The Mister's Foibles

For the record: The Mister not only knows about this post, he was pre-warned.

I love The Mister, I really do. But, even those we love can have peculiar or eccentric characteristics. The Mister has one particularly long-documented foible...  I can live with his Paper Man tendencies.  I raise my brows at his embarrassment for other people--even when they aren't embarrassed for themselves.  I smirk at his signature snack--melted cheese and milk toast (seems a little geriatric, doesn't it?).   But there is one idiosyncrasy which truly drives me up the wall.  The Mister loses things.

I know we all misplace things occasionally. The mate to a sock. The car keys. The cordless phone.  I Even understand the temporary loss of a car in a large parking lot, or an investment in a start-up...

But The Mister LOSES things! And it's never the $5 flip-flops or the old sweatshirt. It's not the 7-11 sunglasses. It's not the lid to the toothpaste.

The Mister has a penchant for losing expensive or hard-to-replace items. These losses usually equate to significantly inconvenient situations... Followed by ineffectual searching... Resulting in eventual replacement purchasing...

Let's document. The credit cards (numerous times), actual cost, just the inconvenience.  The mail key (still missing), re-keying cost, $40.  Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, worn once, $50.  The electronic key to his company car (twice), $85.  Maui Jims that he had to have for nostalgic reasons, $150.  His wedding band, worn for approximately 6 months, $200.  His company Blackberry, $400.   President's Club ring, $500.   The company laptop, $2000.  An entire Volvo sedan, $3000.  And his own hearing aids, $5000.

So, what inspired this post?  Well, here's the thing...  The Mister has lost something new.  The Mister has actually lost pants.  We flew to NYC, stayed overnight, went to a show, and The Mister flew home alone.  Unsupervised...  Which is where the trouble started.  When I arrived back home, a few days later, we couldn't find his pants.  His brand new, I-pleaded-with-him-to-buy-them, $160 Big Star jeans.  Now, you might ask, how did he get home with his shoes and his shirt but no pants?  Well, that's the six million dollar question.  You didn't happen to see a bottom-less passenger on a recent flight from JFK to SLC, did you?

Ready to Concede Defeat

Last week a lovely, young couple moved into the neighborhood.  It's obvious that they are completely devoted to one another.  They chatter happily as they work to create their new home together.  They never seem to squabble.  They are committed to getting their home in order as quickly as possible.

My adorable new neighbors are the Swallows...  No, not exactly Mr and Mrs Swallow--more like the barn swallows.  Yep, my new neighbors are a couple of birds.

So The Swallows (Mr and Mrs) decided to relocate to the neighborhood late last week.  I enjoy their lively twittering.  Their roost of choice is the temperature gauge right outside my office window, which gives me a prime spot for observing them.  I've noticed their pretty colors, iridescent blue wings, orange heads, yellow bellies...  And I thoroughly enjoy their animated conversations.  Their cheerful chatter makes me smile.  They are brightly colored, energetic, and very entertaining to watch.   

It was obvious from the first that the friendly little neighbors were some type of swallow; I decided to find out more.  So this is what I found out:  my cheerful neighbors are the same pesky little birds who love to build muddy nests.  I know, I know...  They will keep the pesky bugs out of my yard, and I'm sure they have other redeeming qualities, but here's what else I learned...

Barn swallows mate for life.  They will live four to seven years, and they will return to the same nest year after year.  They hatch two broods a year--each brood usually includes three to four hatchlings.  The first brood generally hangs around to help with the second brood.  This is all fine and dandy--after all, we encourage committed relationships and a tightly-knit family unit.  The next part is where things get dicey...

So, besides the messy, muddy nest, and the unsanitary droppings, these cheerful little chirpers are also territorial.  Especially when they have a brood in the nest.  So, basically, I'm looking at the young couple, and their first brood dive-bombing any guests who come to my door during the raising of the second brood.  Would you come to visit me if you know that you would be attacked by a swooping flock at my door?  No, I didn't think so...

So we've taken to discouraging The Swallows.  It's not that I'm opposed to them living in the neighborhood, but I'm not sure about having them as "live-in'" guests, so to speak, for the next four to seven years.  Every day we spray the mud off the eves of the porch.  Again, and again, and again.  The Swallows are nothing, if not persistent!  This has been going on for a week now.  And after a week of starting over with their nest-building every few hours, they just keep at it.

