Brandin

We just celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary. I hope every married person feels the same when I say, my wedding day was the best. Obviously it’s who helped make everything happen, who showed up to watch me forget my vows and who danced the night away – but most of all I got to marry Brandin Boggs, and there was a chocolate fountain.

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Dreams really do come true, ladies.

Marriage isn’t easy. You know this, because at least two of those picture-quotes zip through your newsfeed on Facebook daily. It’s not surprising that cohabiting, co-parenting, co-budgeting, co-everything is hard. Sometimes it actually sucks.

This one time, in the midst of a bickerfest, I told Brandin that he makes me more angry than anyone else, I might have thrown the word ever in there but I hope I didn’t. As soon as the words flew past my lips I knew they were hefty, not only did they actually feel like there was weight attached, I saw Brandin’s face drop. After going through the motions of justifying the mean words I actually decided that it wasn’t really all that crazy.

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Me.

Please know that am not completely unreasonable and I’m aware of this thing called time and place and shouting it out while having a disagreement was probably not appropriate.

I’m terrible at math, and this isn’t even going to make any sense but let me pull some numbers out of my ass real quick. The amount of time I spend with Brandin is 98.34% more than I spend with any other human. So, in this totally illogical math/emotion problem he would also make me happier than anyone else. It all comes down to comfort. I can be a bitch and he can be an asshole, we know this.

We probably should have mentioned something about that in our vows, I could have remembered those.

I promise to always apologize after saying wild shit.

I wrote and really laid out our uncommon love story a while back if you’re interested in finding out more, if not, just know that we have history that backs much further than the eight years I’ve called Wisconsin home. We’re that couple that made a pact back in the day, when we thought 26 was so old and if we weren’t married by then well, shit, we better just marry each other.

Brandin is my personal chef and driver. An occasional babysitter… like, he babysits me after too many adult beverages. We stay up late listening to rap music while playing scrabble… because we’re confused 30-somethings. This one time, before confronting me with something potentially relationship-changing, he bought me a piece of cheesecake…just so I’d know he still loves me.

We have mastered a few looks, good and bad, that the other can read without saying a word. We grocery shop together, cook together, clean together, and want-to-go-home-as soon-as-we’re-out together. He’s logical, sometimes to the extreme and I can be quite the opposite – it’s a nice balance.

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We disagree, we raise our voices, we say things that we shouldn’t. Parenting is not always eye-to-eye, and sometimes we annoy the shit out of each other… but at the end of the day, we always have each others backs and we love each other way more.

B is for Brandin.

 

A Rant.

For some reason, when I attempted to come up with a topic to write about for the letter A, I could not stop singing the state song we all learned in elementary school.
Aaaaaaalabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas…
If I had to choose one thing to take away from public schooling – that’d be it. I don’t know, maybe you didn’t get the pleasure of that education and in turn probably can’t recite every state in America in alphabetical order.
Procrastination is a real problem though, I thought I’d have at least a handful of posts ready to go for this A to Z challenge and even a theme. Yep, got super ambitious for a quick second, talked real hard about not stressing out and really utilizing my time to network with other writers. I had a few ideas mapped out, one solid bit that I was sure was the one, but here we are at 11:30pm on April 1st writing out the post for the letter A. How about, A Mess? Or, Awesome, Who Was I Kidding?
Anyway, I saw a bumper sticker the other day; I love bumper stickers.
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via: pinimg.com

This is not the one I saw, but I do like it and it gets my story going. Sit tight.

I’ve always been a fan of folks who like to proclaim that their child can beat up my honor role student. Before I had a drivers license, I had plans to get me one of those. If someone is willing to slap a sticker donning a statement of sorts, they must feel pretty confident in what they’re driving around advertising, yeah?  From political affiliations to sports teams, people who love their wiener dogs and Hello Kitty – I’ve never really been offended by someone’s stupid sticker on their car before. Seems silly, but it happened.

