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.