Why didn't I think of this one earlier?
I have a problem with junk food. If it's in the house, it's the first thing I'll go for. Screw the healthy stuff, bring on the chocolate. I suppose it's making up for when I was pregnant with E and wanted nothing more than to be seated in front of a salad bar for every meal.
So, I went shopping a few days ago and got a package of Double Stuff Mint Cream Oreos. In an attempt at keeping myself from eating them immediately, I left them in the car. Until tonight. When string cheese just wasn't cutting it anymore.
I pulled on my boots, grabbed the monitor and went downstairs and out to the car. Darted out into the subzero temperatures, grabbed my bounty and ran back inside. Once I was properly thawed out, I opened the package and . . . good lord, sweet mother of junk food . . . they were completely frozen. It was like biting into mint chocolate chip ice cream, only it was a cookie.
Why this ingenious twist had not occurred to me earlier, I'll never know.
But, from now on, you'll find the Oreo package stashed in the freezer.
If, of course, it lasts more than one day.
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Friday, January 25, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sneaky Little Buggers
I live in a village. We don't have our own post office, and if you address something to this village, it won't make it. We're so small, we share with the three surrounding townships.
It's almost one of those "don't blink" places. 2.2 miles, 3 stop lights, 3 gas stations, 4 bars, 5 resturants, a strip mall with 4 closed shops, 2 garages, 2 liquor stores, a drive-thru liquor store, and an adult store. It's a jam packed strip of klassiness.
Despite being so small, we do have our own police force. There are 5 patrol cars. And tonight, every single one of them was positioned along that 2.2 miles, doing what they do best.
As you roll down the high traffic, main route road that is our village center, the speed limit drops. On one end it goes from 40 to 25, the other from 55 to 25. If you don't know it's coming, you're shit out of luck, my friend. Because exactly 3 feet past that speed limit sign is one of our finest, ready to pick you out. You should take heed and listen to the just-before-the-limit Mr.Chicken sign that says "Avoid a ticket, eat here."
As you crest the hill, you can see the whole 2.2 miles. A quick scan often lulls drivers into thinking they are quite safe, everyone is at the Donut Shoppe (yes, we have a Donut Shoppe). But, you see, these are some sneaky little buggers, and you'll never see them till you have lights in your mirror. Tonight, one was in a full parking lot, another was at the car repair place, a third was behind a stand of bushes, a fourth was at the other car repair place and the fifth was in another full parking lot. All totally blended in, unless you knew they were there and knew their sneaky little hiding spots.
The guy in front of me didn't know.
It was awesome.
I, on the other hand, clearly knew they were there. I like to tempt fate a little and go 27. Or maybe even 28. I'm a thrill seeker, for sure.
It's almost one of those "don't blink" places. 2.2 miles, 3 stop lights, 3 gas stations, 4 bars, 5 resturants, a strip mall with 4 closed shops, 2 garages, 2 liquor stores, a drive-thru liquor store, and an adult store. It's a jam packed strip of klassiness.
Despite being so small, we do have our own police force. There are 5 patrol cars. And tonight, every single one of them was positioned along that 2.2 miles, doing what they do best.
As you roll down the high traffic, main route road that is our village center, the speed limit drops. On one end it goes from 40 to 25, the other from 55 to 25. If you don't know it's coming, you're shit out of luck, my friend. Because exactly 3 feet past that speed limit sign is one of our finest, ready to pick you out. You should take heed and listen to the just-before-the-limit Mr.Chicken sign that says "Avoid a ticket, eat here."
As you crest the hill, you can see the whole 2.2 miles. A quick scan often lulls drivers into thinking they are quite safe, everyone is at the Donut Shoppe (yes, we have a Donut Shoppe). But, you see, these are some sneaky little buggers, and you'll never see them till you have lights in your mirror. Tonight, one was in a full parking lot, another was at the car repair place, a third was behind a stand of bushes, a fourth was at the other car repair place and the fifth was in another full parking lot. All totally blended in, unless you knew they were there and knew their sneaky little hiding spots.
The guy in front of me didn't know.
It was awesome.
I, on the other hand, clearly knew they were there. I like to tempt fate a little and go 27. Or maybe even 28. I'm a thrill seeker, for sure.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Let's play catch up, shall we?
