Things I Want To Be Awesome At

I've started a mental list in my head of things I want to be awesome at, as the title of the this post suggests. My husband and I have started talking about kids and, for some reason, the thought no longer scares me. I guess I am starting to feel like an adult...most of the time. But, for some reason, I have this '50s housewife stereotype stuck in my head of things I want to be able to do before having kids. And, I know this image is kind of outdated, but I still can't escape it. So, instead of trying to rebel against it, I've decided to embrace it, and try my hardest to at least get the basics down I feel I would need to accomplish the stereotype.

I want to be able to sew a dress without a pattern

This, of course, would probably require I go out and buy a basic pattern and some fabric first, right? Yeah...I guess so. But I have this image that one day, I'll be at work and my husband will call and tell me we're having company over for hors d'oeuvres and brandy and I'll tell him I have nothing to wear. So, I picture myself stopping at JoAnn fabric on the way home and, as my mini-quiches and tartlets are cooking, I'll whip up a snazzy, casual little dress. This scenario may never play out in my life. ...but there's always the small hope it would. And, somehow, I picture Mr. and Mrs. Tate coming over later, exclaiming how lovely my house is and that my husband sure came through on that advertising deal. If only I could learn to wiggle my nose, I'd be all set for this scenario.

I want to be able to pull off red lipstick

I feel like red lipstick ages, but not in a good way. It's like, if you can pull of red lip stick, you're old enough to wear it. If you're not old enough to wear it, no matter how perfect it may be applied, you still look like you've gone and played in your mother's makeup bag again. I get away with the occasional red gloss for some pop. And, luckily, it usually wears off after a few hours. But I tried the red lipstick look once for my friend's wedding. And I felt like I was so close to pulling it off. But I still didn't feel right about it. Maybe because it's not an every day look for me...but one day, I will be able to pull of red lipstick.

I want to be able to set the perfect table

I was at a friend's wedding shower a few weeks ago and I noticed the catering staff's way of pulling a tablecloth askew on half of the table and laying out the food just so, as if it were being photographed for a spread in some upscale magazine I would never buy, but secretly skim at a book store. Personally, I don't think the tiny twinges of OCD would tolerate half my dining room table covered with a table cloth that looked like it could fall off at any moment. I would most likely adjust it until it lay perfectly balanced. But I did decide I would start looking at table cloths in general, just so I don't end up having to explain the white heat marks I made (somewhat) better this weekend.

I want to be able to grow and maintain flowers

I'm getting there! I actually planted Forget-Me-Nots a few months ago in my window boxed on my front porch that have actually sprouted. I figure in a few weeks, they will look somewhat decent, although I didn't know Forget-Me-Nots grew so exceptionally tall...they kind of look out of place.

I want to be able to know where everything is in my house

I have an upstairs room I store my random things: scraps of fabric from a pair of pajama pants I tried to make and was halfway through until I realized I forgot to flip the pattern and I sewed two left legs; my yoga mat and DVDs I was crazy about in January, but have since given up on because I realized I was not relaxed when I was yelling at the instructors every time they said

"hold it just a few more seconds..."; books I intend to put on a shelf but won't until I get the rest of them out of my sister-in-law's attic; CDs...somewhere. Needless to say, I need to do an inventory of what I have upstairs and in the basement. Everything on the first floor is pretty much accounted for.

I want to be able to maintain a daily 10 minute clean

I have the instructions, but actually getting around to doing it at the end of the day seems to be the least appealing thing in the world. Hell, I've had two of my pillows in the dryer for two days now that I'm procrastinating bringing upstairs and putting back in their case. And my dishwasher, well, I keep hoping one day my husband will want to put the dishes away without me asking...but I think that's a pipe dream I need to get out of my head.

I want to learn the lyrics to at least 10 songs

I have a mental list of songs I want to be able to sing to my children. Offhand, I can only name three of them, but I know them when I hear them on my iPod. What I'd like to be able to do is learn the lyrics so I can sing them without having to substitute the words "something, something, love you something, something," which I tend to do when I completely blank on lyrics. I think karaoke spoiled me from having to learn lyrics. Either that, or I've been disappointed when I find the lyrics I've been singing for years is completely wrong. Case in point: After watching all five seasons of "Saved By The Bell" last week on DVD, I finally learned the words weren't "and the lawn gets out of waterin'", but were, in fact, "and the alarm lets out a warning." Not that I would put my children to bed singing the theme to "SBTB", but you never know.

