How I Got Tickets to Super Bowl XLVI

I'm very excited today!  Well, I should say, I'M VERY EXCITED TODAY!  Today, I bought tickets to see my NY Giants play in a rematch of Super Bowl XLII against the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLVI.  My road to the Super Bowl starts on Sunday, after that nail biting finish of the NFC Championship.

Beginning Sunday night, I was trying to convince Hubby to go to the Super Bowl.  I mean, we only live once.  We don't have kids yet but plan to soon, so we really don't have a lot of time left where we can splurge on ourselves.  I thought about it all day Monday and came up with a few plans.  Tickets were "only" $2500 a piece.  We could essentially go on this trip by just giving up our annual vacation (and a little more).  It was not unreasonable to think we could pull this off.

Hubby came home and I started describing my plan.  Any other husband in this country I'm sure would have jumped at his wife wanting to and finding a way to go to the Super Bowl.  But my husband, nope.   My husband told me to put together a spreadsheet of costs and what we would be "willing to give up this year."  I obliged.  Pretty quickly into this sacrifice list, the trip was paid for.  But that of course wasn't good enough for him. The conversation escalated and we nearly got into a fight.

The next morning I was fuming.  I saw on FB that Ellen was running a contest to win tickets to the Super Bowl.  So in 1500 characters or less, I submitted this letter:

I’m a huge NYG fan. I grew up in NJ and have amazing memories of watching games with my dad. I now live in TX. I miss being surrounded by NYG fans and subscribe to DirecTV so I never miss a game. Am I the biggest fan? I don't know, but I can tell you, I've never personally met anyone bigger.

Reasons I should win: 

1. My fan-ness described above. 

2. I grew up comfortably in middle class and now live comfortably in middle class. What this means is I rarely get to win anything. As a kid, I was jealous of camps celebrities started I couldn't be a part of because I was "privileged." I was sick as a kid (let me know if stories about suffering from Asthma could help me at all) but never sick enough that any celebrities would come visit me in the hospital. These tix would be my celebrity hospital visit. 

3. I would win a fight with my husband. I'm the only wife in this country that turned to her husband at the end of Sunday's game & said, "Let's go to the Super Bowl" & he replied, "Can you put together a spreadsheet on costs & reasons why?” When I did, he shot me down. Typical for us, I have to drag him to things kicking & screaming. When all is said & done, he turns to me & admits I was right. The Super Bowl experience would be a trip of a lifetime & I want to prove him wrong. Please help me prove him wrong.

PS Enjoy the attached picture of my rescue dogs in their game day gear.

PPS I struggle with my weight a lot. Let me know if that helps.

I haven't heard back yet.  

Later that morning, I called a couple of friends and yelled about how my Super Bowl dreams were crushed by my lame husband.

THEN

My dad called me in shock.

"I won the lottery... I won the lottery. We're going to the Super Bowl."

After talking to Daddy a few minutes, we confirmed that he did indeed win.  In fact, he won so much that he was taking himself, Hubby, and me to the Super Bowl AND buying himself a new car.

I cried.

And there you have it.  Today I bought tickets to go see the NY Giants in the Super Bowl.

I'm still waiting to wake up because clearly this is a dream.

My Big Mistake and How Zooey Deschanel Saved Me

I really blew it last weekend.

Here's the thing.  I'm never going to tell you a story about how I fought with someone and how it was all their fault and how I was completely blameless.  The truth is I have a big mouth.  Even if I hadn't started the fight, I want to finish it.  And even when I don't want to finish it, I've certainly said something to continue it.

I guess last Saturday I wanted to fight.

First I got up early and decided to go Christmas shopping.  I kissed Hubby good-bye at 9 AM while he was still in bed.  He asked when I would be home and I told him that I would be home for lunch.  I went on my merry way and knocked out some serious Christmas shopping.  Just after 1 PM, I headed back to my car and started to head home.  At 1:23 PM, I noticed that I missed a call from Hubby at 1:14 PM.  I thought, "Oh, he must be getting hungry. I'll call him real quick and let him know that I'm on my way home."  When he answered, I could hear a lot of noise in the background.  When I asked where he was, he told me that he went out for lunch because he was tired of waiting for me.  Tired of waiting for me?  It took me nine minutes to call him back.  Well, I was pretty pissed and I ended up hanging up on him (I'm also not the most mature fighter).

