We exchanged some vows...
...surrounded by some wonderful friends and family.
We also exchanged some rings...
...and signed a marriage license.
We danced until the wee hours of the morning, overjoyed because we were finally married!
Showing posts with label Storytime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storytime. Show all posts
Monday, June 6, 2011
3 Years
We exchanged some vows...
...surrounded by some wonderful friends and family.
We also exchanged some rings...
...and signed a marriage license.
We danced until the wee hours of the morning, overjoyed because we were finally married!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Dinner
A couple weekends ago, Chris and I were hosting a dinner for our parish. In an effort to get people to mingle and get to know each other, and build a sense of community, our priest has been scheduling these small dinners, hosted by parishioners, for a while now. We attended one months ago and met some great new people, and felt it should be our turn to host one.
7 people RSVP’d, plus Chris and I, equals 9.
We had 8 chairs.
After some serious MacGyvering, we were able to turn a wooden wine rack/box into a small, makeshift seat. I had to straddle it like a horse, but hey, it worked.
Since this was the largest dinner party we’ve hosted, we planned out every detail. We were going to make Brown Sugar and Balsamic Glazed pork tenderloin, roasted garlic & balsamic asparagus, sautéed green beans and carrots, and crispy roasted potatoes.
We even made a checklist including the time when each part of the meal needed to be cooked.
45 minutes before the guests arrived, the potatoes were in the oven, the pork was marinating, and the veggies were prepped and ready.
People began to trickle in, but due to a road closure from some police cars and fire trucks, they arrived a little later than planned.
I waited to put the pork in until everyone was just about there since it was only going to take 30-40 minutes in the oven, and we had plenty of wine and appetizers to keep everyone occupied.
I put the pork in, the potatoes were almost done, and the asparagus waited 10 minutes to also join the party in the oven.
Then, the power went out.
For two and a half hours.
We waited 10 minutes or so to see if it was going to come back on, but we also knew we had to act fast because we had half-cooked pork in the oven.
So in a last-ditch effort to save the night, we lit a bunch of candles, fired up the grill, and put the pork – pan and all – on the grill. Luckily the potatoes were pretty much done, so they only saw the grill (also still on the pan) for a few minutes at the end to heat up. We pulled out the asparagus that had been roasting for all of 5 minutes, and instead lit a match, turned on the gas stove, and sautéed them. The green beans and carrots were completely scrapped.
In the end, everything turned out ok. The pork was tender, but thankfully it’s a forgiving cut of meat. The potatoes were good. I’ll admit, the asparagus was pretty mediocre, almost verging on not good, but it was better than nothing. So we all sat around the candlelit table, ate dinner an hour and a half later than planned, and drank wine and laughed and chatted and enjoyed the night.
It just goes to show that no matter how much you plan and plan, there are some things that are just out of your control!
Also, I consider it nothing short of a miracle that none of the china was broken in all the dark madness.
7 people RSVP’d, plus Chris and I, equals 9.
We had 8 chairs.
After some serious MacGyvering, we were able to turn a wooden wine rack/box into a small, makeshift seat. I had to straddle it like a horse, but hey, it worked.
Since this was the largest dinner party we’ve hosted, we planned out every detail. We were going to make Brown Sugar and Balsamic Glazed pork tenderloin, roasted garlic & balsamic asparagus, sautéed green beans and carrots, and crispy roasted potatoes.
We even made a checklist including the time when each part of the meal needed to be cooked.
45 minutes before the guests arrived, the potatoes were in the oven, the pork was marinating, and the veggies were prepped and ready.
People began to trickle in, but due to a road closure from some police cars and fire trucks, they arrived a little later than planned.
I waited to put the pork in until everyone was just about there since it was only going to take 30-40 minutes in the oven, and we had plenty of wine and appetizers to keep everyone occupied.
I put the pork in, the potatoes were almost done, and the asparagus waited 10 minutes to also join the party in the oven.
Then, the power went out.
For two and a half hours.
We waited 10 minutes or so to see if it was going to come back on, but we also knew we had to act fast because we had half-cooked pork in the oven.
So in a last-ditch effort to save the night, we lit a bunch of candles, fired up the grill, and put the pork – pan and all – on the grill. Luckily the potatoes were pretty much done, so they only saw the grill (also still on the pan) for a few minutes at the end to heat up. We pulled out the asparagus that had been roasting for all of 5 minutes, and instead lit a match, turned on the gas stove, and sautéed them. The green beans and carrots were completely scrapped.
In the end, everything turned out ok. The pork was tender, but thankfully it’s a forgiving cut of meat. The potatoes were good. I’ll admit, the asparagus was pretty mediocre, almost verging on not good, but it was better than nothing. So we all sat around the candlelit table, ate dinner an hour and a half later than planned, and drank wine and laughed and chatted and enjoyed the night.
It just goes to show that no matter how much you plan and plan, there are some things that are just out of your control!
