Teenage angst

Aww, cute. A picture of the cats. But look closer.















See the guilty look in their eyes?
No? Me neither. But you can at least see
the PHONE CORD that they chewed through.

Snowed in

Finally, a snowstorm to be proud of.















Perfect for making progess on my bread-baking goals







Whole wheat dough,
on the rise






And taking my domestic nerdiness to new heights.






Embroidery, courtesy of Sublime Stitching's Camp-Out! collection

Divison of labor

When Husband and I got married, we thought we had it all figured out. He would do the dishes, and I’d take the laundry. Done! Marital strife averted. And with newlywed glee and an easy apartment, it was nearly enough.

But a little over a year later we bought a house, and cleaning clothes and dishes became a treat when faced with taxes, home repairs, and lawn care.

In a fit of fear and frustration, I made a list. Under my name I wrote the things that were mainly my responsibility: managing money/paying taxes, cleaning, household upkeep and decor (yes, I actually used those words), and planning vacations. Husband got household repair, outdoor upkeep, errand running, and pet maintenance.

I actually called Husband at work to discuss this. I remember pleading with him to take something, and he agreed to take on vacation planning.

Now when I find that list I laugh. It wasn’t funny then – I remember being near tears – but we’ve reached a place where we both feel more comfortable with our responsibilities. And our approach continues to evolve – Husband really takes the lead on cooking, to the point where I feel like I’m losing my skills. But there’s nothing like arriving home to Husband cooking dinner, offering to make me a drink as I read the mail and unwind.

Yes, we’ve got it all figured out.

That is, until a baby throws it all to hell.