My issue with that was that he didn't call me at 1:14 to see where I was.  He called me to tell me he was going out to lunch even though I told him I'd be home for it.  He doesn't think about how I'm not telepathic and didn't know that he'd been hungry for an hour beforehand.  I thought it was rather selfish that he called and then ran out the door.

I sat around waiting for him for a couple of hours while he ran errands.  I confronted him when he came home.  And, no, this is not the part of the story that is referring to when I really screwed up.  I stand by my reaction to him doing that.  He tried to blame it on a "miscommunication". No, I communicated accurately that I would be home for lunch. He chose to ignore that and went to lunch when he got hungry.

This was a little thing.  We talked about it and it went away (sort of).

We picked out a Christmas tree that evening but Hubby wasn't in the mood to decorate it.  So we put it up and plopped ourselves down on the couch.  After a couple of hours, we decided to go out to dinner.

We went to a restaurant that had a special strawberry rum drink on their menu.  I ordered one.  Please note: I do not drink that often, so my tolerance is low.

I started drinking and it was delicious. I offered Hubby a sip and he was stunned by how strong it was.  Immediate issue: I hadn't noticed.  I sucked down my drink and was definitely feeling it when we left.

In the car ride home, I started harping on him about how he buys my Christmas gifts a year late.  I guess you'll need a little back story for this.  Here it goes:

When I first moved to Houston in the fall of 2008, we were not going to have a TV in the bedroom.  This would be the first time since I was about five that I didn't have a TV in my bedroom.  I had made comments about it when I originally moved, but I got over it pretty fast.  We lived in a little apartment and now that I had someone to go to bed with, it really didn't seem necessary.  For Christmas 2009, I really wanted a DSLR camera.  Like, really badly.  Hubby had asked what I wanted for Christmas and this is a direct quote of how I responded, "I really want a camera.  Please don't get me anything other than a camera.  All I want is a camera. It's going to be expensive so please don't get me anything other than a camera."  That Christmas there was a box, about the size of a camera under the tree.  I was excited for days leading up to it so that I could open my camera.  When I opened it, it was a TV remote.  He had bought me a TV for Christmas.  Well, I was certainly surprised....

Last year, I had asked Hubby to get me a really nice standing jewelry box.  I wanted the kind that was like a piece of furniture.  But, after talking about how much money we had spent already for the season, we decided that that was going to be too expensive.  So he didn't get one for me.  Although, I have to say, once he started spending, he definitely spent that kind of money on me.  Anyway, I received a gift from my mother a few days ago.  She does everything early.  It was a jewelry box.  When I called her to thank her, she said 'A little birdie told me that you wanted that.'  I laughed because that was last year.

I know. I know.  I sound super materialistic with this sidebar, but please realize that I'm not a stereotypical woman.  I do not drop hints at what I want and then act disappointed when I don't get what I want.  He always says that it's so hard to buy me presents--FYI that's ridiculous.  Spend five minutes in a mall and anyone that has ever met me can spend about $100 that quickly. I'm super easy to buy for.  So to help him out, I tell him what I want.  He doesn't get it and then he complains about how hard I am to shop for.  I couldn't imagine how he would have handled being with one of those women that just hint at things and expect their husband to be a mind reader.

End of sidebar.

So back to last Saturday.  We were in the car on our way home.  I was drunk from one drink.  I started harping on Hubby about how my presents are always a year late.  He says something like "See why I get stressed out about what to get you."  Then I start yelling that it's not hard to get me presents because I tell him what to get me, but he makes it impossible.

Then I want yogurt so I make him stop.  But he doesn't want yogurt so he pouts about it.  I don't want to sit with him pouting so I yell in the parking lot to get back in the car.  And then this is where I really blew it (trust me, I was not at my finest in the moments leading up to this but it gets worse).

I start yelling at him in the car that I'm sick of not telling him things because it will damage his sensitive ego.  I screamed about all the things that bother me that I never talk about.  I yelled about his Christmas decorations, I yelled about issues in the bedroom, I yelled about assorted little things that I had been keeping to myself for a reason.  Individually, hearing each one probably wouldn't have been so bad.  But hearing all of them at once.  I don't know if there's a word strong enough to describe how mean I was, and Bitch certainly isn't going to cut it.

