Three One

Dear Stew,

Today is your 31st birthday.

Thirty-one years. You've done quite a lot in those eleven thousand, three hundred and fifteen days. Some days have been incredible. Others, not so much. Point is, you've made it through them all. And you've become you. I really, really like you.

I hope today turns out to be one of the incredible ones. I hope this year is your best one yet.



Love,

Me

Stewisms

Stew: What's the name of that egg casserole thing you make?

Me: It's called a frittata.

Stew: Like Nelly Frittata?

Me: Eggsactly.

The hips don't lie

Last night, Abbey spent the night at Uncle Stew and Suze's house so her very lucky father could go do this:

Yes, that is a real Superbowl XLIV ring and THE Superbowl XLIV Lombardi Trophy.

Points to Jeremy for showing some restraint, as I would have been weeping sweet black and gold tears of joy and also hugging that trophy as if it were Drew Brees himself. (Earmuffs, Stew. You don't need to listen to that part. Plus, I hear Brees is a big fan of earmuffs.)

Anyway, back to Abbey.

We were watching cartoons and I got up to go get her some juice from the kitchen. As I'm walking across the living room, she tells me "Hey Suze, I like the way your butt moves side to side when you walk."

Maybe I'm the one who should wear the earmuffs.

Seriously

This here is Stew's deodorant (pronounced de-odor-ahntay).

That's right. CLINICAL protection. It makes me laugh every time I read it. My mind conjures up images of imaginary Deodorant Clinics, where poor, malodorous men can go to seek advanced medical treatment for excessive armpit sweating.

My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday

Today. May 3rd. Marks the date of my birth. Thirty years ago. THIRTY. Three whole decades.

I was asked this weekend if I was dreading the big 3-0. To tell you the truth, I haven't been. And I'm not freaking out now that I am. Officially. THAT age.

Honestly, 25 was the age that really hit me. In the face. Hard. I was at the grocery store buying candles for my own birthday cake (which is depressing in and of itself). Not sure if you've ever noticed, but birthday candles come in packs of 24. I was 25. Which meant I needed 2 packs of candles. FORTY EIGHT candles. I had graduated to the same candle bracket as a 48-year-old. Gone were the carefree days of simply one pack of candles! Also gone were the days of someone else taking care of the birthday candle buying, but that's a whole different issue.

Later on that year, I saw a billboard advertising the 25th Anniversary of Popeye's. Great, now I'm the same age as fried chicken.

It probably didn't help that at age 25, I was a few steps behind where I thought I'd be at that age. Sure, I had scored an awesome husband, but I still hadn't completed college or bought a house. I thought I'd surely have done both by then. After a whole quarter century! Then Katrina came and well, nothing really throws your life plans off track like a natural disaster.

Here's the good news. I made it to 30. And I'm happy about what I've accomplished thus far. Here's a recap of the past decade of me:

2000 - dropped out of LSU, planned my wedding, married the one and only Stewart Alexis

2001 - moved to Washington, lived on a military base, bought AUSTIN, bought AUSTIN a new $3,000 leg, cried when AUSTIN ate the whole roll of film that documented Stewzie's first year as a married couple

2002 - bought Black Betty, was voted Employee of the Year, moved back to Louisiana, readjusted to heat and humidity

2003 to 2004 - worked, saved, had my purse stolen by crackheads, missed Stew a lot (he worked offshore)

2005 - went back to college, paid for it myself, continued working full time, turned 25 along with a 2 piece, white meat, spicy, with a side of dirty rice, a biscuit and a red drink, got Katrina'd, lived in Arkansas for a month with 9 dogs and a whole mess of people, came back home and removed my neighbors' carport from our backyard, got a new job

2006 - went back to college (again), got a 4.0, kept working, paid off Black Betty, became an Aunt

2007 - kept my 4.0 streak alive, started househunting, kept working full time

2008 - bought a house, renovated it every night for 9 months, kept my job, my husband and my GPA but lost my sanity, EARNED my degree and finally graduated

2009 - learned to relax, thanked my husband, went public with my snoball love affair, started Stewzie

2010 - had a crazy dream that the Saints won the Super Bowl, realized it wasn't just a dream, dressed like a toothless hillbilly not once but twice, then turned THIRTY

Whew.

