Please Don't Let a Dingo Eat My Baby

Overheard on our way to the movie's last night:

me: I really like Tool.
the husband: Two-ewl.
me: Two-ewl. *huh?*
the husband: [they were born and raised in Colorado.]
me: *thinking for 31.544213-seconds*
me: you just said, "that's what Horner and I used to call 'em," right?
the husband: *???*
me: because I seriously thought you just said, "they were born and raised in Colorado." *I am blond. Duh.*
the husband: *cute-in-da-face-laughter*

Just Hold My Hand and Don't Talk

Today, I woke up in one of the the best ways possible.

The husband snuck out of bed way before the zombie [ahhhhem. . . me] saw the sun. He left the house and secretly made his way back in without even a single hound making a peep. This is completely unbelievable in and of itself until I found out that the husband took the Chobie with him. For those of you unfamiliar with the Chobester, he is the alpha male (AKA: Leader) of the Luton canine-pack and alerts all others, humans included, to the impending doom of when a door opens or closes in this house - this also encompasses any sort of vehicle door within 500-feet of our home. It's always a disaster that is approaching when it comes to Chobie's sense of "door" judgement. With no Chobie, there was no imminent catastrophe threat alert. Thus, not a peep from my other ferocious pups that lie with and at my feet. I am so protected when Chobie's not here. . .

But once again I digress.

At 7:58 AM this is what I heard:

the husband: baby . . . g'mornin' . . . it's time to get up . . . *ever so softly*
me: arrgh. mmmmrrph. uh. *zombies*
the husband: I love you
me: aaaargh. grrrrrr. mmmmph. *one huge puffy eye gradually opens barely focusing. . . *

To which I see the husband standing next to our bed holding a grande non-fat caramel latte and a reduced fat coffee cake for . . . . . me. When I can finally shake the sleep from my drowsy deflated morning brain, I take the coffee with a big smile on my face. The husband then curled up next to me with his own Starbucks and we sat like that for 30-minutes.

There was almost no better way to wake up to this day.

When It Pours

Yesterday, I was playing with the digital camera in the rain. The pictures above are proof of that. I am not sure if that is recommended by the manufacturer unless the camera is made for water-play, but I tried to make sure it stayed dry in between me taking shots in the downpour and then immediately running for cover as if I was someones target practice. The complexity of my dodging raindrops ended up being fun for me though I think the husband had other thoughts. It was pouring out. But we think this was a good thing as the husband and I had just finished the laying of 300 pieces of sod in our front yard.

The husbands vacation is over at 3 o'clock this afternoon. Back to the daily grind of sick human body management for him. Me? I still have bushes, flowers and vines to plant. But most of the major back-breaking work is out of the way for now. Since I don't mind digging in the dirt and making things pretty; I'll be happy as a pig in mud.

Sharing a Chimichanga

This was the original blog I was going to post when I first opened this site:

New beginnings. Again. This whole new blog of mine has been hard for me to figure out. As there are all these new kinks to work on and I am still confused as to how this whole Blogger thing works. For example, it only took me 18+ hours to finally download my photograph, which caused me to almost pay the money to stay with iMac. Almost. But not quite.

Somehow, and 2 months later of severe lessons in trial and error, I have debuted my newest blog: "When the Godiva is Gone".

When I think about my past two blogs here and here, I realize I have never really smelled a chicken while it's still on the farm. So, I'll explain myself to my 6 readers.

For those of you who may not know, I am a Stay At Home Wife (SAHW). Which may cause some of you to conjure that I sit at home, eat bon-bons, drink champagne and watch salacious movies. While I could be very good at those things, I don't actually do them. There isn't possibly enough time in a day for me to accomplish that on top of what I normally perform. I will say that for the most part I do the SAHW thing pretty darn well, but there are those times when I wish I had my big desk back with my very own office door to shut while someone answers my phones. So, yeah, for those of you who may not think so, I do have a brain and I do have an edumication. I did graduate from Carroll College in a time far, far away from now. I majored in Psychology (let me tell you how messed up you really are) with a minor in General Communications. I can and have publicly spoken - at NASA, on TV and radio as well as in Washington, DC. I still get gigs every now and then. This doesn't mean I love to get up and open my mouth, it just means I can.

Drifting off course again . . . .

