If your name's not Taylor or Kate, you don't belong at this wedding

I kid. I kid. Um. Not really?

OK. This blog post has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. And weeks. And weeks.

{Le sigh.}

Ladies and gentlemen, my BBFF (boy best friend forever) Jesse Taylor married his love, Taylor Kate McGinley. And thus, when we get together from now on, it'll be Taylor & Kate, along with Jesse Taylor & Taylor Kate Taylor. And yes, for those of you who are keeping up, her name is now Mrs. Taylor Taylor.

We flew in to San Diego and were whisked away by my biggest sis, Liza, to her home on the beach for a whirlwind wedding weekend. J & T wed in Laguna Beach, and hello! I actually had a role in the ceremony. Helping Jesse with his homework all those years finally paid off. 

Taylor (the bride) looked fabulous in the poufiest (is that a word?), most fun wedding dress, and Jesse looked so handsome. His dad served as the officiant and gave me one heck of an introduction before my reading. I miss his family, and wish I could be around them more often. I love his sisters, and they always make me feel like one of the bunch. Taylor's family wasn't half-bad, either. I mean...when the father of the bride is out doing splits on the dance floor you know this family's a fun bunch.

*My* Taylor (I know...it's hard to keep it all straight, huh?) and I loved this wedding because it was fairly small, so it felt like everyone got to know each other. And. Bonus. We got to see our family, too.

We are so thrilled Jesse found his Taylor, and we anticipate many-an-adventure with these two in the future. Love you both!  XOXO

Please note the second reader! 

Mother-son twist & shout.

Her dad actually did the splits a couple times during their father-daughter dance.

So here you have, Taylor, Kate, Taylor Kate Taylor, and Jesse Taylor. 

Fun fact: Taylor and I knew each other in college. We took a summer school class together, and she dated a guy I went to high school with...who lived above me in the Providence Court apartments. She never knew my bestie, Jesse, way back then. 

Sister time in Carlsbad.

J and J hitting the waves. 

Uncle Taylor push-ups before juicing and doughnuts. 

Oh hi, Hazel D. Whatcha got there?

Good bye, So-Cal. See you soon. 

Tonight...I lived a country song

My heart is still beating a bit out of my chest. I had to fire up the computer before the details of tonight's dinner fizzled out of my memory.

I left work a bit early in order to drop off dinner at Taylor's work. I knew he'd be home late, like usual during these last couple of weeks of Tax Season, so it was a nice treat saying hello while it was still light out.

I was planning to welcome an old friend for dinner, but he fell sick with the flu, so I switched my mindset and sort of looked forward to my evening alone. I rarely come home before 6 on a work night, so you can imagine my delight as I schemed my solo dinner, with a bit of college women's hoops in the background, and a stack of new magazines to flip through. Tonight was going to be a true treat.

Our new kitchen has a few bells and whistles, some of which I'm scared to use. I decided I was going to make burgers (I cannot remember the last time I made a beef burger) and attempt to use the gas grill on our range. I thought I better fire it up to make sure it worked before I formed the patties and committed to this dinner.

Click, click, click...BOOM!

I can't really tell you what happened, but first I checked to make sure I had my eyebrows and lashes, and then I tried to turn on the burners again. None of the burners clicked or lit. Awesome. So, I tried turning on the oven, which is gas, too. And...nothing. Great.

I should pause for a minute to share that I had the back sliding door open to let the cat out in the backyard for a bit before it got dark. He's been pretty good at staying in the backyard, partially because Taylor's trained him and also because typically the garbage and recycling bins line the gaps in the fence leading to the front yard.

Back to the kitchen.

I didn't want to bother Taylor at work, so I did what any girl would do...I called my parents. My mom said the expected..."Let me put your dad on the phone." Good ol' Dad walked me through a series of tests for my issue, but none of them seemed to do the trick, so he offered up the, "Well, you can light a match and turn on the gas--that should work," I said I'd try it, but only if he stayed on the line should I really incinerate my lashes and brows this time.

The first match broke in half, and I couldn't find the unlit flame side anywhere on the floor or counter. It's a real comforting thought knowing an unlit match is floating around a kitchen. I burned my fingers on the second and third matches because I was such a wimp attempting to catch the flame on the gas.

I finally lit the burners, and let me tell you, I lit them all and told my dad thanks before quickly hanging up the phone to get my burgers formed. Mind you, I planned to make green beans and sweet potato fries with the burgers (again, such a special treat for tonight!), so I threw the frozen beans on one burner and, after much contemplation, decided to try baking the fries in a skillet.

