It has recently come to my attention that my satire and attempted comedic outlook at newlywed life has been misunderstood and miscommunicated to some readers. Being my first ever blog retraction - I need to clarify that I am going to shift from comedic satire to sincerity for the following. Sorry. The next blog will be back to "normal" :)
I began my blog months ago as I started to realize that I'm not very good at talking on the phone and keeping in contact with people that always want to know 'how married life is.' Combined with a need to express my questions about bing a wife and the up's and down's in life through writing, a medium that has always worked for me when therapists and counting to 10 just weren't enough (ha ha), a blog just seemed to be the natural solution. The things I encounter I want to share with people that want to know. Writing is a therapy for me, and to do so on the world wide web is a fulfillment of a dream I've always had to have my sarcasm and somewhat talented writing read by the masses. Not to uncover or offend anyone.
In June I spoke of motherhood entering my home through newborn puppies and I documented my first culinary success through cupcake baking. Several people wanted to see pictures of our new litter and, well, any culinary success by me should be documented, ha ha, so it became public.
In July I announced a rather interesting change in our home by leaving our home and moving into an apartment, and encountering a month of no home while waiting on our apartment. This would undoubtedly become a topic of amusement to some, so I shared this common transition on my blog.
In August I journaled through our homelessness adventure week by week. Each week had different challenges and 'morals to the story' - but each week was equally cherished and respected. If that was not communicated well enough, I do sincerely apologize. Each family mentioned was gracious enough to welcome us into their home, and satire and entertainment-value aside, I thank each person involved and apologize if my gratefulness was not expressed.
In August we also embarked on a friend-cation that called for a poll of ideas on how to vacation with friends successfully. This entry was purely for response sake. After an interesting friend-cation, my curiosity about how other people vacation with friends inspired me to ask the world wide web. This was not to offend or uncover anyone, again, this was for research purposes for me and these friends. But again, I apologize if this offended or embarassed anyone involved.
In September I shared a rather deep and possibly controvertial thought about family, and the pain that sometimes comes with the family tree. Now, having 4 families of my own and now adding 4 more with my husband, that leaves 8 families reading this blog and wondering what they did to evoke such a blog - right? Well. Let me apologize for becoming the topic of confusing discussion, and worrying anyone about being publicized to the world for being a 'painful branch of the family tree.' The point of my blog, that I'm not sure was understood correctly, was the interesting fact that words from family seem to hurt more than words from a stranger or even a friend. I thought back to the things I had said in the past to family that I love, and wondered how much more it hurt them to hear it from me, rather than a friend or stranger. I thought back to things that family members had said to me, and thought it was interesting that if a friend of mine had said it, it wouldn't have hurt so bad. The blog was a bit on the serious side, and added with my sarcasm, may have come off abraisive and bitter, and I apologize for that. That was not my intent at all. It was simply to share a reality about family, that I know others would understand and agree with.
November's blogs have been sharing the worries of weight loss for a wedding, forbidden foods in my freezer, and woes of laundry duty in a fresh family. Which I hope has inspired fish-free freezers and low heat settings on dryers, things dear to my heart (ha ha).
In the future, I will stay clear of potentially offensive topics and clairfy my sarcasm when acual people are involved. Once again, I apologize and ask forgiveness if any feelings have been hurt, if I have caused any discomfort to anyone, and if my words have been communicated poorly resulting in misunderstanding. I hope this retraction clarifies my actions and meanings and that readers know that this blog is not my way of 'outing' anyone or anything, and I really do just wish to share the things the Lord puts in my path in a humerous way to keep friends and family updated with my new chapter of life and hopefully share my faith and lifestyle with the world. Thank you for reading.
*glances back at trail of egg shells behind me - whew.*
Monday, November 28, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
Laundry War Strikes... Casualties Expected
I'm going to give you a scenario, and if it doesn't sound familiar to you, clear a closet. I'm moving in.
*Scenario*
The alarm clock you've snoozed 3 times already keeps blaring, you look at clock and realize you snoozed more than 3 times and have found yourself with very little time to get ready for work. You rush into your morning routine, skipping clothes because you normally have an idea what you'll wear the night before. In mid-teeth brushing you realize you got busy last night and do not, in fact, have any idea what you'll wear. You now stop everything, and with a panicked feeling in your chest, start running around every room in your house searching for clothes, because... it seems to make sense at the time. You start with pants because... well, again, it makes sense at the time. Then comes top and shoes and accessories and - CRAP! - now to figure out hair and make-up. Every top you find that's cute doesn't seem to fit right or has a stain you 'kept meaning to treat before washing'. Every top that does work doesn't go with the pants you already picked out. And so begins your no good day.
