Good-bye...For Now

I used to love to blog, but it's just not doing it for me anymore. I feel guilty when I blog and I feel guilty when I don't. I'm sure I'll be back someday and I have no intention of giving up all of my google reader subscriptions. And, for now, I'm going to attempt to maintain my cooking blog. It's been fun, internet friends!

Predictions

Way back in 2004, my roomies and I made predictions about each other. I opened mine today (a few months early) and here's what they say:

Kip's predictions are first, followed by Mrs. W.'s

Mrs. H-B will:

• be living in Texas (nope)
  
• have a PhD (not yet)
  
• be married to a Texas rancher (a Midwest farmer kind of counts)
• be pregnant with first child (nope, not an announcement)
• have cows & dogs (just the one dog)
• be teaching part-time (yes, as part of my fellowship)
• be a Mary Kay representative (HA!)
• have her sisters living with her (hmmmm...odd prediction)

Mrs. H-B will:

• be living in Murray, Utah (again, no)
  
• be teaching at the University of Utah (I wouldn't be opposed to this in a few years)
  
• be married to an accountant who is FUNNY (Mr. H-B isn't an accountant, but he IS funny)
• have a dog and a one-year-old boy named Nathaniel (just the dog, thanks)
• be Relief Society President (Primary teacher and Institute teacher--and very grateful not to be the Relief Society President)
• be teaching baking (no, just baking a lot)

I wonder if Kip and Mrs. W. have their predictions anywhere...

Chaos Eliminated

One of my secret shames is that I am a closet clutterer. I like to pretend that I'm very organized, but my systems usually end up in chaotic piles of crap all over the apartment. I wish I were able to maintain organization on a more consistent basis as clutter drives me crazy! That's why I was so grateful for That Wife's March Lifestyle Challenge: Spring Cleaning. Before Mr. H-B's pesky little surgery, I managed to get everything but my side of our "office"* cleaned up.

I'm kind of ashamed to show just how bad the office had gotten, but here goes:


Mr. H-B's side is pretty clean, actually. The pile of papers all the way to the right includes bank statement from January 2008, because it's been that long since I filed. I still haven't finished filing papers yet, but the next picture shows a pretty good start.


Look at that! You can see the desk again. Now I just need to remember to put the draft blocker away...

Recovery

Mr. H-B's recovery from having his pesky little appendix removed has taken up our entire spring break. In the words of the inimitable Michael Gary Scott, "The timing was nothing short of predominant." Of course, I know that we got lucky (fine, blessed) with the timing, even though it meant canceling our plans to visit my parents for Spring Break.

In the meantime, I have been practicing my mothering/nursing/caretaking skills (and failing miserably at times) in a paltry attempt to make up for my lack of sympathy the night Mr. H-B went to the emergency room. In short, I thought he was being a baby.

The longer version of the story goes something like this:

Mr. H-B stopped at the W^l-marts to get some cream cheese for something I was making for dinner. As he was getting in the car at about 8:30 pm, he suddenly started to feel ill. By the time he got home, he was feeling bloated and nauseated. I thought he had some kind of gastrointestinal distress, so we googled ways to get rid of, ahem, flatulence. After several unsuccessful (though very gymnastic) attempts to clear things up, he settled in on the couch. I said something nasty* about Mr. H-B not calling an ambulance because we couldn't afford one.

I went to bed at about 11:30, thinking to myself, "Man, my husband is a baaaaaaby!"**. At about 12:30, he woke me up and I greeted him sweetly with something like "WHAT!?!?!?"***. He begged me to take him to the emergency room. We got there and he continued to complain about his abdominal pain. He had yet to spike a fever (and never did, actually) and still had not vomited (which he wouldn't do until after a dose of morphine while his entire family was in the room—never seen a room clear so quickly as a matter of fact), so even the emergency room triage nurse wasn't entirely convinced. The pain got progressively worse until he could barely stand up. That got the nurse's attention and they cleared a bed for him.

At that point, he finally got some pain medication after the nurses started his blood work. We called his parents and they came to sit with us at the hospital. His blood work indicated that he had some kind of infection, though a CT scan would determine where the infection was located. The nurse brought in contrast mixed with grape juice, which Mr. H-B hated. Following his scan, a doctor came in and confirmed what I didn’t believe. Appendicitis. Within the hour Mr. H-B was in surgery.

