Happy Birthday To Me

Saturday was my birthday. Woooo! I'm so old! Halfway to 64!

In 3 years, I'll be old enough to be President. That doesn't seem right. Not that I would or could ever do that. A) I think you should be able to point at and name all the states correctly in this country and also probably be able to point at and name at least several other countries. And B) in general, you should be WAY, WAY more intelligent than I am. I am just smart enough to know that I should not be in any decision-y or powerful-ish positions. I mean, I can't even keep track of my cell phone in my own house.

This should be the part where I say we did something exciting or that it was a big deal. There was cake. Very late-at-night cake.

I bought a piece of chocolate cake with cookies and cream icing in the already-cut cake aisle by the bakery section in Schnucks. Which is an awesome grocery store name.

*Pauses and says the name 3 times and has a nice, satisfied feeling for no reason whatsoever*

Despite it being my birthday, I could not bring myself to actually go up to their little bakery counter (like their meat counter, only with super elaborate desserts!). I am not a petit four person. Not even on a special day, I guess.

Just the words 'petit four' make me feel like I should stop shaving my armpits and say French words like croissant and zee french fry iz zo tast-zy! Wee wee!

I just googled that and I guess it is oui oui. That does and doesn't look right at the same time.

Also, I had to look up petit for petit four and indeed, it is barely more than 'tit' even though that doesn't look right to me either.

Equally important for the President: words and languages.

Sigh.

Basically we just had a really relaxed and productive weekend. Well, I was productive. :)

The hubby was finally able to have a weekend off, so he rested and spent time with Mav. Mav, by the way, had a pretty good vet visit yesterday morning. A couple tests came out great! Now, we're waiting on some more results that could come back anywhere from 2-8 days from now (since they had to be sent out/can't be done in the office). She seems to be feeling better, too. Which is the best birthday present ever! EVER! :)

I received not one, not two, but 3 different birthday cards from my parents. Over a 4 day period. I wondered when the second one came if they had each sent a card and not known the other one had done it as well, but by the third one, I just figured maybe finally the old folks are getting dementia. Which I'll take in this case since I enjoy a happy greeting and a kind word or two. Besides, gives me something to put on the fridge.

My brother sent me a CD and a book, which led me to opening a box and thinking that I had ordered things I had A) not known existed - the book was by Kevin Smith and B) never heard of - the band on the CD, which was My Darkest Days. That was awesome once I realized that I had not done Xanax shopping without having any Xanax.

I started my usual super cleaning (finally). It has definitely been too long, but I'm in the middle of it right now and am oddly enjoying it. I do love me some organizing and moving things around. When I superclean, that means I don't just clean where you can see. I move furniture and all that crap. Sometimes it is a pain but this time I'm feeling pretty good about it.

I also ran errands on my actual big day and had my hair colored and cut again - it seems to be growing really fast. I guess that is what happens when you have a shorter haircut. I really like it.

The husband, of course, could not tell it was a different color. It is subtle, but I think it makes my complexion less albino. I took a photo in essentially the same place as my last picture but even I can barely tell the difference in the photos. In person, it has more dimension and a hint of red.

Bonus information:

Wearing that new necklace for my birthday was super fun.

It kept sort of lassoing one boob or the other.

Why am I allowed out in public again?

I never see other people removing their boobs from their necklaces.

IT MUST BE ONLY ME.

Happy birthday, Dumbass.

Since I just talked about cake, I should mention that I used one of the new cast iron grill pans.

And it seems that it and I, well, we are falling in love.

*Cue Barry White ballad*

The hubby and I have been eating well even if it is 10 o'clock at night. Ramadan is going pretty well at this point, and here's hoping the end is coming up around the corner before we know it.

I love that I wrote that "we" completely sincerely but now realize that "we" is sort of ridiculous. I am just observing someone observing Ramadan. Planning meals, encouraging hydration and rest, and being mindful of my husband's time and energy level... Not really comparable.

Says the woman who has a fruit roll-up wrapper next to her computer.

Back to the cast iron. We've cooked 2 different kinds of hamburgers (one with Italian seasonings and the other with Ranch seasonings) and a couple steaks with Chicago-style seasoning. All were very, very good. The key to our love affair (the one I am having with the grill pan) will be whether it does what everyone online says it is supposed to do. That would be to A) continue to cook meat with more and more flavor each time it is used and B) wash up easier and easier.

I know, you're on the edge of your seats wanting to know what will happen. WILL THE MEAT CONTINUE TO BE TASTY? WILL HAPPY WIFE BE DONE DOING DISHES IN A MORE TIMELY MANNER?

