10.14.2013

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


10.03.2013

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

9.27.2013

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

9.13.2013

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