Now. Add to this terrible scene baskets of CLEAN clothes in the walk-in closet, a dryer full of CLEAN clothes, a pile of CLEAN clothes sitting in the living room, summer tank tops and clothes you never really liked hang in your 'rejection section' in the closet, and a pile of 'Only-wore-it-once-and-it-doesn't-look-bad' clothes laying neatish on the dresser (don't judge - you know you do it too). This is an unfortunate scene from the Laundry War that has broken out in my home. Still being newlyweds, we have yet to regulate laundry and the correct method of undertaking. Ergo the horrific scene described above.
How is it that when the wife does laundry, the laundry is:
1. sorted by color/fabric
2. washed according to priority and future wear
3. dried with regulated heat keeping each fabric in mind
4. folded & hung up (when hangers can be found)
5. lint & dryer sheets disposed of correctly
And when the husband does laundry, the laundry is:
1. thrown in as a melting pot of fabrics and colors
............. I assume for the excitement of seeing what colors and fuzzy textures he can create on your work blouse.
2. washed with the intent to put in the dryer... but not done so until a funny smell comes from the washer, resulting in a double-washing and nagging wife
............ I assume because the sound of the screeching "Huniiiieeeeee" is music to his ears.
3. dried with whatever heat setting he approached the machine at
............ I assume because he doesn't have enough tight muscle shirts and wants drawer full.
4. tossed into a pile and/or basket (if it is conveniently placed by the machine)
............ I assume because the magical elves that folded and hung up his clothes as a child have his new address.
5. lint and dryer sheets (when dryer sheets are even used/remembered) are a.) left in the machine for the next load to experience or b.) land close to the trash can, so it counts
............ I assume because lint left in pockets mean too much to dispose of, and he's letting go in his own time.
Our Laundry Wars will eventually reach a treaty, and one full weekend of hanger-hunting, wife-monitoring-machine duty, husband-folding-only-towels action, and a full dose of motivation should do the trick. I love my husband very much, and although I may question his cleaning methods from time to time, I appreciate so much his willingness to help and try... and shrink my jeans. And for those of you that encounter Laundry Wars of your own - good luck and low heat.
*Scenario*
The alarm clock you've snoozed 3 times already keeps blaring, you look at clock and realize you snoozed more than 3 times and have found yourself with very little time to get ready for work. You rush into your morning routine, skipping clothes because you normally have an idea what you'll wear the night before. In mid-teeth brushing you realize you got busy last night and do not, in fact, have any idea what you'll wear. You now stop everything, and with a panicked feeling in your chest, start running around every room in your house searching for clothes, because... it seems to make sense at the time. You start with pants because... well, again, it makes sense at the time. Then comes top and shoes and accessories and - CRAP! - now to figure out hair and make-up. Every top you find that's cute doesn't seem to fit right or has a stain you 'kept meaning to treat before washing'. Every top that does work doesn't go with the pants you already picked out. And so begins your no good day.
Now. Add to this terrible scene baskets of CLEAN clothes in the walk-in closet, a dryer full of CLEAN clothes, a pile of CLEAN clothes sitting in the living room, summer tank tops and clothes you never really liked hang in your 'rejection section' in the closet, and a pile of 'Only-wore-it-once-and-it-doesn't-look-bad' clothes laying neatish on the dresser (don't judge - you know you do it too). This is an unfortunate scene from the Laundry War that has broken out in my home. Still being newlyweds, we have yet to regulate laundry and the correct method of undertaking. Ergo the horrific scene described above.
How is it that when the wife does laundry, the laundry is:
1. sorted by color/fabric
2. washed according to priority and future wear
3. dried with regulated heat keeping each fabric in mind
4. folded & hung up (when hangers can be found)
5. lint & dryer sheets disposed of correctly
And when the husband does laundry, the laundry is:
1. thrown in as a melting pot of fabrics and colors
............. I assume for the excitement of seeing what colors and fuzzy textures he can create on your work blouse.
2. washed with the intent to put in the dryer... but not done so until a funny smell comes from the washer, resulting in a double-washing and nagging wife
............ I assume because the sound of the screeching "Huniiiieeeeee" is music to his ears.
3. dried with whatever heat setting he approached the machine at
............ I assume because he doesn't have enough tight muscle shirts and wants drawer full.
4. tossed into a pile and/or basket (if it is conveniently placed by the machine)
............ I assume because the magical elves that folded and hung up his clothes as a child have his new address.
5. lint and dryer sheets (when dryer sheets are even used/remembered) are a.) left in the machine for the next load to experience or b.) land close to the trash can, so it counts
............ I assume because lint left in pockets mean too much to dispose of, and he's letting go in his own time.
Our Laundry Wars will eventually reach a treaty, and one full weekend of hanger-hunting, wife-monitoring-machine duty, husband-folding-only-towels action, and a full dose of motivation should do the trick. I love my husband very much, and although I may question his cleaning methods from time to time, I appreciate so much his willingness to help and try... and shrink my jeans. And for those of you that encounter Laundry Wars of your own - good luck and low heat.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Fried Frozen Delicacy?
