The Smooch

I love my husband.  But I think that all wives say that.  We have to right?!  The Smooch and I have been married for just over two years.  In terms of being married, I think we might still be newly weds.  We are not a typical 20-something couple.  We are a 30ish/40ish something couple.  Being a little older and stuck in our own ways provides many challenges for us.  Especially since neither one of us is ever wrong.  And I do mean ever....*

I think as you get older what you find sexy changes...  in some ways at least.  I used to think sultry eyes and a charming smile where the end all be all.  But as I get older, I realize it is really something else.  It is finding out that a load of laundry got done so that you don't have to go commando at work...  It is coming home to a clean house and the grocery shopping done.  It is finding out that your better half can and will defend you and stand up for you in ways that you yourself could never do.  I have found that in The Smooch.

Now that is not to say that he is a push over and will defend me always.  No sir.  If I'm wrong, he lets me know it.  Which usually leads to fighting.*  But he does.  And I may not always show it because, well you know why* but he always makes me stop and think.  I stop and think about how I should have seen a problem or how I should have reacted to a certain situation.  And it may not always be obvious but I try to act differently.  The Smooch has this way of thinking that is new to me.  He sees things so much differently than I do.  He is always showing me a new way to live and a new way to be.  He teaches me so much about relationships.  I always found myself surrounded by people and I always thought that was good enough.  The Smooch is teaching me that it is not the quantity of people in your life but the quality.  And quality friends are harder to find and even harder to keep.  The relationship its self is harder.  It just takes more time and effort.  But because of these hard lessons, I think my friends/ family are getting more out of me and I am getting more out of them.  Or at least that is the goal.

The moral of the story is this....  I love my husband.  I am a lucky girl.




Dramatic Reenactment - The Smooch

*As of the publishing of this blog, The Smooch or his lovely bride have never been wrong.  EVER!!

Weird Shepherd's Pie

Last night I did something for The Smooch that I haven’t done in a while.  Eww..  No not that.   You have such a dirty mind.  What I actually did was cook.  Shocking I know.  But let's be clear, this is not a cooking website and I am not giving cooking advice.  You would be a fool to follow any advice I have on cooking.

Cooking at my house is never as easy as it sounds.  Our kitchen is tiny and I always have an audience.  I have been trying to teach the dogs to stay out of the kitchen.  I just about have the one below trained.  He does however hover in the door frame.  But he knows better than to cross that line.

Please sir can I have some more?

The cooking motivation started when I met with my blogger friend from Honesty's Protégée to discuss all things blogging.  She has an awesome blog full of recipes and DIY projects.  I picked out a recipe for Biscuit Lasagna to make but when I tried to explain it to The Smooch, he was disgusted.  Something about his family being Italian and lasagna being sacred and if it doesn’t have noodles then you can’t call it lasagna… or something along that line.  The argument that ensued ended with me saying “Fine, then it’s called Weird Shepherd’s Pie, can you eat that?” and he agreed he could eat it and maybe even enjoy it as long as lasagna wasn’t in the title.  Deal!

Green Peppers

The Smooch tends to hate my cooking.  I know, what an awful man he is.  But he has a good reason for hating my cooking.  I can't cook.  Or maybe a more accurate portrayal  is that I don't know how to follow a recipe.  Ok, that's not quite it either.  The truth is that I simply don't follow the recipe.  I tend to think of them more as guidelines.  If I don't have all the ingredients, that's okay, I'll just leave them out or I may try to substitute with something that I do have in the house.  Tomato sauce and ketchup??  Basically the same thing right?  And if I have 3/4 of a cup and the recipe calls for 1 cup then 3/4 will do.  And the opposite is also true.  It if calls for 3/4 of a cup and I have 1 cup, I add it all.  I am not putting 1/4 of a cup of something back in my fridge.  Instead of throwing it away, into the pot it goes.  And because of these tiny, insignificant changes, my husband thinks everything I cook is awful.  Hogwash I say.  It takes like Hogwash, he says.

So I made some minor changes, sue me.  It turned out pretty good.  Except that the biscuits only cooked on the top side and they were raw on the bottom.  But that could have totally be our oven.  Right?  Otherwise, It was pretty good.  And eating a raw biscuit won't kill you.

Yum??

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Tricknee

You know how people need alcohol to feel brave to do idiotic things?  I am unfortunately not one of those people.  I tend to do stupid things completely sober.  So to explain to you exactly what happened to me last night (or what stupid thing I did to myself) I must explain a couple things to you first. 

•  I am pro-alcohol and do imbibe on occasion.  The problem is that alcohol is not pro-me.  We used to have a pretty good love-hate relationship.  Now, it is becoming more hate-hate.  As I get older, it takes the same amount of alcohol to feel drunk but significantly less to feel hung-over.  I now become hung-over after only two water-downed drinks.  My husband thinks I am a mean drunk so he has me on a strict two drink limit.  Because of this, I drink significantly less than I used to. 

