Bonus Post - Hubby's Christmas Present Reaction Photos

Since I recently posted about the hubby's birthday, and all the photos of him opening presents are pretty similar, I figured it would be fun for me to post the Christmas-in-February-at-his-in-laws photos. Because they made me very happy. I didn't post about our February trip because I figured the family wouldn't want to be uploaded all over The Internets no matter how tempted I was to do it. Also, the one decent picture of me from our Xmas trip was the one where I was flicking the husband off but smiling very beautifully, which was both awesome and creepy but somehow R rated.

Ahem. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Let's do this.

My father is a Coca-cola guy. Husband, Pepsi. I know, I know, we're talking practically the Capulets and Montagues here. Somehow, my family has embraced this little nugget of war.

That might be because we are the same family that has given my mother every single item available anywhere ever that has a lighthouse on it, is in the shape of a lighthouse, or resembles a lighthouse in any way because once, she said she liked lighthouses. And then her husband, son, daughter, father, sister... Basically, we all took that and have run with it for, oh, thirty years or so.

Think of all the times you've been out and seen something with a lighthouse on it. Rug. Quilt. Candle. Painting. Sweatshirt. Toothbrush caddy. We have not only seen these things; we bought each and every one of them for my mother. Who now is sort of anti-lighthouse, shockingly.

Once, we even bought her a VERY LARGE carved statue of a lighthouse.

What was it carved out of, you ask?

Trust me, you asked.

Because it was CARVED ENTIRELY OUT OF PECANS.

Mmmm hmmmm. Bam! Nailed it! Gift perfection!

So, [new son-in-law that is hard to buy for] + [likes Pepsi] = [guess what you're getting for every holiday and birthday until we're all dead]. Who said I was bad at math! Heh!

It is also always a bonus gift because we're a Coke family. It's like we've double accepted him. Embracing the enemy that is Pepsi in a Coke household. That's love, People. Love that has started a Happy Wife household Pepsi collection. Current decorative and/or glass bottle total: 12. Tee shirt count: too many to bother actually counting. Boxers in commemorative Pepsi can: 1. That last one was me. We use the can on the desk in the office to hold pens and pencils. Boo-yah! 

The most recent addition was at February Christmas.

(February Christmas soon to be trademarked by Happy Wife.

Sure it will catch on. It's like Christmas

only without the festive holiday spirit!)

My husband is a sweetheart and listens to the

"where we found these old fashioned glass Pepsi bottles"

story with rapt attention and appropriate head nods.

Think I'm kidding? My Dad got up from his comfy chair

across the room to come over and share that story.

"Tell me again about this Rural King you speak of, Sir," said my

husband in his mind because my father has an impressive gun collection.

Mav's all, "Things!"

Then, it got fun.

"Thanks for the Pepsi bottle," said my husband.

"Keep looking in the box!" My father was adamant.

Heh heh.

"Oh, there is another bottle in here!"

My husband executed the perfect level of excitement.

Possible captions:

Check out the pair on that guy!

or

I wish my wife would stop taking my picture!

or

I'm doing the best I can here, Honey, and you're pushing it.

Family fun time is twice as fun when it is with your in-laws!

Right, Honey? Right!

Now you're just making fun of me, he said at this photo.

I'm making MEMORIES, HUSBAND!

And your mother tried to marry you to someone else,

SO DON'T EVEN START WITH ME BECAUSE

WE'RE GONNA TAKE MY FAMILY'S

OWN BRAND OF CRAZY AND RUN WITH IT.

Moving on...

In case the lighthouse story didn't clue you in, let me tell another tale. Last year, my parents got us 2 little flashlights. No batteries, fits in the palm of your hand, little button on an end. We ended up using them all the time. Weird little gift that ended up being great. So, when they asked if there was anything we could think of that we wanted for the holidays, I reminded them of the flashlights.

