People often ask how HDH and I met. A very long story short, I knew of him while working at the hospital. One of my girlfriends thought he was pretty cute, mentioned this, and I happened to run across him at the salad bar once. Smiled, grabbed my extra croutons, and left.
Months went by, and I landed a temporary job in his office. Again, not really interested in him 'like that'. I had a boyfriend. He had a girlfriend (read: pyscho crazy woman). I didn't do much work at all for him, but occasionally became victim to some of his shit.
Examples:
HDH would just leave various 'samples' of blood clots in jar on your desk. You'd come back from lunch, and a clot would be staring back at you.
HDH had a thing for interesting world music, so he'd leave CD's here and there for me to listen to (I thought it was cool then, but after listening to Pakistani chant music non-stop during the last six years, it gets to a person).
HDH would tell you a story ... about ANYTHING ... and have to make reference to sports, war or a random movie you'd never seen (Dead Ringers, for instance). And he STILL does this .... only now, after six years together, I interject with "GET TO THE POINT!!".
This evening, we are driving to one of our favorite Mexican food places in town. As we pass a movie theater in that area, he makes mention of seeing Blair Witch Project there with Psycho ExGirlfriend (don't know about her? read about her right here)
And this prompts a memory from HDH I'd almost forgotten ...
When I worked in that office, there happened to be an escaped crazy man on the loose. He'd busted out of the officer's control and had decided to disappear in our building. The odds of him being around where I was was slim, but if you know me at all, you know my luck really fucking sucks.
The office manager called and asked HDH to PLEASE stay in the office with me, that she wanted doors locked and us to hang out until there was an all-clear.
Well, being the complete and total gentleman my husband (now) is(n't), he left to take a piss, probably. So, I'm sitting in the office, hearing nothing out in the halls because EVERYONE IS ON LOCKDOWN, thinking, "Crap, that guy is somewhere close and I have no one in here with me!"
More than a few minutes go by, and finally there is this eerie sounding 'thunk thunk' at the door. A pause. Followed by a man's voice saying, "Jooooooooooooooooooosssssssssssssssssssh!".
Fucking HDH.
He'd just seen Blair Witch and thought it'd be great to use that line while I pissed myself in the office. Had I known what I know now, I would have hauled my size 9's up and scissorkicked him in the balls.
But this is my husband. I married a smartass.
Eh.
I guess he did, too.
And for the record: A long, long time passed before HDH asked me to dinner. I hadn't been working in that office for a while. He had long since dumped Pyscho for not flushing the potty and being, generally, a nasty human being, and I'd been dumped by my boyfriend for not knowing enough important people in the city.
I should have introduced them ....
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Back Before The War
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
So HDH Will Leave Me Alone ....
HDHusband and I go to outdoor concerts every year at the local Botanic Gardens. We went the other night, and ended up sitting next to an interesting bunch of women.
Because HDHusband has been bugging me about posting about them, I thought I'd let him do the explaining, followed by a picture I took. Now, he can leave me alone:
And, it's true. I wanted to pummel them all. The one in the white was the major offender.
Ah well, it's a mixed bag at those events.
Because HDHusband has been bugging me about posting about them, I thought I'd let him do the explaining, followed by a picture I took. Now, he can leave me alone:
HotDoctorHusband says: "We found our usual place and were warming up for a nice cool evening of jazz from one of the all time greats – Wynton Marsalis. There were some little toddlers around us acting cute and cuddly. We were nursing the tail end of our Bug-induced virus. We were having a little picnic and starting to relax. And then – off to the left of us – straight from some all you can eat buffet in Reno – came the loud conversation and cackling laughter of the trailer park. First clue should have been the wine in the box on their hospital blanket. At first we thought – oh it will subside as the concert begins – but noooo!!!! Just like the constant ding of the quarter slot machines in some low life casino they undoubtedly frequent – they would not shut up. Fortunately, Mr. Marsalis came to the rescue with his orchestra and drowned them out. "
And, it's true. I wanted to pummel them all. The one in the white was the major offender.
Ah well, it's a mixed bag at those events.
Labels: gaggle of hens, outdoor concert, secret squirrel photo op
Monday, June 25, 2007
(Early Edition of)Love Thursday: For Such a Time As This
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
Ambrose Redmoon
Ambrose Redmoon
I've posted before about my best friend, ElJefe. I've posted a lot of times about him, but I am too lazy to look for anymore posts.
We've been friends since roughly 1996. I had moved to a town where I knew no one. He was one of the first people I met. I determined he was someone I didn't want to lose touch with, and so I made it my personal mission to stay in touch with him.
And more than a decade later, we talk almost daily. We've both gotten married. We've supported each other. We've kicked each other's asses. We've been good friends to each other.
Yesterday morning, he called to tell me a story. And he usually calls around 8:30 in the morning, weekends included, to tell me 'stories'. I wasn't prepared for this one:
He and his friend went to the river on Sunday. They got into some trouble on the river. They got tossed out of their boat at a place where there's a headgate - swirling water, big hole, that pretty much sucks you and everything into it. They were fighting against getting pulled in.