We got home and Hubby remained calm.  He parked himself in front of the TV and I lost it again. I was screaming for him to get out of my face (in my defense--the little that I can make for this case--I wanted him to leave the room not the house). I continued yelling until he left.

Pretty much as soon as I heard the door close behind him, I thought, "What just happened?"

I waited a little while and then I got in my car and went to the pool hall he usually goes to.  He wasn't there. I called him. I said "I'm sorry."  He said that he went for a drive.  I waited, not patiently, for him to get home. I apologized again when he got home.  I really felt terrible.  I don't often apologize, sometimes even when I know I'm wrong.  But this was worse than just wrong.

Things weren't right with us for a few days.  We were speaking but it wasn't right.  I felt awful every day until it was.  He's not easy to make a nice gesture for to fix everything.  He's not a big eater so I couldn't make him a dinner to come home to.  I thought about maybe making spicing it up in the bedroom but even that I knew couldn't fix anything.  As upset as he was, it was very likely I would have been rejected and I just couldn't handle that.

On a lighter note, he did come around Tuesday night after we watched New Girl.  Zooey Deschanel is his major celebrity crush.  I finally heard him start to laugh while we watched the episode, and then when it was over, he asked, "Do we still have that Conan she was on last week?"  So we watched that.  After that much Zooey, he was over it.  He was back to his normal self, chewing my ear off as we got ready for bed and as we laid in bed trying to go to sleep.  So now I know.  When having a major fight with Hubby, always have a Zooey show/movie on hand.  I think I'm going to run out and buy (500) Days of Summer.

To Be or Not to Be... Religious, That Is

Is anyone else out there going through an identity crisis?  Be it a mid-life crisis, quarter-life crisis, teenage identity crisis.... Wow, I just realized there are a lot of times in life that you can go through an identity crisis.

Well, as you've probably figured out (either by accurately reading that last part or by reading other posts I have written), I am 28 and going through an identity crisis.  I guess it's a quarter-life (give or take) crisis.

I suspect it has a lot to do with uprooting myself from the only place I called home, New Jersey, and in turn, was one way I genuinely identified myself.  I am a Jersey Girl, through and through.  Trust me when I tell you I'm not just saying this.  I was the girl that was never going to leave.  When I told friends and family that I had made the decision to move to Texas, they weren't just sad to see me go, they were legitimately shocked that I would leave.  Sure I say, I'm a Jersey Girl misplaced, but I often have a difficult time fully grasping this concept.

The reason I bring this up today is because Hubby and I had a conversation about religion last weekend.  

Didn't see that coming, huh? So, yes, I will discuss religion in my blog.  Probably not politics as I don't feel I'm educated enough on the topic.  Any other taboos I should cover?

Religion is something I've always struggled with.  My parents never really forced me to go to church.  I was baptized and there was a stint where I attended Sunday school, but beyond that, it wasn't a big part of my upbringing.  We never even said Grace at the Christmas dinner table.  Oh, don't forget my father was raised Muslim but had pretty much abandoned it by the time I came around.

My best friend was "very Christian" and even went to a Christian school from K-12.  I dated a Jehovah's Witness in high school--something I would not recommend for a high school student unless your beliefs are the same.  And, let's be honest, I grew up in NJ so Catholicism was all around me. 

And with this all around me, I just couldn't identify myself with any of it.  In an attempt to learn as much as I could, I decided to earn a Religion minor in college.  Honestly, could there be a more fascinating academic subject?

To me, religion was supposed to be something that came from your heart.  I have faith.  I believe in a higher power.  I'm just not so sure about all the extra stuff that comes along with organized religion.  For most of Christianity, you're taught strict lists of right and wrong.  There is a list of what-to-do and what-not-to-do.  Now if you believe, you can slip up and do what's on the not-to-do list.  And as long as you feel sorry/shame because of it and give yourself entirely to your faith, all is forgiven.

I'm okay with this for some things. I can understand deserving a second chance.

