Milestones

This past week marked...

...AND...

(due THIS SUNDAY!)

And then here's a bunch more photos.

 

I hope Baby gets his antennae.

 

...Just practicing being the World's Most Embarrassing Parents.

The tale of Sneaky Baby-- Part 3

36 weeks! The bigger my belleh gets, the bigger his smile gets.

Let me finish telling you how I told HIM. [Part 1] [Part 2]

...

Somehow, strangely, Jason hadn't given a second thought to me asking to talk to the ER doctor alone. Jason walked around the corner and out of sight, and Dr. Linda started writing on her clipboard.

"Okay. I'm thinking that you're going to need antibiotics, but I have to make sure that you're not pregnant. Antibiotics can--"

"I just took a test before I came here, and--"

 "--harm your baby before you even know you're--"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"I just found out."

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?? AHHH!!!"

She squealed, and hugged me so hard it was almost a tackle. All my anxiety faded after seeing her ecstatic grin, and I felt a huge teary smile take over my face as I happily tried to "shush" her.

"I just found out, & I want to tell him when we get home. So... can we just say I don't need antibiotics?"

She agreed and went to get Jason, practically skipping.

As Jason & I went to head home in our separate cars, he told me he had to stop by the store on the way home. PERFECT. I had an idea for telling him and I'd need to beat him home by a few minutes.

...

Amigos, it's time I told you all a secret. Mr. Matthews-er has had baby fever for yeeeears at this point. On the other hand, I'd been feeling far from ready. My perfectionist personality balked at the idea of trying to rear a brand new person to their fullest potential. He'd been patient with me... for the most part.

As he had spent the virtually sleepless last week crafting his doctoral thesis, I asked him again and again what I could get him for a "PhD present." He'd look at me, tilt his head with a flirty smile, and tease, "Bayyyybeee?"

HA. Nice try, Hubster.

...

Fast forward exactly one week from his PhD defense, and I was sitting at the table with a small gift bag in my lap, a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom, and the beep of Hubster locking his car out in the parking lot.

He opened the door and I held out the bag.

"I got you a PhD present, Dr. Matthews."

He didn't notice my shaking hand as I handed it over. He didn't see my chin quiver as I watched his face with a nervous smile.

He dug through the tissue paper, and found a pad of sticky notes.

He saw writing underneath, and tore off the first sheet.

He met my eyes with a curious smile and I had to stifle a sob of nervous emotion. He flipped the last sheet...

...and yelled,

"WHAT??!!?! .....you're PREGNANT?!"

He looked at me as if he were expecting a "juuust kidding, I bought a puppy," or something along those lines. But the instantaneous tears rolling down my cheeks answered for me.

I jumped up, crammed my face into his neck, and nodded as he kept asking "You're pregnant? You're PREGNANT?!"

He grabbed my shoulders and pried me away so he could see me. Not trusting my vocal cords, I just kept nodding.

You should have seen the shocked smile on his face. His chin started quivering along with mine, and we just beamed at each other with tears in our eyes.

(Then, after I slept for fourteen hours straight, we went to Barnes & Noble and bought about six parenting books.)



You guys, I love him so much. Sometimes it frustrates me that there's only so much you can do to show another person how much you love them.

But I felt like there was now a part of him living inside me; really, physically, literally living inside me. As close as you can get to another person. Giving oxygen out of my lungs and calcium out of my bones. And I would get spend months caring for and protecting and loving this little bit of Jason-ness, until it was time to share our little one with him on the outside.

Sneaky Baby, you were very, very sneaky. But I think you knew better than I did. I think you came along at just the right time.

Our Story, Part Three: My life was really hard but the Hubster was an awesome boyfriend, and then he proposed and I was really happy. Gaaag.

But first, might I offer you a small platter of Part One (first "date")?
Or perhaps a generous helping of Part Two (Hubster's side of the story)?

