Christmas Pictures

Other than our wedding pictures, we've never had professional photos taken before.

My husband says it's vain.

This, coming from a man who can't pass a window or reflective surface without secretly checking himself out from the corner of his eye.

So I convinced him that we should have a photographer come out and take pictures of the farm.

Oh yeah, and insert ourselves in them. Minor detail, whatever.

Luckily, the man seriously farms in button down shirts and sweaters and is ready for a photo shoot at a moments notice.

You think I'm kidding?

I married the preppiest farmer on the planet.

My mom, his personal stylist, single-handedly keeps Ralph Lauren in business by buying him every button down and polo they make.

He gets more clothes in the mail than any woman I know.

But despite all this, he still thinks displaying framed photos of ourselves is vain.

So other than this blog post, these pictures will probably never see the light of day.

Other than one or two potentially making it up on my parent's refrigerator door.

We even let Woodrow jump in for one.

This farm is slowly becoming a zoo, by the way.

Cows, schizophrenic Border Collie, ego-maniac Chihuahua and a four-month old kitten that just might be pregnant already.

Little hussy.

So. There you go. Our pictures.

And I just thought you might like to know... I can bring the sass...

... at dusk

... and dawn. 

On a hay bale.

Because I'm cool like that.

In my own head.

Back in the Game

 

I came out of my semi-retirement last week to cover the election.

 

By semi-retirement, I mean I still do some TV work. I host a daily segment at a local ABC affiliate but I get to go in just once a week or so and tape several segments at once. So basically people think I work full-time because they see me on TV everyday, but really I just work once a week.

 

Smoke and mirrors, people, smoke and mirrors.

 

Best. Job. Ever.

 

 

But last week I went to Boston to help my good pal Ted cover Mitt Romney on election night.

 

He's a Washington correspondent for a group of stations that includes my old New York station.

 

We headed to town a day early to cover all of the election day preps going on.

 

It's amazing the sets they build for these one-time events.

 

We spent the majority of our time in the Press Filing Center where we could monitor election returns and edit video.

 

Just look for the copious amounts of caffeine and junk food and you'll find my workspace.

 

Oh yeah, fried food too.

 

Ted shares in my obsession of toxic foods.

 

I always thought this is what I would end up doing someday.

 

I got degrees in broadcast journalism and political science with the intention of being a political reporter.

 

And for a while, I was... reporting in two state capitals and as a Washington correspondent.

 

And for a brief moment I missed the hustle and bustle of it all.

 

Then I came to my freakin' senses.

 

I slapped myself in the face and reminded myself of how bad your social life sucks when you are in the media full-time.

 

I remembered all of the holidays I missed, weddings I couldn't go to and vacations I didn't take.

 

 But who knows, I'm a glutton for punishment, I may go back someday.

 

 

Hurricane Sandy

I have a total love/hate relationship with hurricanes.

Especially after one called Hurricane Omar completely ruined our honeymoon.

This is the aftermath of a direct hit from a category three hurricane to St. Maarten.

It left us with absolutely nothing to do during our honeymoon.

We were on the second floor, the picture above is the room directly below us on the first floor.

Totally destroyed.

The tide crushed in the doors and water reached the ceiling.

As we hunkered down in our room above, we heard all of the furniture floating around downstairs... banging against the walls.

I'm not going to lie, it was terrifying.

The winds were so strong, they bowed our balcony doors inward -- allowing water, sand and seaweed in.

And thanks to all of the sea debris that washed up, the beaches were closed all week.

There was no running water.

No electricity.

No nothing.

When we tell people about it, their response is Oh, I bet that was so romantic.

Seriously?

Can't flush toilets, no showers, no a/c, no housekeeping, sand in the sheets, whole town closed, nothing to do and grilled hot dogs for every meal.

If that's your idea of romance, then I guess it was.

-- ANYWAY --

That's the hate part of the relationship.

As for the love part....

Hurricane Sandy didn't cause much destruction where we live.

But brought just enough rain that we can't do much on the farm.

