Filed under: Things I never knew about my husband

Andy and I have always had different tastes in music. I just never knew how different until Friday night.

We were flipping through television channels when he came across a music game show.

On this particular show there was a singer performing a popular song. From time to time the singer would stop and the contestants earned points by singing the rest of the lyrics correctly.

The show displayed the words to each song at the bottom of the television. Like karaoke.

The next song up was one by Taylor Swift. The band started playing and the singer jumped right in. So did Andy.

I, myself, am not at all a fan of Taylor Swift. I can't tell you the name of the song they were singing and I can't tell you the lyrics. Of course I recognized it because they play Taylor Swift songs on the radio like it's a federal law. But the only way I could sing along was to watch the words on the screen. I mean, ten years ago I wold have been all over her music, but now I'm older and wiser. It's not personal. It's a matter of taste.

But Andy seemed to be singing with a little more pep and I couldn't quite tell if he was just watching the words or if he really knew the song.

So I asked him.

Me: Are you singing along with the words on the screen or do you really know the lyrics by heart? 


Him: (looking sheepish) No, I know the song.


Me: What?! Why?!


Him: I don't know I just do. Her songs are catchy.


Me: (dumbfounded) But you know she's a teeny bopper that sings about high school dances and kissing frogs and that sort of crap, right? What is wrong with you?!


Him: (I'm pretty sure he was blushing at this point) I don't know! I just like her music. I can't explain it!


Me: I don't even know who you are anymore.

I plan on holding this over his head for a while. And the next time he complains about my Fergie album playing on repeat I have two words for him, "Taylor Swift."

Not a pool, but it will suffice

The heat of the day was unforgiving and inescapable.

Nothing I did made it better. Even breathing seemed to ring more sweat from my over heated body and the flip flops on my feet warmed me from the ground up.

Windows open. Fans on. Trying my best to keep the indoor temperature livable, if not comfortable.

A pie had been promised and a pie I would deliver. So I set about my task.

The heat from the oven made it all the more unbearable to be inside.

I soldiered on. It wasn't a difficult recipe, but it seemed to take an eternity to complete.

Dressed in a light cotton skirt and tank top, damp with sweat, I wondered how women did this sort of thing dressed in petticoats and corsets. All day in a hot kitchen baking breads and preserving meats and fresh summer vegetables to be able to feed a large family when the weather changed.

And I was only making a pie.

Finally. Finally. The pie was done. Into the refrigerator to set. If only I could crawl in with it.

The sun had nearly set and the day was very slowly beginning to cool, but the temperature inside these four walls was still so oppressive and was closing me in more and more by the minute. Something had to be done.

A shower. To wash away the grime of the day and cool my tortured skin.

It took a little time to get the water cool enough. Used to putting out water that is a little hotter than necessary, the faucet seemed resistant to the unfamiliar water temperature.

At once it was just right. Not warm at all, but not so cold as to cause pain.

I took my time washing off the salty sweat from my limbs. Luxuriating in the feel of the water on my skin. I almost expected to see steam rising from my body.

When I finished with the soap and shampoo and was cleanly rinsed I took a moment to step under the water fall.

Closing my eyes I let it wash over me. Comforting and soothing.

And then I was transported to a time, twenty odd years ago, when swimming pools and popsicles filled my days instead of laundry and dirty dishes.

I was floating in the chlorinated water. I could feel it flowing over my skin and pulling me along. I pretended I was a mermaid under the sea. My fins propelling me faster and faster until I couldn't hold my breath any longer and had to break the surface and my fantasy.

Always a playmate nearby - a sibling or a cousin or a friend. To play marco polo or see who could make the biggest splash with their cannonball jump.

When hunger came over us and could no longer be ignored we climbed out and were greeted by juice boxes and peanut better crackers. The crumbs sticking to still wet arms, hastily dried off in search of sustenance.

Parents and aunts and uncles and grandparents. All scrambling to feed us. Slather on more sunscreen. Peel of wet swim suits because someone had to go to the bathroom.

We waited as long as we could for our food to digest before jumping back in. The cool water was such a welcome escape from the hot sun.

Swimming and diving and reveling in the sweet summer day that would come to an end all too quickly.

And it always did. Come to an end.

Noses and cheeks a little too pink. Never enough sunscreen to block out those wonderful rays of sunshine.

Feet a little blistered from the rough texture of the pool rubbing on the prune like bottoms of little toes.

The sun getting lower in the sky and a call to get ready to go home.

Just five more minutes.

The day cooling off a bit paired with the still cool water, so perfect. A truly intoxicating feeling.

