Relationships

Please tell me if I’m being ridiculous ¹⁴

Some of you may remember this post from a few months back where I gave away a fabulous MILK Bespoke Photobook, and shared my experience with the product as I finally got around to creating my own wedding album.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise that three months later, I have yet to finish the book.

That’s right…it’s been nearly six years since Scottrina became a legally recognized entity, and I still don’t have a wedding album as proof. Why you ask? It’s a question I’ve been pondering a lot as of late.

Perhaps the MILK Bespoke book software tedious and cumbersome?

No! Quite the contrary, in fact. It’s easy to use and makes even the crappiest of photographs look worthy of an art gallery!

Could my subconscious be in denial that I’m married to Scott? Maybe the lack of a wedding album is my inner-psyche’s way of crying out for help?

Pfft! Of course not. I love that sarcastic blonde man with all my heart and couldn’t imagine my life without him. In fact if it were up to me, I’d marry him all over again.

Whoa.

I think I just totally had a “Eureka” moment you guys.

Scott and I need to get married again!

(This is why I love blogging. You’re typing away and then BAM! You get a brilliant idea, everything suddenly makes sense and you find yourself embracing a renewed sense of purpose! And deciding whether you want pink peonies or exotic roses!)

Let me be perfectly clear — I’m not talking some elaborate vow renewal or a second honeymoon. I actually don’t even want a ceremony. I simply want to get dressed up and retake our wedding photos. I’ve suddenly realized the reason I’ve never finished a wedding album is because I don’t actually like our wedding photos.

This is the part where I forbid you to feel sorry for me. Six-years of wedded reality has given me some healthy perspective. The type of perspective that makes one realize a wedding is just one brief day over the course of a lifetime. Yes, it’s an important day…but I’m okay with the fact that my nuptials may not have been Pinterest-worthy. Admitting that I’m not incredibly pleased with our photos doesn’t make me want to collapse on the floor and cry until I dry-heave.

It’s simply inspired me to take matters into my own hands and initiate a photographic “do-over”.

You know…a photoshoot where I haven’t abused the tanning bed or opted to style my coif with a Jessica Simpson clip-in and…I can’t believe I’m actually admitting this to the internet…a “Bumpit“.

It’s bridal Snooki! (Only blonder and more virginal.)

Don’t I deserve a set of photos taken by a photographer who charges more than $300, and as a result, knows that this is not good lighting?

A photographer who understands construction zones are not an acceptable backdrop?!

I worked some Photoshop magic and cropped it out/added some foliage…but there was TOTALLY an apartment being constructed behind us in the original.

A photographer whose idea of a cute pose isn’t…well…this.

Or this.

And seriously…what the ‘eff is up with the stool from K-Mart?

Not sure which is worse…the composite wooden stool legs, or my Bumpit.

I suppose that’s what I get for skimping on the photography budget. To be fair, when you’re trying to pull of a wedding for 250+ guests with a $6,000 budget, you end up cutting a few corners.

And using (cringe!) fake flowers.

And purchasing a dress from David’s Bridal that was on clearance for $199, even though you don’t really like it all that much.

Again — I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I truly have no regrets! While I wasn’t in love with my dress, it was simple, somewhat timeless, and not poofy. Sure, I don’t get goosebumps every time I think of it, but I also don’t look back and say “What the hazayschnay was I thinking?!” I consider it a moderate success.

Speaking of the dress…in a fit of nostalgia I decided to try it on while I was at my parent’s house a few weeks ago.

It was way too big!

(I’ve never taken drugs before, but I imagine the feeling of trying on your too-big wedding dress is probably similar. I suddenly lost my appetite and felt nothing but bliss, energy, and the urge to hug everyone in sight for several hours.)

All in all, I think would be a way more rockin’ bride now than I was six summers ago.

So why not embrace it? I could rent a dress, put on some classic red lipstick…even order a bouquet of real flowers this time around. There will be no ceremony, no guests and no cake. It will simply be photos, and then a trip to the bar so people who think I just got married will buy me free red beers.

(Told you I’d be a more rockin’ bride.)

The tricky part will be convincing Scott…the man who didn’t even want to have a real wedding the first time around. To make matters more complicated, he’s getting braces put on at the end of the month–our wedding shoot will have to wait until the summer of 2014, so our photos aren’t mistaken for awkward (yet beautifully composed) prom snapshots.

