Hubby

The house is almost back to normal. I say almost because that Dark Being called Hubby is once again home today and I am very afraid. With a sore back we rearranged the bedroom because it needed to be cleaned. Of course my logic was then just clean the bedroom rather than rearrange the bedroom. I know silly little woman's logic. There is not enough robaxa-what ever its called to help with the pain I felt the next day. And he flippin wonders why I like it much better when he is working.

I am just thankful at the moment he is off at someone's house playing with their computer. I like my time in the house alone so that I can get things done without interruption. I am so not looking forward to retirement with him around 24/7. I may have to come up with longer Honey Do lists. The only problem with those, Hubby doesn't read them. I am still waiting for trim to be put up in our daughter's room and it was re-done about two years ago now.

I had a discussion with his mother on this topic. There is something in the men's DNA in his family ancestry that they can not finish an entire reno without leaving six inches that needs to be done. Ask Artist about my floors. I have lino being held down with slate tile cause Hubby is going to fix it. That has been five years now.

When I do something I really have to struggle to finish the entire project so I do not have to come back later. Hence the done part. For Hubby, this is a strange concept. I love the man dearly but there are times when I just want to reach out and slap him hard. You know, so hard your hand hurts. Then I take a deep breathe and slowly let it out and begin the nag.

Its like the grinding of the teeth at night. I have not had a decent night's sleep for two months now. One night it was so bad I could hear it as I was going downstairs to the sofa to sleep. The sofa is a love seat and trying to share it with a snoring Beagle and a shaking Chihuahua doesn't guarantee a fitful sleep either.

But hey, all is quiet except for the grinding of the washing machine. Maybe I can sneak a cat nap in. Somehow, I just can't see it happening. Oh well, thank God for Coffee.

It Don't Impress Me Much

I've started writing like, eight times now trying to formulate thoughts and get them down but for the last few days I have been feeling distorted in the brain. I have also been extremely bitchy because of my back and the frustration of not being able to get anything done. I have laundry piling up, books to get done, dusting and the coralling of the dust bunnies rampaging throughout the house. I really miss the fish pond right about now.

Have you ever met someone that you know you won't like no matter how you try to put aside your notions. I met a woman yesterday that showed up for auditions in a production I am co-directing. She walked in carrying Psycology Today as though she was a Jehova Witness pawning off their dogma. Some how I knew before she opened her mouth she was going to be from the east. "Would you believe I got lost, and I'm from Toronto."

My mother said it years ago. People from Toronto love to let you know where they are from and usually do within the first two sentances. You know, "The shopping is nice here but the malls in Toronto, where I live, have so much more variety." type comments.

Maybe what irritated me about the woman was the way she opened the magazine ensuring we could see the cover as she held it. The other director and I stepped out for a quick smoke while we waited for more to show up. When we came in she makes the comment about my dirty habit.

First of all, its not only rude to make such comments but as she doesn't know me from Adam what gives her the right to say something. I did not smoke around her or near her as I was outside enjoying the sun having a discussion about the production. I didn't say to her, you know, if you laid off the food, you might fit on the chair. I just smiled sweetly and said as every thing else in my life was organic, I needed one vice so my husband wouldn't think I was perfect. This of course caused my co-director to make a snorting sound while he tried not to laugh.

I did try with her. I gave her a run down on the type of group of people the society was made up of. An idea of the type of productions we do. For community theatre we do very ambitious productions. For some reason, the more difficult, the more appealing. We should be more afraid of the calibre we have taken on but nope, we just forge ahead hoping seats will get filled. Finally after nobody else showing up, we let her read. Somebody has got to show up for the other auditions. Or we might be in trouble.

The thing I think that I picked up on was that Psuedo-type personification. Its hard to describe. It was the show of the magazine and the way the comment was said. It was the general demeaner of her. Just one of those things I guess.

Here's the thing. If you want to impress me with your intelligence, try using a sense of humour. Psycology Today isn't going to impress me.

Sick Days

So Hubby has been home sick for two days. This has thrown everything out of whack for me. Its hard to explain. He comes downstairs blows his nose, then asks me or tells me something. If I am in the middle of something he will get cantankerous because I wasn't listening. The fact that I might be up to my armpits in receipts or in the middle of cooking has no bearing in his thought process. If I stop what I am doing and wait, he'll look at me and ask "What?" or something stupid like "Just ignore me." Pretty hard to do that. Like when he wants to watch a friggin movie at 9:00 am.

