See, this is exactly the kind of thing that happens when there's no order, no planning. Hitler and Martha Stewart would've hated that wedding.

So, it's been a while.  And rather than attempt to recap everything that's happened since the last time we blogged, we're just going to kick this new era of blogging off with the really important stuff. 
To start with, we went ahead and got married.

BINDING JEWISH CONTRACT!!!

There were so many special touches to the day and almost everything went off without a hitch.  With all the planning and all the stress leading up to this one day, it would have been easy to forget what the day was truly about: 

Just kidding.  Nobody really thought that.  Okay, maybe one person...

Molly.  It was Molly.

In all seriousness (which, by the way, I don't remember agreeing to) it was an amazing day and we couldn't have asked for anything more.

After we got back to Cleveland--Yeah, that's still a place--we took a Mini-Moon to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. 

Editor's note/Disambiguation: Mini-Moon is a short honeymoon.  Not to be confused with a small person sans pants. 

Mini-Mooners (Def. A)

Mini-Mooner (Def. B)

We did all of the traditional honeymoon stuff:

Play "Moose and the Mounty"

Enjoy sweet loving

and act out some long-harbored fantasies.

That's it for us.  But we'll be back soon with more blogging. 

This entry was brought to you by Ambien.

You Are My Heroine. And By Heroine I Mean Lady Hero...I Don't Want to Inject You and Listen to Jazz

Well, it seems we have some catching up to do...Just to try something a little different, I think we'll start with today and work our way backwards so you can find out about all of the glorious things that have been going on in our lives.

Nicholas recently found out that he passed the first part of his dental boards. This milestone in his dental school education brings him one step closer to this

 

And it brings me one step closer to this

Once we've paid off our hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt, of course...

In the meantime I've been raking in the big bucks (HA!) working as a therapist for adolescents with diagnoses of chemical dependence.  My first day official day of work was January 7th and the experience thus far breaks down as follows:

What I think I do

What my patients think I do

Ah, just thinking of the Ken Kesey classic makes me nostalgic for the days when you could still lobotomize unruly patients. 

Before that, we were back in Philadelphia babysitting for Becky's son, Jake, celebrating the holidays and Chloe's 3rd birthday.  Chloe made a beautiful birthday girl.

She loved all of her presents

Cousin Jake was wildly unimpressed

Before that, we were back in Cleveland, where we always have so much fun and do so many fun things.

Footage Not Found

Actually, my dad came to visit us and we celebrated his birthday and Christmas.  On Christmas Eve, Nicholas' mother and grandmother came out here and celebrated with us as well.

Karen and Gram

Dad over-selling his "Oh my gosh, I love this tie!" face

Nicholas and I were a little short on cash because we're both students and we already own most of the cats in Cleveland, so this year we just re-gifted with each other

Everyone was polite enough to at least pretend they liked their gifts and I food-poisoned absolutely no one, so we're gonna call it a win.

Let's see now, before that our yard played host to another sickly raccoon--apparently it's becoming an annual thing--who had clearly mistaken death's doorstep for our doorstep.

The ex-raccoon

Mercifully, after having been here for a year and a half, we knew how to deal with the problem...Cleveland-Style

Nicholas with his patented prod-n-scoop manuever

Proof that we have finally become white trash

In his final resting place on our tree lawn

And as far as everyone knows that raccoon was not, I repeat NOT what I actually made the roast out of when I hosted Christmas Eve.

Before that we were home for Thanksgiving and celebrated Molly's 35th birthday by dressing up like Harry Potter characters and listening to Mom mispronounce Hermione.

And before that  I was in the Cleve writing this blog entry
Consider yourselves caught up.  AND fin.

Happy Thursday to you! Happy Thursday to you! Happy Thursday, dear Alice! Happy Thursday to you!

What has two thumbs, speaks limited French and didn't cry this year on her birthday?

This moi!

Indeed, it was a very happy Smithday for me.  And if you don't know what that means, I'm certainly not going to explain it to you (See, my youth may be fleeting; but my immaturity is holding strong). And as someone, whose name I won't mention, kept reminding me, this was the 20th anniversary of my 7th birthday.

Molly...it was Molly

For those of you who don't remember, that was a very good birthday...a day about which I cherish countless wonderful memories.

Footage not found

 A day that nobody could have ruined...

Molly...it was Molly

 Besides, who can remember what happened in 1992 anyway?! The spunky little genius who kept this journal for Mrs. Miller's bet kakhol, that's who:

As you might suspect, the journal reflects sweet, sensitive nature of my angelic childhood self.

