Our Anniversary Date

Well, for 2 people who have done a darn good job at "dating" each other this year, we sure pulled out all the stops on our anniversary. Yeah. Umm-hmmm.

The hubby let me sleep in, which is not good for a day that is supposed to have any resemblance to productive in it. We didn't get each other gifts. He told me he was planning on telling me he loves me and then attacking me with kisses. He then did this several times throughout the day, and it made me laugh really hard. It was more silly than Gone With The Wind.

We got ready for our day, which means we took showers and put on outside clothes (jeans vs. pajamas). We talked about having coffee at Borders. Before all the Borders are gone. Then, I remembered, it is the Saturday before Christmas. I made him drive through the mall parking lot after we decided to skip that disaster.

I love being right. CRAZY BUSY.

We're so old. We drove all the way around a mall that we knew would be busy so that we could look at it and talk about how busy it was.

I've been nagging him to get a car wash because I need to clean the interior of the car this week. See how then the whole car will be clean? If I had the ability to purr, I would purr at that thought. See how it would all come together then? Nice.

There was a massive line for the car wash, but the husband pulled up anyway. Thankfully, the wait wasn't too bad. We talked about how the other cars weren't very dirty, and how there were a few that didn't even need to be there.

Then, he sprung for the super-awesome-best-they-have-clean-that-mofo-up wash. Out of 4 wash levels, he got the best one! Swoon!

Then, we did something we haven't done a lot of since we got married. Something we did A LOT of when we were actually dating the first time around. Although we had never done it in this setting before. It's not that we aren't romantic anymore or touchy-feely, because we definitely are. We just don't do this anymore just for the sake of doing it.

We made out in the car wash. Heh heh heh. 

Our lack of making out for the sake of making out definitely needs to change.

Anyway, then, we went to Sam's Club, and we got a bunch of non-romantic things. It still counts because we went together. Magically, it wasn't that busy and we didn't have any issues with crowds or checking out. The hubby got us a box of cheesecake bites to celebrate our big day. Nice move instead of candy!

We came home and decided to watch some tv. Yes, we're back in our jammies. Netflix had sent us The Tudors season 3 and we've had the damn Hurt Locker for literally 8 weeks or something.

"We are NOT watching the Hurt Locker on our anniversary," I stated.

He agreed. The Tudors didn't seem right either. I asked him if we could watch something we own. He immediately said, "Elf!"

Awwww. My favorite holiday movie. So we watched Elf and ate cheesecake bites and sat close together on the couch, kitties on our laps and dog at our side. Home. Happy. Anniversary.

Cue That Hanson MmmmmBop Song - It's About To Get All Romantic Up In Here

I like to tell my husband that "our song" is MmmBop by Hanson because that was the first song I remember us hearing together on our first date. We were at a baseball game and it came on over the speakers pre-game. He does not appreciate this at all. I distinctly remember him not appreciating it at the time either.

Which is why I enjoy bringing it up.

Anywho, this weekend is our 4th wedding anniversary. Cue Barry White? The only band we agree on is the Smashing Pumpkins. Not the most romantic group.

If we tried to actually pick a song, I know it wouldn't go well.

I'd be all Joshua Radin! And he'd be all zzzzzzzzzz snore snore zzzzzzzzzzz and then he'd say Chevelle and I'd just keep repeating "What is wrong with you?" indignantly over and over again.

Then, I'd yell "Those lyrics better not make you think of our love!" all dramatically and storm out of the room.

And scene.

If he says something about Weezer after reading this, I am going to punch him in the nuts. Not that Weezer is bad. I don't hate Weezer. But no.

How did I just go from fondly thinking about our wedding anniversary to threatening the hubby with a groin injury? I don't know, but if you start humming MmmBop, the mood in the room stabilizes and I dare you not to secretly enjoy those sweet chirpy lady voices that can only come from pre-teen boys.

What are we going to do? We're not really into elaborate anniversaries. Usually I at least get him a card. Didn't even do that this year. I am making his favorite meal. Does that count for anything? Can we ignore the fact that I would be doing that even if it wasn't our anniversary?

I don't expect any presents and have no problems with that. Cross my heart. He used to get me flowers but once we got married and were living together, the pets seemed to sense that prettiness was to be eliminated. Which is adorable and hilarious but isn't something we should encourage.

Everything always would seem very innocent.

Their eyes give them away. They scream, "Please leave the room for a minute!"

Then, they try to prove their innocence. A delicate sniff?

Surely I see their poise and how responsible they all are.

And... Turn my head away for one second.

Something like this is always happening when I look back.

So no on the flowers. I like candy and that's been a winner in the past but we have Christmas candy right now. I don't really need more candy. You're probably thinking, "But you can always use more candy!" which is true but I have a couple bags of candy. I'd want like a pie or a cake to break up all the candy. Pie is not a good anniversary gift. It is a bad anniversary gift. I don't know a lot, but I know that much.

I hope every year for no jewelry and have been lucky so far. I'm not a jewelry girl, but even if I was, there is just so much bad out there that I know he would find me impossible to buy for. Thankfully, he figured that out early in our relationship when the whole engagement ring thing happened. He wanted to buy me one, but I wanted my grandmother's ring. I think he was disappointed. Once he really understood, though, he was as happy with it as I was, which was pretty damn happy. And you can't beat free. 

Even now, we see ads on tv and I lose my mind over things like "chocolate diamonds". If I wanted diamonds that looked like they were dirty... Like they were bought at the Goodwill of Diamonds Store... Like the new hire at Jared happens to be colorblind (and probably deaf and mute)...

LIKE THEY WERE DIPPED IN SH*T...

Please shoot me.

Do not get me started on the other ad that is running every five minutes this year. Jane Seymour's jewelry line. Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman has lost her mind over that double heart, sands through the hourglass, drawn with her non-dominant hand looking design. It looks like a 3 year old drew it.

Did you know she also paints this design on CANVASES LARGE AND SMALL and sells these "paintings" for a ton of money? Oh, art. How you like to torture me.

The other big thing this year? Chunky jewelry sold by the bead and charm. Lots of mixed colors and metals. Now, I like my chunky jewelry, sure. I do not, however, like my chunky jewelry to be sold by a high end, galleria-type store. I am supposed to believe that now, since it was 400 bucks instead of 5, it is classy fancy time jewelry. Really?

Really?

REALLY?

Really.

I know a lot of woman love jewelry, and a lot of women look stunning in the types of pieces that I have listed. We all have our own unique tastes. It's just not for me.

What is for me? Maybe having the hubby stop at Sam's Club on his way home from work so I have one less errand to run this weekend. That would be so great. Sadly, I am not kidding. We need lots of romantic things? Okay, so what we need are items like paper towels, frozen pizza, and dog food. To make our house a home! TO MAKE OUR HOUSE A HOME!

Didn't think I could turn it all upside down like that and make it about love, did ya? I'm getting so good at this whole blogging about romance thing! Wow! I'm impressing myself!

Now, that's impressive!

My Xmas Decorations: Christmas Totally Ralphed All Over My House

Christmas decorations! This is me being subtle. Seriously. This is the most toned down get-up I've had for the holidays. Hark! If a partridge in a pear tree, geese going all Kate and Jon and their eight kids, or any type of cardinal appeared, our kitty elves would make that all stop. Immediately.

Well, maybe not immediately. Right after their under-the-tree naps.