ElJefe said he looked over and saw his friend with "real tears" in his eyes. And he said, "I thought, 'Man, he thinks he's gonna drown! And then it occurred to me that no, he thinks I'M gonna drown! I looked back and saw I was five feet from the point of dying, and realized he was right'".
They got out, but watched everything get sucked into this hole: the boat, the oars, the cooler, everything. They said it took two hours to get the boat back out. It would suck the boat into the headgate for thirty minutes, and spit it out, and suck it back in. They said they recovered one oar and the boat, but everything else was gone and NEVER SEEN AGAIN.
Later, they found out a mutual friend's high school buddy had died there. Body never recovered.
That almost was ElJefe. His buddy told him later that they were going down together; he wasn't going to let him go. And I believe it truly. They have been friends since elementary school. They love each other like brothers. ElJefe has always said he has that friend and me - and we are the two best friends he has.
And I'm thankful on all accounts for the way Sunday turned out. I'm thankful they had enough upper body strength to get out. I'm thankful they had angels on their side. I am completely and totally thankful my best friend is still alive.
I told him I couldn't imagine a world without him in it, and I meant that sincerely. So thank you to the friend with him, thank you to whomever or whatever else reached out and kept my friend alive. He was meant for more than this.
ElJefe and My Bug, 2004
"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival." ~C.S. Lewis
Labels: eljefe, friendship, love thursday
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Report From the Front Lines ( or The HotDoctor Infirmary)
We are still feeling like the ass end of a dead rhino. "We" being HDHusband and myself. The Bug (aka Vector of Disease) has pretty much rebounded, looking at us like, "God, you two! It's not THAT bad!" and doing laps around our sorry asses. Laps, I say. Today, he insisted I get up and ninja-kick some imaginary robots that had taken over our foyer. And of course, Mommy got up and kicked their asses. Woot.
We knew yesterday was going to be a big day. We'd already arranged for a babysitter, had plans to drive up into the foothills for a graduation party of sorts and then back into town for the Cirque show Corteo.
Feeling like complete ass, though, didn't help us at all. We got to the graduation party, and HDH promptly found a chair away from people and food to go die. Meanwhile, I coughed, sneezed and watched my eyes start to close up from whatever plant had decided to kick my ass. The house we visited was pretty dang cool. They have traveled quite a bit, so the house had at least thirty years worth of a lot of momentos. Fascinating stuff. The hostess also went out of her way to make some really great appetizers. And if y'all ever come to my house, be prepared for some chips and salsa. Store bought. So there.
And no, I took no pictures of their home.
Except this one of myself, before the party (as proof I did get ready this week, put makeup on at least once and did my hair):
Insert rant to MrVholes, Sometimes Commenter: Why no photos, Vholes? I WILL TELL YOU WHY! Because I couldn't see out of my eyeballs and your damn Flickr addiction isn't my problem! Man up and deal, I say. /End rant.
We drove back down the hill into the city, trying to talk ourselves into the show.
"Oh, that Motrin you took will help! You'll feel better by the time we get there!" and "I'm sure glad we got tickets to the show. Seeing Cirque will make us both feel better". Meanwhile, we are both looking at our watches, thinking, "Show starts at 8, it's only 5:45 now, not home until 11:30 at least ... we are so hosed".
We lie. Really well.
We are seated, and immediately, we are in the wrong row because I can't tell the difference between a Q and an O through the crappy eyesight.
HDH starts coughing.
My head starts to hurt, my sinuses are filling up and my left ear starts to plug up. And in no time flat, I can't hear what my husband is saying because either my ear is that messed up, or his voice is that gone. Maybe both. Goddamn, if we weren't a pair.
Sometime around intermission, we're standing outside of the tent and my husband is giving me the "Doctor checking for a sinus infection" test. People are staring. Some girl in a hookerish outfit goes schlepping by (someone should tell her green neon heels are out). We are both feeling like death.
I think the show was good. I'm not really sure. There was one scene where a guy whistled almost all the way through it, and the high pitched whistle made me want to kick a bunny.
Once we got into the car (and after I'd almost been nailed by another car), we started our trek out of the Pepsi Center parking lot, back up Speer Blvd. and towards home. And that, my friends, was the LONGEST ride home EVER. I couldn't hear my husband. We were both fighting to stay awake and not rip our heads off and kick them into the creek.
I wrote the babysitter a check, and when I looked at the carbon this morning, I'm surprised I didn't just write an "X" for my name instead. Talk about some serious chicken scratch.
HDHusband took a hot bath. I knocked back a half a gallon of NyQuil and crawled into bed.
