So Quirky, So True

Marriage is an endless learning experience.  This is both a thrilling and annoying realization.  Thrilling because I’ll never get bored; annoying because we’re going to be doing this back and forth shit until we’re dead.  The world couldn’t have picked a better guy to stick with me, though.  I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people on Earth capable of handling each other.  I’m pretty sure the in-laws know it, too.  Anytime it seems like we’re fighting, my mother-in-law always gives me this worried, “are you two fighting?”  She acts like one fight is going to be the end of us.  So that’s where he gets it…

Despite being polar opposites, we don’t fight a lot.  I’m not someone who likes to get upset over things I consider stupid.  If he does something that upsets me, I don’t immediately tell him if I feel like it’s something small or stupid.  I’ll wait and see if it happens repeatedly before I bring it up.  Due to my environment growing up, I can be a little too sensitive about some things, so I try to filter those out from the issues that actually do truly bother me.  I also do this because mentioning any issue to my husband is the equivalent of filing divorce papers.  I’m not even kidding.  His parents, being the ridiculously dysfunctional people that they are, felt that “arguing” was never warranted.  So, instead, they practice passive-aggressiveness that would make even the coldest of women’s skin crawl.

It’s something that bothers me a lot, but it’s only one thing.  He’ll kick it, eventually.  It’s not something that’s natural to him or his personality but a learned, environmental thing.  Those things take some time to topple, but they can be defeated.  It’s not as bad as it used to be, so there’s a plus.  But, there you go… if I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t deal with this.  I’d wash my hands of it and walk away.  I’m not someone who is desperate to be with someone the rest of my life, so relationships were never a big deal for me.  I never dated before my husband and I never planned to until he beat me down.  But, since we’re married, I have to deal with it.  Such is life.

At least our day-to-day lives are relatively quiet.  We don’t fight a lot and certainly not about stupid stuff.  If one of us is cranky, the other one usually ends up laughing and when then cranky one is unable to continue because they are also laughing.  It usually involves saying something stupid or saying a word wrong, too caught up in trying too hard to be cranky.  Even when we have had big fights, we’ve ended up laughing.  They also don’t carry on for days.  I’m not one of those people, I can’t stand that.  When I address a problem or a problem is brought up, I want it discussed and moved towards a solution immediately; none of this harboring guilt or anger or whatever for days and months.  That’s just ridiculous and it leads to things getting very bad, very quickly.  You can’t walk away from me, I will follow you.  My husband has realized the attempt is futile and no longer tries it.  I will, quite literally, sit on him until we are in some sort of agreement or compromise.

I’m just glad our little spats are usually quirky.  We’re not usually angry so much as annoyed and it just comes out in humorous ways.  We still joke about the time we couldn’t decide what to eat (it was my first year living down here with the in-laws).  My husband gets frustrated when he can’t get answers out of me.  We had been debating for an hour.  We both get moody when our blood sugar gets low and we were way, way past that point.  He kept asking me what I wanted to eat and I kept telling him that I didn’t know.  He asked me if I wanted my favorite, go-to fast food choice, I said nothing.  He eventually got so frustrated that he leaned over me (I was lying on the bed) and put his face to mine.  He said, in a very angry and guttural tone, “do you want chicken nuggets?” drawing out the last syllable.  He hadn’t intended to sound so… bestial.  I lost it.  I laughed in his face and he doubled over and started laughing, too.  It was too damned funny.

Just this weekend, we had another, but less frustrating tiff.  We both worked our secondary jobs on Saturday and my husband, against my wishes, wore one of his nicer shirts to work.  He claimed he would change as soon as he got there and then change back so we could go to the grocery store.  Well, we both got there before the mall opened because I had to open.  So, he hung out at his store before opening.  I had no idea, but he had decided to help out and managed to get a lot of very bright red little stains on his nice shirt.  The shirt’s primary color was white.  Go figure.  My husband has a bad history of getting all his nice clothes stained.

When we met up for lunch, I told him that I had been looking at shoes and found a pair I liked.  I needed some flats to wear to work during the winter that also had treads, since our mall doesn’t salt or anything.  I’ve nearly fallen on my ass every morning I’ve had to open.  So, I took him to see them and I tried them on.  I asked him multiple times if it was okay if I got them–they were $85–and he kept saying, “yeah, great, get them.”  My husband is a great shopping buddy, but he never relents to me buying shoes over $50 on a whim!  I should have known something was up!

When I went by his store after getting off work, they were closing up.  I walked into the back and he said he was going to the bathroom before we left.  I grabbed the bag with my shoes and his shirt inside.  I had given him the shoes to hold at the store for me.  Well, I pulled out his shirt to hand to him to change into… and saw a BUNCH of red spots EVERYWHERE on it.  He looked panicked and said, sheepishly, “I uh, yeah… I can’t wear that” and quickly shut the bathroom door behind him.  Sigh.

