catch-up not ketchup

Whenever I come to this space I feel like I have to write something awesome. Something thought-provoking. Something important with a sprinkle of I'm-not-trying-to-be-funny-yet-somehow-I'm hilarious. I always accomplish this subtle hilarity, I know I know. Wink. 

But you know what? There are other times when I just really want to write about how dang cute my dog is, okay? Okay. 

 Oh look! It is my dog who is so dang cute! Let's talk more about this!

A lot has happened in the twenty-eight days since I last posted. <<That is me completely owning how long it has been since I wrote on here. I will now give you the world's quickest photo summary of what those twenty-eight days included...

One of my best friends, who also happened to be my college roommate, got married. It was probably the most personal wedding I've ever been to, and yes, I did cry. You would have too if you have been there.

We vacationed in Chicago and drank a lot of wine. In related news, we also ate a lot. 

My birthday happened, no new grey hairs have been found, and I got to celebrate birthday week with Wi! We were too busy having fun to take a better picture than this gem. 

In case you were wondering, we still haven't gotten a bathroom counter tray or a floor lamp, but we did finally hang a few things. 

I took a very unplanned and unexpected trip home for a couple days last week, and I think I spent 90% of the time tearing up over how wonderful family is. 

We went beach camping in the Texas summer for a friend's birthday which despite the feels like 109 degrees was insanely fun. 

That brings us to today. Today will consist of me doing laundry, taking more pictures of my cute dog, and possibly unpacking some more of the new apartment because I finished teaching at 7am this morning. 

Today will be a great day. Because I said so.

What have you been up to in the last twenty-eight days?!

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surviving the post-christmas blues

Well, folks. You did it. Hooray! Go, you. You survived the worst, most terrible, horrible, depressing day of the year: December 26. 

Really, I'm quite proud of everyone's persistence to make it through the day. You go from running off of the highest high of Christmastime to crashing hard into the post-Christmas blues. Sure, you have new toys and gadgets to play with...but, but, but how is Christmas already over?! Why are all the decorations still up just to taunt and remind us that next Christmas is 364 days away?! (362 days now...) And who the h-e-you know what wants to un-decorate? I wonder how much I could pay somebody to take down our tree...

My Most Depressing Day Of The Year was spent driving thirteen hours. You see, road tripping with a dog is much like road tripping with a child. Read: lots of pee needing to be peed. Then you add in road tripping with Freddie who needs to stand up and stretch his legs just about as often as someone needs to take a breath so that counts as three of four more extra kids. If my math is correct then road tripping with a dog AND Freddie is like road tripping with 1/5 of the Duggars. Although the Duggars have a giant RV and many drivers to switch between so maybe they're on to something. 

So. Yes. Our ten and a half hour drive took around thirteen hours. Thirteen hours of trying not to cry that Christmastime is over. Thirteen hours of asking Freddie questions like, What are your goals for the new year?! Thirteen hours of Freddie wanting me to turn on music and/or movies so that I wold stop asking questions like, What are your goals for the new year?! Thirteen hours of f-u-n. Fun = us trying to keep our eyes open which is, in fact, a lot harder than it sounds when you're driving through the swamp shiz of Louisiana. 

But Christmas? December 25? It really was the best day of the year!

The best.

The older I get the more sentimental and sappy I get. Meaning when presents were being opened, instead of ripping into them in record time I stopped for a quick two or three seconds to look around my family. I saw the excitement of my sister trying to decide which gift is her turntable because that's the gift she has to open next. Has to! I see my brother trying to stack his new Blu-rays in alphabetical order because order is necessary in the Christmastime chaos. I see my dad trying to post pictures to Facebook because #instantuploadsarenecessary. I see my mom sitting with her jaw on the floor because she still can't believe she got an Apple watch. I see my grandfather falling asleep because apparently opening gifts is boring once you're over the age of 80. I see Freddiehusband still playing with something from his stocking because when one runs on Weiss time, one is always a little behind. 

In those two or three seconds I almost decide to stop opening gifts all together because this, this richness of being surrounded by family, this is all I really need. I never feel so full and just downright complete until I sit in the middle of a perfectly chaotic, and yet oddly peaceful family time. 

Don't worry, I snapped out of it and did somehow manage to finish opening the rest of the presents. Which were all fabulous and wonderful and I can't wait to be so basic and wear my new lace-up flats. ! !! !!!

