Marriage

back in the saddle

February 14, 2014

katie (1 of 1)-2

i’m back!

albeit with a case of vertigo—which is friggin bonkers?!?!

who else has had this disco party in their head?

every time i stand up i am compelled to shriek: “i’m on a boat!!!”—-hunkiest says it wasn’t funny the first time…so you can bet i’ll be repeating it all summer long.

yesterday i received the “all clear” from my doctor, and i’m chomping on the mouth guard to get back to my full schedule.

glamorous, right? 37 years old and i wear a mouth guard—makes for a sexy kiss goodnight….

no wonder we’re just now procreating after eight years.

nevertheless…i’m back in the saddle, literally, today and all through the weekend, even subbing an 8:30am spin class on sunday morning at equinox in newport beach; so if you’re in town come see my giddy, off-balanced mug.

weekend happy to you m’loves..see you on the other side of sunday.

no. i didn’t get a boob job for christmas…

February 7, 2014

maruja (1 of 1)

contrary to my new, 2014 curves, both up north and down south, i did not get breast implants for christmas.

i was pregnant though.

a week before christmas hunkiest and i saw two pink lines on the drugstore purchased test….6 tests if i’m to be honest….the skeptic in me needed to be sure….the overacheiver in me needed the affirmation….hunkiest was overjoyed and relieved…elated that our family was growing; alleviated he was now off the hook for that stella mccartney fold-over tote i had been expecting under the tree…instead we were expecting our christmas present in august.

last week in an ultra sound i was told there was no baby.

no specific reason was given to us; the doctor said my body made a decision for me my “mind might not have been able to make.”

i was prepared for this; told people, when i was unable to keep my exciting, happy news a secret, “now, it IS early, and i AM 37,” as if i was steadying them and me for this inevitable, stinking event.

i cannot lie and tell you that there isn’t a part of me– an unhinged, irrational part, the subdivision that shows up late at night questioning logic and serenading golden retrievers, who sometimes wonders if maybe i jinxed myself into this mess.

i won’t lie, this stings; packs a little more spank as time progresses.

banan (1 of 1)

i ride on the swing-set of glum and good. mostly good, but i never know when a case of the sad will set in.

yesterday i bit into my banana only to discover its less than ripe constitution. i went from composed to crumpled up on the kitchen floor in a matter of seconds.

mr. banana it’s impolite to deceive a girl with raging hormones. there are some things in this world we need to count. bananas are one of them! 

produce aside these days sometimes i can taste sorrow even in an ice cream cone.

i know it will pass, and it’s not all of the time.

each day is a little sunnier; even when the raindrops fall outside.

girl scout cookies help.

as does knowing house of cards signed on for a third season; february 14th can’t come soon enough.

jeans (1 of 1)

my boyfriend jeans have officially broken up with me.

{i still sport a 13-week pregnant body; once i get my on head straight, god/the universe and i will be having a roundtable discussion on fairness.}

there’s a denim rinse in a santa claus cut i’ve been courting online, so keep your fingers crossed for us.

beasts (1 of 1)

it’s hard to be heavyhearted with these two faces administering round-the-clock-care to me.

it also doesn’t hurt that i have the greatest parents on earth.

my friends and my colleagues, although my co-workers ARE my friends and pseudo family; these people have been sick with compassion and support. it’s like they can’t help but ooze out all this love and gooey kindness from their pores, and it just drips and spurts everywhere, all over the people in their life, lately me, making the world a better place–really you guys need to get this checked out by a dermatologist. it’s almost gross.

you all know who you are, and i am nothing without you.

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and of course, my husband, you oily-bohunk you.

you really do make all those bradley cooper’s and ryan gosling’s look like scrawny, stay-in-the-dugout, third-string players. love is not a strong enough word for how i feel about you.

for us, yes, it is a private time, and i’ve been hesitant, and on the fence about sharing my story, but i believe when life delivers meals you didn’t order, bites that feel like shards of glass when you swallow, it always helps to know that someone else has had to wolf down a similar, barbed chunk, and yet lived, laughed and loved to tell about it.

love,

katie

 

 

scenes from a saturday night…..

January 13, 2014

denim (1 of 1)

the hunkiest and i are the new faces of hermit living.

of late, the weekend trek to trader joe’s is our cologne-spritzing, lip gloss-wearing, disco ball chasing of a saturday night.

sag screenings and finally jumping aboard the netflix breaking bad train keeps us pajama-clad and sofa ensconced on most nights.

but this saturday night we busted the buttons off of our ritual of comfort and, decked in denim, cruised out into polite society for date night.

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nothing like a pair of wingtips to damper the dishevelled look i taken so fondly to these days.

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1st stop john varvatos.

we’ve finally become everything i hate about orange county.

date night isn’t a visit to a museum, a seat at the hottest concert, nor is it front row at a play……

we go to the mall {insert image of me taking a nine-glock to the chin.}

but hunkiest needed a new suit, and john varvatos serves beer, wine, & espresso to the impatient, toe-tapping, eye-rolling wives.

bedecked in a slim-fit, italian virgin wool two-piece, my green-eyed sweetheart was probed and whacked with measuring tapes and shoe horns, while i spun out like an out-of-control dreidel, jacked up on all that espresso.

dinner

amped and ravenous we hit our favorite neighborhood haunt for eats and side-by-side booth sharing.

 the razor thin-crust pizza is naples certified, and my husband is able to drink peroni while watching play-off football; it’s the perfect spot.

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dean martin’s serenade and a belly full of marinara slathered carbohydrates inspired “molto amore!”

unfortunately the romance ended here.

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and was replaced by a whole ‘nother kind of sunday morning love.

how did your weekend treat you m’loves?

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