Barefoot & Married

Not "Barefoot & Pregnant" yet – not as far as I know, at least!

I Have Serious Difficulty Containing My Excitement Over Coffeemate’s Holiday Flavors November 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 11:22 am

What? You think I have very little going on in my life to warrant such unrestrained enthusiasm over coffee creamer? Try saying that after tasting this:


But I actually do have quite a bit of excitement going on in my life. For example, I have been in the middle of quite the in-depth conspiracy lately. Meet Cousin Barefoot:

Beautiful, I know! Cousin Barefoot is in New York currently, where she is going to school and just generally being a cool Manhattan-ite. (Manhattan local? Manhattan-er? I am obviously uninformed on being super cool and living in the big city. My upcoming chicken post will no doubt confirm this for you) Anyhoo, Aunt & Uncle Barefoot miss Cousin Barefoot very much, and naturally can’t wait for her to come home at Christmas, but weren’t planning on flying her home at Thanksgiving. We were all really going to miss her at Thanksgiving, since we have a tradition of getting together at Aunt & Uncle Barefoot’s cabin and partying it up. (Not even kidding. Even Grandma Barefoot stays up til 1am)

Grandpa & Grandma Barefoot not partying so hard

So when Mom & Dad Barefoot decided to fly Cousin B out for Thanksgiving as a surprise, it was great news! However, we were then faced with the task of keeping it a secret. Maybe not such a problem in most families, but in our family?

We were worried. Secrets aren’t kept too easily. I was the one who found out the Santa secret and revealed it to all my friends. I’ve revealed pretty much every Christmas present I’ve ever gotten someone prior to them opening it. Not only that, but I also reveal everyone else’s Christmas presents to their recipients as well.  I do not have a poker face. I cannot contain excitement, dismay, or any other emotion you might think of.

And I come by this trait honestly. How do you think I found out about Santa? Or other people’s gifts? I also cannot remember a Christmas where I didn’t know what I was getting either.

Suffice it to say, keeping this a secret for two months was going to be next to impossible.

Up until recently, the secret had been secure. Of course, information was released recently. In a surprising twist though, it was not one of the Barefoots, but Cousin Barefoot’s Boyfriend!! I have yet to meet CBB but plan to do so at Thanksgiving. In a conversation with Aunt Barefoot, he accidentally mentioned flying back together. Whoops! Auntie B immediately honed in. CBB tried to make up something about Christmas, but to no avail. Auntie B’s suspicions were aroused and she immediately called Cousin B, who tried to deflect attention by mentioning that yours truly had a big announcement to make at Thanksgiving.

Um, excuse me? If I’m already married, there is only one big and surprising announcement I’m making …


Uh-oh! Just in case you are wondering – not true! Well, as far as I know! If Grandma Barefoot is reading this, she about keeled over with excitement and is now wildly disappointed.

So, here’s the latest: We are going into Thanksgiving with Auntie Barefoot thinking two things:

1 – She is extremely suspicious about Cousin B’s whereabouts for Thanksgiving

2 – She’s pretty sure there is a Baby Barefoot

Stay tuned for what happens next!


Having a Blog Means You Have to Write Stuff? November 13, 2010

Filed under: Random Nonsense — barefootnmarried @ 1:19 pm

Apparently so.

Ok, so I’m going to make an effort again. It’s been a crazy few months. Things haven’t really slowed down, but I’m making a commitment to myself to blog at least once a week. Sort of an early New Year’s Resolution. At first it was going to be every day (Sleep is for the weak, my friend), but I believe in taking into account my track record. And consistency plays no role in mine.

Plus I was feeling kinda guilty. Saidah Ali commented on my last post about my lack of blogging and my perfectionist tendencies made me want to either commit to blogging every day or just chuck the whole thing … but I think I’m going to try the posting less frequently thing. We’ll see.

Update-wise, we live in the country now, on a 12-acre horse farm. And no, we didn’t suddenly win the lottery; we rent out an in-law unit from the owners.

