Weekend Getaway Recap (Sans Mushy Parts)

Friday was my birthday and I had the best birthday treat of all: an entire weekend kid-free with Sam.   It was sort of a birthday/mother's day/late anniversary/why the hell not/romantic trip.  We went to Atlanta for the weekend and while we did enjoy ourselves, we learned that Atlanta is definitely not our speed.  Because my brain is fried from lack of sleep* I am going to approach this with bullets.

Highlights

• We stayed at the Hilton Atlanta. It was niiiiiiiccccceeeee.
• A giant cupcake and a pot of tea at Dr. Bombay's Underwater Tea Party.
• Lots of walking
• Friday night dinner at the Vortex: tater tot nachos for an appetizer and then a bacon cheeseburger!
• Late night movie with Sam.  We saw the Hunger Games and he loved it.
• Watching ridiculous reality TV in the hotel
• Romantic smooches and goings ons 
• A day at the High Museum of Art.  I saw Picasso, Jasper Johns, Matisse, and Warhol works!!!!  Yay!
• A trip to Fernbank Museum of Natural History.  I was expecting more, but at least I got a kick-ass dinosaur mug.
• Fancy dinner at a ritzy seafood joint.
• Sleeping until we woke up.  Every parent out there will appreciate that!

The Shitty Parts

• Boobies.  I'm down to only nursing Atticus for an actual feeding once a day.  I haven't used a pump or nursing pads since November.  So I thought I'd be fine.  I did well on Friday until about 2am.  Then there was milk spraying everywhere.  To prevent mess I slept with a shower cap over the right boob and an ice bucket bag over the left.  In the morning I cut up a maxi pad and shoved it in my bra.  What's really fun is quoting scenes from the horrible B movie Laserblast and threatening the husband with detonating ta-tas.
• Hipsters.  OMG.  We were driving to Fernbank thinking that we would go to the museum and then park around the Little Five Points area to walk around.  We found ourselves in a clusterfuffle of traffic and assholes in vintage sundresses or skinny jeans paired with ironic tee shirts.  It was insane and took us an hour to get out of there due to some festival bullshit.  As Sam said, "hipsters are like zombies: once they move into an area they infect everything in a matter of seconds."  Also, prom kids.  It was prom night and downtown was covered in unfortunate dresses and awkward teens.
• Being a Hick.  At the fancy restaurant our waiter whipped out what looked like the broken clip part of a clip board.  He proceeded to quickly scrape away the crumbs on the table.  With out thinking -- and with a vodka cran in me -- I exclaimed, "welll, looky thar!  He's got a doodad to scrape the crumbs!  We ain't got that up yonder! That's plum smart!" Maybe it wasn't quite so bad, but the look on the waiter's face and the folks around us were shocked.
• Booklessness:  I never found a bookstore.  I was going to go to A Cappella Books, but they were in the hipster infected zone.  We ended up driving around looking for Barnes and Nobles and wandered around two soulless malls.  Does no one in Atlanta read? 

We did have fun, but Sam and I will probably not go back for a long trip to Atlanta again.  Maybe a day trip.  I think Athens, GA or Asheville, NC is more our speed: arts and culture, but trees and grass, and moseying.

Next January we will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary, but next May 11th we will be celebrating our 5th year anniversary from when we started officially dating.  We're thinking a weekend in Asheville might be in order.  Atticus will be 2 1/2 and could probably handle three nights away from mom.  We'll see how it goes.

Okay, back to the daily grind tomorrow!


*not from the romantic getaway!  Atticus went to the doctor today, he has a double ear infection and pink eye.  Needless to say, there was not much sleep going on last night. 

Happy Anniversary, Sam

This anniversary weekend has not gone as planned.  Alas, the dratted snot monster has attacked me.  Instead of romance and the dark chocolate espresso soaked cake I had planned on baking , I am in bed with chills and body aches. 

But this weekend has certainly proved that I have married me a damn good man.  I am laying in bed right now and listening to Sam cook dinner, care for the kids, and handle housework.  He has brought me medicine and tissues.  He loves me so much and I am such a lucky women. 

He made me a Thai curry dinner last night, gave me a lovely frame for our wedding pictures with sweet nothings written on the frame.  He painted me a picture.  And he surprised me with the new Charles Dickens biography.