I'll leave you with those thoughts. So much excitement and adventure from here. If you can call any of that excitement. :)

I Have A Little Winning, Too, Ramadan

So, my post 2 seconds ago was a little negative. The delivery was a little group of presents I got for the hubby. So there, Ramadan! I have some winning, too! I'm not the worst person on the planet!

Also, for the cultural record, gift giving isn't the way we (or anyone?) celebrate Ramadan.

I'm just too Midwestern to not be all, "Important holy days? EQUAL PRESENTS! AMERICA! 'MERICA!"

I mean, I may or may not have been part of a "Clowns For Christ" group in high school. That's how I know there is a god. Because there is no photographic evidence of that fact.

I bought 2 grill pans because the hubby is missing steak. My history with grill pans is not great. I have yet to find one that is easy to clean. These two were not pricey and were well reviewed on Amazon, so I thought I'd give 'em a shot.

I mentioned our oven broke, yes? I haven't mentioned how we're too lazy to shop for a new one. The electrician said the stove top burners still work, and although I was reluctant at first to use them despite his total confidence in them, I have come around. Now all we can't do really is bake or broil, and broiling was really the only thing we did on a regular basis.

Meat! It's what's for dinner!

I also bought the hubby 2 CDs and a book.

The hubby has wanted to read Moneyball since we saw the movie.

And, since he still only listens to the same 7 CDs

he had in college, I decided to try to expand his collection.

He loves Smashing Pumpkins

but hasn't bought a CD since, oh, 1994,

and I'm pretty sure the other guy

is from System of a Down,

which is another of his favorite bands.

Of which he has like, 4.

SOAD = a little too RAHR RAHR for me.

If I could whistle, I would whistle the tune

to Call Me Maybe right now.

I like a lot of terrible music.

Although I got 3 Glen Campbell CDs in the box.

I realize I am 50 years late to that party,

but he is awesome.

My iTunes is up to 9,088 songs.

They aren't all terrible.

At least like a couple are decent.

Isley 4 seconds after the presents came out of the box.

Pandora is also helping display the hubby's surprise.

Hope he likes everything!

Ramadan Is Winning

Ramadan is winning in the Happy Wife House. The husband is exhausted, has something I have nicknamed Islamic-Whooping-Cough, and he managed to fall up the stairs last night. It was very, very impressive. My favorite part of the day is when he asks in a completely serious tone, "What is wrong with me?"

*Crickets chirping*

I also may or may not have told him last night that "Perhaps Ramadan is a young man's game!" which did not go over well.

I had also forgotten the worst part of the whole thing. Once the fasting starts for the day, you can't even brush your teeth. No gargling. No Listerine breath strips, no mints, nothing. You can do nothing.

In other words, the husband's breath is a weapon of mass destruction at this point. All he has to do with anyone who is bothering him at work is to take them into a room and shut the door and talk to them.

Punishment level: Jason Bourne and Dark Vador had a baby and it's my hubby's Ramadan breath.

It's like a family of large raccoons have died in the walls of an old moldy house after collecting an Easter egg hunt amount of rotten eggs mixed with the smell of a nursing home about an hour after it has served all its residents taco bell for lunch (and combine all of that and then stick it out for several days in the +100 degree hot, dry weather we're having and then you're getting close to the idea of the smell).

He doesn't even have to be facing you or breathing with his mouth open. It's that powerful!

On my end, well, some bad breath would probably be a step up. I'm not fasting but I am still trying to plan meals so they are ready when he can break the fast, which means that somehow I also manage to feel kinda crappy by bedtime. Turns out there is a reason no one has slow cooked beef short ribs and gravy over sour cream and chive mashed potatoes with glazed cinnamon apples at 10 o'clock at night.

My "I give up shopping for Ramadan" is not going well. I took a shirt that I had ordered online from Dressbarn back to the store on the second day of Ramadan. I walked out of Dressbarn with a new credit card and essentially everything cute they were selling.

I told the hubby he needs to start blocking websites on my computer and he was all eye-roll-y and gave me a semi-serious, "Sure, okay." I AM SERIOUS. I HAVE A PROBLEM. I NEED OLD NAVY, KOHLS, AND DSW TURNED OFF. NOW.

Because the shoes don't buy themselves.

And my husband shrugging it off like I haven't fallen off the deep end into the interwebs? Only makes me want to buy all the things all the time even more.

I have decided to go back to "I give up alcohol for Ramadan" because the last time I had alcohol was at a work function back in 2001.

