I live in a college town and I think it is aging me.  Being an actual home owner in a college town is very different.  This experience is a first time deal for me.  I have basically lived in this town for eight years, give or take the few years I was in The City.  And even though I have worked in this college town almost a year, things are different now that I live here.  Like really live here.  I am registered to vote and everything.

Move in day at the dorms.  Hello, mad house!  I moved into the dorms early when I was a freshman so my experience was only about a quarter of the mad house.  Plus, when you are in the midst of chaos, it doesn’t seem so crazy.  When you are a college employee trying to get to work or run out to grab lunch or leave to go pick up your husband, it is crazy!  These students and their parents have no manners.  I swear I was almost run over and rear ended.  (Different times, not all at once.)

And now that school has officially started, the chaos continues.  New students everywhere.  Lost and confused students everywhere.  Maniac driving students who must be running late to class because why else would they feel the need to drive that out of control, everywhere.

Everyone who lives in this town is just use to it.  They are prepared for the town population to double every fall and then toward the end of October, everything goes back to normal.  Students drop out, find their way or just quit caring about being on time.  (Or don’t bother showing up at all, not that I would know anything about that.  I was a stellar student.)

So here is to living in a college town.  And here is to me sounding like local complaining about all the students.  And here is to staying at home all day Saturday because, HELLO, football season.  Don’t even get me started about that one.

Now where is my cane and plastic lawn chair so I can sit in the front yard and yell at kids walking on my grass?

My big baby turned three sometime in the past few months.  Since we don’t actually know his birthday, the poor guy was dumped on a dirt road when he was just a baby, we celebrate his Gotcha Day.  Except, his horrible mom completely forgot, so his celebration was a few days late.  Pretend this all took place on August 19.

For Servo’s (late) Gotcha Day we decided to take him to the new Pet Cafe that just opened.  B and I had already scoped the place out so we knew what kind of ridiculousness we were getting into.  The Pet Cafe, besides being a pet shop that sells treats, food and other supplies, also has a small cafe area where you can order meals off a menu for your dog.  It’s ok, you can laugh.  I totally did.  The whole thing seems very silly, but it was cute and fun.  It was certainly a treat for the dogs!

Of course Servo is just happy to have a leash put on him.

Typically he hates car rides, but I think he knew this one was going to end well. 

Immediately when we get to the place chaos ensues.  There were three other small dogs wandering the store.  Of course Servo and Zoey couldn’t focus on anything other than the small dogs.  My bright idea to take adorable pictures of my spoiled pups was pretty much a flop.

I ended up with a bunch of the back of the head shots.  Wonderful, I know.

Finally, we sat down at a table and ordered Servo his birthday meal.  He got the Cowboy Cookout.  It was the most manly meal choice.  I can’t really remember what all was in it.

Basically it was wet dog food, which is a real treat for our pups.  I honestly can’t remember if they have ever had it before.  Servo devoured his in record time.  Zoey on the other hand daintily licked all the syrup from the bowl and then gently took small bites.  If we didn’t let Servo help her finish I think we would have been there all day!

B was a good sport.  He acted embarrassed and made sure to tell everyone this was my idea, but honestly, I was just going to drive Servo through McDonalds.  B was the one who suggested we take them to the Pet Cafe.  Big softie.  And he complains that I am spoiled!  Whose fault is that?  By the way, this is the same man who a few hours early purchased Frosty Paws, just because.  (In case you don’t know, Frosty Paws is ice cream for dogs.)

While we were waiting on Zoey to finish, I decided to take some pictures of my baby boy.

From this angle, I can almost remember puppy Servo.  He was so tiny. 

Don’t they say the Terrible Threes are much worse than the Terrible Twos?  Servo was trying to prove that point.

Little brat.  Don’t worry, it got worse.

Grr.  Just as I was about to give up on getting a nice picture of him, he cooperated.

There is my mature, regal boy.

Happy Gotcha Day, Servo!  I can’t believe my baby is three.

How many times have I promised pictures of the new house?  Probably once or twice, or 100 times.

Today I am here to deliver.  I My mother finally took pictures of the new house!  I My mother was so smart and remembered to go to each room with a camera.  I My mother is so proud! 

