a memorable ten [the she version] part 1

We have succeeded in getting Finley solidly through his newborn and infant days and well into his plain ol' baby days [though, seriously, not for long what with him shoveling sweet potato and not face-planting anymore and already working on pulling himself to standing], so we are going to make an effort to be more blog-y. And by we, I mean I am going to make an effort and push/drag/shove Jason along as well.

So, with that in mind, we are going to attempt a few Ten themed blogs, in honor of the upcoming "We Still Haven't Used the Marjoram in our Spice Rack Wedding Gift and It Is Apparently Almost Ten Years Old Now" celebration. We plan to do a few lists of Tens, from each of our perspectives, and that will get us all nicely settled into blogging by the time May arrives. There you go, Jason, now you are committed. The world knows.

Summary of goals:
1) Blog more.
2) Look up recipes that include marjoram.

Side quest: Google "Is marjoram still good after ten years?"

Today's post is Ten Memories. These are not your normal "Oh, we graduated! Oh, we had a kid! Oh, we bought a house!" memories. [At least mine aren't. You'll have to wait and see if Jason's are. OH THE SUSPENSE.] They are just random memories that pop into my head when I ask myself, "Hm, what stories have happened to us these past ten years?"

I, of course, began this post with every intention to keep these ten random memories brief and to the point. But lo and behold, they exploded into a mess of verbiage that has necessitated this post be split into two parts. This should really come as a surprise to no one [least of all me]. Anyway, if you wish to only know the highlights, read the bold-ed titles and move on with your evening. If you delve into the particulars, you might need a snack to munch on. I suggest popcorn lightly seasoned with nutritional yeast.

With all that said, here we go: "Ten Not Particularly Monumental But Still Worth Mentioning Memories. Parts 1-5."

- The time we almost got something for free in Jamaica

Waterfallin'. Such kids.

Our honeymoon consisted of two back-to-back cruises that made up 14 days of awesomeness. One of our stops was in Jamaica. Our waterfall-climbing excursion there was probably my favorite excursion the entire trip. I had worn my standard flip-flop footware, but when we got to the waterfall we found out that this was deemed unsafe. So I climbed the waterfall barefoot! It's a life highlight for sure. Anyway. On the way back to the ship, everyone has to go through the little market-like area where things of all sorts are being peddled to tourists. It was a different market atmosphere than we were used to, a lot more in your face and pressing, and we were just trying to quickly hurry back to the ship. [We also had forgotten to bring any money with us, so we had even less incentive to leisurely stroll.] We were stopped by a man selling wooden animal sculptures. They were lovely. They were something I might consider picking up as a souvenir, if I had money on me. But I did not, so we tried to politely turn down his sales pitch and move on. But then he said that we could have this one giraffe sculpture for free! Cue hesitant excitement! We were skeptical, but we accepted the sculpture that he thrust into our hands. However, once we thanked him for this "free gift," he told us we now had to buy the matching giraffe since it was a pair. We told him we had no money on us. He said to borrow it from someone. We told him we didn't know anyone. He said to go back to the ship and get our money. We said we didn't think there'd really be time for that. He then snatched away the "free" giraffe and sent us on our way. So we left Jamaica with fond memories of their waterfall but not so fond memories of their salesmanship. And no giraffe. C'est la vie.

- The time we felt rich and hungry and walked to Wal-Mart at 11 PM

I'm pretty sure this is what we wore from 2005-2010

The title says it all really. We were still living in Tulsa in Building 8017 Apartment E at the Lakes, located right behind the classy Tulsa Wal-Mart. It was late at night. We felt flush with cash from Jason's grad school pay and so we decided to splurge on a pre-bed snack. We bundled into our classic "oversized hoodie and jeans" college attire and walked to Wal-Mart. I remember feeling such a sense of adventure and freedom and excitement on that walk. [Don't mock - it was Tulsa and I was sheltered.] There was definitely some hopping and skipping and quite a bit of giddy laughter. We strolled the aisles and decided to go big - we bought not one, but TWO, boxes of cereal. We normally did not eat cereal in our 500 SF apartment. That was living in the lap of luxury. Our mornings were filled with toast or oatmeal packets. But here we were, almost midnight, dashing up 81st towards our apartment with a shopping bag filled with crunchy goodness. It was a glorious time. We ate two bowls each that night. TWO.

