Meanwhile, Eight Years Later...

Mood: Content (just got back from a mini-vacation and celebrating my 8th wedding anniversary with the hubs!)

On Tv: Chopped (love what they give these chefs to work with - here's some hotdogs, liver, dried cranberries and dandelion greens - now make me a tasty dessert!)

Hubs and I celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary on September 7th. In honor of this stunning accomplishment (seriously - his packrat tendencies and my OCD tendencies should have really created an ultimate death match situation far before now), we decided to take a small vacation to the St. Louis area and, for once, the vacation Gods smiled and we were allowed to (mostly) enjoy our days off!

First? We went to the Arch in St. Louis. Hubs has been before but I have not. I seriously underestimated two things.

1. Just how TALL the Arch really is.
2. Just how terrified of heights I really am (for the record? Terrified doesn't even begin to cover it.)  

Dude. That? Is tall. Props to hubs for doing the vertical pan to get it all in one picture because it was way more massive than I imagined. Also? Had no idea that there was a museum, shopping and other fun stuff under the arch...well, not under the arch but under the ground under the arch. Amazing. Really.

At first, I was all "no way am I going up to the top of that thing" and really that was a very smart initial reaction. I am a big baby. I make no bones about it and one of the things that I'm most terrified of is heights. Well...not so much heights as the potential for falling from them.

Then? I was all "I'm brave and I'm not going to allow my fears to limit my life experiences! I'm going up to the top of the arch!" So now I can say that, on this trip, I added to my list of life experiences : Going to the top of the Arch and Having a panic attack at a major National Monument. Go me!

Oh, and for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of going to the top of the Arch? You go up in a "pod". The pod is tiny, they cram up to 5 people in each one and it jerks and tilts as it makes its way up to the top of the Arch. I may have gotten a jump start on my panic attack in the pod on the way up. I may or may not have mentioned my fear that we were going to die.

                   Scary, tiny pod of doom ---------->


After we survived the Arch (and the resulting panic attack) we headed over to the Old Spaghetti Factory for lunch. Hubs raved on it, friends have raved on it and now I see why. The atmosphere was amazingly classy and romantic without being too over the top. The food was incredible and I tried an Italian Cream Soda. Quite possibly my favorite new drink of all time. Seriously, how did I not know about these and their amazingly creamy goodness?

The next day we *I* was all geared up to spend the day at the Grant Farm. It's a living history farm with all kinds of animals, historical demonstrations, A Deer Park, the famous Budweiser Clydesdales and all kinds of other fun and "squeee" worthy stuff. The best part? It was all free except for a nominal $11.00 parking fee. I was practically bouncing with excitement.

Thanks to my trusty smart phone GPS app we found the place easily enough but I was immediately concerned when I noted that the parking lot was completely deserted. The place was absolutely empty. Normally that would have made me happy but I realized there was no way that a place like this would be completely empty if it were, in fact, open.

Suddenly I had that sinking feeling that Clark Griswold must have felt when he arrived at Walley World

Unfortunately, there was no giant moose for me to punch. Why are there never giant mooses to punch when you need one???
Apparently the farm is only open on weekends after Labor Day. Well played Vacation Gods, well played.



Hubs and I quickly regrouped and decided to check out the St. Louis Zoo.

You guys? I got to play with stingrays. Baby stingrays, giant stingrays, black stingrays, gray stingrays...it was epically epic. I'm usually not a fan of touching wildlife of any kind and stingrays, well, they killed the crocodile hunter and he was pretty bad ass so normally I wouldn't even think of putting my hand in a tank of these things...but for some odd reason I really, really wanted to. And I LOVED it!

Oh, and ladies, try not to be too jealous but I have one more picture to share. My anniversary gift from my loving hubs:

 Some women get jewelry, some women get showered with priceless gems. I get a ceramic pig with a tiara and a tutu and it's absolutely perfect proving that my hubs "gets" me. :)

Life With a Mad Scientist

Mood: Out of Sorts (I assure you, this is a mood...and it's not exactly pleasant)

What I'm Watching: The Smoking Gun Presents The World's Dumbest...(How did I not know about this show before? Seriously? It's just made of so much epic fail that it's a complete win!!)

