I live in a fruit graveyard! This healthy kick of ours has been incredible for our vegetable intake, but I keep buying fruit and it keeps rotting in our fruit bowl on the kitchen table. I feel like our intentions are always good. Buy the fruit, set it out with breakfast, but then eat everything and realize I'm full, so I put the fruit back. Then I pack fruit with my lunch, take it to work, and leave it on my desk for a few weeks until I can't stand the look (and smell) of the shrively science project that has taken over. I did try putting our fruit in the refridgerator to help keep it fresh for longer, but there's never any room on the shelves, so it gets put into one of those "crisper" drawers. First of all, who in the world thinks that a drawer can make soft food become crispy? Secondly, does anyone have a husband that actually acknowledges the presence of those drawers? 'Cause mine sure doesn't! Anything that goes into those cubby holes in the fridge might as well be lost and gone forever. My husband holds to the idea that I'm "hiding" food from him when I put anything in there, no matter how many times I tell him that the produce goes into the drawers MARKED FOR PRODUCE! Besides, putting apples and pears in the fridge is really like putting off the inevitable. It's basically life support for fruit. Eventually we all pull the plug but we feel better about ourselves if we wait as long as possible. It gives us a chance to say goodbye... and I hope our last tangerine knows that he will be sadly missed.
Winter can go ahead and kiss my very pale behind. I'm just about over this below-freezing weather and bad roads business. Our house was at 59 degrees when I woke up the other morning. 59! I didn't even know it could get that cold INSIDE! The cold, dry air is also aiding to my now-frequent nose bleeds. According to my bathroom garbage can, I can create my own horror movie pretty soon. And I must say, it's largely inconvenient to put on mascara while you're trying to pinch the bridge of your nose AND hold a wad of kleenex in your nostril. But it's not just the nose bleeds. I can't even get my car up our driveway without a running start from down the road. And even then, there's no telling what will happen halfway up the drive. In fact, I got stuck near the house over the weekend. Realizing that spinning my tires was just digging myself into a hole, I tried to put kitty litter down to give myself some traction. By the way, don't try this. It DID'T give me any traction, but it DID spray kitty litter all over my car (which is, by far, one of the grossest smells ever... and it's all I can smell when I'm near my car now. yay!). Winter, please leave. No one likes you and you suck.
I was able to get my lazy butt out of bed this morning in time to join the Boot Camp class at the YMCA. I try to stay after for Zumba as well (I can't see driving all that way for just one hour anyways, and I'm ok with looking like a retarded, non-mexican, salsa dancer). Due to my severe lack of gyrating coordination, I try to pick a spot directly behind the instructor so I can stare at her feet the entire hour as I lamely mimic her in the back row. However, today Zumba 101 was joined by a heavyset, early 20's girl, accompanied by her heavierset, emo boyfriend (yeah, Emo Zumba is all the rage apparently). They stood right between me and the instructor, and then proceeded to stand so close to each other that they created a human wall of flesh, blocking about 8 people's view. If she went left, they went right. It was the single most confusing class I've ever taken part of. The instructor actually had to tell them to move apart because they were blocking everyone else (it didn't really matter because they were like a set of chubby magnets, drawn back to one another between each song). And that's not all! These two jug heads couldn't figure out how to move forward after she did an 8-step back, so they were basically dancing on top of me for the last 15 minutes (I could actually SMELL them, this is how close they were to me... and I couldn't back up because I was at the wall.... I was finally able to see the instructor by peering through his ear gauge). Yoga, please come back to the Y, and quickly.... one more work out like this and I'll NEED the rest and relaxation you bring!
I don't know how vegetarians do it. For the last couple of months I've been gradually eating more and more vegetables (and LIKING them... I can already hear the gasping from my mother). And for that matter, so has my husband. We've discovered the joy of seasonings and herbs and vegetables... and even eggplant. I had never made an eggplant before; afterall, it is a rather weird-looking food. I checked out a few of my cookbooks and they barely had anything in them using this strange fruit (and yes, it is a fruit I found out, not a vegetable... put THAT in your trivia box). But I was able to find a lovely recipe for Cheesy Eggplant (pretty much eggplant parmesan without the pasta). It turned out so good, amazingly enough! And then I realized why eggplant will not be a part of my weekly diet.
