Photos and Deli Meat

I am not very good about taking pictures. For one thing, I always forget to take any. And then on the rare occasion when I do remember to take pictures, I don’t take very good ones. Mostly, I take bad pictures of the dog.

See what I mean? Poorly lit, poorly focused, and not very good. But, she’s just so cute, even in a bad picture!

I have been working on it, however, trying to take more and better pictures. I think I’m making progress – at my brother’s wedding weekend earlier this month I took 6 pictures. That’s a lot…for me, anyway.

This past week, the hubs apparently had photography on the brain as well.

Hubs – You ok?

Me – Yeah, what’s up? Why aren’t you asleep yet?

Hubs – Waiting for David to take my picture.

Ok, so the hubs is asleep.

Me – Oh…take your picture for what?

Hubs – David, he has to take my picture for…for… I don’t really remember right now.

Me – Is it for work?

Hubs – It’s not at Subway.

Me – Oh, you work at Subway?

Hubs (annoyed) – I just told you, it’s not at Subway.

Me – Oh, I see. So where is it?


Me – Hubs? I get it, it’s not at Subway.


So, I left him alone to his dreams about getting his picture taken. He’s so handsome I’m sure they were great pictures, even though they weren’t at Subway.


Losing It, But Definitely Not Around My Middle

So, the hubs and I are having a baby. A little boy baby. And we’re going to name him Wouldn’t-You-Like-To-Know. Our other favorite is We-Just-Can’t-Decide. Although, All-The-Good-Ones-Are-Taken is still a possibility we are throwing around.

The dog was very excited when we told her we were expecting a baby. This was her reaction:

However, she now appreciates the perks of being owned by a person with a rapidly expanding baby bump: stops at the slushie stand to get a slushie for me and a doggie cone for her, longer walks to balance out said slushies, and the chance to model baby hats and shoes that have been given to us.

One thing the dog has not appreciated, however, is that I now cry at the most ridiculous things. Earlier this week I got a yellow popsicle for my snack, thinking that it was lemon. A yummy delicious lemon popsicle. It was not lemon, but was instead pineapple, and I wept.

I was struggling at one point to eat enough and the hubs kindly said, “Well, really try to remember to eat lunch tomorrow.” I lost it, bawling hysterically. Of course, I knew I was being excessively emotional, so I started to laugh, weeping and giggling at the same time. The poor hubs was so surprised, and didn’t know what to do. He just kept saying, “It’s ok…are you ok? You’re starting to freak me out!” This of course made me laugh/cry harder.

Another example of my fragile emotional state happened last night. The hubs was teasing me, saying that we were going to wake up one morning and the dog was going to have turned into a llama. I immediately burst into tears because then she wouldn’t be a dog anymore. Oh, dear.

Basically, I have become a crazy person. I believe that the hubs must have been thinking about my emotional roller coaster this week in his sleep. I was laying there one night, almost asleep, but not completely. Then I felt something sharp poke me in the back, which I instantly recognized as the hubs’ pointy elbow.

Me: Ughh…

Hubs: What’s wrong?

Me: Stop it! Scoot over. You’re poking me.

Hubs: Are you losing it?

Ah, yes. He’s asleep.

Hubs: I think you might be losing it!

Me: Humph…

Hubs: Yeah.

Me (being a bit grumpy): What do you want? Lay back down.

Hubs: Nothing’s going on that you need to worry about. Besides, I think you’re losing it.

With those comforting words he rolled away from me and went back to sleeping quietly.

Yes, hubs. Sometimes I feel like I am indeed losing it. However, I’m glad I have such an understanding husband who takes my emotional water works so well!

Flying High… and Awkwardly

This week the hubs and I were traveling again. The hubs was gone on a business trip, then met me down south for my baby brother’s wedding. If you are thinking to yourself, “Good grief, these people have traveled an awful lot this summer,” you would be absolutely correct. We have traveled so much and have had luggage out so frequently, the dog now thinks that suitcases are just part of the furniture, and are there for her to sleep on.

This summer I have spent more time on airplanes than I ever have in the whole rest of my life. I like flying, and it sure is convenient when trying to get all over the country in just one summer. However, I seem to do really awkward things when I am traveling by air. This should not surprise me, I suppose: I seem to find a way to do embarrassing things everywhere else, I don’t know why I would expect the sky to be any different.

Just this summer, I have helped a kindly Ukrainian onto a flight. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his flight and I directed him to the wrong gate. I spilled an entire glass of ginger ale on the person sitting next to me when my tray suddenly collapsed. I was feeling quite emotional after leaving the hubs again for a week, and didn’t have time to get a chicken biscuit for breakfast during my layover, so started weeping uncontrollably while walking through the airport. I fell asleep with my head propped on my hand and woke up when my elbow slipped off the arm rest and I slammed my head into the seat in front of me.

When I flew out west to travel with my family, I flew into a little tiny airport that was about 10 miles outside of the city. I had a few hours to kill before my parents made it in, so went in search of a taxi to take me down town, where I could take the bus around to see the sights. I couldn’t find any taxis or anything out front of the airport so wandered back into the baggage claim. There wasn’t really anyone around except for a man holding a sign that said “Orbridge Family Reunion.” I wandered up and asked where the taxi’s pulled up. He looked at me suspiciously, “Taxis? This is the middle of nowhere…there’s no taxi that comes here.”

