Things have been quiet on the Blogtari front for the past few weeks. Let's just say that we've been especially introspective in the New Year. It certainly has nothing to do with a fear of offending particular readers by trash-talking them on said blog. Nothing at all to do with that. We love all of our friends and our acquaintances are in no way creepy.
Now that we've cleared that up, I'd like to share a tale that started before the New Year began. The Blogtaris headed home two weekends ago - together - for the first time since Memorial Day. I've been home on my own a bunch since the start of the summer, but CinS always finds himself working when it's time to trek to the 'burbs. But the irony is that CinS loves going home. Maybe more than I do. For those that don't know, "home" in this instance, is my parent's place in suburban Philadelphia. When we live on the left coast, "home" will be his parent's house in suburban LA. But despite "home" really being where my heart is, CinS loves it out there. I'm really very lucky.
Now that we've cleared that up, I'd like to share a tale that started before the New Year began. The Blogtaris headed home two weekends ago - together - for the first time since Memorial Day. I've been home on my own a bunch since the start of the summer, but CinS always finds himself working when it's time to trek to the 'burbs. But the irony is that CinS loves going home. Maybe more than I do. For those that don't know, "home" in this instance, is my parent's place in suburban Philadelphia. When we live on the left coast, "home" will be his parent's house in suburban LA. But despite "home" really being where my heart is, CinS loves it out there. I'm really very lucky.
Before our trip, CinS and I were talking about our weekend at home and he was getting all excited. Excited like a toddler.
"Can we go to Kohl's?"
"Yes."
"Can we eat at the country club?"
"Yes."
"Can I buy new Coffeemate flavors at the supermarket?"
And on and on and on.
You see, there are certain things that my husband does at home that he does no where else. He falls effortlessly into the suburban routine as soon as the commuter train arrives in Trenton.
On our way home, we eat dinner at one of three chain restaurants. Later that night, my mom goes upstairs to watch HGTV, while the rest of us watch TV on the couch until my dad falls asleep. After several naps, my dad wakes up to go to bed. As soon as he leaves, CinS raids the pantry for Oreos and M&Ms and switches on Cheaters.
I have never seen my husband watch Cheaters any place besides at my parent's house. It is a bizarre phenomenon. My parent's have just as many channels as we do at home, yet Cheaters draws him in like, well, like the MTV-generation to Cheaters.
Cheaters always makes me wonder if there is a stockroom somewhere filled with raw footage of people not cheating. Surely not every suspicious person out there is correct, but if there is no cheating, there is no show. So you have to assume that there is some tape out there documenting Billy-Bob's late night trip to the Wendy's . Probably reels of it. Think of all the production time wasted on a couple whose relationship isn't drawn and quartered all over syndicated late night TV. No wonder our fair host can't afford a full goatee.
CinS also buys a lot of hand soap when we go home. I don't understand why suburban hand soap is far superior to city hand soap, but there must be a clear distinction that I'm missing.
The final and most important item on the home checklist, is a visit to the neon graveyard. For those that don't know, my husband collects neon signs that, until we move to our mythical home with detached garage, reside in my parent's basement. He has about 9 signs in total, and most are covered with old blankets in a corner of the basement.
Every trip home, my dad jokes about bringing the neon Eagles sign to his office (he's got his suburban routines too), but this trip, CinS actually gave the sign to my dad. We hung it on the wall in the basement and lit it up to help the Eagle's season. But since the sign has gone up, the team has lost their last two games. (sorry fellow fans, this one's our bad)
I think the sign is pissed that it was taken from its friends beneath its protective IKEA fitted sheet, and singled out to shine alone on the basement wall. Or maybe it's feeling insecure about its relationship with the Statue of Liberty sign now that they aren't shacking up anymore. Maybe Lady Liberty has moved on to another sign from another town. If only there were some way we could put the Eagles sign's mind to rest. If only some soul-patched TV host with his SWAT team of cameras could investigate this matter properly...
Come on, Joey Greco, we can turn this Eagles season around yet.
You see, there are certain things that my husband does at home that he does no where else. He falls effortlessly into the suburban routine as soon as the commuter train arrives in Trenton.
On our way home, we eat dinner at one of three chain restaurants. Later that night, my mom goes upstairs to watch HGTV, while the rest of us watch TV on the couch until my dad falls asleep. After several naps, my dad wakes up to go to bed. As soon as he leaves, CinS raids the pantry for Oreos and M&Ms and switches on Cheaters.
I have never seen my husband watch Cheaters any place besides at my parent's house. It is a bizarre phenomenon. My parent's have just as many channels as we do at home, yet Cheaters draws him in like, well, like the MTV-generation to Cheaters.
Cheaters always makes me wonder if there is a stockroom somewhere filled with raw footage of people not cheating. Surely not every suspicious person out there is correct, but if there is no cheating, there is no show. So you have to assume that there is some tape out there documenting Billy-Bob's late night trip to the Wendy's . Probably reels of it. Think of all the production time wasted on a couple whose relationship isn't drawn and quartered all over syndicated late night TV. No wonder our fair host can't afford a full goatee.
CinS also buys a lot of hand soap when we go home. I don't understand why suburban hand soap is far superior to city hand soap, but there must be a clear distinction that I'm missing.
The final and most important item on the home checklist, is a visit to the neon graveyard. For those that don't know, my husband collects neon signs that, until we move to our mythical home with detached garage, reside in my parent's basement. He has about 9 signs in total, and most are covered with old blankets in a corner of the basement.
Every trip home, my dad jokes about bringing the neon Eagles sign to his office (he's got his suburban routines too), but this trip, CinS actually gave the sign to my dad. We hung it on the wall in the basement and lit it up to help the Eagle's season. But since the sign has gone up, the team has lost their last two games. (sorry fellow fans, this one's our bad)
I think the sign is pissed that it was taken from its friends beneath its protective IKEA fitted sheet, and singled out to shine alone on the basement wall. Or maybe it's feeling insecure about its relationship with the Statue of Liberty sign now that they aren't shacking up anymore. Maybe Lady Liberty has moved on to another sign from another town. If only there were some way we could put the Eagles sign's mind to rest. If only some soul-patched TV host with his SWAT team of cameras could investigate this matter properly...
Come on, Joey Greco, we can turn this Eagles season around yet.
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