It’s Kapril

Have you heard about Kapril?  It’s what Royal commentators/fans/addicts are calling April this year since the Royal Tour is taking up most of the month and is a big deal.  Prince George had his first official engagement, in which he made a little girl cry by taking her doll, and so far Kate has coached a rugby team, beat her husband in a sailing race, and almost fallen over while walking in heels.  And William, well, he’s been there too.  He’s just not quite as cute as George or as elegant/fun/awesome as Kate is.  For a week now there has been Kate news and pictures and the like every day and it has been oh so glorious.

But yesterday William and Kate had a day off.  A ‘rest day,’ if you will.  In other words, it was the boring-est day I have had in at least a week.

Our fridge decided, however, that it would just be wrong for us to have a boring day.  So it decided to stop working.  Because nothing says Eventful Evening like discovering your ice cream is slush.  We called our apartment’s office and left a message on the general maintenance line (which really means that your problem will not be dealt with until tomorrow after 9am) but then decided this was a problem in need of emergency maintenance.

I tried to talk Danny out of it, because the recording makes it very clear that it is only emergency maintenance if it is life threatening and/or property threatening.  However, he said that a broken fridge means that your property is threatened because all of your food (i.e. your property) is about to go bad, and subsequently, if you have no food, your life is threatened.  So we called the emergency line.

Good thing we weren’t actually in a life threatening situation because it took over 30 minutes for the guy to come.  He looked at the fridge, touched the food to check that it wasn’t cold, noticed that our ice drawer was full of water, and said he’d come back in the morning with his supervisor.

Right now, it’s somewhere around ten in the morning.  The supervisor came, tried a couple of things, swept my floor under the fridge (I knew there would be something good about this whole situation), replaced some parts, and decided he couldn’t fix it.  So now his supervisor is here.  He walked in and said, “That don’t smell good.”  And he is right.  It smells like I’ve been burning plastic in our fireplace all night.

And somewhere along the line I agreed to go in to work this afternoon for a co-worker who called in sick.  In other words, that fact combined with the reality that the entire contents of our freezer and fridge are headed for the trash in the near future, we will be following my example from this past weekend and eating either Papa John’s or waffle fries for dinner.  With lemonade, of course, because I have learned my lesson.

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a pact to always get the lemonade

I know that since I made the announcement we are officially going to LONDON and PARIS for two weeks in September, y’all have been wondering what exactly we’re going to do.

As of right now, the plan involves getting on an IcelandAir plane on a Tuesday evening, arriving in London eleven hours later, which will be about noon on Wednesday, spending the next nine-ish days doing all the classic touristy things plus stalking trying to spot Kate, taking the underwater train to Paris (also known as the Eurostar/Chunnel, but it sounds so much cooler to say ‘underwater train’) and spending some time there, but not that much time, because the chances of spotting the members of One Direction and/or Kate Middleton in Paris are zero to none and let’s be real about what this trip is really about.  And then on another Tuesday in September we’ll get on a plane in Paris in the afternoon and set foot in America around dinnertime and wonder when we can do it all over again.

At least that’s the plan as of today, April 14th.

Which leads me into what we did this past weekend.

On Friday night Danny attended the ‘bachelor’ party of a friend who got married two months ago.  (No, it doesn’t make sense to me either, but if you can figure out how to have a bachelor party once you’re married, more power to you.)

The bash involved Dave & Busters, ping pong, and video games, which from what I understand of the male mind, is an equation for a very good time.  While Danny was gone, I read and talked to my mom on the phone and ate two large waffle fries from Chick-fil-a for dinner.  Let me tell you, I had been looking forward to this dinner ever since I conjured up the idea at the beginning of the week. Every time I thought about Friday, I thought about the fries with great anticipation.

It had all the makings of being a perfect evening, except for when I started feeling sick near the end of the first container/basket/cup (what are those things called?!) of fries.  I abandoned my feast to catch up on Royal Tour news, thinking I’d be ready to pick up where I left off in a couple of minutes.  Thirty minutes later I felt just as sick, if not more so, but forced myself to at least finish the first container/basket/cup.

I researched places to stay in Paris for a while and then decided to tackle the last container/basket/cup.  The sick feelings were still lurking.

And then my mom called and I thought about telling her that I was sick from eating so many fries for dinner but decided not to.  She did not raise me to eat meals consisting of potatoes and only potatoes, especially not of the fried variety, so I kept it to myself and wondered if Danny would be home soon.

