Happy Birthday, Robin

No candles on the birthday cake. I couldn't get permission from the local fire department. But it's just as well since Robin might not have enough breath to blow them out.

I asked the birthday boy where he wanted to eat on his special night. He said the place that has the waffle bowls full of ice cream. I asked, "Dairy Queen?" He said that was the one. I told him I know it's been a rough year with the economy, but I can handle the usual steak and seafood he chooses for his birthday dinner. Maybe I'll treat him to dessert at Dairy Queen.

Happy birthday, Robin, and thank you for being a wonderful husband who settled for a coconut cake this year instead of the time-consuming German chocolate. I love you to pieces.

A Dozen Years!

Today, instead of celebrating our 12th anniversary, Robin and I have decided to call it quits.Happy April Fool's Day! Gotcha!

Meet the New Robin

Imagine my surprise when I arrived home from my trip to find a new man greeting me at the door. I saw the difference immediately. Robin had shaved off his beard. I've known this man for many years since we met through our businesses, but I've never seen him without fuzz on his face. I've been staring at him ever since. I mean, this is the real deal. No cover-ups.
Please voice your opinions. Should Robin cover his mug with hair or just go bare? He tends to think he looks older without the beard, but I reminded him of all the gray in his beard like a good wife should.

I think he looks younger without the beard, although his skin is pale where the sun hasn't shone in decades. And the kisses! They are better, too!

So, what's the verdict? He's thinking of growing it back in a month or so. Right now, I vote for no beard. I'm enjoying the new look for now. But I think he's handsome either way.

Hair or no hair?

Merry Christmas!

Robin and I always enjoy Christmas Eve when we share our Christmas together. It's a special time. Now I'm looking forward to having all my kids here for gifts, dinner and cinnamon rolls next week.
This is the first picture I took with my new camera Robin gave to me. It's PINK! Allison asked if it was a Barbie camera. Funny girl. It's small and will fit nicely in my purse and I'm so proud of it.

I thought I'd sneak in Robin's birthday dinner picture since I hadn't posted it. We chowed down on steak (me) and steak and lobster for Robin.

Robin posing with his new guitar. I bought an instruction book that will come in handy. He's a beginner and a very anxious one at that. I look forward to the day he becomes professional.

Since I picked out my jeans Robin didn't bother to wrap them, just placed a bow on the rear. We had to go to a western store to find Levis in black.

I also picked out the black wool coat he gave me. He selected the guitar he wanted but we still had a few surprises under the tree. I never expected my metallic pink camera. It will really make me a blogging queen.

Merry Christmas to all and have a healthy, happy 2010.

Happy Birthday, Robin!

The Birthday Boy is proudly displaying his German Chocolate Cake that he gets only once a year. They are time-consuming. One year I slipped in a German chocolate cake mix. He ate a few bites and asked what did I do differently this year. Well, I was lazy but it won't happen again. So I separated 8 eggs, melted chocolate, bought buttermilk that will be thrown out since neither of us will drink it. Ah, but Robin is worth the trouble.
I gave him a bottle of Versace Man, two bags of his favorite candy, a hooded jacket, and a new alarm clock with extra features, including the projection of the time on the ceiling. He wants steak and lobster for dinner so we are going out. I'm ordering steak. No lobster for me. He can have it all.

Happy birthday, Robin. I hope your wonderful, adoring, loving wife makes it all you dreamed it would be. I love you!

The Missing Newspaper

This is an example of how Robin and I have been on brain overload lately. Of course the example involves Robin, not me. For obvious reasons.

Robin came up to me and asked, "Did you stop delivery of our newspaper?"

"No. As a matter of fact, it is paid through November," I told him.

"Well, it isn't in our yard."

"Maybe someone stole it."

"But there are papers in all the other yards," he said.

"Maybe that someone just needed that one newspaper."

"Hmph," he muttered as he walked away, only to come back a few minutes later.

"Forget what I said about the newspaper," he told me. "It's on the coffee table in my den. I must have gone out and picked it up earlier."

"Huh?"

He flushed and walked away again.

The Joys of Marriage

Are you or your spouse a backseat driver? The backseat driver is the one who makes you wonder how you got from Point A to Point B while driving alone. No one is there to monitor your speed, warn of approaching vehicles, or tell you which way to turn on a road you have traveled a hundred times.

I admit I used to be a backseat driver. When Chezzy came to the USA from Brazil he brought the Brazilian driving skills with him. I feared for my life and said so. I actually witnessed a car driving upon the sidewalk to miss a traffic light when I visited Brazil. Another common hazard was laying on the horn to let everyone know you were barreling through with no plans to tap the brakes. Chezzy didn't do those things, but he did speed and tailgate. He thought having two feet between him and the car in front of him was plenty of room to stop if he had to. I loved the man to pieces, but his driving made me prematurely gray.

