Things My Husband Says

Dudes, I have a confession to make. I’m not a very comfortable writer.

I’m not sure how evident it is from reading this blog, but I’m a worrier. I worry. I nitpick and analyze and internalize and freak out. This is actually true for many creative processes, but for some reason I have a particularly hard time when it comes to writing. That’s part of what I was really enjoying about this blog, back when I was actually, y’know, blogging. It gave me an outlet to let the process happen, with basically no likelihood that anyone but Sexy Husband would see it. Of course, I also stress about letting him see my process, but that’s just that.

So now I’m in the middle of revising this writing project, and it is killing me. I’ve written three pieces. One of them is on the money, I think. I’m going to revise it again tonight, after it marinates a while. The other two are fine. People publish worse-written things every day. They’re each going to get at least one more revision before they go where they’re headed. I’m so worried about them!

They’re audition pieces, and I can’t bring myself to feel that they’re my best face. But I also recognize that I have a skill for self-defeat, and that they really are not bad. One of them is weak, but it’s weak, not bad. And it’s not done. I want to succeed at the task they’re for, and I’m pretending to myself that I’m not going to be crushed when I fail.

Several weeks ago I read a great essay about writing. The author said that writing isn’t the important thing, making the keys click is. I’m trying to keep that in mind to keep my momentum going, but it’s hard. I’ve done all the clicking away, now I need to make it shine. Wish me luck.

In the last 6 months, dogwalking has become my responsibility. This has not been without its problems.

Despite what Sexy Husband believes, I love our dog. She’s a ridiculous monster, and a drama queen, granted, but she’s not a bad dog. She does, however have a couple behavioral quirks that cause problems for us when we walk. The major among these are that she does not listen to me very well, and she can be aggressive toward small dogs.

I’ll remind you that we live in Seattle’s most densely populated neighborhood, where there are tiny dogs a-plenty. It’s rare for us to go an entire day without encountering some tiny adorable yapper. Her typical response is to freak out a little bit, start jumping, burst the little one’s personal bubble then get snippy when the little one gets defensive. As you can imagine, other dog owners do not find this charming, and it makes me very uncomfortable. She’s never done any damage to a little dog on my watch, but I’m always really wary about how she’s going to act. So, I made some changes to our walking routine. Instead of letting her run up on little guys (or anybody, actually, dog or human), I’ve been making her sit and wait whenever we encounter another dog, or anything exciting, on our walks. Since we’ve started this system, she’s had almost no encounters with little dogs, even (especially) the ones that live right across the street and bark at us all the time from their bay window.

Except last night. Last night we headed out for our walk, and saw the nicer of the pair of schnauzer mixes out, and she didn’t see us. The Little Lady got all excited, but in a way that she doesn’t usually. Instead of pulling toward the other dog and wagging, she started playbowing, wagging, and jumping up (not out), pretty much simultaneously. And the best part? When I said, “just wait,” she sat (and wiggled) until the tiny dog came up to her. And then they played! Just played! No snapping, no growling, no whining! Just dashing around, smelling under bellies, and so many play bows. The play bows are particularly surprising because this dog is both considerably smaller and younger than Little Lady. Usually she’s not flirty with the littler set, but something happened yesterday.

I watched incredulously and chatted with the other, similarly incredulous, owner, and called a stop to it before things got out of hand. But still! Holy cow! I felt like I had won at dog ownership. I’m not going to run off to the off-leash park right away, but this whole experience has given me hope for a future where the Little Lady and I can have a more adventurous life together.

He’s on the bed, working on the laptop. I’m on the bed, seriously contemplating taking a nap. We’re discussing the inevitable trip to the cell phone store that I’m going to have to make.

Him: You could probably order one online and pick it up in the store. Or do you want to hold it in your hand?
Me: You know me, I would rather hold it in my hand.
Him: Oh hey, speaking of holding it in your hand, will you run an errand for me?
Me: (with some trepidation) Sure. What’s the errand?
Him: Will you find my phone? (in our tiny apartment)
Me: sigh. Okay, sure. (I wander into the other room) Where did you leave it?
Him: It’s in my pocket.

And Scene.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been following the story of Japan’s missing centenarians. Yes, plural centenarians, missing.

What the crap?

First there was a story about a Tokyo’s alleged oldest man, who turns out to have died 32 years ago. His family mummified him and kept him in his bed.

And one of Tokyo’s oldest women? No one has seen her since 1986, when her daughter moved.

These discoveries are coming to light as the country prepares for Respect for the Aged Day. Perhaps instead of a single day to honor centenarians, they would be better served by actually verifying their continued existence?

Japan believes it has more than 40,000 centenarians, of whom 200 are now known to be missing, and that’s before all 47 prefectures have reported the results of their attempts to locate them. I’m having a hard time imagining how a society that has a national holiday to celebrate their super-elderly can lose so many of them.

One of them was registered at an address that became a park in 1981! One of them died in 1966! He would’ve been 126, except that he died at 82, which is still a respectable old age, but c’mon. Forty-four years?? You’ve got to be kidding me.

Um, so, yeah… moving! It’s awesome! We’re done!

