NYE MKE 2013-14

Procrastination.

 

 

It lands us in the exact same spot every year at exactly this time..... desperately trying to figure out what to do for New Year's Eve.

 

 

Every year.

 

 

It's not like New Year's is a floating, mysterious holiday, springing out of the shadows within 24 hours of happening screaming "HERE I AM SUCKAS!! HAVE FUN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT AN AWESOME WAY TO REALLY CELEBRATE THIS HUNK OF AULD LANG SYNE (maniacal laugh)"

 

 

Champaign toast this, New Year's Eve.

 

 

I don't even know what auld lang syne means. No one does. It's just a slow song with made up words.

 

So for all purposes listed hereafter, auld lang syne means there are too many parties and my lack of commitment to any of them makes me feel like the soggy fruitloop left behind in the cereal bowl of New Year's Eve parties.

 

 

 I wonder where we will end up. I'm pretty much ready for anything-- I shaved my legs tonight. And I've got a certain young man on contract to kiss me at midnight. (maniacal laugh)

 

 

Try and stop me now, 2013.

 

 

But I'm done Google-ing MKE NYE shindings for now. There are more important things going on: Shark Week Season 25 is now on Netflix.

 

 

xoxo, b

merry christmas kiddos

I'm going to be honest, I thought about doing a Pinteresty-lovey-dovey-oh-how-adorbs type Christmas card this year. We clean up nice.

Picture it: Snow gently falling as we tenderly embrace along the lake shore. A sweet kiss on the forehead with the city lights twinkling behind us. Holding hands and looking backwards over our shoulders while cheesing for the camera.  Or maybe a smile-worthy, heart warming mishap with a string of lights, tangling us together into a PG-13 kiss.

Then I realized that's silly. We don't skip around town gazing into each other's eyeballs. Well, not all the time.... and besides, that's what everyone else is doing. Which is lame. Because I've walked around and I hardly ever see people striking a traditional Christmas card pose during my day to day activities.

So I present to you, Ben & Brit's real life Christmas card(s):

cats wearing clothes, cell phone, wine, mess.

Merry Christmas :)

fa la la la la

la la la la

xoxo, b

just be cool

An average of 17 times every 8 minutes, I think to myself "Why can't you just be cool, dude?"

Which is not cool in and of itself because I'm not a surfer dude... I'm a trophy wife in training. And if I can't even get that part of the thought right, then what hope is there for actually coolness? Nonetheless, this nagging little nugget has skipped across my mind. Usually after the fact.

Examples:

• Forgetting to switch over to windshield washing fluid that won't freeze. It's December in Wisconsin, I know better. Every time I pull over and start scooping snow onto all over my dirty windshield, I think about all the cool kids driving past me on their way to work in their stunna shades listening to indie-rock music while wearing pencil skirts and heels because the cool kids shave their legs regularly and don't forget to brush their teeth. The cool kids aren't standing on the on-ramp with a jug of half-frozen washer fluid, dumping it directly onto the windshield, trying to make sure they remove all the highway gunk. That's why some inventive cool kid designed no-freeze washer fluid to use with a simple flick of a switch while driving. So cool.

• Cool kids don't get caught belting out all the words to Avril Lavigne's Sk8er Boi or Seal's Kiss From A Rose while weaving through rush hour traffic. You're in a box on wheels with windows. Or, oh-em-gee, Aerosmith's I Don't Want to Miss a Thing. And cool kids definitely don't get distracted during the middle of a blog post and have a solid rock-ballad-love-song-breakdown-belt-out-concert in their living room with two cats named after socialites popular in late 20__-something and have their husband walk in and silently judge them. It's not like he's that cool either.

• Cool kids look cool at the gym. Instead of weird noodly-arms named "Fettuccine" and "Linguine," they have muscles by the names of "Butch" and "Slasher" or whatever cool kids say nowadays. And they certainly don't put on a sports bra and instantly turn into what looks like a 13 year old boy who thought it would be funny to try on his big sister's training bra. No sirree. 

• Laugh-snorting. Cool kids don't do that.

• Getting stuck in clothing-- not something cool kiddo's are familiar with. Skinny jeans stuck around your ankles in a fitting room? Bra stuck in your hair in your bedroom? T-shirt pinning your arms above your head while trying to shimmy out of your shorts and top at the swimming pool? "Absolute madness!" yell the cool kids of the world in unison.