And then the sad realization that the day was done. Hunger pangs were striking again. Exhaustion beginning to take hold of little bodies spent in play.

Wrapping ourselves in over-sized towels, we gave up, and followed the adults away from the pool and into the car.

Once home again we settled in for a relaxing summer evening with the sweet events of the day fresh on our minds and the hope that tomorrow would be the same.

Blissful.

Project 365, week 27

Wow, between power outages and my computer refusing to read my camera I was beginning to think this post wasn't going to happen today. But here it is:

Week in pictures July 3-9

It just isn't summer until I gorge myself on watermelon

All American meal. (Andy put the cheese inside the burger!)

I'm just so stinkin' proud of this plant

I'm one of those people

Quintessential summertime

Getting ready for Concert in the Park (P.S. The grass really shouldn't be that color)

Lovely, lovely rain clouds

Late night hallucinations

Or early morning. Whichever.

The strange heat wave we've been having has been taking a serious toll on my sleep pattern.

You see, I usually run on the cold side. Everyone around me can be comfortable and I am wrapped up in blankets with a hat on. Except when I sleep. At night I radiate heat, in the summer and winter, and there has been many a chilly morning when I have woken up to find Andy just short of laying on top of me in search of warmth.

So when it's extra  hot outside I don't sleep as soundly.

For example, I've been having a lot of very strange, very vivid dreams lately.

One night I dreamed I had a baby and it looked kind of like Little Critter.

Another night I dreamed that I took my family out on the ski slope and there was a gigantic avalanche. While we were searching for survivors Robert Pattinson showed up and apparently I knew him. He was acting very friendly and my dream self was getting uncomfortable because I thought he was hitting on me. Then I woke up.

I'm pretty sure there was a dream where I met the Pioneer Woman too.

Normally I don't dream. At all.

And then last night I just woke up. That NEVER happens. I never just wake up from a dead sleep.

It wasn't like I was restless. I could have gone right back to sleep, but I woke up and then I had this sort of paranoid feeling like I wouldn't have woken up like that if there wasn't something wrong. Have you ever done that?

So then I got really still and started to listen. I could hear Andy breathing and then I thought for sure I could hear footsteps on the carpet in our room.

And then all of a sudden I heard growling.

My heart jumped into my throat and then I did my best look-around-while-trying-to-look-like-I'm-still-asleep maneuver. There was nothing and I shortly realized that the "growling" was Andy snoring lightly. Yeah...

But there was still a rustling noise.

I risked a little more movement and saw that there was a plastic shopping bag in the floor that was moving. The ceiling fan was on and that very likely could have been what was moving it, but it just seemed like it was moving too much for that.

Was it a bunny? Had Andy forgotten to put the bunnies away?

Doubtful for many reasons, not the least of which being that they would have made themselves known long before I'd had the chance to sink into a deep slumber. They CAN NOT resist an open bedroom door, and on the off chance that they found themselves alone in a quiet house, they would have been in our bedroom faster than you could say "rascally rabbit."

So the bunnies were definitely put away, safe and sound.

But why was the bag moving like that? A mouse? A rat? A snake?

I picked up my cell phone and used the display light to try to see what it was. That didn't help at all.

My options were to:

A) Wake up Andy to make him check. That could have been detrimental to my well being.

B) Turn on the lamp, waking up Andy in the process, and risking a "critter" being startled and running away. In the wrong direction. Like onto the bed or something.

C) Get out of bed and walk over to the bag to try to see if there was anything there. In the dark. With only the light from my phone for "protection."

Ha! Yeah. Like that was really going to happen.

I quickly surmised that none of those were really viable options, and that I was tired and I wanted to go back to sleep.

So I chose option D) Roll over, bury my head under the covers and hope that whatever it was crawled back out the same hole it came in through. And if it was only the air from the ceiling fan moving the bag then hopefully the blanket over my head would drown out the noise enough for me to go back to sleep.

Mystery not solved. I can live with that because I went back to sleep very shortly.

But I've removed the bag from the floor and tonight I'm only sleeping with the sheet.

If you can't beat 'em...

There are all kinds of sports widows out there. Football, baseball, basketball, golf. The list could go on.

Each winter I become a sports widow. Skiing takes over Andy's life. If he isn't working in the ski shop he's on the slopes. And in the small amount of time he spends at home he tracks the weather patterns here and out west to see what ski conditions are going to be like so he can plan his next trip.

But summer is sacred. It's our time to spend together. He still works, but it's much less demanding and we take advantage of his extra free time as much as possible.

