Got any snacks?

To provide background for this post, I share the following:  a few dates into our early relationship, I asked Blair "What is your favorite meal?"  I knew I was going to be able to nail this dish.  I had perfected so many "man dishes" in the past.  This was going to be a breeze, and I would be deserving of a ton more bonus points.  His reply?  "Herb crusted rack of lamb."  I oscillated between pure, undoubted love, and complete terror.  Herb crusted rack of lamb?  Seriously? 

Fast forward a few dates later and Blair is over at my place for dinner.  No, I wasn't cooking herb crusted rack of lamb, but something I hoped would suffice.  And then it happened.  It was my question of doom.  Blair said simply as he opened my pantry "Got any snacks?" 

Huh?  Snacks?  I was eating lima beans for dinner before he came into the scene.  Snacks?  I work 14 hours a day, and I found out when I started cooking dinner that night that I had a working oven. No, I did not have any snacks.

Well, fortunately, Blair didn't really care about snacks, and even more fortunately, he realized my neurotic spazes early on. As for me, I learned to buy snacks.  2 years after that date, we are a very happy married couple. 

I should note here that Blair is in no way a demanding husband and we split the chores.  However cooking, and all thinks food, fall into my realm of responsibility. The past few weeks have been a little crazy at the Hoyt household.  Blair and I have both been putting in a lot of hours at work, and our grocery list has returned to "survival mode."

Today I was cooking a tried and true recipe for dinner- sure it would be a huge success.  And then it happened.  Blair told me that he essentially missed lunch.  Crap.   He would want a snack.  Think, Ashley think.  Just then the clouds parted and the angels sang "honey, I have prosciutto."  Sure, it was an ingredient for the dinner I had planned for tomorrow, but my dinner tonight would yield leftovers- I don't need a dinner plan for tomorrow!  Awesome.  So Blair ate an entire pack of prosciutto.  His cholesterol might not be happy, but he was. 

In conclusion, I know that my husband's love for me has absolutely NOTHING to do with my ability to stock the pantry with snacks, but as part of the great expectations I set for myself as a wife, I do my best to keep my man happy (insert snappy fingers in a "S" pattern).

A good night to all! 

Week Roundup

I've been a little slow on the blog updating over the past few days.  It was a pretty busy end of the week, but all in all a great weekend.  Friday was kicked off by a visit to the allergist to determine if I am, in fact, allergic to shellfish- which included learning how to stab myself with an epi pen, a brochure on medical I.D. bracelets for kids (which I'm pretty sure was a discrete short joke by the doc), and finally a trip to the lab for blood work for the actual test.  There aren't many experiences that provide me with the snarky scenarios worth blogging over like a trip to a lab.  A tip to the lovely lab facility would be to try to make some attempt at preserving the dignity of their customers.  Fortunately, I just went there to donate a small vile of blood.  However, they sent one woman back to the lobby with a container the size of a milk jug in a clear plastic bag with a bright label with the words "specimen collection."  They also handed her a form to fill out before she left.  I would later learn through my own experience that this form was a customer satisfaction survey.  Somehow, I doubt the nice gentleman who described my veins as "juicy" received a report card full of smiley faces from that poor woman. 

Saturday was highlighted with a dinner at our house with a few of my girls and their husbands.  It was such a dream come true to have some of my best friends and our husbands in our house for dinner.  Fortunately, I didn't burn the house down, and as far as I know, no one was poisoned, so I will consider it a success.  Even though I had wanted that exact situation to play out for years, I couldn't help but think back and some of our younger days and think "we have husbands (or a fiance for Al). Wow!"

Even Charlie decided he would start eating my cooking, and he is now safely back under the supervision of my mom. 

Today it was a clean up and detox from a good night, and over to Blair's parents' home for dinner.  Kyle, Marissa, and baby Connor are in town and it was such a treat to see them.  Even if I did smack Connor's head into the chandelier...if Connor knows what's good for him, he will milk this guilt trip well in to his twenties.  Car?  College?  Pinball machine?  You got it kid!! 

Wishing everyone a good Sunday evening and hopes for the day off tomorrow!

Cool Girls Rock

Last night, I was lucky enough to have the Broga 5 visit me at work.  Ellery (the oldest) is facinated by all things shark and fosil.  This girl's Christmas list included things like shark teeth, a model titanic, and money for her trip to a shark convention. 

When I was her age, I was begging for a topsy tail, lip gloss, and maybe a bra (you know, every 10-year-old wants one...no?  ok, nevermind then). 

My co-worker Jason gave Ellery an eighteen million year old shark tooth, and some other bones to take home.  She was thrilled, and I honestly could not have been more thrilled to see such smart, funny girls love scientific things like rocks, turtles, and fly brains!

Cheers to their parents for encouraging such great things!

Sigh...

Day 3 of watching the dog.  He will no longer eat the homemade chicken soup my mom left for him.  He was eating microwave rice and granola bars.  No more. 