Alright amigos, I'm not going to lie. There's not too much to say about our first few years together without sounding completely cliché. I was finishing high school, Jason was starting college, and we were pathetically in love. The summers were magic; the school years were a steady routine: classes, then sports practice, then hang-out-with-Jason-and-somehow-manage-to-complete-homework, then walk-Jason-out-to-his-car-at-night-"to-say-goodbye"-AKA-end-up-telling-each-other-our-life-stories/making-out-in-his-car-until-1AM. Nearly every night my mom would walk out to the porch, flick the light on & off, and ring the windchime like a cowbell to remind me of my curfew. Poor, poor Mom... it was bad.

16 & 17 years old... totally mature enough to pick our future life partners, yes?

But as for my first years in college, away from home? They should have been the worst time in my life. They should have been absolute, effing HELL-- I was missing my baby sister & family, I was averaging 5-hours'-sleep-a-night  in Architecture School (battling unbearable workloads designed to "weed out" the undevoted), and I was terrified and heartbroken to know that my parents were suddenly on the brink of a divorce.

Couldn't have done it without you, buddy.

Yet instead, those first years away from home were some of the best I've ever lived. Jason was my rock. He listened when I needed comfort, and cracked me up when I needed distraction. He held me tight while I literally curled into a ball of stress in his lap, bawling my eyes out until 2AM. If I stayed at school all night, he'd drive to campus at sunrise with a home-cooked omelette.

Looking back, I can't believe how selfless he was for me during that period. (Yes, he had classes of his own as well.) Everyone in Architorture school neglected their relationships in place of schoolwork, myself included, and I watched couples break up all around me. But Jason was a champ-- instead of complaining abut how busy I was, he cheered me on.

I adored him like a little girl crushes on a classmate; I loved him like the long-term boyfriend he was, but there was a feeling beyond that, that continued to grow bigger by the time I went to bed every night. The feeling was familiar, yet I couldn't put my finger on it. I would introduce him to my friends as my "boyfriend," but the word felt so empty compared to how much he meant to me. Finally, I realized: I loved him in the same way I loved the rest of my family. A comforting, stable love that would still be there, no matter what he did or didn't do for me. When I was with him, it felt like "home."

And yet, true to my stubborn ways, I didn't want to get married quite so young. I wanted to rebel against the cutesy Disney timeline where the 'princesses' practically move straight from their parents' house to their new husband's. And deep down, I'll be honest-- I didn't want people to judge me for getting married in my early twenties. I didn't want them to judge me as naive. I didn't think it was "cool."

On a long roadtrip home from a friend's wedding, we had "the talk." I told him that in few years, he might start thinking about proposing. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it-- I realized I didn't want him to wait. He kept on being amazing, I kept falling for him, and for the rest of the summer, I kept hoping he'd read my mind and surprise me. I even toyed with the idea of asking him myself. (I should have just told him all this, but remember what I said about being stubborn?)

A few months after "the talk", four years after our first date, we found ourselves 10,000 feet in the sky, perched atop the pointy peak of a mountain. It's one of our favorite places in the world-- we climb it every year when we help coach a high school cross country camp.
 
(Yes, you know where this is going.) (And yes, this means we were surrounded by dozens of squealing high-schoolers when he proposed to me. They freaking LOVED it. They had our wedding all planned out by the time we'd climbed back down the mountain.)

MT. McLOVIN'!! (So classic that I'm wearing a hoodie and holding a Gatorade bottle.)

I didn't hear the squeals, though; honestly, for me this moment with Jason on his knees in front of me was like a cheesy, slow-mo movie scene. Running through the waves Bounding through the flowery fields Looking into his teared-up blue eyes, I tried to capture the image in my mind forever. I finally remembered to choke out a "YES" through my giddy grin.

The hubster did well in picking out his proposal spot. You can see its snowy peak miles away in our hometown, and I smile every time I look at it.

(Next installmentt: Wedding video!! If you haven't keeled over from all the moosh yet, say your prayers.)

If you like 'mooshy,' then this one's for you

This Sunday marks the two year anniversary of the wedding that made Jason the "Hubster," and myself... (I didn't realize this was an embarrassing word until I tried to type it on the internet).... "Wifey."

Two years! I do believe some high-fives will be in order on Sunday.

