Two weeks in a row that I’ve needed to tell you some things! Look at me go!

1. As of yesterday, MY HUSBAND IS DONE WITH FINALS! No more late nights studying, no more writing papers. I get my husband back! Until the spring semester starts, that is. Oh well, I’ll take it! My last day of work in 2010 is December 22nd, which means there will be a blissful week-and-a-half-ish that we’ll both be off. I’m so looking forward to that time.

2. Michael & I had the “Will we/won’t we” conversation the other day regarding telling our kids about Santa. I grew up knowing right away that Santa wasn’t real, but a fun “game” I could play if I wanted. Michael thought Santa was real until he was about 6 or so. (Side note: I had a friend who was 12 who still believed in Santa! How does that happen?!) We haven’t reached any conclusions, but I think we still have awhile to worry about that one. However, Kayleigh sent me an email yesterday that had a link to the Wikipedia page about Krampus. DO Y’ALL KNOW ABOUT KRAMPUS? Look, while I might not tell my kids about Santa, it seems in my best interest to tell them about Krampus. “If you don’t do your homework, Krampus is going to come up in here with some rusty chains!” I mean, seriously. Wouldn’t you be well-behaved too?!

3. I love discovering good music in random places, and musicians who aren’t as well-known, because who doesn’t love saying “I LIKED THEM BEFORE THEY WERE FAMOUS!”? Well, the other day I found Hannah on 20SB. I am now obsessed with her covers of the following songs:

Hotel Song (Regina Spektor)
Tik Tok (Ke$ha) – this will be the only time you see me admit to liking a Ke$ha song
I Will Follow You into the Dark (Death Cab for Cutie)
The Luckiest (Ben Folds) – this one blew me away (!)
Let Go (Frou Frou)

You’re welcome.

4. Speaking of music, I realized the other night that I might be the only one at the university gym rocking out to Pat Benatar & ‘N Sync while busting my butt on the elliptical. And I’m okay with that. As long as I keep myself in check & don’t start belting out “Love is a Battlefield,” I think I’ll be alright. It’s sort of a strange thing to be back in a college gym after I’ve been graduated for 3 years. Everyone assumes I’m in college (thank goodness), so sometimes I get asked “What’s your major?” Listen, kid, I major in LIFE, okay? You’ll know what I’m talking about soon enough. The other day I said something about “my husband” and one of the girls in my spin class was all “YOU’RE MARRIED? HOW OLD ARE YOU?” Um, 24? “Wow. You look so young.” I guess that means 24 isn’t young anymore, y’all. Bad news bears.

5. Have you entered my awesome giveaway with the Unique Closet? Enter to win a free top of your choice (no, it doesn’t have to be one of three in the pictures I posted; I just liked those 3). Giveaway closes Sunday at noon (CST), so get on it girlfriends!

Happy Friday! What are your plans for the weekend?

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On the drive home, we busted out Michael’s CD collection. I know I’ve blogged about my husband’s taste in music before, but indulge me again. Never have I been more acutely aware of our 7-year age difference. When I put in a burned CD that says “Groovy 80′s and 90′s” in my husband’s sharpie handwriting and I don’t know ANY of the songs, I think we have a problem. We did, however, have a moment of bonding – when “Africa” by Toto came on. Thank God for Scrubs – that show is the only reason I know any 80′s music (and the only reason this song was played at my sister’s wedding – yes, I was in charge of the playlist and I ROCKED THAT SHOW.) We also broke out this oldie-but-goodie:

Don’t judge us, interweb peoplez. WE DID IT FOR LOVE.
And maybe so we could do this dance in the car.

One thing I didn’t expect was to miss our dogs so much. Actually, I take that back. I expected to miss Pancho. Even during our gorgeous honeymoon in Manzanillo, Mexico last summer, I whimpered at least once a day, “I miss Pancho.” He’s my little sidekick. But Leia? The dog who has singlehandedly destroyed several pairs of my favorite underwear? Chewed every windowsill in our house? Wakes up at 5 am, wriggling and writhing like she is going to explode if she doesn’t get outside to pee, only to run around in circles and bark at the bushes when she does get outside? AND NOT EVEN PEE A DROP? Yeah, I missed her too.