So I asked him how he suggested I get downtown if there weren’t any taxis. He thought for a minute, then said, “Well, why don’t you just come with us. I’m driving this family reunion to their hotel, I’m sure it will be fine. For $20.”

Seeing no other option, I agreed and told him I’d sit on a bench off to the side of baggage claim until he said it was time to go. A few minutes later the Orbridges arrived and he took them out to their waiting vans. Then he came back and waved me out. Coming out I found that of the two large vans that were there for the Orbridges, he had squashed the whole family reunion into one van, so that I had the other van all to myself. So that’s how I found myself driving around South Dakota in a large white van with an “Orbridge Family Reunion” sign on the side.

Perhaps airplanes were what was on the hubs’ mind the other night when he started making whirring engine noises in his sleep. I was fast asleep and woke up to a funny sound. I was quite groggy and it took me a minute to figure out what it was: it was the hubs. Blowing air out through his lips, making that funny “bfffffffffffffffffffffffffttttt” noise we have all made at babies or when we are pretending to be exasperated.

I was still half asleep, so just laid there, wondering what on earth he could be dreaming about. Then he stopped having flappy lips, and started blowing air out through tight lips. It sounded like the noise he makes when he’s trying to sound like a trumpet…it really sounds nothing like a trumpet. It just sounds like squeeking while blowing out air. He did this for a minute or two and then went back to flappy lips. “Bbfffffffffttttttttttttt.”

When I fell back asleep he was still doing it.

I am so happy to be back to the hubs, even if he does wake me up in the middle of the night. I think the dog is happy we are back, too. Especially because it means the luggage is going away for awhile.

“Why would you put me squashed between all this luggage? I ought to be sitting up front!”

Going for the Gold

We have been watching lots of Olympics over the past week.

The Olympians are all so young, almost all of them are younger than me. This makes me feel like I have somehow not accomplished something that I should have, as if society is saying to me, “What, you didn’t win the biggest athletic competition in the world by the time you were 17?”

When I was 17 I was really busy just, you know, being 17. And wishing that I were 18. As we watch the amazing athletic feats, I find myself saying, “WOW! Look what they just did! That was so good! I could never do anything that great.” After which the announcer promptly says, “Oh, what a mistake there, that was catastrophic!”

Things the dog could get an Olympic medal in:

  • Sloshing her water dish onto the kitchen floor
  • Sitting in the sun
  • Peeing on light poles
  • Jumping at the camera at the exact moment that I take her picture
  • Barking at the yorkie who lives down the street
  • Snuggling down into her wooly blanket

The hubs is great, and he could win some Olympic medals, too. He could definitely win a medal for mumbling in his sleep; in fact, he would get the gold. When he mumbles in his sleep, he normally says a word or two that I can understand, but most of it is random sounds.

Some of the things the hubs has mumbled this past week:

Scheleraarek….then the tomato said kaaskldf.

Rrrrrrrrrumph chocolate coookksss rrrruffff.

Selerstoni STOP IT! Yeah, slosterfffun…

See what I mean? Maybe in four years sleep mumbling will be a recognized Olympic sport. If that happens, you know the hubs will be there, getting the gold!

Home, Sweet Home

I am so very happy to be home. Finally, after a month away from home, I am finally back. And it is wonderful.

Home to my cuddle buddy!

There are several things that have to happen when one comes home from being gone for a month. One thing that is a must is going to the grocery store for a large grocery trip. Even though I use some reusable bags, this large trip results in a plethora of plastic grocery bags at our house. The dog LOVES grocery bags. She thinks they are awesome. This is because when I take her for her walk every day I bring a plastic grocery bag to pick up dog poo. (Because I’m a good neighbor who picks it up when my dog goes poo. Unlike the owners of the large golden retriever who lives two doors down. Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking to you, you poop-and-run neighbors.) So now the dog sees grocery bags and thinks that it is time for a walk.

Yesterday I took the dog for a run on the trail. Of course, I brought a grocery bag/poop bag and also needed my cellphone and my keys. I did not want to carry all of these things separately, so I put my phone and keys into the bag and off we went down the trail. I did not think about it, but with my phone and keys in the almost-opaque-white bag, it looked like I had already picked up my dog’s poo.

There was no problem with this until I stopped to check my phone to see what time it was. I stood off to the side of the trail, digging around in the bag, being passed by lots of people. Some of them were giving me very weird looks, and I had no idea why… until I realized that it looked like I was digging around in a bag of poo. These people thought I was digging around in a bag of poo. Oh. My. Word. Should have thought that one through a little more.

In addition to being home and getting to walk the dog everyday, I also get to hear the hubs sleep talking. However, I do not know if it is my messed up sleep schedule or traveling, but last night I was the one doing crazy things in my sleep, not the hubs.

According to the hubs, he woke up to me poking him on the shoulder.

Hubs: Hmm…what’s wrong?

Me: What time is it?

Hubs: What time is it?? Look at your clock… it’s 3:30 in the morning!

Me: Ok.

Then I rolled back over.

This morning the hubs was quite grumpy that I woke him up in the middle of the night to talk to him in my sleep. Yeah, welcome to my world, Hubs! Where your spouse wakes you up to chat at 3:30 in the morning!

Even though I woke the hubs up so early, I hope he’s happy to have me home, because I sure am happy to be back!