& just for nostalgia's sake, I'll post a little somethin'-somethin' from our wedding. Before we exchanged vows, rings, and a scandalous smooch, we read our hand-written "this-is-why-you're-awesome-and-why-I'm-puttin'-a-ring-on-it" looove letters. Someday I'm going to have to post the video of us reading this to each other, with all the giggles and sniffles, but for now, have fun reading!

Jason's went a little something like this:

I marry you because you are now part of my life. In all decisions, you are a consideration. In all joy, you are sharing. In all sorrow, support. I look forward to calling you my wife, mother of my children, and my lover.

I admire your love for learning, no matter what topic;

I admire your love for life, no matter how small that life is;

I admire how you understand others' situations, even if you disagree with them.

I love how you turn nature into a storybook-- with dialogue-- whenever we go on walks.

And most of all, I love how I've never gotten along with anyone as well as I've gotten along with you.

I want to grow old and gray with you, experiencing life with you by my side.

And mine went a little something like this:

Beginning today and lasting my lifetime, I'm choosing my husband, my sidekick, my devil's advocate, the father of my children, my cheerleader, coach, and teammate. And although huge decisions usually freeze me up, you've made this one pretty effortless:

Because your love of life and curiosity inspires everyone around you, like a big happy puppy. Except a really smart one.

Because you're always working to make yourself better, like when you stay up late on homework you've assigned yourself.

Because you put up with my quirks... like putting your toothbrush on the same side of the sink as mine, so they can be friends.

Because even after six years, I keep realizing you're even better looking than I first thought.

Because you help me see what's best for me, and sometimes I resist even though I know you're right. Even then, you don't give up. Your patience and love amazes me.

Because even though you make me feel on top of the world, you still ask me if you treat me well enough.

Thanks for making my biggest decision the easiest. We're going to take good care of each other.

Happy July 10th, Handsome Hubster. High five!

Our Story, Part II: The Part Before Part One

[Want to read Part I first?]

Like most, our story hasn't been a flawless fairy tale (I guess even fairy tales aren't flawless-- because how boring would that be?!).

The honest, slightly scandalous truth? I was trying to figure out how to break up with an on-again, off-again boyfriend when Jason started putting the moves on me... and I didn't exactly discourage him.

Sure, I'd been admiring this curly-haired athlete (two grades above me) from afar since I'd started high school. But I'd had NO idea that all along, I was-- in his words-- his "dream girl." So since I was in the dark for most of this period, the Hubster gets to tell this part of the story (photos & captions added by me):

Your new narrator for the day-- Jason, circa 2003!

Once upon a time in high school, there was a hurdler (the so-called "hubster" to you all). During track practice his junior year, this hurdler noticed a freshman distance runner (April) that looked awfully cute. For the next two years I gazed in her direction during every practice. I didn't tell anyone for a long while, though, because I was afraid she'd find out-- she was my dream girl, and I was afraid to fail. Eventually I got brave enough to confess all of this to my best friend, and I decided I had to make a move before I graduated.

A few months before my senior prom, she broke up with her boyfriend and I started building up the courage to ask her to the dance... but before I could, someone else started dating her. Time was running out before graduation, and when I heard rumors that she and boyfriend #2 were breaking up, I started trying to catch her attention.

During our "team stretch" at the beginning of practice, I would look in her direction and if she happened to look back at me, I would keep eye contact for a few seconds and smile. Those times elicited some stomach tingles of excitement.

At the end of the track season, both April & I qualified to compete in the state track meet. The coaches drove us out of town to the big meet, along the other teammates who had made it. During this trip, everyone on the team (including the coaches!) knew that I was trying to get April's attention.... except April, apparently.

At the hotel the team played keep-away in the pool, boys VS girls. Of course, I guarded April the whole time; I'm not sure if she was guarding me back. Those stomach tingles came back anytime I jumped to block a pass to or from her and just happened to 'bump' into her. Both my competitive and lovey side were getting attention. Eventually, my 'competitive side' was replaced entirely by 'how can I block the ball in order to bump into her?'