Then along comes Robin. He's carefree, laid back, drives the speed limit and is never in a hurry. I stopped being a backseat driver and was able to enjoy the scenery. But somewhere along the way, Robin decided to be an aggressive driver and I find it hard to keep my mouth shut. But I usually do keep my mouth shut and refrain from being a backseat driver. The tiniest gasp from me would not be taken kindly anyway.

Oh, but things change when I am behind the wheel. Suddenly, I don't know where I am unless he points the way. I'm blind to oncoming traffic unless he tells me it's there. I'm going too slow or too fast, I'm not passing pokey-butt like I should, and I'm going to kill us all if I don't listen to him. OK, this is a little exaggerated, but you get my drift.

Recently I followed Robin to a car repair shop so he could drop off his car. I drove him home....not perfectly, mind you, but we got there. I was trying to turn left at a busy intersection that had no traffic lights.

"Go, go, go! This guy is waving you through," Robin announced.

"Well, I didn't see him. I was looking at traffic in the other direction," I explained.

"You have to pull out when you have the chance. You're beginning to drive like a grandma."

"I was looking both ways. It just so happened that you looked one way while I was looking the other way."

"You should have pulled out. I must have been behind your cousin on the way over. She would slow down, then speed up when I tried to pass her. She was the self-proclaimed Road Monitor. She was going to determine who got in which lane and how fast they were allowed to go. She owned the road and tried to interfere with how other drivers drove. I finally sped up and .... oh, look to your right," Robin said. "I used to live in those apartments."

"I wish you still did," I replied.

He laughed at that and his mood changed. At the time, I didn't mean to be funny.

The Joys of Marriage

If you have never had a road map in the car between you and your husband, you have missed one of life's greatest frustrations. There's something about a road map that puts the nerves on edge, raises the blood pressure, and creates explosive verbal exchanges. Thus was the case on our recent road trip.

I will make it clear right here and now that I am not a fan of road maps. I've never been able to decipher one well. Dora the Explorer, I'm not. I've heard that we respond to one of two types of directions. I do not fit into the map type. Tell me to get on interstate whatever, go 50 miles, or 1200 miles, take this exit, turn right on that road, and I'm there. No problem. The times I made deliveries for my son at work he'd pull out a pen and paper and start drawing me a map. I'd tell him no, give me road names and a left and right. Clearly, he's the map type, just as Robin is.

I can't count the number of times we pulled to the side of the road to read a map I was supposed to be in charge of. Actually, the map was an Atlas, not a state map, so the roads weren't all listed and named. So, either Robin drove with the map in front of him or we pulled off and the map was snatched from my hands. I finally had an idea.

"When we get to the hotel, you study the map, chart our course, and I will write it all down. I'll list the roads, exits, and towns where we will pick up a new road."

"No. I don't want to do it that way."

OK. I think I know how he wants to do it. He wants to order me to read the map, remove sunglasses, dig in purse for reading glasses, and ask every few seconds if I have finally found the road. At least that's how it went down.

So here we are on the side of the road and he is telling me for the 100th time that I need to learn to read a map.

"And you need to learn how to make cinnamon rolls," I countered.

He stared at me.

He didn't get it.

"Why do I need to learn how to make cinnamon rolls?"

"The point is, neither of us know how to do everything and that's ok."

Apparently not.

It's been said that you have a solid marriage if you have survived building a house together or having one remodeled. Let me add road trips to that.

Peeps Anyone?

Robin always gives me a little gift for Easter. Usually it's a plush rabbit or chick, something that ends up in the toy room for the grandchildren or on a shelf in the closet. This year he walked in with this box of Peeps. It's a joke since he knows I find these things disgusting.

Now, I don't recall if I've ever eaten one of these little yellow, mushy guys. I don't think I have. My judgment of this Easter tradition is based on appearance alone. They just don't look appetizing to me. I'm not a real fan of chocolate bunnies either. I love sweets as much as the next person, but what passes as Easter candy leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Do kids actually like Peeps? I know they will eat just about anything with sugar in it, but Peeps? I'll stick with my Peanut M&Ms in their pretty Easter pastels. The rest of you are welcome to this box of yellow chick goo.