Excuse me. The UPS man is here. Fed Ex has already been here. I wish I was kidding.

Ramadan: 1

Happy Wife House: MINUS A BAZILLION

Happy Wife Update

Things in the Happy Wife house are going okay. No dating. We still haven't left the house together except to take Mav on some of her beloved car rides. Does that count as a date? We don't even get out of the car. We just drive.

The day after my last post, Mav was peeing blood. This (in addition to having some other problems) led us to A. she has Cushing's Disease or B. she has Chronic Renal Failure. Both bad but one worse than the other. Kidney failure is 100% fatal and essentially untreatable.

Happy wife's husband's reaction was, "Do they have dog dialysis?"

I love that man. Doggie dialysis. Lord.

So, I was ready to throw a party if it was Cushing's disease. I may be the only person ever to say that since Cushing's sucks.

Long story short, there was about a week where we went to bed thinking maybe the next night, Mav would be gone. There was a lot of practicing my mantra of "I care about her comfort and her quality of life" in case the news was going to make me hysterical. I needed to be able to access those words in the middle of a complete meltdown.

Thankfully, we have been given some good news for the time being. We have been trying to appreciate every moment, before and after the call that finally came.

Mav probably does not have kidney failure!

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (*Kermit flail*)

We need to retest for Cushing's because all we know for sure is that she has a hell of an antibiotic-resistant urinary infection and her Cushing's test came back, wait for it, "suspicious" (which is probably my favorite test result ever). 4 weeks of giving her the one drug I have a life-threatening allergy to in order to try and beat the infection and then we'll retest for Cushing's.

I'll take it! I WILL TAKE IT. And some Benadryl. So I don't die even though I'm handling her medication fully gloved and practically sterile.

I should still be upset, I guess, but I was so stressed thinking that maybe we'd be putting her to sleep at, oh, like any moment, that I am totally fine. A lot of it may just be me un-bracing myself. I braced the sh*t out of myself. I kept my mind occupied. The hubby couldn't even channel surf because then my brain had time to wander. He was all, "Do you want to talk about it?" and I was all, "WHAT PART OF 'I AM BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER' IS CONFUSING? NO. NO I DO NOT. PICK A FRICKIN' SHOW AND IF YOU MAKE ME WATCH TURTLE-MAN FOR ONE MORE MINUTE, I WILL BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE."

We started a new-to-us show we both agreed on and that's been our together entertainment ever since.

Thank you, Rescue Me. *Very animated claps for Dennis Leary*

Also, sort of sad eyes for Dennis Leary as we watch more and more. Such a funny and dramatic show that is also dark. So dark. Really, really dark. Someone needs to give Dennis Leary some cake or something. Stat!

When we haven't been watching Rescue Me, the hubby's been working and I've been busying myself in all sorts of ways.

Watched Breaking Bad. All of it. Am now caught up with Breaking Bad.

Organized all the papers on my husband's desk. For fun. He has not gone through anything since January. I also found 2 receipts from 2008 and one from 2006. ON HIS DESK. RANDOMLY.

I made him elaborate binders of all his receipts and other papers. Elaborate, elaborate binders.

I made massive quantities of food for the husband for Ramadan. Never have I enjoyed chopping like I have enjoyed chopping. Why use canned tomatoes and tomato sauce when I can chop a thousand tomatoes? I'm helping. I'm using fresh ingredients! Healthy, healthy.

Ramadan starts either tomorrow or Saturday.

I was all *gasps*, "Do you mean to tell me, Honey, that my whitey-white Weimaraner Puppies Wegman calendar is wrong? Crackers be crazy!

(Our Weim calendar says Ramadan starts TODAY!)

And then we laughed for a long time because I can't say "crackers" all racist-y without being sort of flattered because I happen to love crackers. I mean, have you seen the all new Ritz/Triscuit/Wheat Thin varieties? The cracker aisle in your local supermarket is now filled with crackers flavored with all these herbs and (hoity-toity voice inserted here) artisanal cheeses. I'll be a cracker. Vermont White Cheddar Wheat Thins? Um, yes please. Nom nom nom. Yummy.

Then, I went all Lent-y on Ramadan by saying I am going to give up shopping... Since I can't fast like a normal person anymore. I'll end up in the hospital. Which is not the point of Ramadan. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me as well as incredibly beneficial to our finances and our marriage. IT'S ON!

When does that start again?

Literally, someone just delivered a box to the front door. Like right now. Mav is barking like crazy.

Well, that's it from here for now. Obviously, the sooner Ramadan starts, the better.

