A Proposal, A List, Some Cheese, and a Birthday

It's Hondo's birthday!

And as such, I feel it is time for a list.

First, small anecdote.

Once when Hondo and I were engaged, someone asked me, point blank, "Why do you love him?"

I was caught off guard. I didn't expect anyone else to really care that much about my actual reasons for loving him, just maybe about the fact that I did (and do.) I thought it was a strange question to ask. I mean, it's fine to ask. Sure, maybe you just want to hear...about...how we love each other...or something... (I actually don't really understand why anyone would ask this question, but that is okay, I don't have to understand everything.)

Second, I was like "This is a test and I'm about to fail." I don't think I've ever had to explain why I love Hondo to anyone before or since this, and even though I'm sure it was not the intent of the question, I felt cornered a bit.

So my answer came out in some generic form of, "Well, we fit together. It just makes sense." Which is perfectly reasonable.

But today, in honor of Hondo's birthday, here is a list of things that when added together, make up the reasons that I love him. Which I do.

Most passionately.

1. He is obsessed with turkey. Most people think turkey is a thanksgiving thing, but not at our house. It is at least a quarterly thing, if not every other month.

2. When he gets mad and says something (usually me) is "frustrating," he actually says "fustrating." It's all I can do to not laugh at how cute it is.

3. He sings slightly off key. Mo laughs every time he sings, and I think it is because it makes her so happy. Me too, Mo. Me too.

4. He calls a group of men "cats" and often refers to girls as "kid." Very Casablanca.

5. He swears like a sailor while driving and exercising (not at the same time). I shouldn't laugh, but I do.

6. He gets a little handsy when he takes sleeping pills/cough medicine.

7. He stresses all the time about the kind of Dad he is going to be for Mo as she gets older. Which I think proves that he is going to be a great one.

8. He gave me Monroe.

9. He supports me in every decision that I make and wants nothing more than for me to be happy.

10. He loves celebrity gossip.

11. He loves talking politics. Which is great, since I do too. Luckily we agree on (most) things.

12. He loves and looks after my family.

13. When he talks about exercising, he refers to it as "Bringing sexy back."

14. He's the only person I know who calls "sherbet" "sherbet ice cream." Most people say either "sherbet" or "ice cream," but to him it's both.

15. He listens to me well enough that even if I'm having a conversation with someone else and I say something, he'll respond and that reponse will be completely out of context and irrelevant to the conversation. It's quite funny.

16. He thinks it's funny that I'm competative. Which is a good thing, especially when we're on the same team.

Of course, there are more but i'm at work and out of time. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

I love you, Hondo. I love you for the man that you are and the man that you are going to be as we grow old together. I couldn't have picked a better partner to navigate through life with. Marry me!

And Happy Birthday!

If you need help moving...

do not ask me. I may come try to help you, out of some sorry sense of obligation, but I will most likely find some way to sit on the only cushion left in the house and eat snacks, probably using the excuse that I need to be out of the way.

No joke. This may or may not have recently happened when Holly and Eric moved. (I'm sure if you asked, they would say it most definitely did happen.)

Of course, I also had the perfectly resonable excuse of keeping Mo out of the way as well, as they were carrying big heavy things out of the house.

I. HATE. PACKING.

Least favorite thing to do, maybe ever. I'm the worst mover, and I will procrastinate as long as I possibly can. When I was living in Jen's townhouse in Thornton, and I had to work from 6:45am-6:00pm at Camp on a Friday and also had to be out of that house by 6:00pm the same Friday, you would think that Thursday night you would find me packing/cleaning like a madwoman.

But no. I went out to staff dinner, went home, and read The Lightening Thief from beginning to end. I started packing around 12:30am. And slept for approximately 20 minutes that morning before loading up my car and heading to work.

I'm ridiculous. And awful. And if I ever have to move again, I will pay as much money as it takes to hire someone else to come in and pack up my house for me, and unpack it for me in it's new location.

And That is How the Superheroes Do It!

Back in the day when I was a camp counselor we had this one kid who drove everyone crazy. Okay, a lot of kids drove everyone crazy but this kid was a bit worse. Just a really high maintenance, annoying, always getting in trouble/never listening 6-year-old who was a bit chubby. I'll call him "M."

Every week as a camp we would go to the Rec Center to swim, play in the gym, and go rock climbing on their indoor wall. Some of the kids were brave little monkeys and they would climb the wall to the top in 2 minutes like it was no big deal. So this kid, M, wanted to go rock climbing. He had never done it before but his friends were doing it too so obviously he had to do it. A lot of the younger kids would try it and not get very high before they'd get scared and we'd lower them back down.

M got in the harness and got roped in by one of the workers at the rec center. He was afraid to grab onto the wall, so the person belaying him lifted him about 12 inches off the ground and had him put his feet and hands on a few of the holds. We were able to coax him to lift one foot up one hold and one hand up one hold before he freaked out, "I want down! I want down!" So the belayer walked over and set him back on the ground. (He was still only about 12 inches off the ground, mind you.)

He walked over to me and as I was helping him take off the harness he said, "And that is how the superheroes do it."

I died. Laughing, that is. After he left.


In real life, I have no desire to be a superhero. There are many things I want to be, but I think I've been jaded by superhero movies too much to actual crave that lifestyle. It seems like in the movies the superheroes always have so much to give and also so much they have to give up in order to lead the life of saving the world.

But if I was going to be a superhero my super power would be psychic powers. Like real ones. I think it would be cool. And my name would be "Raven."