I finally gave up on Danny being home before midnight and decided to just sleep my fry-induced illness off and made a pact with myself that next time I eat mass quantities of waffle fries from Chick-fil-a for dinner, I should get lemonade too.  Because that might have been the problem.  I only had a glass of water with my fries and there is a reason that Chick-fil-a’s lemonade is popular, right?

Anyways, on Saturday I woke feeling like eating fries for dinner was the best idea I ever had and went to work just like I do every week.  In the evening we went to a ‘reception’ for Danny’s friend that had the ‘bachelor’ party the night before.  Because if you’re going to have a ‘bachelor’ party once you’re already married, why not have a party the next day to celebrate your two-month old marriage?

Danny was the star of the party.  I am not even joking.  The ‘bride’ kept coming over to ask him to dance.  And by dance I don’t mean with her, I mean to do some sort of solo dance.  So he did.  Over and over.  And then on the slow songs she’d tell him to get his wife and dance.  So he did.  Over and over.  (Can you tell that the dance floor was not hopping at this event?)  After all that, I’d say Danny deserves his own ‘bachelor’ party.  Or something of the sort.

On Sunday Danny made French toast, we went to church, ate lunch at Tokyo Joe’s, and spent the afternoon at a thrift store.  Danny’s in the process of getting together a softball team, and let me tell you, it has been ALL CONSUMING.  So out of control that I cannot write about it in this post or it will be what you might call A Never Ending Post.  Anyways, Danny was on the hunt for baseball pants at said thrift store and, as he realized after trying on many a pair of pants, he also needed a Baseball Belt.  I’m not even going to elaborate on the fact that I didn’t know that was an actual thing.

We had Papa John’s for dinner, went to our small group, and realized as we couldn’t see the road that this spring snowstorm was going to be more real than we anticipated.

And there you have it: our exciting weekend.  In retrospect, I made a lot of questionable dietary choices.  It’s a wonder I’m not still in my pajamas and feeling sick.  Oh wait…

Here’s to a week of better choices and only one container/basket/cup of waffle fries.  With lemonade, of course.

It’s official: LONDON here we come!

It is with great, great pleasure that I can finally confirm that this upcoming September, Danny and I are going to London and Paris!!!  I’ve been giving this trip lots of time and attention as I’ve been reading guidebooks, looking for flights, and plotting about how I’ll meet Kate, and now it’s really real, thanks to (accidentally) finding flights for $600 less than I was hoping/planning to pay.

Four years ago…

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153 days!!

What I Learned in March

It’s (past) that time again.  March was a nice month but I am so thankful to welcome spring now.  Here’s a couple of things I learned in March, plus some pictures I found hanging out on my camera…

  • I figured out where the Maldives are (Thank you Will and Kate for going on a holiday that attracted a lot of attention -including mine – and led me to expand my knowledge of world geography.)
  • I can’t do green milk.  On St. Patrick’s Day we added green food coloring to Danny’s cereal. He wanted me to try it (even though I had the same cereal, sans food coloring), and call me picky, but I just couldn’t.

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  • I am not as good at computer things as I once thought.  This whole ‘using-a-Mac-as-my-primary-computer’ thing is really throwing me off.  I haven’t figured out how to put pictures from my camera to the computer, but I can put them straight from the camera to the blog, so that’s something.  And because I know y’all have been wondering, I still can’t scroll up and down very well.  I would say that one out of ten tries is successful.
  • The Air Force Academy Chapel is so beautiful.  I mean, I can see it from every window of our apartment, but still.  Every time I go inside I just want to drop to my knees.

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  • After a couple of very busy weeks and weekends in a row, we took a Sunday off to stay home and do very little beyond reading and resting.  I have since figured out that this is my idea of a really fantastic day.
  • Having your mom come visit is the best ever.  It’s one thing to go visit your parents, but it’s another to have them come and be a part of your life.  It’s just really special and I love it a lot.  Especially when giraffes are involved.

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  • I need to back up my stuff.  My computer stuff.  All the time.  And I will never, ever regret doing so because it will be worth it…because as I learned for the second time in nine months, computers fail.
  • Shark shorts make people do silly things.  Enough said.

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  • Taxes aren’t as bad as they sound.  Especially if you don’t have to do them yourself (thanks, Danny!), and you don’t owe the government any money.
  • Danny is a Bananagrams champ.  I mean, look at those words!  He always acts like he doesn’t like Bananagrams, says he never wins when he does play, blah blah blah.  But seriously, quintuplet?  Adroit?  Since when is that even a word?