Of course, I’m totally fine with this. It will give me plenty of time to discover a dress that is truly worth of my MILK Bespoke photo book album, after all! You don’t think renting a Vera Wang would be over the top, do you?

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A little bit crazy ⁴

The other day, Scott and I were discussing a couple we know from…uh…let’s just call it a “previous life”.

Scott: I don’t know if I like them. They’re too…well…normal.

Me: Yeah…they’re definitely very normal people, but you can’t deny that they are so incredibly nice. I enjoy spending time with them.

Scott: Okay. Maybe it’s not that I don’t like them…it’s more that I feel like they don’t like me.

Me: You always think people don’t like you.

Scott: Yeah…but this is different. They’re both just so incredibly perfect. Their lives are perfect. I suppose I feel like they’re constantly looking at me and rolling their eyes. You know…laughing at all the weird stuff I do or the things I say wrong.

Me: I think it’s all in your head.

Scott: Katrina. They unfriended me on Facebook.

Me: Okay…maybe it’s not all in your head.

Scott: Whatever. I mean…I don’t really care all that much. I guess I just don’t understand people like that. They’re just so…flawless. They never say the wrong thing or make questionable decisions. They’re the picture of success and the American dream and those douchey Scott Disick pants that have the lobsters embroidered all over them!

Me: I kind of like those lobster pants.

Scott: You would. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that they’re just so impeccable and…I don’t know…boring.

Me: Exactly! I was just thinking about this the other day. I’ve begun to realize that I’m naturally drawn to people who are a little bit crazy.

Scott: I could have told you that years ago.

Me: And I don’t mean crazy in a mentally unstable way–although I don’t really have a problem with that either–I’m just talking about people who are quirky and a little bit off. You know, someone who isn’t afraid to date a nineteen-year-old gogo dancer they met online or wear a sketchy looking cheetah jumpsuit in public.

Scott: I’m the same way. Pretty much all of my friends have a little streak of crazy in them. Plus, I married you.

Me: See? It’s really not all that surprising. You and I both have a little streak of crazy…it makes total sense!

Scott: Yeah, I guess. I’m just sick of all the non-crazy people casting judgement on me.

Me: But here’s the thing: Those people act like they’re judging….but I think they’re secretly jealous. Living vicariously through other people’s random acts of craziness, if you will.

Scott: Hmmmm. Are you sure you aren’t just in denial?

Me: Think about it! How many times have one of your “normal” friends asked you to rehash one of your crazy stories to them? In my experience, those people are always fascinated with the random crap that makes my life a little bit…well…bizarre.

Scott: It’s true. They’re not experiencing those things for themselves, so they feel the need to hear about it from us!

Me: Precisely! And then they roll their eyes and pretend to be disgusted as a desperate attempt to cover the longing they have to be crazy themselves!

Scott: I don’t know if I would go that far.

Me: I would. Regardless, I’m starting to learn that life is too short not to be a little bit crazy. I don’t want to get to the end of my existence and wish I would have had the balls to compete in that ridiculous beauty pageant or publish random videos about dessert on YouTube, you know? People with the crazy gene have way less regrets.

Scott: Um…I don’t know about that.

Me: Fine. But I would rather regret a crazy decision that regret not having the courage to actually make the decision in the first place.

Scott: You know what? I’m glad we’re both a little bit crazy.

Me: Me too.

****

I’m not saying you have to be crazy to have a terrific life. Are you completely normal? Awesome! You’ll probably be allowed to run for political office one day!

(My dad still thinks I should get into politics. Uh…I’m pretty sure the things I’ve written on my public blog would definitely make that impossible, Dad.)

(Plus…someone who would make naming the chihuahua as Minnesota’s new mascot their first official duty probably doesn’t belong in public office.)

What I am saying is that it’s important to own who you are. Are you one of those orderly, normal peeps who never does anything questionable? Embrace it! Secretly, us crazy folk wish we could be more like you, sometimes.

And if like me, you have a streak of crazy coursing through your veins, don’t be ashamed! Life’s too short to ignore our urges to wear the ridiculous jumpsuit or compete in the beauty pageant for grown women! Crazy is interesting, fun and memorable. I challenge you to own your inner-crazy and celebrate your quirks!*

*Unless owning your inner-crazy involves running for public office. It’s not that I don’t think you’d be fabulous…it’s more that I don’t need any extra competition in my race to become the mayor of Smalltown.