What I can't understand it for are the big things.  I can't understand how rape and murder, for instance, can all be forgiven just because someone says "Whoops. Shouldn't have done that."  To me, this means someone that accepts these teachings but say, killed 10 people including children on a shooting spree gets to go to Heaven and I go to Hell.  I never committed any heinous acts.  I just questioned the religious system that's in place.  That is just too unbelievable to me.

Remember, I've grown up in a time when priests sexually abused little boys, men crashed planes into skyscrapers, and extremists have set off bombs at abortion clinics.  And all these things were in the name of their Lord.

Hubby went to a Christian school for grades 7-12.  There is a part of him that identifies with that but he doesn't always live it.  He hasn't gone to church regularly in over 10 years.  I know he feels guilty about it.

But to me that is a direct consequence of organized religion.  He doesn't just wake up Sunday morning and go.  No, he pines about it and internally struggles with it and inevitably feels guilt, even though he's living a good life in so many other ways.

We've talked on several occasions about what to do with our children.  You see, I feel completely comfortable with my beliefs for me, but I am never certain what I should do with my children.  I hate the idea of them not embracing religion because I don't and never took them.  But I also hate the idea of them essentially being brainwashed, just regurgitating things they heard at church and never actually exploring and understanding it.

Religion can be such a beautiful thing.  I truly believe that.  In my opinion, it's human nature to need something to turn to in time of crisis and religion fits that bill beautifully.  We have friends that suffered one of the most awful things I think anyone can suffer, the loss of a child.  These friends also have incredible, and what seems to be unbreakable, faith.  They had this community they could turn to in their time of need.  They truly believe this all happened as part of God's plan.  That is so good... for them.

I do believe in it's most genuine form, it's a wonderful thing.  I just really don't know where I fall into all of this.

So Hubby is considering going back to church.  But my biggest fear right now is in regards to this identity crisis I'm having.  I wouldn't want to go with him to support him and be swept away into it all because of what I'm internally struggling with.  Or vice versa, I wouldn't want to bash it and not accept anything that is said based on the fact that I'm just questioning everything right now.  I know Hubby thinks this is just a cop out and for someone that just accepts religion as is, I can't really blame him for thinking that.  But to me, I want religion and faith to be natural.  I don't want it to be a chore or something I'm guilted into. I'd like to have that beautiful relationship with it, but I can't be sure if it's just not the right time or if it's not in me at all.

Misadventures in Pleasures R Us

WARNING: This contains some adult content. Although, I'm not really sure just going to an adult store qualifies us as adults.  I mean really, we giggled at most things like teenagers.


A little insight about me: I'm totally fine with porn. Not too long after (now) Hubby turned 18 and I was visiting him at college, we made the exciting walk (yes, we were just freshman, so he wasn't allowed a car on campus yet) to an adult shop near his school.  This was the first time either of us had ever been to a place like this.  I can remember the feeling of how exciting it was to be doing something so grown-up.  I also remember getting carded when we walked in. That makes me laugh today.  We looked around, giggled at the toys, and settled on a dvd. You know, one with a plot.

We rushed back to the dorm to watch our new treasure. And here's the part that may make you judge me. We got back and (now) Hubby's roommate was in the room. It seemed totally logical to me to invite him to watch it with us. So, he did. So the three of us watched the porno together. Maybe because of that or maybe because I just really liked the guy, I'll always have a special place in my heart for him.  When the movie was over, well, let's just say we kicked the roommate out.

So, during our dating years, we watched our fair share of adult movies. There were more exciting times at adult stores. Some downloading on lap tops. Rest assure though, that was the first and only time we watched them with anyone else.

For some reason though, we really haven't done anything like that since I moved in with him in Texas three years ago.  There's been some soft-core late night cable TV stuff, but that's really it.

A few nights ago, Hubby said (this is a direct quote), "You know what I could go for? Some porn." And then proceeded to get the computer.  Laying in bed with the lap top watching dirty movies in bed with Hubby just seemed a little off to me. So I nixed the idea. It felt like we were in college--and while there is some excitement to those feelings usually, it wasn't doing it for me this time.

Well, yesterday, after Hubby came home to find that I mowed the lawn (that's for real, not an innuendo for anything), he said that I could pick what we did for the evening. I of course, picked one of my favorite restaurants with one of my favorite desserts and my favorite non-margarita drink.  After dinner we were heading back home, and it hit me, "Let's go to Pleasures R Us." Not the real name of the store but thought it made a cute name for my purposes. So we turned around and headed that way.