Like a typical high-schooler, up until this point I had mainly been attracted to her because she was really hot, pretty, & won almost every race she ran. Now that I was finally getting to know her, I was excited to find that my dream girl was also smart, goofy, and the kindest person I'd ever met (she still is to this day). During that weekend at the state meet, April and I were almost inseparable. This was aided by the fact that everyone on the team knew I was trying to win her over, and were all working undercover to make sure we "ended up" sitting next to each other everywhere we went. The stomach tingles continued.

On the way back home, the team split into two vans and again, miraculously, April & I were in the same van. And so the "Matthews-ing" began-- I helped April with her math homework, "casually" putting my arm on the seat behind her, but not quite brave enough to touch her. I also knew that she was still technically dating that other guy (although others on her team asked her about it, and she said she was breaking up with him once she got back.) At some point on the way home, the other van passed us, saw my arm around her seat, and had a small riot over it.

Once we pulled into the school parking lot in our home town, April looked at me, said "goodbye" with a cute smile, and started to get out of the van. At the last minute I reached out, gently grabbed April's arm, and blurted out, "Wait."

I asked if I could give her my phone number. I shakily wrote my number on her hand, and I think some of those stomach tingles reached my throat at that moment.

Although I didn't see her at school that next week, one of her friends reported to me that she'd finally broken up with the boyfriend #2. I jumped three feet into the air in celebrate (her friend reported my reaction back to her). (Ah, high school.)

I saw her the following week in the library, and she apologized for not having called me yet. I told her it was okay. She pretended to look sad, and asked, "It's okay?"

Her sudden directness caught me off guard, and I laughed. I got her phone number, and called her the next week to go read in the park. Which went pretty damn well.

Spoiler alert-- he got the girl! (Us at MY senior prom).

P.S. Can you see the blue mechanical pencil behind his ear?!! Who shows up to pick up his prom date IN A TUX WITH A PENCIL BEHIND HIS EAR??!!! Classic Mr. Matthews-er.

Our Story, Part I: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Public Spit-Swapping

[I promise we're not naked...?]

Eight years ago exactly, a 17-year old, curly-haired boy called a lanky, 16-year old girl, and asked if she wanted to go read in the park.

"That's ALL I want to do. The fifth Harry Potter is coming out in two weeks and I'm re-reading the series to prep for it... I forgot how amazing the Goblet of Fire is."

"Good idea! I'll bring my copy, too. "

Putting her hair in a ponytail in front of the bathroom mirror, she glared at her reflection and thought, "No boyfriends this summer. No boyfriends this summer. But he's really, really nice. No boyfriends this summer. But he has curly hair. No boyfriends this summer. But it felt so good to hug him the other day..."

She smiled. She caught herself smiling and punched the countertop. "NO BOYFRIENDS THIS SUMMER."

He'd brought a blanket, and they laid it out on a grassy hill at the park. They started reading their matching green books. Then, against the girl's claims that she couldn't stop reading it-- they started talking. Their faces got closer. No boyfriends this su.... dude's got some crazy-long eyelashes oh my gawsh he's gonna kiss me he's gonna kissmerightnow
He kissed her. It felt perfect. She kissed him back. A lot.

They were that sleazy couple making out in the park. She didn't care.
She'd never kissed anybody before officially "going out with them" before. That was okay too. In fact, it was pretty darn thrilling.
She was not a very good kisser. He didn't care. (Well, he thought it was pretty funny, but he didn't say anything.)

"So are we... 'together' now?" he asked, forehead against hers.
"I'd say so," she grinned.

Two years later, Jason admitted that I was a dorky kisser on that first "date." Eight years later, he's still a better kisser than I am. But I'd like to say that I've come a long way. (Considering that I'm 24, I've been practicing on him for a third of my life. How's THAT for some matth-ews-ing, eh?)

So that's Part 1 of our little "Love Story," amigos, and now I'm off to a romantical dinner to celebrate our eighth date-a-versary. I PROMISE that this will be the only one written in cheesarific third-person.

(Happy June 10th, Handsome Hubster. You make me excited to wake up every day.)

