The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Final Post #12

I can't believe I made it to the final Christmas post! Before March! I consider this a victory.

The last thing on our list is something we use everyday, that has opened up our house to us, that has made my husband giddy.

Yes, I said giddy.

He's a software engineer. I didn't know they could get giddy.

My folks got us an upgrade to an HD receiver for the television we have in our downstairs family room. A room we barely ever visited. We just always watched tv upstairs on our old tv. The DVR was up there. As was the kitchen and bathroom. We just hardly ever spent time downstairs. HD seemed fancy and pointless to me.

Now, we'd tried to have Direct TV come out (by we, I mean my husband) and give us HD in the downstairs in the past. It did not work. The guy refused to drill a hole in the wall and said he wasn't allowed to drill holes. He was not really your most helpful installation guy. My husband thought he just didn't feel like doing another job that day. The guy left as quickly as he'd shown up.

The hubby then went out to see if someone other than Direct TV could make this happen. He had an estimate written out by a local place called the Sound Room to drill the hole.

They wanted $6,000 dollars. Six. Thousand. To drill a hole.

It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. It was so ridiculous that it was comical.

And it made me think I should get started in a new profession. I can make a hole in anyone's wall for 6 grand. Pass the ax, please.

We do not have an exciting or strange house. It's a regular, older house. The holes weren't going to be made anywhere questionable or difficult. In fact, there were plenty of holes that had been made for the Direct TV we already had and for the cable the guy who lived here before us had.

It had been about a year since the pointless Direct TV guy had come out. The hubby called Direct TV again after Christmas and set up an installation time. It was like they hadn't been out here before. Fine. Let's go with that.

I worked in our basement clearing out an entire corner so that the guy wouldn't have to move a thing. He had access to everything. There wasn't one box of Christmas decorations in the way, not one half full laundry hamper, not one 12 pack of pop on the counter down there.

My Empty Corner

The day before, the doorbell rang at 8 am. I had been cleaning the house for the Direct TV guy. I was luckily downstairs (not to mention awake). I was in my pjs and had to put on a winter coat to get the door. There was a lot of inappropriate comfort happening especially in the cleavage area.

I also, of course, had a pile of clean laundry on the couch directly behind me. I had folded everything except a large pile of fancy underwear. Those were spread all out, waiting to be folded. They could not have been more in view.

It was the exterminator at the door, who had never showed up before without calling me, emailing me, and snail mailing me appointment reminders for his visit every four months. Every appointment. All 3 reminders. This time, no notice. Sweet Jesus.

He did his job and thankfully made no comments about my unmentionables to horrify me even more. He left quickly and I spent the rest of the day finishing up cleaning. I had the house in great shape for the Direct TV guy.

The next day, I had shaken off my panty faux pas from the day before. Pretty much forgotten about it. Was a little more concerned about the Direct TV guy since it seemed like my husband was in the kind of mood where if the Direct TV guy came and said he couldn't do it, he might not be able to leave the house until he did.

My husband came home early from work to wait for the guy. He got here, nice and professional guy, took a look around. Gave us the green light with no drama. He said he might have to charge us an extra 50 bucks to drill one of the holes.

We were both fine with that. I thought.

I sat upstairs in the office with the dog. The husband stayed with the guy and checked in often with me. He kept sticking his head in the door whenever the repair guy was changing locations.

"He's putting the new dish on the roof!"

"He's drilling a hole from outside into the basement!"

"He's running the cable into the house!"

3 hours of this.

Then, my husband came up and said, "I made the hole from the basement into the family room and saved us the 50 bucks!"

I said something encouraging and didn't think about it. Notice he used the word "made" versus a word like "drilled".

About half an hour later, my husband came back up and said everything was finished. We had Direct TV! IN HD! Installation guy was gone. Time to see it all! He was so excited. It was pretty damn cute.

I went into the basement. The first thing I saw was the hole my husband had made for the cord.

