It's New Year's Eve and I just climbed into my pajamas, curled up on the couch with a new book and am waiting on a pizza and Mike to arrive. I could not be happier.Traveling is exhausting and both Mike and I picked up some sort of virus during our visits. However, we did have a wonderful time seeing family and friends and I managed to make it through my first Christmas away from the Blackburns. Luckily for me, the Cherbonneaus always welcome me with open arms and made this year just as special.
We were able to swing through Birmingham on our way to Atlanta to see my sister, Julia, for one night. Her work schedule was not meshing with our travel so we stopped for dinner and a mini-Christmas. The next morning we got up and made it to Atlanta in time for lunch. My sweet nephew Houston is three years old and hilarious. Our beautiful niece Calista makes me smile everytime I see her. I'm pretty sure I had her in my arms 75% of the trip.
On Christmas Eve, the Cherbonneaus have a seafood extravaganza. Calamari, shrimp, lobster..you name it - we are eating it. Earlier this year, my in laws downsized their house and moved into a cute new one. While Mike was playing with Houston we turned on the bridge of the stove to cook a large pot of water. We heard something pop and the next thing we saw were sparks. Please keep in mind we all had a glass of wine in hand. The result :
Me: "Michael, Michael - there is a fire!
Mike: "Jenny, I am in jail - I can't get up."
Mrs. Cherbonneau immediately threw flour at the fire (which is what you are supposed to do,) began calling for her dog and was headed out the door.
Kristen, my SIL was on the phone attempting to get her husband to pick up their fire extinguisher and bring it to the house. She then ran upstairs for the baby and was herding everyone out.
Houston: This may be the most exciting thing that ever happened to him. He was running around the house yelling, "Fire! Fire!"
(Please note that no one ever yelled for Lullabelle. That poor cat never had a chance!)
When Mike finally realized that what was going on was serious, he threw the pillows off of him (his jail cell) and grabbed the sprayer from the sink. He put the rest of the flames out but we still called 911. Luckily we warned my father in law that a fire truck would be in the front yard when he pulled up. While Houston went outside to examine the truck, the firemen examined the mess. Flour melded to the floor with water and a melted electrical socket. Diagnosis: No power. Prognosis for dinner: Bleak.
Poor Kristen ended up hosting Christmas Eve at her house. We moved everyone down the street, along with the food. It ended up being delicious and perfect. Everyone is safe and healthy, which is all we could ask for. I have much more to write and many pictures to share, but thought I would start you off with that. Happy New Year! Enjoy these last few hours of 2011!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
Wow. It seems like the last time I wrote, I was talking about leaving town for Thanksgiving. I love December, but it always flies by. I have been excited to get my Christmas decorations up and adament that we were going to have a real tree in our house. (I'm pretty sure that was ok with Mike because the fake tree we own is buried deep in the closet under the stairs.) Regardless, after many days of nagging, Mike went to get our tree.
When I was growing up, we got the tree as a family. Everyone loaded into the station wagon and drove to (wherever) to pick out that perfect Frasier Fur that becomes the center of your home during the holidays. Looking back, I'm not sure it was really that fun. 5 people running different ways looking for trees? I do remember at one point we used to go to a Christmas tree farm a little ways away. My last memory is driving straight down the street to the local elementary school. I guess you do what you gotta do to maintain those traditions.
All this to say, Mike continued to inform me that in his home, the man picks out the tree. I was regaled with stories of his first job working at a nursery (seriously) and how he knows how to pick a tree. At first I argued, thinking this needed to be something that the two of us did together, but eventually I let him go. Not 5 minutes after he arrived he called, asking what sort of tree I wanted. I had to tell him he was the man and he was on his own.
He picked out a beautiful tree. This is what happened when he got home. I still don't know what he was doing, but I do know I never saw my dad doing this with our tree.
Yes, that is a miner's light that he has on his head. (It's amazing how handy those can be!)
