My goldies get car sick. There's something about the backseat that does in people with motion sickness. They bargain with each other for shotgun. This is one of the few afflictions that doesn't affect me. I can read or bop to the music and the motion doesn't bother me. Plus, it distracts me from the husband's driving.
Lots of people have learned that a crying baby can be calmed in a car. To this day, I can count back from 60 and the baby will be sound asleep.
I feel safer with the dog in the car. When I run errands, I usually take her with me. Yesterday, I met my mother, ran a few errands and did the normal daily stuff, but I didn't have the dog. At one point, I was cleaning out the car. Maniac dog had planted herself in the passenger seat (she called Shotgun!) and was looking at me with great expectations.
We went for a long drive.
Showing posts with label the dog. the husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the dog. the husband. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Clean and Pristine
I finally got the carpets cleaned and they look marginally better. Some stains refuse to budge. We're in the midst of rain and mud season so I can't get too anxious about it.
One of my daily chores is to vacuum or take the sticky roller to the dog hair on the inside of my car. It's a simple task that saves me from a prickly conversation with the husband.
Some people manage to keep their homes and cars in show-quality condition. I'm always envious of those people until they start endorsing rules like no shoes in the house or they have plastic covering all the furniture. I am not comfortable in my socks or bare feet with my skin adhered to the plastic. I want people to feel warm and comfortable in this house. We have very few rules.
Now that we've lost the oldies, my house will never be the same. She could devote several hours to cleaning out the refrigerator and scrubbing the range. This rarely makes my to-do list.
One of my friends makes everyone feel welcome in her home. She has very few rules. But she can't go to bed until everything is pristine.
I would never sleep again.
One of my daily chores is to vacuum or take the sticky roller to the dog hair on the inside of my car. It's a simple task that saves me from a prickly conversation with the husband.
Some people manage to keep their homes and cars in show-quality condition. I'm always envious of those people until they start endorsing rules like no shoes in the house or they have plastic covering all the furniture. I am not comfortable in my socks or bare feet with my skin adhered to the plastic. I want people to feel warm and comfortable in this house. We have very few rules.
Now that we've lost the oldies, my house will never be the same. She could devote several hours to cleaning out the refrigerator and scrubbing the range. This rarely makes my to-do list.
One of my friends makes everyone feel welcome in her home. She has very few rules. But she can't go to bed until everything is pristine.
I would never sleep again.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
We Can Still Date
The husband hates cold weather. Winter in Indiana makes him a little nuts. We're not exactly Seattle but the gray skies and the snow and the cold temperatures can really mess with a golf game. So far, we've had a mild winter. It doesn't matter. It's a mindset.
He's in Florida now. It's an annual trip that sounds dreadful to me but they enjoy it. Who plays 36 holes of golf every day for seven days? Who would find that fun? Here's the answer: The husband and 15 of his friends.
It may be my job as a spouse to support his dreams. And I do. I have to find the compromise. He wants a condo here and a second place somewhere warm. Since neither one of us lacks for invitations to warm places, this perplexes me.
Yesterday he reminded me that he would love to have a place in Florida. Super supportive Sheri said, "Great! Gabby and I will drive down occasionally. We'll have a date."
He's in Florida now. It's an annual trip that sounds dreadful to me but they enjoy it. Who plays 36 holes of golf every day for seven days? Who would find that fun? Here's the answer: The husband and 15 of his friends.
It may be my job as a spouse to support his dreams. And I do. I have to find the compromise. He wants a condo here and a second place somewhere warm. Since neither one of us lacks for invitations to warm places, this perplexes me.
Yesterday he reminded me that he would love to have a place in Florida. Super supportive Sheri said, "Great! Gabby and I will drive down occasionally. We'll have a date."
Monday, February 11, 2008
The Keeper
Every marriage or relationship goes through spells where you just don't want to talk to one another. And then you have to because one of you is the keeper of information.
Even when the husband and I are not feeling super friendly, we have these conversations:
I am the keeper of information. I know where the files are kept. But it's a risky venture. I am Pigpen. It's kind of like asking the dog to be in charge of one particular twig.
Even when the husband and I are not feeling super friendly, we have these conversations:
Where is the tuition bill?
What is my dad/mom's social security number?
Did you mail that paperwork in?
Did he call today?
Did you talk to the nurse today?