About an hour past ingestion, my stomach began to alert my backside that there was an intruder, and that intruder was trying to escape in the form of a gas. And said intruder successfully retreated (for the next 24 hours). Seriously, vegetarians are just crazy! First the broccoli, then the cauliflower, and now the eggplant... how do these people keep any friends? Do they eat Beano or GasX for dessert after each meal, trying to catch it before it all comes back out? All I know is that if I continue on in this "healthy lifestyle", public places (and bon fires) are no longer an option.
About an hour past ingestion, my stomach began to alert my backside that there was an intruder, and that intruder was trying to escape in the form of a gas. And said intruder successfully retreated (for the next 24 hours). Seriously, vegetarians are just crazy! First the broccoli, then the cauliflower, and now the eggplant... how do these people keep any friends? Do they eat Beano or GasX for dessert after each meal, trying to catch it before it all comes back out? All I know is that if I continue on in this "healthy lifestyle", public places (and bon fires) are no longer an option.
My favorite snack is popcorn. We started trying new popcorn toppings to make our favorite snack even more inventive. We tried garlic powder and parmesan, yeast flakes (our ultimate favorite), and a ranch packet... all very delicious. For a wedding gift, we received an air popper. These are sooo much quicker and easier to use than popcorn on the stove, and less calories than pan or microwave popcorn. Needless to say, we use the thing constantly! It only figures that the appliance most loved and used in our house gets eaten by his stupid mutt... I mean, come on, she couldn't have eaten the mini george forman or the old blender? There were pieces of air popper all over the house, displaying the largest pieces on the guest bed upstairs (I know this because I found a piece with my bare foot and followed the shards into the other room). First the ink pens, then Baby Bear Jesus, and now my popper! I think it's time to banish that rampaging chewing-machine to the basement with the other awful animals and leave the lovely, sweet, non-chewing animals (mine) upstairs in the land of well-behaved beings. He seems to think she's jealous that I've moved in so she's eating my things. I think she's just got Pica and is psychotic. Either way, the dog apparently needs therapy (and therapy is always best served in a basement, right?).
I love you enough to empty the dishwasher and load the regular dishes, but just not enough to wash the greasy pans. This is apparently the message that my husband is trying to send me. Well, two can play this game! I suppose I can show him how much I love him by doing his laundry and forgetting to add the soap.... or maybe by baking him a cake, but leaving the oven off while I pop it in to bake. Which leads me to the next oddity of the Costa household. Not only do we have unwashed pots and pans, but we have a possessed oven. Apparently Kenmore likes to throw in a lemon now and again, just to keep the public on their toes. For a couple of months now, our oven smokes up immediately upon pressing the Broil button. And anything that is cooked anywhere near the correct temperature for the correct amount of time is burnt to a crisp. I can say that it makes for a rousing game of cooking roulette everyday, but I'm not really a gambling woman. And this non-gambler's heart leaps everytime I look at the stove and see the red light shining, saying that something is still turned on, despite the fact that I know for a fact everything is safely turned off and completly cool. At least my hubby saved me a few steps in the dishwashing process tonight (thank you, baby!), but Kenmore, you're sleeping on the couch.
I've decided that it's too hard to find time to dye my hair. It sounds silly, espcially since this requires me to do nothing but sit still for less than an hour once every few months. Yet try as I may, I have not found an hour to sit! Sure, while I'm paying bills I could wrap up in a towel and suck in the fumes of chemically enhanced beauty, but I doubt I could do it without sending the cable company a sample of my new color. Nor is it wise to exercise while dripping a lovely shade of "warm autumn" onto the floor, mixing with sweat as it drips down my face. And cooking dinner is OBVIOUSLY out, unless I'm trying to poison both me AND my husband in one fell swoop (and let's face it, I've gotta save SOMETHING for the 50th wedding anniversary). So, instead of staining the bills, sweating out dye, and killing my family, I've decided to go with the gray. Highlights never go out of style, right? And my gray happens to be coming in with a beautiful face-framing action, almost like a halo. Why would I want to cover up my natural angelic glow with warm autumn, anyways?
Every wife wants to please her husband with a delicious meal, no matter how Donna Reed-circa-1950's that sounds. There is something to be said about thinking up something delicious and nutricious, putting the meal into the oven, and then watching as he tastes it and smiles. On days that the smile is slightly forced, a girl may feel disappointed. On days that there is no smile at all and he gags at the taste, a girl may spit in his next mornings coffee. But today- today I hit it out of the park! Not only did my husband smile, but he groaned, sighed happily, and stated it was the best meal he had ever had. So, as I stand here, holding my spatula-shaped award, I'd like to thank all those that could make this meal possible. Kenmore, we've had our differences, but I'm so proud that we were able to put them aside to make this evening possible. FitSecret, your recipes and calorie-conscious ways have inspired me to cook in ways I never thought imaginable. And to the Tilapia fish that sacrificed their lives for our meal, we are forever grateful. Thank you, and goodnight.