To say my emotions were raw is an understatement. I was running on an hour of sleep and totally paranoid that my husband was just going to drop dead. I went home for a few minutes to send emails begging for substitutes and paper extensions. Oh yeah, and to bawl my eyes out. My wonderful dad was online, so I filled him in on our situation. He called me and reminded me that “100 years ago they did those with rusty sardine can lids”. I pulled myself together, took Greta out and went back to the hospital.

Mr. H-B was out of surgery and resting in his room less than twelve hours after his appendix pain started. Of course, the real trial was just beginning.

I’ve never cared for anyone following surgery, especially not someone who comes from the B Family legacy of absolute intolerance of pain. That being said, I have been impressed with Mr. H-B’s lack of whining. The last two weeks have been a blur of 4:30 am pain pill doses accompanied by spoon-fed yogurt, daily bandage changes, and keeping up with all of the housework (not all that successfully, I might add). Since Mr. H-B can’t lift anything over 15 lbs. for the next 6 weeks, he hasn’t been able to help much around the house.

I have learned more about me, Mr. H-B and our relationship in the last 13 days than I have in the last 8 months of marriage. I have said more than once that true love means sniffing bandages (as per the nurse’s instructions) to be sure gangrene hasn’t set in.

*In my defense, I was cranky because the husband of one of my mother's friends was killed in a plane crash early that morning. Though I wasn't especially close to him or his wife, he was always kind to me when I visited my parents.

**In my defense, he also insisted that he had appendicitis when he had the flu last semester. You can imagine why I didn’t initially believe he was in that much pain.

***In my defense, I am always cranky when awakened after an hour of sleep. This is why I limit my naps to 30 minutes at a time.

Appendix, Who Needs Ya?

This

minus

this

equals

one helluva night

Couples Meme, Because We Love Ourselves

What are your middle names?

Mine is Louisa, though now it's legally my maiden name. His is Eugene.

How long have you been together?

*cringe* we have been "together" for a little less than a year. What can I say? Things move quickly around here.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?

We have known each other for nearly four years and have been good friends for a little over two years.

Who asked whom out?

Um...not sure if anyone ever asked anyone out. We just started hanging out, and things progressed from there.

How old are each of you?

I'm 30 and Mr. H-B is 25. I'm such cradle-robber or cougar, whichever you prefer.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Definitely Mr. H-B's, but that's only because we live less than two hours from both of them. Mine are in Texas and New Mexico.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?

Me being a basket case on a, ahem, monthly basis.

Did you go to the same school?

No.

Are you from the same home town?

Nope. I'm from Nevada, he's a townie.

Who is smarter?

I'd say we are equally smart, just on different things. I am definitely more smart when it comes to languages and writing, but he's a whiz at math and physics. He's the computer guy and I'm great at practical things like organization.

Who is the most sensitive?

Depends. When I'm feeling moody, I am. When he's tired and sick of my moodiness, he is. I can be much more cutting with my remarks and it's something I am working on daily.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?


Fast food. We are on a tight budget--since we don't know how we're going to get through the summer--so a trip to McDonald's is quite a splurge.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?

New Mexico

Who has the craziest exes?

Neither of us. Well, there is mine that's in prison, but we never really dated seriously.

Who has the worst temper?

Without question, I do.

Who does the cooking?

I do, except for steak and stroganoff. Mr. H-B is a rockstar when it comes to beef.

Who is the neat-freak?

I am, but I am also incredibly lazy, so it ends up that I'm cranky about the clutter, but unwilling to get off my butt and do something about it.

Who is more stubborn?

Mr. H-B., when he thinks he's right.

Who hogs the bed?


We're pretty good at sharing--that's why we got a California King.

Who wakes up earlier?

I do, except the one time that I didn't and Mr. H-B thought I had died.

Where was your first date?


Mr. H-B says "the couch". We didn't go on a real date until we were about two weeks away from getting married. We went to Outback Steakhouse after spending the day hauling old cars away for scrap metal. We had extra money, so we treated ourselves.

Who is more jealous?

I don't think either of is a jealous person.

How long did it take to get serious?


About two weeks. We were both kind of like, "We've known each other for two years, we're not 17, let's just go for it."