Maybe one day I'll be smooth. I'll be suave. I'll be dripping with cool. I'll saunter into the party with a cane and a top hat tilted to one side, point and wink at the bartender and have three or four butlers with trays of champagne flutes instantly circle around me while singing a barbershop quartet-styled song about how cool I am. I haven't worked out the details yet, but stay tuned.

xoxo, b

turkey recap

Pre-Turkey Tuesday:

My last day at the jewelry store. Smash made me a pink sash and a glittery pink crown that I wore the majority of the day like a preschool princess. Roughly 1.7 million things went wrong and required me to fix them, so I didn't get much time to just hang out with my coworkers. After the store closed at 7, Smash and Co. popped open a bottle of bubbly and gave my "eugoogly"...which I had jokingly requested. Or not jokingly. After the beautiful eugoogly, we headed to Mexico for dinner and dranks.

I'm horrible, awful, no-good at having things hit me right away. Seriously. Which is part of the reason that I generally don't get too emotional......until a week and a half later when Ben finds me on the couch with a cup of coffee and mascara-face. As a whole, I'm 100% time-consuming and tiring to understand... literally a waltzing contradiction.

_________________________________________________

Turkey Time:

Having two families too close to each other makes for filling holidays. Turkey day was no exception. A late lunch turned into dinner at my parent's house, and after wiping the gravy from our faces we were at Ben's side of the family enjoying desserts and falling asleep on the couch.
Unlike last year, no one stood up and announced any life-altering news. 

Also unlike last year, Ben and I did zero Black Friday shopping. Instead, we slept in and I telephoned my mom (who was downstairs) to bring us a couple of coffees in bed. She said no.
In my defense, 1: It worked the last time 2: At least I tried and 3: Brilliant idea, right?

__________________________________________________

Saturday & Sunday:

To make the next tidbit make sense, I need to confess that Ben and I are raising spoiled thug cats. Long haired, fluffy, spoiled, social butterfly thugs named Paris and Nicole.

These little thugs stayed home alone for 2 nights while we went home for Thanksgiving. 

When we got home to the apartment Saturday afternoon, we found half eaten cookies all over the kitchen and scattered around the living room floor. The cute ceramic food bowl with the the painted blue script of Tuna Breath was mercilessly thrown in true riot state into the mecca of the chaos. Clumps of long black hair adorned the once cozy home that had- from all accounts- transformed into a gladiator coliseum only hours earlier when the last bit of cat food was nibbled and the undeniable possibility of certain death first crept to attention.

So we fed the monsters, and they fell asleep purring and cuddled up together. Because in all likelihood they are also un-medicated bipolars as well.

And now it's officially time for Christmas!
Which means Christmas music, Christmas decorations, Christmas cats, Christmas everything at all hours of the day and night. Christmas!!

xoxo, b

brit-sit

I had no Brit-sitter this week. 

Which is good, because I've been very busy working two jobs.

And which is bad because I've spent an unhealthy amount of time talking to my cats and growing extremely accustomed to their strange behavior. Trying to climb on my back while I'm sitting upright and typing, trying to climb on my lap while I'm using the.... ahem ladies room, eating a cardboard box for the hell of it, punching me in the face in the morning because they are channeling Mike Tyson, and general clingy-ness, snoring like dogs, purring all.the.time., and yip-yapping are 100% normal to me now. Sure, it was upwards of 86% normal to me before, but those monsters really beefed up their crazy and are dedicated to making me feel like a spazzy old cat lady..... and it's working.

No Brit-sitter is also bad because there is no one to stop me from having a package of bacon, 2 apples, miscellaneous Halloween candy, and a hefty portion of wine for dinner. I'm thinking Ben would not be too happy with me, since he has vocalized concerns over my odds of making it to 30............but I can rationalize just about anything. Take the above mentioned fantastic dinner for example: Meat, good. Period. Apples=fruit=good. Candy=chocolate=derived from a plant=plants=good. Wine=grapes=fruit with antioxidants=good. Throw "antioxidants" into any food-related nonsense sentence and it's like a free pass. 

Ya know what, I did have a Brit-sitter tonight by the name of Marshall's Store. Which means someone has a new pair of boots, among other things.

Ya win some and ya lose some. 

Ben's home tomorrow, and done traveling until February or something like that. Whoot whoooooot

xoxo, b

worst interview ever

Looking for a new job sucks. Plain and simple. 

Or if you prefer the more vivid and realistic, possibly over-dramatic and lengthy version: Job hunting is intimidating, horrifying, awkward and irritating. You list all your qualifying credentials on one fancy sheet of paper, shave your legs, slide into your pencil skirt and fake smile your ass off. Instead of doing what your mom has prompted you to do all your life-- listen, ask questions about the other person-- you are now forced to not only toot your own horn, but lay on that [explicit] horn while you steer the conversation like a mad-man through your lifetime accomplishments, volunteer opportunities, and a moving, memorized speech detailing why you would be a perfect fit above all the other suckers who also applied. 