•  A year or so ago, my parents hosted a big shin dig.  That means party to you city folk.  For said party, my parents had rented a bounce house.  Oh, what fun!!  If I only knew the truth*.  As the party was winding down, I decided it would be a good idea to try out the bounce house.  Rumors later circulated that I had drank too much.  I am here to tell you the truth.  I had exactly 1/2 of a beer over the course of two hours.  I wish I had been drunk, it would be less embarrassing.  Anyway, so I yelled to The Smooch, to come join me.  We were bouncing and having fun.  And then it happened.  I learned a valuable lesson.  I jumped one way and my knee went the other.  I hit the ground screaming in pain.  The Smooch kept bouncing thinking I was faking.  I was not.  My knee had twisted and had given out.  My niece and nephew would  later ridicule me about why I should have followed the rules of the bounce house.  I was over the weight limit.  I was over the height limit.  Why didn't I listen? A trip to an orthopedic surgeon assured me that not only was my knee not permanently injured, unlike my ego, I was also the oldest bounce house victim the orthopedic surgeon had ever seen.  Now I have a trick knee that gives out at the most inopportune moments.  Like that time in improv class where I got up too fast and my damn trick knee gave out.  Shortest scene ever.  But big laughs.

Back to last night....  My big injury happened over a year ago.  I have only had minor problems since then.  Lately, I have been feeling like my knee was almost back to 100%.  And then it happened.  It gave out again last night.  It gave out in a big way.  I will preface this story by saying I am okay.  I am writing this with my leg propped up and with an ice pack but I am okay.  So I give you permission to laugh.  Laugh big.  Laugh hard.  In exchange, I ask that you not tell anyone about this.  This may easily be one of my more embarrassing moments.  The only reason it isn't my number one most embarrassing moment is because I was alone when it happened.  There were no witnesses.

And here is what happened.... It was about 11:30.  The OSU game had just ended.  Time for bed.  I had had exactly 0 alcoholic beverages.  I was however sitting near two people that were drinking.  Maybe I had a contact buzz?  I don't know.  I did, however drink a lot of water and I do have a very small bladder.  That makes for a dangerous combination.  All of a sudden, I had to pee.  Bad.  I ran to the bathroom (well walked quickly, because who am I kidding, I never run.)  There was no time to shut the door, and I barley had time to pull my pants down.  No need to unbutton because well, you know (Button Free, Zipper Free, Care Free).  So pants half way down my legs, I turn to sit, and then my knee gave out.  I bounced off the toilet and fall, half in/half out of the walk in shower, pants around my knees.  I take a breath and try to assess the damage.  My knee hurts... bad.  But so does something else.  Oh yeah, that's my bladder, I still have to pee.  If possible, even worse than when I originally rushed into the bathroom.  I am glad to know that in intense situations, I can hold it.  Peeing my pants would have been the icing on the cake.  I take another breath.  Can I move myself the few inches to make it to the toilet?  Is my knee strong enough to support me?  Did The Smooch here the crash and is he on his way up here now?  We are not yet to a place where I wanted him in the bathroom when I was peeing.  The door was open, he could walk in anytime.**  My need was urgent, so I decided to risk it.  I moved towards the toilet and lifted myself up.  And then I fell in.  It seemed that when I bounced off the toilet, I had hit it with such a great force, that the toilet seat had ripped clear off the toilet.  It was two feet away.  I finished my business and then hobbled to the nearest bedroom to lie down.  Then I yelled for The Smooch.  When he arrived, I was half crying with pain and half laughing from embarrassment. 

He entered the bedroom not sure how to react.  There lies his crazy wife, laughing hysterically and holding her knee.  He tentatively asked the obvious.  I couldn't explain.  The tears and the laughter wouldn't stop.  I simply pointed towards the bathroom.  He assessed the scene but still couldn't put the story together.  So, through the tears and sweat, I told him what happened.  I told him the truth.  I have a family history of destroying toilets in unusual ways.***  So he just smiled and lovingly helped me hobble to bed.  He got me an ice pack and has been taking care of me all day.  Because when your wife is prone to idiotic drunken accidents when completely sober, you have no choice but to smile, take care of her and just shake your head and laugh.



Dramatic Reenactment

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*The Truth! Bounce Houses are dangerous!!  I have proof.
'Bounce houses' under new scrutiny | The Columbus Dispatch
Nationwide Children’s Hospital Study Shows Increase In Bounce House-Related Injuries - 10tv

** In fact, we almost got divorced earlier in the week when he walked in on me going number two.  Traumatic for both of us.  There was yelling and screaming on both parts.  We couldn't look at each other for the rest of the day.

*** My grandfather, the asshole, once destroyed a toilet when he dropped a crock pot on it.  Because who doesn't dispose of rancid vegetable soup by pouring it down the toilet?  The crock pot was unharmed.