Who eats more?


I eat more candy, he eats more of EVERYTHING ELSE. He eats at least twice what I do.

Who does the laundry?

I do. Mr. H-B does pretty well at washing and putting away underwear, socks and towels. He can't fold a t-shirt or jeans to save his life.

Who’s better with the computer?


Mr. H-B. 100%

Who drives when you are together?

We trade off. If it's dusk, Mr. H-B, because I have a really hard time seeing the lines on the road. If it's early in the morning, I do, because he's barely awake. The rest of the time, it's mostly him, but he's not proprietary about it.

Create

Sometimes I forget how important it is to use my inherent capacity to create things. Ever since I heard this talk back in October, I've been working a bit harder at allowing my creative side to shine through. Sure, some of my projects have ended in disaster, but I have noticed that I'm happier when I have a creative outlet on a semi-regular basis.

Someone has put this video clip together with words from the talk. I really like the message.

Perfect Day

Ha! You thought I was going to write about Valentine's Day, didn't you? Mr. H-B and I had a lovely day. We watched Ghostbusters, twice (once without commentary and once with), and then ate home-cooked T-bone steaks (a marked-down Sam's Club splurge--so frugal, no?) saving the bones for Greta's Valentine's Day.

Anyway, I've been thinking for awhile about perfect days. What would my perfect day consist of? What would I do? Where would I go? What would I eat?

Here's what I finally came up with:

• 8:00 am--Wake up to sun streaming in the windows (impossible given our apartment faces west) and the sound of birds chirping (not lawnmowers or moving trucks in reverse).
• 8:15 am--Mr. H-B says "Let's go to breakfast at Cracker Barrel." (I'm totally embarrassed by my love for the french toast there, but it is so good.) And "Oh yeah, there's plenty of hot water, so you can take as long as you want in the shower."
  
• 9:00 am--Breakfast at Cracker Barrel.
  
• 10:00 am--Quick walk-through of TJ Maxx where I find the ultimate, perfectly-sized, buttery soft black purse for a steal and, of course, we have the money in our bank account.
• 10:30 am--Spend 30 minutes at Kohl's and find four shirts that fit and are flattering. Also very cute shoes (clearly, I have simple taste or live in a small town).
• 11:00 am--Stop at Blockbuster and rent two new releases that will turn out to be either hysterically funny or heartwarming in a non-cheesy way (this will not include any rom-com stinkers).
  
• 12:30 pm--Fall asleep during the first of the movies and stay that way without Mr. H-B poking me to tell me I'm snoring.
• 2:00 pm--Wake up from nap and find that Mr. H-B has loaded all of the dishes in the dishwasher and put away nearly all of the laundry (note: this has actually happened on more than one occasion). Sit on the couch and chat with Mr. H-B for a little bit.
  
• 2:30 pm--Bake something delicious and possibly complicated, knowing that I won't have to clean up the mess.
• 3:30 pm--Have a serving of whatever delicious dish I created, probably with perfectly smooth vanilla ice cream.
• 3:45 pm--Go for a long walk with Mr. H-B and Greta in weather that's just warm enough to go without a coat, but still requires a light jacket. A long sleeve tee would work equally well.
  
• 4:45 pm - 11:00 pm--Read hundreds of pages in a new reading for fun novel. I know this is blasphemy, but it should be something mindless and bubble-gummy, though not romantic. Perhaps a Tom Clancy or John Grisham novel. Don't judge me.
• 11:00 pm--Go to bed

So there you have it: a perfect day for Mrs. H-B. What does your perfect day entail?

Chaos

I was so disappointed to discover that I am the clutter-y one in our relationship. I always thought I was kind of neat and tidy. It turns out that while I like neat and tidy, I just don't seem to have the motivation to maintain the neat and tidy. This week's goal? Avoid death by clutter.

Six Months

Today marks six months of sharing a bed with another human being. I am pleased to report that, though there have been threats of strangling, stabbing or other general Manson-esque mayhem, I have managed not to kill Mr. H-B in his sleep.

These months have certainly entailed a great deal of adjustment for me. For example, the addition of Mr. H-B's laundry to mine tripled the workload. Not because he's extra dirty, but because his t-shirts and socks are so much bigger than mine. Also, unnecessary trips to Target no longer go unquestioned.