During my recent new job quest, I've had an interview or two. Some have been good. Some have been "meh." One was so bad I thought I was being pranked.

Not to give away too many details, but I was able to get my resume forwarded to "Talent Acquisition" at a pretty big company headquartered in MKE through a couple of individuals that Ben and I know. One of these individuals happens to be the head of one giant portion of this company. Vague enough?

Anyways, interview bullet points:

• He was 20 minutes late.
• I was asked what I've done in the past. I told him my previous experience and education. He told me I really don't have any options unless I go back to school. So much for that private education and a B.A.
• He asked me if I was currently in any networking groups. I answered "no" since my days off have thus far been a random weekday here or there, and I don't get back downtown (home) until at least 8pm on days I work. He replied by telling me that most groups meet at night. Like after 8pm dude? Then he decided to list off networking groups and ask if I was a part of them... one by one. No need to break it down for me, I have not joined a group within the last 12 seconds.
• He asked me if I heard of "a little company called Kohls." And proceeded to ask if maybe I've applied there yet. Because I should, but not before going back to school. 
• He told me to really figure out my 5 year plan. If I was planning on staying home and having children within 2-3 years, then I should probably stay in my current position. 
• A great deal of time was spent talking about his accomplishments. He is really good at his job. He recently hired one of the smartest graduates from Marquette. He is well-off. 
• He told me that I probably think this interview didn't go too well but that I was going to "look back on his advice and think..... 'wow.'" I was already thinking "wow" 2 minutes into that interview train wreck.
• There was more, but in conclusion, I spent a half hour or so talking to the most egotistical, chauvinistic man in MKE. I should be barefoot and pregnant because my true career is birthing the next generation, and he is well-off and established because he is man. 

Life goes on. And I've landed a job at a newspaper! I'm starting part time Monday, and by December it'll be my full time position. No more working weekends, no more retail hours, no more bridezillas.

Three workdays left at the jewelry store..... holy moly.

xoxo, b

sushi

There's sushi on my counter, rice coated little packages of joy shooting me shy glances from across the room. I have to wait for Ben to get home, since he is the responsible adult who brought home the sushi for dinner and then braved the elements (hello snow?!) to go work on his fitness and overall well-being while I finished up the retail-hour workday.


I'll just have a glass of wine to pass the time. I like wine.

But I really like sushi.................


Why do those tasty little nuggets have to sit on the counter in plain sight, taunting me with their perfect bite sized combination of veggies and raw fish or whatever the hell is rolled into the magical concoction that is begging to be tenderly dipped into the warm brown soy sauce...........


Just have more wine, woman. You may have wine. Sushi has to wait.......

Wine. Wine. Wine bottle. Beer bottle. Brewery. Brewery tour. Odd tourists on a brewery tour. Some guy with a goatee wearing a tropical shirt with a collar and the three top buttons undone because he likes to strut his stuff.


Where the heck is Benjamin. Also, how could my wine glass be empty.


I'm going in. Self-restraint is lame.


xoxo, b

packers vs browns

I love Packer games. I love being in Green Bay on game day.

cousins

We went to the Packers vs. Browns game this last weekend, and had a wonderful little tailgate group. Ben, Jessica, Kor, J, Danny, Sam, Bart, Heather, Arik... it was fun to grill out, drink from German beer steins, and play bag toss in our Packer gear. And of course, there were game tutu's. I feel like that should go without saying.

the ladies

Kor and J had nosebleed seats (if there is such a thing at Lambeau, but it's fine because J is foolishly a Browns fan), and Ben scored us seats in section 138, row 16...... that's 16 rows up smack-dab in the middle of the Packer end zone kiddos. Makes me tear up a little even now.

tutus!

xoxo, b

my party has a promo trailer

Our Halloween barn party-- Mischief & Mayhem-- has its own promo trailer:   Video

Because I can't think of any reason that a holiday party wouldn't have a promotional video distributed three weeks prior to the event. Seriously.

Invite only.

xoxo, b

barn party

The best barn party ever is a mere 2.5 weeks away. The theme for the night is Mischief & Mayhem. You ask why? There are two levels to the barn that this delightful and frightful gathering takes place. The first level-- Mischief-- is filled with fanciful and freaky decor, grub and suds, tricks and treats.

Winding up a creepy path through the woods brings you to Mayhem, where dim lighting and the creepy costume-clad crowd tears up the dance floor. 

invites

But more details to follow..... Ben, Jess and I are off to shoot a promo video for the Halloween party. 

Yeah, it's going to be that good.