I've blogged before about the hubs and his obsession with electronics. While I'm hard at work on my current work in progress goofing off on the interwebs he's designing and building his own circuit boards.

This is the type of stuff he gets up to...he starts with a plain copper board and then does something like this:

Most of the time I don't pay much attention to what he's doing because, frankly, when he starts talking about circuits and transistors and diodes his voice suddenly sounds like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons and I have no idea what language he's actually speaking.

However, tonight I've been sitting here at the computer, vaguely frustrated with the way my wip is going (or not going) and I've found myself watching the hubs putting the finishing touches on his latest project. He's put all the pieces together and is now in the "testing" phase...just checking that everything works the way it's supposed to and I find myself slightly envious completely green-faced jealous of him. He plugs something in and he knows immediately if it works or not. If it does, great. If not, he does some testing and knows exactly what needs to be done to make it work.

As a writer, I don't have that kind of assurance. I try to craft a story that will work but the truth is I won't ever have a definitive test that tells me whether or not I've been successful and that? Just sucks! What I wouldn't give for a green light to flash and tell me "hey, this story arc? It's totally working" or a light that flashes to tell me I've got issues with character development, etc. Sigh.

Hello Universe, What Did I do To Piss You Off Today?

Mood: Excited (my sister is in labor w/ her 6th child...but she tends to labor for a long time and the baby isn't engaging the way he/she should so it's going to be a long process)

What I'm Watching: TMZ (Harvey totally rocks! *I'm a lawyer*)

This morning we slowly began to dig ourselves out after the snowpocalpyse. While things didn't get nearly as bad as the weathermen predicted they would, we got enough snow, ice and wind to make going outdoors miserable at best. Which is why this was the worst possible morning for the hubs to decide to take off to his job with my car keys in his coat pocket. I asked him to be sure that he didn't have my keys...he assured me he didn't. He was wrong. Mental note to me: don't take hubs word for it...check for yourself!

He works in a town 35 minutes away so bringing the keys to me was not an option. So, I ended up walking to work. Normally this would not be a huge deal. Annoying yes (especially since this is not the first time he's done this), but we don't live that far from my office. However. The path to work? Doesn't really have sidewalks and the grass is currently covered with snow drifts up to my knees.

The snow drifts were bad enough but they hid a layer of pure ice and made it impossible to tell where curbs and ankle twisting dips in the turf were until it was too late. By too late, of course, I mean I fell. A couple of times. Full on face first into the snow in front of God and all creation. By the time I got to work, I was exhausted, out of breath, in pain with wet socks and a purse full of snow. It was noon before I regained the feeling in my frozen feet and legs.

The hubs? Is currently in the doghouse.

In other, happier, news:

Anne over at Anne Riley and Kelly over at Rants, Observations and Other Remarks have both seen fit to award me the Honest Scrap Award! Now, I know I already have that award but there's a tiny little part of me that still goes "Squeeeeeeee!!!" when I get an award. After all, I've not gotten this award from those super bloggers before! Seriously you should totally check out their blogs. Really. Go.

According to the rules of this award, I'm to list 10 honest facts about myself. I've already done this when I accepted the award the first time but, since two more people have seen fit to give me this award, I've decided to give 10 more honest facts about me.

More things you never wanted to know about me:

1.) I suffer from road rage. Seriously. It's horrible. I get behind the wheel of a car and suddenly no one on the road knows how to drive except me. Luckily my rage is confined to yelling w/ the windows rolled up.

2.) I think that faith is far more important than religion.

3.) I'm terrified to fly. Well, it's not so much the flying as the flying and then suddenly not flying anymore that scares me.

4.) I pride myself on being a strong person and being able to take care of myself. This sometimes causes me to appear stubborn and makes it difficult for me to accept help.

5.) My dad beat feet when I was just an infant. I wouldn't know him if he walked up to me right now.

