Here's a snapshot of what we've been up to the last couple days:
Jon's growing a beard. He observes and documents each day's growth in the bathroom mirror. And has taken to calling himself my "new husband."
Pizza Man, our local pizza/legit wine bar (I mean, you don't normally get those two delights in the same place), burned straight down to the ground and is gone forever. We're in mourning.
I made a floral arrangement for an actual delivery (Teleflora's stunning "Tulips and Pine")! Slowly but surely moving up in the world. Remain number 1 packager, however.
Jon was pulled over by a cop on his way to pick me up at yoga. Not only was he dressed entirely in sweatpant material at 8:30 PM at night, he has a beard and hair that sticks straight up on end. Essentially, Unabomber Numero Dos. And when the cop asked why we didn't have a license plate on our back bumper (the bolts are so rusted over we couldn't get them off; the plate sits against the backseat headrest), UnaJon ATTEMPTED TO GET OUT OF THE CAR to show the man. You know, instead of pointing. Prompting the popo to tell him, "Don't you dare get out of this car." And most likely followed by the thought, "Or I will shoot your Unabomber head off."
So far in 2010, UnaJon and my's combined work week totals 5 days. I'm on Mondays and Tuesdays, and he's got Tuesdays through Thursdays. Leaving this schedule in Milwaukee may be the most difficult thing we'll have to do.
Houston's new nickname is "Velociraptor," as in, nails so long she looks like the Jurassic Park dinosaur that stalks clever children in fancy kitchens. Though Houston has taken to tapping her steak knives on the kitchen floor and staring longingly at her empty dog bowl. She's getting a manicure tomorrow.
It's a thrilling ride over here!