Wednesday, May 25, 2005
My Husband is a Tard...
But not EVERY day, thank God. Last night while I was giving the baby a bath I hear the spine-tingling CRASH of broken glass. My dilemma was that the baby was in the tub, so I couldn't just go off to see what was happening. I employed my daughter to stand on a chair by the baby and "watch him" for a second so I could go see what the hell was going on. By the time I got into the foyer, my husband was walking in the front door, swearing. That crash would be one of our custom-sized windows in my guest bedroom, and the source would be his golf ball. Way to go, Slippy. My daughter could hardly WAIT to call Grandma & Grandpa so she could tell them what dad had done. He had told my daughter that he had done a stupid thing, but even so, a few minutes later when she said "Dad, I know you're stupid, but why did you break the window?" it was STILL pretty darn funny. It reminds me of the time he flooded the basement by leaving the dog's water dish to fill in the bar's sink and then he walked off. Ten or fifteen minutes later he returns...
Here's the thing, if I did any of these things, I would take SO much crap it wouldn't even be funny. When HE does it, he just shrugs it off. The ironic part is that if I had to make a bet on who would be more likely to ruin things around the house, I'd have to bet on myself. And while I may be a slob, that usually doesn't cost us money.
I think he should no longer be allowed to play golf, own a golf club or even hold one. Ya see, this is his SECOND golf-related accident. The first one involved a tiny sapling on the 18th hole and his eye. Yup. He hits the ball, it hit the tree and WHACKED him right on his eyebrow. Blood everywhere...stitches aplenty. He's sooooo lucky he didn't lose his eye. Had a hell of a shiner for quite sometime, though!
So for now, we're sporting the white-trash look with card board and duct tape plastered to the front of our house. Now where to hide those golf clubs....
But not EVERY day, thank God. Last night while I was giving the baby a bath I hear the spine-tingling CRASH of broken glass. My dilemma was that the baby was in the tub, so I couldn't just go off to see what was happening. I employed my daughter to stand on a chair by the baby and "watch him" for a second so I could go see what the hell was going on. By the time I got into the foyer, my husband was walking in the front door, swearing. That crash would be one of our custom-sized windows in my guest bedroom, and the source would be his golf ball. Way to go, Slippy. My daughter could hardly WAIT to call Grandma & Grandpa so she could tell them what dad had done. He had told my daughter that he had done a stupid thing, but even so, a few minutes later when she said "Dad, I know you're stupid, but why did you break the window?" it was STILL pretty darn funny. It reminds me of the time he flooded the basement by leaving the dog's water dish to fill in the bar's sink and then he walked off. Ten or fifteen minutes later he returns...
Here's the thing, if I did any of these things, I would take SO much crap it wouldn't even be funny. When HE does it, he just shrugs it off. The ironic part is that if I had to make a bet on who would be more likely to ruin things around the house, I'd have to bet on myself. And while I may be a slob, that usually doesn't cost us money.
I think he should no longer be allowed to play golf, own a golf club or even hold one. Ya see, this is his SECOND golf-related accident. The first one involved a tiny sapling on the 18th hole and his eye. Yup. He hits the ball, it hit the tree and WHACKED him right on his eyebrow. Blood everywhere...stitches aplenty. He's sooooo lucky he didn't lose his eye. Had a hell of a shiner for quite sometime, though!
So for now, we're sporting the white-trash look with card board and duct tape plastered to the front of our house. Now where to hide those golf clubs....
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I've been robbed! Thanks, suckers!
So my storage facility calls me yesterday to tell me that the padlock is missing from my storage unit. Mmmkay. I tell them I'll be by later to check it out and to buy a new lock (from THEM...what a racket!) So the manager goes to my storage to remove the temporary lock and I lift the door. Yup. I was robbed. That's the bad news. The good news was that the idiots stole a bunch of expired non-prescription crap that I had been procrastinating throwing away. Ha ha! The crackheads just saved me 45 minutes of grunt work! Funnier still was that they passed up boxes and boxes of products that are actually valuable. See! Procrastination DOES pay off! My plan was to chuck the old stuff, and put the boxed good stuff out on the shelves where I could access it easier. Now, it looks like I'll need to take the good stuff home since the security measures at my storage unit are oh-so questionable. I asked them what they were doing to find out who it was or if they were stepping up security. Blank stare. OhhhhK then. I had better keep this in mind since this is the SECOND time in 5 years my lock has been cut. Nothing missing last time, though.
