9

As of today, it has been 9 years of marital bliss for me and Wifey. Honestly, I did not think we would end up how we are today.

You see, the only marriage that I had seen was my parents’, but their marriage is one that lacks affection and seems to be driven mostly by obligation and sense of responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, there is love there, but I think the 2 people who fell in love are not the 2 people who are currently married in that relationship. Their days are spent in separate easy chairs watching TV, reading the paper, and doing crossword puzzles. They are generally unhappy people with really un-fulfilling lives.

I described this to Wifey a few weeks ago, and she asked me, “And you wanted to curse me with that existence by marrying me?” “In a word, ‘yes.’” Is how I answered. In truth, all I knew is that I wanted to spend as much time with her as I possibly could, and to me, that meant marriage, because, Sweet Mother of God and all that is Holy, my parents see each other all the frikking time. 9 years ago, I thought I would merely end up quietly growing old and bitter with her slowly shutting down my emotions all the while learning more and more how to tune out her constant diatribe of negativity being generated by my emotional un-availability and distance. That was the marriage model I could model my actions after. I was basically dooming our wonderful courtship to a decrepit shell of a relationship based on mutual apathy and our own over-wrought sense of obligation. In a sense, I figured that our relationship would die a slow horrible miserable death, a war of attrition, if you will.

I did not realize that my life could be so full. I did not know that I would be having so much fun. I did not know that I would still love her more everyday.

To recap:
9 years ago, I did not know I would be this happy
In fact, I thought I would be an empty empty soul going through the motions of marital existence
I am glad I was wrong
Oddly, we are not celebrating anything tonight
I am actually kind of not allowed to be in the house this evening
Seems she is having some kind of dinner meeting thingy for women only going on, and since I am not so womanly as to have ovaries, I am not invited
Oh, well, Little Man and I will celebrate the 9 years of his parent’s marriage without Wifey.

Awwww, Nuts!

Okay, I don’t quite understand this necessity of Wifey. I understand that when she gets a culinary craving, and I mean serious, get out of her way craving, that she must sate that craving rather quickly. I also understand that I am often the beneficiary of her impromptu baking flurries. She will get a craving and suddenly need, NEED I tell you, brownies, cookies, fudge, etc… That evening, whatever evening it is, she will bake ferociously (sometimes into the wee hours of the morning) until her baked goods are completed and cooling on a rack somewhere.

Side Note: I feel it necessary that everyone know the Wifey does not tend to have these craving terribly often. Maybe once every 2 or 3 months… at most. It is probably much less often than that, if I really think about it.

Anyway… to the point of this post. Why in the name of Ba’al, the pre-operative transgender god/dess*, does Wifey insist on putting nuts in everything she bakes. Walnuts, almonds, pecans, peanuts, etc… in fudge, brownies, and cookies. Nary a damn baked good comes out of our oven that she has prepared that does not have some nut (“nut” not Nut, the Egyptian Goddess of the Sky) embedded within its baked goodness.

Now, I am not here to just rant against adding hard shelled seeds to bakes goods. I am ranting about adding hard shelled seeds to ALL her baked goods. Baked goods do not always need a nut in them. Cookies don’t have to contain a walnut piece or almond sliver before that are considered a cookie. Heck, she even wants white cake to be frikkin’ “White ALMOND Cake.” Lay off the nuts, Wifey! Wait, that was phrased poorly. Let me try again. Ummm… nope, there really isn’t a good way to phrase that one. Just disregard this post entirely. This post is over, folks! Just, move along. Move along…

To recap:
I have a splitting headache
Looks like Fluffy the Pine Marten has decided to take residence in my skull again

We determined that last night’s brownies were the last nutty baked goods that she will be producing in our kitchen due to Little Man’s allergies
When he wasn’t all over the place, it was not so bad to get some walnut dust and scrapings on the counter
Now, it could be a problem
Pancakes and sausage for dinner
Everyone have a good weekend



*note: A friend of mine figures that Ba’al is out there just waiting for someone to recognize him/her as a god, but then, when hears how he is being referenced, the god/dess is distraught about his/her characterization. It is just a little trick we like to play on the Babylonian Mythos. It is the equivalent of a prank call on a diety.

2 more Things

2 things to go over today.

Thing Number the One:

The vacation sans Little Man was absolutely wonderful. As I stated in Monday’s post, we hiked around 15 miles in 2 days. It was an absolutely wonderful time. Wifey and I both enjoyed ourselves very much.

We were able to sleep late in the mornings and really have a relaxed attitude about what and when we were going to do stuff. Wifey and I are great travelers that way. Both she and I are really flexible when it comes to the day-to-day (or hour-to-hour, as the case may be) planning of our vacations. We really do just kind of fly by the seat of our pants whilst away from home. Well, we do that when we are not traveling with the highly allergic, super asthmatic Little Man. When traveling with him, we need to be more proactive in determining what will be accomplished daily during our time away from home. In essence, what I am trying to say is that… When one travels with a little one, spontaneity is not really a hallmark of the trip. Our trip this past weekend was wonderfully spontaneous.

