Two

We will get back to the tale of our trip to Lake Erie tomorrow, but today there’s something much more important to discuss. Does anyone know what day it is?….


Anyone?….


Anyone?….


Today is Scope’s and my two year wedding anniversary! Exciting, huh? I know!


Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


Last year on our anniversary, there were fireworks. Oh so many, many fireworks—*le sigh*—because the city of Chicago set off the 4th of July firework displays a day early, which meant that we got to spend our anniversary sitting on our rooftop watching the sky light up in all directions around us. BEST. ANNIVERSARY. EVER. So, I’m betting that tonight we will be up on the roof again, hoping to view a firework or two.


:-)


To my lovely, sweet, amazing Scope,


Happy Anniversary! I love you so very, very much. You are my husband, my strength, my happiness, and my best friend all wrapped up in one handsome, sexy, delightfully cuddly package. Being with you is more awesome than hot fudge sundaes, cake, reading Harry Potter, strutting to the Bee Gees on my treadmill, screaming on roller coasters, when Leonardo DiCaprio says “you’re still my best girl, Cora” in Titanic, dark chocolate, taking pictures, and all my other favorite things. Combined. You have filled Wednesday’s and my lives with love and laughter, and we are so lucky to have you. The three of us (well, okay, four of us—can’t forget Trevor!) make one mighty spectacular family. Thank you for being you, my hubba hubba hubby.           


I am yours forever.


Love, Cora










© Coracabana

Three is a magic number

So.


What were you doing three years ago? Hmm? I was meeting my hubba hubba hubby, Scope, face-to-face for the very first time. He flew 2000 miles from Chicago to Seattle just to meet little ol' me. I met him at the airport and then spent the weekend showing him all around Seattle. And what a weekend it was! He put on a Princess Leia wig/hat and re-enacted a scene from Star Wars outside in front of real live people. And I showed him the life-size Dobby the House Elf statue in my living room.... and he didn't even run away screaming!


It was magic, I swear. And every day since has just been more and more magical. I mean, we STILL haven’t even had our first fight yet—and I’m a redhead AND a Leo! Crazy, huh? I know! Oh, sure, we sometimes have different opinions on things…. like how many pickled jalapenos a person can eat before they should rightfully expect their innards to liquefy and shoot out their bum like jet fuel. (I say zero. Just a whiff of their scent will do it.) (Scope says half a jar…. and then he runs for the bathroom in a panic and realizes I’m right.) But as for a fight or an argument? Nope. Never had one of those in the three years we’ve been together.


It’s been an amazing, wonderful three years! Because Scope makes everything he comes within four yards of amazing and wonderful without even trying to. (Yeah, I don’t know how he does it either, but when I find out his secret, I’ll let you know.)


To my dear, sweet, handsome, sexy** Scope; Happy Anniversary. I love you so very, very much, and I am thankful every single day that you were brave enough to get on that plane three years ago so our paths could cross. You’re my Superman! And I can’t wait to see what the next three (and thirteen!) (and thirty!) years will bring. I bet it will be awesome.... just like you!


Love,
Cora




(**And, yeah, yeah, I know “the censors” have banned me from using words like ‘sexy’ here and I’m not supposed to throw that word around any more or say that I think my husband is attractive in case it somehow “alarms” my teenager (….*confused stare*….), but, frankly, today I really don’t care. At. All. And he IS sexy. Duh. So there.)






© Coracabana

Make no mistake, I am MOST DEFINITELY feeling secure NOW

So, this afternoon a security guard attempted to escort me from Wednesday's school while I was waiting to pick her up. He called me "Miss" and told me to take my backpack and leave the grounds.

What the—?!

I was just about to go all Enraged Crazy Redhead on him when we suddenly both realized his mistake: he thought I was a loitering kid from a rival school!

*sputter*

It's funny how one can go from murderously ticked off to obscenely flattered in 0.3 seconds when mistaken for a 17 year old, huh?

BEST security guard EVER!

© Coracabana

Aaaaaaand The Countdown Has Begun….

Can’t wait!

Can’t wait!!!!

CAN’T WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

© Coracabana

Want!

No, not the car. The song. I just LOVE this song. Wouldn’t that be FANTASTIC on a treadmill walk? Oh baby! Unfortunately, after searching and searching to find out whose song it is so I could pick up their CD, I was forced to admit defeat.

:-(

Turns out the song is Audi’s, created solely for their commercials. Well, poo. It still rocks though. Quick - let's play it again!!!!

© Coracabana

How I Like My Hos, Yo

So, I’m sitting here eating dollar store knockoff Ho-Hos.