Wait, I just wrote a blog post about what my damn dog won't eat.  That makes me crazy.  Damn. 

Getting a glass of wine and calling it a day.

Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day, unless of course you hate Valentine's Day, in which case, I'm sorry.  I personally have a love-hate relationship with Valentine's Day.  There are things I love about Valentine's such as Valentine's between grown ups and small children.  There is nothing that melts my heart like the valentine we received from Connor (although, I think he had some help from his incredibly talented mom).  I also love Valentine's Day for the fact that is my parents' anniversary.  In my opinion, I am blessed with the greatest parents in the world and watching them love one another taught me how to love Blair.  Lastly, I love that Blair and I have agreed to spend our Valentine's Day at home (well at home with Charlie), and have chocolate in sweat pants.  Maybe it's because I'm married now, but squeezing myself into a pair of spanx on a Monday just doesn't float my boat.

Now for the things I HATE about Valentine's Day:  first and foremost I hate how sad single people feel on Valentine's Day!  Also, single guys do a pretty good job getting themselves in trouble with single girls.  They don't need Valentine's Day thrown into the list of potential things to tick off a lady.  Lastly, and this is a big one: I really really really hate how much flower shops mark up the prices of flowers.  I do get it, supply and demand, but come on!  If a guy wants to buy his lady some flowers, he shouldn't have to donate a kidney to do it!

There, that is my Valentine's Day summary.  Love it or hate it, it will still be February 15th tomorrow all will be right in the world once more. 

Love to all!

Racing Stripes

For a bit of background on this post, I should explain my dog, Charlie.  Charlie is a 13-year-old Sheltie, although he has no clue he's a dog.  Charlie is still with us for one reason, and one reason only: my mother.  My mother is hands down the most caring, loving, nurturing person on the planet.  She treats Charlie just like a king- for example, Charlie has not eaten dog food in nearly 11 years.  As he grew older, and his body became less able to process delacacies like pizza, spagetti, and other table scraps, my mom started making him home made chicken soup that she serves over bread- for the dog!  Because I love my mother more than words, and because the only reason we have Charlie is because I begged and begged and begged for a puppy when I was 15, Blair and I "babysit" the dog while my parents are away.  Last night Blair was away on a golf outting with his firm, so it was me, Charlie, and 3 painters that my parents hired to spruce up the place while they were away.  This was a recipe for disaster.

I arrived at my parents house around 7:30. The painters had finished for the day.  The house was completely dark, and I slammed the door into the dog, who slept through me pulling up to the house, and opening the garage door.  After clearing Charlie out of the way, I tripped over the couch, and then a ladder before finding a light switch that was still connected to a lamp. 

Lights on, I realize that Charlie had not touched his chicken soup that Mom had put out for him earlier in the morning.  Great.  So I made Charlie a peanut butter sandwich and a granola bar (yes, seriously), which he did eat.  He was full and happy, and I was happy to be watching cable and to have some bonding time with Charlie. 

I awoke this morning to the painters coming back to finish the work.  I raced downstairs, grabbed the dog and took him out.  I realized Charlie now has a nice new white stripe down his side.  I called it his "racing stripe" I don't speak Spanish, but now the comment of "blah blah blah Charlie blah blah blah" from one of the painters made sense.  I shuffle Charlie back inside, gave him another granola bar, and put a little more soup in his dish and left.  On my way out the door, I stumble around the ladders and paint cans, and bump into the door frame, painting my side white.  Charlie and I now have matching racing stripes, and the nice man painting the family room repeated the same phrase "blah blah blah Ashley blah blah blah." 

Life With a Grain of Salt

I have been wanting to create a blog for some time now.  Not because I have some really fun talent, or great ideas or some applicable skill...because I don't; but simply because I want to!  This blog is a diary of my new life- the one that was reinvented one year ago today with the simple question that changed my life for ever: "It's not cushion cut; do you want me to take it back?"  This little statement was a marriage proposal from my husband, Blair.  And because I just referred to him as my "husband", you know I accepted.  In the one year since Blair's proposal, my world has turned upside down-or perhaps I should say "right side up." 

I quit a job I loathed in construction management and accepted a great new position with a non-profit in Ashburn.  I will leave out the name in case I one day say something that might be deemed inappropriate and cause me to be fired from the aforementioned wonderful job. In the past year, Blair and I moved out of our individual homes and in with his parents, and then in with mine, and finally into our own home.  We were married in October, and life as we will know it has started to come together.  I even took a little part time job at a wine store down the street.  Husband, job, house, wine...life is good.

So about the title: for now this blog is an unsophisticated diary of my transformation from wearing a hard hat and muddy boots to wearing wedding veils, high heels, and the occasional apron. This blog, and life should be taken with (drum roll please)...."A Grain of Salt!"  I am ridiculously cheesy. 

Cheers to all!