I am the keeper of information. I know where the files are kept. But it's a risky venture. I am Pigpen. It's kind of like asking the dog to be in charge of one particular twig.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Slippers
I have a bizarre fondness for slippers. The first thing I do when I come home is change out of my shoes and put on some slippers. I have found myself in the grocery store or the drug store wearing slippers because I forgot to change.
The dog shares my love for slippers. She's constantly going into my closet and running around with a slipper like she's won a great prize.
The husband and I were going through the mother-in-law's clothing items this weekend. I kept one turtleneck sweater.
I also kept most of her slippers. My supply was running low and I'm pretty sure she wanted me to have them.
The dog shares my love for slippers. She's constantly going into my closet and running around with a slipper like she's won a great prize.
The husband and I were going through the mother-in-law's clothing items this weekend. I kept one turtleneck sweater.
I also kept most of her slippers. My supply was running low and I'm pretty sure she wanted me to have them.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Car Dates
In my childhood household, the rule was I had to be 16-years old before I could car date with a boy. My parents allowed me to fudge it a bit once or twice.
Last night I had a car date. The husband had a new CD that a friend burned for him. Lots of his favorites and songs that hold special meaning to him. Instead of bringing it in the house, he wanted to sit in his car and share it with me.
We (Gabby-the-dog and me) shared the passenger seat. The husband went through every single song and explained why he loved it. Yes, we sat in his car, in our garage for the entire CD.
When we finally came back in the house, he bounced between my iPod (Where is it? Bring that speaker system out here!) and the piano. The dog got her squeaky ball and played along. He pretends he doesn't like her but he kept telling her she was off key. When I offered to put her to bed, he said, "Leave her alone, she is fine."
As usual, we played our little competition games. Which artist is this? Can you name the year? What is the song really about?
Certain rules were instilled in me as a child. I'm sure my parents were terrified that a boy and a girl, alone in a car, was a recipe for disaster.
Last night, there was a man, a woman and a dog alone in a car. It wasn't disastrous; it was fun.
Last night I had a car date. The husband had a new CD that a friend burned for him. Lots of his favorites and songs that hold special meaning to him. Instead of bringing it in the house, he wanted to sit in his car and share it with me.
We (Gabby-the-dog and me) shared the passenger seat. The husband went through every single song and explained why he loved it. Yes, we sat in his car, in our garage for the entire CD.
When we finally came back in the house, he bounced between my iPod (Where is it? Bring that speaker system out here!) and the piano. The dog got her squeaky ball and played along. He pretends he doesn't like her but he kept telling her she was off key. When I offered to put her to bed, he said, "Leave her alone, she is fine."
As usual, we played our little competition games. Which artist is this? Can you name the year? What is the song really about?
Certain rules were instilled in me as a child. I'm sure my parents were terrified that a boy and a girl, alone in a car, was a recipe for disaster.
Last night, there was a man, a woman and a dog alone in a car. It wasn't disastrous; it was fun.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Wacky Houseboy
I was supposed to be in Arizona this week. You know what they say about "the best laid plans..."
When I scheduled my trip, I made reservations for the dog to go to puppy camp. Yes, it's a kennel but it sounds more fun if you call it camp. Then, the death of the mother-in-law, changes in schedules, changes in flights, and so on. So, we'll be off to Mississippi with Hangdog in tow. I asked Houseboy if he would take the dog to camp.
No, he won't. He's taking our maniacal, frenzied, jumping and opinionated dog to his house. I tried to talk him out of it. I even said, "I cannot be responsible if she eats your sofa." He's doing it anyway. I told the husband of this plan and he said, "Is he crazy?"
I think Houseboy's wife likes me but after this weekend, she may not speak to me again.
When I scheduled my trip, I made reservations for the dog to go to puppy camp. Yes, it's a kennel but it sounds more fun if you call it camp. Then, the death of the mother-in-law, changes in schedules, changes in flights, and so on. So, we'll be off to Mississippi with Hangdog in tow. I asked Houseboy if he would take the dog to camp.
No, he won't. He's taking our maniacal, frenzied, jumping and opinionated dog to his house. I tried to talk him out of it. I even said, "I cannot be responsible if she eats your sofa." He's doing it anyway. I told the husband of this plan and he said, "Is he crazy?"
I think Houseboy's wife likes me but after this weekend, she may not speak to me again.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Favorite Parent
I don't have a favorite parent. Sorry to be gushy but I think they're both pretty wonderful. As the user that I have become, I rely on both of them for different things.