Unfortunately, the decorations that covered our old tree didn't quite cover the new, bigger, more robust tree. And I ran out of the ribbon that usually wraps the tree and tops it with an extravagant bow. So we got a little something like this:
Our tree skirt is in the same box as our old tree and I did not make one out of burlap and ribbon. Maybe next year.
Next up, our holiday cards. I. Love. Them. I love running to the mailbox every day to see what beautiful pictures and notes our friends have sent. However, I have not come up with a creative way to display them...Mike informed me his grandmother used to do this with hers:
Who cares. They make me happy!
Next, the stockings, hung by the chimney with care:
Yes, Lullabelle has her own stocking. Sadly, she will not be accompanying us on our southeastern tour next week. After a lot of thought, we decided it was too much for her (and my patience) last time. I keep telling myself she will be fine and less traumatized if we keep her at home. Yes, we have someone to feed her (and maybe cuddle with her for a required 30 minutes?) I feel guilty just writing about it.
I will leave you with some outtakes from our holiday card...sometimes the best ones just don't make the cut. I particularly like this first one - I think it embodies our relationship.
Here, I was trying to make it look more professional than my mom snapping pictures with my point and shoot Canon. (I threw a bunch of leaves in the air....)
I am laughing hysterically, but there was a little, "Jenny, what the he**?!" going on in the background.
Happy Holidays! Love, Jenny and Mike :-)
When I was growing up, we got the tree as a family. Everyone loaded into the station wagon and drove to (wherever) to pick out that perfect Frasier Fur that becomes the center of your home during the holidays. Looking back, I'm not sure it was really that fun. 5 people running different ways looking for trees? I do remember at one point we used to go to a Christmas tree farm a little ways away. My last memory is driving straight down the street to the local elementary school. I guess you do what you gotta do to maintain those traditions.
All this to say, Mike continued to inform me that in his home, the man picks out the tree. I was regaled with stories of his first job working at a nursery (seriously) and how he knows how to pick a tree. At first I argued, thinking this needed to be something that the two of us did together, but eventually I let him go. Not 5 minutes after he arrived he called, asking what sort of tree I wanted. I had to tell him he was the man and he was on his own.
He picked out a beautiful tree. This is what happened when he got home. I still don't know what he was doing, but I do know I never saw my dad doing this with our tree.
Yes, that is a miner's light that he has on his head. (It's amazing how handy those can be!)
Unfortunately, the decorations that covered our old tree didn't quite cover the new, bigger, more robust tree. And I ran out of the ribbon that usually wraps the tree and tops it with an extravagant bow. So we got a little something like this:
Our tree skirt is in the same box as our old tree and I did not make one out of burlap and ribbon. Maybe next year.
Next up, our holiday cards. I. Love. Them. I love running to the mailbox every day to see what beautiful pictures and notes our friends have sent. However, I have not come up with a creative way to display them...Mike informed me his grandmother used to do this with hers:
Who cares. They make me happy!
Next, the stockings, hung by the chimney with care:
Yes, Lullabelle has her own stocking. Sadly, she will not be accompanying us on our southeastern tour next week. After a lot of thought, we decided it was too much for her (and my patience) last time. I keep telling myself she will be fine and less traumatized if we keep her at home. Yes, we have someone to feed her (and maybe cuddle with her for a required 30 minutes?) I feel guilty just writing about it.
I will leave you with some outtakes from our holiday card...sometimes the best ones just don't make the cut. I particularly like this first one - I think it embodies our relationship.
Here, I was trying to make it look more professional than my mom snapping pictures with my point and shoot Canon. (I threw a bunch of leaves in the air....)
I am laughing hysterically, but there was a little, "Jenny, what the he**?!" going on in the background.
