#158 He Hangs Things For Me

Weekend I’d Forget

I know, I know, it's Tuesday.

Still I didn't want to forget to post about my weekend, so today it will be short and sweet.

Remember the exciting weekend I had a few weeks ago at Ikea?  After waiting for time, then finding the time to paint the spice racks, then some more waiting for Hubby, he finally put them up for me in the kitchen.*

*I know I could have attempted to hang them myself, but me and hanging things just don't get along.  Unless it is a simple nail and hammer kind of deal, Otherwise, I will end up either ruining the wall, putting fifty holes in the wall, or making everything uneven.  It's a patience problem.

Now all my spices are in one organized space instead of crammed on the tiny shelves over my sink where I would reach for one spice and three others would come tumbling down, usually into a sink filled with dirty dishes.

The only problem is that we bought five shelves and they are already jam packed.*  Yikes.

*Note: I just now realized I cut off the fifth shelf from this picture, but believe me, it's there.

In other news, I got a job!  I am so thrilled, and excited, and ecstatic, and all those other emotions of joy over this opportunity.  But that may be the reason why, occasionally, Weekend I'd Forget might just end up publishing on a Tuesday.

#154 He Embraces Different Cultures

Weekend I’d Forget

The groom looks well guarded

This weekend we attended the wedding of a coworker/friend of Hubby's  It was our first ever Pakistani wedding and I was a little excited, for several reasons.

1. I love experiencing different cultures and learning about traditions of those cultures.

2. Though I knew the food would be on the spicier side, I couldn't wait to try it..

3. I got to hang out with some of Hubby's fun coworkers.

4. I was going to wear a saree.

Several of Hubby's coworkers travel often to India for either business purposes or for family.  One of his bosses was so sweet and picked me up a saree and all the elements that go along with it* on her most recent trip.

*Note: A saree looks oh so much simpler than it is in reality.  To ignorant American girls like myself, it seems like a skirt that you simply slide into, zip up, and then a piece of material that is easily flung over your shoulder.

No.  No.  No.

It is like wrapping yourself in a table cloth.  The most exquisite and finely stitched tablecloth ever.  And doing so in a way that it doesn't look like you are wearing a ten foot long piece of material.  I'm pretty convinced you would have to be more than a pro to be able to dress yourself in a saree without any help.

Hubby tried to help me, but as soon as we got to the wedding, his boss took me into the bathroom, and redid everything.

I'm pretty sure I had more fun wearing a saree than I did my own wedding gown.

The bride and groom were married the night before.  But the reception was quite an event by itself.  The groom and his groomsmen did a dance for his new bride to start things off.  Then the brother of the groom and father of the bride spoke.  My favorite thing that the bride's father said was, "Respect and you will get respect.  Love and you will get love."  Now there is something lacking in far too many marriages today.

We ate shortly after and I loved the food so much I went up for a second plate.  I thought the tandoori chicken would be too hot for me (I mean, it's in an orange sauce after all) but I loved it!  It reminded me of hot wings.  To calm the spice a little I mixed it with rice and occasional bites of naan.  There also was a lamb stew that was phenomenal.  The lamb was so tender and juicy I secretly wanted some mashed potatoes to throw it on top of.

Even better than the food was the way everyone was dressed.  It really put American weddings to shame--at least concerning the way the women were dressed.  In America, it seems the only people who need to wear floor length gowns to a wedding are the bridal party.  But here the dress of every guest was elegant and the only women in shorter dresses were American.  I counted at least five different dresses that I desperately need in my life.

I'm pretty sure that Hubby regrets bringing me.

#152 He Works Overtime

Weekend I’d Forget

I have had, yet again, another jam packed weekend.  I'm starting to think that ever since I began holding myself accountable for reporting one positive from my weekend, subconsciously, I've been making sure to pack my weekend with so much that I have to fight with myself over what to write about.*

*It's really been that good.**

**I dare you to take the challenge.  Find something good in your weekend and report back to me.

This past weekend my brother, Joel and his wife, Mallory, were back in town. You might remember my recent post about them and their new job.  We all have been so fortunate. They left in August expecting not to see family again until Christmas, maybe.  Their route has placed them in NJ for the past few weekends leaving them plenty of opportunity to visit immediate family.

Hubby worked a ridiculous amount the past two weeks, so the only negative of my weekend was that he was at work instead of with us.

After experiencing firsthand that no major city or state in their travels has pizza that compares to New Jersey, Joel and Mallory were craving the best pizza on earth.  Our original plan was to get some, then go apple picking.

If you were out and about on Saturday, you know that was a laughable option for the day.  It poured all night and into the morning, leaving us staring at the empty pizza boxes, bellies full, wondering what to do.

Mallory and I still had pie on our minds so to Johnson's Farm we went.*

Johnson's has recently opened a second location, and even though it is much closer to my house I couldn't risk that they would have the exact same experience I was looking for, in other words, the sweet potato pie I had been craving.

*Mallory had never been, and it was only when we arrived that Joel remembered having taken field trips there.  

No one can go to Johnson's Farm and simply go into the bakery.  It just feels so wrong.  They have their animal farm, Halloween shopping, a hayride, pumpkin picking and apple picking all going on at the same time.  Though stopping in the bakery had been our original intention, the hayride immediately took precedence.  The rain had stopped, but we still decided apple picking was a bad idea.  The ground was still wet and muddy.*  While most people get on and off of the hayride from the designated stops for pumpkin picking and apple picking, we stayed on and enjoyed the ride, taking in the corn fields, the pumpkin patch, and the rows and rows of apple trees.

*Naturally, Sunday was the perfect apple picking day and we had already made plans to do something else!

When we ended in their bakery, I had to look the other way from the apple cider donuts.  They were calling my name, but so was the sweet potato pie and I knew only one could* win.

*Not really could.  Both of them really could win.  Should is probably the right word.

I'd love to own a farm one day, but Hubby always tends to shoot this dream down.  Every time I talk about owning a farm he tells me that I only want to live on one, and have other people to do all the work.

I don't want to admit that he's right, but he has a pretty good track record of times he's been right vs times he's been wrong.