You guys headed home?

Alright. First the food round up, then on to the main event. This past week, Eric took me on a lovely little getaway. We spent a day in San Luis Obispo and then another day at a resort on Pismo beach. It was sooo nice to get out of town for a little bit. A major upside to coastal hippie towns--they're packed with little cafes with oodles of vegan options. Woot woot for sort-of hippieness. Eric was a champ and took me to a vegan restaurant for dinner one night. I had never been to one before, so I was so excited to get to simply order straight off a menu and to not have to fake dairy allergies ;) During the trip I had some scrumptious balsamic veggies, a veggie burger so delicious it was gone in 3 minutes and a bagel sandwich dubbed "The Elvis" (I resisted all 'Thank you very much' jokes while ordering. It was difficult). I did indulge in one "we're on vacation!" treat--a plate full of butternut squash ravioli smothered in...parmesan cream sage sauce. I decided for that dinner I could just pick whatever I wanted since it had been a while, but meat still didn't sound good. CHEESE, however--helloooooo old friend :) I'm pretty sure those noodles made me a better person. Ship those things to the middle East and I'm sure peace would spontaneously happen. For the road, I packed a cooler filled with pesto veggie pasta, mangos, granola, and strawberries....and Fritos. Sue me, it's vacation. Anyways, point is, eating during the drive was easy.

So now that you've heard everything I've had to eat in the last week, let me tell you what I was actually motivated to write about today. Throughout the trip, people kept making reference to home to us. "Where's home?", "You guys headed home?", stuff like that. The funny thing was, we didn't know how to answer. We'd just sort of look at each other and think for a minute before Eric would slowly answer.."Well, we live in Bakersfield right now." It's a funny thing, the difference between where you live and home. We've lived here for 4 times as long as we previously lived in Arizona, and still Arizona still feels 4 times more like home. Maybe it's because it's the first home we had together. Maybe it's because it somehow just fit me like a favorite pair of old comfy shoes. Maybe we've romanticized it. Who knows? I sure don't. Maybe I never will. All I know is that right now, we're just not sure where to call home.
We've painted the walls, put up pictures, bought new furniture, rearranged said furniture and even held a small, but still cramped party here. We've been through some great times and some awful times here. We're so much closer to friends and family and we get to be around more to see our favorite munchkins. That's been wonderful. The town isn't bad. For whatever reason, it still doesn't fit. It's not the worst cast scenario, it's not nightmare-ish, it's just not home. There's no "old shoe" feeling here. It's more like a brand new pair of heels--you know they're nice, you know they look good, but they're still uncomfortable and all you can think about is getting out of them the first chance you get.
 Maybe the next place we move to will be an old shoe (I am exhausting that metaphor today). Everyone always says home is where you're with each other and to an extent that's true. We've been "home" for each other for a long time. But a space to match would be nice too. 

We are gathered here to mourn a loss...

Tragedy has struck. I'm not sure how it happened, but I am utterly dismayed....
It seems I have lost my taste for....dun dun dun...the 4th great love of my life, sushi.

Seriously. I sat in my favorite sushi restaurant today with Eric, and I was all kinds of mock/serious depressed. I used to love da fishies :/
For whatever reason (cows facing west in the pasture. etc.), it just was not good to me. It even grossed me out a little bit. The horror, the horror!

The taste, the texture--not having it. I had to pump myself up to eat my piece of sashimi and after a few seconds I had to (disclaimer--ew) spit it out.
I haven't had any fishy delight in about a month and I expected a bit of an "absence makes the heart grow fonder" reaction....wohmp waaahhhh, oh, hello Debbie Downer, how nice of you to join us for lunch.

Oh Veganism, you cruel bastard, you have forced me and my beloved fishes apart.
It's a sad, sad day, indeed.
I will now proceed to console myself with an unnecessary amount of sugar.

Things Marriage Taught Me and other findings

There are Cops marathons all the time.

Men like Cops marathons.

I leave shoes everywhere, he leaves glasses everywhere.

I enjoy waking up in the morning after Eric has already left for work. It's like waking up to a mystery called, "What Did Husband Eat for Breakfast?"

It's not who has the remote--it's who has the laptop.

Apparently, not everyone considers country music videos on CMT "good TV." Shocker.

Dishes can be big fight instigators.

"Husband groceries"--things you pick up so that man will eat. My list: Poptarts, cereal bars, frozen pizzas and chips. Oh, how could I forget the Gushers?

I will always win....at Scrabble.

I will never win....at wrestling.

I don't care if we're married, if you tickle me, I will still hurt your face.

Husbands have their limits. Ex. The Vow--date night. Titanic 3D--take myself on a date.

"I'm gonna have some ice cream." (translated) "I'm gonna eat a tub of ice cream."

His side of the closet--my convenient pajamas.



......Stayed tuned for more gems of marital knowledge.

So, Nemesis, we meet again...

I came home from Trader Joe's today and began my not-so-favorite task of putting the groceries away. It was then that I was forced to meet...(pause for dramatic effect) my nemesis!
(Dun, dun, dun, lightning flashes, fog rolls through my kitchen, you get it)

His name is Mr. Freezer. And right now, we are NOT friends.
We have a freezer full of perfectly good EVERYTHING. I mean, seriously that freezer is jam packed--chicken, steaks, salmon, even shrimp. (Unfortunately, this whole vegan switch happened immediately after a Costco trip. Umm, sorry, honey...) And I'm not opposed to making it. I figure, better to eat it than let it go to waste, right? Problem is, I just don't want it. Ugh. How's that for a First World problem? "Meh...I have so much food, it's just not food that I want." I want to punch myself in the face every time I open the darn freezer.

I mosey into the kitchen to make myself a breakfast smoothie. This conflict ensues--"Okay, Mr. Freezer Man, cut a girl a break. I just want to retrieve my frozen strawberries in peace." Nope. Not happening. This little bastard stares me down as if to say, "Oh, you poor naive, little herbivore, surely you must know, you cannot have your breakfast smoothie without 15lbs. of GUILT staring at you. MUAHAHA!!" Seriously, he's that dramatic. Punk.

I need to find a way to end this. It's getting ridiculous. The hatred I have for this inanimate object is just....stupid. I need to start cooking the stuff, I just don't know where to start. WHO HAS THIS PROBLEM???? Ridiculous person, party of one.

File this one under, "Unforeseen Vegan Problems".
It's that or "Crazy People".