Day 322: Maybe Next Year, We Should Eat Stuffing or Dumplings, Not Both

What is this, you ask?  Well, in a perfect world it is a piece of art.  It looks like an aardvark or a deer.  It is an ancient artifact found in an archeological dig somewhere near the Himalayan mountains.  In a perfect world, it’s priceless and all of my money woes cease to exist because I own it.

But we do not live in a perfect world.   The world we live in is messy and people make mistakes, things break, and to get through, you must have a pretty good sense of humor.

This beautiful piece of metal is not an archeological find from the Mesolithic period.  This amazing piece of metal is actually a piece of our bed, a piece of our broken bed, that is.

After a very relaxing Thanksgiving with good company, good conversation, and good food, Tom and I retired early.  We were both feeling the effects of the tryptophan induced coma setting in, and we agreed that a solid nine hours of sleep sounded delightfully decadent.  We got into bed, he on his side, me on mine.  He leaned over to kiss me good night, and kerplunk.  The bed fell to the floor, well at least the corner  under my head did.

It seems that the wood where the bracket set had somehow deteriorated.

“Did what I think happen just happen?”  Tom asked.

“I think you should have eaten one less piece of pie,” I said.

“Or thirty less dumplings.”

“Or cut out the third helping of stuffing.”

We got out of bed and surveyed our sleeping mishap.  The bed frame had lost it’s ability to hold the cross-bar.  It was broken, and it needed repair.  However, it was already ten o’clock.  Lizzie was asleep, and the other two were winding down.  Surely, we were not going to take out hammers and try to fix the bed?  How could our brains function– personally, the tryptophan was making me feel woozy.

We needed a solution.  Remembering the days of yore, we decided to do next best thing, we moved the mattress to the floor, and went to sleep college style.

Linus loved it. I think he was secretly hoping we were going to keep it this way for a while.

We cuddled in, and it was cozy.  It was so comfortable, I slept until almost nine o’clock.  Tom, however, did not.  While many Northeast Ohioans were indulging in their second cup of coffee and enjoying their whirlwind Black Friday shopping experience, Tom was on his way to Lowe’s.  He had a plan of attack, and he needed some supplies.

When he got home, he told me to leave him alone.  He went to the garage and brought in his drill, a saw, and some nails.  He had his bag from Lowe’s, and he headed upstairs.  For over an hour, he practiced the duties of a carpenter.  Every so often, he would walk downstairs looking slightly perplexed.  After a few minutes of pacing in the kitchen, he would return to the bedroom with a new resolve.

For a measly $5.28 and a great deal of ingenuity, Tom fixed the bed.

We will sleep well tonight!


Day 300: Top Ten Comments You Missed Because You Were Watching Sports

Dear Husband,

It seems that I like to talk to you in the evenings.  Like any good wife, I want to share with you about my day: my successes and my failures.  I want to share myself with you, so that you know you are not only my husband, but that you are my best friend as well.

However, it has become very apparent recently that you haven’t been listening.  Twice in the last week in front of other people, you have said, “You never told me that!”  Well, yes, yes Honey, I did tell you that, and I have told you a whole lot more.  You just haven’t been listening.

I have done some soul-searching, and I have decided it is not your fault.  I knew when I met you, you were not just a fan but a fanatic.  Ask who scored the final run in the World Series in 1982, and you know it.  Ask who was the Super Bowl MVP last year, and you know it.  Ask what I told you last night when the Cavs were on the television…. and not so much.  I do not blame you, Honey.  I am the ignoramus who tries to impart pieces of information at the wrong times.

I have decided, since you do read this blog, to catch you up on the ten most important bits of information you have missed while watching sports.

1. I think I want to have another baby.

2. I made you an appointment so that we can have another baby.

3. If you cannot give me another baby, I will find someone who will.

4. I booked us a weekend away right around the time I should be ovulating.

5. I plan on delivering this baby naturally, probably in the bathtub.

6. I want to name it Hemingway, whether it is a boy or a girl.

7. I am quitting my job to become a barista at Starbucks.  (I am a people person.)

8. I registered us for a 5K that starts at noon on OSU/Michigan game day.  Sorry, Honey.  It’s for charity.  OSU can’t make the playoffs this year anyway, I didn’t think it would matter.  Better start running.

9. I booked a trip to an ashram the day after the race.  We need to learn stillness.

10. Everything I just said was a lie, but I got your attention didn’t I?  Maybe you should perk up when I am talking to you, or you might find yourself in an ashram holding  swaddled baby Hemingway in one hand and a cappuccino in the other!

Love, Wife

P.S. I really did sign us up for a 5K, but it starts at 8:00 AM.  Go Bucks!

Day 285: Binders Full of Women

Did anyone watch the debate last night?  Well, I did.   I’ll admit, I didn’t watch much of the first one.  I get tired of the misrepresentation of what either candidate thinks he can do.  I mean, come on, it’s not one man who runs our government– Thomas Jefferson and the boys made sure that three branches of government would make sure that no president could just put his plan into action.   Anyway, I wanted to watch last night because I like the idea of a town hall meeting that gives real Americans the opportunity to ask questions that represent real concerns of We The People.

picture borrowed from

My favorite part of the debate was something that made me laugh.  I laughed so hard that I made my husband rewind the television seven times so I could write the words exactly. (Yes, Tom was annoyed, but he knows I have my own agenda: fodder for my blog!)

A young lady named Catherine Fenton asked the following question: In what new ways do you intend to rectify the inequalities in the workplace, specifically regarding females making only 72 percent of what their male counterparts make?

Barrack Obama went first.  Next, Candy Crowly told Mitt Romney it was his turn to respond.

This is what he said:  “Thank you, an important topic, and one which I learned a great deal about, particularly as I was serving as governor of my state, because I had the chance to pull together a cabinet, and all the applicants seemed to be men.  And I went to my staff and I said, how come all the people for these jobs are all men? They said, well, these are the people that have the qualifications. And I said, well, ….”

He paused.  Why did he pause?  To focus his thoughts?  To catch his breath? To remember to get milk for the morning?

All I know is that his pause made me anticipate him giving this response:“Yes, that sounds about right.  Women cannot be qualified for real government jobs.”  And then I pictured him pointing into the camera and winking.

Of course he didn’t say it, nor did he gesticulate the way I imagined.  However, could the pause be because he was thinking it?

Anyway, the continuation of his response was just as good!

“Gosh, can’t we find some women that are also qualified? And so we took a concerted effort to go out and find women who had backgrounds that could be qualified to become members of our cabinet. I went to a number of women’s groups and said, can you help us find folks? And they brought us whole binders full of women.”

Mr. Romney!  Whole binders full of women?  I thought you were a religious man!  Binders full of women?  Maybe that’s how the Mormons find new wives.