Atlas is covering his little face here.

Yes, those are kitty beds under the tree. They sleep under there anyway, so they might as well be comfortable and on something I can wash often and easily. I do not know why I didn't think of this before this year.

Have you ever seen something in a store that was so ugly and weird that you fell madly and passionately in love with said thing and had to have it. Exhibit A: a set of very large, knitted, sequined owl ornaments.

HAD TO HAVE.

Just like those mugs. Love.

I don't even have a particular affinity for owls. I do, however, have a completely unrelated owl Christmas story. I used to work for a non-profit that paired volunteers with people who needed help learning to read, write, and speak English. I'd say 75% of the people were learning English as a second language but the rest had English as their first and only language. They often had learning disabilities or had to quit school at an early age (usually way back in the day). I would say 99.9% of the time, the story of the other person needing help was dramatic and touching, and his or her life was full of things that would make normal people cry. 

Anywho, one of our volunteers was this bubbly wife of a Notre Dame professor. She was very smart and dedicated, and she'd been volunteering for us for years. She was working at that time with this tiny, shy, elderly woman who spoke almost no English. I want to say she was from a small village no one had ever heard of in Japan or Korea or somewhere like that. Well, the holidays came along, and a lot of the volunteers and the people they helped gave each other holiday gifts.

The elderly woman wore a lot of older clothes but, of course, the volunteer noticed that she also always had a different pin on her shirt or sweater. The volunteer then bought her a sweet little brooch in the shape of an owl as a small Christmas present. The elderly woman was always baking things and such for the volunteer, so she was thrilled to have something to give to her in return.

When the woman opened the brooch, wrapped in pretty little white box with a red bow, well, let's just say it didn't go well. The woman dropped the present on the floor, spoke to the volunteer in a terror in her native language, and ran away from her out of a city library. RAN. Full speed. Olympic qualifying-type of exit.

Turns out, where she is from, the owl is a powerful symbol for death. It took several weeks with other family members and translations to figure out what happened and then to convince the elderly woman that the volunteer she loved and had spent such time with did not indeed wish for her demise.

I always kind of found that funny. Just put it in my "I'm a bad person" file and let's move on. Back to Christmas decor! The dining room and living room! A china cabinet full of things paws are not allowed to touch!

And a heavy table centerpiece so that tablecloth isn't on the floor whenever I walk by. Across from the china cupboard is one of my grandma's paintings. Holiday-i-fied.

I like keeping things so lit up at Christmas that I don't need to turn on lamps. Our main tree. I'm way into the poinsettias this year.

I also have massive garlands hung over the shutters at both ends of the room.

And my grandma's other little painting. BOOM sparkles! Do not ask how long it took for Mav to learn that the gingerbread man in the chair IS NOT A DOG TOY.

In the kitchen, I listen to a lot of Christmas music. Have all white holiday lights other than the little nightlights. Wear a holiday apron. Bake cookies for the BEST COOKIE JAR EVER.

The little Santa box by the cookie jar has extra ornament hangers just in case. How smart am I?

My window is all refined. Flowers and greenery and Hallmark ornaments. Even the new fridge has little cookie magnets.

Then, turn to the other side of the room. See the penguin tree and the display where I let all the crazy in my insides have their day. The sad part is I did not just close my eyes and throw decorations in that direction, letting them fall where they may. It's all on purpose, every bell, every pearl strand.

Kitties favorite place. Even more popular than under the tree.

See the stuffed penguin in the tree behind the happy Isley? That is their favorite thing to remove from my carefully made decorating scheme. Out of all of the house decorations. I never fail to find that thing somewhere else in the house at least twice a day.

Kitchen wall. It's like the wall is bleeding merriment.

Go ahead, try to make sense of it. Yes, Bambi is inside the wreath with a giant pink ball and a white dove. Why? What about that scene doesn't make sense?

I even create a holiday scene under our regular cat entertainment centers. Festive rugs, anyone?

After this photo, Pandora then got on the dining room chair there and hid under the tablecloth, batting at me as I walked by. I picked her up for a naughty kitty photo. Priceless "I Am A Bad Kitty" face.

See my opera house in the back? I surprised my gram's one year with season tickets to the Lyric Opera in Chicago. At the time, it was the most expensive thing I had ever purchased. When I found the light-up opera house at Walmart that year during the holidays, I knew it was meant to be. She was so surprised by the house and all the operas. Although I learned I'm not a live opera lover, I did love every moment that my gram's and I spent during those trips. I even bought the operas beforehand with translations and read them to her before each show. We had the best time dressing up and "going to town".

So that is my holiday scheme this year. Too much? I'd day it's about 50% my usual fare. The hubby sure puts up with a lot. I am his introduction to Christmas. Sure easing him into this new arena, right? Even after how many Chrismases, I know sometimes he's still like, "Wow." And then speechless. I'll leave you with the kitty the camera loves most, Mary Lou, in the kitchen centerpiece. Cute and crazy, all wrapped up in a jolly good time.

So. Adorable. Mustn't. Kill.

Around 2 am Sunday night, I found myself resting on the bathroom floor, covered in a couple old bath towels like they were blankets. By resting, I mean hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably. Because that's fun. When you're the kind of sick that makes it impossible to just stay in bed because no matter what position you try, you're still in immense pain.

Not to mention you're worried you might throw up all over the linens and then you know you'll have to do laundry and remake the bed, but the washer is downstairs. You ask yourself how are you going to make it all the way downstairs when you can't even hobble 6 inches from the bathroom to where the blankets are kept, hence the bath towels... Don't even start me thinking about my ability to remake a king size bed in this condition.

In other words, too sick to be in bed.

So, bathroom floor. Give myself a small mental kudos for just buying those Laura Ashley bath mats on clearance on Kohls.com sight unseen. The hubby said when we put them out last week, "I think these are too nice to use. I don't feel like I should walk on them."

At this moment in the middle of the night, the mat on the toilet seat lid is impressing me the most, since I am on my back on the floor with my feet up on the closed, carpeted lid. So that I can continue enjoying consciousness. Because that's what I'm doing. Enjoying it.

4 am the husband rises. Stands in the hall, taking in all the prettiness. Sighs. I look at him with my eyes but can't move my body at the moment.

"Honey?" He rubs his face.

"Hi," I say, like this all normal.

I feel a little like one of those pictures in a haunted mansion with the eyes that move. I decide my best bet is to not mention that I am trying not to use any neck, head, or facial muscles. Maybe he won't notice. I definitely know better than to move any limbs, since they're shaking rather forcefully. I tell myself it's all because I just fight nausea with all that I am. If there is a cell in my body that I can use to stop myself from throwing up, then I use it. I just can't deal with the whole being unable to breath thing. At one point about an hour ago, I'm pretty sure my body said, "Pass out or throw up, Dumbass" and I picked pass out.

Keep it inside, I tell myself, meaning don't tell the hubby any of this but also, hey, you've done so awesome so far at not throwing up, double meaning motivational speech!

The dog is still sound asleep on the bed. She has not given a crap all night, which I am trying not to take personally. However, always somehow the equalizers, 4 or 5 cats are randomly around me, all sitting up and looking around, nonchalant. Caring but not caring. Also enjoying the plushness of the bathmats, since not one of them is on any tile.

