a man’s best (girl)friend

it was brought to my attention that I should start a series of blog posts about Lucy, because this face…


you might wonder what I could have to say about such an adorable, sweet face?

well, I could start with the piercing, whining bark I experience for the first 10 minutes I am home after work, as Lucy runs around like a monster waiting to be taken for her w. I could tell you about all the times she has stuck her nose in the trash can while I am standing right beside her. I could tell you about all the times that I do not sit beside Ben on the couch, or cuddle with him in bed, because she whines and groans until she weasels her way between us. or I could tell you about every painful time I have stepped on a piece of dog food that she has flung across the room (it’s right up there with stepping on a lego).

when I started spending time with Ben, I just thought Lucy was kind of needy. Ben would leave to go pick us up something for dinner, and Lucy would bark at me for the entire 15 minutes he was gone. but I was still a stranger, so I gave her a break.

24 months later, I’m still (happily) giving her a break.

Ben has had Lucy since she was a baby puppy, and there is not a single person in the world that Lucy would rather wake up to, spend her day with, and go to bed with than Ben. and, quite honestly, I don’t blame her.

I’ve referred to Lu as “our dog” for a few months now, but she will always be the love of my boyfriend’s life. his companion through good and bad, thick and thin, day and night.

last night, Ben and Lucy were sharing the couch while I sat on the floor in front of them. at one point Ben said something about how him and Lucy could share the couch with me, to which I responded, “Lucy doesn’t share.” he laughed and agreed, and then forcefully moved Lucy to the center so she could be between us. and that is what a pretty typical evening looks like for us: Lu sandwiched between us on the couch.

today, Ben’s sister, Cait, texted me a picture of Lucy and after we exchanged a few Lucy stories she said, “as long as he doesn’t love her more than you it’s ok.” and I laughed a little, because it has definitely crossed my mind before. I mean, really, there are plenty of reasons for Ben to love Lucy more than me.

here’s a working list:

Lucy never cares when Ben is running late.

why would she? I give Lu her w, and feed her dinner, so her day is pretty much made (or so I think). his tardiness is just her invitation to take up the entire couch. but don’t worry, the second he walks in the door she greets him with copious amounts of excitement and love that I have never experienced. and it’s reciprocated from Ben… “Lucy girl! how was your day?! oh, yes, I missed you so much!”


Ben: oh, hey

Lucy never gets jealous.

that’s a lie. she absolutely does, but she has an extremely short-term memory, and doesn’t hold a grudge. tell me what that’s like, Lu.

Lucy loves watching tv.

okay, you’re right, I love watching tv, too. but Lucy doesn’t ask Ben a zillion questions (I KNOW WHEN DID I START TALKING DURING TV/MOVIES?!). Lucy will also watch whatever he’s watching. she doesn’t throw a fit when he doesn’t want to watch the 43rd episode of Chopped for the week. as long as he rubs her tummy, she’ll watch Aliens, Captain America, whatever other marathons she needs to like it’s her job.

Lucy doesn’t get her period.

which means Lucy is fun to live with the entire month, instead of 75% of it. the lucky b.

Lucy doesn’t talk back.

even though she whines a lot, and needs him to pick up her poop, his questions to her are never responded with snark.

so, after all that, you might wonder what it feels like to be the other woman? I wouldn’t change it for the world. as much as I joke about Ben loving Lucy more than me, I love her just as much, even when she is taking up more than her fair share of the bed. I am the first one to give up one of my pillows so she has one to sleep on. and I am more than happy to push Ben over to the edge of the bed to make sure Lu is not squished. knowing Ben is going to be amazing father was never even a question, but just seeing him with Lucy makes my heart swell with joy.

