I LIVE IN A HOTEL!

AND NOT A NICE ONE!

IT KIND OF SMELLS LIKE FERMENTED DRYER SHEETS THAT HAVE BEEN STORED WITH CHEESE AND OLD SOCKS!

(If anyone has one of those Sharper Image BlueAir Purifier Destinkifier things in Indianapolis can I please borrow it? plzkthx.)

The best part of the entire night was going from hotel to hotel looking for somewhere that fit into our budget that didn’t come with free continental breakfast and a complimentary STD. Somewhere around hotel #2 the moosh started whining “BUT MOM, WHERE ARE WE GOING TO LIVE? DAD? WHERE CAN I SLEEP TONIGHT?”

Cody suggested we just hand over the phone number to CPS and save the hotel clerk the trouble of looking it up.

The good news is that the moosh thinks that living in a hotel is the most awesome thing ever. Also? I won’t have to make my bed for a month, I will never run out of ice and you bet your butt we scored a place with free breakfast that includes waffles. I also brought my own bedspread because my dad watches those Dateline shows where they take a UV light to hotel bedspreads and EW YUCK BLECH! (P.S. Daddy? I already searched for bedbugs and corpses in the box springs, thankfully there’s neither.)

The bad news is that where my bare flesh is touching the pillow has started to itch, there’s only a (closed) outdoor pool, the moosh is sleeping on a fold out couch and hello? We are living in a two star hotel for a month.

Also? I found a skidmarked pair of gentleman’s underpants in the nightstand drawer.

Let’s just say I bought a really big can of Lysol. Because I did. And I used it. All.

We’ll most likely be staying in this tiny hotel room for Thanksgiving. The really good news? Thanks to Turkey School I know how to cook a turkey in the microwave (which I have, along with a minifridge. MINIFRIDGE FTW!)

November should be interesting. Home renovations (the old carpet has been ripped out!) Feeding my family three square meals with nothing but a minifridge and a microwave (recipes please? besides EasyMac?) and apparently strangers underpants (hopefully this one was a one time occurrence.)

(Just for clarification-I live in Indiana, I moved to Indiana from Utah, my parents still live in Utah, the moosh and I spent the last three weeks in Utah hanging out with my family and I am now back in Indiana where I own a house but I can’t live in it yet because the plumbing doesn’t work and ZOMG DID YOU SEE WHAT COLORS IT IS PAINTED? Anyway I’m not entirely sure where we’re going to be living for the next month or so but IT’S ALL JUST AN ADVENTURE RIGHT!?)

The scene is Tuesday and the moosh and I are trolling around my dad’s ‘hood since I was pretty sure the constant presence of a four year old was causing my dad to twitch and the weather was just too delicious to stay inside. We ended up in a little bookshop a few blocks away where we sat on the floor and read pop up books. On the way out I noticed a sign that said “UPCOMING EVENTS” with Ree Drummond’s new cookbook featured below.

“She’s coming here?” I asked.

“Yeah. Wednesday night, 7 pm at the gallery next door.” replied the bookseller.

Huh. So Ree was coming to a gallery a few blocks away from my dad’s house. A night out with my Barbara was planned.

(my headband? Miss Ruby Sue. Because I know you’re going to ask.)

DUDE. People started lining up at 3 o’clock (it started at 7.) I had gotten my book earlier in the day and I had the feeling that the bookshop wasn’t entirely sure what they were getting themselves into later that evening. Barb and I ended up in signing group J. (Tickets were handed out A-Z 20 people per group.) We made it into the doors where we were able to meet up with the lovely Jes, Carina, Marie, Miranda, Allison, Emily, Carol, Andrea, another Emily, Vanessa and Janet. We hung out, spoke blog, giggled. It was fun. (p.s. HOLY LINKS BATMAN!)

Being in group J it was going to take about two hours to get in the door to get Ree’s pen to our books. We discussed going back to my dads, getting some chow or simply hanging out when we met up with a couple of ladies who had driven down from Kamas (about an hour away) to meet Ree. They didn’t have books or tickets so between Barb’s iPhone and my smooth talking we tried to develop a plan to get these ladies in to meet the lovely Ree.