I love you, Sam, and you have made me the happiest woman. 

H is for Husband

Our Wedding Day, 01/16/2010

You'd think with nearly 2 years of marriage under our belts I'd be used to the phrase, "my husband."  I'm not at all used to it and I suppose that is because I always think of Sam as, well, Sam.  I'm still thrilled every time I introduce him or I'm talking about him and I get to say "my husband, Sam."  Although we have our times of frustration and annoyance, being married to Sam is great because he truly is my best friend.  I thought I'd share several tangible reasons why I love him:

• Every time he goes to the coffee shop without me he always brings me back a coffee or tea 

• On Sundays he helps with house work and plays with the kids so I can have "mom time."  When I'm stressed and feel like I need to stay home and do something like scrub the basement floor he kicks me out of the house with strict orders to read a "giant Victorian novel."

• Sore back, scoliosis, and a bum knee... and he still gets on the floor with the kids to play. 

• He tolerates the profusion of owl knick-knacks and books spilling out of everywhere at home 

• Even when I fuck up a recipe he eats every bite and tells me it is wonderful.

• He is the absolute best person to give the "Mystery Science Theater" treatment to movies, television, and coffee shop clientele. 

• He is super-cuddly, he doesn't mind the fact that I need gobs of non-sexual physical attention.  In fact, most of the time HE asks to cuddle.  

• I'll say that he'd kill me for writing the above statement, but he won't.  He'll just roll his eyes, shake his head, and tolerate Ye Olde Blog.

• He draws stuff for me, embroidery patterns, tattoos, logos for the knitting group.  He takes his art time to do stuff for me (because he knows I'm hopeless at drawing).  He is endlessly talented.

• OMG he is handsome.  Super-tall, broad shoulders, golden brown eyes, and he has a turkey dinner and a maniacal monkey tattoo... hotness .... he is most certainly my Mr. Darcy (a.k.a Inky Darcy)

Alright folks, enough sappiness for now.  I'm off to go smooch my husband.

C is for Coffee (and Coffee Shops, Too!)

Coffee is so central to my life.  This may seem like a hyperbolic statement, but it truly isn't.

As a child, my mother had an old-fashioned coffee percolator.  I remember helping my mom make coffee each morning and listening to the rhythmic-whoosh-suck-grind of the pot.  When we had guests I was in charge of brewing the coffee and offering a cup to each guest.  My coffee consumption consisted of Folgers with milk and sugar up until high school.

I lived in a rural, backasswards town, so I was never really involved in the coffee shop culture until college.  In high school I made maybe a half-dozen trips to the nearest coffee shop, which happened to be about 20 minutes away.



In college I dashed in and out of the local coffee shop (well, the three local shops) for the occasional cup of joe.  I came in for a medium cup of coffee or for a quick stop for scones with college friends and then it was back to campus.  I did consume massive amounts of not very good, hastily choked down coffee in college, but I wouldn't have termed myself a coffee freak.

Graduating from college in 2004 was a pivotal moment in my coffee life.  I graduated and stayed in Gainesville to work and all my friends pretty much left or they were consumed with senior year.  I was so lonely.  I no longer had a place to discuss movies or books or politics. Then I found myself wandering to The Coffee Shop of Horrors.



I was (still am) an introvert so I never spoke to anyone at the Coffee Shop of Horrors.  Listening to the conversations around was great fun, but I mostly hunkered down in a seat and read my eyeballs out while consuming cup after cup of delicious brew.  During my time there (before they closed down around 2006ish) I noticed a very tall, handsome guy with a mohawk with an addiction to coffee, but I'll reveal who he is later in the post.



When that coffee shop closed, I began going to Starbucks.  The other coffee shop in town had turned elitist and would kick readers out after 30 minutes.  At Starbucks, I began broadening my horizons.  Instead of a cup of coffee I had cappuccinos and lattes and espresso shots and cafe au laits.  I tried syrup shots and french pressed brews.  I began to develop my coffee palette. I tend to love light to medium roast coffees with a wee bit of sugar or milk, lattes with warmer notes (pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg, french vanilla, hazelnut), and I figured out the best way to drink French Pressed coffee (very hot, very dark, and turned into a cafe au lait by adding a fair amount of hot, steamed milk).  Oh, and the tall, mohawked guy was there; I noticed him and he noticed me.



