Thai and mansion hunting

Yesterday Handsome Husband and I went and got us some Thai. I don't even remember the first time that I had curry, but I have been hooked ever since. The thick richness of it topped on rice is just too good! I was feeling adventurous and tried ordering up some green curry. I am always mixed up as to which is hotter and what not, so I looked at the main ingredients and decided some coconut milk and bamboo strips would be the way to go. The little waitress warned me against the hottness and I ended up with yellow. I chickened out. And every restaurant is a little different in their preparation so I thought it best to follow her advice.

Which, speaking of America's favorite past time, eating out, that is one of the biggest reasons why I love hamburgers so much. It doesn't matter what restaurant you are at, you know the hamburgers are going to be good because they all run about the same. Chicken on the other hand is always a surprise. Handmade batter sounds good, but when you get your strips covered in deep fried cornflake crumbs you gotta think otherwise.

Anyways, the yellow curry was delicious, just what I needed. Steven got his regular drunken noodles. These noodles are sooooo good. They're kind of sweet, and extra slimey, but they are divine. A definite favorite around here.

On our way home we drove a different way than the usual 'get anywhere in 10 minutes freeway' and found ourselves on highway 89. Looking up at the side of the Utah mountains we noticed some humongo houses. They were gorgeous, showing off their daylight basements and other floors to the world. And then, there it was, spires and spouts all over the place. A mansion. We took a stoplight and took a meandering drive up the mountain in search of this place.

It was even better than I had imagined. All of the houses had obviously had some big dreams behind them and the landscaping was tastefully done, using the boulders and rocks while hiding them with some greenery. We kept climbing, pointing out things on different houses that we liked. And then, there it was. Gates upon gates, protecting the fortress. It looked like a scene from a prom movie. An ascending lawn with stone steps circling down to the main gate. Gorgeous. That was as close as we could get, but it was enough to make me think that I would never have even been able to dream something that magnificent up. It truly made me want to dress up in a princess gown and descend those steps to my prince below. It would make a beautiful wedding scene.

As we rolled back down the hill in our car that still has scars from its mishap with a teenage driver and on the other side its gaping smile after being hit by a deer we wondered what we are doing wrong. Why we don't have any hopes for living in a home like that some day. We wondered out loud what all these people do for a living and how they afford their homes. And there were some answers. A few houses had trucks in the drive, shouting out successful business names. A pilot in the air force was taking his toddler for a walk, still in uniform. One car came pulling in around 8 pm, obviously its driver was just getting home. Which isn't so bad in the summer when there's still some daylight left. But 8 pm in the winter is bedtime.

We may never own a bench house home, but we will have plenty of memories to make up for it. Our kitchen with the green counter tops and the shag carpet in the bedrooms is enough to keep me happy for some time.

visually challenged

Upon taking framing orders, putting together framing orders and calling about framing orders I have to do framing recovery. This means that around 7:30 when the store is nearing emptiness I start walking the floor and tidying up the frame isles. I usually start with the fine arts, which is usually kind of a big job because it involves pulling paint tubes forward and rearranging kits of paint and brushes and all that so as to make it look all presentable again. The frames are often misplaced as people have lifted and placed them along side their original spot, searching for their choice frame among the frame that they like. Does that make sense? For example. You like the barnwood frame. But which of the 3 barnwood frames on the shelf is going to be the best? So you take it and place them beside themselves, trying to decide. And when you decide and realize the mess you have made you think to yourself, 'oh, it's cool. It's someone's job to put these back.' and you take your choicest frame up to the front the check out, never looking back.

Which is fine, 'cause I know those frames like the hair on my legs that I regularly shave off and I know when something is misplaced. It's just annoying. So, this particular Wednesday I am walking doing the isles, doing my special, 'which one does not look like the other' dance and I come across the Hurricane Katerina of the visually challenged.

My memory went racing, trying to find the the writing on the barometer that would have signaled something like this. And there he was. An old man, white hair... a little unsure as to what would please his wife on this mission he was on. He was looking for a collection of frames. He had asked me if we had any pre-made sets of frames with different sizes available. I showed him our table-top frames that usually come in your standard three sizes, 4x6, 5x7, and the 8x10s. All the same design that you could get together in those three sizes. A collection set.

Well, grandpa man had made quite the effort to mix things up the best he could while still maintaining a theme. There were frames moved from the other side of the isle, placed in groups of 3 or 4, testing out what kind of frame pieces looked good together and in which way. This was no simple, place one frame beside the other kind of deal though. This was an arrangement.

