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.

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?

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.

 

Bare Bear?

The other day RW decided to take a soak in our hot tub.  He wandered back into the house with a towel wrapped around his middle.  As I passed behind him, I happened to glance down. I could see that he had already shed his swimsuit from under his towel.

"Oooh, a bare butt!" I teased as I passed.

"A what?"  He sounded confused.

"A bare butt!"  I gave his towel a swat.

"Oh please, honey."  He sounded slightly disgusted.  "Bear butts are MUCH furrier, I guarantee it."

 

The Odds of a Balanced Budget

You will often find RW and I around our home with Kindle's in hand, as we both do quite a bit of reading.  RW, I am convinced, spends about as much time looking for a book worthy of his time as he does actually reading the book.  At least he's not as bad as his mother was, she used to read the last chapter first, to decide if the book was worth reading.  Don't get me going on that one again.  It makes me all tense inside.

I am constantly giving RDub advice on what books to read... invariably, he doesn't really take my book advice.  I should probably be offended by this, but I'm not.  He's (clearly) the one missing out. 

A few weeks ago he was moaning and groaning about not knowing what to read.  Never mind that we have over 300 unread books currently sitting on our Kindle's, these were not good enough for RW.  No.  He went straight to the mothership.  He spent that entire evening roaming around on Amazon.com, looking for that perfect book.  The book that will draw one in.  That book that you don't want to put down - the one that you grieve for 3 days when it ends.  He searched and searched.  By the time we crawled into bed, he was happily reading away.  I was glad he found something interesting.  Finally.

The next morning I sat down at the computer to check my emails before trotting off to work.  Ok, I don't really trot to work, that would be more than a little weird.  But I'm sure you know what I meant.  I sorted through the usual assortment of spam that tends to find its way to my in-box during the dark hours of the night, and found an order confirmation email from Amazon.  RW's new book.  The one for which he searched high and low.

I glanced through it and was ready to hit delete, when the title caught my eye.  No, it couldn't be.  RDub did NOT spend 3 hours looking for the perfect book, only to settle on this:

"Budget of the United States Government, Fiscal Year 2011"

I kid you not.  Also included in that order was this gem of a literary find:

"CK-12 Advanced Probability and Statistics"

Perhaps he was attempting to figure out what the probability was of the United States Government balancing the budget during fiscal year 2011?  I'll have to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one.  And surely, SURELY the book "The Help", on our Kindle's, which he steadfastly refuses to read because it's "a chick book" has got to be better than "Budget of the United States Government, Fiscal Year 2011"?  Don't you think?  What are the odds he'll ever read The Help?  If you need help figuring them out, we've got a book you may borrow.  You're welcome.

Stacked

There are times in life that one just needs to shrug one's shoulders in a sort of "don't ask me - I'm just the passenger" sort of way.  You may remember - this was one of those moments.  One would think that these types of things don't really happen on a regular basis, but when it comes to RW, you would be wrong.

During our 2011 Grand Camping Adventure, you may recall that our Mr. 1991 Truck was out of commission getting a new radiator and water pump.  Well thank goodness we still had the motorcycle, or we would have been very much stuck at our campsite.  In fact, our camping neighbors, the ones that we camp next to every single year, teased RDub that the only reason he must haul that bike out with us is for alternate transportation when our vehicles are in the shop.  Yeah, it'd be really funny if it weren't so true.

Anyway, you've heard the saying that necessity is the mother of invention, right?  Let's just say that it's a good thing RW knows how to dance with the bungee cords:

Yup, we got a few looks.  And a lot of laughs.  And I ducked my head and pretended I was invisible.

But without that, we wouldn't have had this:

And without this, we wouldn't have had anywhere to warm our... uh... selves.

And if we had nowhere to warm our... uh.. selves, we would have been cold.  And perhaps a little crabby.  So it appears as if things were stacked in our favor after all.  Thank goodness for that.

Fritos, Fish and Snuggles

The other night I was going about my usual business - making dinner, cleaning up, folding laundry - you know - the normal stuff of life.  I noticed that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was following me around everywhere, like he needed something. That dog was stuck on me like super-glue, gazing up at me with woeful and pathetic eyes.

I thought this was odd but he didn't appear sick, so I kept on.  I'd walk from the bathroom to the bookcase, all of 1 foot, and ZeketheFreakRatTerrier would move with me, sitting down and staring at me when I stood still, and then inching forward to get as close as he could to my leg. He kept this up for a couple of hours.

I finally finished all I needed to do, and flopped down on the chair.  Before I could even get The Best Blanket Ever unfolded over my legs, the dog had jumped and snuggled right into me, sighing with doggy contentment and not a little of that bad doggy breath.  Kind of ruined the moment for me, but whatever.  I suppose I can put up with Fritos-smelling paws and fish breath for a few minutes, if it makes my oddly-needy dog happy.

ZeketheFreakRatTerrier seemed just fine once he had snuggled into me and The Best Blanket Ever, all previous neediness disappearing.  It finally dawned on me that this is why he had been following me around - he wanted me to sit down so he could partake of The Best Blanket Ever, since The Best Blanket Ever is not available to him without me.

I commented to RW that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier just appeared to need some snuggle time.

RW replied from one room away:

"Well, [like, duh?] animals need snuggles too, you know."  Apparently he would know, being the Animal Science major in the house.  Before I could say anything, he added, "Except Rhinoceros's.  They don't need to snuggle."

Okaaay, then, RW.  Glad to see you know your animals.  Good to put your schooling to work.. nicely done.  And meanwhile, I'm going to keep that fish breath and Frito paws off my blanket for as long as I can.  ZeketheFreakRatTerrier can feel free to snuggle in his own bed.  At least until the next time he asks.  For sure until then.