Saturday, September 27, 2014

Of Marbles and Ta-tas

I was up last night--purposefully--until 4 PM. As we get up at 4:50 AM, I almost went to bed when I was about to get up. I served as MJagger's designated driver for her going away party, so I had to wait until she was done partying before I got to go home. I envisioned 2 AM, not 4 AM. She and a bunch of party-goers decided breakfast was a must after a night of drinking. Tacos. They wanted tacos, so tacos they got. I feel like I got hit by a truck. I cannot imagine how all the party-goers feel this morning. More about this in a dot.

Freckles is unknowingly dropping little poops around the house. She still barks to go outside when a "real" poop on is on the way, but for some reason, little milk duds fall out now and then. It's happening on a more frequent basis, so I'm thinking this is not a good sign. I had a talk with her three years ago (when she could still hear) and told her when she started peeing and pooping in the house, it was curtains for her. I explained that I would not be spending thousands of dollars to keep her alive, as I had already done that once. I reminded her that she had had a great life and that she lived better than most humans. I assured her that I would not rush the process and that one poop in the house was not an issue. Now that marbles are falling out on a more frequent basis, I am keeping a closer eye. I'm hoping this is not a case of "I don't know what's going on back there and so I'm pooping." She still eats like a pig, is a fat sausage, gets around despite being basically blind and deaf and is a champion in the happiness department. Oh sure, she needs eye drops five times a day and she smells like a dirty vacuum and she has all these awful growths on her skin. She's old. We all get growths and smell and need things like eye drops. But, pooping. Pooping little marbles around the house is not part of the deal. (She also peed on the wood floor last week. You can imagine how happy the wife was about that.)

As for Lucy, she gets wibbly-er and wobbly-er with each passing day. Her legs on on their own mission. She too remains seemingly happy and the tumor hasn't grown much, so we focus on the positive and enjoy each passing day. She has found her way into sleeping in our bed, which is something the wife assured me would NEVER happen. Lucy sleeps like a baby when she's in the bed. It's a whole lot better when she stays up licking all night--for some reason, she doesn't lick when she's allowed in the human place of sleeping. If she sleeps, I sleep because the wife sleeps. When Lucy is licking, the wife is always whacking me to tell Lucy to stop it. No wonder I wake up exhausted some days. I'm up all night yelling at the dog because the wife is yelling at me.

Back to the reason I was up until 4 AM. MJagger's going away party was event to remember. Well, I will remember it, as I was sober. I'm not sure who will remember what because a lot of alcohol was involved. It started out innocently enough but kept getting a little rowdier, louder, naughtier and drunker as time went on. At one point, I got punched in the face with some guy's elbow. It was totally an accident but it hurt like a biscuit. My glasses got smooshed and I was seeing stars. It took the breath out of me. I was so glad he didn't punch me in the teeth. I like my teeth. Anyway, the guy was very apologetic but I couldn't see who it was because (1) my glasses were smooshed, and, (2) my eyes were watering so badly that I couldn't have seen even if I had my glasses on. Some of the friends in our party thought I got punched on purpose, which was problematic because they were looking for a fight. Dear god, I am way too old to be around drunk people who want to get into a fight. It took a lot of repeated insistence that the guy didn't do it on purpose at all.

Then, MJagger decided that it was time....for no known reason, she decided she needed to stick her face in a now-ex-co-worker's cleavage. MJagger is mighty straight, so this is very confusing to me. She had been talking about doing it, but I thought she was kidding. I mean, she's never done anything like that so why she would start now? I did a pretty good job of keeping an eye on her all night--after all, that was my assigned task--but, I was unable to intervene when she decided to plow ahead and nestle her entire face in the large, voluptuous ta-tas that were in front of her. There was no warning. BAM! Face in cleavage. She got a hold of those puppies and gave a champion-level motor boat.

I must admit that it was the hit of the party. Straight girl gone wild. What more could anyone want in a party?

Looking for a fight, slurring words, hanging on each other, bad ideas and ta-ta diving. Affirms why I don't drink. I'm glad MJagger is a happy drunk. There was only one incident that I thought might lead to an issue for me--she decided she was going to walk home. At 3 AM, By herself.  In a dress. While in a drunken ta-ta fueled funk. Thankfully, she acquiesced and let me drive her home as planned, but only after she had eaten tacos with the last of the party goers. I won't even try to explain what transpired at the restaurant. Suffice it to say, the F word was included in every sentence.