This is just a tiny percentage of the ups, downs, and in betweens of the past 10 years. If you are the one who created the above, good or bad, THANK YOU, I am truly blessed. If you have been a part of any of the above, good or bad, THANK YOU. If you weren't a part of any of the above, THANK YOU, because you're reading this now and that means you're a part of today. My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday. The first day of the rest of my life.


"Time and Tide wait for no man, but time always stands still for a woman of thirty." - Robert Frost

Stewisms

Stew: We really need to put that basil plant in the ground. It's starting to look WILTERED.

Me: You mean WILTED?

Stew: No, WILTERED. Like the old fat weather guy on the Today Show. WILTERED Scott.

Me: You mean WILLARD Scott.

He makes a valid point

Stew: They said on the news that only 47% of Lousiana residents have completed their 2010 Census forms. If they can pin down that percentage, why do we need a Census?

Putting the fun in dysfunctional

On a 1-10 scale-o-trashiness, with 1 being (Champagne and Caviar at a 5-star restaurant with the Queen of England) and 10 being (Mountain Dew and Vienna Sausages on the tailgate of Second Cousin Bobby Earl's 1983 Ford Pickup),....

...I'd say Trailer Bash 2010 ranked somewhere around a 10.3, which is of course (Moonshine and Spam Sammiches in the kitchenette of Grandpappy's Double-Wide). For those of you wondering, Stew's glossy perm-mullet helped push the trash level over the 10-point mark. That may be the only time I ever mention Stew's name and Ten Point in the same sentence. JUST KIDDING, HONEY, YOU'RE A FANTASTIC DEER HUNTER!!

For all you classy people (Yankees) who need a translation: The Party. Was. Awesome. I mean, what party with barbecue pork rinds and aerosol cheese isn't awesome?

Check out some of my favorite photos of the night - taken with my iPhone new-fangled cellular talkin contraption.

Tastier than tater tots -n- Cheez Whiz

This weekend, a good friend of ours (Hi Gizz!) is throwing a White Trash Bash in honor of Stewzie's Redneckalicious Mardi Gras 2010 costumes.



He requested that I bring the ultimate trailer park dessert; my infamous Kitty Litter Cake.



If you don't happen to have an extra bag of Fresh Step lying around (for the 17 cats living in your double-wide), here's a recipe that tastes almost as good as the real thing. Although nothing is quite as yummy as an authentic, protein-rich nugget of kitty poop. Mmmm boy. It'll make your party guests yell "YEEHAW!"



KITTY LITTER CAKE
1 box German chocolate cake mix
1 box white cake mix
1 large pkg. vanilla instant pudding mix
1 pkg. vanilla sandwich cookies
Green food coloring
12 small Tootsie Rolls
1 new (and definitely unused) kitty litter pan
1 new Pooper Scooper

(all ingredients can be found at the local Piggly Wiggly)

Prepare cake mixes and bake according to directions (any size pans).

Prepare pudding mix and chill until ready to assemble.

Crumble white sandwich cookies in small batches in food processor, scraping often. Set aside all but about 1/4 cup.

To the 1/4 cup cookie crumbs, add a few drops green food coloring and mix using a fork or shake in a jar.

When cakes are cooled to room temperature, crumble into a large bowl. Toss with half the remaining white cookie crumbs and the chilled pudding. (Mix in just enough of the pudding to moisten it. You don't want it soggy. Combine gently).

Put mixture into litter box.

Put a few unwrapped Tootsie rolls in a microwave safe dish and heat until soft and pliable.

Shape ends so they are no longer blunt, curving slightly (to resemble a cat turd). Repeat with several more Tootsie rolls and bury in mixture.

Sprinkle the other half of cookie crumbs over top.

Scatter the green cookie crumbs lightly over the top. (This is supposed to look like the chlorophyll in kitty litter.)

Heat 3 Tootsie Rolls in the microwave until almost melted.

Arrange them on top of the cake; sprinkle with cookie crumbs.

Spread remaining Tootsie Rolls over the top; take one and heat until pliable, hang it over the side of the kitty litter box, sprinkling it lightly with cookie crumbs.

Place the box on a newspaper and sprinkle a few of the cookie crumbs around.

Serve with a new (new is optional) pooper scooper.

Happy Stew Year !

Dear Stew,

Today is your 30th Birthday. Don't think of yourself as another year OLDER. Think of yourself as another year BETTER.