The husband is kind to both parents but his loyalty is to his mother. His brother is the constant defender of the father. It's interesting to eavesdrop on those conversations. They both defend their views like they're in a court of law. (He has two other brothers but ... when you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.)
We adopted this crazy, maniacal dog a little over a year ago. I feed her, walk her, provide the treats, and see to her every need. She treats me like a litter mate. Big Daddy is her favorite parent.
The husband is kind to both parents but his loyalty is to his mother. His brother is the constant defender of the father. It's interesting to eavesdrop on those conversations. They both defend their views like they're in a court of law. (He has two other brothers but ... when you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.)
We adopted this crazy, maniacal dog a little over a year ago. I feed her, walk her, provide the treats, and see to her every need. She treats me like a litter mate. Big Daddy is her favorite parent.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
BODA
In case this phrase has not made it into your vernacular, it stands for Big Ol' Dumb A**. We love this phrase.
Depending on who wins the crossword competition, the husband and I say to each other, "Who's the BODA today?"
I can be a BODA about almost anything. The Middle East? I study and study and I still am a BODA. Politics? I still don't understand the difference between the caucuses and the primaries. I'm a BODA about how Iowa and New Hampshire (two teensy states) have so much influence. I'm a BODA about why the candidate's religious beliefs seem to be front and center, yet no one has caught my attention with exactly how they're going to change/fix the problems in this country.
Elder care is the area that I am struggling with on a daily basis. I am a BODA about the VA system, the Medicare system, the necessary versus unnecessary medications, etc. I am terrified that the oldies are in the wrong hands. I try to tend to things but ...
Last night involved multiple requests. I gave Hangdog a manicure. I fetched things (something I should teach the dog.) If he can't find me, he stands in the living room and shouts my name. I'm thinking of changing my name to BODA.
Depending on who wins the crossword competition, the husband and I say to each other, "Who's the BODA today?"
I can be a BODA about almost anything. The Middle East? I study and study and I still am a BODA. Politics? I still don't understand the difference between the caucuses and the primaries. I'm a BODA about how Iowa and New Hampshire (two teensy states) have so much influence. I'm a BODA about why the candidate's religious beliefs seem to be front and center, yet no one has caught my attention with exactly how they're going to change/fix the problems in this country.
Elder care is the area that I am struggling with on a daily basis. I am a BODA about the VA system, the Medicare system, the necessary versus unnecessary medications, etc. I am terrified that the oldies are in the wrong hands. I try to tend to things but ...
Last night involved multiple requests. I gave Hangdog a manicure. I fetched things (something I should teach the dog.) If he can't find me, he stands in the living room and shouts my name. I'm thinking of changing my name to BODA.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Alarms
We have a household alarm system. I use it when I am home alone. Otherwise, one of the oldies will set it off and I am the one who has to crawl out of bed and deal with it.
My overly complicated and convoluted car has an alarm system. If I leave the dog in the car with the doors unlocked, I'm afraid someone will steal her. If I lock the car, she always sets off the alarm. I just announce to the crowd in the drug store or the grocery store, "It's mine -- I'll handle it."
Our wake-up alarm is on my bedside table. I set it. I turn it off. I reset it for the husband on my workout days.
I guess alarms are a good thing. They make you feel a little safer. Some alarms are going off in my head right now.
My overly complicated and convoluted car has an alarm system. If I leave the dog in the car with the doors unlocked, I'm afraid someone will steal her. If I lock the car, she always sets off the alarm. I just announce to the crowd in the drug store or the grocery store, "It's mine -- I'll handle it."
Our wake-up alarm is on my bedside table. I set it. I turn it off. I reset it for the husband on my workout days.
I guess alarms are a good thing. They make you feel a little safer. Some alarms are going off in my head right now.
Friday, December 21, 2007
That Doggie in the Window
How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the wagglely tail.
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale.
Do you remember this song?
Our home has multiple windows across the back of the house. Gabby (the dog) has learned to go from window to window until she finds me. She props up her little paws and moans. That's a cue -- "Let me in!"
I find it endearing. The mother-in-law laughs. The husband just wishes she was for sale.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The Little Moments
Do you stop and appreciate the little moments? I'm not very good at it but I'm trying to get better.
Don't worry. This is a momentary spell. I'll be cranky again later.
When the baby says, "I brought the C to an A-, and I'm headed home."