After last night's snow fall, my husband was very helpful. He shoveled a path to my car this morning so I wouldn't have to walk through a huge pile of snow before getting into the driver's seat. Then, when we decided the roads were too bad for me to take my car at all, he drove me to work in his truck AND picked me up from work this evening. I was very grateful for this, especially since my anxiety over driving on snow seems to increase by leaps and bounds with each passing year. By the time I reach 30, I may just start hibernating through the winter and pick up the occasional summer job instead (that thought, although sarcastic, actually made me feel warm and tingly inside).
The thing I love about my guy is that he can go from being sweet and endearing to quirky and laughable in such a short period of time. We were only home for about 3 minutes before I notice that my husband was in the bathroom but that his pants were in the living room. When I asked him why he had to take his pants off to go to the bathroom, his response was that it's just too small for both him AND his pants to be in the bathroom at the same time. I'm not sure whether to laugh at him or applaud his problem solving skills... either way, it sounds like our full bath wasn't the only one that needs remodeling. But until then, we'll have to put up a pant rack outside the bathroom door for guests to hang their bottoms while they use our facilities.
The thing I love about my guy is that he can go from being sweet and endearing to quirky and laughable in such a short period of time. We were only home for about 3 minutes before I notice that my husband was in the bathroom but that his pants were in the living room. When I asked him why he had to take his pants off to go to the bathroom, his response was that it's just too small for both him AND his pants to be in the bathroom at the same time. I'm not sure whether to laugh at him or applaud his problem solving skills... either way, it sounds like our full bath wasn't the only one that needs remodeling. But until then, we'll have to put up a pant rack outside the bathroom door for guests to hang their bottoms while they use our facilities.
Even PETA would kill this cat. Seriously. Never in my life have I seen an animal be as bipolar as this creature! For the longest time, I felt bad for the two cats that live in our basement. Battle Cat, the mangy black fighter that she is, at least has a lovable side. She received her name after ferociously attacking one of my dogs (on two different occasions) out in the yard. She's grounded to the basement now, where she is happy to stay, soaking up a little attention now and again when I pass her on the stairs. But Waddles is a different story. She is the prettier of the two cats (not hard to beat) and she purrs constantly (do NOT be lured in). Only when you go to pet her, she waits till you've given her 2-3 strokes before she hisses and slices open part of your arm. She's like one of the pretty girls we all knew growing up... she has the best hair and knows how to get you to trust her, and then she pulls out her claws and the real beast comes out! It's to the point where I dread doing laundry (like tonight) because she hides underneath the stairwell and then attacks my legs with her pointy little, shards-of-glass she uses as claws while I unload the clothes from the dryer. Those mood swings of hers are going to land her directly into the side of the concrete wall the next time she lacerates my ankles. I'm gonna give that cat something to waddle about!
It appears that despite large amounts of medicated eye drops and disgusting eyeball salve, Molly still resembles a pirate. (She doesn't have the parrot yet, but she surely has the one-eye part down pat.) I feel terrible for my food-driven girl, because she knows that when it's medicine time (3 times a day!), she gets a treat... but she also knows that she HATES getting the gooey stuff put into her eyes. You can actually watch the inner debate going on as you stare into her one good eye. She's utterly torn. Not that I can blame her, really. The drops that go into her eye in the morning (we discovered after she began gagging and spraying spittle and foam from her mouth) taste VERY bitter and pretty much like rubbing alcohol (and yes, I did taste the drops, just to be sure), so when her less-than-perfect parents try to get the drops into a squirming puppy's eye, it tends to run down her cheek (which she laps up immediately) and then the frothing begins. She's practically a capaccino machine. The other struggle is the fact that she isn't supposed to be exposed to bright light since the drops leave her pupil fully dilated 24/7. I felt selfish being so excited that we had a sunny day out, because I realized quickly that it just made my girl squint all the more. It looks like my husband had it right... it's time to invest in some Doggles (doggy goggles).
