Pillow Talk.

I'm having a dispute, of sorts, with the husband.
But it's nothing new. Actually, it's been going on for quite some time now.

And 'dispute' may be a strong word. It's actually more of a 'disagreement'.
One where I'm right and he's wrong.

It began the moment he held my hand for the first time that night watching The River Wild while seated on my infamous white couch. Because, let's be honest, that movie is suspenseful. And it's an unspoken rule that men are required to cuddle females should they become frightened.

The point is, this was when I realized (to my horror) that not everyone shares my love for pillows. Bed pillows, body pillows, throw pillows, chicken pillows.. You name it. (Okay, so that last one isn't actually a pillow, but they are delicious.)

In my mind, pillows are synonymous with happiness.
The husband, however, finds them unnecessary and irritating.

I'm still at a loss for words as to how this is possible?..
The more pillows I find around me, the better the world seems.

Sometimes, I take a running jump into the pile of pillows on our bed and wiggle around until I've created my own little pillow cave. Leave a small opening for the remote signal to pass through, and I could stay there for days.

But as soon as the husband comes in, he feels the need to push them all off in disgust. Huffing in disdain as if they were all tiny porcupines, intent on ruining his life.

Thus, my exclamations of excitement..

turn to demands for pillow tolerance.

To be fair, I have tried to decrease the steady influx of new pillows, by simply refashioning the one's we have should the need arise.

But I still hold that no one's ever died from having too many pillows.
Except for my close call that one time.. but it doesn't count.

Before I Kick the Bucket.

I was organizing my Hotmail inbox today (Yes, email organization can and SHOULD be a top priority. 10,000 undeleted emails in your junk folder is unacceptable people.) and came across a bucket list draft that I created a year ago tomorrow.

Funny how things resurface like that.

And also spooky..

Needless to say, I was surprised at how many I'd accomplished in such a short period of time. And because I want to remember what  I've done and also keep track of what I want to do in the future, I'm going to post the entire thing. That way, you can hold me to my word.

And also mock me for the silly things I consider meaningful.

So here it is, my life's ambition.

Or at least part of it.

Aside from my newest goal: to spend an entire day in my pajamas locked up in my apartment watching old musicals and eating take-out.

#1 Visit an honest-to-goodness ghost town.

Okay, so I've 'kind of' done this, because I've been to Grafton, UT which is actually pretty legit. My nephew ate some of the dirt at the cemetery which probably explains a lot about the kid, but I digress. The point is, I want to visit some more. Like a lot more.

#2 Go to Lagoon.

Up until this summer, I had never been to Lagoon. I know, I know. You can stop gaping now. I was a homebody who felt ill at the thought of traveling more than twenty miles away from her mother all throughout high school and a portion of college, okay!? Just know that I've been. And LOVED it.

#3 Skydive?...

The delusional Corinner-Elly must have written this in a moment of extreme craziness, but alas. What's typed is typed. Sounds like a great idea considering how much I love being airsick and heights...

#4 See Paris.

I came SO CLOSE to crossing this one off the list. It's still kind of a sore spot. I go all the way to Europe for an entire month and miss out on the one place I really wanted to see. Mark my words, this will happen. Someday.

#5 Visit famous corndog stands.

I knew you were waiting for a reference to either corndogs or bacon. Well here it is. Let it be known that I am addicted to them. So much so, that last night during our pillow talk, I told the husband, "If my love were a corndog, it would be a foot-long." Judge me if you will.

#6 Learn to play the piano again.

Don't tell my mother, but quitting piano lessons was a big mistake. And I regret it. Future children: don't give up no matter how much you hate counting!! And hiding behind the furniture when I call you to come practice will not work. I invented that trick.

#7 See an opera.

 What other chance will I have to wear my fancy opera-ish clothes?..

#8 Buy a new car.

As much as I love driving a vehicle that was brand new when I was four-years-old, I hope to eventually earn an upgrade. Please oh please make it soon.

#9 Try to water ski/wake board.

You see, I write this as I'm comfortably seated at my dry office chair, but when it comes down to it, being pulled behind a speeding watercraft in the hopes that I don't biff fantastically and skip across the frigid water like a skipping stone doesn't really appeal to me, per say.

#10 Shoot a rifle.