NOTHING CAN BE THAT WRONG IF MY HAIR IS THIS CUTE

Things here are... Well... Yeah. I'm digging my new haircut. All aboard the positivity train!

I MUST CATCH THE POSITIVITY TRAIN

OR I WILL RIG THE TRACKS WITH EXPLOSIVES!

Is this the hair of someone about to lose it?

OF COURSE NOT!

IT IS ADORABLE!

A+B=unicorns that are decidedly NOT running from pirates.

I mean A+B=C.

*Uncomfortable coughing*

Of course. 1+2=3 and so forth.

Isn't that what I wrote?

Do you hear that?

*Od school phone dialing beeps*

That would be the sound of my husband hiding in the basement, dialing the local padded room establishment. There are going to be old timey sirens and neighing horses outside any minute, as the stage coach to take me away arrives.

...

The exterminator was just here. So that's one thing off the list. His last name is my maiden name, which I find that amusing every time he is here. I'm all, "We're cousins!"

We're not cousins.

I am easily amused. And, as you've probably guessed, slightly off of my game today.

Tomorrow the electrician is coming. Because the Nobel Prize winners who lived here before us wired the oven straight into the fuse box. So there is no outlet or plug for the oven. And they did NOT put it in the fuse box with an actual fuse that we can flip on and off. It's just wired straight into the box itself - because dealing with it without having to mess with the entire electrical current FOR THE WHOLE HOUSE, well, that, my friends, would be crazy!

We've had problems with it for a couple years, and when our temps hit over 100 last week, ka-pow. The oven is dead. Not "let's mess with it and make it work again" dead but real, "Ha ha ha I refuse to turn on or even say Power Failure on my little dial anymore" dead.

Who knew seeing "Power Failure" on your oven was actually a good thing? Oh, the good old days, when the oven got enough power to at least read "PF!"

We gave it 3 real good "come on, Oven!" tries and the oven never came back on (although the oven light did, so, yeah, awesome and helpful to be able to see that we can't actually turn the oven on and cook anything in there). Before we even started, the hubby and I had a "conversation" where I said maybe we should wait until after the heatwave to even try because what if none of the electric comes back on...

He said no to that and also said that he understood if the electric didn't come back on, OH HERE GO HELL COME. It's been mid to high 100s all week with no day in the 7 day forecast any lower. The hubby, he knew would never hear the end of it.

Ever. Ever. Ever.

Me, Mav, and all the cats get our own hotel rooms.

In Fiji.

We still have electric (and AIR CONDITIONING), so I call that a win. 

I was totally stressed about the guy coming. How much electrical work do we need? Am I going to need a new oven?

I checked out Consumer Reports and that was a bad idea. It made me all rage-y. You can test almost 100 ovens but seemingly none under a thousand dollars, Consumer Reports? REALLY? Really, Those-Who-Report-For-The-Consumer?

REALLY?

It seems like Consumer Reports maybe wants me to start videotaping and then youtubing myself freaking out over the information available at Consumer Reports. WHICH IS GOOD FOR NO ONE, CONSUMER REPORTS!

For the $2800 best buy from Consumer Reports, well, that damn oven better come with a chef. And groceries. And the thing better be made out of gold and diamonds. Blood diamonds.

I like my chicken roasted over rubies, thank you.

I don't know what kind of people are spending thousands of dollars on a stove, but there are other people out here, Consumer Reports. WE ARE NOT THOSE PEOPLE, CONSUMER REPORTS. Those people are too busy frying up some truffles and baby seals on their yacht for brunch to even read you, Consumer Reports! They're having brunch even though they had breakfast and are going to have lunch, Consumer Reports! 

*Falls on knees, raising hands balled in fists* 

CONSUMER REPORTS! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A STROKE? WHY, CONSUMER REPORTS? WHYYYYYYYYYYY? 

...

Needed a second there. Sorry.

I will buy a 20 dollar electric skillet, find the George Foreman grill in the top cupboard that my brother game us for Christmas 4 years ago, and park the car on the side of the street with dough covered cookie sheets on the dashboard.

I get that my powerless oven is not useful. Like that song, it is about as useful as a horse with no name...

Um... Why exactly is a nameless horse less useful? I mean, a dead horse, sure. A horse without a moniker? Still seems pretty useful.

Wait, it was just about a guy riding a horse with no name, right? It had nothing to do with being useful or not. Why did I think it had something to do with not being useful?

I'd Wikipedia this but I'm pretty sure I won't survive wiki-ing today.

Man. I am SO RAGE-Y right now.

So, my point is I need to clean at least the area of the house that the electrician is going to see. Last night, I attempted to move the oven.

