Love and Marriage

[While watching an episode of The Amazing Race, during which the teams went to Tanzania.]

Mandy: Oh, is this where The Lion King was filmed?

Matt: Yes.  The Lion King was filmed on location.

Love and Marriage

Me:  Carseat's installed, nursery is finished, freezer is stocked.

Matt:  Cool.  Now all we have to do is raise a human from infancy to adulthood.

Love and Marriage

[source]*

[Matt notices the peach pit that Mandy left next to the computer.  Disgusted, he picks it up and rises from his seat.]

Matt: After dark?!


*Um, this is actually a picture of a peach pit that's been carved in the likeness of JFK, our second most handsome president.  Weird.

Love and Marriage

Matt:  Oh, and we're gonna make lunch tomorrow; we're not going out to lunch.

Mandy: We're gonna make love tomorrow?

Matt: Make lunch.*



*It should be noted that Matt is a mumbler and Mandy is hard of hearing.


ALSO!


[while reading a Facebook status update]

Matt: . . .infamously cool. . .

Mandy: Wow, that's the first time I've ever read something faster than you did.

Matt: I read it twice.

This is the second thing that comes up when you type in "infamously cool" on Google image search.

Love and Marriage

Me: Oh, hey, I took the elliptical apart.  And I didn't put it back together because I found some brown recluse eggs in it.

Matt:  WHAT?

Me:  Oh, yeah, but it's okay.  I sprayed them with WD40.

Matt:  You sprayed them with WD40?

Me:  Yeah, I thought to myself, "If I was a tiny spider, what would I hate to have sprayed on me?"  So I went with WD40.  It makes sense.

Matt:  Oh, well that's good.  Now we've got extra slippery deadly spiders in our house!

The Shelf of Marital Compromise

I think I've mentioned before that that wonderful husband of mine is smart and well-informed and knows so much about everything. 

Do you know why that is?  (Well, in addition to the giant brain factor.)

It's because he is, at all times, entertaining himself.  It's a rare moment that Matt's not entertaining himself in some fashion.  He's either watching TV, or reading a book, or talking to an actual human person, or listening to a podcast.

The podcasts are the real troublemakers.  And it's not that I hate that he listens to podcasts.  The best part about them is that Matt gets so much housework done while he's listening to them.  And I love coming home to clean floors and empty dishwashers and freshly-mowed yards.  I also love it when Matt fills the Zune up with lots of awesome podcasts that we can listen to together when we're on car trips (or that he can listen to by himself while I sleep when we're on car trips).

But I hate when I go to say something to him and he doesn't hear me because his ears are full of Ira Glass or Dan Savage. 

And I hated that Matt had decided that he also needed to be listening to podcasts whilst showering--which meant that he would drag the Zune speakers into our tiny little bathroom and set them on the counter.  You know, because what's a shower if you can't listen to a little bit of Kevin Smith?

I hated the speakers on the counter. 

It was becoming an issue.

It was becoming one of those little things that would make me angry--like when I'd be washing my face and splashing water on them, or when the towel that he put the speakers on (for protection) would get wet from the sink, or when I'd knock the speakers onto the ground in the middle of the night when all I wanted was to pee without waking up.

So I'd put the speakers back on the shelf in the living room, and he'd move them back to the bathroom.  And then I'd put the speakers back in the living room, only to find them back in the bathroom hours later. 

Since Matt loved the speakers so, I wanted to love them in there, too.  But I didn't.

Enter the shelf of marital compromise. (I'll sand and paint those spots over Christmas break, or maybe spring break or the summer.)

Now Matt can listen to his podcasts, and I can even jam out to some "Ms. Jackson" while in the shower. (Did you know that the lyrics actually say "Never meant to make your daughter cry" and not "Never meant to make your doggie cry"?) 

Oh, and it's not the shelf that's crooked.  It's the light switch, and I take full responsibility for that.

This is the new spot for the speakers, which is actually better because it's in the middle of the house, and because Matt can hear his podcasts even better because the speakers are higher.  And I can splash the counters all I want when I wash my face.

Now there's no more huffing while I carry them back to the living room, and I can, instead, channel my energy into cleaning that dirty tile!

