Monthly Archives: June 2009

Jun30

Sweetycakes!

Posted on by
Sweetycakes!

I had a doctor appointment today, and Joey knows how I have grown to despise the Margot Perot Center for Women And Children. He even offered to come with me today for morale. I told him I could hack it though. I am so tough.

Anyway, midafternoon Joey texted me and said he had a SURPRISE for me and I’d get it when I picked him up later.

Wanna guess what it was?

Um, IT WAS AN IPOD TOUCH!

I’m writing this post on it, too. I feel so savvy and high tech.

But the best part is that it will sync with my cooking software and keep my shopping lists. No more wasting paper!

This post has taken way too long to write.

Thanks for the new toy Joey!! Love you!

Jun30

To go…or not to go: Henry’s opinion

Posted on by
To go…or not to go: Henry’s opinion

Joey and I are tossing around the idea of going to Iowa for the long weekend.  We thought we’d ask Henry his opinion, and we originally thought we’d take it…but turns out Henry stinks at helping make decisions.  Anyway, the following video is for your edification/amusement/whatever you want to use it for.

All I know is that Henry stinks, both literally and figuratively.

Jun30

I Get My Due

Posted on by
I Get My Due

So I like to keep a tidy house.  (Maybe sometimes TOO tidy.)  But whatever, I like it to be clean becuase you never know when someone is coming over; it would be embarassing for me to have dust on the picture frames if one of you just dropped by for tea and crumpets.

I really don’t like clothes laying on the floor.  Clothes belong in one of three place:

  1. In the drawer
  2. On your body
  3. In the hamper

As you can see, THE FLOOR is not one of the options.

Last night, I was plumb tuckered out.  It had been a long day and, after our walk with Henry, I virtually fell into bed where I attempted to read a chapter or two of P&P before falling asleep.  I only made it through one chapter (the one where Jane winds up at Netherfield due to a cold and fever after riding there in the rain) and konked out.

But I forgot my clothes on the floor.

This morning, as I was brushing my teeth over our sink with a VERY CLOGGED DRAIN, I heard a gasp from the bedroom.

“JENNA!  You left your clothes on the floor!”  Joey came running into the bathroom with a look on his face that registered somewhere between shock and awe.

“Uh, yeah.  I forgot about them,” I hedged.

“Should I do to you like you do to me when I leave my clothes in the study?” He asked.

(I always wonder HOW his clothes get in the study in the first place.  I mean, we have a huge picture window in that room, and…whatever.  I’m not thinking about it anymore.)

“Sure, finefinefine, go ahead,” I mumbled.

Joey looked really excited and ran into the bedroom.

“JENNA!” He hollered.  “WHY are your CLOTHES on the FLOOR?!”

He has me down pretty good.

“Because I forgot them there!” I wailed.

“Ok, now I’m going to do your passive aggressive one. You ready?” Joey came into the bathroom.

“Sure, finefinefine…”

“Jenna, your clothes are on the floor.” Joey said, monotone.

I just looked at him.

“I feel so much better now,” Joey said, and grabbed his towel so he could (finally) take a shower.

On the drive in this morning, he asked, “So, did you pick your clothes up?”

“Yes, gosh.” I said.

Jun29

Non Depressing Things

Posted on by
Non Depressing Things

Just because I feel like posting some Non Depressing Things:

  1. Last night Joey and I measured the circumfrences of our mouths, just for fun.  His is bigger.  (For once, I am NOT THE BIGMOUTH.)
  2. I rode Thunder for 6.5 miles on Saturday and did not perish!
  3. Both of the sinks in our apartment are mysteriously clogged.  This is unfortunate as it makes washing hands and suchlike very difficult.
  4. Joey decided that if we do go to Iowa, Henry can come with us.
  5. We discovered that if we watch four Hogan’s Heroes in the next three days and then watch four in the car on the way to Iowa (if we go) we will have finished Season One and can pawn it off on the Iowa people.  Season One is by far the most hilarious.
  6. This morning, I was nearly Awesome.  I got up at 6:20 and put away the folded laundry, emptied the dishwasher, made Joey’s lunch, read my Bible, and we even left the house on time!
  7. I thought about making cookies yesterday because I felt guilty for not baking anything for Joey in a week, but I told my guilt machine to SHUT UP and didn’t make the cookies.
  8. We have finally begun hanging our laundry out again.  We’d have started six weeks ago when it started getting hot, but I completely forgot about our clothesline.  I’m sure Mom and Sister would have been game to hang out the laundry, too…oh well.

