It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve neglected my blog. I keep meaning to write, but it’s been so gray and gloomy and who wants to write when all that would come out is WAHHHH WEATHER TEARS. But over the last two weeks we’ve actually had 1.25 days of sunshine, and the resulting joy it’s brought me has made me find some sort of motivation to write. Contain your excitement.

AnyWAY, happy Easter! I hope it was a good one. Jeremy and I got up, got dressed and went to church, then had lunch at our usual fine dining establishment.*

*We go to Skyline every Sunday for lunch. It’s become a routine, like cleaning, grocery shopping and me losing my cell phone 9 times a week. We had a lot of hand-wringing this morning about whether or not we should deviate from Skyline and instead try Gold Star Chili. I’m pretty sure our decision to get married was met with less debate and fear of potential consequences. In the end, we didn’t want to ruin our Easter joy with the possibility of subpar chili**, so we went to Skyline. I know you’re all really relieved.

**I don’t KNOW that Gold Star would be subpar – we’ve never had it. But I’ve heard mixed reviews and we’re so in love with Skyline that we’re reluctant to mess with perfection. But they have milkshakes, so…it’s only a matter of time before we cave.

So our Easter is pretty low-key. It’s been sad not being with our families this year, but we’ve made the best of it and had a wonderful weekend.

Yesterday, we headed south to visit Kathleen, Jon and James for lunch. One of the biggest thrills of moving to Cincinnati is definitely our newfound proximity to them — this is the closest Kathleen and I have lived to each other since we were nine.

James turned one last week, and we weren’t able to make it to his birthday party, so we decided to plan a daytime excursion to celebrate his birthday.

We met here – the adults ordered alcohol to show James what he could look forward to in 20 more birthdays, which sounds much better than saying we were all in the mood for a drink at 11:30am.

(Also, in what universe did Kathleen and I wind up in “the adults” group? Marriage, kid, houses, jobs — still, I feel like we’re just playing at this maturity thing. I’m barely a step above college freshman, which is barely a step above potty trained.)


ImageTwenty years later. Better hair, worse clothes, same pale skin.

ImageThe poor waitress could not figure out who was married to who and who was genetically responsible for James. Pictures like this didn’t help.

ImageHolding James in a super natural pose. It’s impossible to tell that I have no practical baby experience, isn’t it?

ImageThis picture looks like a Photoshopped combination of two pictures, one titled “Cute Baby Pondering” and the other titled “Drunk Man Enthusing” but it’s actually one picture titled “Why You Shouldn’t Talk to Strangers.”***

***Husband, before you come up here complaining that I posted this picture, let me just remind you that I’m cooking you a lovely Easter dinner tonight AND I even have a store-bought cake for you. Cake = this picture.

After we ate, we loaded the kid in the stroller and took a walk. The idea was to walk along the riverfront, but then we spotted a playground.

ImageOh, what. You thought we stopped at the playground for the actual kid?

ImageHaha, nope.



ImageSee? We even let James play, too.

ImageProof that Jeremy is capable of interacting with small children in a less bizarre way.


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