It was an obnoxiously large, navy blue Ford truck with more than one statement on its bumper. The first one that caught my eye was: Abort Planned Parenthood. Okay. I think that’s shitty but I’m not offended. Next, was this guys free ticket into heaven, it simply said: God is Good, with a silly little smiley face. Again, doesn’t really do much for me, but the third one made my eyes get all wide and before I knew it, I’d rapidly placed judgement on this man in the giant truck. This guy is an asshole. 

“Celebrate Diversity – Marry Someone of the Opposite Gender.”
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Whoa. I feel like I need to talk this out. Where did he get this? How many people have this sticker on their vehicles, displaying their obvious lack of acceptance? This guy probably had a solid two minutes while trying to get the sticker off the backside. He could have decided against it and went back to trolling the gays (probably his words, not mine) in cyberspace instead of driving around town making everyone hate him. That’s what I imagine this person does with their time, cracks open cans of Budweiser in front of his computer while bitching that Jack and John are allowed to get married.
I might be analytical to a fault but can we just acknowledge, real quick, that this guy has to have a family member (or seven) who think it’s just as wild? I can hear the whispers at family functions:
Rick is here, have you seen what’s on the back of his truck? NO? Go look.
Without thought, I sped up to pass him. Clearly I wanted to get a good look at this holier-than-thou, God fearing man. He was everything I thought he was going to be, I feel like these people have a certain look – maybe it’s just anger. They are so mad that Jack and John love each other, maybe even want to raise some kids and DAMN IT – that’s not what they teach in the great book, The Bible. God is good m’right?. We locked eyes for a solid 2.5 seconds and I don’t think I’ve ever disliked someone so quickly. In that quick glance it was like he said: Yup. I said it.
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Actual footage of me afterwards…

I’m not religious but I know that if you take that book word for word there are a lot of things that seem a bit off.

“And the pig, because it parts the hoof and is cloven-footed but does not chew the cud, is unclean to you. You shall not eat any of their flesh, and you shall not touch their carcasses; they are unclean to you.” Leviticus 11:7–8

I hope Rick doesn’t eat bacon or play any football – it’s against the rules. Where can I get my snarky, rotten bumper sticker about that? A is for Asshole. Rant over.

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.

This week, grab your camera and capture a shadow – Daily Post Photo Challenge: Shadow


PHOTO ONE: February 10, 2017

I try to keep my food pictures under wraps, not everyone needs, wants, or is even curious as to the  meals I choose to ingest but with that being said, there are exceptions. My dishes are colorful, and I’m beginning to mourn soup-season as it’s been amazingly tolerable to leave the house without fear of frostbite recently.

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PHOTO TWO: March 17, 2013

One of my favorite pictures of all time. I take zero credit for the idea, only for the photo. Bennett was supposed to be getting ready for bed and instead I caught him making shadows on the wall. There were more, less obvious to the eye, shadows but this shape on the wall accurately reflected the moment.

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PHOTO THREE: August 2, 2015

Traveling to Minnesota from Wisconsin. If I haven’t said it before, I’m in love with the Midwest.

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We’re not in the food-business. We’re in the people-business, serving food.

I’m a career waitress, a fair share of my life has been spent observing a ridiculous range of personalities and listening to bizarre words exchanging between them. Thankfully, the days of slinging half-price appetizers to seven high school juniors are over and I’ve moved onto something more age-appropriate for a 32 year old waitress.

I wine and dine folks inside a cozy Wisconsin supper club, where the conversations and company are consistently mild, regulars come in the through the back door that we go all Cheers on and our cooks prepare a mean steak. The owner of this quaint restaurant has this saying he loves, not only because I think he probably made it up himself but also because it’s true.

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“We’re not in the food business, we’re in the people business – serving food.”

The other day I experienced this first hand and while I hope you can take something from it, I’m writing mostly so I do not forget the feeling this experience gave me.


A3 is yours and it’s a 62nd wedding anniversary, the hostess spit out zipping past me. Note taken. Swiftly I glimpsed around the corner to decide how I wanted to approach their table. It varies depending on how happy, grumpy, or hangry people appear to be in the .52 seconds I take to assess the situation.