I can't say anything more than the words to this song:

You just get better all the time
Darlin' don't you change a thing
Lately you're the only song I wanna sing
And you're my reason to try
You just get sweeter every day
The little things you do and say
If only you could see you through my eyes
You just get better all the time

Oh, and I get the feelin' we can make it baby
As long as you are by my side
You're the music in my ears
The laughter when the tears
Are fallin' down in my life

You just get better all the time
Why just today I heard you read my mind
That kinda magic is so hard to find
You just get better all the time

Always,

Suzie

Meat is murder. Tasty, tasty murder.

It's no secret that Stew and I are carnivores.


In fact, I believe that if God didn't want us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat. Seriously, who doesn't love bacon? You? Well then you may want to stop reading my blog until you come to your senses and apologize to me. AND THE BACON.

So we hopped in the truck after work on Friday and took ourselves on a spontaneous road trip to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo's Annual BBQ Cookoff. Which is really just a long, wordy title. Basically, we ate meat. And more meat. With a side of meat. And when we couldn't shovel down another bite, we fought through the meat sweats and ATE MORE DELICIOUS BARBECUED MEAT.

To all the cows who met their fates in order for this awesome culinary experience to take place, Thank You. God has a special place for you in cow heaven. And it's probably between 2 slices of bread, next to a side of baked beans. I'm just sayin'...

Here are some photos of all the barbecued awesomeness:


I imagine the gates to heaven will resemble this.





Ribs, Brisket, Tater Salad & Sauce

Cowboy flower arrangements.

Airplane meat smoker. The FAA would be proud.

Hydro-powered pig roast. Genius.






I heeded his warning.

I'll take wrong answer for $800, Alex

Category: Double E

Trebek: He's Winnie the Pooh's buddy, etc.

Stew: Who is Igor?

Til death do us fart part

Wow. Time flies when you're having fun. It also flies when you've been married to Stewart Alexis for NINE WHOLE YEARS.

Who'd have thunk it way back in 1984 when we looked like this?

Stew, you've made every second of the last 9 years more interesting, emotional, hilarious, stronger, fascinating, challenging, unbelievable, fun and meaningful. Totally worth it. Thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for sticking with us. Happy Anniversary!

The thought only counts like 50%

I hate to be Debbie Downer or Pouty Patty during a time of cheer, but I have received some pretty lame Christmas presents over the years. It's likely you have too. I decided that I'd honor those gifts (and their givers) in a little list. Now you don't feel so alone and hopeless for getting socks and a fruitcake. We're all in this together.

Gift: A half-used bottle of roll-on perfume
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell
A half empty bottle is one thing, but the fact that it was rolled on another person's skin is quite another thing.

Gift: The Superman Superheroes Children's Cookbook
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell (are you noticing a pattern?)
Actually a really fun cookbook for kids, except that in the first paragraph of the introduction, I learned that eating too much food is what makes you fat. Up until then (at age 11) I seriously had no idea that overeating caused obesity. I totally could have lived my life in ignorant bliss if Aunt Jewell and Superman hadn't schooled me on that fact of life.

Gift: A box of bubble wrap
Giver: My Mother, Leanna
I actually think this was a really creative gift (I LOVE BUBBLE WRAP), it's just that when you unwrap a giant box on Christmas morning you expect there to be something in there besides packaging material.

Gift: A microwave potato chip maker
Giver: My Husband, Stewart
Because it's much more economical to spend 3 hours cutting potato slices and ending up with twelve soggy chips than to go to the Kwik-E-Mart and pick up a bag of Lay's for 99 cents.

Gift: A microwave radiation detector
Giver: Again, My Husband, Stewart
Nothing says "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" like the threat of a defective household appliance.

This year, I hope you get everything you ever wanted for Christmas. And I hope that my husband doesn't buy 75% of my gifts from the As Seen on TV store. If you need to vent about the awful presents that you've experienced - comment below!

As Always,
Stewzie

Silent Night

Last night, Stew returned from his week long hunting trip in Indiana. How we ever went months on end without seeing each other...I'm glad that whole stage of our lives is over with. I mean, one whole week of me being responsible for Austin's morning meal and then having to take out the trash twice (which actually only got done once) left me longing for Stew to come home and do his man chores.

For clarification, I'm responsible for the woman work - you know, cooking delicious stuff, making sure the house doesn't smell like dirty socks, cleaning Stew's tiny beard hairs from between the faucet handles, DVR-ing the current episodes of Steven Seagal: Lawman for my husband's viewing pleasure, etc.

