Not Quite Betty Crocker

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The food.  Chile with every meal – breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks.  Yum.  Real chile, the kind that takes your breath away and makes your tongue sweat.  I miss September when green chile is harvested more than anything.

Of course, now that I’ve been gone a while, I’m a big chile wienie, so I can’t hang so much anymore.  Very sad.  Very sad.

These go together, so I’m answering them together: I don’t know.  I think I got lucky.  When I got the email letting me know I’d been accepted as a ‘bee, my first thought was, “Oh, shit, now I have to get him to read all this stuff before it posts!”  So we sat together in bed, me biting my nails and forcing him to read every word to make sure he knew what he was getting into.  He read every word, then looked at me and said, “Well, everything you said was honest and as balanced as you know how to be.  And I know blogging is how you work things out, so if it’s good for you, I support it.”

So that’s what guides me.  Am I being honest?  Am I being as balanced as I can?  Am I presenting a picture of myself – and him – that’s fair?  I set him up to have my WB posts emailed automatically, but he didn’t read them and ultimately got a new email account.  Is that a guy thing?  If someone was writing about me, I’d read every word!  But he doesn’t, so I consider it a gift.

And, um, okay, I’m fairly certain that he doesn’t read anymore and that gives me some freedom (gulp), as does the fact that he doesn’t really realize how large my readership is.  When a neighbor (who works with my bff) remarked that she saw a picture of our bonus dog on my blog, he blanched.  When I explained that Jen showed it to people at work, he was fine.  I think it would be worse if this was a small audience made up of people he knows.  A large audience made up of relatively anonymous people-who-don’t-live-on-our-street is fine.

Long story short: I try really hard to keep my perspective tight – this is one place where being self-centered is a good thing – and trust that his past reactions will continue… and then I don’t make a big deal out of it.

And I may or may not have once or twice hinted to my WB friends that comments indicating my hubby’s hotness would be appreciated.  Maybe.

If I were you and my husband was concerned, I’d ask him to read every word, but offer veto power, not editing input.  Slicing and dicing words gets messy; the goal is to make sure that things that aren’t fair game don’t get posted.

I wanted to, but Joey thought I was nuts.  In fact, we fought about it on the way to the therapist. (ha)  But when I mentioned it to my therapist (you know, when he asked why we were fighting), he said it would be unprofessional/ unethical of him to accept. Bummer. So on second thought, knowing that, I wouldn’t have wanted him to think it was a ploy for gifts. 

He gave me a way out by asking me to send him a wedding pic via email, which I did.  Maybe you can do that, or not invite but send a thank you card anyway?

Pet peeves: depends on the day.  Dogs who lick.  Slow drivers.  When my husband and every darned animal in the house is all up in my sh*t while I’m cooking.  People, mama’s got a knife in one hand and a smoking hot pan in the other… WHY MUST YOU BE STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO ME?

Dogs are in transition, but more often than not eat Pro Plan Chicken and Rice.  I sometimes make dog treats, but mostly give them Meaty Bones or Milk Bones, which is like saying I sometimes feed my kids healthy food grown in my garden, but most of the time they eat McDonald’s.  I’m aware of the dissonance, but frankly, we eat McDonald’s, so why should they get stuck with the super healthy diet?

And Indy eats table food regularly, because of the whole failing heart thing and because we’re suckers and because now at least we have an excuse for giving in to his every pleading eyeball.  The others do not, because they’re not dying but also because their stomachs rebel.

Cheesiest guilty pleasure: chick lit books.  I call them “empty calories” because they take no brain to read.

Ooh, good one, and (arrogance alert) I kinda like my body.  But I guess I’d like to be taller and have smaller boobs, so Jennifer Aniston.

My favorite scent is my husband’s neck.  Or any man’s neck, but let’s not tell him that since it’s not like I’m going around sniffing men’s necks anymore.  I’m a one-neck woman. I like the way a man’s skin smells.

Why ARE most pizza options pig-sourced?  Chicken is a crazy new-age-y topping, but sausage is old school, you’re right!  No eggs, either.  Did Italians raise pigs but not chickens?  Hmmmm.

Somewhat relevant: I may or may not have launched into a rather terrible rendition of “Things That Make You Go Hmmm” by C&C Music Factory… and my younger hubby didn’t know it.  He’s only a few years younger than I am, so I think he was just out of the loop. Right?  Right???  Is this thing on? *tap, tap, tap*