Wow.

Just wow.

Did you guess the weapon of choice?

A saw, of course. Hand saw, non-powered.

God, I love this man.

He was so proud. Which was also pretty adorable. At the same time, I was scared the 3 foster kitties in the basement would escape into the wall. He hadn't thought of that.

So, I did my part. The hubby made the hole. Happy wife covered it up.

With appropriate labeling.

Why, yes, I did cut off a side of the box the receiver came in

and nailed it into the wall over the hole.

Then, I added the last element to complete the project.

Finally, it's good for something!

Stupid nursing degree.

From another state.

When I had another name.

Ah, memories.

As I completed this little do-it-yourself home improvement, I noticed the one thing that I had overlooked in the basement.

One thing I had left out. Well, one type of thing anyway.

The day before, I had washed all our clothes and hung them to dry. Gave myself plenty of time so that I could put them away long before the installation guy came. But one item that I washed takes longer to dry.

I didn't see them. I was blind to them. Hanging by the repair guy's head for the hours while he was in the basement. He probably hit his head on them. Repeatedly.

Oh God.

I yelled at my husband," DID YOU NOTICE THESE?"

"Yes," he said.

"DID YOU GUYS SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THEM?"

"No... I didn't know what to say and I don't think he did either so we didn't say anything. Like a code."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE THEM DOWN?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. Like he's not allowed to touch them when they're on hangers. Like he knew I would not have wanted him to remove them.

I was completely horrified. Do you see what I did not see for an entire day leading up to this? A day I spent straightening slipcovers, fluffing throw pillows, dusting picture frames?

  

Here's a wider view of the small corner where

the repair guy spent the afternoon working.

Right at forehead level. So the guys can hit their heads

on them repeatedly during this whole HD process.

A collection of giant lady bras.

I walked by those about a hundred times that day.

Who knew my underwear display from yesterday

was really just a preview of what was to come?

Please shoot me. I was perturbed at myself the rest of the evening, although watching tv in HD took some of the sting out of it.  I have to admit he was right. The world is better in HD. As is Hoarders, Hawaii 5-O, Top Chef, and all the other stuff I watch. Even now, we both remark on how clear everything looks on the HD.

The happiest husband means this was the best. Christmas. Ever.

I Don't Have Cancer!

Hooray! I don't have cancer! Biopsy results were nice and boring.

And... I managed to put my back out last night taking the dog out.

Awesome.

Husband's reaction to "I don't have cancer!" was "I don't have cancer either!" and then we had a rousing back and forth about our biopsies.

His was just before Christmas if you remember, in a non-horrifying area, and his results had also been a big relief. It feels like so long ago to me, though.

"My biopsy was way cooler than your biopsy. They didn't inject you with a damn thing and they didn't cauterize anything," I taunted.

He just laughed.

"So therefore henceforth wherein mine was more medical-y."

He shook his head at me. I am glad I am so entertaining.

"I win!"

The War of Biopsies!

Of course, he is also not in any type of ridiculous pain.

He doesn't walk like a little old man.

He doesn't randomly yell out "ow" while sitting still on the couch watching television.

He is not medicated.

And he is sleeping through the night.

Crap. I think I just lost The War of Biopsies!

The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #11

My mom had heard about our silverware situation for months. The old stuff we were using that had belonged to my grandmother (and it wasn't her nice silverware - just her day to day stuff she'd had forever) had started to rust. To bend. To drive me insane.

I hunted for new silverware but couldn't find anything we liked at a price that didn't make me do a double take. We even tried a +100 piece set from an online site we like on the off chance it was the answer to our problem. And, it cost us a rousing $19.99.

Aside from the actual silverware, the cheap set also came with a really nice set of knives. That were worth the 20 dollar price tag. The actual utensils were awful. The silver flecked off of them and they'd bend all the way back in oatmeal. They did not survive one week's use.

