Man Law

MB to Nico, while changing a poo diaper:  "What did I tell you about the guy code? Remember? You only do this when I am not home. That's rule #5."

Double standard

Indy has a recent habit of going out to the yard and then refusing to come back into the house. He'll come to the door and bang on it with his paws, but when someone goes to let him in, he darts off. Sometimes he does this over and over, until MB corners and leashes him. Earlier tonight, we were getting ready to go drop Nico off with my parents and head to game night at the bibliophile's house. Nico did an epic poo right about the time that Indy started his ding-dong-dash routine, and MB would only agree to take care of the poo if I tried to get the dog inside.

I decided to see if I could lure him in with little bits of cheese, since I wasn't in the mood to chase him around the yard. MB returned halfway through the process with a de-stinked baby.

MB:  What are you doing?

VBG:  I'm trying to show him that good things happen to him when he comes to the door.

MB:  You shouldn't bribe him.

VBG:  It's not a bribe...it's positive conditioning.

MB:  It's totally a bribe. We shouldn't bribe him. It'll make him stay out longer next time. Here, let me do it.

So I took Nico and wandered off while MB headed to the back door. He called Indy, Indy didn't come in.

MB:  Hey, go knock on the front door.

I went and knocked on the front door.

MB:  Do it again!

I knocked again.

MB:  Hey, Indy! Who is it?

Indy darted in and trotted over to the front door, tail wagging.

MB:  Good boy!

VBG:  Hold up a minute. I can't bribe him but it's okay to trick him? What's up with that?

MB:  It's totally different.



Reading:  Elantris by Brandon Sanderson

Playing:  a booty-shaking mix that Evilducky made for me

We played the first thing that came to our heads

We took Nico to visit out-of-town friends the weekend before Halloween and about an hour into our 1 ½ hour drive, he started to get fussy. I have this thing I do with babies and pets where I make up dialogue for them, so I said on Nico's behalf, "This is boring! I'm bored! I want a travel Etch-a-Sketch! I want travel Battleship! I want a DVD player like all those kids on the car commercials have!" MB replied, "Too bad. Those kids have jobs." I was about to retort that they didn't when I realized that actually, they do. They're paid to be in those commercials. And thus, we devised our comeback to all future shouts from our offspring about wanting such-and-such that they saw on TV. Sorry, kids! Outfoxed!

Then, after I sang "The Ants Go Marching" four times back-to-back because it was the only thing that kept Nico from crying, MB hooked up his iPhone to the car stereo and we belted out a duet of Tenacious D's "Tribute." I'm not sure the baby was impressed, but we had a good time. Hopefully Nico won't need a similar serenade this afternoon when he and I drive solo to meet up with a bunch of friends for a weekend away at a swank cabin on the river. MB has to teach Saturday morning and won't be meeting us until tomorrow afternoon, and there's only so many times I can tell the story of the greatest song in the world.

10 / 6

Ten years ago, I met him. Six years ago, I married him.

(And here's a fun meme I did last year that still applies. I think the only thing that's changed is who gets up earlier.)

Take it like a mom

So, today. OMFG, this day. After I fed Nico this morning, I put him back in his crib to sleep and then I went to sleep. He learned to roll over this week, but can only go back to front, at which point he gets stuck and pissed off. He woke up on his tummy shouting indignantly, and when I rescued him I found that he'd peed out of his diaper. No biggie, for I follow a friend's advice and always have two sheets on his bed with a waterproof pad in between. I stripped off the top sheet and pad, changed him into a cloth diaper and a T-shirt, and brought him back to our room. I nursed him again and then he pooped. It sounded like a small poo, so I stuck my finger in the leg elastic to peek in and check, and lo...it was not a small poo. It was a giant poo, and my finger was in it. But still, I was cheerful!

I took him into the nursery and changed him into another cloth diaper, then took him back and let him finish his second breakfast. He fell asleep and I let him nap on my lap for about twenty minutes, because even though I have tons of stuff to do around the house right now, I don't want to do my work at the expense of enjoying these little moments with him. Finally I decided I had to get some chores done, so I put him back in his crib and went down to start boxing up my stuff in the side porch / office so that we can clean it up and turn it into a playroom. I got two shelves on one bookcase cleared before Nico woke up crying again. I went up and found that he'd peed out a second diaper. Poor guy! Two in one day! Still cheery! Changed, nursed, and once he fell asleep, I put him on the big bed so I could change his crib sheet since he had now peed on the backup sheet.

