'Weather' You Like It or Not

As we get closer to (hopefully) buying a home, I can't help but think about the things I'll miss about our first little apartment. Such as its closeness to my work (we're talkin' literally three blocks here), its abundance of natural light, the walks the husband and I took around its city blocks admiring (and at times critiquing) the downtown architecture and the overall simplicity of our lives while living there. 

Granted, these things are far fewer in number than the things I won't miss about our first little apartment. Such as the swarms of boxelder bugs, the cramped closet space, the ghetto neighborhood, the smelly laundromat, the outdated fixtures, the drafty crevices, the ear-deafening heating/cooling system and the tiny dining area. The list could go on and on.

But probably at the top of list of things I will miss is this: the view from outside our bedroom window.

Minus the unfortunate wires that weave through its limbs, our massive walnut tree is a sight to behold. It sits in our neighbor's neglected backyard, home to a clowder (yes, clowder) of wild cats who have provided me with quiet entertainment a number of times now.

We chose an apartment on the top floor for several reasons: no noisy neighbors overhead, no 'Peeping Toms' at the blinds and mandatory stair-climbing exercise (truth be told, the husband's actually not much of a fan of that last one). But little did I know that I would end up loving the view the mostest.

Seeing it change from full bloom (for lack of a better term) in summer to naked in winter and now noticing little 'bean-sprouts' (as I referred to them yesterday much to the husband's amusement) starting to form is quite satisfying. Just like the walnuts it dropped last fall, free for the taking. (Or at least I would assume so... we may have innocently committed nut-theft.)

I can only hope that our future home will have such lush and beautiful vegetation. The 'house snobbery' the husband claims I possess has expanded to include mature trees as a requirement. And if one could be right outside my window, I wouldn't complain. Throw in a waterwheel in the summer, a wind chime in the fall and chirping frogs/crickets in the spring, and I'm sure I'd be one happy camper.

Which is why it always confuses me when people complain about the weather. Sure, it's unpredictable and sure winter seems long sometimes, but we live in Utah. Get used to it.

I, for one, love the seasons. Not only do they provide variety, they also seem to perfectly chart the passing of time. The husband and I agree that holidays wouldn't quite be the same without their accompanying weather. I mean, who doesn't love finding Easter eggs in the new green growth of spring, or baking in the hot sun at the swimming pool, or jumping in cool piles of crisp autumn leaves or waking up to fresh snowfall on Christmas morning?

Palm trees and a temperate climate year-round sounds pretty boring to me. After all, we wouldn't know the good without the bad, no? Or in other words, we wouldn't appreciate the warmth if we didn't know the cold.

And though I sometimes fall into grumbling upon having to scrape the snow off my windshield for the ump-teenth time or claiming that I have contracted heat stroke at the peak of summer's swelter, I really can't justify not loving Utah and it's weather.

Don't get me wrong, making small talk about weather is right up there with 'cruel and unusual punishment' in my book. Just know that I'm pretty dang pleased with my location in life. Regardless of the unexpected flurries and soggy-hair showers that seasons may bring.

Shopping Around

I am currently in the middle of a game against myself to see how long I can make it before going grocery shopping. We are down to a few tortillas, an onion and a quarter gallon of milk, so it's an exciting challenge.

I'm also very excited about one home in particular which we toured last week in Springville that has everything we're looking for! Don't know if you were aware, but we've been shopping the housing market for over a month now with no success. We've seen a few prospects, but they've all turned out to be big disappointments.

The husband is determined to find a fixer-upper for a steal and transform it with his handy-man skills. I, on the other hand, would prefer to find something with good 'bones' that needs only a little work here and there. So naturally, this equates to him thinking that I am house high-maintenance and won't be happy with anything less than the nicest/newest and me terrified at the prospects of living in a sh**-hole (pardon my French) for the months on end that it would require to flip the dang thing. Combine that with limited funds/time, and pretty sure you've got a recipe for disaster.

That's why I'm so happy about this recent find. It has all of our 'must haves' but still leaves room for improvement. Not to mention the large back yard. I can just see the husband's eyes light up every time he imagines a vizsla puppy frolicking around out there. Which is fine with me, so long as he also imagines a baby swing hanging from the willow tree...

Unfortunately, it's stuck in probate court for the time being (whatever that means), so we've been forced to wait even longer and get our hopes up even more. All I know is that when I see a kitchen with pantry space, my brain goes crazy thinking of all of the ways I can fill it up with bargains.

Pretty sure I could turn Extreme Couponing crazy before long. I've held back seeing as we've had limited storage space, but now that a change is on the horizon, I plan on building a veritable stockpile. So sign me up for the Sunday paper and give me all your inserts people, because I'm ready! WOOOO!

In other news, did you know that a lot of manufacturer's coupons are online now?.. I print them through Swagbucks via Coupons.com and not only save the offered value but also get ten swagbucks (equivalent to $.10) per redeemed coupon. It's a happy little bonus that definitely adds up.

And to you doubters out there who thought this 'Swagbucks' craze of mine would never last, I'm happy to relate that the husband and I have earned over $175 in the three months or so we've been logging on during our spare time. Not too shabby, my friends. Not too shabby.

So when you get a birthday card with a strange little ecard print out inside, just know that it is indeed for reals and was kindly funded by my hard-earned swagging effort. I share, because I care. :)

If you want to start earning free gift cards in your spare time as well, click HERE to sign up for your free Swagbucks account. There really isn't a catch!