(Or Faux Hos, if you will.)

(*snicker*)

And I’m thinking these suckers are pretty darn good for a dollar.

Yep.

*awkward silence*

And that’s all the wisdom I have for you today.

Sorry.

© Coracabana

Who Could Ask For Anything More?

Okay, so last Thursday morning, my daughter and I tore like tornados through our house, desperately trying to get the last of our moving to-do list accomplished before our flight to Chicago to (taa-daa!!) move in with Scope.

Or I did.

My daughter might have snuck away from me and my newfound best friend, Hysterical Panic (don’t call her “Hissy” if you like your nose the shape it is), to go back to sleep on my stripped bare bed. Maybe.

And I might have a picture (or three) to prove it…. but I can’t show you because I’m on Scope’s computer right now and he’s at work and….. ummm….. I have this here fancy memory card and all, but I can’t quite figure out where I’m supposed to stick it (that’s what he said) to pluck the pictures out of it like I could do on my own ‘puter back in Seattle….

….uhhhhhh….

….hmmm….

….????….

Well, anyway….

Even though I worked on it all for weeks, just packing and sorting and dumping things off at the thrift store and plugging holes in the walls with toothpaste, I somehow didn’t manage to get all the moving chores done in time before we had to leave for the airport.

*PANIC!*

And now those lucky relatives I left behind in Washington are stuck figuring out what to do with all my boxed up stuff I left piled up in my rental house.

*GUILT!*

My dad had wanted to drive it all over for me…. but then *POOF* that plan fell apart at the last minute (like, seriously, the night before I boarded my plane!), and now…. well…. word is he’ll probably be bringing some of my stuff over.

Some.

Eventually.

But he has no idea when. And he’s not sure how much he’ll be bringing. And it looks like the vast majority of my stuff is going to be locked away in a storage unit 2000 miles away from me by my mom for me to figure out how to get to Chicago myself later.

Basically, it’s complicated.

But besides the moving-with-nothing-but-a-few-bags-of-clothes-and-my-camera-and-my-Strawberry-Shortcake-Dolls-(shut)-(up) drama, my new married life is pretty damn splendiferous! :-)

Being married to Scope rocks, people! ROCKS!! Dare I say it? It rocks more than a whoppin’ big ol’ Rocky Road ice cream sundae!

Amen.

We’re happy. Like walking-around-with-big-stupid-grins-plastered-across-our-faces-which-we-can’t-seem-to-ever-wipe-off happy. Even my 13 year old daughter (who should rightfully be royally ticked at me for dragging her 2000 miles away from everything she knew) is happy and not the teeniest bit resentful….

(Except for yesterday when I forced her to try on pants for back-to-school shopping even though she loathes clothes shopping.)

(‘Cuz she’s.... umm... a different breed of teenage girl.)

(Clearly.)

Anyway, gotta run. I’m suddenly craving Rocky Road ice cream for some inexplicable reason and, lo and behold, there's a grocery store right across the darn street! Mmmmmmmm….

Bye!

© Coracabana

I Take a Redonkulous Load of Pictures, Therefore I Am

Last Thursday, my daughter, Gwen, and I rolled our bleary-eyed, sorry selves out of our nice warm beds about three hours before the crack of dawn and trudged our way to the airport like zombies. I-pod-toting, Skechers-donning, gum-popping, tired, cranky, don’t-talk-to-me zombies. Why? ‘Cuz we had a date with Scope in Chicago, of course!

:-)

We grunted and plodded our way through airport security at 5 am and then had two hours to kill before our flight. Setting up camp on the airport floor was mighty tempting, but—eh—we figured we’d have breakfast first.

So, there we were a little restaurant in the ‘port, having found ourselves a nice, cozy window seat, watching the sky morphing from black to navy blue while we noshed and slowly de-zombified, when suddenly we saw something so shocking it sent me into a giggling fit of epic spazzy proportions which startled all the other sleepy zombies nursing cups of coffee at nearby tables and made me dive for my camera.

What did we see? This….


Uh-huh. The pilot of the plane right outside our window opened the plane’s windshield, hoisted himself out of it, and Windexed the thing before takeoff! Ummmmm….. call me naive, but I had no idea plane windshields could roll down like that, did you? I dunno, that’s just wrong somehow.

Wrong, but funny!

Anyway….

Soon we were boarding our plane (and suspiciously sniffing around for a whiff of Windex) and then *POOF* we were landing in Chicago!