Okay here's the thing. I am prone to migraine headaches. I try to avoid many of the triggers that can throw me into that void. One of them is loud noise in the morning. I do not play any music or have the TV on in the morning because that can aggravate my brain. I need total calm and quiet. There are some days I know I can't be anywhere near the noise. Those are the days I just putter around the house or do books. Even the dogs can sense those days. The Beagle uses them as an excuse to stay cuddled up to me.

The Beagle hates the days I am busy cleaning. I never stay in one spot. One time I was running upstairs so much he gave up following me. I found him laying on a middle step snoozing waiting for me to emerge from cleaning the upstairs bathroom. I love that dog way too much. He gets away with way more stuff than the others. I love the other dogs just as much but the Beagle has a very special place in my heart. There is something about old dogs that pull at the heart strings.

On the other hand when they walk into the parlor and pee on a blanket without asking to go out then we have a problem. Time to dig out the bleach.

Coffee Talk

So my eyebrows still friggin hurt. Who ever came up with waxing was either a sadist or a masochist. May be even a bit of both. Hubby just laughed at my glowing red eyebrows. Yeah, there's a moment I want to remember. Hubby leans in to kiss me and then starts chuckling. I feel that love.

I decided today to put myself on a time schedule. I thought it might be a way to streamline my time to allow for more fun. This way I would have a good idea of where my time is spent. This was an effort in futility. OMG! I spent three flippin hours trying to sort my time in an effort to have more free time. I haven't progressed anymore on this. I work at it later in my spare time.

The other day I ran out of coffee and Artist generously offered to loan me some. Then she quips "but your so picky about your coffee." Picky! Not when you've been nursing what little caffeine you have in the house. Eight tea bags in a cup of boiling water does not substitute for a good strong cup of coffee. The caffeine rush just wasn't there. I stood and smelled the coffee Artist loaned me that I sent Hubby into the blinding cold to retrieve. (Okay, so it was really mildly dewy and chilly. And Hubby only had to go five houses down.) It was good coffee. I don't know what makes her think I'm picky. (Okay so maybe it was my pontification on the organic stuff but other than that I really can't figure it out.) She hasn't tasted my mother's coffee lately. Weak is an understatement. More like hot brownish watery liquid with hint of French vanilla and the reused coffee bean. I drink water because I like my water plain and cold. I love my mother dearly but the coffee needs a little something. Like maybe Coffee? Thank god she will never read this.

Hubby picked up coffee beans. He thought they were organic but they weren't. I don't care, its caffeine and a lot of it. I immediately brewed a pot filling the house with its erotic...I mean exotic aroma. Hubby's response "What? At this time of night? I have to work early." Strike fantasy number 28 off the list. Again.

Hubby was grumpy last night because we lost one of the fish. Ming went to the fish pond in the sky. Hubby was really upset. I know there are people who really connect to fish and have emotions of fondness towards their fish. I am not one of them nor did I think Hubby was. I guess I found out he is a closeted fish lover. I like my black molly named Pickles. I think he is cute and I enjoy watching him but I don't think I'll be stampeding around the house like a furious bull if Pickles happens to die.

Maybe Hubby didn't have enough caffeine yesterday?

Never Pluck Your Eyebrows Under the Influence

I fell down the stairs the other day and to everyone's disappoinment and Hubby's relief there is no funny story to it. I simply tripped over a dog and landed on my kiester and fell down the stairs. I picked myself after sobbing for an hour in pain. Everything seemed okay. Then yesterday as I was getting supper ready in the morning I could feel my back go and my hips starting to twinge. Hubby drove me to the bank and after seeing to my task I got back into the truck and told him to get him home and once I hit the door everything crashed.

Now today I have some movement but was up early because of Hubby's teeth grinding. So I'm feeling the pain. I took a Robaxa what-ever which is a muscle-relaxant. So now I'm slightly feeling a nice little buzz when I get the idea to pluck my eyebrows. I heat the wax up and apply it carefully. I pressed the strips in to the cooling wax and wait. Then (here's where we cringe) I ripped off the strips. I spewed forth an untterance something like this, "S***, S***, G*d D***, ow, ow, ow, ow, S***" while trying not to jerk my paining back. My nose piercing didn't hurt that much. Tears are streaming down my face as I am trying to breath away the sharp shooting pains through out my hips. (That's the Arthritis) Then I think what possessed me to think this was a good idea.

