Tales of Me and the Husband - Page 151 of 207 -

September 28, 2011

the lovely amanda came to stay.

My friend Amanda (the one who did this) called me a a few weeks ago and said, in typical Amanda fashion, “What are you doing like tomorrow? I’m flying to come see you… just after I return from the Amazon wrestling crocodiles but before I head back to Mozambique to save lives. Keep your schedule open.” In reality, she asked me what I was doing in a few weeks and that she was going to book a ticket. I was free. The ticket was booked. Hurrah!

(She did just return from Peru + the Amazon but isn’t going to Mozambique… she did, however, finish her two-year stint in Uganda with the Peace Corps just last winter. It had been three long years since we’d seen each other and some quality girl-time was much needed. And with Amanda, you’ve got to catch her while you have the chance because, before you know it, she’ll be on the other side of the world entirely and you missed the opportunity!)

So, we have a few days of that quality girl-time I was mentioning. We had lunch at various delicious places, went to the beach (Parker’s first time too!), and sat and chatted over coffee. Love you, friend.

Amanda whipped up this structure in about ten seconds flat to exhibit some of the skills she picked up while in the Peace Corps. JK, it was there.

September 23, 2011

2 months.

the arc of the moral universe is long

but it bends towards justice.

{theodore parker}

{one week}

{one month}

September 22, 2011

a whole post of nothingness. & a song.

+ I’m liking this song lately. And the title… could it be more appropriate? Stay young, go dancing. Hear hear Death Cab!

+ I watched a video yesterday that I took in the hospital. Parker was being swaddled by the nurse and crying. His cry sounds altogether different. Two months, people, two months! How the hell do they change so fast?!

+ Have you all seen Punchfork already? You probably have. I for one tweeted it as soon as I discovered it. I love recipes that have a picture to go along with it–so the site is perfect for me. Does the food look pretty? Nah? Forget about it.

+ I made these peach crumbles last night. So good. I suggest you do the same.

+ Did ya’ll watch Modern Family last night?? Cam is my favorite. Phil is a close second. Actually, he ties with Gloria.

+ This is Boston’s 5-day forecast at the moment. Sad face.

+ I miss going on dates with my husband. We need to get back on that.

+ Why is it that every time Titanic is on TV I can’t entirely pass over it? “What scene are they playing right now? Did they hit the iceberg? Did Jack draw her nekkid yet?”

+ It was sunny yesterday however so Parker and I went for a walk. Little man likes being outside.

+ Moms, I’m trying to figure out what foods Parker might not be liking in mah breastmilk. I don’t see a whole lot of rhyme or reason yet except one day when I OD’d on eggs and he had a fussy night. Coincidence or not, I’m not sure. What were your experiences?

+ The vlog is coming, but gimme another week or so. We don’t do deadlines.

September 21, 2011

That time Patrick Swayze made me weak in the knees.

I was young. Too young to be watching Dirty Dancing, surely. I had had a sleepover the night before and had most likely begged my Mom to let me bring her small bedroom TV into my room to watch a movie on it as my friend and I fell asleep. TVs were generally strictly forbidden in our bedrooms, so this would’ve certainly been quite the treat. I was like three. Joke. I was, I think, in sixth grade.

Next day came the Saturday chores. As was always the case with me, I could make Saturday chores drag on and on and on. A simple cleaning-of-the-room could take hours. Instead of filing away a stack of clutter and nothingness, I would discover my first journal in that pile and then proceed to read every entry from June 8, 1992 to September 15, 1993. Last year’s yearbook? At least an hour of my time. Reading the notes written, looking at everyone’s picture. Making my own list of superlatives. Best dressed? Nah, it should’ve gone to her instead.

