Bye-Bye Boots.

February & March. Ugh. Bane of my existence as far as months, weather, seasons go. We're in the thick of it right now. Meanwhile, my inner soul itself yearns for sunshine and warmth on my pail, unfreckled skin. For meals on the fiery grill on a bright summer evening, and fresh tomatos, herbs, and peppers from the garden. For early morning runs as the sun comes up when it's even too warm for a long sleeve tee. It's a need for new life, new beginnings, new motivations and agendas. Put away the firewood and ginger bread cookie scented candles, & enter Freshly Cut Grass home fragrance & Cilantro-Lime candles. Hide the heavy, winter down comforters & bring on the light weight quilts. Purge the ol' closet and rediscover last year's warm-weather faves from the attic. Bye-bye boots (which kind of upsets me, actually), but hello SANDALS!!

February and March in Baltimore can be super unpredictable. This past weekend it was 70 and we cruised with our windows down and hair in the wind! Then Monday night it snowed 7". Go figure. As much as I complain about the switch in weather patterns and how it's 'just a tease', I secretly LOVE it. It gives me new ideas, new excitements about the months to come. Makes me plan big outdoor events like the brunch in May we're throwing. Makes me imagine our garden and the tastings it will render this year. Or the massive ferns on the front porch we're going to hang for the first time in our new house (inspired by our road trip to Charleston, SC, last weekend --- high of 80 all weekend. Ahhhhh).

White wine. Light(er) beers (no, not Coors). Fresh salads, constantly. Late sun sets on our rocking chairs and porch swing after day light savings. Walks. Bike rides. Baltimore 10-miler training on Lake Montebello & NCR trail. Yard work, which I honestly love, followed by a cold beer and shower.

All of these things I so look forward to. Seasons change, and for us it's a wonderful thing. No matter if it's Fall for the festivals and scarves and BOOTS and foliage. Or Summer for out-back BBQs and longer days and crickets singing all night long and lightening bugs lighting up the sky. Or winter for the fires and good soups with dark beers on cozy, romantic evenings in my fave flannel Old Navy PJ pants.

Lets just hope that Punxsutawney Phil isn't foolin' us, and Spring really is less than a month away, shooing Father Winter away for awhile! In the meantime, I say take advantage of the energy & productivity these sporadic 70-degree days bring to our lives. Take full advantage -- it'll get you through to April 1st alive. :)

Or, if you're like me and can't endure, plan a weekend getaway to a place like Charleston, for instance. It's a refreshing, much-needed and well-deserved change of scenery. Get your digits done before your trip, then it REALLY feels like Spring. Featured here: Mint Candy Apple and a pink I forgot the name of but is super springy and fun!
 










Also, stop off at South of the Border on your way to Charleston, for a bizarre, mid-trip leg stretch.

-ERSM

No more Coors.

Baltimore is full of these quaint, local establishments, like Cats Eye Pub in Fells Point, where the regulars have been partying for decades & the youngin's come for 'something different'. Where you can jam out to a fantastic bluegrass band straight from the Blue Ridge or move & groove with a blues band from Cali. If you're like me, you'll even dance with the oldest guy in the bar, who's roughly 85. He'll kiss you on the cheek after the song ends & immediately shake your husbands hand afterwards thanking him for the dance he just had with his lovely wife. Not kidding. You will definitely learn you a few things, too. This guy really knows his moves. Like actual dance moves with actual names.

Cats Eye in particular fills my dancing void that overcomes me about every month or so. Last Thursday we went to the Baltimore Magazine Top Singles Party downtown, which somehow lead us spontaneously to Fells where we enjoyed brews from Warf Rat, fine friends at Rip Tide, and finally landed at Cats Eye for some sure-to-be fine tunes. The Skyla Burrell Band was in full effect when we tried to head north to Hamilton. No way could we pass it up, though! Jeremy knew it, too, when he saw me dancing on the sidewalk outside the pub.

Skyla Burrell Band. Amazing. Two chicks, two dudes, one stage (wink, wink. Ew. Mom you won't get that joke, and it's better that way. Promise.). The lead singer, who was also the lead guitarist, had the most powerful voice I might have ever heard. J was mesmerized by her, along with everyone else in the bar. They had such a rich sound all together, unlike any other band playing in Baltimore on that particular night, I can assure you of that. Cats Eye draws these kinds of bands. And I like to think it's for the exact reason mentioned above -- you'll find literally the first ever inhabitants of those bar stools dancing with the 21 year old and her friends at the end of her birthday celebration night. It's special and different.

See? Look how much fun we're having!! AND it's a Thursday!

Meanwhile, down the road at the majority of the other waterfront establishments, it's a snooze-fest. Maybe a 90's cover band (which, don't get me wrong, I'm totally fine with on occasion), playing Lightening Crashes or Self-Esteem practically in their sleep for the 1 millionth time. Everyone else is between the ages of 21-30, max, drinking Coors bottles & looking for the next drunk-ass biddy to walk in.

Man, I sound like a too-good-for-everything snobby B right now. I'm really not. I've just had my fill of 'post-college' bars and to put it simply, I just know what I like. And it ain't that. All the power to those 28 year old's out there slamming Bud Light & belting Glycerine. More bar space & dance lessons for me at Cats Eye ;)

-ERSM

Flashback.

This time last year Jeremy and I were snowed in, enduring the Winter storms of 2010. Working on a site & campaign launch from the confines of our sun room (more like the freezing ice box encased in windows & 4 foot long ice sickles just waiting to slice through your scull and into your brains at first attempt to open the back door to take the mountains of trash out for the first time in a month because of the 12 feet of blizzard vomit outside). I digress.