The interesting part of the whole process was just how much Little Man did not really miss us. When we left he could hardly tear his eyes away from the TV to say “Bye.” When we got home, he was happy to see us, but I have seen him happier when I pick him up from work in the evening. I guess he was really ready for the ‘Rents to leave him alone for a bit. Wifey and I were a bit sad and nervous to leave him, but that went away after he was not too interested in talking with us on the phone. So, I would say that Wifey and I were angsty for all of 3 hours of traveling. After we realized just how unconcerned Little Man was, we just decided to enjoy the weekend. It was really nice.

There were 2 things that would have made the weekend better. Firstly, the hotel room stank. By that, I do mean it was odiferous. It smelled like they had a water problem a while ago that decided to take up residence in the carpet whenever it got above a certain percentage humidity. This weekend was above that certain percentage humidity. Secondly, we did not fare so well with the food purchases. Many of our meals were extremely overpriced for not-so-good food. Fix those 2 issues and it was a perfect weekend.

On to the more pressing topic.

Thing Number the Two:

This morning whilst at my desk in my wonderful cubicle at work, I smelled the oddest smell I have ever smelled at work. I know that when someone mentions an odd smell at work, they usually think about grotesque nasty smells that belong in garbage cans and bathrooms, but this was just an odd smell to smell at work. It was a smell that harkened me back to my childhood. A childhood marred and blessed by my allergy to chocolate.

You see, growing up, I was allergic to chocolate and had to subsist on everything non-chocolaty. It was a hard hard life. My “ever sensitive to my plight” brother decided that he always wanted Count Chocula as his breakfast cereal. Mainly because I could not have it. He was partial to Cap’n Crunch, but since I could eat that as well as him, it was never one of his purchases. As I kid, all I ever wanted for breakfast was Count Chocula, but alas, its chocolatey flavors were not for me. My mom, realizing my desire for the forbidden confection got me Frankenberry instead. Turns out that both cereals were more sugar than flavor, and really the only difference between the 2, other than my ability to consume the latter without a rash, was the color it made the milk.

But the smell of Frankenberry is a very distinct smell. You can almost smell the sugar when you caught a whiff of that cereal. It has an overtone of strawberries to it, but no one could really say that it smelled like strawberries. That was the smell permeating the area around my cube today. The smell of my childhood cereal. The smell of a dis-continued cereal that has not been manufactured in a long long time (to my knowledge). A ghost of a smell that lingered for five minutes and then was no more.

To Recap:
Honest to God! I was running around the office snuffling for the source of the smell
I never found it
Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch is my poison of choice now
Due to Little Man’s allergies, we can not have anything peanutty in the house, so my decadent cereal is now just plain old Cap’n Crunch
Because I am an Adult I have Smart Start instead of Cap’n Crunch
Being an adult sucks
My brother also liked Coco-Pebbles while I was relegated to eating Fruity-Pebbles
Now I am smelling freshly opened Band-Aid brand adhesive bandages
I think my nose is going insane
I am glad Wifey and I had last weekend together
We needed it

Steak

I did something last night I never thought I would be able to do in a million trillion years. Oklay, that is a bit of an overstatement since there is no way I will be alive for a “million trillion” years. So let’s just say that I did something that I thought I would never do in my lifetime. “What did you do, SRH?!” is the question you are all asking. I am sure you are all sitting on pins and needles waiting for me expound upon what it is that I did. What monumental feat I accomplished. What Gordian Knot I untied. Well, fine readers, I ate more steak than my wife.

Yes, that is correct; I ate more steak than my wife. Sure this doesn’t sound like much, but it really is something quite special.

The facts:
I am 6’2” tall (1.87m for my metric readership)

Wifey is 5’2” tall (1.57m for my metric readership)

I am 220lbs (99.79 kg for my metric readership and 15.71 stone for the Brits)

Wifey is considerably less (honestly, even if I knew how much she weighed, I wouldn’t risk my life by posting it, let’s just say that pending on the brand she wears anywhere from a size 2 to a size 6. This variation is why I hate shopping for her, but that is a rant for a different day)

We are both 32 years old and lead moderately active lives

One would think that steak eating would be no contest. I am significantly heavier than her and 15.6% taller than her. I should win hands down just from my sheer comparative girth. All that being said, typically, she just schools me when eating of steak. She has stunned many a person withy her ability to pack the red meat into her gullet. “All you can eat prime rib” is one of her favorites. Restaurants lose money on her for foolishly allowing her to truly eat all she can. On one occasion one of the wait staff asked her if she really wanted a third slice of prime rib.

