Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Snowman Envy

I wanted it to snow. It snowed. I love snow. I wanted to make a snowman. And we did. Sort of. This little fella was given a place of honor on the roof of the car. Not quite the snowman I had in mind. I drive by and see all the large ornate snowmen and I wonder....is my little guy envious or is he just too busy trying to figure out why his arms are so long?


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Return to the Office

Alas I woke up yesterday to discover that I indeed DID NOT retire but merely went on a two week honeymoon. I pulled myself up by my snow boot straps and ventured to the car; nearly killing myself on a patch of ice. From my apartment this newly formed family of four went to a nearby grocery store to buy food rations to sustain us through the day - Lunchables for the boys and canned soup and peanut butter crackers for me. From the grocery store we drove to my soon to be new house (dear husbands current house) so that the boys could pick up their Nintendo DS games. From the house we proceeded to the daycare facility where we passed off the kids for what was sure to be a day of floor sitting and hand held game playing. From daycare we drove to my work where my new husband kindly helped me walk from the car to the office door, fearing a repeat of the cobblestone fall I took on my last day of work oh so many weeks ago. Once inside the office I was greeted by two co-workers. After a brief chat I turned on the light in my office to find:

1. One inflated beach ball

2. One fluorescent pink plastic sand sifter with yellow plastic shovel

3. One large wooden handled yellow plastic sand shovel leaning against my desk

4. One portable beach mat


5. One blue sand bucket with yellow shovel

6. One small Dixie cup with tropical fish motif, filled with sand and two paper drink umbrellas

7. One inflated "Palm Pool Valet" which looks somewhat like a swim ring but has drink holders and a palm tree coming out of the center


8. One boogie board


9. And, last but not least, my desk chair sitting in one red lady bug looking sand box, unfortunately not much sand included


Either my colleagues have a warped sense of humor or they were simply trying to give me a few more days of that island feeling. I'll let you know which one after I take off my snow boots and dip my toe in my Dixie cup of sand.

Monday, February 1, 2010

When Marshmallows Hurt

My dear husband was truly a single dad since he and I lived apart during our engagement. He and his two boys have been living the life of bachelors for a couple of years now. Enter me. Female and a bit compulsive about organization. Don't get me wrong. My husband is a good dad. The dishes are washed, meals are on the table, laundry is done, sheets are clean, bathrooms are maintained - he really does a great job.

But then there is the pantry. The pantry drives me nuts. I like the soups to be lined up, the canned vegetables in a row separate from the canned fruit, etc. - I'm sure some of you get the picture! He on the other hand enjoys putting away groceries with the randomness that comes with just finding space for everything. It really does not bother him if pasta sauce ends up in the same row with the canned chicken. And, he loses track of how long something has been in the pantry so I really must check expiration dates.

Just before we were to be married I went over for dinner and I suggested to him that we clean out the pantry together. It quickly became apparent that a lot of food had expired. In his words "I sure bought a lot of food in 2008." But we were not deterred; onward we forged! When we got to the top of the pantry, he stood on a stool to reach the treasures he keeps on top - sweets, snacks, chips and other things that he enjoys.


I was sitting at the table and heard him say something and when I looked up I saw a bag of marshmallows being tossed at me. Let's face it, marshmallows are not dangerous if they land on your toe. They are soft and fairly light. Or, so I thought. These particular marshmallows, maybe circa early 2000, were like rocks. The bag hit my arm and yikes! I promptly yelled - "hey, marshmallows are not supposed to hurt!" This caused the boys to explode with laughter. My then fiance even eventually found the humor in the situation.
There is always a moral to every story and this one is no different. Remember, when marshmallows hurt it's time to clean out your pantry!

Wish me luck as we begin to merge our lives, stuff and pantry items this week!