have you ever been walking down the street and think to yourself, “this bag of dog poop i’m holding weighs more than your dog”?

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i’m not really one to advertise. i don’t wear t-shirts that support any school or team (minus my alien green roswell (georgia) baseball t-shirt, which i love for obvious reasons), and i don’t even really like wearing clothing or accessories where you can tell who designed them. beauty in the unknown. or something.

this post is not an advertisement; it’s just a plain ole story.*

i consistantly want chinese food when we are deciding what to eat for dinner. mike never does. i think it probably has something to do with the fact that i am always craving fried foods and butter, and mike is always craving…exercise.

so i was flabbergasted when mike said ‘yes’ to my (not at all shocking) suggestion for chinese food for dinner recently. while we have a place in the neighborhood we’ve gone to in the past, we weren’t really interested in eating in the restaurant that night, and didn’t know for sure if we could order food there to pick-up.

living in this great modern age that we do, i brilliantly decide to look “on-line,” as the kids say (heh. kids.), to see what their website tells us. i go to my favorite search engine, type in ‘Han Dynasty Philadelphia,’ and the results pop up, as results are prone to do. the first link shown is to the restaurant’s website. perfect!

i look at the link, and take a double-take. wait. that couldn’t be right. why would that be the link? that is SO weird. and inappropriate. and a little…gross??

no. wait. that’s right. is it right?

http://www.handynasty.net

handy. nasty. dot. net.

woah.

i can only imagine what the same site ending in .com looks like. you can go ahead and look, but i’m going to sit it out over here. you know, to protect my virgin eyes.

*hm, well now that i’ve brought them up specifically, you should know that the food at han dynasty is DELICIOUS. so if you ever get the urge, i totally support your decision to dine there…and to eat the dan dan noodles. not nasty at all.

10 years and some days ago: my roommate rushes into my room to tell me you’ve called her to ask her: if you asked me to go out, what does she think i would say?

10 years and days later from some days ago: you finally call, and i say yes. then, sitting on my bed, trying to play it cool on the phone, we are thinking together of a good costume for the big first date, and i look up to see a card pinned to my bulletin board which inspires an idea. the theme was ‘big trouble, little china’ and i suggest shyly: sumo wrestlers? (we only put it together years later that sumo is actually from japan)

10 years ago, early in the afternoon: in my car, on the way to wal-mart to pick up costume-making supplies, talking about our parents, you pursuing a third major, so-da, and whatever else. i’m giddy with excitement to be so close to you.

10 years ago, later that day: making costumes in my living room, there is a huge and awkward lull in conversation. somehow the strange silence makes me thankful you asked. a first and only date with you is better than no date at all.

10 years ago, tonight: i meet you there, without us getting dinner together before the dance (because you didn’t ask). i, thinking all night long how dressing as a sumo wrestler is not the way i actually prefer to dress for a first date. and we dance, and we sumo, and we win the costume contest, and then, a couple days later, you ask me out again.

10 years ago today: we start on this adventure together with no idea what the future holds. can you imagine? what a leap of faith. but we found each other, you asked, i said yes, and it stuck. i’m so glad.

subtitle for my grammatically correct-ers out there: ‘the mouse tween and i’

when my husband and i used to live together…ha! that’s a fun start to a story, eh?…ahem.

when my husband and i used to live together, we had a house with, dare i complain about them again?, problems. looking back, there are parts of that house that were amazing. but the rest of it was a mess.

one of the most disgusting things about the house was the seemingly endless mouse infestation. at points we were trapping between 1 to 3 mice a day for days (weeks?!) on end.

my husband began to document the experience by taking a photo of each one we caught to show the landlord that SOMETHING NEEDED TO CHANGE. i was not part of this project because, well, i don’t really need to explain why, right? but if you must know…it was gross! anywho, one day i turned on the camera, forgetting about the morbid project, and there they were: a host of photos, each one demonstrating more than the last how very effective the mouse trap was of doing it’s job.

not my point.

one evening one little mouse came out in the open in our dining room that was visible to mike and i who were sitting in our living room. being just a baby mouse, and being so incredibly super cute, mike and i agreed that we didn’t have the heart to set the trap. i’ve whipped up a quick picture to illustrate the level of cuteness i’m talking about here:

right?

so anyway. i fell, as i often do, into a ball of mush for the little animal. i felt so bad for him/her because he/she was just a baby in a big, bad, world. i then proceeded to go rummaging through our fridge to see how i could help.

the only thing i found? some gourmet organic cheese from whole foods. so i fed it to the little guy for the next several days.

then, about a week later, the same mouse re-emerges, but instead of being that same cute little baby, it had turned into a regular, somewhat awkward and ugly looking, tween mouse. and about that same time (and without my knowledge), mike had re-set the trap.

exactly one morning later the tween mouse was part of his art project.

what does all of this have to do with me today? i looked in the fridge this evening for something to eat, and all i could find was some organic gourmet cheese from whole foods.

meet….???

she’s our new cat! (so far, no final decision on a name.)

in an effort to give charlie more to do, we got him a pet. we’ve actually discussed getting charlie a pet for some time now, and for reasons i can’t really understand, people scoff at the way we phrase that. “you’re getting CHARLIE a pet?”

well, yes! he needs some responsibility around here.

to date, the plan has worked like clockwork. charlie follows the cat around everywhere, ensuring that she knows what is and is not allowed in the house according to the people, and most importantly, what bone is his, and certainly is not hers.