Happy Valetine's to the Loves of My Life...

To my hubby who has known me for over a decade and has yet to run away while holding scissors. Thank you for loving me through think and thin, ups and downs, happiness and frustration, house floods and snow storms, the occasional acne and bad hair days (okay, not so "occasional" on the hair), and everything else that life sends our way. I love you deeply and am glad that you're mine.

To my parents and brother who pretty much have to love me, but never make it look like a job or obligation. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you all. You've shaped me into the person I am today (on my good days, of course;) and you make me so very proud to be a Meyers. I love you for being some of the best examples in my life, while also being some of the funniest yahoos in it as well.


To my sweet, little Piggy who wakes me up multiple times every night now. I love more than there are words to explain it. You're my child and my full bodied tall wagger after a long day. Thank you for mama's sweet flowers and chocolates:) I can't believe you drove all the way to the Lil Chocolatier just for little ole me. You and your daddy are my best friends.

To my girlfriends who are way prettier than a collective group of women should be. I love you for being you, and for allowing me to do life with you, even when we're 1,000 miles away or just right down the street in Rockford. I cannot wait to celebrate new marriages, new babies, and new memories with you. I hope you're mine always.

To fountain cokes, funyons, yellow cake with butter cream frosting, McGriddles, Downton Abbey, and Pandora radio while I'm working- I heart you. For like ever.

Happy Valentine's Day! If you haven't hugged someone yet today, get on it. You never know who might be dying to hear that they're thought about this day.

Life Lessons from The Bachelor II

It's no secret that a few contestants on my not so guilty pleasure, The Bachelor, tend to lean a little towards lunatic every season, but I do believe that season 17 is bringing some real heat when it comes to the crazy meter.

This week I have only one, very important life lesson from my beloved Bachelor episode in St. Croix and it is that Tierra must die, I mean, get her sparkle beaten out of her,  I mean, go into hiding for about 6 months until every woman over 32 cools off. No joke, girlie. Run.

This week, we watched Tierra's eyebrow fend for itself with a pretty rude and ignorant slam against anyone who is single in their early 30's. Spoken like a true 24 year old. I get it, I really do...ssomewhat.

I, too, thought at the ripe old and very wise age of 24 that I'd be married very shortly, have my first child at 26 and the second and last at 28. Ha! Give me a second while I finish belly laughing which will most likely turn into a silent, ugly cry into my Merlot.

In all seriousness, I literally shuddered when her words "When I’m 32, I want to be married with kids and have my life set. Why hasn’t she found somebody who she can settle down with?? I’m like, you’re 32 years old??” Oh, sweet, crazy, sparkly Tierra. Do you really think it's that easy? Do you really think the universe looks at every woman and says "Oh, you're 26?? Poof. Here's the love of your life. And don't worry, he will never dull your sparkle." No. It surely does not. Not even close.

I truly think ABC might need to consider a relocation program for Tierra stat until all of her so called "cougars" take a few, short deep breathes. And eyebrow reconstruction might not be a bad idea either, because let's face it, we'd all know that brow anywhere. Even if it's hiding out in the hills of Appalachia for protection.

So, Tierra, my life lesson for you is this: If it were that easy to find the right person to "settle down" with, this world would be a much different place. It'd look like Valentine's Day every day, birds would be chirping Journey ballads all Disney-like while tying pretty bows on every relationship, and every 32 year old would have 2.5 children, a dog, and a swagger wagon. BUT, because most of us live in the real world where emotions can't be worn on your face like a terrifying eyebrow at all hours of the day, it does take some people a little longer to find the one whom their soul loves. And there's nothing wrong with that. I like to think I still have my "sparkle" and I got married at 33. Gasp.

I'm sorry you had to be sent home in a mini-van from the gorgeous island of St. Croix, but I do hope that you took the time in said van to consider what could have possibly gone wrong. Treating everyone with respect, and not just respecting men, might do wonders for you. I think you'll soon learn that guys are going to come and go in your 20's, but the true loves of your life and the ones that you "settle down" with during some of the harder times are your girlfriends. Value your female relationships; they are the ones that help get you through your 20's. Trust me.

In closing, I'd love to see a follow-up show on you at 32. I'd love to see where you are and I hope for your sake that you're happily married. I do not hope however that your brow will reappear on the next season of the Bachelor Pad. Yet again, I shudder at the thought.