Now the initial pain has started to subside I take a look. I managed to rip off enough hairs to cause that much pain but not enough to have made a dent in the black forests above my eyes. So what do I do, I do it again! This time thinking the more wax the better. I stabbed the linen cloth into my brows smushing the cloth, waited then once again proceeded to pull the strips off. More pain, more cursing and not enough hairs but just enough pulled to leaved a huge hole surrounded by little black hairs. So I get out the pluckers and did it the old fashioned way which oddly enough, DIDN"T HURT AS MUCH.

I'm going to bed. I think I need sleep.

Quick Addition to Last Post

So Hubby read the Good Wife's Guide and wanted to know what man wrote it. I mentioned I was thinking of adopting some of the ways like not complaining. Hubby's response was "Like Hell you are, it will cost me too much." Ah, the man knoweth his wife a little too well. Must change that. Mind you he's still a little unsure of the forty thing with me. I thinks sometimes he wonders if I have gone a little bonkers on him.

If I have then oh well, its way better than I was before.

Today started out rough but once I changed my attitude its not to bad dispite the lousy weather. Poor Artist had to endure my rant of squeezed bread loaves and nearly having been hit in a parking lot. Funny she grabbed a coffee after it rather than steeling herself before with one. I'll have to think on this one.

1955's Good Wife Guide

My older sister gave this photocopy of an article from Housekeeping Monthly May 13th 1955. My initial reaction was OMG women actually believed this crap. There is 16 hints in this thing starting with having dinner ready as it is part of a warm welcome to show you have been thinking of him. I will give some examples

"Be a little gay and more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it."

Then a couple of hints as to picking up and dusting before the husband arrives. My favourite which is too long to type is on preparing the children and minimizing noise.

"Be happy to see him"

"Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him"

"Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember his topics of conversation are more important than yours"

Lets see, Little Jimmy just murdered his football coach for benching him is not as important as Honey, I had such a time with that paper clip. (Remember folks he has a boring job) How about Honey we were robbed or do we just let the poor guy walk in while talking about his day at the office and see if he notices the doileys are sitting on the floor.

Another favourite -"Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count it as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day."

Okay here is a slightly demented view. Did women really believe this? In this day and time, for everytime Husband did this, I'd have a new shiny rock hanging from my body somewhere. So the house goes into repo. He'd eventually learn and I'd would never have said a word.

Another little hint about taking off his shoes while talking in relaxing tones. Hubby would freak if I ever did such a thing. He would be looking for my flask or pill bottle.

The next two are the kickers (and worth the length of typing)

"Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness." (and the kicker to this one) "You have no right to question him." (Pulleeeze. Only if I was married to a made guy)

And the icing on the cake, "A good wife always knows her place."

I know this was written by a man. It had to be. Who else could come up with this crap. And if it was a woman, I want to know what she was smoking? Wouldn't you love to go back in time and walk up to this person, show them the article and ask "What the frig you were thinking?" Then just haul back and slap them.

Here's my Guide for the Good Hubby

* Must have an income that can support his wife's weekly visit to the day spa or must have the potential to earn such figure.

*Listen to your wife with your feminine side. Understand her emotions are not the result of that time of month or the change of life but that they from the fact you yet again left your dirty underwear on the bedroom floor and the dog decided they were a good chew toy in front of the minister (or priest/rabbi/head mistress of the Thoth temple).

*Prepare yourself, brush your teeth before having sex. Its the little things that will turn your wife on, like hygiene.

*Don't ask questions about her actions or question her judgment or integrity. Remember as the husband it is your duty to stay in the dark about things to do with money spent, household redecorations or the children.

*Be happy when she discovers a sale. She is saving you money.

*Take an interest in her conversations as she is discussing world peace, organic cooking or the Prime Directive no matter how many times the topic comes up after a bottle of wine.

*Clear away all computer wires, cords and god know what cable for whatever electronic. Finish all household renovations to the last inch. It makes cleaning an easier job and doesn't make your wife as irritable.

*Don't pout when your wife is too tired to have sex or complain she is never at home. It is unbecoming in a husband. Instead tend to her needs and try to understand her worries and stresses. She needs to relax and unwind.