Until July.

Do you know what happens in July? Every year in July?

If you turn your television on for about five minutes I bet you could figure it out.

It's the Tour de France. And every year it takes over our home for a month.

I tried for a long time to fight it. Whenever the opportunity presented itself I would steer Andy's attention away from the race. But over the years that has become increasingly hard to do. And then last year I just gave up all together.

My choices were as follows: 1)Let Andy immerse himself in the month long cycling race and enjoy some "me time" or 2) Do my best to be interested in what's happening in the race and spend the time with Andy.

I chose option 2. I started to pay attention to the names of the racers. For once I was familiar with names other than Lance Armstrong. I considered it a great achievement that I understood what people were talking about when they said "peloton". I even managed to get into it a little.

After all. I married him and I knew when I did that he liked cycling and he loved the tour. So, for better or worse, I was NOT going to become a Tour de France widow. Four months out of the year was all I was giving up to any sport. It's called sacrifice people!

And so two days ago it started again.

We're spending our days watching the race. And watching recaps of each stage. And watching recaps of important moments in previous tours.

I'm not kidding. Last night we watched an old time trial from 2003. Seriously.

I guess it could be worse, and it isn't like I haven't subjected Andy to many things I like that he doesn't want to do.

Even so, this year's tour is kind of exciting for us and our little community.

Andy and I went to college with one of the cyclists. Brent Bookwalter (currently ranked 11th) shares our alma matter. How awesome is that?

Awesome for our little college and awesome for him. Way to go Brent! We're rooting for you!

Project 365, week 26

Half way! Wow!

Week in pictures June 26-July 2

Do you want to build a 70's retro house? We've got the blueprints!

He's hiding. In my bedroom. From me.

Sushi boat

I can handle 80

These two are in no danger of over exertion

Andy says my hair is "fresh" now

I LOVE when he lets me buy him clothes

Aqua blue

The three years I was in college I babysat for a family that lived just off campus. The first year they only had a little girl and their son came along the next summer.

Once I got to their house I would usually take the kids out for a walk around campus. Sometimes we would even venture out to the town park and to the shops and restaurants nearby.

There is a tiny little ice cream shop that we passed by frequently and whenever we did the little girl, M, would tell me a story about that shop.

This is how it went:

M: Joanna, have you ever had the ice cream in there?

J: No M, I don't think I have. (I didn't because they were expensive and I could have all the ice cream I wanted in the cafeteria)

M: Oh. Well sometimes we go there for a treat. One time last year (it was always "last year" even if it had been a year or two since she first told me the story) my friend was visiting and we went there to have ice cream. I had superman ice cream. Have you ever had superman ice cream?

J: No, but I know what it is. It's the kind that has really bright colors right? (It actually looks disgusting and that's why I had never eaten it)

M: Yes. It tastes really good. Anyway, my friend was visiting and I had superman ice cream.

J: Did you like it?

M: Yes. I ate the whole thing. And then later that night I got sick and threw up. Do you know what color my throw up was?

J: No, what color?

M: It was AQUA BLUE! Can you believe it?! AQUA BLUE!!! I don't eat superman ice cream anymore.

Indeed. I hadn't eaten it before that story and I'm in no hurry to try it.

For three years she told me that story over and over. Any time we would pass the ice cream shop or even mention it. We talked about aqua blue throw up a lot. Also, M spoke in kind of a pint sized valley girl speak, but with a deep southern accent. So... yeah.

And I kind of have to agree with her that aqua blue was an odd color to come from the bright yellow, blue and red of superman ice cream. Maybe she had something else to make it that color.

Anyway, enough speculation about regurgitated ice cream. On to the point of this post.

Last week I got a great bargain on a new dress at the local outlets. I had seen the dress before and then when I saw it on super sale I knew it had to come home with me. The store stocked it in a whole rainbow of colors and I had a difficult time choosing - yellow, green, black, light blue, dark blue, light pink, dark pink. It was a really tough choice, but I decided to step out of my box a little and get the light blue one. I'm usually more of a dark blue or navy kind of girl, but it's a summer dress so I decided to go with a more "summery" color choice.

Then today I had a hair appointment and needed to run a few errands, so I decided to wear my cute new dress.

I pulled it out of the closet and held it up to look at so I could decide which shoes to wear with it.

It was such a different color for me and I thought to myself, "What kind of blue is this? What would I call it if I was describing it to someone?"

And then it hit me.

Aqua Blue. My dress is aqua blue. The color of superman ice cream vomit.