...but Imma be wearing them all while trying to never let go of that feeling of complete content that only family fun time can bring. 

Hope your Christmases were just as sap dap happy and merry!

gettin' schooled

In playing Houston visitor these past several days, I have learned a lot about this city. 

Like the #biscuitpaintwall exists and is a thing.

And the beer can house is...just that. A beer can house and not really anything more.

I learned that the Heights is a lot bigger of an area than it sounds when people talk about it, and vintage stores in the Heights are cool. Bro. 

I am now aware that the Motown & More Revue show has been around for twenty years for a reason. The reason being that the show is uh-mazing and spectacular. Even the dog was dancing. Can't wait for year twenty-one. Son.

I learned that my family can kill some Killens Barbecue...

and that Johnson Space Center is pretty cool (but could still learn a thing or hundred from Disney about how to run things) (I was geeking out like no other. Hashtag new space obsession).

I learned that grand slams really do happen in baseball...

And that water walls will make you want to sing Wrecking Ball. 

And finally, my last bit of recently retrieved knowledge is that yes, you will gain ten pounds by consuming an ungodly amount of Tex Mex with your out of town guests. Or even not with your out of town guests. Just remember: a lot of Tex Mex = a heck of a blobby belly. #worthit

Oh! One more thing I learned. GEORGIA IS SO FAR AWAY FROM TEXAS. I already knew that, but shoot! Already looking forward to the next visit! Who's coming this time?

seven hundred and thirty days

I never know how to start important blog posts like birthdays or anniversaries or something. There's a lot of pressure, I'll have you know, to be the right amount of sweet and sappy, but also clever and hilarious. I'm sweating just thinking about how I'm going to write the rest of this.

You see, today marks TWO YEARS of marriage for us. Two whole years! Two years of marriage feels like two blinks. Literally. One blink for year one. One blink for year two. Soon we'll blink, blinkity, blinky and have five kids and five times twenty gray hairs. Chyeah, I want a whole brood of children, okay?

I feel silly saying anything about marriage because my parents are celebrating thirty-two years in three days and that is a number to celebrate, people! I feel like anything I say here or any wise words I try to share with you is just more leverage for my thirty-two-year veteran parents to be like Pfffssshaaawww, what do those young newlyweds think they know?!

Side note: Are we still considered newlyweds two years in? Now there's an important question for you.

^^for realsies, been-married-for-thirty-minutes newlyweds

Anyways, two years! I'll just keep saying those two words since I can't seem to say anything else.

In two years we have lived in three apartments and in two different states. We have acquired zero pets, and also zero children (Freddie is somewhere reading this and going High five, anyone?? Anyone?? No kids? High five, ANYONE?) (We love children, calm down). We (I) have eaten lots of delicious food that we (he) have cooked. We've also eaten a lot of delicious food that we haven't cooked because we've lived in Charleston and Houston. Both top contenders in BEST FOOD EVER CITIES in America.

I think the greatest thing about marriage or just relationships in general is love. Stay with me here. I knew I wanted to marry Fredster for many, many reasons, but really because sometimes when I looked at him I would be completely and utterly overwhelmed with the amount of love I had for this person. It always happened in candid moments like when he was biting his lip as he concentrated putting the egg whites in with the sugar during bake time fun time. Or when he was staring at the TV thinking What The F*&# was happening with Lost. This all still happens and in the most random moments it will hit me and hit me hard. I just want to run to Ricky and pinch his cheekies and squeeze him real hard just so he can get somewhat half of an idea of how much I love him.

That's marriage, folks. Spending the rest of your life trying to figure out how to convey how much you love this person. Because it is actually something that can never be accurately described. Yet, I've managed to fill an entire blog post about it--about something indescribable. Oops. And yes, you still feel the indescribable love even though he never puts down the toilet seat.

I'll just stick with saying this: Freds, I love you a lot! A whole heck of a lot. Now let's go celebrate 730 days of laughs 'n' stuff with more laughs. And maybe (definitely) some ice cream. 

what's in a name?

I always knew I would change my last name when I got married. Actually it's not that I always knew that, it's really more like something I never thought about much. It wasn't a big deal. My brain was too full with Lizzie McGuire quotes to deal with things like future name changes. 

We got married, and I did go on to legally change my last name. It was fairly painless and relatively quick to get rid of a name that I had had for decades. Just like that my legal name no longer contained Moore anywhere. 

