In One Beer - Cheese the Other

Last night while making dinner for Hans and Gigi (after coming home from work of course) I asked Hans (who was milling around in the kitchen enjoying a cold beer beverage) if he would please go to the basement and get me the bag of mozzarella cheese in the freezer, as I needed it for his dinner that I was lovingly preparing -for him by the way, did I mention that part?

"Are you serious?" he asked.

Please Stop Breathing... On Me.

If there is anything I care about in this world, it is good oral hygiene. I am a tooth-brushing fanatic who loves to floss and swish mouthwash. If my teeth get ever so yellow I experience a melt down, drive to CVS, and proceed to whiten my teeth for the next 14 days until they are unnaturally white and possibly fluorescent. For some, these kinds of obsessions result from a traumatic tooth experience as a child, but for me, it's just a neuroses that I cannot shake. I think I have always been like this - at least I cannot remember NOT being like this. My dentist even goes so far as to tell me to brush my teeth less. Yes, it is that bad. I suppose it could be worse...

Dishwasher - Half-Full or Half-Empty?

My New Communication Approach- Flow Charts

Earlier this week, I asked Hans to empty and fill the dishwasher while I put Gigi to sleep. As usual he told me he would "do it later."

I decided to choose my battles and let it go. I also decided that I would not remind Hans of his promise to "do it later," as I often do. Some may call this nagging, but I call it a necessity because Hans has hopeless ADD and literally forgets everything. It is not at all annoying. But reminding him gives him the out to say "Jeez, I am going to do it, stop nagging me," which leaves me with nary a leg to stand on!

Puke Puddles

The other day, I came home to a small puke puddle/hair ball on the floor, which officially marked our cats first hairball - all grown up! By the time Clark got home, it was all cleaned up, however it reminded me of a time when puke puddles were a thing of uh... frustration.

Our dog, Sassy, was pretty sick last spring. OK, not "sick" so much as "suffering from severe anxiety." You see, Clark had just returned home from overseas and then we got the brilliant idea to adopt a cat. Considering Sassy had only limited contact with cats, and had never met Clark, this was a pretty top-notch-genius idea. The end result was a sick/panic stricken dog who couldn't be calmed by any means. We tried, but the more we tried, the worse it got so finally we just let her be and knew she would come around.