Cowboy State Crashing

So, I wanted to post a few pictures and words of our Jackson Hole, Wyoming vacation. Until my computer - my brand new computer, by the way - crashed 5 times. Today. This resulted in me making several phone calls and finally taking in the tower where it was hooked up and worked fabulously without a hitch. Smooth sailing. Right? Right. Wrong! Oh, how wrong this day is or was or has been. ***grrrrrr***

Anyway, this made the Geek Squad think it might be my monitor. Um. No. The monitor also works fine. But the computer continues to crash and with it, it takes my new iPhone. All of my contact information is now gone from my phone. I have no one's address or phone number anymore. Though, thankfully, it did retain all e-mail addresses. Great. I am now asking pleading with all my readers to re-send me their digits and addresses via my e-mail. Pah-leese? With a cherry on top. My apologies as well. [P.S. Does anyone know if there is a backup to the iPhone for situations like this? 'Cos we all know how fun it is to re-enter 70+ phone numbers manually. Excitement. Excitement.]

I'm exhausted. I'm frustrated. I'm grumpy. I'm going to bed.

****I will try to post pictures and stories at a later date and time this week. I'm back to the daily grind tomorrow and none to happy about it either. I already miss the mountains, the fresh air and its wonderous wildlife. . . . ***sigh***

Undeniable Relief

Last night, laying in bed before the husband had to leave for work, we were watching a high quality movie, "The Marine":

moi: honey. . . if I was kidnapped, would you come save me?

the husband: I would try, but I doubt I'd be as successful as that guy. . . .I'm not a big bad-ass like he is.
moi: awww . . . . but, honey, you're my big bad-ass! All that matters is that you'd try!

*************************************

There are many things I want to do. There are many things that the husband wants to do. There are many things the husband and I want to do together. This is not regularly possible. Sometimes I no longer feel as if there is enough time. There are always two directions available to each of us. We can take one or the other. I constantly hope that we choose the path of living life even if it proves to be the difficult course. Even if that is not one of the two choices offered.

Both the husband and I have been working long hours; barely passing one another in the bedroom. Lately, "goodbye" and "goodnight" are the staples of our communication. I have foregone the gym this week in order to just have dinner with him - to make sure he has not become a complete stranger. To know I haven't forgotten the lines of his smile, the tone of his voice and the pitch of his laughter. My biggest fear is that the "we" in us dissolves into the "one" alone. I don't want to begin again. I don't want to make my past transgressions once more. I don't want to lose. I've made the mistakes I've already made. I do not wish to go there once more - at least not alone. I am lucky to have the better-half I do as that path won't be trodden.

As an anniversary gift to one another, we have chosen to take a trip to the mountains. The two of us alone together for a week - hiking the Grand Teton National Park. We leave for Jackson Hole Saturday. I've never been. The husband says I'll forever want to stay. I just may. As long as he stays too.

I'll bring back pictures.

You're A Woman & You Come With A Bit of Extra Crazy

She sits in the back of the SUV with a bit of contentment. She's happy as the sun shines down upon her cheeks. A book of great literary importance rests unopened upon her thighs. This sun is finally warming up the dead chill of an ill-timed 4:45 AM wake up call, which jolted her heart into massive unreasonable rhythms. The cold wasn't unbearable at the time, she rather needed it - to chase the cobwebs of sleep from her. But now the day is warming, peaceful. Her friend sits beside her. An unopened book in both her hands as well.

An acquaintance approaches from the distance.

kt: I always feel as if I'm in trouble when Ah approaches me. . .
she: I know! Me too! Look! Right now, doesn't it look like we're going to get yelled at for parking on the side of the highway?
kt: yeah. We're going to have to move. ***snickers***

Grinning sheepishly they both look up at Ah as if theywere going to receive the "talkin' to" of their lives for parking on the highway. Deep breaths. A couple of chagrined smiles along with girlish giggles waiting until his arrival.