What. The. BLEEP?! Enter identity crisis mode. Who am I? What's my name? What do I say when people ask my last name? Do they think I'm lying? I mean it's legal, BUT I FEEL LIKE A MOORE! I'm a Moore! I'm Emily Moore. That's me. That's who I am. 

Long yada yada story short, I never really felt like a Weiss. Whatever that even means, but look...I just didn't. 

All of this changed for me this past weekend (read: I actually remembered to sign Weiss while signing a receipt this weekend. Big steps, people). We spent the weekend in Connecticut celebrating the marriage of one of Freddie's cousins. This means we spent the weekend in Connecticut surrounded by the most loving and fun group of people: the Weiss families. 

Other than our wedding I had never been around Ricky's extended family. I don't even think our own wedding counted because it was like Hi, nice to meet you! Bye, I have to go talk to these other hundred and fifty people. Hi, oh we have to leave now? Bye? So yeah, that definitely doesn't count.

Hi. Love you, bye.  

After this weekend suddenly everything about being a Weiss made sense. Lightbulb moment! You know what it takes to be a Weiss? A mix of always being ready for fun, having an A+ sense of humor, giving nice, big hugs, laughing every 5-6 seconds, and living life straight up ABBA Dancing Queen style (and 467 other great things, too). This family CAN and WILL dance and CAN and WILL out dance everyone else dancing. 

So there. Now you know. Now I know. Golly gee, my new (ish) last name is a good one and my new (ish) family members are the best ones. I mean, is there anything better than family? Whether blood and/or name related or not. The answer is a big, fat HECKalicious no.

Brb, gotta go convince Freddie we need to have four plus children (in many moons from now) so we can keep having big Weiss family parties for all the years to come. 

mother's day is every day

Musings from Saturday night:

My mom just left Houston. Freddie and I stopped for groceries. Now we're back and he's asleep on the couch. From the window I can see the sun setting over a cityscape. I'm up "high," six stories from the bayou, and as I look out at the big buildings and interstates I'm thinking...

holy poop, we moved. 

Transitioning is a silly thing to do. You get worked up, anxious, excited, worried, excited again, worried again, and all with a touch of fear. Sometimes it feels like time will never ever speed up, but then all of a sudden you blink and the time has passed. Suddenly you're in Houston, your mom is gone, and it hits you like a ton of bricks: you have transitioned. Successfully. It happened. You survived. The sun is setting. Tomorrow is another day. Shoot, in just a few days it'll be Christmas, I'm sure!

But for now let's go back to the mom leaving part and the transitioning part. I could not have done any of this transitioning without my mother. Well excuse me, that is a lie. Technically I could have done all of it, but it would not have been half as graceful or fun without my mother. And really, what is the point of living if it's not to do things with grace and enjoyment (and with your mom)?

My mom left behind her work, her dad, my dad, my sister, and her precious puppies to drive across the country with/for me. 

Then she drank with me on Bourbon Street.

Then she ate beignets with me.

Then she helped me unpack and decorate every inch of our new apartment.

Then she studied a map of Houston with me so we could act like we knew what the ham sandwich is going on in this city. 

Even when we said IKEA was east of the city when the map claimed it was west...

Then she got a tattoo with me because why not? Finding a tattoo parlor in a new city is just as important as finding a grocery store. 

Then she left.

And then I was left thinking, Dayum, I am really lucky when it comes to the mom department. Double dayum, am I going to be that rockstar of a mom/person some day?

Obvi, it's in my blood and all. Wink.

Hmmm, I guess what I'm trying to say is go hug your mom. Right now. Do it. Hug your mom or your dad or your friend or anyone who is amazing towards you. If you learn anything from this space of mine, learn that Mother's Day is every day and you should shower those you love with love and attention every day. Especially on the days when your mom drinks Hurricanes with you in NOLA. And the days she says Sure! Let's get a tattoo! And the days she drops everything to help you transition.

The End. 

the 'rents

This past week and weekend were so dreamy. Or, as my 81-year old grandfather would say, so dy-na-mite! The dude knows the cool kids lingo, what can I say. 

My parents came into town mostly to see my show, but also because who turns down a vacation to Charleston? No one in their right mind. When I say my parents came into town mostly to see my show what I really mean is kind of to see my show, but mostly to be in Charleston. Freddie, Charleston, and I tried to give my parents the best of the best time. Walking down, around, in, all over downtown, eating delicious food, walking on the beach, eating more food, drinking some champagne cocktails, eating some food, and walking downtown again. And maybe another beach trip in there.

