Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Blissfully Bloated-Our Return from the Wine Country

Buckethead and I just celebrated our one year anniversary in the wine country last week. It was amazing. I mean, an entire trip focused on my all time favorite adult beverage? Ummm,,YES please!

And not only that, what goes with wine? FOOD. Lots and lots of food. Particularly cheese. I LOVE cheese. Have I ever told you of my pure adoration of this amazing dairy product? The combination of the perfect sharp Cheddar with a little fruit and a cracker is a tri-fecta of yummy delicious goodness. I love cheese almost as much as I love bacon.....but I digress. This blog isn't about cheese, although I really like cheese. This blog is about my anniversary trip with my smoking hot husband.

We spent the first two days enjoying San Francisco and then headed up to the wine country for three days. Four pounds have been nicely added to my toosh (yes, I checked the scale) and we spent a small peddler's fortune on wine purchases (that's what you get for shopping whilst being tipsy) but it was one of the most romantic getaways I've ever been on.

Happy Anniversary to my traveling companion and my life companion--who happens to be peacefully snoring beside me. I love you, Buckethead--even if you do sound like a freight train.

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Monday, January 17, 2011

Tooth Fairy Tales

Tonight was a solo night for me with the kids. Buckethead assured me it would be an easy one, gave me a pep talk, a slap on the butt and a knuckle bump before he left entrusting me with his most valuable assets.

Inevitably, something of huge magnitude happened in his absence. Something bigger than Kim Kardashian's ass and Obama's ego; Mitch lost a tooth. And no, I didn't pull it. As it dangled from one nerve, I told him "Good luck buddy; you're on your own". Trust me, I would have passed out, thus causing my body to loose its ability to hold my bowels and it would have been a big mess--a big mess of poo. Huge. So seriously, I'm not a bad step-mom for refusing to help pull the tooth. Right?

I digress.

So the icing on the cake is that Mitch still believes in the Tooth Fairy. Well, throw me a pink tutu, some magic fairy dust and a disturbing obsession for collecting human teeth and BAHM...I AM the TOOTH FAIRY.

Have YOU ever been the tooth fairy? Do you understand the guilt you would have if you were the one who screwed up the whole mystery and magic of being paid for your tooth? (And not in the creepy way, like the guy in my office who I swear wants to make a necklace out of my teeth and a lampshade out of my skin) If you have, then you join me in understanding the seer importance yet overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with being "The Tooth Fairy".

Thankfully, Tooth Fairy duty went on without a hitch. Somehow, God teaches people once they become parent's how to walk silently through a house, lift up a pillow with a heavy head on it , take out a tooth and stick a couple of bucks under it whilst never disturbing a single sleeping occupant in the house. Man, that would have been helpful when I tried to sneak out of the house when I was a teenager. It never worked--always got caught.

In the morning, I will throw my hands up with surprise when Mitch runs down the stairs to show me the $5 that magically appeared under his pillow last night. I will tell him that must mean he is one of the Tooth Fairies favorites and I will get to once again, be reminded of the sheer magic that it is to be a kid.

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Thursday, January 13, 2011

Not Much to Talk About

If you haven't noticed, I've been on somewhat of a blogging hiatus. The problem isn't writers block, it's just that somehow for the first time in my entire life I really don't have much to say.

Seriously, this may be the first time I don't have something "me" focused to talk about. I mean, that is why people start blogs in the first place, right? To talk about themselves? Well, that's why I started one....And despite my efforts to make you believe that my life is interesting enough to dedicate an entire website to it, I feared you would realize that my life is well....normal. For now at least.

I mean, I could tell you about how Buckethead told me I looked pregnant the other night although he SWEARS what he meant to say is that I looked skinny and we should practice getting pregnant. Freudian slip? I think so. Regardless of that "mix up" in words, I didn't take it too seriously since I froze my arse off the other night in 28 degree weather doing military style boot camp. I threw up in my mouth.

Other than that and my search for the perfect hemorrhoid cream (for those dark circles under my eyes, of course) you will have to be patient until my all sorts of crazy return thus giving you an escape from your own reality into mine.

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Tuesday, January 4, 2011


I'm trying to convince Buckethead that SPAM really IS good and that he should let me make it for dinner. Let's just call it a delicacy as I'm 100% positive that no one else in our neighborhood or in a 5 miles radius have SPAM in their pantry.

It's funny, you take me to a fancy restaurant and I will order the most expensive thing on the menu. But, my pallet is very "diverse" in the fact that Sponge Bob Mac and Cheese and a slab of SPAM sound pretty darn tasty to me.

I mean, my mom raised me on a dish called "Weenie Surprise" which surprisingly has the same name as a trick Buckethead likes to perform sometimes when we are alone in the bedroom. BOW-CHICA-WOW-WOW.

I digress.

"Wennie Surprise" --the food not the trick--in basically chopped up hotdog weenies over instant mashed potatos covered in marinara sauce.

Yes. This is truth. And no, my mom is not cruel. She is southern. Southern people are adventurous when it comes to their food pairings and always know that any cooking mistake can be corrected with either gravy or frosting.

I embrace my love of processed food and can only hope that one day I change my husband into appreciating the taste of canned meat.

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