Is it just me or does that title sound like Brick from Anchorman?
No? Alright, carry on then.
This post garnered a lot of feedback. I think all feedback is good feedback - otherwise how will you learn? My favorite feedback has come in the form of questions about one of my points regarding my faith. I really like being asked about it, so I think to sum it up I’ll let these two pictures do all the talking. I found them on Pinterest (why can’t I quit you, Pinterest?), and they are just great daily reminders of how much I am loved. And a fantastic reminder not to believe anything other than that I’m precious, created for a purpose, chosen, cared for…the list goes on and on.
One of my nearest and dearest is marrying the love of her life in a few short weeks. Not only am I lucky enough to be one of the women standing by her side, but I’m also lucky enough to get to travel to Santa Fe for the big day (woot! I rhymed). Lots of prepping needs to be done, as this is the first official road trip Mr. DeLuca and I have taken together in the history of us knowing each other.
AKA, four years. A rich, compelling history I tell you.
Create road trip playlist with plenty of tunes by the Alabama Shakes. What are some of your favorite road trip tunes?
Perhaps purchase a new swimmie, like this adorable one here.
Well, I might as well get a new PJ set while I’m at it! It’s pretty much like killing two birds with one proverbial stone.
Make a list of gifts to bring back with us. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a little turquoise, methinks.
I’m thinking the Mr. would look mighty good in a bow tie. He usually leaves that to his handsome brother, but I’m thinking it’s time to take a style leap of faith.
Figure out some good stops on the route from Dallas to Santa Fe. Anyone out there with any suggestions? Twelve blog followers, we’re counting on you.
Figure out what I’m going to say for my rehearsal dinner toast.
Hopefully, I won’t be quoting any Spanish in mine.
Happy Tuesday, folks! Hope y’all had a wonderful Memorial Day.
I think vulnerability is one of the most beautiful things, and there’s so much freedom in it. It’s getting or giving that knowing look, or saying “me, too!” that brings comfort in knowing we’re not alone in our feelings. Recently, there has been a movement across blog land with various peeps putting stuff out there that gives them a more human element; rather than just seeing pretty pictures on the screen. Every time I’ve seen one of the posts, I think to myself, “you go, [insert name]!”
Why it’s taken me this long to get on the train, I don’t know. I blame it on the lack of carbs and sugar for the past few weeks.
I don’t really like the Whole 30. This might seem logical (especially since I’ve treated myself to several liquid cheats), but not for reasons you might think. I don’t like it because it has shown me that I have a really unhealthy relationship with food. I eat when I’m bored, obsess over what I eat and am very self conscious about what others say. If I order a salad it’s “oh, are you watching what you eat?”…or if I don’t finish everything on my plate it’s “why didn’t you eat that?”…and so on. So, Whole 30, I like you but I don’t at the same time. You’re like the jorts trend. I don’t want to like you, but I sort of do. Dangit.
Bryan and I didn’t want to come back from Europe. Duh. But, we didn’t want to come back because of everything that was waiting for us when we got home.
I hate cheesecake. Whenever I say this to someone, I get a WTF look. And I would just like to say, last and for all, that cheese is savory and cake is sweet. These two things should NOT be put in a baked good together.
I’m afraid to do my own thing. It’s always been a dream of mine to own my own business, work for myself, do something that’s creative and rewarding. But, I’m super scared. I depend way too much on other people’s approval, and I’m worried about failing and/or putting myself out there.
Cats scare the bajeezus out of me. And, sometimes, so do “cat people.”
I’m scared to buy a house. I have a wanderer’s heart, and I worry that once we buy a home we’re going to be stuck in one place.
I think about my grandpas every day. They were two of the kindest men I’ve ever known, and I wish Bryan could have met them. I know they would have loved him.
My faith is the single most important thing to me. It didn’t used to be, and I wish I could go back in time and pimp slap myself across the face. All the things I held onto, the struggles I kept secret, the lies I believed…to let go of those and experience what life truly is meant to be, well, is just plain awesome.
I love my husband, Bryan Vincent Fountain DeLuca, more than Paris, more than brownies, more than shoes, more than anyone here on this earth. Sometimes so much, it hurts.
So…there it is! Just a few things that haven’t come out on this here blog that I thought I’d share. Hope y’all have a vonderful veekend, and enjoy the extra day off!
xoxo
L
Dear Lucca,
Today, I am missing you. The brisk walks around the wall that circles you, the cheap and delicious pizza we ate on an almost daily basis, the friendly people we met. I miss it all. I loved your cobblestone streets, and the beautiful piazzas and churches that were around every corner. I even loved how your shops would close for two hours in the afternoon. What a great reminder to not take myself so seriously that I can’t pause for a moment in the afternoon in order to make it through the home stretch.
But most of all, I am thankful for you. You were a sweet reminder of what is most important in life - family, friends, relationships. Authenticity. I am so happy my husband brought me to you.
And really, really thankful for that darn pizza. Whole 30, hurry the heck up and be over with so I can stuff my pie hole with some cheesy deliciousness. (mmm…pie)
Where are YOU dreaming of today?
