Ohh Deer!

Yes - there were a bunch of them at dinner tonight. Not alive, mind you.... but many greeted me as I walked into Bunga whomever's lodge this evening for dinner with my husband. If I had been fully awake and not intent on being so grumpy, *maybe* I would have had the common sense to tell my husband that the aforesaid place was perhaps not the best place to take me. As my husband so willingly explained to the guy who had the privilage of being our host/taking our name as soon as we stepped in the door...

"Stuffed heads on the wall kinda freak my wife out...."

AND let the reader please note that this was mentioned after the host thought my husband was friggin *admiring* all the taxidermy work. AND even after it was explained why we were talking about it, the host still was oblivious to the horror on my face and led us thru the maze of tables and taxidermy work where we would be seated, exclaiming...

"REALLY??? You have never have been here? "

Uhh..... like DUHHHH dude..... remember the stuffed heads comment?

Anyway! He seats us by the fireplace and I think to myself that this *might* not be so bad. In retroflect, sitting by a fireplace is almost somewhat romantic. And as I sit down and look up above the fireplace, I look a HUGE stuffed head of a moose right in the eyes....

And then I look back at my husband ....

He looks at me and loses it, laughing and shaking his head as he says, "I really know how to pick a good place to eat..."

As I look behind my husband, I have to agree, since there is a bear skin hanging on the wall and multiple antlers hanging from the ceiling. Yet, the intermittent  advertisements by 'Bill' and the animals over the intercom over the 'electrifying' times to be had there as we had some of the slowest service EVER was not much better.

The rum/diet coke I had helped tho..... especially near the end of the dinner when I heard some loud sound and looked up to see a fish flapping around on the wall...

And that's when the tears of laughter started lol

Women Are Tough

No, really. They are.... more so than you would think...

Some women are tough emotionally. Me? Well, emotional stability eludes me most times - BUT I am physically tough. I have moved a heavy wooden table across one room to another by pushing it with my feet. I have sat on a nail while trying to watch my husband work out in the garage and managed to deal with the pain by running inside and cussing like a sailor. I have grouted a kitchen floor, sealed a deck and mowed in the same day and only had rum as my pain reliever. And I have managed to move a wine rack with a heavy granite top down the basement stairs with only a few minor scuffs on the wall....

So yesterday was really no exception when it came to a new level of pain. The aforesaid kitchen floor had not been totally finished, so I was in the kitchen ready to grout some more when my husband picked up one of the slate tiles to mastic/adhere to the kitchen floor. One thing led to another and he playfully swung it to one side and then the other side...

That other side happened to be my nose...

Believe it or not, the tile broke in half and I stepped back in disbelief. I was in shock. And I believe my husband was too - as this was something that would typically happen to me (as I am usually the one accidently hurting him). My hand slowly goes to my nose and he steps forward to make sure I was ok.

I step back.

He tries again. I step back again. All this done without many words spoken...

I didn't cry. I didn't whine. I didn't yell.

I just didn't want it to happen again lol

Needless to say, my husband felt terrible and when he asked, "Ya know when your parents said it hurts them worse then it hurts you?", I suddenly stopped backing up.

Cuz, I understood. NOT because my parents ever said that to me. BUT because I always wished they had.

Step #2 - Tile Floor

A few years back, I might have thought that doing the tile in my kitchen was no big deal. However, that would have meant I was younger and better equipped to deal with the consequences of doing our tile floor myself. Not only physically, but emotionally as well - anymore, I look at our kitchen floor covered with 3/4 of the tiles and think that maybe - just maybe - it doesn't really matter if I have the other 1/4 of the tiles and grouting is way overrrated.

And then reality sets in and I try to do the mature thing and finish what I started lol

I am not able to help the feeling of animosity, tho, when I realize the number of tiles I *thought* I grouted really isn't much when I get my butt off the tiles to take a look at my progress. The 'look at me go!' feeling is replaced by one of 'no f'n wayyyyy' when I realize that my hands are permanently 'claw-shaped' because I spent a good hour on 4 tiles.

Yeah. FOUR flippin' tilessssss....

It is also sad to see me run outside to wash off the sponge that I use to wipe down the tiles. Not only because I go to end of the deck, turn on hose and pathetically spray as much as possible onto the sponge to get rid of the grout embedded in the it, but because it has also been f'n raining the past 2 days.

I am sure if one was to secretly camcord me, they would wonder why I don't just put the sponge down on the deck and let Mother Nature help me out. Especially since I take off my socks as I go outside and eventually walk across the 'clean' tiles with wet feet leaving footprints.

Honestly, I swear my feet are beginning to look 'claw-like' too from this friggin' grouting *sigh*

I think my body is trying to tell me something lol

My Jenn-Air

I feel like I am just learning to bake all over again with my new Jenn-Air appliances. I get all excited when my oven bleeps at me in its happy little language that its ready to bake something for me. And I get even more tickled when it bleeps at me again saying my food is done.

However, I get a little annoyed when my stove determines that my pots and pans I previously had for my old stovetop are not good enough to cook on it. It is frustrating to put one copper bottom pan on and have it bleep at me and refuse to work. It is even more frustrating when I put one of my stainless steel pans (uhh, in my case, my *good* pans) on it and it still bleeps and flashes some weird symbol at me. After I look through my user guide, I see that this weird symbol basically is supposed to tell me to f*cking put some other pot to cook on the stovetop, cuz like, I am too good to have lowly copper bottom/stainless steel crud.

