I couldn't come up with anything better than that boring title. Sorry.
When Hubby and I first married, I was always cold. We have central heat, but we mostly rely on a wood burning stove to produce heat, at least for the downstairs. I like wood heat, even if it IS hard to regulate (more on that in a moment). It's just so warm. And back when we used to go load our own wood, it warmed us twice.
Hubby was NEVER cold. He ran quite a few degrees warmer than I, and it was rare that we met in the middle.
Over the course of our marriage, however, Hubby has gone from his late 40's to early 60's (boy does THAT look different than it used to!), and partly as a result of his age and partly due to diabetes, his feet are always cold.
I, on the other hand, have gone from my mid 30's to early 50's, and every woman reading this probably knows what that means.
I ain't hogging the covers anymore.
It's the time of year I hate, when we go somewhere in the car in the morning and have to turn on the heater full blast. When we come home in the afternoon, however, we have to run the air conditioner. All the glorious seasons of the year, wrapped up neatly in a single day.
It's also the time of year when Hubby insists we turn off the ceiling fans in our bedroom. I like the fans, and not just for their cooling effect. I like the low hum (even though I don't consider myself a fan of white noise), and I like the movement of air the fans create.
I miss those fans. It's not that I'm burning up, because I still lean somewhat toward the cold natured end of the spectrum.
I am usually up a few minutes later than Hubby, most often because I have delayed writing my blog until he's ready to go upstairs, then I have to scramble to do it. If I'm going to be very much later, Hubby reminds me to put more wood in the stove before I come to bed.
And I usually forget.
I like being warm, mind you, but the wood stove sometimes puts out more heat than I can tolerate. And he wants me to put MORE wood in it? Sheesh. I almost always regret it the next morning, when it's quite chilly downstairs and the fire has gone out completely. But when I'm sitting in my recliner and beads of sweat are standing out on my forehead, it's hard to make myself put wood in the heater.
And I never know whether to call it a "heater" or a "stove." I guess "heater" is more appropriate, since it's not used for cooking. In that case, we need to come up with another name for that dusty appliance in the kitchen.
Showing posts with label hubby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hubby. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Sometimes Blog Posts Sound Like Gunshots.......
.....and sometimes it's just the sound of Fate (or Karma, or whatever you want to call it) slapping her knee in DELIGHT at our audacity to think we are in control of things.
Let me back up a minute and explain.
I am in the town of Columbus, Georgia, right next to the Alabama border (I can literally throw a rock into Alabama, if I can get it across the river) for Georgia BikeFest. It's one of the two weekend cycling events sponsored by BRAG, three days of cycling without having to decamp every morning. It is a beautiful spot right here by the river, and I remember standing in this parking lot last year and saying (maybe smugly, maybe not), "Next year I'll be retired, and I'll be the first one here, and I'll get whatever RV spot I damn well please."
Ahem.
It is rare that I take the RV anywhere by myself. Either Hubby or Katydid is usually with me, but Hubby doesn't DO cycling events at all, and Katydid couldn't come this year for a number of reasons. But I've become (more) comfortable driving the RV, and it was only roughly a three-hour trip, so I wasn't worried. Driving through downtown Atlanta has its challenges, but once you've driven an RV through Chicago, you're prepared for anything! I just told myself I would take it easy, not get in a rush, stay in the far right lane as much as possible, and not stress.
That plan worked beautifully, until I heard the gunshot.
Wait, before I tell you about the gunshot, I have to tell you something I found hilarious, but I won't drag it out forever. When I was just south of Atlanta, I called Rozmo to let her know I had left earlier than I had planned, and if she wanted to ride some today, I would be there. She said she had left LATER than she meant to, and she was just then at Flat Shoals Road. I looked up at the next overpass and said, "Huh? Me too." Then I looked in my side mirror and saw her coming up behind me. She forgot I was in the RV, so she didn't realize who it was she was about to pass. I thought that was hilarious, that I would choose to call her at the exact same moment we were at the same exact spot on the interstate.
Then I heard the gunshot. Well, it wasn't an actual gunshot, and I recognized it immediately for what it was, but I don't know HOW I recognized it, since I'd never heard it before. It was the sound of a tire blowing out. On the RV. On I-85. It's amazing how well the human brain adapts to challenging situations. As soon as I heard the sound, I immediately turned on the flashers (I don't even know how I knew where they were) and headed for the shoulder of the road. I got way, way, way off the side of the road, and even then the RV shook every time one of those tractor trailer rigs blew by. It was a little unnerving, to say the least.
I won't bore you with all the details, but I called the insurance company with whom the RV is insured, and who provide roadside assistance. At first I thought I didn't have a spare (that might teach me to listen to Hubby, but probably not), and she said the RV would have to be towed. Then I discovered I DID have a spare, and she said someone would come change it for me. Now I'm not a wimp and I do know how to change a flat tire, but I've never tried to raise an RV with a jack, and the RV has dual wheels on the rear. Naturally the tire that blew was the INSIDE one. Which means removing TWO wheels. Sheesh.
I had to wait about an hour and a half, so I spent the time reading on my iPad. Finally a very, VERY nice young man arrived, and he was completely unfazed by having to lie down on the side of the road with 18-wheelers whizzing by only inches (okay, feet) from his head. Yes, the flat had to happen on THAT side of the RV as well.
I was astounded at how quickly he was able to get the tire changed, but then he called me over and pointed. "There's some damage here," he said.
Uh oh. The exploding tire had torn the fuel line away from the "neck," the place where you put fuel in. It wasn't leaking, but there would be no way to put more gas in the RV because it would just pour onto the ground.
Great. My weekend just went to hell. On a bullet train.
But then he said I could take it to their shop (and assured me the RV was safe to drive), about 40 miles away but still on my way to Columbus, and they could fix it today. He couldn't RECOMMEND their shop, because that would be soliciting business, and I was welcome to take it somewhere else if I wanted to.
Seriously? I'm gonna drive an RV around some town I'm not familiar with and hope I happen on a repair shop that can replace a hose on an RV? No, your shop will be just fine.
Hubby texted me when I was on the way and said for me to ask how much it was going to cost, then take it somewhere else if it was a "crazy amount." See above hypothetical question, Hubby.
The kind young man followed me down the interstate for about 20 miles, poking along at the speed I felt safe driving, which was just below what I would have been able to do on my bike. (That might be a slight exaggeration.) I got teary-eyed when I realized he was hanging back there. Then he disappeared (he never passed me, so I assume he had to go on another call and exited the interstate) and my tears dried up.
The people at the automotive shop were VERY friendly (could it have anything to do with the fact that it is owned by a woman? hmmmmm?), and they got me back on the road. I got here in time to register and pick up my packet, and if I didn't get the very best RV spot, at least I got one, and if I didn't get to ride my bike today, I'll have three days of riding, and I am very thankful that today's incident didn't turn out any worse than it did.
I could have been driving much faster (I was about 10 below the posted speed limit). The tire could have blown when I was in the middle of downtown Atlanta. I could have been surrounded by cars on both sides. It could have been one of the front tires, which probably would have caused an accident. Perhaps even a rollover.
But I'm here, Rozmo and I have had dinner (wonderful Thai food), and I don't have to move the RV again until Sunday.
Probably the best news of all is that Hubby feels terribly, terribly guilty because he knew the tires needed to be replaced soon and was putting it off.
No telling what I might get out of this.
Tee. Hee.
Let me back up a minute and explain.
I am in the town of Columbus, Georgia, right next to the Alabama border (I can literally throw a rock into Alabama, if I can get it across the river) for Georgia BikeFest. It's one of the two weekend cycling events sponsored by BRAG, three days of cycling without having to decamp every morning. It is a beautiful spot right here by the river, and I remember standing in this parking lot last year and saying (maybe smugly, maybe not), "Next year I'll be retired, and I'll be the first one here, and I'll get whatever RV spot I damn well please."
Ahem.
It is rare that I take the RV anywhere by myself. Either Hubby or Katydid is usually with me, but Hubby doesn't DO cycling events at all, and Katydid couldn't come this year for a number of reasons. But I've become (more) comfortable driving the RV, and it was only roughly a three-hour trip, so I wasn't worried. Driving through downtown Atlanta has its challenges, but once you've driven an RV through Chicago, you're prepared for anything! I just told myself I would take it easy, not get in a rush, stay in the far right lane as much as possible, and not stress.
That plan worked beautifully, until I heard the gunshot.
Wait, before I tell you about the gunshot, I have to tell you something I found hilarious, but I won't drag it out forever. When I was just south of Atlanta, I called Rozmo to let her know I had left earlier than I had planned, and if she wanted to ride some today, I would be there. She said she had left LATER than she meant to, and she was just then at Flat Shoals Road. I looked up at the next overpass and said, "Huh? Me too." Then I looked in my side mirror and saw her coming up behind me. She forgot I was in the RV, so she didn't realize who it was she was about to pass. I thought that was hilarious, that I would choose to call her at the exact same moment we were at the same exact spot on the interstate.
Then I heard the gunshot. Well, it wasn't an actual gunshot, and I recognized it immediately for what it was, but I don't know HOW I recognized it, since I'd never heard it before. It was the sound of a tire blowing out. On the RV. On I-85. It's amazing how well the human brain adapts to challenging situations. As soon as I heard the sound, I immediately turned on the flashers (I don't even know how I knew where they were) and headed for the shoulder of the road. I got way, way, way off the side of the road, and even then the RV shook every time one of those tractor trailer rigs blew by. It was a little unnerving, to say the least.
I won't bore you with all the details, but I called the insurance company with whom the RV is insured, and who provide roadside assistance. At first I thought I didn't have a spare (that might teach me to listen to Hubby, but probably not), and she said the RV would have to be towed. Then I discovered I DID have a spare, and she said someone would come change it for me. Now I'm not a wimp and I do know how to change a flat tire, but I've never tried to raise an RV with a jack, and the RV has dual wheels on the rear. Naturally the tire that blew was the INSIDE one. Which means removing TWO wheels. Sheesh.