The hubby gets ready for work and says he is going to Walmart first for some anti-nausea over the counters and Ginger Ale. I beg for Sprite. For some reason, when I tell him not to get Ginger Ale, the normal go-to in the house, because "it's too spicy, I can't handle it right now", he gives me a really quizzical look.

What? It's way too ginger-y. I'll never keep it down, I thought. THAT IS NOT WEIRD AT ALL. YOU'RE THE WEIRD ONE, HUSBAND, FOR NOT GETTING THIS. DUH.

Something about his face made me keep this to myself although I felt incredibly confident in my mental state. This is when he started offering to stay home with me.

I'm starting to feel well enough to get back in bed. Which is heaven.

See! I'm totally fine! Sort of!

I manage to convince him to go to work. I feel guilty enough that he's already been caregiver extraordinaire of the day by 5 am.

He goes to work after I promise several times that no matter how much better I feel later, I shouldn't, say, get on the roof and clean out the gutters today. I should rest and take it easy.

I promise upteen times and he leaves for work.

I feel better but do not move large pieces of furniture or steam clean the carpets. I sit on the couch and watch television, thinking about how lucky I am.

That's when the phone rings. Because someone is at work, on a busy Monday, calling to check on me at home.

Husband's Work Dinner At Soulard's Date

This is the part where I'm supposed to say, "All my worrying was for nothing! I had THE BEST TIME! So fun!"

I magically became a master conversationalist with an infectious laugh and infinite charm!

My hair blew around my head all shampoo-commercial-y even though there was no wind in the room!

Every step I took was accompanied by the soothing, jazzy notes of a piano player in the corner! He only played according to my effortless movements!

Yeah. That did not happen.

Happy hour started at 6 with dinner at 7. We planned to leave to arrive after happy hour started. I'd never been to Soulard or it's namesake restaurant, but I had heard it was a nice place. My husband said earlier in the week that he was going to wear what he had to work that day. Jeans and a polo.

Then, my husband got home that afternoon and PUT ON SLACKS AND A COLLARED, BUTTON DOWN SHIRT. Which blew my mind all the f*ck over the place. It's a good thing we don't keep a loaded gun in the bedroom because I would have shot myself.

So even though I wanted to open the door to the fridge and just climb on in there, I dove into my closet and barely came up for air. Everything I tried on was too dressy or too casual. The only thing I liked were my boots. Which probably weren't that acceptable to wear but I was so over myself by the point when I finally got dressed that I didn't care anymore.

My husband was just thrilled I was wearing shoes that I could walk normally in, as in no 3 inch heels. He is a very smart husband sometimes. When I appeared from the depths of all my costume changes, he immediately said, "You look pretty!" I doubt he even really looked at what I was wearing.

We took a couple quick pictures. Mav totally photobombed us! Bad dog! Bad!

And obviously Arty the cat was like, "Why are you guys bothering me in my peaceful slumbers? Be gone!"

I took a bunch of photos of all the Christmas glory in order to calm myself down. To be shown in a follow up post. We set up the barricade to the kitty room. Cat furniture, check. Baby gates, check. Chairs, check.

Mav has been sneaking in there whenever we go anywhere and eating all the cat food. She also manages somehow to not disturb our blockades and to bring out the cat dishes and leave them licked sparkling clean throughout the house.

Later, just between the two of us, my husband made what I was unaware was a joke about how his coworkers had thought I was a call girl when we first got married (they'd never met me). My hubby's funny was supposed to be on him, not me, since he was trying to say that they thought he couldn't find a girl. It took a lot of calming me down after he said this to me because I immediately said, "OH MY GOD WHY DID YOU LET ME WEAR MY HOOKER COAT THEN?" Thanks, black shiny trenchcoat.

Thankfully, this was only for our own ears. Sheesh. Someone was uber sensitive (that'd me be).

Anyway, we finally left the house and I kept telling myself, "I'm a pretty pretty princess! People like me!" over and over again. We hit traffic but managed to get to the restaurant by 6:30.

The restaurant was tiny. We had the upstairs for the event, which was basically a very small room. There were FIFTY people there. FIVE-ZERO. We got there and stood at the entrance of the room for a long time. No one talked to us and there were people wearing jeans. I would have suggested booking it but I knew the husband would never go for it. We finally moved slowly and awkwardly backwards, where we found the coat rack and restrooms.

When we reappeared, the name tag guy found us. He put the hubby's name tag on his chest with a manly pat. Then turned to me and said, "I'm not allowed to touch women." Ah, sexual harassment humor. My cuppa tea. I laughed and took the name tag from him.

We did not really walk through the room. We shuffled. Towards the appetizers. Random people kept introducing themselves and shaking my hands. I needed to hold a plate like NOW. Did not know what to do with my hands. I kept nervously adjusting my sweater. My husband and I found the food table and put some crackers on a plate. Then, he reached for the lid of the very large, heavy, and metal serving thing holding the toasted ravioli. The second he touched it, something happened and it came crashing down. The noise was jarring to say the least. The party grinded to a halt as everyone was literally silenced and turned to look at us.

Hi.

It was fine and everyone went back to their business. We had probably the only 2 non-alcoholic drinks in our hands and little plates in our other hands. So no more not knowing what to do with my hands!

I should mention that although it seemed like almost everyone was older than us, someone had brought their baby. Their new baby. As in, I think his wife had it on the way over here. SO TINY. And they were passing the baby around. Everyone was holding the baby. There is a God and He does love me because I managed to avoid holding the baby. I don't know how I would have ever gotten over dropping that thing. The hubby would go down in work history on my account with that one. No thanks. I prefer not to kill any infants at my first work event. Just imagine dropping it on the floor was bad enough, but there was also a very steep staircase. And tables. I could just see me dropping it and it bouncing off the table.

I did not want to have to get divorced and move to Antarctica.

Even though I managed to avoid killing a baby, I did not do well with the adults. I couldn't hide my nerves. I suck. I just nodded a lot and tried to smile but it was one of those types of smiles where in my head I was thinking, "Oh God, I know this is not a good smile. This is a very scary, unhappy smile happening all up in here" and then in my head I gesture at my own face.

I did finally meet the wife of one of the hubby's closer work friends, which I had been looking forward to. She took my ice cold drink from me so she could shake my frozen hand, which was a little different. Then she started asking about my 9 cats. Her husband was embarrassed for some reason and I found out later that he had tried to talk to her about how maybe she should not exactly not talk about the cats but maybe not lead with it, which made me laugh really hard on the ride home. Things made a lot more sense knowing that. Her husband gave us the Tron DVD and I lifted my arms in a hooray-type way but did it very sarcastically. Which was probably rude. But WHY GOD WHY? Double disc special edition! Really? 2 discs of Tron? I thought with Netflix not having it I was home free. But no. Thanks, Hubby's Work Friend. I wanted to offer to loan his wife the Twilight saga in retaliation but I didn't.

Finally, the standing and mingling part of the evening was over and we were asked to sit down for supper. There were 5 long tables with 4 seats on each side and one seat at each head of the table. Nothing assigned, of course, but some places had purses and whatnot on them. Everyone easily took their seats. Except us. We tried to find seats but it just didn't happen. So we were left standing there while everyone was sitting. As in, every single person is seated and we are standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Hi again.

We stood next to the table with 2 seats open. Oh, you know what we saw. You do. You so do.

2 seats. One at each end of the table. So we could both sit as far away from one another as possible at the respective heads of this table.

Please kill me.

