A Little More Gratitude

When I was a (snotty) little kid, I used to spend a couple of minutes each Father’s and Mother’s Days asking my parents why there wasn’t a “Children’s Day”, to which my father would reply:

Because every day is Children’s Day.

I’d then say that’s ridiculous and he’d then say:

 I’d like a little less attitude and little more gratitude.

Well Dad, not only do you have Father’s Day, but another day you can claim just happens to be today.  So here is a little gratitude from me to you…


Happy Doctor’s Day


Oh!  And for the record, there is a National Children’s Day…sorta.


My Dad would be happy to know that the above image came from our hometown Osteopathic School

You’re Not Leaving the House Like That

There are many reasons Ross and I aren’t yet ready to raise a child.  But even more than some of our fallback responses, the idea of being responsible for a teen, tween or any variation thereof is somewhat terrifying.  Not because I know of any particularly difficult examples, but because of things like this:

To quote the girlfriend I was out shopping with when our eyes were so viciously assaulted:

“When I have a teenage girl I’d really prefer her not to wear denim underwear in public.”


(Poor photo quality is due to my camera phone and the fact that my hands were shaking uncontrollably at the sight of these “shorts”)

Making Up for Monday

Ross works with a woman whose husband is an incredible baker.  Each Monday she brings in a new batch of his unique and delicious cupcake concoctions.

Several Mondays ago there were extras, so Ross brought one home for me.  This, of course, established a cupcake precedent.  Now that I know he gets a ridiculouslyamazing cupcake on his desk each Monday, I (naturally) ask what the flavor of the week is.  He (naturally) feels guilty for keeping said yummy cupcake all to himself, and saves that little sucker for the two of us to share after work.

Today’s flavor:

brownie + chocolate chip cookie on top + sea salt creme frosting

Happy wife, happy life.

Ice, Ice, Baby.

Several years ago, I heard something about the importance of having an emergency contact listed in your cell phone.  I most likely saw it on the Today Show.  We all know how I feel about following the advice of television personalities, so I imagine I reached for my cell phone the second after Matt Lauer rolled to commercial.

The idea was to add a contact to your phone under I.C.E. (In Case of Emergency) so that in case you were found unconscious or unable to speak, the emergency personnel assisting you would know who to call.  (Or in my case, if  someone discovers me passed out from that sugar coma I just fell into, the paramedics could find someone who had to claim at the hospital.)

So I thought this all sounded like a pretty great idea and was worth investing the mere 45 seconds it would take to add ICE to my phone.  Luckily at this point I had someone in my life (other than my mom) who was willing to offer up his contact info for the job.  Nothing helps bring up the so what exactly are we conversation quite like, “Hey! How would you feel about being responsible for me the next time I need my stomach pumped after a Doritos overdose?”  Ahh, love.

So now I have Ross listed as my In Case of Emergency contact.  And the last time I got a new phone, the contact list stayed intact but the phone decided to override Ross’ normal entry and display ICE whenever he calls.

Oh yeah. How cool is that?

If they’re not laughing hysterically, I have to imagine that when people see ICE come up on my screen they’re probably all,  ICE?  Whoa.  Do you think she knows Ice Cube? Ice-T? Vanilla Ice?  Ohh, the possibilities! This girl is bad. ass..

Meanwhile, Ross is most likely calling to complain that I left the curling iron plugged in again and thank God he came home before I burned down the house.

Anyway, in all seriousness, I do think the ICE program is a solid idea.  If you’re interested in learning more, you can read all about it on their website.  It just takes a minute to add the contact into your phone.  And as Ross says…nearly weekly:

“Safety never takes a vacation.”

Freudian Slip

We had dinner Wednesday night at one of our favorite cozy spots, Birchwood Cafe.  We were invited out by one of our very favorite couples who are the proud parents of one of our very favorite babies.  (Yeah, that’s a lot of “favorites” but they’re all true.  And if I’m being honest, I’m just a little too lazy right now to crack out my Thesaurus.)

Ross and I arrived first and decided we’d win some friend points by finding a table and grabbing a high-chair in preparation for couple + baby.  When a waitress arrived and asked if she could “get that high-chair out of our way” Ross replied,

“Oh no thanks, we’ve got a baby on the way.”

Thankfully the waitress didn’t spend too much time blatantly staring at my stomach.

“Err, we’re waiting for some friends.”

Although it would have been much more fun to say something more like, “Oh no, you can leave it.  We’ve got a baby on the way so we’re just, you know – practicing.  Thought we’d really get a feel for what it’ll be like to have an extra seat next to us in nine months.  Doesn’t everybody do that?”

Not too long after, the real baby on the way came and filled the seat.

And for the record, she and Ross flirted the entire time.

 Image from People.com

The Line Between Man and Bum

Alright, alright.  I’m trying not to belabor this whole “eating from the trash” thing, but I simply had to point out the HI-larious comment I recieved on yesterday’s post.

My dear friend, Mrs. Smith, who just so happens to have a fancy blog of her own (where I just so happen to contribute!), left this little gem:

She wasn’t kidding, you guys!  You really, really must watch this.  All the way to the end.  I can’t imagine a more perfect clip to sum up Monday’s event.  I squealed with laughter.  And Seinfeld fan or not, you will too.


No Snow March

You guys!  Do you know how exciting this is?  We’re on the verge of a history-making month.  If we can make it through the next eight days without snow, this will be the first time ever – EVER!the Twin Cities has seen a snowless March.  And to make the accomplishment even more significant, March usually averages a foot of snow!

Better still?  It will mean that when I’m 82 with blue hair (and people are forced to listen to me because, duh, I’m their elder), I can say things like, “I remember the March of 2010 when we didn’t see a single snowflake!” instead of things like, “I remember the March of 2010 when your Grandpappy ate bread from the trash can!”

See, Mother Nature?  Everybody wins.

Image from Kare 11


Waste Not, Want Not

I returned yesterday from a long and satisfying weekend with my girlfriends.  We had a fantastic time watching hours of Tivo, eating Easter candy and, of course, snuggling.  But after my third night away from him, I really did start to miss Ross.  Below is one of the first conversations we had upon my return:

Ross: Honey, did you throw away that ball of tinfoil on the counter?

Katie: Yes, why?

Ross: Ughhh there was banana bread in there!!

(Well of course there was something edible in that crumpled mess of aluminum.  Absolutely can’t believe I could be so foolish!  What do you need, Katie?  A neon sign reminding you to examine all future items that resemble trash before throwing away perfectly good fruit bread?)

After working through my internal confusion above…

Katie: Well, it is wrapped up in tinfoil.  And it’s at the top of the bin.

Ross: NICE!  Good call. (Proceeds to pull out the ball of tinfoil to find and eat! his beloved banana bread)

Beckie:  Why are you two talking about tinfoil?

(Oh, did I forget to mention I happened to be Skyping with my sister while this little scenario went down?  You betcha.  She had a front row seat for this action.)

Katie: Oh nothing, Ross is just eating bread out of the trash.

Beckie: Wow, you guys.  I mean, if you need some money for food…

Being away for girls weekend was fantastic.  But coming home to this?

The best.

(While I don’t blame you for thinking it’s pretty disgusting that Ross went trash-hunting for his tinfoiled banana bread, fair is fair:  It was my idea in the first place.  Made for each other, no?)

Image from Earth911.com