I had to wait about an hour and a half, so I spent the time reading on my iPad. Finally a very, VERY nice young man arrived, and he was completely unfazed by having to lie down on the side of the road with 18-wheelers whizzing by only inches (okay, feet) from his head. Yes, the flat had to happen on THAT side of the RV as well.
I was astounded at how quickly he was able to get the tire changed, but then he called me over and pointed. "There's some damage here," he said.
Uh oh. The exploding tire had torn the fuel line away from the "neck," the place where you put fuel in. It wasn't leaking, but there would be no way to put more gas in the RV because it would just pour onto the ground.
Great. My weekend just went to hell. On a bullet train.
But then he said I could take it to their shop (and assured me the RV was safe to drive), about 40 miles away but still on my way to Columbus, and they could fix it today. He couldn't RECOMMEND their shop, because that would be soliciting business, and I was welcome to take it somewhere else if I wanted to.
Seriously? I'm gonna drive an RV around some town I'm not familiar with and hope I happen on a repair shop that can replace a hose on an RV? No, your shop will be just fine.
Hubby texted me when I was on the way and said for me to ask how much it was going to cost, then take it somewhere else if it was a "crazy amount." See above hypothetical question, Hubby.
The kind young man followed me down the interstate for about 20 miles, poking along at the speed I felt safe driving, which was just below what I would have been able to do on my bike. (That might be a slight exaggeration.) I got teary-eyed when I realized he was hanging back there. Then he disappeared (he never passed me, so I assume he had to go on another call and exited the interstate) and my tears dried up.
The people at the automotive shop were VERY friendly (could it have anything to do with the fact that it is owned by a woman? hmmmmm?), and they got me back on the road. I got here in time to register and pick up my packet, and if I didn't get the very best RV spot, at least I got one, and if I didn't get to ride my bike today, I'll have three days of riding, and I am very thankful that today's incident didn't turn out any worse than it did.
I could have been driving much faster (I was about 10 below the posted speed limit). The tire could have blown when I was in the middle of downtown Atlanta. I could have been surrounded by cars on both sides. It could have been one of the front tires, which probably would have caused an accident. Perhaps even a rollover.
But I'm here, Rozmo and I have had dinner (wonderful Thai food), and I don't have to move the RV again until Sunday.
Probably the best news of all is that Hubby feels terribly, terribly guilty because he knew the tires needed to be replaced soon and was putting it off.
No telling what I might get out of this.
Tee. Hee.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Game Day...........
Hubby and I have very different ideas about tailgating. Color me shocked.
Here's how I prefer to tailgate:
Leave home hours before kickoff to get a prime parking space.
Set up the television and satellite outside and share the experience with other tailgaters. Pull for whoever is playing against Florida and South Carolina.
Snack all afternoon, until it's time for the real meal (pulled pork sandwiches this week).
Leave for the stadium an hour ahead of kickoff, to allow for the one-mile walk and to make sure we see all the pre-game ceremonies.
Stay for the whole game, counting off the seconds at the end. Especially if it's a close game.
Come back and celebrate with the other tailgaters.
Hubby's version:
Leave home hours before kickoff to get the preferred satellite spot.
Set up the television and satellite inside the RV with the air conditioner on, even if it IS the first day of fall and it's a nice day outside. Pull for any teams you have bets on. Switch to golf when football games aren't going your way.
Snack all afternoon, until it's time for the real meal (pulled pork sandwiches this week). Okay, so that part is the same.
Leave for the stadium as close to kickoff as possible, because the pre-game stuff can't possibly matter. Actually, it wouldn't be a tragedy to miss kickoff.
Leave the game as soon as the outcome is obvious, even if it's only halftime.
Come back to the RV and head for home as soon as traffic clears, even though your parking pass is good for the whole weekend. Except for days like today, when kickoff isn't until 7:45 PM, so spending the night only makes sense.
Not that I'm complaining. It could be worse - He could be a Florida fan. Oh wait...we would never have been together.
Go Dawgs!!!!
Here's how I prefer to tailgate:
Leave home hours before kickoff to get a prime parking space.
Set up the television and satellite outside and share the experience with other tailgaters. Pull for whoever is playing against Florida and South Carolina.
Snack all afternoon, until it's time for the real meal (pulled pork sandwiches this week).
Leave for the stadium an hour ahead of kickoff, to allow for the one-mile walk and to make sure we see all the pre-game ceremonies.
Stay for the whole game, counting off the seconds at the end. Especially if it's a close game.
Come back and celebrate with the other tailgaters.
Hubby's version:
Leave home hours before kickoff to get the preferred satellite spot.
Set up the television and satellite inside the RV with the air conditioner on, even if it IS the first day of fall and it's a nice day outside. Pull for any teams you have bets on. Switch to golf when football games aren't going your way.
Snack all afternoon, until it's time for the real meal (pulled pork sandwiches this week). Okay, so that part is the same.
Leave for the stadium as close to kickoff as possible, because the pre-game stuff can't possibly matter. Actually, it wouldn't be a tragedy to miss kickoff.
Leave the game as soon as the outcome is obvious, even if it's only halftime.
Come back to the RV and head for home as soon as traffic clears, even though your parking pass is good for the whole weekend. Except for days like today, when kickoff isn't until 7:45 PM, so spending the night only makes sense.
Not that I'm complaining. It could be worse - He could be a Florida fan. Oh wait...we would never have been together.
Go Dawgs!!!!
Monday, August 13, 2012
A Hubbyism.......
Don't you like the word I made up?
A "hubbyism" is something funny/cute/dumb/witty/blog worthy that my Hubby does. I was going to post this one on Facebook, but I was afraid someone I knew would mention it to him, and he would be insulted. It's not bad or anything, but he might take exception to being made fun of in such a public way.
The blog? Fair game.
On Friday night, after we went to the vow renewal ceremony of one of his golfing buddies (and the wife, but I couldn't figure out where to put that in the sentence), naturally Hubby fell asleep in his recliner. That is an almost-nightly occurrence, but particularly after an event at which there was an open bar.
While I was watching baseball and/or playing on my iPad, Hubby's phone gave the tone that alerts him to a text message. I would like to describe it here, but "boo-be-doop...boo-be-doop" is the best I can do.
Hubby stirred from his slumber, reached to the table beside his chair, and picked up..... the calendar that has his daily Sudoku puzzle on it. He squinted at it for a moment, then put it back down. Then he picked up his glasses (yeah, that was the problem all along) and put them on, then picked up the calendar again. He squinted at it again, then realized that wasn't what he needed to decipher a text message. Finally he picked up his phone.
Meanwhile, I had burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh.
He can be a little grumpy when disturbed from an alcohol-induced slumber by someone making fun of him.
A "hubbyism" is something funny/cute/dumb/witty/blog worthy that my Hubby does. I was going to post this one on Facebook, but I was afraid someone I knew would mention it to him, and he would be insulted. It's not bad or anything, but he might take exception to being made fun of in such a public way.
The blog? Fair game.
On Friday night, after we went to the vow renewal ceremony of one of his golfing buddies (and the wife, but I couldn't figure out where to put that in the sentence), naturally Hubby fell asleep in his recliner. That is an almost-nightly occurrence, but particularly after an event at which there was an open bar.
While I was watching baseball and/or playing on my iPad, Hubby's phone gave the tone that alerts him to a text message. I would like to describe it here, but "boo-be-doop...boo-be-doop" is the best I can do.
Hubby stirred from his slumber, reached to the table beside his chair, and picked up..... the calendar that has his daily Sudoku puzzle on it. He squinted at it for a moment, then put it back down. Then he picked up his glasses (yeah, that was the problem all along) and put them on, then picked up the calendar again. He squinted at it again, then realized that wasn't what he needed to decipher a text message. Finally he picked up his phone.
Meanwhile, I had burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh.
He can be a little grumpy when disturbed from an alcohol-induced slumber by someone making fun of him.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
It's Finally Here.....
I don't remember when I signed up to do SAGBRAW, a bike ride in Wisconsin, but I know it was before the first price increase... Wait, I just found my confirmation printout. I registered for this ride last November. I've been looking forward to this ride for 8 months, and it's finally here.
Originally Rozmo and I were going to go, split the driving, and use the "indoor camping" option (sleeping on air mattresses in gyms). Then Hubby spoke up and volunteered to drive the RV (he really, really did volunteer, whether he remembers it that way or not), eliminating the need for two middle-aged women to sleep on gym floors. Score.
Then Rozmo had to cancel, and it never crossed my mind to do so. I've ridden before in rides where I didn't know anyone else there, and it doesn't bother me. Hubby still planned to go, and then we found out that unlike on BRAG, we can't run the generator at night because of the noise. Since the generator provides the electricity I need for my CPAP machine, and I've grown fond of breathing, I thought we were going to have to change our plans.
What we decided to do, though, is to camp at nearby campgrounds instead of staying at the schools with the other riders. While that will take me away from the camaraderie associated with cross-state bike rides of 1000 people or more, since I don't know any of them anyway, I won't let that bother me. The SAGBRAW folks are kind enough to publish GPS routes beforehand, so I've been able to upload them, edit them so that I end up at the chosen campground for the night instead of the school, and save them to my GPS. In some cases it means I shorten the day's route by a few miles, but then I have to tack it on to the next day's ride, so it all evens out. I think.
I have a sort of hare-brained idea of how to ride in as many new states as possible on the way TO Wisconsin, and Hubby is actually going along with it. I'll provide the details for that only if it comes to fruition. There's a chance I'll chicken out, but that's not really in my nature.
I'm a little nervous, having never done this ride before. Also, I've never combined the two entities of riding my bike for a week AND camping in the RV with Hubby and Gus. As a matter of fact, we've never been anywhere in the RV for a whole week. I keep saying to Hubby, "I don't cook when I'm on a bike ride." I envision a lot of sandwiches in our future for next week.
We're heading out very early in the morning, and I THINK everything is ready. I need to pack up the computer, though, so it's time to call it quits for tonight. Expect another week full of blog posts about cycling, and I hope they won't bore you to death.