We left our dogs at my parents’ place, 70 acres of pure doggie paradise. I recieved these texts promptly after dropping them off:

From my sister, Katherine: “Pancho is literally eating straight up horse poop.”

From my dad: “Your cow dog rolled in horse crap.” 

DELISH. Needless to say, when we pulled up to get them, as happy as we were to see them, we wanted no human-on-poop contact. We threw them in their crate in the back of the car and I skipped the bathtub and hosed them down in the backyard as soon as we got home.

Leia has this weird little cry/yelp that sounds almost human. She saves it for when she gets really, really worked up. Well, after she had her hose bath, she rolled her wet body all over the place, yelping and shrieking like a little monster baby. Pancho is more the silent, sullen type, and got his feelings pretty hurt that I didn’t snuggle him right away, so he went and hid under the bed and sulked. Look Pancho, I’m sorry that I don’t like horse poop breath, OK? Can’t we just get along? Eventually he came out and there was much rejoicing. And snuggling. And overactive bladder syndrome. 

I’ll be gone for eight days this July during my trip to Canada. As much as I will miss my husband (I think the longest we’ve been apart so far is about 4 days), there’s always iChat and PICTURE MAIL IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. But since the dogs don’t really know how to get on the Mac, I’m worried that the emotional damage of my lengthy absence might scar them forever. I’ll be lucky if Leia ever stops screeching by the time I get home. And Pancho… well, I hope he doesn’t pee on my face. 

My little sister Hannah just sent me some pictures she had taken at the end of last summer. As you can see, Leia was still quite small. I think of myself as not unlike the mother of a disturbed teenager. Sure, I want to pull my hair out, but sometimes I like to get out the baby album and remind myself of a happier time, when she was really really freaking cute. And not quite so deranged. 

All of that to say – it has been quite the challenge getting my thousands and thousands of songs and pictures transferred from the external hard drive they have been living on for the last few months to my new MBP. I am anal about organizing my files, so it’s taking a little longer than it probably should. 

Michael put all of his music and my music on my MBP, so that all the music in our household would be in the same place. Wonderful, great, fine – but when I hit the “shuffle” button on iTunes, I never know what’s going to come up. Take yesterday, for example:

Me: “Why do you have Justin Timberlake on your iTunes?”

Michael: “I used to like him. And ‘N Sync!”

Me: “So did I. SO DID EVERY TEENAGE GIRL IN AMERICA.”

(Interval)

Me: “Why do you have OPERA on your iTunes?!”

Michael: “I went through an ‘Opera Phase.’”

(Interval)

Me: “Why do you have SHERYL CROW’S ENTIRE MUSIC COLLECTION?!?!”

Michael: “I did NOT buy Sheryl Crow, EVER.”

Me: “Well I certainly didn’t. And YOU’RE the one who bought Justin Timberlake.”

Michael: “Hey, I ADMIT to buying Justin Timberlake.”

Me: “Why would you admit to Justin Timberlake and NOT Sheryl Crow?!”

(Interval)

Me: “Michael. What’s wrong with you? Who did I marry? It’s like I don’t even know who you are.”

Michael: “What just came on?”

Me: “BABY EINSTEIN.”

(Interval)

Michael (while cleaning off his Dell’s hard drive to be sold): “Babe, do you think I should leave my music on this computer?”

Me: “Why would you do that?”

Him: “You know, as an added incentive. Like, free music with purchase of computer.”

Me: “Hon, I hope you are aware that THE NORMAL AVERAGE HUMAN PERSON is NOT going to find YOUR TASTE IN MUSIC an added incentive. Just saying.”

I love my husband. I am head over heels in love with him. He smells wonderful, lets me have the last bit of ice cream, and has this great way of knowing exactly when to kiss me.

He’s just not allowed to touch the radio when we’re both in the car.