'Til then goblins.

xoxo, b

a short story

          Once upon a time, a young girl decided to travel with her husband to the flat lands of Illinois. The lovely couple took a car that resembled a toaster oven with them on their journey. They played a road trip scavenger hunt game which included all sorts of silly items for them to find along the way, had a delicious sushi dinner and sweet pomegranate martinis under the moonlight, and ended each night with a kiss. 
          One morning, the young girl's husband left early to attend a work function. He tenderly kissed the young girl on the forehead, said goodbye babycakes, and left.  The young girl was antsy, and excited to start another wonderful day. Moving aside pillows and blankets, she sat cross legged in the middle of the hotel bed, scouring the World Wide Web for pertinent information regarding weather, fall trends, social media activity, and ideas for her upcoming Halloween Ball to be held in a sweet old barn. 
          During her many searches, the young girl's foot began to fall asleep. Not to be deterred, and fueled by excitement over all the knowledge she had just obtained, the young girl jumped like a gazelle from the bed, boldly yelling to her foot to "wake up damnit!" Time slowed as she flew through the air like a majestic eagle, sleeping foot extended before her like a prima ballerina. All at once, the sleeping foot hit the ground. Unable to support the young girl's leap-- due largely to fact it was asleep-- the foot gave way and the young girl crumpled to the ground defeated. 
       What happened next was a fantastic slew of newly strung together cuss words and threats to the foot. Upon examination, it seemed as though the sleeping foot was merely sprained and not seriously damaged. With tears swelling in her eyes (but not really), the young girl gingerly wrapped her wounded foot into a bath towel, elevated it, and set it on ice; even though the only thing she believed worthy of elevation and icing were heels and bottles of champagne, respectively. 
         Fin.

                                                                                                                            - bbz

the maine attraction

A little while ago... as in over Labor Day weekend.... I took a little ladies' trip to Portland, Maine. Trying lobstah just so happens to be on this girl's ole Life To Do. And what better way to try lobster for the first time than to go directly to the source!? And check out Maine in the process.

So here's the Maine attraction: 

• Our flight was way early in the morning. I allegedly supported that idea, claiming that we would then have the most amount of time in Portland. During one of the flights, I was separated from the girls and sat next to what I thought would be a quirky gentleman. After telling me darling stories of his handicapped daughter, he transitioned into detailed descriptions of seeing someone splatter while bungee jumping, and watching a military friend slit both arms and neck before dying in front of him. My already over-worked imagination was on overdrive, and I told the quirky gentleman his stories were grossing me out. To which he replied that he grew up on a farm so things like that don't bother him. Exactly dude, but your listener has jumped outta a plane before.... and will do it again.
  
• Our hotel was connected to a brew pub. The first day we got to Maine was rainy and overcast and dreary and sad. So we grabbed some grub at the pub, tried to do a little shopping/exploring, then returned to the pub for a 5:30pm nightcap.
  
• The rest of the time there was gorgeous fall weather. We rode around in an old firetruck and got a tour of the city (aka a tour of the tour guide's childhood), did some exploring in the shopping areas, tried local craft beers, did a ton of walking around, took a lighthouse boat tour through the harbor, rode the ferry to Peak's Island, somehow ended up at a club during rap night, and dun nuh nuh nuhhh tried lobster.
  
• Portland Lobster Company is where we had our first "lobster feast." I had limited ideas on how or what to eat concerning the red crustacean watching me with beady, judging eyes. In times like that, it's best to just have at it. Did I feel like a Midwest hick? Damn straight. But it was delicious, and turns out there was a "how to eat a lobster" printout at the bottom of the tray that was found after we were done making a delicious mess of ourselves.
  
• I adore the way people talk in Portland: Goin' down to da ha'bah to get some fwesh lobstah and buttah to make a nice dinnah fo ya.
  
• The trip was a lot of fun, and a lot of seafood. Halfway through the excursion I had the worst craving for some beef and cheese. You can take a girl out of Wisconsin, but apparently you can't take the Wisconsin out of the girl.

xoxo, b

Drama Queen

This may be my final day of life.

Ben infected me with whatever disease he contracted last week. This is the same disease from which I lovingly nursed him back to health by providing orange juice, vitamin C cough drops, making homemade chicken noodle soup, giving back rubs... basically being the best damn wife ever. And that little twerp repaid me with Sickness 2.0. 

Since it's HIS turn to play nurse, then by default it's MY turn to play the dramatic patient. And that's a role I was born to play. 

One line that I'm test driving for future prego-related instances is "WHYYYY did you do this to me?!" Initial studies show that when paired with sad eyes it is quite an effective way of receiving food/cuddles/forehead kisses. On the other hand, the blowing nose/coughing combo while trying to laugh at Netflix shows results in concerned looks....and Ben "going to check something" in the living room/kitchen/bathroom/closet for 20 minutes. It's a work in progress. 

husband's shopping trip...