Perfect child

Adult with extremely selective memory

In going back and re-reading my 20 year old journal, I realized how completely I failed to live up to my own expectations for myself.  As a 7 year old I prognosticated that in 10 years I would have completed some revolutionary scientific work.  To be more precise, I wrote:  "10 years from now I will make a animle that is hafe dinosr hafe monkey.  My mom is going to go crazy because I can't find a home for it."

If I had to take a guess, I would say that 7 year old me was envisioning something like this:

But with one of these:

And definitely one of these:

Alas, as I'm sure you can imagine, 17 was a busy year for me with college applications and all...thus, I never did get around to making that Monkeysaur.  I'm sorry, 7 year old me, for not having created that abomination that you so whimsically concocted in your crazy little head.  If it makes you feel any better, 17 wasn't a complete bust.  It's the year that I had this very useful photo taken:

Uniquely good photo with not one but TWO open eyes

And if that doesn't do it for you, 7 year old me, remember that your prediction had two parts:

1. That you would violate the laws of nature by creating the world's first Monkeysaur
2. That your mother would go crazy.

So rejoice, the intervening 20 years definitely made good on part 2.

...and it didn't even take a Monkeysaur

And now, I will echo what I've decided are your sentiments, and wish me a happy birthday. 

...Also, 7 and 17 year old me, I just want to let you know that we landed a hottie.

Proof

I could shove an icepick in my eye. I could eat some fish from last July; but it wouldn't be as awful as a summer in Ohio

It's been quite a while since we've blogged and that's because I have been suffering from what a shrewd clinical mind would be able to identify as a dual-diagnosis of writer's block and laziness.  But since I know how desperate you are to be let in on the picayune details of our lives, I'll write even in the absence of something clever to say (for examples of this format, see all previous blog entries).

Let's start at the very beginning, since my childhood governess always drilled into me that that's a very good place to start.

Smolen children with their governess circa 1990.  I am small Aryan boy in lederhosen at far left.

At the end of June, Nicholas and I ventured out west to New Mexico and then San Francisco.  In New Mexico we attended Sarah and Joe's wedding.  Sarah made a beautiful bride and Joe stood up well to my intermittent threats of grievous bodily harm.

Newlyweds

The party was a blast and, as always, the Smolen girls kept it classy.

Molly and I kept our Daisy Duck undies hidden until later in the evening

After the wedding we hit up the city by the bay.  Because Nicholas had never been to San Francisco before, we took in all of the beautiful sights that the city has to offer:

Viansa Winery

Muir Woods

And we had the wonderful opportunity to see one of San Francisco's true natural wonders...THE BUSHMAN!

 For those of you not in the know, the Bushman is a homeless man who hangs out by the wharf and hides behind two large pieces of shrubbery only to jump out at unsuspecting passersby.  Obviously, this man is totally insane (Read: I'm totally jealous that I didn't come up with it first).

We got back to Cleveland in time to celebrate our first Clevelanniversary.  Clearly this is something that we'd like to commemorate because Cleveland is a beautiful city and not--I repeat, not--a swirling vortex of despair.

Not sure if this supports or negates the idea of Cleveland as a hell dimension...

The only other thing that merits mentioning is the story of the cat that we rescued from our neighbor's garage in June.  One day as we driving home from running errands, we got a call from our neighbors, who explained that there was a cat stuck in their garage and they figured that since we were cat owners, we might be able to help them get the poor animal out.  So, like any true animal lovers and humanitarians

we went and helped to remove the cat from the Curtis' garage.  But we couldn't just leave this sweet little tabby on the streets without helping him to find his original owner.  In truth, we were taken in by his Jamie Hyneman whiskers...

...and his huge cat balls

Yes, we have a picture...and judge not lest ye be judged

 (I'm judging you anyway)

So we called him "Jon Fielding" and kept him in the garage and backyard while we tried to find him a family.  And, just like their namesakes, Tolliver was quickly enamored of Jon Fielding.

If we ever re-home them, it will have to be to the Cats-tro

We figured it would be easier to find Fielding a home if we had his massive pouch potatoes harvested.  So, Fielding now sings soprano and we're no closer to finding him a forever home.

For those of you who say we now have 5 cats, I want you to know that I reject your reality and substitute my own.

Besides, remember how we always had 5 cats?

Summer has sped by and now we're really starting to put our noses to the grindstone.  Nicholas has started studying for his boards.

...It's going well (?)

I'm still selling underwear at the mall, which has been a learning experience...what I've learned is that poor people really like to steal moderately priced undergarments and lounge wear.  To prep for the school year, I've started reviewing a ton of psychiatric theory.

Editor's Note:  If watching 8 and half seasons worth of Frasier can count as reviewing psychiatric theory.