At Least He's Reliable....

I wasn't going to do this.

Really, I wasn't. Mostly because Husband was expecting it, and that's not any fun at all. Plus, two posts in one day? What is my world coming too?

Aren't we supposed to love our neighbor? Doesn't revenge just weaken us?

But then as I thought about it I realized that contemplative revenge is much sweeter than anticipatory revenge. And no one has to read two posts a day, that's up to you, not me. Overload on your part is not my problem.

Justification is almost as sweet as payback.

Conversation. Of. The. Day

Sitting on the couch after watching a few episodes from the Big Bang Theory Season 2. Ryker is on Husband's lap, asleep. Probably with his paws straight up in the air.

Katie: What time is your yoga class?
Husband: 7:30. I should probably go get my yoga pants on.

Katie knows he's being sarcastic. He's much, much too masculine for yoga pants in public. 

Katie: You can always borrow mine.
Husband: Wouldn't the butt be way too saggy on me?

Catastrophic silence ensues as the two stare at each other. Husband averts his eyes in abject horror and an admission of guilt. Katie prevents him from speaking any further, as only more damage comparable with Hurricane Katrina would result.

Husband is currently washing the dishes.

It's not that I hated you, August...

3 Importants Things To Note Since My Last Post In July

1. I've developed a new obsession with Fage Greek Yogurt. (Thanks, Dahrl)

2. Husband was so bored on day 2 of being graduated that he cleaned the Den Of Iniquity.

3. When working out yesterday there was a 20-25 minute span where I didn't see my heart rate below 182. Almost barfed. It was great.

Now that the crucial details are out of the way, onto Savannah Georgia and other parts of South Carolina that we liked much better than Georgia...

He just can't help it...

Conversation. Of. The. Day

Katie is busy cleaning the house. Husband is sprawled on the couch and has been for several minutes.

Husband: Hey honey, what are you doing?
Katie: Cleaning the house. (sidelong glance) By myself.

Husband: (indignant) Not true! I helped.

Katie: Really? How?

Husband: I stacked the magazines on the coffee table five minutes ago.

Take THAT June Cleaver!

This sums up my "Tribute to June Cleaver Week."

Since I've taken the year off to write a book (really, I'm just stuck in the humid south for the summer, and then some, without a job so I've decided to use it as my year off to write my book) I've been forced to do a frightening amount of house-wifey stuff.

I've been annoyingly productive. (And I'm not one to use adverbs!)

 Laundry, mopping, organization, sweeping, dishes, more laundry, making beds, vacuuming and scrubbing toilets.

Shopping, grocery shopping, mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, training the dog, sweeping the stairs, more laundry.

Dusting, washing windows, cleaning the pantry.

You're getting the idea by now, right?

I'm not lying, it's been an identity issue for me.

Anyway, I harvested my garden and had tons of tomatoes. So I decided to follow in June's footsteps make homemade tomato sauce.

The blender turned itself on as soon as I took the lid off.

Ok, just kidding. I accidentally hit it.

Husband rejoiced.

I know the last picture is blurry but I put it up for Tara. 

Anyway, I felt like that summarized it as only I could summarize it.

And here's puppy, after I picked him up this morning. He did a lot of this for the first part of the day. Husband still tears up every time he sees that deflated little sac, and it does look a little sad.

BUT I'M NOT!

Goodbye, goodbye...

I would like to ask you to please observe a moment of silence.......

Ryker is losing his manhood this morning. Husband and Mikey have officially, and respectfully, withdrawn from life today in order to mourn.

Please contribute to your local Humane Society instead of sending flowers. 

Buzz Off!

Look at that face!

That's the face of a puppy that just got stung by bees 5 times on our hike today and was subsequently drugged by Benadryl and pieces of mom's Subway. It was a surprise frontal assault. Those flying little soldiers were sneaky.

From a distance, it probably looked like we were beating our dog. We'd whack the nasty bee's off and start running to get away but they'd follow. He kept trying to hide between my legs to get away because no matter what we did there the little suckers were, attacking. 

I'd probably be laughing more at his current floppiness if I didn't feel so bad for the poor guy.

.....Ok, I'm laughing.

Pensacola, anyone?

Let the pictures speak for themselves...

This was outside a baptist church so large we mistook it for a Super Wal-Mart