I've been to this place a couple of times. It's a lot of fun and at least in my experience, really doesn't have the sleazy feeling to it.  They have a lot of lingerie and things to dress up in, so it almost feels like a little dirtier VS.  So we looked around and giggled at some of the toys and packaging--I'm sorry, I just can't help it when I see "Crotchless".

I picked a little something out and then we headed to the videos.  Again, giggling ensued from both of us.  We were both being particular about our picks.  No fetish stuff, nothing that made me feel creepy (ie girls on the cover looking too young).  Hubby found a Superman parody that looked pretty good but would have cost an arm and a leg so we passed on that one.  Then we found a reasonably priced Taxi parody. Yes, Taxi, the beloved late 70s/early 80s sitcom starring Tony Danza, Danny Devito, and crew.

We headed to the register and checked out--quite excited about our find. When we got home, I opened our treat to find...no dvds inside. We just brought home an empty box. Awesome.  Disappointed, I called and they told me they had the discs.  It was already too late by then though. So I'll be heading there again today. I'll let you know how the storyline holds up compared to the sitcom.

How We Spent Our 10th Dating Anniversary

WARNING: HUSBAND AND HUSBAND'S FAMILY SHOULD NOT READ THIS

Here's another way my in-laws screwed up my husband.  Well, let's be honest.  This is another way my MIL screwed up my husband.

Can I digress for a minute? What is with the mother-son relationship? I know I don't have a child yet so maybe I can't speak, but I don't know a single man that has a healthy relationship with his mother.  Ugghhh...

So, I've mentioned it before. My husband is ridiculously sensitive.  And not in the hunky dark and damaged way. No, in the whiny I-have-to-watch-every-single-word-out-of-my-mouth way.  I assume this has to do with not getting enough love as a child or not being hugged enough or not getting enough attention (or being loved too much as a child or being hugged too much or getting too much attention--although my hunch would be the first list in his scenario).

We've been together for 10 years now.  However, spending the first 7 years apart meant that I didn't see this side of him for a long time.  It was sexy that when we were leaving each other at the airport and his eyes filled with tears.  I was under the impression he was acting this way because he was just so much in love with me.

Nope.  When I moved to Texas and we moved in together, I found out that his really mature way to resolve fights was to stop speaking to me for DAYS at a time.  This made for an even lonelier time during my loneliest time.

Why do I bring this up today? Especially the day after I tweeted how excited I was that we were going to have a date night and celebrate our 10th anniversary (we officially started dating 9/10/2001).

The day started like it was going to be super romantic.  He said we should go out to dinner, a fancy dinner.  My pick. Wow, this is going to be good, right?

Well, I picked the Melting Pot.  We hadn't been there in a while, it's one of my favorites, and I've been begging to go for over a year.

Since we were heading into Houston, I wanted to do something fun there--not just travel for dinner and come back.  So I promptly went online and found The Music Box Theater.  We had the whole night planned.

When it was time to go, I was still about 15 minutes away from being ready.  Side note: I have NEVER been this girl. I was always the one waiting on all my other friends.  This started about a year ago.  I told my husband he might want to give me fake times from now on.

So we were on the road late. Whoops.  We went to the theater picked up our tickets and headed to dinner.  We got there about 20 minutes late.  Our waiter was awesome. I thought we were making great time. And then, he hands us the dessert menu--the real reason we're here. I check my phone (because who wears a watch anymore?). It's 7:30. Yikes! We need to leave now.  Well, the awesome part was that our waiter gave us a rain check for the dessert. PHEW!  We paid and then sped away.

We went to the show at The Music Box Theater. And let me tell you, it was AWESOME! The troupe was funny. They were talented.  To say we were entertained for 2 hours is an understatement.  You could hear my husband after many songs say, wow and there were times that I laughed so hard I cried.  My cheeks hurt at the end of the night from smiling and laughing so much.  If you haven't figured it out yet, I highly recommend the show and definitely plan to be back for all their next shows.