Which was fun since they did not remember giving them to us. Not. At. all. The conversation went like this:

"Are you sure we got those for you?"

"Yes, Mom."

"I don't think so, Honey."

"No, Mom, it was you. For sure."

"Are you sure?"

*Bangs head on desk*

"It wasn't us."

After a lengthy description and still no memory of it, I let it go and didn't mention it again.

But, remember, say "lighthouse" once in my family...

Fast forward to February Christmas. Did my family get us another flashlight like the ones from the year before? Of course not.

No! Ha! HA HA!

Don't be silly.

They got us 12.

6 red, 6 blue.

All individually wrapped.

All individually wrapped.

I repeated that on purpose because it bears repeating.

Individually.

Wrapped.

The hubby was in heaven.

"Look what I can do when I hold a bunch of them at once!"

Commence very, very bright light.

Also, look behind him at how bored Mav is of the flashlights. The husband kept playing with them until we worried for our sight.

And yes, I got my mother that lighthouse candle holder in the background of that photo last year for Christmas. Heh. I didn't even notice that until just now. Sometimes when we visit, I accuse them of putting out all the stuff we've got them about an hour before we arrive. They deny it.

We had a great aunt or something who, when I was little, gave us this stuffed toy circus monkey that was old, crusty, and horrifying. And huge. I mean, he was human baby size. And, bonus, he looked like his diet consisted of human babies. After he murdered them. My mother put him out as our dining room table centerpiece about five minutes before my aunt's every visit and put him away out of eyesight before she even got out of the driveway on her way home. It wasn't like she put him on a low shelf or secondary room end table. Dining room table centerpiece. Man, that thing was some kind of awful. If there was ever an object that was evil, it was that monkey.

*Shudders* 

Anyway, a young kid sees that and it doesn't take much to put 2 and 2 together as an adult that when I walk around a house where all my gifts are prettily displayed and nothing else is out, well...

I am actually cool with it, if it happens or not. Either way, my crap is out because of love.

Speaking of love, other than my hubby, one of my favorite guys is my little bro. Who got my hubby a daily military fact calendar. Which, in this photo, looks like it is receiving a soulful, possibly sexy serenade from the hubby.

*Belting*

When a man loves a woman-

Can't keep his mind on nothing else-

Except for military history and

historical facts no one else remembers and

possibly his latest game of pew pew pew

Battlefield Soldiers Wearing Halos In A Portal

or whatever it's called. 

Save the princess!

I mean, it's all so fascinating-

*Thud*

Sorry, my narcolepsy is acting up again.

I also asked for a group photo but never managed to get a decent one. This is my husband's face in the one photo I managed to take with more than one person in it. Do you think he really nailed my "Smile!" cue?

This photo proves it.

It being that nothing's more painful than love. Yes?

Well, except maybe exhaustion.

Although, Hulk Husband did come out for a second.

Take that, flimsy plastic!

Mav is obviously some kind of sidekick to Hulk Husband.

If a sidekick can simply be 100% annoying and unhelpful

with zero super powers.

Actually, Mav attempted to help a lot.

Here she is helping my mom.

"I smell your leg. It smells leggy. You're welcome."

Here she is helping my mom. Again.

Yum, tissue paper. Nom, nom, nom.

She was helping her so much that at one point, the hubby intervened.

In Mav's defense, it is difficult to keep a Weim in line

when anything is happening anywhere ever.

That box did at one time have Boy Scout popcorn in it,

so you can't blame her. Can't blame genius.

Or me, for, you know, helping the children.

Only if they sell food, though.

I only help through snacks.

It takes a village.

Come on, I'm no hero, though!

*Takes a bow*

Most of the photos of me from February Christmas are just like this.

Pretties.

Wait, do I have a bald spot?

My part sure seems to go way down the back of my head.

Ho ho ho, Merry February Christmas, World!

In April!

Please excuse me while I go call 800 numbers

that belong to companies that help you regrow your hair.