Today, HDHusband has slept for the majority of the day. And I don't blame him one iota. I did that most of last week. I lost about seven days and hope to make it all up this week. This is a DEVIL BUG. It pretty much busted into our bodies, pulled out the lawnchairs, put on its MP3 player, set it to loud/ignore, and is refusing to fucking move for at least 7-9 days, if I'm going by how long it took My Bug to get rid of The Other Bug.
I hope none of you guys get this thing. It's nasty.
I think that's all from the Infimary.
We knew yesterday was going to be a big day. We'd already arranged for a babysitter, had plans to drive up into the foothills for a graduation party of sorts and then back into town for the Cirque show Corteo.
Feeling like complete ass, though, didn't help us at all. We got to the graduation party, and HDH promptly found a chair away from people and food to go die. Meanwhile, I coughed, sneezed and watched my eyes start to close up from whatever plant had decided to kick my ass. The house we visited was pretty dang cool. They have traveled quite a bit, so the house had at least thirty years worth of a lot of momentos. Fascinating stuff. The hostess also went out of her way to make some really great appetizers. And if y'all ever come to my house, be prepared for some chips and salsa. Store bought. So there.
And no, I took no pictures of their home.
Except this one of myself, before the party (as proof I did get ready this week, put makeup on at least once and did my hair):
Insert rant to MrVholes, Sometimes Commenter: Why no photos, Vholes? I WILL TELL YOU WHY! Because I couldn't see out of my eyeballs and your damn Flickr addiction isn't my problem! Man up and deal, I say. /End rant.
We drove back down the hill into the city, trying to talk ourselves into the show.
"Oh, that Motrin you took will help! You'll feel better by the time we get there!" and "I'm sure glad we got tickets to the show. Seeing Cirque will make us both feel better". Meanwhile, we are both looking at our watches, thinking, "Show starts at 8, it's only 5:45 now, not home until 11:30 at least ... we are so hosed".
We lie. Really well.
We are seated, and immediately, we are in the wrong row because I can't tell the difference between a Q and an O through the crappy eyesight.
HDH starts coughing.
My head starts to hurt, my sinuses are filling up and my left ear starts to plug up. And in no time flat, I can't hear what my husband is saying because either my ear is that messed up, or his voice is that gone. Maybe both. Goddamn, if we weren't a pair.
Sometime around intermission, we're standing outside of the tent and my husband is giving me the "Doctor checking for a sinus infection" test. People are staring. Some girl in a hookerish outfit goes schlepping by (someone should tell her green neon heels are out). We are both feeling like death.
I think the show was good. I'm not really sure. There was one scene where a guy whistled almost all the way through it, and the high pitched whistle made me want to kick a bunny.
Once we got into the car (and after I'd almost been nailed by another car), we started our trek out of the Pepsi Center parking lot, back up Speer Blvd. and towards home. And that, my friends, was the LONGEST ride home EVER. I couldn't hear my husband. We were both fighting to stay awake and not rip our heads off and kick them into the creek.
I wrote the babysitter a check, and when I looked at the carbon this morning, I'm surprised I didn't just write an "X" for my name instead. Talk about some serious chicken scratch.
HDHusband took a hot bath. I knocked back a half a gallon of NyQuil and crawled into bed.
Today, HDHusband has slept for the majority of the day. And I don't blame him one iota. I did that most of last week. I lost about seven days and hope to make it all up this week. This is a DEVIL BUG. It pretty much busted into our bodies, pulled out the lawnchairs, put on its MP3 player, set it to loud/ignore, and is refusing to fucking move for at least 7-9 days, if I'm going by how long it took My Bug to get rid of The Other Bug.
I hope none of you guys get this thing. It's nasty.
I think that's all from the Infimary.
Labels: house of sickness and viral death, weekend
Friday, June 22, 2007
“There's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin"
HDHusband: I'll make you a gin and tonic.
HDWife: Eeew! But I don't like gin. Remember that last time I had gin? In Chicago? That didn't end so well.
HDH: But you will like my gin and tonics. You don't think I'd make a bad drink, do you?
HDW: Right. You are kind of a puss.
HDH: That's nice. Real nice. Here, try it ...
HDW: Not too bad. I'm actually impressed!
HDH: Gin. An acquired taste .... you know, kind of like, well, me!
Labels: gin and tonic, hdh-isms, weekend
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Randomness From Me to You - GROUP HUG!
I was tagged by Hayes ....
I have to post these rules: one, each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves. Two, people who are tagged need to write their own blog entry about their eight things and post these rules. Three, at the end of your entry, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names/pseudonyms/blogs. Four, don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog. Ready? Here goes!
1. I hate coyotes. The closest I ever came to one, though, was in high school. Some guys thought it would be funny to put a tanned coyote head in my locker. Boys have funny ways of telling you they like you.
2. I worked as a can-can girl and piano player during high school. I loved entertaining, but hated cleaning up those bastard peanut shells.
3. When I grow up, I want to be a lounge singer. I am already to do my version of "Guilty" - let me at a mic, man!
4. I can bend my thumbs around and do this W thingie with my tongue.
5. I type pretty fast on the computer, but I can't text worth a damn. Ask Frychk. "Here, HDW, do you WANT me to do it FOR you?"