The more we talked the more it occurred to me that I was only there because it was two blocks away and I wanted an excuse to hang out with Barb. These ladies drove over an hour. I had a book and a ticket, they did not. I wanted to go home and snuggle with my kid on our last night in Utah.

I handed over my book and made them promise they would get her signature and pay it forward when they could. (I also *may* have screamed “DON’T TOUCH ME THERE!” when they tried to refuse my offer. Know this, if I offer you something? YOU TAKE IT.)

We headed back towards my dads when we spotted Marie, Alison Carina and Emily again. Hey, may as well hang out with the bloggers we already know and love while we had the opportunity right?

No waiting in a three hour line for us!

Wait. Hold the phone.

Who’s that?

Yeah. I know she’s kind of the blogger who launched a thousand blogs and mine is no exception. I read her writing about depression, I read Jon’s post about having a wife with depression and I can’t deny that the both of them together helped me to finally write about my overdose and then about all the other hard stuff leaving me feeling a hundred pounds lighter and helping a few lovelies along the way.

So I told her. I told her thank you. It felt really good to kind of have the whole thing come full circle. We hugged, she said something about her interview with CNN earlier in the day and I was all “I have no CNN stories” then she was whisked away by the powers of Ree.

I like bloggers. I like blogging. I’m happy I do this.

It was a good night.

swoon! clicky clicky here for the details if you’re interested.

I would leave for months at a time on vacations away from home so he could study.

There was a moment when I was in Chicago in July that I realized Cody could be facedown in a ditch somewhere and I wouldn’t even know it. We never talked on the phone and the only time we would email is when one or the other of us needed something. Since I was in Chicago I couldn’t help him with anything and since I had become so self sufficient I didn’t feel the need to check in with him everyday.

I used to roll my eyes at neighbors who complained about their husbands being gone all the time (all the time being 9-5 in most cases.) Those codependent women who needed a man in their life. How pathetic right?

Some people have made comments about the way Cody treated me through law school. I say unto you we did what we had to do. He never knowingly neglected me and I never really put up much of a fight. (Okay, that’s a lie, I put up huge fights but when nothing changed? I gave up.)

We had never been through graduate school before. We both did what we had to in order to survive.

Yes, we’re paying for our mistakes now. But we’re paying. We’re not claiming emotional bankruptcy.

Instead we’re racking up cell phone bills and bathing in the glow of technology.

Want to win a copy of singer/songwriter Brandi Carlisle’s (think Indigo Girls meets Rachel Yamagata) new album Give Up the Ghost? Okay!

Clicky clicky here.

Show me a cooked turkey and I could tell you what method was used to cook it, in what kind of pan, for how long, at what temperature and what, if anything, you did wrong.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO POSSESS SUCH POWERS OF INFORMATION?

It’s mind boggling! All of it! No one should ever EVER! screw up a turkey. EVER! SO EASY!

I find myself looking at the cover of magazines thinking in my head “OPEN PAN METHOD! ALUMINUM! UNSTUFFED! 325°! CONVECTION OVEN!”

What you don’t even realize is that I’m actually speaking turkey. It only looks like English through type. But in my head? GOBBLE GOBBLE.

My two days spent in intense training at Butterball University were life changing. If for no other reason than I found out it is possible for one to eat 10% of their body weight in poultry.

A special thanks to the ladies of We Are Not Martha, Chris and Susan for sharing in tryptophan overdose and close calls with the next pandemic of vomiting children.

And an even greater thanks to the ladies of 1-800-BUTTERBALL. Y’all are mind boggling. Your love for turkey is infectious. Thank you for letting me spend a two days in your presence. Go save those turkeys. All of them. GOBBLE.

I got to go to Butterball University working with Butterball and writing all about Thanksgiving over at the Butterball Blog. Yes. They are paying me. Yes I already liked Butterball. And yes, this is my own opinion. P.S. The FTC sucks. xo

Starting over with a new life, new goals and a new appreciation for each other.

This is where I get to gag all of you with romance.

