It happened Labor Day weekend

I drove through the campus of my college alma mater, Butler University, today after I dropped Charlie off at his girlfriend's house for a Labor Day picnic. As I drove down West Hampton Drive, past the Sigma Chi house where Mike lived for his 4 years of college and past my own Delta Gamma house, I realized that it was 26 years ago this weekend that Mike and I met.

We weren't on campus. Instead we were at the YMCA Flat Rock River Camp for Butler's Freshman Weekend. Mike was a freshman, a camper. I was a sophomore, a counselor for Freshman Weekend. I was there because I'd become involved with Butler's chapter of the YMCA during my freshman year and had volunteered to help out at the Labor Day weekend event. Mike was there because his mom wasn't about to have him come back home for the 3-day weekend so soon after she'd gotten him out of the house for college. 

Mike said he first noticed me, "this really cute girl," when I was in the center of the circle during the game "Honey, smile if you love me." The person in the middle has to stand stoically as people come into their personal space -- no touching allowed -- and yell, coo, holler, sing or otherwise deliver the line "Honey, smile if you love me."

I caught sight of the tall, cute, beefy freshman when he was assigned to my skit group. When there was some free time, he invited me back to his cabin (blush!). I went (what?!), where he promptly laid down, fell asleep and left me chatting with his cabin mates. Later, he would tell me that he hadn't really fallen asleep, but that he only pretended to be asleep so he could listen to me and see what kind of girl I was.

There was dinner and a few other activities I don't remember. Then it was time for the night hike and bonfire. He held my hand on the hike. I might have swooned a little. We arrived at the bonfire, where there were more games and songs and probably the making of s'mores. What I do remember about the bonfire is that we were playing a game called "Sing a song or kiss a counselor." 

A few counselors had flashlights. When the light of the flashlight landed on you, there were two choices -- sing or kiss. I happily anticipated Mike's moment in the spotlight, the one where he would stand up, walk past the fire and share our first kiss, likely just a peck but a first kiss for sure. 

Sure enough, a few rounds into the game, the bouncing flashlight glow landed on Mike, the brown-haired, brown-eyed man-child I'd become smitten with. He squinted in the light, then smiled broadly. His eyes turned toward me and...

"FLINTSTONES! Meet the Flintstones," he belted out. 

If it is possible to have your hopes dashed and your funny bone tickled at the same time, that is exactly what happened to me right then. 

Lucky for Mike, he did deliver on the first kiss later that week, after he asked me to "go with" him, a statement which he still denies making. I suppose there is no point in arguing the point, since here we are, 26 years later, still laughing. 

I said "milk, bread, hot dogs..."

We're getting our first big snowstorm of the season tonight. Earlier today, while I was still at work, I texted Mike and said "I'll pick up the boys, but could you run to the store and pick up some milk, bread, hot dogs and hot chocolate?"

You know, the basics.

So when I checked Facebook shortly before I was ready leave work and saw this:



I quite honestly LOL'd. I think it's the funniest Facebook post my husband has ever made. I'm not sure if it was the caption that got me or the fact that he had strayed so far from my suggested list of items.

This is what a man-cart looks like...at least a cart for my men.

• Six different kinds of frozen pizza
• Lean Pockets
• Protein shakes and protein bars
• Hot dogs 
• Bread
• Waffles & frozen French toast (Who buys that? Even I can make that!)
• Syrup
• Two kinds of Oreos
• 3 kinds of crappy cereal 
• Milk
• And of course, Diet Coke

I think the only green he managed to pick up was the green on the Lean Pockets box. He does get points for going generic on many items and for using the Target Cartwheel. 

Charlie and Robbie were in heaven seeing the groceries unpacked, which means all of that food will last approximately 3-1/2 hours.

Mike hasn't caught on yet that you have to buy some food that they will only eat if they are really hungry -- things like carrots, apples, bananas, you know, the good-for-you stuff and things that require some work on your part and can't just be snarfed down straight out of the box.  Otherwise, the kids blow through it all like they haven't eaten in weeks.