Knives, somehow awesome.

Silverware set, horrible.

So I did what any reasonable housewife would do. Tossed out the too-rusted-to-save pieces and set out to make our silverware last until our death. In other words, I gave up. Decided on a lot of meals that could be eaten with one's hands.

Hamburgers, anyone? Then, my mother gave us silverware for Christmas. That was lovely and dishwasher safe and substantial feeling in your hands. Not girlie either, for the husband's sake.

Not bendy silverware. Also, not rusty. Check and check.

Sometimes, Mom knows best after all. How she picked out something I had such trouble choosing is beyond me.

All I know is we can now eat pasta. Rice. Cereal with milk. We can spread butter on things. Poke baked potatoes in the oven. Stir hot chocolate. Make cakes instead of cupcakes because we have forks!

The world is a beautiful place!

The12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #10

My husband and I received a great collection of books we've never read for Christmas.  And the movie based on said books that we had wanted to see in the theater but never got around to seeing.

Nerds rejoice!

I lesbian you!

The sad part is we've watched the Scott Pilgrim movie since getting it but neither of us has cracked open one of the books yet. America! Bad!

But...

Movies...

So...

Easy...

Such immediate gratification...

Books...

So...

Much...

Work...

My goal is to read the first one by next Christmas. Heh. Heh. Cough.

My Husband Takes Me To The Doctor

I do not like going to the doctor. Something really has to spur me on for me to make an appointment. Somewhere along the way, I became my father. Bad things have to be happening. Really bad things.

Yesterday morning, something on my body decided to go batsh*t crazy. Don't know what it is exactly but I've had it all my life and it's never caused any problems or concerns. It is in a most unfortunate area. Of course. I mean, why wouldn't it be?

I called my lady doctor's office and she was booked all week. The fastest appointment was for this morning with another lady doctor in the same office. Made the appointment and then called the hubby at work to ask if he could take me.

When I said I had just made a doctor's appointment, my husband's voice went all concern-y and he rearranged his schedule so he could take this morning off. He knows me so well.

He drove me to the doctor today. Sat in the waiting room next to me. Constantly patted me on the arm and knee and tried to engage me in conversation. He waited as I was called back and stayed back there forever. Although a big baby, I made the adult decision to let them do things to me. Things with needles and chopping and cauterizing. I came back out into the waiting room all red faced and hair all messed up.

I said, "I'm ready to go now."

He jumped up and was at my side immediately. He opened all the doors for me on our way to the car and didn't make fun of my new walk impersonating a little old man.

He drove me home. Offered to stay with me. I sent him back to work and knew that knowing he was there with me was the only reason the whole experience didn't give me a panic attack.

And that is one of the very many reasons why I love my husband.

That and I know he'll get food for me that I do not have to cook on his way home from work later today.

He's really shining in the husband department today.

The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #9

We're gonna breeze through these final couple Christmas posts. Because Christmas feels like a faded memory and I can't bring myself to start getting excited about 10 months from now.

Although I do miss the warm glow of lights in the house, and cookies, and festive music. Bright paper and ribbons meticulously wrapped around gift boxes. Holiday themed tee shirts and Emmet Otter.

Okay, so that actually was a nice moment there. Haven't really been thinking about Christmas since it's not even March yet. Now I have a gentle feeling for the future that will probably be here before I know it. Definitely before I'm prepared. Putting aside the stress that wants to comes with that thought...

Coming in at number 9 is a fall-themed quilt I saw in a magazine. And I believe 19 bucks any size.

Due to our budgeting, even that small price tag was beyond my parameters. Since I didn't actually see it in person, I didn't think very much about it after I saw it but managed to casually mention it to my mom. There were leaves on it and I was wishing at the time I had more fall themed stuff to get out. The quilt had a lot of brown, green, and dark red colors, which are my colors.

Here, Alas is getting comfy on it on the foot of our bed.

