And Now He's a Man

Today, Eddie did two things that in his mind mark manhood.

1. He paid off our second vehicle.

2. He disposed of the remains of a dead opossum in our backyard.

So, we now own all of our vehicles outright AND we have a vermin-free back yard. Life is now nothing but bliss, canned peaches and fluffy marshmallows. It's a shame that I wasn't there to account every aspect of the entire opossum-removal project here. Although, while listening to his story, I did take away a few interesting points.

*Our shovel was a top-notch investment.
*He is the proud inventor (patent pending) of a new trash bag-trash can contraption that I don't quite understand, but do recognize it was vital to the excavation.
*He now understands why some people are vegetarians.
*The word "barf" was mentioned as he got in touch with his gag reflex.
*"It was...the most DISGUSTING thing I've ever done."

As soon as he uttered those last words, I knew we're somehow destined to have children that do little more than projectile vomit, poo and snot.

He's jinxed us, I just know it.


A Hole in the Bottom of My Favorite Sock

I've been afraid to come back here lately. Every time I sit at the computer, it's easier to read what others have to say or look at pretty pictures instead of fearing keyboard diarrhea. I still fear it. I don't want to type something that will hurt someone else's feelings or get me into any kind of awkward social situation or get me fired. All of those things are in my head, unspoken sentences, inappropriate rants, complaints, gossip and the obscene tell-off (gestures included). Each is vying for its way out into the world.

But. I'm a Christian, a friend, an employee, a leader...Trying to be great at all of those when you're only human is a project. Life is a project.

This month has been one of the more difficult ones in a long time. We've had an invasion of sorts in our home and the guests have been an unpleasant distraction. You're never YOU when that happens. Eddie and I are both looking forward to when we're US again. Then I'm sure my head will be filled less with rants and more with the kinds of things that belong here.

I pulled my favorite 'about the house' socks out of the dryer tonight, just as we got home from dinner with our friends, Kristen and Seth. They're knitted and soft and fluffy and thick and they protect my feet from everything, a gift from aunt Susie. I put the left one on, and then the right and began to get into other comfortable clothes. Then I felt it. The floor. THROUGH MY SOCK. The right one. I turned my foot over and was witness to the unconscionable fact: There was a hole in the bottom of my right sock.

That one was always my favorite (the right one).

Eddie, knowing how much I love the sock says, "That's so sad." He gives me a hug.

I shall live to blog another day.


Much To Say, Little To Write

...so now you understand why I've been so moody and why I haven't posted in a while.


You DON'T understand, because you couldn't read the words before those three little dots because it was about work.

Work, work, work.

Tension happens and I get over it but instead of blogging, I talk to Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He rules.

*I did get to drive my boss's car today. It was rad.


Helpful Hints, Good Advice

"Don't mistake that caulk for the toothpaste."



Not Out of Fear

Last evening, I was tired and resting on the couch when I smelled something objectionable. The first suspect is always the dog. One of Cody's favorite things to do is to find the most awful smell in the yard and roll in it. He doesn't just roll, he dives into it and wiggles around on his back as I would if I found my bed full of hundred dollar bills. (He doesn't squeal with glee, however.)
His second favorite thing to do is to place himself beneath your nose after he's rolled in whatever it is that emits such a smell.

Once Eddie confirmed that it wasn't the dog, I suspected any of the half empty cups and bowls on the nearby coffee table and asked sweetly if Eddie would remove the offensive, stink-filled dishes. He did so without argument. I love him.

Still, the smell lingered. It wasn't food, it wasn't poo...Was it me? I'd been with myself the whole of the day and didn't smell it. Was it Eddie? No, he'd just kissed me on the head as he passed in front of my nose on his way to the kitchen carting the dishes. What was it?

It couldn't be the Christmas Tree. It couldn't be the water that's been sitting in that tree stand for...way too long. It's only the first week of January. People leave their trees up for much longer than we have. It couldn't be the tree.

It was the tree.

Sour, foul and potent. We couldn't believe that something so beautiful could be the culprit. So we made a decision to remove Christmas from our living room the next day.

The Scene:

This afternoon after work. He's wrapping the Christmas ornaments for another year of storage while she takes them off of the tree.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need you to detach the x-wing from the lights. Here's the first ornament I got for you. Aw."

"Remember this ornament? (precious one bought at a missions market) I'm so glad we bought it. Could you bring me the scissors?"

(I'm thinking... why would he need the scissors, because there's plenty of tissue paper provided for wrapping ornaments; what could he possibly need to cut? So I look over. He's holding up a giant piece of tissue paper. I walk over and tear it in half. Badly. It ripped in all the wrong places, but I tore it and made a couple of useful pieces out of it. He watched in understated amazement.)

"Oh. I didn't know if that would be acceptable." Sheepishly, but with a bit of a smile

I look at him while my eyes got wider and we both burst out laughing.


"I know how you like things neat. I didn't ask for the scissors out of fear of what you might do if I tore the paper. I was just trying to do the little things that make a good husband."

How am I supposed to compete with that?


The Buddy

On the way to the dog park

This is Cody. He wishes I never got a camera. He wonders why, just when he gets playful or comfortable on the couch, I hide my face behind a black box and scare him repeatedly with a bright burst of light. In spite of being scared, he still tries to smell the camera. Not just the camera, he's not satisfied until he puts his nose on the LENS. I'm getting so much better at dodging that little black nose. I've only had to clean the lens twice.


Sad excuse to post pictures of my cute dog? Maybe.

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