I just unpacked the last box of kitchen stuff, which leaves us with just two big rubbermaid bins of ‘miscellaneous’ stuff to sort through, so I’m willing to say we’re actually done. Damn, though, this shit is exhausting. I left for the parents’ house Wednesday before last, and just unpacked my last box today. It’s actually a much better turn around than I’m used to when moving. Sexy Husband is a very industrious man, I must say.

Not only are we all moved in and unpacked, but it looks like adults live here! Adults who don’t have a ton of furniture, but adults nonetheless! We have art! I knew we did, but it looks like a lot in our little space. And we got houseplants, to supplement the ones that SH brought with him from before. So far we haven’t killed any of them, and they all seem to be thriving, which is awesome!

I don’t know whether I mentioned this before: new kitchen is super tiny. It’s actually bigger than the one in another apartment we looked at, but still only barely big enough for SH and myself to both stand in. Trying to fit my life into it is like playing epic Jenga, which would be awesome, if I didn’t totally blow at Jenga.

We got a gift off our registry over the weekend! A lovely giant stainless wok, full to brimming with mardi gras beads and tiny dinosaurs! OMG. And I made yogurt! New house is full of win!

Let me tell you something: I hate moving. We haven’t even actually started moving yet, and it’s already killing me. We got the keys to the new place on Friday, and discovered that (no surprise) the landlord did not get the weird-ass mismatched trim painted after the previous tenant moved out. So we spent all weekend painting a million miles of trim. I’m really glad we did it, but damn. That was exhausting. I still need to clean the floors, and just the thought of climbing the four flights of stairs is putting me into panic mode. Do not want.

I had hoped to get out of going grocery shopping before we had to move, but this morning I killed the last of the coffee in the house (while pouring boiling water all over my hand. So smart). Then I ate tortillas for lunch. Just tortillas. So, yeah, I have to go to the store. Crap. And I have to take the airport shuttle to my parents’ house again, to go get the rest of my crap. On the plus side, though, I get to also bring my brother back with me, to help with the hauling!

And hopefully by next week I won’t feel quite so taxed by the learning curve of work, and I’ll actually remember to blog. Here’s hoping!

One week, one week, one week, one week!

Even better! Not even a whole week! Only four days! But ‘one week’ has such a more satisfying ring to it, I think.

We get to move this week!

Luckily we’re only moving three blocks, because we are not at all ready. We’re not going to be ready. Ready is not going to matter. We are masters of making the most of our unpreparedness, and that’s going to serve us really well this weekend. If your eyes are sharp, you’ll be able to spot us hauling dresser drawers and arms-full of clothes and our ever-growing collection of Timbuk2 bags crammed with our kitchen and books. It will be a sight.

This week! This week, this week, this week!

Oh, I’ve been reading Apartment Therapy for the last couple weeks. I want so many plants, even though I am a proven plant killer. I want them! I also want a felted wool headboard, and art, and curtains. So excited! Just wait until we start playing around in the kitchen. It. Is. Going. To. Rule.

At an ungodly hour one Saturday night, actually well into Sunday morning, with bellies full of booze and cartoons on TV:

Me: Are you asleep?

Him: No… I just… have a really bad habit of not being awake… during people’s performances… and I didn’t see this name on the program.

Me: I’m going to take that as a yes.

I forgot to eat lunch yesterday. I hate when that happens. I did eat some trail mix, but it’s really not the same. Luckily for me, I was Stumbling the day before, and came across this recipe for 90 minute, no soak beans. After being chastised on the internet, I mended my ways and ate a hot bowl of leftover magic with salsa and avocado and grated cheese. And just like that, all was right with the world (y’know, kind of).

Now, my childhood was spent much closer to financial collapse than I ever realized, and beans have always been a significant part of my diet. Growing up, my mom (and eventually us kids) would rinse and sort them, soak them overnight in the crock pot, and let them cook all day. Lately I’ve been ‘power cooking’ them: covering with water, bringing to a boil, then simmering for a couple hours. It’s not the best method, but I’m not really doing very well at planning ahead, and it gets the job done. The 90-minute recipe is not that much different from my lazy way, but makes an astoundingly better bean. And it utilizes the Dutch Oven, which is always a bonus for me.

To quote someone on the internet, I’m not a food blogger; being a food blogger is hard. I barely feel like it’s appropriate to call myself a blogger at all. But you know what I am comfortable with? How much I love beans. I have eaten a lot of beans in my lifetime, and they make me happy. So happy! I suspect that Sexy Husband is not as thrilled as I am with my weekly decision to make a pot of beans and call it a meal, but he doesn’t say anything. And here’s the really nice thing: for the most part, they really don’t make me gassy. And knowing that they’re waiting for me in the fridge for that moment when I realize that I’m mad at the internet because I don’t have any blood sugar is definitely something everyone should be able to get behind.

After much procrastination, then a flurry of activity in the beginning of last week, Sexy Husband and I got our wedding invitations this weekend! They are super cute, and totally custom, and I am thrilled. I’m sure that, if youve been paying attention, you know that we’re a little quirky, and not exactly the type to have a ‘traditional’ wedding. It’s not going to be an outrageous affair, just a true reflection of who we are and the love that we share. These invitations are perfect for that wedding. The wording is modern, they’re super simple, they include the information for both our website and our online RSVP, and they are adorable. So happy!

Now I just have to address them. Sigh.