6. I first saw my husband at the salad bar at work. Ah, true love via a sneeze guard.
7. I care more about the lyrics in songs. It can have a shit melody as long as it says something that speaks to me. Although "Guilty" doesn't have a shit melody, it has great lyrics. I love me some songs by Randy Newman.
8. I'm sweating like a whore in church right now. I think my fever just broke. Hug me.
I have to post these rules: one, each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves. Two, people who are tagged need to write their own blog entry about their eight things and post these rules. Three, at the end of your entry, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names/pseudonyms/blogs. Four, don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog. Ready? Here goes!
1. I hate coyotes. The closest I ever came to one, though, was in high school. Some guys thought it would be funny to put a tanned coyote head in my locker. Boys have funny ways of telling you they like you.
2. I worked as a can-can girl and piano player during high school. I loved entertaining, but hated cleaning up those bastard peanut shells.
3. When I grow up, I want to be a lounge singer. I am already to do my version of "Guilty" - let me at a mic, man!
4. I can bend my thumbs around and do this W thingie with my tongue.
5. I type pretty fast on the computer, but I can't text worth a damn. Ask Frychk. "Here, HDW, do you WANT me to do it FOR you?"
6. I first saw my husband at the salad bar at work. Ah, true love via a sneeze guard.
7. I care more about the lyrics in songs. It can have a shit melody as long as it says something that speaks to me. Although "Guilty" doesn't have a shit melody, it has great lyrics. I love me some songs by Randy Newman.
8. I'm sweating like a whore in church right now. I think my fever just broke. Hug me.
And I'm supposed to tag people, but I just don't feel like doing that. So let me know if you do it, and I'll link you.
I'm nice like that.
Labels: MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME, random quiz, vholes hates the word meme
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I Have a Fever ....
..... and the only PRESCRIPTION is more cowbell!
I hate being sick. It has been a long ass time since a virus has knocked me on my ass like this one has. I believe now is the time to get a shout out to my son, The Bug (aka The Vector of Disease) for bringing this damn thing into our home.
My throat hurts. My head hurts. My body hurts.
Because his fever is gone and all he really has left is the remnant of sore throat, The Bug can go back to daycare. And when she opens shop, I will be driving by, letting him out and speeding home, back into my bed.
The house will be quiet. There will be no endless marathon of cartoons on. I will climb into my cold bed and pass out until I can sleep no more.
We are going to an outdoor concert tonight, and like hell am I going to miss one of the best things about summer because of a stupid little (bigassmotherfuckingpieceofcrap) bug.
(And for those of you missing the reference to the SNL skit, CLICK RIGHT HERE and it will be clear as mud to you.)
Labels: cowbell, don't fear the reaper, fever, sick bug, sick hdw
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Things That Have Nothing To Do With Anything
A conversation with my husband from this weekend:
HDHusband: Ninety percent of what I say is inappropriate.
HDWife: And the other ten?
HDHusband: I'm eating.
And I'd laugh if it weren't so true.
In unrelated news:
My kid has pink eye. Pretty sure, anyway. And of course, it will end up in MY EYE so be prepared for a lot of bitching from my camp in the next few days. And yes, Kath, I will call you if I need anything (and I might, ha).
Because I am a cranky momma bear, I thought I'd put something up that makes me laugh. This picture cracked me the fuck up:
HDHusband: Ninety percent of what I say is inappropriate.
HDWife: And the other ten?
HDHusband: I'm eating.
And I'd laugh if it weren't so true.
In unrelated news:
My kid has pink eye. Pretty sure, anyway. And of course, it will end up in MY EYE so be prepared for a lot of bitching from my camp in the next few days. And yes, Kath, I will call you if I need anything (and I might, ha).
Because I am a cranky momma bear, I thought I'd put something up that makes me laugh. This picture cracked me the fuck up:
Labels: fucking metal, my husband is a pompous ass, please god don't let this be pink eye, weekend
Friday, June 15, 2007
"I Need A Doctor To Fix Me My Bug!"
Around 5:00 a.m. this morning, The Bug opened the door to our room, crying. I scooped him up, went back down the hall to his room, laid him in his big boy bed ("because I'm a big boy, Mommy!"), and shushed him back to sleep.
Sort of.
He fell asleep. And I was laying there, thinking back to the time I insisted my dad sleep next to me in my full bed after a nightmare I'd had. He was 6'5" and 250, and he had to have been completely and totally uncomfortable. It must have taken some serious, "Daddy, PLEEEEEEEEESE!" to get him to stay with me, too. You know, Fierce Protector of Monsters and all.
I landed back in my bed around 6:15 or so. I was drifting back into sleep when I heard our neighbor revving his Ferrari engine.