This is how stylish I am.

what? I had mango stuck in my teeth.  or MAYBE THAT'S JUST HOW GANGSTA I REALLY AM

So stylish that I won an award for it.

Thanks to (the actually really super stylish) Jacqueline @ v o j a c q u e!

Hey, do you guys want to hear seven random facts about me?
Well today's your lucky day, because that's what I'm supposed to tell you when I get this award:

[1] White has been my favorite color since I learned its name in preschool, and I get more obsessed with it every year. (Second-favorite colors rotate on a daily basis, but are almost always delightfully loud and obnoxious.)

makes my heart go pitter-patter

[2] Speaking of loud & obnoxious, my favorite band? Metallica. I'm a sucker for anything minor-key-- even if they're screaming their larynxes out, it soothes me.

[3] ...but Brit-Brit has always come in a close second.

[4] As much as I want to go out and work my butt off and save the world, my whole life I've felt like I was born to have some kids and then love them a crazy amount. I doubt I'll ever be a stay-at-home-mom, but I also know that nothing will ever be more important than my family.

[5] I'm terrified of people who I can't read easily. That includes anyone wearing sunglasses.

(Or alternatively, Keanu Reeves without sunglasses.)

[6] I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm currently rehabbing 3 injuries: hip tendonitis, a shoulder strain, and a knee strain. This is how I now have to do pushups at the gym:

they're called rubber-band-assisted one-armed pushups. I'm such a badass little grandma.

[7] Jason was the first "boy" (yeah, it was that long ago) that I ever kissed without him being my official "boyfriend." But then we went and got married, so it ended up being not so scandalous after all. Oh, well. I tried.

first make-out sesh wasn't quite this dramatic :>

I could still just make out with that dude's face all day long. (Except that he's developed a lot more chin hair since 2003 and there would probably be scabs by the end of the day).

****

And now I'm supposed to list ten stylish little blargy-blargs, and by "stylish" I mean blargs that are new-ish blargs that I love & want to spread the word about [...alphabetical, yo]:

• Adventures of a Ginger: This chick is kind of nuts, and more than "kind of" nerdy. Enjoy.
• All Groan Up: a hilarious yet sincere attempt at figuring out what exactly growing up even... means...?
• Beautiful Little Fool-- wacky, often vulgarity-strewn recollections of a young high-school teacher.
• A Creative Beginning-- Super rad home renovation projects by my friend from Architecture school.
• life is sweet. love is real.-- often goofy, stunningly introspective glimpse into the life of two head-over-heels newlyweds.
• tumor-ey side of me-- A brave, beautiful, & faith-guided young woman's journey with a rare disease that grows hundreds of painful tumors on the nerves throughout her body. This chick's amazing.
• Margo & Betty-- beautiful photography and crafts! Eye candy warning-- don't lick your screen.
• Scrumptious Somethings-- JACKPOT blend of stylish, geeky, and romantical. I <3 this blog.
• She Got Married-- all about being a newlywed; lately has been focusing on healthy & inexpensive meals. Makes meh hungreh.
• True Colours-- I love me some deep introspection, and this blog's got it in spades.

           (I'll email all of you on the list tonight w/ full details!)

I'll get back on-track with regular posts soon, I just piled too much on my plate these past two weeks... and then got super sick on top of it.

However, recharge has almost completed.
(Evil cackle.) (With the aid of a sick raspy throat.)

[images] [1]  [2]  [3]  [4 (I drew it)]  [5]  [6]  [7]

I have a blog girlfriend

As in, like, a romantical kind of girlfriend.

Things were already seriously serious between Nano and me, but then she had to go and write this blog review about yours truly. Within it are some of the sweetest compliments I've ever gotten in my whole life.

I'm tempted to consider the marriage proposal that she ends it with. (Except that I'm already prrrrretty married-- so I guess our BLOGS can be engaged! I don't know exactly what this entails, but it's exciting.)

...technicalities. ANYWAY. I am floored.

         FLOOOORED. See? Down here on the floor.                                                                             

My blog is not the jealous type, so it doesn't mind if you go on a little field trip over to its cute, feisty, hilarious girlfriend fiance, Phile Not Found, and check her out. She's a beauty.