I like Nico's crib well enough and I try not to complain because it was an incredibly generous gift. But every time I change the sheets, the metal support frame for the crib sags. It has brackets on each corner where you can raise and lower the mattress height, but if I lift the corner of the mattress to mess with the sheets, the opposite corner bracket collapses. I discovered last time the easiest way to do it is to take the mattress out of the crib entirely, put the sheets and pads on, and then carefully put it back in, trying to get the weight to hit the frame exactly evenly, which is nearly impossible with a tight-fitting, double-sheeted mattress. Nico had started to fuss again, having a sixth sense for inconvenient times to refuse to nap, so I put him in his mini-swing on the floor several feet away from the crib and went back to finish. When I got the mattress out, I lifted it too high and I hit the ceiling fan, which was on (of course). One of the blades came loose, bounced off the bed, and nearly beaned the dog, who then bolted from the room. Little clumps of super gross thick dust that were built up on the fan went spiff!, all over the bed and the floor. I realized a few minutes later that the blade could easily have landed on Nico, as he was completely unprotected in his swing. (I still am not entirely okay about this, even though he is.)

I finished re-sheeting his mattress and sure enough, as soon as I put it in the crib, the frame collapsed. I readjusted the frame, put the mattress back in, it collapsed. I got it balanced just right, put the mattress in, and when I tested it by pushing on each end, the fucking thing collapsed. I finally just gave up, moved the frame to the lowered position, and put the mattress in. It's harder to get Nico in and out, but at least I know the frame isn't going to fall while he's in there. If I could have picked up the crib and chucked the whole thing across the room, I would have. And that wasn't even the end of it. When I picked up the fan blade to reattach it, I realized it hadn't simply slipped out of its position. It had snapped completely off. There's no way to fix it and the fan spins all wonky without it. So it's not even noon, I've stuck my finger in poo and changed two peed-out diapers and outfits. The fan is off so it's hot in our room, there are still clumps of dust everywhere, Nico's peed-on sheets are piled on the bed, our sheets now need to be changed, the dog is freaked out, none of my housework has been completed, I'm pissed off at the crib and at myself, and the fucking fan is broken. And I get to email MB and tell him, guess what! I broke the fan in an incredibly stupid fashion! Let's go spend money we need for other things on a new one because your wife is a moron who almost hit your baby in the face with a flying fan blade!

To his credit, MB was very gracious about the whole thing and only teased me a little bit. By the time he got home I was seeing the absurd humor in the morning, especially after working out my rage with a broom on all the errant clumps of dog hair populating our wood floors. I treated him to a litany of complaints when he walked through the door, and when I finally finished, he said, "Suck it up! Take it like a mom!" And I guess I did, poo finger and all.

"Harness your chi, Mama."

Boys

My favorite thing about these is that they weren't staged at all. I just walked into the nursery, and there they were.

In which MB saves the day (or at least the dessert)

Last night I was making a cheesecake for the neighborhood Christmas potluck this Saturday, and I guess I got overconfident. Or maybe just stupid. I was reflecting pleasantly on how easy the process is now that I've made a few cheesecakes. As I was adding the third egg of four, I dropped half of the shell into the bowl, while the mixer was still on, of course. And before I could reach in and snatch it, it got sucked under the beaters. Imagining my batter to now be full of tiny bits of eggshell shrapnel, I did the only thing I could do. I wailed loudly.

MB came in to check on me and found me fishing blindly in the bowl with a fork, desperately hoping I'd be able to find and remove all the shell fragments. Because he is much cleverer than I am, he suggested pouring the batter through our pan strainer instead. And wouldn't you know it? Worked like a charm. I'm pretty relieved that we won't be playing cheesecake roulette on Saturday, waiting to see who finds eggshell in their slice. Though I guess that would have livened things up a bit.


Reading:  A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

Playing:  Christmas music, of course

List of things MB did today

WITHOUT COMPLAINING, Y'ALL

went with me to the grocery store
emptied the fridge and wiped down the shelves and drawers
cooked a huge pot of chili
washed the dishes
gave the dog a bath
grilled pork chops, brats, and hot dogs
clipped the dog's nails
took out the trash
let me watch football
put the chili into tupperware and rinsed out the crock pot
wiped down the stove and counter
carried the laundry upstairs

(And on Friday he cleaned the kitchen and both bathrooms and mopped the basement floor.)

Finding him really was an epic, epic win.