A Breath of Fresh Air

As a fan of all things blog world related, I very happily stumbled across the very rare man blog today.
 
Honestly, I don't know that I've really seen any man blogs out there that don't even business posts, movie reviews, etc... So to tumble across a blogger gem that discusses love and marriage by a non-professional love guru was a shock and a breath of fresh air!

In the blog, http://www.winningmywifeback.com/, this groom discusses his personal thoughts on the use of social media in a marriage, how to make your wife feel loved and special when everything in our lives tend to compete for that attention, making time for dating each other, being each other's biggest fan, etc... 

I won't bore with you any more of my details on a dude's blog about life, love and winning your wife back, when I think his words would mean a heck of a lot more. If you have the time, click on the link above and check him out.

In a society where marriage is becoming as endangered as our beloved bald eagle, we could use a few more men like him to stand up, declare blogging as not just a woman's world, and take a proactive stance on not just keeping his marriage together, but making his wife an object of his adoration and attention.

Isn't that what we all want, anyway?

A 911 Call Story

Let me preface this story with a few tidbits about our hometown. It's a great city, even more so than I give it credit for at times. With that being said, we have had a recent spike in crime and especially home invasions over the last few months. I'll admit that when I hear car doors shut at the church across the street from our home after hours, my heart races a bit until I realize that it's just one of the Zumba junkies arriving for their 5:00 am class. And seriously, who does Zumba at 5am? Anyway, I digress...

This story begins with my little younger brother cleaning the snow off his car in the driveway at 5ish in the morning as he heads for work. It's dark, it's early (or way late depending on how you look at it), and it's freezing. As he's cleaning the car, a large, older model SUV with tinted windwos pulls up and stops in front of my parent's home. No one gets out, but the dome light comes on and my brother can see 3+ men in the vehicle. One man takes a long swig out of what appears to be a liquor bottle. And then...the ski mask comes on. Ski masks, y'all!

What does my 6'2 bean pole of a brother do? He quickly opens the garage with the key pad, literally slides under the door as it's only a few feet open at this point, shuts it back down and locks it. He then runs into my parents room, where they peacefully sleep, and frantically tells them that "some kids might be coming in a minute" and urges them to be ready. Can you imagine? If Tim woke me to "some men/some kids might be coming inside in a minute" I can guarantee you that I would pee the bed. On the spot. While crying because I just peed my pants and because I'm terrified.

Both my dad and my brother lock all the doors, my brother starts pumping his BB gun, as that's about all we have in terms of weapons, and decides to call 911. My mom relays this portion of the story, because she's disoriented, confused, and now watching my brother run between the various windows in their home, while pumping the BB gun like a mad man about to protect his earthly possession, all while giving a play by play to the 911 operator.

Brother: "They're getting out of the car now. Oh man, they have shovels!" As he's thinking to himself, they can cause some damage with those if they come in here.
911 Operator: "What are they doing now?"
Brother: "They're acting like they're shoveling! They're acting like they're shoveling!"

As we get to this point in the story, my mom is now belly laughing and breaks in "they ARE shoveling".

What started as a potential home invasion 911 call ends as the non eventful shoveling crew reporting to work. These yahoos in ski masks, apparently hired by the neighborhood to shovel the walkways, were not there to steal, kill and destroy. They were there to shovel. Not to act like they were shoveling, but to truly shovel.

Moral of this amazing story, that is way funnier when my family tells it first hand, is this:
1. Shoveling crews usually arrive in marked vehicles, not pedophile like SUVs. I can see why this would be odd that early in the am.
2. Apparently if you're a professional shoveler you might take a swig of Whiskey to warm your insides before pulling on your ski mask and braving the IL winter.
3. Visualizing my very tall and lanky 30 year old brother dive and slide under the garage door still makes me laugh out loud when I think about it. I wish we could know what the burglars shovelers thought of this man diving under the garage door!
4. If you wake me in the middle of the night with a possible intruder, throw me some TP, fresh PJs and a BB gun.

I bet that 911 operator had a fun story to share with her family over the dinner table that night. I know I thoroughly enjoyed it!