I'm about ready to concede.  The Mister, however, is holding his ground.  It is, after all, the house he is financing--The Swallows haven't even offered to pay rent for the pleasure of sharing our roof.  So, armed with a Super Soaker water gun, The Mister attacks, retreats, and attacks again.

It might be a very long summer...    

Pantry

I've heard that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone...  I'd say that's about right!  Our last house had an amazing pantry.  Granite counter tops, cherry cabinets, an extra fridge...  It even had a window!  And now I'm relegated to a pantry that barely qualifies as a closet.  I know, a small pantry closet is typical, but still...  Gotta miss all those shelves and the extra fridge--Popsicle, anyone?!

So, The Mister had this brilliant idea that he should build an additional pantry.  I told him that we'd just have to keep extra food storage in the basement...  He just would not listen.  And then he started building his project--without my approval!  I made more than my share of disparaging remarks.  And I wondered who, in their right mind, would agree with him about this being a good idea.

Apparently, in my right mind, I would be the one to agree with him!  That Mister is truly brilliant!  I can't believe that I thought he'd lost all his marbles...  It still sounds crazy, but it is so functional!  The new pantry is in the garage, just outside the kitchen door.  It is accessed by the landing from the stairs that lead from the garage floor into the house.  It is suspended over an additional fridge and freezer which are located at the back of the garage.  

So, I'll do a premature reveal and post a few photos...

These are the stairs from the garage to the house.  

The door opens directly into the kitchen.

The stairs to the right (stacked with boxes) enter the protruding pantry.

This is the pantry--still in need of a door...  

Shelves on the right, a Shelf-Reliance self-rotating can dispenser at the back.

This is a view of the protruding pantry--see the freezer underneath?

The mister is going to add another row of shelves, and we do need to install the light and the door.  Aside from that, I'm ready to start cookin' with my new stash of goodies!  I'll be sure to post better photos once it's done and the garage is emptied enough to really see that it's working (and that my car will still fit in the garage!).  And yes, I will continue to call it the Protruding Pantry...  just FYI...

Thanks, Mister!

The Mister and Me

Sometimes life comes at you like a freight train.  You flinch as you bail out of the way and hope you cleared the carnage!  It's times like that when I'm so happy I have such a great guy at my side.

The Mister and I certainly have our differences of opinion.  We disagree on bedtimes (for us and for the kids!), we can find no common ground regarding literature, he likes lemon, I prefer chocolate...  But the one thing I know is that he will always be my rock when I really need it.

Tonight we attended the 50th Wedding Anniversary bash for some family friends.  As we were getting ready for the event, The Mister adamantly informed me that we would be having no such celebration.  When I raised my eyebrows, he informed me that one of us will have killed the other long before then!  Truth is, he'll be in his 80s by then...  But given the family history, he should still be alive and kicking.  And unless he significantly ups the amount on his insurance, he's actually more useful right here...

So, there it is...  My ardent admittance of undying love for The Mister.  Romantic, wasn't it?

A What? A Weather Station...

In early December, someone asked me what I was giving The Mister for Christmas.  I answered her with,

A weather station.

I was met with a, "Huh?" and there was nothing I could say to redeem myself, except to tell her that The Mister actually did request it...  

This is The Mister's weather station.

And, yes, he did request this...

The Mister then proceeded to leave the box (unopened and fully intact) on the fireplace hearth for about a week.  This is the gift that he had been threatening to buy for himself for a couple of months.  The gift that I kept telling him he didn't need (because I had secretly already bought it!).  The gift that he couldn't wait to have...  And it sat on the hearth.  For a week or more...

I asked The Mister why he hadn't set up his new toy.  He told me that it was too cold to go out and set it up.  I countered by asking him how he knew it was too cold to go out if he didn't have it set up to tell him...  I just got the look...

Now that our very professional weather station is operational (not fully operational, as the rain gauge isn't atop our house), you'd think we would have a good handle on the weather.  The truth is, our station has been insisting that it's been raining for three days now.  To be clear, it has not been raining, it's been partly cloudy, with a few hit-and-miss flurries just this afternoon.

So, if you are wondering if you need to wear your parka, don't ask me.  I can tell you from which direction the wind is blowing.  I can tell you wind speed, wind chill, and the speed of wind gusts.  I can tell you temperature (indoor and out), humidity (indoor and out), and barometric pressure.  But don't ask me to give you the forecast, I'll have to suggest you take an umbrella--regardless of the cloud cover.

He Thinks This Is A Good Idea

The Mister has the benefit (nuisance) of working with doctors all day.  This association means that he is often subjected to the "expert" opinions of those aforementioned physicians.