I wonder how we can survive this romance

After overhearing this song coming out of MB's headphones:

VBG:  Why do you have that song on your computer?

MB:  You have it on yours.

VBG:  Yeah, but I'm a chick.

MB:  I'm just going through all the stuff I copied over from your computer. Finding things to delete.

VBG:  Uh-huh.

MB:  Clearly this is one of them.

VBG:  Yep.

MB:  I need a manly song. selects one called "Beautiful Green Wild Beast" (It is rather hard rock-y. There are guitars. And lots of drums.)

Nerd, nerd ago in a galaxy far, far away

Backstory: For some reason, MB tends to call Indy "Snoop" or "Snoop-a-loop," taken from Will Ferrell in Old School.

VBG: [singing, to the tune of the Imperial March] Snoop snoop snoop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop. Snoop snoop snoop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop. Snoop! A loop, loop-a-loopimus, a loop-loop-a-loopimus, a loop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop!

MB: He's Qui Gon Indy.

VBG: But he's black, like Darth Vader.

MB: He's Mace Indu!



And then, later, my 50-pound dog climbed up on the back of the couch like a damn housecat:

Monday night at my house

MB:  We've got it pretty good here, I guess.

VBG:  Yeah. We've got each other. We've got a kickass dog. And the cat hasn't eaten anyone in months!

MB:  Yeah. I imagine when some people first get on Facebook, they see where some of their old friends have ended up and they have regrets. I don't have regrets.

VBG:  I'm glad you don't have regrets.

MB:  Nope, I've got it pretty good.

VBG:  Cuz you've got me, baby!

MB:  Well, I was thinking of Indy Bones. But sure!




Reading:  Twinkie, Deconstructed by Steve Ettlinger

Playing:  the (500) Days of Summer soundtrack, streaming here. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. It's easily the best movie I've seen this year, and possibly in the last several years.

Five years ago today

Happy anniversary, MB. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. <3

Let me count the ways

It sometimes seems trendy to bitch about one's significant other, and I am the first person to admit that sometimes you just need to vent, but today I feel like I need to sing my husband's praises a little bit.

On Saturday, he got up and took the dog and went out for donuts while I lazed in bed for an extra half-hour. Then, he came out to the garden to help me with the pain-in-the-ass fences for the climbing peas, even though it was hot and the garden is my pet project. (garden photos here, if you're interested)

On Sunday, he went with me to get some freecycle stuff on less than five minutes' notice. Even though it was even hotter, he mowed the front and back yards, and watered the garden for me. While I was in the air conditioning washing the dishes, he took the dog out back and gave him a bath. He went with me to the grocery and to Rural King to get topsoil and a hose reel, and suggested that we make a side trip so that Indy could come along.

And tonight he and BoMB grilled yet another ridiculously delicious dinner on our little backyard grill.

Each item in itself is kind of inconsequential, but I think most people will agree that all together, they make for some severe kickassery.


Reading:  Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver

Playing:  Play by Moby

Touché

Because I like to sit "Indian style" or tuck one foot under me with my knee sticking out to the side, I am terribly rough on pajama pants. Specifically, on the crotchular regions of pajama pants. I think I have one pair of pj pants out of about ten that doesn't have a hole in the crotch. Sexy! Recently, one of my favorite pairs -- a cute thin flannel pair from Victoria's Secret -- completely gave up the ghost. I knew that flannel gets weak when it gets old, but I still wasn't expecting my pants to split down the front of one thigh. I conceded that as much as I like them and as much as I don't really have a problem with wearing slightly holey pajamas*, it was time to find a replacement pair.

Last Friday evening I set out with Evil Ducky for dinner and a bit of shopping, and pj pants were the top priority on my list of things to find. At Target, I found a cute and comfy pair that I really liked and ended up buying. They're a rich yellow, about the color of the goldenrod crayon in a box of Crayolas, and they have large white sunflowers printed all over them. I knew MB wouldn't love them, but I figured he's not the one wearing them.

vbg:  So, these are my new pj pants. What do you think?

MB:  They're okay.**

vbg:  I think they're very me.

MB:  Yeah. ((long absentminded pause)) They're kind of loud.