Yesterday I found myself sitting in a training and becoming very warm (unusual for a generally chilly gal like myself). In fact, my skin started burning all over my face, neck, inside my ears, and down my neck and chest. I recognized the allergic reaction immediately and ran to the front desk to see if anyone had any benedryll on them. As I'm waiting for the man to find me some relief, I begin ripping off layers of clothing in an attempt to cool down, and by the time he returned, I couldn't help myself... I took 3 full benedryll. Fast Forward 2.5 hours.... I'm sitting at my computer waiting to eat dinner with my man before going to another viewing, when the benedryll hits me (talk about a delayed reaction) and I literally feel as though I can't hold my head up... my eyes glazed over and I could barely control my body movements.
My husband, knowing that I'm near a comatose state, feels the need to (whinely) call me to the kitchen where I find him standing over the crock pot of roast and yams, staring at it. "I need help," he says. It looked as though he was doing a perfectly fine job of staring down the dinner on his own, so I had no idea what he could possibly need me for. "How do I get it out?" It's important to keep in mind that my husband spends the better part of each evening cutting trees down with chainsaws, dragging said trees through the woods and down a precariously bumpy hill, chopping the trees into logs with a huge axe before shoving them into a blazing fire... THIS is the man that looks at me from above our little crock pot and asks for help to pull out a piece of meat. So I tell him to use a knife to cut a chunk off and put it on his plate. The man pulls out a butter knife. I'M NOT KIDDING. If it weren't for the benedryll, I probably would have yelled at him for allowing my kitchen to see such idiocy. He uses the fork and butter knife to hack into the meat, trying to pull it apart... it looked as awkward as any creature WITHOUT thumbs trying to use utensils. THIS is my husband, ladies and gentlemen.
My husband, knowing that I'm near a comatose state, feels the need to (whinely) call me to the kitchen where I find him standing over the crock pot of roast and yams, staring at it. "I need help," he says. It looked as though he was doing a perfectly fine job of staring down the dinner on his own, so I had no idea what he could possibly need me for. "How do I get it out?" It's important to keep in mind that my husband spends the better part of each evening cutting trees down with chainsaws, dragging said trees through the woods and down a precariously bumpy hill, chopping the trees into logs with a huge axe before shoving them into a blazing fire... THIS is the man that looks at me from above our little crock pot and asks for help to pull out a piece of meat. So I tell him to use a knife to cut a chunk off and put it on his plate. The man pulls out a butter knife. I'M NOT KIDDING. If it weren't for the benedryll, I probably would have yelled at him for allowing my kitchen to see such idiocy. He uses the fork and butter knife to hack into the meat, trying to pull it apart... it looked as awkward as any creature WITHOUT thumbs trying to use utensils. THIS is my husband, ladies and gentlemen.
I know that I'm not alone in my on and off battle with insomnia. I'm sure there are many out there that have those nights where they know they have to get up really early (some of us for seriously long trainings over an hour away), so you try super hard to sleep, and the harder you try, the more you can't sleep as you count down the hours of rest you can still get if you fall asleep... right... NOW!? Yeah, so I only ended up with an hour and a half of sleep last night. I've been up since 2:38am precisely. I know this because I stared at my clock until about 5:15 when I decided that it was time to get up and get a work out in before heading to Pittsburgh for the day.
What I realized this morning is that there are a good number of things that are incredibly difficult to do when you haven't slept....
Thing #1: Walking. (I did a lot of wobbling back and forth and bumped into many things that come up to my knees and hips today...bruises to follow.)
#2: Exercising. (I really was delirious when I attempted (very poorly I might add) to walk this morning and then thought "hey, that was a bust, let's try adding some speed!")
#3: Making Complete Thoughts. (I started saying something a million times today and then just stopped...I don't even remember what they were about since this morning seems like a million years ago.)
#4: Driving. (I decided that expressway construction, narrowed lanes, men working VERY close to the road, and changing lanes is awfully risky when your eyes are glazed over from lack of sleep and watery from allergies....it was similar to trying to drive wearing swimming goggles that are half-filled with water...and my reaction time was probably equally as fast as if I were in a pool as well!)
And #5: Putting Dog Salve Into A Dog's Eye. (My hubby took Molly into the vet today to find out that she had a corneal ulcer from the animal claw that was in her eye.... the key is to give her 2 different types of eye drops 3 times a day, AND to squeeze out of a little tube this hardened, vaseline-like salve.... DIRECTLY ONTO HER EYEBALL. If you can't picture how sick that is, find a family member, hold them down, have someone hold their eye open, and then squeeze oragel onto their cornea.... then try it again on no sleep.)