I'm not complaining. Honestly. I'm glad to have been freed from the chaos that is a pre-snowpocalypse grocery store. But seriously, have you ever tried to warm up with a mug of Oreos?

Sometimes marriage looks like this (after 19 years at least)

I was planning to wax philosophic or at least sentimental tonight because Mike and I are celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary. But I decided to share a slice of regular old married life.

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(Phone rings.)

She (at the office) said: Hey!

He said (through gritted teeth and with frustrated voice): If you are going to insist on locking all the doors at home, then you should make sure there is a key hidden outside somewhere.

She said (confused): Uh, ok. Why?

He said (still frustrated, a bit more vigorously so): Because people have to be able to get in the house.

She said (trying to remain even-toned, but probably sounding sarcastic): Huh. When I want to get into the house and it's locked, I use my housekey.

He said: Well, I can't find my keys. And now I wasted my entire lunch hour driving home and I can't get in the house because you have to lock all the doors. I know it's my fault I can't find my keys, but still there should be some way for a person to get in.

She said -- well, nothing at first because she was still trying to figure out how locking all the doors when you're not at home is a bad thing.

Then she said: What do you need?

He said (impatiently): I need the ointment for my foot.

She said: Why don't you just go buy some at the store?

He said:  Because I can't find my wallet.

She said -- nothing, again. But she thought to herself, "I am so blogging about this."

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Eighteen or 19 years ago, I would have been really annoyed by this scenario. I might have even jumped in and escalated it to a real fight. I'm not sure if it's wisdom or wear, but yesterday when it took place, I just laughed (and ok, plotted a minor bit of blog-worthy revenge.)

Yep. It's not all sunshine and lollipops. And it's not all sneers and sarcasm. It's life. And in the grand scheme of things, it's good.

Happy anniversary to my huzzzband.

Two lies and a truth

Scenario #1: About 7:00 this morning, I awoke to the sound of breaking glass. I sat up to find two knife-wielding ninjas (thanks for the inspiration, Judy Daniell) coming in through the bedroom window.

"Mike!" I screamed. Upon hearing the panic in my voice, Mike leapt from te bed and engaged in some fierce hand-to-knife combat with these two very bad dudes. In the melee, he ended up with a broken ankle and torn ligaments.

Scenario #2: Early this morning, Mike was out riding his new FatBike (that's really what it's called). He heard shrieking and saw an old woman frantic because her little tabby cat had run into the street and into the path of a garbage truck. Mike pedaled with heroic speed and threw himself in front of the truck, saving the cat. However, the truck's rear tire ran over Mike's right leg, breaking his ankle and tearing a few ligaments in the process.

Scenario #3: While getting dressed this morning, Mike tripped over a pile of clothes that have been waiting for several weeks to be taken to Goodwill. He felt 3 pops and was in excruciating pain. A trip to the walk-in orthopedic clinic revealed a broken ankle and torn ligaments that will require surgery to repair next week.

Which do you think is the truth?

A few words

HAPPY! HAPPY!

JOY! JOY!

Oh, what a feeling! 

Thank you, Jesus!

Mike has a new job!

6,575 days

157,800 hours

9,468,000 minutes 

568,080,000 seconds

Sometimes happily

Sometimes grudgingly

Sometimes with laughter

Sometimes with gritted teeth

Sometimes in fatness
Sometimes in shape

Sometimes in plenty

Sometimes in want (relatively speaking...)

Sometimes with absolute certainty

Sometimes with doubt

Always blessed

568,080,000 seconds

9,468,000 minutes  

157,800 hours 

6,575 days

18 years of "I do."
Happy anniversary to my huzzzband.

Please not the giraffe again

NO. That was the answer that came to Mike this afternoon via e-mail.

Oh, it was much nicer than a flat-out "no." There were admissions of the decision being difficult and best wishes for the future and blah, blah, blah.

Best wishes don't pay the power bill, sweetheart.

This whole process of looking for a job just really sucks.

