Just The Two of Us

All Charged Up

Yesterday was the annual "let's get the motorcycle out and moving" day.  Oh, and more importantly, it was RW's birthday (Happy birthday, RDub!).  The weather was a beautiful, warm almost-summer day, and we needed to take advantage of it.

Those who have been reading this blog for a long time know that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier likes to ride on the bike with us.  For a visual on how this works, look here. Anyway, RW doesn't particularly like the baby carrier thing, as ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is squashed between us (and for those who are wondering, it's more about our discomfort than the dog's.  I know - we are awesome pet owners).  So he's been mulling over other options for the past year, and apparently yesterday was the day to implement.  He spent a couple of hours on a "Zeke" carrier that attaches to the rack on the "trunk" of the bike, and then called me outside when he was ready to try it out.

He slipped on Zeke's x-small harness (Zeke, I'm sure, is sensitive to his size.  Don't tell him I mentioned the x-small.  He already has a complex) and secured him inside the carrier, which is open at the top for him to stick his head out and direct traffic.  More like stop traffic, but I digress.  I was instructed to stand at the end of the driveway and see how ZeketheFreakRatTerrier reacts to this recent turn of events.

As it turned out, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier loved it.  No problems.  When RDub cruised back into the driveway, I told him the three of us should go for a little spin.  I rummaged through the truck (one of the 5 vehicles and 3 trailers currently in our driveway.  2 people live here.  It's a little over the top.) for Zeke's Doggles and helmet.  We met back at the motorcycle, ready to do some summer livin'.

RDub turned over the engine.  Clickclickclickclickclickclick.  Dead battery.  Thus started a 35 minute adventure to charge the battery.  RW first tried to jump it with an extra battery he had - trying to avoid the hassle of finding the real jumper cables.  No such luck.  He fished around the trunk of the Buick and pulled out the jumper cables and attached one end of them to the engine of the Buick.  There wasn't a lot to attach them to on the bike, so that started a frustrating cycle of attempting to connect them, trying the engine, and getting the whole clickclickclickclickclickclick thing.

He tried several different ways of attaching them.  Nothing.  Nada. More clickclickclickclickclick.  Meanwhile, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was still harnessed into his carrier, and not impressed with the delay.  I was getting hungry for lunch.  RW was getting frustrated about the clickclickclickclick thing happening.

In a stroke of... genius, RW disappeared into the house and reappeared with the keys to the Buick.  He slid into the driver's seat and turned over the engine.  Click.  Not even clickclick.  Just click. 

Thankfully(?) we had 3 other vehicles to choose from, and 2 minutes later we were roaring to life and ready to ride.

Thus said, may I be so bold to suggest that when one needs to jump a battery, one doesn't use a dead battery to do so?  You may have better luck with a live one... just saying.

Ride 'em Cowboy

So....

I have a new job.  Same company but new job.  And it's in the city, which is a far cry from from my old job, which was decidedly NOT in the city.  What a difference 26 miles makes.  Trust me on this one.

Nothing says "Welcome to the City" more than a 60ish+ man with long flowing white hair riding his bicycle at 6:45 am.  Not just riding his bicycle, but riding it in full-on cowboy gear. 2 cowboy hats - he was wearing one and the spare was flung over his shoulder.  Chaps. Spurs.  Would you be scared to wear spurs while riding a bicycle?  I would be, and you should be too.  It strikes me as dangerous, with the pedals and chain and whatnot.

But the best part of his get-up was the whip.  The whip that he would snap at whatever he rode past.  Stop light?  SNAAAAP.  Liquor store?  SNAP SNAP SNAP (it's a long building that must have warranted more than one snap).  Stop sign?  SNAP.  Bus shelter?  SNAP SNAP (and you should have seen the people jump that were standing inside that shelter).

Being stuck at a couple of stop lights gave me a front row seat to The Bicycle Cowboy.  It was free entertainment. 

Such was my scenery as I drove into the ramp yesterday, at aforementioned new job.  It should be interesting.  Just saying.