We're getting ready for a reset, which means that right now the shelves are kind of empty because a lot of frames are waiting to be clearanced out to make more room for some fresher varieties and designs. Which means lots of room for Van Gogh to design his frame arrangements. There were at least four different arrangements with select styles all jumbled together. It looked like someone had been dusting their coffee table and had arranged the frames just so, so that when they went to put them back after cleaning they would be in the exact same way.

Poor man couldn't imagine which frames would look good together, he had to see it. Had to touch and feel each one, putting them not only in a straight row, but grouping them together in a little display.

A guy's apartment

Having dated my fair share of guys in college, I know that not all of them treat their apartments the same, but on the standard day you can find a sinkful of dishes, a threatening note about how dishes are like girlfriends, do your own, and some leftovers sitting on the stove with a floor that is sticky to the feet and a fridge that has some unmentionable things growing in there.

Just a snap shot.

That was totally our little house today. Minus the friendly reminder note. The only difference beyond that was the left-over rice that had been sitting on the stove for two days was not burnt to the bottom of the pan. I sprayed the whole thing down with 409, my BEST FRIEND in the cleaning department and started wiping. I use that guy for everything. Now that you can get high in the kitchen because of the 409 fumes I am starting on the bathroom, that I won't even mention for fear of losing readers. Since I have so many readers.

The floors everywhere are in desperate need of some tlc. Spring is not helping me keep my house clean. Number one, because of spring's tantrums, there are not only flip-flops and work shoes and regular shoes sprawled near the door, but winter boots and rain boots and high heels to keep my pants from dragging in the water, which I absolutely hate. Multiply that by two and you've got A LOT of shoes. And then, number 2, because the grass is now being cut, clippings velcro themselves to our shoes and it's just a huge mess. Number 3, there's a garden out there now that needs my attention and I can't spend my days off cleaning. I gotta be outside making our little home look good on the outside and making sure that my plants aren't being eaten alive by bugs and getting the water they need and all that.

And the living room. Ummm... whoever said 'eating only in the kitchen' was a genius. There are crumbs of everything that goes into Handsome Husband's stomach scattered all over the floor, and probably between the couch cushions. Everything is a little dusty and I've still gotta work through the kitchen and bathroom's floor before I can think about vacuuming. 'Cause there's nothing so annoying as cleaning one floor and then having stuff stick to you feet and transfer itself to the next room.

Basically, I have created a guy's apartment out of my little home and that will change, today.

New boots

I think everyone gets excited when they get a package in the mail. It's just that little bit of goodness that can make a bad day incredible and can change a good day into an over the top tell-everyone-about-it kind of day. There's something amazing about brown in the shape of a box that makes it a miracle rather than a piece of a recycled tree. And whatever it is holding, it's gotta be good. No one bothers sending bills in boxes. Only the good stuff comes in boxes.

Our doorbell rang yesterday while I was cleaning the kitchen, errrr, taking a nap. The UPS has this nasty habit of doorbell ditching and so I left it as I heard pitter patter steps run back down the walk, nearly tripping on all the plates and holders of flowers I have splayed all over the porch, keeping them out of the direct rain and hail we've been getting recently. It was just one of those days, obviously, since I was napping instead of doing the dishes. Who does that? Dishes are such joyous company. And, let's face it, sometimes the couch can be grumpy. Not allowing a person a comfortable position no matter how hard they're putting effort into it. There's no meeting halfway on those days. It was one of those days.

Handsome Husband came home for lunch, but, psyche, it was home for good! Work was really slow and he volunteered to go first since I had the day off. He wanted to spend time with me.

I told him all about my day in all of two sentences and ended with, "and there's a package at the door." Neither one of us were expecting anything. We don't do much shopping on line and there aren't any huge holidays coming up, so our dear mothers wouldn't be sending any kind of care packages.

Steven grabbed the package from it's certain disintegration of being left on the porch. "It's my boots!" Now, this is truly a surprise because we went two weeks without buying groceries so that he could order those boots and have them by July. Yes. We got super creative in our meal preparation and I usually went hungry because I couldn't stomach some of our creations so that we could order those boots RIGHT THEN so that they would be here that much sooner, since they were going to take so long to get to us. July. They are here in May.

It really wasn't that bad, though. I mean... it was a good stretch for us to test our food supply and see that it is really not fit for consumption, LOL. Overall, it was an interesting experience, but not something I am about to do again. It was strengthening. Empowering even. That's right. We can go two weeks without getting more than the basics of milk and an extra bag of cereal. We are that awesome.

Grabbing the first sharp object he can find, that box comes apart in 3 slashes and he's taking out these leather bound pieces of awesomeness. They really did look good, for boots. He's lacing them up and cannot stop talking about them. How something can come out of a box two seconds before and roll a 10 minute conversation with no interruption is beyond me. I hear all about them and all about how awesome they are and all about how they're the best thing to happen to boot-kind and all about how they are going to make his work so much better and all about how they're so classy. Uhu. Work boots classy. I know. Crazy.