I have every intention of punching Mr. Insomnia in the groin if he comes a'callin tonight. Mark my words.
What I realized this morning is that there are a good number of things that are incredibly difficult to do when you haven't slept....
Thing #1: Walking. (I did a lot of wobbling back and forth and bumped into many things that come up to my knees and hips today...bruises to follow.)
#2: Exercising. (I really was delirious when I attempted (very poorly I might add) to walk this morning and then thought "hey, that was a bust, let's try adding some speed!")
#3: Making Complete Thoughts. (I started saying something a million times today and then just stopped...I don't even remember what they were about since this morning seems like a million years ago.)
#4: Driving. (I decided that expressway construction, narrowed lanes, men working VERY close to the road, and changing lanes is awfully risky when your eyes are glazed over from lack of sleep and watery from allergies....it was similar to trying to drive wearing swimming goggles that are half-filled with water...and my reaction time was probably equally as fast as if I were in a pool as well!)
And #5: Putting Dog Salve Into A Dog's Eye. (My hubby took Molly into the vet today to find out that she had a corneal ulcer from the animal claw that was in her eye.... the key is to give her 2 different types of eye drops 3 times a day, AND to squeeze out of a little tube this hardened, vaseline-like salve.... DIRECTLY ONTO HER EYEBALL. If you can't picture how sick that is, find a family member, hold them down, have someone hold their eye open, and then squeeze oragel onto their cornea.... then try it again on no sleep.)
I have every intention of punching Mr. Insomnia in the groin if he comes a'callin tonight. Mark my words.
So far I can't exactly say the New Year has been all that "Happy" to date. Today is only the fourth day into 2011 and we've already lost a cat to kidney disease (and dog trauma), my dog developed a cataract after we removed an animal claw from her eye (we have NO idea how or what did this... the oddest thing ever to be pulled out of an eye, I'm pretty sure), and we attended one viewing for Pat's family (another one is scheduled for another family member later this week). However, despite the multiple tears I've shed this week, I'm choosing to find a silver lining (any one will do) and that is to enjoy the irony that our CAT suffered DOG trauma, and our DOG now has a CATaract. (Yes, I DO know how utterly ridiculous I am... please appreciate my lame attempt to add a modicum of humor to this otherwise miserable week.)
As a wedding present from one of my besties, we received the cutest nativity set. All of the characters are bears dressed up as the wise men, angel, Mary, Joseph, a camel, a sheep, and of course, baby Jesus. I have had the set sitting out since the day after Thanksgiving, so it's not like it's a novelty to the dogs at this point. However, we came home last night to find baby bear Jesus in the middle of the living room floor, chewed up! (Now, I knew at once which dog had done the crime...the only chewer in our family as of late is the oh-so-precious Freida.... but my honey wouldn't hear of it. "We have no proof it was her!", he shouted.) In order to appease him, I took each dog to the nativity set and did a firm "No no!" to show them that it was off limits. My two dogs looked at me like I was an idiot, whereas Freida kept averting her gaze and trying to pull away (see? guilty!).
I went upstairs to put on my pjs, when I heard a clunk on the hallway floor. I went to the hall to see what it was, and there she is, baby bear Jesus on the floor underneath her! I screamed at Freida as she took off down the stairs, me chasing her through the house, swatting at her the whole way. She skittered over those wood floors, tail between her legs and a panicked look in her eyes.
It does remind me of a time (pre-Molly, when Milo used to nibble at things every now and again) that I was convinced that Milo, our hound, was racist. (Again with a nativity set, too!) Every day that I came home from work, I would find the black sheep of my traditional nativity set somewhere on the floor, under the futon, or in another room entirely. No matter where I put the black sheep, he would gently reach in and grab just that one! I watched him do it several times (swatting obviously followed) but he never stopped. This year, my nativity is up high (and no, this is not segregation) in order to protect the little fellow from this obvious hate crime. Apparently my bears will have to be elevated as well (doesn't Freida realize Christmas is about the birth, not the crucifixion?).
I went upstairs to put on my pjs, when I heard a clunk on the hallway floor. I went to the hall to see what it was, and there she is, baby bear Jesus on the floor underneath her! I screamed at Freida as she took off down the stairs, me chasing her through the house, swatting at her the whole way. She skittered over those wood floors, tail between her legs and a panicked look in her eyes.
