weekend lessons v. 6

01. Giblets is a really funny word.

02. Last night, we went to a holiday parade in downtown Minneapolis and I just wanted to PINCH ITS LITTLE CHEEKS. Lesson: Non-Louisiana parades are so cute, with their teeny tiny floats and sober riders and lack of things flying through the air.

03. The other day I was talking to Ike, and I apparently called him Mr. McStinkyButt.  Y called, from the other room, “Of the Minneapolis McStinkyButts?” It was then that I snapped to consciousness and even realized that I had been talking to the dog. I have a problem, I think.

04. We started watching Homeland this weekend and BAM. Marley from Glee, topless. The lesson: Marley from Glee is topless in Homeland and I just don’t feel like her mom the cafeteria lady would have raised her daughter to be so… topless. Related: Angela from My So Called Life is a CIA agent.

05. I’m thankful for a dog that winks at me and a husband that sleeps through the cutest photo session ever. (see above photo)

pinterest in real life + Young House Love

A few weeks ago I posted some pictures of real fall, meant to show you what’s going on behind the scenes as your favorite bloggers frolic through apple orchards and make out with their pumpkin spice lattes. 

Today, along those lines, I want to show you Pinterest in real life.

Ever since some genius crafter discovered that – gasp – dry erase markers work on glass, Pinterest has been full of pinners posting their dry erase frame creations.

I decided to jump on the bandwagon, putting a frame in our bathroom (on those shelves that I fought so hard for).

Brushing our teeth is usually the last thing each of us does in the morning before work, so it would be perfect for the love notes we were dying to leave each other as we parted ways.

Or  helpful reminders-

Not that I would ever have the foresight to package up leftovers for Y’s lunch.  But that’s the thing about Pinterest – it’s supposed to make you perfect. 

But, readers, my husband is not John Petersik*. So instead of love notes, this is what I got:

*John Petersik: co-blogger of Young House Love who seems to be open to any and all DIY projects and doesn’t incorporate voyeuristic whales into home decor. 

Edited to add: I actually met John and Sherry, the couple behind Young House Love last night at West Elm for their book signing. 

I’ll share more later — they are as friendly and real as their blog suggests — but I thought this little story was relevant. You see, this exact project (sort of) happens to be in the YHL book. I showed John and Sherry Y’s whale, which they, of course, loved (how could you not?! Look at that face!). 

And then, because I was at the back of the line and I think everyone in the store was a little delirious, John wrote this in my book:

My copy of this book is going to be worth millions one day. 

what causes radon: the truth

Being married to a resident can be kind of humbling.

Like when you realize that no matter how much you have to do at work, no matter how annoyed your boss is, when something happens to your house there is no argument: you don’t have lives to save. You are the one staying home with the repairman.

This has its perks. Like… hanging out at home with the dog.

It also has its downfalls. Like, staring at an unfinished bedroom that would look a million times better if a) there was a picture ledge on the wall*, and b) there was no underwear on the floor.

But mainly it has its perks. My favorite: getting the real story from the repairmen. 

Recently, while sitting at home entertaining the people who were installing our radon mitigation system,  I got the inside scoop on why our basement has so much radon. I made sure to share with Y. 

Apparently, insinuating that Y caused a poisonous gas to emanate from our floors is the way to his heart. Just a few days later, our bedroom looked like this:

some other bedroom shots:

By the way, this is what our bedroom looked like when we looked at the house:

*I screw up every time I try to put something in our walls. Otherwise, I would have hung the shelf myself. 

the complexities of bubble baths

I can’t wait to go home and de-stress with a glass of wine and a bubble bath


For some reason, I’ve always felt like this is what real adult females do when they get home from work. I don’t know where I got the idea — a romantic comedy starring Kate Hudson? A book with a pink cover? — but I’ve always felt like I wasn’t truly a grownup because the bathtubs in my rented places were too disgusting to ever dream of sitting in.

Then, we bought a house of our very own. With a bathroom we owned.

And it had a disgusting bathtub.

I resigned myself to a life without bubble baths. It was hard to do, guys, but I did it. I know, I know: I’m so brave.

And then we discovered that the lack of tile in our shower was causing the water to rot the walls. 

And, as the popular children’s story goes, if you tell new homeowners they need new tile, they’re going to want a new shower head. And when you give them the shower head, they’re probably going to want a new bath tub. 

The first order of business in our shiny new bathtub? I was taking the freaking bubble bath I had been deprived of for so long. 

But there are things you realize when you take the first bath of your entire adult life. Things like, you have no idea how to take a bath. 

As Y said after he was forced to take a bath before the shower head was fully installed, Am I supposed to wash my hair in the same water I wash my asshole?

Valid question. I haven’t taken a bath since.

weekend lessons v 5

01. Just because you watch Felicity for 6 hours straight doesn’t mean that your hair will magically look like Felicity’s when curly.