Hahahahaha

Ok but really I think I would like super strength without the ridiculous muscles. I'd like to be named after one of the Greek Godesses, like Aphrodite or Athena.

To Every ACTION There is an Equal and Opposite REACTION

Since I am no longer obliged to write about things chosen for me by a blog challenge, I will now write whatever the heck I want. 


This is what I am feeling like right now.


Have you seen the video of Kristen Bell when she meets a sloth? If you haven't, you can watch it here, because it is hilarious.

This poor girl and I suffer from the same thing, in that neither of us can control the depth of our reactions.

(Hers might be a little bit worse than mine. Possibly)


I suck at reacting. I tell this to my husband often to try and dissuade him from surprising me with anything. EVER. I hate surprises. Because I never react appropriately.


Here's how my levels go.


Level 1: I get a surprise and I was expecting it/knew about it/didn't really want it. I try to act like I was genuinely surprised and that I wanted it, but I'm not fooling anyone. My face is like an open book, and this one will leave the giver with a fake grin and hurt feelings because they think I didn't like their surprise. (Sometimes I didn't. I'm not the only person in the world who has received something they didn't really want.) (I'm trying really hard to justify myself here.)


Level 2: This is the rarest of the rare...I react normally. Like any other sane person would react, I show moderate excitement and genuine gratitude to whomever is bestowing a surprise on me.


Level 3: This is the reaction I have most often, and I find it quite humiliating. Allow me to demonstrate with an anecdote.


Hondo and I are dating. I am at work, but I am having a bit of an off day. I was feeling rather un-pretty, which can really ruin a girl's day. He, being the charming and caring man that he is, sends me flowers at work with a card that reads, "Daay-uuummm, you look good." I am called to the front desk because I have a "delivery." I casually walk up and ask what's up. They point to the flowers. I immediately spring tears (I don't even know who the flowers are from yet, mind you) and say, "These are for me? From who?" I look at the card and begin shaking.


Yes, that's right. Literally shaking, as if I have been outside in the cold for hours. I try to cover it by grabbing the vase and saying, "Oh, that's so nice," but I can't fool my friends and one says, "Are you shaking?", compounding my embarrassment by pointing out such a ridiculous over-reaction.


Seriously. Who shakes because they got flowers? FLOWERS! It wasn't like he sent me John Mayer in a cake.


There have been various instances in my life where an actual person surprising me with their presence has led to an uncanny ability to teleport across rooms and into that person's arms. Others in my path in these instances may or may not have been knocked to the ground, even the sick and the elderly. 


My reactions could be generally classified as "over-reactions." And even though everyone else may not care, or even think it's cute (these would not be the people laying prostrate on the floor), I care. I really find it embarrassing. And annoying.


It's hard being me.

Quirky and Weird are two very different things

Me: Knock knock.

You: Who's there?

Me: Impatient cow.

You: im...Me: MOOOO!






It's better in person.

It's hard to say what "quirk" I have because I think I'm normal. I do things every day so they aren't weird to me even if someone else might think they are weird.

For example, I tried to have a "foot fight" with Hondo on the floor the other day, only to find out that no one else knows what that is. You put your feet against each other (bottom to bottom) and on the count of 3 try to push the other person's legs so they are bent up by their face and they're squished, and your legs are straight. Apparently, it's a game the Mahan kids made up.

I had no idea we were so creative.

I texted Hondo and asked him "What should I put for a weird quirk? Of mine. In case that wasn't clear."

His response? "You have to keep the shower curtain closed."

Wow. I'm the most boring person ever.

He says "Quirks aren't supposed to be cool babe..."

I say, "But I'm cool. And popular."

You know what he said? Nothing. He laughed.

So I've decided that my best "quirk" is my ability to interrupt conversations, even the most intense argument or important thing ever, by changing the subject.

I don't mean to be rude, and I'm really not trying to divert the conversation (most of the time), but sometimes I have a thought and I remember I want to ask about something or tell a story or something and if I don't say it right then and there, I'll forget. So I do. Interrupt, I mean.

Sorry about that.

Mock Lasagna Casserole

This is real lasagna. If you try to make the recipe I'm sharing and it looks like this, you're doing it wrong. Even though this does look delicious. I might have real lasagna for dinner tonight.
Photo credit here

My favorite "if I was on death row and had a last meal this would be it" food.

1 package noodles--your choice. I like to use shells, but you could use any really. Probably not spaghetti.

Boil the noodles in lightly salted water until done. Drain.

Sausage--I like to use the sage or hot flavored kind. Not breakfast sausage, ground sausage.

Brown sausage with approx. 1 tbsp italian seasoning, 1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes, 1 tsp onion powder, and any other seasonings you like. I'll add more if I'm using ground beef instead of sausage, which you can do.

Drain the grease, and return to pan. Add 1 jar of spaghetti sauce (or if you're a better cook than me, make your own. But only if you're a better one. If you're worse than me, don't bother. Just use the pre-packaged stuff.)

Layer noodles, 1/2 container of cottage cheese, 1/2 bag of shredded cheddar cheese, then meat sauce. Twice.

Put in the oven at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Gobble. I love this because it is one of the only foods I like to have when it's fresh, and when it's leftover. I hate leftovers. But with mock lasagna, it's delicious.

Say What You Need to Say

Bucket List:

Ride in a hot air balloon (this is the closest I will ever go to skydiving.)
Travel. Everywhere.
Own a piano
Become a yoga teacher
Live in another country
Adopt a baby
Learn how to swim



I'm not very adventurous. I'm not very brave. But that is ok. I'll still try to stretch my comfort level.