It does remind me of a time (pre-Molly, when Milo used to nibble at things every now and again) that I was convinced that Milo, our hound, was racist. (Again with a nativity set, too!) Every day that I came home from work, I would find the black sheep of my traditional nativity set somewhere on the floor, under the futon, or in another room entirely. No matter where I put the black sheep, he would gently reach in and grab just that one! I watched him do it several times (swatting obviously followed) but he never stopped. This year, my nativity is up high (and no, this is not segregation) in order to protect the little fellow from this obvious hate crime. Apparently my bears will have to be elevated as well (doesn't Freida realize Christmas is about the birth, not the crucifixion?).
Since I knew that New Year's Day was going to fall on a Saturday, I had great plans to work on my resolutions. I was going to eat amazingly healthy and I was going to have a killer work out to kick in the New Year. And then I woke up. I was sore, sleepy (my body can't handle midnight anymore), and completely in the mood to stay in bed on this rainy holiday. So I did. Around 11am, my hubby, who had also been lounging profusely, said we should make a big breakfast for our day of relaxation. With my resolution to eat healthy, I started my first meal of the new year off with greasy hash browns, cheesy eggs, bacon, and buttery toast. Naturally the heaviness of the meal made me immediately tired, and the grease made me immediately nauseous, so I decided that instead of exercising, I'd go back to bed and watch tv/nod off for the next 5 HOURS!
I couldn't take my disgusting laziness for another minute, so I suggested that me and my guy play Wii sports... nothing will get the blood pumping like the Wii, right? Well, that is until you learn every motion from the seated position. How healthy is Wii sports while you sit in a recliner? Overall, the New Year was spent breaking every resolution made and even finding ways to be lazier than before.....I'm so proud of myself I could just burst (but bursting would probably require too much effort and I wouldn't accomplish that either....).
I couldn't take my disgusting laziness for another minute, so I suggested that me and my guy play Wii sports... nothing will get the blood pumping like the Wii, right? Well, that is until you learn every motion from the seated position. How healthy is Wii sports while you sit in a recliner? Overall, the New Year was spent breaking every resolution made and even finding ways to be lazier than before.....I'm so proud of myself I could just burst (but bursting would probably require too much effort and I wouldn't accomplish that either....).
I LOVE holidays! Ask anyone. I'm the biggest fan of holiday food, decorations, festive parties, cheerful songs, etc... but I've decided this year that what I REALLY want the most is normalcy. The last year was packed full of event after event and this upcoming year is going to be equally as full... all I want is for things to be normal, just for a few minutes, so that I can get back to some form of a schedule. My back goes out... can I see my chiropractor this week? No! Why? Because he's gone for the holidays. Can I get my clients information on upcoming programs? No! Because they're all closed until January 3rd. Not to mention the numerous client no-shows for the past month due to them "forgetting" we had an appointment in all of the holiday rush... really, people? Write it down like the rest of the world has to (I even bought them planners... you'd think that would help but it doesn't!). And it only figures that one of the dogs would crap on the rug today while we were gone... heck, the holidays have messed up my "regularity" (pardon the crudeness), so why shouldn't it mess up theirs? New Years, please come quickly... and then go away! (This here ends the rant of the Grinch of New Years Present.)
Nothing says "Happy Holidays!" quite like a spousal argument, silent treatment, and a fist-full of stubborness. Needless to say, our holidays were incredibly happy during our trip back home from Michigan after a meaningless argument over packing the car. Equally as fun was our decision to carry this argument over for another full day ('cause that's obviously both therapeutic and healthy of us.... good thing I'm a therapist and he works in the mental health field and that we're both VERY well-versed in conflict resolution and positive coping skills. If the tax-payers only knew that we refuse to apply these skills to our personal lives....) Anyways, we continued to be nasty before ignoring the conflict for the rest of the day (always the best approach, really). The only problem was that I grew tired of being stubborn and "right" or "justified" today (maybe I'm being a softy, or maybe I'm just getting too old, lacking the amount of stamina needed to keep a good fight going for too long anymore). I didn't WANT to be right if it meant feeling alone in this big house for another night (I'd rather feel like a real couple again... as we walk away to our now full-time separate bedrooms).