Towel Animal Art

Hi boys and girls! Can you guess what I am? I am Robin's first attempt at making an animal out of towels. His wife, Peggy (yes, he's old enough to be married!), bought this book on towel animals while on her cruise in February. Robin thought it would be fun to master this art for the grandchildren (yes, he's old enough to be a grandpa!). The book includes instructions on how to create many fabulous critters.

Give up? I'm a gorilla! And Robin will be making more creations tonight when Jude, Baylee, and Sophia are here for a sleepover (no, Robin doesn't act his age!).

Appetizers, Dinner, Dessert

We're full! Great evening.

April Fool's Day!

Oh yeah, and happy 11th anniversary to us! We think it's the perfect combination. We'll be celebrating and taking pictures tonight. I don't think I've indulged in a steak since my heart attack, so if my heart will forgive me, I think I will treat the taste buds tonight.
Robin gave me a big bottle of Alien perfume, which is what I asked for. We'll be shopping today at a sporting store for him.

Happy anniversary, Babe. I still love you!

Caught! Red Light Camera

I didn't mean to do it. In fact, I didn't know I'd done anything wrong until I checked through a week's worth of mail and saw where Robin had written on an envelope, "Peggy!!! Bad Girl!"

Now for the record, Robin never opens my mail. This notice was addressed to him because my car is in his name. It was his car until he wanted a big, bad truck, then I took over his car. Still, the citation, the guilt, is in his name. He pulled out his calendar to see where he was the day the red light Road Monitor pulled a fast one. He was in Houston. Not here filling up my gas tank like a sweet husband. He was out of town. I'm the one who broke the law in his name.

But I don't think I deserve the citation. It was an innocent mistake. In the almost 35 years I have lived here, I have gone through that intersection thousands of times with no problem. When I noticed the date and time of the infraction, I remembered I was on my way to Patty's for lunch, shopping, and pedicures to get ready for our cruise like all normal women would. I have turned right on red numerous times at that intersection. I didn't know the rules had changed.

There are three pictures of my car on this notice. The first frame shows me in the right turning lane, even with the car that is going straight. That means I stopped, looked, listened, then turned. The second frame shows the car in the process of turning right. The final frame got real up close and personal with my license plate number. I couldn't believe I'd done anything wrong so I hopped in my car and drove to the intersection. There is a new sign there: "Crosswalk, stop on red". Shouldn't it say: "Crosswalk, no right on red"? I know to stop. I think I've known that since I was in pigtails. A red light means stop. I did. But I'm more familiar with 'no right on red' when the sign applies to the right lane.

I plan to let the city know that the sign is confusing, especially for those of us who have lived in this area forever. I will send that note with my $75. Yes, I know it won't do any good. The sign was probably deliberate to boost the city's economy during these bad times.

Robin told me to be sure and pay the fine well before the due date so it won't go on his record. This is my easy way out of paying the ticket. I'll just point to the name on the citation and ask Robin who is responsible. Hee hee.

Birthday Dinner

Robin enjoyed seafood tonight as part of his birthday celebration. Since I won't eat anything that used to swim, I settled for steak that used to graze.

Our salads with cheese biscuits were good and we both devoured our entrees. I had skipped lunch and had a good reason to splurge. Robin seldom gets seafood so he had a good reason to splurge, too.

Never mind that we had German chocolate cake at home, we had to order a birthday dessert. This tasty treat is a hot chocolate chip cookie topped with ice cream. Yes, we ate it all.

As with all December birthdays, the celebration has to end so we can turn our focus to Christmas. Robin had a great birthday with lots of attention, cards, phone calls, and gifts. He doesn't feel slighted at all. Most importantly, he doesn't feel his age. I love you, Big Guy!

Celebrating

Here's the birthday boy with his toys. In a previous post about all the raccoons and opossums he has captured in his trap, I mentioned the opossums are so hideous that we never see stuffed animals of their likeness. I was wrong. I found these two critters side by side on a shelf, as if to say, "Buy us for Robin!" Which I did. Now, the Great White Hunter has two more "trophies" to add to his antler collection and bobcat skull.I considered placing both in the trap and presenting them that way, but remembered that the trap might not be the cleanest of gift holders. Not that it really matters since these creatures are Robin's gifts from the cats. I gave him cologne he'd wanted, but who wants to see a picture of that?

The birthday mug and a generous slice of German chocolate cake made an excellent afternoon treat. We will put off eating out until tomorrow night since we are under a wintry weather advisory. He'll just have to suffer through my spaghetti tonight. But we're still celebrating!

Happy Birthday, Robin!

Happy birthday to that special man in my life! I asked what dessert he wanted and he said we haven't had German chocolate cake lately. I replied, "not since last birthday. I don't just whip those up in minutes." So, I'll be busy baking and he is worth the trouble it takes to make his favorite cake.

