Mashed Potato Mishap

The other night, Noah and I ran to the grocery store to get some cat food. Please try not to be too jealous of our non-stop party lifestyle. To set the scene here, I need to make a confession. I was wearing pajama pants with glow-in-the-dark cats on them that my grandparents gifted me for Christmas when I was eleven. 

Exhibit A

Please know that I try really, really hard not to do this. I wish that I were one of those women who steps into heels and applies red lipstick to run out for milk, but I am not. I am the woman who steps into flip flops, says "eh" to the rest, and runs out for cat food. Who among us is perfect?

Anyway, I was buying the cat food and other essentials (read: ice cream), when Noah came up to me from his own self-checkout kiosk where he was buying some deli mashed potatoes and mac n' cheese for dinner. I looked up from the credit card machine, and he told me in a hurried voice, "I reached in for the mashed potatoes, and I grabbed them upside down. They spilled all over everything in the basket, and now I have burning mashed potatoes on my fingers!" He held his hands up as evidence, and every finger was covered with deli mashed potatoes.

I only spared half a minute to laugh at him before I quickly finished checking out and ran over to his kiosk. I started bagging his already-scanned groceries, while he continued checking out on a touch screen monitor that had suddenly begun blaring instructions in Spanish. I can't even begin to tell you how that happened. Once every potato-covered item was carefully bagged and the groceries were paid for, sans the carton of potatoes, I did what any woman, pajama-clad or not, would do. I grabbed the basket and walked over to the clerk, dripping gravy all the way. I looked her in the eyes, smiled, and said, "I'm so sorry, but he had a little accident." After handing her the basket, I grabbed Noah's hand and we booked it out of there, laughing the whole car ride home.

We may spend our evenings in pajama pants at Fry's, but no-one can say that we don't know how to have a good time.

Memory Lane

I was 17 and had just graduated high school the first time I went to Newport Beach with Noah's family. It was the last week of July in a bittersweet summer, whose end meant that I'd have to say goodbye to Noah and the house I grew up in & move to college {life held a twist for me just a measly month later but, at that time, I was oblivious to what the future held and felt only dread in my veins}. I don't know if bittersweet is accurate, maybe extra sweet fits better. At 17, I was a little bit wild with a flair for the dramatic; it would not be an exaggeration to say that time felt "fleeting". 

Noah & his dad picked me up from the airport, and I was wearing the cutest black eyelet dress from Forever 21, a store that I had just discovered during my last spring break of high school. That night we went to a carnival to watch some live music, and I found myself crying quietly against the music, crying toward the future. 

The next day was sunnier, and we rented a tandem bike and cycled down to Huntington Beach. We joked about how people who do couples' counseling should be forced onto a tandem- it's teamwork like I've never seen; of course we were naturals {after three or four good squabbles}. We stopped for Mexican food just off where the water meets Huntington, the beach that feels like home to a girl who spent summer days there with her Mimi. The burrito we ordered was huge, unfinishable by just two people. We packed up the leftovers and promptly left them there, my most egregious habit.

The next couple days we walked the piers and ate organic strawberries that we bought on the street. We ate pizza slices in the video arcade. We wrestled the waves and the ocean scared me with its vastness. I felt safe anyway, safe with the knowledge that Noah's a swimmer and he loves me. 

 His parents were kind and bought him a ticket to fly back to Phoenix with me. It was our first flight together, and the first time he really saw what motion sickness can be. As he rubbed my back over my sweaty t-shirt, I remember thinking that even nausea is better with him. 

I'm leaving tomorrow morning for a repeat vacation in Newport with Noah's lovely family. I've already sworn Noah to the strawberries and the tandem and the big burrito. This time, I'll even remember not to forget it.

5 Years

Today, Noah & I have been together five years.

Summer 2006

I met him on the first day of seventh grade, and we became friends immediately. I told him about AOL Instant Messenger, and he helped me with my algebra homework. It's weird that we've now been dating longer than we were "just friends".