There are only a few other things that she can pack away like she has a hollow leg. Other than steak, dairy queen soft serve vanilla ice-cream is one, watermelon is another, and cherries are the final one. For example, one time after taking down a 16 oz steak at Outback Steakhouse, my dad challenged her to eat a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen. Her response to him was this, and I kid you not, “I just ate a full pound of beef, but I reckon I can take you to school.” And better yet, she did.

Anyway… last night I ate more steak than her. That was a first. Don’t get me wrong, if I had challenged her to a steak eating contest, she would have beat me hands down, but as it is, I ate more steak than her. It is a first for me and a small triumph.

To Recap:
I ate more steak and someone significantly smaller than me and I am proud
How pathetic is that?
That is a rhetorical question, by the way
Not sure what we are having for dinner tonight
Probably not steak
I couldn’t eat another bite
In her defense, the steak was rather tough
My lunch was unsatisfying
That is a really bad thing considering I just ate it
It is going to be a long afternoon
Have a great weekend folks

Origins of Man

Tomorrow I get to be a handsome, svelte, well-groomed, successful, tan, enviable man… relatively speaking, of course.

It is that time of year again. It is gaming convention time.

Other than going to Wal-Mart, nothing makes me feel better about myself than going to a gaming convention. There is nothing like being surrounded by a convention of pear-shaped, black clad, basement dwelling, scraggly bearded, long-oily-haired, balding, gaming geeks, to make yourself feel better about your life choices. There I am a god! And it feels good. So tomorrow whilst in the midst of these light-fearing dorks, and while casually listening in on conversations about how the D-20 system has ruined pen & paper RPG’s, I will be resplendent in my married to a hotty, un-obese, salaried professional ways, and no one can take that away from me. On a slightly less me-centric topic (but only slightly less), there is also news on the home sale front. Unfortunately it is not news on our home sale, but news on our stupid neighbor’s house. Our crappy neighbor’s house has gone into contract, which means that with his un-aggressive marketing and our aggressive marketing, we basically sold the jerk’s place for him. Let me tell you, that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I really wish we would have gone into contract prior to him, but that was not in the cards. We are still getting a good amount of traffic through the house, but no one has even offered up a crappy bid. Anyway, that is about all I have today. To recap:

In a room full of über-geeks, I am a enviable by those very über-geeks for my lack of über-geekdom

Ëvërÿthïng ïs bëttër wïth ümläüts

It is a good thing to embrace one’s inner geek every once and a while

Our neighbor sucks

Hopefully with him out of the way we can sell our house faster

We just hope he didn’t undersell his place and undercut our potential sale

Steamed chicken with potatoes, green beans, onions, and corn for dinner tonight

It is both healthy and tasty, but it takes forever to cook

Short post today

Next week will be better

But I will not swear to that

For some reason, Blogger has decided to bork up my paragraphs, I apologize on its behalf

No rest for the wicked

I never truly thought that I was wicked, but it turns out that I most likely am. I come to this conclusion due to my inherent lack of rest. Since, "There is no rest for the wicked" and since I do not feel rested, by the transitive property, am I therefore wicked.

Clearly this is a logical leap, since, most assuredly, the populations of un-rested and wicked are not mutually exclusive. There are people out there who have not rested for a long long time and are not considered to be wicked, but by the definition stated above, if I am indeed wicked, I am un-rested. So, I am just playing the odds.

Since I unabashedly choose funny over nice, I do not think that I can say that I am truly a nice person. I can live with that. Years of therapy have allowed me to accept the fact that I will choose funny over nice, and years of choosing funny over nice has effectively surrounded me with people who in some way, shape, or form support that trend in my personality. So, if in fact I am not nice, I could be wicked.

But to call myself truly wicked would be a bit off the mark as well. I have never kicked a kitten in the rain, and there have been opportunities to do so (It would not have been that funny). A truly wicked person would have booted kitty into a puddle in the middle of a thunderstorm. I guess this gets down to the idea of people either being wicked or not being wicked. It is a bivariate argument, and I am tacitly against bivariate logic.

So the more I explore this idea of wicked = un-rested, the more I realize that this saying is a bivariate statement. If one is rested, one cannot be wicked, because all wicked have no rest. Bivariate sucks. It is a purely western philosophy issue. Bivariateness stems directly from Greek and Roman systems of thinking. Yes or No, Black or White, This or That. Why can't I be somewhat wicked and therefore somewhat un-rested? Put that in your thinking pipe and smoke it, Procrates.

So, what I am getting at is that multivariate systems of logic are much more true to life than bivariate systems of logic and choice. The more choices one has, the closer the approximation to reality, the more refined the system. Lets say that my choices are now wicked, somewhat wicked, and not wicked. Being somewhat wicked gives me the distinct possibility of actually having achieved some rest, whereas being wicked does not afford me that luxury. I can live with that. Simply adding a third choice has made this system of choice a better system.

So, in conclusion, the 2 party electoral system sucks, we need more candidates to vote for so we are not just voting for a team name, but for the ideology behind the candidate.