Earlier this week I was trying to be the 9th caller in a radio contest, the prize of which was a fly-away to NYC to see John Mayer in a private concert.

I was intoxicated with the idea of a private John Mayer concert in NYC.  In no small part because I tend to turn to putty in the hands of John Mayer’s voice.  Not that his voice has hands.  But if it did, I might be inclined to let them get to at least second base.

So anyway.  I didn’t win.  And as I was pouting over the not winningness, my hero of a husband said something that prompted me to drop the tortilla I was busy frying and turn to him with the big doe eyes that I can’t help but put on when his sweet factor increases tenfold.

You want to know what he said?

He half mumbled, “probably saved our marriage.”

You know.  Because had I won the private concert, John Mayer would have been powerless against my beauty.  So much so that–once his eyes met mine–he’d have been unable to complete his set.  He’d have let his guitar fall to the ground and he’d have pulled me up on stage into a passionate embrace.  He’d have instantly dropped his latest A list movie star girlfriend and begged me to leave my husband and family and hit the open road with him.

Because, you know, I’m all that.  And a bag a’ chips.

Or.  Not.

The point, though, is that my husband thinks I am.  And he lets me know it.  Every single day.

The feeling is mutual by the way; I often wonder how I lucked into him.

A man who preemptively brings me a blanket because he knows I’ll need it.

A man who cuts the raw chicken every night because he knows it makes me squeamish.

A man who invents board games for our family weekend in the mountains.

A man who worked to acquire a taste for wine so that we could enjoy wine tasting events.  Together.

A man who fiercely defends his family when we need defending.

A man who works just as hard at home as he does on the job.

A man who brings me laughter, peace, security, friendship, and confidence.

A man who both grounds and frees me.  All at the same time.

So thankful, I am, for this man.

So in awe of him I remain.  So inspired by.  So in love with.

Happy birthday man of mine.

And PS. {Ain’t nobody turning this head of mine.  John Mayer included.}

I was a busy worker bee today – putting the finishing touches on the fall decorations and taking pictures for this post.  Not to mention making granola and granola bars and homemade bread for the week.  Those things, together with the plazillion scented candles, have our house smelling heavenly.  You’ll have to take my word on that part.  The decorations though? Those I can show you.  As promised.  I hope you don’t mind taking your shoes off though – the dust does a real number on our concrete floors.

Right this way then.  Here’s a little glimpse of what Autumn look like in the desert.

This last one isn’t really a fall decoration.  But I came across it and thought I’d show you the place cards we made for Thanksgiving last year.  Cute, no?

Yeah, so there you have it.  Our humble abode in all its Autumn glory.  I’m finding it pretty cozy myself.  So much so that if you’ll excuse me I’m going to slip into my pj’s and meet my husband on the couch for our weekly Amazing Race date.

If you’re looking for a bit more decor inspiration though, click on over to the Hooked on Houses fall tour.  That’s where my motivation came from.  Oh.  And be sure to invite me if you post your own decorations – I’d love to see them!

Today was a hunting and gathering day around here.  Hunting and gathering: harvest edition.

We went in search of pumpkins and gourds and leaves and berries.

And boy did we find some.  Did we ever.

Not the live stuff, of course.  Because autumn’s natural bounty is tough to come by here in the desert.

Joann and Michaels though?  Now that’s where I came up big.

Because in spite of the fact that the calendar says its still November, all the fall decor is on clearance.  Big time clearance.  We’re talking 70 – 80% here.  For real.

This–I believe–is one of the few reasons why starting to see Christmas trees pop up before the jack-o-lanterns even begin to rot is a good thing.  If they didn’t need to make room for garlands and holly and ornaments, then they’d hang on to their fall stuff a tad longer.  And then I wouldn’t have scored big like I did today.

So my house is a lot homier tonight, as I sit here in the glow of a pumpkin scented candle.

The windows are open.  We hit 80 today, but the evening is crisp.  I hear coyotes–not far away.  The moon was full just days ago, but tonight it hides amongst the stars.

This is my favorite of the seasons: Fall.  For her tastes and colors and textures.  She brings cool nights, perfect for stargazing from the jacuzzi.  And her menu.  The soups and casseroles and sweet cinnamon-y treats; they warm the soul you know.