If I'm going to be sick (even though I drank gallons of orange juice and practiced ninja moves to keep it away, so I'm not sure what's going on here), then I'm glad it's someone like Ben helping me get better. Because he knows that when you're feeling sick, you should have cookies for breakfast (even though my cat Paris nabbed a cookie chunk out of my hand and ate it in front of me) and snack on candy corn throughout the day. At least that's what I've concluded from his shopping trip last night. That, and what kind of cats eat cookies? 

xoxo, b

2 years & unsolicited advice

I had a vivid revelation of awesomeness the other day. In order to reflect upon our last two years of marriage, I thought Ben and I should answer similar open ended questions concerning stuff like what's changed, what's the same, where do you see us in 5 years, why isn't there any good beer left in the fridge, and what's for dinner.... but I digress.  

So I cornered him. Started asking him questions. And he, like a wild animal, tried to escape. My revelation of awesomeness was going nowhere, and I was forced to shut it down after there was way too much interest in describing in detail the only thing he believes to have changed in the last two years: that I've farted in front of him. There were references to Nazi gas chambers, dying beasts, and the end of days before he finally concluded, gave a satisfied smile and nod, and shut his mouth.

First off, I'm a trophy wife wanna-be, I don't fart. That's something boys do. 

And second, I don't fart. 

===============================

So in lieu of my vivid revelation of awesomeness questionnaire, 

here are my little bits of unsolicited advice/knowledge nuggets on the matter:

Your husband will be the single most annoying person in your life. He throws his dirty socks at the cats. He is addicted to checking sport updates and stock prices on his smart phone. He forgets to put leftovers in the fridge. He gets moody when he is having what I can only assume is a man-period. He still has not figured out how to work the laundry hamper, despite intense one-on-one training sessions with the Rocky theme song playing in the background. He strolls into the bathroom and asks what you're doing when you're trying to use the toilet or shave your legs in the shower because he doesn't fully understand privacy. And sometimes he flat out disagrees with you about severely important things like "what should we do tonight?" But what sets the husband apart from any other run-of-the-mill annoying roommate? It's that you care way too much about his opinion and your opinion matching up. You want him to see things the way you do. Exactly. You want him to think the way you do. Exactly. You can't give the generic "whatever I could care less what you think" response to him and de-friend him on Facebook because you do care what he thinks, and he lives with you. He's an individual with his own opinions and thought process... which is so annoying. 

Your husband will be the single most amazing person in your life. He wakes you up with breakfast in bed most Sundays. He swaps back rubs with you before falling asleep at night. He's funny and spazzy and doesn't mind that you sing off-key during car concerts. He let's you do your own weird thing, and encourages you to be your awkward self. He takes you to the zoo, even though you've gone at least one gagillion times already. He lets you have the bigger piece of steak or eat more of the cookie chunks from container of ice cream. He makes excuses to drive 30 minutes with you to your job on the weekend so that at the very least you can see each other for the hour worth of driving there and back. He just gets you, even when you don't get yourself. As a self-proclaimed commitment phobic person (it took 7 or 8 years before I power-walked down the aisle), my Oprah ah-ha moment was when I realized that yeah, I could live without him... But I didn't want to. And even though I allegedly hyperventilated and had to take a moment to sit (not run, even though there were bets placed) before my I-do's, that 24 hour period of time is a drip in the leaky faucet of life. A very expensive drip. 

And everyday since then has been a bit of an adventure. 

xoxo, b

2 year anniversary road trip

TWO YEAR ROAD TRIP!!

Kor's Bday party in DC :)

This year's anniversary road trip extravaganza started with a surprise birthday visit to Kor in DC. After hanging out and celebrating the 5th anniversary of her 21st birthday, Ben and I rented a car and started wandering southward down the east coast.






There was plenty of car concert singing before we pulled into the Embassy Suites in Hampton, VA late Sunday afternoon. One fancy Taco Bell drive thru dinner and approximately 23 minutes later, and we were both dead to the world.

road trips & complimentary drinks at the hotel every night

road trippin'

Monday we drove to Virginia Beach. It was HOT. 107 degrees. It was HUMID. It was GREAT. Ben wanted to go into the ocean... but I had just finished watching every episode of Shark Week on Netflix a week or so before. Pair this with the fact that I had scrapped my food while in DC and that I'm not too keen on the idea of being mauled by a shark (who can smell blood up to 1 mile away, thank you Discovery Channel), I politely declined his invitation.