- The time Panther pooped in my lap

Ah, good old Drippy Drawers

I do not like to dwell on this memory, but some say it's cathartic to write out a traumatizing experience. I need to find my healing, so write I shall. The car was packed. We were headed out of town. I do not know our destination. It was probably some big life moment, but the only thing I can remember is this gross memory. We were driving through Jenks. Panther was stressing and yowling and letting off that awful fear/urine smell. I think we thought he might be less stressed if I was holding him and he could see out of the windows? So we let him stand in my lap and he seemed to be a little better, standing up against the door to look outside. He was shedding hairs everywhere because he was freaked out. He smelled terrible. His nose was probably leaking [this is not so much a remembered detail as an assumed side note]. And then, he just pooped. Right in my lap. I will spare you the details of the proffered gift, but the specifics make this event go from horrific to "Cat, I'm not sure I can ever love you the same." It was not your normal cat deposit. Let's leave it at that. Luckily we were not yet on the highway and were able to stop in a parking lot of a grocery store and have Jason run in and get some napkins. This was definitely a turning point in my relationship with Panther. May he forever frolic in the catnip forests of heaven.

- The time we found a Yeti

Fluffball Yeti

Mini Pumarooski

Staying on the cat theme, we now come to Yeti. We stumbled upon her outside the back entrance to the basement of the GC. She was huddled in a patch of grass, a wee kitty all weak and shivery and matted with fleas and grime. We took her to an emergency vet [it was late at night] who suggested we keep her comfortable overnight and take her to someone in the morning. We named her Yeti, for she was the tiniest abominable snowkitty you ever did see. She slept in our bathtub that night to keep her separated from Panther. We tore an old towel into tiny cat-sized blankets and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. Jason took her to Banfield the next morning. We were ever so hopeful that they could revive our little Yeti. They kept her all day. Finally, at the end of business hours, they called us and told us we could come pick her up. They said she was flea infested and dehydrated but that we could take her home. So we picked up our new little kitty and a $350 bill and came home. Yeti passed away overnight. I was a mess - a terribly sad, not just a little bit angry mess. To this day, I still feel twinges of the anger at Petsmart. They had to have known she wasn't going to make it, but by saying she was good to go, they guaranteed themselves money. Bah. ANYWAY, to make a sad story slightly less sad, Yeti was the inspiration for us adopting Puma two weeks later. And despite his occasional annoyances, he has been a pretty good fur friend. Finley is all about him. :D

- The time I made a noodle soup so spicy we thought we might die. But we ate it anyway.

Our first homemade pizza!

I love a good noodle soup. Noodles, vegetables, and broth? Add in some bread on the side? Delicious. However, as everyone knows, I cannot for the life of me follow a recipe. You'd think it would be easy. I can read. I can measure. I can understand directions. But there is some weird thing inside of my brain that absolutely rebels at doing what a recipe very clearly states. I usually start off pretty well, getting to about the second or third ingredient without straying. But then I casually tweak the amount of the fourth ingredient. And then I omit the fifth ingredient. And by the time I'm supposed to be tossing in the sixth and seventh ingredients, I've already tossed the entire idea of a recipe. So, I've kinda given up on recipe cooking. Looking up a plethora of recipes to get an idea of what's supposed to be included in a meal and then throwing together something that slightly resembles it seems to be my

Our Random Fruit Pie!

style of cooking, and my family has come to accept this as tastiness [there may be some form of mealtime Stockholm syndrome going on, I'm not sure...]. So, THE noodle soup. It was a pretty basic noodle soup, but I decided I wanted to spice it up a tad. I had a bottle of cayenne pepper on hand so I casually dumped some in. Initial taste tests did not give the kick I was hoping for, so I may have
added a few more enthusiastic shakings. I then let the soup continue to do its simmering thing. When we eagerly dove into our bowls of noodle soup later that evening, we were met with a pretty intense surprise. The cayenne by this point had been fully incorporated in every part of the soup. It was SO.HOT. We pride ourselves on loving spicy food, however, so eat it we did. And then we congratulated ourselves on the beastliness of our taste buds and put away the leftovers in the

Homemade bread bowls and potato soup! 

fridge. At this point in my culinary career, I was unaware that the flavor of a meal intensifies once it's allowed to really sit in its juices for a long while. And intensify it did. We had three quarts of leftover noodle soup. And each time we ate it, it was even hotter than before. We nearly gave up. It was borderline inedible. But we broke out our stash of hardtack [another story for another day], dunked those bread rocks in the lava soup, and ate every last bit of it. Our dinners took longer to eat as we had to take many breaks between bites, but we did it. And Jason even had the audacity/kind-husband-iness to say that he still enjoyed it. True love, right there.

So there you have it. The first five memories from the last ten years. You can clearly see that we live an adventurous life! The next five will come... sometime between feeding Finley peas and finding Lucas's cup.