* as opposed to holy pajamas, which is another issue entirely

** his standard response when something ranks anywhere from "meh" to "nearly awesome"



Reading:  The Late, Lamented Molly Marx by Sally Koslow and My Little Red Book by Rachel Kauder Nalebuff

Playing:  No Angel by Dido

"Here With Me", "Thank You" (I can't find anything that will embed)

A very merry unbirthday

Instead of a present for my birthday this year, I told MB that I wanted to spend a day hiking at one of the coolest state parks I know of, which I haven't had a chance to visit since high school. I called the park office and verified that Indy would be allowed to go on the trails with us, as long as we kept him on a leash. We originally planned to go the weekend of my birthday, but the weather did not cooperate in the least. We tentatively rescheduled for the Saturday of Easter weekend, and I began obsessively checking the ten-day forecast on weather.com beginning around April 1st.

We slept a little later than I had hoped on Saturday, and I came to terms with the fact that just because you can make it out and back in a day to a park that is three hours away doesn't mean you should. Six hours round trip in a car for less than six hours of outdoors time doesn't really add up, you know? But the weather forecast was good and we'd been planning for weeks, so there was no way I was going to spend the day at home. Luckily, a quick google search reminded me that there is another very fine state park just under an hour to the east of us, another park that I haven't visited in years and MB has never seen. And so, we filled my backpack with peanut butter sandwiches and extra water, loaded the pooch into the car, and headed out.

We could not have picked a better day to go hiking. The weather was flawless, and the park was nearly deserted. We started with a 3 1/2 mile hike that ended with a loop around a small lake, and finished the day with a 1 1/2 mile loop around the park's larger lake. The trees weren't leafed out yet and the maples were covered in bunches of bright red seed pods, so the woods looked a bit autumnal, but the effect was tempered by the wildflowers and mayapples growing everywhere. Indy, as usual, was a complete champ. He hiked and hiked and never complained. While we were resting and eating our sandwiches, I realized that our trip marked the anniversary of Indy's last day as a shelter dog -- we adopted him on the second Sunday in April 2008. Definitely a day worth celebrating.



Hiking around the first (small) lake:




On the loop around the larger lake:





Small side trip to an old CCC fire tower:





One last view of the lake, where one of the summer camps I went to as a kid brought us to swim:



Have you ever seen a more tuckered-out dog?



(There are a few more hike pictures on Flickr.)


Reading:  The Ghost in Love by Jonathan Carroll

Playing:  a little bit of everything

Bok choy! I've always wanted to try it!

MB emailed me a grocery list today and at the bottom he'd added, "Tuna fish and bread (for toast)." If you listen to this song, you'll understand why it's so funny. Probably not safe for work, unless your boss thinks pot is funny. Which come on...who doesn't?

OH, SNAP

vbg:  So you're going to the insurance office, and then out to dinner with my dad?

MB:  No, we rescheduled. We're going on Saturday instead.

vbg:  Wait, you're going on Saturday? Can I come?

MB:  It's for my birthday. I'm not sure you're invited.

vbg:  Hey! That's not fair.

MB:  Besides you're not available, anyway.

vbg:  Yes, I am! Wait, no I'm not. I have a work thing. Dammit.

MB:  See?

vbg:  Hmmph.

MB:  Oh, and Mr. Muskrat might be taking me out for dinner tonight.

vbg:  Wait, what? You get to go out to dinner tonight AND Saturday?

MB:  I'm not paying.

vbg:  Still, how come you get to go out for dinner, TWICE, and I don't?

MB:  I dunno. Maybe you need to get better friends.

vbg:  I...damn. Nice one, honey.

Imagine me and you, and you and me

It's rare to find a meme that hasn't made the rounds 43,726 times by now, so when I saw this one over on Dooce, I snagged it. It's also a little different, because it has questions that relate to the meme-answerer and the meme-answerer's spouse / significant other.

What are your middle names?
My middle name is Marie, MB's middle name is Christopher. (What, you thought his initials were MB?)

How long have you been together?
We've been married four and a half years, together eight and a half. (Holy crap.)

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I met him on August 7, 2000, and he asked me to be his girlfriend on August 30, 2000. There was some dating in between.

Who asked whom out?
I asked him if he wanted to "hang out sometime" while we were still just interested in each other. He was the one who asked me, "Do you think the question 'Will you go out with me?' is corny?" less than a month later.

How old are each of you?
I'm 27, he's 28. I have less than one month left to tease him about being old, and then I'll have another birthday.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
We each have one sibling, and they both live here in town, so we probably see them about equally.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
It's hard to say...we tend to cope with stuff pretty well. Being broke always sucks, though.

Did you go to the same school?
Nope.

Are you from the same home town?
Negative.

Who is smarter?
MB would say I am, but I disagree. I think we just have differing academic strengths.