When it was over, we hopped back into the car and headed back to the Melting Pot for dessert.  We chatted about the show on our way.  We sat down in the restaurant and all of a sudden, my husband wasn't talking to me. Whaaaat? I had no idea what happened.  I tried to make conversation. But when it's one sided, it can only last so long. So we sat for most of dessert in awkward silence. Awkward silence?? We're celebrating 10 years together.  We should be able to talk about paint drying and still be able to carry on a conversation.

I looked him straight in the eyes and I said, "Did I say something? Are you mad at me? I really don't understand what's going on here." FYI, I'm a bit of a straight-shooter.  He mumbled, no. After more of this awkwardness, I asked him, "Are you tired? You're like a completely different person from before." No. That second no is the one that means, Yes, I'm mad at you but I'm not talking to you so don't try to blame this silence on me being tired.

Well, I STILL have no idea what happened.  I racked my brain.  Here are my two options that could have spurred this:

1. There was a bit with "Judy Garland" and "Liza Minnelli" during the show. My husband told me that he didn't get it. So I had to explain that they were mother and daughter. I was a little surprised that he didn't know this. So if at any point in my explanation, I said, 'oh, you didn't know that' it becomes that I'm a condescending bitch. But I don't remember saying anything like that in my explanation but as you can see, I could have said anything and the meaning can be construed to just about anything.
2. There was no parking near the restaurant so we had to park pretty far.  I was wearing these killer 5" heels.  Oh, they are they sexiest shoes I have ever owned! I digress.  So, as he parked, he asked, "Is this okay?"  It didn't really bother me. The restaurant is in a strip mall and we were like 2 stores over.  The problem was there was a HUGE crack in the pavement in the spot that neither of us saw.  When I got out, I [almost] took a pretty bad tumble.  Totally twisted my ankle (not the permanent damage way though).  So I think I mumbled something like, "Oh, yeah, great spot. I almost killed myself." Now please understand, I was mad at the SPOT not him. He didn't see it. I didn't see it as I was stepping out into it.  No what I've learned over these last 3 years, I might have hurt his feeling with that statement.  You know, the one I made while my ankle was throbbing. Awesome.

So these are the only things that I can come up with.  On our drive home, he becomes Chatty McChatterPants.  Where did that come from?  Well, here's the other thing I know about this man that I've been with for 10 years.  Somewhere between the walk from our table and getting into the car, he realized that if he keeps up the silent treatment, he isn't getting laid tonight.  This ride back is his last chance to patch that up.

It was too late.  I was pissed.  He took a really romantic dinner and a really fun night and honestly, ruined it for me.  If you had to sit across from that puss he was making, trust me, you'd feel the same way. PS That silent treatment/sit around with a puss on my face comes from his mother.  This is exactly how she resolves issues too.  Really excited about signing up for that fun trait.

When we got home and started getting ready for bed, I asked him one last time.  What was with you tonight? "Sometimes you have to understand that your sarcastic comments really bother me." Whaaaat? again!  Please remember, from the time we were talking to the time he abruptly stopped, all we discussed was the show. THE SHOW.  Or the parking spot. These are not topics I think warrant getting feelings hurt.

And to boot, I was right. He looked me right in the eyes at dessert, lied to me, and continued to ruin my night.  My only comfort in dealing with this crap is that I truly believe he's preparing me for CHILDREN. Ugghhh!

So that's how my really romantic husband--who yes, I love dearly but am really not liking him right now--ruined our 10th anniversary.  Awesome.

It's Barely Lunchtime & I'm Already Over Today

So, BIG NEWS! I told my husband that this blog exists.  Yes, for the last two weeks, I didn't tell him because I planned to use this as an outlet for when I'm frustrated with him--he's very sensitive and I would never hear the end of it if he read anything less than flattering about himself--and of course, his mother. Now, we haven't touched upon that issue but that most certainly will be a big one.  Maybe one day, when I have the energy to write about the hurtful things that have happened to me over the last 10 years.  Let's just say, those of you reading this may be a fan, but she is NOT a fan of me.  This has little to do with me and more to do with the fact that I "stole her only son." Oh, Cheeses!

