Whop, whop.

My apologies to all over my recent lack of blogging. I really do love to blog- it's just a nice outlet for me, and is as good as I'm going to be when it comes to keeping a journal. Since my last post, something strange has been happening. Whenever I think about sitting down to post something my mind has gone completely blank and I've felt like there is nothing in the world that I feel like posting about.... strange. We all know that isn't the case. So much to write about. 

If nothing else, I could write an essay on how Ben is the worst Bachelor ever, solely because of his unfortunate hair cut, and his more unfortunate resemblance to Francine: 

I know that it is absolutely ridiculous to get wrapped up in a reality show that does not resemble reality at all, but I just love it. The Bachelor is my favorite train wreck. Crazy girls, ridiculous boy, disgustingly extravagant dates... it's the best. 

Anyone want to guess how long Ben and his final lady stick together? I'm going with three months after the finale airs, tops. 

Now next season of the Bachelorette? Cannot wait. I absolutely adore Emily Maynard and I can't wait to see what her season holds. 

Now I have to cut this pitiful post short, because my video baby monitor shows Dylan waking up. Have a great day, and I promise to post something a little less lame tomorrow. 

Weekend getaway.

Over the weekend Ben, Dylan, and I headed to Las Vegas to see some of our best friends, Nathan and Taylor Kowallis. I've known Taylor since I was 10 years old, and we've always had a great time together. Having married couples as friends can be tricky, as all four people must like each other, you know? Luckily, the four of us get along perfectly and we always end up having a great time together. 

We headed out of town on Friday afternoon and arrived in Las Vegas by dinnertime. Dylan was a great sport during the 5 hour drive and only had a few moments of whining.

We ate dinner, hung out, and watched the kiddos play. Dylan was the one boy playing with three little girls! Dylan got very upset whenever he would see me playing with 10 month old Emme- he is quite possessive of his mama. 

Saturday morning the boys went golfing, and the girls (plus Dylan) went to a fabulous park to let the kids run around and enjoy the amazing 65 degree February weather. 

Isn't this park cool? I had the hardest time keeping track of Dylan, because he was running around so much!

Dylan and Jordan

I seriously love this picture! Dylan was obsessed with the birds at the park and spent a lot of time chasing them around. Peyton joined in the fun and the poor birds were in trouble! Luckily, the birds were too quick for the kiddos. 

Taylor arranged for a sitter to come on Saturday night and the grown ups got to go out on a date! Hooray! We ended up eating at a sushi place and cracked each other up. 

The restaurant had the coolest lights! They looked a little more Moroccan than Japanese, but hey, I'm not judging. They were beautiful!

Lovebirds.

The fabulous hosts!

After dinner we headed to the movies to see "This Means War." Lots of laughs, lots of eye candy. I was a little afraid for the babysitter, as Dylan has a tough time with new people watching him. The sitter was amazing and had Dylan fed, bathed, and put to bed by the time we came home. Amazing!

On Sunday we headed home after going to church with Nathan and Taylor. It was a great trip--although too short!-- and we had so much fun! Thanks to the Kowallis family for a perfect weekend!

Love the Love Day.

Valentine's Day is fairly low-key in our home. Husband and I exchange gifts. We stay in and might order takeout. We send a few extra "I love you" texts throughout the day. Nothing huge and ridiculous, but still very, very nice. 

The gifts are always very nice and appreciated. Ben won husband of the year and got me laser hair removal(!!!) for V-Day, along with the Blu Ray for Breaking Dawn. He also got me a stellar card:

I got him this:

That would be a cutout of a pair of pants I ordered him, but have not yet arrived {Eek, bad wife}. Also, I got him a bunch of cinnamon bears, as they are his favorite. Unfortunately, I wasn't planning on him coming home last night with this:

Yep, a huuuuuge bag of cinnamon bears. Darn you, husband!

He was still a great sport this morning. The more cinnamon bears, the merrier I guess. 

Happy Valentine's Day, friends! 

And Happy Birthday to my Dad and little niece Evvie! 

And in the wise words of Winnie the Pooh...

Intervention: Husband fashion.

My sweet husband is not very fussy when it comes to fashion. He has little interest in trends, and you'll never, ever catch this man in a cardigan or anything that hints of hipster.  That being said, he is no slob. His clothes are always clean and matching. 