6.) Most of the rest of my family of origin recently converted to Mormonism. I'm okay with their choice but I don't think that they're okay with my choice to remain non-Mormon.

7.) I suffer from OCD. Not in the 'constantly wash your hands' or 'sparkly clean house' sense but in the "obsessive thoughts" sense. Which basically means that I have obsessive, worrisome thoughts without the bonus of having a perfectly clean house.

8.) I can crochet but not knit.

9.) I have an absolutely horrible sense of time. It drives the hubs nuts because I always say "the other day" and it could have been two days, two weeks, two months or two years ago.

10.) I prefer dark chocolate. Really, the darker the better.

Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's...

Mood: Lazy (really lazy. I have so much that I need to be doing...writing, wrapping Christmas gifts, addressing Christmas cards...but here I sit, blogging away.)

What I'm Watching: TMZ (We all know how much I loves me some celebrity scandal!)

Current Word Count: 11,356 (my muse? not kicking so much ass today)

2010? Doesn't have quite the same ring to it does it? Anyway, as often happens to the hubs and I, we get all wrapped up (see what I did with the punning right there?) in the planning and celebration of Christmas and New Year's Eve gets relegated to the back burner until it's too late.

The hubs and I have spent 9 New Year's Eve's together and I don't mind saying that the first 8 of those were a pure slice of hell. They would go something like this:

Me: Hubs? NYE is in two days, what do you want to do?
Hubs: I dunno.
Me: Me either, but don't you think we should do something?
Hubs: Yep.

Repeat this coversation several times over the next two days until we find ourselves staring down the barrel of New Year's Eve with absolutely nothing to do. Then? The meltdown would start.

Me: Hubs? What about checking out the celebration downtown (ice sculptures, horse drawn carriage rides, lame entertainment but with cool fireworks at midnight.)
Hubs: Meh. It's cold outside. (Uh, yeah dumbass...we live in Illinois. But, he has a point, it's definitely not worth freezing our collective asses off to see some lame ass entertainment)
Me: So, what do you want to do?
Hubs: I dunno (so original, no?)
Me:  Well it's NYE, we're young, we should be doing something fun.
Hubs: Yeah, but what?
Me: Wanna go bowling?

Insert frustrating 15 minute trek to the bowling alley in sub zero temps only to discover that it's closed for a private party! So we trek back home, cranky and disappointed that even our lame ass plans have fallen through.

Me: Are you driving back home?
Hubs: Where else are we going to go?
Me: Why don't we just go downtown? (no I don't really want to but I also don't want to spend NYE watching tv while the hubs hangs out on the computer all night)
Hubs: *fixes me with the death stare*
Me: Fine. What do you want to do?
Hubs: There's nothing to do. We're not bar people (totally true..not the we don't drink but generally hanging out in the cramped, dirty bars in our town is just not our thing) and there's nothing but drunks out on the road.

It's at this point that the situation really starts to disintegrate. Suddenly we morph from a loving couple who rarely fights into a couple of snarky, snappy bitchy people who are annoyed by the mere exitstence of one another.

I snap at him because he's being difficult about getting out of the house (even if it is just to do some lame ass town thing). He snaps at me because he wants to do something fun but there's nothing fun to do. Eventually, we hear the distant booming thunder of fireworks being set off and we pause the argument long enough to make our way to the livingroom window to watch the fireworks being set off over the river in town. We wish each other a terse "Happy New Year" and retire to our respective corners...him on the computer, me on the sofa with the remote.

As much fun as that tradition probably sounds to you, last year we decided to do something different. We recognized that we needed to head off the evening of merriment before it started. To that end, we made reservations at a local hotel that was hosting a NYE party. There was a DJ (music and dancing...yay!), a fancy cocktail bar (the hubs could drink but without being in a bar atmosphere) and the endless entertainment provided by watching drunk people dancing, partying and just generally being, well, drunk. And? At the end of the night the only thing we had to worry about operating under the influence was the hotel elevator. Win/Win/Win all the way around! For the first time we didn't spend the evening weighing our chances of getting away with seriously maiming one another.

