Doesn't everyone? These are his two sisters and me, in Hawaii. Gosh my butt was big then, but ooh, my tan. I miss the tan. Ahem, anyway. Peter had this roommate at this time, who was a funny guy, but always said on Friday night, "Awesome! It's Weekend Pete! I love Weekend Pete!" As do I. Peter would let his sisters fro his hair, and we'd all go to Denny's and complain that just because this Denny's sat up on a hill with an amazing ocean view, was no reason they could charge $11 for chicken strips. We'd all get fries and cokes and laugh. When my best buddy Lindsay was in Hawaii doing her DTS, we all just had the best time.
This is my caffine addicted darling. This is the way to my man's heart. Cooking is nice, but he'd rather eat olives and crackers and cheese, much to my chagrin. However, pick up a latte for him on the way home, and I can have anything I want. A cool coffee mug, or a flavor syrup for his espresso machine will have the same effect.
Peter has a variety of nicknames. Taco Pete is one that his sister Shelly and I gave him, thanks to his running us to Taco Bell for late night taco cravings. Though he doesn't like being called Pete very much, he does let me, on occasion. He doesn't really look like a Pete though. I'm not allowed to call him sickly sweet sounding names like "sweetheart" or "pookie" (umm...eww?), or stuff like that. I'm allowed to call him "babe "or "baby" or "honey" and that's all. There was this couple on TV last night that called each other "monkey" which I though was totally weird. It's usually just "babe". Does every couple eventually have this conversation? "So, umm, what do we call each other. Are you okay with being called this?"
I love that Peter is a guy's guy. We've decided to label him a "rugged metrosexual", which I think suits him well. For those who are older than 35, a metrosexual is a term for a guy who is concerned about his appearance to the point of nearly appearing gay, but yet are actually quite straight. Just very well dressed, and taken care of. Essentially, a metrosexual is someone who washes their hair more than once a week. He's also really freaking smart. He has a knack for remembering names and places, and will sit and look at a road atlas forever, memorizing distances between places, and populations of most major cities. He's a walking tour guide, a history buff (his dad has degrees in Classical Humanities, or Greek and Roman History, and his Master's in Education, so Peter comes by it honestly I suppose), a jack of all trades, and master of most. He knows sports stats that completely confuse me, on everything from tennis, to football, and baseball. One day I'm going to make him go on Jeapordy and make some money off him.
Ahh, my two favorite guys. Loren has been my very good friend for ages now, 8 years I think, and regardless of our age difference (14 years) we've always gotten along really well. He's like a big brother to me, even though there were rumors of us being together for quite some time. Possibly spawned, or at least spurred, by Loren just being mischevious and holding my hand when we'd randomly run into someone we know. It was always funny to us that people would put us together. When Peter was about to meet Loren for the first time, he asked me what he was like, and I was shocked when I realized, "Well, he's a lot like you." I always said if I could find a guy like Loren who I could feel romantically about, I'd marry him and live happily ever after. Cross your fingers, Loren may actually come visit us next week, which we'd love. He and Peter get along great.
This is where the "rugged" part of "rugged metrosexual" comes in. No girl wants a guy that's prettier than she is. (Careful Shawn). I love that Peter likes to climb trees and mountains and get dirty and be outside. I am significantly worried that our boys will be just like him, and I'm going to have to learn to be very easy going:"Gabriel Willam Morel,(what we're naming our little boy) tell me, WHAT is that strange creature in our bathtub?"
"It's a ferret, or a weasel, or...something. I'm going to catch mice to feed it. Do you think it will eat mice?"
"Darling, I'm very sorry, but you will NOT keep a weasel or ferret or any living creature in the bathtub. And you may not feed it mice. You need to let it go, and pick it up with a blanket or something, I don't want you getting rabies, if I have to take you to the hospital that will be the third time this month. If your dad goes to take a shower and sees that thing in there, he's going to flip out, and then you'll have to stay inside like normal kids and watch tv during the day, instead of playing ouside".