After an hour or so of baking in the sun, we found ourselves some air conditioning and a cold beer. While sipping our suds, Ben struck up a conversation with the bartender about how I wouldn't go swimming in the ocean because of sharks. The bartender, in turn, told us about how there was a great white spotted the week before.... about two miles offshore... for about 4 days in a row.... and that authorities were tracking it because it seemed to be hunting..... told ya so.

Monday night we got a couple complimentary drinks in the hotel lobby, then went for some fresh seafood dinner on the James River. So good!


Tuesday was AUGUST 13th!!! Our two year anniversary!! We had breakfast at the hotel and then drove back over to Virginia Beach. This time, I was feeling feisty and ready to cross off another bucket list item: swim in the ocean.

swimming at Virginia Beach

Here's where it gets tricky.
1- My swim skills start and end with the doggy paddle. 2- I don't do sharks. 3- The ocean is the final frontier. Who knows what type of tentacle-clad gooey monster is lurking beneath the waves thinking about taking a nibble of me. Creepy. Long story short, it took me awhile to wade out and do my anxious doggy paddling like no body's business.... but it happened.


After swimming, we watched some air force jets take off and land right across the street from where we were parked. Feeling the air force fever, we then decided to go to an air museum. There were a ton of really awesome planes.

air museum

For our anniversary dinner, we had decided that we should do fresh seafood (again). So we found a restaurant with an all you can eat seafood buffet. We practically gorged ourselves on fresh king crab meat, oysters, flounder, salmon, clams, blue crab, and shrimp. Ben asked a waiter to take our photo with our "2" sign. Ten minutes later, we had a champagne glasses and a cupcake with a candle delivered to our table.

2 year dinner :)

Wednesday we traveled back to DC for our afternoon flight back to MKE.  But that wasn't before my first trip to Arlington National Cemetery

Arlington National Cemetery

Then there was a quick flight, and bada bing bada boom we were home.

xoxo, b

I went skydiving

Brianna & I in our harnesses

Yesterday, I took a perfectly good plane to 14,000 feet and jumped out.

I went skydiving. 

Our group was the first group of the day, so after our 20 minute "this is what to expect" class it was immediately time to suit up. I was so, so excited. Jumping around like a damn fool excited.

ready to board the plane

There were a few more photos and then we loaded into the plane, and I got very close to a strange man. Once it was time to jump......it was time to jump. No dilly dallying, no time to rethink anything. Let's do this thing.

Brianna was the first to go. It was definitely odd to watch your sister disappear from a plane at 14,000 feet. 

When it was my turn to waddle to the door and stand on the edge of the plane and absolutely nothing else, I honestly can't say that I was scared. It was surreal. It was just what was going to happen. Besides, the 007 theme song was playing full blast in my head. And it's hard to be afraid when your brain is playing James Bond music and you are about to do something totally awesome.

standing on the edge

Just like that, the plane was a thing of the past and we were doing a nose dive back to earth at roughly 120mph. The one thing I wasn't expecting was how hard it was to breath regularly when air is rushing by at those speeds. So I was smiling and laughing and gulping for air and yeah, being awkward. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I put them out, but that's not terribly comfortable at high speed. I waved to the camera. I let them dangle like the noodle-y arms that they are. At one point I was doggy paddling through the air. What the heck?

In the majority of the photos and video, my face and arms and any inch of my body with exposed skin resembles a wrinkly puppy.

parachute time

 Soon it was all over and we were landing...

that's wassup.

Same time next week?


Mom doesn't know that Brianna and I did a little bit of skydiving yesterday. We emailed her video clips of our jumps, because apparently we are mean children and don't just call. Can't wait to hear from her!       * update: I'm supposed to work on "nicer" bucket list things....like making her a grand baby or finishing a patchwork quilt. Thanks mom. 

xoxo, b

the ugly cry

first business trip

 Ben departed for New York this morning sometime around 4am. I'm not 100% sure on the exact time because, hell, it was 4am and frankly, I was ugly crying. No single glistening tear on this cheek. No, no. More like a pitiful pajama-clad, bedhead me standing lost in the living room trying to keep it together. I don't know about the rest of the population, but when I'm tired and sad my ugly cry is straight out of an 80's horror film. To hold back tears I hold my breath, my stomach clenches up, and my face crinkles and conforms into ways previously unknown to mankind. The breath-holding causes red-eye bulging and a series of odd choking gasps, boogers, and tears.  To top it off, muttering things between gasps like "You look so handsome! I'm going to miss you so much! The cats are mean and punch me while I sleep!" and I've successfully brought a whole new level of sexy. 

Paris & Nicole helping Ben pack

So my husband's gone for Monday through Thursday night. Seriously, not that long at all. Especially since he rounded up some "brit-sitters" to keep me company this week. I have a busy week. And we are leaving for our two year anniversary road trip on Friday night. That's exciting.... I could totally Google things for us to do.... we have plane tickets and no plans. Just the way it should be!