I want to be able to change a diaper

Yeah, that's right, I've never actually done it on a live child before. Oh, sure, I had a flour baby and could easily put a diaper on a sack of flour, with one hand even. But an actual squirming, crying, wet and soiled child? No, never done it. I think I was afraid I'd secretly like it and start listening to my biological clock. Well, now that I've actually started noticing my biological clock, I seem to think it's with me when I have the irrational nightmare of pulling an Andrew Clark from "The Breakfast Club" and taping the child's buns together instead of the diaper. I'll get to it, I swear...

I want to be able to put together a delicious dinner in 30 minutes or less

Amendment to this statement: And not have to listen to anyone say "Yummo" or "E-V-O-O". God, I hate Rachael Ray. Hate. I would watch her on mute if I could. But, then again, I would want to be able to make these meals from scratch, too. Some of her stuff is pre-made she uses. Yeah, I'm kind of a perfectionist when it comes to cooking. I've baked and decorated my share of cakes, and I always feel so guilty when people tell me how good they are. I should be sending these compliments to Duncan Hines, actually. Oh, sure, the decorating is all me...but the cake is a mix+eggs+oil and my Kitchen Aide mixer, let's be honest. But I can decorate it like a champ!

One day, I may accomplish these goals. The red lipstick, well, that's the one that'll take some time...

Gotta Love Checklists

Remember I was writing about trying to become more Stepford Wife-like? Well, in my effort, I came across some of the best tools for cleaning: Real Simple Checklists.

First, I printed the 30 Minute Daily Clean, which I only have to do every few days because my husband and I both work so much, we don't really have time to make big daily messes. LINK

Then, I printed out checklists for thoroughly cleaning each room.

Kitchen

Living Room/Dining Room/Bedroom

Bathroom

Unfortunately, when I cleaned the bathroom thoroughly, I clogged the drain in the bathtub. This, of course, led to standing in about 6 inches of water whenever we take a shower. And, when the water finally goes down the drain, we were left with even more dirt in the tub than we were before I cleaned. Hopefully, the two doses of Liquid Plumber we used yesterday helped. We haven't tested it yet.

I have also started to use an online checklist to remind me what I cleaned and what I haven't yet. LINK

My husband's job when this cleaning is taking place is to just stay out of my way. He's learned that I have my way of cleaning and his way is "wrong". OK, it's not necessarily wrong, it's just...not my way. But we're both self-admitted slobs; I just hide it a lot better.

A few hints I've picked up in my exploration of cleaning:

• Before doing any cleaning, take off wedding/engagement rings and other jewelry and put them in the jewelry cleaner container. This way, they aren't subjected to cleaning supplies and other gunk, and when you're done, take them out and shine them up.
  
• Train yourself not to start any mini-projects. I was all gung-ho about cleaning the kitchen one night and about a third of the way through it, I noticed my Tupperware cabinet was an absolute disaster, and I was ready to sit down and spend an extra 20 minutes just working on that. But I had to stop myself and put it on my ToDo list for later.
  
• Don't get mad when you've cleaned the bathroom, then your husband comes to the door, looking like a sad puppy and says, "Honey, I'm sorry, but you know that Mexican we had for dinner? Well, um, please let me in!" It happens.
  
• Pick up after yourself as you go along; don't leave everything for a "big clean". It's much easier to clean as you go. I'm still sort of training my husband in this. His new favorite excuse is "I'm sorry, I thought I put it away already." At least he's moved on from, "What mess?"
  
• Have the right tools. I have been eyeing the Swiffer Duster for ages. But when I see it in the store, I can't think of a single thing I need to dust. Then I get home and see the dining room furniture, the tops of our dressers, the TVs, the ceiling fans (just read in Real Simple that an old pillowcase is awesome to use on ceiling fans so the dust doesn't fly everywhere).
  
• Reward yourself. OK, some people are content just seeing a sparkling kitchen. I, on the other hand, still need some sort of compensation for my work. A few hours off the ever-living diet, perhaps. Or some time spent on Amazon.com (lately, browsing for cleaning books, go figure). It might be allowance mind-set still in my head.
  