I just liked that picture.


Our new place:

Things I’ve been doing instead of blogging:

– Playing with foster kittens


– Building a chicken coop


– Playing with baby chickens

Making chicken dinner!

No personal pictures yet, just wait, there’s a whole post coming on that one!

– Working as a Nanny for 3 kids, ages 2, 5 & 6

More to come on all that! Stick around!


Not Like Dwight July 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 12:41 am

Warning: If you are not familiar with the television show The Office, this will make very little sense. Not that other posts actually make sense. Just that this might make less sense than most. You’ve been warned.

So, I mentioned that we were planning on getting chickens, and a coop was in the works. We have also been doing a fair amount of chicken-related research.

As you can tell we’ve remained extremely selective with our search for knowledge. In all honesty though, Backyard is a great resource if you’re thinking about it.

Chicken research has included a variety of topics including egg production, whether to get a rooster (no), whether you should feed them (yes), and what you should do when they stop laying (kill them). Heartless, no?

Well, I’m a firm believer in the fact that you should know where your food comes from, and those white lumps in the freezer section were once also cackling chickens, and most likely had nowhere near the happy life that our chickens will have. Plus, chickens aren’t the cutest animals anyway, so I figure that will make it easier on us when it’s time to “cull” them (the nice word that legitimate chicken farmers use to disguise the fact that they plan to behead poor Bertha). And yes, I do plan on names like Bertha, Henrietta, Margaret, Alice, etc. They just sound like hen names.

Our research in this area has led to discussions with other past chicken farmers regarding proper culling techniques. A surprising variety of methods exist, ranging from bloodless to extremely bloody, and one can employ a number of aids in the killing process. Many use killing cones (if you click on that link, just be grateful I didn’t choose a picture of it in action), which are similar to traffic cones attached to a wall to hold a chicken in place, socks over its head to blind and therefore calm the chicken (yes, chickens aren’t the brightest), the broomstick method and many others.

Since our recent interest in chickens developed, we have taken to discussing our latest discoveries with others who may not happen to be as interested in the topic of how to cull a chicken as we are. Has this bothered us? Not at all.

Then I watched this episode of The Office last night.

Oh no. We’re Dwight. The two of us. Oh no. We ARE Dwight Schrute. Beets will likely be next on the list.

They say married people grow too much alike and then don’t share their interests well with other people. But who knew it could happen so fast?

Excuse me while I find myself a mustard shirt.


The Couch Saga, Continued July 15, 2010

Filed under: Embarrassing Moments,Newlyweds — barefootnmarried @ 10:52 pm

Yesterday the plan was to write about moving our couch, right? I had a great lead-in picture that looked something like this:

Way to pique the interest, right?

Then somehow that turned into a litany-history of sorts in which I began to detail my complicated couch past, and I never really resolved the whole recent couch debacle. Starting with one idea and forgetting what I started out to do? Welcome to my life. However, I did leave off with a great cliff-hanger.


So did it make it? In an extremely anti-climactic turn of events, the couch made it to the ground perfectly safely with the help of numerous willing friends who generously donated their time and muscle to our moving effort.

However, when you look at that picture, it makes you wonder how in the world we got it in, right? Blood, sweat and tears are the answer to that question, my friend. Well, not so much the blood, unless a stubbed toe counts. Not so much the sweat either, considering we moved in January. Not so much the tears either; the Barefoots aren’t much for the waterworks. Plus in all honesty it wasn’t that dramatic. More like a little humiliating. But answering a question with “blood, sweat and tears” sure sounds a lot more dramatic than “well, a little humiliating”. But I digress.