Any attempt to scold him was met with cries of “but you got shoes!” Sigh.

At least I managed to get the stains out, because I am awesome.  Okay, so Shout! is awesome and I’m just its slave, but still.

And I have some pretty sweet shoes–totally guilt free!

Pretty much a win/win for me.

Death by Head Pain

Yesterday, when the husband came home he said I sounded like I was on lithium.  I hadn’t even noticed, but my voice was very even and there was no emotion or pitch change.  It kept up like this until it just stopped and I began to sound somewhat normal again.  That’s when it started, the headache from hell.

I’m not a headache person!  I rarely ever, ever get headaches and if I do, I can shrug them off.  I went without caffeine for months and months without a single headache.  It’s probably because I drink so much caffeine.  This is for the best, as I hate taking Tylenol and will refuse adamantly.  I don’t mind Advil, but Tylenol agitates my stomach something fierce.

Well, there was no way around it.  Dinner was waiting to be made and it was everything I could do to lie on the couch, covering my eyes.  My husband made me drink highly caffeinated tea and gave me some Tylenol capsules.  I hate swallowing capsules and the headache already had me crazy nauseous, so that was an experience.  I can’t say it completely worked, but I was able to move enough to get dinner on the table and eat it.


After dinner, we put Loki out on the balcony and sat there with him awhile.  My headache wasn’t nearly as bad, despite the brightness, but it was still lingering in the shadows.  Once we came inside, it creeped back into the forefront of my mind and again disabled me.  The husband was annoyed because I didn’t want to do anything, but I didn’t want to do anything because everything made my head hurt, pills or no pills.

I was at the end of my rope.  I laid in bed and covered my eyes with my arm.  I began to wonder if this was a migraine, but I’ve known people that had them and they didn’t seem as able as I was to walk around.  Then again, I’ve walked around and acted fine when I was at death’s door sick, so maybe it’s just me.  I’m stubborn.  I could be dying and I’d still try to walk around and act normal, it’s just how I am.

Eventually, I came back out and was able to languish on the couch.  I was forced to take more Tylenol.  Now, I’m not sure if the husband was testing me or what, but he put Dr. Mario on the Wii and handed me the controller.  I did terribly.  I am a Dr. Maro pro and I crashed and burned.  My reflexes and everything were just off; my brain wasn’t talking to my hands and they weren’t talking to the brain.  It was horrible.

When we finally went to bed, I was relieved.  My head still hurt, but I somehow thought maybe all I needed was sleep and I’ve feel better. Wrong.  Last night I woke up in a haze so bad I could barely stand, much less navigate to the bathroom.  I think I ran into the door, but I don’t remember.

Then, I wake up this morning with the husband, in yet another haze.  Still, I feel okay, my head isn’t pounding or anything.  I go back to bed and wake up for real an hour or so later.  Oh my God, who called the pressure washer?  Because it’s currently BLASTING AROUND INSIDE MY BRAIN.  It’s like my brain is going to explode or something, there’s so much pressure.  I can feel it.  It’s not so much ache as… I don’t know, but I feel it and every now and again, I’ll get a sharp-type pain to remind me it’s still there and thinking about me.

Holy hell, this headache just will NOT quit.  I’m going to be curled up on the floor crying for death… wait, no, I already did that last night.  Ugh.  Here’s hoping this gets better before it gets work or I’m whipping out the GOOD pills I usually reserve for my period on work days.  That’ll knock it out and if it doesn’t, at least I won’t be coherent enough to care.

A Tiny Problem

I have a tiny, itty-bitty problem.  It’s just this insignificant thing that somehow manages to put a crinkle in my day-to-day life and always rouses a sigh and a solemn head shake from the husband.  What is this particular problem?  Well, the following conversation happened last night:

‘So… you can’t be mad at me.’


(sweet, loving smile followed by anxious silence)

“What did you buy?

‘What? (guilty laughter)  Why do you automatically assume I bough-‘

(pointed look) “What did you buy?”

foundationThere are times that I wonder if my husband and I even breathe the same air; then there are times like this, where he seems to read me as easily as one reads the papers bound in a clear, plastic trapper keeper.  Argh.

I’ve mentioned several times my love of buying things.  I try to keep it controlled!  With clothes, I’ll only buy single items, maybe two at a time.  Big shopping sprees are fun, but smaller ones actually allow me to sate my desire without going bankrupt.

I was in queue, waiting for the LOTRO beta server to let me on, and I got bored.  So, I checked my email and saw that AVON was having a sale.  I haven’t ordered anything in months and so I started looking around.  They do awesome deals like, buy two products worth $9 and get them both for only $6!  There’s also, buy one, get the next for $2.  I needed some powder foundation and well, I got some eyeshadow stuff I loved last time, so I got more colors.