So, in the interest of cultivating our new tradition (you know, the one that doesn't involve bodily injuries and trips to the ER and/or the local jail), I just made our reservations at a local hotel where we will once again enjoy the music, the drinks and generally laugh at the drunken masses!

The Power of the 'Y' Chromosome

Mood: Relieved (It's Friday and my super great boss is back from his sabbatical. YAY!)

What I'm Watching: Cash Cab (Its time for a RED.LIGHT.CHALLENGE! Seriously, I'm frightened by the amount of useless trivia crammed into my tiny little brain.)

I know that men and women are biologically different. I took 8th grade biology and learned all about the bits and pieces the anatomy and the gene science behind it. What they fail to tell you during those classes are the true differences between men and women have very little to do with anatomy. Oh, sure, that 'y' chromosome is responsible for all kinds of "guy" traits like hairy chests, deeper voices and that annoying need to attempt to jump up and hit the tops of doorways and awnings, but really, it's also responsible for what I like to call the 'y' factor.

A prime example of this phenomenon occurred this morning as my loving husband was getting ready to depart for work. Like a 2009 incarnation of Donna Reed, I walk him to the door and wave as he's pulling out of his parking spot. Which, as it turns out, was quite a good thing since his back tire was completely pancake flat.

I flagged him down and pointed out the issue. Considering the fact that he works about 40 miles away and that, if he took time to change his tire, he would be late for work. I offered to let him take my car. I can walk to work as it's not terribly far from our home.

He refuses the offer. Why? Because his car has an "awesome" sound system and he wants to listen to his 'tunes' as he drives. *sigh* FINE. Besides, he says, changing a tire doesn't take that long.

1/2 an hour later, as I was attempting to lift the back end of his car, I was begging to differ with him. Turns out his jack is too big to fit under his car when said car has a completely flat tire. Unfortunately, as I'm not the Incredible Hulk, I was unable to lift the back end of the car a sufficient distance. Once again I offered to let him take my car. The answer? Still no.

Getting nowhere with his jack, I suggested that perhaps the jack in my car would work. Of course, getting at this jack required taking everything out of my trunk (no easy feat) so I once again made the offer of my car. Of couse, we all know the answer by now...don't know why I kept asking.

Luckily, my jack did work. Yay. Scott wrestled his tire off the car, we pulled the tiny spare donut type tire out of the trunk and installed it. When the car was let down, it was painfully obvious that this tiny tire was all but flat itself. Once again I reminded him that he was going to be VERY late for work and that maybe he should take my car. Nope. *Sigh*

He got air in the tire and set off on a 40 mile drive utilizing a tire that is rated not to allow speeds in excess of 50 MPH. And what does this genius do? He gets on the interstate where the speed limit is 65 MPH.

Yep. It's truly is the 'y' chromosome. As in "why do you have to be so stubborn?" and "why do you always have to do things the most difficult way possible?"

*Sigh* Really? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get convicted if I actually got a jury of my peers.

Love and Marriage...and Other Scary Stuff.

Mood: Cranky (It's been a LONG rough day)

What I'm Watching: Make It or Break It (Weeee...a show about gymnastics, teens and drama!)

My husband? Works in a town 35 miles away. His wallet? At home. His gas tank? On empty. Me? driving an hour roundtrip to take him his wallet. Also? In an almost herculean effort, I managed not to hurt him...not even a tiny bop upside the head.

Truthfully, this is one of the little wonders of married life that they don't tell you about. When you think about being married, it's all flowers and hearts and stars. It's romance and wistful sighs as you think about spending forever together.

Then reality sets in. No one ever mentions the "other" side of marriage. The morning breath, toenail clipping, back zit popping, "can you look at this weird patch of skin on my butt" side of married life. There's something to be said for that type of closeness but really? Sometimes it's a bit much.