I can't remember all the tiny details, excuse me. All I can remember is how much fun I have when family is around. I was never the child who went through the Ugh, Moooooooooom, go away or Seriously, Dad? You are so embarrassing (<----although that one is true all the time. Sorry, Dad ;)), but now that I am older I appreciate the crap outta my parents. 

Mostly I appreciate all the money they spent to send me to nice schools so I could learn fancy language like "the crap outta..." Thanks, parents! 

And now may I present, the hashtag necessary blog weekend collage. 

i'm the...

This picture has been floating around the internet lately:

You may have seen it. You may have not. You may have thought Ohmigawd that is so true. You may have thought Mmm nope, wrong. 

I thought the latter. You see, my mother sent this picture to me and my siblings and asked if we thought it was true. It took me all of half a second to type my response. 

Totally applies to my sister, the youngest, and is complete opposite of me (the poor, lonely middle child) and my brother (the oldest). 

Why is it oh-so-true of Ann you ask? Examples A & B:

A

Mom: Well it's Friday that means it's cleaning day! Hooray, now go clean your assigned bathrooms. 

Joseph and Emily: Yes, mother (big, happy, agreeable smiles).

Mom: Oh Ann, not you honey! You can go to a friend's house and play. Have some fun!

B

Dad: Children, it sure does look as if there are still quite of lot of sticks and pinecones in the front yard. Rawwwwwwr. RAWWWWWWWWR, grrrrr sticks and pinecones. Don't come back inside until they are all gone this time. 

...

Oh Ann, sweetie! No, you don't have to. Go back to the TV. I meant the teenage children. 

Now let's move on to those other two children. The two who cleaned bathrooms, and vacuumed floors, and picked up sticks and pinecones. Those precious angels. 

Joseph, the oldest. He did not make any rules.  Because Joseph is very complacent and okay with whatever. Oh, my sister just slapped me with a soft taco? Eh, I won't move or say anything. Oh, my sister just finished hysterically yelling at me? Maybe I'll grunt. Maybe I'll just continue to sit here in silence. <<<you see how hard my childhood was?! No one ever would fight back with me! #hardlife #whineandcheeseplease

And we'll finish up with moi, the monkey in the middle. There were rules, yes. But I'm the reason my mother wished rules had been broken. I never ever ever broke (or break) the rules. In home life or real life. It's my lil ole quirk. I'm absolutely terrified of breaking the rules. Terrified.

So let's go with something along the lines of I'm in the middle. I'm the best.

some soul goodness

Thanksgiving did good to my soul. I never really understood what in the world people were talking about when they used that expression: good to my soul. I mean I got the gist of it like, Wow something was great and wonderful. We get it, sure. But it wasn't until I became a grown-up (according to whom?!) and started worrying about money and jobs and bills and taking care of others and why won't this stain come out of Freddie's dress shirt and why is my car making weird noises again and why am I the worst teacher stress and living away from family woes that I realized my soul needed some goodness. 

And times like Thanksgiving, times when I can sit and relish in nothing but uninterrupted nothingness and family time, that did my soul some real good. I ate. I drank wine. I played Quelf too many times to admit (okay, 4 or 5ish times....). I slept in. I went to Pilates. I had no schedule and no classes to teach, no rehearsals to run, no one to remind to use ballerina manners. It was all so glorious, typing it out just makes my soul want that goodness again (by the way, 14 days until Christmas break, but who's counting?).

^^ all the Moore children together means having mo(o)re fun

^^thankful rolls! 5 of which ended up in my belly

As you can see I'm very thankful for a sister who takes nice pictures because this is Thanksgiving as seen through Emily's iPhone...

^^Playing Quelf

^^More Quelf-ing (or is it just Freddie being Freddie...?) It's Quelf. Don't worry. 

And this, my friends, is a recipe blog post on how to have some good to your soul.
Happy Friday!

on the night before thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is tomorrow which means I'm spending today deciding on if I want to eat 4 or 5 helpings of sweet potatoes at the Thanksgiving feast. Hard decisions take time, people. And by the way, I'm thinking maybe 6 helpings is okay? I don't like turkey so I have to fill that empty part of my Thanksgiving belly with something. Enter the 6 helpings of sweet potato casserole. 

In true I am grateful for lots of things form, I figured today was as good a day as any to write a thankful list. It's also as good a day as any for you to sit down and read my thankful list, obviously.

