Monday, August 26, 2013

why the lady at my church probably thinks i'm a creeper

I have a confession to make. I really like babies. But I don't want my posting this story to set you all off on an oh-my-gosh-you-are-so-baby-hungry-when-are-you-having-a-baby-are-you-pregnant-wow-you-need-serious-help rampage.Yes, I am excited to be a mom. Someday in the future. Not today. Not tomorrow. I got married 3 months ago. So... not having a baby yet. Sorry.

But you really don't understand how much I love babies. I can't get over how ridiculously cute they are. Sometimes when I see a really REALLY cute baby, my heart kind of hurts. That's how much I love them.

So once upon a time, Husband and I were sitting at church in a row in front of this lady who legitimately had the CUTEST baby I had ever seen. He had chubby cheeks and big blue eyes and he kept making all these little gurgly baby noises. I just couldn't help myself. I had to look at him every three minutes to see if he was doing any more cute things. (Which, by the way, he was. Every time I looked. Gah, he was so cute.)

Then we went to our Sunday school class and, obviously, I went over and sat by the same lady. Because, well, DUH. Her baby was setting my cute-baby-alert into overdrive and I couldn't help it.

So I chatted with her for a bit before Sunday school started, and that was that. Her baby fell asleep (really cute-ly, by the way). But it's not like I was watching him or anything.

After about thirty minutes or so, he woke up and started to fuss, so she took him out. I was a little bit sad, but I understood. Babies fuss.

I had to leave Sunday school a bit early to meet up with Husband to go attend another congregation's meeting, so I left shortly after that lady with the baby did.

I decided to stop into the bathroom on my way to find Husband so I could fix my skirt. It just so happened that the lady was nursing her baby in there. I just smiled and gave her her privacy (because despite what you may be thinking at this point, I really am not a creeper), and went to the mirror to fix my skirt.

It wasn't until later that I realized what that lady must think of me. First I kept looking over my shoulder at her baby for an hour, then I sat by her in Sunday School and watched her baby sleep, and then I (accidentally) followed her into the bathroom while she nursed him.

Oh my gosh.

I was so embarrassed I almost didn't want to show my face at church again the next week.

Dear lady with the adorable baby,
I'm not a creeper. You just have a cute baby. And I wasn't stalking you or him when I went into the bathroom. The fact that you were in there was a coincidence. I swear.

The end.

Friday, August 23, 2013

one time Husband almost got killed by a rabid, flesh-eating scorpion.

Husband and I have been living in Texas this summer while Husband works on an internship (because some people [unlike me] haven't graduated yet) (<---did you see that? I just rubbed it in! I'm a college GRADUATE, baby! Boo-yah!)

We have learned that Texas is a lot of things during the past three months we've been here.

It is big.

It is hot.

It is sweaty.

And it is scorpion-infested, apparently.

Which leads me to the point of this post: Guys. Husband almost DIED and I'm not even 100% exaggerating as much as normal.

We had the pleasure of having four scorpions invite themselves into our apartment this summer.

One day, I got up from work, turned around... and there he was. Scorpion Number One:


You're supposed to be safe in your home. But look at that thing! It was in my living room!

Luckily, Husband got home just in time to save my life.


He's a better person than me. If I were brave and stuff, I would have crushed that evil scorpion's soul with a sledgehammer. But I'm not brave, so Husband had to take care of it. He had mercy and set the little terror free outside. Which means that it was free to continue being icky and making babies and terrorizing the world. But it's okay, babe, I'm not mad about it or anything, I swear.

So I thought we were home free. Yay! Our lives were saved! We rejoiced.

But then one night I decided I wanted a six pack. You know how sometimes you just decide you want a six pack? Well I did on this one particular night. And so I put in Jillian Michaels's "Six Week Six Pack" workout DVD and started busting out the moves like a super ninja (or... something like that).

I'd been kicking my legs and waving my arms around in the air holding my hand-weights for probably ten minutes when I felt something crawl across my hand.

I dropped the hand-weight. I didn't even scream (I should be given a trophy for that).