I woke up this morning with a god-awful headache. As I write this, I feel like I am hung over, which is awful as I hadn't been drinking. How unfair is that? Between getting punched in the face, being up so late, having sinus issues and not getting much sleep, I feel pretty rough. I can't wait to talk to MJagger later today and see how she's doing. Knowing her, she's probably fine. Heck, she might still be drunk.

The wife just walked up to me, holding a small marble of poop in a napkin. Sigh. Another errant poop. Oh, this does not bode well......perhaps I should check out doggie diapers.....

....at least MJagger did not poop or puke on me. That's saying something. I had a barf bag in the car, just in case. She didn't present as a vomit risk, but one never knows. I wasn't prepared for pooping--how does one prepare for that?--so, I'm glad that was not an issue. She didn't pass out so I didn't have to carry her. She agreed to not walk home without too much argument. She was a happy drunk so I didn't have to deal with the ickiness that sometimes arises when alcohol is involved.

MJagger is facing a tremendous amount of stress at this time. Life-straining stress. Drinking doesn't solve anything but it gave her a reprieve for a few hours. She would have celebrated her change of jobs in the same manner had she no stress, but I'm glad things weren't wilder than they were due to the level of stress involved. I put out good thoughts for her and her family. I hope you will, too.

Today, I'm on call. We'll see how that goes. God help me if I have to go out in the middle of the night. I pity the fool that has to see me. I'm sure I'll be a crabby patty beyond compare by that time. Heck, I'm teetering on crabby-patty-ness at this very moment. I think chocolate, ibuprofen and a nap will put my world back in order.

....if you come to our house and find a Milk Dud on the floor, DO NOT EAT IT. I can guarantee it is not a Milk Dud. You have been warned.
************************************************


Thursday, September 18, 2014

On the Fifty

The wife's fiftieth birthday has swooped down upon us. I can't say she is very thrilled with this; in fact, she is downright not pleased about this event. She's been muttering things like, "I'm past middle age now" and "in twenty years, I'll be 70. We won't even live here by then." Geez, talk about a Debbie Downer. I find 50 to be the new 40. Who has time to calculate ages when there is fun to be had right here, right now?

Thankfully, Master Pastor Reiki (MPR) and Blue Eyes (BE) had the right idea to help the wife start her fifth decade a bit more palatable manner. They gave her the most distracting surprise of her life.

MPR and Blue Eyes asked us months ago (actually, on my birthday in June) to "save" the weekend before the wife's birthday. They said they had a gift for the two of us but we wouldn't get it until the Fall. We did as told and left the details to them. We didn't know what we were doing, if we were going somewhere, what to expect, as very few details--okay, none--were shared. While I didn't think about this twice, the poor wife fretted about it. How was she to prepare if she didn't know what we were doing or where we were going? She had all sorts of questions and worries and distractions going on in that brain of hers. They reassured her that it was nothing big, just "putzy" stuff around town. We'd start with breakfast and go from there. They almost seemed disappointed in whatever was planned, as if they had originally planned something "big" and now it had been watered down. We started to feel bad and assured them that we didn't have to do anything special. It would be fine to putz around town. They reiterated numerous times that the events were "putzy" in nature. They were agreeable to figuring out a way for the wife to watch the Packer Game, as this seemed to be the wife's biggest concern. When asked, they said they didn't think we'd need a dog sitter.

Sunday morning, MPR and BE show up at our door, 15 minutes early, as always--they are always early. The are wearing casual clothing (good), windbreakers zipped up, blue jeans and gym shoes rounding out the outfits.

MPR: walks in, a very serious look on her face. BE is somewhere behind her.

Me: Confused, thinking, "oh no, something's come up, something's wrong."

MPR: grabs my hand. "Now, come here. We have something to tell you."

Me: Uh-oh. My brows furl. 

The wife and eye glance at each other. She is thinking something is wrong, too.

The four of us are standing in some weird circle, holding hands.

MPR/BE: unzip jackets.

