Ever In Your Favor

As the sun comes up on this unseasonably warm and gorgeous St. Patrick's Day, I find myself having one of those, 'so that just happened' moments.

More often than not recently, the days, weeks and months have been flying by, characterized by a very positive sentiment rating. But this week, I hit an aberration. A week where the work never seemed to have a stopping point, the stress took a tole on my appetite, my headache wouldn't stop drilling into my temples, no amount of water could ease my scratchy sore throat, and the addicting young adult novels that I was reading took me away, but to a place far, far scarier than my existing state of mind. It was the kind of bad week that crawled by, giving me ample time to truly appreciate the painful moments.

But whether it was the luck of my quarter part Irish or just the way things worked out, life inevitably gave me a hand to hold, pulling me out of the rut.

On Thursday it came in the form of dinner and a special dinner guest, my friend C - Who didn't only warm the Ranch with his illuminating stories, hearty chuckle, and generous compliments toward the brews and beets on the table, but also thoughtfully warmed our future home with the grace and beauty of Simon Pierce.

(What better to serve to a fellow Marathoner than pasta?) 

On Friday morning, it came in the form of a wink from my boss - a gesture that spoke a thousand words, bringing back my composure, relieving my on-the-job stress, demonstrating that you should signal when you need a little help.

And on Friday afternoon, it came in the form of the iconic iPhone ring tone, sounding off inside my bag. With Peter's face smiling back at me, I answered. 'Hi.' In response I heard, 'Hi homeowner.' Yep, the house is ours. I am a homeowner. We have a home. It's cute as can be. And we Moet and Chandon toasted the great news last night.

It took a ten-day cold, one ton of stress, and several liters of tears welling up inside of me to bring me down this week. But it only took dinner for three, one wink, and two words to bring me right back to the sunny side of life.

Despite what we're told, we do end up sweating the small stuff, especially when it adds up. But when you keep looking for the little gestures, appreciating the generous gifts, and listening to the kind words, it's much easier to put on deodorant and move on.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Lo.

An Ugly Duckling

When I was in sixth or seventh grade, then, come to think of it, in high school and college as well, my friends and I made lists of the qualities we were looking for in our dream men. Generally, they were all pretty similar - hot, athletic, smart, nice, good dancer (yes, that was a universal trait on our lists.) But the order in which these attributes ranked differed. Very high on my list, second to 'hot,' was 'funny.' Humor has always been one of the most attractive personality traits to me - a nearly automatic trump card.

Five years after my final list was created in a BP dorm room with Kristen, I found him - the dream man that didn't only receive the highest marks on my scoring system, but a man that took the humor test to the next degree. And I married him. And for the past sixth months, I've pretty much had a smile on my face all day, every day.

It's not necessarily a stash of jokes, or the use satire, or slapstick. It's just the youthful, fun approach that Peter takes to life that keeps me laughing. It's the fact that a Sunday drive alongside Guillermo is going to be a bit bouncy because we're going in the monster truck - the one that sits above the raging yummy mummies in their premium SUVs.

It's the fact that a legitimate excuse for taking a break from filling out real estate paperwork is the need to stoke the flames of the smoker. But hey, it'll just take ten minutes, we'll be right back.

It's the fact that our freezer isn't stocked with contents labeled Breyers, Stouffer's or Jolly Green Giant. Rather, you open the door to find two frozen pheasants, two frozen ducklings, venison roasts, and vacuum sealed hops.

And it's the fact that chores at our house are never chores. They are opportunities for giggling, set to the right melodies on the record player. Cooking dinner and doing dishes every night in our dishwasher free house is never an inconvenience. It's a hoot. And last night, after one of the frozen, dare I say, ugly ducks, thawed and roasted, it turned glazedly gorgeous and delicious.

Last night we used two new gifts, the Mirabelle Cookbook and the Falling Water Cookbook, to make an ugly duckling into a decadent Sunday supper topped with a currant, orange glaze. 

And served a beet and toasted goat cheese salad alongside it.

Today, I'm just happy to wish the man who checked out as a perfect 100% while adding a bunch of his own, unique, untouchable Peterific attributes to my list, a very, very happy birthday.  

Lo.