A Little Piece of Work....

Check it out! My friend is hosting one of my flash fiction stories on her blog. Kinda AMAZING!

The Realm Of DM Kilgore: Short Story Saturdays ~ A Fantastic Short By Guest...: The beach was silent.             The ocean swallowed the sun on the horizon. Waves lapped softly against the sand. A little girl ...

New Addition to the Family!

See? I didn't try and fake you out this time. 

See this face?

This face is getting a brother on June 29th.

But literally- they'll be brothers. Same breeder. Same dog parents. Same human parents.

Fate says I? Yes, says you.

Ooh, I just can't wait to see the new puppy's wrinkly guts!

Many... many... weeks.

(Note: I had this originally on my other blog, but realized it belonged here.)

Being a military wife means that my husband and I sometimes go weeks without even talking to each other. Many weeks.

Many, many, weeks.

When he's gone, things change. I realized as I poured the last of my frozen strawberries into my Vitamix (thanks Mom!) that it had been almost two weeks since my last serious grocery run. The thought of running to the store flittered through my mind and right back out. I said what I always say.

Nah. I'll go tomorrow.

If I'm happy with a strawberry-chocolate-almond milk-protein shake for dinner, there's absolutely no reason to put my bra back on and go to the store. So, as a result, dinner looked like this:

But that's only because my fridge looks like this:

Then I settled on the couch and my TV selection was this:

Photo credit: http://tvsurveillance.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/cheers-1007.jpg

So I went to the bathroom and my sink looked like this:

Which inevitably means that the pile of clean laundry I put on my husband's half of the King-sized bed looks like this:

And then I realized that having a husband around at least provides an impetus for me to do everyday life things.

Except for Cheers. That probably shouldn't be everyday.

When he's gone I always miss him. Always. But the independent girl inside me stretches her cramped muscles for the first week or two, and enjoys the freedom of living on sweet potatoes and bacon. (Who wouldn't?)

At least I get to cuddle with this guy every night without husband hogging him.

It's been awhile...

For the record, I love you guys.

And I love this blog.

But I started another blog in the meantime. This one I will have to keep up with if I want to one day feed my children.

I'd really appreciate it if you became a follower. Or at least commented. Or clicked on the link. Or sent me to an agent for my manuscript. Oh wait, it's at the editors...

kcrosswriting.com

I bet most of you didn't know I was a writer. Well... now you do!

He's really a gentle beast...

This is what happens when you run 'really fast' into another store while 36 eggs lay "hidden" underneath the pillow your dog is sitting on.

When I found the guilty party, he was cradling an egg in his mouth. Just sitting there, looking around, holding the fragile egg in his massive mountainous canines... undisturbed. Miraculously, no eggs were harmed or broken. Except, on final tally, one whole egg was missing...

For the record, I giggled uncontrollably.

Husbands Best. Day. Ever.

I heard a cry come from our the back bathroom the other day, so I quickly ran back to see what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

Husband just needed to show me the happiest invention he'd ever seen AND demonstrate how it works.

\

Best. Day. Ever.

Unicorns... and husbands.

I found this picture as my desktop today.

When I asked husband why he chose a unicorn, he said, 

"It was the first thing that came to my mind."

Not sure what that's saying for Husband, but sure smells like revenge to me...

He is now protesting me posting this by sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed.

If You Break It....

I just wanted to send this info into the Universe and see what comes back:


I ate five Chocolate Chunk Cookies today.
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But on a serious note, Husband broke his toe.

I'm sure there's a way to rotate the photo, but I have a fault for apathy.

It's the left pinky toe, if you can't tell. Spiral fracture, clean break. Not a pretty night. (This happened last week, btw. I'm blogging early on it.)

Die Thin Mints! DIE!

I know.... I KNOW.

I'm not a very good blogger.

Got it.

I never promised otherwise.

Remember when you were a kid, and you'd go to mall? In the mall was a tall, skinny little booth with drapes that you'd step inside and take pictures with your bestie? It would print out five minutes later and you'd each take a strip?

I don't know why all of these are question marked?

Anyway, that's what I did with the boys. Only we weren't in a mall. Or a booth. We were in a car. Outside of Wal-Mart, where we finished off a box of Samoas in five minutes. Just kidding. We were leaving the dog park, just minutes away from getting said Samoa's. Either way...

Curse those girl scouts.

 Do you know how hard it is to take a good picture of a dog AND Husband? It didn't matter in the end.

I couldn't get either of them to take this seriously.

Here We Go Again..

Husband is so lucky he has a nurse for a wife.

For those of you who thought my sonic-ice-with-3-cherries post looked like a festering wound, I am here to prove you wrong today.

THIS is a festering wound.

It is also an arm which is 3 days post poison ivy/oak/sumac exposure.

And this is 4 days. I'm disappointed in my timeline. The bee sting was so much more dramatic.

Don't worry. I assessed for early signs of compartment syndrome (despite husband making fun of my questions) and convinced him to go to sick call this morning after formation. The doctor validated me by asking the same questions I did (for compartment syndrome- who's laughing now?!) His right arm is 1.5 inches larger than his left. Sweet.

He got IV solumedrol and was the freak of the clinic.

It's a good day to be him.

This Post Is A Crime...

You know how California is known for Hollywood?

New York for Times Square.

Colorado for Weed.

Idaho for Potatoes. (Yeah, while I'm on it, why is Idaho the 'Gem State'?)

Fayetteville for Crime.

I first became concerned when, our first day here in North Carolina, our bank warned us renters insurance up to $10,000 was 'basically required' in Fayetteville. 

Kind of like water.

A lady at church warned me to burn all my documents and watch my wifi if I value my identity.

A woman at the Sheriffs office told me that security systems installed in the houses were considered 'standard' but screens on the window were classified under 'upgraded.'

My neighbor, John, said I shouldn't worry. People are only shot around this neighborhood if there's a reason for it.

So I'm sure I put my neighbors at rest when I went around the neighborhood with my rather vicious dog to ask what kind of security systems they had. There's nothing creepy about that.

"Hi, my name is Katie. My husband and I just moved in. I'm curious how much security you have going on around here. Are those cameras? Any blind spots? What's your schedule like? Are you home much? Cute dog, is he nice? Does he bite? Does he bark when people walk up? Have you ever caught anyone? What did they do wrong?" 

Creeper.

Just kidding. Actually, it turns out my neighbors are quite strange. But nice. One of them explained, in a very deep, masculine, masochistic way, that every now and then he "goes on patrol around the backyard" and shoots off his .45 just so people know not to mess with him. (Where he shoots it, I didn't ask.) Then there was a kind black man who admitted that the sole purpose of one of four camera's is to check and make sure his son is doing his homework after school.

I end the day now with a pointless blog post.

And no pictures.