**We are so getting a chihuahua on our state flag.

***I’ll also make Scott legally required to wear douchey lobster pants at least once a month.

____________________

Psst! I want to assure you the couple we are referring to is NOT you! I know for a fact they don’t read this blog, and probably don’t even remember who Scott and I are…despite our many attempts to leave our crazy stamp on their oh-so-normal memories.

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Uh…Salt Lake City? ⁰

Last week, I discussed our hellish journey through the blizzard to end all blizzards on a drive home from Nebraska.

What I didn’t share with you was the random surprise I discovered two days prior on the drive down. We had stopped for lunch (at Chipotle…surprise, surprise) and I was making conversation with Scott’s dad, Gerry.

Me: Did I tell you I’m going to Seattle at the end of the month?

Gerry: You didn’t. Are you going to see your family?

Me: Yeah, I’ll be staying with them…but I’m actually going back for work. I’ll be working in the office for a week. We might actually get Scott a ticket so he can come for the last couple of days and see all of his friends. Tickets are kind of expensive right now, but I’m keeping an eye on them.

(Scott nods in agreement as his mouth is too full of burrito to actually say anything without an unfortunate food avalanche toppling out of his mouth.)

Gerry: Wait…you aren’t going next week, are you?

Me: Umm…is it next week? Let’s see…uh…no. It’s actually the week after next week.

Gerry: Okay, good. Because next week is our trip to Utah.

Me: Trip to Utah?

Gerry: Yeah. We’re going snowboarding in Utah for six days. Didn’t Scott tell you?

Me: Um…no. No he did not.

Gerry: Ha! Figures. Yeah…we’re leaving in three days.

Scott (who has finally finished his mouth full of Chipotle and is able to speak): Oh yeah…sorry. I’m going snowboarding in Utah on Monday.

Me: {Eyeroll}

Scott (snickering): You’re on a need-to-know basis, Katrina.

I suppose anger is the obvious emotional choice in such a scenario…but I truthfully found the entire thing to be quite funny. I don’t think Scott even remembered he was going to Utah until his dad brought it up.

Essentially, I was surprised….but not all that surprised.

I knew he wasn’t intentionally hiding the trip from me. Scott’s never been the best communicator and this certainly isn’t the first time something like this has happened. He would get to spend some quality time with his dad, and I was looking forward to having the house to myself for a week. It was a win-win for everyone…certainly not something worth starting an argument over.

Several days later, Scott called me from Utah.

Scott: What are you up to?

Me: Not much. I actually think I’ve lost a lot of weight since you left because there’s no one here making pizzas all the time.

Scott: Please tell me you haven’t been eating TV dinners in my absence?

Me: I’ve just been going out to eat and supplementing between meals with cans of Progresso soup.

Scott: (Sigh) What would you do without me?

Me: Watch lots of HGTV, make daily shopping trips to Target and enjoy having the entire bed to myself. Oh…and watch Anna Karenina at one in the morning without being ridiculed. At least that’s what I’ve been doing.

Scott: Sounds terrible.

Me: It’s actually been quite nice. I mean, I’m excited for you to get back and everything, but I do really enjoy being on my own every once in a while.

Scott: Yeah. I know what you mean. We should probably get a second place so we can have our own space from time to time.

Me: That’s too drastic. I think we just need a really big house so we could have our own separate wings when we felt like it.

Scott: Good point. That way we could still share the Toyota without driving it back and forth between two places.

Me: See? We make a good team.

Scott: You’re going to blog about this, aren’t you?

Me: Yeah…but not until after you get home. I don’t want the people of the internet to know I’m here all by myself for six days.

Scott: What? You’re being irrational and paranoid.

Me: I’d rather be on the safe side. You never know who might show up to kidnap me and then skin Jolie so they can sew her into a ridiculously adorable fanny pack.

Scott: I don’t think anyone’s going to kidnap you. You’d be the most difficult hostage ever.

Me: It’s true. But you have to admit that Jolie would make a really cute fanny pack. Maybe that’s what we can do with her body when, heaven forbid, she expires one day.

Scott: I’m hanging up now.

Me: I love you!

Scott: I love you, too. Don’t go to Target anymore, okay?

(I pretended our connection was cutting up at the end so that I didn’t hear that last request about Target.)