We've Created a Monster

For anyone that truly knows me, it's no secret that I love my dog. He's my first born, but this fur child is spoiled naughty rotten, y'all! I've always joked that Wrigley is a real boy, much like Pinocchio. After the last few weeks, I'm convinced that he really is a real boy and one morning I'm going to wake to find a 10 year old kid with brown curls and huge brown eyes staring at me.

Thanks to Wrigley's spoiled rotten nighttime ritual, our boy must do the following before he settles in for the night (if he settles, that is):

• Get his nightly serving of Carmex from both mom and dad. Yep, our dog is obsessed with Carmex, as in chap stick. He will seriously dive bomb your face to get to the stuff.
• Lay right in between our faces while we recap the day before the light go out.
• Spend his first few minutes sprawled out on our pillows. This newly wed doesn't fight with her hubby for pillow or bed space, I fight for it with my 10 lb. toy poodle.
• And lastly, his newest obsession...his nighttime water drink from the night stand.
• We now have to fill up 3, yes three, water glasses before bedtime, because apparently our little diva gets thirsty about 2-4 times a night now.
• If he wakes up thirsty, he will literally stand on my legs or chest until I wake up, grab his drink, hold it at the perfect angle so that he can take his 15-30 licks, all without spilling water on my side of the bed. What is wrong with this picture?

What started out as a cute joke one night has now begun to cost me precious sleep time every single night. Check out the diva in action below. *Disclaimer, he only drinks out of his own glass. I love him to pieces, but I will NOT share a drinking glass with my dog.

My Soap Box

People are mean. No, really. Like 110% mean sometimes and I do not like it.

The hubs and I had a chance to enter a contest to rename the local pro baseball team in our hometown, so we thought "hey, why not? What do we have to lose?" So we jotted down about 5 names and sent them on their merry way, not really thinking too much about them again.

Fast forward 2 weeks. I receive an email from the GM of the team congratulating us on our win. What?! One of our brainchildren was actually chosen?! Very cool! We high fived, fist bumped, laughed for a bit, and were actually pretty proud of ourselves. We were also excited to win the 25 tickets and other prizes that ensued.

Fast forward another 24 hours. I literally want to cry or crawl under a rock or crawl under a rock while crying. Everyone in town apparently hates the name. Seriously. Like they hate it so much that some of the online feedback has read something like this:
"Worst. Name. Ever."
"Idiots. So stupid."
"Rockford Criminals would've been more appropriate." (Okay, this guy is clearly just a jerk anyway!)

I still stand by our name entry of the Rockford Aviators. I think it's strong, cool and shines some much needed positive light on a great industry in our community when we could use some positivity. Our aviation manufacturers supply jobs, lots of jobs, to our area and that's a GREAT thing.

What this has taught me though, is that people are mean. People speak without thinking about a person being on the other side of a name change, an idea, and really everything. Think before you blast something new. And if you don't like it, well maybe you should've come up with something cooler. And, no, the Rockford Criminals is not cooler nor is it a legit name.

Right about now, I'm thinking the Rockford Meanies would've been a good suggestion.

Oh well. What can you do? As I step down off of my soap box this morning, I leave you with this...
Go Rockford Aviators! I think you sound fantastic!

Big Pun + Blogging= Purchased

Y'all are about to be super jelly, as the kids say these days.

All you bloggers out there, don't be jealous of my new duds. Just mosey on out and get you a fresh tee like I just did with my birthday $$.

Cuz that's how us gangsters roll. We save up our birthday dollas for t-shirts.

No gold chainz and grillz. Just straight cotton tees, playaz.

Blogging like a Boss. That's the only way we know.

How You Know You No Longer Live at the Beach

Although many things have changed for me since leaving God's country, aka Charleston, SC, I do have to giggle at a few of my daily reminders that I have drastically gone from beach bum to snow bunny. Brrrrrrrr.

