Proof that it’s not all Barry Manilow and Abba around here

On our way to buy some pants for Bob:

Me: Our next book for book club is To Kill a Mockingbird. I adore Atticus Finch. Hey, maybe we can name him Atticus!

Bob: We can’t name another kid after a band, even though your grandpa’s middle name is Axl.

Jack: (From the backseat) Weezer’s a good name for the baby. Or Aquabats, or Beastie Boys! Or how about Beatles?

Hmm . . .

When we arrived home, Stella was begging to hear Dancing Queen. What can I say? I love Abba.

Speaking of Abba . . .

Here’s a little game: Name this movie

“Before I met you, I would sit in my room and listen to Abba songs all day. Now my life IS an Abba song.”

The song reference in my last entry was Talking Heads “Once in a Lifetime.”

Okay, I’ll bite

How long have you been together? Married 11 years this March

How long did you date? 9 months

How old is he? 33 in years, 21 on BrainAge.

Who eats more? (I’m not even going to retype Sara’s answer here, because mine is exactly the same.) He does, and he takes HUGE bites.

Who said "I love you" first? Him, but it was after a date to this Hypnotist Show on State Street in which he was hypnotized on stage.

Who is taller? If I’m wearing my 3 1/2 inch heels, then I beat him by a smidge.

Who is smarter? He’s the one with the letters after his name, but he wouldn’t have those letters if it wasn’t for all the essays I’ve edited for him. You’d think after 20 years of school, he would have learned how to proof read.

Who does the laundry? I do, usually. He always picks up my slack when I’ve missed a few days and I’m feeling overwhelmed. He does ALL the ironing.

Who does the dishes? I do most of them, but the dinner dishes are a family affair. Of course, I wash dishes as I cook, so there aren’t really all that many to do after we eat.

Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? We switch sides.

Who pays the bills? We pay them together.

Who mows the lawn? He does, I don’t even know how to start the mower.

Who cooks dinner? I cook 95% of the time, he cooks 3% of the time, and other than that we do pizza or tacos or some other kind of take-out. (He is sitting right next to me and those numbers are his.)

Who is more stubborn? It depends on how long it has been since we’ve had a picnic.

Who kissed who first? He kissed me at two in the morning right after we saw a star shoot across the sky with a tail as big as a kite.

Who asked who out? I was working at Hollywood Video and his sister came into the store. She told me that her brother wanted to ask me on a date. My response was “which brother?” (There are several.) When she said “Bob” my heart skipped a beat and I told her to tell him to call me.

Who proposed? Neither one of us. I'm a little confused as to how, exactly, we ended up married.

Who is more sensitive? Him, no doubt.

Who has more friends? We are equal in our friendships. We’re pretty much a package deal.

Who has more siblings? He is the middle of seven, and I’m the oldest of four.

Thanks NIcole and Sara! You both tagged me with this and I thought it was fun. I tag YOU if you haven’t already done this.

Interrupting our Regularly Scheduled Program

To bring you breaking news.

I have the best Tax Guy on the planet. His name is Dallas, I’ve known him longer than I’ve known almost anyone else, and a few years ago he started saving my hubby and myself money and headaches.

Here he is working on my 2007 taxes:

He sends me emails and writes blog entries directly from his iPhone.

He rides a Harley Davidson.

He used to kidnap my husband on a regular basis to go watch ridiculous movies at Brewvies, but he also schemed with my husband to send me and his wife on a surprise trip to Los Angeles.

So, sorry to all the single ladies out there, he is happily married to one of the most patient mothers I know who also happens to be another one of my best friends.

I pretty much love spending time with him and his family. I could write a blog entry every day about him and his peeps.

Just for today, though, know that we miss you, Dallas & Shannon.

If you are looking for a great accountant, he is your man.

Redirecting Enquiring Minds

What we have here, folks, is a failure to communicate.  If you would like to read further into the past of Rosie and her antics, please visit web.mac.com/rosiedays.  

My Name is Rosie . . .

. . . and I was accosted by a camera wielding husband yesterday right before church . . .

. . . and I am growing a baby in my stomach.

Word around town was that people wanted another “belly photo.”