Originally Rozmo and I were going to go, split the driving, and use the "indoor camping" option (sleeping on air mattresses in gyms). Then Hubby spoke up and volunteered to drive the RV (he really, really did volunteer, whether he remembers it that way or not), eliminating the need for two middle-aged women to sleep on gym floors. Score.
Then Rozmo had to cancel, and it never crossed my mind to do so. I've ridden before in rides where I didn't know anyone else there, and it doesn't bother me. Hubby still planned to go, and then we found out that unlike on BRAG, we can't run the generator at night because of the noise. Since the generator provides the electricity I need for my CPAP machine, and I've grown fond of breathing, I thought we were going to have to change our plans.
What we decided to do, though, is to camp at nearby campgrounds instead of staying at the schools with the other riders. While that will take me away from the camaraderie associated with cross-state bike rides of 1000 people or more, since I don't know any of them anyway, I won't let that bother me. The SAGBRAW folks are kind enough to publish GPS routes beforehand, so I've been able to upload them, edit them so that I end up at the chosen campground for the night instead of the school, and save them to my GPS. In some cases it means I shorten the day's route by a few miles, but then I have to tack it on to the next day's ride, so it all evens out. I think.
I have a sort of hare-brained idea of how to ride in as many new states as possible on the way TO Wisconsin, and Hubby is actually going along with it. I'll provide the details for that only if it comes to fruition. There's a chance I'll chicken out, but that's not really in my nature.
I'm a little nervous, having never done this ride before. Also, I've never combined the two entities of riding my bike for a week AND camping in the RV with Hubby and Gus. As a matter of fact, we've never been anywhere in the RV for a whole week. I keep saying to Hubby, "I don't cook when I'm on a bike ride." I envision a lot of sandwiches in our future for next week.
We're heading out very early in the morning, and I THINK everything is ready. I need to pack up the computer, though, so it's time to call it quits for tonight. Expect another week full of blog posts about cycling, and I hope they won't bore you to death.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Our Anniversary.....
Fifteen years ago, Hubby and I made the trek to Chattanooga, Tennessee to get married. I wrote about it here almost three years ago.
I don't think I wrote about the fact that I was scared to death. Having been through not one but TWO bad marriages, I was beginning to think the common denominator was ME. Well obviously the common denominator was ME, but I didn't want to think I was the problem. At least not all of it.
The first marriage was simply a matter of a youthful bad choice. He was (and still is) a good guy, but it was sort of like being married to a puppy.
I wish I could blame the second marriage on youth. It was just a bad choice, pure and simple. I may have mentioned it before, but when Sweet Girl and I left that house, it was because we came home to find the front door shot up. As in with a shotgun. As in you couldn't close the front door anymore. He was passed out on the couch, so we gathered as many of our things as we could and never looked back. But that's not what this is about.
Without getting too mushy or going into too much detail, I'll just say that the past 15 years have been worth all the frustration and sometimes sheer terror of the other two relationships. In some ways the past 15 years have gone by in a blur that seems like an instant, and in other ways it seems like Hubby and I have been together forever.
We rarely argue, almost NEVER exchange heated words (except in the rare case of a bedroom suit that winds up costing $10,000 in home renovations just to fit it in our bedroom), and always have fun together. We share a love of sports, although I am more passionate than he is. As I write this blog post, Hubby has turned in for the evening and I am yawning as I watch the closing innings of a Braves baseball game. We travel well together and have never had what we could call a "bad" trip, not even the time we spent the night in the Miami airport just trying to get home. We don't necessarily like the same kind of music (on satellite radio, he keeps it on "50's on 5" and I sneak it over to "70's on 7" when he isn't looking), but he has been to at least two Billy Joel concerts with me. I've gone with him on golf/gambling trips when I didn't want to go, and I didn't even bitch about it.
Once several years ago, when Hubby was still working, he wanted to go out of town for a golf tournament, but he was scheduled to work on Sunday. He couldn't find anyone to work for him, so I did it. I put on his Pepsi uniform and worked the grocery stores he was responsible for that day. I had been with him a gazillion times, so I knew what to do (mostly), and even if the store manager HAD been around and noticed I wasn't the usual Pepsi employee, he wouldn't have cared as long as his store was worked properly (and it was). I'm sure in a pinch Hubby would have likewise filled in for me at school, though I shudder to consider what the results might have been.
We have a lot in common, but we also have our separate interests. My blog pal DJan wrote about this very topic several weeks ago, and I need to revisit her post to help sort out my own thoughts on the issue. I recall thinking, "Yeah, it's just like that!" when I read her post, so I think it was something along the lines of having similar interests but not feeling compelled to share every waking moment together. Hubby goes off to golf, and I ride my bike. He wants me to take up golf, and I might, but it still won't be a case of us ALWAYS going to the golf course together. Heaven forbid. He isn't interested in riding a bicycle, mainly because he doesn't want to wear "those silly shorts." Even when we go on vacation, I take my bike and go off for an hour or two by myself, and he reads or watches television while I'm gone.
To celebrate our anniversary today, we worked like DOGS. Hubby mowed the lawn and cleaned off our back porch while I scrubbed the tile floor in the hall bathroom with a TOOTHBRUSH. (It was in pretty bad shape.) We did clean up enough to go out for an early dinner (I even wore a dress - I know, right?), and I picked up some new sports bras for BRAG next week.
It's been an awesome 15 years.
I don't think I wrote about the fact that I was scared to death. Having been through not one but TWO bad marriages, I was beginning to think the common denominator was ME. Well obviously the common denominator was ME, but I didn't want to think I was the problem. At least not all of it.
The first marriage was simply a matter of a youthful bad choice. He was (and still is) a good guy, but it was sort of like being married to a puppy.
I wish I could blame the second marriage on youth. It was just a bad choice, pure and simple. I may have mentioned it before, but when Sweet Girl and I left that house, it was because we came home to find the front door shot up. As in with a shotgun. As in you couldn't close the front door anymore. He was passed out on the couch, so we gathered as many of our things as we could and never looked back. But that's not what this is about.
Without getting too mushy or going into too much detail, I'll just say that the past 15 years have been worth all the frustration and sometimes sheer terror of the other two relationships. In some ways the past 15 years have gone by in a blur that seems like an instant, and in other ways it seems like Hubby and I have been together forever.
We rarely argue, almost NEVER exchange heated words (except in the rare case of a bedroom suit that winds up costing $10,000 in home renovations just to fit it in our bedroom), and always have fun together. We share a love of sports, although I am more passionate than he is. As I write this blog post, Hubby has turned in for the evening and I am yawning as I watch the closing innings of a Braves baseball game. We travel well together and have never had what we could call a "bad" trip, not even the time we spent the night in the Miami airport just trying to get home. We don't necessarily like the same kind of music (on satellite radio, he keeps it on "50's on 5" and I sneak it over to "70's on 7" when he isn't looking), but he has been to at least two Billy Joel concerts with me. I've gone with him on golf/gambling trips when I didn't want to go, and I didn't even bitch about it.
Once several years ago, when Hubby was still working, he wanted to go out of town for a golf tournament, but he was scheduled to work on Sunday. He couldn't find anyone to work for him, so I did it. I put on his Pepsi uniform and worked the grocery stores he was responsible for that day. I had been with him a gazillion times, so I knew what to do (mostly), and even if the store manager HAD been around and noticed I wasn't the usual Pepsi employee, he wouldn't have cared as long as his store was worked properly (and it was). I'm sure in a pinch Hubby would have likewise filled in for me at school, though I shudder to consider what the results might have been.
We have a lot in common, but we also have our separate interests. My blog pal DJan wrote about this very topic several weeks ago, and I need to revisit her post to help sort out my own thoughts on the issue. I recall thinking, "Yeah, it's just like that!" when I read her post, so I think it was something along the lines of having similar interests but not feeling compelled to share every waking moment together. Hubby goes off to golf, and I ride my bike. He wants me to take up golf, and I might, but it still won't be a case of us ALWAYS going to the golf course together. Heaven forbid. He isn't interested in riding a bicycle, mainly because he doesn't want to wear "those silly shorts." Even when we go on vacation, I take my bike and go off for an hour or two by myself, and he reads or watches television while I'm gone.
To celebrate our anniversary today, we worked like DOGS. Hubby mowed the lawn and cleaned off our back porch while I scrubbed the tile floor in the hall bathroom with a TOOTHBRUSH. (It was in pretty bad shape.) We did clean up enough to go out for an early dinner (I even wore a dress - I know, right?), and I picked up some new sports bras for BRAG next week.
It's been an awesome 15 years.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Best Come-Back EVER......
For some reason, my mother always seems to try to get the best of Hubby. She doesn't necessarily say MEAN things, just POINTED things. Maybe deep down she doesn't truly believe that he is as good a guy as he comes across as, so she's trying to ferret out the REAL Hubby.
Good luck with that.
The first time Hubby met my mother, it was on Christmas Day. No, I didn't choose that day to introduce him to the whole (wacky) family. Mom and Katydid went to a movie after lunch on Christmas, so Hubby and I decided to go see the same movie. It was an awkward setting at best, meeting my (scary) mother in the lobby of a movie theater. But I had to give Hubby kudos for trying.
He put his arm around me and said to my mother, "I'm going to take care of your daughter."
I'll pause here while you all go, "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww......."
[Pause]
[Pause}
Are you finished yet? No?
[Pause]
Then my mother, in all her glory, said, "You'd better."
Not in a nice way. Not in a Mama-Bear-I'm-all-about-protecting-my-cub way. Just in a bitchy way.
Well. Nice job of getting THAT relationship off on the right foot.
Now to her credit, there were all sorts of extenuating circumstances regarding our relationship (mine and Hubby's, not mine and Mom's) that I won't go into here, but really? Is that the best she could do?
I don't mean to imply that there have been multiple interactions along the same lines, but Mom hasn't ever really warmed up to Hubby. She will tell anyone who will listen (and listen and listen and listen) how happy we are and what a "perfect life" we have, but sometimes I wonder if she's just trying to convince herself.