There, chilling on my hand-weight like he owned the whole freaking world was Scorpion Number Two:


So I cowered in the kitchen while Husband set the little monster free outside. Again.

Really, babe, I'm not mad at all.

That was a close one. I was too scared to finish getting a six pack right away. And also, my finger stung where the scorpion had stung me a little bit.


I can't believe the nerve of that guy. Those are MY hand-weights!

But Husband was just laughing at the fact that I had been flinging a scorpion around for ten minutes on my hand-weight before I noticed it was there. Which I didn't find funny. I thought it was actually the most terrifying thing ever. I. Could. Have. Died!

Honestly.

Anyway. So once the sting on my hand subsided (which took like twenty minutes, actually. Not that bad, I guess), I started working on my six pack again and all was well.

Until one morning a few weeks later. I was sound asleep in my nice, comfy bed. Husband was getting ready for work in the bathroom. He called out, "Hey babe, come see this!"

Groggily, I roll off of the bed and head into the bathroom. And this is what I see:

Scorpion Number Three.


THERE WAS A SCORPION IN OUR BATHROOM!!!

How dare he? That is worse than being pure evil. That's invasion of privacy and I wasn't going to stand for it.

Good thing Husband was all brave and stuff. After pointing awkwardly at it while I watched from a distance, he finally smashed the dang thing and flushed it down the toilet. No more being icky and making babies and terrorizing the world for that guy. Husband was finally learning a thing or two about how to take care of scorpions (Read: Do not let them live).


So all was well. Everyone was still safe. The bathroom became, once again, a place of privacy and solitude. We lived happily ever after.

Until one morning a few weeks later.

It was a Saturday morning. A lazy one. One of the Saturday mornings where you sleep in and wake up when you're ready and eat breakfast for lunch.

Except this morning, I opened my eyes, rolled over to say good morning to Husband, and started screaming bloody murder.


I think that really woke Husband up. He bolted out of bed swatting at his face like a madman as I wailed "Scorpion! Scorpion! Scorpion!" at the top of my lungs. It was total, instant chaos.

Once we finally calmed down and realized that the scorpion was no longer on Husband's face, we started laughing. Hysterically.

What a way to wake up, right?

We searched for the scorpion for a while, but we never found it. Husband thinks it's probably dead. I, however, am of the opinion that it escaped and is biding its time in the dark. Waiting...

Good thing our stint in Texas ends tomorrow. I don't know if my blood pressure could handle any more rabid, flesh-eating scorpions.



EDIT: After I wrote this post, we found Scorpion Number Five. Husband found the little devil in the shower this morning on his last day of work before we leave Texas. Mr. Scorpie tried to fight, but it was futile. Husband won in the end, and we sent that monster off on a ride down the toilet.

Don't mess with us.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

i love us. mostly because we're so dysfunctional.

Today I showered. I know, let's all gasp together and move on. So I opened the shower door, and, lo and behold, it looked like Husband had gotten into the washable bathtub crayons again.


I'm sorry, but that's just plain cute. I don't care if you have no heart--you have to admit, that's adorable. Plus also, he's getting really good at drawing hearts. You should have seen the hearts he drew when we first got married three months ago. Those were scary. Like mistakable-for-sloths-with-eating-disorders scary. But don't worry, I took it upon myself as his wife to teach him the very intricate art of heart-drawing and I must say I am possibly the best heart-drawing teacher in the history of ever. Probably.

Anyway, all I have to say about this is that this photo, folks, is a prime example of why Husband is my perfect match. Did he say, "I love you honey-pumpkin"? No. Did he say, "Your eyes are like stars"? Nope (though he did once compare my eyes to sapphires while we were dating. My eyes are green.) Did he say, "As you wish"? Nope. He told me that he loves me more than all of the other things.

He speaks to my soul. And my soul is probably, like, four years old.

So basically what I'm saying is... he's dysfunctional. I'm dysfunctional... You get the idea.

Boy, do I sure love being dysfunctionally married. :)

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

things i love

1When my cookies don't have raisins in them.

2When cucumbers aren't ruined into pickles.

