GAS WOES

I have my husband figured out and the truth of the matter is he knows me pretty well too.  If he's going out the door and I say "oh by the way..."  he finishes off my sentence with "the car needs gas."  He is undoubtedly correct.  He thinks it's because I have an aversion to pumping gas and in a way he would be right but mostly it's because I never look at the fuel gauge.  He finds this hard to believe but it's true.
"How much gas is in the car?" he'll sometimes ask me when I get home from town and I'll reply "I don't know."  He cannot fathom this much in the same way that I cannot comprehend the fact that he does not know which drawer the can opener belongs in.  It doesn't cause problems, we just deal with it.  He is a sweetheart and for the most part keeps the car filled up for me.  Contrary to his opinion I do fill the car up from time to time although admittedly I do not enjoy it especially in the winter.  Whatever happened to full service gas stations?
Today I drove into town knowing that the truck was just about on empty (thanks Nathan) so I had to stop and fill up.  So there I stood in the cold and damp while my very thirsty truck guzzled down $150 in fuel, reading all the warnings posted on the pump about cell phone use, sparks, open flame, etc. to help pass the time. Finally the pump stopped but as I withdrew the nozzle from the tank it stopped short and wouldn't come out.  I tried and I tried and it wouldn't budge.  I had Emily get out of the truck and she had a go.  After no success we went into the store and the lady behind the counter came out and attempted to remove it with no luck.  She ended up calling a technician who arrived a short while later and after a few minutes he was able to pull it free.  I was nervous the whole time he was yanking on it after all I had just finished reading the warnings about the extreme caution to be used around the pumps.  What if it caused a spark and we all ended up being on the evening news because of the ensuing explosion?

Ian is already giving me a hard time about it, joking about how he'll have to teach me how to fill the car with gas, yada, yada, yada.  I'm okay with that because the next time we need gas I am just going to smile at him innocently and tell him that maybe it's not a good idea for me to fill it up considering the trauma of my last experience.  I'm clearly not capable.

LOVE NOTES

I love that my husband

• thinks I am a genius when it comes to putting things together, setting up the surround sound, using the DVD player, and working anything electronic.
• puts up with appreciates my quirky sense of humour.
• honours my role as mother and now grandmother.
• encourages me to do things he finds totally ridiculous, like bungee jumping.
• allows me to be my own person.
• doesn't get mad when I laugh at his foibles.
• is super organized.

I love that

• he may not notice right away that I've changed the colour of a room but he instantly notices when I clear off the top of the microwave/fridge/bar.
• he makes pancakes for the grandkids when they stay over. They love it!
• breakfast is the only meal he can prepare with aptitude.
• he shines the tires on the cars (I'm talking about the black part) He's the only person I know that does that but there must be others because there is an actual product for it.
• I never, ever have to pick up after him.  He wishes he could say the same for me.

I can't think of a more perfect man to go through life with.  Happy 30th Anniversary Ian!

Now you know how perfectly wonderful my husband is but I can't let it be all one sided so let me tell you how wonderful I am (although I think you already know except for those who aren't talking to me after yesterday's post).  While I am sitting here writing this post in the semi frozen north (because apparently Spring didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be here) my husband is golfing in warmer climes, getting a tan, having a massage, and eating out, all on our 30th anniversary... without me..and I am not even complaining, not one little bit because I am a super awesome wife like that.

NO SAFE PLACE

I have been good about limiting my time watching Tru TV and The Health Channel except for when Ian's around, then I watch Tru TV.

Me:  "I don't know why these men think they can get away with murdering their wives, don't they know that the husband is always the first person the police investigate?"

This is met with silence. Does he not know that this is not a rhetorical question?

I continue "and in an age with so much sophisticated forensic technology, you would have to be stupid to commit a serious crime."

"You would have to be pretty stupid" he agrees. Good, I think he got my point.

So anyway, now that I am limiting my time watching these channels I am left watching the Sci Fi channel.  I thought this was a good choice until last week when I was home alone late at night and heard a noise outside.  My first thought should have been a raccoon, skunk or deer but no, now I imagine aliens (don't laugh).  To my understanding they tend to land in secluded areas and go about what aliens do.  I live in a secluded area and who knows, perhaps I am just the kind of specimen aliens are looking for.  According to Stephen Hawking, if you should run into an alien you should avoid contact with it.  Really? 'cause I thought maybe you would invite it in for tea... herbal of course because I am Mormon and we don't drink tea or coffee.
Let's forget aliens for a second, did you know that there are asteroids flying all around our lovely planet and that it's only a matter of time before we are hit with a big one?  I've been to Arizona and seen the huge crater where one hit before.  This is not my imagination people.  We're basically playing dodgeball with these things and there is no safe place to hide.
Don't worry friends I am not really too worried about the asteroid thing after all there's not much we can do about it anyway, and I don't really believe in aliens unless of course I am home alone late at night.