Completed!! Or at least, I think completed?.. All I know is that I shot a really loud, long gun thingy with the husband and his cousins one time. My real ambition should probably be 'learn how to decipher what a rifle is/looks like'.

#11 See New York.

I want to know if it's really like it is in the movies. Because I hear there are, like, thirty Ray's Pizzas and they all claim to be the original. But the real one's on 11th. And if you see a sign that says "Peep Show", that doesn't mean that they're letting you look at the new toys before Christmas.

#12 Go on a cruise.

I hope (fingers crossed) to have this one completed in December. When planning our honeymoon, the husband said he'd rather take one in the winter months, when a getaway to warmer weather is more appreciated. So I'm holding him to his word.

#13 Get married :P.

What a fickle thing fate is. I fully expected this to be the LAST thing I checked off my list. And here I sit, married. For almost two months. Curiouser and curiouser.

#14 Have twins.

I don't care what you say, I do. Being a twin is the greatest thing ever. Second only, according to my mom, to having twins yourself. I've also convinced the husband that it wouldn't be so bad (Score!). He, however, draws the line at triplets. I then explained that it's actually up to him...

#15 Own a small business.

We're talking comparable to an Etsy shop here. Anything bigger takes a lot of initiative and personal motivation. Two things I had when deciding to graduate with an interior design emphasis. I've since realized that I'd rather not be the boss. For the most part.

#16 Hike a mountain.

Okay, someone must have really hacked my list, because this sounds like something I'd never say in a thousand-million-bajillion years. So stop trying to be a hero, self, because this ain't going to happen. At least not willingly.

#17 Eat something exotic.

Up until recently, I considered 'elk' to be exotic. But you'll be happy to hear that I've since expanded my tastes to baby octopuses and buffalo meat. Applaud now.

#18 Record a song.

I've always found it fascinating to contemplate whether or not singers actually know what they sound like to everyone else. Because the voice I hear inside my head is certainly not the same one I hear in video recordings. (Am I really that whiny?..)

#19 Sew a wedding dress.

Okay, so I chickened out on this one. But I did make my wedding cake?.. And we all know how well that turned out.

#20 Learn to drive a stick shift.

It's a dying art. And I just know someday I'll be in a situation where it will be required and I will be endlessly embarrassed.. Who's offering to be my instructor?

#21 Have a 'Chopped' competition.

The husband and I love that show. We're practically professional food critics by now. So one of these days, we're going to organize a massive group date where each couple is given three or four ingredients and told to create a tasty and original masterpiece. We're going to school the competition. 

#22 Spend an entire day at Epcot.

I've only been there once, and our time was hurried. But it was seriously amazing! I want to just meander from country to country and soak in every tiny detail. Tasting all the delicious food wouldn't be too bad either.

#23 Milk a cow.

I'm convinced that I'd get it my first try. It can't be that difficult, can it?

#24 Go on a motorcycle ride.

No, husband, this does NOT give you permission to purchase one. I'd rather be unfulfilled and alive than fulfilled and dead. (And technically I did ride my brother's bullet bike when I was like seven, so mission completed.)

#25 Have at least 100 blog followers.

Hint, hint. Spread the word.

#26 Use a bidet.

Call me crazy, but I'm extremely intrigued.

#27 Learn origami.

Or at least how to make a decent paper airplane.

#28 Pick blueberries.

Preferably in a sun dress with matching hat and basket. There should probably be a kitten pouncing around my feet as well. Why not include a little theatrics?..

#29 Be on TV.

This should be completed on September 11th with the DVD release of The Last Eagle Scout. I was an extra and it was epic. Meaning: it took freaking forever and we hardly did anything. But there was tasty food and silly boys for company. And also, production lasts a long time.

#30 Ride a horse carriage around Temple Square.

Don't judge. I know it's ridiculous and touristy, but it's been on every bucket list I've ever made since I was five. I know full and well, the moment I do, I'll wish I hadn't and spend the whole ride feeling silly, but the appeal is still there. For some strange reason.

#31 Dive head first off a cliff.

I saved this one for last. Because it is how I will die.

Probably.

That is, unless some other hairbrained idea I include in my ill-fated bucket list doesn't kill me off first.

Waiting in the Wings.

On the honeymoon, the husband and I ordered wings every chance we could get. Some were fantastically awesome, such as the piping hot buffalo wings at The Iron Horse Bar and Grill, while others were all-together lack-luster, such as those from the Wild West Pizzeria & Saloon in West Yellowstone.
(To be fair, the pizza was delicious.)