Thankfully one gentleman took mercy on us and basically said we're all moving down and everyone moved for us. Sigh of relief there.

The hubby and I ended up sitting together in the middle of one of the sides. So we were between two conversations. Just enough to not be able to hear well and not participate wholly in either one. At one point, I actually said to him, "I don't know where to look." We were at a table with no one that we had small talked with during happy hour.

The very kind waitresses brought out salads. Or, more accurately, they brought me a plate with about 10 GIGANTIC pieces of lettuce on it. I fought with that for about 20 minutes. I made some noises while eating that were accidental and that I am not proud of. For example, somehow my mouth made a noise like when you're drinking out of a straw and there is only ice left in your cup. Sllllllluuuuuuuurp. Only I had no straw and was just eating. As loud as the room was, it was of course pretty quiet at that moment.

Then they brought a steak out to my husband and a chicken breast out for me. Well, technically, they brought out plates of pepper with a dash of protein on them. Still, pretty damn tasty. I should have taken the chicken BREAST as a sign.

I think I would have enjoyed it more if my chicken had not been overshadowed by my actual breasts. See the pretty necklace? The chain was my grandma's, because I needed her helping me this evening, and the pendant was actually a clearance pin I bought a couple years ago. One I've never worn.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of eating, my giant brooch unclasped without warning from the chain and fell into my boobs. Right down my shirt. Look at the size of that thing. Not exactly subtle. Yeah. I am the epitome of grace and loveliness. I made a little noise and fished it out and stuck it in my purse. *High fiving a million angels* ala Liz Lemon from 30 Rock.

The hours went by. The group on my left said things like "The last time I was in Rome" and "You just have to stay in bed and breakfasts in Europe!" and I'm pretty sure someone said "I concur" in a non-sarcastic way. I tuned out most of the rest of it and said little.

On the other side, although the two couples were very nice, I couldn't quite be a part of their conversation either. The other two wives were very back and forth, with one including me and the other refusing to make eye contact with me for the entire 3 hours. Which made it kind of difficult. The one asked me about what I did (yay) and where we met (double yay). Shoot me now, please.

We talked about our pets a little and she threw me a bone and told me I was a stay at home mom just like her (she also had human children, though, a 1 year old and a 4 year old). So that was really nice of her. To not say I was the least motivated and interesting person alive. Then, it sort of went "Did you watch Lost? and the hubby and I were all "No" and then they talked amongst themselves. They asked what the last movie was that everyone saw and ours was Harry Potter, but before we could say that, one mentioned how they might go see the new Harry Potter and how they were embarrassed to admit that. I just kept my big mouth shut and kept drinking pop and water when the pop ran out. I would say about one time out of every four when I lifted my glass up, I either hit myself in the face with my straw or went to suck on my straw and it was nowhere near my mouth. I think I looked like I was doing an impression of a fish minus the aquarium every 5 minutes or so.

Um... So... We had Amish cheesecake for dessert, which tastes just like cheesecake. Only Amish.

The plates were all removed, glasses began to empty. Couples started standing and then some got their coats and made their exits. I watched jealously.

The second the hubby was inclined to leave, I was bolting for the door. Bolt, bolt.

We got in the car and he said, "Never again, huh?"

I laughed and said, "Just get me home."

Then, I apologized for not being able to make the evening fun and said, "I will go to as many of these things as you want me to go to. Because I love you."

And we came home and the presents were still under the tree and the kitty room had not been violated. All was again right with our world.

The Epipen Is Not For Panic Attacks

Also, the Epipen is not for fancy smancy events.

Am I exaggerating? Sure. Still, here is a picture of my Epipen. In case life decides it wants to try and kill me. All I have to do is come into contact with a Sulfa drug, possibly be stung by a bee, or perhaps ingest a fennel seed.

I think the most frightening part of having my Epipen is how gun-ho my husband seems to be about using it. From the moment my allergist described how to use said injection, the hubby was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He has been ready to stick a needle deep into one of my muscles for years now. He has taken it upon himself to be the declared giver of said medicine. At any time, any place. For some unknown reason, he has appointed himself Epipen extraordinaire. Even though he has certainly never given anyone any type of shot (unlike me, the former nurse). Sigh.

Anyway, I might have been happy to let him cause me great needle-related pain if it meant I could get out of our big date. All week I've been dreading tonight. The hubby's big fancy smancy work dinner is at a type of restaurant we have never frequented. I'm a Steak N Shake kind of girl. We had fancy meals on our honeymoon... But they were in our hotel room. The Bellagio is no Red Roof Inn, but I fear it doesn't count if I don't have to juggle twenty different forks in front of other people.

I know one has nothing to do with the other, but the fact that I've already epically failed at winning over his family keeps coming into my mind. You know, since I'm pretty sure he's still "forbidden" to be married to me. At the same time, the rational part of me knows they never really tried to get to know me, so I don't take it so personally these days. Finally meeting the people he spends his work days with is weighing heavy on me. What if they realize the second I walk  into the room just how much better he could have done? I turn into a tween again, all "They're going to hate me!" and staying in bed, under the covers, surrounded by the cats and dog until noon.

Why did I agree to this? I'm not a social person. I'm a stay at home housewife who likes her little house and her brood of pets and her husband. I've always been quiet, especially around people I don't know. It's amazing I found my husband in the first place and managed to give him a front row seat to the real me. Both amazing and admittedly slightly sad and pathetic, since he then gets to see me on days like this. There's no elaborate other me that can put on my clothes and trick him into thinking I am a confident, lovely lady on his arm. He gets Happy Wife in panic mode.

The wide eyed horrified girl who is sure she's going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. The one who is sure that everyone at the table is going to be thinking, "THIS is who he ended up with? This is the girl? Really?"

It doesn't help that we're going to have a meal. I have food allergies that can be rather daunting. Horrifying. Nightmare inducing. It doesn't help that we can't seem to find the source of the allergies other than that they happen when we eat out.

Should I wear a turtleneck to hide any reaction I may have? My neck likes to look all pandemic-like if I have a bad situation happening.

I get to bring a purse full of Benadryl along with said Epipen. I mean, sexy right? Are they going to search me? Do fancy restaurants have their version of the TSA?

I was up for all of 7 minutes when the hubby came home from work. I immediately got back in bed and fussed.

"How many people will be there? A hundred?" I then made cranky noises that did not remotely resemble actual words although I said them with a cadence like they were still part of the conversation. Sort of like Charlie Brown's teacher if she was really upset.

"Twenty, at most," he replied.

"So, a thousand... A million?" I sighed loudly. Twice.

He just laughed at me and said, "Yes, Dear, there are going to be a million people there."

I told him I need to be 20 pounds thinner before going out of the house ever again.

Then, I thought about how the one thing I have kept from my youth is acne. Hooray. *Eye rolls* My 1 am tweezer attack on my eyebrows also did my help my face today. I managed to not say this out loud.

I thought about all the questions. The normal ones.

"So what do you do?"

"When are you two going to start having kids?"

"How did you two meet again?"

Um... Nothing, never, and online. I have no goals or ambition, want to get "the coils" as I call them, and I seduced him on the Internet.

And the chorus will all be crickets. Tumbleweeds will roll past our table. I may hear a sad ghost town western soundtrack in my head.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

What am I supposed to say? I'm technically still a licensed nurse and just leave out that I intend to never go back into the nursing field? That I spend all day eating Cheetos and watching soap operas?

