Cat hair and little children

First some big news:

photo 3


Our friends Jordan and Andrew had a little tiny baby boy, and we are so so excited!

photo 2

Why he doesn’t look at Lucy and Molly like that is beyond me.

Speaking of the cats, they have been remarkably entertaining since moving into the new house.

photo 2

photo 1

Thought those were cool? Watch Lucy prepare for the Summer Olympics in Rio 2016.

photo 4

Only downside of the new house is that our hardwoods seem to collect cat hair. So, I decided it was time to break out the defurminator.

photo 1

Can’t get that with a human baby.

Shorts and pear-pineapples

We have a tree!

photo 2

Supposedly it produces pear-pineapples, but only time will tell. As of today, we also have countertops, toilets, sinks and carpet, which is good considering we are supposed to move in in two short (hopefully) weeks.

As you can see, Casey’s beard is coming along quite nicely. We might have to exchange our house in the city for a cabin in the mountains soon. He’s lucky I’d go anywhere with him.

Whoooops. Almost got a lil gushy there.

In other news, I recently purchased some new shorts. Casey mentioned they were a little larger in the waist and a little longer in the length than last summer’s edition.

M: I was trying to find some more age-appropriate shorts.

C: Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you recently turned 65?

Already tore the tags off of ‘em, so guess I’ll just save them for more special occasions like volunteering at the local retirement center?

Good Talk and robbing banks



Listening to “Lay Down” in the car.

Casey: This song makes me wanna go do something badass.

Me: Like rob a bank?

Casey: No…not like that.

We obviously have different definitions of badass.


After watching “Dallas Buyers Club”:

Casey: Who names their kid Rayon?

Great takeaway, Case.


After spending the evening watching the season finale of The Bachelor with my girlfriends, I came home find Casey in a good mood because he hadn’t been subjected to the “trash television.”

Me (in my best Juan Pable accent): I think I will go to bed. Get in my pyamas and tell myself a yoke.

Casey (attempting same accent): And then in the morning, you can……………(lots of dots to symbolize long period of silent thinking on Casey’s part and long period of boredom on my part)……(back to American accent) Shoot. There is no J in pancakes.

Es okay, Casey. Es okay.


Running and thunder-stealing

I was trying to break two hours in the Houston Half-Marathon this weekend but was about nine minutes too late. But hey, if the race had only been 12 miles, I would have totally reached my goal. It was still my best time ever, and I’m always happy to finish those things, so I’m definitely not complaining. I was on track to go under two hours until about mile seven or eight when I started questioning the whole idea of marathons in general and smelling donuts. (Side Note: I overheard another runner tell her runner friend that the donuts smelled disgusting while she was running. I was like DUDE STFU NO THEY DON’T THEY ACTUALLY SMELL DELICIOUS. But I just kept quiet so as not to ruin my momentum.) I actually just felt like I completely ran out of gas. Running out of gas in a car when you have more than five miles to go is rough, so imagine running out of gas when you’re…running. I have a feeling Sunday wasn’t my last half-marathon though, so I’ll have another chance! Plus I didn’t want to steal the Ethiopians’ thunder and finish the half before they had a chance to finish the full. I hate to rain on parades like that.

My two biggest fans, my stepdad and Casey, came to cheer me on, and Casey took some snapshots. Only problem was this chick kept thinking he was taking pictures of her, so she’s the main focus of all my pictures. She obviously has no qualms about stealing someone’s thunder.


Casey’s response: Megan, I can’t help it I’m so good looking. Girls like to smile at me.

Real cute.

After walking around aimlessly for a half hour or so (not fun after a lengthy jog around H-town) looking for my favorite dudes, Casey finally came running toward me in a romantic fashion, and I’m not quite sure I’ve ever been happier to see him ever ever ever in my life. It was like waking up in the middle of the night feeling close to death from thirst, sticking your head under the faucet of your bathroom sink, and wondering why they don’t charge hundreds of dollars for tap water because dayuuuum it tastes so good at odd hours of the night. Casey is my 3 a.m. tap water. Heartz.

After reuniting, we started making our way to the car when a kind volunteer stopped me to congratulate me. (She had probably confused me with the Ethiopians who won the race. Classic mistake. Happens to me all the time.) I thanked her and as we continued our stroll, Casey pondered  outloud:

“Do you think she’s congratulating you on that race or the fact that you married me?”

Gee, Case. I dunno. That’s a toughie.

