Tag Archives: marriage

Incentive

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I’m trying to see the bright side of my husband’s latest purchase. It’s not easy, but when he brought it home last week and attempted to park it in the garage?

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I saw a glimmer of hope that he might actually throw some things out to make room. You know, like the old broken gutters, the yard sale fake oil painting and the air conditioner that hasn’t worked since 1999?

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But we’re talking about my husband … so things just got stacked in higher piles.

I told him there was too much junk. Repeatedly.

Did he listen?

I think you know the answer to that.

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He did not… and ran into the broken air conditioner instead.

🥴

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Marking decades of wedded bliss.

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The husband and I celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary recently. It doesn’t seem possible since I’m only 39 years old, but the Hallmark cards don’t lie.

My other half is a sweetie and had a nice flower arrangement delivered.

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It’s a little lopsided because the delivery man came early and slipped on the driveway ice we hadn’t yet treated. Thankfully he was okay, and that must be some tough glass because the vase didn’t even chip.

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I can tell my husband answered the florist’s annual question “what’s her favorite color?” with the technically correct… though wrong for this situation…. green.

I do love green, and it is my favorite … but when it comes to floral arrangements? A bit more color would be nice.

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I’m not complaining, but there are enough lilies in this one to make our house smell like a funeral home.

And though he didn’t get that quite right, I have to say… when it came to card selection?

He totally nailed it.

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Remember ladies, picking the right man is the most important decision you’ll ever make.

Choose wisely.

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No one puts Baby in a corner, but how about husbands…?

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On the coldest day of the season so far, with wind chills below zero, my dryer stopped working. Since hanging clothes outside was not an option…

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It was time to examine the faulty equipment.

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This involved my poor husband trying to clamber over the washing machine in our tiny laundry room in order to unplug the dryer.

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The small space was originally a half bath and trust me… there’s not much room to maneuver.

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Thankfully it was an easy fix and just a matter of cleaning a lint clogged vent.

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But moving the appliances and hooking them back up was a nightmare.

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To heck with Baby, I put my husband in a corner.

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And I’m sorry, but watching him try to extricate himself and climb back out had me laughing so hard I could hardly take the picture. But I’m a dedicated blogger so here you go….

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My bad. But it was hilarious…

🤣

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Meanwhile at Casa River….

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Now that the husband has a fancy new pool table, he’s finally taken on the monumental task of teaching me how to play.

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So far? I suck. And it seems my underlying strategy is to keep all my balls on the table in order to block his access to the pockets.

Not for everyone, I know. But it’s all I’ve got right now.

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Outside? There are some pretty spectacular sunsets.

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And a very well staked Christmas reindeer who may be there until spring.

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Inside?

Lord Dudley Mountcatten is unsuccessfully hiding behind a coffee table leg.

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What part of the word “new” doesn’t he understand?

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My husband has a truck.

An old truck.

My husband loves his old truck, has spent considerable money restoring his old truck and uses his old truck as a …. well, truck.

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He’s loved this 1990 Ford F150 XLT truck long and hard. No matter how much time it spends at the shop nor how many thousands of dollars of repairs it needs, he consistently refuses to buy a new one. So imagine my surprise when he came home the other day and said he was thinking about buying a new truck.

I was thrilled!

I was ecstatic!

(His mechanic will be even more thrilled and ecstatic)

And my thrill continued..

All the way up until he drove me to see the “new” truck.

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Technically, he’s not wrong. It is “newer” than his old truck….. by a whole 4 years.

Old truck? 1990

“New” truck? 1994

I was not thrilled.

His mechanic will not be thrilled.

The husband? Beyond thrilled that he’d found another Ford F150 XLT with a long bed in good shape with only 74,000 original miles.

*sigh*

The asking price was $11,800 which I thought was beyond ridiculous for a 28 year old truck….. but then I looked online.

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What!!!

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Holy Mother of God…. I know used car prices are nuts right now but that is positively insane.

Because the dealer is a friend of a friend the husband talked him down to $10,000… and got him to replace the shocks, brake lines and ball joints so I guess in reality that’s a good deal. But rest assured old Black Betty will be going out on the lawn with it’s own overpriced for sale sign in it as soon as the husband drives the “new” one home.

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Let there be light.

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In a previous post I shared photos of the lamp my husband gave me for my birthday. And though I have no reasonable explanation why it should be so… that was not the first lamp I’ve received for the occasion.

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It started with this ridiculously expensive hand done reverse painted Fenton. It’s pretty, if a little froo froo for my taste.

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A few years later? Another froo froo reverse painted frosted glass lamp.

Did we require more bedroom lighting? No.

Did I have the heart to tell my husband I wasn’t overly thrilled with these floral ( and paisley! 😳 ) gifts? Again, no.

But somehow he got the hint and no girly lamps were given for at least 5 years. Because that was when he switched to stained glass.

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A definite improvement, but one must ask…

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How many lamps does one girl need?

And mind you, every time I receive one of these low level, don’t use a high wattage bulb or you’ll damage the shade! gifts I have to remove the existing enough light to read and not bump into furniture lamps. So basically, our home is a dimly lit cave.

Traverse at your own risk.

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God help me, this one looks like a giant fish scaled helmet.

I try to hide it behind a plant.

* Note to self – buy bigger plant. *

I’d like to tell you that’s all of them.

I really would.

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This is why I stopped decorating.