(Well, okay, fine. Maybe, technically, it was a little more than a *POOF*, alright? But as I slept 3/4 of the flight, it definitely had a *POOF* quality; a *POOF* essence; and a *POOF*-iosity to me.)

Scope was waiting for us and towering impressively over the riffraff rest of the crowd just beyond security, and soon the three of us were locked in the first of the many, many, many group hugs of which our weekend was made.

(Awwwwwwww.)

We collected our bags and hit the road in Scope’s PT Cruiser and almost immediately found ourselves face-to-rear with this….


Yeah. That’s right. Cora’s Predator! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But wait—let’s take a closer look, shall we?….


Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. ;-)

Of course, good bloggers that we are, we tailed Cora’s Predator for quite some time; me brandishing my camera so we could get a good picture of it just for YOU.

You’re welcome!

We went to Bennigan’s for lunch and then waltzed across the street to the museum at the Art Institute of Chicago….


….which Gwen (oh, alright, fine—maybe it was me, happy now?!) was super-excited about because Ferris, Cameron and Sloane had once set foot in there!

*maniacal giggle*

We got all artsy fartsy….




We snapped many a picture….


And we saw a vast array of amazing work, including the famous A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat….


(Yep, and that spectacular Scope of mine is holding my purse. Ain’t he a sweetie? *le sigh*)


And, looky here! Just in time for Mother’s Day, YOU can adopt a dot on the Seurat and show your mama that she’s “one in a million”! *snicker*


We posed like American Gothic….


….which, ever the giggletastic ball of dorkiness that I am, I just simply could NOT pull off with a straight face!

(Dammit.)

And, much to Gwen’s horror and disgust, we saw a plethora of naked butts everywhere we turned (!!!!)….






(Tee hee hee! That last one is my favorite!)

Seeing all those butts burned Gwen’s eyes. Clearly….


….or maybe she was just tired. ;-)

So Scope took us back home and the three of us cuddled up on the couch all family-like and we watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone until it was time for bed.

And it was bliss.

:-)

[….to be continued….]

© Love Letters By Cora

File Under: Be Careful What You Wish For

So, as you may or may not or maybe kinda sorta might recall that Scope was flying into town to romp away the wily weekend with me Thursday night…. right as FlashForward was ending.

Hmmm.

Dilemma.

What to do…. miss the last few all-important, nail-biting minutes of FlashForward (and, thus, not know quite what the heck is going on next week) to race to the airport to meet Scope on schedule…. or leave my tired, travel-worn, lovely fiancé abandoned alone, and feeling unloved, in the cold, cruel, unflatteringly-lit airport for a few minutes while I finish watching that crack-like addictive show with my new best friend, Guilt, telling me what a cruddy fiancée I am the whoooooooooole stinkin’ time?

Tough call. No, really.

But, fortunately, fate or luck or karma or wish-granting-and-magic-wand-wielding Southwest Airlines fairies or something swooped in at the last minute and saved me from having to make my dreaded decision myself. You see, when I looked up Scope’s flight on SWA’s website I saw it was (….drum roll please….) delayed by ten minutes.

PERFECT!!!! I could see the whole show AND still get to the airport in time!!!! Woo-hoo!!!!

My Guilt and I hi-fived each other and then I plopped myself down on my couch in all my FlashForwardy bliss; gasping and startling and shouting things at the TV like, “OH MY GOD, THAT GUY IS A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FLIPPING PSYCHO!! I CAN’T BELIEVE I DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING!!”

But then it went all wrong. That harmless little ten minute delay which would have worked out sooooooooo nicely for me, Scope, and my Guilt, turned into an ugly thirty minute delay….

….which turned into a stinky fifty minute delay….

….which turned into an unfair hour delay….

….which turned into a whattheheckisgoingon???? hour and fifteen minute delay….

….and then some.

(Stupid overzealous Southwest Airlines flight-delay-wish-granting fairies!!!!)

Every time I looked at the flight status it got worse and worse and worse. I started wondering if something bad had happened: did his plane make an emergency landing in Omaha or what????

Gah!!

Scope didn’t set foot inside Sea-Tac Airport until almost 11 pm (1 am, his time) and he was EXHAUSTED…. and yet looking mightily dapper with his fresh, new look….


Mm-hmm. That Van Dyke beard he’d been sporting for a few years now has been shaven off, leaving his handsome face bare and—and ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE, that’s what!!!!!!!!!

And, please, is there ANYTHING on Earth that can match the UBERSPECTACULARNESS of that man’s smile?

No.

The answer is no.

Case. Closed.

:-)

[….to be continued….]

© Love Letters By Cora