All in all, I didn’t spend near as much as I usually do.  AVON isn’t the problem.  It’s the two lolcat shirts I got (here and here (I love my dorky t-shirts)), the three things I looted off of Express’ sales rack (three things only cost $40!  All cost over that originally!), the trip to Aerie, and the obligatory stop in Pacsun, where I saw a birdie tank top I had to have.  I also went into Charlotte Russe because they had a silver/gray shiny cover up thing.  I have a thing with clothes that are either silver, shiny, blue, or have a bird somewhere on it.  Yeah, I know.  Simple minds and all that…

Then, there was the jeans I had to buy.  Yes, had to buy.  I was wearing nice, awesome work clothes toaejeans work, but that changed a long time ago when they forced me into the second section I currently work at in afternoons.  I have to wear jeans, so yeah, sucks.  Anyway, I hate buying jeans and avoid it at all costs.  I have the “huge ass, tiny waist” disease.  Nothing ever fits my ass completely.  If I can squeeze my ass into it, that means I have to cinch a belt so tight around my waist that my organs start playing musical chairs.  Add in the fact that I also have short, thick legs and it’s a no-win situation.

AE was having a sale on jeans and I was dubious, as the quality of their products leaves a lot to be desired.  I did, however, like their boot cut style, as the flare wasn’t huge and they had the right length in “short” jeans online for me.  So, I bought two.  This came to nearly $80.  I had to toss out some old, worn jeans that had been with me since before college, so it was a necessary expenditure, but still.  Yikes!  Unfortunately, I don’t have that nice space between my thighs like the picture.  I haven’t seen that since before I hit puberty and even my starve yourself by eating only a cup cornflakes twice a day diet didn’t bring it back.

So, yeah, I promised the husband I wouldn’t buy anything else this month.  He laughed and said the month was already half over, to which I indignantly responded that it was not, there were still three long weeks left!

Possible Case of Spontaneous Combustion

Today is a weird sort of day… my head hurts with that sort of dull, aching pain that borders on headache but never quite fully makes the transition.  I’m not someone who suffers much from headaches and when I do get them, I usually avoid aspirin.  It makes my stomach hurt… so it really only remedies one issue to cause another.  My head pain is probably due to the fact that I never went back to sleep after the husband left for work.  I usually wake up every morning and make his breakfast and then his lunch for the day.  It’s something I’ve done since he started this job.  I usually just climb back into bed and sleep for two hours.

I am not an “early riser” nor am I someone who enjoys mornings.  It’s very rare that I wake up and stay up with the intent of just rising early.  In fact, sometimes, if I’m forced awake to early, I’m downright annoyed.  There are mornings I wake up for work and contemplate just doing horrible, horrible things to our alarm clock.  It was so bad when I was in college that I’d do everything I could to wake up at the last possible minute.  My college was about forty-five minutes away, so I got up before 6am every week day.  Yuck.

Lately, though, I’m requiring more sleep than I’m used to.  I can easily sleep until 11am, which is just ridiculous, especially when I’ve gone to bed at 11:30 or midnight the evening prior.  That’s nearly twelve hours of sleep!  What twenty-something needs that much freaking sleep?  Even if I do sleep that long, I still get the urge to take naps during the day.  It’s madness.  I’ve never been one to need much sleep at all and now I’m damn near hibernating!  Worse yet, I’m getting super, super hot at night.  It’s only started the past two months or so, I noticed it primarily while we were in Key West.  I didn’t sleep restfully once the entire damned time because my mother-in-law is hormone deficient (she was forced into menopause due to removal of lady parts) and thinks seventy-five degrees is cold.

Even now that we’re home, I’m still getting so hot I just can’t sleep.  I wake up sweating and feeling as if I’m near the point of spontaneous combustion.  Whether I really am that hot or not is unknown, but it sure as hell feels like it.  I have to sleep naked now, because anything on my skin while I’m sleeping seems to just trap the heat and roast me alive.  Even the husband just sidling up next to me is enough to set me aflame.  I can turn the AC down to sixty and I’m still waking up like I just waltzed through the Sahara!  I’ve always been a little more sensitive to the heat than the average person… but this is just skipping past ridiculous and traipsing straight into bizarre.

Of course, since my husband had cancer, his mother works for the ACS,  and I volunteer for the ACS… we started to panic after it didn’t subside.  Thankfully, I don’t have any other cancer-like symptoms that should accompany this, so we can breathe a sigh of relief on that front… or at least, stop freaking out about it.  It only seems to happen at night, too, never during the day just when I’m trying to sleep.  At least the naked thing is working out, I can sleep, even though sometimes I still get a little too hot.  Popping my foot out from under the covers or my arms, even, seems to stave it off.  We’re going to looking into buying a standing fan for the bedroom; we’re hoping the increased air flow will help.