When the daughter says, "I'm not really mad at you." It's code for "I love you and I miss you."
When someone asks you what you want for Christmas and you realize you want for nothing.
When you sit on the floor with the dog, exchanging kisses, and realize that other than the comfort of the husband's kisses, there is something magical about dog kisses.
When you open your mailbox to find wonderful cards from people sending holiday wishes.
When you walk through your home and look at the tree. (Merry Impersonal Christmas.)
When you look around, acknowledge the turmoil, aches and pains, and still find gratitude.
Don't worry. This is a momentary spell. I'll be cranky again later.
Eavesdropping
Yep, I'm in my little office and the oldies are in the kitchen having their breakfast. The Today Show is on in both rooms. On the television, someone is skating on the Rockefeller Center rink. I just heard the mother-in-law say, "I wish I could skate like that."
Hello! You're still bouncing off walls. By the way, this is not a creative expression. It is an entirely accurate and scary description.
The oldies are supposed to see the doctor today and the husband is coming home mid-day to take them. She doesn't want to go. There was some discussion/disagreement this morning about whether or not she will go. I left the room thinking, Leave Me Out of It. Now I heard her say to her husband, "I know Sheri talked to the doctor but he hasn't called ME. That's not my kind of doctor."
Hello! You went three days without the ability to put together a coherent sentence. I have talked to the doctor. The husband has talked to the doctor repeatedly.
If I had to make a bet, I'd say the odds are 50-50. The husband can be pretty forceful but she can dig in her heels with the best of them.
She'll get over being miffed with the doctor; she adores him.
I'm skating a line here too. I try to balance honesty with humane treatment. There is no reason to tell her every detail of the last few days because she would only be hurt and humiliated. On the other hand, her irrational irritation with the doctor (or the husband) makes me want to sit her down and give her the blow-by-blow.
I know why she's avoiding the doctor. She's afraid he'll want to admit her into the hospital. I should go in her place. I could ask to be committed to a mental hospital. Instead, I'll stick it out. I don't think they'd let me take the husband or my dog.
Hello! You're still bouncing off walls. By the way, this is not a creative expression. It is an entirely accurate and scary description.
The oldies are supposed to see the doctor today and the husband is coming home mid-day to take them. She doesn't want to go. There was some discussion/disagreement this morning about whether or not she will go. I left the room thinking, Leave Me Out of It. Now I heard her say to her husband, "I know Sheri talked to the doctor but he hasn't called ME. That's not my kind of doctor."
Hello! You went three days without the ability to put together a coherent sentence. I have talked to the doctor. The husband has talked to the doctor repeatedly.
If I had to make a bet, I'd say the odds are 50-50. The husband can be pretty forceful but she can dig in her heels with the best of them.
She'll get over being miffed with the doctor; she adores him.
I'm skating a line here too. I try to balance honesty with humane treatment. There is no reason to tell her every detail of the last few days because she would only be hurt and humiliated. On the other hand, her irrational irritation with the doctor (or the husband) makes me want to sit her down and give her the blow-by-blow.
I know why she's avoiding the doctor. She's afraid he'll want to admit her into the hospital. I should go in her place. I could ask to be committed to a mental hospital. Instead, I'll stick it out. I don't think they'd let me take the husband or my dog.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
General Messiness
My house is a mess. It's a good match with my mind.
Decorations are still strewn about. The tree is still naked. The husband is procrastinating (and I'm letting it go) because this is the first year neither child has been at home while we decorate the tree. He's promised to do the lights this evening.
I really wouldn't care except I'm having some ladies over for lunch tomorrow. Will they overlook the unadorned tree?
The oldies are a mess. There's a stomach virus or something going around. She got it with a vengeance. I was informed of its onset by Hangdog standing in the kitchen, screaming my name and then yelling, "Emergency!" I'm far from Superwoman but I think I leapt a couple of things to get to the other end of the house. While I was tending to her messiness AND trying to make her comfortable, he poked me and said, "There's a knot in one of my shoelaces."
There's a trail of toast crumbs plus cinnamon and sugar on my kitchen floor. I know that because I just crunched through it. It's one thing I don't have to clean up. Gabby will handle it.
My nails are a mess. I meant to do a manicure yesterday but instead, I spent that time curled up with the mother-in-law trying to comfort her. Call me crazy but I thought that seemed a little more important.