Also, I consider it nothing short of a miracle that none of the china was broken in all the dark madness.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The Dishwasher
When we moved to Chicago, I was a fresh-faced, glowing new bride. I had just graduated college, gotten married, and moved to the middle of the country to a big, shiny city. We were living 27 stories up in a high rise that overlooked the lake and the city. I was on top of the world.
Quickly picking up my new roles as “adult” and “wife,” I went to work, I cleaned house, and together Chris and I learned to cook.
About 6 weeks in to our new little life, I noticed the dishwasher was not working quite right.
I put things in, and either they didn’t come out entirely clean, or sometimes they would come out with dishwasher detergent still on them.
Was the detergent door releasing too late?
Was there not enough water?
Was there any water at all?
I emailed our land lady, and since she didn’t live in the same state, she asked us to find a repairman and have him come in, and she’d repay us for any work that he did. No problem!
I researched all over for just the right repairman. Good reviews, professional-looking website, handy at multiple home-repair tasks. I called, explained, booked. He was scheduled to come over the next Friday; I would even work from home to meet him and show him what the problem was.
We spent the rest of the week doing dishes by hand. No fun.
Finally, Friday rolled around. Hooray for fixing the dishwasher!
Mr. Repairman came in, a mid-30’s man with a bald head who looked remarkably like Mr. Clean. He was very nice, and I explained the issues.
“We put dishes in, run the cycle, and at the end, either there’s soap lying in there still as if there’s not enough water, or sometimes there’s even detergent lying on the dishes themselves!”
He put four glasses in the dishwasher, facing up, to test the dishwasher to see if there was any water getting up to the top rack and moving around the whole unit.
Of course, it worked just fine.
He asked me to give him a specific example of when it wasn’t working.
“Well, sometimes for example, we’ll open up the dishwasher, and there’s detergent sitting right there on top of a bowl in the bottom rack.”
“How big is the bowl?”
“Pretty big, like a mixing bowl.”
Now, what I haven’t yet mentioned is that this was a “special” dishwasher. Made for little spaces, this was an extra-small, super narrow dishwasher. The inside was maybe 18 inches wide. And that’s being generous.
He then proceeded to explain to me that if I put a big bowl the size of my dishwasher in the bottom rack, the water will just get trapped inside the bowl and never make it up to the top rack, or even get the detergent wet.
I sheepishly paid him the “diagnostic fee” of $60, and showed him out – with the diagnosis being my own stupidity. Then I emailed the land lady to let her know that the dishwasher *magically* started working again.
That’s right.
I paid the dishwasher repairman $60 to teach me how to load a dishwasher.
Quickly picking up my new roles as “adult” and “wife,” I went to work, I cleaned house, and together Chris and I learned to cook.
About 6 weeks in to our new little life, I noticed the dishwasher was not working quite right.
I put things in, and either they didn’t come out entirely clean, or sometimes they would come out with dishwasher detergent still on them.
Was the detergent door releasing too late?
Was there not enough water?
Was there any water at all?
I emailed our land lady, and since she didn’t live in the same state, she asked us to find a repairman and have him come in, and she’d repay us for any work that he did. No problem!
I researched all over for just the right repairman. Good reviews, professional-looking website, handy at multiple home-repair tasks. I called, explained, booked. He was scheduled to come over the next Friday; I would even work from home to meet him and show him what the problem was.
We spent the rest of the week doing dishes by hand. No fun.
Finally, Friday rolled around. Hooray for fixing the dishwasher!
Mr. Repairman came in, a mid-30’s man with a bald head who looked remarkably like Mr. Clean. He was very nice, and I explained the issues.
“We put dishes in, run the cycle, and at the end, either there’s soap lying in there still as if there’s not enough water, or sometimes there’s even detergent lying on the dishes themselves!”
He put four glasses in the dishwasher, facing up, to test the dishwasher to see if there was any water getting up to the top rack and moving around the whole unit.
Of course, it worked just fine.
He asked me to give him a specific example of when it wasn’t working.
“Well, sometimes for example, we’ll open up the dishwasher, and there’s detergent sitting right there on top of a bowl in the bottom rack.”
“How big is the bowl?”
“Pretty big, like a mixing bowl.”
Now, what I haven’t yet mentioned is that this was a “special” dishwasher. Made for little spaces, this was an extra-small, super narrow dishwasher. The inside was maybe 18 inches wide. And that’s being generous.
He then proceeded to explain to me that if I put a big bowl the size of my dishwasher in the bottom rack, the water will just get trapped inside the bowl and never make it up to the top rack, or even get the detergent wet.
I sheepishly paid him the “diagnostic fee” of $60, and showed him out – with the diagnosis being my own stupidity. Then I emailed the land lady to let her know that the dishwasher *magically* started working again.
That’s right.
I paid the dishwasher repairman $60 to teach me how to load a dishwasher.
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