Lord Of The (Lost) Ring

     Well, it's official. I've lost my wedding ring. (Ladies, feel free to actually gasp or yell out loud... Lord knows I certainly did.) My heart is broken and I actually feel sick over the whole thing. If anyone knows how I feel, however, it's my husband. Afterall, he lost his wedding ring (ring #1) last spring out in our yard (one of us was playing with their ring when they lost it -one guess who it was....this person CLAIMS that rings "just feel weird"- while the other one of us was dutifuly trying to break up a dog fight between the beloved Mr. Milo and the neighborhood bully, Mac the Monster, in the cold... in the muddiest part of our yard... suffering from a minor dog bite on the hand- I mean, obviously I wouldn't feel my ring fly off when I'm busy getting BITTEN!!!)
    I guess the biggest difference between when my husband and I lost our rings is that I love my ring. No, I mean it....I seriously LOVE my ring. It's the most beautiful ring in the world- white gold, vintage style band with tiny diamonds that resemble butterflies, and a brilliant near-karat stone in the center. I love wearing it, I love getting compliments on it, and I love what it symbolizes to me (that I married a man with great taste in rings!). On and off since Wednesday (now dubbed my Terrible, No Good ,Very Bad Day), three metal detectors and a torn apart house later, I've dissolved into tears thinking about the fact that I may never get to wear the tiny circle that my husband put on my ring finger 16 months ago. I thought he would have been more upset with me for losing this precious possession (especially after I kinda tore him a new one for losing his).
     But you know what he did? My guy pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead, telling me that it's just a piece of metal- the ring is lost, not the love behind it. (tears) And, whereas this did make me feel touched and warmed to the very center of my heart, all I could do was half-blubber / half-choke that "I miss my bu-u-tter-fl-flies". So, in an attempt to cheer me up a bit, my husband took me out to sing karaoke (if you don't know him, you don't realize that this is NOT his favorite activity in the world, proving his wonderful self-lessness in the matter), where he even came up onto the stage with me (I'm such a nervous baby!), held my hand during a rather sad version of Etta James' "At Last", and gave me a big smooch at the end of my performance (amidst hoots and hollers from the punk singer with the Brooklyn accent and his pals). And yes, I've cried about my ring again today....but I'm trying to realize that my karaoke-attending, cheer-me-up husband was right. The ring is gone, but the love is still there.

And The Christmas Gift Was....

    ....a king-size memory foam mattress pad! That's my marriage-saving Christmas gift! I have no idea what made him think of it, but my husband did awesome choosing one of the greatest gifts ever....we actually used it last night once we arrived back home from our Michigan visit and, after we broke it in (yup), we realized that it was like sleeping on a pile of Heavenly matter. (However, no one warns you about the hazards of increasing the height of your bed by 3 inches... I've already slid of the edge of the bed twice and tripped while getting in... it's 3 inches but it might as well be the Great Wall of China as far as my legs are concerned.) Of course, my parents' guest bedroom that we used during our trip was also very comfy...in fact, so much so that Pat has started referencing this holiday as our second honeymoon. I'm not sure what it is about the great state of Michigan, but he seemed to find a rejuvenation of his manhood while we were there! All the hugging, and kissing, and sweet, considerate acts... the "I love you"s, the hand-holding, and of course the middle-of-the-night games of bedroom baseball, added a new and exciting spark to our romantic life!
    So, we decided to give sleeping together another try....afterall, it's been about a year since we split up our bedrooms due to his constant moving and snoring and my light sleeping. To give it a fair go, we did have the help of Breath Right strips, a sound machine, and now the memory foam...but the hardest part for me was convincing the dogs to sleep on the floor (especially after being away from them for 5 whole days). My poor babies just couldn't fathom why I was trying to make them leave their comfy places on my (our) bed when that's where they've slept since they were just little pups. So after some pacing (them) and some tears (me) we finally got them off the bed. Not that it was a permanent fix, as I awoke to Milo curled up next to my face more than once. Even when I gently nudged him off the bed, he was eager to come back...in fact, I woke up around 3am to him whining and sitting up on his back legs next to my side of the bed, front paws raised in traditional begging form. (Ok, so there were a few more tears.) But I stayed strong (ish) and kept the dogs off the bed till 7:30 when we brought them all back up for some much needed cuddle time. Tonight we will give it another try...although, if I want to get any sleep, I may have to get stricter with the begging and whining... and I'll have to find a way to get the dogs to stop, too.