I had just started a new job -- didn't know squat. Jeremy's encouragement, knowledge and support was crucial for those few weeks because, A. I was working from home on something I knew little to nothing about without my team, & B. he's been in the industry for more than twice as long as I have. One of the perks of working in the same field. Otherwise, sometimes I find myself wishing I was a Nurse or he was a Lawyer, so we couldn't speak each other's language so well, making for less 'work talk' after work. Isn't all that bad though -- after all, we wouldn't know each other if it weren't for Advertising (& TBC, fine I said it.)

Finally the snow melts a few feet down and we're able to get out. I go back to work, risking my life on 95 heading into Canton each day (or risking my life in a different way on N. Patterson Park Ave), as Jeremy stumbled in the safety of our home from bed to toilet to office in a matter of 3 minutes and 20 feet.

Friday was February 12th and as I was wrapping up a long week, I get an email from the bf saying he was on his way to pick me up and take me for wings (mmmm). And after we would head to Whole Foods and pick up the dinner makings for what would end up being the best Valentine's Day EVER in the history of history.

Since we had moved into our house 5 weeks prior, we wanted to celebrate this particular v-day cooking dinner in our new kitchen, eating at our new dining room table (which still didn't have chairs), and making our inaugural fire in the fireplace. It was going to be perfect.

Meanwhile & little did I know, on that Friday the 12th, Jeremy had been downtown for hours trying to find a ring box because, yes, he was going to PROPOSE! My engagement ring was a gift from my grandfather to my grandmother in the 50's. My mom gave it to Jeremy, not a jeweler, which meant no ring box. And because of the TUNDRA we were living in at that time, FedEx never came. He ordered multiple boxes hoping ONE of them would arrive by V-day. As of Friday the 12th, nothing.

Before I took this new job, we had a trip to Miami planned. A dear girlfriend of mine was flying to South Florida at the same time we were from SF and J was going to pop the question down there (sans ring box) -- in one of my favorite places on earth. Sounds perfect & warm & sandy & tan (especially since we had apparently been uprooted and dropped down in someplace like Canada with the 12 feet of snow and bitter wind and minimal temps), but in retrospect I'm thrilled I took that job and cancelled our trip, forcing Jeremy to come up with "plan B".

Plan B was perfect. No sand. Definitely no tan. But perfect and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Sunday was Valentines Day. I had NO clue what was about to happen. We had a normal day. Woke up. Went to the gym. Bought a new dress to wear from Cloud 9. As I was out, multiple FedEx boxes arrived at the house to Jeremy's surprise & slight annoyance. Around 2pm we decided to go for a late lunch and a beverage. Landed our butts at Grand Cru (surprise, surprise). I sipped Pinot Grigio, while he enjoyed the daily tapped specials. We shared a cheese plate along with the breads and spreads. It was lovely.

Headed home after a sufficient buzz for showers, new dress, lamb shank, Cajun catfish with asparagus and forbidden rice. Also took a stab at steaming an artichoke. Didn't steam nearly as long as needed. This year, when we recreate our beautiful day (this Saturday), I'm going to get that puppy steaming hours before dinner so we can actually eat it. Finishing the dinner with some chocolate covered strawberries was just the right touch, and will be again this year.

Finally, fire time.

Heading into the living room, I was still completely unaware. J asked me to open the fireplace up, check the flu make sure it's all set, and he was going to get the wood. I opened the doors and the screen to find a cherry wood box sitting on the iron grate. I stood there. Shocked. Disbelief all over my face, I'm sure. Thinking Jeremy had gone to get the wood, I didn't know he was standing behind me.

"Aren't you going to pick it up?"he finally said, as I still stood frozen like a statue with my jaw dropped. After picking it up, I quickly handed it to J, to which he said "WHY ARE YOU HANDING IT TO ME!?" After lots of laughter and a mutual understanding of what was about to go down, he got on one knee told me I was his best friend and the most important thing in his life and that he wanted to be my husband. Said "will you marry me?" and I immediately yanked him up off the floor and screamed and jumped and yelled "YESS!!!" with tears rolling down both of our faces. We smooched and ran laps between the living room, dining room and kitchen. It was the only way I could express myself! God that was so fun.

Focusing back on the fire, I opened the flu and.... a dead bird, frozen bird fell down RIGHT where my beautiful, antique ring was sitting! Best quote of the night is when Jeremy said "That can't be a good sign." However, I think the opposite. I think that frozen birdie blessed our union (and also made me laugh so hard I almost peed.)

After we calmed down, it all set in (and we scooped the birdie up and threw it out back), we texted and called EVERYONE we knew. That was an amazing couple of hours. Telling our story to our loved ones. Hearing my Dad cry on the other end of the phone with pride (big surprise...we all know Barry's a tearful, emotional, sweet man). Hearing my future mother-in-law's relief and joy. FINALLY getting to talk to my mom after calling her 400 times. She decided she was going to see a late movie on Valentines Day with Henry, knowing FULL well we were going to be engaged that night. Nice, Mom. :). Our friends were thrilled as well. Some had us on speaker with screams & joy in the backgrounds. All of it was so overwhelming and amazing.

Finally we got to enjoy our fire. Sitting on plastic tubs from the move (no living room furniture at this point), we propped our feet up & enjoyed a little silence and reflection, every so often one of us would go "HOLY SHIT", which was the only expression we had left.

A day I'll never forget. Love you, J. Can't wait to recreate it all on Saturday!

-ERSM