• If you're noticing you're cleaning up after someone else, tell them. Don't let it fester. If you're using your anger for cleaning energy (my kitchen sink was almost steel wooled away one afternoon because of this), try and tire yourself out before confronting the person.
  
• If you start a cleaning project, finish it. This may sound like simple advice, but I've learned when my husband cleans, he will only do 90 percent of the job. For example, I asked him to clean the bathroom one day. This was a job he said he couldn't wait to do when we moved in. When I found him sitting on the couch a little while later, he proudly told me he was done. When I went into the bathroom, the sink, the toilet, the bathtub and the floor were clean. The stuff he moved in the process, however, was still on the dining room table.
  

I have to take a moment here and say that my husband is not a bad person at all. I love him dearly and when he goes to Iraq in August, I'll probably miss the messes he leaves. He will admit that he's a slob (but will also point out the pile of books I messily toss behind my nightstand or the pile in the back corner of my side of the closet), but he also admits he grew up in a house where he wasn't "allowed" to clean. His mother had her own system of cleaning that he wasn't privy to. I have to admit, I probably don't help matters because I don't have the patience to re-teach him the stuff he does know how to clean so that it's up to my standards.

One more tip before I get back to my To Do list: 

Watch BBC's "How Clean Is Your House?" or visit people who are absolute slobs if you need a kick in the ass to get cleaning. Usually, once I start cleaning, I don't stop until the Windex is pryed from my raw, pruny hands. But getting started (i.e. just getting off the couch and putting my hair in a ponytail) is the hardest part. However, when you're looking at someone else's place that's an absolute mess, or watching a show that focuses on the nastiness that can happen when you don't clean, it does a good job of pushing you in the direction of "oh god, I do not want my place to look like that!"

"Honey, I'm Home!"

I've been on this kick lately of cleaning. Yeah, I've never been an OCD cleaner, but I learned early the easiest way to clean was to pick up after yourself, not letting anything pile up.

Now that we have a home of our own, I forget that there are other things that need to be done that can't be done in the space of 10 minutes after a mess is made. Stuff like Swiffering the floors, mopping, doing a big clean of the bathroom, laundry, loading and unloading the dishwasher, stuff like that.

I'm now on a mission to become this fabulous 1950s wife. Notice, not a "housewife" as I'm very content having a career. But I want to prove I can do both.

I've been trying to find Web sites that might offer ideas to set this goal in motion. Something along the lines of Donna Reed meets Mary Tyler Moore.

This weekend, my husband invited a friend over for coffee. After going shopping a few days before, I was very pleased I was able to "whip up" a tray of tasty treats while she was hear. Cut strawberries, carrot sticks, celery sticks, crackers, Brie (for goodness sakes, Brie!), grapes and hummus. Oh, it was beautiful. I almost wanted to take a picture. OK, OK, I wanted to wrap it in plastic wrap and put it in the freezer to save for when his mother came over to show off.

That same night, I made a cake. Duncan Hines actually made it, but I mixed it and baked it. That counts. I even took it out of the mold and frosted it! That's an accomplishment, considering whenever we have frosting in the house, my husband gets to it with a spoon before I can bake the cake. I hid it this time so he couldn't.

This morning, he invited his sister and brother-in-law and his parents over for Sunday coffee. Once again, I cut some strawberries and filled a bowl with two yogurts mixed for a dip. Before they came over, I said to him, "Oh, I should serve something..." He gave me a look, and said, "Your WASP side is showing." I've learned to tune that out when I know he doesn't mean the passive-aggressive fighting and backhanded compliments I usually get called out for.

I recently re-read "The Undomestic Goddess" by Sophie Kinsella. Maybe that's what got me in the mood. As I was reading, I wished I had some sort of guidance for setting a schedule that was as effective as a housewife's, but with the ability to work.

And I spent that last half-an-hour searching online for some sort of starting point. But, alas, all I could find was schedules for housewives who wake up at 6 a.m. and don't stop until dinner is done and the dishes are cleaned and put away. But, even if I didn't have an almost unhealthy obsession with Google Reader (the modern day equivalent to soap operas, I guess) or a cat who's become quite the little master of our, er, her domain and is too adorable not to have at least an hour of kitty playtime and affection or terrible reality TV to watch, I still don't think I could pull it off. Well, I'll correct that; I want to be able to pull it all off, making it look absolutely effortless at the same time.