Grab your coffee, folks, this one's a doozy!
(This is what you get when I don't blog more than a picture or a recipe for a week.)
Weiner, whiner.
I am a spoiled, spoiled wife. I spent weeks talking to my husband every day. And then . . . we went three days with no phone call and it just about broke me.
You don't realize how cherished those conversations are (even the ones where neither has anything to say, or you're both pissy), until they aren't there.
Stick a fork in me, I'm done. So over this deployment crap.
Yes, I am that customer.
The husband ordered me an absolutely rockin' anniversary present. He ordered it before our anniversary, which was the 1st, and I just got the email with the shipping info and tracking number on Friday. Their site claims 7-10 day shipping. Friday was day 13. Strike one.
I checked the tracking number from UPS, and saw that it said there had already been an attempted delivery. Which was odd, because I was home all day (because I have no life) and even saw the truck, but never had the buzzer ring. Late Friday night, I checked the number again and, lo and behold, it said the package was delivered. And it was signed for by someone that clearly did not have the same last name as me. Strike two.
I called UPS and found out that the sender (where the husband ordered from) had written a 0 instead of a 1, and it had been delivered to another apartment in my complex. So, UPS, not at fault.
This morning, I called the company to resolve this issue (I use resolve lightly - I generally demand my way or the highway). I lucked out and got the chick who can't think of an answer for herself and had to put me on hold every 13 seconds. After going round and round that I did not actually have a brand new Kitchen Aid mixer, Artisan style in Pistachio, sitting right next to me, she wised up and called UPS herself. While I sat on hold. For a very, very long time.
I don't know what she got out of her conversation with them, but when she came back on the phone her explanation was that UPS delivers your package to your neighbor's house when you aren't home. (*scratches head*)
In the end, she had three options for me: 1) Go over there and ask them for it myself (Nope, not happening). 2) Have them send out a trace through UPS for it, and then have it delivered striahgt to me from them. (Again, not happening, we paid for a new mixer and damnit, I'm getting a new mixer - not one someone else may have done who knows what with). 3)Send out the trace, which would take about 10 days, have it delivered back to the company, and then they would send out my new one. (So, I will have waited 4 weeks by then. Nope, not happening.) Strikes three through five.
So, I told them to suck it and cancel my effing order.
(Well, not really in those words. But I wanted to.)
We just can't have nice things!
Looky, looky what has come to live with me!
When I jump into something, I dive all the way in. So, having found a penchant for sewing, I got myself a serger. Logical step, right? (Yes, you are entitled to roll your eyes at this point.)
The project list is piling up, and the storage for fabric is growing full.E is going to be one stylin' kid, if I can get the hang of this. And, if I don't break it any more than I already have.
Yeah, that's right. The machine was in my possession for less than 20 minutes before I broke the thread rod. Well, actually, my dad broke it by reclining the seat in my car back onto it . . . but we aren't telling him that.
Someone tell her to stop growing up!
So, the reason for the complete and utter lack of sleep? Well, I could blame Burgh Baby for starting the trend and sending out the word to all kiddos to protest sleep at all costs . . . But, shockingly, there seems to be a real explanation this time.
Teeth number 7 and 8 have shown up. Yes, folks, that's 8 teeth in 7 weeks. Nothing like life in the fast lane of development.
And speaking of development . . . I'm going to go broke buying new pants for this kid. (Unless I can keep scoring them for less than $2.50 at Old Navy like I did yesterday.) She is not even 9 months old, and we had to size up to 18-24 months. I put her in the 12-18 right before Christmas, and they are now mid-calf length. (Yay, capris!)
I was smart though. I snatched up a couple of 2Ts as well. You know, for next month, when these don't fit.
Mommy ain't too bright, now is she?
Note to self: Do not teach the kid a new trick and make her laugh while she is eating peas. Not only do they stain the carpet, but green cat puke stains worse. And cats puke when they eat peas. Even just one.
(This is what you get when I don't blog more than a picture or a recipe for a week.)
Weiner, whiner.
I am a spoiled, spoiled wife. I spent weeks talking to my husband every day. And then . . . we went three days with no phone call and it just about broke me.
You don't realize how cherished those conversations are (even the ones where neither has anything to say, or you're both pissy), until they aren't there.