We had been back from our honeymoon for a day or two, and were somewhat kind of but actually not really moved in, and decided to take up my parents’ offer to buy us a couch. We had been checking Craigslist, but the couches were either apparently previously owned by the Rockefeller’s (judging by the price they expected to recoup on their second-hand sale)(although I don’t know why the Rockefeller’s would have the slightest need to recoup any expense on a couch)(Are the Rockefeller’s a dated reference to use? I tried to think of someone rich and they came to mind, but I can’t recall hearing them mentioned lately? Are they no longer in vogue? Maybe the Waltons?)(Anybody still remember what I was talking about?) or too strongly resembled the last floral couch I bought and I wanted to leave those memories where they belonged, bonded to the floor in a house in Chico.

However, Costco had a good deal going, so we bought one, loaded it ourselves in the back of the same pick-up (the ease of loading boding well for future moving we figured) and brought it home. And then up the stairwell. But not all the way up the stairwell. This stairwell was designed with the sole purpose of frustrating moving families and creating marital discord. Or so I opined when I was sitting on the steps halfway up with the couch elevated in the stairwell. Elevated because it was stuck. Stuck as in wedged. Wedged as in not moving. Stuck, wedged, and not moving, not on the ground, but in an exciting and inventive combination of wall, railing and ceiling.

Yep, ceiling. You could duck under it and continue on up the stairs. That’s what we told the neighbors to do as they tried to venture up the stairs to their apartment. “Don’t worry about us,” we told them, “We’re just spending some quality time with our elevating couch. Look, it can do tricks! We’re thinking of taking the show on the road.”

We considered calling Mr. Barefoot’s parents, who were a mere 20 minutes away and most likely eager to help. They could have been there quickly, and it would have been fairly easy. So, of course, we didn’t.  Eager to maintain our independence, we tried calling anyone else we could think of  who might be willing to come help us tame our rogue couch, but were either unable to get ahold of them or they were busy. Finally, after no small amount of arguing, we agreed to admit defeat and call the parents. Who were naturally happy to help. FIL Barefoot showed up in a matter of minutes. Lesson Learned? Leaving and cleaving is important. So is accepting help.

With the third person to help, we managed to pull the couch out of the stairwell and over the railing in short order, leaving no permanent scars on anyone but the couch, who still has a small 1-inch tear on the back to remind her of her glory days in experimental levitation.


The Lead Couch

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 12:40 am

We are the original owners of exactly one piece of furniture. Everything else we own is hand-me-down, Craigslist, garage sale, or fished out of the dumpster (which has some surprisingly good stuff!). Our new furniture is our couch from Costco that my parents bought us as a wedding gift (you know, besides the whole wedding thing 🙂

The couch is normal-sized, but our old apartment was not. It took up the vast majority of the living room. Which was expected. What was not expected was the difficulty moving it into the apartment.

Back-story time: Between the two of us, since we started dating (Fall ’08) Mr. Barefoot and I have moved a total of 5 times. Yes. You read that correctly. 5. We have helped each other move every time. We have a history with couches in particular though. The first move in our relationship was mine, and like the sweet boyfriend he was, Mr. Barefoot gallantly helped me move in with two of my friends after I graduated college. I didn’t have much furniture, so we garage-saled it up the Saturday after I moved in, and purchased a variety of furniture including a $10 TV, a $5 entertainment unit, and a $20 couch.

Which brings me to a great garage-saling tip. Shop college towns right after school ends for the summer. Seriously. Awesome. You have never seen people want to get rid of stuff faster than college students who don’t want to haul their crap home to their parents. Granted, most of what you get is already on it’s third owner, but if you’re looking for functionality, college towns in June are the place to be.

Anyway, back to the $20 couch. While quite a splurge compared to the other furniture I bought, it was pretty comfortable and the students we bought it from helped us load it into the back of Mr. Barefoot’s truck. Besides the beautiful floral pattern faded from its 80’s heyday served to seal the deal. Mr. Barefoot and I were enjoying flirting and giggling during our garage-sale trip adventure, and didn’t pay much attention as the truck filled up with more and more junk, and payed little mind to the fact that the truck would have to be unloaded without the help of tons of eager college students taking our money and gleefully tossing their junk into the truck.