So, in honor of my true love's return, I want to share with you a little prose I came up with. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.

An Ode to Snoring - by Suzie Alexis

It's something no writer could compose

The symphony that plays out through your nose

Night after night I hear it blow

Pillow in hand, to the living room I go

Oh, how I'd rather a quiet bed

I guess I'll settle for the sofa instead

-The End-


Welcome back home, Stew. Austin and I missed you. And your snoring. Loud, noisy snoring.

Spanxgiving

Oh yeah, you read that right. And yes, I totally am thankful for Spanx. If only they would make a pair that included a trap door so you could pee without becoming an amateur Cirque du Soleil contortionist while trying to hike them back up into position in a cramped bathroom stall. TMI? Good, that's what I was aiming for.

Other stuff for which I am thankful:

My Folks who love me 110% (and not because I'm the one who will eventually choose their nursing home).

My Broseph and Brotherford B. Hayes who are far more musically and artistically talented than I could ever hope to be.

My Abbey Sunshine who eased my fear of young children and is always excited to see me despite the fact that I fed her limes as a baby just to see the awkward faces she made in reaction to the sourness.

My Puppy McMuffin who regretfully knows more about me than anyone, and hasn't yet reported me to PETA for making him wear fake boobs for Halloween.

My In-Laws and Extended Family - for not being those crazy people who I can't stand spending time with and instead being those crazy people I LOVE spending time with.

My Friends who will let me snot on their shoulders when I'm sad, then make fun of me for it later.

My Husband who puts the "ew" in Stewzie, who I fall in love with more every day, who still can't figure out how to separate whites and darks, who makes phenomenal chocolate chip cookies and even shares one or two with me, and who has seen me at my best and my worst, but always loves me like I've never been better.

Freedom is Never Free

A little over 8 years ago, a young wife sat in a hotel room crying and holding her husband tight. It was early fall in 2001, and the United States was starting to send troops to Iraq. The young couple was still in shock about what had taken place in their country a few weeks earlier, and now they were smacked in the face with the reality of it all. They tried to focus on anything else - the 9/11 tribute concert on television, the home cooked meal she had brought for them to eat on paper plates, the bleak Seattle weather - anything but what the next 48 hours might bring.

The young husband was sequestered in this bare-bones hotel room on McChord Air Force Base in Tacoma, Washington. Those in charge wanted their crew to be ready at a moment's notice, and the hotel provided them that guarantee. Just blocks from the young couple's home, the hotel was the staging area for the next troops to be called to fight in that mysterious, far-away country. Several young men and women were restricted to those desolate rooms for 2 days. 48 hours. 2,880 minutes. Minutes that would be spent thinking, dreading and praying. Waiting for the call. The call that would put their immediate futures in a whirlwind of unknown. That call would send them to war.

The young wife tried to comfort herself in each hour that passed. Each hour gone meant one hour gained with the love of her life. Her husband tried to reassure her that his role in the whole thing was small. He was not a soldier. Not a gun-carrying fighter. Not going to the front line. Not going anywhere near the front line. Likely to be thousands of miles away from the front line. Maybe a different country than the front line. All she could think was that New York City, The Pentagon, and a remote field in Pennsylvania were also in a country far from the front line.

Those 2 days spent waiting were excruciating. When they were over, when there was no more threat of the young husband going to war, the young couple felt set free from that immediate nightmare. This couple is truly fortunate.

Many people don't have that luxury. Some had none to hold them tight. Some got the call. Some bravely went to war and came home. Many gave the ultimate gift to our country - their lives. All of them, even the young husband, are tied together forever by one thing. They are all Veterans. They have all put their lives on the line to protect me, you, our families, our friends, complete strangers. We owe them more than I can express, yet they do their jobs without complaint. They are not the ones who start wars. They are the ones who selflessly obey whatever orders they are given. They are our heroes (and she-roes). We need their strength and commitment. They deserve honor and respect and recognition.

Today is just one of 365 days each year that we should thank our Veterans. It is because of them that you have the freedom to do so.

I feel so strongly about this because I was that young wife. Stewart was that young husband. And we are together and safe today because of what our Veterans have sacrificed.

"It is easy to take freedom for granted, when you have never had it taken from you." ~Author unknown

Questionnaire Friday!

1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
I was in the shower. The blue one. Singing loudly. Show tunes. Jazz Hands!