Love and Marriage

Me: Do you want me to get you a spoonful of Mandy's Famous Pumpkin Cheesecake Ice Cream?

Matt: Eh.  I'm not really into pumpkin.

Me:  Sometimes I wonder why we even got married.

Matt: So that you could have all of the pumpkin stuff.

Me: Fair enough.

Love and Marriage

A conversation that took place after Matt took a very long time to wrap up leftover pizza, realizing finally that foil is much better than parchment paper for such a task.

Me: I'm not having a child with you. I'd be all "Okay, you change his diaper" and you'd be all, "Blargh! Ack! How do I do this? Can I wrap him in parchment paper?"


Matt: Whatever. You would lose it. Different strengths, Mandy. You're absent-minded and I'm bad at shapes.

Me: I wouldn't lose it. Not at first anyway. They don't go anywhere at first. . .Oh, but I guess I could set it down somewhere and then forget where.

Matt: Yeah, like on top of the car.

 

What a Wonderful World

A conversation between Matt and Mandy, as they cooked a fancy Friday night dinner (Shake-n-Bake chicken with canned corn).

Mandy [singing]:  . . ."The bright blessed day. . ."

Matt [singing]: . . ."The dark sacred night. . ."

Mandy: I just heard you say "The dark sacred night" and that makes so much sense.  I always thought it said "The dogs say goodnight."

Love and Marriage

Matt:  So I called the doctor today, and he said--

Me:  --No more monkeys jumping on the bed?

500th Post!

1. Yeah, that's a lot of posts.  As Matt put it, "I don't think I've ever done anything 500 times."  But, what started as a way for me to put pictures on the internet without cluttering other peoples' Facebook feeds has become a fun hobby, and something that's reconnected me with many people from way back when.  So that's good.  Thanks for reading, ya'll.  (Or, "you guys," which I apparently say too much, in a very white girl kind of way.  I get mocked for it at school, but it's all good, you guys.)
2. Me:  I think I want a glass of wine.  And I think I want you to get it for me.  Matt:  You do, huh?  Me: Yes.  Acts of service is my love language.  Matt:  Well, watching people talk about football on tv is my love language.
3. True Blood is fun this season, albeit a little crazy.  On last week's episode, when Bill put the IV in his arm and gave his blood to Sookie, I thought to myself, "Yeah, right.  Like it would happen that easily."  Of course, because the transfer of blood through the IV is what's unbelievable about the show.  And I'm about ready for Sookie to bite it.  Like, die--not chew.
4. I'm a pretty good speller.  So good, in fact, that I went to the county spelling bee twice when I was in middle school.  I do, though, get tripped up and second-guess myself when spelling certain words.  In one of the previous posts I wrote the word unforgivable and I couldn't remember (or didn't know) if I needed to but an e after the v.  So I turned to my trusty online dictionary, Merriam-Webster Online, to check myself.  And, get this, Webster is now trying to sell the dictionary.  They wouldn't tell me the definition unless I paid for the service.  Really, Webster?  Couldn't get by on the ad revenue?  Now I have to buy the new unabridged dictionary?  I'll just work on my spelling, thankyouverymuch.  (Or use one of the other myriad online dictionaries that are available for free.)
5. I wonder if thankyouverymuch is available in the unabridged version of the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary?
6. When I was in Baptist school in the fourth grade, we had to read a biographical story about Noah Webster, and basically about how God wrote the dictionary for him.  Webster was all "Jesus this and Jesus that, and 'Have you found Jesus yet?'"  I didn't know I was supposed to be lookin' for him. 
7. For the last month and a half or so, I have been trudging through some horrible family drama.  I'm trying to decide how much of that stuff I want to share on the internet.  Part of me wants to put it all out there, but another part of me thinks that it wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.  Maybe I'll just share it for the book I'll write someday, like Running with Scissors but way more fucked up. 
8. I'm not sure if I was supposed to hate him or not, but I LOVED Mark Ruffalo's character in The Kids Are All Right.  Also, I loved that movie with my whole heart and soul.  Matt and I talked about it in-depth for a very long time, and it took me back to the days early in our relationship, when we were in the same film class.  Only, this time there was nobody claiming that everything had just been a dream or that the characters were just conforming to societal norms.  (Oh, societal norms girl, how I loathed you. . .)
9. We ate Five Guys at 3:00 and I'm not even close to being hungry again.  I guess it wasn't so bad to eat there after all.
10. I am determined to drink a grapefruit margarita before the end of summer. 
11. Watched 12th & Delaware on HBO last night.  Wow.  Kind of makes me want to donate our entire savings account to Planned Parenthood.
Trailer
12. Friday Night Lights season finale was good, I thought.  Matt made a good point, noting that it was the first season finale that didn't have to be a potential series finale.  I don't want to spoil anything for those of you who haven't seen it, but I thought there was a good balance between cliffhanger and conclusion.
13. I get ten free song credits with the Zune pass every month, but I am terrible at exploring new music.  What's your favorite song (either right now or in life)? 

