Home, Marriage

Snippets

Finishing our evening Bible reading:
Logan: “What time is it?”
Me: “9:30.”
Logan: “Oh my word! I had no idea it was SO. LATE!”

Discussing the names of our future children:
Logan: “I feel like you’re relegating all of my ideas to middle name status.”
Me: “What are you talking about?”
Logan: “You know, like Hazard. . . . ”
Me: “Hazard. has NEVER. even been a middle name option. Ever.”
Logan: “I thought you said we could use it for a middle name!”
Me: “I probably said we could use it for a dog’s name.”
Logan: “But we don’t want a dog.”
Me: ” . . . .”

I’m not the only critic:
Me: “How about Eleanor?”
Logan: “EVERYONE would IMMEDIATELY think of Eleanor Roosevelt.”
Me: “She’s been dead for many years.”
Logan: “It’s a cultural reference.”
Me: “You’ve never even heard of Beyonce*. What do you know about cultural references???!”
—*note: this is not something I hold against the man.

On cleanliness:
Logan: “Is this a chip on the floor?”
Me: “That would imply that I ate the chips while you were gone . . . and that I was too lazy to vacuum . . . would you imply those things about your wife???!!?” Continue reading “Snippets”

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Home, Marriage

Bugged

Once upon a time, I liked crickets.

I remember this distinctly. I had read a book about them–whether for school or because I was a scientifically-minded ten-year-old, I remember not–and I was subsequently fascinated with the creatures. I remember catching them and putting them in a big bucket with the neighbor kids. Then I would spout random scientifical facts I had learned from my book. Yes, I was that kid.

While I’m still that kid in the sense that I will spout whatever random facts I know at any given time, I have no idea what happened to the cricket-catching kid. The only explanation I can think of now is that I was under a spell. Because this Betsy hates. all. bugs.

Period.

Growing up, grasshoppers were my greatest fear. Any time Mom sent me out to the garden, I walked in mortal terror that one of them might jump on me. I could NOT think of a worse fate.

After my family moved, cave crickets became my new Enemy. Yes, with a capital E. I am still solemnly convinced that they are the locusts of Revelation 9. If they don’t originate in the Pit, I don’t know what does.

Man, I hate those things.

Luckily for me . . . I’ve moved again! And now I have an obliging husband who will get of bugs for me. Normally, this plays out like so:

Me: Can you please get rid of that spider?
Husband: It’s a daddy long legs. It’s not hurting anyone.
Me: But I don’t like it.
Husband: Whatever. [removes spider and releases it outdoors]
Me: Husband!!!
Husband: I got rid of it.
Me: Well, when it comes back into the house . . . I want it DEAD.

It’s not that I hate or even fear daddy long legs. I just don’t like sweeping cobwebs all. the stinking. time. However, I can deal with daddy long legs and cobwebs. In fact, I can even kill them myself when Logan’s at work. (But don’t tell him that. I need him to think he’s the only one who can handle them.)

Other things, however, are different.

Yesterday, I was sitting on the couch, calmly minding my own business, looking for a job, when some sort of creepy thing was in my peripheral vision. I didn’t know what it was because my cat-like reflexes took over and I flailed helplessly until it was gone.

It came back later, not too close to my face this time, and I was able to calmly squish it with a nail polish bottle. BUT IT APPARENTLY DIDN’T DIE. Because I saw it again after supper. At which point husband was home and able to kill it for me. ❤

Husband: I wonder if that’s a termite.
Me: No.
Husband: I don’t know . . . it kind of looks like one.
Me: NO.

Immediately, I had visions of our landlord having to replace all the floors and boards in this house, forcing us to camp in my in-laws’ basement for an indefinite period of time. (I could visualize this easily because Logan’s brother & sister-in-law literally just went through that.)

But I got over it. We played a calm game of gin rummy. We got ready for bed. I went to lock the door.

Me: Logan. Logan. LOGAN! KILL IT!
Husband: What is it?
Me: SOMETHING NOT GOOD!

The huge black thing quickly scurried under the edge of the couch, narrowly avoiding my husband’s shoe. I had a little meltdown.

Me: Was that a roach? I don’t want roaches! I don’t want termites! I DON’T WANT BUGS!
Husband: I’m sorry, sweetie. I guess I forgot to mention that the south has a lot of critters.
Me: [slowly calming down] Can I get a little consolation prize at least?
Husband: Sure.
Me: Will you please kill that spider??????????

And all was well.

Until this morning . . . when I found ants in my kitchen.

Please pray for my husband. It’s been an emotional time for him.