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A friend gave me a reindeer for my birthday a few years ago.

Sadly it wasn’t a real one, just a Christmas decoration in a box.

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Ironically, the timing of this gift coincided with my I’m tired of fighting with f*cking lights that don’t stay lit, snowflakes that flip up on the roof and trees that spend more time lying on the ground than standing up change of heart about festive displays… but for some unfathomable reason, I decided to break it out of its box and put it to use this year.

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Easy to assemble? My ever widening ass. The legs wobbled, the antlers kept falling off and the stabilizing bars didn’t stabilize anything.

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Did I mention how pleased my husband was to secure said reindeer in the first snowfall of the season? It just started when I was taking pictures, but trust me.. it was cold, wet and windy.

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The stakes that come in the box? Useless. The wind blew the deer over as soon as we finished.

Solution?

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Drill screws into a flat stump and zip tie the reindeers legs to them for anchorage.

The decorating gods laughed and said, nice try suckers… and blew it over again.

Enter the sledgehammer.

I thought that might be for my head….

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But thankfully it was just to pound two thick iron stakes in the ground. ( side note – those suckers aren’t coming up until spring )

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A roll of safety wire and 20 frozen fingers later…

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There is a lighted reindeer on our front lawn.

Whether he will still be standing there tomorrow is anyone’s guess.

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Out with the old and in with the new…

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Our new pool table arrived… in pieces and parts.

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I wasn’t here when assembly started so I missed the table being positioned, leveled, slated and beeswax sealed …

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But arrived in time to see the fabric being laid. ( Upgraded professional fabric, as no mere felt would do for the man cave extraordinare)

If you’ve never had a pool table installed? Let me tell you… it’s a lot of work. These two were at it non stop for over 2 hours.

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But the result was perfection.

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Viola!

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Now that’s a pool table. It was a dark rainy day so the lighting doesn’t do it justice, but the finish is lovely…

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With the maple looking positively tiger like along the rails.

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Before.

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After.

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Before.

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After.

A table worthy of the Barn Mahal.

Please note the husband’s cue stick on the right in the last picture. He was playing as soon as the installation crew left and I had a hard time getting photos without his hovering presence.

I had to drag him out of there for dinner last night and he went right back to play after breakfast this morning. I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the least to say he loves it.

And if we were newly married?

I might be jealous.

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And to think it only took 5 months…

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In July we ordered a pool table. We were told it would take approximately 8 weeks to arrive.

They lied.

As the months passed, I began wondering if we would see it this calendar year… but on Monday they called and said they could deliver Thursday.

At this point my husband broke into an impromptu happy dance and made plans to gift our old (ugly ass, low quality… but hey, it was free) table to the friend who’d been hinting he wanted it.

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This was the gifted table that served as inspiration for the storage barn to man cave transformation.

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And while I do love the resulting Barn Mahal, I can’t say I’m sorry to see it’s wobbly, chipped and worn out butt go.

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Did I mention it was heavy?

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Really, really heavy. Not to mention awkward to maneuver.

So while the men were struggling to move it across the room, yours truly had an idea.

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A plant pot roller.

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Pure genius if I do say so myself.

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It rolled across the floor, out the door, across the porch..

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And right into the truck…

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On its way to the sweet little old man who comes over to play with my husband most Sunday afternoons. He’s a widower… and is putting the table in his living room.

Which, if he wasn’t a widower, would probably result in him living alone from the divorce anyway.

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And yes, those are the pillows off our guest room bed being used for cushioning. The husband took them without telling me… bringing him one step closer to divorce.

😉

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It’s almost time.

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I anxiously await late November every year.

Not for Thanksgiving.

Not for the start of the Christmas season.

But for this:

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My very favorite small batch artisan gin. Made by a distillery in New Hampshire, we make the pilgrimage once a year so I can stock up on the plummy goodness. ( And at $60 a bottle, stocking up is serious business.)

Made with damson plums, bitter orange and fresh juniper, this gin is an absolute delight and makes your tonic shiver with orgasmic pleasure. It’s a seasonal treat and if the roll out is missed? River is not a happy camper.

For this reason I tend to bogart the elixir, and only roll it out on special occasions or for special people. So you can imagine my level of annoyance when the neighbors dropped by the barn a few weeks ago (with friends and family in tow) to share in the glory that is the man cave. We welcomed them in, gave them the $2 tour and offered them an adult beverage.

Mind you… at any given time I have 48+ bottles of liquor on the shelves, a mini fridge of mixers, soda and juice, a dual tap kegerator, and a full size refrigerator filled with craft beer, wine, hard seltzer, hard cider and canned cocktails. My point?

There be options!

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It was then that my idiot oh so generous husband suggested the group try gin and tonics made with.. you guessed it.. my very last, hard to replace, time sensitive half bottle of Tamworth Damson.

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If I could have reached him from under the bar I would have kicked him. Instead, I smiled through clenched teeth and poured the final drops of my precious spirit and handed glasses to everyone.

They oohed and ahhed appreciatively, asked where they could buy it, then promptly changed their minds when they heard the price. The only thing that spared my idiot oh so generous husband’s life was the fact that I was unable to offer refills.

And now I wait.

Checking the website weekly to see when my happy juice is next available for purchase.

There’s rumor it may not be until mid December this year… which gives me ample time to beat the mantra Do not offer the special gin without permission! into my husband’s head.

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