There's a mountain of office paperwork waiting for attention. I keep digging a tunnel through it and ignoring it. There's also a mountain of laundry. It will wait.
If you are on my Christmas card list and the envelope you receive is splattered, I have an explanation. I left them on the kitchen island and bacon grease got a little out of control. I'm sending them anyway.
The husband hates clutter and mess. I have no idea why he's still speaking to me.
Decorations are still strewn about. The tree is still naked. The husband is procrastinating (and I'm letting it go) because this is the first year neither child has been at home while we decorate the tree. He's promised to do the lights this evening.
I really wouldn't care except I'm having some ladies over for lunch tomorrow. Will they overlook the unadorned tree?
The oldies are a mess. There's a stomach virus or something going around. She got it with a vengeance. I was informed of its onset by Hangdog standing in the kitchen, screaming my name and then yelling, "Emergency!" I'm far from Superwoman but I think I leapt a couple of things to get to the other end of the house. While I was tending to her messiness AND trying to make her comfortable, he poked me and said, "There's a knot in one of my shoelaces."
There's a trail of toast crumbs plus cinnamon and sugar on my kitchen floor. I know that because I just crunched through it. It's one thing I don't have to clean up. Gabby will handle it.
My nails are a mess. I meant to do a manicure yesterday but instead, I spent that time curled up with the mother-in-law trying to comfort her. Call me crazy but I thought that seemed a little more important.
There's a mountain of office paperwork waiting for attention. I keep digging a tunnel through it and ignoring it. There's also a mountain of laundry. It will wait.
If you are on my Christmas card list and the envelope you receive is splattered, I have an explanation. I left them on the kitchen island and bacon grease got a little out of control. I'm sending them anyway.
The husband hates clutter and mess. I have no idea why he's still speaking to me.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
One More Day
Yes, I watched Oprah yesterday and yes, her show is the inspiration for this post.
If I had one more day:
Oh wait, I do all of this almost every day.
Mitch Albrom's book, For One More Day, was the topic of the show. It's about a man who receives the gift of one more day with his deceased mother. They've made it into a television movie.
So, I started to think about this. If I had to pick one person who is no longer with us and I received the gift of one more day, who would I choose?
I've got to be honest. I want one more day with my friend, Patsy.
Who would you choose?
If I had one more day:
I'd work out with the girlfriends.
I'd drink coffee and compete with the husband on the crossword puzzle.
I'd turn off the alarm clock and snuggle up.
I'd talk to my mother ten times and my father once or twice. (He's not as talkative.)
I'd do at least one thing to help the oldies.
I'd listen to my favorite music.
I'd put peanut butter in the maniac dog's Kong and crack up while she digs it out.
I'd call or email my girlfriends and my aunts.
I'd fall on my knees in prayers of gratitude.
I'd touch photos of the children and send them silent wishes.
I'd curl up with the husband after listening to him play the piano.
Oh wait, I do all of this almost every day.
Mitch Albrom's book, For One More Day, was the topic of the show. It's about a man who receives the gift of one more day with his deceased mother. They've made it into a television movie.
So, I started to think about this. If I had to pick one person who is no longer with us and I received the gift of one more day, who would I choose?
I'd love one more day with any and all of my grandparents.
I'd love one more day with my Uncle Ken.
I'd love one more day with all the pets I've lost.
I've got to be honest. I want one more day with my friend, Patsy.
Who would you choose?
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Peanut Butter Kisses
Baking is not my thing. I leave that to my mother. Thankfully, she shares her goodies with us and the oldies. But, I used to occasionally make those peanut butter cookies with the Hershey's Kiss in the middle. I don't know if they have an official name but I always call them, "Peanut Butter Kisses."
Gabby, the dog in our house, has a Kong. If you're not familiar with this toy, you probably don't own a big dog. You can stuff it with anything but the manufacturer would prefer you buy their specific treats for it. I do that sometimes. Other times, I cram generic puppy biscuits in it just to keep her occupied.
Her favorite is when I put some peanut butter in it. After the Kong is empty, 65 pounds of sloppy fur plops on my lap and attempts to thank me for the treat.
It's peanut butter kisses on an entirely different level. This is the kind of stuff that makes the husband crazy.
Gabby, the dog in our house, has a Kong. If you're not familiar with this toy, you probably don't own a big dog. You can stuff it with anything but the manufacturer would prefer you buy their specific treats for it. I do that sometimes. Other times, I cram generic puppy biscuits in it just to keep her occupied.
