'Tis The Season to Be Thankful

You know, I am absolutely guilty of forgetting the spirit of this coming holiday. I mean, the intended spirit is contained within the name itself. However, as I was walking into my building for work, I was reminded of something.

As a side-reading adventure, here's how my train of thought went (be warned, I have a roundabout way of thinking, so feel free to skip to the next paragraph). I've edited it to be more readable, since most of my thoughts aren't so succinct:

"Wow, it's almost the end of the month.
"Heck, it's almost the end of the year.
"That means I'm about 30 and a half.
"I remember when a friend of mine would celebrate her half-birthday, which happens to be a day before my actual birthday. (She would get half of a birthday card, by the way)
"I remember when I almost had an awful birthday when I turned 24.
Okay, you are now caught up on my train of thought.

I did almost have an awful birthday, but fortunately for me, A and I were engaged by this point. My roommate at the time (who is a really awesome guy, and this is in no way intended to slight him in the least) happened to have his birthday the day before mine. It fell on a Friday, so he decided to have a party the following Saturday, my birthday. However, I never told him that this was the case, so he can't be faulted for not knowing.

People started to come over, well-wishes were given to my roommate, and the party started. By this point, I had resigned myself to be as humble, helpful, and host...ful(?) as possible. People suffer far greater things than forgotten birthdays, and I was already wonderfully blessed to have Jesus, an amazing church family, and a sweet then-fiance (who was there celebrating my birthday). She had decided to make me this Lemon-glazed Lemon Cake from scratch, and while it was cooling, many of the people who had come to see my roommate were sitting around the living room watching as he opened the presents they had gotten him. I was doing my best to be (or at least look) cheerful, but I must have been doing a poor job, because at some point, A turned to me, motioned to my friends in the kitchen, and said, "You know, I invited your friends. They are here for you." Our church is wonderful, and so it's not uncommon to share the same friends (in fact, it would be strange if you didn't share at least some). I had, therefore, assumed they were invited to come see my roommate.

In that instant, I realized that I have amazing friends and an even more amazing (now-) wife. When we all sang happy birthday, A and the others were singing to me, too. Only a love that originates with Jesus can turn something sad into something so joyful.

So, to all my friends who came on my account, I am very thankful for you.

And to my darling wife, who fills my life every day with joy, I am especially thankful for you!

Sushi for Dessert?!

Thursdays are our usual date night.

Dash goes to Doggie Funland every Thursday for the entire work day, which means that when we pick him up, he's completely exhausted. This is efficacious, since it means that Ashley and I get an entire evening of peace. We can watch an entire movie without being interrupted by random barking at neighbors walking by. We can eat a meal without whining or begging. We can play a board game without a Kong being dropped in our laps (with the implication being that we should fill it with a treat).

Thursdays are our date night.

Some time ago, A and I came up with a list of date night activities that we can pull from when we want to do something a little different. There's things like bowling night, roller skating and wearing as much neon as possible, doing a simple science experiment together, etc. The one we chose this time was based upon a YouTube show we both like called Nerdy Nummies. It's a cooking show started by a girl who makes nerdy/geeky themed treats, and we were inspired by a particular video she did where she made sushi cupcakes.

I should note, that these are not fish-flavored, nor do they contain any fish (well, that's not entirely true, but I'll get to that in a minute). They are matcha cupcakes with white buttercream frosting. The idea is to make them as flat as possible, so that when you frost them and put coconut on top to look like rice, they have the general shape of a sushi roll. Then you top them with a candy treats of your choice (like Swedish Fish -- see not real fish, but they do contain fish of a sort), and voila! Sushi cupcakes.

You are also supposed to use black wrappers (to look like nori), but we couldn't find any at our local store, so I just picked gold, since it looked cool. You'll just have to pretend it has a normal nori-like outside. Oh well!

The recipe we used was meant for several mini-cupcakes, so when we filled a normal, 12-piece tray with the entirety of the batter, the cups were pretty full. They rose beautifully, but like I said, it's important to keep the flat-topped shape so it looks more like sushi. If the cupcakes end up a little too domed, you can just cut the top off, and not wanting to waste anything, we made what we affectionately call "Shrek-aroons."

All in all, it was a really fun date night, and after making late-night deliveries of these treats to two sets of friends who live nearby, we settled in and called the endeavor a success!

So, to my dear wife who is game to try out an unusual recipe with her strange husband -- here's to you!

The Terminal Part 2

 The Terminal story continues....

Techie Dude finally verifies that I am, in fact, me by calling the other office line and I answer.  That's it.