Okay, so I haven't had Cheetos in years and I don't watch soap operas, but sometimes my life is comparable to that. This past Wednesday, I spent a whole day catching up on Glee and drinking equal parts hot chocolate and marshmallows.

I don't think telling everyone that I take care of our TWELVE special needs cats and the world's most insane dog is a viable option. That sounds worse than telling them what I do on the days when I do leave the house. Hi, sometime last week I power shopped at all 4 local Marshalls and TJ Maxx stores and then made a supper where Velveeta was the main ingredient and chicken and broccoli had very small supporting cast member roles.

I am FREAKING OUT. What am I going to wear? What am I going to say? I have issues speaking English, my ONLY language, in front of others all the time and just in general half the time. AND I HAVE A BACHELOR'S DEGREE IN ENGLISH.

My husband keeps telling me it will be fun. That he 100% wants me to go and is sure it will be great.

Know what I'm sure of? That I don't own anything that makes me look thin and that the dog is going to not only break into the kitty room and eat all their food while we're gone, but she's also going to open all the Christmas presents. I better take pictures of all the decorations because they're all going to be down when we get home.

Football, Cake, Festive Sparklies, And Protecting The Factory

I started decorating for Christmas over a week ago. I wanted to go through all my bins and organize them and give some stuff away to the Goodwill, so I knew I was in for a long haul. I also knew that I had to decorate more carefully this year, and that I had to rein myself in a bit. Think more creatively. Outsmart the kitties and give my decorations a chance to survive another year.

This year, I only am decorating in the large upstairs living room/dining area and kitchen.

I put all the bins in the kitchen. ALL OF THEM. All twenty? Something like that. Not good. I could not use my kitchen for 4 days. And when Mav wanted to go out that back door there? Yeah. That was a process.

Oh, and my bathroom has a festive shower curtain, but I did manage to keep it very tame in there compared to past years (what? Am I the only one who's put giant, sparkly garland around all one's bathroom mirrors and medicine cabinets? And lots of Christmas ornaments sprinkled all around the towels and toothbrushes?). So I say the bathroom doesn't really count. There are no lights in there or anything like that. So it couldn't possibly count. No extension cords needed. You still have to turn on the light or it's dark in there. That is a valid point because we haven't used a lamp or kitchen light upstairs since I found my box of Christmas lights. The bathroom, just some towels and the shower curtain. And shower hooks. Shut it.

I wanted to get the bulk of the decorating done before the hubby was home for a few days. I was also super cleaning, which in my world is different than regular cleaning, although it happens pretty regularly. It's the "use all the vacuum attachments, move the furniture and clean under it then move it back" type of cleaning. And if it is fabric or fabric-like and fits in the washer, it's gettin' washed.

Anyway, the hubby and I have been running all over for a couple months. It seems like stuff was breaking here at home on a daily basis and that his long hours at work were starting to take their toll. We'd also just seen my lovely family twice, and although we wanted to drive to see them, we figured we wouldn't be able to stay that long anyway. Drive 7 hours to stay a day or two, then head back... It was a little too much for us to do this time. I think we just knew that we needed a break in general, so we decided to not travel at all over the weekend and just stay home.

Tuesday night, the hubby came home from work and announced his vacation was starting NOW, so surprise! I was happy for him, although I was still knee deep in cleaning and bins upon bins of festiveness. I finished cleaning, shut the bins, and we just spent the long weekend resting.

We did not leave the house. Not once.

I love my husband. I love our pets and our home. But Sweet Jesus, come Sunday, I was ready for him to go back to work.

There was a lot of football (please someone explain to me why we watch games where he doesn't care about EITHER team, oh my God I am going to have an aneurysm), a big turkey dinner, and lots of sitting on the couch watching Netflix movies and DVRed sitcoms from the past couple weeks. I think we were just proud of ourselves for still showering regularly. I love him, but wow. The football and the educational television. I was tired of being tired. Phew phew, phew phew, as he plays his game. Swear, swear, when it doesn't go well. Just having to remember that there are 3 meals a day, every day, that I get to deal with for more than myself is such a pain in my arse.

I did a lot of cooking and baking. Which I enjoy and I'm not complaining. I just find it easier when I just feed the hubby supper and don't have to worry about breakfast and lunch. In related questions, why has no one told me about those Rhodes frozen rolls before? I had a coupon and holy crap, I could have just eaten the tray of those for dinner. Screw the slow cooked turkey breasts, from-scratch mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and gravy. I just want those rolls. I don't even need a plate. I'll just juggle them in the air and eat accordingly.

Hello cranberry coffee cake experiment. I declare you a SUCCESS! Even if I did add a sprinkled crumbled topping TO A BUNDT CAKE BEFORE BAKING. Yes, yes, smart people out there, that does mean that I put on a topping that ended up being the bottom of the damn cake. Oh well. All the better to glaze you then, my dear.

Hello red and green sugared snicker doodles. I declare you FESTIVE! Holiday platter! BOOM! SNAP! SNAZZY HEAD BOB INDICATING I AM SASSY AND AWESOME!

I have an awesome Paula Deen cookie jar I got after Christmas on clearance last year. Plannin' on keeping that puppy full, and sending a lot of treats to the hubby's office, all through this holiday season.

Early last week, as I was putting up ONLY TWO trees, I had the windows open and was dying of heat. It was 75 or something ridiculous like that. Cut to a couple days later, Thanksgiving morning, and we had this.

It was cold and snowy and oh so festive! You can't tell from the photos but it was really coming down, too!

The hubby ran Mav out and came back in with foggy glasses and a layer of snow. I told him to turn around and give me a sexy over the shoulder look since the snow showed up best on the back of his coat. Heh heh heh.

And yes, I did HAND MAKE that wreath there. Thanks for noticing. I did good snagging a hottie AND making a wreath for 4 bucks instead of spending like 30 on one ready to hang. I'm double awesome?

Our long weekend ended up being rather date-less, but it was just nice having some time off. I will have to take some pictures of the house all decorated. My poor Islamic husband puts up with A LOT. There is glitter everywhere and Aphrodite the cat keeps removing all the little Christmas balls and tiny pieces of evergreen from the one tiny basket on my dining room table and hiding them throughout the house. The main tree shakes on a regular basis as we watch television, making us have to pause our show since this is indicating another 4 legged feline is climbing it from its insides. The only evidence of this is the little jingle sounds of ornaments shaking and the slightly epileptic movement of something like 8 feet of tree. It is always just enough to be jarring.

I have enjoyed being at home, for the most part, but a little bit of me is getting cabin fever. This weekend I am being forced to be social AND fancy, neither of which can be good. Not looking forward to that. For being a good, dutiful wife, I would like a reward. Hugs, I suppose.

OH, AND I ALSO WANT TO GO ICE SKATING, HUSBAND.

Seriously. Someone needs to take me ice skating. Like now. It will help with the cranky. I promise. ICE SKATING. WEE. SCARF AND MITTENS AND SKATING IN CIRCLES. LIKE NOW. IF YOU DO NOT TAKE ME SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN THE GROCERY STORE OR MOVIE THEATER I AM GOING TO FORCE YOU TO WATCH ALL THE TWILIGHT MOVIES AGAIN.

Harry Potter Date

Last weekend, as in on its opening weekend, the hubby and I saw Harry Potter on the Mega Screen. We went to an EIGHT AM showing on Sunday. Because we're nuts.