And that is all that I can currently think of that is not depressing.  But it’s a start, right?  :)

Jun28

Homesick

Posted on by
Homesick

Last week Joey threw a crazy suggestion out there.

“Let’s go to Iowa over the Fourth of July weekend,” he said.

I looked at him like he had sprouted tentacles and a third head. “What?”

“Seriously. I think we could do it. I think you need to go to Iowa and lay in the grass and help your dad with the cows and sit on the stairs in the morning while your parents slice bananas in the kitchen to put on their breakfast.”

I hate the smell of sliced bananas. I pretty much always leave the kitchen at home until the smell dissipates.

“Uh…but won’t it be expensive?” I asked.

“Not too much. I checked already.” Joey informed me of the financial damage we would incur due to a crazy weekend trip, and I agreed with him that it really wasn’t so bad.

Since then, we’ve gone back and forth.

Yes, it would be great to go to Iowa. Everyone is going to be there, and I HATE TO BE LEFT OUT OF AMAZING FAMILY THINGS.

But…it would be good to stay in Texas. I still wear out easily and by the weekend, I’m plumb tuckered.

As I said, we go back and forth, forth and back…sometimes I just sit in my chair and think about either going to Iowa or staying in Texas, and the indecision of it all makes me cry. But, heck, what doesn’t make me cry these days, so I guess it’s normal.

I was driving around today, thinking about how I would accomplish my Awesome Things To Do list for the week (which I always, always have, even when I try not to have it) and I had pretty much squared it away. Then I started wondering what I should bring to Iowa, if we go. (We still haven’t officially decided.) Should I make a potato salad to help Mom? Cookies? Take some herb clippings from my plants on the balcony?

But, just as I was sitting there stressing myself out, I realized that I really have absolutely nothing to give if we go. I mean, I could take cookies and herb clippings, but that’s kind of lame. But what I mean is that I personally have zero to give. If anything, we’re going to Iowa so I can TAKE TAKE TAKE TAKE.

I feel like a selfish slime.

All I can think of is things that I want.

I want to be home. I want to see my family. I want to get hugs from them all. I want to “help” with the cows. I want to pretend like I’m normal again. I want to get all scratched up in the woods picking (and eating) black raspberries. I want to be happy. I want to be together. I want to participate. I want everything to be OK. I want to lay in grass that doesn’t make my skin itch. I want a Hy Vee sugar cookie with 17 libs of frosting on it. I want memories.  I WANT MY BLANKIE.

Told you I want a lot. Told you I’m a Greedy Gus.

I’m so tired of being needy. I’m so tired of being about two breaths away from ruining my eye makeup at all times. I want to contribute, but I have nothing to give except salt water from my tear ducts — I have that in plentiful supply.

Another problem with going to Iowa: I will need about twelve boxes of Puffs Plus should we go. Two for the drive there, four for the two and a half days we’ll be there, and six for the drive back to Texas.

But all that wasted tissue may be worth it for hugs and black raspberries. I just want to go home. I’m so ridiculously homesick.

Jun28

The first time I get asked “That Question”…and other things

Posted on by
The first time I get asked “That Question”…and other things

I was supposed to sing for the traditional service this morning, so Joey and I raced to church early.  I had to be there by 8:20 to practice with my pianist in the choir room.