It's Bound to Happen, Right? HA!

Friday night found us at Karen & Nathan's house for the night, playing with the kids while the lucky parents started a weekend away. 

It's just another thing I love about RW, he jumps right in.  He isn't just there to make sure no one gets seriously maimed, sets the house on fire, or kills a sibling in a freak accident.  He's there to engage.  He reads with the kids, he engages in riveting conversation ("Did you KNOW that I can count to NINE THOUSAND without stopping EVEN ONCE?  Yeah.  I did it on the way to the volleyball game! Want to hear me?")  Like I said, riveting.

Saturday morning we awoke to bright sun.  RW was all over that.  "KIDS!  Let's go for a HIKE!"  They sort of stared at him until pocket knives, magnifying glasses and snacks were mentioned, and then everyone suddenly sprung into action. I didn't see them again for an hour, which was more than impressive, as despite the sun, it was only 18 degrees outside.

After the hike and the subsequent bonfire (thank you farmer, for burning brush on this particular day!), Keira and RW were standing in the kitchen having another one of those riveting conversations, when 3-yr-old Keira piped up with this doozy:

"[RW], are you my grandpa?"  Clearly she still needs some work on family relationships.  Sitting in the other room, I overheard this and practically choked on my ice water from the laughter.  I'm fairly certain that RDub was disappointed that there was a witness to this question.

"No, silly girl!  I'm not your GRANDPA!!!"

She was undeterred.  "But you ARE a grandpa, right?"

I'm not sure I even heard RW's response, I was too busy laughing laughing laughing.  There are certain advantages to marrying someone older, mainly that you are always younger.  Thus, the laughter.  

Regardless of the relationship, there's simply no way RW could be offended by her:

...just give him another few years before giving him the grandpa label!

Mouthing Off

Tonight was taco night at our house.  I am on a quest to use up most everything in our pantry and freezers, and so this morning I was standing in the pantry, staring again at what seems like b.o.r.i.n.g.  All Campbell's soups, a Costco-sized jug of soy sauce,  a lot of bags of dried beans (which I'm still wondering why I have those, it's not like I'm a soak-your-beans type of gal.  But whatever.)

Surely a run to Costco would yield me tastier options?  NO.  I pep-talked myself once again about not hoarding and storing up food (I mean really.  Who need approximately 6 months worth of food in their house, anyway?  Notice the name of this blog?  It's not as if I'm feeding an army).  So I tell myself that all the food in this house would look like enormous storehouses to many people in any number of countries.  And I fight the excess and waste and look for something to make for dinner.

I noticed that I had some leftover tortillas flung deep into the frost-covered depth of a freezer.  I grabbed them and kept looking.  Some home-made taco seasoning, a jar of taco sauce from 4 years ago (unopened, so stop worrying!), a few cherry tomatoes on the verge of going bad, and I had myself a meal.  Oh, except the meat.  I trekked to yet another freezer (don't ask) and fished out a chuck roast. Oh, and I also dug up some shredded cheddar.  Auh-maz-ing what one can find in one's freezers, if one just looks.

I dumped the roast and the taco seasoning into the crock pot with some water, and went away for 6 or 7 or 9 hours, during which I devoured a bag of cough drops, kept blowing my nose, and felt sorry for my sick self.

After the smell of tasty meat got entirely too much to bear, I made my way back into the kitchen and started putting dinner together.  RW joined me - apparently the smell of tasty meat was a little too much for him to bear, too.  He got out the plates and unwrapped the tortillas.

"Ummm, honey?  There are only 3 tortillas in this bag."

"Oh well.  You can have 2."

"No, no.. we'll split the 3rd one."  Isn't he just a love. He's my hero, too.

After eating my whole tortilla, I wandered back into the kitchen for the other 1/2.  I started to chop up a few more cherry tomatoes, when RW reached across me for the cheese, blocking me out.

"Excuse me...?  Chopping here?"

