And it’s not like that last time when I thought he was the next messiah because his balls grew back 3 days after he was fixed and then disappeared again, no this is legit messiah action that I have photo proof of…
TA DA!!!
Adding on to the stories from our trip to the family organic garlic farm in Eastern Washington, it is now time for the OH FOR GODS SAKE! story.
Now the family farm is located out in the “wilderness” of Washington in the middle of 10 acres. So there is lots of privacy… which hubby took extreme advantage of.
At 7am I heard the click of the door as Hubby and Orko came back into our room.
Me: (mumbling into my pillow) Did you take him out to pee?
Hubby: Ya we went pee.
Me: Good boy… wait… did you say WE went pee?
Hubby: Yep
Me: (looking up at an extremely too pleased with himself Hubby) BABE!
Hubby: What?
Me: Just because we’re in the woods, doesn’t mean you can just pee anywhere you want!
Hubby: Oh I’m pretty sure it does mean that, and it was a nice bonding experience for Orko and I.
Me: What did Orko do when you started peeing?
Hubby: Well he seemed confused at first…
Me: Ya! Because I raised him to be a gentleman!!
Hubby: Keep thinking that, once he understood what was happening he got really excited and joined in, but he kinda kept eye contact the whole time which made it a little weird.
Me: Sure, that’s what made you and your dog peeing together weird… the eye contact.
Hubby: Well ya, there’s rules about that kind of thing when men pee next to each other.
Me: Ugh, boys.
Hubby: I believe you mean men.
Me: .. nope.
Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhh Labor Day.
A lovely long holiday weekend that sends you off to Eastern Washington to hang out on the old family’s organic garlic farm… a chance to really commune with nature… maybe do a little bbqing… spend a little time in the garden to feel dirt in your hands again… teach your city dog the joy of a walk with no collar or leash and the wonders of pooping in the wild… then there’s the annual horse shoe competition that ends with allegations of cheating and only one possible broken ankle… and then this happy holiday weekend finally ends by driving your car off a cliff in an attempt to get past 15 minutes of traffic…
Me: There is no way the GPS told us to take this exit.
Hubby: Sure it did… but what makes you think that?
Me: Well for one, no one else is taking this exit, which is weird as you would assume more people would want to get past the traffic, and second the road started paved but has turned into a dirt road, AND THIRD the name sign for the road I just turned on ended with the word TRAIL!
Hubby: Babe, I think you’re overreacting.
Me: REALLY!?! Cause I’m beginning to think the GPS didn’t suggest this route and the person who’s in charge of the GPS is instead choosing this route with NO AID FROM THE GPS!
Hubby: That’s not true… I found this road on the GPS as a possible alternate route but it wasn’t letting me select it so…
Me: BECAUSE IT’S NOT A ROAD!! IT’S A TRAIL!!!
Hubby: Calm Down! You’re doing great and per the GPS map we just have a little hill to get over and we’ll run back into the Interstate.
Me: How “little” of a hill?
Hubby:… little…
LIES
IT WAS HUGE
AND SWITCHBACKY
AND HAD A SHEER DROP OFF ON ONE SIDE
AND THE FACT THAT WE DIDN’T PLUMMET OF THE SIDE WAS SHEER LUCK
AND SUPBURB DRIVING ON YOUR PART
OH WELL THANK YOU!
YOU’RE WELCOME!!
REALLY YOU DID SOME EXCELLENT DRIVING, I’M NOT JUST SAYING THAT!
THANK YOU, NERVES AND THE THOUGHT OF KILLING HUBBY WHEN WE MADE IT OUT WERE THE ONLY THINGS KEEPING ME GOING!
WELL GOOD JOB YOU, NOW GO GET A DRINK TO CELEBRATE!
THANKS BUT WE’VE ALREADY BEEN DRINKING SINCE 11AM!
… oh… really?… well…um… wow… okay then.
Hubby: … Really babe?
Me: What!?!?
Hubby: You’re drinking wine in the morning, in bed, and from the bottle!
Me: Okay well it’s actually 11am, so some might argue that it’s the afternoon, and it’s Saturday which is the kind of day that automatically gives people the okay to do what ever the hell they want, and you and CIA Cat were hogging the couch so Orko and I opted for the super super compfy bed instead, AND I didn’t want to dirty a cup seeing how you just started the dishwasher… so… you know… you’re welcome.
Hubby: And that’s how your mind rationalizes it being okay to drink in the morning, in bed, from the bottle.
Me: What do you mean rationalize? I’ve given excellent facts!! People would look at this and totally stand by my excellent factual explanation!!
Hubby: What people?