Big Gift, Little Patience

    I LOVE surprises at Christmastime. I don't want to open presents early, I don't want clues, and I don't want to shake each package in an attempt to guess the contents. Even as a child, I never snooped (and I'm not even just saying that because my parents are reading this)! I can buy gifts months before the holidays and not let my anticipation cause slips of the tongue or give-ins, such as "Well....why don't you go ahead and just open it now". I am able to accomplish this because I have a little thing called discipline, with a side of patience. My husband lacks both.
    I had purposefully refrained from telling him that I even had his gift up in my closet for 2 months because I knew that he would A) snoop or B) pester me to death about what I bought him, how much did I spend, will he like it, and "can I have it now?"s. Once I finally let on that his gift was, in fact, in our home, oh boy did the questions begin! He quickly went out and puchased my gift the very next day and tried the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" bit. P.S. we are not 5-years-old and we are not playing doctor...it's not gonna work! So, last night my guy finally brings the gift home (from his mother's....because God forbid the man learn to wrap) and he sets in in the living room....and it's enormous. My husband stood there, hands on his hips, proud grin on his face (resembling the cat when she kills a mouse for us and waits for a cat treat), expecting me to ask what he got me. When I didn't bite, he proceded to give me clues (even though I had to plug my ears and yell at him to stop), saying "Why don't we just open it tonight....it's too big to bring all the way to your parents' house for Christmas....it will improve our marriage.... come on, I wanna try it out tonight!"
    Ok, what in the WORLD did he get me? And is it appropriate to open in front of my family??? (If it's not, I swear we're going to need more than his gift to save our marriage!) It's too big to be earplugs...Ugh, but despite my raised curiosity, I told him that we were going to wait and utilize the before-mentioned discipline and patience. "Oh, fine....just pick it up and go put it by the Christmas tree then," he said (in a last ditch effort to give me a clue....I know this because the thing weighed close to 50 pounds! This is going to improve my marriage by the way). When I couldn't lift the package (hey, I have a bad back) he stood there, again with the grinning! So I ordered him to get the gift over to the tree and to stop dropping hints. Little did I know that he was going to drop the entire present instead, tearing the beautiful paper and probably breaking whatever it is that's supposed to improve our marriage! "Well, we might as well just open it now...."
    My look told him otherwise. So, under (well, next to) the tree my giganticaly heavy, marriage-improving gift sits, frantically re-taped together, awaiting it's trip to Michigan. Ooo! Maybe it's Channing Tatum!

I'd Like To Thank The Quakers....

     So, I'm not ready to talk about it.....but let's just say that today = awful. In fact, it lies somewhere between "honey get the gun" and "WAAA-AAaaa-aaaa-aaaa-(sob)-aaaaa". But since we have no guns and the kleenex is all gone, I thought it best to try to think happy thoughts....like the fact that my husband simply CANNOT cook oatmeal. In fact, I think when referring to oatmeal, "cook" is too advanced of a word, since all it really entails is boiling oats....very briefly.... on medium heat.... with just a DASH of salt. However, these words, these crazy words written on the side of the oatmeal container, they just baffle my husband. Here's what I heard this weekend:
     (Him) "What the heck is medium heat? Do I turn the burner on 3? 7? What?"
     (Me) "Well, if it says medium, go for the middle....how about 5? Medium high would be 7, medium low would be 3. Got it?"
     (Him) "But why don't they just put the number on there then?"
     (Me) "Because not everyone has the same stove."
     (Him) "Crap, why didn't you tell me I wasn't supposed to put the oats in right away?"
     (Me) "Believe it or not, I didn't really think you needed help with this."
     (Him) "You were standing right there. You could have said something!"
     (Me) "Um, aren't you holding the directions in your hand? I'm pretty sure it says that right on the box."
     (Him) "I think I put too much salt in....what happens if I put too much salt in?"
     (Me) "You get salty oatmeal."
     (Him) "How long am I supposed to let this just sit here like this?"
     (Me) "DID YOU EVEN READ THE BOX AT ALL?"
     (Him) ".....you're not gonna blog about this are you?"
     (Me) "......of course not......"

     Ahhh.... suddenly my life is bright once again. Thank you, honey. Your ignorance restores my belief that people really DO need casemanagers.