Are you KIDDING me? It's not even 7:00 a.m. and he's out there gunning that fucking car? No. No way. No thank you. I yelled something like, "OHMYGOD! YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING DIPSHIT!" - but to no one in particular. He couldn't hear me from my bed, but HotDoctorHusband could.
And we spent the next fifteen minutes dissecting that idiot's life. Frankly, I'm awfully surprised it took that long. Apparently, his kids are so nuts, they try stabbing their guests in their arms with forks. (note to self: our kid doesn't play two houses down)
After HDH left, I went back to bed for a bit. I crawled back into bed, hearing only smatterings of engine gunning, and had a very strange dream about tattoos, an old shop building, a broken tractor and Fyrchk. It's not worth explaining, as I can't even explain it myself.
I got The Bug a doctor's appointment around 12:30 because he had a temp, swollen throat, and said his tummy hurt. All tell-tale signs of Strep. The test came back negative. She did inform me another virus was out and about - with some other jacked up name - presenting like Strep. Good times.
During the check-up, The Doctor asked my son if she could look in his ears to "check for ladybugs". My son was seriously concerned about this. He readily agreed this needed to be taken seriously, and she could most certainly look for the bugs. After announcing there were no bugs to be seen ("They must be on vacation!"), we were out the door, in the car, and home again.
After the bath, the following conversation occurred:
The Bug: Mommy, no bugs in my ears.
Mommy: Nope, no bugs. Do you have bugs in your nose?
My Bug: NO!
Mommy: Do you have bugs in your mouth?
My Bug: NO!
Mommy: Do you have bugs in your tummy?
My Bug: (pauses, thinks) ... No, Mommy. I don't eat the ants at NeeNee's! (daycare person)
Good to know we're going to have to talk about bugs living in our bodies for the next, what, couple of months?
Hope everyone has a great weekend.
Sort of.
He fell asleep. And I was laying there, thinking back to the time I insisted my dad sleep next to me in my full bed after a nightmare I'd had. He was 6'5" and 250, and he had to have been completely and totally uncomfortable. It must have taken some serious, "Daddy, PLEEEEEEEEESE!" to get him to stay with me, too. You know, Fierce Protector of Monsters and all.
I landed back in my bed around 6:15 or so. I was drifting back into sleep when I heard our neighbor revving his Ferrari engine.
Are you KIDDING me? It's not even 7:00 a.m. and he's out there gunning that fucking car? No. No way. No thank you. I yelled something like, "OHMYGOD! YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING DIPSHIT!" - but to no one in particular. He couldn't hear me from my bed, but HotDoctorHusband could.
And we spent the next fifteen minutes dissecting that idiot's life. Frankly, I'm awfully surprised it took that long. Apparently, his kids are so nuts, they try stabbing their guests in their arms with forks. (note to self: our kid doesn't play two houses down)
After HDH left, I went back to bed for a bit. I crawled back into bed, hearing only smatterings of engine gunning, and had a very strange dream about tattoos, an old shop building, a broken tractor and Fyrchk. It's not worth explaining, as I can't even explain it myself.
I got The Bug a doctor's appointment around 12:30 because he had a temp, swollen throat, and said his tummy hurt. All tell-tale signs of Strep. The test came back negative. She did inform me another virus was out and about - with some other jacked up name - presenting like Strep. Good times.
During the check-up, The Doctor asked my son if she could look in his ears to "check for ladybugs". My son was seriously concerned about this. He readily agreed this needed to be taken seriously, and she could most certainly look for the bugs. After announcing there were no bugs to be seen ("They must be on vacation!"), we were out the door, in the car, and home again.
After the bath, the following conversation occurred:
The Bug: Mommy, no bugs in my ears.
Mommy: Nope, no bugs. Do you have bugs in your nose?
My Bug: NO!
Mommy: Do you have bugs in your mouth?
My Bug: NO!
Mommy: Do you have bugs in your tummy?
My Bug: (pauses, thinks) ... No, Mommy. I don't eat the ants at NeeNee's! (daycare person)
Good to know we're going to have to talk about bugs living in our bodies for the next, what, couple of months?
Hope everyone has a great weekend.
Labels: sick bug, stupid assholes
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Love Thursday: Happy Father's Day, Dad
"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself."
~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994
Dear Dad,
We always had fun celebrating you on Father's Day. You'd get homemade cards (some I still have saved upstairs), the usual coffee mugs and soap on a rope, and once a giant homemade chocolate chip cookie. I remember making it as big and wide as the cookie tray. You loved that.
You'd get to go golfing with your bank buddy friends, too. You'd pack up early and head out for a day on our little hometown golf course. Every now and then, you'd head to Arizona with them and really have a fun time. I have video of you playing on one of those trips with your best friend, Gene. You'd be happy to know I still keep in touch with him. He's so much older now and having a hard time getting around. He looks the same, very sweet man. He was recovering from heart surgery the morning he got the news you'd died. Gene has always felt horrible he couldn't be at your funeral.