I arrived in the choir room and was surprised to find it full of people.  My pianist was not in sight, but the choir director was.  She was a sweet, sweet lady and took a few minutes to get to know me while my pianist arrived, so I wouldn’t have to be standing there like an idiot while everyone put on their robes and suchlike.

We chatted for a few minutes, and then…it happened.

“Do you have any children?” She asked me, with a huge, broad smile.

My heart sank.  I froze.  Tears suddenly threatened to spill over my eyelids. I couldn’t think of what to say. even if I could speak around the lump in my throat.

But I didn’t want the sweet lady to realize what she had done.  I also couldn’t figure out how to respond to her question.  Technically…..YES, I HAVE CHILDREN, but no…I don’t have them.

So I took a deep breath and said, after pausing for a little bit too long, “No…no, not yet.”

“Well, you have lots of time,” the lady said with a big smile.

As if that makes me feel any better.

But she didn’t know.

It took half an hour, but I finally got myself calmed down to the point where I thought I could maybe sing without sucking.  The service had started and the congregation was singing hymns, and then all of a sudden one of the verses of the hymn we were singing was about Jesus comforting our grief and something about mothers with children, and all of a sudden I lost it again.

Only DAGNABBIT, this time I didn’t have half an hour to calm down.

I was up next.

And I was singing a song about drawing near to Jesus through the awful stuff that happens in our life.  I’ve never cried while singing before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Suddenly it was my turn, and I sneaked up to the stage during the prayer, clicked my mike on and verified that yes, it WAS on.  But the sound guy had for some reason turned my microphone off, and I wound up singing without a mike for a the entire first verse until he figured out which knob to turn. Between being worked up about the baby thing (twice) and having to bust my vocal chords to sing loud enough to be heard without a microphone, I have never sung so badly in my entire life.

In between services, a sweet little 75 year old lady came up to me and said she loved the song.  She put her hand on my arm and said that, in her life, she has really experienced what I sang about but that her trials and heartache have always drawn her closer to the Lord.  And (this is the kicker) that since I was such a young little thing, I obviously had NO CLUE what I was singing about.  But maybe someday I would.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinked my tears away quickly so maybe she wouldn’t see, smiled and gave her arm a pat as I  said, “thank you for sharing that with me.”

Oh, and the icing on the cake?  Right after the second service, the couple behind us leaned over and asked if I was feeling OK (I have to sit down during worship because it’s too long to stand) and if I was pregnant.  Because of course every woman who sits down during worship must be pregnant.

I nearly burst into tears RIGHT THERE IN THE SANCTUARY, but I managed to keep it together and say “No, I’m not pregnant.”

Not anymore.  Thanks so much for reminding me.

So to recap: my morning has been really stinky.

These are the lyrics to the song I tried to sing this morning.  YOU try singing this after a morning like this one.

“Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer”
Music by Keith Getty; Words by Margaret Becker
Copyright © 2002 Thankyou Music

Jesus draw me ever nearer
As I labour through the storm.
You have called me to this passage,
and I’ll follow, though I’m worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,
May I rise on wings of faith;
And at the end of my heart’s testing,
With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest;
Keep my spirit staid and sure.
When the midnight meets the morning,
Let me love You even more.

Let the treasures of the trial
Form within me as I go -
And at the end of this long passage,
Let me leave them at Your throne.

Jun26

Going to bed early: FAIL

Posted on by
Going to bed early: FAIL

After I got home from the salon last night, Joey and I took Henry for a walk.  He’s such a spaz lately; it’s so hot we hesitate to take him out for walks until it cools down a bit, and then by that time we tend to forget.

I brought along a nice big bottle of water, and we guzzled it while we walked.  I managed to keep up for almost the entire walk, until about the last quarter mile.  Then I wheezed and whined and said, “WHEN WILL I FEEL BETTER!!  This is insane!”

Joey assured me that I would, in fact, feel better soon.  He also advised that we go to bed early (at 9:00) and get up at 6:00, to try to get back on our normal routine.