MPR/BE (together): "WE'RE GOING TO THE PACKERS GAME!"

MPR/BE: Screaming and jumping up and down. They are wearing their Packer Gear under their coats.

Me: Deer in headlights. Huh? 

MPR/BE: waving four Packer tickets in our faces, spinning in circles, still screaming.

Me: Still frozen.

The Wife: "SHUT UP!" 

MPR and BE: STILL jumping up and down, screaming in delight.

Me/The wife: Our brains have stopped working. We are stunned into stupor by the events unfolding before us. 

BE: "You need to pack some clothes and get ready to go to the game. We've got snacks and sodas and waters in the car. We'll go to breakfast, and then we'll go shopping and then we'll get some ice cream and then we'll go to the game!"

More hopping up and down.

Me/The wife: Begin running around like idiots. 

For the record, it's tough to pack for a Packers Game without warning. You have to take into consideration the actual weather, the game time weather, in the sun or in the shade weather. It takes the wife a week to plan an outfit for a Packer Game, so asking her to do it within minutes was a pretty big stretch.

MPR: Grab whatever you want and we'll put it in the car.

BE: You can decide when we get there! Just bring a lot of clothes.

Since I've never been to a "warm" Packer game, I envisioned being cold--I made a pile which included my flannel jeans, long underwear and boots. I grabbed my winter fleece and put that on the pile, too. When I looked at the wife, she was fretting over which of four Packer coats to wear. Neither of us could put a coherent sentence together. For some reason, we were yelling at each other during much of the time, but it wasn't in sentences.  (Yelling is always oh-so-helpful, don't you think?)

The Wife: (points at my feet as I'm standing in front of the closet) You have your shoes on! Why do you have your shoes on in the house?

Me: Who cares? Why are you worried about my shoes? Just figure out what to wear!

I put on my orange sweatshirt. I pick it because (1) it is hunter orange; and, (2) it is the warmest sweatshirt I own.

The Wife:  YOU CAN'T WEAR THAT!

Me: It's hunter orange! There are tons of hunters at the game.

The Wife: Why don't you wear this green-and-gold sweatshirt?

Me: Because it's not warm.

The Wife: You can't wear that!

Me: Well, I'm gonna!

I think about changing sweatshirts but I hate being cold, so orange wins out. I decide to wear my green-and-gold gym shoes, kind of an effort to negate my orange sweatshirt.

The pile of clothing is ridiculous. I don't even bring this many clothes when I go somewhere for a week. MPR and BE encourage us to not worry about it, just put it in the car. All my clothes, the wife's clothes and the four coats (five, if you count my winter fleece) are piled into the vehicle.

As we are getting ready--trying to figure out who can let the dogs out and what else we need to bring--it occurs to me that there is no way possible to squeeze in all the thing they have listed. I check the map app for directions and time of route. It will take us between 3.5 and four hours to get there.

Me: We don't have time to do all those things. I don't even know if we have time for breakfast!

I point out that it will take four hours and that the wife will want to be there by 2:30 at the absolute latest. We'd have to leave town by 10:30 to do that and it's already 9:30 AM. I do some final calculations in my head and announce we can do breakfast as long as we're on the road by 10:30 AM. I point out that the restaurant is right by the tollway, so that will save us about ten minutes--which, at this point, is a very needed thing. It's a really busy restaurant, so I am a bit skeptical. I pray to the Gods of the Grid Iron that the restaurant won't be so busy that it makes us late for the determined schedule.

I shouldn't have worried. Once they learned we were on our way to the Packers Game (BE tells everyone everything), the restaurant people ensured we were seated quickly, served super-fast and that the bill was on the table before we were even done with half our breakfast. We were on the road with time to spare.

The rest of the day, as you can imagine, was sheer delight. The ride was uneventful, the sancks were ridiculous (who includes "Pixies" as a snack for the car?), the weather was perfect (around 60 degrees, a bit cooler in the shade), a free parking spot was secured, brats were consumed and the Packers were victorious. We even got out of town without getting lost (a feat in itself). As is always the case, time zipped by way too quickly.


It's tough (if not impossible) to truly convey  the depth of gratitude we feel for this most wonderful surprise; thus, I wrote this blog. I figure publicly stating my thanks has to be a good start. Everyone should experience a surprise like this at least once in a lifetime.