The Mister has been trying to get in better shape.  He's watching what he eats (most of the time), and he is getting up early to work out.  I'm supportive of this effort, well, not the weight loss efforts, but the getting-in-shape efforts.  For those who don't know him, The Mister is of a rather slight build.  As a woman of a more average build, it is to my extreme disadvantage to have The Mister lose weight.  That having been said, you must understand that weight is something of an issue in this house.  I'd like to see The Mister gain a little weight (in all the right places, of course).  At the same time, I'd like nothing more than to shed a few of my extra pounds.  I prefer there to be a distinct difference in our sizes...  And obviously, I'd like him to outweigh me at any given time.

The Mister made an announcement at large today.  He wants a body fat measuring scale...  He related that after speaking with a doctor about the changes (or lack thereof) on the scale display, he needed a better way of measuring his progress.  He's convinced that he isn't losing weight, despite his workouts, because he is gaining muscle mass.  Yippee!  I hope that's the truth.  But now he wants the body fat scale to confirm that he is correct in this supposition.   

Truthfully, I have been experiencing some success on the weight-loss front myself.  But even considering that, every morning our bathroom scale yells at me to "get off!"  I really don't think I need another device in my life that's sole purpose is to tell me just how fat I am.  (Not matter how much padding I may or may not be carrying!)  Really, do you think that's necessary?

And BTW--if anyone gets him one of these monsterous devices for Christmas, that person will be crossed off my gifting list for the rest of his or her natural life.

Happy XXth Birthday, Mister

I believe that you shouldn't ask a question if you don't really want to know the answer.   Case in point:

It's The Mister's birthday today, and he asked The Buddies how old they thought he was.  Z was quick with his response,

Sixty-four, right dad?

M was right on top of it with his answer,

Seventy-eight?

JJ took his time (ever the thinker), he waited to see the response his brothers received...

At that point I don't think it mattered to The Mister what they thought.  He was just wishing the true number was closer to 40 than 50...  Right Mister?

Where in the world...?

Where in the world is The Mister? People ususally look at me incredulously when I tell them I don't know. I'm The Mister's wife. I am the keeper of his house, and the mother of his children. My disinterest in where he is has nothing to do with my feelings about him. I love The Mister, but The Mister is a traveler.  Being on the road has become a somewhat undesirable component of The Mister's work.  He's gone at least a few days of each week.  When The Mister approaches the Hertz Car Rental counter, they see him coming and grab his keys.  When he hops a flight on Delta, they upgrade him to first class.  The flight attendants give him extra Biscoff cookies to bring home to me.  He gets the best rooms, free meals, he's leaned how to travel well.

Most people think I'm uncaring because I don't keep better track of The Mister.  But the truth is, if he's not here, I know he's working somewhere else.  No matter where that somewhere else is, he's not here...  And that's all I really need to know.  I like to have The Mister home to help with homework.  I need  The Mister home to take out the garbage.  I miss The Mister when I have nobody to warm my cold feet in bed.  And that's what it comes down to...  If he isn't here, he's somewhere else...  And if he's somewhere else, I'm on my own...  That's all I need to know.

I was going to meet The Mister in Las Vegas today.  We had grand plans to go to dinner, see a show, snuggle without interruption...  But apparently I'm not destined to be a traveler.  Life got in the way, and I'm home taking care of my own responsibilities.  I wish I could go...  I miss you, Mister!  Come on home and stay for a while, will you?

A Wake & Board

The Mister has decided that he needs to share the love (for surfing)...

Remember that old Beach Boys song California Girls? I think The Mister is trying to turn all of us lake-lovin' land-locked chick-a-dees into Surfin' Beach Babes. While I think it's going to be nearly impossible to turn this responsible mother-of-five into a babe, I'm certainly willing to give the surfing a try. In fact, while I have yet to try to catch the wave behind our new boat, I have tried it behind other boats. And I have to admit, it is fun!


And so, to satisfy The Mister's urge to ensure that everyone has the opportunity to surf (despite our unfortunate lack of a proper ocean-front beach), we have embarked upon a new endeavor. We are now in the recreational rental business. (When did I sign up for this... Did The Mister slip something into my Diet Coke?)


So, the next time you feel the undeniable urge to grab a board and hit the waves, please give us a call. We are renting our 2009 Ski Centurion ENZO SV230 by the day. We also have wake surfboards, wake skates, wakeboards, and inflatables. Check it out at www.awakeandboard.com.