I finally got the burgers made, and I threw them on a grill pan (not the grill on the stove because I had (and have) no idea where the ignitor is on that bad boy. I thought I'd set the microwave timer to help remind me when to flip the burgers, but then I realized the microwave had no power. And, the coffee maker didn't have power, either. So, while the burgers started cooking, I decided to give my dad a call back to see if he could help troubleshoot the issue again.

I tried flipping the switches on the fuse box (is that what it's called?), but the micro wouldn't turn on. Just as I was reading all the different fuse labels to my dad over the phone, the smoke detector started blazing. Correction: The smoke detectorS started blazing. I immediately heard my husband's voice ringing in my head, "If you make burgers tonight, don't forget to turn on the hood fan." I mean, this hood fan is industrial strength, but I'm just not used to having this feature, so I haven't remembered NOT to forget to turn it on. So, I ran over to the hood just as the cat--who, by this time was back in the house--BOLTED out the door and scampered around the corner of the house. The same corner of the house where the garbage and recycling bins are typically covering the holes in the fence to the front yard.

I told my dad I really had to go, and I quickly fired up the fan hood and ran over to turn on the ceiling fan (another feature I forget we have now). I tried the ol' "fan it with a towel" technique, too, in order to stop the smoke detectors from beeping. (Can you tell this is not the first time my cooking has caused these annoying beeping machines to play a tune?)

The beans were burning. The fries were charred. The burgers were actually cooking quite nicely...but the cat! What about the cat?I couldn't let this cat go missing on my watch. Although Bronx and I have our differences, I know how much he means to Taylor, and I couldn't let the cat run away from fear of the loud beeping detectors. I grabbed the bag of cat treats and ran outside, spatula in hand. I whistled and called his name, and I finally found him behind our back house.

After bribing him with the treat, I finally got him in my arms, only to walk into our house and witness what looked like a snow storm. The ceiling fan somehow picked up ash from the fireplace and was distributing it all around our living room and kitchen. At this point, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But I did know I had to call my mom because I had to share this scene with someone, and I just didn't want to bother sweet Taylor at work.

I told her I felt like I was living out some sappy lyrics to a country song.

I still wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but I did know I needed to eat, so I slapped that burger onto a cold bun, flipped the half-frozen, half-charred fries onto my plate, and scooped up a few of the beans cooked pretty similarly to the fries. I cracked open a beer, and let me tell you...I poured over every page of one of the magazines in peace and quiet.

I have no idea what's wrong with the stove or electrical, and I'm not sure how Taylor's going to heat up his leftovers when he gets home, but I survived this kitchen misadventure, and for that I'm pretty proud.

A week in review...photo edition

66 days and photo uploading woes

Last Sunday, we heard a great homily about the power and benefits of restraint and habit.

Apparently, new research shows that it takes 66 days to fully form a habit, so our priest challenged the congregation to pick something either to give up or begin and set a goal for 66 days away from today. The theory is that in 66 days, you won't need to give into a former temptation or you'll continue doing your good deed. Rather, you'll look at the calendar and again seek 66 days out to reassess.

I've been thinking about this, but I haven't decided what exactly I will do. I need to contemplate longer and harder about it, and then I plan to challenge myself.

In other news, I've got some great updates and photos to share, but I'm having trouble uploading them. So boring, text-only entries will have to do for now. If any of you reading this have photos from the holidays, can you please send them my way? Thanks!

L + B reunion ... & celebrating the peanut's big 1st

Their first trip...on Taylor's 30th birthday weekend...was canceled due to Snowmageddon 2k14. But no stuffy nose or minor fever (for le bebe) could hold them back this time. 

Greg, Em, and Lily made the trip down to see our new house a couple weekends ago, and boy did we have a good time. 

Lily and I had a little joint birthday celebration. I made her a giant doughnut cake, which if you knew her mom and me in college, you'd find very fitting for the little lady. 

I felt like Taylor and I were on vacation all weekend. It was so nice to eat, drink, be merry, sleep, relax, catch up on magazines, watch a movie, and of course belt out some duets on the gee-tar with Greg. 

Oh, Lagreids. Why don't you just move on down here. We have plenty of room in the shed. 

Didn't get a lot of snaps...

Emily wore her Patagonia inside at all times...and let Mr. Bronx love on her. Ew. 

So many shoes, so little time to wear them before  you outgrow...

Wasting no time in the new kicks.

Dirt built us our first fire in the new house. 

Awesome housewarming gift from Team Lagreid...a Texas-shaped waffle iron. Don't mind if we do! 

Nothing says bestie reunion like a bottle of Rom...or two.

Happy Birthday, Lily Marie. You bring so much joy to your parents...and your godparents!