Our "Us" Story: Part 1

{Daniel and I just celebrated our 2nd anniversary, and I've never posted anything about the who/what/when/where/why/how of what we're all about. And to think that I call myself a blogger, for the shame! Because two years goes by so fast, and someday we'll be saying, "wow, 62 years goes by so fast. dang kids, and their rap music...can you pass me my prune juice?" I thought it finally time to document while the memory is still somewhat fresh. Also, future baby beans of ours who might read this: your dad and I were once cool and listened to plenty of rap music. Look, I have a nose ring.}

...

For years, I was convinced that I would attend my 10 year class reunion with a cat in my purse and at least three more scratching the couch back in my apartment. 

I had destined myself to a summation of those epitomised words, crazy. cat. lady.

Think Sandra Bullock in "While You Were Sleeping."

Dunking my oreos in the kitten's milk bowl and dreaming of Florence, Italy while I spend my days collecting fare for the Chicago transit system. 

Trust me,
it's a lot more romantic then it sounds. 
and of course, crazy hijinks would ensue.

Don't get me wrong.

I liked boys. Boys liked me. 

But they held power in their potential.
All relationships do. 
The potential to hurt or fail or end. 
A history of loss had gripped tightly around my stubborn heart, closing off the flow with pride and fear.
Trickling into all areas of my being was this philosophy of controlled living. 
I mean, all areas. 
Must.Win.All.The.Things.

{There was a particular game of "Spoons" during this period of my life, where I infamously stabbed someone. with a spoon.
Like I was in The Hunger Games or something.
maybe stabbed isn't the right word, and maybe it was with my teeth.
I'll plead the "it was all a blur."}

My Florence dreams were still itching at me, begging to meet and say hello. 
To go, and do, and be. 
The plan was to start small and float up and up and up. 
All the while, never getting too close for anyone to catch me.


So I packed up my belongings, hopes, and spoons and tiptoed away.

...


xoxo

{Bon Bon} 

Don't Go Chasing...

 {Multnomah Falls}

Don't let my "confident" hand-on-hipped head-to-toe-nike-sports-attired self fool ya. 

{this same outfit can often be worn for a day of nothing but baby bean snuggles and a trip to target for laundry detergent that ends with a receipt full of anything but laundry detergent}

By switchback #9 up the trail, I was alternately feeling the burn and praying someone had finally built one of those motorized staircase chair lifts. 

Only a watery roar of the cascading multnomah could inspire me to surge onward and upward...  

that, and ice cream, of course. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

Fall 2012 Makeup: Mulberry Mouth

Yesterday, I had about 3.8 minutes to get ready before some serious skedaddling needed to be done. 

So I swiped on {the} serious lipstick. 

The kind that takes 3.gazillion minutes to swipe on and line and perfect and scrub the smudge that gets on your front tooth. 

The kind that makes you look like a vampire. 

Which, according to {here} and beyond, is a good thing. 

Minutes well spent on the price of fashion.

{although the un-smooched cheeks of a husband and baby beg to differ}

Is this a Fall trend that you can

sink your teeth into? 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

Getting Back Into It

{and of course, a Sigur Rós concert is a must on the checklist}

Summer 2012 has been quite productive, I have to admit. 

From the humidity of Arkansas to the warmth of California and beyond. 

And plenty of coconut rum splashes in between. 

From verb to shining verb, these have been some of the best dog days to remember. 

A pair of frayed leopard print shorts and an iced caramel macchiato has been my uniform in the school of sunshine. 

Plus, in between the usual wedding-mageddon that runs from June to September, I still found time to break up a fight between a cat and squirrel, 

so that was pretty neat. 

I've been a little m.i.a. lately due to all of this human life-productivity, squirrel life-saving,
 and singing "Call Me Maybe" in the car.

What's new with you? 

xoxo

{Bon Bon} 

Peachy Keen

It was a day of shopper's regret, buyer's remorse and general mayhem.

A day of soaring temperatures combated with Oregonian air conditioning (a dusty box fan and a lengthy trip into the freezer section at Trader Joes).  

Raspberry jam, positioned on the top shelf, leaking steady and true, a deep crimson sugar river winding into the depths of the vegetable crisper. 

One burnt bagel. Two burnt bagels.  

 An eerie feeling in the shower that "something is not quite right," as the loofah scrubs against cotton instead of skin. 

Brief moment of laughter directly afterward, only to be shared with the painter out on the deck who hopefully caught a glimpse of more cotton than skin. 

A "why me?" day, in the loosest most problematic first world-ish usage of the phrase. 

When I get to Heaven someday though, you better believe I'll be asking where that Mr. Painter man is. And that UPS man, who saw me doing Hip Hop Abs. In my underwear. 

whoa woe whoa.

... 

Until then, a big batch of {Peach Mojitos} will have to suffice while I accept my fate in this life as "me." 

Anyone else care to join?

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

My Boy

and then you were 8.5 months, 

crawling/wriggling/swimming/swinging/rolling/scooting/basically, lightning mcqueening all over the place.

oy vey. 

and that smile. 

let's not even begin to think about how many times those pearly whites are gonna finagle extra snickerdoodles and get-out-of-lima bean-eating-jail-free cards. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

Drink Up: Bahama Mama

 

I've definitely been slogging through the past few months in regards to this here web space. 

{Slogging: summer blogging of the lacking and lame sort}

I {happily} blame it on the weddings, and vacations, and house hunting, and evening outings to get fro-yo, and of course, the a-a-a-a-a-aaaaalcohol. 

That would be a T-Pain reference, again. 

That would also be me, totally joking, again.

For I am, the lightest lightweight of all the lands in regards to anything fermented, mixed, mulled, shaken, and stirred. 

But this perfectly proportioned recipe, {lovingly bestowed upon us by our bartender in the Dominican Republic} is partly to blame for some of my slogging this past week. 

103 degree weather, poolside, straw fedora, stack of marie claires, and a full red solo cup. 

Blog who?

 ....

Bahama Mama Remix

In a blender combine ingredients {to taste}:

Ice

Banana(s)

1 oz. Cream of Coconut

2 oz. Coconut Rum

2 oz. Pineapple Juice

a splash of Grenadine

 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}