Dog Days Go Away

Haven't heard from me in over a week? Well, I'm not going to lie to you, it's because I'm having anger management issues.

I’m fairly certain that this heat is, in fact, making me crazier than normal. At least that’s all I can figure. I actually yelled at two people at Kroger a few days ago. Yelled. That’s not how I was raised. I am a good Southern girl who never says that I think you are acting stupid to your face…I just status update about it later. Well, ring the church bells because I finally said it. In so many words I shared my “feelings” strongly to Gwen at the Customer Service Counter at the permanently-under-construction Kroger I go to and some random man waving a Western Union form in her face. In my defense…he did cut in line. When he did and I said, “HEY” seven times (loudly in his ear) and he pretended like he could fill out an entire Western Union form but couldn’t speak my language, I reminded Gwen that I had been standing there since Obama’s inauguration and she’d better wait on me because I was getting really close to selling my impatient two year old to the highest bidder (or just putting him in someone’s buggy when they weren’t looking). The balloon they had given him when we walked through the door had long since escaped to the ceiling and he was stacking Kit Kats on the candy aisle. Not that I really cared. It was when he ran over and began sucking on the packages of triple A batteries that I grudgingly intervened only to be reacquainted with Mr. Tantrum.

Gwen was appropriately condescending to me as she told the man to wait a second, helped me and then called me “mom” to get my attention. The man of course nodded in understanding to her request to wait because apparently Gwen is the Rosetta Stone of Kroger. I left there completely feeling like “that woman.” I got into my car and I burst into tears. I actually burst-ed. Ugh…

So, this does have me concerned. Yes, it is the dog days of summer. Yes, we are all hot and secretly dehydrated. Yes, if you type irritable, fatigued, sweating all the time and increased urge to cuss under your breath into the Web MD Symptom checker it claims you have IBS (of course I believe that is the fall back diagnosis for all diseases Web MD can’t figure out with the symptom checker). Whatever the reason for my lack of Zen, I have noticed the men in my house giving me extra space these days. I’m fairly certain that Samuel fixed a Lean Cuisine last night and put himself to bed while I was tearfully and angrily searching for the remote control and muttering to myself. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’ll be so glad to get out of this heat. Once you hit temperatures outside that are identical to the ones on the cans of biscuits in your refrigerator, it’s just too dang hot.

Hey, it ain't a pretty picture, but it's an honest one.

As We Close Out Year Six

Six and a half years ago, a young man, we'll call him Andy, gave a girl, we'll call Rachel, a box with a ring in it over dinner. He let her open the box before he looked deep into her eyes and said romantically, "let's do this."

I agreed. We were married. I blinked. It was six years later.

On Sunday, Andy and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. I would like to share with you some of the romantic conversations that continue to go on in our house.


Rachel: You know, couples have to work hard to keep their marriages together. Do you ever think about this?
Andy: No
Rachel: Why not?
Andy: Because I'm not going anywhere.
Rachel: That's so sweet.
Andy: Sweet? I finally convinced your family that I don't like mayonnaise. I don't want to start that argument over with a new family. It took six years.


Rachel: How's dinner?
Andy: It's fine.
Rachel: Good.
Rachel: Fine like, good? Like you like it?
Andy: Yeah, It's okay.
Rachel: Good
Rachel: Okay, like you want me to make it again?
Andy: Maybe
Rachel: Well you either do or you don't. Which is it?
Andy: Why?
Rachel: Honey, I want you to be honest with me. It's the only way I'm gonna know what to make and not make. Don't worry, I'm fine. I honestly just want to know if you like it. I won't get offended. I promise.
Andy: It's not my favorite.
Rachel: (getting up)
Andy: What's wrong?
Rachel: Nothing.
Andy: Come on...what is it?
Rachel: You don't like my cooking.


Here's to many more romantic conversations!
Andy's blissful bride

Coming to terms...

It's time to get some things off my chest, and let them go...

- My son is going to mix the pretty Play-Doh colors three seconds after the cans are first opened. He does not value the rainbow of color. His objective is to make a gray lump as soon as possible.

- I will never cook that box of spanish rice in my pantry. I'm not even sure why I bought it three years ago.

- I can never ever again go more than two months without dyeing my hair. EVER. It's no longer just a "fun makeover."

- I will never use up all of my cleaning supplies. Why? Because I don't like to clean...I only like to buy the supplies.

- Same concept as above, only insert scrapbooking supplies here.

- I'm too old to be on anything on like ten years.

- The truth is...there will NEVER be another Beverly Hills 90210. It can't happen more than once in a lifetime. All the spandex, baby doll dresses and dark lipstick aligned like the perfect storm.

- I resent having to spend money on greeting cards.

- No one has EVER given me a good enough reason to not drink caffeine.

- I hate groups of teenagers. Individually, I take them on a case by case scenerio.

- The best part of Walgreens is the "As seen on t.v." aisle. And it has some useful stuff on that aisle.

- Current events don't elicit as much of a reaction as I would like for people to think. Truth be told, if it doesn't happen in my living room, I pretty much don't dwell on it.

- My husband and I are never going to agree on a temperature for our house.

- I am going to watch Girls Just want to Have Fun every time it comes on t.v. forevermore.

- I want you to tell me what I want to hear. There are no exceptions to this. The minute you start telling it "like it is"...I have no use for you.

- I'm never going to bust into a smoky night club while being chased by drug dealers and be asked to "sing the blues"...resulting in a performance of a spur of the moment, yet perfectly rhyming, song that brings the house down.