For the past few months I have been trying to get him to buy some new jeans. His jeans are all from Abercrombie, purchased around 2005. They're very baggy, lighter wash, and full of holes. While that look may be acceptable for a 18 year old college boy, my husband is definitely out of that stage. He's an adult with a career and a family. Husband was way overdue for some new jeans.

At first I was just dropping hints like, "Maybe you should get new jeans, since all of yours are worn out. What do you think?" After awhile I stopped being so subtle, saying, "You look like you're 18. Maybe some straight leg Levis would look great? In a dark wash?" Still, no action. Finally, I would just look at him at random times throughout the day and say, "Levis. Dark wash. Straight leg. Macys."

My subtle (and not so subtle) hinting finally paid off, because I received this picture from the husband:

He was finally buying new jeans! In a dark wash, straight leg, with no holes! I call them his grown up jeans, and I compliment them multiple times each day. He looks great in them- like a handsome man, rather than a 29 year old who is dressing like a teenager. Yay!


Tell me: Have you ever had to intervene in your husband or significant other's fashion choices? How did it work out?

Zumba: A few observations.

Over the past year or so I have had an on/off love affair with Zumba. The "on" part is pretty self-explanatory, but the "off" means I suddenly and violently fall off the Zumba wagon, only to start up again a few months. There is no reason why I quit going, other than laziness. Laziness aside,  ever since my first class I've loved it, despite feeling like I have absolutely no rhythm or dancing ability. Just like this:

Sad, but true.

 Lately I have been going to Zumba every Thursday evening at the gym. It's a fun workout, and I always feel much better after going, at least once I get over my lack of dance ability. {sidenote: yes, I was a gymnast and cheerleader for years... no that does not mean I am graceful or even a little good at dancing.}

Here are a few of my observations from Zumba:

1. The girls in the front are regular attenders who know most of the dances. The sorry folk in the back... well, they're still learning. If you're not completely confident in your Zumba-ing, there's no shame in hiding in the middle of the pack. 

2. The guys in the class are there for two reasons: either they're being dragged to the class by their wives, or they're trying to hit on a girl in the class. Serious, once we get to the chest shimmies most guys are ready to sprint to the door. 

3. Latecomers do not respect the personal space bubble. Ugh. This one drives me crazy. If you get to class late that doesn't mean that it's ok to squish next to me and act like nothing happened. I need some space around me, and your flailing arms are dangerously close to my face. To avoid this situation, plant yourself far away from the door. Latecomers rarely venture into the middle of the pack.

4. Keep your eyes focused on the instructor, not your reflection. Just watch the teacher dance and follow her lead. If you try to see what you look like on your own you will be severely disappointed. Review the above picture for a reminder. 

5. Take comfort in the fact that no one is watching you and your terrible dancing. They're too focused on themselves and trying to get the hang on the dances too. Unless you see a cruel person laughing outside of the Zumba room, looking at you... then disregard my previous statement.

Snaps for your Friday.

Hungry? Here, try a granola bar!

A large mountain has taken residence on my face, just in time for the weekend. Newsflash, hormones: I'm 27, not 17. Make the zits go away. 

You'll be seeing more of this soon- I'm using it for my next DIY home project. Get excited!

If I have to ask, do I already have my answer?

It's no secret that I have a love for nail polish. Looooooooove it. This love started way back in elementary school when my friend and I found a page in a magazine advertising a contest to create a new nail polish color. Mixing colors, finding new colors, and decorating nails with patterns became a hobby of ours. 

And now, years later, the love continues. 

But that's not what I'm wanting to discuss today. What I want to discuss is this: are brightly painted nails unprofessional in the workplace? 

Let me preface the discussion with some info about my workplace. I work for a government agency, and the everyday dress is nice casual (a step down from business casual), unless you're going to court that day. Four days out of 5 I am wearing jeans with a top. The dresscode is not too strict. 

Here's a peek at my nail polish collection:

{This isn't even all of it. Some of my favorites are lurking about in purses and whatnot}

You notice that there are a lot of colors in the pink-red spectrum, which are entirely work appropriate in my eyes. There is also purple, green, blue, and orange. 

I think I've worn every one of my colors to work at some time or another. But when I asked Ben if my newest shade of purple was work appropriate he said, "If you have to ask, I think you have your answer. No, it's not."

What do you think?