Ah: if you're not doing anything, feel free to come sit under the tent. It'll at least block the sun. You can wait for the finish there, if you'd like.
kt/she: oh! Sure! Okay. ***relief***
Ah: ***turning to leave with a slight pause*** what're you reading?
she: ***showing a "Bioshock Strategy Guide" from her lap***
Ah: a war game book?! ***deep sigh of disgust*** well, what're you reading? ***turns to friend***
kt: "Clinical Anesthesia Procedures of the Massachusetts General Hospital (7th Edition)." I've got to study.
Ah: ah. Well. . . . at least that's something worthwhile to read. . . .
she: [blink, blink]

Hastily, as if to validate herself, she quickly grabbed "Middlesex" by Jeffery Eugenides, where she had previously peeled the Oprah's Book Club sticker off, and with one swift move shoved it under Ah's nose. "See! I read worthwhile stuff too!"

For unknown reasons, she felt mortifiyingly shamed.

Food Is An Important Part of A Balanced Diet (F. Lebowitz)

So the husband said that I could not bring the camera into the one chef's establishment (forewarning: turn sound off/down) that beat the Iron Chef in one of his seven (only) defeats. I wanted to take pictures of the food and wine, not to mention us having a fabulous time, but the husband said with a shake of the head in objection, "no honey. You cannot do that" all stern-like. Flashback 20-years: as if I was standing before my dad and had just done something heinously wrong. . . . I felt like I should go to my room and realized I was already there. Anyway, that was that. I suppose, as usual, he was right. Again. Hmpf. [As a result, you are sadly missing out on some pretty, pretty food and you, unfortunately, will just have to use your imagination as to the presentation of it.]

Likewise, since access to the camera was denied, I made the husband take our picture at home. Before we left. Which means this bit of action from my end made us 5-minutes late for our 7:30 PM reservation.

. . . ahem . . . Oh. Like that's unusual.

Anyway, I can honestly say this, Chef Tim Love completely earned his title to beat Chef Masaharu Morimoto. I cannot even find the words as to how wonderful the cuisine at Lonesome Dove Bistro is. After a filling three course meal, which is made to order, as well as an impressive bottle of wine followed with spectacular chile-chocolate cake, the staff had to roll me out the front door to our waiting vehicle. I'm still full - it's now the next morning. I wish I could relate to you the exact name of all goodies consumed, but they were far more fancy-schmancy-pants than I can remember. Suffice it to say, in a teeny-tiny nutshell, I had spicy barbecue shrimp with spicy fruit salsa, yellow squash fraîche and for the main course deer filet's with white truffle mac & cheese and fried artichokes. My 7 readers, may believe that I ordered the main course for the meat. Alas I did not. I ordered the meal due to the mac & cheese. At a Western Gourmet Bistro.

It did not disappoint. I wanted to eat nothing else.

Finally, I unsuccessfully tried to get the husband to eat the mac & cheese, but he said he had plenty himself. In my usual pesky manner, I did not give up. The husband had to taste this most breathtaking, spectacular and astonishing truffled cheese covered noodles. He needed to. They were that great! He steadfastly refused. So, when I finally accomplished getting him to taste a wee little bit - with a wide opening of the eyes and a, "mmmmm! That's really good!" - my mac & cheese disappeared within 1-minute and 14.3-seconds. Gone. My bowl of mac & cheese. ***

Men. You got to love them.

Still, we had a lovely time with one another. As mentioned previously, the food and wine was stunningly remarkable. Absolutely delicious. I just wish every day could be anniversary day.




***Note to self: all mac & cheese from this day forward is mine, mine, mine! I shall not share. Ever.

Three Years.

You, who are most familiar to me. You. The way you smile, how you hold my hand, how you snore softly, how you catch my gaze from across the room and the way you laugh so easily. We two are similar, but not so much actuality in mirror. Our language, our sense of humor, our love, our laughter and our understanding are one. The same. As if you had been a part of my entire life. How I wish you had been. You have become my soul, my rock, my heart and my essence in my life, my thoughts, my prayers and my dreams. My gift. I am grateful. You add happiness to those who know you and those who will be lucky to cross your path.