RW's response was swift... "Honee!  Aahm maaahking a tahco!"  He shoved the cheese into his mouth, which can I mention, was already populated with meat.

I stopped for a moment and watched him.  A lack of tortillas was simply not a barrier for RW's dinner.  He was indeed making a taco.. in his mouth.  In fact, if memory serves me correctly, he ate several more this way.

They were darn tasty, too.  At least the 1 1/2 that I ate.  I can't really vouch for RW's improvisation.  So if you have a hankering for tacos, come on over.  You'll just have to bring your own tortillas.  Or just your mouth.  That may work as well.

 

True Love

ME: "You know what tomorrow is don't you?"

RW: "I don't know, someone's birthday?"

ME: "Yes, mine."

RW: [staring at me] "No it's not! You're so full of it.  Your birthday isn't in February!"

[whew!]

ME: "You're right.  It's Valentine's Day!"

[pause]

RW: "Valentine's Day is for lovers.  We're married."

To his credit... he laughed.

Ahhh.  True love! 

Optimism

RW has spent some time this evening catching up on old (yes, that's old and old) friends on Facebook.  Deciding he wished to see a picture of one of those friends, he headed over to our library room to dig out his yearbooks.  Finding the one he was looking for, he flipped it open:

"..A whole bunch of dead people in this book."

"Wow, Babe... that's a happy thought", I replied, staring at him, slightly bewildered.

"Yeah well, wait until you get old and you can look at all your dead friends too."

Such optimism, I'm not sure how to handle all the happiness!  And by the way, by his comment one would think that he's 92 or something.  Really?

Doggin' It

It's Monday.  That means it's Pinterest Monday.  The day where I  extol the praises of actually doing some Pinterest projects, not just "pinning" them in a sort of "this is a great idea and someday I think this would be fabulous to do with the kids" sort of way.  Because before you know it, those kids will be 28 years old and may just be no longer interested in the cool hot dogs you can make for them.  Trust me.  It could  will happen.

In fact, I was front and center to this weird "the kids actually grow-up phenomenon" this past weekend.  The same day that I did the project below, I also made a ginger-bread house with The Kids.  Last time I checked, all four of those children were participants in the Rent-A-Kid program.  All four love the ginger-bread house every year.  Ok, they have loved it the years we've actually done it, which to be honest, isn't every one of them.  But they remind me every year that it's time -  we need to build that house.  And so this year I was on top of it.  I brought it over.  

We started honing our decorating skills, but it didn't take me too long to see that we were missing some one.  Quaid, who is now seven (I'm sorry?  Who gave him permission to grow up?  Huh?  I was.not.consulted.) decided that being in the other room with his daddy and RW was certainly way cooler than making a ginger-bread house with us.  Well then.  I'm just warning you.. it will happen to you too.

Back to Pinterest (seeing as it is, actually, Pinterest Monday).  I saw the way cool idea (I know, it's not proper sentence structure) of making hot dogs with spaghetti running through them.  Just to be clear, I didn't think this would be way cool for RDub and myself, but for The Kids. [cough].  I brought all the gear over to their house.  "All the gear" sounds a bit overwhelming.  "Gear" consisted only of hot dogs and spaghetti.  Oh, and some buns in case they wanted them.  I made sure The Kids were busy elsewhere, and I covertly started making my magical hot dogs.

I know.  Cool, right?  I threaded the noodles through and dropped them into a pot of boiling water.  And then after that I stood there and told Karen what a fab meal I made the night before, but seeing as that isn't relevant to this conversation, I'll skip to the final product:

Thinking I was oh-so-clever, I cornered 6-yr-old Ava and asked her how the noodles got in the middle of the hot dog.

She excitedly and matter-of-factly said, "OH! You take the noodles when they're stiff?  And poke them through the hot dog?  And them cook them.  That's how you do that."

So much for putting one over on her. 

So thus completes another Pinterest idea project.  And as for Quaid?  I'm guessing I need to come up with some cooler stuff to do.  Because clearly, the ginger-bread house didn't really cut it for him.   Growing up is for the dogs.

