So Parker & I really lucked out with the housing game. We live in the most adorable daylight basement in a very nice area of Salt Lake City. It's the perfect size for us and has so much personality. I love it! Truly. And I promise I will post pictures of it soon.
In the meantime, one of the best parts about our new little home is the yard. Our landlady Michelle is an expert gardener and planted about every type of flower you can imagine back here. I remember one of our first conversations involved an explanation on how the flowers are planted so that as soon as one has seen its day a new batch springs up to keep the yard colorful for the next season. It's the neatest process. We've seen pinks, purples, reds, oranges, yellows, lavenders, blues, whites...you name it!
Though they're all beautiful, I think Parker and I have a favorite. We LOVE the big fuchsia roses that line our walkway. I learned today they're called Mr. Lincolns...interesting. They are absolutely gorgeous and have the sweetest scent. It's so funny to watch us walk by. I swear we really do "stop-and-smell-the-roses" each and every day. It's such a treat!
The other day Parker developed a new relationship with our beloved rose bush. On our way home from the ward social we started in on some very "beedin" name calling. By the time we reached our front door this had escalated into somewhat of a wrestling match (apparently Parker learned nothing from his chats with the family in Rockville).
I'm not exactly sure how it happened.
I poked him.
He said to stop or I'd be staying outside for the night.
I don't do well with threats.
So I slapped him on his hiney
He caught up to me as I was nearing the stairs leading back to the gate.
He grabbed me by the waist.
I knew he had me.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I heaved myself into his arms hoping to catch him by surprise.
And I did.
I knocked my poor husband right into our thorny rosebush.
And then I laughed...
I tried so hard to help him wriggle free from the bush but my debilitating bouts of hysteria left me motionless.
Every time he told me where to find the next pokey I lost it.
When he told me to be careful not to tear his favorite shirt my abs started to hurt.
Tears streamed down my face as he yelled at the "beedin'" bush.
I know you're all thinking I am a cruel, pitiless wife.
Maybe I am.
But I really did feel so sorry for him.
And I really did feel guilty for what I'd done.
I just can't begin to tell you how funny it is to try and extract "pokeys" from your grown-up hubby's bum.
Don't worry, Parker laughed too.
And he's made a full recovery.
Welcome to Married Life 101...
"where not to wrestle."
Let's hope we learned our lesson...
for Parker's sake :)