I wish someone could explain to me why I am out of focus in this photo and of course he looks super fine. Granted, it is about 7 something in the morning here, so I look the way I feel there, but IT SHOULD NOT BE SO DAMN LITERAL. I didn't even retouch this. Someone (cough, cough) doesn't know how to use the photo editing software enough to do more than crop or red eye, and I didn't even do that. Sheesh.

Anyway, back to our date. We were in a pretty good mood and the movie, although very dark, was great. Of course. I love me some Harry Potter.

I'm so glad I've already read the books (and am now rereading them). Without knowing the ending, this second to last movie would have been very depressing, possibly to a "I'm not getting out of bed this week" level. There would have been a lot of sighing and muttering to myself in my general life. "Poor Harry Potter!"

My husband would have heard a lot of soft whispers, catching only a word or two here and there about "dementors" and "murder" and "muggles" and "those poor kids!"

Thankfully, I know everything will turn out all right, so I didn't have some strange visceral reaction to a fictional story in my general life.

My mother asked us later if it was "the kind of film we would enjoy" as in my mother and my father. Since neither one of them has, to my knowledge, ever seen any of the other Harry Potter movies, and they certainly haven't read the books... I just was stunned into silence. I didn't even have time to form an answer before she started laughing and took that as her answer.

It's a Harry Potter movie. It's for people who like Harry Potter. My brain hurts.

That was our big date last weekend.

Fridge Shopping

Does shopping for a refrigerator count as a date? No?

It involves spending couple time together! We have to shower and get dressed and I'll probably put on make up! We'll hold hands?

Still no?

Damn it.

Will someone please explain to me why all the fridges Consumer Reports recommends seem to only be available online? I'm pretty comfy with internet shopping (I think I just heard my husband at his work desk, from 30 miles away, sigh and say "Yeah, you are!" under his breath). But a fridge is something that I would actually like to see with my own eyes beforehand. Compare, contrast, compare, contrast. I need to drag my husband back and forth in person, in a store between 2 or 3 fridges that are practically identical for at least half an hour while we deliberate.

I hate adult decisions and adult... dealings. Dealing with things of an adult nature.

Why does that sound so dirty? If it was half as interesting as it sounded there, it would definitely be classified as a date.

Oh, and I would also like to know why the space for our fridge is about a half an inch smaller than they make fridges now.

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

Oh God, it will not be sexy or romantic or cute if we end up with either A) a dorm room fridge or B) a new fridge that has to live in the garage.

*Slams head on desk over and over and over and over again*

Brian Regan Date

When I think of excitement, when I think of entertainment, when I think of a city that never sleeps...

New York City? Been there. Theater, shopping, sidewalks full of hustle and bustle. Enjoyable. Will someday go there with the hubby.

Vegas? Got married there! It's all lights, chocolate fountains, and strawberries as big as your hands delivered to your hotel room.

Fort Wayne, Indiana. Haven't been. This is the town Brian Regan flew into on Thursday in order to play a show. Was the show actually in Fort Wayne? Of course not.

Wabash, Indiana.

Wabash. Indiana. A mere 6 1/2 hour drive from St. Louis. Just me and the hubby on the open road. Oh, the intense anticipation! The time change! Our first night away from home and from our dog in a very long time. Our first time being out, taking a road trip, and NOT going to a destination where my relatives live since we got married. Our first time in a hotel since our honeymoon! I brought swim suits! I dreamed of continental breakfasts! Had delicious plans to use every towel in the bathroom!

Sigh.

Yeah, of course, our trip wasn't as romantic or lovely as it should have been. And it was entirely my fault.

The story is my brother is a huge Brian Regan fan. And for good reason. The guy is hilarious. When he wanted to see Brian Regan on tour, we all were up for it. My folks and the hubby and me gave the green light. Besides, my brother is awesome, and there is little I wouldn't do for him. And now that I'm worried that he might join the military since he's been job hunting for over a year (he was laid off like so many people have been), well, every time we can do something together, I'm ready!

Brian Regan's tour schedule... New York, Pittsburgh, Ontario, Washington, Washington, Washington, California, California, California, Boston, Georgia, Georgia, Texas, Texas, Tulsa.

And then one town, a strange, random choice, stuck in the middle with no rhyme or reason. Wabash, Indiana.

WHY? I don't know. But we got tickets and decided to make a night of it. Since Mav the dog can't be left alone for a number of reasons (she's on medicines for epilepsy and hypothyroidism, has separation anxiety, and due to age and her pills, needs to pee ALL the time), so we either take her with when we go places or we just don't go. We set up a pet sitter to come and spend the night with her, crossing our fingers it would go okay. We decided months ago to leave Thursday afternoon, see the show Thursday night, then start back home and stay in a hotel when we got tired. We figured then we'd just get home sometime Friday morning.

Well, we didn't know what the lead up to the show would be. We didn't know the husband would be swamped with work, we'd be dealing with a house full of plumbing and electric problems, and we would, in general, be less than the level of amped we had hoped to be.

It didn't help that I had no idea really where Wabash was located, and that my inability to properly combine math, time, and geography would not, as I had expected, give us almost 2 extra hours to get there... I did everything backwards, I guess. So we'd given ourselves no extra time at all. This was totally my fault.

Almost immediately, the car was full of an atmosphere of "we're not going to make it", and if not for the comedy cds I downloaded for the trip, we would possibly be divorced right now. Wasn't a lot of talkin' in the car. I felt pretty crummy for making the hubby stressed and for dragging us across 3 states in order to see a show.

The drive was otherwise uneventful. My father came from 2 hours north of Wabash (my mom had gotten a terrible cold and couldn't come), and my brother came from 3 hours west. My dad beat us by about 10 minutes, and we beat my brother (the holder of the tickets) by another 10. We were parked and walking towards the building with about 10 minutes to spare. As rushed as everything was, it was still great to see my family and to be there with my husband at my side. I had offered to go alone the previous day, but he never even seemed to consider it.

I took pictures while speed walking. Here is the Honeywell Center, which we all agreed had to be the tallest building in Wabash. This is where Brian Regan was performing. Kinda looks like a hospital.

I let out a little squeal when we turned and entered the main courtyard in front of the building. Lights! Christmas-y! I cropped my father out of this photo because I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be on the internet. You're welcome, Pops! The hubby looks happy, for a second! Can't believe I captured that on camera!

It was pretty cold. There was SNOW in the forecast. We ran in and got our seats quickly. I immediately felt relieved and in my element. The center was large and we had excellent seats. There was a balcony behind us. Everything looked very professional and relatively new. My brother wore a shirt I had gotten him for Christmas a couple years ago, which made me happy.

I did turn to my husband and ask him if he felt okay. Never have I felt more comfortable with such speed. Hi, Rural Indiana, you are my people.

I don't know why I felt that way. I just did. There was a broad range of ages and everyone just seemed super casual and super familiar to me. I was flanked by my brother and dad on one side and the hubby on the other, and every row of people just seemed like people that I've known all my life. It was really strange for me but also made everything easy. Especially since I know we were both pretty tired, and I was fighting a (winning!) battle against feeling sick to my stomach, with a dash of car sickness, and a pinch of the first stages of a migraine that would cause us to stop for the night 10 miles out of Wabash. Don't we just look fantastic?

It is true that a picture is worth a thousand words.