I plan on giving you a tour of the seasonal touches I’ve added.

Warm up a glass of cider and meet me here tomorrow.

See you then.

Yeah.  So we had a certain celebration here on Friday night.

One that included a certain cake.

A certain cake that may or may not have necessitated me spending nine hours in the kitchen on Thursday.  Ahem.

But you know what’s funny?

What’s funny is the number of emails/comments I got asking that I post pictures of aforementioned cake.

As if I would seriously spend nine hours slaving in the kitchen and neglect to post pictures of the fruit of my labor.

Clearly you don’t know me that well.

Without further ado, though…

It really was a happy birthday.

Good thing.

Because that fondant cake?  It was no joke.

Next time I’m totally getting Duff on the phone.

Hello Such the Spot.

No.  I’ve not forsaken you.

It may seem that way.  But really, I’ve been busy getting things back in order after our super-fly promotion weekend.

The day started out innocently enough.

Really.  It did.

See.

I told you.  Completely innocent right?

But sitting through not one, but two promotion ceremonies, and the obligatory reading of names, and long, drawn-out slide shows takes a toll on a gal.  Kwim?

So by the time the gang (and by “the gang” oh do I mean the gang) came together for a big celebratory shindig at the house afterwords, we were all ready to cut loose a bit.

I should pause here and explain the gang.  The gang, in this case, consisted of my grandmother, my mother, two exes, a set of ex in-laws, our mightaswellbeadopted daughter, and her mom and grandma.

Quite a motley crew, wouldn’t you agree?

Lots of people questioned whether inviting two exes to an event that included a fair amount of alcohol was a good idea.

Oh ye of little faith – it was fine.  Fine I tell ya.

Especially after Jeff’s house specialty margaritas began a flowin’.

We all got along swimmingly.

See.

I know the picture quality isn’t great but those of you with a keen eye will recognize that yes, that is my husband, piggybacking my ex around our recently vacuumed grass in the backyard.

It’s really rather unfortunate that I didn’t capture the other memorable events on film.

They included:

-my other ex and my grandmother making their way around the patio table as they rocked the “row your boat” dance moves.
-my ex father-in-law serenading my brother (on one knee, as they held hands btw) with a romantic love song.
-my mom calling my dad (from whom she is recently divorced) at nearly midnight to ask if she had permission to stay out past curfew.
-countless rounds of chocolate cake shots had by all, glasses raised in rambunctious toasts every time.
-our neighbors wondering what the occasion was as they were subject to our rowdy “drink…drink…drink” chant every so often.

And you thought I led an upstanding life.  Ha.

In actuality all of the aforementioned instances were part of an uber fun party game that Jeff and I created a couple of years ago.  Because it’s sort of reminiscent of truth or dare (and because I had two exes in attendance) I wasn’t sure that the venue was an appropriate one for the playing of our twisted little game.

With truth categories like, “MILF,” “If This Vans a Rockin’,” and “Caught In The Act,” you can understand my hesitation.

Jeff rocked the ultimate husband role though and insisted we give our game a go.

It all worked out in the end.

Honestly.

Even Grams stayed up till the last baby daddy had left the building.

And we unanimously decided to do it again in four years.  When Torri graduates high school.

No doubt she’ll seek the solace of her bedroom once again when we pull out the game and she shudders to imagine what her parents’ answers will be to those colorful questions.

Who says I can’t keep it real?

And PS.  If you ask really nicely in the comments, I bet we can convince Gram to email me the group shot she took of all of us toasting our third round of shots.  Not that you’d want to see such a thing.

Happy Easter!

When I was very little, I went to church most Sundays.  As I got older that slipped a bit and we became more like the Easter/Christmas church family.  But Good Friday services were always included in our Holy week churchgoing.  And it’s something I’m very grateful for.  Attending that dark and somber service on Friday night made the sunrise service on Easter morning that much more joyful.  I truly believe that in order to fully appreciate the miracle of Easter, you have to be “witness” to the event that occurred three days before.  Only once you see and feel the contrast can you even begin to grasp the magnitude of God’s grace.  That’s why my family and I will be headed to Tenebrae services tonight.  To remind us why we don our Easter best and spend Sunday celebrating with eggs and bunnies and new Spring toys.  To remind us that–like at Christmastime–there is deeper meaning behind the gifts and the big family meal.

