That Time I Went to Dallas

(Because Saturdays are for friends.) In case you don't know, Jonathan Grime is an amazing husband. He does most of the laundry, cooking, and grocery shopping around our house, and before you're wondering what I do, let's not worry about it.

Because he also does things like book me tickets to Dallas to see my heart friend Anne.

In case you've forgotten Anne, let me know so I can bop you over the head. Anne is a Very Important Person for you to remember. This blog doesn't contain enough space for me to inform you how wonderful she is, as a human and as a friend. So I'll keep it to myself today. (You don't don't deserve the reminder since you forgot her anyway.)

Anyway. While I was off in Dallas for a long weekend (which transpired on the way to my sister days in Atlanta), Jonathan was at home, working his little heart out. (And also sleeping starfish on the bed and not washing the dishes for days on end, in true bachelor fashion. Don't feel too sorry for him, he was fine.)

It was too, too short, but an incredibly heart-filling time. I am grateful for every chance I get to spend with these people, and especially when they have adorable babies that sleep on me.

Here are a *few* photos from my time in Dallas-mostly candid and a few posed.

Enjoy!

xo.

Happy Birthday, House

As we mentioned yesterday, June 30 is quickly becoming a significant date in our lives, and last year on June 30, we signed a lease for our Kia Soul (since our Jetta had dramatically decided to die days earlier) and (wrote the biggest cheque of our lives and subsequently) received the keys to our house.)

That day, we drove across town in our rental car, sweating, but excited, ready to unlock our glorious house. Our plan was to buy some takeout Indian food from Taal (our fave), grab some ciders and sit on the floor in the middle of our new, perfect house to celebrate.

When we pulled up to our precious new house, there was a looming mound of garbage and random furniture on the front boulevard - a bad sign. Further, there were multiple people rushing around inside the house. Double bad sign.

We took a deep breath and spent the next hour spying on our pretty house from across the street, from our friends' Jordan and Tamarah's front porch.

When they finally exited and we entered our sanctuary an hour later, we went from room to room in silence. No, it wasn't trashed. Yes, it was dirty and, simply, gross.

The former owner decided to not worry too much about cleaning since "everyone has different standards of cleanliness."

Yep, cool.

We did not order Indian food; we did not drink cider.

We almost cried and left past the pile of garbage in silence. It was disheartening.

But still.

Still - we had our own place, at long last! Four walls with room to host, have family spend the night, space to process if we needed introvert time.

We've both had birthday parties here, we've painted almost every room. We've scrubbed all the inches, hung photos, had fights, stapled quarter round on the top floor and the bottom. We've laughed and cried, we've listened to records, planted a garden, disposed of more stuff. 

We've spent the last twelve months falling more and more in love with our home. A thing isn't supposed to make us happy, but we are genuinely so happy when we think of our house.

We moved in thinking it was our starter home, but who knows, we'll see where life takes us. In the meantime, we're loving our abode.

So Happy Birthday, House. We're so grateful to know you, to call you our own.

Happy long weekend, peeps!

We'll see you next week.