It's like riding a carousel. You stand in line, watching the animals go round and round. You pick out the one that would be just perfect for you, noting a few others that you wouldn't mind riding either. The ticket taker moves the velvet rope and you race forward, trying to be polite and not seem too eager, but moving with enough determination that its clear that you really want the black horse with the green diamond studded headdress.

And then some kid gets there before you. And you have to scramble around, tying your hopes to some other horse, or God-forbid the stupid giraffe that doesn't even move up and down. You tell yourself that the black horse with the green diamonds wasn't as great as it seemed anyway. That a much cooler animal -- maybe the tiger with the menacing teeth -- is just waiting for you to find your way to it.

Every day, you park yourself atop some animal, going round and round and round. You begin to feel sick to your stomach and you're not sure if it's that you've been going around for so long or if it's that you've heard that damn syrupy music-box music one too many times. All you know is that you're ready to get off the ride. 

40 20 wishes for his birthday

Today is Mike's birthday. His 40th birthday to be exact. I gave him his gift over the weekend. I wished him a happy day on Facebook. We're going out to dinner tonight. But I still felt compelled to offer my celebratory salutations here on the blog, too. So, I've decided to list 40 wishes for my husband's birthday:

1. I wish he would replace the toilet paper on the roll.
2. I wish he would scrub the dishes before he puts them in the dishwasher.
3. I wish he would permanently forget the password to his eBay bidder account.

Oh wait...that's not quite what I was going for.  I'll finish that list for MY birthday. Let me try this again.

To my huzzzband:

1. I wish you a big bubble in your pizza crust, just like you like it.
2. I wish you sunglasses that don't have finger smudges on the lenses.
3. I wish you 3 stars on every board of Angry Birds. (I know you've already got that, but this will cover you for future releases.)
4. I wish you moments in every day that release your big laughter.
5. I wish you Diet Mountain Dew available in every restaurant you go to.
6. I wish you a dedicated Star Wars channel on cable TV.
7. I wish that someday you will get to ride in the General Lee.
8. I wish you good health.
9. I wish you summers with air conditioning.
10. I wish you winters with heat.
11. I wish you a trip to see the last Space Shuttle launch.
12. I wish you a trip to see a Cubs game at night. (Oh yeah, wish granted.)
13. I wish you Geno's East Pizza.  
14. I wish you uninterrupted sleep for at least one night. 
15. I wish you the return of the loyalty you show others. 
16. I wish you the forgiveness you so easily give.
17. I wish you success in your profession.
18. I wish you peace in your heart.
19. I wish you happy memories of your mom.
20. I wish you serenity.

Sorry honey. 40 is a very big number and I'm running out of things to wish for you, unless I go back to my original line of thinking. Let me just say:

I wish you a very happy "Bee"-day!

Stop him before he organizes again.

My husband needs a job. I am afraid of what will happen if he continues to spend the majority of his waking hours in our house.

It started with the brown bins. You know, the art deco-ish kind they sell at Target to make you think that THIS time you really are going to get your stuff together?

I think he said that the bins were for school, bills and mail. Or maybe they were for mail, bills and coupons? I can't remember. Right now in their dust-gathering spot on the dining room table, they are for random papers, newspapers and impossibly old school papers. (Don't ask me where the bills are.)

Then there were the big laundry tubs. 5 of them -- one for each member of the family. 4 blue and 1 pink, for Annie because she's a girl. Apparently Mike forgot that I possess a set of ovaries as well. Anyway, I was skeptical of the laundry bins because they are round. Who folds round clothes?

The kids weren't as skeptical as I was about the new laundry tubs. In fact, they love them:

I will admit that the tubs are handy for moving laundry in and out of the laundry room. So it wasn't all for naught, but they aren't working out exactly as Mike envisioned. (Three of them are sitting in the entryway as I type.)

But today, he moved from container cravings to higher realms. Higher as in he bought plastic bed risers to put under the frame of our bed. I went upstairs and felt like I'd fallen into the Princess and Pea fairy tale. Keep in mind that I am only 5'3" on a day when I'm standing up very straight. This new uplifting experience has raised the top of our mattress to about 31 inches. My bed is almost half as tall as I am. And the poor dog -- she can't jump on the top of the mattress anymore. She gets hung up on the edge and just gives you a look like "Hey, can a dog get some help here?"