The wife, who HATES surprises, didn't seem to mind this one too much! I think she might be over her hatred for surprises.I hope this amazing event will help convince her that fifty isn't so bad. I find 50 to be fabulous. This year, I'm as fabulous a certain long-haired defense man--my age is his number and I'm all good with that. Come to think of it, the wife's age is another defense guy's number...how can this not be a great year?

Feel free to refer to us as Hawk and Matthews this year. I'm the one with the long flowing locks.
**************************************************************************
Thank you, MPR and BE!


Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Ode to MJagger

Someone said to me yesterday that people who say they are busy are actually not as busy as they think they are; when they look at the data (read: someone sits around and figures out what you do in a day), they actually find out that they aren't busy....I spit on their data. We've been getting up at 4:45 AM in an effort to squeeze 15 more minutes into the day. More Facebook time! 

Two big events are approaching: the wife turns 50 in a few weeks and MJagger is leaving our place of employment.  The wife will need medication to get through the birthday festivities; I'll need medication to deal with MJagger's resignation.

MJagger secured a new job in a different field, something that she's talked about for quite some time. Whatever the reason, she didn't take the leap until now. I am very proud of her for deciding to do something completely out of her comfort zone. It's a tough thing to do, but she's doing it and she's gonna rock it, by God. It's a new beginning for her. How can you not love that?

Of course, this means the of "training selfies."  How disappointing. For the past year, we've taken a selfie at every training we were forced--er, I mean asked to endure. That was the one big thing to look forward to when trudging toward the conference room. No matter the topic, I always knew there would be a selfie and a laugh. I'm taking applications for someone to replace her, but it just won't be the same.

It's been quite the ride, these past 15 years. She shot out two babies while at this job, She got married during the first weeks with the agency. She was there when there were goats in the building, busy peeing on the floor. She threw Freckles a puppy shower and was there when I picked out Lucy. I was there when she picked out her German Shepard puppy from a cardboard box. After Prom 2000 she was seen dancing in the cage (while wearing a dress, I might add). She's slapped me around in the football pool. We've eaten more pizza during work hours than should be legal. She served as my Straight of Honor. She was there when I purchased the wife's first "real" ring (and was also there to watch me throw it at the wife in a nervous frenzy--so romantic). We balanced chakras, ate at Rosas, wore pajamas to work, Who can forget the Professional wrestling, movies with the clients, seeing Wicked with work friends & spouses and....the infamous baseball game of which MJagger does not speak. For one birthday, she gave me a gift certificate to get a tattoo. THAT'S a true friend.

And, there was Madonna: Madonna posters, photos, albums, t-shirts and concerts...Drowned World Tour, Reinvention Tour, The Confessions on a Dance Floor Tour. Hard Candy Tour, MDNA, Madonna, Madonna, Madonna. We missed meetings at work just to have a chance to buy Madonna tickets on line. I can no longer think of a Madonna concert without thinking of MJagger.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the Lady Gaga concert. That was a happening in itself. I have to say it was one of the greatest concerts I have ever attended. There were other concerts, too--Black Eyed Peas comes quickly to mind. MJagger loves music as much as I do. That's saying something. I know she wishes I would stop listening to bad country music. I told her that's what happens when you get old--you start listening to country. BTW, she's a HUGE Rolling Stones fan and has even done a 'sassy dance' with THE Mick Jagger. I've never danced with Madonna, so I am a bit bitter about this. Dammit, Madge!

In true friendship fashion, we've had some doozies of disagreements. That's what real friends are for. I don't need someone giving me lip service. I appreciate the blunt honesty she affords.  We didn't agree on things at work and that was okay.We certainly didn't agree on the infamous baseball outing. I embrace her strong opinions and her passion for what she believes.

Some days, I know she wanted to punch me in the throat. Some days, I wanted to punch her in the throat. In true friendship form, no throats were punched.

I have been walking around in a grumpy funk at work. My partner in crime will no longer be my partner in crime. Oh, I'll still see her, just not at any time during the work day. For that, I am sad. I'm not sure who will have the harder time adjusting.