Scott returned home safe and sound well after midnight last night. He was clearly exhausted, yet also happy to see that I hadn’t purchased the entire contents of the Smalltown Target store. (Not to mention the fact that Jolie wasn’t in fanny pack form.) He crawled into bed and gave me a big hug. “I missed you.” He said, before scooping up Jolie and launching into snore-mode. I was glad to have him back. Sure, there will be less HGTV and more high calorie pizzas, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m really glad we don’t live in separate wings of the same house.” I whispered.

“Bachelor’s Degree!” he loudly responded.

(I think he was having a dream?)

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You complete me ⁸

Last night, I attempted to book flights for a trip to Seattle in December. I had looked at tickets during the day, pleased to see round trip airfare was around $250 per person–in my experience, anything under $300 for a direct flight from MSP is a pretty good deal. I called Scott at work, and he agreed we would finalize our itinerary once he was home for the evening.

Because the airline gods hate us, by the time Scott made it home ticket prices had increased by over $100 per person. Naturally, this meant I started swearing and throwing things while Scott attempted to talk me down. The conversation went something like this.

ME: Okay…I think we’re just gonna have to bite the bullet and pay a little bit more. According to Bing, there’s an 80 percent chance prices will go up even more if we wait.

SCOTT: How much more will they go up?

ME: I don’t know, Scott. There’s no way to tell exactly.

SCOTT: Well, can’t Travelocity tell you?

ME: No, Travelocity can not tell me how much the price will increase.

SCOTT: Oh, okay…well see if it would be any cheaper to fly in on Wednesday instead of Thursday.

I do as he asks.

SCOTT: There! Look! They still have the flight you wanted. See? It’s right there!

KATRINA: Do you see that number next to it? That’s the price. It’s $127 more than it was a few hours ago.

SCOTT: Oh, okay. Well, if we fly home to Minnesota on a different day, will that make the price for the day we fly to Seattle go down?

ME: No. It doesn’t work that way.

SCOTT: Hmm. Well, why don’t you see if we pick that flight what return flight goes with it.

ME: It doesn’t work that way either. The departing and returning flights aren’t paired with each other. You can pick which ones you want out of all that are available.

SCOTT: Well, if we booked the late night one on Monday, would that open up new flights that are available for us to fly home on Sunday?

ME: NOOOOOO. The options are always the same.

SCOTT: Can we use frequent flier miles?

ME: I looked into that…I have enough, but you don’t.

SCOTT: Can’t we just combine miles from all our different airline accounts into one big account?

ME: Nope.

SCOTT: Well how many miles do we have?

ME: You only have 18,000. I have 36,000. It costs 25,000 to fly to Seattle.

SCOTT: What?! Seattle isn’t 25,000 miles away!

ME: No…that’s how many miles it costs to get a free ticket from Minnesota to Seattle.

SCOTT: Oh…I thought they just charged you the distance of miles it was to the location you wanted to travel to.

ME: I’m gonna check prices on Southwest.

I open up the Southwest website and enter our travel dates and locations.

SCOTT: Hey, that’s a great price! Only 185 bucks…let’s book!

ME: Scott…that’s the price for a one way ticket.

SCOTT: Oh. Can’t you just buy two one way tickets?

ME: Yes, but 185 plus 185 = 370 for round trip. $370 is not a good price. .

SCOTT: Oh. Right. Um…do you want to just drive to Seattle?

ME: No. I do not want to drive from Minnesota to Seattle and back in the middle of winter.

SCOTT: Yeah…good point. Do you think we could find like, a coupon code somewhere? For the plane tickets?

ME: Scott…have you ever booked a flight before?

SCOTT: Umm…no. No I have not.

Scott ended up leaving the room while I booked the tickets myself. I started to grow concerned that I had married someone who doesn’t know how to arrange travel. Then I remembered that up until six months ago, I had no idea how to set the metal tab on the gas pump to fill the tank automatically until Scott demonstrated it step by step. To this day I’ve never mowed a lawn. I’ve only learned how to properly fold clothes and use our remote control because Scott has had the patience to sit me down and show me. As much as it pains me to admit this humiliating fact…I don’t think I even clipped my own fingernails until I was at least 13. Booking airfare is one of my few marketable skills.

So, while we’re each incompetent in our own ways, together we somehow manage to cover all the bases.

Still, I think it’s going to be a long time before I relinquish the reigns of control and let Scott run loose on Travelocity. Much like how he still won’t let me cut my own fingernails.

Kidding.

(Kind of.)

****

Main photo by epSos.de