to be continued…


no woman, all cry

because there’s no shame in my (house) game, here’s another gem of a story. we have a half bath on our main level. Ben stores/hoards his stuff there, and when you flush the toilet I think the entire block can hear, but I digress. last? weekend we were experiencing some plumbing issues and naturally Ben was away at work so I had to go buy a plunger and YouTube how to plunge a toilet. I’ve never been the type of person to stumble through YouTube videos and waste hours watching random shit, mostly because my YouTube history consists of: “how to shovel,” “how to remove nail polish from carpet,” “how to plunge a toilet,” and frankly I just have NO time for fun things on YouTube.

anyway, after plunging my little heart out, and flooding our basement because of water going through the floor vents, I was convinced that we had a frozen/broken pipe and sent an SOS to our landlord. bless our little landlord’s heart, but I was definitely a little peeved when, instead of rushing over here to stop the flood, he called and asked if I could get things under control until he could come over tomorrow afternoon. uh what? okay. after complaining to Ben that apparently our landlord doesn’t take us seriously anymore, and after Ben mopped up the basement (because I would have had to YouTube that, too), I told Ben we were probably starting to sound like the boy that cried wolf or something.

spoiler alert: we are the boy that cried wolf x 100.

as it would turn out, apparently the video I watched was not a good source. our landlord simply plunged our toilet and was on his merry way to tell everyone he has the most incompetent renters ever (that’s us).

quick recap of February:

lots of cold temperatures, a little snow, a cold/flu that (thankfully) involved a sick day, a visit from Bella and Jennie, a few trips to the movie theater, a highlight: we purchased tickets to see Dave Matthews Band at Alpine Valley this summer (!!!), too many swim meets, and my favorite holiday!!!


one day I started telling Ben about my intentions for decorating in February to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and he was not impressed. something about a Hallmark holiday, why do we need to celebrate it with the neighborhood, yada yada yada, in one ear out the other. I only got as far as window clings for the front door, but mark my words, next year it will look like Cupid shot every arrow through our house.

I’m not sure why Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday, other than the fact that I love love. so, to have a day dedicated to love is awesome. of course we should love people every day of the year, but the same could be said about Thanksgiving, Christmas, Labor Day (what), etc. you picking up what I’m laying down? I love it mostly because I feel giddy all day thinking about how seriously enchanting it is to give your heart to someone, and to care about people so immensely that you cannot imagine life without them.

sometimes I think about how deeply I care about people in my life and wonder how they could possibly reciprocate the feelings. because sometimes I overwhelm myself. like just thinking about my grandpa makes me cry. there was a time, not that long ago, that I never thought there would be a man that could have an iota of his charisma or tenderness, and then of course I met Ben and I’ll spare you the sappiness…but seriously. I cry just thinking about how great he is. and my friends? outstanding. I’ve been very blessed to experience the real, long-lasting kind. you know the ones that you kind of just stumble upon and then you become real BFFs, and at 24 you realize that you have friendship soul mates. and even if they are too many miles away, your ties are always linked through the power of WiFi, and you just feel wonderfully blessed and thankful for always being able to have good conversations.

so, no, you don’t NEED a day to celebrate the people you love. but it’s pretty flipping awesome that it exists as just a little bonus day to an already awesome life. like when you say yes to having whip on top of your mocha, because #YOLO. also, my Valentine’s never need to be extravagant, indulging in heart-shaped pizza and holding hands with my love is all I ever want. and if P. Murph’s would always make their pizza in heart shapes, we would probably celebrate every day, because we’re big fans over here. the hugest.

also, just because I really do think it’s the only reason I’ve survived this winter, I’d like to give our heater blanket some special love this month. I don’t take the heart eye emoji lightly, but it totally gets multiple heart eyes. meanwhile, Ben is multiple eye-rolling.