& SHUCKS. This made my day. Actually-- my month, at least. I'm finding myself nervous to write any more posts now, because I don't want to ruin this glowing opinion.

Ha. Right...as if I could ever keep my mouth shut around these parts.

P.S. I love that she linked to this photo of The Hubster. It's a favorite for sure.

Whirlwind

{Flowers from my dad! So sweet.}

What a weekend! Full of love, in all kinds of expected and unexpected ways.

My (separated) parents drove up to visit--together! Honestly, I cringed when I first got the news. But by the time they headed back home Sunday morning, I was floored by their friendship and respect for each other. Really, it's an inspirational feat for any two people who've known each other for almost thirty years. I love my family.

Valentines Day with Jason was so, so much fun. We cooked dinner, we played with food ate fondue, played Scrabble in true romantical Matthews-er style, and throughout all of it danced around to embarrassing music (think Lady Gaga/Britney Spears). I swear, if I hadn't already walked down the aisle with this man once, I would've proposed to him by the end of the night.

In other news, I kicked off Saturday morning by missing a phone call from one of my very best friends, who was calling to ask for a ride home from the hospital. [He/she] had woken up in the ER in a hospital gown, hooked up to IV needles after a blacked-out night of drinking. I haven't felt so shaken up in a long, long time. I've cried myself to sleep two nights in a row imagining what my life would be like without them. I'm so glad they were taken to the hospital that night.

As much as I love to give advice, I've done a decent job so far of not doling it out here on this blog. I figured that might get annoying. But I'm going to make an exception, and this goes out to everyone who's reading (since I've already talked to little Mr./Ms. Scared-the-$#!%-Out-of-Me-This-Weekend):

Please remember that you mean THE WORLD to at least one, but probably several people. Think of who you love the most in the world, and treat yourself as you wish they would treat themselves. 

If you drink, please remember that max drunkenness does not equal best drunkenness.
If you aren't happy with your body, please be gentle on yourself and have patience to change what you need in a healthy way.
If someone gives you a compliment, take them seriously.
Ask for help when you need it, people love to help others-- they just need to know how.
Give yourself a hug every now and then, and keep squeezing until you mean it.

In other words, take good care of yourself-- if not for you, then for those who love you.

♥

{via peaceloveandsunflowers}

Happy Valentine's Day!

For some reason we're in an especially mushy mood this Monday so we're going to definitely do some romantical business this evening. Okay, I don't mean THAT romantical business, specifically. I mean, not that we're not going to do romantical business... GACK.

WE'RE GOING TO LIGHT CANDLES & DRINK WINE & COOK DINNER TOGETHER. Sorry to interrupt you, little caffeinated typing fingers with a mind of your own. (*waving to my parents and grandparents... including the in-law varieties.)

Obviously I can't properly censor myself right now, so here are some links for your love day:

Bananas.

When zookeepers feel romantic.

Doesn't get any tackier than sending valentine's day e-cards right? Well, you know the best part of every holiday? Embracing the tackiness. I dare you.

Want to take pictures like these? Check out the tutorial.

IT'S BUSINESS TIME. I know you've all seen it before, but let's make this a Valentine's sing-along tradition, eh?

Last but not least, a rockin' V-day philosophy via Kelley Maria:

Give yourself an excuse to celebrate love and friendship by doing something that makes you or someone special extra happy!
Valentine's day doesn't have to be about spending money or having a significant other.
Just celebrate something.
Why not?!

What are you guys doing to celebrate today?

Counting my blessings:

and many, many others!

You! Whether you're rooting us on, or judging the heck out of us with every post-- I'm flattered that you're reading this. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

My sweet friends who have been so amazing about staying in touch. I can't wait to see you all in a couple weeks!

My fun, hilarious, warmhearted family in-law. You make me feel so cozy, loved, and at-home when we get to spend time together. Thank you for raising the awesome man I married. (And I'm thankful that Granny is on her way to playing golf again!)

The Mama Bear & the Papa Bear, whose kind, loving souls gave me the best childhood a kid could ask for. Thank you for teaching me about what really matters in life. I count you two among my very best friends.