Her favorite is when I put some peanut butter in it. After the Kong is empty, 65 pounds of sloppy fur plops on my lap and attempts to thank me for the treat.
It's peanut butter kisses on an entirely different level. This is the kind of stuff that makes the husband crazy.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Hide and Seek
We played hide and seek for hours when I was a child. What seemed like tons of children ran through the neighborhood, climbed trees and ran screeching to avoid getting tagged. Hiding was the best part.
The other day it was raining. Not just a little drizzle, it was raining hard. The oldies fried up breakfast and then she whipped a shower cap out of her robe pocket, put it on and headed out the door. Bizzare behavior, even for her.
She came back in (soaked) with a box of donuts in her hands. After feeding Hangdog his required dessert, she donned the shower cap again and headed back out.
Curiosity got the best of me so I asked, "Is there a reason you're storing donuts in your trunk?" (You remember what curiosity did to the cat.) She unloaded on me. "I'm tired of YOUR HUSBAND making comments about how much junk his daddy eats so he just doesn't have to see it."
I decided not to remind her that the husband wasn't even home. Plus, whenever she's cranky with him, she conveniently forgets that my husband is HER son.
I understand hiding stuff. I've done it. Many years ago I hid some mini Heath bars in the laundry room and allowed myself one a day. The daughter came home from college, started doing laundry and found my stash. Oh well, I didn't need it anyway.
Brownies and cookies tend to disappear rather quickly around here so I've stashed a few for the husband on occasion.
It extends beyond food. There's a lot of hidden jabs and innuendos in various conversations. I stay out of the way but my antennae is up.
Today, I'm just hiding. But I'm not kidding myself. I will be found.
The other day it was raining. Not just a little drizzle, it was raining hard. The oldies fried up breakfast and then she whipped a shower cap out of her robe pocket, put it on and headed out the door. Bizzare behavior, even for her.
She came back in (soaked) with a box of donuts in her hands. After feeding Hangdog his required dessert, she donned the shower cap again and headed back out.
Curiosity got the best of me so I asked, "Is there a reason you're storing donuts in your trunk?" (You remember what curiosity did to the cat.) She unloaded on me. "I'm tired of YOUR HUSBAND making comments about how much junk his daddy eats so he just doesn't have to see it."
I decided not to remind her that the husband wasn't even home. Plus, whenever she's cranky with him, she conveniently forgets that my husband is HER son.
I understand hiding stuff. I've done it. Many years ago I hid some mini Heath bars in the laundry room and allowed myself one a day. The daughter came home from college, started doing laundry and found my stash. Oh well, I didn't need it anyway.
Brownies and cookies tend to disappear rather quickly around here so I've stashed a few for the husband on occasion.
It extends beyond food. There's a lot of hidden jabs and innuendos in various conversations. I stay out of the way but my antennae is up.
Today, I'm just hiding. But I'm not kidding myself. I will be found.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Side by Side
Marriage is work and people will go to extremes. Some people make it look easy but they're not fooling me.
We knew the cutest couple. They were in their 70s when we met them almost two decades ago. We played golf with them and enjoyed their company for many years. They used to come to the Meatball Band's gigs. She was kicky (she used to be a Rockette) and he was dapper. Money was not an issue for them so after their children left home, they bought side by side condos. They went out to lunch every day and had a date every evening.
Think about the positives: No poking when one or the other is snoring. No morning breath. No fighting about the dog. You can say, "It's time for you to go back to your condo now."
Think about the negatives: No curling up with the person you've made vows with. No middle of the night conversations.
The husband is very urban. He's lived in many cities. When we were renovating this house, we lived downtown for a few months. I liked it; he loved it. I still need to be able to walk outside and a balcony does not count. I need feet on the ground. I need trees and a yard. I need a dog running around -- the husband does not but at least he tolerates it.
We jokingly talk about this side by side condo idea. He could keep a clean and pristine place. I could live next door and move among my piles and clutter. We could get together in the morning for coffee and the crossword. We could meet for a drink in the evening and discuss our days. Oh wait, this is what we do now.
Side by side condos sound interesting but we could never live that way. We'd be breaking into each other's homes after an interesting dream or constantly calling. I'd rather be side by side in person.
Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd still end up living with the oldies.