Good news is that Madonna still has two more tours to do in order to complete her contract, so we'll have that for which to look forward. The football pool is just getting started and there will always be a walk or two as time goes by. I am confident that more pizza will be consumed, although it might need to be after work or on a school holiday. The wife and her husband get along handsomely and we adore their kids, so I'm sure an outing or two will happen now and again. We may have to do a little geo-caching--nerds in the great outdoors--and god knows the wife won't go see a super-hero movie with me, so I'll give MJagger a call.

I look forward to hearing about her adventures...and, adventures she will have!

I'll try not to whine and pout too much as she walks out the door.... but, I'll only remain composed if she promises to dance in the cage on her last day of work....

....and takes a selfie with me while in the cage. 
***********************************************************************

Monday, September 01, 2014

Belaboring This and That

Happy Labor Day! Or, most cases, Non-Labor Day.

I am laboring, as I am on-call. I am also going to be "riding the lawn" (riding lawn mower while the wife hand mows via the push mower), so that's semi-laboring for me and laboring for her. (She doesn't like the way I mow so I'm let off the hook; besides, I might vomit if I try to push a mower in the next eight hours. See below.O=)

I find it amusing that stores opened early today, considering the day is about having a day off for laboring. Ah, America--where no holiday or day of recognition is safe.

My non-laboring-laboring self hopes to watch a couple of episodes of Doctor Who, read a bit more of "Wild," survive tonight's football draft (on line and in, what I consider, the wee hours of the night) and make a five minute work-training video. In my new job at my old job, I am in charge of training. I have no time for Power-point presentations that feature a bazillion words in tiny print of which the trainer reads word for word. Today's audience has no stomach for such nonsense--they need clips and blips and sound bites and color. I plan on making a five minute video today....and, that's stretching it. Today's youngsters on the job (anyone under 40) aren't going to pay attention longer than five minutes. I'll take fast and use lots of visuals (like the dogs).

We went to breakfast with the Gaybors this morning. The amount of food brought to our table was obscene. Only in America--holidays are no longer sacred AND the portions are bigger than your head. It put the word "gluttony" to shame. I don't understand why we in America find it necessary to super-super size EVERYTHING. I tried to finish my vat of berry-laden oatmeal and the "short stack" of the largest pancakes on earth, but by the time I got half way done, I experienced a food injury and had to stop.  It's been thirty minutes and I still feel like I may puke. I think pancakes and oatmeal were a bad combo--both expand in the belly once in there. Thankfully, I have some ice cream in the freezer. I'll have that for dinner. I figure that will fit around the cemented ball of carbohydrates living in my belly.

Like I said. I can't mow or puke.

On the sad-news front, I do believe our Green Ash is beginning to show signs of the dreaded and most hated Green Ash Borer. I've been keeping a close watch on the tree, giving it a hug now and then, talking to it whenever I walk by, surrounding it in a bubble of love. This week, I noticed woodpecker holes and thinning of some branches. Dang. I haven't seen any borer "D" shaped holes but that's usually the last thing you see on the trunk. I can't exactly crawl up the tree and take a gander. Our tree looks the best out of any in the neighborhood, which is good and bad. It kind of prolongs the agony. That tree and I have a love fest going on. I wanted it to survive the plight but it's not looking good. The wife and I have decided to leave it until next year, mainly because it's still looking good, but also because it is going to cost at least $900 to have it cut down. I'm glad to have one more season with it. I shall savor every moment of having that tree alive on our property.

Shout out to my dad who is laboring over the issues with his ear. Van Gogh has nothing on him.

As for Labor Day itself, I do thank the Unions for their effort to bring us this fine day. I'm not a big fan of Unions but they certainly did have their day and time and they improved the work world in a bazillion ways. For this, I tip my hat to them. The holiday has unfortunately lost its meaning; it is no longer recognition of the work and sweat of our workers. It is a day of picnics and trips and the end of Summer, the start of school and lots of shopping. Fire up the grill, sit by the lake, finalize your fantasy football line up. I wish no one had to labor today, but those days are gone. Every day is a Labor Day.

So, happy Labor Day. I hope you do not belabor too much on this day.  If you are laboring, God love you.
If you are in labor (which has nothing at all to do with today), hope your doctor isn't on a golf course or boat or four-wheeler.