I held my ground till I got home from work this evening... I tried to pass him by in the driveway and just go inside until my "rightful" apology came. But I couldn't do it. I needed my welcome-home hug and my comforting evening kiss. So I took it. I didn't need mistletoe, I just needed my husband.
I held my ground till I got home from work this evening... I tried to pass him by in the driveway and just go inside until my "rightful" apology came. But I couldn't do it. I needed my welcome-home hug and my comforting evening kiss. So I took it. I didn't need mistletoe, I just needed my husband.
Well, our Christmas in Michigan has officially begun. We've watched holiday movies, we started (and probably will never complete) a holiday puzzle, and we attended our Christmas Eve party with family. The holiday spirit is in full swing, except for one small oversight on my part. I forgot to get my husband a card to open on Christmas morning with his presents (it's my first year at this, cut me some slack). So Hubby was on his way to run a few errands this morning and asked if I needed anything... I told him that I needed a card for him still and asked if he would wait for me to come with him. He apparently didn't want to wait for an hour until I got cleaned up, so he went without me. He DID, however, return home with a card that he bought FOR HIMSELF that is to be from me. The card's cover has a big teddy bear on it and says "For A Very Special Boy!" It is literally a card for a 6-year-old. So I signed it and put it underneath the tree. He is, afterall, a very special boy.
Tomorrow we leave for Michigan to have Christmas with my family, but we realized that two of our gifts were really just too big to pack into the car (the one for me being so big that it would probably not even fit ON the car... what could it be, what could it be!!!). So we decided to have Christmas with our big gifts tonight. I am now the proud owner of a BEAUTIFUL end-of-the-bed bench that will hold my throw pillows in it's spacious storage area (instead of keeping them on top of the hamper or dog beds), which comes along with two lovely, chocolate-colored wooden breakfast-in-bed trays. I'm super pumped!! (Which is more than I can say for the gift that I bought for my husband... he likes it, but a log flipper for cutting wood seems so far from festive to a girly, inside-girl like myself.)
The story behind the log flipper is this. When I went to the store to purchase his gift (I'm not going to name the store in order to protect those who may work there from the verbal beating that follows), I walked around the building for literally 45 minutes trying to corner someone into helping me. I found a guy wearing a store t-shirt, but he was off-duty. Luckily (or not), he chose to point me to the isle I needed (keep in mind I have a Christmas list with a bunch of gift suggestions on it, none of which I've ever heard of in the first place), only the "tool" sent me to an isle that had NOTHING to do with log flippers or head-lamp-high-lumen-thingies. So I had to wait in line at the register just to have someone paged.... someone that NEVER CAME! So I waited in line AGAIN and had the same idiot paged to the front.... I was beginning to think the entire world of Tractor Supplies was against me (ooops, did I give that away??). Anyway, once the hick version of a boy band member finally did his job, we find out that the specific log flipper that I had on my list was not going to be sold at THAT particular store, but I was more than welcome to try their Ohio branches. Well, that's great news! I could've driven to Ohio and back in the time it took to get that answer! Congratulations, pimple face, for completely taking me out of the Christmas spirit and making me want to steal your family's last bit of Who Hash..... So I bought a different log flipper. It will still flip logs and my man will be none the wiser (until he reads this....).
The story behind the log flipper is this. When I went to the store to purchase his gift (I'm not going to name the store in order to protect those who may work there from the verbal beating that follows), I walked around the building for literally 45 minutes trying to corner someone into helping me. I found a guy wearing a store t-shirt, but he was off-duty. Luckily (or not), he chose to point me to the isle I needed (keep in mind I have a Christmas list with a bunch of gift suggestions on it, none of which I've ever heard of in the first place), only the "tool" sent me to an isle that had NOTHING to do with log flippers or head-lamp-high-lumen-thingies. So I had to wait in line at the register just to have someone paged.... someone that NEVER CAME! So I waited in line AGAIN and had the same idiot paged to the front.... I was beginning to think the entire world of Tractor Supplies was against me (ooops, did I give that away??). Anyway, once the hick version of a boy band member finally did his job, we find out that the specific log flipper that I had on my list was not going to be sold at THAT particular store, but I was more than welcome to try their Ohio branches. Well, that's great news! I could've driven to Ohio and back in the time it took to get that answer! Congratulations, pimple face, for completely taking me out of the Christmas spirit and making me want to steal your family's last bit of Who Hash..... So I bought a different log flipper. It will still flip logs and my man will be none the wiser (until he reads this....).