Anyway, to get to why my Friday--undoubtedly the best day of the week--has shaped up to be one I can't wait to be over.  I had a few things to do this morning before I began work.  My dog, Nikki, had to go for her 2nd shot for a vaccination. Well, she was supposed to go Tuesday but I didn't know that until Tuesday.  Side note: Apparently the Reminder call from my vet comes on the same day the shot is due. Awesome. Anyway, I have two dogs, and I love them a lot <--- Bit of an understatement.  So when I have to take one of them to the vet, that means one of them has to stay behind.  So in my best effort to trick Stella, I filled her bone with peanut butter, grabbed my purse, and scurried out the door where Nikki was waiting for me. Not until I closed the door tightly behind me did I think, Are my keys in my purse? But as soon as I thought it, I knew the answer.

So, my keys and Stella were in the house and purse, cell phone and Nikki were outside with me. While I still had that bad gut feeling, I knew there was nothing to worry about. My husband has a spare key hidden in the garage. So I walk around to the front of the garage, type in the code, press Enter, and NOTHING. Oh, I must have thought of the wrong code. So I tried another one. NOTHING. This is a joke, right? Maybe I'm on Candid Camera (THROWBACK. For those of you younger than me, that's like Punk'd only without Ashton Kutcher and his celebrity friends). So I look at Nikki and she's just wagging her tail at me. She's precious. I try a couple of more times and still nothing.

 File photo. This is Stella asking, 

"Hey, why aren't you guys in here? 

Or even better, why aren't I out there playing with you two?"

I walk back to the yard where my purse is and call my husband. I must have the code wrong and besides, I was going to have to call him anyway because I have no idea where the key's hidden once in the garage. He spits out the same code back to me that I already tried. Uh, oh. I try several more times. My fake nails begin hurting because of the way I'm jabbing them into the numbers. NOTHING.

Thank goodness, last year, we were late getting home one night and asked AMAZING friends of ours to let the dogs out. To do this, we walked them through getting in the garage and getting the key. When all was said and done, I told them to keep the key. We had plenty of extras and it was just the better bet.  So I called her up, she had one strange looking key on her ring that she couldn't identify and over she came. To save our day.

It was the right key. Wouldn't that be an awful twist if after I call my friend to come over before work to let me in the house, she makes the trip to find out it's not the key at all? I guess that experience could have been worse.

So away we went to the vet. Nikki hopped into the car completely unsuspecting. She's so sweet and it kills me when she gets excited to go out but really we're going to the vet. We get to the vet, and there's a beautiful dog already in the waiting room. I ask the owner if it's okay to approach. She says of course. The dogs start sniffing each other--seems to be going well. And then BAM! I have no idea what happened but they ended up in a scuffle. I wouldn't say a fight but still. I could have done without this. We pull them apart. They go in the back.

When we get called, Nikki is terrified. She shakes like a leaf. I have no idea why. She's been scared since the very first time I ever brought her. She gets a couple of shots but other than that she barely gets touched. When she was 3 months old and just 20 lbs, I brought her for her checkup when we first adopted her. She was on the table because she was so little then. She LITERALLY leaped into my arms. I was holding her like a baby that's being burped. If you haven't figured it out, she's a bit of a Mama's girl.

So she gets her booster for the vaccination and away we go. She gets in the car lays down (usually she begs for the window to be opened) with her back to me. She's mad at me. Now, if you think I'm crazy, I assure you, Nikki is just like her Mama (me). She wears all her feelings right on her face. She was mad at me and this was her telling me she wasn't speaking to me. It just breaks my heart.

File photo.  This is a shot of Nikki after the first time I took a long weekend to NJ.

Notice her expression, she is MAD that I left her.

You can't tell me this girl doesn't know how to express her feelings.

We get back home. I barely make it in time for my 10 o'clock call. And then my workday is finally beginning.  I've busted my hump all week and I'm just NOT in the mood for it today. It would have been nice when my friend opened my door if I could have just walked right passed her and gotten right back into bed.

Well, here's hoping to a better weekend... TGIF

What Being a Grown Up Means

One of the ways I think my in-laws screwed up my husband (get used to hearing that) is that he's a grown man and he still does a lot of things that he's "supposed" to do but that he doesn't want to do. I think it's kind of bizarre although maybe this is just the way my parents screwed me up... Nah, it's definitely them.

 File photo. My husband (center) and In-Laws.

Not sure if you can tell, but seriously, my husband is HOT!