It’s worth mentioning that I’ve never had this issue before.  When I lived at home, I went several hot summers without an AC in my room, just the windows and a fan.  I’ve had some suggest pregnancy.  Seriously?  You’d think when your body figures that out, it wouldn’t try to turn the poor fetus into a rotissery chicken!  Even so, I’m on birth control and I’m pretty sure that’s the issue right there.  My doctors are still uncertain, but everyone I’ve spoken to is leaning towards the whole “your body creates enough estrogen for a feminist army”, so it would make sense that the birth control finally catching its stride could be causing unknown crazy pants happenings within my lady bits.  Who knew that suppressing estrogen could be such a dirty business?

I had planned to post about other things, like finally mastering some new tricks in photoshop, budget crap, the weather, the fact that I’m supposed to be cleaning right now, or even the fact that the in-laws didn’t get us jack squat from Hawaii… but I got carried away.  So, another day, perhaps.  I guess I’d better go finish the kitchen before it gets too boiling hot.

Why We Relay

My mother-in-law’s Relay (the one in the area she lives, she actually runs several) was last night.  We tried to hurry over there after work, but we weren’t sure where it was as it was in a new location.  Once we found it, the rain dropped out of the sky like someone was pouring a gigantic bucket over us.  We caught the shuttle bus and made it through the worst of it.  Once my husband registered as a survivor, we started looking for his mother.  Her phone was dead, so we couldn’t call… it’s usually pretty easy to pick her out of a crowd.

She saved us the trouble and rolled up on the back of a very big ATV with a trailer attached to it.  She yelled out to my husband, “do you want to fire the cannon?”  Of course he does, he’s a red-blooded male.  So, we’re off on the ATV trailer, through the crowds, getting bits of mud and lots of sprinkly rain all over us.  We make it to the cannon and all that good business happens.  They intend to fire it after the Opening Ceremonies, but it misfires, so we go for during the Survivor Lap instead.


The cannon acts like a giant smoke grenade and bombs the area with thick, white smoke.  The survivors continue on undaunted and we join in once they begin to pass us.  Once we finish the lap, mother-in-law is waiting for us at the end.  We follow her around for a bit until some friends show up (they were at last year’s relay, too) so we hang out with them.  They just had a baby recently, but she’s safe with her great aunt for the time being.

My father-in-law is present, as always, only this time he’s with his business and he’s selling deep fried oreos.  Eugh, no thanks!  My husband and our friends try some.  We get tons of funny pictures, including my husband and one friend posing with a mammogram sign.

Many, many, many laps and laughs later, it’s getting pretty late and our friends depart.  We go back to hang with mother-in-law and close out the night at around 10 or so.  We didn’t get home and settled until around 11, where we promptly had a bath to wash off the copious amounts of grime and relax our tired muscles.  I went to bed before 12, I was so tired!  Work had been busy, I helped clean the evidence processing garage and they had me doing a lot of running.


Before the move, I volunteered pretty heavily with my mother-in-law for the American Cancer Society.  In part, I did so because of my husband, but also because… I liked it.  When I first moved down here, my mother-in-law slowly introduced me to her world and I was engrossed.  I followed her around and did everything I could do to help, completely unpaid but fulfilled.  I miss it terribly and things like this just remind me all the more of how I wish I could still be there, helping.

Events like this always remind me of the better things in life.  My husband may drive me insane sometimes, but I love him and am constantly thankful for him.  I am a better person because of him and I think he’s a better person because of me, too… not that he needed much help to begin with in some areas.

My husband is a very kind and giving soul, even if he tries to hide it.  It’s small things, things that you wouldn’t notice until you’re really looking for them.  At work, one of his coworkers had a sister-in-law who survived a brain tumor.  Her sister-in-law was raising money through facebook and my husband overheard the conversation between his coworker and her sister-in-law on the phone.  Without saying a word, he found her on facebook and donated money.  His coworker caught him in the act and tried to convince others to do the same.  They said they would, but they didn’t.

We had a collection at work for one of our janitors who is retiring.  He’s a old, friendly man and I am very grateful for the help he’s given me.  I went upstairs to tell my husband to give some money, but he beat me to it.  One of his coworkers was collecting donations.  Her hand was filled with ones, but he gave her a ten.  She looked kind of surprised and said thanks and continued on.  I didn’t even need to say anything, he barely knew the guy, but was still prepared to part with hard-earned money to get him a parting gift.

I saw the money in her hand and noted how little there was, my husband didn’t notice until after he had already given her his donation.  When he saw this, he looked kind of sad, “I should have given a little more…”