Here Come Those Eyes...

This song has shaped my day. I loved it the second Pandora brought it to my attention this morning while I was doing breakfast dishes. Shortly after, my husband called and asked if I wanted to meet him for lunch.
Brillant!
This song got me to pay more attention to my appearance and to give him quite the "I made you a sandwich" kiss.

In the course of today, I have  thought about my husband and how he reacts to me; how he has always reacted to me.

 We met, kissed, got engaged and planned our life together all within, like, 5 minutes.
When it all falls into place that quickly, there isn't much time for him to pine for me. There's no time to mistake shyness for unrequited love.
So I have no choice but to day dream about what it would have been like if we had met at school- or working side by side at an ice cream parlor. You know, like everyone else.

I try to imagine my husband, Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected- the guy with a reptilian heartrate-the man who is all about a "measured response"- getting flustered or nervous. Being as honest as I can be in this forum, he's never caught off guard. He's never not in total control.
Ever.
Lucky for me, I have a fabulous imagination.
And in the course of fusing daydreams with the real life details, I mentally traveled back to the first time we met. Really met. Face to face. Not the time I saw him walk thru the room and not notice the girl who had just lost her heart to him.
In my awesome parallel reality, I didn't have a fat lip. And I wasn't wearing a scrunchie.
I sauntered.
I mesmorized.
I made his head spin.

In real reality, I knew he was planning to ask me out. Kelly had shown him my picture and established that if Bryan asked me out, I would say yes.
But, to my dismay, once he was around me, there was no mention of a date. I was left with no other conclusion than one involving  him not being into girls with fat lips and scrunchies.
Stephanie, my friend and ride, was leaving. I said my goodbyes and as I walked to the door, I was heavy hearted. Just as I was closing the door, Kelly called out, "Rachel, Bryan wants to ask you something."
I popped my head back into the room. Bryan asked me if I would like to go with him to San Francisco sometime soon.
I casually said, "I'd like that."
I was cautiously optomistic that maybe he did like me, at least a tiny bit.
And what do you know, a few weeks later, while I was starring at my engagement ring and we were re-living all 4 of our dates, he sheepishly admitted he was a little nervous to ask me out that first night.
 Huh.
Mr. Confidence- Mr. Always Ready For It All- wasn't ready for the girl with the fat lip and scrunchy.

Even my daydreams couldn't have beat that.

Let Me Tell You Something

At this very second, my husband is strumming  his guitar, making fun of our daughter. She was telling me about her favorite parts of "Farmer Boy" (from the Little House on the Prairie series). Every other word is, "Ahhh" and "Ummm".
My husband challenged her to continue her story telling without using"Ahhh" and "Ummm". All that did was make every other word a giggle. When she finished, I turned my attention to Toy Story 2. Calvin, 3 and fresh from the bath tub, has found a place in my bed watching the unstoppable duo of Woody and Buzz Lightyear.
Bryan grabbed his guitar and played some simple chords and turned Kennedy's story details into a song about "Ahh, Farrrrrmer Boy. Ummm. He sheered some, ummm, sheeeeep."

But that's not what I was going to blog about.

I was going to blog about what I love.
But that sounds kind of self centered. But I don't really care. This is my blog.
Sooo, I guess I'm back on track.

I love the color red.
And potato chips.
SmashBox Cosmetics. I buy them on QVC.
I love QVC.
We have an unhealthy relationship. The first thing I bought from QVC was a silver bracelet in 1989.
I have bought electronics, cleaning supplies, bras, shampoo, jewelry, fore-arm forklifts, tools, even perfume.
Who buys perfume on TV?
The same person who buys a cajun-spice injected turkey at Thanksgiving.
(Do not follow my lead.)
Multiple times in the course of  our TV viewing, I will say to my husband, "Turn it to QVC. Whatever it is, I'm going to buy 3 of them. One for me, one for your mom and one for Kelly."
He is always quick to oblige. And the best part is he knows the channel by heart. I never have to say, 'Turn in to channel 12, ya know, QVC."

I love putting on brand new socks.
I love Buzz Lightyear.
In fact, I think if I were any cartoon character, I would be him. Things just always work out for me, sometimes in the same hair-brained, "Of course I can fly. I'll prove it" way. I'm pretty sure if I jumped off the roof, I'd land on a giant hotwheels track and coast to a peaceful stop just at the end of the ramp. Or maybe I'd land smack on the ground with my leg beside me in a really gross way. But then I'd go to the hospital and they'd probably be filming a segment for a reality show and then Oprah would see me, invite me on her show and offer me a car.
Just to be clear, that has never happened.
But, like that funny designer lady on The Incredibles says, "Luck favors the prepared, Dahhhling."

I love bookstores.
I love waterbottles. I don't care what the research says. I think bottled water tastes waaaay better than tap. And I have excellant tap. But it'still second best.

Ok. Enough about me.
For now.

Elliot

Elliot is six.

This week, he has worked diligently to perfect his hawk cry. Or call. Or imitation.

He is getting ridiculously good at that piercing sound.

He was doing it again on the way to school this morning.

I asked him if he had shown his teacher his new trick.

He told me there is a no-hawk sound rule at school.

Who knew?