Of course, there have been many more pleasant discoveries. I will list them here in no particular order:

• we spend so much less money on gas than I thought we would since we aren't driving to and from all kinds of church activities
• there are two people to wash dishes, vacuum and fold laundry
• Mr. H-B will take Greta outside about 90% of the time
• it no longer seems like I'm talking to myself when I watch TV (even if Mr. H-B isn't listening)
• since I always considered myself a loner, I am pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoy spending time with Mr. H-B

So, thanks for six fun and interesting months, Mr. H-B! I hope we have hundreds more months together.

**Also, I apologize for making anyone else as uncomfortable as I made myself with this uncharacteristic public display of affection. Ferskner, I hope you don't feel too much proxy shame.

Keys, Klutziness and Budgeting

Thursday seemed like it was going to be a pretty good day. I woke up early, got a lot of small projects done and was ready to leave for class by noon. I ran out to start my car and came back in to put Greta in her crate. When I went out to get in the car, however, all of the doors were locked. I could have sworn that my Camry had a safety feature to prevent this from happening*. I panicked and called Mr. H-B, already at the end of his hour-long commute. He calmly reminded me that we have roadside assistance through our insurance company and told me to call him back when a locksmith was on his way.

After the car door was open, nearly an hour of idling later, I turned off the ignition and came in the house. In the process of setting my backpack down, I managed to knock my four-year-old iBook off of a barstool (admittedly not the best place for a computer). It landed on the cord and destroyed both the connection on the laptop, as well as the plug itself. This finally put me over the edge and I spent the rest of the afternoon fretting about the following:

1. Was it worth it to buy a new cord since they run about $70?
   
2. What if I had broken something inside my computer? How much would it cost? Would it be worth it?
3. For the last several months we have been talking about buying a new computer for my dissertation research, which will involve a large number of large sound files. How would this play into the laptop decision?
   

By the time Mr. H-B came home I was a complete basket case. I had spent hours online pricing new computers and reading about repairs. Instead of, you know, calling about repairs or taking the iBook in for an estimate. I have been a Mac user for nearly four years and I really dread the idea of switching back to a PC**. Mr. H-B talked me off the ledge and reminded me about the university surplus warehouse.

On Friday morning we dropped off my laptop and agreed to pay the $200 to fix it for now. We went to the warehouse and found a surplussed Power Mac for $695 (a computer that would normally have cost $2500+) as well as a sturdy library table that will make a fabulous desk in our new apartment (more on that in another post), wooden chairs to replace the two that Greta ate as a puppy and desk chairs. We are setting aside a little money each week so that we can go back in a few months and buy all of the fabulous things we saw.

The moral(s) of the story?

1. Try not to panic. Since panicking/worrying is one of my favorite activities, I really need to work on this.
2. Always, always, always go to university surplus if it's an option.
   

*It does. We haven't been able to replicate Thursday's accident after multiple tries. The doors will not lock if one is open and the key is in the ignition. Unless it's really cold out, apparently.
**I know, big deal. But it's one more thing I can control going into the unsupervised part of earning a PhD.

Snow Day Napping

Wednesday was a snow day, so I took advantage of the freedom by napping for three hours in my Nap Nest. Greta was clearly very interested in what I was doing.

Technology Diet

I resisted f*cebook for a very long time because I know that, where time-wasting is concerned, I am queen. I finally activated an account when I returned from Spain two summers ago and was sucked in immediately. Since then, I have spent countless hours catching up with old friends and keeping up with everyone else. Add that to the hours I spend reading and sending emails, reading blogs, and general surfing of the internet, and you have days on end spent online.

So, what to do? In the spirit of New Year's resolutions, I decided to limit the amount of time I spend online. I set a limit of three online periods per day--1 time in the morning, 1 quick check at mid-day, and 1 time in the evening. I instituted the policy yesterday and had the most productive day I've had in months. So there you go!

