Livin' the Dream

You guys. Seriously.

It's happened.

About a year and a half ago, I came home from work exhausted, weary, and on the verge of a complete meltdown. Every. Night. I told The Hubs, "All I want to do is frost cupcakes and write."

I wanted a life in which I made people, and myself, happy. I wanted something pure, something nourishing, something sweet, something filled with love. I wanted to actually have the time to do the things I loved. I wanted to love what I do. I wanted people to feel loved by what I do. I wanted to feed people. And write about it. Operation Frost Cupcakes became the dream.

Over time Operation Frost Cupcakes became our code for, "When Andrea finally gets to work in a bakery, write, move to a kick-ass part of town, and completely love her life." The Hubs and I talked about it all the time. I dreamed about it constantly. I told anyone that would listen that someday, someday. I put it out into the universe. It got me through the days. I wanted that new adventure so bad I could taste it.

It's been a tough journey. Really tough. Twists and turns and doubts and so many unexpected curve-balls made me come thisclose to giving up the dream. Almost daily I seriously questioned just what the hell I thought I was doing. Each hurdle made the dream seem further and further away.

But then it started getting closer. The Hubs, my friends, my family, YOU held my hand, dragged me kicking and screaming, and cheered so damn loud as the finish line got closer and closer. I wanted to give up. You all wouldn't let me. So I ran faster, dreamed bigger.

And then it happened. I crossed the finish line.

I'm here. Living the dream.

Working in a bakery. Freelance writing. Loving my new town. Drafting a book. Blogging. Laughing. Dreaming. Loving.

Living.

I love you. Thank you.

The Nice Fight

Have you ever niced your way into an epic fight? Does that question make any sense at all to you? Lemme 'splain.

The Hubs and I have this amazing habit of getting into arguments because we are being TOO NICE to each other. I know. It sounds completely stupid. And it probably is.

This fight almost always starts over snoring. Not in the way you think. I don't get mad when he snores. I don't see red when it sounds like I'm laying next to a wild boar making love to a chain saw. I don't get upset when the bed is literally shaking from his log sawing.

I get nice.

Rather than kick him and push him out of the bed (though it's sometimes it's very, very tempting), I simply grab a blanket and my pillow and move to the couch. Inevitably, he will wake up an hour or two later to discover my absense, wander into the living room to find me asleep on the couch or the floor, and then it starts...

The nice fight.

"Why are you out here? Come back to bed."

"You were snoring. I'm fine here. Go back to bed."

"No, I'll take the couch. You have a bad back. Go to bed."

"No, you have to work in the morning. You go to bed."

"No, no. I don't feel comfortable with you out here. You take the bed."

"No. Really. You're the breadwinner. I don't feel right kicking you out of bed. You take the bed."

"No, babe. TAKE THE BED."

"No, really sweetheart. I'M GOOD HERE. GO BACK TO BED!"

"But I love you and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. TAKE THE DAMN BED!"

"I love you, too. SO, TAKE THE EFFING BED!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? GO THE FUCK TO BED!"

"Why are you being an ass? GO! TO! BED!"

"How's it feel up on that cross? TAKE THE BED!"

"Cross? CROSS?!?! Ah HELLNO! I'M SO TAKING THIS COUCH! GO TO BED!!!!"

And then we're in a huge fight.

What is wrong with us? Who in their right mind gets into arguments because they are trying to out-nice each other? Does anyone else do this or are The Hubs and I certifiably insane?

And it doesn't end there. We get in the nice fight more than any other fight. We've got conflicting events on the same day? Watch us battle over who will cancel their plans to accommodate the other. An unappealing errand to run? We'll go ten rounds over who gets to do it so the other doesn't have to. A mess to clean up? Literally clawing our way to said mess to get to it before the other person can. And the best part? Neither of us even necessarily WANTS to do the nice thing. We just can't stand the thought of the other being put out so we'll gladly play the martyr card in order to feel nice.

What the hell is that about? Does anyone else have nice fights?

Ready to feel old???

George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" was released TWENTY-FIVE years ago today. Yeah. I'll let that bit of craziness sink in while we take a trip down memory lane...