The tall mohawk-wearing guy is Sam.  And it is impossible to talk about my love of coffee and the significance of coffee shops in my life and not mention Sam.  Coffee (and then tattooing) brought us together.  I think we got to the point where we were both at the coffee shop so much we began to say hello and we didn't even know each others' name.  Then we started chatting over cup after cup of coffee.  In the space of a year we moved from running into each other at the coffee shop, to dear friends catching up at the coffee shop, to Sam Taking Me to the Coffee Shop in a date-like way.



A new coffee shop in walking distance to my home opened up the same month Sam and I began officially dating.  Hello, Inman Perk.  Now we had a locally-owned shop to go to.  Inman Perk further progressed my coffee nerdom.  I went from a customer to a Regular.  I've learned how to pull a good shot, a bit about roasting and blends, and I might smell like espresso most of the week.  I even worked the odd shift or two in the summer.

In the three years Sam and I have been together we've had birthday parties, baby showers, gatherings, wedding planning sessions, an adoption celebration, and nearly every date-day at Inman Perk.  After our wedding we went to Inman Perk for coffee.  I think that part of the reason why Sam and I work so well together is that we like the same elements of coffee shop life:  great conversation or solace with company.  We can sit around with our lattes and chat with friends for hours or we sit next to each other with our solitary pursuits (me - reading, Sam -- drawing) and we are perfectly content.



Now I know why an alcoholic shouldn't marry another alcoholic; Sam and I increase coffee consumption in each other.  Every trip we take features time spent in a coffee shop.  We compare the atmosphere and the coffee to coffee shops we've known in the past.  In fact, we drank so much coffee on our honeymoon I thought I'd be sick.

Coffee shops are unique places, I can't compare the atmosphere to any other social gathering place.  I have a little espresso machine and a coffee maker and I can buy Inman Perk coffee, so why do I go to the coffee shop?  It isn't just for the coffee, but for the companionship, the great places to read, and generally atmosphere that feels home like to quirky folks like myself.  But if you take the coffee away, I probably wouldn't go.  It has to be that perfect marriage of coffee-deliciousness and coffee shop loafing.

By the way, I had intended on posting this earlier in the afternoon, but I didn't get around to it.... because I was at the coffee shop.

Family Update

I realized my last post was one of stress and worry, but I felt so much better after blogging.  I'm also amazed by the kind comments and the support from my friends and family.  It makes all the dark moments look like little blips on Life's radar and not Huge Catastrophes.

I thought I might bring a little yin to that yang of a post and update you on the family:

 Atticus

In addition to crawling and pulling up, Atticus has really moved from being a "baby" to a "little person."  His personality shines through.  At the moment he is in teething hell and has a bit of a cold, but despite the pain and the boogers he is his usual cheery self.  He loves playing monsters and banging on things and crawling after the cat.  He's learned patty-cake, hide'n'seek, and waving bye-bye.  He adores giving kisses (which is an open-mouth, Predator-esque, drool-fest).

Hope

Hope is growing and changing so quickly.  We're in the midst of body-changing qualms; everything is fitting awkwardly and nothing looks right.  We have a shopping trip planned this Thursday.  She is still obsessed with Selena Gomez, interior design, and fashion.  Hope has had a phenomenal summer: several movies, the Georgia Aquarium, World of Coke, sleep overs, kid museums, blueberry pickings, outings to Athens, roller skating, bowling, swimming, and even a trip with her friend Sara to the nail salon.  She is really blossoming into a young lady and is looking forward to middle school.

Sam

Sam is still drawing like mad.  He did an awesome robot chalkboard for Inman Perk and painted a spectacular owl mural at Atticus' daycare.  His current projects include painting skateboard decks and planning an art show next spring.  You can keep up with his arty endeavors on his blog, Inky Darcy on the Lamb.

Despite our busy lives as parents, employees, and introverted nerds, we've had some amazing times this summer.  Primarily our dates center around nerd movies (Green Lantern -- bleh, Captain America -- yay) and coffee.  We also have a new tradition of going to bed early and watching awful shows on Netflix (like Hoarders).  Typically you'll find me knitting and Sam complaining about idiots; I love that we're already curmudgeonly old people!