I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t be a “one glass of wine with dinner” kind of a gal. More like one of those binge drinkers that stay sober for a few weeks before indulging in a days-long bender.

Case in point: A few weeks ago I started watching Downton Abbey and finished the whole first season in about three days (there were only like 7 episodes, but still). Maybe it’s nerdy to admit to this kind of enthusiasm for a show that’s on PBS Masterpiece Theatre, but it is truly fabulous and is apparently winning all kinds of awards and stuff. The second season is currently airing on PBS so I thought that would bring me back to some kind of normal “one episode a week” routine but I stumbled upon a sketchy website that has the whole second season available to watch online (cause I guess it already aired in England or something?) so I’ve fallen right off the proverbial wagon.
2) I pretty much quit wearing makeup other than basic concealer and mascara after I graduated high school and stopped feeling compelled to buy all the stuff pushed on me by the drag queen-esqe employees at the MAC counter (including lip liner. Bless my heart.) But now that I’m knocked up my skin is freaking out so I needed something to make me look presentable without actually having to wear foundation or something equally intimidating.

My sister told me to try Bare Minerals and so far I can safely say that should they want to hire me to do testimonials for their infomercials I would totally be game. This stuff evens out my skin tone, is super light and wearable, etc. Plus swirling all the powder with the brushes and whatnot makes me feel like a fancy lady.

3) One thing that my pregnant self and my childhood self have in common is an undying love for chocolate Snack Pack pudding. I swear I could eat this stuff by the gallon lately. And I keep telling myself that if I have to eat chocolate pudding I really should just try making it from scratch, but that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon since this monstrosity found its way into my cart at Costco yesterday:
I’m trying to limit myself to one or two of these suckers a day but that’s proving to be quite the challenge since I frequently find myself thinking about how awesome it would be to just scoop the contents of like four of the little containers into a big bowl and just go to town. What can I say? When I dream, I dream big.

On this fine Tuesday morning

Today Butch is happy because:

We found out that our future kid is most likely a boy (we won't know for sure until the big 20-week ultrasound but at 16 weeks the doctor says he's pretty sure it's a boy in there, so we're going with it.)

He got to eat Nielsen's frozen custard at 11 in the morning, which is what happens when your wife's doctor's office is conveniently located down the street.

I'm happy because:

Baby looks healthy and has flailing little arms and hands that were waving at us during the ultrasound, which melted my heart a bit. Also, although I know most women wouldn't be, I'm pretty jazzed at the prospect of having a boy. The thought of bows and ribbons and the color pink and all that stuff scares me a bit.

My doctor told me that I am good to go skiing during this pregnancy, and that I can go ahead and eat sushi if I feel like it. I almost kissed him on the mouth.

Oh, and I got to indulge in some mid-morning Nielsen's as well.

After all, that baby weight isn't going to gain itself.

Our first Christmas card (be sure to read the fine print)

Sorry this pic is super blurry. It's actually just a screenshot I stole from the card company's website.

And while we're talking apologies, please don't be offended if you didn't get one of these in the mail. I normally don't even send out Christmas cards since the process ranks a little too high on the holiday hassle meter for me, but this year I found a sweet deal online through a company that mails the cards out for you so I decided to jump on it. The catch was that the promo code expired the day after I found it so I had to frantically scrape together addresses and I'm sure plenty of names got lost in the shuffle. Either that or I just forgot due to pregnancy brain. Is it too early to use that excuse? I hope not cause it's pretty much my trump card these days.  

And the tradition continues

One chilly night in 2008 we decided to go see the Christmas lights at Hogle Zoo with our (relatively) new friends Megan and Travis. The night was promising at first, as the lights were pretty awesome and the weather was appropriately wintery, but somewhere near the reptile house Megan got separated from the group, and due to some cell phone malfunctions it took us a good 45 minutes to find her again, which left poor Megs a bit traumatized.

 But out of that unfortunate debacle was born a lovely Christmas tradition. Each year us and the Morrisons (and sometimes invited guests) hit up one of the Christmas sights around the valley that we have never been to before. In 2009 we went to see the lights at Thanksgiving Point, which was totally lame except for the fact that Megan and I were able to serenade the boys with rousing renditions of "I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas" since we viewed the lights from the comfort of the car. I think they were ready to bludgeon us by the end of the night. Last year we were joined by Morgan and Hansol and braved the crowds at the Festival of Trees, which was cool but oh so packed with people.

This year we decided to keep things more low key, which ended up being a great idea since Trav hurt his back the day before and was all kinds of doped up on muscle relaxers. Our destination of choice was the Winder Dairy Country Store, which is apparently a sort of Christmas Mecca around these parts since they serve up delicious scones during the holiday season and all the houses leading up to the store are decked out with some amazing lights. Here are a few pics of the night, courtesy of Megan's iphone:

Did you know that Mike and I are really good at looking awkward in pictures? Some might say it's a skill, but i think it's more like a gift from God or something. 

