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Because we can.

February 21, 2009

Last night, we celebrated Matt’s birthday with a bunch of friends at a local Scottish pub – good food, good drinks, omwamazing dessert, and an unexpectedly fun Celtic band called the Ploughboys. Not the kind of place that I would typically choose, (because I am no fun at all and mostly like fancypants restaurants) but I couldn’t be happier that he picked it for his birthday. After a drink or two, I was clapping along to Nancy Whiskey and cheering “Sláinte!” with the best of them.

coooookies

1) We need to buy a real camera. 2) Ignore us and look at those warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies instead. That was my second dessert.

Today, Matt broke out in hives. I told him he is allergic to alcohol, or possibly to good food and fun. He has been eating perfectly, drinking rarely, and going to the gym 6 times a week for almost a month now, and I think the one night of beer and multiple desserts may have done him in. I would say it’s because he’s OLD now… but he’s younger than I am. Still. What’s the deal with that?

When we got up this morning, our plans were: breakfast out at our favorite place in Pasadena, gym, then home to relax (him) and grade papers (me).

Instead, we drove to the snow.

 

Our lame little snowman. Snow is COLD without gloves!

Our lame little snowman. Snow is COLD without gloves!

It started with a dead battery in my car – I think the liftgate may have been ajar for several days. We got a jump, and couldn’t just drive to Pasadena anymore because we had to allow the battery to recharge. We were headed east with no destination in mind when Matt noticed the snow on the mountains. My big handsome husband turns about 6 years old at the sight of snow. This is the part where I give myself a big round of applause for my newfound spontanuity. (Yes, I know that’s not a word, click the link!)

Matt: We should go to the snow. (Pause.) Really, you want to go?

Me, 3 years ago: But… we aren’t dressed for it, and the car is low on gas, and I have PLANS and THINGS TO GET DONE and it will ruin my ugly ugly shoes. And what if the battery dies on the mountain and then we are STUCK without cell phone service. And also I haven’t showered because we were only going to the gym and I am still wearing last night’s eye makeup so NO GOING OUT IN PUBLIC.

Me, today: Uh, YEAH. Where’s the closest snow and how do we get there?

 

Luckily my old grody running shoes were in the car, saving the uglies from certain death.

Luckily my grody old running shoes were in the car, saving the uglies from certain death. I am not wearing socks in this picture - gross.

There’s a lot that I dislike about southern California, but days like this make it hard to move away. Turns out the closest snow is about as far from home as the closest beach, which is to say 45 minutes or so. We  got out and played, made a snowman, put some snow on the car just for looks, and drove back home. My cute husband said this might just be the best birthday weekend he’s ever had, and also that I am the best wife ever, and now he is napping next to me and we are getting nothing done and it might just be the nicest way to spend a Saturday that I’ve ever experienced.

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