Stick a fork in me, I'm done. So over this deployment crap.
Yes, I am that customer.
The husband ordered me an absolutely rockin' anniversary present. He ordered it before our anniversary, which was the 1st, and I just got the email with the shipping info and tracking number on Friday. Their site claims 7-10 day shipping. Friday was day 13. Strike one.
I checked the tracking number from UPS, and saw that it said there had already been an attempted delivery. Which was odd, because I was home all day (because I have no life) and even saw the truck, but never had the buzzer ring. Late Friday night, I checked the number again and, lo and behold, it said the package was delivered. And it was signed for by someone that clearly did not have the same last name as me. Strike two.
I called UPS and found out that the sender (where the husband ordered from) had written a 0 instead of a 1, and it had been delivered to another apartment in my complex. So, UPS, not at fault.
This morning, I called the company to resolve this issue (I use resolve lightly - I generally demand my way or the highway). I lucked out and got the chick who can't think of an answer for herself and had to put me on hold every 13 seconds. After going round and round that I did not actually have a brand new Kitchen Aid mixer, Artisan style in Pistachio, sitting right next to me, she wised up and called UPS herself. While I sat on hold. For a very, very long time.
I don't know what she got out of her conversation with them, but when she came back on the phone her explanation was that UPS delivers your package to your neighbor's house when you aren't home. (*scratches head*)
In the end, she had three options for me: 1) Go over there and ask them for it myself (Nope, not happening). 2) Have them send out a trace through UPS for it, and then have it delivered striahgt to me from them. (Again, not happening, we paid for a new mixer and damnit, I'm getting a new mixer - not one someone else may have done who knows what with). 3)Send out the trace, which would take about 10 days, have it delivered back to the company, and then they would send out my new one. (So, I will have waited 4 weeks by then. Nope, not happening.) Strikes three through five.
So, I told them to suck it and cancel my effing order.
(Well, not really in those words. But I wanted to.)
We just can't have nice things!
Looky, looky what has come to live with me!
When I jump into something, I dive all the way in. So, having found a penchant for sewing, I got myself a serger. Logical step, right? (Yes, you are entitled to roll your eyes at this point.)
The project list is piling up, and the storage for fabric is growing full.E is going to be one stylin' kid, if I can get the hang of this. And, if I don't break it any more than I already have.
Yeah, that's right. The machine was in my possession for less than 20 minutes before I broke the thread rod. Well, actually, my dad broke it by reclining the seat in my car back onto it . . . but we aren't telling him that.
Someone tell her to stop growing up!
So, the reason for the complete and utter lack of sleep? Well, I could blame Burgh Baby for starting the trend and sending out the word to all kiddos to protest sleep at all costs . . . But, shockingly, there seems to be a real explanation this time.
Teeth number 7 and 8 have shown up. Yes, folks, that's 8 teeth in 7 weeks. Nothing like life in the fast lane of development.
And speaking of development . . . I'm going to go broke buying new pants for this kid. (Unless I can keep scoring them for less than $2.50 at Old Navy like I did yesterday.) She is not even 9 months old, and we had to size up to 18-24 months. I put her in the 12-18 right before Christmas, and they are now mid-calf length. (Yay, capris!)
I was smart though. I snatched up a couple of 2Ts as well. You know, for next month, when these don't fit.
Mommy ain't too bright, now is she?
Note to self: Do not teach the kid a new trick and make her laugh while she is eating peas. Not only do they stain the carpet, but green cat puke stains worse. And cats puke when they eat peas. Even just one.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Well, we survived that one.
Sooooo . . .
~ Christmas is over! Yay! Whoohoo! The happy face can come off and I can go back to my routine of only being social on the weekends. No more family oriented holidays. My mom and I are going to split a bottle of champagne for our lonely and boring New Year's Eve. I'm pretending New Year's Day is just an ordinary Tuesday and not my anniversary. Valentine's Day is a non-holiday in our house anyways. I may be back in Georgia in time to take E to the St. Patty's Day Parade. And then . . . then . . . then there will be a homecoming ceremony to go to! And if it doesn't happen before Easter, I'm going to be a slightly annoyed. If it doesn't happen before E's birthday, I'm going to be really, really annoyed. Really.