And now please excuse me while I run home for a quick lunch break. It looks like an onion burrito and a glass of milk are on the menu.

Sizing Things Up.

I find it interesting that people can be so concerned with appearances. And I've recently realized, there are no exceptions. Whether you're fifteen or fifty, women (in particular) will take every chance they can get to criticize and analyze everything about themselves, especially how they look on the outside. Even going so far as to refuse to accept praise as truthful when it is freely given.

I know I'm occasionally guilty of the 'begging for compliments' syndrome, but what concerns and, quite frankly, confuses me, is how they can allow that insecurity to completely control their outlook on life. Like they'll never be happy until they're a size two and have skin that is smooth as a baby's bottom.

I'm not saying that I don't like to make a good first impression. Or that I don't know the value of a flattering angle or a few picture retakes.

What I AM saying is that intentionally untagging yourself from a Facebook photo or even requesting that it be removed entirely seems a bit ridiculous. And a bit sad, really.

Do you think that people don't know what you look like?.. Do you think that they don't almost instantaneously forget whatever it is you're obsessing over? I'll tell you what they won't forget: the petty side that comes across when you throw a tissy fit over something so minuscule. Deleting your connection to the image or even the image itself doesn't mean that it wasn't a picture of you.

And it certainly doesn't mean that you're not fine just the way you are.
Amazing, even.

No one is 100% photogenic. There are going to be a few less attractive shots of even the most universally accepted beauties. And the sooner we realize this, the easier it will be to stop judging so harshly and overreacting so much.

You are the only one who notices that blemish or wrinkle or pit taco or what-have-you. And guess what?.. When the rest of us see that picture, all we notice is how happy you look or how much we miss you or how important you are to us. And if you'd sit back a take a moment, you'd realize that most people could really care less about how much you weigh (I know.. gasp!).

And those few miserable people who do notice don't matter. Nine out of ten times, they won't even comment. And if they do, it's probably because they're stuck in the same self-loathing rut that you are. No one should feel that the only reason they can't accept themselves and how they look is because of unrealistic expectations and unwarranted judgements set on them by others.

I'm particularly worried about how this affects children. Our society's incessant desire to criticize ourselves and others is causing a chain of unacceptance that won't stop with us. I see my tween nieces and their obsession over appearances, and I worry that the damage has already been done.

But then I read THIS and THIS and start to regain a little bit of hope for humanity. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Maybe the problem isn't that we only hate our extra weight or thin hair or crooked teeth. Like if they were gone, our world would be perfect.

Maybe the problem is that we haven't learned to accept and appreciate ourselves the way those we love accept and appreciate us. Maybe we should try looking through their eyes for a change.

Be healthy. Be thin. Be pleasantly plump. Be whatever you want. But also be happy with who you are, not who others make you feel like you should become.

So the next time you consider disliking yourself for the fear of being disliked by others, remember that "...[you are] the only one who notices. The rest of us are too caught up in loving you."

Well Blended, a Perfect Mix.

Late Saturday night, the husband and I took a quick trip to Wal-Mart to stock our fruit and vegetable drawers. They were shockingly bare. I mean 'not even an old piece of garlic in the corner' empty. Either due to my compulsive desire to see how long I can go without taking a trip to the grocery store (it's kind of a inner-challenge thing) or my refusal to acknowledge that making dinner for the husband from a hot dog, tortilla, lone pickle and some mustard then calling it a 'grilled polish wrap' isn't a good idea.

Regardless, we found ourselves in the produce section. After stocking up on Cutie's, baby carrots and the likes (apparently our food is adorable?..), I sent the husband over to the banana display to pick the perfect bunch: more green than yellow, not too big, only a few to the cluster, you know.. the essentials.

But when I circled around to join up with him, something caught my eye. Namely, a little packet of delight I like to call 'banana smoothie mix'. Probably because that's what it is called, but regardless. I used to make them frequently in high school, but had somehow forgotten about their existence. Which was a real tragedy, because those things are delicious.

Fast forward an hour, and we're unloading plastic bags when it dawns on me: a banana smoothie would be the perfect midnight snack. Plus, the husband's never had one so everybody wins. All it takes is a banana, some milk, exactly eight ice cubes and one little packet of magic.

So I whip out my blender. And to pass the time, start up a little conversation:
Me: "You know, you married into an excellent blender. Heavy glass container, multiple speed setting, professional grade. Not to mention dishwasher safe. You should be proud."
Husband: "Don't I know it. Too bad it doesn't have a corner spout though. Those are the best."
Me: "Corner spout?.. I've never heard of such a thing."
Husband: "Yeah, they work a lot better than the side spout. Haven't you ever noticed that??"
Me: *embarrassed pause* "I guess so... I just never thought about pouring it from the corner. Now I'm thinking back to all of the times I've poured frozen drinks from this thing and shloshed it all over the place because the side spout's so dang crappy. It drives me bananas!" (pun intended)
Husband: "Well, why don't you try it?"

*commence making a perfect pour into each glass from the corner of the container, not spilling so much as a single drop*

Me: "CURSES!! How have I not thought of this before!??"
Husband: "I guess it all goes to show, you may marry into an amazing, top-of-the-line, grade A blender, but it takes a little love n' common sense to make it worth a dime."

Oh that boy.

He's the creme to my Oreo.
He's the fruit to my loop.
He's the epic to my fail.
He's tons of fun, and I'm no fun at all.

He... completes me.
Well, me and our blender.