who's the pumpkin carver?

I feel like I've been keeping a big old blog secret from you - and I'm ready to come clean.

Remember last year when my dad accosted some poor, unsuspecting, grieving guy at a funeral and showed him my picture on his cell phone?  

Well, I've been dating him.

For five months.

I'll spare you the details of how it all played out, because once you get past the funeral/dad thing - which does feel a little twisted sick southern arranged marriage - how we ended up getting together wasn't really all that interesting.  We Facebook stalked, we met for dinner, we drank several beers and realized we actually had quite a bit in common.  

Also, funeral guy isn't sure he wants to be a part of his blog, which I completely understand.  I'm like Taylor Swift of the blog world - you cross me, and I'll totally write about it.  His reluctance was expected.   

But not mentioning him, or blaming him for the reason it's taken me this long to write about the Ranch seemed strange too.

Plus I'd be remiss if I didn't allow you all the opportunity to make fun - or at least roll your eyes - at "New Relationship Steph."

She's different, softer than the cynical, sarcastic gal I've imagined myself to be.  I fear I'm losing my edge, doing "coupley" things that I myself don't even recognize.

I'm blowing off workouts to just "hang out" and eat ice cream or bacon and eggs or both. 

I cooked us dinner in a crock pot.   

We carved pumpkins.



I know, I know.  Barf. 

Sometimes I swear we're weeks away from spending Saturdays at Bed Bath and Beyond and Home Depot if we have time. 



Before you start to hate me - which I totally would if I weren't me - I will tell you that there are signs that the honeymoon period of our new relationship is coming to an end.  I don't think he finds my dramatics and accompanying ADD as cute as he used to.  And I've already started to eye his closet for the things I plan to eliminate. 

But we did carve pumpkins.  And I liked it.