When I asked him what had motivated him to put our bed on stilts, he didn't hear me at first. He was too busy looking at books on feng shui on Amazon.com, heaven help me. Once I finally got his attention, he said he did it so we can store stuff under the bed.

"Store stuff?" I asked. "We already store stuff under the bed -- dust bunnies, escaped fruit snack wrappers, fugitive socks and an eclectic assortment of Littlest Pet Shop toys and Legos."

Mike failed to see the humor or the logic in this.

"No, really," he went on. "See, I got these baskets to slide under the bed to store stuff." 

Again with the baskets?! But I hold my tongue because my dearly departed mother-in-law was famous for using laundry baskets as a haphazard filing and storage "system" and I think the mourning period is still in effect. Instead, I asked Mike what "stuff" he had in mind for the baskets. 

"The stuff that we have all over. The stuff in the closets."

"You mean the stuff we should just give away and be rid of?"

His body language conceded defeat on that one. But then he came in with the save -- "For shoes! We can store our shoes in the baskets under the bed."

Again, because I'm trying not to be too disagreeable I offered up an "ok," not mentioning that if we cleaned out the closets, there would be plenty of room in there for the shoes. 

I did ask what the acceptable weight load for these plastic risers is. He said something about using 6 risers instead of 4 so it will be fine. I'm thinking we might want to sleep in shifts, just in case. We are not the smallest people, after all.

I can only imagine what he's got planned for tomorrow, and I am afraid.

Frazzled Friday Frags

"Thank God it's Friday" doesn't even begin to cover how I feel about the end of this week. Frazzled is a good way to describe it. But I'm happy to distract myself with a foray into Mrs. 4444's Friday Fragments.

And lucky us, Mrs. 4444s is having a playdate with Danifred of Sippy Cups are Not for Starbucks (is that the best blog name ever or what?!), who serves up her own fun with Friday Night Leftovers.

With all the great frags and leftovers to click and read, who needs to rent a movie on Friday night?

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I made the most delicious discovery the other day. Chocolate-covered Peeps! Can you stand it? They come in dark and milk chocolate and are really yummy. They don't have that wonderful gritty sugar that regular Peeps do, but I'll forgive them. Also, the inside marshmallow yumminess is neon yellow, which I could have done without. But of course that didn't stop me from eating the dark chocolate version. I gave the milk chocolate to Mike. Wasn't that nice of me?

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I used to spend hours watching the TLC channel. It started when I was pregnant with Annie and I got sucked into "A Baby Story." Then came "Trading Spaces." Then "What Not to Wear" and "Say Yes to the Dress."

Now, I'm convinced that TLC stands for "The Little Channel." Seriously, how many shows about little people can one nation watch? "Little People, Big World." "The Little Couple." "Little Chocolatiers." And now "Our Little Family." Big overkill, if you ask me.

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Cilantro lime fish. Sounds yummy, doesn't it? It did to me, too, until I saw it was being offered at Burger King. Thanks, I'll just have a Whopper Jr., no cheese, no mayo, please.

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Being more organized and having a neater, less messy existence is always on my to do list. But there are times that erring on the side of slobbiness is beneficial. Yesterday, for example. I was on the treadmill at the gym when I realized that when I packed my clothes to change into for work (after a shower, thankyouverymuch), I forgot to include a bra. So it was either wear my sweaty sports bra to work -- utter a collective "ewwwww" here -- or stop at the store to buy a new bra to wear.

A few minutes later, still running and still sweating, I remembered...I had a bra in the back seat of my car! For all you gutter-minds out there, it had been in another bag that I'd had to quickly repurpose for one of the kids so I just tossed the bra into the back seat. For once, not adhering to my mother's "Everything Out of the Car" song had paid off!

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Today I'm wearing the one piece of really gaudy costume jewelry that I own:

I bought it for $4 at Global Gifts. I saw it and wanted it, but decided to pass. A few months later, I saw it again and still wanted it so I bought it. Best $4 I've spent in a long while. It's obnoxiously large, but it makes me happy!