"But MOOOM, dad said it would be cool! We've tried to give him bugs but they kept crawling away out of the tub. Even the really big ones! Dad thought mice would be better, he's looking for some now. Do you have some cheese we could use?"
"Gabe, could you ask your father to come here please, and preferably without any strange creatures in his tow?"
Yep, this is going to be my life, a few short years from now. I'm going to need a bigger coffee cup.
This was just a little while ago in Jackson Hole. The first time I took Peter to Victoria, there's this big stuffed bear on Government Street. I wanted to take a picture of him hugging it, but then I didn't want to stand there and hug it myself. We had this huge hillarious yelling match on the street, causing people to stare as we yelled "Hug the BEAR!!" and me, "NO, stop yelling at me, people are looking". Peter ended up with this hillarious picture of me standing next to the bear with my head on it's shoulder looking very defeated. Now whenever we see a large stuffed creature, a hugging picture is a must, to avoid another argument.Oh, the fun I have with this man. He cracks me up all the time, whether it's because he gets mad playing Phase10 and freaks out at Carlie (very funny), or I come in and he's dancing in the living room in a pair of my jeans, and threating to "just go check the mail, I'll be right back." The other day, while I was chatting with his mom, he snuck downstairs and had Shelly straighten his hair. He came back looking just like Kid Rock and tried to make out with me, which scared me to death. He's shameless, and serious, and silly and smart. He's talented and passionate about life and God, and sings like an angel. I know I say this a lot, but, ahh, what a guy. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Next time you see him, ask him to do his radio voice, you'll laugh until you cry.
1:38 PM
I am so happy to hear that you are more in love with your hubby every day. He is an awesome guy and we love him to death. I couldn't have picked someone better for you had I tried. (come to think of it I did try...and oh no!! that's him in the picture with Peter) :)
7:20 AM
Mel, you make me believe that there is that kind of love and it is attainable.I luaghed so hard reading this post. I never really got to know Peter that well while you lived here, but I feel like I am getting to know him better just from your blog. Maybe when you move back that will change.
10:16 AM
Ha ha, Taco Pete! And yes, EVERYONE needs to hear his radio voice, it's fabulous. Don't let him turn you down, it's worth it. Kyle and I don't have little pet names for each other, either. Just "baby" or "babe". "Pookie"?! Who does that?! I love that episode of Everybody Loves Raymod where Ray walks in and says to Deborah, "Hey Jellycheeks!" That made me laugh so hard. I'd kick Kyle if he ever said it to me, but it's funny on TV. So "metrosexual" is someone who washes their hair more than once a week? If Kyle didn't wash his hair for a week... yuck. Peter's an awesome guy, I'm glad you found him. :)
2:56 PM
It's so nice to hear that you guys are more in love every day.
I don't know Pete much, the only we hung out was that time we all went camping on Gav's birthday ( I believe), and you guys are awesome people, and are great together.
I hope to see you soon and go for some coffee sometime.
Love ya Mellie!
2:57 PM
I think I meant "the only time"
... I need my nap
3:08 PM
I love the radio voice, and also the scary eyes! I am glad that you guys are married and that you're moving back so we can enjoy awesome times together again!
WOOT *to Peter Pan and Smellie Mellie*
10:30 AM
I don't think usually ne decides what they want to be called. I mean honestly, I sure would not have picked "Poopsie" as a name for myself that's for sure. But Uncle Art used it once cause he thought it would make me mad ( which it didn't) and it has just stuck.
I can't say on the blog all the nick names I have for him. :)
Glad to hear that you have such a wonderful guy. I feel lucky too. ( Don't tell Uncle Art, he may get a swelled head!!)
Miss you and can't wait til you are back here.
8:47 PM
Uhhhh... I call Glen Pookie. You all can bite me.
7:47 AM
I think I remember Auntie Chris calling Uncle John "owla pog" which means "old frog". It didn't make a lot of sense back then. I think the only reason she called him that was because it was the one thing she knew in German. Calling him that now? Hmmm.