Kelsey Gets Engaged

I left you hanging with that post about mouse poop while I kept so many exciting things to myself. Writing stories helps me process all the wonderful events I get to experience, but sometimes one must postpone the processing phase and continue to absorb the experiences.

It's especially hard when so many joyful moments happen in quick succession. In this case: Spring came early. Then Ken came to the East Coast and drove me to Montreal. Then Lindsey came for a glorious sister reunion. Then Jim came and surprised Kelsey with this...

I decided to jump ahead in chronology and process this while it's still fresh. This is a big one. My sister is marrying a man who loves her very well and has also proven to be an incredible brother to Lindsey and me (I mean, we don't have anything to compare to, but we do love him). Our family is blessed to have him. And I am so thankful to have helped him with the series of covert operations that led to his popping the question.

Since Kels didn't know he was flying in a day early, Lindsey and I secured her car claiming that Linds couldn't go back to Lawrence without a trip to IKEA. (We dropped Kels off at work and went IKEA for tea lights.) After lunch with the unknowing bride-to-be, Linds and I drove to the airport to get an exhausted and emaciated yet excited Jim. Linds gave him a sandwich and, as Kels bore the afternoon CSM drudgery, we rounded up the last necessary items: pizza components, red wine and the neighbor's card table.

The first mission was to get everything to our roof, which is accessible through the skylight in the bathroom Kelsey and I share. Using the extension cord, Jim hauled the table and chairs up three stories like they were nothing.

Everything else fit through the skylight. And, conveniently, that ladder is stored in our bathroom and used as a towel rack, so that was one less thing we had to carry.

It was a bit cloudy, but the weather was otherwise perfect for this. So romantic.

Meanwhile, Linds folded paper into about 45 origami boxes to create tiny lanterns. So romantic. Thanks, Pinterest.

Jim sacrificed a much-needed nap to finish the playlist.

We cleared the evidence and Linds and I picked up still-clueless Kelsey from work. With a retro Polaroid (thanks, Ken) photo shoot as our means to an end, we encouraged Kels to change into a dress then we left the house to roam around Brewerytown and take some fuzzy (yet cherished!) photos.

When we got home, Jim was preparing their pizza in the kitchen and I got a really sweet video of Kelsey saying 'Oh my gosh' a lot and Jim skirting the question 'What are you doing here?'

Linds and I excused ourselves to head to the roof one last time to light the candles for the second surprise. We were so excited for Kels to see it.

After the lovebirds climbed to their ultra-romantic date spot, Linds and I were left to eat macaroni and cheese by our own candlelight. And wait. And fight the urge to eavesdrop. And wait.

When they finally came down, we learned that she had said yes. And this adorable spectacled couple became bound for the altar.

The rest of the night naturally included hugging the roommates and calling the families (who were anxiously awaiting the calls).

Like I said, we're pretty pumped.

The next day, Kels helped deconstruct her romantic evening and Jim grilled her a steak. Ah, the joys of engagement.

With love.

How to Decrease One's Mouse Population

In Philly, the universal mentality about mice is that they are 'just part of living in the city.' Where I come from, they are more often 'part of living near the country.' Either way, it is winter and mice are seeking a home.

I didn't plan to write about our recent string of unwanted pets. For one thing, it's not appetizing and it seems unnatural and gross to talk about mice alongside posts about pizza dough. But we finally seem to be emerging from the worst of it, and in my state of pleasant surprise and relief, I believe I have some wisdom to share.

This story begins, as most of them do, in the pantry. I will not skirt around the topic. There was poop. The little baby was feasting on brownie mix, everything bagels and croutons. It was messy.

We threw away food and sealed what survived. We swept and bleached and set traps.

In three weeks, we caught five. I know that working as a camp counselor desensitized me a bit to these critters (we used sticky traps there -- blech), but my comfort level reached a new height. One early morning, as I ate oatmeal before work, I watched one of the cuties climb around our pantry shelves and marveled at how creative and agile it was. On another occasion, I found myself locked in a small bathroom with one.

I'll admit, although it may seem counterintuitive, these encounters make it more heartbreaking to carry one out in an awful trap. They were simply enjoying the warmth and peanut butter. It feels so deceitful. But it is unsafe, they carry disease, I know, I know.

A couple of us were pulling for a kitty... But before that debate was concluded, Megan got a great tip: mice will avoid peppermint oil because the scent is too strong for their delicate noses. At that point, $10 for two ounces seemed like a bargain if it meant we would stop feeding and killing God's precious creatures.

The trick is to put the oil on cotton balls and place them in paths that the mice often travel. The pantry got peppered with them. We set a couple on the kitchen counter and used one to block this handy little entryway:

The ever-present smell of peppermint is getting a bit old, but we have not seen a mouse since laying these humane little land mines! No more poop and no more senseless killing!

A bonus outcome that will (theoretically) bring more overall harmony to the household is this shiny new cleaning schedule!

I suppose, after all, we should thank the little darlings. As long as they stay outside.



With love.