3Those days when I can sleep in

4When I can eat a bajillion pieces of cake and lose ten pounds.

5When bugs don't come into my house.

6When the system I use for work isn't the lamest thing ever.

7When I can finish a morning run without feeling like I'm kind of dying.

8When I don't drip sweat into paper cuts.

9When I don't get a hangnail that rips off and bleeds and makes me want to cry like a two-year-old.

10When the movie is as good as the book.



Okay, so this was mostly a disguised list of things I hate... but I get points for optimism, right?
What do you love?

Monday, August 12, 2013

the story of that one time when Husband almost got me thrown in jail forEVER!

Once upon a time, my mom and dad and siblings went away for a week-long vacation (that Husband and I weren't invited to because we couldn't get work off... [We love being responsible adults... Not]). So Mom and Dad asked us to house sit for them. We took care of the dogs, watered the plants, and made sure that nothing exploded while the family was gone.

See, my parents had recently installed this brand new, fancy-but-kind-of-not-fancy-at-all home alarm system. Before they left, they showed us how it worked, how to put in the passcode, and that was that. Everything was going to be great.

Until early the third morning of our stay at the parents' house. The sun was not yet up, but we were. Husband had a 7am meeting that morning that he could not miss, and I had a date with a workout video before work.

It all happened while I was in the bathroom (because that's obviously when exciting things are supposed to happen, right?). I heard this loud beeping noise that sounded strangely like Husband had let the dogs out without turning the security alarm off. It was really loud, so I assumed Husband could hear it. I wasn't really in the position to go and plug in the passcode to shut off the alarm at the moment, so I just crossed my fingers that he was on his way to save the day.

But then the whole house started wailing like it was dying. The siren was loud. It was relentless. And the sudden shock of adrenaline to my system was incredibly effective at quickly getting me out of my morning zombie phase.

As I hurriedly washed my hands in the sink, I heard Husband desperately punching in the passcode and yelling "the buttons aren't working! It won't let me put in the passcode!"

And then the siren stopped and a piercing voice boomed from the security system box. "Hello, can I get your name please?"

Husband was flustered. And he stammered like crazy as he tried to tell the police that he was the Johnsons' son-in-law... but he got their first names wrong in his panicked state.

Super convincing.

"We're just house-sitting for them while they're gone..." he finally trailed away, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I see. Can you give me the spoken password?" the woman on the line asked skeptically.

"Is that the same as the passcode?"

"No, it isn't."

Dang it. My parents hadn't said anything about a password...

Husband and I looked at each other with panic in our eyes.

"They didn't give us a password," Husband mumbled.

"Thank you."

And the police hung up. The siren began wailing again. I scurried around throwing on clothes and praying out loud that pretty please I wouldn't get thrown in jail.

Husband looked at his watch. "Shoot. I'm late for the meeting... I have to go..."

"Go," I told him. "I'll figure it out."

And, reluctantly, he left.

It wasn't until he'd driven away that I realized that I had left my wallet (which contained every legal proof of ID that I had) at our apartment. And I didn't have a car.

I finally got the siren to shut off, but I couldn't stop myself from dreading what might happen next.

What if the police showed up and carted me off to jail? What if the next time I saw my husband was through prison bars? What if I had to wear handcuffs and looked awful in my very own mugshot?

At about this point, I was calling every member of my family--and where they were, it was about 5am. ("Sorry, Mom and Dad, but I might be going to jail, so if you could pretty please wake up, I would appreciate it a lot...")

After several phone calls, I finally got Dad to answer. He was already laughing.

"Making yourself known this morning, aren't you?"

Apparently, the police called them to tell them they had robbers in their house. Thank goodness my dad was feeling nice enough to verify our alibi.

So, I didn't get thrown in jail. In fact, I didn't even see a police officer.

I did, however, give Husband a hard time the rest of the day for nearly getting me put into jail.

And we lived happily ever after. Well, technically that part actually came after we accidentally locked ourselves out of the house later that same day and had to break in without setting off the alarm for the second time. But that's a different story.