I was so surprised when I opened it. It came in a big quilted tote bag (bonus!). I loved it right away but had no idea how much we would really love it. It's pattern is also not so boldly autumn that we can't use it at other times of the year.

We got it home and it immediately became the quilt that we drag all over the house with us. We cuddle under it while we watch tv on the couch, we throw it on the bed when we go to sleep at night. It washes up easily and has been so great! LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! Thanks, Mom!

Narcotics, Gamer Widows, and Expired Orange Juice

And insomnia. Which may have to do with the expired orange juice.

It's been a long week and weekend. Beautiful out, temperatures in the 70s. The hubby worked long hours and saw little of it from his desk.

I walked Mav the dog all around the neighborhood, her always-been-strange gait even more pronounced. Wednesday, she stopped jumping up in the sink to drink water out of a bowl (don't even ask) and started drinking from the elaborate kitty fountain on the kitchen floor.

In other words, who is this dog?

Something was off, and although she didn't seem to be in any pain, I took her in to see the vet on Thursday just to calm my mind.

Our vet did a thorough exam and Mav did not pass. He said it might be osteoarthritis. Although fully booked Friday, he had me call through the morning to see how his surgeries were going, fitting me in around 10 am. Although she wasn' put under general anesthesia, she was knocked out with sedatives so that he could take X-rays and perform some other tests. I walked the Target across the street for an hour, waiting for the call to come back and get her. 

I sat in my car after I could stand Target no more. I wish I liked Target more. Ours seems to have little selection and ridiculous prices.

I finally talked to the vet on the phone, where he informed me that a number of tests were completed and the meds had been given to Mav to wake her up. The X-ray results were neither the worst possible scenario or the best (that would be nothing). Turns out he had been worried yesterday about a list of horrible other lumbar and bone diseases that he had decided not to tell me about at the time.

Sometimes I want to hug him but always stop myself. Thank God we were on the phone.

He told me that she did in fact have severe osteoarthritis in her left hip. I was incredibly grateful. Anything that wins over "we're putting her down" disease is a victory.

I went to the office to get her and go over the X-rays. They had let her free in the back like she was Penny, the vet's Pug. She was behind the check out desk with the 2 techs. Seeing her broke my heart.

She could barely stand and was so out of it from the narcotics. They stuck us in a room pretty fast since she could hear me but not see me over the counter. She just came over and stood by me, staring at me like "What did I do to you to deserve this?" I petted her and kissed her forehead as if dogs find that comforting.

The vet came in to talk to me. At one point, in the middle of his explaining things to me, she walked into the corner and stuck her head as far as she could where wall met wall. Then she sort of swayed and looked like she might die any second. I sort of patted her with increasing force (lovingly?) and let out a worried "Mav? Hey? Mav? HEY? MAV? HEY MAV!" and she barely even responded.

The vet just laughed like my reaction was weird and said, "She's just watching the pretty pictures on her eye lids from the medication."

He jumped right back into talking about the X-rays, which were jarring to say the least. Her left hip looked nothing like her right, which was what a hip should look like. 75% of it was out of the socket and it was extremely misshapen. I listened for about half an hour as he explained in depth about what exactly was messed up in her left hip, what the future would hold (right hip will probably end up matching the left in time), and what treatments we would be trying (basically it will be the same sort of situation as with a human with severe osteoarthritis). Just one of the medications costs $3 a day. Add to that all the tests and vet costs and I probably don't have to say that I emptied a giant chunk of our bank account at the desk. I then took Mav to the car, where she couldn't even get in on her own.

I spent Friday sitting next to a dog who I had to help on and off the couch and who looked like she was going to A) pass out B) vomit or C) have a seizure any minute. It was a long day.

Just adding another diagnosis to the list - she already has epilepsy, hypothyroidism, a plethora of cysts and tumors... Now, osteoarthritis.