Summer 2007

Prom 2008

Tonight, we're going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate for the fifth year in a row. I don't think my little seventh grade mind could have predicted how important the boy in the next desk would become to me.

Noah's Birthday

Today is Noah's birthday.

Boy, am I ever glad he was born!

I absolutely love birthdays & get childishly excited about my own. Noah is about 1,000 percent more laid back than I am, so birthdays aren't as big of a deal to him. Even so, he endeavors every year to make me feel incredibly special on my birthday. He always makes it a big deal for me.

I start grilling him weeks before my birthday about his ideas & how wonderful it has to be & how important this birthday is. This year, though, I'm taking a new approach. I'm still putting the pressure on about how my birthday should be THE!BEST!EVER!, but I am determined to make his the same. I mean, just because the days leading up to his birthday don't elicit the excited squeals & wide eyes of a three year-old, doesn't mean he won't appreciate a little effort on my part. (Confession: in years past, I have simply baked a cake & bought him whatever video game he told me to.)

Our new schedule doesn't really allow for much celebrating together today, but we've decided to turn that into something positive & have a three day birthday bonanza starting last night.

Happy Birthday to Noah, someone who deserves a wonderful birthday for countless reasons, not least of which is because he isn't obnoxious about birthdays. ♥

The Very Beginning

In honor of Valentine's day this weekend {well, it's on Monday, but we're celebrating on Sunday}, I thought I'd share a little story about my first date with Noah. Actually, it wasn't exactly a date...but I do look back on it as the night that our friendship began to turn into something more.

I had just gotten my license & car, so I invited Noah to come see my friend play lacrosse at our high school. We talked and laughed while watching the game and, once it was over, I don't think either of us was ready for me to drop him back off at his house. We took a trip to Coldstone & walked around the parking lot, while we ate our delicious ice cream treats. Then we perused the aisles of Target as most teenagers are wont to do in a boring suburban town. Finally, it was time to take him home, so I drove us back through his neighborhood, windows down, speakers blasting Shaggy's "It Wasn't Me".

We had another date that weekend.

I think about this first "date" every time we go to Coldstone, and it makes me smile oh-so-much. 

Here we are eating ice cream treats again this past weekend, almost five years after that amazing night.

Oh, Coldstone. My love for you causes my face to contort in unattractive ways.

2010 In Review

I'd like to start this off by saying that 2009 was a truly awful year for me. The list of mistakes and troubles I had is a mile long. Luckily, 2010 couldn't have been more different. Looking back over this year, I am so grateful for the many, many good things that happened for me.

This year I...

*began my 20s

[birthday flowers]

*started this blog, which I've grown to love very much

*adopted Nigel & Jasper, the best cats in the world

*moved in with my boyfriend
*opened an IRA

*backpacked through Western Europe

*quit my job of four years

*wrote & defended my honors thesis

*finished college with a bachelors in economics

*got my dream job

This has definitely been a year to remember and honestly, I owe a lot of that to Noah. I've probably spent more time with him this year than all the years we've known each other combined. He has given me so much love & support during a year that I required more than my fair share. Noah was an awesome boyfriend & roommate in 2010. He even gave me Nigel & Jasper for my birthday this year!

I'm really excited to see what 2011 holds. I am choosing to believe that a decade that starts out as great as this one will only get better. I learned a lot in 2010, and I now look at 2009 as a year in which I was challenged and tested to help me grow. I hope I don't lose the ground I have tried so hard to gain, and I hope that all of you have a happy, productive 2011. I'm sure I'll spend a good portion of my year keeping up with you through your blogs!

Happy New Year!

Birth Order

In recent days, I've acquired a new nickname: "First Born". 

via

It is true, I was born first. Truth be told, I've never really given much thought to the effect that birth order has on my personality. Lately though, more & more, Noah is calling me out on my "first born" behavior. He's definitely got my number (#1, duh). 

According to this article by John Stossel (love him!), first borns are responsible, intelligent, & serious. They even earn the most money. Not too shabby for Ari.