~ Being on autopilot with a smile pasted on should be convincing. But, clearly I need some more practice, as every time I find myself in that mode, the in-laws think I'm pissed at them about something. I mean, chances are I'm annoyed about one thing or another, but usually it's so far off from what they think it is, it's kinda funny.
~ There are two of the same toy sitting in my living room. Each given to E by a parent of mine. Each of which doesn't really care for the other. And, of course, each toy has just enough variation to them that I can't pass them off as exactly the same. So, we will play musical toys when the respective grandparent comes over.
~ E's closet is now stocked with a full winter wardrobe. In sizes 12-24 months. Which will fit this spring. When we move back to Georgia. Where it's at least 80.
~ It is absolutely impossible to find a swimsuit for a child in the middle of winter. Let alone a non-skimpy adult one. We may be attending the baby swim class in t-shirts.
~ Teeth are evil. Teething is evil. E and I both agree on that one. Sleeping patterns are shot to hell. 6pm-8am one night, up three times the next, up every half hour the one after that. Tonight I'm on edge and the apartment is absolutely silent in hopes she'll at least get till early morning.
~ My mother came up with a new reason to love being a grandparent. E and I slept over two nights, and in the morning my mom recounted how happy it made her to hear E wake up and to know that she didn't have to go get her. She claims she thought about getting up for me, but her bed was awfully cozy and somehow she just fell back asleep.
~Despite lack of sleep, the two of us can be really silly. E has started to get laughing fits where she laughs so hard she falls over. This is especially prone to happen when I'm looking like a madwoman and chasing her around the house on all fours.
Well, there goes that sleeping baby thought. In the time it took to upload that there picture, the wailing and banging on the crib music player thing has begun.
Oh, joy of joys.
I know, I know. Payback's a bitch and this is what I get for those angelic first 8 months.
~ Christmas is over! Yay! Whoohoo! The happy face can come off and I can go back to my routine of only being social on the weekends. No more family oriented holidays. My mom and I are going to split a bottle of champagne for our lonely and boring New Year's Eve. I'm pretending New Year's Day is just an ordinary Tuesday and not my anniversary. Valentine's Day is a non-holiday in our house anyways. I may be back in Georgia in time to take E to the St. Patty's Day Parade. And then . . . then . . . then there will be a homecoming ceremony to go to! And if it doesn't happen before Easter, I'm going to be a slightly annoyed. If it doesn't happen before E's birthday, I'm going to be really, really annoyed. Really.
~ Being on autopilot with a smile pasted on should be convincing. But, clearly I need some more practice, as every time I find myself in that mode, the in-laws think I'm pissed at them about something. I mean, chances are I'm annoyed about one thing or another, but usually it's so far off from what they think it is, it's kinda funny.
~ There are two of the same toy sitting in my living room. Each given to E by a parent of mine. Each of which doesn't really care for the other. And, of course, each toy has just enough variation to them that I can't pass them off as exactly the same. So, we will play musical toys when the respective grandparent comes over.
~ E's closet is now stocked with a full winter wardrobe. In sizes 12-24 months. Which will fit this spring. When we move back to Georgia. Where it's at least 80.
~ It is absolutely impossible to find a swimsuit for a child in the middle of winter. Let alone a non-skimpy adult one. We may be attending the baby swim class in t-shirts.
~ Teeth are evil. Teething is evil. E and I both agree on that one. Sleeping patterns are shot to hell. 6pm-8am one night, up three times the next, up every half hour the one after that. Tonight I'm on edge and the apartment is absolutely silent in hopes she'll at least get till early morning.
~ My mother came up with a new reason to love being a grandparent. E and I slept over two nights, and in the morning my mom recounted how happy it made her to hear E wake up and to know that she didn't have to go get her. She claims she thought about getting up for me, but her bed was awfully cozy and somehow she just fell back asleep.
~Despite lack of sleep, the two of us can be really silly. E has started to get laughing fits where she laughs so hard she falls over. This is especially prone to happen when I'm looking like a madwoman and chasing her around the house on all fours.
Well, there goes that sleeping baby thought. In the time it took to upload that there picture, the wailing and banging on the crib music player thing has begun.
Oh, joy of joys.