Groceries For The Unemployed

    I've gotta be honest, here....Save-A-Lot totally creeps me out. Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to put down every Save-A-Lot stationed throughout the country (um, is it even a national store or is this just a regional creep-fest that I get the priveledge of living near?) but the branch in my town definately gives off the "If you happen to die here, we're going to put your body in that big freezer in the back while we rifle through your belongings and THEN call an ambulence...(maybe)" vibe. Perhaps it's the rapidly blinking florescent bulbs that put my nerves on high alert... or the fact that the employees stare at you the entire time you're in the store (ease up there, Riff, I don't have a knife).... or maybe it's the fact that NOTHING is organized in a logical fashion in that store, which is the equivilent of someone holding a gun to my head while shopping (seriously, the store is like the Salvation Army of groceries....but at least Salvo organizes by color, which is more than can be said for Save-A-Lot.... brown sugar and cat treats should not share the same "bin"). It could be that the majority of the people I bump into (and yes, I've yet to enter this store without people walking directly into me....spatial impairments? invisibility cloaks? inner ear damage? so hard to decide....) lack the proper amount of social skills (and hygiene) to be left to their own devices in a public setting. I'm not saying it's Group Home Field Trip Day everytime I'm there, but it's close.
     Here's an example. Yesterday, once I willed myself to bite the bullet and embark on the local Save-A-Lot experience (afterall, I did save a lot...), I found myself next to a particularly pungent 20-something man in the "produce section". Moments later, the man lit up a CIGARETTE......right there next to the bananas! I stared at him, mouth agape (which was quite unfortunate, considering the smoke billowing right at me and all), unable to comprehend why he and his suspected "baby mama" carried on a half-sensical conversation while smoking all over my fruit! Thankfully, the Save-A-Lot employee came to the rescue and reminded the gentleman (letting me know this wasn't his first offense) that smoking in the store is STILL not allowed. Needless to say, I didn't get the bananas.
     And what's with the bag situation? Perhaps my Go Green! readers will scorn me for this, but is it really the end of the world for a grocery store to provide paper or plastic? Must I really have to fold my coat up like a sling to carry my purchases to my car and then once again to go into my house, while managing to wrangle 3 nut-ball dogs at the same time? I mean, at least Dollar General rewards my business by giving me a bag AND coupons to come back. Ugh....the trials and tribulations of the white mid-lower class. (Oh my gosh, I have got to get a job....)

The Good, The Bad, And The Chubby

     It's raining in December. Christmas is less than 2 weeks away, and all I can see for miles is mud. Perhaps this is just typical Western PA weather, or perhaps this is Mother Nature's silly way of reminding me that I should have moved to the coast when I had the chance (which coast? Any coast.). Rainy or not, it's this time of year that I often reflect on the past 12 months and begin making resolutions for the upcoming year. Unfortunately, this is also the time where I catch myself lying through my teeth in order to make myself feel better about last year's un-met resolutions. Therefore, in order to keep the honesty scale at a 10, I have decided to log these goals for all to see on the internet. (Awesome idea, Shivonne.... global failure is sooo much more appealing than local failure.)
     So, let the reflections begin! Currently, I find myself "slightly heavier" than I was last December (ok, honestly my hourglass is starting to look like a magic 8 ball), unemployed (at least there are no more 14 hour shifts to hold me back from my eating), babyless (come on, ovaries, you can do it!), and to top it all off, I'm going to he 30 on my next birthday. THIRTY!!!
     On the plus side, this unemployment thing has given me more time to get involved with my church (all 20 of us), I've been able to finish several home improvement projects recently (Lord, please don't let the house fall down), and I'm happily married (let's be honest, some days it's deliriously so, other days it's forcibly so....). All in all, I'm getting excited at what could be waiting for me just around life's corner. But while I'm waiting, I might as well work out a few bumps in the road, right? Ok, here goes nothing!

Goal #1: Lose weight (20 pounds should do the trick, but 25 would give me that comfortable 5-pound-flex to work with.....on second thought, better make it 30.)

Goal #2: Get a job (daylight hours, health insurance, paid time off, the works!)

Goal #3: Um, don't get fired from your awesome new job

Goal #4: Have a baby (hmmm, this could seriously work against goal #1....)

Goal #5: Don't turn 30 (I firmly plan to stay thirty minus one forever.... well, at least until March....sigh)

Goal #6: Do something absolutely incredible (Vague? Yes, but it's kind of exhilirating thinking of the possibilities that this goal could open! Or I might really be kicking myself next December 31st when I'm trying frantically to cure cancer or discover the formula that makes all fat-free food taste like the full-fat kind...)

     In the end, I think 6 goals is totally doable! Afterall, I am 29 years young and have nothing but time on my hands (wouldn't this be the worst blog ever if I can't pull this off?). And have no fear, this is not going to be a place to come and read about a crazy woman's unfortunate circumstances, complaints, and "blah, blah, blah" because there is nothing but possibility here! However, I do believe that there is no point in writing if you're going to hide behind a pile of lies, so here you are, friends! The good, the bad, and the chubby is yours for the reading. Besides, great stories aren't the ones that start out with the happy ending, but the ones where the heroine struggles a bit before rising to victory (ergh, or accomplishing 6 little goals...). So, here's to the past, the present, and to the future (well, at least until March).