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For those of you following Mike's elephant leg saga (here and here), we're at the orthopod's office right now getting an MRI. I sure hope it's nothing, but if it is, it will be a very expensive nothing.

Update: Just got a call from the doc about Mike's leg. Assuming my best Arnold voice: "It's naht a toomur." It is, however, a big bag a fluid that is pushing all the muscles out and down, causing swelling and pain. I said, "Now you know what it feels like to be pregnant!"

On Monday, the doc is going to attempt to drain it. If that doesn't work or if the fluid looks to be infected, they'll take him straight to surgery.

That's all I've got. Hope you have a fraggin' awesome weekend!

Pain in the...

Occasionally, I make a passing reference to Mike in my entries here. But generally, I don't talk about him because, frankly, he doesn't like it when I do. However, I'm breaking my rule to tell you a frustrating tale that we're living right now.

(If you're here from MagMoms, this will sound familiar. Feel free to scroll on down to "Buzz word.")

Mike hurt his knee playing racquetball (read: channeling his inner 16 year old) with the kids about 10 days ago. This is the same knee he had surgery on in November. It wasn't like a big major injury on the racquetball court, but he said he did notice it being sore from time to time as he was playing. Well that night, the knee swelled up to the size of a grapefruit. He was in quite a bit of pain and spent the weekend icing it and staying off it.

By Tuesday night, the swelling grew to include his calf and he was having severe calf pain. I was worried about a blood clot, so he went to the family doc on Wednesday. (He'd called the surgeon who did the knee surgery, but never got a return call. Don't get me started...) The family doc looked at it, said he didn't think it was a clot and used a needle to drain some of the fluid. That bought him about 6 hours of mild relief.

Once the initial relief of the needle aspiration was over, he was using his crutches and really unable to get around at all. Thursday afternoon, he called the surgeon again but he couldn't get an appointment until Tuesday (today). So he just kept icing it and taking ibuprofen. By Friday afternoon, he was in real pain. I'm sure traipsing around at the Go Red for Women luncheon didn't help. We called the family doc again, since the surgeon's office had been oh so helpful, and they called in an Rx for some pain meds and said he could see the family doc today (Monday).

Saturday night, he woke me about 2am and showed me that the swelling had moved up to include his thigh as well. I used a tape measure to see that his right thigh (injured leg) was swollen to 4 inches bigger in circumference than the left leg. By Sunday afternoon, it was 6 inches, so we went to the ER.

At the ER, they did an ultrasound and assured us (again) there's no clot. Then they sent us home with instructions to keep doing what we're doing and see the surgeon on Tuesday. They did give him an oral antibiotic in case there's an infection. His leg is so swollen that he can't bend the knee at all. He's in pain. He's not sleeping (so I'm not sleeping, hence the mid-of-the-night blogging). He can't drive, can't walk and is quite frankly depressed about the whole situation.

Please pray that the surgeon has some real answers for him. He/we just can't keep this going like we have been for the last 10 days.

I've been googling like mad, trying to come up with a diagnosis -- because you know, doctors love it when we do that. But it makes me feel like I'm doing something.

Anyone out there have a medical(ish) degree -- real or from Google University -- and care to offer any ideas? We're all ears...and one giant, puffy leg.

For better or for worse

Sixteen years ago today, Mike and I said "I do." Actually, we said "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

This morning Mike said something to Annie about this being one of the best years of our marriage. The statement caught me off guard.

"Really?," I thought to myself. "This is the year that we were separated for three months and he can say that it's one of the best years of our marriage?"

We promised to be there for each other in bad times and, in my mind, this past year had more than its share of bad times. But when I thought about it a little more, I realized that Mike was right. This has been one of the best years of our marriage because we really did live up to what we promised each other on that altar 16 years ago.

We were separated, yes.

If we had parted ways, thrown up our hands and said "been nice knowing you," then it would have been bad. But we didn't.

