DECISIONS

It seems to me lately like maybe decision-making is not my strong suit.

Well, sometimes I am really good at decision-making. Like one time I decided I should never wear earrings that dangle, and not to toot my own horn or anything but that decision alone has spared me countless hours of unnecessary accessories shopping.

But actually I am horrible at making decisions, and I know this for a fact because last week we made a doozy of a decision. Last week Brandon got a job offer.  A JOB. OFFER.

Well, actually, he got two. Two job offers!

Now, one job offer is fun, but two job offers? Two job offers is an ulcer waiting to happen, Steve.

We had two jobs to decide between, and also two cities.

Anyway, we made a decision. Well, Brandon made a decision. I threw my hands up and decided to turn off my brain until things were more settled, because that is just my right as a human being.

The point is, The Holbrooks are employed!

And we're staying in New York!

AND MY HUSBAND HAS A JOB!

chubbalubbaflubba

there is one thing my boobs have never been, and that is impressive. but man, my boobs have sure done a number on old huckleberry's thighs, i tell you what.

they're like the little boobs that could!

he's like a little late sunday night snack.

tastes like sugar!

today peter pan walked around all day with a q-tip stuck in his beard

i don't think he minded it a bit.

if i were bill murray

if i were bill murray,
(one can only dream!)

and i had to live a day over

and over

and over

this wouldn't be such a bad one i don't think.

(wouldn't you kind of love to be bill murray for a day?)

p.s. good old punxsutawney says it'll be an early spring.

tell that to the upper west side, will ya?

image via

yes, that is a car.

while waiting for chinese delivery to arrive

there's a chinese place down the street that brandon has fallen head over chopsticks for.

any time we talk about having food delivered, we always know where the other person is going to want to order from, and we never want what we know the other person wants. as such, our conversations always go down something like this:

holbs: "what sounds good?"

me: "well . . . "

holbs, impatiently: "ok, just not shake shack again."

me, realizing what i really wanted this whole time was a cheeseburger: "ok then, not chinese either!"

holbs: "but--!"

sometimes i let him order chinese anyway, because when we order chinese and it arrives and he takes that first bite and he starts moaning and mmmm-ing and letting his eyes roll back into his head and saying how AMAZING it is, it's pretty much the cutest.

my brandon is all kinds of things, but most especially he is predictable about chinese food.

the other night it was cold and dreary out and we were in between grocery runs and all we had to eat was a dozen or so hard boiled eggs (another time). it was huck's bedtime and i was feeling particularly amenable, so chinese was ordered in exchange for a manly pair of arms pushing the huckster to sleep in his stroller (look, that's just how we roll these days).

while the brandon made the order i went to the bathroom and reacquainted myself with the person in the mirror with the horribly flat hair (hi person who is me, good to see you lately!) and then i sat on the couch and stared at my toes for a minute.

i looked up to see brandon performing some kind of interpretive dance routine for his enraptured audience. huck was squealing in excitement from his bed-on-wheels.

"i am practicing my jim carrey black swan!" he announced between arabesques.

then he stood very straight, put his arms down at his side and said quite somberly, "son, if you want to be a ballerina some day, you can."

what do you usually order when you get chinese?

the holbrooks need to spice up their delivery order.