Happy Holidays! Love, Jenny and Mike :-)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
New Adventures
It's been a long two weeks. I haven't been working much more than the average person, (although I haven't had any days/weekends off since Thanksgiving) but driving back and forth between these different jobs can be tiring and confusing. This week was a special adventure. I have been helping my boss sell her cell phone covers at various expos around the city. Tuesday evening we ventured to Southfork Ranch. If you are a "Dallas" fan, you know this is where the hit tv series was shot. If not, it is a cool, historic piece of land. We showed up for the Native American Chamber of Commerce Expo. Yep. Cell phones blinged out in Swarsvoski crystals competing with hand made candles, snuff boxes and lava lamps. Good times. We made $32 and packed up our product. It just really wasn't our market.
Thursday night I brought the covers to a "Girl's Night Out" at a small boutique. Here's the thing about Dallas. There is constant competition to be the next New York City or L.A. While Mike and I love the area and most of the people we have met, there is definitely an elite group that believes the only people worth talking to are those with money. A lot of money. It was clearly exhibited to me when Pat Smith (Emmett Smith's wife) walked in. Y'all, she was as sweet as she could be, chatted with me and gave me a hug. I was appalled by the way everyone else was falling over her. I have never seen a group of grown women compete for attention and approval as much as they did that night. I called Mike when I left (after being ignored by these women for 2 hours) to tell him I was over it and that I hated women. He listened to me vent with a "Thank you for what you are contributing to the family dear" thrown in here and there. (He is learning.)
I got home and fell asleep. When I woke up the next day I couldn't find my keys.The last time this happened, I found them in the wine drawer... After a lot of searching, freaking out and then laying on the couch to rest my eyes for just a second, I texted my boss. He told me not to worry about coming in because he wasn't feeling well anyway. As soon as I got back in the bed, Mike brought me my keys.I have heard that when you reach a certain point of exhaustion, you being acting like you are drunk. Perfect example. My keys had been laying in the closet by my shoes. To wrap up, I FINALLY have a day off. Mike and I are going to get a Christmas tree today and I am hoping to clean up so I don't trip over something every time I try to make my way through the bedroom in the dark. I have too many bruises that I can't explain.
I am looking forward to Christmas shopping and decorating and getting into the spirit! We finally sold our St. Louis condo on Friday. It had been on the market for 14 months and we are ecstatic! (Christmas was on the verge of being cancelled...) Everything is back to our kind of normal for at least a day or two!
Thursday night I brought the covers to a "Girl's Night Out" at a small boutique. Here's the thing about Dallas. There is constant competition to be the next New York City or L.A. While Mike and I love the area and most of the people we have met, there is definitely an elite group that believes the only people worth talking to are those with money. A lot of money. It was clearly exhibited to me when Pat Smith (Emmett Smith's wife) walked in. Y'all, she was as sweet as she could be, chatted with me and gave me a hug. I was appalled by the way everyone else was falling over her. I have never seen a group of grown women compete for attention and approval as much as they did that night. I called Mike when I left (after being ignored by these women for 2 hours) to tell him I was over it and that I hated women. He listened to me vent with a "Thank you for what you are contributing to the family dear" thrown in here and there. (He is learning.)
I got home and fell asleep. When I woke up the next day I couldn't find my keys.The last time this happened, I found them in the wine drawer... After a lot of searching, freaking out and then laying on the couch to rest my eyes for just a second, I texted my boss. He told me not to worry about coming in because he wasn't feeling well anyway. As soon as I got back in the bed, Mike brought me my keys.I have heard that when you reach a certain point of exhaustion, you being acting like you are drunk. Perfect example. My keys had been laying in the closet by my shoes. To wrap up, I FINALLY have a day off. Mike and I are going to get a Christmas tree today and I am hoping to clean up so I don't trip over something every time I try to make my way through the bedroom in the dark. I have too many bruises that I can't explain.
I am looking forward to Christmas shopping and decorating and getting into the spirit! We finally sold our St. Louis condo on Friday. It had been on the market for 14 months and we are ecstatic! (Christmas was on the verge of being cancelled...) Everything is back to our kind of normal for at least a day or two!
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