Who is the most sensitive?
Depends on the topic. I won't elaborate, lest I get myself into trouble.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Probably Longhorn...we're suckers for the firecracker chicken wraps.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Seattle

Who has the craziest exes?
Neither of us dated much before we got together (we were only 19 years old, so it's not like we'd had lots of time), so we're pretty lucky to have lives mostly devoid of exes.

Who has the worst temper?
Taking the fifth.

Who does the cooking?
Probably MB, to be honest. He's definitely better at it than I am.

Who is the neat-freak?
I get eye twitches when he hangs his shirts up crooked or puts the Tupperware away in the wrong places. He gets crabby if the living room gets cluttered. We each have our preferences.

Who is more stubborn?
I can't even tell. I fear for our future as parents.

Who hogs the bed?
Someone with SHARP, BONY ELBOWS.

Who wakes up earlier?
MB. He has to be at work at 6:30.

Where was your first date?
MB's apartment. SHUT UP, IT WASN'T LIKE THAT.

Who is more jealous?
I don't think either of us is a very jealous person, thank God.

How long did it take to get serious?
We knew at about three months of dating that we'd get married someday. We have also talked on the phone or in person every day since our first date.

Who eats more?
MB, but it's less because he's a pig and more because I'm a picky eater who can't eat much in one sitting.

Who does the laundry?
Remember the eye twitch? Yeah. I have very specific routines for the laundry, to the point where I actually requested that MB not wash any clothes while I was away for a week last Fall.

Who's better with the computer?
Definitely MB. I'm ridiculously ill-equipped.

Who drives when you are together?
Usually me, since we usually take my car. We also discovered after several years of trial and error and OHMYGOD WE NEED TO STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS that road trips work out WAY better if I drive and he navigates. Let's just say that only ONE of us cares to know exactly how many meters it is to the next intersection. And that person should always be the one controlling the GPS, not the vehicle.

Om mani padme humdrum

I probably should not admit this on a public blog that my husband reads (hi, honey!), but I find certain forms of housework to be rather relaxing. Some chores I merely enjoy in a sort of grim, abstract way. For instance, I enjoy sweeping the floor in that it feels nice to have a clean floor when I'm done, but not in the sense that I actually like sweeping the floor. However, there are other chores that I find truly meditative.

I always focus best when I'm doing two things at once, which I suspect can be blamed on my ADHD. For instance, when I was in high school, I usually did my homework in my room with the TV on, and in college if I was studying the stereo was playing. I don't know how to say it in any kind of medical or scientific way, but it feels to me like the ADHD part of my brain can focus on the distraction, leaving the rest of my brain to get on with things. If I don't have a distraction, the ADHD part is roaming around, listening for one, which means I get distracted by everything, including the absence of things. Yes, I can get distracted by it being too quiet.

Anywho, the chores I enjoy the most are the ones that are easy and repetitive. While one part of my brain is sorting socks or drying spoons or washing plates, the rest is free to roam. I have written blog entries, composed emails and to-do lists, come up with things to say in difficult conversations, and pondered the state of the world while up to my elbows in clean laundry or dirty dishes. Back in the days when fiction seemed to come as easy as breath, I wrote entire passages while standing in my parents' basement, folding clothes. I'd run snips of dialogue and prose through my head, tweaking and refining, and then I'd go straight back to my room and write it all down. My very favorite pair of opening and closing lines used in a short story were born this way. I distinctly remember standing in front of the dryer and hearing them in my head clear as a bell.

I don't compose fiction as easily as breathing anymore, sad to say, but I still find laundry folding and dish washing to be a contemplative, peaceful time, so the two hours or so I spent conquering the dirty dishes this evening (usually MB's job) were rather relaxing. Of course, that doesn't mean I want to do it all the time (hi, honey!), and let's reiterate that I don't find all household tasks delightful. I have never once had a profound thought while cleaning the bathroom or scooping cat poo, just for the record.


Reading:  Terrier by Tamora Pierce

Playing:  Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette

I learned a long time ago not to ask why

Noise from the kitchen:  *thud* ... *thud* ... *thud thud thud*

vbg:  What are you doing?

MB:  The dog's hitting the dishwasher with his tail.

dog:  *stands in kitchen doorway, tail facing out, watching MB*

vbg:  Uh, no he's not. I'm looking right at him.

MB:  ...

vbg:  So what were you really doing?

MB:  Pretending to be the dog hitting the dishwasher with his tail.