My husband came home after his own long day and she perked up, so he really couldn't understand the hours of stress I had been through. A friend at work gave him some games to try on his new PS3 (hooray for his work's gift card program! Free PS3!), so I lost him for the weekend to that. He was playing something where he was either shooting a deer or roping a horse or herding some cattle whenever I walked through the room.

Being from South Dakota, I found this to be the weirdest game ever. He was happy with it, so that's all that matters. I was happy being a gamer widow for a weekend. I felt unable to summon any energy to do anything. Getting out of bed was a major accomplishment. At one point this weekend, I knocked, with no help from the kitties or any other outside source, a full glass of steaming hot tea all over my computer desk and lap. And then instead of springing into action, I just sort of sat there and looked at it like maybe if I waited long enough, it wouldn't have happened.

I attempted to cook. Not good.

Wanted to clean. Didn't happen.

Kept a close eye on Mav. As in barely let her out of my sight.

Thought I should try to drink the orange juice we'd had from Sam's Club and had opened what I thought was a week or so ago. Drank like a gallon of that in a 36 hour period when my husband noticed and informed me that the expiration date was also over a week ago. As in 2 weeks ago. Which may or may not explain why I felt unlike myself.

Add to all this that the most energized and awake I felt was from around 11 pm - 5 am. I just could not sleep. I kept thinking about things I wanted to organize in the house and how I wanted to organize them. At one point, I think I got up and reorganized my coupons and arranged them in some particular order by date and type and store.

I don't know if we're ever dating again at this point. Since I think I'm good staying in the house for... The rest of my life.

Valentine's Day/Ice Skating "Date"

"Date" is in quotes there because I'm not counting this as a date. It was too awful.

Valentine's Day is here, and I'm having some stress. Of the non-romantic variety. This morning, the hubby woke me up to tell me one of the cats is marking some new things in new areas. Places that blew my mind all over the place. It was the kind of 4 am wake-up call that leads to mini-nervous breakdowns.

The husband went to work, and I stayed in bed. Awake. Thinking about cat pee, the new tumors showing up on the dog, and yesterday's ice skating date.

Yes, the hubby took me ice skating yesterday, which was very nice of him. We pulled into the park and saw this.

We were barely even through the gates. Not good. Cars lined both sides of the road as we drove more. Granted, it was beautiful out, which had been my plan all along. Maybe with temperatures in the 50s, no one would be ice skating in in the park's recreational complex.

I started around this point to say, "I don't want to go. Let's go home."

I don't know. Just felt off, I guess. Too many people, too much social-time, so many children.

The hubby wouldn't hear of it. He found the nearest parking lot and parked. He got out of the car and started walking, without me. I didn't pout long because I could tell he meant business. I got out and walked a little behind him, my "let's go" sentiments growing louder as we got closer to the building with the rink in it.

Of course, he didn't have to try very hard to get me to catch up and go along with it. I tried standing there but he just sort of left me, knowing I would follow. I felt better once we got into the building. We got skates. There were quite a few people but not as many as the other time we went ice skating however many years ago. 

For some reason, they gave us hockey skates.

I guess we look like hockey people.

Sure.

I should mention that the one other time we went ice skating, that was the hubby's first time. He had never been ice skating. I, on the other hand, had been one of those kids who loved to skate. We lived in a tiny town and the firemen would spray water all over the large lot behind the fire station when it got cold enough (we lived in Minnesota, so it was around a lot of the year). There was no booth, no skate rental, no people. It was just for whoever to come and go as they pleased.

I remember going every day and no one being there but me, and I'd skate for hours. Whipping all around. Backwards, forwards, faster and faster. I loved it. I felt like it they made the rink just for me.

Well, fast forward 20 years and getting back on the ice is not how I remembered it. My body and mind do not communicate like they used to do. I did okay when the hubby and I went skating the first time. It wasn't great, but I felt like I wish I could do it every day. Which, of course, I did not. I had work and whatever else back then.