Love and Marriage

[source]

Matt: [talking about The Kids Are All Right] Mark Ruffalo's in it.

Me: Uhhh. . .I don't know who that is.

Matt: He's in a lot of great indie movies.  He's really good.  He was in You Can Count on Me, that movie we watched in college with Best Friend that you really liked with Laura Linney.

Me: [blank stare] I don't know who that is.

Matt:  You remember, he plays Laura Linney's irresponsible brother.  He's kind of like Andy in Weeds.

Me:  Ummmmmm. . . No.

Matt:  You do remember that movie.  We watched it together.  He was in a lot of good movies.  He's a really good actor. . . 

Me: [BLANK STARE]

Matt: He was in that Jennifer Garner movie 13 Going on 30.

Me:  Oh yeah, I know him! 

[Matt closes his eyes, puts his head down, and shakes his head in shame]

Discovering Our Love Languages

Not long ago, Cassie referenced this quiz about love languages.  When Matt and I looked at the descriptions of the love languages, it was pretty easy to identify which love language each of us subscribed to.  I said immediately that my love language was acts of service: I love it when people do things for me (get me a glass of water, get me a glass of wine, take my plate to the kitchen, clean the house, do all of the driving on long road trips, etc.).  Not that I don't like a thoughtful gift or a nice hug, too, of course. 

Matt's is quality time.  Matt doesn't really need much besides someone to be in the room to hear him call out all of the correct answers (questions?) on Jeopardy!.  Not surprisingly, Matt's favorite times (and some of mine, too), are when we stay up late, sitting at the kitchen table, talking and laughing and feeding Mitch too many treats.

Even though we thought that we knew our love languages from the descriptions (which Matt insisted, by the way, were stupid), this weekend we took the quiz, per Cassie's request.  Matt went first.

It did not go so well, because for the better part of ten minutes, he mocked the quiz--yelling his insults from the other room-- for its stupidity and transparency.  I have to admit, he had a point.

The five love languages are: touch, service, quality time, words of affirmation, and gifts.  The questions on the quiz were really subtle.  For instance, check one:

• I love it when you celebrate my birthday with a gift.
• I love it when you celebrate my birthday with meaningful words.

What love languages could these answers possibly support?  Matt had believed that the love language theory was stupid in the first place, and didn't keep it a secret that he found the quiz to be a complete waste of time. 

Was he wrong?  Nope.

Because it took all that to discover that quality time is his love language.  Mine is acts of service.  Basically, if he does things for me then I'll hang out with him.  Sounds good to me.

Hey, Matt, the house needs to be vacuumed and the clothes need to be put away.  I'll be lying here on the couch when you're done, and I'll be happy to hang out, and to listen to you shout out the answers during Jeopardy!  Hell, I'll even provide you with affirming words like, "You're so smart during the kid's tournament."

What's your love language? 

(Oh, and if you're looking for a super-fun old school quiz, here's The Spark's Purity Quiz.  How pure are you?)

Love and Marriage

[source]

[while listening to the Toy Story soundtrack] 

Me:  Do you want to dance?

Matt:  No, I'm good.

Me: This is why we won't be married for much longer.

Matt:  Matt Sarasen and Julie danced, and they broke up the next day.  I'm just pointing to the evidence.  You know who never dances?  My mom and dad.

Dream Husband, At Least for Me.