Yesterday we had our Mother's Day gathering at her place. Well, the place she and my brother share. We had originally planned a picnic up on the hill, a place that I dearly love and would happily move to if they had any kind of decent internet service at all, but it rained and rained and rained yesterday. Buckets and buckets of rain. Drought-ending sheets of rain. I'm guessing you get the picture.
My brother has a "shop" (shed, workshop, storage area, barn) on his property, and he and his wife (and Mom, I assume) spent hours and hours cleaning it up and making it a suitable substitute location for our Mother's Day gathering. (Mom's complaint: "At least up on the hill we wouldn't have to put up with a RADIO.") We had a very nice meal, I enlisted the help of several family members in solving some of the Logos quiz items that had stumped me, and Mom inexplicably gave each of her children a gift in the form of a check. Wow.
When we were sitting around playing/talking/laughing/listening to the DAMNED radio, Mom came over to Hubby, seated next to me, and draped her arm across my shoulders.
"I want you to know," she said to Hubby, "that this is my baby."
There was just the briefest pause before Hubby replied, "Mine too."
Go ahead, I'll wait.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww......
As my brother put it, "You can do whatever the hell you want to for the rest of the summer. You just earned a whole [bunch] of points with that one."
I couldn't have been prouder of Hubby in that moment if he had presented me with a diamond and yellow gold tennis bracelet.
I still don't know what point she was trying to make. It's been 15 years, and I'm pretty sure he has established the fact that he has indeed taken care of me.
Whatever the point, it was lost in the furor of laughter and "Awwwwwwwwwwwwww....."
Best come-back EVER.
Go Hubby.
Good luck with that.
The first time Hubby met my mother, it was on Christmas Day. No, I didn't choose that day to introduce him to the whole (wacky) family. Mom and Katydid went to a movie after lunch on Christmas, so Hubby and I decided to go see the same movie. It was an awkward setting at best, meeting my (scary) mother in the lobby of a movie theater. But I had to give Hubby kudos for trying.
He put his arm around me and said to my mother, "I'm going to take care of your daughter."
I'll pause here while you all go, "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww......."
[Pause]
[Pause}
Are you finished yet? No?
[Pause]
Then my mother, in all her glory, said, "You'd better."
Not in a nice way. Not in a Mama-Bear-I'm-all-about-protecting-my-cub way. Just in a bitchy way.
Well. Nice job of getting THAT relationship off on the right foot.
Now to her credit, there were all sorts of extenuating circumstances regarding our relationship (mine and Hubby's, not mine and Mom's) that I won't go into here, but really? Is that the best she could do?
I don't mean to imply that there have been multiple interactions along the same lines, but Mom hasn't ever really warmed up to Hubby. She will tell anyone who will listen (and listen and listen and listen) how happy we are and what a "perfect life" we have, but sometimes I wonder if she's just trying to convince herself.
Yesterday we had our Mother's Day gathering at her place. Well, the place she and my brother share. We had originally planned a picnic up on the hill, a place that I dearly love and would happily move to if they had any kind of decent internet service at all, but it rained and rained and rained yesterday. Buckets and buckets of rain. Drought-ending sheets of rain. I'm guessing you get the picture.
My brother has a "shop" (shed, workshop, storage area, barn) on his property, and he and his wife (and Mom, I assume) spent hours and hours cleaning it up and making it a suitable substitute location for our Mother's Day gathering. (Mom's complaint: "At least up on the hill we wouldn't have to put up with a RADIO.") We had a very nice meal, I enlisted the help of several family members in solving some of the Logos quiz items that had stumped me, and Mom inexplicably gave each of her children a gift in the form of a check. Wow.
When we were sitting around playing/talking/laughing/listening to the DAMNED radio, Mom came over to Hubby, seated next to me, and draped her arm across my shoulders.
"I want you to know," she said to Hubby, "that this is my baby."
There was just the briefest pause before Hubby replied, "Mine too."
Go ahead, I'll wait.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww......
As my brother put it, "You can do whatever the hell you want to for the rest of the summer. You just earned a whole [bunch] of points with that one."
I couldn't have been prouder of Hubby in that moment if he had presented me with a diamond and yellow gold tennis bracelet.
I still don't know what point she was trying to make. It's been 15 years, and I'm pretty sure he has established the fact that he has indeed taken care of me.
Whatever the point, it was lost in the furor of laughter and "Awwwwwwwwwwwwww....."
Best come-back EVER.
Go Hubby.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Chattahoochee Bend State Park.....
Hubby and I are "roughing" it in the RV at our state's newest state park. It's only about 2 hours from home, approximately an hour south of Atlanta.
It's a gorgeous park with most of the amenities anyone would need. Well, if the amenities people need involve mostly getting away from everything, this is the perfect place. We have no cell service, and I don't mean spotty service, I mean ZERO. That's not altogether a bad thing, since my internet connect card works. If I had no internet AND no cell service, I might be twitching like Hubby was yesterday when we realized we had left the remote control for the satellite receiver at home and might not have television. (As usual, I figured it out and saved the day. Possibly the trip. Potentially the marriage.)
Each campground section has a lovely bathhouse with clean restrooms and showers. I prefer to shower in the RV because I don't like hauling everything to the bathhouse, but if we didn't have the RV shower it would be nice to have the facilities nearby. There is a nice playground (where I have been to swing on the swings twice today, once with my great-niece and great-nephew, who live nearby and came to visit), and the camping sites are level, clean, paved, perfectly spaced, and aesthetically pleasing.
Before we came here, I mapped out a 20-mile bike ride loop from the campground using a computer program. After we were inside the park, however, I realized I could likely ride 20 miles and never leave the park. Shortly after that I realized I had left my cycling shoes at home, so a ride of any length was in question. When we arrived yesterday, there was a sign on the visitors' center door that no one was on duty, so we should check in with the campground host, choose a campsite, and come back to the visitors' center today before 11:00 AM to register and pay.
The visitors' center is two miles from our campground, so I rode my bike up there this morning. It was a struggle because I didn't have the proper shoes, and my pedals are so small it's hard to keep my feet on them wearing tennis shoes. (My cycling shoes are cleated and clip into the pedals. I call them "suicide pedals," but they work.) In addition, the terrain inside the park is hilly. VERY hilly. I rode the two miles to the visitors' center, then the additional mile back to the main gate, then on to the road where we turned off to get to the park, which was just under 4.5 miles. Then (of course) I rode back, so what I hoped would be a 20-mile ride today was only just under 9 miles, but the best I could do without proper shoes. (Note to self: Put your extra pair of cycling shoes in the RV and leave them there. Thank you.)
Hubby and I took a little hike along the river this morning. The park ranger had told him about an observation tower from which we could see "a lot of the river." It was about a mile to the tower, and we enjoyed the walk, but the tower was a bit of a letdown. We could have seen just as much from the top of our RV. It was a VERY NICE tower, but it wasn't exactly what I would call a tower. The trails going through the woods are well marked and very scenic. I could have walked forever. But then I would have had to walk back, and since forever would have been gone... I don't have any idea how to finish that.
It's very quiet here. The park has been open less than a year, and there were only two other campsites occupied when we got here yesterday. A few more have been occupied today, but it is still very quiet and peaceful. I will hate to leave here in the morning, but the rest of Spring Break is full of events. Besides, two nights in one place away from home is about all I can get out of Hubby.
Stay tuned for our trip to Wisconsin late this summer. Surely he knows that is going to take more than two days...
It's a gorgeous park with most of the amenities anyone would need. Well, if the amenities people need involve mostly getting away from everything, this is the perfect place. We have no cell service, and I don't mean spotty service, I mean ZERO. That's not altogether a bad thing, since my internet connect card works. If I had no internet AND no cell service, I might be twitching like Hubby was yesterday when we realized we had left the remote control for the satellite receiver at home and might not have television. (As usual, I figured it out and saved the day. Possibly the trip. Potentially the marriage.)
 |
| RV camping is "ruff" on a dog. I have an entire folder of pictures of Gus in this same position. |
Each campground section has a lovely bathhouse with clean restrooms and showers. I prefer to shower in the RV because I don't like hauling everything to the bathhouse, but if we didn't have the RV shower it would be nice to have the facilities nearby. There is a nice playground (where I have been to swing on the swings twice today, once with my great-niece and great-nephew, who live nearby and came to visit), and the camping sites are level, clean, paved, perfectly spaced, and aesthetically pleasing.
Before we came here, I mapped out a 20-mile bike ride loop from the campground using a computer program. After we were inside the park, however, I realized I could likely ride 20 miles and never leave the park. Shortly after that I realized I had left my cycling shoes at home, so a ride of any length was in question. When we arrived yesterday, there was a sign on the visitors' center door that no one was on duty, so we should check in with the campground host, choose a campsite, and come back to the visitors' center today before 11:00 AM to register and pay.
The visitors' center is two miles from our campground, so I rode my bike up there this morning. It was a struggle because I didn't have the proper shoes, and my pedals are so small it's hard to keep my feet on them wearing tennis shoes. (My cycling shoes are cleated and clip into the pedals. I call them "suicide pedals," but they work.) In addition, the terrain inside the park is hilly. VERY hilly. I rode the two miles to the visitors' center, then the additional mile back to the main gate, then on to the road where we turned off to get to the park, which was just under 4.5 miles. Then (of course) I rode back, so what I hoped would be a 20-mile ride today was only just under 9 miles, but the best I could do without proper shoes. (Note to self: Put your extra pair of cycling shoes in the RV and leave them there. Thank you.)
Hubby and I took a little hike along the river this morning. The park ranger had told him about an observation tower from which we could see "a lot of the river." It was about a mile to the tower, and we enjoyed the walk, but the tower was a bit of a letdown. We could have seen just as much from the top of our RV. It was a VERY NICE tower, but it wasn't exactly what I would call a tower. The trails going through the woods are well marked and very scenic. I could have walked forever. But then I would have had to walk back, and since forever would have been gone... I don't have any idea how to finish that.
 |
| On the top level of the observation tower. I like the benches made out of trees. |
 |
| Chattahoochee River |
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Timing is Everything - Part 94173.....
This story would mean a lot more if it were told by our front office secretary. But I'll do my best to relate the events as she told them to me.