I suspect the “people” to whom he referred mostly meant him. And my sister. And possibly my mom. Beyond that, is anyone else really all that interested? Wait. Don’t answer that, unless the answer is in the affirmative.

Yes, I know my hair is long. It’s looking rather pathological. Believe me, the only thing that is missing from my life (besides maybe a KitchenAid and some hardware for my kitchen cupboards) is someone I trust to come near me holding a pair of scissors. Oh Liz H., how I miss you. Let me count the ways . . .

What did the mama tomato say to the baby tomato when he was falling behind?

Excuse: Bob has been holding my computer hostage the last several nights while he begins his studies for his upcoming step 3 of the USMLE Board Exams. I detest the weeks and months leading up to these exams, but now even more so as his study habits are interfering with my blogging schedule.

So we play a little catch up. Or ketchup. Whatever.

Love is . . .

. . . making rolls (from scratch, people) in a pink tutu for your brothers while they . . .

. . . sled down a homemade sledding hill in the back yard having come home from school a full TWO HOURS early due to inclement weather.

And then the next day WHEN SCHOOL WAS CANCELLED . . .

. . . playing play-do all afternoon or . . .

. . . curling up with your brother’s blankie and a good book. (whose kid is this, anyway?) (isn’t IPhoto fun?)

Finally, just for good measure, has anyone ever heard of these little guys?

They are called Sugar Gliders. If you can bring yourself to pay almost $400 for a FLYING RAT, this one could be yours today.

Eleven(ish) Weeks to Go!

I took Stella with me to my O.B. appointment on Monday and she found a toy in the doctor’s office.

Love is . . .

. . . rewarding your daughter’s good behavior during a two hour doctor’s appointment by NOT taking away the plastic uterus she found to play with.

Did I say Domestic Diva?

I may have misspoken.

There are some things around my home that I am fairly good at. Gingerbread houses, for one. (“I hate false modesty. It’s just another form of lying.” Name that movie.)

But there are some skills that I haven’t quite mastered. Cakes from scratch would most certainly fall into that category.

Case in point:

This latest attempt was bad on so many levels. Not even the lemon frosting my sister recommended saved it. Not even Obi-Wan (or is that Anakin?) with his light saber could save it.

So for today, Love Is . . .

. . . throwing the entire cake away instead of subjecting your unsuspecting family to the disaster.

Whipped egg whites can’t save everything, I guess.

Waffles

Love is . . .

. . . whipping the egg whites before you fold them into the waffle batter, securing lots of tasty fluffiness. (That’s right, people, I whipped those egg whites to soft peaks myself. I am a domestic diva.)

Love is . . .

Reading to your sister at the library.

WELCOME FEBRUARY!

Went to Costco today, they’ve got their “early spring lawn care” products out. “I DO believe in spring. I DO believe in spring. IdoIdoIdoIdo I DO believe in spring.”

However, since spring isn’t here yet, why don’t we warm our hearts a little?

“Love is a many-splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love . . .”

“Love is just a game.”

Well then, let’s play a little game, shall we?

My game is called Illustrating Love. Over the next few weeks, my camera will not be collecting dust on a shelf in its bag because I’m determined to capture a few moments in my life that illustrate “love.” I am going to *attempt* to post a new photo every day by midnight until Valentine’s Day. The first one is a rather cliche Blast from the Past: my wedding.

Love is: Marrying me despite the following facts:

1. I chose the tackiest, cheesiest, backyard fence lattice background that I could find to spruce up the church gym for our pictures.
2. I made you sit in that silly chair and hold my flowers.
3. I didn’t even hire a photographer to capture the Most Important Day of our lives on film.
4. I wore acrylic nails on our wedding day . . .
5. . . . but I still looked like a boy in a dress.

Come on, friends, join the fun! Get out your cameras, browse your old photos, and post pictures of love from your own lives. It’ll be a hoot.

Anybody (besides Sara) who can tell me the two movies to which I referred gets an A+++++++++. (I guess that makes three movies.) Also, if you don’t see your name or blog on my sidebar, add a comment with a link to your blog so that I can click over and see what you came up with.