We parted ways with an honest promise to work to find each other again. It's been hard work. Going to marriage counseling sometimes stirs up stuff one or both of us would just rather ignore. But we don't. We sit with it and we work through it. And we're better for it. So is our marriage.

While I would like to have been able to give my children an Ozzie and Harriet picture of wedded bliss, I think the example that we've provided to them over the past year is just as powerful. That love is not always rosy. That love is not about a feeling. Love is choice to honor a commitment that we made to each other and to God.

So, my huzzzband, 16 years ago I chose you. Last spring, I chose you still -- even when so much of me wanted to turn my back. And today, I choose you again.

Happy Anniversary.

Honestly, Officer...part 3

Honestly, Officer seems to be a recurring theme around here...and here...and now here:

Last night around 9:40pm, I got a call from Mike, who was on his way to work.

"I ran out of gas," he said. "Can you come get me?"

A little irritated to have to leave the comfort of the couch, I slid my feet into some slippers, told Annie where I was headed and drove the 10 minutes to where Mike was stranded.

I picked him up and dropped him at work and made plans to put gas in the car in the morning after his shift was over so he could drive it home then.

Half an hour later, I was back on the couch, snuggled under some blankets, remote in hand to watch Grey's Anatomy. The phone rang and it was a friend from church. So I paused Grey's to talk to my friend.

During our conversation, call waiting chimed in. "Private Caller" read the caller ID (I love caller ID!). I don't mind if people I know call me at 10:30pm, but if you're not willing to make yourself known, I'm not going to answer. So I wrapped up the call with my friend and returned to Grey's Anatomy.

About 10 minutes later, I started getting a nagging feeling that I should check the voicemail. After dismissing the feeling a few times, I picked up the phone and punched in the access numbers to retrieve my messages.

First, of course, I had to wade through a dozen previously left, but never listened to messages. I finally got to the message from "unknown caller."

"Hello, this is the Deputy Foster from the Sheriff's Department..."

Boy, did that get me to sit up in a hurry.

"I'm calling to inquire as to why your car is parked on the shoulder of the road on 111th Street. Please return the call at..."

Hmmm? Is it illegal to leave a car parked on the side of the road? I don't know, but when a sheriff says to call back, I'm gonna call back. So I called the number the deputy had left and reached the dispatch operator. While she put me on hold to find out who had called me, I saw headlights pull into my driveway.

Yep. It was the deputy.

I met him at the door, the dispatch operator still on hold in my left ear.

The deputy was nice as could be, and probably just slightly too old to date Annie. He asked if I was Amy M...and wanted to know if I knew my car was sitting unattended on 111th Street.

I explained that yes, I did know. That my husband ran out of gas on the way to work, that I couldn't do anything about it right now because I had three sleeping children in the house, and that we would pick it up in the morning if that was ok.

The deputy said that was fine. They just were concerned because it was a nice car (obviously the fact that it was pitch black out hid the scrapes and dings on the outside and the crumbs and leftover juice boxes on the inside) and there was a half-eaten baloney sandwich left on the front seat. He and his partner wanted to be certain there was no foul play.

No. No foul play. But there will probably be a foul smell when we get back to the car to remove the baloney sandwich..

An unlikely pair

I came downstairs tonight after getting my pajamas on and thought I might watch a show or two I had DVR'd. However, Mike had beaten me to the TV and was already watching a show on PBS.

Not wanting to flex my bossy wife muscle and forcefully take over the TV, I sat down to watch his show. After catching about 30 seconds, I started to laugh. How in the world did the two of us ever end up together?

I had come downstairs hoping to watch "Private Practice" or maybe a Food Network Challenge. Mike was watching a show called "The Atom Smashers" about the search for the Higgs Boson.

What? Never heard of it?

Let me allow Wikipedia to enlighten you:

Higgs boson
Composition:	Elementary particle
Family:	Boson
Status:	Hypothetical
Theorized:	F. Englert, R. Brout, P. Higgs, G. S. Guralnik, C. R. Hagen, and T. W. B. Kibble 1964
Spin:	0

In particle physics, the Higgs boson is a massive scalar elementary particle predicted to exist by the Standard Model.