This will be my new project. If only there were something to help me get started...

Plus, I'm out of books to read and I'm itching for another Amazon shopping spree (by "shopping spree", I mean spend $25 so I can get the free shipping).

The Annual 10

...Yes, yes, I'm back after a very busy month. I kept myself away from my blog because I have been busy all month making (almost) all of my Christmas presents in December. And every time I wanted to blog, it would be about something I made, and I didn't want to give anything away.

But, now that that's over, I'll do my holiday bragging in the next few posts.

This post will contain my annual 10 Resolutions of 2009.

Every year, I don't just make one resolution; I make 10. Usually, I can get myself to accomplish at least one, no matter how small. But in looking at 2008, I realized that unless I write them down somewhere, I forget what they are and I can't track my progress. At least in 2006, I wrote them down and was able to follow just one: I was going to get into the habit of using my shoe rack (I told you they were small), and I did it! And, in 2007, I wanted to read more. And, had I not had all those bridal magazines, I probably wouldn't have done as well as I did! So, here's to the shoe rack and bridal magazine resolutions of 2009!

1. Lose 20 lbs.

I say that every year. No, really, I do. And every year, I look at the scale December 31st and smile anyway. Because I know in the fluctuations of my weight, if all the numbers were totalled up, I probably lost more than 20 lbs. ...However, in totalling these numbers, I probably gained more than 20 lbs., as well. One of these years, I'm going to have to add "...and keep it off!" to the end of that resolution. Maybe I'll do that next year.

2. Write More

Hell, I started this blog for a reason. I like my thoughts, I think other people should hear them (or, read them, in this case). Oh, and I'm not allowed to count Twitter as writing.

3. Keep Better Track of My Finances

As I was writing that resolution, I remembered the organizer I spend $20 on last year to become more organized. And, in my January 1st panic of "Holy sh*t, I'm getting married this year!!!", I was able to get tons of information I needed for my planner. After July, however, the planner was only used on occasion (mainly to check when my next paycheck was coming in). I may not get another huge planner, but at least I'll try to stay organized.

4. Write My Wedding Thank You Cards

Yes, yes, I know it's been five months. But, if anyone says anything, I will gladly send them a photocopy of my carefully preserved Emily Post column that states couples have a year to send out thank you cards. I thought, for a while, because I wrote all the shower thank you cards, my husband could write the ones for the wedding. Ah, the lessons of marriage.

5. Cook More

This is my project-resolution. I really don't mind cooking. In fact, when I cook, I find I don't overeat because by the time it's ready, I'll have looked at it for so long, I'm bored with it and not hungry. I just haven't been cooking very much because of time (excuse), convenience of delivery (a little closer to the truth), I'm afraid (ding! ding! ding!). Yeah, I'm afraid of cooking. I get  very anxious when I have a time constraint put on cooking. Basically, we cook/order food when we're hungry. We don't think ahead to start preparing something before the fact. So, I have this fear if I screw up dinner and there's nothing to eat, I've failed. Also, I have mini food fears. I worry I haven't cooked chicken all the way through and my husband will get salmonella and die. I worry I won't know if the milk has gone bad and my husband will get a stomachache and die. I worry the heat from the oven will get too hot, pieces of glass from the casserole dish will break off into the food, and my husband will eat it and it'll rip up his stomach and he'll die. ...Basically, I worry about killing my husband with food. But, this year, I'm determined to get in the kitchen and at least get dinner ready a few nights a week...and overcooked the chicken, buy new milk every day, and watch those tricky casserole dishes the whole time they're in the oven. (A friend suggested I have a few drinks before I cook. That might work, too.)

6. Take A Class

I hate to admit it to my "Mom-I-don't-feel-so-well-I-think-I-should-stay-home" self, but I miss school. I wondered for a while if it was the social aspect of it, and I realized it really wasn't (more on that later). I wondered if it was the changing schedule I enjoyed, but then remembered the nights I would get out of class and work six more hours, wishing I had a nice 9-to-5. I was shocked when I found myself looking for park & rec classes one day while I was at work. I realized, that's what I wanted; I needed a new skill to practice (other than not killing my husband with my cooking).