I agreed that it was a sage plan.

We wound up walking for half an hour, which was just the right amount for all three of us.  On the way up the stairs Joey suggested that we watch an episode of Hogan’s Heroes before calling it a night, and I never say no to Hogan.

By 9:00, we were pajamaed, washed and tucked into bed with our books.  My eyes were getting very, very heavy and I could feel the drowsies descending upon me, so I clicked my light off after reading for awhile.

THEN IT HAPPENED.

I kept having to get up, mostly due to all that water I drank on our walk, and that kept me from falling asleep for awhile.  After I got up twice, I just lay there thinking how mad I was that I kept having to get up and up and up…so that kept me awake for, like, forever.

I finally fell asleep about 11:30.

Then, in my dream, the walls began to shake and tremble.  Then I realized that it wasn’t in my dream, it was outside.  I woke up abruptly and heard the buzzy thuds of some idiot in the parking lot’s subwoofer.

Nothing, NOTHING makes me madder than being awoken by rude people in the parking lot.  Nothing.

I shot out of bed, pretty much with my pants on fire, grabbed my cell phone, and called the rent-a-cop company that provides security for our complex.  I described the situation and the dispatcher said she’d send someone.  Then I looked out the window and realized the thudding vehicle was HALFWAY DOWN THE PARKING LOT.

Super far from us.

There was no reason for us to hear their bass, and I figure whoever was in that car is totally deaf by now.  The thuds went on and on for quite some time, so I put in earplugs.

I could still hear it through the earplugs, with the windows closed, the AC on, and the fan running.

Needless to say, I didn’t get to sleep early.  I got to sleep much later than normal.

Sigh…

I didn’t get up at 6:00 either.

Jun25

Afternoon Blahs

Posted on by
Afternoon Blahs

I don’t know what it is about the afternoons, but I don’t like them.

After lunch I get all melancholy and gloomy and “I need to go lay on a couch for like 17 years and sleep it off”, and it makes it impossible to be cheerful.  Not that I particularly like ANY time of day right now, but afternoons are pretty much kicking me in the shenanigan.

I need a vacation.  Or something.

23 days until Mexico…but it’s so far away; I wonder if I’ll still be sane by then.

Jun25

The Floodgates

Posted on by
The Floodgates

When I spent the summer in Turkey back in…what, was it 2002?!…anyway, a long time ago, we girls decided that on our last day before we left Adana and went on holiday to Efes we would hit up the Hamam (otherwise known as a Turkish Bath).

I will spare you all the description of what a trip to the Hamam entails, but it’s like a sauna on crack.  It really cleans on your pores and the whole experience takes an hour or two.  And as we were walking back to our apartment from the Hamam, we girls were completely exhausted, because apparently relaxing and pore-cleansing takes it right out of you.

Before my trip to the Hamam, I never, ever used to sweat.  (Sorry.  But it’s part of the story and I have to talk about it.)  Even mucking stalls or shoveling sawdust in the barn on a 100 degree day would cause me to only barely perspire.

After the trip to the Hamam, it was like…well, I won’t describe it either.  But let’s just say that my level of perspiration was completely opposite of what it had been before I had whatever was in my pores exhumed.

A similar bit of business seems to have happened to my tear ducts.

Prior to about, oh, six weeks ago I think I had cried maybe a total of six, maybe seven times in the four years I had been married to Joey.  And usually I only cried from my right eye.  Leftie was just not interested in the whole crying thing, I guess.

Now?

Cute puppes?  CRYYYYYYYYY.

Bad day?  CRYYYYYY.

Baby store?  SOBBB.

I’m tired? WAAIL.

Scar and/or Minions begin to bother?  SOBBB.

Heck, waking up in the morning?  CRYYY.

Oh, and kitties?  WAAAAH.

Seriously, the alarm clock went off this morning and I got teary.  I have a residual headache from my little sob session last night and it has taken up residence right behind my eyeballs, giving me what can only be described as a REALLY BAD HEADACHE.