The Boat

The Mister has been on a quest to purchase the perfect wake surfing boat. That's not news, since he's been eyeing it ever since we sold our Mastercraft X30. In fact, wake surfing is the very reason why The Mister was so determined to sell our X30. (And as an aside, let's not forget the trouble we went through to sell that beautiful boat...)

Anyway, our flirtation with non-boat ownership was short lived. bummer...

I went to the boat shop with Mister just days before I left for New York. The salesman kept talking--Mister kept nodding his head--I kept shaking my head... I was determined that we were not going to own another boat. While I was in New York, I even called to check on our ownership status. I asked,

Did you buy a boat?

His response,

I'm thinking about it...

After I returned home, Mister spent a couple of days on the lake testing different boats. The first day he said he didn't think he'd buy... He liked the boat fine, but he wasn't in love with it... The second day he tested two different boats. He came home from the lake and said he had fun, but he left it at that. A little while later I jokingly asked,

So, you gonna buy a boat?

His response,

Already did... A 2009 Ski Centurion ENZO SV230...

And that, my friends, was how I found out that we are now the proud owners of another boat. oh, yay... arg... ugh... ...

A Difference of Opinion

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I'm of the opinion that we don't need a boat to be a happy family... The Mister, however, is of the opinion that a boat would truly make us a much happier family... possibly for all eternity...

As I recall, we were very recently trying to get out of the boat-ownership condition. Remember our efforts to sell The Mister's Dream? And we did have success (eventually)... So why would we want to go back now?

Regardless--The Mister talked me into meeting him at the boat shop today. It seems that he's going through severe boat-ownership withdrawals... Never mind that he can go boating with any number of friends... And let's not forget his resourceful decision to rent a boat whenever he felt the need to connect with the lake... Contrary to all our discussions, he wants to buy a boat. Ugh.

I did my part in the boat-shopping experience. I was the voice of reason. The sensible one. I stood by, and shook my head, and refused to be impressed by the well-versed salesman. I feigned boredom (actually, a lot of my look-of-boredom was authentic... shhhh, don't tell).

Regardless of how our discussions proceed, after an hour at the boat shop, I now realize there is a bigger issue at hand. The real question may be much more important than "to buy or not to buy." The dilemma might actually be what boat should we buy?

The Mister has his heart set on something like this:

While still morally (ok, maybe just fiscally) opposed to a new boat,
I have to admit to a certain affection for this:

The Buddies, however, may get everyone on the same page... They found this!

If we get this, The Buddies will be ecstatic,

oh! OH! Can we get the boat with the camper on it? Please Mom!?

I will be un-grumpy about any outrageous outlay of moolah...

And The Mister will once again have reason to be a proud boat-insurance-paying, backward-down-the-ramp-trailering, Ducky-spraying, tower-lowering-to-fit-the-garage, boat owner.

Decision made. Let's buy that boat!

The Mister's Dream

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must warn you that the following post is about nothing of significance. In fact, it's entirely insignificant.

Yet again, I rolled out of bed this morning to see snowflakes falling from the sky. No big surprise, the forecast called for rain. But we usually get snow when the valley gets rain. I'm looking at the snow on the ground and watching the fresh flakes fly when The Mister asks me if I want to go to the Boat Show. The Boat Show? Why would I want to go to the Boat Show???

It's not exactly boating weather. In fact, when I look out my window, I can clearly see ice on the lake. If he had asked if I wanted to go snowboarding, or skiing, or maybe even sledding, I might have entertained the thought. But the Boat Show? And it's not as if we even need a boat. In fact, we have a very nice boat sitting in the garage with a For Sale sign posted on the windshield. See? This is our boat. Isn't she a beauty???


And why, you might ask, are we selling our beautiful boat? We are selling her because The Mister has always dreamed of owning a Mastercraft. And so, a few years ago, we bought the inspiration of his dreams. The Mister fully enjoyed skiing and wakeboarding behind his new found perfection, until he discovered wake surfing. That was the point at which The Mister realized that this Mastercraft was not, in fact, the boat of his dreams... The Mister wanted to surf behind his fantasy watercraft. And (apparently) our X-30 leaves behind it a less than perfect surfing wake--go figure!

To be clear, I've skied, wakeboarded, and even surfed behind our boat. And I rather enjoyed myself during all those activities. The Mister, however, seems to think that the wake could be improved.