Two guys came into the front office today.
Guy #1 - "Is there someone here, one of your teachers, who rides a bike and leaves from here sometimes?"
Secretary - "Yes sir."
Guy #1 - "I wonder if he would like a riding partner."
Secretary - "I don't know. But SHE does ride from here in the afternoons."
Guy #1 - "Here's my business card. Give it to him and ask him to give me a call if he'd like someone to ride with sometime."
Secretary - "Okay. I'll give it to HER."
Guy #1 leaves the office, and the secretary turns to Guy #2.
Secretary - "May I help you?"
Guy #2 - "Yeah, can you give this to [Bragger]?" as he hands her my phone charger.
Yep, it was Hubby.
Now hear me when I say that Hubby has been in our building, counting today, a grand total of TWO times. Normally I keep a phone charger in my school bag, and normally I wouldn't have been concerned that my phone went completely dead. But for some bone-headed reason I took my spare charger home with me, and I don't like being without a cell phone when I'm riding my bike home. I CAN change a flat tire, but honestly it's just quicker to call someone to come get me. Since Hubby plays golf very near our school, I asked him to drop the phone charger by on his way.
What are the odds?
I mean, first of all what are the odds that some random guy goes into a SCHOOL and asks about someone he has seen maybe ONCE leaving the school on a bike? He couldn't have seen me too many times, if he thought I was a MAN. (I'm not quite through being pissed off about that, either.)
And what are the odds that he would appear at the SAME EXACT TIME as Hubby on his second visit to our school EVER?
While you're busy calculating those odds, I'll give you an easy one.
What are the odds that, standing three feet away, Hubby will MISS THE ENTIRE CONVERSATION?
I'm glad he's on his toes, just in case this dude turns out to be a stalker or something. I'm just sayin'...
Two guys came into the front office today.
Guy #1 - "Is there someone here, one of your teachers, who rides a bike and leaves from here sometimes?"
Secretary - "Yes sir."
Guy #1 - "I wonder if he would like a riding partner."
Secretary - "I don't know. But SHE does ride from here in the afternoons."
Guy #1 - "Here's my business card. Give it to him and ask him to give me a call if he'd like someone to ride with sometime."
Secretary - "Okay. I'll give it to HER."
Guy #1 leaves the office, and the secretary turns to Guy #2.
Secretary - "May I help you?"
Guy #2 - "Yeah, can you give this to [Bragger]?" as he hands her my phone charger.
Yep, it was Hubby.
Now hear me when I say that Hubby has been in our building, counting today, a grand total of TWO times. Normally I keep a phone charger in my school bag, and normally I wouldn't have been concerned that my phone went completely dead. But for some bone-headed reason I took my spare charger home with me, and I don't like being without a cell phone when I'm riding my bike home. I CAN change a flat tire, but honestly it's just quicker to call someone to come get me. Since Hubby plays golf very near our school, I asked him to drop the phone charger by on his way.
What are the odds?
I mean, first of all what are the odds that some random guy goes into a SCHOOL and asks about someone he has seen maybe ONCE leaving the school on a bike? He couldn't have seen me too many times, if he thought I was a MAN. (I'm not quite through being pissed off about that, either.)
And what are the odds that he would appear at the SAME EXACT TIME as Hubby on his second visit to our school EVER?
While you're busy calculating those odds, I'll give you an easy one.
What are the odds that, standing three feet away, Hubby will MISS THE ENTIRE CONVERSATION?
I'm glad he's on his toes, just in case this dude turns out to be a stalker or something. I'm just sayin'...
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Chivalry Might Not Be Dead, But It's Really Sick....
Disclaimer: He's still the world's last perfect man, but he sometimes has an "off" day.
Ever since I gave up beer and chocolate (damn it), the highlight of my lunch break every day has been sugar-free chocolate pudding. (I mean, I gave up the REAL chocolate stuff.) It tastes very good, it's chocolatey, it only has 60 calories, and I feel like I'm getting dessert. Sort of. I don't even experiment with other flavors; I buy the double chocolate every week.
I got the following text from Hubby today at 10:19 AM:
"U ain't got no pudding"
I texted back:
"What did I do, leave it on the counter? Crap!"
Sweet man, he KNOWS it's the highlight of my lunch break. He knows I hurry through my whole-wheat pasta salad, my rabbit-food tossed salad, or my turkey sandwich on a paper-thin wheat sandwich thingie just so I can get to the good stuff, the sugar-free pudding. He knows this. And he's retired and generous and considerate and plays golf only a couple of miles from my school.
That's why I naturally expected the next text message to read:
"Want me bring it 2 u?"
**Crickets**
**Crickets**
I'm still waiting for it.
Guess who got a bologna sandwich for his dinner?
Ever since I gave up beer and chocolate (damn it), the highlight of my lunch break every day has been sugar-free chocolate pudding. (I mean, I gave up the REAL chocolate stuff.) It tastes very good, it's chocolatey, it only has 60 calories, and I feel like I'm getting dessert. Sort of. I don't even experiment with other flavors; I buy the double chocolate every week.
I got the following text from Hubby today at 10:19 AM:
"U ain't got no pudding"
I texted back:
"What did I do, leave it on the counter? Crap!"
Sweet man, he KNOWS it's the highlight of my lunch break. He knows I hurry through my whole-wheat pasta salad, my rabbit-food tossed salad, or my turkey sandwich on a paper-thin wheat sandwich thingie just so I can get to the good stuff, the sugar-free pudding. He knows this. And he's retired and generous and considerate and plays golf only a couple of miles from my school.
That's why I naturally expected the next text message to read:
"Want me bring it 2 u?"
**Crickets**
**Crickets**
I'm still waiting for it.
Guess who got a bologna sandwich for his dinner?
Friday, January 20, 2012
Favorite Things Friday - Picture of Hubby.....
I have many pictures of Hubby through the years, naturally. What I don't have is many pictures of me, which may not be a bad thing. When my screen saver starts scrolling through my pictures and I occasionally see one of myself, I look at two things: #1 - my weight; and #2 - my hair. The hair fluctuates almost as much as the weight. And I usually see pictures of my hair and think, "What in the hell was I THINKING?"
But I digress.
This is one of my favorite pictures of Hubby.
I took this photo several years ago, right after I got what I call my "big dog" camera. I took it from what I thought was a cool angle, and I like the look on his face. A better photographer would have arranged it so that the shadow didn't cover his face, but whatever. Naturally he's smiling because A) he's got a beer in one hand (that you can't see); and B) he's got a golf club in the other hand. Life is good.
I have some video taken on this same trip of a one-legged man playing golf. He was riding in the cart with Hubby, and he didn't mind at all when I wanted to take some video. I'll upload that on another day.
Happy weekend!
But I digress.
This is one of my favorite pictures of Hubby.
I took this photo several years ago, right after I got what I call my "big dog" camera. I took it from what I thought was a cool angle, and I like the look on his face. A better photographer would have arranged it so that the shadow didn't cover his face, but whatever. Naturally he's smiling because A) he's got a beer in one hand (that you can't see); and B) he's got a golf club in the other hand. Life is good.
I have some video taken on this same trip of a one-legged man playing golf. He was riding in the cart with Hubby, and he didn't mind at all when I wanted to take some video. I'll upload that on another day.
Happy weekend!
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Men Shopping...Unsupervised......
Hubby and two of his buddies went to the casino after dropping Katydid and me at the gymnastics meet in Tuscaloosa (more on that tomorrow night).
Hubby and one of his buddies both have birthdays this month, so they had some extra "points" on their casino rewards cards, and the points expire at the end of the month. Because the main shops weren't open when they left this morning, their only option for spending the points was a smallish convenience store right down the road from the casino. Hubby filled up my car with gas, so that was a good use of some of the points. He still had a lot, though, so he proceeded to buy the following:
His buddy bought the following:
Clearly they need some training.
Hubby and one of his buddies both have birthdays this month, so they had some extra "points" on their casino rewards cards, and the points expire at the end of the month. Because the main shops weren't open when they left this morning, their only option for spending the points was a smallish convenience store right down the road from the casino. Hubby filled up my car with gas, so that was a good use of some of the points. He still had a lot, though, so he proceeded to buy the following:
- Two drinking glasses with the name of the casino etched on them
- Four ink pens: one that has the Sullen Teenager's name, one that says something about a teacher, one with his daughter's initial on it, and one with his own initial on it
- A box of chocolates (he gave it to his mother)
- A box of Funky Chunky, largish pretzels covered with a combination of chocolate, caramel, and peanut butter. Heaven in a box, and don't think I won't be checking out their website. Uh oh...guess I better log THOSE calories. May as well wait until I finish the box, which shouldn't take long.
- Some Oakley sunglasses
His buddy bought the following:
- A 12-pack of Diet Mountain Dew
- Five or six 5-Hour energy drinks
- A Barbie doll (he has one child, about five years old - a boy)
- Two packs of cigarettes (he doesn't smoke, nor does his wife, nor any of his friends)
- A handheld poker game
- Two gallons of anti-freeze
Clearly they need some training.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Adolescent Behavior is Contagious.....
Subtitle: I Should Be Ashamed of Myself
I think I mentioned a while back that Hubby bought a new car. I told him he didn't need something with 140 mph on the speedometer, and he said he wouldn't go any faster than 130.
Every time we go out to eat now, we go in his car. But he has usually been playing golf (read: drinking beer) all day, so he allows me to drive.
And he always says, "Punch it." "Floor it." Or something equally juvenile.
I tell him I'm not going to drive fast because I'm a wimp and afraid of getting a speeding ticket. (I've only had one in my life, when I was 18 and driving to Daytona Beach and I cried for the whole three days I was there over a $25 speeding ticket.)
Last night we went to the one town I don't like to go between Thanksgiving and Christmas because all the shoppers come out and bring three cars each and clog up the streets. Even after the students go home for Christmas, traffic is still a nightmare during the holiday season.
Let me go on record here and say I am NOT one of those people who exhibits road rage. I may get irritated, I may sometimes allow other drivers to get somewhat under my skin, but I am not an aggressive driver. I don't use the horn (much) or the middle finger (hardly ever), and if I think another driver is annoyed with ME, I don't make eye contact.