2012, Here We Come!

Well.  Here we are again.  January 1st.  Where did that year go?  I believe that sufficient time has passed in order for me to bear discussing last year's resolutions.  Do you remember?  If you don't, refer to this.  I'll have you know that it has taken me a full 13 months to get over the 2 or 3 hours of perfection.  

Granted, these weren't actually my resolutions, per say.  It was an experiment in perfection to let you, my loyal blog readers, know what was worth making resolutions about and what you should just take one moment at a time.  It was a painful, painful few moments of my life.  Which brings us to this year.  2012.  The year in which the Vikings will win more games than they lose (hope springs eternal).  A year in which my friends will send me copious amounts of electronic communications letting me know how much they adore me. (snort.  eye roll.)   A year in which my rather large family will all positively beg us to move closer (hahaha.  right.)  A year in which my dear RW will shower me with his love and affection (ok - that one is likely.  I married well.).  Yes, that year.  2012.  It's here.

I know I may disappoint some, but I don't really have any resolutions for you today.  My friend Stacie and I were discussing resolutions this week, and we both agreed that one can change any day.  This may be a shock to some, but you really don't have to wait until January 1st to do something different.  In my life, today looks a lot like yesterday.  That may have something to do with the fact that the Vikings lost again today, but anyway.. you catch my drift.

So, so long, 2011.  You were a decent year.  You were fairly good to RW and myself.  In 2011 we vacationed with both sides of our families.  We took a few trips.  We saw a nephew that we hold dear get married to his perfect mate.  We rejoiced with another special nephew when he passed the bar, and laughed in awe and not a little bit of admiration at a sweet niece who had the privilege (?) of giving birth to her son in a gas station parking lot (I'm not sure she's laughing about that.) We laughed with friends.  We cried with friends. We loved on our families. We grew closer to God and to each other.  We had jobs.  We watched a parent go through something very difficult, and learned from another parent how to deal with it.  I got to see a friend I hadn't seen in 24 years (hi Kevin!).  I got to spend a couple of days with another dear friend who lives in Africa.  We made some new friends.  We cherished the old ones.  We did life, together. And for that, I'm so grateful.

Happy New Year to you all!  Thanks for being such great readers.  I'm looking forward to a fun year, blog included.  And those resolutions?  Yeah.  Don't bother setting yourself up for failure.  Take it from the expert.  Cheers.

 

I've Been A Little Sparse Lately...

... on time, that is.  Life has gotten just a smidge crazy here in these parts over the past couple of weeks.  Enjoy the "holiday" week and I'll meet you back here in the new year.  And by the new year, I don't mean July.  I'm good with January 1st, just in time to discuss last year's resolutions.

See you then.  In the meantime you may want to go to the gym to work off all that food you've eaten this past week.  Oh wait, nevermind.  I was talking to me.

Merry Christmas...

...to ME!

Have no fear, the Buick is still here.  My car with 213,000 miles has now been absconded by RW for the sole reason of the heated seats. Well, that and it's not a manual like his Honda.  Can't say that I blame him, as heated seats were a non-negotiable for me in my our new car.  It's somewhat of a necessity here in the winter wonderland of MN.  Yes, notice the 6 feet of snow. So very glad we purchased that snow blower last month.  What would we ever have done without it?

So, you may ask... what will we be doing with the Honda, since RW appears to now be driving the Park Avenue?  Why, we keep it, of course.  At least according to RDub.  I have different opinions, but I'm not exactly in a position to argue on this one, am I, with the new car and all.  So lucky us.  If you count the Goldwing, we now own 5(!) vehicles.  And insure every last one of them.  There are 2 of us.  Do the math.  Can you see my slight angst about the non-necessity of this particular situation?  But again.  Not really going to complain.

I'm happy - I have a new car.  RW's happy, as he figures he now has no need to do any Christmas shopping.  I'd call that a win-win.