I know, I know. Payback's a bitch and this is what I get for those angelic first 8 months.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The hacksaw won . . .
How to put up a Christmas tree.
It should go a little something like this - take tree out of box, fluff branches, plug in lights, decorate.
It should not go like this . . . .
Take tree down from roof of car.
Slip on ice and bust your ass.
Curse tree.
Curse ice.
Haul tree into garage.
Set up ladder.
Climb ladder to rafters to dig out tree stand.
Find tree stand, but cause cascade of boxes to fall as well.
Curse boxes.
Put ladder away.
Set tree in stand.
See branches that need to be cut off.
Search for hand saw.
Find hacksaw instead.
Lay tree on ground and start sawing.
Slice index finger open - where it bends, of course.
Get blood everywhere.
Curse tree.
Curse saw.
Curse sap that is way too close to wound.
Start sawing again.
Pull branches away and hope it fits.
Stick tree in stand.
Start turning screws.
Realize that tree is too small and inside ring is turning.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Realize a second person would really help.
See that one hole is on longer threaded.
Decide not to care.
Tighten screws.
Decide tree wobbling a few inches here and there isn't that bad.
Carry tree inside.
Get needles EVERYWHERE.
Step in needles.
Curse tree.
Curse needles.
Set tree in place.
Command tree not to move.
Scrub sap off hands.
Keep scrubbing.
More scrubbing.
Curse sap.
Bandage finger.
Curse hacksaw again.
Look at lights that need to be strung.
Realize that this isn't even your tree and you just did all that to surprise someone who is probably going to complain that the tree is in the wrong spot or something.
Curse your own generous spirit.
E says "Hey mama, this looks so much easier!"
It should go a little something like this - take tree out of box, fluff branches, plug in lights, decorate.
It should not go like this . . . .
Take tree down from roof of car.
Slip on ice and bust your ass.
Curse tree.
Curse ice.
Haul tree into garage.
Set up ladder.
Climb ladder to rafters to dig out tree stand.
Find tree stand, but cause cascade of boxes to fall as well.
Curse boxes.
Put ladder away.
Set tree in stand.
See branches that need to be cut off.
Search for hand saw.
Find hacksaw instead.
Lay tree on ground and start sawing.
Slice index finger open - where it bends, of course.
Get blood everywhere.
Curse tree.
Curse saw.
Curse sap that is way too close to wound.
Start sawing again.
Pull branches away and hope it fits.
Stick tree in stand.
Start turning screws.
Realize that tree is too small and inside ring is turning.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Realize a second person would really help.
See that one hole is on longer threaded.
Decide not to care.
Tighten screws.
Decide tree wobbling a few inches here and there isn't that bad.
Carry tree inside.
Get needles EVERYWHERE.
Step in needles.
Curse tree.
Curse needles.
Set tree in place.
Command tree not to move.
Scrub sap off hands.
Keep scrubbing.
More scrubbing.
Curse sap.
Bandage finger.
Curse hacksaw again.
Look at lights that need to be strung.
Realize that this isn't even your tree and you just did all that to surprise someone who is probably going to complain that the tree is in the wrong spot or something.
Curse your own generous spirit.
E says "Hey mama, this looks so much easier!"
Friday, December 21, 2007
Magic and randomness
"Oh, looky! A remote!"
"Ohmmmm. Ohmmmm."
"Yeah. I rock. I'm the next great magician. Now watch me make it disappear!"On with the randomness!
~ The diaper E is wearing is the newest addition to the diaper collection. We have entered the world of prefolds. Quite fun, and a ton cheaper than the other obsessions. However, they are the biggest pain in the ass to fasten when Lil' Miss Buttercup refuses to sit still or stand still or at least not put up such a huge struggle. I'm still searching for something to hold her attention for longer than .4 seconds.
~ I had an idea for two matching somethings to sew, and am obsessing over the fabric that is on it's way here. I'm going to make up a prototype this weekend. So, so excited about this one!
~ I'm not leaving my apartment for the rest of the holiday season. In one venture merely 5 minutes up the road, I . . .
. . . was nearly hit by someone running a red light.
. . . was flipped of for taking a parking spot that was rightfully mine - blinker on and everything.