In my mind, this is one of the best Murse Monday’s of all time. An instant classic, if you will (and I will). Our 12 blog readers have really outdone themselves with their submissions this week. So please, keep it up people. Let’s roll!
This murse was found in Orlando, Florida. While it’s definitely more purse than murse, I respect the uniqueness of the raw edges and olive color. I haven’t seen one like this before. I do have one question for this guy: Is it really comfortable standing this awkwardly with your toes kissing? Let me answer that for you. Nope, not at all.
Mind = blown. This picture is just all kinds of confusing. Not only are these ‘manly men’ carrying murses to a sporting event; the guy on the left is carrying two, they are wearing matching hats, t-shirt jerseys and denim AND there’s the worst offense of all. They are clearly Texas Rangers fans given their attire, but homeboy on the right is carrying a San Francisco Giants murse…the very team that beat the Rangers in the World Series two years ago. That’s what I call blasphemy.
This may be one of the best murses of 2012. This one was found in Dublin at Queen of Tarts (you MUST go there) by some friends who were visiting Ireland last week. It might take a while to spot the murse, but when you do, you will undoubtedly say the same exact thing we did either in your head or out loud….OH. DEAR. GOD.
(Slow clap ensues)
Happy Monday everyone! Speaking of happy Mondays: If you’d like to make tens of peoples’ Monday happy, send in any murse pictures you take to info@herethereandelsewhere.com and we’ll feature them on this here blog.
We love you like a fat kid loves cake,
B+L
A friend posted this somewhere else today, but it is too good not to share.
In June of 1971, just days before his 26-year-old son, Michael, got married, future-U.S. President Ronald Reagan sent him the following letter of advice. It really is quite stunning.
Michael Reagan
Manhattan Beach, California
June 1971
Dear Mike:
Enclosed is the item I mentioned (with which goes a torn up IOU). I could stop here but I won’t.
You’ve heard all the jokes that have been rousted around by all the “unhappy marrieds” and cynics. Now, in case no one has suggested it, there is another viewpoint. You have entered into the most meaningful relationship there is in all human life. It can be whatever you decide to make it.
Some men feel their masculinity can only be proven if they play out in their own life all the locker-room stories, smugly confident that what a wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her. The truth is, somehow, way down inside, without her ever finding lipstick on the collar or catching a man in the flimsy excuse of where he was till three A.M., a wife does know, and with that knowing, some of the magic of this relationship disappears. There are more men griping about marriage who kicked the whole thing away themselves than there can ever be wives deserving of blame. There is an old law of physics that you can only get out of a thing as much as you put in it. The man who puts into the marriage only half of what he owns will get that out. Sure, there will be moments when you will see someone or think back to an earlier time and you will be challenged to see if you can still make the grade, but let me tell you how really great is the challenge of proving your masculinity and charm with one woman for the rest of your life. Any man can find a twerp here and there who will go along with cheating, and it doesn’t take all that much manhood. It does take quite a man to remain attractive and to be loved by a woman who has heard him snore, seen him unshaven, tended him while he was sick and washed his dirty underwear. Do that and keep her still feeling a warm glow and you will know some very beautiful music. If you truly love a girl, you shouldn’t ever want her to feel, when she sees you greet a secretary or a girl you both know, that humiliation of wondering if she was someone who caused you to be late coming home, nor should you want any other woman to be able to meet your wife and know she was smiling behind her eyes as she looked at her, the woman you love, remembering this was the woman you rejected even momentarily for her favors.
Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.
Love,
Dad
P.S. You’ll never get in trouble if you say “I love you” at least once a day.
Thoughts?
Source: Reagan: A Life In Letters
Happy belated Mothers Day to all you mothers reading this here blog! We hope that you were showered with love and gifts. Speaking of love and gifts, this edition of Murse Monday is quite the treat. See that awesome segue I just created? From Mothers Day to murses in one sentence. I’m amazing. Enough about me. Enjoy these murses.
This is what I like to call an oxymoron. The manliest place someone could be, a home improvement store, with the least manly accessory on earth…and he’s wearing flip-flops. That’s just wrong.
This guy was trying to high-tail it out of this coffee shop when he saw me pull my phone out. He knew what was about to happen. No one can escape the murse-arazzi. Not even speedster two-toned murse guy.
No, this guy does not normally have a handlebar mustache and wear oversized sunglasses. We had to protect his identity because he was looking directly at us. If you look closely I think he’s giving us the finger with the hand that’s in the hoodie. I would too if someone caught me with a black mini-murse. Embarrassing indeed, good sir.
We hope you all have a great week! Do something crazy…like keep your eyes peeled for murses and send the pictures in to us so we can show them to the world/12 blog readers.
As a married gal, I’ve learned a few lessons the hard way. One of those happened about a month ago, when I was talking to my grandmother. I told her I had a surprise for her when I saw her next, which was coming in the form of a framed wedding photo that she had asked for a few months prior.