The Higgs boson is the only Standard Model particle yet to be observed. Experimental detection of the Higgs boson would help to explain how massless elementary particles can cause matter to have mass. More specifically, the Higgs boson would explain the difference between the massless photon, which mediates electromagnetism, and the relatively massive W and Z bosons, which mediate the weak force. If the Higgs boson exists, it would be an integral and pervasive component of the material world.

Yeah. That's what I thought it was, too.

I suppose it's a good thing I am a proton to Mike's neutron (does that even make scientific sense?). But I'd still rather be watching the Food Network.

I knew it!

For years, I have endured unsolicited commentary, criticism and even open hostility from the people who are supposed to love me most -- my husband, my mother, my sisters. And I sheepishly took that which they leveled at me, having no ground on which to fight their allegations.

But tonight I have proof! Proof that I am not nocturnally auditorily offensive. Proof that they are delusional. Tonight I have proof that I do NOT snore. Judge for yourself:


Amyasleep from Mike Magan on Vimeo.

The irony is that Mike shot this video (obviously in very low light) to prove that I do snore. But I didn't! I don't! I won't be made to feel guilty about supposedly keeping someone awake with my "chainsaw-like breathing" again!

Thanks, honey, for the vindication!

The 12 blogs of Christmas: #3 -- Don't read if you believe.

When I decided to post "The 12 blogs of Christmas," I wasn't sure I could come up with 12 post-worthy topics. I'm still not sure of that, so I'm going to tap a couple of fellow bloggers to help me out.

Mike of Mike's Brain Blog -- and, oh yeah, my husband -- recently posted about his first experience as one of Santa's "helpers," as in the guys who dress up in the red suits and Ho! Ho! Ho! in jolly fashion.

Read "My First Santa Gig" and then check out the video.

Since Mike obviously has an "in" with Mr. C, leave a comment here about what you would like for Christmas. Your comment will get you 1 entry in my Ridemakerz giveaway.

More than his share

When Mike & I got married, we were told that marriage is not a 50-50 proposition. That in successful marriages, the ratio is 100-100 -- each giving his or her all to the relationship. Well, I have a confession to make. I'm only firing at about 70% these days and Mike has been picking up my slack.

Now, I'm not gonna make this a long entry because I don't want it to come back and bite me in the "hinder," as my Wisconsin-bred boss says. But, seeing as Mike is in the basement right now scanning a picture for me when he really wants to be sitting in his chair watching a movie, I felt compelled to give him a little bit of public props. (When he finds out the ad he is scanning for me is just for a blog entry, I might owe him a bit more than a nod of the frog blog.)

In addition to being the 4th Frog tech support team, he has also done a few other things for which I am tremendously grateful. Things like finding my camera:

And putting gas in my car because he knows I hate to do it. And chaperoning the 6th grade overnight camping trip, for which I would have to be seriously medicated. And re-arranging the dining room furniture just because I asked him to (though I would have kept nagging him to do it, so that might have been a little self-serving on his part).

So in this season of gratitude, honey, I wanted to say "Thanks. I really appreciate all you do for me."

Now, can you get me a Diet Coke?

He said, she said

He*: "Friday night is the best TV night on Cartoon Network! First, Clone Wars, then Ben 10 right after. How cool is that?!"

She: "I'd rather be watching What Not to Wear."

...a little while later...

He: "That's awesome!"

She: "What?"

He: "That Transformers animated Optimus Prime!"

She: "Well, you can ask Santa for it -- although I'm not sure if he accepts letters from 37-year-old boys."

* See this previous post.

His and Hers DVRs

Tuesday night is Biggest Loser night in my house. Once I get the boys in bed, Annie and I sit down to watch and discuss who we hope goes home that night.

Often, by the time we are ready to watch, the show has already started. No worries. I have the DVR set to tape it every week. Besides making sure we don't miss a single challenge or trainer tip, watching Biggest Loser on the DVR allows us to fast forward through the commercials.