Being robbed feels like a major violation regardless of the fact that it was company possessions vs. personal belongings, but I guess it could have been worse. If that's the worst crime that I'm ever exposed to I will be lucky. I have been stolen from on several occasions. Twice I've had my purse stolen (although one of them was recovered from a dumpster several months later...all items intact minus one cancelled credit card). I don't get the mindset of criminals. I'm WAY too chicken to commit a crime. I've never even stolen so much as a pack of gum as a child. The fear of being shamed when caught was far too much for me to bear. The fact that there are hundreds of thousands of people out there who freely commit crimes blows me away. I guess I live in a bubble. Duh.
On a COMPLETELY different note...I inexplicably picked up a couple of spots of poison ivy...ON MY FACE. Don't be jealous. So other than looking like a fat, itchy leper and being a victim of crime, my week is going well. Perhaps next week will be a bubo-free one.
So my storage facility calls me yesterday to tell me that the padlock is missing from my storage unit. Mmmkay. I tell them I'll be by later to check it out and to buy a new lock (from THEM...what a racket!) So the manager goes to my storage to remove the temporary lock and I lift the door. Yup. I was robbed. That's the bad news. The good news was that the idiots stole a bunch of expired non-prescription crap that I had been procrastinating throwing away. Ha ha! The crackheads just saved me 45 minutes of grunt work! Funnier still was that they passed up boxes and boxes of products that are actually valuable. See! Procrastination DOES pay off! My plan was to chuck the old stuff, and put the boxed good stuff out on the shelves where I could access it easier. Now, it looks like I'll need to take the good stuff home since the security measures at my storage unit are oh-so questionable. I asked them what they were doing to find out who it was or if they were stepping up security. Blank stare. OhhhhK then. I had better keep this in mind since this is the SECOND time in 5 years my lock has been cut. Nothing missing last time, though.
Being robbed feels like a major violation regardless of the fact that it was company possessions vs. personal belongings, but I guess it could have been worse. If that's the worst crime that I'm ever exposed to I will be lucky. I have been stolen from on several occasions. Twice I've had my purse stolen (although one of them was recovered from a dumpster several months later...all items intact minus one cancelled credit card). I don't get the mindset of criminals. I'm WAY too chicken to commit a crime. I've never even stolen so much as a pack of gum as a child. The fear of being shamed when caught was far too much for me to bear. The fact that there are hundreds of thousands of people out there who freely commit crimes blows me away. I guess I live in a bubble. Duh.
On a COMPLETELY different note...I inexplicably picked up a couple of spots of poison ivy...ON MY FACE. Don't be jealous. So other than looking like a fat, itchy leper and being a victim of crime, my week is going well. Perhaps next week will be a bubo-free one.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Must...stop...watching...TV!
Man, I feel like a TV junkie right now. I would blame maternity leave, but most of my shows are in the evenings. Last night we had a lovely evening out in our backyard. My daughter was swinging & goofing around on the hammock, the baby watched everyone from his bouncy seat and my husband and I took turns with the paint brush staining the laticework on our gazebo deck (boy does THAT job ever suuuuck!). Having nice family time like that makes me realize that on average, I spend WAY too much time parked in front of the television. I can't help myself! There are too many good shows out there! Maybe since all these season finalies are coming up, I can finally be set free from my TV prison & enjoy the nice weather & family time.
Man, I feel like a TV junkie right now. I would blame maternity leave, but most of my shows are in the evenings. Last night we had a lovely evening out in our backyard. My daughter was swinging & goofing around on the hammock, the baby watched everyone from his bouncy seat and my husband and I took turns with the paint brush staining the laticework on our gazebo deck (boy does THAT job ever suuuuck!). Having nice family time like that makes me realize that on average, I spend WAY too much time parked in front of the television. I can't help myself! There are too many good shows out there! Maybe since all these season finalies are coming up, I can finally be set free from my TV prison & enjoy the nice weather & family time.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Should I or Shouldn't I?
In a word: braces. I had my first ever consultation with an orthodontist the other day. When I was a kid my dentist INSISTED to my mother that I didn't need braces. Well, guess what. I'm finding that as I get older, my couple of crooked teeth are becoming more so, and now it's really starting to bug me. Here's my biggest hang up: I think braces on older people look stupid. Sorry...can't help it. Even the "clear" ones have a big wire running across them and are more than obvious. Plus, the ortho said she'd want me to put traditional metal ones on my lower teeth for maximum effectiveness. She also says that Invisalign are not for me. Poo. I may get one more consultation from someone else before making any decisions. On one hand, it's "only" a year and a half. One the other...IT'S A YEAR AND A HALF! I mean, in two years I could have perfect teeth and the pain in the ass of braces will be like a distant memory (sort of like child birth and infancy).
