Why My Hubby is Embarrassed of Me - Part 3 - Dew

Dew

Several years ago Handsome and I invited some of our neighbors over for dinner.  We were fairly new to the area and wanted to get to know our new peeps.  This couple was close to our age and starting a family.  It was just perfect. Good food.  Good company.  Why not?  Thanks to my friend, who was the wife of this couple, I was aware that her husband was a huge fan of ham.  Since we raised and butchered a pig each year I thought there was no better occasion than this to pull a ham out of the freezer and cook it for dinner.  I did just that along with some side dishes including funeral potatoes. 

During this time of my life I had two small children, was most likely pregnant with my 3rd little one (because I was always pregnant back then) and was taking some classes at the university.  I was busy and exhausted.  My day times consisted of changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, feeding, etc., while my night life consisted of hitting the books from 10PM - 2AM while the house was quiet.  Mt. Dew was my life line.  (not much has changed) 

As I prepared for my dinner company I ran to the store and bought myself a drink to help me stay awake and get all my work done around the house.  Unfortunately, the Dew took over to create utter chaos.  I accidentally doubled the butter in the potatoes.  Oh well.  No biggie.  But then as our company arrived at the house and we sat down for dinner I got my second wind.  My mouth literally would not stop talking.  It was a freak of nature. 

Blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah....!!!

And that's how the remainder of the night went but at about 100 mph.  After our company left Handsome informed me of how embarrassing and annoying I had just been.  Two hours of babbling dinner conversation.  Two LONG hours.

So to our unlucky company that night (you know who you are), my apologies.  And whether it's true or just for the sake of my pride, I'm confident that having me for company that night wasn't near as ugly as the potatoes. 

Why this story made the Top 10 with Handsome is crazy to me.  And although I hate to admit it, there are many of you who have suffered through similar conversations with me.  So sorry.  Maybe it should be a standing rule that when I have a Dew my present company should have a stronger drink in their hand.  Any opposed?

Why My Hubby is Embarrassed of Me - Part 2 - The Incident

The Incident

Shortly after Mr. Handsome and I were hitched we were driving out of town for an occasion of sorts.  We had stopped for gas before getting on the interstate in my very cute black Nissan Sentra.  I had just pulled out of the gas station and was waiting behind a man in his vehicle at a stop sign.  The gentleman in front of me started to go and then hesitated.  I followed his lead but didn't catch his hesitation in time.  I slowly bumped into the car in front of us.  Mr. Handsome was mortified and freaking out.  I shrugged my shoulders and said, "What's the big deal?  I barely touched him?"  We both got out of the car, as did the older fellow in the other car, took a quick look at both vehicles to find not even a scratch, and decided to go on our way.  No harm done.  Just a love tap.  I shrugged if off and considered it all good.  Handsome was seriously peeved at me, and the fact that I blew it all off after everything checked out just fueled the fire.  To this day he claims that we got in an accident.  I argue that it was more of an incident.  Huge difference.  A love tap can in no way be categorized as an accident.  And that's just what it was.  A love tap.  It's also funny to me that after all these years "the incident" was one of the top on his list of what I've done that embarrassed him.  He's such a funny man.  God bless the Sentra.

Why My Hubby Thinks I'm Weird - Part 1 - The Proposal

My Mr. Handsome and I just celebrated our 11th anniversary over the weekend.  I know...I know.  Pretty rad.  (applause)  In honor of the past 11 bestest years of my life, I'm starting a blog collection called, "Why My Husband Thinks I'm Weird".  Last week as Handsome and I were talking he was reminiscing about some things that I had done that either embarrassed him or he found odd.  I was laughing out loud listening to some of the things that I had long forgotten and still find totally appropriate.  I, however, have obviously scarred him.  Some might be normal occurrences for you as you read them.  Some might be as weird as my husband claims they are.  Some might make you think less of me.  But the past is the past and I am who I am.  So if nothing else, hopefully you can laugh at my expense and realize how truly amazing my Handsome is for putting up with my crap. 