We got back to my house, where I was excited to begin setting up my home…

And promptly attempted to unload the heaviest couch known to man. Lest you think I’m kidding, I should tell you that the couch has not been moved once since it reached it’s current home. I didn’t move it at all the entire time I lived in that house, and I left it with those roommates, and I’ve gone back to visit and it hasn’t moved either. Not to vacuum, not by an accidental bump, not to get something that rolled too far underneath. You lose a pencil under there that is too far for your arm to reach under? That pencil is gone for good, my friend. No getting it back, Adios, Sayonara, Au revoir!

Getting the couch inside the house was equivalent to a military siege. After it wouldn’t fit through the front door. (obviously not, that was the first attempt, of course it wouldn’t be that easy), it also wouldn’t fit through windows, tight hallways, backyard gates, etc). We were determined to find an opening through which the couch could enter, and it was finally determined that by taking the sliding glass door off the tracks, turning the couch at the perfect mathematical angle, and praying like crazy, an entrance was possible.

Keep in mind that at this point my arm muscles had long since ceased to function. My complaining abilities were alive and well though. I’m sure that of course macho Mr. Barefoot was fine, but let’s just say for the sake of argument that both of us were a bit tired and maybe a bit cranky at that point in time. Puppy love was fading fast in the face of the lead couch.

In the end, though fingers were crushed, tempers flared and muscles cried, the couch made it into the house. And there it will stay. Forever and ever. I’m pretty sure it’s bonded itself to the floor. Heaven forbid anyone would ever think 80’s floral is out of style.

Which brings me back to our current couch. The nice new one. That was moved like this:

Yep. Check back tomorrow to see if we made it.


Budget-Savvy Bride July 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 6:33 pm

I entered a contest for budget-savvy brides … Check out my entry here!


The Chicken Farm

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 6:31 pm

No I’m not dead … I have just been extraordinarily busy lately. Amazing how life can take up so much time.

The last two weeks have included

There are so many pictures and stories to tell … so stick around! We will now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.


The TP Squirrel June 23, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 12:13 am

Mr. Barefoot, like most most males (to my knowledge) is generally incapable of replacing the toilet paper when he finishes a roll. We fall squarely into the gender stereotypes on that one.

However, he adds an extra twist to his failure-to-replace. As opposed to merely opening a new roll and placing it next to the dispenser so the magic TP fairies can spirit it onto the roll, he instead uses the necessary amount and then squirrels the remainder of the roll away somewhere in the recesses of the bathroom as if he will need to return to find his hidden stash when a major TP shortage strikes the Bay Area.

All other citizens will be lost, alone and forlorn bemoaning their lack of forethought, but Mr. Barefoot will be sitting high and dry (literally!) with his hidden stash to save the day.

I should really just be thankful I married such a planner.

P.S. Missy at It’s Almost Naptime also covered this newsworthy topic recently. Therefore, I am obviously cutting-edge for bringing it up.


The Lion Sleeps Tonight … June 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 11:12 pm

Our next pet will be named after someone famous. I’m not sure, but it’ll be someone good, because that’s better than the current theme I didn’t even realize I had going, which is food. My parents named their last cat Dino, after Dean Martin, because he talks a lot. He will literally follow you around the house meowing conversationally, which is a nice ego boost if you’re feeling a bit ignored. However, my parents couldn’t keep the Dino name going because they kept calling him Henry, the previous cat’s name. Therefore, Dino became Henry the Second. (I’m a little worried about six cats down the line … will he live up to his name?)

We have a dog named Oreo, which seriously fits, besides making me feel slightly awkward when I eat Oreo cookies. But shortly after I got Oreo, I met the biggest fattest roundest cat you’ve ever seen. His name was Pumpkin. Pumpkin enjoyed sunning himself on a wide bridge railing while keeping an eye on the tree trunk that stretched over the creek next to the bridge. A number of birds inhabited the tree, so Pumpkin enjoyed the opportunity to lazily swat at the birds, which were never in danger, as Pumpkin was quite well-fed without the addition of the birds to his palate. And by quite well-fed, I mean that his biggest struggle was to battle the gravity that drew his belly embarrassingly close to the ground when he walked. That darn gravity was also responsible for dropping him over the railing about three times a day when he would swat at the birds.