After you died, I quit college and moved to a different city to be closer to family, but someplace else I could attend school. In a strange turn of events, I ended up moving into my first apartment on Father's Day. Your other friend, Larry, and his boys helped me move my furniture and other things up and helped me get settled.
And Father's Day for many years following were just rough. I hated being in card shops with anymore reminders of what I wasn't going to be doing that day. It's funny how a single occasion can really wreck a person for a week or two.
And now?
Now, I've got this beautiful little boy who adores his father. He looks for him nightly to come home, just like I did with you. He begs him to come play the 'Spiderman game' and to help him 'get the bad guys'. My husband teaches my son to ride his bike, how to eat an ice cream cone right, and the difference between baseball and football. My husband reads the same books over and over to The Bug at night. He's a good dad to our son.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. I hope wherever you are, you know your words haven't been lost on me. I hope you know I ask myself, "What would dad do now?" and usually follow that advice. I hope you know I still think of you and talk about you. And of course, that I still love you and wish you could have been around to be a grandpa. You would've been a great grandpa. Mostly, because you were such a great daddy.
Just like the picture that hung on your wall in the office (and that now hangs in my husband's):
"Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy".
Love,
Me
Labels: daddy, happy father's day
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
My Mood
Monday, June 11, 2007
Giant Steps Are What You Take (walking on the moon) ....
We had a kick ass weekend.
Friday night, we went to a banquet downtown honoring the graduating residents. Although it was a four hour show, it went by quickly with a lot of wine. I also had the pleasure of sitting with a few of the retired faculty and one of their wives. She knew of my hometown and the name of the drugstore that used to be there (we'd walk to it after school, sit on the barstools and have marshmellow cokes ... it'd be fine as long as you didn't stick your straw INto the marshmellow).
After the banquet, HDHusband and I headed out to a local bar with some of the other attendings. It should be said that the bar we went to is known in our city to be mostly for those over the age of 60. You must have silver hair, slick it down and tan a lot - if you are a guy. The last time I went there, I was with Kath. Some very old and wrinkly hand reached out from the crowd, grabbed my arm, and asked me why I was going home so early. I think, at best, he was 80. It was completely a Tales From the Crypt kind of moment.
Friday night, I saw a Bar Troll at this place. She was doing her damn best to catch the attention of all of these guys in suits. She looked like Bonds hit a few homeruns on her face - it just wasn't pretty. Stringy blond hair, boogily eyes, a fake tan job that had turned her FACE gray, a tight blue strapless dress, black pantyhose and gold heels. Honest to God, she kept inching up the skirt until her control top was showing. You know, that's just not hot!
I couldn't figure out why she was giving me the Stink Eye most of the night, but after discussing with my husband later, we realized he hadn't worn his wedding ring (remember, it tumbled down an elevator shaft?) and she was eyeing me as competition. I've never seen anything so hideous in my life. I should have had my camera, but by that time, I was dead tired of carrying it around.
On Saturday, HDHusband and I went to THE POLICE concert at the Pepsi Center! I nearly wet myself. I love their music, and I would hump Sting silly if given the chance. Although, I hear he's into the tantric sex, but hey, I can learn, I suppose. Anything to hear "Wrapped Around Your Finger" and "Don't Stand So Close To Me". Sigh.
And last night (Sunday), we drove to the other side of town to a neat little Italian restaraunt. Twenty percent of your dinner bill went to support a camp in town for disabled children. Seemed like a good deal to us. Our son behaved himself (mostly) and was serenaded by a violinist (he requested, "Twinkle, Twinkle" and she obliged).
Apparently while we were on the other side of the world, there was a wind burst in our neighborhood. We had knocked out power, trees and debris everywhere. Colorado weather is weird, man. It's been hotter than blazes here lately. If you can get out early in the morning, that's great - because by 11 a.m., you're inside praying for mercy.
Tomorrow, I'm thinking of being really brave and taking my three-year-old to see Shrek in the theater. It will be an adventure, but of all things, COLD in the theater.
Friday night, we went to a banquet downtown honoring the graduating residents. Although it was a four hour show, it went by quickly with a lot of wine. I also had the pleasure of sitting with a few of the retired faculty and one of their wives. She knew of my hometown and the name of the drugstore that used to be there (we'd walk to it after school, sit on the barstools and have marshmellow cokes ... it'd be fine as long as you didn't stick your straw INto the marshmellow).
After the banquet, HDHusband and I headed out to a local bar with some of the other attendings. It should be said that the bar we went to is known in our city to be mostly for those over the age of 60. You must have silver hair, slick it down and tan a lot - if you are a guy. The last time I went there, I was with Kath. Some very old and wrinkly hand reached out from the crowd, grabbed my arm, and asked me why I was going home so early. I think, at best, he was 80. It was completely a Tales From the Crypt kind of moment.