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  • My trip was half in February, half in March, so I can still say it: Mexico isn’t as scary as some people like to make it seem.  Remember that quick weekend jaunt to Chihuahua I took with my co-worker?  I never felt unsafe and I really enjoyed seeing a new place.  Which leads me to…
  • If I’m given an opportunity to travel, I’m going to take it.  Not always will you be able to go somewhere for three days for under $10 (which is how my trip to Mexico turned out), but nonetheless, I don’t think I’ve ever regretted traveling, whether to another country for a couple of months (hello, China) or to a town 25 minutes down the highway from us (that’s you, Castle Rock).

Thanks, March, for the good times.  Hello there, April, with your pretty weather mixed with random snow storms.  You can stay as long as you like.

weird situations i have encountered lately

I started writing yesterday and just couldn’t figure out where to start.  I mean, it’s been like two weeks since I’ve been around these parts.

But then last night happened.  And now I at least know where to start.

A couple weeks ago we got together with some friends of Danny’s from high school.  Just a casual meet up at a casual restaurant.  I even knew one of the girls because – small world – we had a few classes together in college.

It went well and the powers that be decided that we should get together again – for a game night I believe? – but somehow it turned into a sit down restaurant, which would be followed by hanging out a coffee shop in a nearby mountain town.

Danny and I skipped out on dinner but went to the sit down restaurant’s parking lot to carpool to the coffee shop.  The friends were nowhere to be found…turns out Danny and I’s lack of Facebook-capable-phones meant we missed out on the latest memo: meet at Leah’s house -it was apparently too cold to leave town.

(And in case you haven’t guessed, Leah isn’t a real name.  I mean, it is, but it’s not the name of anyone involved in this story.  I care about privacy which is why I made up the name Leah.)

I wasn’t thrilled with this development, as Leah wasn’t a part of the first meet up (the casual one at the casual restaurant) and I felt weird going to the home of someone I had never met.  And as we drove I realized that unless Leah was incredibly wealthy for 23-year-old, we were going to her parents’ house.  Even more weird.

Anyways, we drove a short distance to get to Leah’s parents’ house.  The first thing I noticed was that we should have driven our sports car.  Our Camry just didn’t quite fit in with everything else that was parked on the street.

We knocked on the door that was at least twice my height and two girls from the first meet up answered the door.  The look in their eyes gave me a hint of what was to come.

We turned the corner out of the entryway into a haze.  It seemed we had unknowingly walked into some sort of hookah bar disguised as a home.  In my mind I pictured myself turning around, realizing we were at the wrong house, walking out, and having a good laugh.  But no.

For the next hour, we pretended like nothing weird was going on even though inside I was screaming, “WHAT IS GOING ON?!  THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR.”

At one point Leah’s mother walked in the front door.  I saw what was coming next: “WHAT IS GOING ON?  WHAT IS THAT (the whole hookah set up and everything else that was going on)?  WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

Unfortunately that did not happen.  She just asked us to move so she could make herself dinner.  We (haze included) moved downstairs.

I honestly don’t know what else to say except that it was really awkward.  And, for my mother and grandmother and co-workers who may be reading, no I did not take part in the activities that were going on.  Danny and I, along with the two girls who were at the first meet up, stuck out like sore thumbs.  For more reasons than one.

In summary, it was really something.

Speaking of weird things we’ve done lately, let’s talk about vegan prom.

Apparently it’s an annual event that a vegan market in Denver puts on at the Mercury Cafe.  I found out about it a couple of days before it was held, and thought it sounded fun.  So, Danny and I made arrangements to attend and started getting excited.  I mean, it’s not very often that we get to go dancing together and eat tons of free vegan food!  Or at least that’s what the pictures told me would happen…

It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was lacking gauges in my ears and/or an unusual hair color (pink, purple, blue, you name it) and/or an alternative lifestyle…and thus didn’t quite fit in with the average vegan prom attendee.

(Although now that I think about it, being vegan is sort of an alternative lifestyle, but whatever.  For the purposes of this event it was not alternative.)

The food was waaaaay lamer than the pictures had led us to believe, and we didn’t really fit in (we are just so clean-cut and mainstream, at least on the outside), and the music was a live band that played mostly 80’s music I didn’t know/care existed, but we ended up having fun anyways.

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I mean, I had a hot date with SWEET dance moves and even wore heels the whole night…does it get any better?

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I’d venture to say no.

I’ll be back soon with What I Learned in March, which I can assure you doesn’t involve anything weird.

Unless you count looking forward to the Royal Tour with the same excitement as counting down to your wedding day.  In that case…it may be weird.