I know that the Hamam experience was good for my pores, but this much crying cannot be good for ANYBODY, especially me.  I was always so pleased I wasn’t a crying girl, the type who cried over Hallmark commercials and bad days whatnot…and I have totally turned into That Girl.

Pass the tissues, please.

(But they need to be Puffs Plus.  After six weeks of this, I am very particular.)

Jun24

Two Really Weird Things Happened To Me Last Night

Posted on by
Two Really Weird Things Happened To Me Last Night

The title sums it all up.  And the Two Really Weird Things both happened after 10:00, which is pretty much past my bedtime.  Also they both involve Joey.

First Weird Thing That Happened

I was sitting in bed, leaning against my freshly scented pillow (lavender and chamomile pillow spray is my friend) reading P&P when Joey looked at me really funny, like he had to say something but wasn’t sure how to start.

“I have to tell you something.  And…and I think it’s something you suggested awhile ago, so I am just preparing myself for the inevitable ‘oh I already suggested that like a year ago and you said it was a bad idea’ that you are going to have the right to say,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed and twisting the down comforter in his hands.

WHAT in the WORLD could he be about to tell me?! I racked my brain and couldn’t think of any crazy suggestions I had made lately, so I just said, “OK, lay it on me.”

“I think we should try a meatless diet for a week,” he blurted out.

He was right.  I had suggested that a year ago, and I will spare you from having to read the protests, whines and “I AM NOT EATING THAT CRAP” type stuff he yelled after I suggested it.

I was speechless.  Joey is an Iowa boy down from the stray hair I may have missed last night when I giving him his summer cut to his baby toenail.  He happily and without protest eats meat, potatoes and biscuits.  I have gotten him to eat lasagna and spaghetti in the four years we’ve been married, and last night I made a Thai Chicken dish that he LOVED.  (I was shocked.  Absolutely shocked.  I was prepared to have to eat it all myself for leftovers for the next three days.)  But…no meat?  For a week?

“Are you feeling OK?” I asked.

“Yes, I feel fine.” He pouted.

“What…why…are you SURE?!” I asked.

“Yes.  I wasn’t being very open minded when you suggested it last year.  I know I eat too much meat, but I think I’m mature enough to try it now.  So maybe in August when we get back from Mexico we can come up with some menus together?”

Gosh, when he puts it like that…of COURSE we can try it in August!

(Trying it in August isn’t putting it off, really, because next week is too soon for a menu revamp, the following week he heads to the East Coast for work for a week and a half, then we go to Mexico, and then all of a sudden it’s pretty much August.)

I’m glad I have a month and a half to come up with tempting tasties for us to try together.  Maybe I can sample one a week from now until then so I don’t make a bunch of recipes he thinks are grody.

I absolutely NEVER thought I would hear those words come out of Joseph Allen Woestman’s mouth, but I like to be surprised by him.

And on to the Second Weird Thing That Happened

I had just set down P&P and was about asleep when Joey leaned over and took a really, really deep breath.

“Oh good, your hair doesn’t smell like burnt Spaghetti Os anymore,” he said.

I was awake real fast after that.

“WHAT?” I said.

“Well, when you had that one kind of shampoo it always made your hair smell like burnt Spaghetti Os…” he said, kind of drifting off.

“It DID?” I wailed.

“Well, I never wanted to tell you because I thought I’d hurt your feelings.  But it smells very nice now, I like the kind you switched to.”

Oh that makes me feel a lot better.

“Which kind exactly was it that you thought smelled like this?” I asked.

“Um, I can’t remember.  Pretty much all of them except for the kind you are using now.”

Helpful.  Helpful.

Well, folks,  I guess Biolage, Paul Mitchell and Rusk shampoo make your hair smell like burnt Spaghetti Os, but Aveda is fine.

I am never buying anything but Aveda again, as long as I live.  And I may or may not have already developed a complex.