One thing that DOES get on my nerves, though, is when a driver insists on driving in the left lane. The major road between the college town and our town is not a controlled-access highway, so sometimes it's necessary for people to turn left, but there is no sense in people getting in that left lane and clogging up the lane for everyone else.
When I FINALLY got around a car that was cruising along at just under the speed limit in the left lane, Hubby said, "Smoke him."
(That's another of his favorites.)
And I did.
I punched it, and that Challenger took off like somebody had just counted down to a space shuttle liftoff. I was then in the right lane and gaining (rapidly) on another car, so I pulled out to pass it too. Then I realized it was a Mustang.
And I channeled my inner Hubby and smoked him too.
I am a wimp, though, so as soon as I saw his taillights in the mirror, I eased off the accelerator. Hubby said, "What did you get up, 100?"
I glanced at the speedometer and saw it sweep past 100 mph ON THE WAY BACK DOWN.
"Yeah," I replied.
Since I had my laser eye surgery only on one eye, I have these special glasses I'm supposed to wear when I drive at night. I can't find them.
What an idiot.
I think I mentioned a while back that Hubby bought a new car. I told him he didn't need something with 140 mph on the speedometer, and he said he wouldn't go any faster than 130.
Every time we go out to eat now, we go in his car. But he has usually been playing golf (read: drinking beer) all day, so he allows me to drive.
And he always says, "Punch it." "Floor it." Or something equally juvenile.
I tell him I'm not going to drive fast because I'm a wimp and afraid of getting a speeding ticket. (I've only had one in my life, when I was 18 and driving to Daytona Beach and I cried for the whole three days I was there over a $25 speeding ticket.)
Last night we went to the one town I don't like to go between Thanksgiving and Christmas because all the shoppers come out and bring three cars each and clog up the streets. Even after the students go home for Christmas, traffic is still a nightmare during the holiday season.
Let me go on record here and say I am NOT one of those people who exhibits road rage. I may get irritated, I may sometimes allow other drivers to get somewhat under my skin, but I am not an aggressive driver. I don't use the horn (much) or the middle finger (hardly ever), and if I think another driver is annoyed with ME, I don't make eye contact.
One thing that DOES get on my nerves, though, is when a driver insists on driving in the left lane. The major road between the college town and our town is not a controlled-access highway, so sometimes it's necessary for people to turn left, but there is no sense in people getting in that left lane and clogging up the lane for everyone else.
When I FINALLY got around a car that was cruising along at just under the speed limit in the left lane, Hubby said, "Smoke him."
(That's another of his favorites.)
And I did.
I punched it, and that Challenger took off like somebody had just counted down to a space shuttle liftoff. I was then in the right lane and gaining (rapidly) on another car, so I pulled out to pass it too. Then I realized it was a Mustang.
And I channeled my inner Hubby and smoked him too.
I am a wimp, though, so as soon as I saw his taillights in the mirror, I eased off the accelerator. Hubby said, "What did you get up, 100?"
I glanced at the speedometer and saw it sweep past 100 mph ON THE WAY BACK DOWN.
"Yeah," I replied.
Since I had my laser eye surgery only on one eye, I have these special glasses I'm supposed to wear when I drive at night. I can't find them.
What an idiot.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Keeping Me Grounded, Just Another Service Hubby Provides.....
If I ever find myself getting a little too far ahead of myself, a little too excited, a little too giddy, Hubby has an incredible ability to bring me right back to Earth. And slap some concrete shoes on my feet.
Last week I started thinking about a bike ride I've always wanted to do, SAGBRAW. I've wanted to do it because that's a part of the country I've never been to, and my very favorite cousin lives in Green Bay. (Shhh...Please don't tell my OTHER cousins.)
I read on the website that the route for 2012 would be announced on November 1st. I vowed that if the route went anywhere NEAR Green Bay, I was going to ride in it. I set a calendar reminder so I wouldn't forget to check the route.
The news couldn't have been better. Not only does the SAGBRAW route start about 30 miles from where my cousin lives, it's a LOOP ride, ending in the same place a week later. That means riders don't even have to worry about getting BACK across the state at the end of the ride.
I started making plans immediately, trying to decide whether I would camp outside, camp inside, or coerce Hubby into taking the RV. I emailed the CEO of BRAG to see if he might consider taking a group. (Not sure why I cared, since I have zero interest in riding in a van with 12 or 13 of my closest friends for two days.)
Unable to contain my excitement over an event that is EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS IN THE FUTURE, I texted Hubby. Knowing he was on the golf course.
Now before you scoff at my naivete for bothering Hubby on the golf course, please try to understand that texting actually works for us. I can text him with something that might otherwise irritate/annoy/bore him, and he gets a chance to think about it before he answers. Sometimes those smart-ass answers take some careful thought and consideration.
Here is the transcript of our exchange of text messages:
Me: It isn't Iowa...... [Because I swore the last time I rode in RAGBRAI that I would never do it again, and I asked him to remind me of that if I ever mentioned the word "Iowa" again. Stupid me. Probably have to go back on that oath too.]..... I would like to do a bike ride in Wisconsin next summer. It starts only about 40 miles from Dana's house.
Hubby: Whatever
Me: I knew you'd be excited.
I love that man.
Last week I started thinking about a bike ride I've always wanted to do, SAGBRAW. I've wanted to do it because that's a part of the country I've never been to, and my very favorite cousin lives in Green Bay. (Shhh...Please don't tell my OTHER cousins.)
I read on the website that the route for 2012 would be announced on November 1st. I vowed that if the route went anywhere NEAR Green Bay, I was going to ride in it. I set a calendar reminder so I wouldn't forget to check the route.
The news couldn't have been better. Not only does the SAGBRAW route start about 30 miles from where my cousin lives, it's a LOOP ride, ending in the same place a week later. That means riders don't even have to worry about getting BACK across the state at the end of the ride.
I started making plans immediately, trying to decide whether I would camp outside, camp inside, or coerce Hubby into taking the RV. I emailed the CEO of BRAG to see if he might consider taking a group. (Not sure why I cared, since I have zero interest in riding in a van with 12 or 13 of my closest friends for two days.)
Unable to contain my excitement over an event that is EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS IN THE FUTURE, I texted Hubby. Knowing he was on the golf course.
Now before you scoff at my naivete for bothering Hubby on the golf course, please try to understand that texting actually works for us. I can text him with something that might otherwise irritate/annoy/bore him, and he gets a chance to think about it before he answers. Sometimes those smart-ass answers take some careful thought and consideration.
Here is the transcript of our exchange of text messages:
Me: It isn't Iowa...... [Because I swore the last time I rode in RAGBRAI that I would never do it again, and I asked him to remind me of that if I ever mentioned the word "Iowa" again. Stupid me. Probably have to go back on that oath too.]..... I would like to do a bike ride in Wisconsin next summer. It starts only about 40 miles from Dana's house.
Hubby: Whatever
Me: I knew you'd be excited.
I love that man.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Updates.....
A couple of updates....
Mother-in-law is doing better. The doctor cleared her to start putting weight on the arm she broke, so she can (almost) get herself up and down. She has managed to get herself in her scooter and get around her house a little bit. Yay! The biggest problems remaining currently are her inability to sleep in her own bed and her inability to pull her pants back up when she goes to the bathroom. I wondered aloud to Hubby tonight if she would ever let me know not to come to her house at 6:00 AM every day (including weekends and holidays), and he said, "Nah. You're in it for life." Or something like that. But at least she's progressing.
Baby Luke is progressing as well. He is probably going to be in the hospital for AT LEAST another 8 weeks, but he has been able to breathe on his own, he has been able to suck on a pacifier, and he has been able to digest some food. Not steak and potatoes, you understand, but he has been able to keep down what they have given him. His mom's blood pressure is still elevated, so they are keeping her in the hospital for now. I think the hardest thing for her is yet to come: The day she has to walk out of the hospital and leave Baby Luke behind.
I tried to describe this picture to Hubby, but I kept getting choked up and couldn't finish. I finally asked Luke's daddy to send it to me so I could show Hubby just how tiny Luke is. The new daddy came to school today, and he said he could put his wedding ring around Luke's foot. It's impossible for me to wrap my head around the idea that a baby can be that tiny.
Hubby is fully immersed in at least his second childhood. After almost a year of euphoria caused by being debt-free, he has purchased this new toy.
While I don't tell him what to do (and he doesn't tell ME what to do or not to do), I did say to him SORT OF JOKINGLY, "You don't need anything with 140 mph on the speedometer."
His response?
"I will not go any faster than 130."
I am headed to Florida after school tomorrow for a dual purpose: #1 - To see my Sweet Girl, whom I haven't seen since June; and #2 - To attend the Georgia-Florida football game, formerly known as the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. More on that tomorrow or Saturday.
Mother-in-law is doing better. The doctor cleared her to start putting weight on the arm she broke, so she can (almost) get herself up and down. She has managed to get herself in her scooter and get around her house a little bit. Yay! The biggest problems remaining currently are her inability to sleep in her own bed and her inability to pull her pants back up when she goes to the bathroom. I wondered aloud to Hubby tonight if she would ever let me know not to come to her house at 6:00 AM every day (including weekends and holidays), and he said, "Nah. You're in it for life." Or something like that. But at least she's progressing.
Baby Luke is progressing as well. He is probably going to be in the hospital for AT LEAST another 8 weeks, but he has been able to breathe on his own, he has been able to suck on a pacifier, and he has been able to digest some food. Not steak and potatoes, you understand, but he has been able to keep down what they have given him. His mom's blood pressure is still elevated, so they are keeping her in the hospital for now. I think the hardest thing for her is yet to come: The day she has to walk out of the hospital and leave Baby Luke behind.
I tried to describe this picture to Hubby, but I kept getting choked up and couldn't finish. I finally asked Luke's daddy to send it to me so I could show Hubby just how tiny Luke is. The new daddy came to school today, and he said he could put his wedding ring around Luke's foot. It's impossible for me to wrap my head around the idea that a baby can be that tiny.