This time, skating was even worse somehow. I felt like I was going to fall 99% of the time but didn't. There was never that confidence that I had, that joy, that freedom. Little desire stirred in me to come back like last time.

It didn't help that there were so many little kids who were like I once had been - they skated so fast, back and forth in the crowd, no concern for anyone else. Unlike what I remember, they also fell ALL the time. Some were trying to take each other down (these would be several groups of little boys. Shocking, I know).

The hubby skated for about 15 minutes before hanging up his skates. They fit him wrong and his ankles were killing him. I felt terrible about it. He did not have a good time.

I don't know why I kept skating. I guess I thought it was kind of enjoyable still. I like the cold, the feel of the ice, the speed even though I wasn't very fast. I kept trying to skate to open areas as the crowd moved in strange, ever changing packs of people. I kept skating over to the sidelines to ask my husband is he wanted to go yet. He always told me to go ahead and skate a little longer, like he was fine just being there for me. He sat in the bleachers and just watched the rink.

Where am I?

Who knows?

Probably in the middle of a herd of children.

It was almost like I was being punked.

That little sh*t in the yellow shirt is trying to take me out there, but really, every single one in that photo was an obstacle in some sort of extreme, living course that I didn't know I had agreed to skate.

My plan was to not kill a child. And then to leave early. Check marks next to both of those goals. I actually lost count of how many times I would awkwardly thrust my hands out as children all around me fell, because if they ended up spinning towards me, I was going to catch them. Even though I knew realistically, that would not go well.

I guess I thought it was that or run them over, which I did not want to do, no matter how annoying some of them were.

It was definitely a loss of an afternoon. I felt terrible that our early Valentine's Day date was so sucky. Why have things been so off lately? I don't know. One weekend, we're sick. The next, exhausted. It's one thing after another.

We've never been big on Valentine's Day as it stands on the calendar. We try to do something around then. I guess since we tell each other we love one another all day every day and we spend basically all of our time together, we don't really try to outdo ourselves. He used to send flowers. The pets started eating those, so we've stopped that tradition. I used to get him a card, picked out special. Give him a present of some sort. I guess somewhere along the way I stopped doing that since I'm always picking up things I think he'll like. Even if I try to get him something for a special occasion, he'll end up getting it early. It's over a month until his birthday and he's already gotten what I was going to give him.

He still does the candy, which is good. Especially since I've been crabby basically all of 2011 so far. I've already been through one box of chocolates, and after the ice skating fiasco, we stopped at the grocery on our way home and the hubby got me another one.

I think the thing that I'm thinking about today is still that, despite all the exterior crap, I can say without any hesitation that I love my husband today more than I ever have. Even more than I did on our wedding day.

I could list all the stuff he does, all the things he is, all the ways he makes our relationship better. Somehow, though, those things just don't seem like not enough. They aren't what make me love him. I'd love him even if he didn't shovel the front walk when it snowed, even if he wasn't the smartest person I know, even if all of what I know about him were to change. If the things that he wanted, that he was interested in, that he had planned for our life all went out the window, I'd continue to be here.

I still want to spend every day with him. I still listen to him snore at night and am so happy that he's next to me. It's comforting after all the nights before we were married, when we were apart. I need him more than I can articulate, and it's scary, and infuriating, and incredible. To have something like this is still miraculous to me.

So, for Valentine's Day, I don't have anything to hand him when he walks through the door. I haven't even taken a shower today. Why is this man married to me?

What can I do, what words will make this day special?

Honey, for Valentine's Day this year, I have one thing to say to you.

"Let's never go ice skating again."

Because even when we don't use the words "I love you", we say it in a thousand other ways every single day.

The A-Team Pre-Movie Miracle

Last night, the hubby and I were downstairs on the couch, pjs on, under a blanket. We are on the 3 DVD plan from Netflix, which means we rent movies 3 at a time. We had The Book of Eli, Robin Hood, and The A-Team at home. The hubby almost never tells me what movie he pops into the DVD player. Last night, it was no different. He popped in the movie and sat back in his seat next to me.