You are kind, thoughtful and generous. Pure. Unassuming and revealed as much as necessary. You are sensitive, careful, diplomatic, reliable, calm, intelligent and strong. Teaching me the same. You are handsome and loyal. Choosing to look past that of which I am. I am perplexing, clownish and headstrong. Sometimes disheartened. I am erratic and occasionally distant. And yet, you still hold a deep love for me.

You saw through my brokeness, my flaws, my vulnerability and my blotched mascara. You could have left me, but you chose to take me. I have finally loved the right person.

Happy anniversary, Thomas. I love you.

It's Not Official Groveling Unless Your Down On Your Knees

Is it wrong to hide the ice cream from the husband, if he eats the entire pint [or even quart] in one sitting?

Let me explain. I go to great lengths to purchase, on rare occasion, ice cream. Yes, I know - it is hard to believe, but I do have weaknesses. Ice cream being one. So, I do not buy ice cream. Ice cream is sugar. Sugar is the devil. I know this and yet I still loves me some sugar. . .mmm. . . .ice cream . . . . [***drooling***]

. . . . back to my insanity regarding all things ice cream. So, I may buy ice cream. Where in one full-swoop, the husband consumes the complete tub of frozen-goodness. (If I manage to actually find the perfect hiding place, pah-lease. . . . ye have little faith, the husband will seek, the husband will find it and the husband will have it AWOL within the day. I guarantee it.)

Enter me three, maybe four, days later.

me: hon, where's the ice cream?
the husband: I may or may not have eaten it.
me: you ate the entire thing of ice cream? ? ?
the husband: I don't recall, specifically. . .
me: [birds chirping] . . . . lawyer wanna be
the husband: I was self-soothing after losing my computer cycling race.
me:WITH A QUART OF ICE CREAM? ? ? !
the husband: it's just a pint's equivalent today. ***calm down***
me: whatever. Go back to kindergarten and learn to share. ***pffft***

Maybe I'm just jealous the husband can do this and not give a second thought to this thing we normal humans call, fat cells. Maybe? I look at the stuff and gain 2-pounds. I smell it and gain 2 more pounds. I eat no more than my 1/4 cup allotment and gain 10-pounds (um. Okay, sometimes I may or may not consume more than a 1/4 cup. That's not the point. The point is, oh - nevermind). Anyway, this is why I must stretch out the devouring of most beautiful ice cream. 14-pounds is a lot of weight, people! The husband eats it like it's water and he doesn't gain a pound. just. like. water. Life is so not fair.

Finally, and to the point of my whole post, I have just purchased yesterday, one of my beloved Ben & Jerry's ice cream, the Karamel Sutra. Not only does it have the most fabulous name, it also is this little piece of heaven on this here earth of ours. I've had my 1/4 cup tonight. I am now satisfied. I find myself in my pretty, happy place where I dream of flowers, puppies, couture hand bags, butterflies, the husband, stiletto shoes, kittens and sugar. However, as of tonight, I don't believe the husband has detected it.

So, I hid it. Is this wrong?

That's Not What You Say to the Free Sample Woman

Thursday night. Exiting our newly acquired favorite Italian dinner place in our Longhorn City, while walking to the car, we happened to come upon an Italian beauty of flawless engineering:

moi: wow! Look at that! ***eyes huge in their own bigness***
the husband: look at what?
moi: it's . . . it's beautiful! ***
the husband: what's beautiful?
moi: that Maserati!
the husband: oh! That is beau. . . .
moi: ***impertinent interruption*** look . . . . look.what.they.did. Oh, they did not! Please tell me they didn't do it! It's just wrong. ***gasping with mortification***
the husband: did what?!
moi: there's a bumper sticker. . . . On a Maserati. ***groan***
the husband: wow! Yeah, they did.

3 minutes later, still making our way to our bumper stickerless car

moi: ***groaning***
the husband: what's wrong, hon?
moi: they put a bumper sticker on a Maserati. ***sigh***
the husband: ***laughing*** yeah, I know baby.
moi: they don't deserve that car. ***hmmpf***

A tragic injustice.