One of my favorite worship songs says it best:

I’ll never know how much it cost
To see my sin upon that cross.

That is why we celebrate.  That is why we remember.

Am I crazy or does it feel like we just removed the last shiny ornament from the tree?

Yet next week is Easter.  Already.

A fact that had Jeff and I hopping around town on Saturday running from store to store on behalf of an errant bunny.  And while I deeply appreciate the fact that my oldest child is willing and able to stay home babysitting, something about paying her the big bucks just so that I can go out and buy bling for her basket doesn’t seem quite right.

Moving right along though…

So with the basket goodies bought and stowed I’m nearly ready for Easter.  All that’s left to do now is hide the eggs and plan the menu.

And so what if my mind wandered to possible Easter meal ideas today during the pastor’s sermon.  At least I was thinking on topic.

Which brings me to my point.  And yes, I do have one.

More of a confession really: I’m not a traditionalist when it comes to holiday meals.

While you may be feasting on ham and scalloped potatoes come Easter Sunday, my family will likely be enjoying something from the grill.

On Christmas, we skip the turkey dinner in favor of Mexican.  Usually enchiladas.

You won’t find us eating corned beef on St. Patty’s day either.

I will admit to being sort f sentimental about Halloween food though.  I’ve been known to whip up a big ‘ol pot of stick-to-yer-bones chili.  In spite of the fact that our Arizona temps rarely dip below 70 for the Trick-or-Treating hour.

For Easter this year I’m thinking Migas and French toast casserole with grilled veggie kabobs.  Add a bowl of strawberries and honeydew alongside this DELICIOUS (and so very easy) fruit dip and we’re set.

And in spite of all the sugar that I fully intend to include in brunch itself, I think I’ll top it off with dessert.  Tell me THESE don’t look scrumptious.  Go ahead.  Tell me.

So.  What will you be eating once you’ve devoured the deviled eggs?

In case you’re a tad slow on the uptake and have yet to find the perfect gift for your sweetie, I thought I’d give you some food for thought.  Here are the 5 ways in which I plan to spoil my Valentine today.

5. Not give him a word of crud about the damages done to my van yesterday when he hit a dog on his way home from dropping the kids at school.  Damages in excess of $800 btw.  Talk about restraint.

4. Let him choose tonight’s date night restaurant.  The fact that he’s sure to pick my personal favorite has nothing to do with my selfless gesture.

3. Pretend that the facial he sent me off for yesterday was absolutely blissful.  I won’t even mention that the aesthetician used equate brand (a la Wal-Mart) body lotion on. my. face.

2. Not attempt to pour myself into the “outfit” that I gave him for our first V Day together.  I fear the changes that have occurred since then would effectively scare even Cupid away.

1. Take the funky diaper I just changed all the way out to the bin instead of tossing it into the garage where it would usually ferment for hours before he finds it and carries it at arm’s length to the receptacle.

I know what you’re thinking.  I’m sorry though.  I’m already taken.

Happy Heart Day to you and yours.

It really shouldn’t work between us.

He’s nonchalant, forgetful, and dawdling.

I’m tightly-wound, organized, and detailed.

He retreats when he’s angry.

I can’t function without a thorough discussion.

He knows the glass is half full.

I focus on what’s missing.

He squeezes toothpaste from the middle.

I insist that from the bottom is the only way.

He’s carnivorous.

Red meat makes me queasy.

He’s tall.

I’m not.

He snores.

I suffer through it.

He turns his nose up to wine.

I dream of romantic trips to Napa.

He believes love conquers all.

I say it’s not always enough.

You see?  It really shouldn’t work out between us.

He craves a hug at the end of his day.

I melt in his arms.  Every time.

He cracks jokes in church.

I cough to disguise my laughter.

He’s touchy feely and affectionate.

I’ve grown to like it.

He brings water to my bedside.

I’m a thirsty sleeper.

He tells me I was meant for him alone.

I know truer words were never spoken.

It really shouldn’t work out between us.

It absolutely. completely. unequivocally. does.

It does.

This post was inspired by the SWAK Valentine carnival hosted by Kristen {We Are That Family}.  Click your way over if you’re in the mood for a love story or two.