On the day we started over Cody started a blog. A private blog meant just for me, where he writes to me, whatever he wants whenever he wants. And it means the world to me because I have all of these words from him to me in one place that I can read anytime as long as I have a wireless signal.

He also took me to the place where he proposed to me at almost nine years ago and he proposed again. One knee and everything. But the ring meant something different this time. Instead of wearing it on my finger where I wear the ring he gave me nine years ago I wear it around my neck, some of you have already noticed it. And in his own words this is what the ring means: (reposted with his permission.)

Here is what the ring means: (1) it is small and simple and represents my priorities in life from now on. Not that I view my devotion to you as small and simple, but that my priorities are no longer complex involving personal selfish goals. I got lost in trying to get you the material things in the world. I focused so much on school and work that at some point my reasoning for working so hard at both changed from being for your good, to doing well to meet unimportant personal goals. I will not ever forget that everything I do now, is for your benefit because you are my priority. Everything I do from now on will begin with the question, “how is this going to make me a better husband, and is this truly best for my wife.” (2) The diamond in the middle represents the goal of our marriage. I did not want to get a straight gold band, I wanted it to have a diamond at the center. The ring portion represents two paths that lead to one diamond. That diamond is our goal and we each take a path towards that goal. The goal is eternal life together. It is so important that we, together, get back to the temple. If I cannot stand to lose you in this life, how can I stand to lose you in the next? (3) Finally, the ring is to be worn on a necklace as a symbol of my love for you. I want it close to your heart so that you will never forget that I love you. I want you to take the time to thread the ring on the necklace. As the ring hangs on your necklace where it was not designed to hang, I want you to feel the ring hang there. I want you to see it hanging on the necklace as you see yourself in the mirror. I want other people to see the ring on your necklace and ask you about its meaning. I want you to tell other people how you got the ring and what it means. I want you to worry about the ring not slipping off your necklace as you come home and take off the necklace. I screwed up and did not treat you right. I let you wonder whether I truly loved you. Never again. You will know I love you everyday for the rest of your life. That’s what the ring means. I love you lady.

I don’t write this to brag, or to gag you all on all this loooove that I’m floating around in. I write it because back in February Jen Lancaster said “I like to write about things with an ending, things that are resolved.”

This whole experience is in no way over, but part of resolving this is talking about it. I thought my life and my marriage were over, when in reality it’s just starting to get good.

There’s too much divorce, hate and unhappiness in this world. I’d like to think if we fight a little harder for what we believe in there would be a whole lot less ugly out there.

This is why I share all of this. I never expected to be here. If my experience can give hope to even one broken heart out there then I’ve done more than I could have ever expected or hoped for.

Seriously, when a restaurant has a more impressive (and longer) dessert list than their main menu? Whoo. Save room for dessert, or three.

Being ad free has been so good for me. Everything I say here is my own. It’s been delicious. That being said, I still like to do the occasional review. Especially when I get to give stuff away. Because I like to win stuff. How many times have you seen a cheese package that claims you could win a stuffed cheese man, and yet you never win. And you wonder who these people are than win the cheese men.

Not that I want a stuffed cheese man, it’s just the principle. Stuff is being given away all the time and until the internet came along I never really believed that real people actually won what was being given away. Cheese man or not.

So this week? I will have all sorts of giveaways. With real winners! That could be you! Hurrah!

I will also be leaving for Chicago tomorrow. To attend Butterball University.

IT’S AS IF THE MOTHER BIRD IS CALLING ME HOME.

I am going to learn 10 different ways to cook a turkey. I AM GOING TO EAT SO MUCH TURKEY IT WILL TAKE WEEKS TO RECOVER FROM ALL THE TRYPTOPHAN. *insert Homer Simpson noise*

Butterball is paying my way and paying me to write all about my first Thanksgiving out on my own over at the Butterball Blog (go ahead, say it five times fast.) This will be my first Thanksgiving away from my family, hopefully in my new house (WHICH WE CLOSED ON LAST WEEK! WOO!) and my first time cooking a turkey. All by myself.

If you knew my longstanding failed relationship with poultry you too would be looking forward to the blog fodder that will be me shoving my paws up a turkeys behind for the first time.