back in the day I used to have a twitter account for all of his one liners.  I guess I still have it–but I haven’t logged into it in years. 

Today I’ll entertain you with some of the conversations that happen in this house.

You’re welcome.

Thursday morning.  In bed debating whether Bailey would be heavy enough to break through the ice in the yard or if she’d just slide on top of it.

me: I wonder if she’s heavy enough to break through the ice–oh! wait!  Isn’t that a game?  Break through the ice?  Break the ice?  Something like that?

him: break the ice, yes–that’s a game.  Break through the ice, no.  Mouse trap- yes.  Guess who, also yes.  Operation–that’s a good game.  I do enjoy break the ice.  Do you remember that game?

sigh.

I’m making breakfast and hubs is walking around

him: boots and pants and boots and pants and boots and pants and boots and pants–but why is it boots and pants?

me: because if you say it repeatedly it sounds like techno music.  (demonstrates with dancing while boots and pantsing then clutch my sore abdomen)  oww.

him: no boots and pantsing.

Husband farts.

me: I’m never making you bacon again.

him: it wasn’t the bacon.  I just stretched too hard.

me: how does stretching make a FART happen?

Unloading the Chinese take out from the bag.  A little orange chicken sauce spills on the couch.

me: Oh!  wait!  I’ll grab some paper towels (exits room into kitchen).  You’re not sucking it off the couch are you?  ARE YOU? (walks back into living room)

him: no, of course not.

me: then where is it?

him: well I couldn’t waste it!!  That’s good orange chicken sauce!

me: well, there’s that.

Husband walks into the living room after changing in the bedroom.  He’s chewing on something.

me (excited): hey!!  Whatcha chewin’ on there?  You find candy?!

him: uh?  Tums?  Candy for old people.

We finished watching a movie in our living room fort/bed.  He moved to the couch for a second to check something on his phone that was plugged in.

me (looking at the bed where Bailey and Campbell are sprawled out dead asleep): how’d I end up with these two?  I feel like I reverse kissed a frog.

him: you kissed a dog

me: and it gave me a cat?

him: you win!

I was a really apathetic bride.

By the time J and I got engaged–we’d been through so much (and had spent SO much time doing the long distance thing) that I was just ready to call it a done deal.

So when it came down to the details–I really just didn’t care.  I don’t remember what our center pieces were (they were whatever stock center piece came with the reception hall).  I have no idea what shoes my bridesmaids wore (they could have been barefoot for all I cared).  And I had no preference when it came to our wedding cake.

J wanted lemon with lemon buttercream.

So lemon with lemon buttercream it was.

My mom had found some lady on craigslist years before to make a couple cakes for different birthday parties.  So when the lady offered to make my cake: we scheduled a meeting  She showed me all these different pictures of all these fancy cakes.  I didn’t care.  Plain cake.  Plain frosting.  No fondant.  Whatever.  I wasn’t trying to cut corners financially-I just didn’t care.

She asked for creative freedom–and I said yeah sure, whatever.

As long as there’s enough cake for everyone to have a piece–it’s all good here.

So when my cousin came running up to me moments after we’d been introduced into the reception hall panicking:

You better go get a look at your wedding cake before it falls over

I just stared back at her blankly.  I was surrounded by people greeting us and congratulating us.

Maybe the cake was leaning just a bit.

Let the cake fall over.  Whatever.

After months and months of saying don’t you dare smash cake in my face I’ll kill you, I made the very last minute decision that smashing cake in each other’s faces would be hilarious.  So I did it.

And he was really surprised.

But because we ended smashing the cake–I spent the next several minutes in the bathroom trying to get cleaned up.

**and it might have completely ruined my wedding dress–whatever**

We missed out on the cake all together.  

The only taste we got was what we’d shoved in each other’s faces.

All during our honeymoon, we kept talking and dreaming of that cake.  And I was completely reassured because I knew there was tons and tons left over.  We couldn’t wait to get home and dig in to the leftovers.

J had an upset stomach one afternoon on our honeymoon.

So I gave him some privacy and decided to troll facebook down in the lobby.

I stumbled across this picture, and my heart fell.

All our leftover wedding cake.

All over my dad’s Hummer: his baby which he hardly ever takes out of the garage.

I couldn’t believe it.

I tore through the lobby and busted into the hotel room:

Our cake!  Smashed!  All over the hummer!

My darling husband looks up at me with a very straight face:

Well then I’m glad we’re in Mexcio!

When I woke up last Thursday and saw that we still had power

I hopped out of bed, did a little jig, and ran into the kitchen to whip up a snow day breakfast feast.

And then I saw this.

I don’t do critters.

I don’t do creepy crawlies.

And the above stance of both dog and cat alerts me to the fact that SOMETHING is here.

“Honey–can you come here a minute?”

::heavy sighs::

“I think something is in that cabinet.”

“There’s nothing in the cabinet.  Your cat’s just dumb.”

“Well, could you check!?  Maybe Campbell has a few screws loose, but I trust Bailey.”

“No.  Campbell has Bailey convinced there’s something in there.  She’s easily influenced.”

“Would you just check the damn cabinet?”

::opens cabinet::

“See, I told you.  There’s nothing in there.  They’re just weird.”

They both acted completely neurotic all day.  And while I knew in my bones that there was probably some creepy crawling hanging out with us on our snow day–I tried to put it out of my mind.

And then bed time rolled around.  J is a night owl–so he was still watching TV in the living room.  I was in bed trying to keep my eyes open long enough to finish a book.  And Campbell was actin’ a fool in the bathroom.  Finally, after having had enough, I hopped out of bed to yell at him to knock it off.

And a mouse ran across the bathroom floor.

I screamed bloody murder.

Which startled Campbell who had been on the mouse’s trail.

Distracted, he lost sight of the little creature and looked at me like moooooooooooooom!

J runs in an assures me the mouse has run into some tiny hole under our bathroom vanity.

Oh goody.

I’d already taken a sleeping pill that night.  And Campbell was on guard.  So I was able to convince myself that either the mouse was smart enough to stay in his little hole, or Campbell would take care of him.  

The next day, there was no trace of the mouse.  Campbell spent the day completely zonked out being on mouse duty all night really wore him out and Bailey and I did some cleaning around the house.  The temps had risen, so I convinced myself the little mouse went back to his family outside.

Friday night.

Valentine’s Day.

Living room campout day.

We dragged a mattress into the living room. We ordered pizza.  I baked a cake.  And we had Silver Lining’s Playbook on our DVR.  

My favorite kind of date night.

And then we all fell asleep.  On a mattress.  On the living room floor. 

4AM.

Campbell and Bailey both are FREAKING THE FREAK OUT.

I sit up in the bed.

Mouse.

I scream bloody murder.

**Campbell earned his keep and stunned the mouse enough for the husband to scoop it up into a dust pan and deposit it outside.  I don’t believe any mice were harmed in the making of this blog post.

In honor of our snow day-

I thought I’d share with you a story from our LAST snow day–

which was about 3 weeks ago.

In good old husband fashion–he was getting stir crazy.  He just can’t handle laying around the house.  At all.  He always has to be doing something.  So despite the inches of snow piling up outside the house–he wanted to venture out to the basketball game.

I spend too much time cooped up in this house.  So I was down.  But I don’t do cold.  At all.

So on went the fleece-lined leggings.  On went a pair of jeans.  On went layer upon layer of shirts and sweaters.  I was all prepared.  Except I had to pee.  Why is it that once I get all layered up–I always have to pee–even happened on my wedding day.

So I went to the bathroom.  I pull down ALL of my layers and just go…huh.