Tag Archives: marriage

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Payback.

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I spent 5 hours following my husband from store to store looking for a new weed whacker last week.

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Don’t believe the people who tell you men hate to shop. When he’s looking for a new toy for himself? My guy will shop until I drop. We hit at least 7 different lawn and garden sections and then went back to the very first place we stopped so he could buy the very first one he saw.

And then?

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The man who owns a giant zero turn tractor and four push mowers… yes, four. Two of them self propelled. … started looking at new push mowers.

For me.

The person who doesn’t want one.

It was at that point I said enough… and made him take me for a nice late lunch.

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A fresh blueberry mojito was a good way to start.

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Every time I see this old tool art installation I want my husband to do something like it in the man cave.

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And every time, he says no.

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To start… it was butternut squash soup for the husband and some fabulous dry rub barbecue shrimp for moi.

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A basil limeade later?

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An amazing Bolognese with fresh pasta and a lamb, beef and pork ragu. It was so good I didn’t even notice what the husband ate.

Well worth 5 hours of tool shopping.

😉

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A tearful goodbye.

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After 13 years of faithful service… it’s time to say goodbye to our beloved washer and dryer.

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My husband (who DOES NOT shop for anything other than antiques) stood in line outside, in the cold, at 2:00am on Black Friday in 2010 to purchase this ( ultra fancy for it’s day) set as a Christmas present for yours truly.

I didn’t need or even want a new set at the time, but it was almost half price and he was thrilled with the deal.

Fast forward 13 years and the dryer (otherwise known as Lord Dudley’s bird watching perch) is kaput. It’s been acting up for the past few months… running one day but not the next… and after having two repairman unable to find the problem, it’s time to bid them a fond farewell.

So we shopped.

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(The husband’s good friend just got Covid so his mask paranoia is temporarily back.)

After checking the big box stores and the small mom and pop stores, we played Goldilocks and chose a set from a medium sized Maine store.

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We could have taken them home today, but of course I didn’t want blue.

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So we special ordered the graphite gray.

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Billed as “ The smartest washer in it’s class” I wondered what that entailed. A diploma? A degree? A doctorate?

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Turns out smart means Alexa…

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Sorry. I don’t care how smart it is…. I’m not talking to my washing machine.

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The early morning kernel hunt.

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My husband is a late night snacker. No matter how large and satisfying a dinner I serve him, he always has room for popcorn.

And since we’ve established he hasn’t worked out the proper bowl to kernel ratio of his new air popper…

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It won’t surprise you to learn that every morning when I walk into the kitchen I begin to search for strays.

Stray unpopped kernels on the floor that I find with my bare feet…

Stray unpopped kernels that land in my cutlery caddy…

Stray popped kernels that fly into the sink and behind the microwave…

But this morning?

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It seems the bird caught one.

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🤣

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The motherload continued…

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A few more oddities from our antique store stroll.

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Because you never know when you’ll need a personal, portable steam engine on wheels. It can be yours for a mere $4,000.

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I have no explanation for that.

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Proof positive everything can be made into a lamp… whether it should be is another issue entirely.

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We almost can home with this corn cutter.

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The fact that it was on sale required closer examination.

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I was all for putting this little dude in the man cave/Barn Mahal but the husband disagreed.

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Truth in advertising is a rare thing.

🤣

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Antique motherload.

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Still in search of that last vintage beer/alcohol crate for my vinyl, the husband and I headed to a massive antique mall in Oxford.

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And I have to say we were blown away. Parts of it had the normal antique mall booths with multiple vendors and then there was this room.

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Which was really more of a museum. Those vintage hand painted sleds were da bomb.

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There were some truly fabulous items.

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With fabulous prices to accompany them. We spent hours just in that one room. And then we moved on..

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My husband probably has a dozen of these old glass water bottles and frames, but that never stops him from looking for number 13.

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I nixed the idea of hanging that on the Barn Mahal door.

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Husband wanted to buy all these Trump dollars and use them to start our next fire, but I couldn’t stand the thought of that man riding all the way home with us even if I knew he’d end up in the ash pile.

To be continued..

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They never take long to fill.

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My still bored by retirement husband was back in the underground den of detritus yesterday stacking crap on his newly constructed shelves.

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It shouldn’t surprise you to learn they didn’t take long to fill.

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We now have slightly more organized floor to ceiling crap. Among the treasure?

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Mildew covered high tech.

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An ancient rusted fire extinguisher.

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And a box of money… which if I had known was down there, I would have cashed in years ago..

🤣

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My toaster is a snob.

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As you know my husband gave me the toaster to end all toasters for Christmas. Leverless, digital and to be honest, pretty full of itself.

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I say this because my husband came home from running an errand the other day with this:

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A fancy stainless steel expandable dish drainer…

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With a removable cutlery holder, knife slot, cutting board rack and multi position drain spout.

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Did we need an expandable stainless steel dish drainer with a removable cutlery holder, knife slot, cutting board rack and multi position drain spout?

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We did not.

But I’m guessing that fancy new toaster was embarrassed by the old Rubbermaid drainer and told the husband to kick it to the curb.

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Necessity is the mother of invention.

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Since we’ve established my husband doesn’t want me to lend a hand in the basement, alternative helpmates must be employed.

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Meet the Dead Man.. otherwise known as my husband’s personal assistant. Since my spouse can’t lift, position and hold a piece of plywood over his head while screwing it into the floor joists, he built himself a friend. One who doesn’t offer advice or disagree with him like I do.

And speaking of holding things in place….

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When the old insulation is ripped and starts to sag?

Grab a broom.

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And balance that broom on a box, which is balanced on a few old books, which are top of another box which is on a table not meant to support that much weight.

Good times.

🤣

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Onward and upward.

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Props to my husband for not only sticking with his horrible basement project but becoming totally obsessed by it. Clearing, cleaning and organizing ( not really, but he’s trying ) 40 years worth of junk is not for the faint hearted. Or the asthmatic… the dust and cobwebs are epic.

When last I reported, shelves were being built on the back right wall and corners were being turned.

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So now that ⬆️…

Looks like this ⬇️ …

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Because every time he carves out a small area to work…

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Thousands of pounds of junk stuff must be moved.

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Anyone need a tv antenna or an old bottle of Clorox? It’s still half full.

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Four vintage wooden crates were unearthed… but none of them were alcohol related for my vinyl collection damn it.

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This is a serious amount of work. And while I try to go down and help, more often than not the husband gets aggravated with me and tells me to get lost.

If 39 years of marriage has taught us anything, it’s that we don’t work well together. I’m a very organized person ….. I plan, I make lists, I gather needed tools and supplies, I have everything I need within reach. He wings it… no plan, always searching for tools and has to run to the store every other day for more supplies. Basically, we drive each other crazy and end up doing our projects by ourselves. Harder, yes. But it keeps us out of divorce court.

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It’s a good thing I don’t use that freezer or second refrigerator anymore.

🤣

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My Planet.. the end.

40 Comments

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A few more chuckles from Mary Roach before I put this book to bed.

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My husband does not moisturize, though at times I wish he would.

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As you know I have a spouse who enjoys filling our kitchen with overpriced gadgets…. so I totally get this. Though thankfully no $345 pentolas have crossed our doorstep.

Yet.

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Touchless trash cans with sensor eyes? Please don’t tell my husband.

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Preach sister! My spouse never ever uses coins but has them stashed everywhere. In the den closet, in every vehicle cubbyhole, and yes in jars on the bedroom floor.

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Though he prefers pickle to sauerkraut.

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