So, in the interest of keeping a peaceful and loving home, I'd like to present the following household husband rules:

1.) The garbage can is a container. As we use it everyday, it will eventually become full. When it gets full, it does not suddenly undergo a metamorphasis and become a garbage shelf on which you are meant to stack all the garbage you can, in the style of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

2.) Everyone has bodily functions and no one is particularly interested in or amused by yours. You are not unique nor is your ability to express yourself through your various bodily emissions some sort of talent that will eventually land you a million dollar endorsement deal so please, keep them to yourself.

3.) Likewise, no one is particularly interested in how bad the odor is in the bathroom after you've used it. If you've been in there for a half hour, I can figure it out for myself...announcements are unecessary.

4.) If I've asked you to clear your computer desk for three weeks and you've failed to do so, don't be surprised when I do it myself. Just remember that the priceless information that you have encoded in illegible chicken scratches on random sheets of paper really looks like completely useless rubbish to me and will most likely find it's way into the garbage bin.

5.) Do not slurp...anything. This includes, but is not limited to: soda, milk, soup, ice-cream, and cereal.

6.) Items in our home do not generally float around in midair at eye level. Therefore, if you are looking for something, you will have to move things, open doors and drawers before locating the item. Please make sure that you follow the above instructions before coming to your wife and whining "I can't find (fill in the random lost item)".

7.)Cleaning the kitchen means doing more than just the dishes. The stove is not white with brown speckles, it's white, clean the speckles off of the stove. The table and counters need to be cleared, and by cleared I do not mean putting the stuff into the junk relocation program. Just moving it from the kitchen table to the coffee table in the livingroom is not technically cleaning. The stuff has a home, find it and put it there...our junk is happier when it's in it's home.

8.) If you are sick, take some medicine. If you refuse to take any medication, then I will assume that you enjoy being sick and will provide no sympathy or pampering...so stop whining!

Following these simple rules will ensure that you do not end up getting bopped upside the head...even when you have to call your wife and have her drive an hour round trip to drop off your wallet.

Weekend Fun!

Mood: Happy (Scott and I have had a great weekend!)

What I'm watching: Kendra (I know, trashy reality tv, but really? It's the essence of who I am. LOL).

Scott and I woke up on Saturday morning without the foggiest idea what we were going to do this weekend. We had no plans, no ideas, nothing. Oh, we had to do the usual...laundry, shopping, etc. but other than that we were wide open. Now, usually this means that we will either A: spend the weekend sitting on the sofa doing nothing but veggitating in front of tv/computer screens or B: spend the weekend alternating saying "What do you want to do?" / "I don't know, what do you want to do?" Only to settle on doing something like wandering through the local woods for an hour before deciding we're too hot, old and out of shape to do much more than drag our tired selves back to the sofa to commence the tv/computer watching.

However, this weekend was different. We ran our errands and then decided to have a real date night, complete with dressing up, the wearing of make-up (me) and the shaving of the wildebeast beard (Scott).

After dinner we decided to check out the county fair...it seemed like appropriate date night material (well, maybe for teenagers but still).

Things I did/saw at the fair:

1. I petted a baby pig - so soft and cuddly, really, they were cute.

2. I petted baby bunnies - awww...I so want one.

3. I petted baby chicks - felt kinda bad since I'd had eggs for breakfast and I secretly wondered if it was one of their relatives. I think they knew and they were running away from me. :(

4. Saw monkey's riding dogs in a race. Seriously. Who knew this type of stuff existed?

5. Saw a guy wrestling an alligator. When does that ever happen in central illinois?

6. Rode the Tilt-a-Whirl. I haven't ridden one of those in years. Turns out I still LOVE being swung around in circles. I just couldn't stop giggling. Scott? Not so much! LOL.

7. Got a temporary spray on tattoo. I indulged Scott because he really wants me to get a real one and, honestly? Not going to happen.

How many cameras do we have? 2. One digital, one video.

How many pictures do we have of these amazingly interesting and fun experiences at the fair? None.

Why? Because we didn't take our camera. Sigh. Also? I've been down this road enough times to know that if we'd had our camera with us there wouldn't have been a single, solitary thing worth photographing within a 500 mile radius.

I did manage to get a shot of my tattoo when we got home...have to post a pic of that later. :)