Because I hinted very heavily to my husband that I wanted a sewing machine for Christmas (and he got the hint!!!), I realized within the first few days of trying to use it that I only remember a few basics from home ec in middle school. I remembered how to thread the machine (well, more like I remembered how to read the instructions that comes with something before attempting anything with it), and I was able to get a few stitches down. My first project was two napkins I sewed together. I ran out to show my husband, saying, "Look what I made, honey! I made 2-ply!" He didn't find it as funny as I did, and said, "I better not have paid for a sewing machine so you can make us fancier paper napkins."

The next day, I went to the fabric store, got a pattern for pajama pants (easy, right?) and some flannel and got to work. However, once I cut the pattern and began piecing together what I had, I realized I had made a dire mistake: I hasn't flipped the pattern over and I had two left legs and no leftover fabric. That night, I looked up a sewing class I could take for a few weeks, and I plan to sign up as soon as registration opens.

7. Weed Out People I Don't Need In My Life

There are just too many people I feel guilt over not talking to, and I'm too busy worrying about the ones that I do talk to who just aggravate me. Personally, I was never one for giving up friendships, and I had to do a lot of editing and categorizing when I was making the guest list for my wedding. But, it's gotten to the point in a lot of relationships I have with people that I've realized I actually do not like spending time with them. Granted, my husband and I have become homebodies in the past few months, but I wouldn't mind occasionally going out, if I knew there would be a good conversation to go out to. So, to do a spin off of Bridget Jones, I will not [put up with relationships with] any of the following: alcoholics, snobaholics, everything-phobics, people with baggage or hangups, Me-Me-Me-Me-sogynists, dramalomaniacs, raging maniacs, shallow-ists, complete fuckwits or freeloaders, converts. (Read the book, you'll get the reference; the movie doesn't do it justice.)

8. Drink More Water

I think this is the third year in a row I've said this. I just don't like the taste of it! It's boring! Don't tell me to put a lemon in it, either. I went through a very long phase in college where that was all I drank, partly for financial reasons and partly because of some myth I heard about it speeding up metabolism. But I got sick of it really quickly. Once people were used to hearing me order it that way, and ordering it for me before I got to the table, I realized I was over it. But, for me to really drink more water, I just have to drink one cup a day. Seriously, that's how little water I drink now! It's surprising I've rarely been dehydrated.

9. Moisturize

As much as I hate to admit it, I've gotten to the age when I need to moisturize more. And, as the saying I heard five years ago echoes in my head, "once you realize you should be moisturizing, you're already five years too late".

10. Reconnect With The Single Me

In a few days, I'll find out if my husband is being sent overseas for a year again. When I heard about the 90 percent chance, I was a mess. A whole year. And he would be leaving shortly after our anniversary, not to mention the two months prior he would be spending in training in Texas. I kept waiting for the little voice inside of me to say, "I can't go on without him," but somewhere I think a part of me is squashing that. There's still a part of me I thought I wouldn't have to use again, but I'm glad it stuck around. It was the part that says, "If you can't live without someone else, you're not really living you're own life." I loved being single. And not in a sense of single-without-strings or anything like that, I enjoyed my own company, I could spend a week alone in my old apartment completely on my own schedule. It may sound selfish, but I look at some of my single friends who are constantly trying to make themselves into other people, just to get attention. I never thought doing that would land any sort of security and real love, so I was content to do what I wanted to do.

Of course, I hope that 10 percent chance does happen. There's a difference between can't live without someone and not wanting to with one's whole heart. But, in preparation for worst case scenario, I want to know I'll be able to deal with not seeing the love of my life every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. If there was a resolution I have the most faith in keeping, it would be this one.

Happy new year, readers!

(And, for those of you who have given up on resolutions, or have already broken yours, here's an article on why resolutions don't work...clearly, these people haven't made 10 of them each year!)

There's An Off Button For A Reason

My husband tonight made the romantic gesture of handing me the remote when I got home from work. He was working on grading some papers, and in a tiff we had last night, I brought up the fact that I never got the remote. Once the "power" was handed to me, we went out to dinner, but when we got back, I settled into the chair and left the remote right where I left it. I went online and started looking at the things I wouldn't normally look at while I'm at work. He settled on the couch with his book. No one reached for the remote at all. We just sat in silence for about an hour with our respective forms of entertainment and it was heaven!