I teasingly joked that we should start a blog, documenting our chicken wing exploits. "We could call it.. 'Corinnay & Dannay: Just Wingin' It'.", I suggested. He smiled back at me with sticky lips.

What you should know is that I consider chicken wings to be the most delicious things on the whole dang planet. Given the choice, I could survive on chicken wings for the rest of my life. I mean, the possibilities are endless.
Saucy, crunchy, spicy, sweet, you name it.

I never met a chicken wing I didn't like.
Expect for the drumsticks restaurants are continually trying to pass off as 'wings'. And it's not that I don't like them, I just consider it plain ole' dishonest.

Chicken wings are more dignified than that. When cooked properly, they come apart in neat little pieces, no bone gnawing necessary.

So you can imagine, when, last night at a family get-together I was shocked and appalled to see Gem dig under a pile of Nicoitalia's hot chicken wings (meaning drumsticks) to steal that last actual juicy wing.
I was appalled at her wing etiquette.

Everyone knows that you take whatever's at the top of the food pile.
Or at least they should.

I will compile a list of chicken wing rules, just to be safe.
*ah hem*
1) Always take the piece on top of the pile. No one likes a picky wing eater.
2) Demand ranch for dipping at all costs. Blue cheese will not do.
3) Eat every tasty morsel off the bone. A chicken gave it's life for you.
Don't demean that sacrifice.
4) Always choose a crispy wing over a soggy wing. It's just common sense.
5) Do not lick your sister's last wing. You will immediately become dead to her.
6) Filling up her water bottle will not restore your sisterhood. It will simply promote you from 'spawn of Satan' to 'person' status.
7) Never leave a wing un-eaten. It's just plain wasteful. African children would be very upset.
8) Don't discriminate against un-sauced wings. In Corinner-Elly's eyes, all wings are created equal.
9) Do not remove the skin. It's the best part and.. are you crazy??
10) Partake of wings every chance you get. And I mean EVERY chance.

I wasn't going to name the 'wing licker', but for the safety of wing eaters everywhere, I shall. It was Gem. Also known as G-ster.

And no amount of flailing/swatting/holding the precious piece as far away from her as I possibly could with one arm while fending her off with the opposite foot could keep the dastardly deed from taking place.

Her status in relation to me is still pending.

'Bear'ly Survived.

Everyday I pass a certain postcard mangetted to my fridge. The husband purchased it on the honeymoon so that we could always keep it as a memory.

Problem is, I've been trying to repress said memory for over a month now.

My first day back at work, and I'm talking to the cashier downstairs. She wants to know all about my trip so I tell her about our adventures in Jackson Hole, through Yellowstone and over a mountain pass of death in Montana.

"I can't remember what it's called, but you supposedly climb almost a mile in elevation in the shortest stretch of road in the US." I recounted, "And then you almost die."

"Are you talking about Beartooth Pass?.." the parts manager chimed in from across the counter, "My motorcycle group took it last year. Such a beautiful drive, isn't it."

In retrospect, it probably was breathtaking.
Only problem is, I was too busy trying not to toss my cookies to even notice.

All I know is that one minute I was napping peacefully in the front seat and the next, I'm awoken suddenly with a feeling of eminent danger in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was motion sickness, I can never be sure.

But let's just say that as soon as I turned the A/C on high and started slowly sipping cool water, the husband knew that was code for 'slow down and look worried'.

And he had right to worry, come to find out, because according to Wikipedia, "The Beartooth Highway is the section of U.S. Highway 212 between Red Lodge, Montana and Cooke City, Montana. It traces a series of steep zigzags and switchbacks, along the Montana-Wyoming border to the 10,947 ft. high Beartooth Pass. The approximate elevation rise is from 5,200 ft. to 8,000 ft. in 12 mi in the most daring landscapes."

The way I see it, going on scenic drives up windy mountain roads is like hiking. You're too busy trying not to get sick from the switchbacks or focusing on not tripping over the big rocks that your ability to actually enjoy nature is completely ruined.

Sure, when you get to the peak and rest for a bit, you're able to look around and notice the beauty of the earth. But is it really worth it if you're battling nausea and muscle spasms the entire time?..