I am thankful for raincoats.

Umbrellas are cool too, I guess, but I always forget to put them back in my car. While we're on umbrellas, has anyone ever successfully closed and refolded an umbrella? No, they haven't. It is impossible. It has been raining non-stop here in Chucktown so I'm just really really thankful for my trusty 'ole raincoat that keeps me semi-dry as I hop around town. 

I am thankful for children. 

Because of my job I spend 96% of my time with kids. Even though sometimes they make me want to pull out my hair or sit in the middle of the floor and cry while they run around, they are amazing little people full of love and life. They give the best hugs, draw the most stylish stick figure Miss Emily, and they know that one minute of sweetness makes up for sixty minutes of horribleness so...there's that. They're smart and tricky and I love 'em. 

I am thankful for pictures.

If it were up to me, every wall in the house would be covered in wallpaper made from pictures of past and present. I don't think I could put my love for the Timehop app into words. Come on. This is what my sister and I were doing 7 years ago today?! You don't say.

Ann is going to kill me for this, but I mean how sad would my life be if I totally had forgotten this picture existed? Thanks, Timehop, for keeping my life happy and fun. 

 I am thankful for a husband who lets me use his arms as my dance partners on the reg. Oh, you're trying to cook dinner? Let me just steal your right arm there so I can pirouette and arabesque with it. 

 I am thankful for a family who makes life so fun that I get sad at least once daily because I'm not with them.

I am thankful for in-laws who know how to throw down and party, jello shots included. 

I am thankful for friends who remember that I hate talking on the phone and still keep in touch with me by putting up with daily/weekly novel long texts. 

Happy almost Thanksgiving!

May your bellies be as full as your hearts. 

on to thanksgiving

Thank goodness Halloween is over. For many reasons, but mostly because my ears were hurting from teaching sugar-high children all day. 

Another less-but-kinda-more important reason I am glad is because now we get to...

bring

on

the

holidays

!!

!!

!!

One of the first things I made Freddie talk about when we moved into our new place (on September 29, 2014) was where we should put the Christmas tree. Tall ceilings call for tall trees. Big living rooms call for fat trees. Tall ceilings and big livings rooms call for the most perfect Christmas tree ever. 

I can't wait. 

But I have to wait because it's only November 5 and I still have my Boo pumpkin out by our vat of leftover Halloween candy so obviously we're in a mid-holiday limbo crisis over here. 

This past weekend we made a super fast weekend trip to Georgia. Super fast Georgia weekend trips stress. me. out. When I say stress me out I don't mean it in the normal every day stress omg I might get a stress zit kind of way, I mean it in the I could develop an ulcer or five from trying to see everyone and do everything with limited weekend hours. My family lives there. Freddie's family lives there. 90% of our friends live there. Whine whine. Life is really hard when you've got great people in it and your family just won't go ahead and move to Charleston, right? 

Sigh.

We started the weekend by seeing my sister as Magenta in Rocky Horror Picture Show.

If you've never seen Rocky Horror live, then go. Go and just sit back and take it all in. Yes, even take in the shouts of "slut!" and other just wonderful words. It was an experience, that's for sure. I thought seeing the movie was an experience, but seeing it live with advanced Rocky Horror fans in the audience took my experience from a 5 to a 25 on the level of weirdness. 

Now, seeing my sister with a frizzy red wig, creepy ghost make-up and a French maid outfit? Totes normal, obvi. 

From there we celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday in the best possible way: 70 jello shots and a bonfire. I mean, hello! Nothing like a jello shot to help ya warm up in the 30 degree weather. Also I never feel like I'm drinking when I take a jello shot because I prefer my jello shot with a spoon and then I slowly eat it just as I would if I was 6 and eating a jello cup in my school cafeteria for lunch. Bliss! Pure bliss.

Also, screw Halloween candy. Oreos on top of an ice cream cake wins. 

Now I have a very important announcement to make:

I, Emily, am very sorry I ever said I was excited for cooler weather. As I turned into an ice cube inside of an ice cube inside of a slushie held by a snowman this weekend, I remembered why I dislike the cold--because my body doesn't know how to survive in the cold. I sit there with a 24/7 case of goose bumps no matter how many layers in which I am bundled. So, Mother Nature, please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies and bring back the 70 degrees really, really soon. 

Yours truly,

Frozen like the movie Emily