Hello, Gorgeous.


Okay fine, I’ll accept that I’m not Fanny Brice (but a girl can dream, right? Rachel Berry does it…)

Or Ariel for that matter… What the heck, I’m blonde…

Anyway, it’s been a while. And by while I mean more than two months because apparently when a gal gets married these days, blogging no longer matters.


Just a little update:

  • I have a husband! HUSBAND. I mean he’s heading to our next base in 9 days, but who’s counting? (hint: me)
  • I’m working hard to get my fitness and nutrition in check (and by hard, I mean with the occasional cookie).
  • I finally quit smoking.
  • My husband (still can’t get over that word) and I replaced our Camel Menthol Silvers with these babies

PS, iTaste did not endorse me to say this, but, THESE ARE THE GREATEST INVENTION EVER. If your idea of an E-Cig is the crappy gas station ones that die after three days, I’m here to change your mind. There are endless flavor choices and you can gradually lower your nicotine intake. But hell, if I’m not smoking chemicals, I’m totally okay with being addicted to nicotine for the rest of my life. TheVaporChef has flavors like Nutella, Butter Beer and ‘Unicorn Poop’. I have only one word for these things — AMAZEBALLS.

You’ve probably read that my beautiful co-writer, Lyss, and her husband are expected a little peanut this Fall. I’m beyond excited for them! But we also found out we won’t be together when school is over, so that’s a bummer.

I’ll keep this short and sweet. I’m going to start blogging regularly again because my hobby habits are at an all time low. What’s a girl to do when she only has a week left with her new Hubby and will be apart for the first time since tying the knot?

Aside from that, life is good. I’m happy, healthy and excited for the new chapter in my life– and can’t wait to take you all with me.

Until next time, Gorgeous.


To you, for loving me.

You love me when I’m happy, when it’s easy. When I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe or, dare I say it, I snort. When I’m cuddly and kissy and just want to be touched. When I’m joking and watching so-bad-its-funny horror movies with you and scratching your head, back or various other body parts.

You love me when I’m sad. Not just sad, but like… pathetically sobbing, feeling like I’ll never be okay again sad. When all I do is push you away. When I can’t see and my nose is running and I am just an all-around crabby little asshole. When I have no goddamn clue why I’m in hysterics, you love me anyway.

You love me when I’m feeling fat. When I pull and tag at every bit of chub and loose skin, as if pulling it tight will make it stay that way. When I can’t fit into my jeans, so I wear the same pair of sweatpants every day consecutively for like a week. When I have to try on everything in my closet and have a full-out temper tantrum because I don’t like my body or anything I own to cover it up. You love me when I’ve gained ten pounds, even though I might as well have gained 100 with the way I’m acting.

You love me when I try to lose 30 pounds. When I’m supposed to diet and you’re supposed to be “helping” me, but every time you open your mouth about it I get super offended and bite your friggin’ head off. You love me when I fail, and when I complain about the gym. You love me even though I’m intolerable when I’m hungry.

You love me when I get mad at you for making jokes about other girls. When I get so jealous that even I can’t stand myself. When I can’t take a joke, or freak out about you calling me a mean name in a totally 100% joking manner.

You love me when I’m crazy. Wedding crazy. Baby crazy. Puppy crazy. ALL the crazy. When I’ve spent the past two hours obsessing to you over something you don’t give a single crap about. When I makes plans for us that you want no part of, you go anyway.

You love me when I say stupid things and hurt you. When it blows up, way out of proportion, into a screaming match. You love me when I apologize profusely, even though most of the time you know it won’t change. When you know it will happen again. You love me when it takes me a long time to get over it, and when it takes you a long time to get over it.

You love me when I can’t keep my hands off you. When I’m high on you. When all I want is be next to you for the rest of forever.

You love me whether it is easy or hard. Whether I deserve it or not. All the time.

You love me. And I love you. Unconditionally.