Happy Anniversary. 62 years, wow,  that is really something to be proud of!

You must really like each other.

I wasn’t sure about the last line I delivered – it wasn’t really planned but with a big toothy smile this lovely woman with white curly hair laughs while her husband holds not more than a simple grin. Mentally I jotted down that this was a pair of pleasant people, which happen to be my favorite kind. They ordered two Tom & Jerrys and an order of calamari to start their celebrating and I excused myself from their table by the window.

Sitting nearby, three pretty ladies –  a young grandma, a young mom and an adorable little girl over heard that it was a special occasion and insisted on picking up table A3s dinner bill.

I love it when that happens.

We discussed all the important details and I was instructed to let the anniversary couple know it was all paid for after the ladies had left – not before. As they wrapped up their dinner, I observed the gals make a quick stop and wish the couple a happy anniversary.  I’ve never been good at keeping secrets but always pretty amazing at delivering good news.

I carried over a big homemade cupcake with a candle, forks, and a little coffee. Who celebrates without cake? I told them they were welcome to stay as long as they’d like, I’d keep an eye on their coffees but not to worry about the bill. Confused, I explained that the table right next door had already taken care of it.

The gentleman, with the same simple grin he had earlier in the evening thanked me and his bride sat speechless. Selflessly, she asked if I had been tipped on their tables portion of the bill. I tilted my head to the side and thanked her for asking because, let’s be real, I make $2.68/hour. In this instance, the tip was the last thing I was concerned with and told her that I was taken care of in the process and they do not need to leave a dime.

Another table nearby had been sat and before I even had their water glasses filled, we were talking about how adorable table A3 is. I let them in on the secret that another table had picked up their tab and I gushed over what a great night they were having.

On my way to deliver the new diners cocktails, table A3 was getting ready to leave. The bride with the toothy smile and curly white hair approached me and while it’s not unusual for patrons to give an additional thank you as they exit, she had tears in her eyes.

Not only did she thank me, she hugged me and held onto my shoulders so tight. In a low voice she expressed sincere gratitude while telling me that her husband has dementia and this might be the last time they dine in our restaurant together. Her chin quivering,  I reached back out and wrapped my arms around her while quiet tears rolled down her aged cheeks.

Thank you for making tonight so special.

I told her that I’ll see her next time, and with that she walked over to her husband who was waiting by the coat rack. While delivering the newcomers cocktails, they pointed out how romantic it is that he still helps her with her jacket. Turning around, I watched them walk out the door hand-in-hand.

That is the night I realized that we are indeed in the people business – simply serving food.

Go Pack Go

I know, I know. I’ve draped myself in purple and walked the streets of Green Bay without hesitation claiming my fanship of the Minnesota Vikings and I’ve never waivered – until now.

The 2016 football season started so optimistic, I thought they’d really gotten their shit together and we’d go riding into (at the very least) the playoffs – and we’d have so much fun!

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Now it’s like this, I’m the Viking’s girlfriend and I’m going to cheat on them with their nasty cousin, the Packers.

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Actually not at all nasty…

Because I’m bitter. 

I’ve been making quite the effort to make it work this season and instead of following through with what they said they’d do, I ended up broken hearted again. The Packers can give me something the Vikings can’t.

Perhaps it’s not the right thing to do and judge me if you will, for the first time in the eight years I’ve resided in Wisconsin I’ll be actively cheering  for the Packers with my friends. I won’t be sitting with my arms crossed, watching everyone else have a good time.

Sorry, not sorry.

When training camp rolls around this summer the Vikings and I can sit down and see where things are.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, but seriously…things need to change if we’re going to work out.

And in this hypothetical conversation we’d discuss what drove me into the arms of the Packers. I’d say something super cliché (but 100% true) like, I never thought we’d end up like this. Tears will be shed and we’ll end up together again because I can’t stay away.

Call me a bandwagon jumper if you’d like, I just wanna have some fun for once.

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Go Pack Go.