Me: Instagram and Facebook people!!! *click*
Hubby: Oh My God! You are not going to post a picture of you drinking a bottle in bed?
Me: Aren’t I!?!??!
… and I did… and the people totally had my back
Side Bar: I would only be on Instagram if I could, as Facebook kind of bugs the hell out of me, but my mother is on Facebook and she hates missing out on things that I’m doing… so I’m on Facebook too… so my mother can see me drinking in bed… you’re welcome mom!
So let’s just be clear here, I don’t like running.
If When the Zombie Apocalypse hits, I have always taken it to be a fact that I will be in the first wave to be eaten, as… I. Don’t. Like. Running. And wont do it, even if it could save me from a gruesome, chompy death.
Yet for the last 3 weeks I have gotten out of bed to run, at the UNGODLY morning hour when even the sun is like “Dude, what the fuck are you doing up? Hit the snooze bro.”… Not quite sure why I believe the sun would use the word ‘bro’, but let’s just go with it.
This all started because of puppy dog eye guilt. If you have a dog you know what I’m talking about. It’s when you get up, take the dog out for a quick pee and poo, get dressed, and leave for work. Just as you’re closing the front door behind you, you catch the shocked look in your dogs eye as he stands in the hallway that says, “WHAT THE HELL!?!? THAT’S IT!?!?!? FIVE MINUTES OUTSIDE IS ALL I GET!?!? YOU’RE GOING TO BE GONE FOR LIKE A HUNDRED HOURS!!!! YOU ARE THE FUCKIEST OF FUCK HEADS!!!! I WILL BE MAKING AMENDS FOR THIS ON YOUR SHOES… AND NOT THOSE FUCKING UGLY FLIP FLOP THINGS BY THE DOOR, NO I’M GOING FOR THE HEEL BOXES YOU HAVE STORED IN THE BACK OF THE CLOSET!! THE HIGH END SHIT, THE ONES YOU STILL HAVEN’T TOLD DAD ABOUT BECAUSE THEY COST LIKE THE SAME AS A MILLION CHEW TOYS!! SO YA, GO AHEAD AND ENJOY YOUR DAY AT WORK, ASSWIPE!!!!”
Okay my dog would never say these things to me because he loves and worships me, and he is too pure and wonderful to even know those bad words, and he would never dream of hurting my shoes. However my mind is much more of an asshole and has absolutely no problem putting those thoughts in my head… so… running.
Each morning, rain or shine, Orko and I are up and out the door. Running to the park a mile from the house, playing ball until his tongue is dragging on the grounds and exhaustion has him tipping over when he tries to lift his leg to pee, and then we run the mile back to the house.
The good news is that Orko is crazy tired by the time we get back and is usually comatose on the bed when I leave for work, plus I think I’m losing weight… which I can only assume has something to do with running 2 miles every day… weird.
AND now if when the Zombie Apocalypse hits, I think I might survive the first wave… I mean I’m definitely toast by the second wave, but still.. not bad.
WE MOVED!! Don’t get me wrong, I loved the 500 days out of the year of temperatures in the triple digits… But I am SUPER happy to be back to my home state of Washington and the return of that wet stuff that falls out of the sky… AND COATS!!!! OMG you don’t know how much you’ll miss coats until you can’t wear them, without the fear of dying of heat exhaustion… in December.
Keeping up with tradition there was the usual craziness of our move, as Hubby and I have learned to expect.
The first was when the ladies at Orko’s doggie daycare had a complete and utter breakdown when we told them it was his last day with them, there were dognapping threats and declarations of our evilness for taking him away, but they finally relented and sent him home… with a signed shirt by everyone who works there… I shit you not! I have picture proof!!!
The second was we sold EVERYTHING. Seriously we were moving from a 3bd 2 1/2ba house to a 600sq studio… SHIT HAD TO GO!… I don’t know how many times I used the Spaceballs classic… “TAKE ONLY WHAT YOU NEED TO SURVIVE!!”
PLUS Hubby and I were sharing a closet… SHARING ONE CLOSET… I’ve had my own closet since forever… it was a true test of our marriage… I WAS ONLY ALLOWED 4 BOXES!!!
THE HORROR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The next shenanigans happened as we drove through Salt Lake City and the city LITERALLY TRIED TO KILL US!!!!! No Lie! We were driving along minding our own business when a hail storm hit, IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE, with golf ball size hail pelting us on the Interstate. Orko and I were on our own in the SUV while Hubby and CIA Cat weathered it (*snicker* get it?!?!) in the U-Haul. I was screaming the entire time while Orko growled and barked. The fact that the windshield didn’t break still amazes me!! I took a picture after the storm had passed and we had pulled off at the next exit to recoup… Orko and I were in Hail Shock… it’s a thing.