Now, I'm not sure if this is how it is for everyone, but grocery shopping in our household is quite an adventure. It's one of the ways I knew my husband was 'the one.' I wasn't the only one in the world that wanted a plan for taking on a Supermarket.
We approach our grocery shopping missions with tactical precision. It starts with a sweep of the empty cupboards, then a detailed list of missing edible comrades. The list is taken by troop location. Frozen goods - check. Dry ingredients - check. Non-perishables - check. Starches and guilty pleasures - check. All accounted for, and the ones that aren't, file in formation on my list. The list is then turned over to my husband, who maps out the most time effective route for our mission. And as any mature couple does... we place bets for who will guess the total loss of monetary provisions for the mission, and the loser unpacks our bounty. LOL! I almost always lose. I blame my optimism and lack of culinary knowledge. Fatal flaws for Mission: Grocery Shopping.
Now, our latest mission reached a point that I hadn't expected. My husband, while scowering the frozen food isle, recommended we place in our basket a food that I had not encountered since I was ten. At the sound of this food, memories flooded my mind with quick meals my working mother made, always with macaroni and cheese, and always a joy. Then I was flooded with the horror of actually at some point in my life having joy over a realitively healthy and yummy dish being cut up, mixed with only the Lord knows, rolled into logs, deep fried, frozen, and packaged to tempt my food-hunting husband. This Fried Frozen Delicacy? FISH STICKS.
Why on Earth would a person voluntarilly eat those things? I mean, as a kid, sure, they were great. Somehow it was cool (and not morbid) to imagine the animated fish on the box pointing at the nutritional values to be eaten in stick form, like french fries, or tiny corn dogs. It was cool? Really? It goes without saying that my husband's recommendation was denied. But what a terrible thought! I ate those?! pounds of them, I'm sure, in the unknowing days of my childhood. In hindsight - yuck! And Mother - what were you thinking?? Fish has plenty of vitamins and minerals that are good and good for you... but is there really even FISH in fish sticks?? And if there is... why in the world would you blend it up, batter it, fry it, FREEZE it, and call it a meal. Nay. It is not a meal. It is a science experiement that prays on hard working single parents, college students, and newlyweds to mislead and destroy. Not in our home Fish Sticks. Nice try.
I just felt that the world should know my new detest for a childhood treat. And my prayers go out to all of those who allow that nonsense to grace their freezers... God be with you. ; )
*Please note that this blog is a satire, and my mild exaggerations and rants are in good fun and not to personally attack any fish stick eaters out there.. but really... good luck with that*
We approach our grocery shopping missions with tactical precision. It starts with a sweep of the empty cupboards, then a detailed list of missing edible comrades. The list is taken by troop location. Frozen goods - check. Dry ingredients - check. Non-perishables - check. Starches and guilty pleasures - check. All accounted for, and the ones that aren't, file in formation on my list. The list is then turned over to my husband, who maps out the most time effective route for our mission. And as any mature couple does... we place bets for who will guess the total loss of monetary provisions for the mission, and the loser unpacks our bounty. LOL! I almost always lose. I blame my optimism and lack of culinary knowledge. Fatal flaws for Mission: Grocery Shopping.
Now, our latest mission reached a point that I hadn't expected. My husband, while scowering the frozen food isle, recommended we place in our basket a food that I had not encountered since I was ten. At the sound of this food, memories flooded my mind with quick meals my working mother made, always with macaroni and cheese, and always a joy. Then I was flooded with the horror of actually at some point in my life having joy over a realitively healthy and yummy dish being cut up, mixed with only the Lord knows, rolled into logs, deep fried, frozen, and packaged to tempt my food-hunting husband. This Fried Frozen Delicacy? FISH STICKS.
Why on Earth would a person voluntarilly eat those things? I mean, as a kid, sure, they were great. Somehow it was cool (and not morbid) to imagine the animated fish on the box pointing at the nutritional values to be eaten in stick form, like french fries, or tiny corn dogs. It was cool? Really? It goes without saying that my husband's recommendation was denied. But what a terrible thought! I ate those?! pounds of them, I'm sure, in the unknowing days of my childhood. In hindsight - yuck! And Mother - what were you thinking?? Fish has plenty of vitamins and minerals that are good and good for you... but is there really even FISH in fish sticks?? And if there is... why in the world would you blend it up, batter it, fry it, FREEZE it, and call it a meal. Nay. It is not a meal. It is a science experiement that prays on hard working single parents, college students, and newlyweds to mislead and destroy. Not in our home Fish Sticks. Nice try.
I just felt that the world should know my new detest for a childhood treat. And my prayers go out to all of those who allow that nonsense to grace their freezers... God be with you. ; )
*Please note that this blog is a satire, and my mild exaggerations and rants are in good fun and not to personally attack any fish stick eaters out there.. but really... good luck with that*
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