Friday night, I saw a Bar Troll at this place. She was doing her damn best to catch the attention of all of these guys in suits. She looked like Bonds hit a few homeruns on her face - it just wasn't pretty. Stringy blond hair, boogily eyes, a fake tan job that had turned her FACE gray, a tight blue strapless dress, black pantyhose and gold heels. Honest to God, she kept inching up the skirt until her control top was showing. You know, that's just not hot!
I couldn't figure out why she was giving me the Stink Eye most of the night, but after discussing with my husband later, we realized he hadn't worn his wedding ring (remember, it tumbled down an elevator shaft?) and she was eyeing me as competition. I've never seen anything so hideous in my life. I should have had my camera, but by that time, I was dead tired of carrying it around.
On Saturday, HDHusband and I went to THE POLICE concert at the Pepsi Center! I nearly wet myself. I love their music, and I would hump Sting silly if given the chance. Although, I hear he's into the tantric sex, but hey, I can learn, I suppose. Anything to hear "Wrapped Around Your Finger" and "Don't Stand So Close To Me". Sigh.
And last night (Sunday), we drove to the other side of town to a neat little Italian restaraunt. Twenty percent of your dinner bill went to support a camp in town for disabled children. Seemed like a good deal to us. Our son behaved himself (mostly) and was serenaded by a violinist (he requested, "Twinkle, Twinkle" and she obliged).
Apparently while we were on the other side of the world, there was a wind burst in our neighborhood. We had knocked out power, trees and debris everywhere. Colorado weather is weird, man. It's been hotter than blazes here lately. If you can get out early in the morning, that's great - because by 11 a.m., you're inside praying for mercy.
Tomorrow, I'm thinking of being really brave and taking my three-year-old to see Shrek in the theater. It will be an adventure, but of all things, COLD in the theater.
Labels: other random shit, the police concert, weekend
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Baboons Need Love Too
HDHusband: Hey, would you update your blog for chrissakes!!
Me: I have nothing to say.
HDHusband: Why don't you put up one of the asshole comments I've made lately?
Me: Which one?
HDHusband: I don't know, pick one!! I only make them every five fucking minutes.
(five minutes later, HDHusband appears behind me post-working out)
Me: OH MY GOD! You are RIPE! Go take a shower.
HDH: In the Animal Kingdom, that is called chemoattractant.
Me: Well, I am certainly not attracted!! (with my shirt over my face, by the way)
HDH: Well, if we were baboons, you'd be sniffing my butt by now. THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT!!
Me: God, you are an odd duck. Sorry, BABOON.
(Note: Love Thursday will be back, I promise. I'm waiting for inspiration ...)
Me: I have nothing to say.
HDHusband: Why don't you put up one of the asshole comments I've made lately?
Me: Which one?
HDHusband: I don't know, pick one!! I only make them every five fucking minutes.
(five minutes later, HDHusband appears behind me post-working out)
Me: OH MY GOD! You are RIPE! Go take a shower.
HDH: In the Animal Kingdom, that is called chemoattractant.
Me: Well, I am certainly not attracted!! (with my shirt over my face, by the way)
HDH: Well, if we were baboons, you'd be sniffing my butt by now. THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT!!
Me: God, you are an odd duck. Sorry, BABOON.
(Note: Love Thursday will be back, I promise. I'm waiting for inspiration ...)
Labels: hdh-isms
Monday, June 04, 2007
Snoppy McLookerson
We haven't had really good luck with babysitters recently. We use a babysitting service, and for the last year, we've really found some great gals to come over and hang with the Bug for a few hours while we go out for dinner, to a movie, to a party.
A week ago Friday, I had a sitter lined up to watch Bug during the day while I went to lunch with a friend. It was, at least, upper 80's that day. I came home, paid her, and only later looked at my son's back. I saw that she hadn't put ANY sunscreen on him. Not on his shoulders, his back, his face, and the top of his head was burned - so no hat.
I flipped my shit.
I had left out the sunscreen. I had told her that if she did go outside with him, to PLEASE make sure he had a shirt ON, a hat ON and sunscreen on the rest. My kid is pale, toe-headed and will burn easy like me. We are still trying to kick the burn almost a week and a half later.
The next night, we had a new babysitter. She was sweet and nice, watching the Bug while we went out for dinner. I was extra-sure I covered all the bases of rules after the debacle the night before, including, "And please do not use our computer".
Why?
We have a lot of personal information on our computer - from business accounts to work-related papers, to our personal stuff. Like, my blog. My myspace account.
A Sidenote For Mr. Vholes Who Will Pass Out From Pissedoffness To Hear I Have a Myspace Acct: Last year or so, I had signed up for myspace to connect with old high school and college friends (and it's worked, yes!). So take a deep breath and keep reading.
I can also track who visits my site. I happened to look at it last night, and there are, on average, three visits a DAY from the Babysitter since that babysitting job.
Now, for those of you aware of myspace, you can set your page to private. And it is on private, so at most, she's only looking at my picture, my initial, my quote and that's that. Nothing has changed nor will it change, so looking at it three times a day seems excessive. Hell, once is excessive, considering it's not something I share with everyone. Unless you are searching for my exact high school or college, you won't find me.