1. I've traded in all my cute coats for a big, black puffer coat. No exceptions. Even on NYE when I'm dressed up. Michelin man is the new black.
2. The inside of my nose freezes within seconds of stepping outside. Nose-hair-sickles are nasty, but sadly, just another part of life in glorious IL.
3. I'm tempted to wear socks in my heels. No joke. If this occurs, it may be time for a beach intervention. As in, get me to the nearest ocean pronto burger. Or, I desperatly need the 80's to make a comeback so I can rock my warm slouch socks inside of my black pumps. Come on, Carrie Diaries!
4. I want to punch in the throat (gracefully, of course) anyone on FB who posts photos of their car thermometers that read above 32 degrees. 32 degrees is when crap freezes. True story, look it up. Therefore, you are NOT freezing at 41 degrees. Chilly seems more appropriate and less offensive to those of us soaking in the 2 degree sunshine. 
5. I have to watch my every step thanks to black ice. What is black ice, my southern friends may ask? Ice that you cannot see until your booty or your eye is black from eating it. I look like a baby deer trying to stagger make my way to the office.
6. I must sleep with a humidifier about 2 feet from my face every night to avoid the following beauty disasters: cracked and bleeding hands, bloody noses, cracked lips...are you sensing a cracking pattern here?
7. Heat waves occurs anytime we get above 40 degrees. I kid you not. The other day it was 41 degrees and I caught myself thinking "do I really need a coat?" Yes, I need a stinkin coat! However, I did open the sunroof while wearing said coat and it was glorious. Fresh air and only a slight chill in the air. For a second, I swear it felt like summer was right around the corner (I'm 110% lying here). Summer is dead and never coming back.

Alright everyone, don't all move here at once! I know it's super tempting, but pace yourselves. Stampeding across black ice will not end well. Trust me.

I'm Not Trashy, But I Do Feel Like Garbage

I'm going to randomly vent for a skinny minute here, but please know that I know that I'm the only one to blame here. Well, me and winter to be exact. We're apparently a deadly combination.

Do you ever just feel like garbage? I feel g-ross lately and I know the answer is an obvious one. I need to work out and be healthier. End of story. The catch...I loathe working out. Which is both ironic and comical seeing as how my Bachelor's degree is in Health Promotion and Physical Education. #Fail  On top of that irony, I was also a competitive figure skater and college cheerleader spending the majority of my life training in a rink or gym or running miles upon miles in 90 degree weather in the south to appease our cheer coach. #Epicfail

Lately all I want to do is sleep and eat cake and sleep some more. I feel anxious every single morning when my alarm goes off and I have to literally roll my lazy self out of bed and into the coldness of winter. It's just so warm in my bed and my sweat pants and my slippers and anything that doesn't resemble professional attire.

I'm pale and pasty and regardless of the threat of sun damage and skin cancer, pasty will never be the new tan. Like ever. I glow in the dark versus having a sun kissed glow. Ugh.

I feel nauseous much of the time which in turn makes me want to crawl under a blanket, after I eat some cake of course.

I need a change. I need some energy. And I need a tan. Stat. In that order.

Anyone else feel like garbage lately?

Now where did I hide that last piece of cake?

A Happy Bachelor Birthday to Me!

I do not know what it is about this show that makes me love it so much. Even during the seasons when I had less than minimal interest in the lead person and swore off the season...for at least 24 hours until I caved and watched anyway, I've stayed a die hard fan. Plain and simple. And what's even better than that, you ask? My hubby is ALSO a huge fan himself. Has been for years, which in turn makes him even more attractive to me.

All day yesterday my coworkers would pop in to see what major plans I had lined up for the big Bday, and when I relayed in a giddy voice that my night would include take-out, cake (yellow cake with butter cream frosting only), wine, my hubby and my coveted 2 hours of Bachelor bliss, I'm not sure they truly bought into just how perfect my night would be for this girl.

Sweatpants abounded and the comments and wise cracks flowed more freely than the wine. A few different times throughout the night I had to remind the hubby to be nice with his words, but my favorite comment from my own man of the hour went a little like this...

Me: "Sean is just so nice. I just don't know if he'll be able to kick anyone off this season."
Hubby: "Well, he clearly didn't have a problem letting Sheena Easton go home."

True dat, my man. I was actually quite proud of the hubb's connection between Katie and Sheena Easton. He's a witty one and apparently up on which hairstyles may or may not give Sean the edge he needs to allow some of these girls to go home. Who will be next??? I'm hoping it's not Lesley M. or Sarah. My verdict is still out on the rest, as many seem to have split personalities already (not a good sign when you're only 2 episodes deep), but I cannot wait to watch the journey unfold!

And just a little bit of Bachelor trivia for you, I actually nominated my now hubby to be one of the bachelors for a Bachelorette season years ago when we were just friends. Whew, that move could've been a big mistake for my future. Big. Huge.