2. Who are you in love with?
Stewart Sir Alexander von Sexypants Alexis. And also the other love of my life, Austin Whisker Biscuits Alexis.

3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
Can’t say that I have. But if I did, it would surely be wrapped in bacon.

4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
There is my previous post about the pink bunny suit. Does that count? Because it’s VERY pink.

5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Right after I over-applied black eyeliner, threw on my skull and crossbones hoodie, painted my nails onyx, and had my mom drop me off so I could meet my other emo friends at Hot Topic.

6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Neither socks nor shoes. At work. Hang on, OSHA is on the other line.

7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
That’s debatable. Black Betty is worth diamonds and gold to me. Kelley Blue Book disagrees. Just over 2 grand for trade-in value. Close to 3 grand for private party value.

8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
I went to our hunting camp in Miz-sippi about a month ago. But technically Stew drove. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.

9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Ugh, no. And I’m dying to see Saw 6. Cause now after spending a good 10 hours of my life watching Saws 1-5, I figure I’m emotionally and financially invested.

10. Are you hot?
Not right now. Thanks to the cool front reported by Bob Breck. And his hair. His glossy, silvery, Lloyd Christmas hair. Take a moment of silence, please.

11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
An iced grande dark roast with skim milk and one Sweet-n-Low. Not because I’m pretentious though. Because you have to speak Barista slang in order for them to get your stupid coffee order right. Plus, we were out of Folgers at the office.

12. What are you wearing right now?
The same outfit as in question 5. Because my mom is picking me up in the mini van later. She better give me my allowance so I can get some Sbarro at the food court.

13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
I usually let the rain wash it. But I highly recommend taking your neurotic dog along in the back seat when you go thru the car wash. It’s a hoot.

14. Last food that you ate?
A bacon wrapped crayon.

15. Where were you last week at this time?
I was in the shower. The blue one. Rapping to Snoop Dogg. One, two, three and to the Fo.

16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
Don’t worry Stew, no pink bunny suits. Yet.

17. When is the last time you ran?
While walking the dog 2 days ago. He pooped on someone’s driveway and we needed to make ourselves scarce. Fast.

18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
Saints vs. Dolphins. Black and Gold Superbowl, baybee! Life’s a Brees!

19. What is your favorite animal?
A mutilated Dolphin. See above. Almost as much as a decapitated Falcon. See Monday.

20. Your dream vacation?
Ideally, early retirement. If we’re being honest.

21. Last person's house you were in?
My own. And it smells like dried Bambi carcass. Because Stew is currently making deer jerky in the dehydrator.

22. Worst injury you've ever had?
That one time Stew play-tackled me and I fell into our entertainment center (which, at that time was composed of cinder blocks and plywood, because we’re classy like that) and I sliced my elbow open and gallons of blood squirted all over the city of University Place, WA (Hi Washington friends!) and I couldn’t lift my arm for weeks and I still have a scar and I made Stew feel really bad about it for oh, 8 years now? Don’t worry, he made sure I didn’t dent the cinder blocks.

23. Have you been in love?
Well, I do love Stew. And Austin. And lamp.

24. What makes you laugh?
When my dog burps. When my mom refers to M.C. Hammer as McHammer. Christopher Walken. And this website: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

25. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
Duct tape and death threats. With a confident smile.

Sleep Deprivation

Him: What's up, babe?

Me: Ugh, I didn't get to take a single nap today or yesterday.

Him: Maybe you should file a complaint with the Department of Weekends.

This is the official kickoff to what will now be referred to as QUESTIONNAIRE FRIDAYS!

Why, you ask? Because I can. Plus, it gives me something to do besides work. Tedious, tedious work. Too much working involved in work, don't you think?


What are your middle names?
Mine = Leigh. His = Sir Alexander von Sexypants

Who is the oldest?
He gets the privilege of being older than me from March 16th – May 3rd. It is during this time that I tease him mercilessly about wearing Depends and breaking a hip. Somebody needs a Medic-Alert bracelet!

Did you grow up in the same city?
Mostly. He hails from the sprawling metropolis of Metairie and I spent my youth representing Da Ridge (by the river).