My Mom was out running errands and what would make Saturday chores breezy and fun? Why, turning on the TV and finding something to accompany me in my arduous task of course! So, I flipped it on, straightened the antenna (whether or not this happened, I do not know, but I’m trying to date the story) and found a movie I had never before seen. What scene was it? I’m not sure. Probably this one. Ooh, or this one (and one more possibility, let’s be honest). Basically, pick any one of the racy scenes and you’ve got it. Otherwise, naturally, I would’ve kept on flipping. So, here I am, watching something that would surely put my 11-year old self right in the confessional with at least ten Hail Mary’s and four Our Father’s to recite, enjoying myself immensely. I got sucked in to Patrick Swayze and his juicy lips and pivoting hips, the music (“Sylvia?” “Yes Mickey?” “How do you call your loverboy?” “Come here loverboy!”), and Jennifer Grey’s rebellion against her doctor Dad. I think, for the first time ever I got a weak-in-the-knees (and loins, really) moment. That Patrick Swayze was downright sexy to my virginal eyes.

When my Mom came home, you can be sure my room was spic and span and that the TV was off. Whether or not I got to see the final, culminating, best-ending-scene-of-a-movie-ever, I can’t quite remember (and pity if I missed it!). But, I had seen enough. Dirty Dancing (and Patrick Swayze) had captured my innocent, little heart then… and still does today.

And you should all child-lock your televisions.

September 19, 2011

it was a slow weekend at the hunt house…

but we did get ourselves dressed!

(and our hairs cut… me, not parks)

September 16, 2011

vlog? really? you sure, bridget?

ughhh, this idea makes me a little nervy (nervous).

what if they don’t like my deep man voice?

what if i look ugg?

what if i don’t get any questions?

what if i don’t know how to embed the video (likely)?

be brave, bridge. be brave (my inner voice).

so, i’m gonna do a vlog. i’m going to answer questions if you have any.

but this faq wasn’t that long ago so maybe you don’t.

if you don’t have any questions, maybe it’ll just be me singing a song and doing a little jig?

and maybe steve will make an appearance. he’ll have to be talked into it big time.

you’ll be lucky if he does. he has a sexy voice.

oh, btw, comments will be kept private.

September 16, 2011

Welcome to my Italian villa.

I haven’t done one of my pretend posts in quite some time. Let’s do one, shall we? Push play. The music will help this along.

This, my friends, is my villa on Lake Como. It’s pretty special, isn’t it? Yeah, we know. We have a lot of really, really expensive chaise lounges on the lawn there. You just can’t see them from this angle. But they were really expensive. There’s some vineyards along the shoreline too–the grapes are juicy and plump… year round! I don’t know how that happens! We eat croissants every morning but we call them kwah-sants. Who says krah-sants anyway? Fools. We drink water that has thinly sliced cucumbers and fresh mint in it. Although sometimes the butler puts lemon and lime slices in it. It’s different every day. Depending on what was fresh in the market that morning… we only want the freshest ingredients. William and Lindsey are quickly becoming fluent in Italian because of their tutor and Parker is pretty much bilingual because he’s grown up here. Oh, and George Clooney comes by once in awhile to say hi. And he brings us fresh bread. And wine. To be honest, he stops by a little too much but we feel badly telling him not to. He seems to really like us, and we understand, so we allow it. When we tire of the Lake Como scene, Steve calls in the private jet to take us for a little jaunt to Positano, or sometimes the French Riviera. Whichever is less touristy because people stare at us a lot because we’re super attractive and give off an heir of fame even though we’re not technically famous. But we should be.

A few past pretend posts: here and here.

September 15, 2011

dad is fascinating.

I promise not to post too many of these. Because I’m well aware that they are like eight hundred times cuter to me than they are to you. But, I just love Parker’s intense stares at his Dad. And his eyebrows at about 40 seconds? Come on.

And, since I claim to be all crunchy girl (and have even talked about diluting your salad dressings), I should explain the filth you see when the camera turns: Marie’s Creamy Ranch. I blame Steve.

No really, he bought it. Safe to say he’s not getting any anytime soon (and I’m not talking about the dressing).

Just kidding, I don’t play like that.