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WI State Fair

Ben and I went to the Wisconsin State Fair on Saturday. It was glorious and sunny and warm and wonderful. We tried loaded potatoes, funnel cake, ice cream, craft beer, did a wine tasting, and rode the sky glider from one end of the park to the other. We also found the barn with the ducks, but the place was way too crowded for me to steal one. 

riding the sky glider

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And here is a photo of Paris wearing a bikini. 

She's trying to break into the cruel world of swimsuit modeling.

I think she looks fantastic.

Paris in a bikini

xoxo, b

While Ben's away the ladies play...

Imma be shaking my ass you gonna be licking your lips. Imma be Imma be Imma be going to New York for work! WHAT! :D That's right the Big City! HOLLLA! I leave Monday morning and come back Thursday night. I'm scared the 3 ladies of the house are going to get into all kinds of trouble without me here to keep them in line. I'll come home and hell will of been unleashed in all its fury on my nice little apartment. Just imagine coming home to a dead cat that choked on one of the fish and Brit sitting in the middle of the apartment brushing it saying play with me. :/ You think I'm joking but its a 50/50 chance it will happen.

King Of the Castle, Ben

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trophy wife

I'm under the impression that I should be a trophy wife.

I'll rock my hot pink heels and a dress and sashay around department stores and go out for lunch and wear too much perfume and develop a fake laugh so I can say things like "daaaaaarrrrling, this afternoon mojito is absolutely faaaaaabulous!" Then I'll twirl around and waltz home where I will pat my fluffy kitties on their fluffy heads and make a three course dinner. Soon, Ben will burst through the door, set down his briefcase and in a very deep voice exclaim, "Honey! I'm home!" He would then immediately pick me up, twirl me around, and give me a passionate kiss on the lips. Obviously, I would be drinking wine by this point in the evening. He would then compliment me until I beg him to stop because dinner is getting cold.

 

 

In immediate hindsight of the directly above mentioned story, there's no way in Hades that I could be a trophy wife:

 

 

- I can only wear my heels for short periods of time. If I sashay, my feet pay. Maybe I could be a barefoot/flip flop wearing trophy wife?

 

- I have not met a department store that I have not felt overwhelmed and/or lost in. Literally lost. It's like a black hole maze of different designers and there is no way to safely escape in a timely manner. It's like ADHD materialized.

 

- I could do lunch. I like lunch that other people make for me.

 

- Fake laughing makes me feel like I have internal bleeding. Super annoying, internal bleeding.

 

- Not a fan of mojitos. Do trophy wives drink beer and like to BBQ? Is that a thing?

 

- I do enjoy a good twirling about... especially in a sundress. That part can stay. I'd have to bring my A-game for leg shaving on a regular basis.

 

- Our fluffy kitties are experiencing their teenage angst years. They've really made a name for themselves as the apex predators of this apartment. They are spazzy, destructive monsters. Sitting pretty for a pat on the head is not something I imagine happening in the foreseeable future.

 

- When Ben comes home, he does give me a hug and kiss. There is no picking up and twirl around hug and kiss though. This must change immediately.

 

- I need more not-cheap wine. Or craft beer. Again, can a trophy wife drink beer right from the bottle? Or is it strictly a swirl your wine type deal?

 

-And the final reason, I require a variety of multiple activities to fill my day. Otherwise, I come up with "great ideas" that I try and execute myself. Past examples have included dying my hair dark brown, rearranging the entire apartment, ripping apart our closet and putting it back together, chopping some bangs, impromptu painting, highlighting my hair and the middle of the cat's forehead, cooking disasters, trying to give the cats a bath, organizing our storage locker, Pinterest DIY projects, and donating things before Ben finds out they're missing.

 

 

It's a work in progress. Time for some imitation crab and fruit juice.

 

Trophy wife out.

 

 

xoxo, b

little big town

Little Big Town came to the Jefferson County Fair a week or so ago.... and Ben, Jessica, Brianna, Adam, Mama Steph, dad and I decided we should probably go. Because 96% of above mentioned group enjoys the likes of country.

 

 

Things got off to a rocky start when we could not all fit into one car, immediately followed by a surprise extra $10/each for general admission into the fair. We resolved to shake it off by shaking our bums to some country tunes, and to do that, you need a nice cold beer. So we got in line....

 

 

And the chaotic, communication-failing Jefferson County Fair sent us a curve ball.