02. On a related note, dressing up in your floofiest skirt and riding your bike to the library doesn’t mean you resemble Zooey Deschanel or Belle from Beauty and the Beast

03. On a related note to that, this still ranks as my favorite Youtube video of life. Hey girl.

04. No matter how good the shopping is in the city in which you live, you will continue to buy clothes at Target. Or at least, I will.

05. Making your dog sit still for a photo shoot before you give him his food is just plain cruel.

06. A perk to owning a house from 1920? Pretty glass doorknobs, no Anthropologie trip required. 

07. College football is unnecessarily heartbreaking. 

08. Three cake balls is not a good dinner… It’s a great dinner.
09. Having the house to yourself all weekend is an excellent time to a)sing loudly along with Glee, no judgment & b) take lots of pictures of your little house. I think I’ll take you on a house tour this week. Starting with this behind the scenes look of our living room, aka the room in which Ike likes to hump his bed. 

I live in a rap desert

Minneapolis is the whitest place you’ll ever live.

That’s what everyone told us, at least. Some said it disdainfully, as if we would never know diversity again. Some said it jealously, like our neighbor in Shreveport.  She was upset about the new black family on our street, and said — are you ready for this? —

 “I wish I could move to Minnesota. Things are getting a little…dark here.”

(We’re glad we don’t live by her anymore. The racist neighbor, not the black one.)

Yes, it is home to an albino squirrel family. But Minneapolis also has the largest Somali population outside of Somalia and a huge number of Hmong (from the mountainous regions of China, Vietnam, Laos and Thailand).

Let’s put it this way: At Y’s hospital in Shreveport, if his patient spoke a different language, he had to call a special number. From there he had two options for translators: Spanish or Mandarin. 

At his hospital here, there are over 20 in-person translators, plus a phone number that has 300 additional languages. So far Y has needed Hmong, Somali, and Russian translators… and he’s accidentally called the Polynesian and Urdu translators. (Which sounds like an awkward phone call.)


Now that I’ve lectured you on making assumptions about the midwest, allow me to get to the real problem. Despite all of this unexpected diversity, there is no rap station. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard a rap song since I’ve been here. Even songs with rap collaborations are played on the radio sans rapper.

This is a problem for this girl, who went to high school football games only to hear the band play Juvenile’s Back that Azz Up. Whose high school soundtrack could be performed by My$tikal. Who knows the dances to these hip-hop classics. Who thought it would be a good idea to spend her first weekend in college at Club 112 — also known as One Tweezy, made famous by Jermaine Dupri in the song Welcome to Atlanta in these classic poetic lines:

it’s off the heazy fo sheezy
You can find me up 
in one tweezy 

So, friends, I need to know: what’s playing on your local rap station? What am I missing? Louisiana friends, if I were to go to Goldmine at 4 am, what songs would I hear? 

Please help me. 

(And if you can’t help me, help those affected by hurricane Sandy.)

the sunday currently

reading Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. I started reading this before I read Wild, her other book. The one where she whines and hikes and whines and hikes and whines and hikes. Now I don’t know if I can take her seriously enough to enjoy this book. 

writing blog posts about Enrique Iglesias, My$tikal, dog sweaters, and radon. Stay tuned, it’s about to get musical, snuggly, and toxic around these parts.

listening to the Lumineers Pandora station, through which I’ve been introduced to Noah and the Whale and The XX. Tip: The XX is amazing writing music.

thinking about the peppermint white hot chocolate with whipped cream I’m going to be making later tonight. 

smelling snuggles. Does anyone else’s dog develop a smell when it sleeps? We like to say it smells like snuggles. You are not to repeat that to anyone, do you hear me??

wishing I could be a morning person. I even googled “how to be a morning person”. I got nothing.

hoping that the next bar in which I try to watch an LSU game doesn’t change the channel for the entire first quarter because one table wants to watch a horse race. I’m sorry Minnesota, but SEC football > horse racing.

wearing my new Minnesota uniform: a flannel shirt, down vest, jeans and boots.

loving podcasts. On a scale of one to Screech, how nerdy does that make me? My current favorites: NPR’s pop culture happy hour and Joy the Baker. 

wanting to fill out one of those “about me” chain letters that were cool back when I had a hotmail e-mail address and a geocities account. That’s what writing this post feels like. JuSt WiTh a LoT lEsS oF tHiS.

needing to eat more vegetables. This week has not been conducive to vegetable consumption.

feeling cozy. Flannel will do that to you.

clicking http://fairytalesfor20somethings.tumblr.com/ and laughing out loud. 

Linking up with Lauren, who just moved to Wilmington, NC today. In her honor, I think I’ll go watch Dawson’s Creek on Netflix.