But Seriously, Home, Marriage

There & Back Again

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That’s the face I make when I get to see my seester. ❤

Also the face I make when I’m walking over a very long bridge over very rapid water which I can see through the bridge. Actually, that face was a trifle more terrified/green.

Logan & I took a quick trip last weekend back up to our old college stomping grounds. (Is it pretentious to call ABC “our old college stomping grounds” when we have been graduated for literally 2.5 months?) It was odd to go back–it’s been such a short time, and yet so much has changed. It probably was too soon to visit again, technically, but two of my fellow music majors were having their senior recital, Logan & I aren’t committed to a local church here yet, and Ruth and I missed each other. So I bought waaaaaaaaaay too much trip food, and off we went. (My memories of sustenance needed for road trips all still involve a van full of 7+ people — at least two of whom are always-hungry boys — and drives that last many many hours. Hence the overabundance of munchies.) Continue reading “There & Back Again”

Home, Marriage

Not Much

Hi, world.

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged . . . if you don’t count book reviews, it’s really been over a year. Mostly because boyfriends and wedding planning takes time. Husbands and housekeeping take time, too, but I’m not adding those responsibilities to school.

I only had one boyfriend, by the way. I know it says “boyfriends” and “husbands” but there’s only one. His name is Logan and he’s the coolest. I may or may not have mentioned him in the past. Long before we dated. But you’ll have to sleuth that out yourself.

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Once upon a time last month, we got married.

Anyhow. I’ve just felt like writing for a while, so I’m finally doing it right now. Mostly because doing anything else (putting away the clothes I just finished folding, sorting out even MORE boxes of things, sewing, etc.) would require moving off this couch. . . and moving off this couch would mean giving up my blanket. And giving up my blanket would make me cold. It’s hard to keep a house warm, y’all. Especially when you’re the one paying the electric bills.

**Note to those in Des Plaines: You’re frigid right now, but you can turn on your space heater without obsessing about energy usage. Be thankful for the little things.

I’m rambling, quite shamelessly. Sometimes I wish I had a cool blog where I took artsy pictures of the cute things I’m doing with my house. But you really don’t want to see artsy picture evidence of me washing clothes and sorting out our closet and balancing our budget on a fancy Excel spreadsheet, do you? And that’s about all the cuter I’ve gotten so far, though I have lots of other ideas of nifty and blog-worthy projects. However, all those ideas require something: curtain rods, painter’s dropcloth, spraypaint. So I’m occupying myself with things I have on hand, like dirty or wrinkled laundry. Not even kidding. I ironed basically Logan’s and my entire wardrobe yesterday. Now I can dress him in different outfits on Sundays instead of the one non-wrinkly shirt he had.

Should I be ashamed? We’ve lived here a month and I just yesterday ironed my husband’s shirts. My mom brought me a bunch of sewing goodies from her and Grandma’s stashes and I haven’t even plugged in my sewing machine yet. (Though I DID finally get the office/sewing room organized enough to fit a chair by my sewing desk!) My fabulous sister-in-law took gazillions of gorgeous wedding photos and I have not hung even one on my walls.

Getting married is probably the best thing ever . . . but this also the biggest change of my life. I don’t really know if I’m handling it well or not. Some days I’m proud of all I get done, and some days I huddle beneath my blanket on the couch and pretend to be creative by stalking other people on Pinterest.

I don’t know how to finish this post. It was meant to be a cheerful little hello and life update to get me back into blogging, and it turned into a ramble about . . . about . . . I don’t even know exactly what I’ve been talking about. To-do lists and ironing and Pinterest and energy bills . . . welcome to life after college.

For the record, I actually enjoy ironing. Surprising, somewhat, as I never did much growing up; Ruth loved the job, so I let her enjoy it. And I almost NEVER ironed anything at school because it was so much hassle. Proof: Logan asked me Sunday if the blouse I was wearing was new. I’ve had it–and loved it!–for several years . . . but cotton blouses, no matter how cute, just never made it from hanger to ironing board at college.

I’m enjoying budgeting and keeping track of bills and receipts, too, for the most part. I mean, it’s not exactly enjoyable to watch your money turn into a still-chilly house and a milk jug that’s going to be empty terribly soon. But it’s nice, at least, to be able to see exactly where it’s all going and find ways to stretch it far enough to buy your husband 1/2 pound Reese’s cups for his birthday. (They were at Ollie’s . . . and we had a coupon . . . and he’s been working really hard.)

So I don’t mean to be a whiner about grown-up married life or anything. It’s super great and I absolutely love it. It’s just different than college single life, and I’m still getting used to it.

Okay, I have to put away this laundry for reals now. And start thinking about supper. Bye, blogosphere. I’m going to go do some married woman things.