There was this brief period right before the bridal shower I threw on Sunday where the entire house was spotless and adorably decorated.  That brief period lasted less than an hour.  Sure, it is still pretty clean, but the spotless is long gone.  The coffee table is again covered with magazines and remotes (because B has to have 10 remotes for each gadget).  The kitchen cabinets are covered with dishes I have yet to put back in their boxes and put away.  The bed is no longer being made every morning.  Basically as soon as the party ended, B and I went back to living in the house and not walking on eggshells trying to keep everything spotless.  Just don’t tell Martha Stewart I don’t make my bed every morning.

So I guess you want some pictures, right?  Again, keep in mind these were taken before the bridal shower.  While I thoroughly enjoy the lit candles, fresh flowers, crystal dishes and lace tablecloths, that isn’t how the house looks normal.  You still get the jist.

Entry.  Nothing too exciting here.

Kitchen.  Yes, we still have the teal cabinets.  And we will until we fall into a pit of money.  Honestly, once we got rid of the salmon and mauve colored paint, I didn’t hate them as much.  I think a new, neutral color countertop might actually make the color work!  Again, at least until we fall into a pit of money.

View #1 of the living room.  See the awesome fireplace?  Yeah, I painted the inside black.  Amazing the difference that small can of paint made.  Oh, and removing the 1980s brass insert.

View #2.  The chairs aren’t normally there and we don’t keep a sign in on the table.  Again, bridal shower.  That painting is one of my most prized possessions.  My aunt painted it and for years every time I was at her house I would ask if I could have it.  I knew one day she would redecorate and I would get it!  Doesn’t it look great?

View #3.  From this angle you can see the dining room.  Right behind me my mom is the hallway to the bedrooms.  Make sense?

Master bedroom.  Hi new furniture!  I love you!  I can’t remember if I shared a picture of the furniture yet.  I love it, even though black furniture and two dogs makes it almost impossible to remain dust free.

This is B’s office.  Heh.  I think he would die if his super techy-geeky friends saw what we did to it.  Ha!  Normally he has some ridiculous oversized monitor sitting on top of the lace tablecloth.  I am kidding B, I know you only use the tablecloth on formal Sundays.

And finally, the screened back patio.  This hasn’t really changed either.  But, can we talk about how green everything looks?  Thanks to my parents cleaning out the flower beds and the unseasonable August rain, I am loving my backyard right now.  As long as my parents come back and work their green thumbs a few times a year, I think I will be able to manage all the plants!

So there you go.  The new house.  I left out the bathrooms and spare bedrooms, but you get the idea.  These are the rooms we worked on the most.  And they are my favorite rooms in the house.

Crap.  Don’t you hate it when you are that asshole.  You know, THAT asshole that angers you to no end, the one you write about on your blog or call your significant other to complain about what an idiot that person was.

Hi, that was me today.  Sorry for adding to the world of incompetent fools.  I promise to be more careful next time.

On my lunch break, I ran down the street to grab a quick bite to eat so I could get back to the office before my next meeting.  I was sitting at a red light and I knew I would have to make a left turn immediately after the light changed.  Being the person I am, my mind was planning ahead.  I turned my blinker on in anticipation.

Except I failed to realize that turning my blinker on while sitting at a red light makes the people in the turn lane think I want over there.  Duh Megan!  Apparently my mind is not using all of its powers of logic and reasoning today.  Of course I did not realize this until it was too late.

I was honked at.  Not only was I honked at, I received a disgruntled peel out when the other car realized they were waiting on an idiot.  Not only was I honked at and the recipient of a peel out, I made a whole line of waiting cars honk at the kind person who was trying to let me over.  Um, whoopsie! 

So my appoligizies to that guy who was trying to be nice.  I am sorry I acting like your sterotypical, ignorant driver.  I promise that doesn’t happen often.  Really I was just trying to be super prepared for my imminent left turn.

Help!  I am drowning in tomatoes in my own home.  My own home where I don’t even grow tomatoes.  My own home where I rarely even buy tomatoes at the grocery stores.

Anyone out there who wants fresh fruit and vegetables, become friends with my parents.  Apparently their number one goal in retirement is to outgrow the entire small town they live in.  Back in July they bombarded me with yellow squash.  I love yellow squash, but when I receive 10+ pounds of yellow squash I feel a little overwhelmed.  How in the world are B and I suppose to eat 10+ pounds in a week?  Sadly, we didn’t accomplish that goal so this time I am coming to the internet for help.

