So even though I'm supposed to be enjoying the flexibility of a day off, coupled with the freedom to go to bed whenever I choose, I find myself at the whim of a second wind that descended in my house at about a quarter till 1 in the morning. Since I have nothing better to do, I think I will indulge my itchy fingers and wandering mind, and blog it up. (By the way, I love/hate that Comcast commercial where the caveman is ready to beat the little cave-beaver, and the cute little varmint says "I love you," and then the tag comes up that says "tough to beat." For some stupid reason, I want to save that poor little cave-beaver. I digress.)
Without any actual names mentioned, I will attempt to explain the latest frustrating/confusing/disturbing chain of events that has made me question my faith in humanity (yes, I wondered if I had any left too...evidentially a drop or two remained). Allow me to preface this rant with a little bit about myself, for those of you who don't know me. I am a flirt. An-across the board-don't mean anything by it-always ready with a witty banter-type flirt. However, I have to admit that the volume and frequency at which I indulge in such interactions has dramatically decreased since I got married, as it should. Also, the very distinct black and white line is right there for everyone to see, both through my frequent references to my loving/adoring/highly talented ex-cop of a husband, and the one thing that I thought was supposed to tell the world that I was off the market--my wedding ring.
Not long after I chuckled at my buddy Blissful Entropy's post on this topic, I experienced one of my own shake-my-head kind of moments. Keep in mind, my outward symbol of marriage is not a knuckle-dragging, deltoid-building ring but it's not easy to miss by any means. And this young fool that overstepped his bounds knows of my husband and his reputation in the security field (think Gumby tied into a pretzel shape and Pokey with Tazer leads in his ass).
Nevertheless, this dufus still felt the need--after numerous hints in the past which I let slide as meaningless flirting--to say to me a couple nights ago "hey, I'd like to take you out for a drink, if you don't think your husband will want to kill me." Well, sure honey. My husband has no problem with random guys taking me out for a drink. In fact, that's how we bring in a little extra cash now and then....it'll only cost you $20, unless you want more than a drink, and then the price goes up substantially. Oh, wait...that sounds more like a pimp than a husband...hmm, well maybe he would want to kill you. Dumb ass.
Now I understand how he might be confused. Off the top of my head, I know of three people in the ER who are currently being unfaithful in their marriages, and one couple (again in the ER) who participate in the confusing open marriage/swinger scenario. I guess I'm lucky that I have that built-in stop that makes it a NO-NO to step outside of my marriage. So maybe he's not at fault for thinking that would be an appropriate request. Maybe I just need to find another obvious sign to carry around to show the world that I'm married. I just can't figure out how to shrink my husband and stick him in my pocket.
Until then, all you faithful people out there--stand strong. Believe me, those people that are hitting on you will find a weaker person to bed, and you will be able to sleep at night. Unlike the one idiot coworker I talked to last night, considering cheating on her husband of 5 years with a guy who is deploying to Iraq in 3 days: "well, he's going to be leaving soon, so I might miss out on my chance." Yes, honey, you might. Keep that in mind.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Susie Homemaker
Well folks, here's another one of my monthly entries, except that this time I don't think I'll be blogging on the usual ER insanity (at least directly; I'm beginning to think its become part of who I am and just seeps out of my pores...). So I was at work a week or so ago, and was telling some of my coworkers about the gardening/canning venture that I've planned for myself. I was amazed at how many condescending, scoffing remarks I received about this. Now every once in a while people will come up to me and say "hey there, susie homemaker, how's the garden?" Which brings me to my latest beef with people: why have so many of the good, old-fashioned things fallen by the wayside and been forgotten?
Now I know what the obvious answer to this question is. The advent of modern day convenience has made things really easy, and fairly effortless, to come by. But besides the general economy of growing and canning some of your own food, there are other reasons why I want to do this. (Also, let it be noted that, shocking as it may be, I bake my own bread too. The real way, not with a breadmaker.) Anyhow, am I the only one who misses the smell of fresh bread in the kitchen, or spending a day making jam and putting it away for one of those cold winter days, when nobody else has the strawberry jam that Grandma made just for you to take home in the cool little quilted glass jelly jar? For golly sake, I think I would be doing my daughter a disservice if I failed to show her how things used to be, and teach her how to do them herself.
Yes, the time I spent outside for hours on my last set of days off was hot, and backbreaking, and physically exhausting. And I got one hell of a sunburn. But damnnit, I planted a good sized garden. And baked 4 loaves of bread, too. And the best part about it was that my husband and daughter were out there with me, every step of the way, breaking up the ground, pulling weeds (and these tree root off-shoots, which became the bane of my existence for a while), putting in fertilizer, and planting the seeds. I know, and really am prepared, that I may not get one damn plant out of all this work. Colorado isn't the best for growing, especially in your backyard. But hey, I taught my daughter the value of hard work. And hopefully everything she learns from my "susie homemaker" endeavours will be something she passes along to future generations. It could be worse; I could be teaching her how to be a brainless jackass like half of the parents out there. So call me what you want. See if I share any of my jam with you.
Now I know what the obvious answer to this question is. The advent of modern day convenience has made things really easy, and fairly effortless, to come by. But besides the general economy of growing and canning some of your own food, there are other reasons why I want to do this. (Also, let it be noted that, shocking as it may be, I bake my own bread too. The real way, not with a breadmaker.) Anyhow, am I the only one who misses the smell of fresh bread in the kitchen, or spending a day making jam and putting it away for one of those cold winter days, when nobody else has the strawberry jam that Grandma made just for you to take home in the cool little quilted glass jelly jar? For golly sake, I think I would be doing my daughter a disservice if I failed to show her how things used to be, and teach her how to do them herself.
Yes, the time I spent outside for hours on my last set of days off was hot, and backbreaking, and physically exhausting. And I got one hell of a sunburn. But damnnit, I planted a good sized garden. And baked 4 loaves of bread, too. And the best part about it was that my husband and daughter were out there with me, every step of the way, breaking up the ground, pulling weeds (and these tree root off-shoots, which became the bane of my existence for a while), putting in fertilizer, and planting the seeds. I know, and really am prepared, that I may not get one damn plant out of all this work. Colorado isn't the best for growing, especially in your backyard. But hey, I taught my daughter the value of hard work. And hopefully everything she learns from my "susie homemaker" endeavours will be something she passes along to future generations. It could be worse; I could be teaching her how to be a brainless jackass like half of the parents out there. So call me what you want. See if I share any of my jam with you.
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