*A good Hubby always knows he is wrong.

Good Morning!

My mornings usually consist of my getting up letting dogs out as they wander (more like stampede) down the stairs. I put the coffee on then while that brews, let dogs in and load the previous evening's dishes into the dishwasher or unload it. Once the coffee is ready, I sit with my computer and surf the net or play games while I wake up.

This morning however, my routine got a little shaken up. In between my house and Artist, lives a woman, her two adult children and her teenager daughter. I have countless ideas for an alias for them but I can hear Artist's voice in my head telling me to be nice, so I will refer to them as the Doe's.

Doe's have three big dogs and a little thing that looks like a pug cross. Two of the dogs keep escaping from the fence and love to come to our yard to fence spar. This sets the Airedale off and off course who ever is out there with him. This morning is was my Hubby's rescue, the Corgie X. I managed to get the Airedale and the Long Haired Chihuahua in without a problem but the Corgie X was standing his ground. In the meantime I know these dogs can get into our yard and if they do, good bye Corgie X. Hubby was supposed to have fixed the fence.

I ran out the back door in my bare feet hopping through the wet dewy leaves and needing to be mowed grass that is hiding god knows what (Five dogs, think about this) yelling at and chasing the stubborn little mutt who wagged his tail right into the house. So I followed him right up the stairs and continued to yell at him while he crawled under the bed. Then I proceeded to tell Hubby not to cuddle him or baby him.

Now that is something that friggin sets my noodle baking. I get mad at one of the dogs and Hubby turns around in a baby voice and coos "Is Mommy mad at you buddy? Come sit with Daddy. Mommy just a little crabby today." Or something like that in tones that would even make a baby think his nuts.

I digress. As I am telling Hubby not to moddlecottle the dog, he tells me "Don't take it out on me 'cause your mad at the dog, yell at the dog." There's that love and support. So I uttered out a couple of stern sentences to the floor at the bedside. Then stormed out knowing I lost that battle.

I so need that coffee.

What to do?

So the house is relatively neat. I have some quick cleaning to do. I could work on the books or find something to occupy my time. Its a blah day. You know, one of those days that you just can't seem to get it together. I should really clean out the wardrobes and underneath the beds but I just can't seem to get the motivation going today. Maybe it will strike later.

Maybe I should just take today and relax. Just kick around the house. Mind you a few dust bunnies went rampaging by as soon as the furnace started blowing. I could always vacuum out the vents. Hopefully there will be something on TV.

But then I do not watch a whole lot of TV. Three years ago in an effort to cut down expenses we decided to cancel the cable. Here is the sad thing, we reconnected a month ago and there was still nothing on. You would think after three years they would have come up with something new. Its all the same shows but with different formats. Oh well. Hubby and I are debating whether or not to cancel it again. It will be if we don't watch it. Our border is quite delighted with it as we have satellite and she has found a zillion more music channels to drive me insane with. I was looking so forward to the empty nest syndrome. (Heavy Sigh) We all have our little dreams.

Actually I have discovered Jazz. Its great. I put it on and go to work house cleaning. I very rarely listen to music before Jazz. The music I used to listen to, now gives me a headache. I get tired of classical and I am not into today's top forty. I was flicking through the music channels one day and discovered Jazz. It must be that turning Forty thing.

Even the house is reflecting a difference of taste. No more florals or pink all through out. I have a deep red dining room and a cinnamon coloured parlour. I have been putting away and getting rid of things that just do not reflect who we are. Both Hubby and I have changed in our tastes. I think they have definitely matured. Got knows it needed to happen. I will admit too that the reason for putting the stuff away originally was to stream line the house for quicker cleaning. Out of it came a look we like better.

Its cools when that happens. Its like the food. I changed our diet to one that was for our health rather than taste. The downside was all the cooking I have to do but the upside is, we are finding the food is tasting better. I have had to relearn how to cook and stop feeling guilty that my Grandmother's recipes are just sitting on the shelf collecting dust. I figure in time I will be able to incorporate those recipes into our diet by altering some of the ingredients to fit our diet. The cool thing about it is some of those recipes go back hundreds of years. They also take two and three days to prepare. Now I'm thinking, if I use the better ingredients for those recipes, I bet they would taste even better.

I think I figured out what I am doing today after all.