We then spend 45 minutes trying to reprogram The Terminal to latch onto my work Wifi, with Techie Dude telling me to punch certain buttons and me trying not to sigh quite so loudly into the phone (I loathe all things technological that falls to me to attempt to fix.  I hereby abdicate this part of my job description.)

The Terminal doesn't like this.  It decides to spontaneously reboot 3 times.

Finally, we get to the last of the last of the information I need to input into The Terminal: the Wifi password.  I spend several minutes typing the letters and numbers from the keypad like I used to text on my old cellphone...punch the 1 one time for a, two times for b, 3 times for c, and simultaneously punch four buttons while humming the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandee to make it a capital letter. Our password has a '$' in it.  This is apparently a problem.

I get put on hold.

To sum up, The Terminal is not equipped to have the '$.'  I now have only one option - I must change the router password and every computer terminal and device using the Wifi to a password with no '$'s in it.  Instead, I thank everyone for their time and hang up.

I then take a 5 minute walk to get some fresh air.

After venting to M about the situation, he texts the one thing that I laughed at all day:

"We all know that $ is too hard for money machines. - - "

Yes, yes we do.

The Terminal Part 1

I have thought for a while about doing a blog post, but besides my Mom getting her purse stolen/lost and also her getting into a fender bender last weekend, I have had only work-related nonsense to report.  (She's fine, by the way and I finally got the chance to see inside the police station, so...field trip!)

Onto the work-related nonsense.

We are getting a new credit card machine at work.  Unfortunately, this means that we also have to get a new credit card processing company, which required me to fill out more paperwork than when M and I signed the closing documents on our house.  In triplicate.

We have also had a few snafus (I did not actually know how to properly spell 'snafu') including, but not limited to being misquoted pricing on 3 separate occasions and mis-sending the credit card processing machine, a.k.a. The Terminal, to the wrong place.

The Terminal finally arrives.  I spend 30 minutes talking with Terminal Dude #2 (Terminal Dude#1 may or may not have blacked out after our last conversation, hence the #2) and we set up the machine.  Wrong.  We set it up wrong- it was supposed to run off of Wifi.   In the meantime, The Terminal sits ashamedly on the floor, since I have to steal the fax line out of our printer to get it to work.

All that to lead in to this morning's convo with Terminal Dude #3 (who has miraculously not blacked out from our last conversation) and Terminal Techie Dude.

He tries to 'verify' that I am, in fact, working for my organization by sending me a text message to my cell phone.  I think this is weird and I tell him so.  He tries to verify current information about me from this, which is completely unsuccessful.

Techie Dude: "What is your full name?"

I tell him.

Techie Dude: "That's not the name we have on file.  Perhaps a different last name?"

I tell him my maiden name.

Techie Dude: "What is your current home address?"

Me: "Why do you need to know that for a credit card machine that's for my work?"

Techie Dude: "It's just protocol.  Visa and Mastercard use this as a security check."

I give him my address.

Techie Dude:  "That's not the address we have on file."

Me: "I have lived at that address for 2 1/2 years. Where are you getting this information?  It seems old."

Techie Dude: "It's not - it's from 2013.  We get this from Homeland Security, credit card companies and the Social Security Administration.

Me: "Well, I changed my name over 6 years ago when I got married."

At this point, I am frustrated, but also curious as to why a database from Homeland Security and the Social Security Administration was given to a credit card processing company.  Also, it also causes me to wonder about how the Office of Homeland Security and Social Security Administration does not have any information regarding my current name, address or marital status.

I am almost impressed at this level of incompetence.

After processing all of this, I realize...

I am practically invisible and off the grid.

Cool.

That Sure Was The Ol' Labor Daybor

It's been a while since either of us posted anything on here. Most notably me. Time to rectify both!

Well, I'll start with an update on the house:
The floors aren't yet finished.

Now, I know some of you might be saying -- we ought to be finished already. We started this project officially back in January of 2013, and we had grand plans to finish by the end of the year (I want to say we actually planned to have it done in 6 months, but I don't remember if we were that insane). A was reading lots of DIY and Homesteader books, blogs, and whatever else she could get her hands on for inspiration -- many of which were written by stay-at-home, homemaker women. Now, when you read these articles and things by women who are supposedly your peers and who claim that "You too can prepare a three-course meal every day, all while learning the concertina, cleaning the house from top to bottom (including behind the fridge and under the stove), and doing 'X' home renovation project," you might say, "Yeah, I'm motivated! I can definitely pull that off!" A inspired me with her enthusiasm, and I was (and still am) happy to be with her on this ongoing renovation project.

