Fist Bump for Marriage

Yesterday, when I was asked by a coworker how my weekend was, I found myself excitedly describing it and its events as “really, really awesome!” 

“It was a great weekend!” I exclaimed.

Sure, Friday night’s spaghetti by the fire while watching The West Wing with the Hughsband was really relaxing, especially after trudging through snow and slush for two days. Saturday got off to a slow start as I battled my malfunctioning computer to finish designing some bridal shower invitations, but it turned around when Mom and I headed to Jessie’s dress fitting (and veil buying) appointment followed by the obligatory stop at Chik-fil-a.

But it was Sunday that made the weekend.

Sunday started slow, relaxed, and late just like Sundays should. I made coffee, Hugh made eggs, and we caught up on some DVR over a leisurely breakfast. Since Hugh had not been home on the weekends for a while now, I had gotten used to this leisurely Sunday breakfast dragging into a leisurely Sunday afternoon, and before I knew it I’d made very little progress on my to-do list.

But that’s where Hugh makes up for what I lack — he makes lists and conquers them while I tend to keep a mental tally which is easily ignored. So, we made a list.

It was a daunting list, especially the top priority task — cleaning the desk. Our office area desk in our bedroom has probably not been clean or organized since we moved in well over a year ago. It had quickly become a place to just throw things that had no other home — stacks of both useless and necessary mail, a couple lap tops, a camera lens or two, and a multitude of writing utensils. It was a daunting, ugly, disorganized mess.

Hugh had begun the clean-up Saturday while I was out doing matron-of-honor things, but I enthusiastically joined the effort Sunday, organizing all my design and craft supplies, leftover wedding supplies, and really leftover wedding everything. Once that was done, I was on a roll and we didn’t stop organizing and cleaning (though we’d planned to run a bunch of pretty boring necessary errands right after breakfast) until it was done and we were sitting at the desk reading amazon reviews with no clutter and no distractions around 4 hours later.

By the time we left to [successfully] return things to Bed Bath & Beyond, [successfully] return things at Old Navy, browse the craft store for some upcoming needs, and hit the grocery store for Sunday night’s dinner, the “office” side of our bedroom looked like this:


image2By 6 p.m. Hugh had another fire going in the fireplace and The West Wing queued up on Netflix while I put Sunday dinner on plates.

Before lugging our dinner operation into the living room, we paused in the middle of the kitchen to discuss how awesome we are.

We had tackled a task we’d been putting off forever. We had run a bunch of boring errands really efficiently. And we had done it all without letting it take over our weekend.

Hugh put out his fist and as I triumphantly bumped it with mine I exclaimed teamwork! and Hugh responded


Yes, it sounds like a boring weekend. And I’m sure my re-telling of it to coworkers over lunch and to whomever else here in this post is just as boring as the chores we got done.

But the point is — it was never not fun.

We listened to music, we encouraged each other, we tag-teamed chores seamlessly, at the end of the day we felt really productive and it never felt like work.

And for that, I think, marriage deserves a fist bump.

Blogging Confessions from a Chronic Blog Lover

As I said when I started to blog here — I have a thing for blogs.

I started my first blog four years ago and spent a year or so writing about my commuting adventures. My second blog chronicled the year before I turned 25, was freshly pressed, got a bunch of followers, and really became a lot of fun to keep up with before its time was up.

And then there’s this one, which started out with the looney tunes concept that I’d take and post pictures from the majority of the days in our first year of marriage so we’d have somewhat of a scrapbook to look back on. Womp womp. That clearly hasn’t happened and it still doesn’t have a real concept, but it doesn’t really need one if you’re just blogging for your own love of blogging.

Which brings me to my second blogging confession. I sometimes suddenly have to spend time I don’t have to revamp the look of my blogs. Both of my previous blogs went through at least two looks before I landed on the one I liked best (due in part to all of the awesome themes on WordPress).

So far this little blog has done only one wardrobe change (the one I accidentally did today) and I think I kind of like its new ‘do.

It’s a little less … wedded bliss blog … and a little more … I write about Duck Dynasty blog.

What do you think?

In Which I Take Marriage Advice from a Show Called Duck Dynasty

I have a not-so-guilty pleasure, and it’s a TV show about a family-run duck call business.


There is so much to love about the Robertson family and the antics of its bearded men, but perhaps my favorite part of Duck Dynasty is the wisdom imparted by the patriarch, Phil Robertson.

Here is Phil on happiness and finding a woman to marry:


Don’t be ashamed if you get hooked and find yourself fixated on a marathon — not that I have — because it would be totally fine if you did.

Second Inaugural

Four years ago I was not properly bundled, meandering through Capitol Hill and down to the Mall, in the middle of the excitement of President Obama’s first inauguration.

Hugh and I had stayed with his sister on the Hill the night before and instead of hurrying out of the city to avoid the crowds we set out on foot with Mary and her roommates, stopped at Dunkin Donuts for some breakfast, and wandered through the crowds of excited, frozen people.

It was so cold and so windy and I was not wearing socks.


But what an experience. It was a historic event, politics aside, and the excitement (and hope and change) were palpable. I was so grateful to Hugh for suggesting the last minute adventure, and I’m proud of 22-year-old Lauren for going with the flow when there was no plan in place to be followed (I’m a planner).


Even though its just as exciting this time around, with the country’s focus on our city and everyone buzzing about inaugural events, I will be watching from somewhere warm and comfortable inside.