. . . was bashed into while walking through the store, caused to drop everything, and no one offered to help pick it back up - despite the juggling act I was already doing with the kid.
. . . was not given a bag for my purchases. Yes. At Best Buy, I actually had to ask the cashier to put my stuff in a bag.
. . . was told to "hurry up and move" while standing next to my car and buckling the kid in. Apparently, me getting to my car first and spending the 30 seconds to buckle her in was going to ruin this person's day. Despite the fact they told me to move BEFORE they had even gotten into their car.
. . . was cut-off by a semi truck, who was dead stopped in one lane and decided he wanted to be in mine as I was approaching. The speed limit is 55. And he turned just about when I was at his bumper. And yeah, my brakes really stink when they get locked up.
And that, folks, is why I'm not leaving the apartment until next year.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
100 Things for a 100th Post
In honor of my 100th post on this thing, I figured I would do a 100 things kind of post. I thought about 100 things I've learned about being a mom, or 100 reasons why the Army sucks, or 100 reasons my family is insane. Instead, I chose to stick to the roots of this blog, and my longest year. So . . . 100 things I miss about my husband.
I miss . . .
1. The sound of ramen noodles being pounded on the countertop.
2. Leftover crunchies all over the floor from those noodles.
3. 35 drinking glasses, most half full of water, scattered throughout the house.
4. 65 folded-up, un-used paper towels also scattered throughout the house.
5. CNN always being the homepage.
6. Someone to share the bottle of wine with.
7. Toothpaste chunks in the sink.
8. My bed-warmer.
9. Random geography lessons.
10. The trash getting taken out by someone other than me.
11. Socks. Everywhere.
12. Fishing soggy candy bar wrappers out of the washing machine.
13. Muddy boots.
14. Wet towels left on the bed all day.
15. Someone to pump my gas.
16. Elbows to the head in the middle of the night.
17. The alarm clock going off at 4:50am. And 5:05am. And 5:20am. And 5:25am.
18. Mock combatives.
19. Gossip.
20. Someone to watch South Park, SVU and the Daily Show with.
21. My ice cream enabler.
22. Giving haircuts.
23. Hand holding.
24. Being nagged to fold my clothes.
25. Pillow snatching.
26. Midnight walks in the snow.
27. Someone to open the salsa jar.
28. Wearing sexy underwear for a reason.
29. Deep conversations that come out of nowhere.
30. Flowers for no reason.
31. Someone to warm up the car.
32. Grocery shopping.
33. Motorcycle rides.
34. Being dragged to the movies.
35. Having a spider killer.
36. And a middle of the night noise investigator.
37. Sharing a shower.
38. Fighting over how hot the water should be.
39. A cozy shoulder to snuggle on.
40. Someone to wash the car.
41. Lunch breaks.
42. Weekend get-aways.
43. Trying new restaurants.
44. Stealing the last few bites of a snack.
45. Back rubs.
46.Someone to fix all technological problems by simply looking at the offending electronic item.