There we were, bowls of taco salad in our laps. Mav next to us, sleeping under a blanket. 2 cats resting on our legs, another one on the back of the couch. Everything was quiet and calm.

First up, the pre-previews. Also known as commercials. Chewing gum, general tease of Fox shows, general tease of FX shows, commercial about digital copy. Buy a DVD and put it on your IPOD!

Because I want to watch movies on the tiniest screen possible. *Shakes head and rolls eyes*

Then, the previews came. That Cameron Diaz and Tom Cruise train wreck that was for some reason still on our que. The hubby hit the button to skip it. Not a good sign for this future rental but okay. We watched the Katherine Heigl and Ashton Kutcher monstrosity last weekend, so I figure they kind of go together. See one, see the other, never think about them again.

Next, the Wall Street sequel, which prompted my "Did you know he's supposedly in remission?" and my husband's "Yep" reply. He always already knows whatever I tell him when it comes to news-y type things I've read on the headlines on MSN. By the time his response was out of his mouth, he'd already skipped past this preview. Which was fine. Not even on the que. Sorry Michael Douglas.

The, the final preview then came on. The music, unmistakable.

Da da da!

Didn't even get to the fourth note in that easily recognizable song before my husband said, "What the f***?"

I said, "It's the A-Team! We're going to see that movie later! It's going to be great, if we keep our expectations low!"

My husband then turned to me and said, "I put in the A-Team."

OH MY GOD.

NO. THIS IS NOT POSSIBLE.

My husband hit the button to skip to the main menu. Maybe he was confused, maybe he put in The Book of Eli, maybe the A-Team disc was returned in a different envelope and we got the wrong movie under the A-Team label.

Nope.

THE PREVIEW RIGHT BEFORE THE MOVIE THE A-TEAM IS FOR THE MOVIE THE A-TEAM.

OH MY GOD.

We both burst out laughing.

I said, "I need this to happen all the time now."

You do not know how crappy my memory is 99% of the time. I can put in a movie and forget what I put in before hitting play. Now, I can watch the final preview before the menu and go, "Hey, I want to see that-"

"OH MY GOD IT'S RIGHT HERE, I CAN WATCH IT RIGHT NOW" and hit the play button. Boom!

Instant. Gratification.

In this house, where my husband described his mood the other week as "ornery" and where every time I bend down, all my joints crack...

We'll already practically elderly. This is the greatest thing I have ever seen. A preview of the movie you're watching directly before the movie you're watching.

THANK YOU A-TEAM!

THIS ALMOST MAKES UP FOR YOUR CASTING CHOICE OF JESSICA BIEL.

I hate you, Jessica Biel.

And you, Bradley Cooper, I'm not so fond of either.

Otherwise, the movie was pretty good, if you go in not expecting Oscar-level material. The previews, however, BEST EVER EVER EVER EVER.

(Echo fading)

Ever ever ever ever ever ever ever

(so far away now)

ever.

*Screams*

EVER!

The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #8

The trifecta is almost complete. Do not read this post until you go here and here to see the 2 gifts that preceded this third gift my aunt gave my husband for Christmas.

Again, my aunt doesn't know much about my husband. She met him once. He wore a nice, dark colored suit to my grandfather's funeral. Said all the right things. Was kind and easy going, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.

In yearly Christmas cards, I've surely talked about him. Said he was enjoying his job as a software engineer, probably mentioned he plays on 2 work-related baseball teams during the spring and summer.

This is a man who likes video games. Sportscenter. The Simpsons. He loves fighter jets. He reads thick books with tiny print about history and programming languages. FOR FUN.

He will turn to me while on the computer and say there is a video I have to see, and then he'll send me a link like this. He always does this when I've found a link that I've watched about 5 times and need him to see. Like this one. He is never moved in quite the same way by such videos as I am.

