It's my first day blogging and you'd think that I'd be here telling you all about myself and what I intend to blog about, and how much I love my husband and my life and my dog, but...no. All I want to talk about is my tea kettle. You see, I'm recently married and, as one of my shower gifts, I was given a tea kettle. A tea kettle that I registered for, mind you, but had not used until today (I've been married for 4 months...had the tea kettle for probably 5 or 6). It's been sitting, idly, on top of my stove since I moved in to our house.
My stepmom is to blame for the whole thing. You see, she purchased the tea kettle for me and then she gave me this delicious Spiced Russian Tea (think fancy orange Kool-Aid, served hot). Oh. My. Stars. This stuff is crazy good and I was all Lusty McLustyface for it today, being that it's borderline Arctic in my 115-year old house.
Please bear in mind a couple of things before I finish my silly little story. First, I am embarrassingly easy to thrill. Seriously. I once peed my pants over purple nail polish. No joke. Okay, okay...it is a joke. But for real...I love the little things in life. Second, I do NOT, in any way, "know my way around a kitchen." Honestly, for the first few weeks I lived here, I couldn't even find my way TO the kitchen. The point being, not only had I never used my tea kettle - I had never used any tea kettle. Ever.
I put the water in it, I turned the burner on high, and I walked away. And then...wait for it...
...wait...
...here it comes...
It whistled!!!!!!
What's that you say? All tea kettles whistle when they're ready? Well, smarty-pants, I sorta kinda maybe thought that was just...I don't know...old-fashioned tea kettles...?
I told you it was embarrassing.
Okay, I'll be back sometime. This is a blog of little or no guarantee. I make no promises about frequency of posting, I can't vow to never blog about my dog (in fact, that seems highly unlikely, given that I have no human children, so he is the source of my poop and vomit stories that mommies seem to like to share so much), and I may or may not get mushy about my husband (what was that about vomit?). But, let's be honest. I'm not here for you. I'm gonna blog for me and, if you read it, I hope you enjoy it. And if you enjoy it, I hope you say so.
I'm out like a trout.