Internet, can you tell me how to use 10+ pounds of tomatoes by Friday?

Ok, so maybe it is not 10+ pounds, but I think it started around there.  I added tomatoes to everything I could think of over the weekend.

Anyone have a great recipe or idea to share with me?  If you say can them I will ban you from this blog.  I don’t can and apparently that is the solution to everything.

I am looking for a great recipe that uses tons of tomatoes.  The catch is it has to be fairly easy to make and it can only require ingredients that I can find.  Or spell.  Am I making this hard enough for you?

Maybe I should just say anyone who wants free homegrown tomatoes, come and get them!  I don’t think I will ever figure out what to do with these by Friday.

… and it is all my fault!

When B and I first started dating, his foolish Yankee-self had no idea the importance of your soft drink choice.  To him, soda was soda and he didn’t really have a favorite.

Then I came along and showed him the light.

Why hello Nectar of the Gods.  How have you been lately?  I know that picture is a little old, but that is how I will always remember you.  (Anyone else notice that is (one of) the former Dr. Pepper logo design?)

Tis true fellow readers, the day B met me is the day I turned him into an addict.

Now, I love my Dr. Pepper too, always have and I always will, but I understand the importance of limiting your soft drink intake.  I try to limit myself to one drink a day, typically my morning pick me up.  Weekends are harder and sometimes I need a boost at lunch, but I *almost* never have a coke (coke=any soft drink.  Texas/southern thing, remember?) after work.  Always water with dinner or else I will be buzzing at midnight while I should be sleeping.

B on the other hand, well I am afraid I only have myself to blame.  The man has a Dr. Pepper morning, noon and night, and several times in between.  He will drink a coke before going to bed!  This still amazes me and I still feel I have to tell him every time that he won’t be able to sleep and then every time he manages to fall asleep before me.

For awhile I managed to switch the family the Diet Dr. Pepper.  It was hard and we all suffered, but I kept reminding myself of my reduced caloric intake.  Several times over the years, Dr. Pepper, fully loaded, managed to sneak back into our lives.  I think this time it is here to stay.

B and I both agree that we don’t love the aspartame we are putting into our bodies drinking Diet Dr. Pepper.  While no calorie is a huge plus, the aspartame gives us headaches and who knows what else.  We are kicking that artificial sweetener to the curb.

So once again we are back on the regular Dr. Pepper road and my only hope is that I can break B’s four-a-day habit this time around.  Any recovering addicts out there have words of advice?  I am not going to have to send him to rehab am I?  Hopefully once we get back the cold chills and hot flashes the road to recovery will be much smoother.

First off, let me say I know this post would be 100 times better if it had pictures.  Sue me.  I am tired and cranky and it took every ounce of energy I had to complete my to do list this week.  I didn’t put taking pictures on my to do list, therefore it didn’t get done.  I wasn’t kidding about the importance of a list in my world.

Also, is it breathe or breath.  I feel like it use to be either and then one day everyone decided the extra “e” was cool so they adopted breathe.  Or maybe that was a dream.  I think breath should be used as, “I held my breath.”  And breathe should be, “Don’t breathe your skank garlic breath on me.”  (Hmm, wonder who I am talking to… B!)  (Also, see how cool I am and used both terms in one sentence.  Yeah, I planned that.)

What was my point?

Oh yeah, everyone hold your breath/breathe.  (Seriously, can some tell me what is right.  Now I am all confused!)  The house is clean!  And decorated!  And we finished all of our move in projects, at least until we fall into a pit of money to be able to afford more!  I am afraid if I breathe the loudly the entire house will crumble.  I know that is irrational, but you don’t understand how many road bumps we hit along the way.

I knew setting a deadline was a good idea.  Even if it almost killed me and made B want to run far, far away from his slave driver wife.  (Hi honey!  I appreciate all your hard work and the seven trips to Lowes you made this week!)

Months and months ago I decided it would be fun to host a bridal shower for my adorable friend Mandi.  I figured two and a half months was plenty of time to get settled in the new house.  Boy was I stupid.  We were screwed before we even started when B threw his back out. 

But, I am proud to say it is good enough!  Sure, the garage is still full of boxes and so are the closets.  Just don’t look in there and we will be fine. 