I was raised so that I would want to do things that I'm supposed to do.  Maybe this isn't true 100% of the time but doesn't that just make me human. I guess there are the occasions when I take the high road even though I don't want to but that's just good social skills.  Sometimes I don't do things that I'm supposed to do because I don't want to.  Here's the weird thing, the world keeps turning and the birds keep chirping.  Weird.  

So, last night, we watched The King's Speech. Not because he or I wanted to see it but because he thought he was supposed to see it.  It won the Academy Award for best picture last year--that's always a big one for him.  See, we're not exactly the intellectual type when it comes to our movie watching and we often do not like the movies that get all the critical acclaim.  Some of our favorite movies are Anchorman, Waiting, Bad Boys, and Iron Man.  That's not to say that we don't like our occasional heavy drama--The Departed is up their tied for my favorite movie of all time with Forrest Gump. It's more to say that we're not likely to go see some artsy-fartsy movie by choice.  But there we were watching this slow, dialogue-heavy movie (the cinematography was incredible. The photographer inside me found it distracting).  Now it wasn't bad. In fact, I have a mini-crush on the royal family, so I was definitely more interested when I realized it was about Queen Elizabeth's father.  But still, I could have been happy the rest of my life having never seen it.

Internet Photo. This is a still from The King's Speech.

This is how the movie was shot.

The whole movie could have been still after still and then you watch the movie with a flip book.

Beautiful photography. I found it distracting in a movie.

Now this doesn't just happen with movies.  If that was all, it wouldn't be a topic worth typing about now would it?  The big one is with food.  Yes, I am chubby.  But my husband is a skinny twig with poor self-image issues (I assume just another way my in-laws screwed him up. Because as you've read, my self-image issues are most certainly attributed to my parents).  Folks, the truth is I live with a Food Nazi.

My husband one time brought home Brussels sprouts from the super market when I left the side dishes up to him.  I don't like Brussels sprouts. He doesn't like Brussels sprouts. He said we're supposed to eat them because they're good for us.  Let me take a moment to point out that I eat a lot of vegetables.  These were not brought home in place of some non-balanced meal that we would have otherwise eaten.  No, he brought them home because we're supposed to eat them.

We're also not supposed to eat non-breakfast foods for breakfast.  Some days I don't feel like eating breakfast food. I was never a big fan of waffles or pancakes.  Once in a while, I can go for some eggs. I usually eat cereal. But some mornings, I don't want any of that. So I'll eat some left overs from dinner the night before or a Lean Cuisine. This is not allowed when the husband is home. Side note: Breakfast food can be eaten at any time of the day.

One time when I was still living in NJ and he was living in TX, he called me at dinner.  I had just sat down with my stuffing and green beans.  Horrified, he told me, "Those are just sides!" Yeah, I know. But that's what I like so that's what I made.  Needless to say, since moving to TX I've only had "just the sides" for dinner on nights he didn't make it home.

He also does this weird thing with family.  Here's my thing about family.  As I mention in my About Me section, I come from two pretty dysfunctional extended families.  To me family isn't defined by the blood that runs through your veins but by the relationship you have with these people.  I have a lot of blood-family that I could run into on the street and never know it.  I also have a lot of friends that I consider family--far more of them than blood-family that I consider family.

My husband has some distant relatives that lives in Houston.  He doesn't know them at all. I'm pretty sure that they never met. They certainly weren't at our wedding although I am uncertain if they were even invited.  He's been talking about how we have to go see them because they're family.  Essentially, what I've been hearing is that we have to go meet these strangers.  They've never had a relationship before and I'm sure this wouldn't spark one up.  So, my husband has been telling me that we "are supposed to" go have one terribly awkward night.

I tell him constantly that being an adult means you can do what you want.  We're in this glorious time of our life between living with parents who are telling us what to do and living with children where we have to set good examples.  If I want to have a bowl of ice cream before dinner, Hell, if I want a bowl of ice cream FOR dinner, I can have it. I'm a grown up and I can do what I want.

 Internet photo. Yeah, I would definitely have that for dinner.

I almost titled this post Ice Cream for Dinner but changed my mind because I thought it gave away the ending. But then I realized I think that would make an awesome band name. I CALL IT!