We knew the cutest couple. They were in their 70s when we met them almost two decades ago. We played golf with them and enjoyed their company for many years. They used to come to the Meatball Band's gigs. She was kicky (she used to be a Rockette) and he was dapper. Money was not an issue for them so after their children left home, they bought side by side condos. They went out to lunch every day and had a date every evening.
Think about the positives: No poking when one or the other is snoring. No morning breath. No fighting about the dog. You can say, "It's time for you to go back to your condo now."
Think about the negatives: No curling up with the person you've made vows with. No middle of the night conversations.
The husband is very urban. He's lived in many cities. When we were renovating this house, we lived downtown for a few months. I liked it; he loved it. I still need to be able to walk outside and a balcony does not count. I need feet on the ground. I need trees and a yard. I need a dog running around -- the husband does not but at least he tolerates it.
We jokingly talk about this side by side condo idea. He could keep a clean and pristine place. I could live next door and move among my piles and clutter. We could get together in the morning for coffee and the crossword. We could meet for a drink in the evening and discuss our days. Oh wait, this is what we do now.
Side by side condos sound interesting but we could never live that way. We'd be breaking into each other's homes after an interesting dream or constantly calling. I'd rather be side by side in person.
Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd still end up living with the oldies.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Herring in REAL Sour Cream
One of the last things the mother-in-law said to me before they left on their big adventure was, "I know you'll go through and throw things away."
You betcha!
I tackled the refrigerators yesterday. I threw away half sandwiches, carry-out Chinese food, leftover casseroles and soup, Head Cheese, and my personal favorite: Herring in REAL sour cream. (No, I did not throw up on the kitchen floor but I wanted to.)
The husband hates leftovers unless it's something with a shelf life, like chili or a really good soup. I give leftovers a 24-hour window. If we didn't eat it for dinner, it might become my lunch the next day. After that, it's out of here.
The oldies must have some secret stock in aluminum foil and plastic wrap. They will save 1/2 a slice of bread with 2 spoonfuls of a casserole. No one ever eats it. But we spend the time and the resources to wrap it up.
Next, I'm on to the pantry.
You betcha!
I tackled the refrigerators yesterday. I threw away half sandwiches, carry-out Chinese food, leftover casseroles and soup, Head Cheese, and my personal favorite: Herring in REAL sour cream. (No, I did not throw up on the kitchen floor but I wanted to.)
The husband hates leftovers unless it's something with a shelf life, like chili or a really good soup. I give leftovers a 24-hour window. If we didn't eat it for dinner, it might become my lunch the next day. After that, it's out of here.
The oldies must have some secret stock in aluminum foil and plastic wrap. They will save 1/2 a slice of bread with 2 spoonfuls of a casserole. No one ever eats it. But we spend the time and the resources to wrap it up.
Next, I'm on to the pantry.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Losing Friends
We lost a friend this week. He fought a tough battle and I tell myself that he is in a better place. Yet, I had a very candid conversation (one-sided) with God and I expressed my anger. Our friend was 53.
The oldies are 84. I wish them nothing but health and a wonderful quality of life. Yet, why did this man get 31 fewer years? He will never see his children marry. He will never know his grandchildren.
The husband and I have lost friends to everything imaginable: cancer and leukemia, heart attacks, old age, car accidents, plane crashes, and more. We've watched friends bury children, which is almost more than I can take.
I had an interesting dream last night and I choose to believe it was God speaking to me. The message was: Maybe the reason you seem to lose so many friends is because you are blessed with many friends. It wasn't a tap on the shoulder; it was a baseball bat to the head.
I woke up in a cold sweat. If possible, I will hug and say "I love you" more often than ever.
Rest in Peace, Billy Baker. I will always remember your amazing smile.
The oldies are 84. I wish them nothing but health and a wonderful quality of life. Yet, why did this man get 31 fewer years? He will never see his children marry. He will never know his grandchildren.
The husband and I have lost friends to everything imaginable: cancer and leukemia, heart attacks, old age, car accidents, plane crashes, and more. We've watched friends bury children, which is almost more than I can take.
I had an interesting dream last night and I choose to believe it was God speaking to me. The message was: Maybe the reason you seem to lose so many friends is because you are blessed with many friends. It wasn't a tap on the shoulder; it was a baseball bat to the head.
I woke up in a cold sweat. If possible, I will hug and say "I love you" more often than ever.
Rest in Peace, Billy Baker. I will always remember your amazing smile.
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