Good morning readers.
It is finally Friday, which means game night in our house. The kind with snacks on the coffee table, a little playful competition, and my husband pretending he does not care about winning when he absolutely does.
These early hours are just for me and my blog. Coffee warming my hands. Soft music in the background. A quiet kind of productivity that feels indulgent instead of demanding.
Late morning is dedicated to maintenance and mood boosting. Facial. Mani pedi. Lash lift. An everything shower that includes every scrub, oil, and lotion I own. The works. There is something about taking extra care of yourself before the weekend begins that makes everything feel a little more romantic.
This afternoon is where things get bold.
I am making lasagna from scratch. Every layer. No canned shortcuts. The only other time I made it, I relied on pre made everything, and called it a day. This time I am doing the sauce myself, building it carefully, tasting as I go. I am slightly nervous, because according to my husband, my father in law makes a boom lasagna. Those are big shoes to fill. But cooking is one of my favorite things. The idea of culinary school has crossed my mind more than once, just for the joy of learning and refining. It is probably much harder than it looks, but I love the thought of always improving.
And of course, there will be a salad. I genuinely love a good salad. Not for any trendy reason, not to chase a certain body type. I have enjoyed them for as long as I can remember. Maybe it is the endless combinations. Crunchy, creamy, sweet, tangy. You can reinvent a bowl of greens a hundred different ways, and it never gets dull.
Somewhere in between sauce simmering and noodles boiling, I am planning to upload the photos I took yesterday, and finally list a few pieces on Depop. I still have boxes from our apartment days filled with vintage treasures and a few modern finds, pieces that have been tucked away in storage, and are ready for a new home. They are currently taking up space in the garage, and I am ready to clear it out to make room for my husband’s tools.
Now that we have a home, he wants to create things. He had to buy a couple of big machines to build the fence, tools that he can use for future projects, too. I love watching him step into this version of himself. Measuring, planning, imagining. I want him to have a designated area where he can work comfortably, and build whatever comes to mind.
Also, his birthday is in April, and I have an idea. I will not spill it here in case he reads this. Just know that I need to get moving, because February flew by, and before I know it, we will be lighting candles on his cake.
The backyard has become our shared vision board. It is huge, which means our ideas are equally ambitious. We need a fireplace. He wants to pour more concrete to extend the porch so we can fit proper outdoor furniture, a grill, and of course, he wants a smoker. I can picture warm evenings, soft lights, dinner outside.
I cannot wait until it is warmer. I want to sit outdoors with my laptop and work on posts, or curl up with a book, and let the sun hit my face. I would drag a blanket out there today if it were not so cold.
The weather keeps switching moods, so our fence is once again paused. Rain one day, sunshine the next. We have no clue what this weekend will look like, so we are taking it one day at a time. I do know that once my husband gets home, I am pulling him outside for a walk. The afternoon should be brighter, and I am craving fresh air, rosy cheeks, and his company beside me.
So here we are:
One slow morning saved just for me.
One brave attempt at homemade lasagna.
A salad built purely for joy.
Garage space clearing for bigger dreams.
Backyard dreams sketched in conversation.
And a Friday night full of laughter, cards on the table, and the man I get to choose again and again.
