I’m thankful for YOU!

Guess what guys? I have more than 20,000 total views on my blog!  I know that doesn’t seem like a lot to anyone with big fancy blogs, or anyone with a LOT of personal friends or a super-giant family, but to me, it’s pretty cool.

This blog started out as a fun project of telling our story as newlyweds. I figured I’d “meet” some people, and I got to continue to do something I love to do: write.

But now, I realize that this blog is more than that. It’s become a little community, at least for me.

I look forward to reading your comments.

Not because I want you to like me, (although I DO want that!) but because I want to connect with you. I want to share secrets for saving money on groceries, and lessons about how to best apologise at the end of an argument, and advice for how to juggle work and personal time, tips for talking about money, stories about housekeeping failures, and smiles over the sweet way we’re blessed by those that love us and that we are blessed to love.

I love hearing what you have to say.

And can I tell you a secret?

Of course I can, you’re not here to stop me.

Anyway, the secret.

I get a little bummed out when no one comments on a post I thought was especially clever or thoughtful, or cute. Or funny. Or sweet and sincere.

I know that made me sound a bit lame, but ah well, it’s too late to hide that fact now.

Let’s just say I like it when you guys talk back to me.

Otherwise, I sometimes feel like I’m just talking to myself. Which is fine, because this blog is for me in that it helps me remember important milestone in our marriage, and lets me think through feelings or emotions I experience in this crazy awesome life. But it’s also for you.

And so, I want you to participate!

I really do read every comment. And I usually respond within a day if possible.

The point is, I want you guys to feel welcome here, and wanted.

I’m excited you find our newlywed life interesting enough to read about every day. I’m humbled and honored that you spend your valuable time reading posts I think are clever or thoughtful, or cute. Or funny. Or sweet and sincere.

So even though I don’t have thousands of followers, I’m thankful for all 92 of you that follow my blog through email or WordPress. That doesn’t count those that follow by RSS feed or twitter.

And because I’m thankful for all of you, I want to share our little community with others. So tell your friends if you read a post and think it’s worth sharing. Maybe your sister’s new husband also leaves his clothes piled up on the floor on his side of the bed so they always get left out of the laundry. Maybe your mom’s best friend has a daughter who’s also looking for a job in a big, new city and she hates driving on interstates.

Whatever it is, I’d be happy to meet your sister or your mom’s best friend or the neighbor or your crazy uncle Johnny!

And for those of you that read but don’t comment, I’d love a little shout out so we can get to know each other. I promise I won’t ask you any hard questions today. It’s easy, trust me!

So, if you’re a loyal reader who doesn’t leave a lot of comments, I’m asking for you to answer this for me: what’s your favorite thing about springtime? 

Or if that’s too hard, tell me why you read or how you found the blog. 

And if that’s still too much, how about your favorite flavor of ice cream? Because that’s an easy-peasy-cheesy one, for sure!

Salty and sweet…and maybe a nap…

After the very, very long day I had today, I was a bit salty, and I came home and hurt Hubs’s feelings.

Dangit.

That’s not what I wanted to do.

It’s times like that when I wish I had a “do over” button.

But I don’t, so let’s start at the beginning.

And let’s just say that day 2 at work wasn’t super great. I know there’s a learning curve and it takes time to get settled in. But I came home in a semi-sour mood. Hubs was on the couch, headphones on, and knee-deep in COD. I immediately set to work in the kitchen getting dinner ready.

I didn’t mean to make him feel bad for not starting dinner.

I just needed something to do, something to relax me, something to put something delicious in my mouth…

But he thought I was huffing and puffing about not having dinner ready. I was just huffing because of my own stuff, though I admit that I wasn’t super happy to come home to fake gunfire. (He had the headphones on but forgot to turn the TV on mute, so sound was coming out of it as well.)

Not a great start to our night.

We made up and got dinner ready together pretty quickly though, (chicken, rice, and zucchini) and moved on. I settled into the couch with a blanket, a pot of tea, and my headphones to listen to an interview and write my freelance piece. Hubs was watching a marathon of “Hillbilly Handfishing,” a show about noodling.

And so we both settled into our night. Now, I’m already tired and ready for bed.

Which is normally fine, because this is Hubs’s (our) bedtime. But tonight he has a soccer game at 11:50.

Yes, 11:50.

As in, his game is practically at midnight.

Also as in, it won’t be over until tomorrow.

Sheesh.

Of course I want to go with him. I like to watch him play. It might be the last game. I don’t want to go to bed without him. We’re newlyweds, so all those things have a lot of pull.

However, I got up at 6 a.m. for work this morning. And I’ll be up at 6 a.m. tomorrow. So I’m just not sure how great of an idea this will be.