The Proposal

Handsome and I had been dating for a few months and were driving up the canyon on a date.  No.  We weren't going parking.  Rumor had it that there were some waterfalls that we had yet to see.  I had recently received a new camera for my birthday so I was pumped about using it.  As we bounced up the gravel canyon road we realized we would have to park and hike the rest of the way.  We walked a short distance before we found the small waterfall.  Handsome spotted a bench at the base of the waterfall headed in that direction.  I, in my happy-go-lucky fashion, started my photo shoot and slowly made my way up to the bench where Handsome was waiting for me.  As we sat there and talked, Handsome got down on one knee and pulled a ring box out of his pocket.  I was totally confused at this point because he had been very clear that if we were to get married it wouldn't be til the following year.  As he sweetly said his sh-pill and asked, "Will you marry me?", I looked at him and said (with a small pinch of attitude), "Are you serious?" (snap, snap....head bob)

Handsome and me after the proposal.
Check out my fleece.  Still have it.  In
fact I just wore it last week. Maybe I
shouldn't admit that.  Hmmmm.



Okay, so not your typical fairytale response to a proposal.  But it is what it is and we've been happily driving each other crazy for more than a decade.

School Pictures

My kids got their school pictures taken a couple of weeks ago.  School pictures are something that I like to buy but categorize as one of the biggest rip offs of all time.  Thank heaven for digital photography.  It reduces the need for retakes and can insure that eyes are open and nothing super weird is going on from the chest up.  No boogies.  No food in teeth.  It's kind of magical.  

The three oldest of my monkies are the only ones in school and therefore the only ones who would be getting school pics.  I decided to take CJ in to have a picture taken as well so that all the backgrounds would match and I could hang them on the wall together.  CJ sat on the stool waiting for the photographer to take the shot but instead of the flash going off the photographer asked him to put his chin down.  Rather than lowering his entire head, he just opened his mouth as wide as he could and stretched his chin to his chest.  Once again, thank you digital photography.  But here we are a couple weeks after the school photo shoot and all four school pictures are adorning my living room wall and all four little people look amazing.  Hair looks good.  Eyes are open.  Smiles are appropriate.  Well done.  Can't say the same for my school pics when I was their age.

1st grade



2nd grade

Check out my first grade photo.  I'm smiling, yes.  And my eyes are open, half way.  But there is something the picture left out that even digital photography wouldn't have changed.  That is the fact that I slept in that lovely turquoise striped jumpsuit the night before (yes, it was a full length jumpsuit made by my mother) so that I could sleep in longer and take less time getting ready in the morning.  Genius if you ask me.

My second grade pic shows the sad truth that I started doing my own hair.  Not bad for an 8-year-old.  But not that great either.  As for the Chicklets in my mouth....they are my real teeth.

 



5th grade

Fifth grade was a whole different story.  As 5th graders we were the oldest in the school and therefore the coolest.  No matter what my school pictures turned out like I knew I was still da bomb, especially since Steve T. was my boyfriend.  I had recently had my yearly perm done at the local beauty school and it was looking most fantastical.  My bangs rocked it that day after a little ratting.  And to hold it all in the place I'm sure there was a half empty can of aerosol hairspray.  Smokin' hot!  Then there was the matter of the perfect outfit.  No prob.  I found the most amazing overall culotte short set at the local mall while school shopping.  Mustard yellow with black plaid.  I was ready and on my way to smile pretty for the camera.  But as I was standing in the hall before class started that morning I overheard a couple of my friends around the corner talking about clothes.  I eavesdropped only to hear one of them describe this hideous ensemble they had seen at the mall.  It was shorts colored mustard yellow with black plaid.  Awful!  Wait a second, I thought.  They're talking about my culottes!  So uncool! 

The Dog Formerly Known As Tucker

This is our new puppy.  His name is Bodie, or Bo for short.  Our dog, Kai is nearly 11 years old, has a broken foot and a torn ACL.  So for years my husband has dreamed of getting a new dog in hopes of getting one and having it trained before Kai passes away.  As he has looked at dogs and talked about dogs for all this time, he and little Ranger have been set on the name Tucker.  I'm a realist.  So in my realistic brain, all I can imagine is Mr. Handsome and the boys out hunting birds with Tucker and getting mad.  Really mad.  Mad at what?  Doesn't matter.  Mad at each other....mad at the birds....mad at the dog.  Either way, when emotions are running high and you're yelling at everyone and everything, chances are you're gonna slip and say some things you shouldn't.  Mistaking the dog's name for another word isn't a risk worth taking.  The last thing I need my boys to learn is "that word" and come home using it by mistake while playing with Tucker.  On top of that analytical assumption, the other kids have been getting used to the name Tucker.  Lil' G started going through the alphabet last night trying to find other words that rhyme with Tucker.  Not good.  That's just as deadly as playing the Name Game and singing, "Tucker, Tucker bo bucker...."