The thing is, though, Noah is on to me. I've now been branded "First Born" due to my bossy behavior and unstoppable winning power. The only reason he even cares, you guys, is because he is a first born, too! 

I remember reading somewhere that two first borns do not make for a blissful relationship, but I have to disagree. Two people harnessing this much first born power? 

Dude, we are unstoppable.

The Great Outdoors

Noah & I drove to Payson Saturday morning for an 8-mile hike. I was nervous about the hour-and-a-half drive up, because we have vastly different tastes in music, but we found a compromise that led us to listen to Phil Collins and Black Sabbath back-to-back. 

I know, we're precious.

The weather was perfect, not too cold, and it was so nice to breathe fresh air. I'm not really the outdoors-y type; I much prefer a Macbook & Snuggie to a backpack & hiking boots {just kidding, you know I wore my Converse.} Even so, I had such a fun time bounding through the wilderness & pretending to belong.

Enjoy some {phone} photos:

 

-ari

Boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.

Well, except boys who wear the salt cap as a monocle...

I wanted to share a picture of my first time wearing my dorky glasses, and I found all these other fun pictures on my phone, like...

my brother & I in front of the Superstitions during his August visit...

the cutie I spent my Saturday night at the cat shelter with...

& two more cuties that I spend allll my time with...

Also, can we just talk about how bummed I am that Courteney Cox and David Arquette split? I loved the phrase they had engraved on their wedding bands- "a deal's a deal". So sad.

love.ari

Home Alone

I have been living alone this week while Noah is sunning himself with his family in Newport Beach. A double dose of vacation? What a life!

Sadly, I've been back to work for four days, rising at five and setting at nine. I've had chips & salsa for dinner every night; Noah is the cook in the Audrey Onassis household (he makes four meals- which is four more than I make). In between staring into an empty fridge and using his expensive conditioner, my mind has been working over thoughts like these: "Why does my boyfriend have two spools of floss and a bag of fifty flossers but half an inch of dust in his bathroom?...Hmm...he must have been the one taking out the recycling this whole time...I am so hungry...What did I eat that year I lived alone? Why is he the only one who knows how to use the rice maker? Where is the rice maker?"

Anyway, I am picking him up from the airport tomorrow (hooray!), but before then I have some serious work to do. Three weeks of slumming it abroad call for three hours at the beauty salon, no? Also, I really should move those boxes of cat food and litter away from the front door.

Girlfriend of the Year

Noah is a huge fan of metal; I am a huge fan of Noah. This must explain why I spent four hours at an Iron Maiden concert last night when no-one else could go (the usual understudy, my brother Max, had to work).

I don't at all like metal; I'm more of a Something Corporate/Jimmy Eat World/Brand New/Weezer kind of girl. Give me a piano and some lovelorn lyrics and I'm set. Best of the Beast? Not so much. Even so, I love watching how music affects people, how it gets inside them and moves them. I don't know if it's something universal, but it looks pretty much the same at an Iron Maiden death jam as a Red Hot Chili Peppers funk show.

Barraged by cigarette smoke, absurdly dirty hair, and the distinctive smell of Mexican weed, I tapped my foot with the best of 'em and drank a $4.50 bottle of Dasani. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't impressed by the special effects and mad guitar skills.

I guess the bottom line is that relationships are about give and take, and I am totally taking Noah to see Snoop Dogg next time he's in town.

5/19

 "Happy Anniversary"... "Dammit". He felt guilty, which meant...a willing trip to Sephora! Hooray! Also, I bought the most amazing sandals from Forever 21:

I spent a couple hours getting ready, listening to the "Dressing Up" tracks on stereomood.com (check it out- it's awesome). It felt nice to use some of my more "special occasion" make-up and things. I ended up wearing the purple Anthro dress, which I fell more and more deeply in love with all night. Noah didn't mind it so much, either.