However...

...you must inevitably face reality. I don't know if the above homemaker-types are going through life in a blind frenzy every day trying to get things done (as my paradigm imagines), if they are just writing about one glorious day where it all worked out as they said with the hopes that it will be somehow inspirational (but the other 364 aren't so "shiny"), or they are just flat-out delusional about how life around them is actually going.

Which leads me to this last weekend. The Labor Day weekend. We have a deadline set to finish the final bedroom, but since we, the normal working-types, can really only work effectively on the weekends, we look forward to the glorious three-day variant, since that usually means we have extra time to work and still get our rest in. Sadly, that didn't happen.

I got sick.

Really sick.

I only get sick a couple of times a year, and at most, it lasts a day. This was not one of those times. A was wonderful and took great care of me, but by the time I started to feel at all better, the weekend was gone. Not a single floor-board was touched that we weren't already walking upon.

Oh well.
I suppose the point of Labor Day is to rest, whether you want to or not!

Happy 30th to Matt!

Today is my wonderful Matt's 30th birthday. Oh, my!

I can't really believe that my dearest, peaceful-as-a-placid-lake husband has turned 30! Although, I assure you that he doesn't look it.

Aside from a minuscule number of white hairs (I claim full responsibility), he still has the same boyish look he had when I met him at 18.  Yes, 18.  And I was 17.  Wow, we were young'uns.

So, to you, my dear Hubs, a tribute:

To you who dances to the beat of your own kazoo,

Who fills my life with heartache AND joy,

Regaler of ridiculously corny jokes,

The curious cat about all things techy and obscure,

My partner in crime (and in never-ending floor installation projects),

Happy thirtieth birthday!  May you live to see many more birthdays and feel loved through them all.

To Dear Ol' Dad (A Day Late)

Yesterday was Father's Day.  I know that probably everyone in the free world knows this, but since I am the type of person who has been known to forget her own birthday, this feels like an accomplishment that I knew of this ahead of time.

Matt and I spent the whole of last weekend in the north suburbs of Chicago visiting family, eating Chicago-style pizza, watching terrible movies in our hotel room and seeing Julia Hamlin become Julia Harrington.  (She looked every bit as lovely as a bride could have looked, by the way)

Before we hauled ourselves back downstate, we dropped in to see Nancy and Andy at the house and handed over his Father's Day present (divine chocolates from here).

Today, I get to stop, take a breath, and remember why Dads deserve Father's Day.

My own Dad passed away when I was a kid, but I still remember a lot about him.

Things I remember about my Dad from growing up:
He was almost always lighthearted and smiling, with a big grin on his face, a twinkle in his eye and joke just on the tip of his tongue.  He loved to laugh.  He took his coffee black and scalding hot.  He was a Cubs fan.  His favorite player was Darryl Strawberry.  The first thing he would do when he came home from work everyday is throw me up into the air, catch me, then nuzzle his 5 o'clock shadow on my face.  He taught me how to swim in the ocean, how to ride my bike, how to play stick ball, how to say 'sorry' to mom, and how to feel safe, warm and loved.

A great memory:
Dad launching me high into the air on his shoulders when we played in the pool.  And how he would declare "Nestee plunge!" and everyone, including himself, would fall backward into the pool and make a great tidal wave rise up in the center of it.

Things about me that I get from Dad:
No matter how hard something got, he was never ever going to give up trying.  I'm not sure I have that much optimism, but that specific kind of stubbornness I have is definitely from him!  That, and how I pack the car like it's a Tetris game.

For Matt, I definitely see that he gets a lot of his looks from Andy (doppleganger, anyone?), his purposeful mispronunciation/misappropriation of common words and phrases ("Dance to the beat of your own kazoo"), his love of all things strange and unusual, half of his musical talent, his affinity for techy stuff and computers, his ability to take quotes from movies/online/youtube/tv series and make his own secret language, his desire to 'tinker' with stuff, and his strange taste in music.

I remember several years ago now, when the family came to visit Matt and I in our first apartment and Matt and Andy were standing in our kitchen.  I was dumbstruck by how similar their mannerisms were, their manner of speaking, the words they chose.  Matt is his own man, but I can definitely tell where half of his DNA comes from.  And it is wonderful.

Thank you to the Dads, past, present, and future. 

With love and laughter,
Ashley

Beaming

When someone was having a hard day, my dad would say that  "nothing was going right from the get-go."  That was me one day this past week.

Tired from our marathon trip up north, Dash woke us both up before 6 a.m. with his classing roo-ing.  I awoke to piles of dishes everywhere in the kitchen and even bigger piles of laundry laying on the floor downstairs.