Needless to say, I trumped the kids and Handsome and we settled for the other favorite name, Bo.  As for middle names, Ranger is rooting for Bear.  Bodie Bear.  Hmmmmm....I think this actually might work.

Simple Pleasures

I'm not sure what it is about this picture that makes me happier.  The Double Stuff Oreos and milk, or the vintage orange Tupperware cup that reminds me of Grandma Lois.  Oh, Double Stuff....you are not only double stuffed but oh so Double D.  Tupperware, thank you for cute little mugs in shades of rust, olive green, chocolate brown, and gold that take me back to a happy place in time. 

My Hands & Feet

I loved this picture and saying on my calendar because I am the lucky sister to two sisters, two brothers, three SILS and three BILS.  I can honestly say that I would be lost without my siblings (in-laws included) just as if I'd lost my hands and feet.  Today I was reminded of how much I value my siblings and being able to talk to them about anything and everything.  And the best part about having brothers and sisters to talk to is that when they're as rad as mine are, you end up laughing and crying all during the same conversation.  It's kind of like a real live version of "Steel Magnolias".  You've got humor, tears, and sarcasm together in perfect harmony.  It doesn't get any better than that. 

I'm Smarter

What I Learned This Weekend:

Chokecherry syrup, plum syrup & applesauce

*There is a reason smart people buy their food at a grocery store rather than make it themselves.  For starters it's cheaper and waaaaaaay easier.  Let's take applesauce for instance.  You've gotta pick the apples, wash the apples, cut the apples, cook the apples, mash the apples, strain the apples, sugar the newly made applesauce, cook the applesauce, bottle the applesauce, and process the applesauce.  Delish?  Yes.  Messy?  Yes.  A workout?  Yes.

*Certain provisions are required for a full day of canning produce.  Just as if you would take someone soup if they were sick, two of my favorite ladies prepared me with Dew, a Milky Way Simply Caramel, and marshmallow brownies for my Day of Domestic if you will.  Much thanks to both of you.

*Canning home goods is much easier if you have a Camp Chef.  You can cook inside and process outside.  It's pretty much fabulous.  But if you've never lit the Camp Chef yourself because your husband usually does it be very careful.  It can result in singed eyebrows, eyelashes & peach fuzz.

*Oprah wasn't kidding when she gave us all a step by step guide on how to pluck eyebrows.  Unfortunately my plucking this weekend ventured out of the Oprah designated perimeter.  Singed hairs are better plucked than left alone.  Trust me.  Otherwise it's like have dozens of tiny dandelion balls all over your face.  And as baffling as it is, Oprah didn't discuss what to pluck or not pluck in the case of a singeing emergency.  I can truthfully plead ignorance.

*I've been reading a book that takes place in ancient China.  At one point of the story the elderly Uncle Lu lost his position with the emperor and came home.  This is what was said about him.  "He had two moles on his face.  All people cherish the hair on their moles, but Uncle Lu's were splendid.  He had at least ten hairs--coarse in texture, white in color, and a good three centimeters long--sprouting from each mole."  Wow!  Why have I been plucking all these years?  But seriously, I just threw up a little in my mouth.

*I'm am badly out of shape.  Most times this truth is revealed when my pants are too tight or my butt shakes more than normal when I run up and down the stairs.  This time it was magnified with tight sore muscles after canning all day.  Who knew it was such a workout to be domestic?!

*Chocolate covered cinnamon bears = YUM!

*My mother is pretty much to the moon and back amazing.  When I was a child she sewed all our clothes, canned our food, and made everything from scratch.  As much as I joke about the downfalls of being dometic, I'm grateful for an incredible mother and an equally amazing grandmother who taught me everything I know.  I'm glad to know the secrets of a dying trend even if I don't always love doing it.

*I've got a little "whi-rash" in me at all times.  Living in an old farm house that has green carpet in the kitchen doesn't exactly scream "practical" to me, especially with applesauce flying everywhere.  But for me, no prob.  Simply drape tableclothes on the floor.  Might be tacky but is way easier to clean.