letters to my life.

Dear husband, come home from your work trip.  I miss you.  And I’m really sick of taking the dog out.

Dear popcorn, it’s been a while.  Let’s rendezvous tonight.

Dear rendezvous, you’re like, crazy hard to spell.

Dear hair, why do you look so confused today?

Dear Dad, I miss you.  Thanks for the really sweet text this morning.  You rock my socks.

Dear big brother, I miss you too.  Even if you didn’t like our beer :)

Dear meatbag, why did you have to awkwardly growl during my meeting today?  You’d just had a banana.

Dear Friday, where you at gurl?

Dear leg hair, yes, I see you.  No, I don’t care.  My husband is on a work trip.

Dear new sheets, I can’t wait to rub my face in you tonight.

Dear cheeseburgers, I really miss you sometimes.

Dear new sheets again, nevermind, I don’t feel like making the bed.

Dear 4AM wake up call, you’re an a-hole and I am dreading seeing you tomorrow.

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brews & boys.

This past weekend my pops and older brother came to Portland for a little visit.  We ate and drank and laughed and sight-saw… sight-seed… went sight-seeing. And since it was their first time here it was only fitting that we hit up a couple local breweries to do some tastings. Now, listen.  Growing up in the Midwest, beer options rarely extend past the point of Miller, Coors or Root.  I mean, until I moved to Portland I considered Blue Moon to be a fancy, complicated beer.   (Although anything with a fruit wedge on the side of it will always be considered fancy in my book… of fancy things.)  So I could totally understand when after the first few sips, my brother was less than enthused about trying something that has been “fermented at high temps to make the most of our house yeast strain, creating a late fruity tartness that plays out nicely with the lingering hop character.”  It sounds like a science experiment.  Nothing like a Coors Light, which is by definition a “light beer”.  No need to expand on that one, we all know what tapping the Rockies tastes like.

Anyways, it was an experience for them.  We had fun.  My Dad giggled.  And then we ate big ass sandwiches.  Literally.

Thanks for the fun, I miss you boys already. xx

cough it up, dog.

Dogs are expensive.  And let me tell you why.  It’s not just because of their food (although that shiz is craycray expensive), or all their toys (even though my dog has a toy box that would rival most childrens’) or even the vet bills (but seriously, my dog should have his own HSA account).  Nope, it’s because my dog actually eats money.  For reals.  Gus actually owes me more than $22.  And I’m fairly certain he has no intention of paying me back anytime soon.

What happened was Casey and I went out to drinks with a friend who was in town visiting.  One drink turned into all drinks and by the time we got home we were pretty “tired”.  So we brought the pup to bed (yes, he sleeps with us, underneath the covers to be exact) and immediately crashed.  But apparently Gus wasn’t ready to let the party be over though because he waited until we fell asleep and jumped off the bed, went through my purse, located my wallet, pulled out my cash and proceeded to eat it.  $22 of it.  Well, I guess technically it was about $21.60 based on the amount of scraps left over on the carpet.

First of all, how rude!?  Second of all, that sucks.  $22 is no huge amount of money, but it could definitely have bought me a bloody mary to cure my morning-after haze. That morning I definitely did a google search for “what to do when your dog eats your money”…  Yah, that was weird.  Thankfully I’m not this person, although kudos to them for actually taping poo money back together.  Anyways, my search told me that I was pretty much screwed and there’s no “dog ate my homework” clause from the US Mint to get my money back.  Basically my only option was to sift through his “deposits” (heyo!) to scrounge up pieces of the digested money.  Yah, no. Thanks a lot Uncle Sam.

Bottom line, I have no hope for getting my money back.  Waa.  But the next time I owe someone money I plan to toss them my dog and call it even.

[ the remains of my hard-earned money ]

we ARE the biggest losers.

In case anyone is wondering about the results of our Biggest Loser contest… our scale actually broke before we could have our weigh in.  Hmmmm… probably a sign that we should actually take the contest seriously.  Or maybe it was a sign that it was doomed to begin with.

We went with the second one.

So in honor of our contest a-no-go, we ate these lemon bars made from the Smitten Kitchen cookbook.  So good!  So good!

a winter walk.

In Portland, it’s really easy to get hit with the winter blues.  The gray skies, the rain, the cold, the damp air… it’s the perfect recipe for let’s-just-stay-in-and-watch-movies-type of lifestyle. (see: fort building for adults)  Which can totally be fun for a while, but eventually leads to me going stir-crazy bananatown in my apartment due to lack of fresh air on skin.  Luckily we live in such a great spot with super easy access to the river so we try to take advantage of it as much as possible.  It’s even worth dodging the homeless people on the sidewalk and inhaling second-hand weed as you walk by… because damn, it’s purty.

[ likely barking at another dog… or a plant.. or probably just a gust of wind ]

portland, i love ya.