The Baby Sister Bear, who didn't tie me to a chair and lock me in a closet when I told her we were going to Sweden for three months. (If the roles were reversed... that's what I would have done.) I love you more than the world.

The Handsome Hubster, who listens (really listens), encourages, cares enough to give me reality checks when I need them, and understands when the "reality" thing is just a lost cause. I never imagined I would laugh so much, everyday; most nights we giggle ourselves to sleep like 8-year olds at a slumber party. I wake up every day excited to be next to you, & I love you more every minute.

Good Glögg this is exhausting... and FUN

Holey moley, amigos. I don't understand how those of you with children find the time to do this whole Thanksgiving schtick. (Oh-- potlucks.) I've been running around like a turkey with its hea... nevermind.

Leading into the arena for the final round, let's hear some updates:

Le Turkey
The air is thick with excitement! The National Day of Overeating is upon us! Time to celebrate food, family, and count our blessings! So, Sweden...
...Sveeeden? Hello?

Why are your grocers not grocing any turkeys?

Oh. I see. You don't annually rejoice over British pilgrims settling in North America.

About a week ago, I began getting nervous about the lack of turkage. I started evilly wringing my hands together whenever pigeons crossed my path. Then, Praise be to Veely's, a new frozen food section suddenly appeared at the store.

All sorts of frozen fowl abounded! We had a choice of duck, goose, turkey, or chicken. For one vengeful moment, I considered getting goose instead of turkey (a large portion of my childhood was spent being terrorized by geese). I went with turkey instead, considering I'm not the sort of person who feasts upon your flesh because a fellow member of your species was cranky. You can all sleep soundly tonight.*

Once we got the bird home, we realized that we needed something to marinate it in.

I spy, with my little eye, something that will hold a turkey. (Yeah, in the cleaning closet, so what?)

Jason washed it, but I'm looking up Sveedish Poison Control tonight just in case.


The bucket didn't exactly fit in our fridge, so:

(The tin foil was just in case there were any cannibalistic crows in Sweden.)
(Two hours later, there were crow prints next to it.)
(Ew.)

Also... within the next 15 hours (hopefully 8 of which I'll be sleeping), I need to find something to cook it on. You know, other than the pizza pan.


Lingonberry relish

As I skipped off to the store today (for the FIFTH FREAKING TIME, to get the latest "two things I forgot,") I patted myself on the back for preparing a traditional Swedish food on Thanksgiving. Ironically, I found that Veely's no longer stocked lingonberries-- in their place gleamed little red cranberries. Shipped straight from the U.S.

So, along with fresh cranberries, I grabbed a jar of lingonberry jam to mix in, for some Symbolic Diversity at our table. Much like the original Thanksgiving, yes? We Matthewsers are deep like that.

As I walked home, I daydreamed about my Grandma Jean's fresh cranberry relish. I wish I could give each of you reading this a spoonful of that stuff. It's heavenly. And I was about to make it!

Such an easy recipe, too. Just chop apples and oranges, and mix them with blended cranberries...
...blended? Like with a blender? Ehmm...

I spend the next hour crushing individual cranberries through our garlic press. I have the beginnings of blisters on both hands. My table, hands, and face are splattered with exploded cranberry bits, giving "Ocean Spray" a whole new meaning. Grandma Jean will be so proud.

Romantical things
Amidst mashing yams, crushing berries, brining turkey, logging miles between here and Veely's, baking cornbread, and unplugging the smoke alarm, I did some more Hurricane-Martha-style decorating today.

(i.e. decorating with weeds, empty food containers, food, and clothes.)
(And cheating about $6 to buy some flowers.)

Please pray for my yellow scarf (aka table runner).

While we miss everybody very, very much... VERY much... part of me is excited about this opportunity to do Thanksgiving with just us tomorrow. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that the two of us are a little family of our own now, and it's tackling crazy projects like this that really hit it home.

(But, still... thank Glögg for Skype!)

*I shall get my revenge on the ornery University of Oregon postman another day...**
**In SOME OTHER MANNER, of course.