47. Fighting over the remote.
48. Bargaining for yard work time.
49. Hearing grumbles over hanging Christmas lights.
50. Being lied to about what time we're really supposed to leave - so that I'm on time.
51. Getting the giggles in church.
52. Hearing someone sing, causing the giggles in church.
53. Fighting over the thermostat.
54. Snoring.
55. Sharing the computer chair to look up something fun together.
56. Going to bed at a normal hour.
57. The anticipation of him walking in the door after work.
58. Stinky uniforms.
59. Good morning kisses.
60. Having someone to cook for.
61. Brushing my teeth with an audience.
62. Locking the bathroom door so there won't be any practical jokes.
63. Having to stay on one side of the bed.
64. Chess.
65. Staying up all night talking.
66. Having a running partner.
67. Hearing baby laughter that only a Daddy can cause.
68. Sharing a blanket on the couch.
69. Being made hot tea, just cause it's cold out.
70. Catching him watching me.
71. Exploring new places.
72. Pretending to listen about cars.
73. Arguing about driving.
74. The smell of his deodorant.
75. The toilet paper roll being put on backwards.
76. Having a reason to get off the computer at night.
77. Not worrying about running out of cell minutes.
78. Friendly competition.
79. Someone to lean on in church.
80. Foot rubs.
81. Piles of magazines in the bathroom.
82. Dressing up.
83. Inside jokes.
84. Wondering around Lowe's, dreaming of future houses.
85. Telling someone to stop breathing so darn loud.
86. Being tickled.
87. Having the covers thrown off on a cold morning to get me moving.
88. Wet hugs.
89. Dishes in the sink.
90. Seeing who can build a better fire.
91. Swinging in the hammock.
92. The farmer's tan.
93. Being held while I cry.
94. Not making every decision, every day
95. Sharing.
96. Icy hands or toes on a warm body.
97. Long hugs in the kitchen.
98. Day old stubble, scratchy kisses.
99. Sex. Lots of sex. (Really now, did you think I was going to leave this one out?)
100. Him. My husband. My best friend.
I miss . . .
1. The sound of ramen noodles being pounded on the countertop.
2. Leftover crunchies all over the floor from those noodles.
3. 35 drinking glasses, most half full of water, scattered throughout the house.
4. 65 folded-up, un-used paper towels also scattered throughout the house.
5. CNN always being the homepage.
6. Someone to share the bottle of wine with.
7. Toothpaste chunks in the sink.
8. My bed-warmer.
9. Random geography lessons.
10. The trash getting taken out by someone other than me.
11. Socks. Everywhere.
12. Fishing soggy candy bar wrappers out of the washing machine.
13. Muddy boots.
14. Wet towels left on the bed all day.
15. Someone to pump my gas.
16. Elbows to the head in the middle of the night.
17. The alarm clock going off at 4:50am. And 5:05am. And 5:20am. And 5:25am.
18. Mock combatives.
19. Gossip.
20. Someone to watch South Park, SVU and the Daily Show with.
21. My ice cream enabler.
22. Giving haircuts.
23. Hand holding.
24. Being nagged to fold my clothes.
25. Pillow snatching.
26. Midnight walks in the snow.
27. Someone to open the salsa jar.
28. Wearing sexy underwear for a reason.
29. Deep conversations that come out of nowhere.
30. Flowers for no reason.
31. Someone to warm up the car.
32. Grocery shopping.
33. Motorcycle rides.
34. Being dragged to the movies.
35. Having a spider killer.
36. And a middle of the night noise investigator.
37. Sharing a shower.
38. Fighting over how hot the water should be.
39. A cozy shoulder to snuggle on.
40. Someone to wash the car.
41. Lunch breaks.
42. Weekend get-aways.
43. Trying new restaurants.
44. Stealing the last few bites of a snack.
45. Back rubs.
46.Someone to fix all technological problems by simply looking at the offending electronic item.
47. Fighting over the remote.
48. Bargaining for yard work time.
49. Hearing grumbles over hanging Christmas lights.
50. Being lied to about what time we're really supposed to leave - so that I'm on time.
51. Getting the giggles in church.
52. Hearing someone sing, causing the giggles in church.
53. Fighting over the thermostat.
54. Snoring.
55. Sharing the computer chair to look up something fun together.
56. Going to bed at a normal hour.
57. The anticipation of him walking in the door after work.
58. Stinky uniforms.
59. Good morning kisses.
60. Having someone to cook for.
61. Brushing my teeth with an audience.
62. Locking the bathroom door so there won't be any practical jokes.
63. Having to stay on one side of the bed.
64. Chess.
65. Staying up all night talking.
66. Having a running partner.
67. Hearing baby laughter that only a Daddy can cause.
68. Sharing a blanket on the couch.
69. Being made hot tea, just cause it's cold out.
70. Catching him watching me.
71. Exploring new places.
72. Pretending to listen about cars.
73. Arguing about driving.
74. The smell of his deodorant.
75. The toilet paper roll being put on backwards.
76. Having a reason to get off the computer at night.
77. Not worrying about running out of cell minutes.
78. Friendly competition.
79. Someone to lean on in church.
80. Foot rubs.
81. Piles of magazines in the bathroom.
82. Dressing up.
83. Inside jokes.
84. Wondering around Lowe's, dreaming of future houses.
85. Telling someone to stop breathing so darn loud.
86. Being tickled.
87. Having the covers thrown off on a cold morning to get me moving.
88. Wet hugs.
89. Dishes in the sink.
90. Seeing who can build a better fire.
91. Swinging in the hammock.
92. The farmer's tan.
93. Being held while I cry.
94. Not making every decision, every day
95. Sharing.
96. Icy hands or toes on a warm body.
97. Long hugs in the kitchen.
98. Day old stubble, scratchy kisses.
99. Sex. Lots of sex. (Really now, did you think I was going to leave this one out?)
100. Him. My husband. My best friend.
Friday, November 16, 2007
They're furry, with zippers, and I love them!