Even the husband was light headed by the time we plateaued at the summit.
And what was supposedly supposed to be a 3-hour drive quickly turned in to almost six. ('Someone' neglected to research our route thoroughly enough to realize that an extra two-hours worth of drive time was suggested.)

And though we did finish the day on a good note, going to a rodeo and getting ice-cream with his missionary brother and his companion, it didn't stop us from taking a round-about way back the next day.

Because breathtaking views or no, we both agreed that we'd rather not take 'the most beautiful drive in America' again.

Makes Me Sick.

Have you ever been eating a bowl of grapes while simultaneously reading, The Bloggess, Jenny Lawson's hilarious memoir 'Let's Pretend This Never Happened' and suddenly realize you just ate something that tasted like a mixture of fresh cut grass and goat cheese?..

Me either. Except for that one time.
More specifically, this morning.

Have you ever convinced yourself that you had instantly contracted food poisoning while vowing to never eat another grape again?..

Okay. Maybe that's just me as well.

The point is, it was nasty and I almost died.
Hopefully, I'm not alone in this, but whenever I eat something that is either semi-questionable in regards to freshness beforehand or obviously rotten after the fact, I somehow feel instantly ill.

I'll spend five minutes debating whether or not that chicken pasta is really growing spores or not, after all it's only been four days.. then realize I'm being ridiculous and throw the dang tupperware in the microwave, because pioneers didn't have refrigeration and they survived, right? Well, for the most part.

But once I pull it out and bring the first fork-full towards my mouth, I start to second-guess myself. "Did I leave it out too long before boxing it up last week? The microwave probably killed anything that might have been growing.. probably. I nuked that bad boy for like five minutes, just in case. Oh, for the love of pete, just eat it!!"

And somehow, what was supposed to be a pleasant experience eating tasty leftovers turns into a worry fest over whether I'm going to regret this later.

I usually do.
Not because I actually get sick, but because I convince myself that it's probably coming. If you know me, I consider throwing up one of the worst feelings in the world. Right up there with heat stroke and gunshot wounds.

Not that I've ever been shot, but I can imagine.
And it's that same imagination that always gets me in trouble. I avoid being wasteful and ultimately spend a day trying to diffuse an argument with my brain over whether I'm actually feeling sick or not.

I blame this on my mother. I always do, she claims.
Growing up, if leftovers sat in the fridge for, at most, five days, they were thrown out promptly.

Not only did I see this as extremely negligent but extremely ironic, seeing as she was notorious for forgetting to clean out the vegetable drawer or random container, resulting in frequent discoveries of mold covered mystery foods and the sad remnants of what used to be asparagus in a former life.

So I, adamant on saving money and being resourceful, insist on finishing off whatever needs to be eaten, regardless of the consequences.

To be fair, I have gotten sick yet. But today might be the exception.
Because I've already convinced myself that one rotten grape might be the death of me. And ingesting that was a very unhappy accident.

The moral of the story is, food lasts longer than most people think.
Oh, and it's probably a good idea to look at what you're eating before you shove it in your mouth.

Heavy Purse = Light Heart?

Let it be known, I have a magical Mary Poppin's purse full of everything.

Also let it be known that my left shoulder is permanently crippled from carrying that bad boy around all day.

This was evidenced when, at my bachelorette party, we played the 'guess what's in the bachelorette's purse' game. Twenty minutes later, I was still pulling out first aid kits and road trip games from my bag. I think the final tally was over 50 items, but some were combined for time/sanity's sake.

I guess what I'm saying is that this propensity to carry everything I could possibly need over the course of a day can be considered both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because I am able to maintain my 'favorite aunt status' with a fresh supply of Ice Breakers Sours and a curse because it requires a forklift to be transported.

The good news is, I've recently developed a system that allows me access to all of my essentials while at the same time sparing my poor arms. It called the 'take the blasted thing with you but leave it in the car' theorem.

It works rather remarkably actually.
I just stash the emergency items under the glove box and take only my wallet, keys and cell phone on my person. I'm calling it a big success. Probably the greatest success of 2012.

I've heard it said that a heavy purse makes a light heart. And I tend to agree if the heaviness in question is caused by large amounts of cash.

But in the same breath, wouldn't a debit card make just as light a heart?..
In which case, I proffer the idiom be changed to 'an unlimited debit card makes a light heart and a heavy purse should be left in the car'.

Catchy, isn't it.