Hubby is fully immersed in at least his second childhood. After almost a year of euphoria caused by being debt-free, he has purchased this new toy.
While I don't tell him what to do (and he doesn't tell ME what to do or not to do), I did say to him SORT OF JOKINGLY, "You don't need anything with 140 mph on the speedometer."
His response?
"I will not go any faster than 130."
I am headed to Florida after school tomorrow for a dual purpose: #1 - To see my Sweet Girl, whom I haven't seen since June; and #2 - To attend the Georgia-Florida football game, formerly known as the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. More on that tomorrow or Saturday.
Friday, October 21, 2011
When Hubby's Away.....
Hubby is on one of his golf & gambling trips to Mississippi, so I'm home alone. In the old days I would have had Chinese take-out, played a gazillion games of Mario, and stayed up way past my bedtime watching college football.
Last night I had thoughts of going to the Thursday Zumba class, since there's a new instructor. Instead I had broccoli & cheese soup (from a can, no less) and went to bed at 8:00. Just like usual. I flipped back and forth between the baseball game (I'm rooting for the Rangers, even though my godson ISN'T with the team after all) and a college football game I wasn't the least bit interested in.
Tonight I had thoughts of riding my bike after school. Instead I crocheted until I nodded off during the 5:00 newscast, had tomato soup (from a can, no less) and a grilled cheese, and I'm headed to bed now.
The times they are a'changin'.
Last night I had thoughts of going to the Thursday Zumba class, since there's a new instructor. Instead I had broccoli & cheese soup (from a can, no less) and went to bed at 8:00. Just like usual. I flipped back and forth between the baseball game (I'm rooting for the Rangers, even though my godson ISN'T with the team after all) and a college football game I wasn't the least bit interested in.
Tonight I had thoughts of riding my bike after school. Instead I crocheted until I nodded off during the 5:00 newscast, had tomato soup (from a can, no less) and a grilled cheese, and I'm headed to bed now.
The times they are a'changin'.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Name That Tune.......
Some of the most hilarious moments Hubby and I share are those that spring up spontaneously and take on a life of their own. I'm guessing we aren't the only couple in the world who do that. We have little sayings and phrases that are meaningful only to us, and if we try to explain them (not that anyone asks), they don't make sense to anyone else. I'll write about those another day, for they are only tangentially related to this topic.
Are you impressed that I used the word "tangentially" in my blog? No? Darn.
We were sitting on the beach the other day, just watching the waves and waiting for the occasional mostly uncooperative dolphin to appear. Hubby was drinking beer, and I was drinking those little tiny bottles of wine that come in a four-pack. Only I poured it into a wine glass. On the beach. What a dork. I don't even DRINK wine. Much.
While we were sitting there, it began to sprinkle rain just a little. Not even enough to cool things off much, just a scattering of drops. I don't know who started it, but we began trading song lyrics with rain in them.
"Oh it must be raindrops, so many raindrops...."
"It's raining on prom night...."
"On a rainy night in Georgia...."
"Rain falling, always falling...." (This one may have been unfair, since the lyrics are from a TERRIBLE song sung by Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge, and Katydid and I may be the only humans on earth who have ever heard it.)
"Raindrops keep falling on my head...."
"Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain...."
"In the cold Kentucky rain...."
"Singing in the rain, just singing in the rain...."
"Rain dripping off the brim of my hat, sure is cold today...."
"When I woke up the rain was pouring down, there were people standing all around...."
"Who'll stop the rain?"
And for some unknown reason, Hubby cried foul when I came up with "Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer...." I think he should have been a little clearer about the rules.
And then the sun came out.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...."
"Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy...."
"Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain...." (BONUS!!!!)
"On the sunny side of the street...."
Anyone else want to play? Leave your contribution in the comments section. You can contribute either rain songs or sun songs or both.
Are you impressed that I used the word "tangentially" in my blog? No? Darn.
We were sitting on the beach the other day, just watching the waves and waiting for the occasional mostly uncooperative dolphin to appear. Hubby was drinking beer, and I was drinking those little tiny bottles of wine that come in a four-pack. Only I poured it into a wine glass. On the beach. What a dork. I don't even DRINK wine. Much.
While we were sitting there, it began to sprinkle rain just a little. Not even enough to cool things off much, just a scattering of drops. I don't know who started it, but we began trading song lyrics with rain in them.
"Oh it must be raindrops, so many raindrops...."
"It's raining on prom night...."
"On a rainy night in Georgia...."
"Rain falling, always falling...." (This one may have been unfair, since the lyrics are from a TERRIBLE song sung by Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge, and Katydid and I may be the only humans on earth who have ever heard it.)
"Raindrops keep falling on my head...."
"Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain...."
"In the cold Kentucky rain...."
"Singing in the rain, just singing in the rain...."
"Rain dripping off the brim of my hat, sure is cold today...."
"When I woke up the rain was pouring down, there were people standing all around...."
"Who'll stop the rain?"
And for some unknown reason, Hubby cried foul when I came up with "Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer...." I think he should have been a little clearer about the rules.
And then the sun came out.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...."
"Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy...."
"Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain...." (BONUS!!!!)
"On the sunny side of the street...."
Anyone else want to play? Leave your contribution in the comments section. You can contribute either rain songs or sun songs or both.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
He Makes it Hard to Spill My Guts......
Several months ago, I got the bug to have football season tickets again. I had them years ago, in a previous wifetime (or two), but when it came to a decision of keeping the tickets or buying groceries, I had to let the tickets go. I know, I know, I'm not a true fan.
I don't know how it works at other schools, this having season tickets thing, and I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how it works at MY school. There is a minimum "points" level at which one can qualify to buy season tickets. Points = dollars donated, and the total builds up over the years.
One must donate a minimum of $250 PER TICKET in order to purchase season tickets. In addition, one must have a total points level above the minimum score. Problem is, that minimum score is secret. Until after the donation deadline. And it changes every year. It all depends on how many people buy tickets, and how much those particular people donate. That determines the points minimum. And it only becomes known even to the powers-that-be after everyone has made his or her donation for that year.
In 2008, Hubby read to me from an article in the newspaper about what the points minimum was for that year, and I thought he either misread it or there was a typo. The MINIMUM for that year was $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Someone wanting season tickets and donating for the first time had to start at $10,000. Hubby had a buddy who donated $5,000. He got a letter back from the university basically saying thanks for your five grand, but you ain't gettin' no tickets.
Holy crap. What a racket.
The next year the minimum dropped to $4,500 and Hubby and I discussed buying season tickets. We went over the pros and cons.
Pros: We get to see the games in person.
Cons: It's hot. There are 92,000 people. We can watch most of the games on television in air conditioning. With plenty of beer. The 30-minute drive to the stadium (or as close as you can get to the stadium, which is at least a mile away) becomes a 4-hour drive. Tailgating means it takes all day to go to a game. Getting home is another 4-hour journey. It's a lot of trouble to go to just to leave at halftime. (Oh wait...that's Hubby.)
He even reminded me of a game I went to in 2008, about which I wrote this blog post.
But still. Having season tickets means ..... having season tickets. Being in the IN crowd.
And I absolutely abhor someone else having something I cannot have. I'm considering professional help for this condition.
The next year, the points minimum dropped to $1500. That's a fraction of what it had been. I realize you can do the math; I'm not trying to insult your intelligence.
Then I got the bug again. I had a separate little savings account stashed away, and I had money left in it even after I bought my new bike. I reasoned that I could use that money to donate money in the hopes of getting tickets, and it wasn't like I was spending household money. I then remembered that I had points leftover from that previous wifetime, the days before computers, that were floating around out in cyberspace somewhere. Surely those points might make a difference.
I had tried to merge those points once before, but it was like I was speaking Swahili to an infant lizard. Being the persistent sort, I called again, and this time I got a sweet young thing named Amanda on the phone. She made about four computer clicks and said, "Yep. Here they are. You've got 600 extra points."
Holy smokes. Remember, points=dollars.
Amanda told me how to merge my points, and I just realized how ridiculously long this blog post is getting, and for that I apologize.
I sent in my donations and my ticket application, still not 100% certain I would even get tickets. One year I had donated a measly amount (one of those other years when I felt the urge), and they sent me a ticket application. Completely misunderstanding, I ordered two season tickets, and I think the refund they sent me had "Ha ha ha ha - good one" in the memo line.
So I watched my credit card account like a hawk, fully expecting every day for them to refund the amount of two season tickets. But not my donation, of course. (I did read somewhere, though, that if someone really insists, they will refund the donation also.)
When it became comfortably obvious that they were keeping my money, indicating I had indeed procured the coveted season tickets, I then fretted about how to break the news to Hubby. It wasn't the money .... it was MY money, and we never fight about money anyway. If I overspend and have to ask Hubby to bail me out, he does it. No fussing, no cussing, no criticism (at least not out loud).
One night at dinner, when he had a particularly good day on the golf day and was pretty mellow, I decided to unburden my soul with the horrible secret of what I had done. When I finally blurted out that we had season tickets for football this year, Hubby just looked at me for a moment.
Then he said, "I saw that on your bank account months ago."
All that worry for nothing. Now he wants an RV parking pass, which is in the works. That will solve several of the cons regarding getting to and from the game. It also allows him to leave the game at halftime and me to stay.
I love it when a plan comes together.
I don't know how it works at other schools, this having season tickets thing, and I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how it works at MY school. There is a minimum "points" level at which one can qualify to buy season tickets. Points = dollars donated, and the total builds up over the years.
One must donate a minimum of $250 PER TICKET in order to purchase season tickets. In addition, one must have a total points level above the minimum score. Problem is, that minimum score is secret. Until after the donation deadline. And it changes every year. It all depends on how many people buy tickets, and how much those particular people donate. That determines the points minimum. And it only becomes known even to the powers-that-be after everyone has made his or her donation for that year.
In 2008, Hubby read to me from an article in the newspaper about what the points minimum was for that year, and I thought he either misread it or there was a typo. The MINIMUM for that year was $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Someone wanting season tickets and donating for the first time had to start at $10,000. Hubby had a buddy who donated $5,000. He got a letter back from the university basically saying thanks for your five grand, but you ain't gettin' no tickets.