I was tired but happy to be all be together and to be seeing Brian Regan. I think the hubby and I both sat back and enjoyed the show. Joe Bolster was the opening act and he was pretty funny. Of course, Brian Regan didn't let us down. He was hilarious. All 4 of us laughed hard and often. I didn't feel good and worried that I would get so sick to my stomach that I'd have to leave during the show, but I made it through. I knew that the smartest thing I have possibly ever done in my life was only eat lunch at noon and not eat any snacks or get anything at any gas stations to eat.

The show ended and we all went our separate ways. We made a little caravan following each other in our vehicles the first few miles. It felt nice.

Then, we all turned to our separate exits. My husband had to stop the car almost immediately because I was so sick. Not good. Thank God for Best Western.

They had a large Christmas tree up in the lobby, and although no one was around it, it was obvious that it had come out recently. It was decorated haphazardly and only in the middle. I could hardly believe it. It really does go Halloween, then Christmas now.

The tree would have made me a little happy if I hadn't been needing to get horizontal so badly. Thankfully, our room was close, and we got in there, I took my migraine medicine, and we went to sleep. It was all sweats and socks on our feet. There was no sweet second honeymoon for us. I was just terrified that I would wake up with my migraine, but thankfully, I didn't. It was gone at 4 am our time. And yes, we got up, got ready in 10 minutes, and headed to check out. As we walked down the hall and towards the front desk, I realized how out of it I must have been only a handful of hours before.

I was too tired to get the camera out, but I should have. The Best Western we were staying at, in the middle of NOTHING, had a very, very, very specific theme. A theme that I think probably would give a lot of people nightmares.

THERE WAS A CIRCUS THEME.

AN ELABORATE CIRCUS THEME.

I had only seen the Christmas tree. I had not noticed EVERYTHING else in the hotel. Stuffed animals in old style circus cages, paintings of circus scenes, and the clowns. Oh, God, the clowns. There were tiny clown figurines, large glass clown faces, a porcelain train with each car loaded with one clown after another... Everywhere you looked, clowns. Clowns, clowns, clowns.

There were suites with large brass name plates. The suites had circus-themed names, like Ringling Brothers Suite. It was not a subtle decorating scheme. It was a pie in your face, drill sergeant yelling at you nose-to-nose, deep voiced announcer in your ear yelling, "Are you ready for some EXTREME CIRCUS in your life? No? WELL GET READY!" BOOM! All up in your personal space, all attacking you and sh*t. Then I guess they're supposed to end their greeting with "Welcome to Best Western. We hope you have a restful time here." Sure, why not.

I think we were both pretty okay getting out of there. We headed home, this time with me driving the whole way. The motion sickness stayed away and we were back by 10 am to find Mav happy and fine.

The second we walked in the door, the hubby asked, "Where's Atlas?"

I thought he was crazy. We have how many rescued kitties? Did he really expect them all to be lined up on the staircase when we got home? It was the weirdest thing for him to say.

Then he said, "He's in the basement!" and I thought, "You've lost your frickin' mind."

Threw open the basement door, and low and behold, Atlas was up on the counter and bins and was at eye level with me. He immediately rammed his head into my nose and began purring a monster purr. Sigh.

I guess he'd known the sitter was an easy mark and had snuck into the basement an hour before we got home when she went in there to get Mav's food. She was probably completely unaware anything had happened. The 3 rescues down there were hiding under the staircase, and even though the 2 are very affectionate and loving with us, they hissed and were terrified. Those 3 hadn't met the rest of our kitties yet. It had obviously been a rude introduction since Atlas had some battle marks. We let them be and they came around later in the day.

Atlas had one major addition to his person (his cat?) and that was a giant wound in his ear. We got to run him into the vet right away and learned that it went straight through his ear. It was a mess but at least he was looked at and should be fine. Now I get to give him antibiotics and apply hot packs twice a day. Ever tried to hold a hot-as-hell, wet washcloth to a cat's ear and apply pressure for FIVE STRAIGHT MINUTES?

Twice a day.

Of course.

The perfect ending to the perfect trip.

Am I upset? Do I regret this trip? No. Maybe I would have planned a little better if I could do it over again, but I'd still want to go and for the hubby to come, too.

We would have missed a lot of laughter and we wouldn't be able to say, years from now, "Do you remember that time we drove to Wabash to see Brian Regan?"

"Oh my God. And the Circus Best Western?"

There's No We In Wii/I'm An Electrician Wizard

So, we ultimately failed last weekend. We didn't even get into the same room as the Wii.

The hubby played "Protect The Factory!" or "Where's The Medic!?!" or whatever it's called. Netflix sent me Fringe season 2.

We did both shower... So that's success in some form, right? We did not do things like put on jeans (too dressy! Where do we think we're going?) instead of pajamas and I'm pretty sure neither one of us brushed our hair.

Side note: the hubby's hair is getting long again so it's utterly adorable when he doesn't comb it. He looked so cute all weekend. Even when yelling at "noobs" (wait, is that how you spell that? Oh, wait again, who cares?) in a tone that made me stay in a whole other room from him.

I think we assumed that we'd play the Wii and have some couple time during the week... I did anyway... Because I am a moron, I guess. The hubby put in a ton of hours at work while I stayed home and tried to figure out why our toilet was suddenly empty of all water. That was a 2 day ordeal. Good news: the toilet now has water back in it. Bad news: it also has a leak that wasn't there before. Conclusion: Cannot deal with it anymore this week or will kill myself, my husband, and probably several plumbers.

I probably shouldn't say that "I" did anything there. I did examine it and find tools and kits and stare at it and check it and try this and try that (but not really - I did not actually touch any of the complicated looking parts) for the entire length of time my husband was at work.

Then he got home and spent hours upon hours locked in there trying to fix it. Which he could have easily done, had all the old broken parts not been completely rusted and impossible to remove. Pieces of the screws chipped away but not the actual screws themselves. No, they were holding steady. I'm pretty sure he ended up having to saw through them with random tools that wouldn't normally be used in a job like this.

I wish I was exaggerating. He literally got home at 5 pm (he gets up for work AT 4 AM every morning) and he was in there until past midnight. I don't know how long past, since I finally fell asleep. All I know was when I woke up he told me it was fixed and that I could use it but had a new leak. His tone made it clear that this was both the beginning and the end of the conversation. Message received my love. I just kept to myself how I was just gonna use the tiny other bathroom that we rarely use. For some unknown reason, that is what I did on Monday morning before discovering there was no water in the other toilet tank (the toilet at that time looked normal). I told the hubby later that thank God I didn't go in there and pee (not that I do that, because I'm still a lady that is all Skittles and bunnies, yada yada yada) but if I had, he would not get to come home. The horror.

I'm not a high maintenance girl, in my opinion, but I do REQUIRE indoor plumbing. Which we technically still have since everything works fine.

After that, I got to call my mail order pharmacy and try to decipher why they wouldn't mail me my med for migraines. Dealing with that, of course, gave me a migraine.

The kicker came yesterday, when I had to deal with the electric, or lack thereof. It kept going out, and about an hour after it finally came back on for good, all of our downstairs electronics (hi there, Wii!) decided not to turn on anymore and some of our outlets rejected electricity...