How long have you been together?
Good grief, this answer makes me feel as old as he is during the dates mentioned above, but here goes. We “officially” started dating on July 3rd, 1998. So according to my stellar math skills….uh…carry the 1…a little over 11 years.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
Probably mine. Mostly because they are in the same age range as us. Nothing to do with how awesome my siblings are…I mean, have you met my brothers? (hi Jeremy! and Tim!) His are pretty awesome too…just in a much younger way.

Do you have any children together?
You had to go there, didn’t you, Mr. Evil Questionnaire. Did my mom tell you to ask this one? No kids. Just a dog. That’s a big JUST. And a big DOG.

Do you have any pets?
Why yes we do. Austin. Chocolate Lab to the Stars. If you’re lucky, there will be much a-blogging about my neurotic little Puppy McPupperson in the future.

Did you go to the same school?
Same preschool, Kindergarten, and 1st grade, yes. It’s actually where we met. Same 2nd – 9th grades, no. Same 10th – 12th grades, yes.

Who is the most sensitive?
Did I tell you about that one time I gave him a knuckle sandwich because he told me those jeans did, in fact, make my butt look big? Well, that never happened. Let this serve as a warning from Mrs. Sensitivity.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Probably his Granny’s house. Her meatballs and spaghetti could heal the lame and cause the blind man to see.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
There was that Spring Break we spent in the jungles of Africa. We taught baby chimpanzees to read and make sustainable clothing from all the leftover banana peels. It makes you feel good to see a monkey wearing a banana scarf and reading Curious George to his grandkids. We truly made a difference.

Who has the worst temper?
Here we go with the emotions again. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I however, would lure all the homeless, desperate flies in by promising them all the free poop in the world to feast on. Then I would commence to swatting them all in one fell swoop.

Who does the cooking?
I mostly do. Sometimes it only involves defrosting and microwaving but I’M TOO TIRED TOO COOK TONIGHT. Pizza is what’s for dinner. Unless we have something to grill. Then the responsibilities are split between him and George Foreman. Don’t even get me started on who is and isn’t allowed to bake the chocolate chip cookies. He has threatened many a time to taking out a restraining order against me for daring to come near his precious Pillsburys.

Who's more social?
It’s a toss-up. I need more me (napping) time.

Who is the neat freak?
The neighbors.

Who is more stubborn?
I say him, but he would probably stubbornly disagree. With a lot of stubbornness in his voice.

Who hogs the bed?
I’m pretty sure my limbs sprout out new, multiple limbs during the night. I have no control over these foreign limbs. I blame them for all the kicking, elbowing and cover stealing.

Who wakes up earlier?
He does. I tend to play the “keep hitting the snooze button until it’s an hour later and the exasperated alarm has given up on me and now we’re late for work” game.

Where was your first date?
We never really had a first date. But on the day we started dating we went to the Spillway and he gave me a pair of his pants to wear because of all the mosquitoes. Who needs romance when there is a threat of contracting the West Nile virus? Not me. That sealed the deal.

Where was your first kiss?
On a baseball field at my company’s cabbage ball tournament. That, my friends, was indeed romantic.

Who has the bigger family?
I think I have a smaller family in order to keep track of his enormous one. He often asks me “Whose kid is that again?” It’s your brother, Stewart.

Do you get flowers often?
Sometimes when I’m at Home Depot picking up some plumbing fixtures and tile grout, I browse the outdoor section and pick up an annual or two.

How long did it take for it to get serious?
After a lifetime of knowing each other, we only dated for 3 ½ months before he asked me to be his bride.

Who eats more?
I’ll go with him. Because if I eat more he’ll say my butt looks big in those jeans. And we all know how that turns out.

Who sings better?
You don’t have to ask me twice to channel Janis Joplin and belt out a spot on performance of Bobby McGee on karaoke night. But he is the master of coming up with random lyrics around the house. Behold the wonderous composition of Stewart Mozart Alexis: Suzie Q, I love you, Now I’m gonna go take a poo. Next stop: The GRAMMY AWARDS.

Who does the laundry?
It’s a shared task. But lawd help me if he puts his whites in the dark basket one more time…

Who’s better with the computer?
He probably cares more. He enjoys de-fragging.

Who drives when you are together?
Paw Paw does. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.

Who picks where you go to dinner?
I’m the dinner-picker. I like to venture into new territories, food-wise.

Who eats more sweets?
Sweetie has the sweet tooth. I’m known to gnaw on a pork chop for dessert.

Who wears the pants in the relationship?
He wears the pants. I pick out which ones.

P.S. I couldn't live without him.