Besides cake, I'll be treating him to birthday dinner and gifts. I'm sure more pictures will follow.

Happy birthday, Babe! I love you!

Our Double Date

There's no better way to spend an afternoon than double dating with a fun couple. Robin and I joined Donna and James at the King Tut exhibit in Dallas. We enjoyed it so much, plus we feel very cultured now. To actually be in the presence of items that date back over 3,000 years is incredible. The history was very interesting. After the exhibit we headed out for barbecue and lots of laughter. James and I tied on the number of rolls we ate!

Of course, pictures weren't allowed in the museum so we captured the moment in the parking garage.

Thank you, Donna and James, for such a delightful afternoon of learning, sharing, and laughing. I hope another outing will be planned in the near future.

Timberrrrrr!

Robin and I were outside last night when this tree in a neighbor's yard decided to come down with a thunderous crash. It didn't startle us, even though the crash that followed the first one was so loud it shook the earth. No, we'd been watching this tree since late August when we heard a loud crack and saw the damage. Every morning while having coffee on the patio we'd hear more cracks, some faint, some loud. Within a few weeks, the tree had split in half at least three feet and would have tumbled down if not for other trees holding the weight. But last night the other trees grew weary and weak under the weight of this larger tree and they all came crashing down.This heavy limb that broke apart is not through doing its damage. It's still pulling away from the tree with constant creaks and groans, and will do further damage if it isn't corrected in time. The neighbors tried to bring in a small crew with chainsaws today, but other neighbors weren't home and the damage involved three other properties besides their own. They needed consent before they could clear this out.
This is the small corner of our yard that is affected. A portion of the tree fell over the fence and is resting in our yard. The fence behind it is swaying and will fall soon enough.
This yard is next to the one whose tree fell. The white crushed metal under the limbs used to be a shed. It was flattened. Other loose limbs are still caught in other, stronger trees and will fall with the first wind. It's a real mess.

So why didn't we warn these neighbors about impending disaster? We don't know them, but that's no excuse. We had a similar problem once with another one of their trees that came through the fence. We called to see how they wanted to handle it. We were told that it would cost $900 to cart away the tree and mend the fence. He said he would split the cost with us. We told him it was his tree. He told us there was no point in one person carrying the whole expense. So, we fixed our own fence and let him worry about the limbs on his side.

When we noticed another one of his trees meeting a similar doom, we just watched and waited. Five weeks later it caused damage in four yards. Extensive damage. Maybe this neighbor is ready to mend fences.

Nearing Hunting Season - Woman Style

Patty and I are already counting the days to hunting season. It officially opens on November 1. However, if one enjoys bow season, the fun begins a month earlier. The Great White Hunter bought a crossbow recently so I am assuming Patty and I will have an extra month to enjoy.

Contrary to what the picture of me depicts, I will not be spending my weekends at the deer lease. I don't shoot Bambi. I don't eat Bambi, either. And a gigantic drawback to hunting is that you can't wear perfume. It alerts the prey of your presence. Therefore, deodorant is taboo, also. Cooking is allowed and I don't get that. Grilling a thick venison steak should scare off the deer more than the scent of Burberry. Then there's the accommodations. An outdoor shower in November? Even worse, an outdoor bathroom? An old, musty camper? No internet connections? Cooking in cramped quarters and sleeping near the hunter who left his deodorant at home? No, thanks. I'm not a happy camper.

Oh, but I love slumber parties! And that's exactly what Patty and I do every hunting season. We luxuriate in the absence of a schedule - meals, laundry, etc. - and indulge in free time and all that we enjoy filling those minutes with. It might be shopping (we usually fit in some Christmas shopping), reading, playing games or doing puzzles. The point is, we don't have to be doing anything unless we want to. That's the beauty of it.

I know we just finished a week in a condo with total freedom to be lazy. It wasn't enough. I think my body is trying to tell me it is time to retire, to sleep late and stay up all night with a good book, to laugh often with friends, to empty my mind of any and all distressing things. I plan to listen. Sorry Bambi, but I love hunting season.

The One That Got Away

The Great White Hunter nabbed another critter, Rocky Raccoon. This big guy had attitude. He hissed and growled each time we got near his cage. After a night in confinement, he was mean and angry. City animal control tried to get him from our cage to theirs, but he fought hard. Since no one wanted an encounter with his teeth and claws, he managed to escape during the transfer. I don't think he will fall for the bait in the trap again. I hope, at least, he chose another back yard in which to take up residence.