How Did You Know?

I have talked about our love story before.  The shortened version is this, Dave and I were friends for six months.  He liked me.  I knew he liked me.  I wasn’t done having fun.  I didn’t want a boyfriend. 

To be fair, he didn’t want a girlfriend either.  

And still he liked me.  He came over to watch Boston Public every week even though he admitted later to hating the show.  He came to watch a junior high football game because I was coaching cheerleading. 

And still I put him off.  I thought he was too nice.  He was my friend.  I tried to hook him up with my sister and my best friend.

You know a man has to be incredible if you’re willing to hook him up with your sister.

So one night after many months of knowing he wanted to make a move but not making a move, I told him that I would kiss him and I was unbelievably shocked pleasantly surprised that he was a great kisser.

Then I got smashed and we hooked up.

Romantic, eh?

He claims this is the precise reason I don’t drink anymore.

Here is the thing… I thought the instant you met the person you were going to marry there would be fireworks.  You would just KNOW.  He would be a fairy tale prince riding up on a white horse.  Your cartoon eyes would pop out of your head.  Dream Weaver would play a la Garth.  He would walk in the door and there would be an instantaneous something going off in my brain saying “this is the ONE!”

And maybe for some people it is.  {Dave.}

For me, it was more like a slow realization, an enlightenment if you will, that this man was everything that I wanted.  Everything.  He was kind.  I liked him on a friendship level as well as a romantic one.  He was intelligent.  He opened my car doors and owned a suit.  He was hilarious and he was patient.  Most of all he loved me unconditionally and out loud. 

Thankfully, I came to my senses.

 

What is your story?  Did you know in an instant?  Was it a slow realization?  Are you still waiting to find out? 

Sophie la Girafe.

Teething babies?  You need a Sophie. 

Slow Cooker English Roast

I love using my crockpot in the winter and for days that we’re in a rush.  Having dinner all prepped and done by 10 am makes for a peaceful evening and my house smells so good all day!

• 2-3 pound English Roast {aka chuck shoulder}
• 1 large white onion
• 1 carrot
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1.5 - 2 Tablespoons of Spices {I used salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, & a French spice mix}
• 1 1/3 cups of red wine {my fave is Trader Joe’s Cabernet Sauvignon, at $3 a bottle you can’t beat the flavor for cooking!}
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/3 cup balsamic or cider vinegar

 

Chop the white onion, one of the carrots, and four cloves of garlic and layer on the bottom of the slow cooker.

Put the English roast on top and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and spices.

Pour the wine, vinegar, & olive oil into the slow cooker, cover and turn on low.

Cook for 7-8 hours and enjoy!  I like to serve with potatoes and a vegetable or two.

I Promised Not to Post the Pic on the Internet. For Now.

I get it.  Really, I do.  The new year brings out all kinds of crazy NEWNESS!  Shiny sparkly newness! Organize.  Everything.  In.  Your.  Life.  NOW.

Something about the flip of the calendar makes people believe that they too can be an exerciser, a healthy eater, a svelte model, a domestic goddess, a rockstar at work, or all of the above.  The results, they need to happen now!  You know how I feel about resolutions, which is why all the sparkly newness in my world is in the form of goals that I am failing miserably at keeping. 

Uh yeah, this isn’t about me.

This is about Dave.

I maybe, just might have, taken a picture of Dave in the shower for something totally unrelated to fitness.  It wasn’t even about sex, I promise.  Am I the best wife ever, or what?  I thought I was being funny, but I inadvertently launched the “Oh dear GOD, I have to work out NOW,” sequence.  And once it’s started, there is no stopping it.

It was like watching that movie Speed.  You know it needs to be stopped, but you can’t figure out how to loop the video to trick the bad guy so you can hop off the damn bus.  I didn’t just ruin it for you… did I?  He got out of the shower and immediately started doing push ups and then {when I refused to do so} he made Finn sit on his feet so he could do sit ups.

Which was followed closely by a beet red face and a fan turned on high.  In the middle of winter.

It was about then that I texted my sister about what was happening at our house.

The next morning he woke up early and went running in tights, with shorts over the top of them.   In the rain.  He snuck out while I slept in because that would not happen on my watch.

After I stopped laughing, I told him to never go out of the house like that again.  I want to keep our neighbor friends and we’re not going to do that if he is out there running in tights and what looked like a skort.  All he needed was like 3 layers of scrunchie socks to complete the look.

Me:  I spent half the eighties dressed like that and I’m a girl, Dave.

Yesterday, he was up at five thirty in the freaking morning, which was approximately four hours after I went to bed.  You didn’t think I was lying when I said I was failing miserably at my goals, did you?

He came home and I surmised that his thighs hurt by deciphering clues in the form of an excruciating grunt every time he had to bend down, or get off the couch, or really pretty much any time he moved his legs.  There were also repeated requests for gluteus rubbing, but I am pretty sure that was his idea of foreplay and not really related to the exercise.  Maybe.

It was the lunges that did it.

Me: You aren’t one of those idiots that does lunges on the treadmill, walking like half a mile an hour in slow motion, are you?  Because those people are ridiculous.

Dave:  No!  I do them in front of the mirror with hand weights. 

Me:  Dork.

Dave:  I mean, I took a shower and I seemed fine.  Then I had to go down three flights of stairs.  I realized I might not be fine when my legs went to jelly and I caught myself before I fell down them.

Me:  Um, what?

Dave:  Yeah.

I’m pretty sure Dave’s resolution should have been to listen to his wife.  Hopefully though, this will be like all resolutions {goals are where it’s at people!} and things will go back to normal by February… if not the only results the Davester might be seeing are a pair of crutches, dirty looks from the neighbors and his picture wearing tights surfacing on the internet.