Ooooooo. The do-it-yourselfers left just enough cord to make it so I cannot slide it out more than a foot from the wall.

I'll tell you, if I ever met them, I would want to do something myself.

BAHAHHAHAHHHHHAAAAAA!

Sorry. The rage-y got a little out of my control there for a moment.

I was able to remove the bottom storage drawer and clean that small area underneath.

It was the most disgusting thing I have ever cleaned. And that is saying something. I have cleaned some disgusting stuff. I went to nursing school. I worked in more than one nursing home. And now I live in a house with a bunch of animals. And a husband.

Hell, our address is:

1231 Disgusting Stuff Drive
At Least Nursing Made Me Pretty Immune To All Things Gross, Missouri
630-I Hope That's A Hairball-11

...

I found so many Zima bottlecaps under that oven, I can't even tell you.

And no, we've never drank Zima, thanks for asking.

Although I am not surprised the former owners did. They seem like Zima people to me.

Douchebags!

Who said that? Was that you, Consumer Reports? How rude! They're human beings! *Dart eyes around room looking for the source of such foul language*

I also found parts of the hubby's old desk, Christmas ornaments, where all our ants from when we moved in went to die, a couple tools, some milk bottle caps, 10 cents (score!), a lot of dog food, and a ton of tiny, multicolored plastic pieces to... things. I cleaned them and showed them to the husband and we went through the "What did this come off of?" game show where we lost every single round.

Also, this morning, still less gross than under the oven, I woke up to discover Mav had peed in her sleep.

Ask me where she was sleeping last night.

Go ahead.

Ask me.

Don't want to? Okay. I'll make it a fun game. We put a baby gate in the doorway so she is in the room with us all night. So the answer could be worse, I guess. She wasn't on the powerless oven or anything.

Yep, that would have been worse now that I think about it, if only for the fact that the guy would have to sort of be warned about it before he attempted to fix things.

Back to the question. She slept in all the following places last night, but where was she sleeping this morning when I woke up and found it? Winner gets a vial of my tears.

Was it:

A) on her dog bed
B) on the floor
C) on her loveseat at the foot of our bed
D) on my husband's old college twin bed next to the closet
E) on our bed
or
F) on our bed ON ME

Mmmmm-hmmmm. I don't even have to tell you the answer because you already know it in your hearts, don't you?

F-yeah, you do!

See what I did there? I am so impressed with myself! I AM A WORD WIZARD! A WORD GENIUS! A WORD PIMP! WORDS ARE MY HOES!

Poor Mav. I'm not mad or upset in the least. Thank you free-with-the-mattress waterproof mattress pad! I don't think she had any idea. I just feel awful for her.

I freaked out like why is she falling apart? Are her systems shutting down? Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!

My vet actually responded to this very calmly. Like you would for an elderly person, I guess. He did not jump to "obviously it's a never-before-seen mixture of the AIDS cancer and the plague" like I guess I did. He decided to approach it as something we can easily handle whether it's just her being spayed mixed with her advancing age or an infection.

I guess the only thing currently breaking in the Happy Wife house is my sanity and possibly my heart. Oh, and our pocketbook. I just spent more money than I am willing to admit buying very well reviewed waterproof mattress pads on Amazon. They are going under all the slipcovers on the furniture and dog beds in the house. Which I do not think is overkill.

Overkill would be replacing all the carpet and flooring with waterproof mattress pads.

Still a fraction of the cost of an oven, though. Perhaps I should give that more thought. Because that is what I should do more of today. Thinking.

*Silence in my ears, silence in my brain, ALL ABOARD THE POSITIVITY TRAIN!*

Toot, toot!

That was not farting. That was the train. For the record.


DID WE TALK ABOUT HOW CUTE MY HAIR IS YET?

ALSO I WORE NEW STEVE MADDEN WEDGES TO THE VET TODAY AND I THINK I LOOK ADORABLE IN MY SPARKLY TOP THAT I HAVEN'T WORN BEFORE BUT I WILL NOT TAKE A PHOTO BECAUSE IF THE PHOTO DOESN'T COME OUT WELL AND I DO IN FACT NOT LOOK A-DOR-A-BLE THEN I THINK THIS IS NOT THE DAY TO FACE THAT UNFLATTERING LIGHT BECAUSE I MIGHT LOSE MY SH*T.

I'm going to stare down at my sparkly top now and tell myself how pretty and sparkly I am out loud in a very-not-creepy way. Because that seems like how I should handle the situations that are happening right now and I'm just going to go with it.