It became a fun little game to sit and watch Pumpkin’s struggles. He would swat, wobble, splash, drag himself out of the water regally, stretch out to dry on the railing, and repeat. It’s a good thing too, otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten any exercise.

So naturally when I happened upon my own little orange furball at the pound, I had to take him home, and call him Pumpkin. He, naturally, was determined to live up to his namesake. He went from a bit of orange fluff that fit in the palm of my hand to the gargantuan in the following picture.

He is lazy and self-entitled, but always good for a laugh.

As a kitten we were worried he had epilepsy because he would shake so much, but it turned out he would just shake violently out of excitement. He lacks any semblance of coordination, and to this day will walk off the edge of a couch and literally faceplant into the ground. He not only singlehandedly (single-pawedly?) dispels the myth that cats always land on their feet, but will frequently walk straight into walls, as if they had jumped out of their place to land directly in his path. He always bounces backward slightly shaken and gives the wall a dirty look as if to chastise it for daring to impede his forward motion, which is generally tenuous at best without the obstacles walls seem to insist on throwing in his way.

Pumpkin’s food is up on a chair, to keep it away from the dog, and every single time he tries to get up on it he has to put his front paws on it and bounce to get the momentum going. If I’m nearby I’ll call out Eis Zwoi Drü to help him out.

He is completely unaware that he is not the biggest, baddest cat on the block, and swaggers everywhere he goes. However, it is only his back end that swaggers, as his front feet seem to still have not perfectly grasped the concept of being picked up and placed down, and so are swung out directly forward one at a time, frequently causing the casual observer to wonder if he will call out “Heil Hitler!”. He is completely unable to walk in any manner other than the swagger Nazi-strut combo.

Pumpkin is also somewhat unaware that he is of the feline persuasion, as he not only attacks Oreo for sport on occasion, but cuddles with her on long road trips.

He does have the typical cat-split-personality though, because in addition to his lack of coordination and intelligence, Pumpkin also lacks any morals whatsoever, and regularly employs thieving tendencies. He is also lacking in subtlety and therefore is normally unsuccessful, but his attempts are entertaining.

Every time we sit down for a meal, Pumpkin immediately jumps down from our bed where he has been sound asleep, misses his step, lands on his face next to the bed, quickly rights himself and swagger-struts as quickly as possible to the table so he can begin circling us as we eat. And in case you were wondering, yes, it is actually quite unnerving to try to eat with a wanna-be lion circling you hungrily.

He will occasionally make an awkward leap into the air, striking out a claw in a vain attempt to snag some of our meal, which would be quite threatening if he didn’t usually miss by about two feet. Occasionally we’ll foolishly leave food unattended, and he will pounce, steal and spirit our food away. The other night it was a whole pork chop!

Mr. Barefoot or I will have to physically remove him claw by claw from his prize, and he will growl ferociously to try and keep his victory meat.

The only thing he loves more than meat is Pringles. They are like the cake to his fat-kid heart. He can hear the top pop from absolutely anywhere, and will run even faster and more awkwardly than most meals demand before prostrating himself at your feet to beg for a taste. If a can is left unattended he will without hesitation try to jam his entire face down the tube until it gets stuck, and he will then yowl angrily at anyone who tries to disrupt him.

Even if I lose a pork chop or Pringle to him every now and then, it’s worth it for the entertainment value.


You Never Looked More Beautiful June 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — barefootnmarried @ 10:02 pm

Mr. Barefoot’s most recent video:

He let me share it without the credits (for anonymity’s sake)

The actress is my cousin, and the actor is a close friend of Mr. Barefoot’s.