I'll take any input. I am REALLY on the fence about this! Suck it up and just do it, or just deal with my less than perfect smile?
In a word: braces. I had my first ever consultation with an orthodontist the other day. When I was a kid my dentist INSISTED to my mother that I didn't need braces. Well, guess what. I'm finding that as I get older, my couple of crooked teeth are becoming more so, and now it's really starting to bug me. Here's my biggest hang up: I think braces on older people look stupid. Sorry...can't help it. Even the "clear" ones have a big wire running across them and are more than obvious. Plus, the ortho said she'd want me to put traditional metal ones on my lower teeth for maximum effectiveness. She also says that Invisalign are not for me. Poo. I may get one more consultation from someone else before making any decisions. On one hand, it's "only" a year and a half. One the other...IT'S A YEAR AND A HALF! I mean, in two years I could have perfect teeth and the pain in the ass of braces will be like a distant memory (sort of like child birth and infancy).
I'll take any input. I am REALLY on the fence about this! Suck it up and just do it, or just deal with my less than perfect smile?
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Mega-Stress Dream
You've all had them, so you know what I'm talking about. This was my first one involving the baby, though. In the dream, I'd driven off to work, about 30 minutes from my house. Toward the end of the day it HIT ME. I'd left the baby on the changing table instead of taking him to daycare! My mind raced as I further remembered that when I put him on the changing table he was all poopy, and I hadn't changed him yet. I pictured him screaming until he passed out from the exhaustion. And then, here's where it takes a turn for the worse. I knew my neighbor (who had my key) was home, but in dream-world, I couldn't decide whether or not to call him because then I'd expose myself for the horrible mother that I was. I wanted to conceal the terrible truth at the expense of my child! THEN I couldn't find my car to get home. I went around hitting the alarm button trying to locate it, but it kept setting off alarms in other cars. The next thing I know, I'm IN my car, but for an instant, I think I'm still looking for it. And then I woke up. GEEEEZ! I mean, I know I won't be getting a call from the Mother of the Year award committee any time soon, but...wow.
Fortunately, it was all in my twisted sub-conscious. I had this discussion with a friend the other day after she reported her disturbing dream involving sex with someone she has no attraction to whatsoever. It's happened to me, too. I think it's happened to everyone. Getting them to admit it may be another story. What's the deal with that? Why does your brain put you through these tortures? Sex with trolls, abandoning your children or any other variety of unthinkable acts? It must be payback for those brain cells I killed after a few martinis last week.
Anyway, my sleep is so jacked up anyway it's pretty relative. When do these buggers start sleeping through the night again? I'm waiting for the day I wake up with a panic because I haven't heard from the baby for six or more hours, only to find him dozing peacefully in his crib. Ahhh. Just let me have the fantasy.
You've all had them, so you know what I'm talking about. This was my first one involving the baby, though. In the dream, I'd driven off to work, about 30 minutes from my house. Toward the end of the day it HIT ME. I'd left the baby on the changing table instead of taking him to daycare! My mind raced as I further remembered that when I put him on the changing table he was all poopy, and I hadn't changed him yet. I pictured him screaming until he passed out from the exhaustion. And then, here's where it takes a turn for the worse. I knew my neighbor (who had my key) was home, but in dream-world, I couldn't decide whether or not to call him because then I'd expose myself for the horrible mother that I was. I wanted to conceal the terrible truth at the expense of my child! THEN I couldn't find my car to get home. I went around hitting the alarm button trying to locate it, but it kept setting off alarms in other cars. The next thing I know, I'm IN my car, but for an instant, I think I'm still looking for it. And then I woke up. GEEEEZ! I mean, I know I won't be getting a call from the Mother of the Year award committee any time soon, but...wow.
Fortunately, it was all in my twisted sub-conscious. I had this discussion with a friend the other day after she reported her disturbing dream involving sex with someone she has no attraction to whatsoever. It's happened to me, too. I think it's happened to everyone. Getting them to admit it may be another story. What's the deal with that? Why does your brain put you through these tortures? Sex with trolls, abandoning your children or any other variety of unthinkable acts? It must be payback for those brain cells I killed after a few martinis last week.
Anyway, my sleep is so jacked up anyway it's pretty relative. When do these buggers start sleeping through the night again? I'm waiting for the day I wake up with a panic because I haven't heard from the baby for six or more hours, only to find him dozing peacefully in his crib. Ahhh. Just let me have the fantasy.