Groggy from sleep and grumpy because of who-knows-why, I wanted coffee, except I couldn't make that darn machine run.  After 30 minutes had gone by - still no coffee.

By then, I was tired, grumpy and caffeine deficient.  Matt came, did exactly what I did in the same exact order and finally coffee nectar finally poured forth, but I remembered then that I was supposed to go to the store to get creamer and didn't.

Matt left for work and Dash was inconsolable, whining and crying for the next 30 minutes straight until I had to dash off to work in a hurry.

Ugh.

Later that day, I come home from work and see the kitchen all clean, with the dishes done.  Matt drives up, gets out of the car, 1/2 and 1/2 in hand and a grin on his face.

Apparently, my white knight drives a white ford and wields creamer to keep the grumpy troll in me at bay!

Oh, my Dear, you make my grumpy days brighter!

With love and laughter,
Ashley

One for the Storybook

I started to write about my non-birthday event, but instead, I started writing about the best Grandfather ever.

We got back from our trip to K'zoo on Saturday.  Just thinking about it makes me tired.  We left Friday morning, met my Sis and her husband for a quick lunch in central Illinois, then made it into town just in time to see a huge gaggle of family gathered around Grandma at the hotel.

We all were happy to see one another, but it was a somber time, too.  The family had descended on Kalamazoo to honor Grandpa.

My own grandfather was a very stern man who didn't like kids much.  Can you imagine my delight when I married Matt and three amazing grandparents came wrapped up in the deal?

He was such a wonderful person.  I always describe him as the 'storybook' grandfather, full of all-encompassing hugs, beaming smiles and great stories.

I have heard from several people that Grandpa had a 'decicive' side, but I never saw it! (Enter in the story where angsty teenage Matt drives a golf ball through an enraged man's windshield.  Grandpa stood behind Matt and simply said "Sir, you cannot speak to my Grandson in that way."  Grandpa to the rescue!)

I just remember the hugs.  And the beaming smile I always got from him when I walked through the door.

I look forward to one of those hugs when we meet again someday.

With love and laugher (and some tears)

Ashley

Dash vs. Snow vs. Matt

For your viewing pleasure, the effects of 4 inches of snow on my already 'high energy' dog.

Matt walks out into the yard and hears something whizz by...

Oh, no!  A creature approaches, threatening to charge!

Charge!

Disclaimer: No Matthews or Dashs were harmed during this snow battle.

The Convo Files: Minty Fresh

My advice to any engaged or married persons is always the same:

1. Boys are gross

2. Have a sense of humor in your marriage

I'll admit, that first jewel is usually spoken to the woman in the relationship.  In a time honored tradition, it was told to me on my wedding day by a family friend and I also like to pass the news along to any unsuspecting wife to be.

I'll say it again.  Boys are gross.  To be continued.

For point #2, I'll just say that Matt and I get a jolly good laugh about some other nonsense just about every day.

Case in point - the conversation we just had:

Matt rubs minty gel stuff on his sore back...

M: I have succeeded in fullfilling one of my lifelong dreams...

A: Oh, really?

M: (Said with all seriousness) I have finally turned into an Andes Mint.

Dog jumps on M and tries to lick minty gel stuff off...

The Holidays: Whirlwind Edition

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

We made it safely home yesterday from our travels up north and out west.  Looking back, it doesn't seem possible that we visited everyone in just one week, but we did!

Here are a few highlights:

On Christmas Eve, Matt was a wise man.  Note: I did not say "wise guy."

He was just as funny as he looks.  I laughed out loud several times out of shear delight.

Then, on Christmas Day, we met my mom at my sister's house in central Illinois where we had our first holiday meal and opened presents.  I think I ate three servings of prime rib.

And no, momma G is not really sleeping off her meal.  She was purposely posing for the camera.  Her dogs on the other hand, were.

After a few days, we flew out west and visited the Loen side in Phoenix.  It was a blast seeing everyone!  (The 60-70 degree days and sunshine were also a big plus)

I had more pictures of the cousins, but this is the only one that did not feature a blur-motion child.

I think this was the only moment that Penny was actually still.

We also got to celebrate Matt's cousin John's birthday!  (Say that 5 times fast...)

On our last day in Arizona, we went sight-seeing and had dinner at The Resort (aka the home of the grandparents).

And now we are home.  I spent yesterday watching season 6 of Big Bang Theory in my pajamas, however I managed to get Matt to run errands with me today.

We loved seeing everyone.  It was my favorite part of the holidays!

With love and laughter,
Ashley