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March 4, 2009

Welcome to my normal life


Hello all - I'm writing this not because I think everyone out there is dying to know about the inner workings of my life, but because I always like to know a little bit about the people who write the blogs I read, so here's a quick snapshot :)


I was born and raised in London, Kentucky and lived in the same house until I got married (my parents still live in that house). My husband is the son of a preacher man and they constantly moved, so he's weirded out by the fact that all my childhood pictures were taken in the very rooms he looks through them in. Example:



My parent's basement. The only differences between then and now are that the children's books are gone, the hideous navy floral sofa has been replaced (hallelujah), and I no longer get awesome bunny ice cream cakes from Baskin Robbins. My grandma June was awesome.




My husband is Ray and he majored in exercise physiology in college. He works at a gym and helps people live the dream and get in shape. Fun facts: He watches the Biggest Loser just so he can be disgusted by/ridicule Jillian Michaels and how little she knows about the human body.


This is me forcing Ray to hold the top tier of our wedding cake before we dove into it (to all you soon-to-be-newlyweds out there, I don't recommend waiting a year - it was very stale and had a weird "twang" to it that I can't quite place) P.S. That hideous light in the background was taken down and mysteriously "lost" 2 days after we moved into our Chicago apartment.


And last but not least, we became the proud parents of one Sir Whiskers MacTavish this past December. When I was 10, I decided I was going to get a Scottish Terrier and name him Whiskers MacTavish after watching Lady & the Tramp. He is awesome. Fun facts: He hails from the Scottish highlands but won't put one wooley toe outside if it's raining, and he likes to grab pant legs in his mouth and wrestle them away as you're in the process of putting them on. He also tried to pick a fight with a Doberman Pinscher last week.


Don't judge. I haven't cut his hair since we got him, so he's starting to look like one of those dodgy back-alley dogs that steals your Popeyes chicken and then back-scratches dirt on your shoes in disdain.

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