sweet apologies

We meant to wish you all a merry christmas.  We really did.

Problem is, we got busy consuming obscene amounts of this:

...and adding extra poundage to our hips....enough to make us add another goal to our New Year's Resolution list (as though it doesn't make it on there EVERY year!)

  Our neighbors can thank us for the clogged arteries via the most delicious cinnamony, sugary, cream cheesy, buttery sinful cinnamon rolls EVER.  (but i don't want to brag)

Our kids can thank us for two weeks of  unbridled sugar intake. 

Please notice Jack shoving fistfuls of candy into his mouth and lucy with frosting remains dripping from her lips.

Maybe next year Jack will be less busy consuming and more busy creating.  That sad milk carton house needs some bedazzling!

And our dentist can thank us for not brushing Jack's teeth after decorating sugar cookies at 8pm on Family Night.

But shoot.  Would the holidays be the holidays without consuming mass quantities of baked goods and candy?  

Please say no.  

And please say you'll forgive us for not wishing you a merry Christmas.  We hope you had a wonderful one!  

Love from our hips to yours.

my macho metro man

As defined by the Urban dictionary, a METROSEXUAL is this:

Modern enlightened, sort of rennasance man. Secure and confident, capable and cool, typically well educated and stylish. Heterosexual with a twist, not gay by any means, but he probally has a few gay friends, and can easily be mistaken for gay by rednecks and jock types.  The only straight guy in a fabric store or antique shop who is not being dragged there by a woman.

For years I've grappled for a classification suited for my husband.  You see, he's not exactly a metrosexual.  I'm pretty sure nobody would ever mistake him for gay, and he doesn't possess an overbearing, egocentric desire for trends or vanity.  Like this guy:

But, he most certainly has an eye for detail and on many occasions has entered a fabric or antique shop and liked it.  Even loved it!

On the other hand, he's very macho. 

 Always has been.  He likes his sports, soda, and woman just as much as the next guy.  If you ruffle his feathers, he puffs up his chest and you can sometimes see the testosterone pumping.  Pure man, right?

So you see.  We have somewhat of a dichotomy here.  These two contradictions must find a middle ground.  Which is where this new word originated: 

 METRACHO

A METRACHO man is a cross between a metrosexual and a macho heterosexual.  In short, my man is a METRACHO man.

Here are some recent examples of his METRACHOness (with emphasis on the metro):

1.  Tuesday night he came home with four pairs of women's jeans for me that he had hand selected from The Buckle after an hour of searching for the precise sizes, long enough lengths, and "cute" pocket designs.  All because he knew my one pair of jeans that I've worn almost everyday for 2 years had seen better days, and he knew I would probably never go find myself a new pair.  Best part is....I can almost guarantee that he did all this selecting on his own without the help of a female employee.  And you know what?  The jeans fit like a glove!

2.  For my birthday this year, or maybe it was our anniversary, Troy went to Sally Beauty supply and bought all the necessary items to give me a home pedicure.  Complete with a hot soak, nail buffing, skin exfoliating, and massage.  I know...eat your heart out ladies!  

3.  It is not uncommon for us to be driving around quaint towns or holiday decorated shops and hear him say, "Those shops are so cute.  Wouldn't it be fun to get a hot chocolate and walk down the streets under the lights?"

4.  If you think I decorate my house alone, YOU ARE WRONG.  My man has opinions.  He wants things just a certain way.  He likes to house shop with me and discuss colors or furniture arrangements in great detail.   Sometimes I wish I'd just hear those words my dad used to mumble to my mom, "Whatever you want, honey." 

5.  While Troy is extremely talented at finishing concrete, laying brick, installing sprinklers, fixing garbage disposals, or adding decorative woodwork to our home, some of his real talents can be found in the kitchen.  He can do some pretty amazing things with a rack of spices!  He likes to dream up new recipes and get creative.  And if you think it stops there...oh no.  He also likes to make sure the presentation of the final meal is top notch.  Complete with a mint sprig or chocolate drizzle.

6.  When Troy and I first started dating, I tried to hide my love of the local COZY station.  I was somewhat of a closet listener who enjoyed singing the love hits through the ages.  It didn't take long to learn that the Cozy station was also his station of choice and he could keep up on a mean rendition of "We've only Just Begun" by the Carpenters.  This also goes right along with his enjoyment of Chick Flicks.  Thank goodness....since that's about the only type of movie I really like to see!

I'm telling you.  I married the most macho metrosexual on the planet.  And I love it!

Thanks babe for being you!  The hottest METRACHO around!

And just for any male readers who may be surprised by these new findings about your pal Troy...don't worry!  He is still VERY MACHO!  Just last week I saw him gnawing on a turkey leg and scratching himself in a public place.

for all those asking...

THIS is where I've been....

Thanksgiving in a nutshell

We hosted this motley crew + 2 parents.

They pitched in on the housework, fully entertained jack, complimented me on my cooking, and spent some serious time doing this:

Troy and I quickly realized that if only we could clone ourselves, the Thanksgiving dinner prep would be so much easier!

I had visions of sitting down to a table setting like this.  Of course all dressed in coordinating fall-festive sweaters and sports-coats.

Reality was...we worked all day sans showers and when we finally sat down to the table I realized I was still in my hoodie and pajama bottoms. 

It's called Rookies mistake.  Note to self:  Don't even enter the kitchen on Thanksgiving day until morning grooming has taken place.

Troy dreamed (dreamt, dreameded?) of seeing this on the table.  He so carefully prepared a flavorful brine 24 hours in advance to soak the bird in.  Then prepped it for the oven and strategically placed the thermometer in the thigh and waited for the ideal 160 degree temperature.  

And waited.  

...and waited.  

and then discovered 4 hours later that the thermometer was set to Celsius NOT fahrenheit!

It was a little bit of a flashback to Clark Griswald cutting into their Christmas turkey.  Poof...and it pulverizes on the table! 

Oh well...it was still the most flavorful dry meat I've ever tasted!

We certainly learned a LOT.  And I think we'd all agree that Thanksgiving is best spent with FAMILY!