Holy crap. What a racket.
The next year the minimum dropped to $4,500 and Hubby and I discussed buying season tickets. We went over the pros and cons.
Pros: We get to see the games in person.
Cons: It's hot. There are 92,000 people. We can watch most of the games on television in air conditioning. With plenty of beer. The 30-minute drive to the stadium (or as close as you can get to the stadium, which is at least a mile away) becomes a 4-hour drive. Tailgating means it takes all day to go to a game. Getting home is another 4-hour journey. It's a lot of trouble to go to just to leave at halftime. (Oh wait...that's Hubby.)
He even reminded me of a game I went to in 2008, about which I wrote this blog post.
But still. Having season tickets means ..... having season tickets. Being in the IN crowd.
And I absolutely abhor someone else having something I cannot have. I'm considering professional help for this condition.
The next year, the points minimum dropped to $1500. That's a fraction of what it had been. I realize you can do the math; I'm not trying to insult your intelligence.
Then I got the bug again. I had a separate little savings account stashed away, and I had money left in it even after I bought my new bike. I reasoned that I could use that money to donate money in the hopes of getting tickets, and it wasn't like I was spending household money. I then remembered that I had points leftover from that previous wifetime, the days before computers, that were floating around out in cyberspace somewhere. Surely those points might make a difference.
I had tried to merge those points once before, but it was like I was speaking Swahili to an infant lizard. Being the persistent sort, I called again, and this time I got a sweet young thing named Amanda on the phone. She made about four computer clicks and said, "Yep. Here they are. You've got 600 extra points."
Holy smokes. Remember, points=dollars.
Amanda told me how to merge my points, and I just realized how ridiculously long this blog post is getting, and for that I apologize.
I sent in my donations and my ticket application, still not 100% certain I would even get tickets. One year I had donated a measly amount (one of those other years when I felt the urge), and they sent me a ticket application. Completely misunderstanding, I ordered two season tickets, and I think the refund they sent me had "Ha ha ha ha - good one" in the memo line.
So I watched my credit card account like a hawk, fully expecting every day for them to refund the amount of two season tickets. But not my donation, of course. (I did read somewhere, though, that if someone really insists, they will refund the donation also.)
When it became comfortably obvious that they were keeping my money, indicating I had indeed procured the coveted season tickets, I then fretted about how to break the news to Hubby. It wasn't the money .... it was MY money, and we never fight about money anyway. If I overspend and have to ask Hubby to bail me out, he does it. No fussing, no cussing, no criticism (at least not out loud).
One night at dinner, when he had a particularly good day on the golf day and was pretty mellow, I decided to unburden my soul with the horrible secret of what I had done. When I finally blurted out that we had season tickets for football this year, Hubby just looked at me for a moment.
Then he said, "I saw that on your bank account months ago."
All that worry for nothing. Now he wants an RV parking pass, which is in the works. That will solve several of the cons regarding getting to and from the game. It also allows him to leave the game at halftime and me to stay.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
My Husband and My Dog.......
Ways my husband and my dog are alike:
Both of them are big fans of naps.
They both like steak.
Both of them expect me to read their minds.
Dog and Hubby both like to go to bed while it's still daylight. And they think I should go to bed then too.
Both of them like to swim.
They both wait to be fed, instead of pitching in to help.
Both of them make stupid noises about inconsequential things, and never mind if someone else in the household is trying to hear the television.
Neither of them minds interrupting me while I'm doing something, like crocheting, reading, or playing a video game.
Both of them can be very charming.
Both of them can be very annoying.
Both of them are big fans of naps.
They both like steak.
Both of them expect me to read their minds.
Dog and Hubby both like to go to bed while it's still daylight. And they think I should go to bed then too.
Both of them like to swim.
They both wait to be fed, instead of pitching in to help.
Both of them make stupid noises about inconsequential things, and never mind if someone else in the household is trying to hear the television.
Neither of them minds interrupting me while I'm doing something, like crocheting, reading, or playing a video game.
Both of them can be very charming.
Both of them can be very annoying.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Police Blotter Blogger Fodder Part 7.......
It's been a while since I posted any of the scintillating events from one of our town's newspapers, and since I had my own close-up and personal encounter with one of our city's finest today, I thought it appropriate for tonight's blog topic.
Here are some recent .... uh .... crimes? .... reported in our town.
And now the story that did NOT appear in today's police blotter because it missed the deadline. I'm sure it will be in there next week.
Sarcasm aside, I also (reluctantly) acknowledge(d) that I was wrong. As soon as the cop said what the problem was, I immediately said, "My fault. I rode up next to him." He kept on and on, repeating the safety issue over and over again, even providing a detailed scenario of me being in the inside lane (I was) and having to dodge a car, and veering into Hubby, and the only place Hubby would have to go would be the ditch. (The officer was apparently unconcerned as to my outcome with the veering-out-of-lane, oncoming car.)
We. Get. It.
I said three times, "I know, it was my fault." That's in addition to Hubby saying, "That's your fault." I didn't even mind him saying that, because it was true. I refrained from telling the officer, "It's the only time I've EVER been able to catch him."
Here's the other part of the whole incident that irked me: The cop ignored me completely and talked solely to Hubby. Even with me saying three times that it was my fault. It was CLEARLY my error, since I was the rider who rode up next to the other one. I was next to the double yellow and (had been) behind Hubby. Even worse, I rode up next to Hubby because I wasn't paying attention. Not paying attention on a motorcycle is dangerous, to say the least.
But he kept talking only to Hubby, and he talked to him like he might be slightly retarded. Hubby's theory is that the cop WANTED Hubby to smart off to him. I was the one having to bite my tongue.
I had never been stopped on my motorcycle before. I can't believe I neglected to put THAT on my 50 Things to Do List.
Here are some recent .... uh .... crimes? .... reported in our town.
- Missing adult on June 9. A resident told police that his adult daughter had been missing since the previous day. The female was located at Wal-Mart in [a nearby town]. Shouldn't they always check Wal-Mart first?
- A woman reported a missing friend whom she had not spoken with since late June 7. An officer checked with the ______ County Detention Center and was informed that the woman's friend was incarcerated there. If she's not at the Wal-Mart, she may just be locked up.
- A man told police he has found his back door open on several occasions and he was missing two ballpoint pens and approximately $3 in change. Raise your hand if you would notice two ballpoint pens missing from your house. And $3 in change.
- An office [sic] reported he found two bicycles on vacant property. So I should call the po-po when the neighbors' kids leave their bikes in our yard?
- A man told police his tan and orange bicycle was stolen between 7:30 and 8:30 PM. Check the vacant property in your area.
- Deceased person on June 11. There they go again, trying to arrest the dead.
- An officer responded to a harassment report and found a man sitting on the front porch who told him that his father's friend touched him inappropriately. When the officer talked with the man in question, he told the officer that the complainant was crazy. I'm not making fun of this situation, but surely this wasn't the end of the story?
- Dispatch was advised that a man was last seen in the area near the railroad tracks taking pictures and video of the trains going by. A police officer spotted the man taking pictures of the passing trains. The officer reported that the male identified himself as a student at Georgia Tech who was taking pictures because he likes trains. [I wonder if anyone has ever told this dude that is NOT the kind of engineering they teach at Georgia Tech? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha] Dispatched [sic] advised that the FBI and CSX Corporation both told the man not to be on CSX property. The officer reported that the man was standing about 5-10 feet from the train tracks. He was issued a citation for criminal trespass, city violation and told not to be within 25 feet of the trains. Hubby and I are convinced this is the officer we had the **cough cough** pleasure of speaking to today.
- A man reported that he had received a letter directed to his attention, but directed toward an employee of the SSA in ______. The letter referred to Hell, a "nuke," an "A-bomb," and "F-bomb" causing a "big bang." The reporting officer gathered the evidence from the man, which included an envelope with a return address on it, and turned the items over to investigations. I don't know what's sadder: the fact that the writer thinks an "F-bomb" belongs with all those other incendiary devices, or the fact that he put a return address on a letter containing terroristic threats.
And now the story that did NOT appear in today's police blotter because it missed the deadline. I'm sure it will be in there next week.
- Two middle-aged motorcyclists, one a retired Pepsi salesman and the other a teacher only one year away from retirement herself, were stopped today by a city policeman after they were spotted .... gasp .... riding side by side in the same lane for a distance of a quarter of a mile. After telling the couple that it is against the law to ride motorcycles in tandem due to safety issues NO FEWER THAN FOUR TIMES, the officer magnanimously stated he was not going to give them tickets for their flagrant violation of traffic laws. The citizens of our county can sleep better tonight.
Sarcasm aside, I also (reluctantly) acknowledge(d) that I was wrong. As soon as the cop said what the problem was, I immediately said, "My fault. I rode up next to him." He kept on and on, repeating the safety issue over and over again, even providing a detailed scenario of me being in the inside lane (I was) and having to dodge a car, and veering into Hubby, and the only place Hubby would have to go would be the ditch. (The officer was apparently unconcerned as to my outcome with the veering-out-of-lane, oncoming car.)
We. Get. It.
I said three times, "I know, it was my fault." That's in addition to Hubby saying, "That's your fault." I didn't even mind him saying that, because it was true. I refrained from telling the officer, "It's the only time I've EVER been able to catch him."
Here's the other part of the whole incident that irked me: The cop ignored me completely and talked solely to Hubby. Even with me saying three times that it was my fault. It was CLEARLY my error, since I was the rider who rode up next to the other one. I was next to the double yellow and (had been) behind Hubby. Even worse, I rode up next to Hubby because I wasn't paying attention. Not paying attention on a motorcycle is dangerous, to say the least.
But he kept talking only to Hubby, and he talked to him like he might be slightly retarded. Hubby's theory is that the cop WANTED Hubby to smart off to him. I was the one having to bite my tongue.
I had never been stopped on my motorcycle before. I can't believe I neglected to put THAT on my 50 Things to Do List.
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