Okay, so I wanted to post this earlier, but I didn't.  I mean, I'm super happy with Matt, but I don't want to be overly saccharine on here.  Also, I realized how much it would make me seem like a complete fatass.  Matt made a good point, I believe, when he said, regarding my making myself out to be a fatass, "That ship has sailed."  So here goes it.

I've been taking this class all year, every Monday, to learn how to teach gifted students.  It's been miserable.  The class is all the way across town, and there are a million other bitchy things I could say about it but won't on the internet.  It's every Monday.  It has started my weeks out in the shittiest of fashions.  It has caused me to start drinking as soon as I walk in the door just to alleviate my extreme rage, which then causes Tuesdays to be "Hangover Tuesdays."  It's been awful. 

But this Monday--yesterday--was the last one.  THE LAST ONE! 

The dream-husband-ness actually begins earlier, when Matt offered to bring me one of Chick-Fil-A's NEW spicy chicken sandwiches during my planning at school.  Unfortunately, I had some big issues to deal with (things I'm not allowed to post on the world wide web, but that have been super stressful for the past week or so), so I told him not to.  (Instead, he brought me one after school today, and OH DEAR GOD THAT SHIT WAS AMAZING.)

Matt decided that we needed to celebrate the ending of gifted class, and when I called him on my way home, he had started to prepare pot roast.  Talk about a comfort food!  But that wasn't all. . .He had also purchased for me a loaf of sourdough French bread from Publix.  I mean, it really doesn't get much better than that.  But it does.  Because he had also gotten the Cupcake Cabernet wine to use in the pot roast and for us to drink.  Are you kidding me right now?  No, he really did that.

And when I had a glass of Coke Zero and I left it in the kitchen after I went into the living room to watch the news, he brought it to me in the living room without me even asking.  And when the dogs barked and whined to be let back in the house, he went to get them.  And when I wanted to take a nap to sleep off my rage and my exhaustion, he let me.  And then I woke up to the smell of pot roast, and it was time to eat.  Are you kidding me right now?

If you ask me, it doesn't get much better than waking up to the smell of pot roast.

So I ate so much that I wanted to puke.  I do that on occasion.

When I decided that I needed to go to bed early, and I got into bed (with two dogs by my side), it was Matt who stood by the side of the bed, talking to me, joking with me, listening to me kvetch, delivering rawhides to the dogs. 

The big thing here, though, is that Matt was so wonderful, and that's why I married him.  I know I mock him all the time on here for being so smart with trivia and logic, and so retarded with spatial relations, but I should say more how much I appreciate him.  I should mention how his strengths perfectly complement my weaknesses and vice versa, and how he's grown more thoughtful and compassionate by the day.  And how he makes me be more logical and reasonable by the day.  As cliche as it is (and it's really fucking cliche), Matt makes me want to be better.  He challenges me.  He cherishes me.  He's the best. 

And you know that he's the best because he brought me a loaf of sourdough French bread--that he listened enough to my explanation at Publix about how I do love the crusty white baguette, but that the sourdough french bread is the superior loaf.

Matt's the stuff that Mandy's dreams are made of. 

A Remedy for Anger

Oh, what to do after an EXTREMELY frustrating and infuriating, hands-shaking-because-you're-so-mad day of work?

1.  Celebrate the fact that there are only five--yes, FIVE--more days of school until students leave.
2.  Channel that anger into vacuuming energy.
3.  Channel that anger into "cleaning the kitchen after the disastrous attempt at making Pioneer Woman's Tequila Lime Chicken" energy.  I don't know if it was the uber cheap tequila or if I'm pregnant with more Mitches (not pregnant, don't worry, universe), but as soon as I whipped the marinade together--and in the process shot rank green shit all over my kitchen--I was gagging.  Weird, huh?  I mean, it's basically a chicken marinated in a margarita.  What's not to love?  One of you should make it with good tequila and let me know how it is.  I'm  not allowed to keep good tequila in the house because I might repeat the night of thirteen limes.  More on that later.
4.  Wait until seven p.m. to drink that first glass of wine. 
5.  Wait until seven fifteen p.m. to drink that second glass of wine.
6.  Sit back, relax, watch Friday Night Lights, and revel in the fact that although I may have a suckfest of a work day here and there, at least I get to come home to these guys.