Megan and Trav do a much better job, even with Red being kind of out of it from his meds:

Hot scones with honey butter. Delish:

We ended the night by watching The Family Stone while Megan and I finished up our holiday wreaths. It was a great start to the Christmas season and a tradition that I hope continues for years to come.

Terriers and Titans

Just a couple of things going on lately:

First of all, as I mentioned in my last post, we got another dog. He’s a rat terrier and his name is Riggins (Mike chose the name, egged on by my whole family). He is otherwise known as Riggs, Baby Riggs, or Rigg Daddy. Classy, no?

I never thought I would own a small dog since I always thought of them as sissies, but after our friends Megan and Travis bought a rat terrier a couple of years ago we realized that they were legit. And Riggs proved himself by champing his first hike yesterday:

Plus, as Best in Show so eloquently teaches us, God loves a terrier.

As for Lola, I think it’s safe to say that she loves her new pet:
Matt and Mash were so taken with Baby Riggs that they adopted his brother, so now Riggs and Gunther get together often for puppy playdates:

Here are Smash and I holding our brother dogs at the Olympus football game a couple of weeks ago:
Which brings us to our next topic: Titan football. Smeegs surprised us all this year by deciding to break out of his ski bum, lacrosse-player mold to give football a go his senior year. We were all a little nervous that Smeeglet would end up riding the pine all season and we would have to feel bad for him, but lo and behold the kid got himself a starting wide receiver position. Going to his games with the family every Friday night has been one of my favorite things this fall. It would be even better if the Olympus field hadn’t been under construction all season, but unfortunately the city of Holladay is hell-bent on destroying any and all vestiges of my younger years. At least Mr. Felt is still the announcer.

Last week was the Olympus-Skyline game, or, as it is known by us local folk, the “Battle for the Rock.” It also happened to be the region championship and Olympus won in a nail-biter of a game in which Smeegs made a crucial catch in overtime. We got to meet up with him and snag a picture afterwards (sadly we didn’t get one with the in-laws before Smeegs had to get on the bus).
It was by far the best game of the season and brought back memories of the Olympus victory over Skyline during my own senior year. All together now, class of 2004: “we got the rock, we got the rock…” how did the rest of that cheer even go? I remember it sounding pretty awkward.

Why hello October, I've missed you

One rainy afternoon last April, Butch and I sat in Chipotle taking a break from our Saturday errands and daydreaming about the upcoming summer. It had been a rough year for husband, consisting of lots of early mornings, late nights, homework, and other miscellaneous stresses that meant only one thing: we were both ready for some fun in our lives. As we finished our chips and salsa, we made a list of all that we wanted to do this summer, and, even though we fell a little short of our grand schemes, we still managed to soak up every last ounce of the season’s goodness.

Our summer adventures began and ended in Lake Powell. We took a trip down with my family in early May and ventured down again in September with a random group of family and friends. In between came a vacation to Costa Rica and a major house project, as well as the activities on our Summer must-do list: camping, hiking, lots of weekend trips to the cabin, an RSL game with Megan and Trav, campfires, tennis matches, many a snow cone run with the Ragsdales, an outdoor concert or two, girls camp (Butch came up for a night), boating, fireworks, and plenty of backyard barbecues. In short, ours was a summer of excess. We stayed up way too late, spent too much money, ate too many s’mores, let our house get way too dirty, and put way too many miles on our trusty old subaru. We loved every minute of it.

But like most periods of indulgence, this one came to a crashing halt in September with a new school year for Mike and a cold for me. It was the first time I’d been sick in over a year and a half, so at first I was in denial of the situation and carried on with my normal routine, which resulted in the cold turning into a sinus infection and me spending hours on the couch whimpering that my head was going to explode while the rest of Utah was busy enjoying a beautiful Indian summer.

This is all to say that this year I was even more ready than usual for the arrival of my favorite season, since donning thick wool socks and sipping a cup of hot herbal tea (as is the Preo way when you are sick) doesn’t sound nearly as appealing when it’s 80+ degrees outside.

Luckily I was able to get my first real taste of fall when we ventured up to Bear Lake this weekend. The air was cooler, the skies were brighter, and Logan Canyon was positively aglow in my favorite fall color combo: bright yellow aspens against dark green pines.

(I realize these photos are totally pathetic, but they were the best I could manage while driving).

The atmosphere at the cabin was more slow-paced and autumnal as well, as we spent the weekend sprawled on the couch watching General Conference, taking walks along the lake, and just enjoying the beautiful scenery.

I even channeled my inner Mormon housewife by baking some pumpkin cinnamon rolls and making this wreath out of the extra felt I had left over from our Harry Potter costumes. Special thanks to my sister-in-law for helping me cut out all those circles.
And on our way home on Sunday we stopped to pick up this little guy:

Yep, October’s been good to us so far. I’m excited to see the rest of autumn unfold.