My husband rocks. Big time. This isn't just brownie points, this is like Coldstone's Birthday Cake Remix with Brownies points.
Generally, I protest any and every purchase the man makes. He likes to spend his money, I like to tell him not to. It's just the way it works in our house.
This time, however . . . wise, wise purchase he talked me into. (Okay, so I was all for this one from the beginning, but shhh, let's not ruin my record.) These boots are the absolute most comfortable things I have ever had on my feet. Stylish? Meh, I have no one to impress. They compliment my wispy ponytail and spit-up covered hoodie.
I haven't taken them off all day. (They're brand new, so they don't violate my OCD, no shoes in the house rule.) In fact, I'm sitting here right now with toasty toes . . . while the rest of me turns into an icicle.
Boots, boots, I love my boots!
Generally, I protest any and every purchase the man makes. He likes to spend his money, I like to tell him not to. It's just the way it works in our house.
This time, however . . . wise, wise purchase he talked me into. (Okay, so I was all for this one from the beginning, but shhh, let's not ruin my record.) These boots are the absolute most comfortable things I have ever had on my feet. Stylish? Meh, I have no one to impress. They compliment my wispy ponytail and spit-up covered hoodie.
I haven't taken them off all day. (They're brand new, so they don't violate my OCD, no shoes in the house rule.) In fact, I'm sitting here right now with toasty toes . . . while the rest of me turns into an icicle.
Boots, boots, I love my boots!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
You wouldn't catch me trick-or-treating there!
There is a house that I often drive past that has always gone all out with their Halloween decorations in the yard. For years they have always covered the trees in cobwebs, had the white sheets for ghosts and the gravestones and such.
This year they have far exceeded all the past years. On one side of the yard is a Jason scene - mask, bloody chainsaw and dismembered bodies on the ground around him. The other side they have a circle of what appear to be spirits worshiping or something - white figures with white faces around a body of a person lying in the middle. And then in the middle of the yard is a complete Dracula scene - Dracula with fangs and blood dripping, woman dressed in white lying on an altar-type thing with her arms up as though she's shielding herself from the vampire hovering over her, candles and minions all around the altar. Strewn throughout all this are open coffins with bodies inside, gravestones and other decorations. These figures aren't your run-of-the-mill scarecrows or stuffed clothing. They are life-size and life-like mannequins. I would go so far as to say they could be mistaken as real people upon first glance (or as one drives by).
I wish I had pictures, but I haven't been talented enough to snap one while driving past yet. If I remember tomorrow, I will.
So tell me, what's your take on this? Is it appropriate for a neighborhood, front yard decoration? Or should graphic scenes like this stuff be kept for the haunted houses or other locales where impressionable children won't see it out of the car windows?
This year they have far exceeded all the past years. On one side of the yard is a Jason scene - mask, bloody chainsaw and dismembered bodies on the ground around him. The other side they have a circle of what appear to be spirits worshiping or something - white figures with white faces around a body of a person lying in the middle. And then in the middle of the yard is a complete Dracula scene - Dracula with fangs and blood dripping, woman dressed in white lying on an altar-type thing with her arms up as though she's shielding herself from the vampire hovering over her, candles and minions all around the altar. Strewn throughout all this are open coffins with bodies inside, gravestones and other decorations. These figures aren't your run-of-the-mill scarecrows or stuffed clothing. They are life-size and life-like mannequins. I would go so far as to say they could be mistaken as real people upon first glance (or as one drives by).
I wish I had pictures, but I haven't been talented enough to snap one while driving past yet. If I remember tomorrow, I will.
So tell me, what's your take on this? Is it appropriate for a neighborhood, front yard decoration? Or should graphic scenes like this stuff be kept for the haunted houses or other locales where impressionable children won't see it out of the car windows?
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