Life, Love

Lovin’ On Each Other Since The 30’s

My Great Grandparents Hubert & Carol Malone have been married 70 years this month. Their anniversary is on the day Jason & I are getting married, I think this is beyond special.





It was a love story that began in the 30’s…

They were in junior high. Hubert asked Carol to be his girlfriend when he was 13 years old. Carol, naturally, said yes.

In 1943, Hubert went to high school & trade school, learning to be a carpenter. World War II broke out & he went to work in the ship yards in Vancouver, WA. Carol graduated from high school & joined Hubert in Washington, working as a tool checker.

Hubert turned 18 that fall and proposed to her. They met at the court house in Vancouver, WA on December 23rd, 1943 and got married. They road the bus 13 hours, through Shaniko to Bend, OR to tell their parents what they did. Both sets of parents accepted their marriage, Carol’s mother said, “You damn, young fools.”

They have lived together all over the world. The two of them spent time in Lodevé, France where they own an adorable house on the top of a hill. For many years, they lived on a house with stilts in the West Hills of Portland, OR. They finally settled in Bend, OR. The house they currently live in was build by Hubert; by hand and with love. He has added to it over the years, including a beautiful bar, winding staircase and a library, that extends in bookshelves throughout the entire house. He gave her the world because in his eyes, she is the world. Even at their ages, he still calls her “kid”. Hubert, in good health, takes care who has memory and health issues; she suffers from dementia. Carol and Hubert loved, laughed, worked, and maybe had a fight or two, but their love carried them through. This year, 2013, we find them still together.


I can only hope that my marriage can withstand all of that and more. You guys don’t have a computer, hell, you still have a rotary phone; but I want to congratulate and thank you both. To see a love stand the true test of time is inspiring and heart-warming. I love you, Granny & Grandpa.

Humor, Life

Woes of the Broke, Newly Engaged, and Pinterest Addicted

Unlike my douche-canoe cowriter Emily (Kiss kiss, bb), I happen to care about the color of the bows on the back of the chairs at my reception. Do I think this means I’m forgetting the reasons for marriage? No. I think it means I’m a detail-oriented, maybe-a-little-bit-OCD former art major who relies very heavily on visual perception.  And you know what? I’m okay with it. I like that the teacups in my kitchen matter to me even though I don’t drink tea. I’m not sure how I went from wanting to be a hipster painter in a studio in the village to wanting to be Susie Homemaker, but hey! That’s my prerogative.

Have I allowed Pinterest to get the best of me? Yes. I have extensive boards of perfect homes, perfect food, perfect parties, and perfect weddings. Oh and even freakishly well-dressed babies. With these came the delusions that my life should look like this. Of course, I’m Martha freaking Stewart.

This is my confessional.

I paid $32 dollars on Etsy for six yellow teacups that perfectly matched the two yellow teacups that I got for $0.50 at a local thrift shop. WHAT.

I had a temper tantrum about my inability to afford a butter yellow Artisan KitchenAid mixer. I considered buying it even though I don’t yet have furniture.

I get irrationally angry at people who get to plan the details of their wedding, especially those who aren’t paying for them, mostly due to the fact that I’m getting married at a courthouse without a dress or a cake or anything. Eff you, military. That’s not how my Pinterest-perfect wedding was supposed to work.

I get offended by people who don’t like art. Sorry fiancé.

I spent weeks searching for saucers that were perfectly mismatched. Huh?

I plan people’s weddings in my head, down to the tiny details. Unasked. Do I tell them about it? Nope.

I made a handmade ornament for my non-existent Christmas tree. It HAD to be white-on-white. I refused to use other colors. Oh, okay.

I think about what the packaging should look like for the cupcakes I want to sell in the bakery I don’t have.

The amount of time I’ve spent looking at Anthropologie aprons is not okay under any circumstances. Which one is cuter though?

One day I’ll have the money to be Betty Crocker housewife perfection, right? Until then I’ll be over here obsessing and trying to be like Lauren Brimley. Bye haters.