Of course, this meant that we had to go do something equally awesome to celebrate their arrival. So we got all dressed up, Steven suggesting I wear a skirt to match his awesome shoes. I only laughed and told him that they weren't that good. I would wear heels with jeans, but no skirt. And what do you know? The lift on those boots is so good that even with me in heels, he was still just a hair taller. He felt pretty awesome. Those boots were pretty awesome, as he kept telling me the whole night through as we went out to dinner twice, a matinée showing of Rio (soooo good!) and wandered around the mall holding hands.

I know, it sounds crazy, as I was just telling you that we went two weeks without buying groceries hardly a month ago. But it happens when the girl has got a craving for some Panda Express and HAS TO eat before the movie and the boy has a craving for Chik Fillet and can wait until afterwards.

We ended the night by cuddling on the couch, Steven wiping down his precious boots with bees wax and me trying to sleep on his moving shoulder as he wiped and double wiped those things down.

We've got them fooled

There is often once a week where Steven will drop me off at work and will later come pick me up. We only have one car right now and on his days off he feels that he needs to do important things, like run errands, instead of staying at home cleaning house as I always do on my days off.

A 30 minute commute is unheard of in these parts where everything is so close together and bound by a strip of freeway that cuts time in thirds so everyone knows me as the foreign girl, as I live so far away from the central location of Sugar House. When they see Steven drop me off valet style at the door or pick me up later that day by coming into the store to find me 'cause I am usually a few minutes late helping someone find that perfect shade of paint to fill up that ding on the back of their car, they think we are sooooo in love and sooooo cute together.

BAH! They don't really know that it's because of the fact that we only have one car and that with a 8 hour shift it's hard to wait for that one car to get back home to run errands with. But we really are in love. And we really do enjoy spending time together, especially in the car. Just something kind of nostalgic about it all, as it was a road trip that caused us to fall in love in the first place and another road trip that caused us to actually think about being together forever. Road trips are magical.

Utah has got one thing right

Growing up among the mud puddles and liquid sunshine where you can tell which way is north or south by the moss growing on the trees instead of east or west by the looming Utah mountains I have a great appreciation for my liberal, tree-loving, hippie state of Oregon.

We would come to Utah during our summer vacation every year to spend time with my grandma and cousins and it was always an awesome time of playing in out-door pools and snipe hunting when the kiddies had gone to bed in air that you could barely feel on your skin it was such the perfect temperature. Then I went to Snow College and Utah was no longer the 'vacation spot.' It turned into a huge bowl of sugar. Mormon sugar. There just wasn't enough opposition, ya know what I mean? Everyone was so prepared for the second coming, their moms sent them with 72 hours kits, they knew their ancestors by first, middle and last names from the handcart companies and believed Utah to be Zion, therefore a blessed land. Uhum. Ok, so maybe that's not all true... but you know what I am saying.

Well, the fact that I had to wear lotion every second of the day so that my skin didn't spill my intestines all over the sidewalk didn't help matters much and Utah is fine for a vacation, but it will never be 'home.' Even now, with our cute little duplex in Farmington and our new friends and our wonderful church callings that keep us involved in the ward, this is not home. We both love our overcast days too much.

But Utah does have one thing right. Cafe Rio. That place is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! I can honestly say that I have never had anything but their taco salad, but that alone keeps me going back. And keeps my mouth watering for tomatillo dressing. At $10 a person, it's a little spendy, but definitely worth it. But when you can make your own version for $5 why not? I was craving it like crazy today and so I just marched over to the store and bought some cilantro and a tomatillo and blended myself up some dressing. I drenched my rice, black beans, lettuce and tomatoes in the stuff and I don't think I took one breath through the whole meal. It is that good. In fact, I vaguely remember moistness on my chin has I shoveled the good stuff in, too busy to have time to wipe my mouth. If you haven't had Cafe Rio than you have not lived, and having not lived, you would not be able to die and go to heaven while eating the deliciousness of it all.

Betcha can't hit me

After driving Steven to work and heaving heavy sighs at the traffic in front of me I was finally taking the exit to my source of income and saw something that made my anger at slow-Utah-drivers-in-the-rain melt away into a bubbly blob of sunshine and good will towards man.

"Bet you can't hit me with a quarter" Yeah. This homeless guy has got some spunk. He was a little younger, probably just a year or so older than me, and I gave him a friendly wave and a thumbs up on his ingenious twist on the usual, "vet, homeless, will work, God bless." He caught my enthusiasm and winked back at me. It was our secret. He done good.