Later that day, I was resting my feet on Casey, because you can do that when you’re married and someone has decided they’ll be with you forever no matter what life throws your way and also no matter what your feet look like. And I said to Casey something about how my feet really are ugly. I wasn’t looking for a response and I definitely wasn’t fishing for a compliment from Casey even though he is quite good at giving me one when I do go fishing for one. I have known for quite some time I have hideous feet, and I’ve accepted it. Sometimes I just like to admit it outloud. Or maybe I just like to hear myself talk in general, not sure. Nevertheless I got a response.

Casey: “Not your best feature. Not your best feature.”

Said twice for dramatic effect.



Leprechauns and boils



I have some meaningless conversations to share! How exciting! First up, you might remember how I casually mentioned I got a new job. It’s been better than I could have ever imagined so far. My free time, blog-reading, and blog-writing has suffered a little, but I think my career is on a better path. I have two cats to support, so my career is obviously really important. The sad part is I had to leave my friends at my old job. Luckily, they all still text me, including Devin, a livestrangeblog favorite.

Last night Devin posted a picture of his dinner on Facebook with a caption along the lines of “romantic dinner at home with my gf! jk i’m alone and at a restaurant.” That was the gist. Anyway, I “liked” it. Mostly because I cook dinner for Casey ALL THE TIME and neither he nor I ever feel the need to post a picture on Facebook, yet I see someone’s dinner on my newsfeed almost every night with some romantic caption about whoever the significant other was that cooked it for them. I’m not h8ing. I just really got a kick out of Devin’s post. Anyway….

photo 1


photo 2

When Devin says “boils” he’s referring to my bunionettes. Sorry if you didn’t know what those were and just Google-imaged it. Sucks to be you. But it sucks more to have bunionettes.

Next up, turns out I’m an expert at ruining text message duets.

photo 3

And finally! My little brother has a girlfriend. And it’s really adorable and all that, but anyway he posted this picture with this obnoxiously romantic caption today.

photo 4

Ew. I know. Love. Gross. Okay, so I started a group text with both of them regarding the picture and how white John’s teeth are in the photo. Then somewhere down the line, we started talking about how we used to call my brother “John John the leprechaun.” It sort of spiraled out of control from there.

photo 5


Sam didn’t really win the spelling bee, y’all. My brother doesn’t date nerds. That’s just me. JK love you Casey. You’re my favorite accountant.

Good talk and heartwarming stories


Changed Conversations of the Week to “Good Talk” because…I wanted to.

While at a lovely Christmas party that I will describe in further detail with pictures later this week, a few of my girlfriends and I were singing along to Rhianna’s “Only Girl (in the World)” lyrics, specifically the line “want you to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world…like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love,” while Casey happened to be sitting nearby. He vainly assumed our musical prose was referencing himself, and therefore stated:

“Okay, all three of you cannot ask that of me at the same time.” I was like, come on, Casey. BE A MAN.

That morning, I had been trying to get the attention of one of said girlfriends (referenced above) by sending a truckload of text messages her way.



Finally, she awoke from her peaceful slumber, so mission accomplished.

Last Thursday was my last day in the office at my job. (GOT A NEW JOB, TALK TO YA BOUT IT L8ER…they will probably fire me if they see I typed later like that, so hopefully this blog is not well-ranked on Google.) I sent an email to the firm thanking them for a wonderful couple of years and letting them know that my going away party would be at 7 p.m. on Saturday at the Houstonian. Coincidentally that’s when and where I had planned our company holiday party. More on that later. Friday morning, I got a snapchat from my friend Devin of my empty office with a note that said “*Expletive that starts with F* you.” So heartwarming. The snapchat came in at about 10 til 7, so I asked him if he slept in his office that night…


In case you were wondering, last Tuesday I wore some pants that may have been a couple sizes too big (I think I got them on sale or something) to work. It provided a great deal of entertainment to my coworkers and they kept me very warm. Also in case you were wondering, today Devin sent me another snap of my empty office and wrote “I hope your new job sucks.” HE IS SUCH A SWEETHEART.

Casey’s grandma came to town today, and we took her out to Lupe’s. We met his parents after work, and we were all starving. His sister and I were already discussing the unfortunate fact that Lupe’s will not seat you until your whole party arrives when Casey missed the exit for the restaurant, because he “couldn’t” get over in time. Well, okay Casey, I GUESS MY STOMACH WILL JUST EAT ITSELF.