Torture

I spent four hours today looking for a dress to wear to Mark's 10-year reunion. 

Went to 7 stores. 

Tried on 9 dresses and 2 shirts. 

Got nothing. 

Conclusion: dresses aren't for me. 

Does Size Matter?

Mark and I live in an 1,100 sq ft condo. It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms. We have no yard, no garage, and hauling the groceries to our second floor "castle" is an Olympic event.

Therefore, this is me, "No. I will not have kids as long as we live here. Too small. Too little storage space. Too many stairs. Cramming a tiny baby and all of his stuff into this little house would make me crack."

My neighbor lives in a condo similar to mine. She has no yard. No garage. Twenty steps up to her front door. She does have one more bedroom. But that's it.

However, this is her, "We just found out that we are expecting number five! Isn't that great?"

What?

Where does she put all of those kids?

So tell me, am I selfish and spoiled or is she crazy?

Little Boys

Mark and I took a little four-wheeling trip this weekend. The scenery was beautiful, but I have to admit that I kept my camera focused on the backseat for most of the time.
Honestly, that's where all of the cuteness was.
I think that little boys just make everything more delightful.

I Heart CO

Top Eight

Whenever I think about the ways that God has blessed my life, there are some things that always come to mind. These things have made all the difference for me and I know, without a doubt, these blessings have made me who I am today. I am so thankful for a loving God who "brought it all together." If any one of these people, events, or experiences was missing from my life -- just one of them -- I would be completely different.

So here they are, my top eight;

1) My husband
2) My sister
3) My parents
4) My K-12 Christian education
5) My completely-paid-for college degree
6) The missions experiences I had in Nepal and Los Angeles
7) My four, wise, doting, committed grandparents
8) The simple fact that I was born into the American middle-class

He Made Me Do It

At the end of June, Mark spent seven days in Canada fishing with my dad, grandpa, and uncle. I was so proud of him for participating in the new and slightly uncomfortable experience. I was also thankful that he had a great time. So great, in fact, that he has since purchased his very own fishing pole.

However, I have to admit that I was not thrilled when he came home with several beheaded, de-boned, ready-to-cook fish fillets.

This week, we had some friends over for dinner. I had a nice little Italian meal planned, but Mark decided that this would be the perfect time for a fish fry. I was not too happy about that. So while I worried about what my house was going to smell like and if fried walleye goes with manicotti, Mark cut, battered, and fried the fish.


Me and my world's-most-sensitive-nose stood by and tried not to gag.

To top the event off, I was guilted and forced into trying the finished product. The itty-bitty-teenie-tiny piece I tried really wasn't too bad.




In the end, our friends liked the fish, our dinner was just fine, and my house only smelled bad for three days.

A Vision of the Future

I'm fairly certain that if Mark and I have a son, he is going to be exactly like this kid. 

And I am more than fine with that! 

Now tell me you don't see Mark in him! 

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Neighbor,
I want you to know that I really enjoyed listening to your fireworks all night on July 4th. I didn't even mind too much when I heard them at 2am the next night.

However, since today is July 9th, can you please stop engaging in this activity between midnight and 3am. Really, it's dark enough at 10pm.

Thanks.

I'm only as talented as my model

An impromptu photo-shoot initiated by my niece.

When she was done modeling, she said, "Becky, will you print those pictures out and give them to me so that I can hang them by my bed and look at them every night before I go to sleep."

Hmmm....

Love that girl!

What was that?

Overheard during a conversation among college-aged coeds at Panera Bread;

"I hate it when people measure time in weeks! Like when you ask a pregnant woman how far along she is and she says, '48 weeks'."

No one at the table batted an eye.

Goodbye Dear Spanky Rabbit

Rabbits don't live that long. Everyone knows this. And when we decided to get a pet four years ago, this was one of the reasons that we chose a bunny. We knew that we were not making a lifelong commitment. We expected that our Spanky Rabbit would only be with us for 5-7 years and that would be enough.

What I did not expect was that he would be fine one minute, and barely clinging to life the next. I did not expect to be sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor -- all alone -- cradling my little bunny while each of his body parts quit working. He couldn't hold his head up. Then his front paws stopped working.

So there I am -- bawling -- at 12:30 in the morning with no one to help me. Do I take him to the emergency vet? Do I put him in his cage? Do I hold him? I finally decided to call the 24-hour vet, and between sobs the poor lady on the other end of the line thought I was talking about a puppy.

At this point, Spanks was trying to push himself across the kitchen floor with his back legs. He kept floping and running into things. My once-spunky pet now looked helpless and confused. Sobbing harder, I gave in and called my mom -- who is equally terrible at dealing with pet deaths. She was helpful though and suggested that I call our college-aged-male-friend-Daniel to come and help me.

Sometime between calling my mom and calling Daniel, Spanky threw in the towel. At this point, I was actually relieved to see him stop breathing. I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. Because I am totally incompetent at dealing with this sort of thing, Daniel drove a half-hour to help me gather the rabbit off of the floor, wrap him in the appropriate plastic materials, and prepare him for burial.

So our beloved pet is gone to heaven. It is amazing that a little three-pound animal can make your life seem full -- and that his absense actually leaves a little bit of emptiness. We will miss him but I'm sure there are more pets in our future. Next time, I am just going to make sure that Mark is home when one of them decides to kick the bucket.