After a few years of getting my arse kicked by sociopaths, paranoid schizophrenics, delusional's, gangsta's, alcoholics/drug addicts (or boyfriends of) and what most people would label in general "the crazies," I decided it was time for a switch of professions. When your psych degree is no higher than university, you are of the bottom feeder of healers. I'm not going to lie, the money was crap too and the hours long. My awakening occurred as one of my paranoidschizo's clients chased me around her apartment with a butcher knife yelling at me that the toaster told her to do it. To which I responded, "I'll be back when you take your med's ." Some people just were not cut out to live in society with the rest of us. I decided to get out with all my phalanges (and noggin) in tack.

On to the beauty industry. Almost 4-years. Enough said.

Then on to the business of Advertising & Marketing. Ahhhhh. . . I finally found my calling. I learned I could publicly speak and not die from doing so. I experienced the highs of hiring and the lows of "you're just not going to work out." I constructed, created, taught, developed, trained, registered, established, wrote, published and researched. I used my brain. A lot. These were remarkable jobs and I experienced more than I ever expected. Especially with regards to signing contracts. If at all possible don't. do. it. And if you have to do so, have an attorney read it over first. It's worth the $500.00 per every five-minutes of consultation. Trust me on this one.

Then, I met the husband. My life completely changed. Over the course of a 2.5 year marriage, I have landed here. And am none the less happy for it. I am blessed. I am loved. I am lucky. I am more so very grateful. I have the husband. I have the 4 dogs whom I constantly step on/over/lay at my feet/take over our bed/play with/run with/walk with and guard with. I have the 2 cats who greatly wreak havoc in my life just for the fun of it, but have also been known to cause peace now and again. Finally, we have our home. I can't complain. I really can't. In this life I still have much to do - it may just not be behind a big desk. I have hopes. I also have dreams. Some may be revealed on this here site from time to time. Some will not.

Overall, I hope you too enjoy my blog as much as I love leaking my brain onto it and in the very least if not a laugh you give, a smile will do.

He Was Going to Take My Water, Possibly My Soul

As most of you know, the husband that I married is a really good man. I am more than lucky. I know this. He is gentle, he is funny, he is smart, he has white teeth (in fact, he has all his teeth), he has no known criminal record, he is kind, he has all his fingers and toes, he works hard, he has a heart full of love among loads of other positive traits most women look for in a man before becoming Mr. & Mrs. Ball-And-Chain. I love him fully - even the faults he holds are endearing (if you give me a couple days and a couple bottles of wine, I can find a way to make any annoyance almost heavenly. Mostly, but not always.)

This includes the our exchange at 1:47 AM the other morning.

I awoke from the dead of sleep to a TV blaring something from the Military Channel. This most likely included bombs exploding on the earth somewhere. Or large guns going off in repeated succession. Or both. I'm not sure which, as I was dazed and slightly confused. . . . Yet, I do not believe that I awoke because of the TV. No, I believe I was kicked to consciousness.

But the act alone did awaken me and because I was 1/2 dead and wanted some sympathy for my hurting shin, I meekly said, "Honey. . . You kicked me. It hurt."

To which the husband responded, "Wahhh, wahhh, wahhh. . . go cry to someone who cares like you always do. . . ." Mass confusion set in. Do I really do that? Why did he say that? What had I done to make him be mean to me? At 1:47 AM? This should have been a huge clue as to why the husband said what he said, but being blond and 1/2 dead is not a good combination for me at that time in the morning. Besides, the world was being blown to bits right before my ears and that only added to my utter bewilderment.

So, I wanted to prevail. I needed to, as I needed the TV off. I then humbly and in the most docile way asked the husband who had successfully rolled over and fell back into a blissful sleep in less than 2.3 seconds, "why are you being such a jerk."

Somewhere a bomb exploded. Literally.

The husband rolled back over with his eyes closed said, "@#^%&* Jennifer! If I want to be a jerk, I can be a jerk." And with a "hmmmphf" he disgustedly rolled back over, pulled the covers up to his chin and fell back asleep. I don't even know this man. There was suddenly a stranger in my bed.

I was not done.

"What's going on? Why are you being like this? Can you at least turn off the TV?"

A few more seconds go by.

"Thomas. Please. Turn. Off. The. TV. . . "

More time passes.

"Thoma . . . "

"WHAT!"

"Could you please turn off the TV? You have the remote and stop being so mean to me. I also expect a full apology in the morning."

With that the TV was finally turned off.

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

The very next morning. . . .

The husband gets up a bit too early and within a few minutes comes crawling back into bed. With a kiss on my shoulder he said, "G'morning baby! I love you!" My eyes flew open to see his humble pie eating grin where I preceded to look at him like he had lost his damn mind. The husband looked back at me and with his smile fading he said, "What? What's wrong? What'd I do?"