 

 

Turns out that the line we made it to the front of was the line for beer tickets alright, but the country bumpkin running the shhht show needed us to have wristbands. Instead of talking to us like humans, she hog called "LINE FOR WRISTBANDS IS OVER THERE! WRISTBANDS FIRST!!" Annoying, but fine. So we got in line for wristbands... which apparently were a buck each. After defeating that line, we got back into the original line for beer tickets. Country bumpkin gave us our magical tickets, and we got in line at the beer tent. Upon making it to the front of that line, we each received our beer.

It was the most refreshing beer I have ever had in my life.

 

 

But our night of lines was far from over. One would think that the general admission ticket and reserved seating show ticket would be enough to gain access to your seat. Nah. The Jefferson County Fair would not be complete without another seemingly pointless line for another wristband. This special wristband stand was located on the opposite side of the entrance.

 

 

Yet to be deterred, we conquered the above mentioned lines, got another beer, and found our bleacher seats. The show started, and the booty shaking commenced.

 

 

  

The show was bunches of fun, and Ben was singing along by the end. Now Ben is a very creative boy, and towards the end of the show, we realized that we needed to "use 'em or loose 'em" with our drink tickets. So Ben used 'em. And he got fancy with those beers, artistically pouring them like a waterfall into his mouth during some group photos we took after the show ended. So by the time we were walking back to the car by going through the horse and cow barns...... Ben was a lively fellow. When a cow started to "moo" and we all started to giggle.... Ben began to yell "'HEY! Shut up cow! You don't talk to me like that! SHUT UP COW!!! SHUT UP COW!!" Mama Steph snorted and dad grabbed Ben by his flannel before the cow's 16 year old country kid owner came figured out that his cow was being harassed.

 

group shot!

 

And we all made it home to LM in one piece. Yee-haw

 

 

 

 

xoxo, b

drunky monkey

Sometimes in life, you have off the same Friday as your sister-in-law. Maybe you decide to put on a sundress, sit on a patio, and split a pitcher of margarita before skipping off to the zoo and feeding the goats. And taking 10 million pictures in front of the elephant who shares your name. 

 

And maybe that was the best decision ever. 

I love the zoo. 

 

 

 

xoxo, b

Car shop coffee

I'm sitting at the auto shop drinking all the coffee while mechanics tinker with the Voodoo so she won't explode. An 8am appointment was close to the stupidest thing I could have ever done on my day off. So now I sit here and peruse Pinterest for crafty ideas that will never come to fruit. Perfect example of what can happen during the critical out-of-bed-but-before-coffee-kicks-in part if my day.

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I was cleaning out my closet the other day, so naturally Ben was unsupervised and antsy in the living room. About ten minutes into my declutter project, I hear giggling. Then the giggling turned to a full blown laugh, and I heard my grown ass husband yelling for me to "come here quick and look at Paris!" Allegedly, Paris wanted a haircut. Ben was merely there to provide the belly chop job for her. 

My kitty looks like a total goonberry. But she sprawled out on his lap and purred the entire time, so I guess it's partially her fault. 

xoxo, b

Ring-a-ding

My friend Kor recently went and got herself engaged, and then so kindly came home to WI over July 4th. We got a little group together Friday night, caught up, went out, came home. A more detailed description of the night is as follows:

- I got to use my fancy pants serving bowls and glasses to make sure my guests were aptly fed and watered (or champagne-d and Chex-mixed)
 

- Kor has a pretty ring. I felt honored to be the one to show her how to use it to ward off creepers at the bar.
 

- I'm fairly certain I know how people end up face down in the MKE river. Spoiler alert: It's the power trippin' MKE police department on their ponies at the end of the night snatching boys and throwing them into the timeout trailer. Fools.
 

-And there was dancing. So much bad dancing. 

Saturday was a surpris
e lunch for Kor at The Smoke Shack. And since it was a surprise, Kor had no problem being nearly two hours late. Since the lunch was right before we had to book it to a wedding, we wore our wedding dress attire. I went ahead and spilled some BBQ on my lap like a hillbilly. 

 

After lunch, BBQ spills, and a wedding ceremony, Ben and I were standing outside under the shade of a beautiful, big tree with a small group of his relatives waiting for dinner to be served. There was a perfect breeze, sweet sunshine, and the wine was finally flowing. Then Ben's cousin spilled red wine all over her husband's lap. We all had a good chuckle. Then I subconsciously decided that I would one up the red-wine-pants-spill that could be covered by a shirt. Not realizing what my subconscious was plotting, I began to move my red wine from one hand to the other. Mid-move, the light breeze got frisky and tried to Marilyn Monroe my skirt. So obviously I spazzed while trying to maintain my "I'm a lady" act, and proceeded to throw the entire glass of red wine down the front of my dress. Fantastic. 

And so concludes my July 4th weekend.

xoxo, b