8.  Wait until seven forty-five p.m. to have that third glass.

How do you alleviate stress?

I'll Pineapple Matt.

Okay, so Matt and I are about a month shy of our third wedding anniversary.  Last year I shared stories about our wedding, and this year I've planned to share stories about our honeymoon.  We went to Tulum, Mexico (after receiving rave reviews from friends), and it was the best trip that either of us had ever taken.  But more on that later.  Wait.  I'll give you a preview.  At one point, Matt found himself in the strong embrace of a barfly named Sergio, a man who was, according to our 17-year old margarita magician of a bartender, Gilarberto--a clown.  "Sergio is a clown," Gilarberto told us, after Sergio asked Matt over for a hug (hug, picture. . .what's the difference?)

Why was I talking about this?  I get so distracted by this picture.

Oh yeah!

So, one of our very favorite meals while we were in Mexico was this pork taco and pineapple thing.  It was one of those meals where we were the perfect amount of drunk, the amount of drunk where your ability to enjoy food increases by 2,000,000%.  And we ate the tacos, and they were amazing.  I do not have the recipe for those tacos, sadly enough.

But when I saw Pioneer Woman's post today about chicken pineapple quesadillas, I thought of that meal.

When I suggested it to Matt tonight, he did that shrug thing that makes me want to choke him.  He's not wild about pineapple.

"But what about that meal we had in Mexico?  Our favorite meal of our honeymoon?  Those were pork tacos with PINEAPPLE!" 

It was about then that Matt explained to me that he didn't like pineapple then either, and that I had taken all of his pineapple and eaten it.  This should surprise nobody.

I didn't remember this part of our heavenly pork taco experience, because Gilarberto was a margarita magician, and I was drunk.

Fortunately, Matt is understanding, and when I insisted on making this meal, he grilled me up some pineapple.  He grilled me up some chicken.  He even grilled me up some onions.  And we had quesadillas. 

And you should have them, too.  Because they're f'ing amazing.

PS--learned the trick to BBQ chicken.  You have to put cajun seasoning on it first.  Then it's just. . .perfect.

PPS--just in case you thought I'd bought a new fancy camera and become a great photographer overnight, you can put those ideas aside.  I stole all the food pictures from Pioneer Woman herself.  The picture of Matt with Sergio the Clown, however, was all mine.  Little pink camera didn't let me down!

When You Say Nothing at All

[while listening to Allison Kraus's "When You Say Nothing at All"]

Me:  I secretly love this song.  You know what movie it's on?
Matt:  Uh. . .Sex and the City?
Me:  No!  Notting Hill!
Matt:  I knew it was one of those stupid movies that you watch when I'm not here.
Me:  Whatev!  It's Hugh Grant playing Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts playing Julia Roberts!  What's not to love?

[Matt rolls eyes, and also files for divorce.]

Wedding Gift Idea!

Is this for real? 



I think that this blanket paired with a nice gift card to a Mexican restaurant would make for an incredible wedding/engagement gift. 

I Like Pina Coladas.

But I don't really like getting caught in the rain.  My hair gets all frizzy.

Why is this song so good?

I have a secret desire for Matt and I to join eHarmony just to see if it would match us.  I mean, by every other measure--and by that I mean Cosmopolitan's bedside astrologer and the Myers Briggs personality test--we are a perfect match.  He's the Leo to my Aries; he's the INTP to my ENTJ; he reads the directions of recipes while I chop stuff up; we both change lyrics of pop songs to be about Mitch.  Not to boast, but things on this end are good, content, interesting. 

But I know that Matt and I will never join eHarmony because it's a damned can of worms and we do possess at least a shred of common sense.*  Plus, what if it matched me up with George Clooney and Matt up with Beyonce and then we found ourselves in a pickle? 

Earlier tonight we wrote our own version of the pina colada song, and, not surprisingly, it had way too much to do with Mitch.



*I also won't find out my IQ score because I'm afraid that it won't be high enough to satisfy me.  Instead, it's likely a 75, and I'll have to go to some special school to learn how to re-tread tires.