But, despite the long day, despite our little fight when I got home, despite the late late late soccer game, this is cheering me up a bit…

It's half the fat and calories mint chip ice cream, so I feel less guilty about the hot fudge. A little less guilty.

At this point, I’m still undecided on the soccer game. I’ll let you know.

Maybe I’ll go take a nap and decide later.

Ice Cream Bread: My first “flop.”

I’m proud to say that I’m being the best little housewife I can be, despite being frustrated about still not having a job. Yes, I’m sometimes bored, and yes, I sometimes get discouraged, (I got rejected for another job yesterday) but I’m turning into quite the little chef.

(P.S. I love ”my” knives (Wyatt was the one that really wanted them) that we got from Wyatt’s coworkers. Thanks!)

Anyway, I have this sort of fear that no matter what I cook, and no matter how bad it tastes, Wyatt will eat it just to make me feel better. Maybe that’s not true. Maybe he would refuse to eat it if he really hated it, but since it hasn’t happened yet, I’m still unsure.

So I got the idea from several cooking blogs I’ve been browsing to try a new recipe. Ice Cream Bread.

It sounds kind of delicious, and kind of weird.

But I love ice cream, and I love bread, so I tried it.

It’s the easiest recipe ever:

2 cups of whatever ice cream flavor you want (We used chocolate peanut butter)

1 1/2 cups of self-rising flour.

Mix together and bake in a loaf pan (or muffin pans) for 30 minutes at 350 degrees, depending on your oven settings and the size of your pan.

Unfortunately, it didn’t taste as good as it sounded. Or smelled. (Because it smelled like peanut butter cookies.)

The super-easy-to-make "dough." It smelled like peanut butter goodness (after I added extra chocolate sauce and peanut butter).

And since I still don’t have a loaf pan, I used muffin tins and cupcake wraps for my “ice cream muffins.”

I also sprinkled some sugar on the top of the dough, because I'd read some reviews that the bread wasn't very sweet. And I like sweet. Of course.

And when they were done baking, and cooling on my table, I began to suspect that they weren’t going to be as good as I thought. They looked a little dry, a little too much like bread and too little like ice cream.

All done, but I'm still unsure...

And they were okay, just not good. So far, we’ve eaten all the ones with sugar (I brought them over to my Aunt’s house yesterday to let them try them). They had the same opinion as Wyatt and I did. They were just okay. And I’m not sure what we’re going to do with the rest of them…

But that’s okay, because I learned that Wyatt has been honest about my food so far, because he certainly didn’t tell me he loved this.

Which is fine. (Especially because I didn’t like it either.) I want to make things he likes to eat. And I really would want to know if he didn’t like something.

And while he didn’t spit it out or choke on it, he certainly didn’t ask for more. So I’ll take that as a sign that he’s liked everything else, and put this on my list of foods to never make again.

And that’s okay, because I have my eye on a pumpkin cupcake recipe I’m going to try next. Yum.

(I hope.)

Did you just lick me?

Last night after a long day of work back in Sedalia, Wyatt and I headed home to our cozy little apartment in KC. We were tired and sore and, did I say tired?

So we settled down on the couch to eat some ice cream and watch TV. At some point in the night, there might have been a little kissing action.

A little later, I turned my head towards him and felt something slobbery on my forehead.

“Did you just lick me?”

“…maybe…”

“Wyatt!”

(His side of the story is that his tongue happened to be out and I turned into it. I’m not sure I buy it, but either way, it got me thinking.)

Because after as many kisses as we’ve shared, does it really matter if I get slobber on me?

Probably not.

But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let him lick me.

So I was the appropriate amount of annoyed for the appropriate amount of time (a tiny little bit for less than a couple of minutes) and we moved on to more important things. Like going to bed.

Ice Cream Cure

It all started with a night full of paying bills. Add in Wyatt not paying attention because he kept getting sucked into the episode of American Choppers that was currently blaring from the TV, and I was grumpy, pouty, and well, just unhappy. After I sat stewing on the couch for a long enough amount of time for Wyatt to notice my frown and ask a few times what the heck was wrong with me, the following commenced.

“Wyatt, cheer me up,” I said in a whiney voice. (Hey, I’m not proud of it, but sometimes I’m just salty.)

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?”

…(pause)…

“Sure.”

So we had ice cream. And it was yummy and nice. And I was a little cheered up.

A little.

“Wyatt, now what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the ice cream was a good start, but I’m still not cheered yet.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, you can’t just give me ice cream and expect me to be all happy the rest of the night.”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“That’s all I have in my toolbox!”

And then we laughed, and we kissed, and I was suddenly aware that I was standing in my kitchen with a husband who genuinely loves me, and knows me oh so well. And what could make me happier than that?