Yesterday was tough. Really tough. I spent the day in the hospital, pretty unexpectedly (I had about two days notice plus a few less than great bloodwork results).  I’m okay now, I promise.  A bit defeated, maybe a bit more shaken than before, but I’m used to this. I’ve had a surgery and at least one major procedure every year of the first three years of my marriage.  I’m actually bizarrely chipper once I’m in the hospital – this time, post piña colada on IV drip, I waved like a prom queen and said goodbye to every staff member on the floor.  I’m so unbelievably grateful for my family and husband.  Everyone in my family has gone above and beyond; even my sister read me Harry Potter last night … (Which, by the way, I have never read!  I’m a weirdo.)  I could not do this without them.

And I know sometimes love seems tough, but it’s so worth it. I love my husband in a way that almost hurts. We’ve been together more than a decade, we met and began dating as kids, but to this day, I miss him when he’s gone (and we’re barely apart, so I’m talking the hours before he’s home from work.) Yesterday he had to run to the lab to finish last minute details for his thesis, because in addition to moving into a new apartment on Tuesday, surgery on Wednesday, recovery today, attempts at unpacking our new apartment, packing for Europe, and getting all of my own posts and legal work done before next Wednesday when we get on a plane headed for a trip I won to London, the day we get back hubby starts rotations so his PhD work has to be done before our trip.  To say this week has been crazy is an understatement.

Ahhh, yes, to the point: last night, hubby shows up to my parents house, where I basically spent my afternoon post-hospital buried in blankets, with six bags of frozen yogurt and toppings.  I could have burst with excitement, pride, and so much love.  (I really really really like frozen yogurt … in a big way.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I know things get tough, and crazy scary sometimes, but it’s the people around you that back you up, make you tougher, make you smile, and feed you endless frozen yogurt.

Last night my husband looked at me and said, “I’m glad I get to be the man behind your blog.” I melted right there on the sofa and was reminded for the ten millionth time why I love him so much. He also insisted that the amount of time it takes me to instagram food leaves him starving most nights and that he still doesn’t get Facebook.  Check out Mike’s interview over on Victoria’s blog today, as he talks the roller-coaster-ride that is blogging, social media, and other nerdy science stuff.  (And P.S., there’s also a fun little surprise announcement in Victoria’s post … told you I had big things in store. #thebbar)

You can also check out my Oh, So Glam Q&A where I’m sharing all things glamour on the Glam site (i.e., “Glamour is a great pair of heels and red lipstick. It’s two parts confidence, one part great accessories.“), and I’m talking about my favorite {edgy} flats on Sam’s blog in her adorable series, Fashionistas in Flats.

Last weekend I managed to surprise the hubby and took him to Maine for an early 30th birthday!  Let me tell you, pulling off a secret trip was no easy task.  But it was so worth it:  the look on his face when he realized what I was up to was priceless.  He obviously figured out pretty quickly that we were going to Maine.  The plane sort of gave it away.  What he didn’t know was that instead of staying at my family’s vacation home, we were headed to the resort where we got married two years ago.  The kind of resort where they sort your fruit, pack you a thermos of coffee with cookies (for later), teach yoga by the lake, and have bath tubs the size of small swimming pools.

Here’s how it all went down:

When we got into the rental car at Portland Airport, I sprung this on him …

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Dear week, you went by in the blink of an eye … thanks, I think.

Dear NYFW and LuckyFABB, you are so freaking close I could scream.  I can’t believe I am finally going!

Dear dream bag, you would look so pretty on my arm at NYFW.  I shall will you to arrive at my doorstep.

Dear closet, please sort yourself into the outfits most appropriate for NYFW and pack yourselves accordingly.  Preferably in one suitcase.  My husband insists my trying to lug two suitcases around is not practical … even if one is simply a “back-up” … for my shoes.

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Today I bring to you part two of the Sony/Glam series featuring Sony’s latest film: Hope Springs.  Sony asked me to spill the deets about my crazy marriage, so here goes!

Full disclosure: this post is about bathroom habits, boogers, and marriage.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  To be more specific, Sony asked that I share the “Hilarious Habits my Husband (or significant other) Hides.”  He hides nothing, people.  Nothing!  And that’s marriage, all of that best behavior they were on for all those years you dated, it was just that: “best behavior.”  Enjoy it while you can.  That’s not to say that I’m not completely obsessed with my husband, but apparently, I’m supposed to embrace the full package: the underwear left in front of the toilet, the hair they leave everywhere when they shave, the gas.

The point is, when you’re married, men leave little to the imagination.  Enjoy!

What relationship rules were made to be broken? Comment in the discussion box below for a chance to win gift cards and other fun prizes!

Sony Pictures Presents “Hope Springs”, A new comedy from the director of “The Devil Wears Prada” starring Meryl Streep, Tommy Lee Jones, and Steve Carell. Watch the trailer here.

**Compensation was provided by SONY via Glam Media. The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are not indicative of the opinions or positions of SONY.

I am obsessed with black and gold, whether it’s in home and design, fashion, a great pair of shoes, glitzy kitchen wares, you name it, I want it.  And though, in truth, I know a home full of black and gold is probably a bit too dark for my taste, these shots of black and gold interiors have me scrambling to think of an area in our house that I can re-do (trust me, this is nothing new!)  Poor husband.

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