However, I quickly learned that I cannot say the word “surprise” without the other party immediately assuming said “surprise” is actually coming in the form of a tiny human. AKA, me being pregnant.
Sorry, grandma.
See this photo? The one above, from the amaze-balls Atlantic-Pacific blog? I happened to include this in my post this past Friday, and apparently because I used the terms “life is a little crazy” and “we have some good stuff in the works” coupled with the offending picture above, that also hinted that I am with child. Because I did not get asked once or even thrice about this, but close to twenty times in one day.
Folks, I am not with child. The only thing I am with is a set of hips that appreciates a full skirt every now and then.
Again… Sorry, grandma!
When Laura and I got back from Europe in December, we were feeling really good about our health, weight, fitness, etc…Unfortunately, we didn’t move back to a vegetarian colony.
We live in Dallas. We needed Tex-Mex. We needed In-N-Out Burger. We needed Chick-fil-a. Yes, we needed all of it. Why? Because they didn’t have it in Europe. Stupid reason? Absolutely. But we fell back into the comfort of crappy food that we said we wouldn’t upon our return. It’s our fault. We could have chosen to eat better, we just didn’t. Oh, the shame.
Laura and I decided to change all of that on May 1st by starting the Whole30 diet. It is 30 days of pretty much eating nothing but fruits, veggies and any kind of meats we want (insert inappropriate sausage jokes here). No dairy. No added sugars. No alcohol. No grains. No pastas. Dear God, what have we done?!?!?!
Anyway, we have officially started week numero dos of this thing. Here are some random thoughts on this diet that have traveled through my brain in the last week.
1. There were kolachis, doughnuts and cupcakes sitting in the kitchen at the office yesterday. I seriously went in there and just stared at them for five minutes just to test my discipline. I won.
2. Why did Laura cheat three times in one day? They weren’t terrible cheats, but cheats nonetheless. She has sworn to add a day onto the end of the 30 days.
3. I no longer crave sweets like I did before. This is a big deal. Sugar and I were best friends. You know what isn’t my best friend? The diabetes that runs in my family.
4. I have eaten more broccoli in the last week than in the last 30 years of my life. Not kidding.
5. I have more energy. Like, a lot. Except for when I nodded off in a meeting the other day. That was just due to lack of sleep. And, no one noticed, so it doesn’t matter.
6. I’m really enjoying cooking more with Laura. We kind of have to cook a lot with this diet.
7. Leftovers are amazing. Speaking of amazing…
8. We are saving so much money by not going out to eat. Yes, we spend a little more on groceries, but those Starbucks runs and lunches with work peeps and dinners out in Dallas can get pretty pricey in a one-month span. Saved money means it can be spent on more important things, like shoes, according to Laura.
9. My pants are starting to love me again. It’s generally known that I like to wear pants that fit on the, how you say, tighter side. No shame in that at all. But I had to see this coming. After all, I did write this post in December.
10. Why did I wait until now? I know, at least we are doing it. But I hate that we waited until we needed it rather than just doing it to maintain where we were before. At least I could drink some whiskey then. And have a random bowl of ice cream here and there. Now? Now I feel like a rabbit. A really big, extra hairy, rabie-less rabbit.
Overall, this Whole30 diet is something that I don’t think Laura and I could have done without the other doing it as well. We can talk about it together, plan our groceries accordingly and celebrate feeling better when we are done in a few weeks. And really, I just want to look good for Laura.
Have any of you guys done the Whole30 or another diet with your significant other? How’d it go? Any horror stories? Tell us about it.
Sincerely,
Broccoli face
P.S. On a completely random note, go buy Keane’s new album ‘Strangeland.’ They are my longtime favorite band and one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen.
We are super duper tired today, how about you? Man, this Whole30 diet thingy we are on is awesome in a health sense, but completely not awesome in a social sense. Watching people eat ice cream and cupcakes and french fries and really just about anything that isn’t fruits, vegetables or meats is kind of frustrating. But that’s neither here nor there. On to really important things. Here is your weekly diet of murses. Enjoy!
This mall walker couldn’t elude me as I’m shifty and persistent in getting murse shots. Duh. Everyone knows that. But the closer I got to this murse, the more I realized something: If I ever had the thought to purchase/wear a murse, and I don’t, it would look something like this. Don’t tell my wife.
This is officially the first time I was caught in the act of snapping a murse. Lady, while your face is filled with shame for standing next to a man who has been digging around in his tiny murse for what seemed like hours looking for something, the look on my face was guaranteed pure joy and pride. I win, you lose.
One of our loyal 12 readers, Christina, sent this in to us all the way from Disneyland. Yes, he is carrying a murse with Scottie dogs on it. Yes, his wife had her very own purse as well. Yes, his hand is awkwardly sitting on his hip. Yes, God wanted the world to very clearly see this shot as the sun rays came down on this dude at just the right time to show us all of the most important features of this murse carrier. God, all of us thank you for this picture.
Have a fantastic Monday people! Do your thang. Watch our friend Sweet Brown on the news. Keep your eyes peeled for murses this week.
