Holly + Fernando.

Foodies. Drinkers of good beer. Netflix addicts. Celebrators of Cookie Fridays. Potterheads. Techies. Readers (of books, blogs, and XKCD). We speak English, Spanish, and sarcasm.

Our lives consist of Netflix with a Hulu Plus chaser, poking each other in the ribs, sending each other funny emoticons and obnoxiously quoting TV shows that no one but us understands. Once upon a time, we decided to get married at the Renaissance Festival without telling most people. We eat good food- sometimes we make it ourselves and sometimes we scope it out at sweet restaurants. He cooks; I bake. He keeps to himself; I’m a blabbermouth. He was born and raised on the US/Mexico border, though he identifies as a Spaniard; I grew up in Minnesota and have the accent to prove it.

What’s with the purple chicken?

To us, purple chickens are one of those “you had to be there” things. On our first date (4.27.12), we met at a corner coffee shop and talked for hours about lots of different things. I regaled him with a tale of my sweet new purple paint to be used on an accent wall, wonderfully named Magic Spell. That, coupled with a story of my then-boss’ backyard chicken business, somehow led to an uproarious conversation regarding purple chickens that could take over the world. After the date, he won my heart when he emailed me my very own custom-PhotoShopped purple chicken. It was at that moment that purple chickens became Our Thing. (We don’t really understand it, either. Just go with it.)

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