The Mister has now identified the Utopian wake surfing vessel. He is now on a quest to surf behind it at all costs. And for the moment, that cost is the sale of our beautiful X-30.

If you know anyone who is looking for a beauty of a boat, (Please!) have them give me a call. She has a tower, hot water shower, heater, stereo with CD and tower speakers, Bimini top, full ballast system, and lots of other stuff about which I know nothing. The best part is that she's an open bow and can seat at least 12 people, which makes for quite a party!

Anyway--if you can help The Mister fulfill his dream by taking our X-30 off our hands, we'd both appreciate it. Now I think I'll go put on my parka, snow boots, and mittens and be off to the Boat Show!

Mom's Day Off

After being the voice of authority, the mistress of discipline, and the constant caregiver for a week, I needed a break. Boy, was I glad when The Mister got back from Florida last night! I took a bubble bath and went to bed.

This morning The Mister took HRH to dance, got The Boy up and going, helped clean up the house, and took The Buddies to the Children's Museum.

I, on the other hand, took the whole day off. I slept in, refused to do any meaningful housework, and enjoyed the (extremely infrequent--but sinfully blissful) quiet of a few hours at home... alone... I watched a chick flick, ate Toaster Strudel, and vegged on the couch.

Oh, what I would do for more days like this!

Define Budget

Men and women have differing ideas regarding budgets. When I talk about a budget, what I'm really referring to is My Spending Plan. I typically use the term budget as a verb, and I define it as ongoing calculations (usually done in my head) regarding money. These calculations are used to justify my purchases. I like to call these purchases planned dispersions of funds. Never mind that the planning of such dispersions are often incredibly brief...

The calculations involved in my budgeting go something like this:

Hmmmm, cute shoes. If we don't buy groceries, and we only eat food from our food storage supply, I could buy these very cute shoes...

See? Thoughtful consideration of the situation results in meals for the family, and new shoes for me! Success!

Alternately, The Mister views the word budget as a noun. It's a very heavy word and should always be printed in bold letters. The Mister's budget is a list of monetary inflows and outflows and categorizes all expenditures. I think The Mister's budget actually has a category entitled Frivolous Spending. I think that is where he lists things like the aforementioned shoes.

The Mister's budget works more like this:

If we're going to take a vacation this year, we're going to need to cut back on spending. *meaningful glance in my direction* We could do less online shopping and take the kids to Disneyland instead...

Seriously, isn't my way so much more fun?

Missing The Mister

Remember when I said that the house would be cleaner with The Mister gone for the week? Usually it is, but this time I was mistaken.

I went to work (apparently I do still have a job), and then I started to clean the house, but my cozy bed just didn't want to be made. It beckoned to me and I submitted to a (very brief) nap.

I never nap (really!) but I made an exception today. I think it's all that getting up early to get everyone out the door on time... The Mister is truly missed in the morning. (And by the way--I really, truly hate mornings... I'm glad The Mister is a morning person.) Getting the hooligans out the door on time isn't easy without help. Mister, come home!

My idea of bliss? The Mister comes home to a clean house, he wakes up early to get the kids out the door, I sleep in... bliss...

When The Mister's Away....

I love The Mister. Have I ever mentioned that? I just thought I should start this post by making that perfectly clear--because in a minute you might wonder...


The Mister is away on business. That means he's in Florida (enjoying golf and sunshine) while we remain here, entrenched in the snow. There's something about having The Mister away on business... I always complain and carry-on a little, but really I don't mind so much. Sometimes it seems like we actually talk more while he's away. I think that's because he is forced to stay awake for the meetings and mandatory dinners. By the time he calls, it's late and the kids are in bed, so I get his full attention. When he's home, his attention is divided between 5 kids and household responsibilities, and then he goes to bed early... We hardly ever get a chance to talk when he's here.


And the weirdest thing??? When The Mister is gone, the house gets tidier (and stays that way). I'm still working of theories for that one. I think he encourages more "messy" play with the buddies and then it doesn't always get cleaned up. Also--ever since we've been married I have referred to The Mister as Paper Man. Paper Man is the superhuman paper scattering machine. Once he enters the house, all horizontal surfaces inexplicably become covered with collected bits and pieces of paper... Business cards, receipts, notes, fliers, articles, you name it! I don't miss Paper Man when The Mister is away.


So, if you're in the neighborhood, please stop by! The house is unusually tidy, and I'd enjoy the adult company! And Mister, come home soon, but leave the extra bits of paper at the hotel!