On Sun

Despite having grown up in the land of perpetual winter (northeastern Nevada, unlike Las Vegas, is snowy and cold from mid-October to late April), I just don't like winter. I blame it on living 18 months in Santiago, Chile where, sure, it was chilly, dark and wet for a couple of months, but none of this snowy and cloudy for six months business. This is my fourth winter in the Midwest (and my sixth since leaving the somewhat regular sunny winter days in the West) and I still can't get used to weeks on end of gray skies and bone-chilling cold. The sun has been out for the last few days and my mood has improved exponentially, if it's possible for a mood to improve in such a way. As much as I dislike humidity, I will take weeks of sweltering August days over winter any day of the week.

Get out of here clouds, and send back the sun!

25 Things (aka, Gosh, I'm Lazy)

1. I enjoy cooking and trying new recipes. That means I'm not afraid to throw out a disaster and eat Cup 'o Soup for dinner.

2. In theory, I love to travel. In practice, I hate airplanes. Something about recirculating air, tiny cups of watery soda, and airplane bathrooms just puts me over the edge of sanity.

3. Before I started grad school, I really loved to read. I still enjoy reading for pleasure during the summer, but it is the last thing I want to do during the school year.

4. I am terrified of being buried alive or drowning. The thought of that claustrophobic 'I can't breathe' feeling being the last experience of my life is terrifying. Ergo, I tend to be claustrophobic. Don't get too close and definitely don't hug me too hard.

5. I love watching TV on DVD. My favorite shows are Arrested Development, The Office, and Veronica Mars. There's something so comforting about joining my favorite TV families for a little decompression after a long day at school.

6. I don't know how I lived before I had a TiVo. I hate commercials. Why are they always so much louder than regular television? And irritating?

7. Mr. H-B and I were originally going to get married on August 13, 2008. It's a good thing two of our brothers couldn't come that day, because I really didn't want to have to celebrate an anniversary on Friday the 13th. August 12th is a much more pleasing anniversary.

8. I am allergic to formaldehyde and toluene, both ingredients in fingernail polish. There are disastrous consequences when I use a polish that contains either of these. Trust me on this.

9. I eat string cheese at least three times a week. It's a great snack that's easy to pack. I avoid feeling like a kindergartner by eating it in bites instead of pulling it apart into strings.

10. I like taking pictures of random things. Mr. H-B mocks me for snapping shots of lamps, manhole covers, everything I cook.

11. I have a really hard time eating odd numbers of things like popcorn or small candies. I count the popcorn as I put it in my mouth, just to be sure.

12. When I was younger, I had to be in control of the remote whenever we watched TV. I often went so far as to take it with me when I had to leave the TV room. This has gotten considerably better and I no longer take the remote to the restroom with me.

13. I hate clutter. I am constantly bagging things to take to Goodwill in a futile attempt to keep the chaos under control.

14. However, I find it very difficult to get rid of books.

15. I love all of our nieces and nephews, but having our own children scares the crap out of me. Taking care of a dog is hard enough, but no one calls the cops if you leave a dog in a crate all day while you're at school.

16. I feel guilty for leaving Greta in her crate all day, so we always have 'tummy rub time' when I get home. Let me clarify: I rub Greta's stomach. Not the other way around.

17. It takes all of my willpower not to give in and buy the latest gadget. I love new computers, cellphones, PDAs, etc.

18. I really like kitchen gadgets. My dream is to someday have a kitchen big enough to hold a stand mixer in addition to the other things I have. Come to think of it, I'm looking forward to having a kitchen with more than 3 1/2 feet of continuous counter space.

19. I lived in an apartment with hardwood floors in Boston and have sworn I will never do that again. I hated trying to keep the dust bunnies buffalo under control.

20. I really like fresh fruit and wish I could always have a bowl of it on the counter. Unfortunately, I can't stand the fruit flies that take over our apartment. I have to settle for frozen fruit a lot of the time.

21. I absolutely cannot stand the sound of styrofoam scraping against styrofoam or cardboard. The sound makes me physically ill.

22. When Mr. H-B and I combined our DVD collections, we only had two doubles to get rid of despite our similar taste in movies.

23. I can't wait until the so-called digital transition happens so that obnoxious banner will stop running across the top of the television screen.

24. I have a good memory. I remember things that happened yesterday as well as many things that happened 25-plus years ago. But I don't just remember what happened, I remember details like what people were wearing or what was on the radio.

25. But I cannot memorize music to save my life. After I forgot my recital piece mid-performance in 5th grade, I never tried again.