My parents come in town today so if they don’t trash the place I will try to take pictures and post them.  I know I have promised that before, but I mean it this time.

*Dude, I totally just looked this up and it is breath.  My rant sounds pretty ridiculous now.  Whoops!

With all the Olympic games going on right now, B and I have been in a competitive mood. One of our favorite competitions was elevated to an extreme level last night when Zoey, our Boston Terrier, thickened the air pot.

B and I have your typical married couple nightly routine. After a long day, we like to wind down in bed, watching tv, surfing the internet or reading a book. And in our typical adorable married couple nightly routine, Zoey likes to lay in between us being her ridiculously cute, spoiled self.

Except in all her cuteness, there is a serious unladylike problem. The gas.

Have you ever met a Boston Terrier? Whew, do they have so stinky farts. Except Zoey is a lady so hers are tiny puffs of air. The most toxic air you could ever imagine.

B and I’s epic battle begins after the first Boston Terrier fart is released. The goal, fan the toxic air to your opponent’s side of the bed. Dutch ovening your competitor is completely fair game. Using props such as fans, books or magazine is also acceptable.

Unfortunately for both of us, last night, no one went to bed a winner. Hmm, maybe I should have rethought sharing my pizza crust with the dog.

It’s a good thing she is cute.

We have rain!  All last week I kept waiting for the rain to come.  The weatherman promised some Thursday, Friday and all day Saturday.  I was so excited I wouldn’t have to drag out the waterhose to save my quickly browning grass.

Thursday came and went with only a few sporadic drops.  The same thing happened on Friday and Saturday.  All over the state, people were getting rain.  Saturday night the promised cool front was heading straight for us, but still not sizable rain.  It seemed like our town was just bypassed.

I was getting angry.  I was going to have to pull out that darn waterhose.  My family called to brag about their abunted rainfall.  How come north and south of us it was raining?

I was considering a rain dance, but I was worried was the neighbors would think of the naked woman prancing around her backyard.  (I am pretty sure rain dances are only effective when you are naked.  I don’t know why.)

Finally, as I was begging my brain to turn off at midnight last night, I heard it.  Thunder!  Then I saw it.  Lightning!  Was the rain finally coming?  Could it be true?  My brain finally shut down before I found out.

But, this morning.  Oh this glorious morning.  We finally got our rain.  Buckets and buckets of beautiful rain.  Things are already looking green.  Finally some relief from the 100+ degree temperatures. 

And then when I got to work this morning, my celebrations came to an end.  My office is leaking, again.

Water everywhere!  Notebooks ruined.  My computer, and all the electrical cords that go all with it, were sitting in an inch of water.  Hmm, I wonder if that will be a problem later?  Apparently the rain was so desperately wanted was too much for the forty year old roof.

And now I am suppose to be productive today?  Housekeeping in and out to vacuum up water, loud fans blowing, people coming by to say sorry and give me sympathetic looks, and a soaking wet to do list.  Really that is the problem.  Without my to do list I am lost.  What, make another one you say?  But you don’t understand.  My original was so pretty and organized and it already had stuff crossed off so it made me feel good. 

I will miss you to do list.  You will never know how important you truely were.

That was my first reaction when I checked my email to find two mysterious messages from my mom.  Technically one message was from Google on behalf of my mom.  The subject said, YOUR MOM wants to chat with you on GoogleTalk.

Ok, ok.  It didn’t actually say YOUR MOM, but that is what it was screaming at me.

The second message said, Megan, are you online?

No shit folks.  My mom figured out GoogleTalk.  All by herself.  I am pretty sure she would insist I point that out.

Not that my mom is technology-illiterate.  She manages ok.  I just never thought the day would come that we chatted over IM.  Email was about as far as I thought our techy-convos would go.  We are talking about the woman who left this comment on my blog the other day,

Seriously. This is the same woman who always has an unread text message on her phone because she doesn’t know what they are or how to check them.  Don’t get mad, Mom.  I am only speaking the truth.  Go check your phone right now.  I will wait.  I am betting you have an unchecked text message, and I am also betting you wouldn’t know how to figure out if you did or not.

Let me just say if my mom figures out twitter, facebook, myspace, or she starts a blog… well that is it for me.  I think I will move to New Zealand because I am pretty sure that means the apocalypse is coming.  If she gets an iPhone, I am driving off a cliff.