Tonight was no different until...

...the weigh in had just started. After winning the challenge, the blue team decided that Michelle's weight loss wouldn't count toward the black team's total this week. She weighed first and only lost 2 lbs, which minimized the blue team's advantage.

All the commercials before the show teased that tonight someone was going to have the biggest weight loss in the show's history. Bring on the next contestant...

But NO! All of the sudden the show stopped. The DVR was full and the recording stopped before the end of the show. GRRR!

So, I went to the list of recorded shows and here's some of what I found:

Godzilla -- 3 hours
Star Trek -- 2 hours
20th Century Battlefields -- 2 hours
Meet the Press -- 1 hour
Transformers Animated Series -- 2 hours (oh yes, that's Mike's show, veiled as a choice for the boys)
Jurassic Fight Club -- 2 hours (another one "for the boys")

So because my nerdy (yet lovable) husband wanted to indulge his inner geek, I was denied the opportunity to commiserate and celebrate with my fellow fatties.

To be fair, there were also a handful of my shows in the recorded list:

Ace of Cakes -- 1 hour
Desperate Housewives -- 2 hours
What Not to Wear -- 2 hours
Food Network Haunted Gingerbread Challenge -- 1 hour

(Boy -- what a picture that list of shows paints of me!)

Some couples will tell you that one key to wedded bliss is separate checking accounts. I think that his and hers DVRs might be just as important.

So -- if you watched the Biggest Loser tonight, PLEASE tell me who had the record weight loss and how much it was, what the reactions were all around and who got voted off.

Guess it depends on your perspective

Since I started this blog in July, I think I've done a pretty good job of not skewering my husband for the kind of minor transgressions that husbands tend to commit and wives tend to blow out of proportion. Today, however, I am choosing to break my silence.

In mid-August, Mike moved his business to our basement office. With the kids all in school all day, it seemed to make sense to save the rent money he'd been paying and take advantage of the quiet in the house.

I know from having been a freelance writer for several years that one of the perks of working from home is the opportunity to take a few minutes here and there to throw in a load of laundry or get dinner started.

Jennette Fulda, aka, Pasta Queen, recently posted a recipe for Crockpot Applesauce Chicken that sounded easy and yummy. I knew we had all the ingredients for the recipe at home, so yesterday from work I sent Mike this e-mail:

To: Mike M.
From: Amy M.
Subject: Can you do this for dinner? Needs to cook all afternoon.

Crockpot Applesauce Chicken

4 frozen chicken breast halves or thighs (in the freezer)

1 1/2 cups of applesauce (in the fridge)

1 yellow onion, chopped finely (use the leftover onion that's in the fridge)

1 T apple cider vinegar (in the pantry on the shelf w/the blue canisters)

1/4 tsp cinnamon (in the cabinet above the toaster oven)

1/2 tsp black pepper

2 cloves garlic, minced (use garlic powder -- in the cabinet above the toaster oven)

1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional) (think we have some of these in the cabinet above the toaster oven)

1. Put the frozen chicken pieces into your crockpot.
2. Add the onion to the crockpot.
3. In a bowl, mix the applesauce, vinegar, garlic, and spices together.
4. Pour on top of the chicken.

Cover and cook on low for 5-7 hours, or on high for 3-4. Serve with rice or quinoa.

Seems easy, right? I mean I even told him exactly where in the kitchen he would find the ingredients. Apparently "easy" means something different to me than it does to my husband.

Now, I don't know if the "needs to cook all day" scared him. Or the "serve with rice or quinoa" (what is quinoa?) was the turn off, but this is the response I got:

To: Amy M.
From: Mike M.
Subject: Re: Can you do this for dinner? Needs to cook all afternoon.

you're joking, right?

A little too labor intensive

This from the man who thinks nothing of spending an hour moving a 37-inch TV, connecting it to three different video game systems and then hooking the whole thing up to the surround sound for optimum gaming experiences.

But taking 10 minutes to throw basically three ingredients into a crockpot and walk away is too labor intensive.

Guess I won't suggest that he sort the laundry today.