Shared iced tea, strawberries and chocolate pudding, a million candles, love letter, the prettiest makeup. All in all, a wonderful celebration of four years of butterflies.

1, 2, 3, 4 Years

Today is my anniversary. It has been four years since we sat on the floor with our backs against the bed and he said, "will you be my girlfriend?" and I said, "yes" and he said, "I figured". It has been three years since he made me a necklace out of half of a heart-shaped nut we found on a California sidewalk the month before. He put it around my neck and kissed me and I still wear it on really, really important days when I need something like that. It has been two years since we rented a condo in Irvine for four nights and had our first vacation all our own. It has been one year since we meticulously chose a restaurant for our three year anniversary and ended up eating Ethiopian food and pretending to be cultured and like it.

I don't think he knows what today is, mainly because I just remembered yesterday. He's not good with dates, not like he is with obscure Chappelle quotes and making guacamole (the important things in life, to me). So, just in case, I bought myself some roses, just so I can't say I didn't get any. (Although, if he does remember, my only vase will be in use, and who's the sucker now?) I'm going to wear my new Anthropologie dress (or French Connection, I can't decide) and take him out to dinner. I'll write him a long letter, professing my undying devotion. I am SO going to win this anniversary- he totally won the birthdays.

the new Anthro dress

the French Connection dress

Cohabitation

In four weeks I am moving in with my boyfriend. Even though we've been dating four years and spend a ton of time together, I've heard that living together is totally different. In trying to imagine how it's going to be, I am mostly excited with flashes of stress shooting through me like lightning. I mean, taking this step means wearing pants in my own home. What if he doesn't like that I don't take out the recycling until it has commandeered half my kitchen (which would make him a hypocrite because he does the same thing in his apartment [What if, after three weeks of living together, we never see our kitchen again, because the recycling stages a coup])? Will Friday nights be as special once I see him all the other nights, too? Can I still eat popcorn for dinner? Do I have to share? What about the bathroom situation- god forbid my boyfriend see any of the less-than-glamorous aspects of being a woman. I have taken some precautions, separate bedrooms and bathrooms, but some people think that's unromantic. You know what's definitely not romantic? Seeing Snookums' retainer on the shared bathroom sink. Word.


Anyway, June 10th is the big day and, really, I can't wait. Maybe now we can finally realize our longtime dream of building an intricate, inter-room network of gerbil tunnels.

The Young and the Tied Down

A friend from high school recently joined a group on Facebook called "18+ And Not Engaged Or Pregnant" or something to that effect. Reading this on my page immediately made me laugh, because I know exactly what she is getting at: many, many of our high school acquaintances had barely thrown their graduation caps in the air before they were knocked up. Some didn't wait until prom to become "engaged". Now, I'm not judging (believe me, I'd tell you if I were). I mean, getting married at eighteen definitely speaks to the old-fashioned romantic in me. I am nothing if not a lover of all things old-fashioned, but in an era where the divorce rate is greater than fifty percent; I wonder if a little more caution might be called for. I once read in a women's magazine that people who marry before the age of twenty-five are 24% more likely to get divorced. This totally has no bearing on your marriage, I'm sure, but I feel like today's youth in general just aren't as mature as the youth of decades past. Another factor to consider is that I went to high school with a dense population of Mormons meaning that, while they will marry and procreate young, they probably won't get divorced. I don't know where I'm going with this except to say that these young brides might have been offended when they saw how many of their friends from high school joined that group. Maybe also to say that the people who joined the group might be a skosh jealous. I can see both sides really. My brother married his wife when he was twenty-two, and all I can really say is that when he found the love of his life he had to be her husband; and they're great together. But the girl who married that football player who cheated and lied and dumped her every other week? Maybe she shouldn't be trying for that second child and instead take a couple classes at community college. My non-judging is sounding sort of judgmental, I know; and you may be starting to think that I'm a skosh jealous. I'm not. Seriously, you should see some of these guys these women are calling "hubby". You would know it's no contest if you met the guy I call "boyfriend".