When I was younger, I was glued to the television. I read that statistic about the average adolencent watching three hours of television a day...and I realized I was "above average". I would get home from school and I had my schedule of programming from the time I got home to the time I went to bed all planned out. Weekends was nothing but television, from Friday night TGIF on ABC to Saturday night SNICK on Nickelodeon to Sunday night Nick at Nite. I would only fake sick until I was tired of trying to find something good on daytime television. And summer vacations started to get real tiring around August when there was nothing but reruns on.

When I was first learning to read, my mom got me the book "The Berenstain Bears and Too Much TV." Admittedly, I would read that from time to time as I grew older (when I realized I was bored with television, but couldn't think of something better to do). Basically, Mama Bear decided her family had been spending too much time in front of the television, so she turned it off for a week. The bears had to find other means of entertaining themselves. At the end, they were involved in other hobbies that once TV was no longer banned, they didn't want it. So I tried the experiment a few times throughout the years.

Usually, I realized how slow time moved without the TV. I realized I had to check the clock more often because I didn't have my usual schedule as a time-marker. (5:05-6:05 on TBS, "Saved by the Bell" was always my benchmark for when my homework should be done by...if I did it, that is.)

I learned how to knit, I taught myself basic sign language, I read all 32 of my collection of "The Baby-Sitters Club" books a few times, I memorized the order of birthstones, I looked up random words in the dictionary and tried to memorize them so I could impress people, I went through an entire cookbook of microwave recipes (and learned to always mix in baking soda really well when making brownies...blegh!), I made Creepy Crawlers, I played kickball with the neighbors, I played Mario Paint (I didn't count that as television for some reason), I listened to music with my dad, I taught myself multiplication (no, really, I did--I was in the bathroom and decided I wanted to learn and figured it out with the help of a calculator I brought in with me...I really was a weird child).

But, sooner or later, I'd go back to television. I was, however, trained very well in the art of turning the television off. I wasn't allowed to fall asleep to it, either. It was off at 10 when I went to bed. If I tried to turn it on, my mom would see that glowing blue light from under my door and yell at me to turn it off. This love of the television is still the reason today I don't like really crunchy foods. See, I had a television with an actual volume knob you had to get up to adjust, so I only ate chewy foods that I could hear the TV over, instead of loud crunching. Many Cheetos were sucked upon until they were the correct consistency to hear over...or I would simply suck all the cheese off, then throw the corn puffs away.

In high school, I didn't have a TV in my room. I watched Jeopardy in the living room with my mom and grandma with our little TV trays, or I would watch the TV in my mom's room. But that was also when the internet started to take off, so I had new and different entertainment to keep me satisfied.

Once I got to college, I had to extrovert myself a little, so the TV was out of the picture pretty much...until I discovered DDR, which, again, does not count as television. Once I moved back home, I had a TV in my room again, but I didn't feel the need to watch it a lot. Maybe a movie now and then, but that was about it. I was too busy being social and working.

Then came the summer of nightmares. Almost every night for an entire month before my junior year of college, I was having terrible nightmares. These were nightmares that made me wake up screaming, crying, sweating, panting, you name it. And it wasn't all monsters and stuff, it was nightmares about things happening to my family, friends or, the scariest of them, my future children. That was when I started falling asleep to the Disney Channel. Nothing bad happened on the Disney Channel. I could hear it during the nightmares and I was able to concentrate on it enough to wake myself up before a dream turned into a nightmare.

For the next five months, I couldn't sleep without it on. I remember wanting to so badly, too, but every time I would turn it off and lay in the darkness, I would get mini-anxiety attacks worrying about having nightmares and not being able to wake up when I wanted to.

Once January hit, though, I made it my New Year's Resolution to fall asleep without the television. If, for nothing else, so I could get a good night's sleep and not be on edge the whole night with background noise. One night turned into two, which turned into a week, and, before I knew it, I had gone a few months turning out my light, turning off the TV, and falling asleep.

Since then, the TV has been sort of like a pair of earrings that don't necessarily go with everything, but there are a few key outfits that look great with them. If that didn't make sense to you (I realized I could come up with a better analogy if I really thought about it), television went back to being a sometimes thing.