CONFESSIONS

There are some things I don't like about myself... hard to believe, right?...but it's true.



Confession 1:


I am a closet hypochondriac.  If I've read about it, I've had it. You name it and I've had at least two or three of the major symptoms.  I self diagnose all the time and I am almost positive that I am dying from some terminal disease or another.  I have had to ban myself from watching Mystery Diagnosis on the Health Channel.  The only reason I am not dead right now is because after a day or two of developing cancer, MS, and a host of other diseases, my miracle body spontaneously heals itself.  I am sure if the medical science profession knew of my body's unique healing abilities I'd be in some research hospital right now with a horde of needle wielding nurses hovering over me,so lets keep it on the down low.

Confession 2:


Bad spelling bothers me. I equate spelling with intelligence even though I know that it is not a good indicator.   I won't even reply to a kijiji ad if there are blatant spelling mistakes in it.  I don't care how much I want the advertised item, that's why I was mortified when this  happened.  It drove me crazy to think that someone believed I was an atrocious speller.  I am a spelling snob.

Confession 3:


I think sometimes that my husband is trying to kill me.  He has no idea that I am on to him that is why I have escaped serious harm.  Red flags go up when he offers to make dinner.  He doesn't/can't cook so I know he's out to poison me.  I always make him take the first bite and I switch plates when he's not looking.   I always check the brakes first thing when I get into the car too, to make sure they're working. Oh I've seen him out on the driveway supposedly shining the tires (more like slashing the brake lines or at least I know that's what he'd be doing if he knew what a brake line looked like).  Did I mention that I suffer from an overactive imagination?... maybe that's where the hypochondria comes from...note to self...stop watching Tru TV.  I can't believe I would think such things about my wonderful husband.... but if anything suspect happens to me, show this to the police

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Did you know that Ian and I met for the first time on Valentine's Day? (insert Hallelujah Chorus)  That was 31 years ago... yes, I am that old... sigh.... but don't worry the romance is still going strong.

I  made some lovely lingerie this morning for Ian to enjoy...


The bras...

 The Panties...

The set...

The card... (To our most valued customer; Thank you for all your business.  Have a "Happy" Valentine's Day.  From your friends at Victoria's Secret.)

The gift box.

This all got delivered to him at work today anonymously.  I wonder if he'll know who it's from?

Unfortunately for Ian, this collection is no reflection of items to be found in my lingerie drawer.

THE GIFT

Ian isn't known for his gift giving prowess.  I don't hold it against him or show disappointment when he gives a less than stellar gift, after all most men are a bit clueless in that department.  In fact most of my  friends have complained to me at some time or another that after dropping major hints as to what they would like for their birthday or for Christmas, they are most usually disappointed  by what they receive.  Let's face it ladies, hints don't work with men.  You basically have to spell it out in bold letters for the guys to get it.

Some of Ian's infamous gifts?

A vacuum cleaner.  Okay, so we needed one... badly... but a vacuum cleaner?

A garden wagon which just happened to match the riding lawn mower and which I had to put together.  His comment?  "I know how you like to put things together."  um ... Thank you?

A dog training book by the Dog Whisperer for Christmas.  Might have come in handy if we had a dog!  It prompted a false excitement that we were getting a dog. (Ian knew that I enjoyed watching the show)

Liqueur filled chocolates.  Now I know of a few of my friends who would have been happy with those but I don't drink.


These gifts were chosen with a lot of thought and I appreciated both the gifts and the giver.   We did need a vacuum and the garden wagon was very handy and much used, the dog training book I was able to pass on to a friend with an unruly dog.  I don't think she read it.  I can't remember what I did with the liqueur filled chocolates, perhaps ate them in a a moment of weakness brought on by PMS?   I most likely passed them on to someone who would enjoy them.

Sometimes, Ian surprises the heck out of me by presenting a gift that exceeds all expectations like the time he took me dog sledding for my birthday.  It was an amazing almost death defying experience that I will never forget.  This Christmas this is what I found under the Christmas tree...

That's right, an ipad.  Months of hinting and begging and imploring paid off.  Ian you are honestly the best husband ever and not just because you got me an ipad (but it helps).

MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL

My husband is a constant source of amusement to me.  He doesn't mean to be funny, he just is.  He wouldn't be so funny if he just asked a straight up question but he always tacks something on the end that makes me laugh hysterically which does not impress him, which makes it all the funnier.  

Ian (reading my facebook page over my shoulder): "What does lol mean?... lots of love?"  

Tonight we were in a home furnishing store and he spotted some huge mirrors and by huge I mean huge.

Ian: "Look at the size of those mirrors."

Me: "Those are the kind that sit on the floor."

Ian: "What?... really?... you put them on the floor and walk on them?  (This was asked in all seriousness).

Me (trying to contain my laughter): "No, you just don't hang them up, you rest them against the wall."

Right now, his back is turned to me and I am plugging my nose so he can't hear me snickering.