I sent her a note last night, asking her to please explain how she found my site. She rambled on and on about 'it must have been an accident' and 'I don't search for anyone on myspace' ... but hitting a private page, where you can't see more than a face, three times a day, of a family who babysat for ... is just not cool. Total invasion of privacy in my book.
I'm debating on how to handle this. I'm thinking of letting the agency know, but I'm also pretty sure I've scared her with my email.
Thoughts?
A week ago Friday, I had a sitter lined up to watch Bug during the day while I went to lunch with a friend. It was, at least, upper 80's that day. I came home, paid her, and only later looked at my son's back. I saw that she hadn't put ANY sunscreen on him. Not on his shoulders, his back, his face, and the top of his head was burned - so no hat.
I flipped my shit.
I had left out the sunscreen. I had told her that if she did go outside with him, to PLEASE make sure he had a shirt ON, a hat ON and sunscreen on the rest. My kid is pale, toe-headed and will burn easy like me. We are still trying to kick the burn almost a week and a half later.
The next night, we had a new babysitter. She was sweet and nice, watching the Bug while we went out for dinner. I was extra-sure I covered all the bases of rules after the debacle the night before, including, "And please do not use our computer".
Why?
We have a lot of personal information on our computer - from business accounts to work-related papers, to our personal stuff. Like, my blog. My myspace account.
A Sidenote For Mr. Vholes Who Will Pass Out From Pissedoffness To Hear I Have a Myspace Acct: Last year or so, I had signed up for myspace to connect with old high school and college friends (and it's worked, yes!). So take a deep breath and keep reading.
I can also track who visits my site. I happened to look at it last night, and there are, on average, three visits a DAY from the Babysitter since that babysitting job.
Now, for those of you aware of myspace, you can set your page to private. And it is on private, so at most, she's only looking at my picture, my initial, my quote and that's that. Nothing has changed nor will it change, so looking at it three times a day seems excessive. Hell, once is excessive, considering it's not something I share with everyone. Unless you are searching for my exact high school or college, you won't find me.
I sent her a note last night, asking her to please explain how she found my site. She rambled on and on about 'it must have been an accident' and 'I don't search for anyone on myspace' ... but hitting a private page, where you can't see more than a face, three times a day, of a family who babysat for ... is just not cool. Total invasion of privacy in my book.
I'm debating on how to handle this. I'm thinking of letting the agency know, but I'm also pretty sure I've scared her with my email.
Thoughts?
Labels: snoopy babysitters
Saturday, June 02, 2007
A Week In Pictures (mostly, anyway)
I think around, oh, Tuesday, this nasty ass storm rolled into town. I looked out my bedroom window and saw this:
Fuck.
That.
Noise.
Now, I hate tornadoes. And I'm certainly not fond of any CLOUD that looks like it might spit one out (and these certainly qualified). It also brought on tons of green skies (ie: hail) and really made a mess of downtown. At our house, we had tons of rain, smaller sized hail, and me hunkered down, waiting to get carried to Oz.
My son got his 'big boy' bed this week. It's been on order for the last month, and boy, has it been a month. He's been climbing out of the crib, wandering down the hall to announce various things to us - anywhere from twice to eleven times. I'm not counting or anything. After getting his 'big boy' bed, he's been hanging out in there, not wandering down the hall, and generally making my life a lot easier.
Here's the Bug, in his cowboy hat, helping Daddy take apart the crib (and really, if you're going to do any kind of home repair, you need a cowboy hat on tight):
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I went to a co-ed sex toy party. And at the party, we had to eat a cherry that had been soaking for three weeks in Everclear, after it was lit on fire for a bit. It tasted like the Debbil.
And a gratuitous shot of me before going out to the party:
And finally, I spent yesterday with my Uncle at the hospital. He is on twelve liters of oxygen, and according to my husband, one step up from that is pretty much back on a vent again. He's in good spirits. When he'd left by ambulance, he'd grabbed his cell phone but didn't get the charger. I was able to find him a charger, some magazines and snuck in some jellybeans for him. And thanks everyone for their good wishes ...
Labels: pictures, week in review
Name: Hot Dr's Wife!
Location: The Rockies
I am the wife of a surgeon, a mother of a three-year-old son, a sister to a redneck brother, the daughter of a dad I miss daily. Colorado native, raised on a ranch, been on a cattle drive and driven many combines. I am always barefoot, I love my friends, and I insist Happy Hour start at 5:00 pm and not a minute later.
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Location: The Rockies
I am the wife of a surgeon, a mother of a three-year-old son, a sister to a redneck brother, the daughter of a dad I miss daily. Colorado native, raised on a ranch, been on a cattle drive and driven many combines. I am always barefoot, I love my friends, and I insist Happy Hour start at 5:00 pm and not a minute later.
Delve deeper...
Click here for more!
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