As Long As He's Uncomfortable Too...

I’m cold. It’s 73 degrees inside my house and I feel like I’m in a meat locker.

There is this ongoing battle in our house for temperature control. It’s a nasty one too…with all sorts of mock guilt trips being tossed around like salmon at a fish market. The problem? Chris is perpetually sweating-to-the-oldies hot at any temperature above 67. I am perpetually hell-just-froze-over cold at any temperature below 77. And so, we both end up being perpetually uncomfortable because the definition of “compromise” always means lose/lose at our house.

In the battle of wills, that Chris is a wiley one.

I woke up a couple of mornings ago to all the windows in the house completely open.

I promptly began to close all of said windows.

“What are you doing?”

“Closing the windows.”

Whining like a baby, “Ahhh, it was finally starting to get comfortable in here.”

Also whining like a baby, “Baaabe! I’m soooo cold. It’s like 40 degrees outside and the thermostat says 65!”

Trying to guilt-trip me, “I guess what I want doesn’t matter.”

Unphased, “You’re right, it doesn’t.”

Chris the Patron Saint of Patience

After a two month sabbatical, I'd like to announce to the world that I'm back, and in mostly good form...just a little heavier...and a little bit pregnant. And, now that first and second breakfasts are staying down, I'll try and be a better blogger. In the meantime I'd like to leave you with something funny or insightful, but I'm capable of neither of those so you just get weird.

The other night Chris and I were lying in bed. As with most nights, he was reading and I was trying to clear my mind of all the crazy so that I could drift off into a peaceful sleep.

(10 minutes of the aforementioned quiet reading and mind clearing)

(turning to face him) "So, I read this article on CNN today about how all these human feet keep washing up on shore in Canada."

(keeps reading)

"It got me thinking about WHERE all these feet are coming from. I mean, these so called 'authorities' just said it was a mystery and they don't seem very concerned about WHO they are coming from and WHY. Wouldn't you want to know why? There could be a serial killer out there who just hacks off people's feet as his SIGNATURE...you know."

(sighs loudly) "Maybe they're fake."

"No. There were six feet found and only one was fake. It turned out to be a dog paw in a shoe wrapped in seaweed. They said they knew it was fake because they did DNA testing on it and they were mad because of all the time it took, but don't you think that they could have just LOOKED at the bones and known they weren't human. I mean, c'mon...even I could look at a dog paw and know it wasn't a human foot."

(silence for a minute)

"And, four of the feet were right feet and only one was a left foot. Maybe the killer was trying to throw us off the scent..."

(looks at me) "I promise to never talk to you when you are reading."

"Oh, thanks."

(starts reading again)

"...but they also said it could be from the dead bodies of the people in a plane crash three years ago that were never recovered. But it's only FEET....why not hands or heads??? Weird huh?"

(sighs again)

"Sorry."

(silence)

"But what if you FOUND one of the feet. What would you DO...."

Tag

I got tagged about Chris so I'm laying it all out for you.

1. What is his name? Christopher Alan Bailey
2. How long have you been married? 4 years in July
3. How long did you date? About 5 months, but we hung out for a whole semester before that. Well, he hung out with my roommates and I sort of tagged along.
4. How old is he? 29
5. Who eats more sweets? me, me, me: which also leads to me having lots of sugar highs
6. Who said I love you first? Chris. He was shaking and stuff so I could tell it was coming :)
7. Who is taller? Chris
8. Who can sing better? Chris, by far and away, but I can croak better!
9. Who is smarter? It depends on the subject.
10. Who does the laundry? Me
11. Who pays the bills? Chris pays them through automatic bill pay, but we talk it over a lot so we both know where we stand financially. Occasionally he has me pay one...I got to pay Luke's ER bill today.
12. Who sleeps on the right side? If you are looking at the bed, Chris does. If you are laying in the bed, I do. We've sort of moved around though. I like to be furthest from the door so if a murderer comes, Chris can defend me like the man he is.
13. Who mows the lawn? Chris usually, though I venture forth if it has been awhile. It is just a lot harder to do during the day when I have Luke around.
14. Who cooks dinner? I do, but Chris takes care of Luke so I can get it done.
15. Who drives? Chris does. He can't stand when I drive because I'm too laid back; I go too slow and don't change lanes fast enough for him. It is just better for our marriage if he does the driving.
16. Who kissed who first? Chris leaned in, but we both did our fair share of kissing.
17. Who asked who out first? Chris asked me, but he asked my roommate first if she thought I would go for him. She didn't think I was interested, so to discourage him she said she thought I liked bigger guys. Obviously he thought he was big enough for me :)
18. Who proposed? He did. It was awesome. I'll have to blog about it sometime.
19. Who has more siblings? Me. Technically I have 2 older step-brothers, one younger half-sister, and two younger sisters, but I only grew up really knowing my three sisters. Chris has 2 younger sisters.
20. Who wears the pants? He wears the pants, but I control what style they are.

I tag whoever hasn't done it yet. I know Genypher hasn't, so I guess you are it.

In Defense

Chris told me in no uncertain terms the other night that the title of my blog sucked. Okay, so I can't vouch that he said that actual word, but I'm going to play the woman card and take the liberty of twisting his words into what I heard. He claimed that it says nothing about me and therefore it is "dumb" (he did say that actual word).

In the heat of the moment I reverted to the 2nd grade classic, "yeah, well, you're dumb".

Nice.

The pathetic defense of my precious blog name has been a thorn in my side this week and so I have determined to exonerate my blog in letter form as follows.

Dear Babe,

I'm deeply disturbed at your boldness in telling me I suck. Deeply disturbed. I've got disturbed-ness coming out my ears. I'm writing this letter to you in true defense of "Fruitcakes".

First of all, it's Fruitcakes with an "s", implying not only that I am a fruitcake, but that you are as well...as is our little mini loaf. It's true, deal with it.

Second, do you know me but at all? Fruitcake is a deliciously spiced treat that is a little bit nutty, a little bit fruity, and a little bit whimsically eccentric. Funny, that is the exact diagnosis the shrink wrote up about me.

Finally, listen to this and tell me you don't love the name "Fruitcakes" afterwards. I dare you.

Your fruitcake forever,
Me

P.S. Jimmy Buffett rocks! Which is more or less, but leaning toward more...the reason I liked the name in the first place.

P.P.S. No, you're dumb...and I'm going to need my card back.

Musings on Bovine

The other day, Valentine's Day actually, Chris said something to me that I haven't been able to quite wrap my head around. I've been musing over it for days and still don't feel I've grasped the enormity of what he was trying to convey.

He looked lovingly into my eyes and then said, (and this is word for word):
"I am a heifer and you are my grassy knoll."

Wha??

Wow babe. I..um....there are no words. Thanks?? In all fairness I really do appreciate the effort. And what's more, I genuinely adore you for not making me the heifer...that was just plain ol' good form. And for that generosity I'll be the most luscious green knoll you've ever seen where only my own cute heifer can graze.