Sorry. I just watched that again. The old lady kills me. I cry every time I watch this. Wow. I need therapy.

Anyway, my point is, my husband is a guy's guy. He is not a romcom guy, a guy who ever shops for clothing, or a guy who cares about how I decorate the house. If I ask him which curtains I should buy, he basically says whichever ones get him out of this situation the fastest. He hates shoe shopping, listening to me talk about shoes, and having to weigh in on which shoes I should wear whenever we go anywhere. He doesn't watch Project Runway with me, has no idea who any reality star is, and has never seen an Oprah show in its entirety.

He had just opened a butterfly book and a rose art print from my aunt for Christmas. He held the final gift from her in his hands. He looked at me and smiled. He could tell it was a book. He loves books!

He then opened this.



Holy sh*t.

My dad asked, "What book is that?"

My husband turned it over in his hands,
then read the binding on the side out loud.

"It's an enchanted dream journal."

...

"Enchanted"

...

"Dream"

...

"Journal"

...

"Is that what it says," my dad asked incredulously.

"Yep."

That was exactly what it said.

...

It was a journal with lined pages to write on, each page framed with more drawings of the hippy-dippy-type fairy lady from the cover and some inspirational quotes.

The example in the photo is of a page

with a quote from Albert Einstein.

"There are two ways to live your life.

One is as though nothing is a miracle.

The other is as though everything is a miracle."

The miracle is that I didn't sh*t myself laughing right then.

I do not know how, but my husband handled this and all of it with an easy going attitude. He set the dream journal aside just as he had the poster of Albert Pujols my father had gotten him. The hubby just laughed and shrugged it off like it was nothing. I could not stop myself from trying to make it make sense. Maybe these gifts to him were to make us laugh? To make me laugh? To counteract the Weight Watcher cookbooks she had gotten me? To work in conjunction with them, since I laughed so hard I must have burned off most of Christmas dinner?

I could not get over it. I just kept asking how these gifts were picked. Why? WHY? My brother and I shared a few minutes of back and forth on maybe our aunt thought the only man who'd marry me would have to be gay. Which is sort of plausible, if you haven't met my husband.

My mother defended her sister, "Oh, no! She didn't mean that!"

Because it should be my mother who is offended by this.

I immediately asked, holding the dream journal out towards her, "THEN WHY?"

My mother said,"Maybe she thought the lady looked like you." Her tone and posture indicated this made our arguement invalid.

Sure. I mean, we're practically identical. Our twins-type appearance would make anyone want to write down their dreams. Especially anyone in love with me. I mean her. Us, since we're the same.

Maybe my aunt shops while high on 'shrooms. Or prescription pain meds. She did have a hip replaced. 

I don't know. I just know that whatever rainbow led her down this road, this was perfection.

The Trifecta Of Awesome

Long live the trifecta!

I hope my husband writes in his dream journal that someday, somehow, someway, this trifecta will be beaten by another grouping of absurd and delightful gifts from my side of the family. He only has a lifetime left for this to happen. Isn't he just the luckiest man to be with me?

Just look at that photo one more time. Imagine if your spouse's family gave you a bunch of similarly confusing gifts. I mean, what would be equivalent?

I guess if my in-laws gave me a burka (which none of them wear), possibly a detailed and mulit-volumed DVD (VHS!) set documentary about the navy seals, and some really expensive camping gear. That would about do it. Of course, they would have to accept my husband and I were married before being interested in giving us presents, so I'm not going to hold my breath. The only thing my in-laws would like to give me is the itinerary of the woman they've sent for who is supposed to marry their son, so that I can pick her up in a timely manner from the airport.

Wow. I just made my aunt's presents so much more awesome. Welcome to the family, Honey! At least we're all excited you're here! So excited we want to document your dreams! We care about your dreams!