Then there was when we hit the state line of Idaho and I got super excited and leaned out the window yelling “IDAHOOOOOOO!” to which someone driving by the other way yelled back “YA YOU ARE!!!”… not cool Idaho.
But now we’re here and my life is back to normal, so expect WAY more posts forthcoming… YAYYYYY, I just used my word of the day!!!!!
So Hubby loves playing in pick up basketball games. This is basically when a bunch of guys who don’t know each other go to the park, gather at the basketball court, and then within 1 minute of meeting are best friends and play a game of basketball… it’s a beautiful thing.
However, cause they’re guys things instantly get rough housy and then I get a call from Hubby that I should probably meet him at the local emergency room…
At the ER I meet up with Hubby who has an impressive blood fountain coming out of his forehead.
Me: GOOD LORD
Hubby: It’s not that bad.
Me: Your forehead is impersonating Old Faithful! But not as majestic.
Hubby: IT’S NOT THAT BAD!
Me: YES, IT IS!!
Nurse: NEXT!
Hubby and I walk up to the very serious looking nurse.
Nurse: Reason for your visit to the ER?
Me:…
Hubby:…
Me: Old Bloody Faithful.
Nurse: hhhmmmm… Sir… are you safe at home?
Me: What does that matter?!?
Hubby: Babe.
Me: WHAT!?!? That’s the stupidest question, what does it matter?
Nurse: Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back and let your Husband answer the question!
Me: Why? He doesn’t know.
Nurse: What?
Me: If we’re safe at home. Yes, we are. I was on birth control pills, but kept forgetting to take them, so I switched to the Nova Ring, which was kinda weird the first couple time getting that thing up…
Hubby: BABE!!!!
Me: What?
Hubby: Not that kind of safe at home! She’s asking if I’m safe at home with you, as in do you hit me.
Me: …. oh… well that makes more sense.
Hubby: Good grief babe.
Me: WHAT? Isn’t it a good sign that I didn’t know what she she was talking about!? It means I probably don’t hit you!
I looked to her for confirmation, but the now teary eyed nurse had rolled her chair over to the nurse next to her and was whispering in her ear and both then broke down into laughing convulsions.
Me: I think we’re good, doesn’t look like she thinks I hit you any more.
Hubby: Great, thanks.
I wish I liked the Bachelor, so many of my friends like that show and listening to them each morning losing their shit over who did what, who wasn’t picked, who was picked, who kissed who, who didn’t kiss who, who swam the best with the pigs (not making that up, it was a serious topic one morning), who was left on the island, who said I love you, who said I love you when they weren’t supposed to say I love you…
It’s amazing!
So with the big finale coming I decided to just skip ahead and read the spoiler articles on Facebook while my friend Whitney avoided all social media while she watched it old Pacific time. Luck for me she took my texts, however that was unlucky for her…
*spoiler* if you are in no way interested in the bachelor this is going to be pretty boring for you and you can skip the text, all but the last one when Whitney questions her life… that part is hilarious.
And so she watched… and discovered… he didn’t pick JoJo…
Hubby: When’s the next gas station coming up?
Me:…
Hubby: Babe
Me:…
Hubby: BABE!
Me: WHAT!?
Hubby: GAS?
Me: NO!! But thanks for asking, my tummy was feeling a little iffy earlier. Note to self, those giant tobacco slim jims are not for the faint of heart… or digestive track.
Hubby: *sigh* Gas station, babe, when’s the next gas station.
Me: Oh! um, 8 more miles.
Hubby: What are you doing anyways? You’ve been messing with the radio station for the last 15 minutes.
Me: Are you aware you have 4 Christian stations saved in your station memory? Not that there’s anything wrong with that… I was just wondering when you found God.
Hubby: No, I don’t.
Me: YOU DO! See I wrote each station number down and checked online, these 4 are Christian channels… actually you have one station saved twice… you must really like their God music.
Hubby: No I don’t, are you sure? Maybe you saved them.
Me: Ha ha ha, that’s hilarious, I have NO idea how to save a station on the radio dial thingy.
Hubby: Yes, you do.
Me: No, I don’t.
Hubby: YES, YOU DO.
Me: NO, I DON’T.
Hubby: YES!!
Me: NO!!.. don’t be mad.
Hubby: I’m not mad babe, but I’m sure you do know how to save a station.
Me: No, not that… we passed the exit for the gas station.
Hubby:…
Me: Here, let me put the station back to your favorite God music.
Hubby:…
P.S. there is like an 86.9% chance I was the one who saved those channels… a lot of those god songs are pretty damn catchy… darn catchy… sorry.
But That's For Another Blog 