He Could Write A Tips Column For A Men's Magazine

We had an engagement that evening and neither one of us wanted to get up off the couch, off of each other, leaving a comfortable cuddle to get appropriately dressed. I knew I had to leave the cocoon first because getting ready to go, for me, doesn't end with a shower. That's where it begins. After I bathed myself and washed my hair, I was spending time in the mirror on hair and make-up when Eddie passes my bathroom fully dressed.

"You know, it's not really fair. It takes you so much less time to get dressed to go out. I'm jealous."

"Yeah. But no matter how long I'd spend, I'd never look as good as you."



They Call That "Business Naked"

This is a term Eddie coined after seeing me in a stage of undress after work.  

Eddie, let's trademark it.


Happy Birthday Russell.

Russell would have been 28 today. He was/is my little brother.

Last month I wrote a bit about my sister.  My brother was the middle child, my sister was the youngest.  Ever since I started this blog, I wanted to write about each of them, but I never thought I could sit down long enough, reach deep, and do their memories justice.  One day I will.  
Russell died twelve years ago, just ten days after his 16th birthday.  Car accident.

I miss his laugh.  It was contagious.  


For My Sparky

Happy Birthday my love. Oh so glad you were born.


This Comes Highly Recommended

A Sunday afternoon nap on a comfy couch with a warm, cuddly dog in a living room lit by only a Christmas tree.



Some People Have To Shovel Snow...

While others have to rake. In December.

Our front yard this morning:
Front Walk
Front Steps


Our Christmas Tree Has Crabs

Yes, that's real popcorn that I strung for the tree. It's become a tradition for us to adorn the tree with exploded corn since we've been married. Six bags of microwave popcorn. Six. That's how much popcorn it takes to adequately cover a seven and a half foot tree. I don't want to flock the tree, but in the south it's a little taste of something like snow on the large green thing in the living room. Except the corn is a little butterier I would imagine.

Eddie and I have also collected Christmas ornaments each year of our marriage. If we travel, we'll try to pick up something interesting that reminds us of our adventure. Below is an ornament we picked up when I took Eddie on a tour of the town where I work (I commute an hour). Yes, that's a real crab shell painted with a wintry scene. The Quintessential Louisiana Christmas ornament. We would have paid almost any price.


Discover The Hidden Value Of Your Purchases By Reading The Instructions

When Eddie and I moved into this house, there was a list of things I wanted to change.  Notice I didn't type, "...we wanted to change."  I believe this is a fundamental difference between most of the men I know and most of the women I know.  Eddie is generally thankful to have a place to lay his head.  He needs very little.  For him, a comfortable bed and a fan in a room with pink walls provides a relaxing sanctuary for a night of good sleep.  The same bed and fan and walls for me is a pink prison that must be changed.  Immediately.  I will dwell on the pinkness of the pink and how it ugli-fies my comfortable bed until I paint it.  Eddie will pass the walls and only see cool pillows and soft sheets.  It astounds me that happiness can exist with so much less work than I seem to have to put into it.  (In our previous house, the master bedroom was PINK when we moved in.  Not pink when we moved out.)      

We began the changes in this house by ripping out the carpet in a majority of the rooms and replacing it with wood.  This was priority one for me.  Notice I typed, "We began the changes..." because it took more than one of us to pay for it.

Next on the list of affordable improvements was the sink/faucet combo in the kitchen.  After many trips to the local home improvement store, we (I) decided on exactly what would replace our way-too-small, hard-to-turn-on-and-off sink and faucet.  We bought and brought home to install.  We loved everything about them.  

Except one thing.

Our faucet would only run as a sprayer.  When we would do dishes or get a drink of water, more of the spray would bounce off of a dish or the bottom of the sink to DRENCH us EVERY TIME we used it.  But it was pretty and it was what I wanted, so I didn't want to complain.  I didn't want to complain to Eddie about the rather expensive faucet that I picked out.  Dangerous territory.

So we lived with it.  For about seven months.  

Last week, I've gotten another grand idea for more organization in the house and am cataloguing and storing all of our instruction manuals we've collected over the years.  I'm discarding those that are no longer necessary and perusing those that are still applicable when I stop at the one with pictures of our faucet on the front and I started to read.


The key to removing the barrier to my almost-perfect faucet's perfection was before me:  The instructions for switching the spray on the nozzle.  There were even diagrams.  I swear an untouched light bulb turned on somewhere in the house at that very moment.

It took 1 second to change from get-me-wet spray to flowing-stream-of-lovely-dryness.  

I ran to show Eddie my genius.  I left the water running.  

It wasn't going to drench the counter (and the floor and the rug) this time. 

Next:  The counters.  


You Broke The Thermometer?

Being sick isn't frustrating enough.  Eddie's got the ick.  This evening he wanted to confirm he had a fever.  We still have one of those old school thermometers (not digital), so Eddie rinsed it off and tried to shake it before he used it.  

He shook it against the side of the sink.  It busted.  Shiny, watery metallic stuff flew all over the kitchen along with bits and pieces of sharp, broken glass.  Some reflective liquid landed on his feet, the floor, the counter and the rug in the kitchen.  It eventually transferred onto his shirt, a bathroom towel, his forearm and valuable electronic devices.  

Some time was spent accessing information on the Internet about what to do in this case.

All is well now.  We killed it.  Thanks Internet.    
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