My husband, however, loves the TV. When I lived with him and his parents, it was very rare I came home to a turned off television. It got to the point where I could here the buzz from just the television being on, even if it was on mute, and it would give me a headache. Sometimes I have evil fantasies about my husband coming home and finding the television stolen, just so I can walk in the door to him. Not "him sitting on the couch watching TV", not "him sitting with his laptop, not even watching the TV, but it's still on", not "him shushing my until a commercial break"--just "him".

So, tonight was a real nice night for me, it really was. He's now in the other room and I can hear a clock ticking and his sighs of tiredness every so often. And it's the most relaxing sound I can think of to listen to.

Oh, and this was the inspiration to finally write about my anti-TV ways I thought were crazy.

Dig It

Sometimes I regret showing my husband cool things...he then goes nuts with them, along with the rest of our friends. Palinaspresident was quoted constantly. And, for some reason, the word "Maverick" has become the new term for EVERYONE.

Luckily, I can turn him onto older things as well. So, when "Grazing in the Grass" came on the radio one night and I started singing along, he wanted to learn it too. When it was on my iPod last night, he tried again to learn it. He has since downloaded it and looked up the lyrics. We now know that the lyrics are:
I can dig it, he can dig it
She can dig it, we can dig it
They can dig it, you can dig it
Oh, let's dig it
Can you dig it, baby
I can dig it, he can dig it
She can dig it, we can dig it
They can dig it, you can dig it
Oh, let's dig it
Can you dig it, baby

A Night of Relaxation

Oh, the joy of marriage. The joy of having someone to come home to. Someone with the same intellect. The same dreams. The same motivation (or lack thereof some days). The love that will always be there whenever anything comes along. But they never mentioned the little things that truly show loving all of a person:

The different tastes in music.

The different definitions of a "night in".

The different tell-tale signs of annoyance, anger, joy, etc.

The different little things that drive each other up the wall.

The sheer fact that I'm typing is driving him up the wall, I know it. So, the question is, do I type softer because I can see his hand raising to his forehead, pretending that I am slowly draining his work-ability with every stroke of the keyboard? Or do I continue, pretending to be oblivious that the spacebar has about twice the volume of the regular keys. Basically, the fact that he doesn't want to do his work right now is being channeled into being angry about the keystrokes. And I love him. I really do. I'm not doing something for work, so obviously, the lesson plans he's working on should be my main priority and I should be sitting on the couch in the other room merely reading my book I just got.

I tried to put on my new jazz CD, my one impulse buy during my $200 shopping spree at Wal-Mart the other day. With that, he turned and asked "what's that?" "It's jazz, you dumbass." No, I didn't say it outloud; I said the obligatory, "I'm sorry, does it bother you?" "Yes." And with that, he turned his back to me. Oh, because watching "Family Guy" for two hours and then saying "Whatever, I'm not doing this tonight, I'll get up early to do it" really gets in the way even more than "Moonlight Serenade".

But I do praise his motivation right now to learn grammar, albeit from an author who is 100 years old and doesn't adhere to what is the most recently accepted as correct. Whatever. Let him read a book by some pretentious grammar Nazi who was probably given a book deal to shut her up for a few weeks so she wouldn't correct everybody she came in contact with.

He just turned around to settle an argument we had weeks ago.

"By the way, [one of his favorite phrases to let me know something he just learned] it is correct to use both Joneses AND Jones' when talking plural and possessive."

I just rolled my eyes and said, "Don't get me started on what I already think of that author."

With that he turned around, confident he had some backup to his claim weeks ago.

Five minutes later, "Oh, hell no! She used an apostrophe in 1960s! I should just throw this book out the window."

"Is she talking possessively about the year 1960?"

(Scurrying to find the page again in the strewn book) "'the 1960's' One-nine-six-zero-apostrophe-'s'. No, she's an idiot."

"Someone gave her a book deal with shut her pretentious, over-correcting mouth for a few weeks," I said, proud to have what I had just written in front of me so I could get out that gem.

"Bet it didn't help."

"Probably not."

At least my typing doesn't annoy him anymore. And I understand the frustration he feels as an English teacher. Grammar and punctuation doesn't just come to people overnight; you either have a gift for it or you have to learn it step-by-step. And it's a long tedious process, for both the teacher and the student. I'm more concerned with letting him know, in teaching exclamation points, that two or more is ridiculous. Hopefully, they won't fall into the MySpace/Facebook trap of cramming their posts with excessive exclamation points.