So today is day #2 of sitting by the fire, relaxing with my husband and pups.

I am one lucky girl.

A Weekend In Morgantown

 

First off, I'm going to need all of you K-State haters to read this article.

 

And that's why Bill Snyder is the bomb.

 

 

This poor mis-guided girl is my friend Taylor.

 

She is a junior at WVU.

 

I try not to hold it against her.

 

Especially since she was nice enough to be seen out with an old lady at the bars the night before the game.

 

She did tell me she considered buying me a "WVU Mom" shirt, that way she wouldn't have to explain why she had an old lady at the bars with her.

 

But on game day we parted ways.

 

Literally and figuratively.

 

My husband was late coming into Morgantown (anybody surprised?) so I headed on over to his fraternity's tailgate.

 

I met one of the guys the night before at the bars, he told me to look for the sea of camouflage to find them.

 

I think what he was getting at is there are just a bunch of good 'ol boys.

 

I felt right at home with the Alpha Gamma Rho crowd.

 

Especially since the guys in my family were all AGR's at K-State.

 

Although I think they felt a little duped when they went to the trouble of reserving me a parking spot and then I show up in all purple with a Powercat on the front of my car.

 

Oops.

 

I didn't know that was information they needed.

 

The guys were great and made me feel right at home.

 

They made up for all of the F*** You's I got from other WVU students throughout the weekend.

 

Bitter much?

 

Geez.

 

Apparently The Mask has got everyone's panties in a bunch.

 

Welcome to the Big XII, Mountaineers.

 

You're going to have to grow some thick skin during football season.

 

Just before it was time to head to the stadium, look who showed up:

 

Mr. WVU Grad himself.

 

Can't you feel the K-State love in this place?

 

Yeah, me neither.

 

But Papa Smurf was pretty awesome.

 

And the older WVU crowd was great. They did everything they could to make all of the K-Staters feel at home.

 

Got to say, it definitely wasn't the crazy Morgantown you hear about.

 

It was super calm.

 

I didn't see a single out-of-control tailgate or couch fire all weekend.

 

 

We sat with season ticket holders and everyone in our section was really nice despite the fact that I was rooting for the other team.

 

The stands were full.

 

As was the KSU section.

 

The guy  next to me said that was the best showing of an away team he had seen in a long time at WVU.

 

And thank goodness things went our way.

 

I didn't do much cheering or celebrating though.

 

Didn't want to rub it in since the people all around me pay big money for those seats every year and really want to see their team win.

 

But it got to the point that a few of them were asking me if I had any extra purple they could put on.

 

By the third quarter, the K-State section was still packed but the rest of the stadium was sparse.

 

It was such a one-sided game I even got a little board at times.

 

And resorted to a glamour shots session with my purple nails.

 

Aren't they great?

 

And, isn't that amazing?

 

Alright, that's all the smack I will talk.

 

I have to live with these people.

 

 

Life Lately

We celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary last week.

Next month will be eight years together in all.

I just happened to run into this little gem of an embarrassing video the other day that my best friend made for our wedding rehearsal dinner.



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Peaches are out, apples are in.

 

I've been making apple pies and crisps lately, although I admittedly have been slacking (big time) from my husband's there needs to be pie in this house at all times demands.

 

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There are lots of cute new babies on the farm right now.

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My husband heard somewhere that if you feed cats cream, they will catch mice.

 

So naturally, we've been all but shoving it down Massey's precious little throat.

 

Little Miss Barn Cat needs to earn her keep.

 

She wasn't so sure about it on the first try...

 

 

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My husband finally gave in and shaved his head.

But not because he's come to grips with balding.

 

It's the result of his thinking he's the best barber in the world and a clipper guard malfunction.

 

After he gouged two huge sections of his scalp, he was forced to shave it all off or walk around looking like this:

 

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Woodrow has been busy perfecting his vertical leap lately.

 

 

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Playing soccer with a basketball is apparently the new thing around here.

 

 

And not everyone has it down just yet.