So anyway, as y'all can guess, I have been taking learning my new appliances and all their quirks very seriously lately. So when my husband decided to go out with the guys one night and remarked that I will spend the time trying to be a 'Level 3' Jenn-Air master while he was gone, my first reaction was to question it with 'Really? they have that sorta competition/training?'

Yeah, I need a life....

Or some time away from my kitchen lol

It is NOT acceptable when...

Yes, I know I just had a previous blog post where I made it apparent about how disgusted I was with Netflix. And yes, I know I *should* follow that blog post with one that shows how I find that the world IS my oyster. Perhaps a blog post on how I see why everything is done for a reason, how everyone has something great to give the world, and how my life couldn't get any better.

THAT was not how things felt to me this last week, so I am gonna rant away...

#1 It is NOT acceptable when you are sitting in a restaurant with your husband and his daughter and the one single f'n fly that has managed to still be around indoors and outdoors makes its way to our table and flies right up to my face as I am eating. It is NOT acceptable when I say this is NOT acceptable, that it is NOT fair that every fly always manages to find me and ME only and my husband answers with a question, "Fly? What fly? I see no fly. What about you Holly?"

Yeah. Not cool..

#2 It is NOT acceptable when you go to Whole Foods to get lunch with two of your friends and manage to get in trouble by a little old lady because you took a picture of their friggin OLIVE BAR. It is NOT acceptable this little old lady then involves someone else in their salad bar area who also tells you how bad taking a picture of olives is, while all the while your stomach is growling and all you friggin want is to eat something.

Yeah. Not eating there again... Or if I do, I am gonna take a picture of EVERYTHING!!!!! So F'N there *grr*

#3 It is NOT acceptable when you are going thru a McDonald's drive thru with your husband and find out you have *three* white hairs. It is NOT acceptable to have your husband answer your distress by saying that he has had a streak of white hair for YEARS.

Yeah. SO not cool...

So let's summarize this blog post shall we? It is not cool for me to get white hair, be bombarded by flies and get in trouble by the Whole Foods police. Ideally, I would never get white hair, flies would turn around and bug someone else, and Whole Foods would have 'Half Foods' across the street that puts them out of business.

The End.

Dear Netflix

To Whom it May Concern:

While it may not be painfully obvious to you, when a gal tries to search your streaming selection for a romance to make her feel good, PLEASE do not suggest movie titles such as The Kreutzer Sonata. Yes - I do know that you warned me that the wife was *possibly* straying from the relationship and that the husband was definitely the jealous type. Yes, I do know that you mentioned that the wife is unhappy in having to give up her career. YET, when one thinks of a romance, they imagine a happy ending.

Again - YES, I realize the definition of romance encompasses excitement and "mystery". And YES - I do realize the two main characters in this movie truly did love each other - at least at some point. BUT, please at least warn a gal that your definition of romance and mine have two entirely different results.

I do not need to go to bed wondering if my husband might be jealous enough to stalk me. I do not need to go to bed knowing that my husband could make me feel like a 'caged' animal. And a great big thanks for letting me go to bed with visions of this gal's husband slashing her in the face and stabbing her in the stomach.

Please note that maybe - just MAYBE - you should define your movies more narrowly or either quit pushing your depressing love life, sick and twisted ideas of reality on me. I would rather stay in my 'bubble' of happiness and naivety, as it's a WAY more optimistic life than yours apparently.


Have a good night. NOT.

Sincerely,

Disgruntled & disturbed customer

Turtle Concrete

Sounds yummy huh? =) It was - well, most of it was anyway. The name does not do it justice actually - as it is full of fudge, caramel, candied walnuts and more unhealthy goodness that I will spare y'all. Suffice it to say, it was something I looked forward to eating - every single bite of it.

And suffice it to say, every single bite did not reach my mouth. There is a reason you should not try to eat these sorts of decadent desserts while traveling down the road at 65 plus miles an hour. Granted, I am not that coordinated, BUT...

When it comes to having fudge, caramel, candied walnuts amidst ice cream - err, sorry! technically, it was frozen custard (but both taste pretty much the same to me when laden with sinful ingredients such as fudge, etc.), I take consuming every bite very seriously. So as I drove out of town and got on the highway, I found it frustrating that I had one of the bites intended for my mouth hit my pant leg.

Another bite was more successful. Yet, the third bite was less so, as it hit the steering wheel of my jeep. I managed to hurriedly shove the spoonful of concrete into my mouth two more times before mishap happened again. This time, it splattered on my shirt, and as I said a few choice words I managed to sneak another successful bite of concrete in my mouth before the next hit the top of my shirt and sank in between my uh, err... woman parts on the upper portion of my body.

I dab quickly at the many spots made by the concrete and try to consume the rest in record time. Yet, even though I was fairly successful at doing so, the next spoonful of concrete hits my seatbelt. As I try to wipe it off, I smear it further down the upper portion of my seatbelt, leaving a sticky smear of 'stuff that should not be on your seatbelt' behind.

Anyway! There was not too much concrete left after this, but still a lot of sticky concrete residue to clean up. And a lot of explaining to my husband why my jeep is so dirty! lol

JK! =) Uhh, kinda...