it’s a crazy, sweet life

after Ben and I moved into our house, we slowly found things for our landlord to fix. or we (I) slowly began breaking things that required our landlord’s attention.
I can’t remember the specific order of events that follow, but you should know that every time we have had a “problem” at the house, Ben is the one that is home in the mornings to meet our landlord when he comes over to “fix” something. 
scenario one: we could not get our patio door to latch shut and stay locked. this resulted in a phone call to our landlord where I told him I did not feel safe, so obviously he came over right away to fix it. obviously he shows up and gets it to latch/lock on the first try. embarrassing? kinda.
scenario two: we initially stored all of our pans and pizza stones in the drawer that slides out under the oven. well, after a few times of seeing rings of fire on our metal pizza pan, I decided that our oven was definitely going to explore and I called our landlord to tell him. so, he came over one day and realized what was going on: the drawer under our oven? definitely a broiler. embarrassing? very. 
scenario three: the other day, after a rough day at work, I came home and ripped the handle right off of our new dishwasher. I know what you’re thinking, it was only a matter of time because I have such huge muscles. but after googling and youtubing I could not figure out how to attach it back, and when Ben got home he was not pleased with me. so, I texted our landlord this time, because I’m done having phone calls with him, and he exchanged a few messages with me about screws and something with the name Allen in it and what not. you get the idea. so, poor landlord comes over yesterday and picks the handle up to find the “missing” screws inside the handle and promptly attached it back to the dishwasher with an allen wrench. embarrassing? really only for Ben because he has now been the victim of my stupidity multiple times in front of our landlord, and I am fairly certain our landlord thinks we are the most incompetent couple to ever rent from him… but c’est la woe-is-us.
so, you might be thinking it’s time to get to the sweet part of my life, but I am only getting started dear readers. 
more cray coming your way.
Ben’s job requires that he travels a lot, and is usually gone for the duration of the weekend, or only one night, or on my favorite weekends not at all. but I blame my undergrad self for saying I would make a really good coach’s wife someday because of having alone time. distance makes the heart grow fonder. whatever, karma is a b. 
anyway, as a result of Ben racking up road miles, Lucy and I spend a lot of time together. I must be boring her, because she has been trying to give me minor heart attacks purely out of entertainment purposes, I am sure. 
scenario one: it’s a Friday night, and instead of eating a bowl of cereal and going to bed, I decided I would drive a couple blocks to the grocery store to pick up a salad and some more milk for the previously mentioned cereal. I give Lucy a treat and put in her kennel (that sits upstairs in our bedroom), and as I’m leaving the house I decide not to look the front door because I’ll only be gone for 15 minutes, and I decided it was safer to do that than to have to fumble with my keys and grocery bags in the dark once I get home. the logic, you guys. anyway, I get home from the grocery store and throw open the front door to find Lucy propped up on a pillow staring back at me. I immediately freak out that some murderer has broken into our house and let Lucy out of her kennel as a distraction to get me. so, I pick up this huge candy cane rawhide bone we had gotten Lucy for Christmas, and I start walking through the house to make sure there are no murderers. I was doing okay, until I opened up the basement door and the lights were on. turns out my super energy-conscious boyfriend had left them on all day, so there were no murderers hanging out on the washing machine. somehow, I managed to compose myself and survived that week.
scenario two: one Saturday I was taking a shower before going to run errands, and I left the bathroom door open because I don’t like Lucy to feel like she’s been left alone (sometimes my niceness overwhelms me, too). because that may result in her peeing on the carpet, dumpster diving, or getting into mischief I don’t even know about at this point. anyway, as I’m lathering my shampoo, I see something moving between the shower curtain and the liner. and all of the sudden it’s touching my leg and I let out a screech and Lucy scurries out of the bathroom. 

now, because you’ve all been waiting for it…

the sweet. 

yesterday, even though I would categorize myself into the “shitty girlfriend” category this week, Ben told me he would make me chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese, because I had a headache and have just not been feeling prime this week. 

so there it is. the sweet. the yin to my yang. the macaroni to my cheese. the victim to my stupidity, absurdity, and dramatics, making me grilled cheese after I’ve been the least fun person to live with this week.

it’s a crazy, sweet life. some days it’s more more crazy than sweet, but every day has both.