Turns out I am the worst AND the best electrician ever because our nice television (which is the one we never watch), the Direct TV, Wii, Wii remote control charger, and DVD/VCR player (oh yeah, did I just blow your mind again?) had no response to the power buttons on them. Not one of them showed any signs of life when I tried to turn them on. Triple checked everything was plugged into everything. Both sides of each cord - like where the Wii cord goes into the outlet AND where it goes into the Wii. Pushed the buttons. Nothing. I just about passed out.

I'd already dealt with an outlet upstairs by throwing all the fuses in the fuse box back and forth and hitting tiny green buttons that were techie-looking. Which had worked. I think. So, I figured it was the outlet not letting all my stuff turn on. Threw a bunch of other fuses back and forth in the fuse box and then went all smiley back and hit the power buttons... But you know, nothin'.

So I grabbed a nearby lamp, plugged it into the outlet. We have light. I have the control part of my electricity experiment. Maybe it was the surge protector, I thought. Plugged the lamp into every plug in on that damn thing. Lotsa light. No power when I re-plugged everything else back in. Maybe try another surge protector? So I dug around in a closet and found a spare surge protector (bonus for being married to a computer guy).

The lamp worked in that surge protector, too. Of course.

In fact, while trying to figure this out for OVER AN HOUR, the lamp ALWAYS LIT UP.

EVERY TIME.

*Bangs head against pointless entertainment equipment*

So, I just kept unplugging and plugging. I unplugged where each power cord went into each actual piece of equipment and reconnected. Nothing. Unplugged them all back into the surge protector. Tried other outlets. Other extension cords. Plug, unplug, hit power buttons. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I did not do anything remotely new or different than I had been when I plugged them all back into the original surge protector yet again, and back into the same original outlet, and it all MAGICALLY started working. Did not do a damn thing different than I had already tried 10 times. But that is besides the point. YEAH! WOOOOO-WHOOOOOO!

And that is why I am the worst AND best electrician in the entire world. Thank you.

Dating will be resuming today, not necessarily against our wills but out of our control. Please, please, please, let us have a nice, relaxing, memorable date. The tickets are bought and plans made. We're ready! I think!

Sittin'

What ever will we do on our date this weekend?

Will we succumb to the easier, often more delightful, and certainly more refreshing staying at home on the couch in our pajamas? Or, the non-date, as it were?

Will we shower? Should we simply set that as a goal?

Since my husband needs to go into work at some point this weekend, should we pretend it is not the weekend? That's one way to bypass any guilt that could come from not spending much time together.

Will we figure that next week's long road trip to see a comedian will suffice as our weekly date?

I suggest a compromise. Something active but not that active.

Fall is here and the weather is lovely. A funny messaging conversation with a friend of a friend turned to bike rides this week. We don't own bikes. It is a nice thought, one that is far away and lofty, like winning the lottery. It sounds hard. Too productive. I'm already doing so well eating more salads (I HATE LETTUCE IN ALL ITS FORMS). Don't push my brain to even think about balance mixed with speed and a side of perspiration.

One of the husband's friends is an avid marathon runner and travels extensively to participate in different races throughout the country WITH his wife. They seem like really normal, fun, funny people aside from that. Can we all pretend not to notice my hanging my head in shame? I won't even walk at an increased pace with my hubby. Unless we have ice cream or something. Wouldn't want that to melt. Anyway, that is beside the point. The marathon runner came down with a nasty cold. It took all my might not to not say, "Maybe it's all that exercising!" I am pretty sure I'm the only one who finds that a hilarious comment. A knee-slapper. But seriously, all that running... Has to have some ill effects, am I right? Yes?

Stupid productive people with their healthy lifestyles and their enjoyment of vegetables.

Thinking about how much I do not enjoy activity and how there are lots of fun, reasonably athletic things we could do together on a date this time of year caused me to think about what I really do enjoy.

Sittin'. I enjoy sittin'.

No, no, to be fair... I don't enjoy it. I love it. I love sittin'.

Sittin' on the couch, watching television. Sittin' and eating our meals at home or in a restaurant. Or in the car. Or on our elusive picnic. That would also involve sitting.

Sittin' in front of my computer in the office. Sittin' at my craft table.

Sittin' anywhere with a kitty on my lap. Sittin' in the car, driving or being driven around.

At the movies, at a theater, at a game.

In an Adirondack chair, at the dining room table from my childhood, in a recliner, on the floor in front of a fireplace.

We have a push mower but I remember the days of a riding lawn mower. Sittin' is way more enjoyable. Plus, there's MORE POWER, ala Tim from Home Improvement... Wow, I just aged myself there. How old am I again? 60?

The dentist would be intolerable if he didn't let me sit the whole time. Actually, just about anywhere frustrating or scary or downright annoying is practically pleasant due to sitting, if sitting is available. DMV. Customer service line at any store. At the laundromat. In a classroom. On a bus. At weddings. at funerals. Waiting for your car to be repaired.

Going through the mail, watching anything on PowerPoint, sewing back on a button, filing papers, having bloodwork drawn, and anything that has to do with airplanes. As much as I hate flying, at least there's sittin' on airplanes.

Sitting also is instrumental to reading a good book, painting a masterpiece (sorry I just laughed myself into an even more impressive seated position there), and playing card or board games.

Sittin' at the beauty salon. Sittin' on a park bench. A beach. On a horse. On rides at an amusement park. Watching fireworks and parades. Making fireworks (there's your splash of romance! Boo-yah!) and being in parades.

Thanks, Middle America. I've been on more elementary and junior high floats in small town parades than I can count. Seriously. I've been in the bed of a pick up, on an actual float, and riding a horse. Good memories! All sittin'!

If I could get away with it, and if the grocery store wasn't my idea of a very awesome obstacle course or game show only I'm starring it, I'd ride in the carts you can drive. Sure.

In the bathtub, with bubbles. Lightbulb! Showering sucks because it's all standing! Which leads me to... As a lady, I'm always seated in the bathroom. How do men stand? It's kind of sad when I think about how awesome all things sittin' are.

Oh wait... I've told my husband that women don't actually use restrooms in the traditional sense, because we're all rainbows and butterflies and flowers. So of course I mean I sit in there to apply my make up. And style my hair. And put lotion on all sexy-like (for the purpose of this post, I do not just glob it on and go). Bonus information I haven't told my husband... Did you know that when ladies put on lotion, they always do it in slow motion and even if there is no music-playing device around, a Barry White song plays at the most appropriate volume possible. There, now he knows. One more female mystery revealed! Oh, will our love survive?

The more I thought about it... Obviously the list just never ends. Oh, sittin'. How you and I go way back and have a long future ahead of us. I love you, Sittin'.

Unfortunately, I am also somewhat ashamed of this love. I wish I was all "I love track and field" and "I love jogging!" but I don't. Zumba sounds like something Madonna would name her newest adopted African baby. Actually, don't Brad and Angelina have a baby Zumba? Yeah, I'm pretty sure they do, too. *Nods in agreement with you*

All right. Our date this weekend cannot solely consist of a sitting activity. I say we play our Wii, which we haven't played in months. Plus, the past handful of times we've played, we played games where we got to sit. We got Family Feud and Whammy for Christmas last year and played those a couple times, but they aren't active games. So, not only are we to play the Wii, we have to play some games on it where we actually move. Fun!

And getting out of our pjs will still be optional. :) I'm trying to plan for success! Success that doesn't involve 100% sitting.

Until then, I think I'm going to sit here. And enjoy it.