He Said, She Said

Alone Time - with update

2008-04-29T00:42:09Z

She Said: Several months ago, I posed the question: How does a couple strike a balance between getting enough alone time to maintain sanity, and spending enough time together to nurture the relationship? Folks, I have the answer. First of all, don't work together. Second, work opposite schedules. We used to see each other all day every day for months, both at home and at work. (It's a wonder neither of us resorted to murder just for a little solitude.) You won't hear either of us whining anymore about not having enough time to ourselves. We've got loads of it now.

My job keeps me really busy, and it's not always a 9 to 5 schedule. Tony is enjoying his new job, and I think it's perfect for him...the kind of person he is, the things he enjoys, the experience he has...I think he's found his niche. But his schedule varies too, and we've gone from spending every waking moment together to not knowing when we'll have dinner together next. I'd like to find a happy medium, but I'm not complaining. After all, it's about quality not quantity; we're developing a deeper appreciation for the time we do get to spend together.

What if you could bottle sunshine?

2008-04-28T18:31:02Z

She Said: Forget Prozac, Lexapro, Cymbalta, Wellbutrin and all those other happy pills--just give me sunshine. Seriously, it's no wonder the suicide rate is so high in the Pacific Northwest. We spend half the year under a thick cover of damp gray. Sure, it's the reason this region is lush, green and beautiful, but from November to May I can barely bring myself to leave the house to see any of that botanical beauty. But when the sun comes out, it's bliss.

]]> This weekend was amazing. I awoke Saturday morning to sunny skies and opened every curtain in the house. All the plants in our garden turned toward the glowing, life-giving orb, rejoicing in its warmth and energy. That was enough to make me smile, but our plans for the day made me positively giddy. Saturday was Eureka's 42nd annual Rhododendron Parade and, as if that weren't enough, opening day of the Arcata Farmers Market. Oh happy day!

We drove to Henderson Center to watch some of the parade. I must admit, I've never been to a parade in my life and I don't watch them on TV. They've never really interested me. But we were both invested in this one; Tony, because he helped decorate his company's float and me, because I was on the planning committee. The Rhody Parade is a huge deal in Eureka, especially this year because it almost didn't happen and the community came together to pull it off. It was fun to watch for a while, but Farmers Market was calling, so we didn't stay to see all 70 entries. (For more on the Rhody parade, click here, here, or visit times-standard.com.)

I love Arcata in the spring and summertime. Farmers Market every Saturday, happy people on the Plaza and sun, glorious sun! (And starting in June, Crabs baseball games!) We meandered from stand to stand in our warm-weather wear, buying seeds, starter plants and organic veggies. We stopped in for a beer at Sidelines and a cheerful fellow said to me, "Your bag has a leek." :)

We returned home and ate lunch in the backyard, surrounded by beautiful blooming rhododendrons, camellias, rock rose, lavender and hibiscus. Uncertain how long the sunny weather would last, I eagerly planted cucumbers, zucchini, green beans, spinach, basil, tomatoes and a mixed basket of mystery seeds. The mystery isn't so much what the seeds are, it's what will grow. There was a stand at the Market selling strawberry baskets filled with a variety of things: garlic, a budding potato, sunflower, pumpkin and a mish-mash of other little seeds. The vendor instructed us to dig a hole in the ground about the size of the basket, dump it all in there and see what happens. "Don't put the basket in there, though," he said. Really? Because I thought it would be a great idea to plant a plastic strawberry basket in my organic vegetable garden. Maybe it would grow plastic strawberries.

To give the perfect day a perfect ending, we had a backyard campout. We pitched the tent, lit the tiki torches, cooked dinner on the propane stove and let Casey sleep outside with us. I felt like a kid again. One of these days we'll do that with our kids and they'll think their parents are really fun. And if they're anything like I was as a child, they'll never want to sleep inside again.

A Stranger In A Strange Land

2008-04-18T23:53:03Z

He Said: Here I am a Dodger fan in the land of Giants. When my cousin who has been living and working in Europe for the 3 years called me to say that his company was sending him to The City for meetings, we both had the same thought. "Are the Giants in town?" They were. So we began planning a day at the Park. He had never been to SF nor AT&T Park. If been to The City plenty but never for a game. He scored some great seats from stubhub.com and we sat like kids waiting for Xmas to get to the game. Having lived here for 2 years and in Colorado on the other side of the Rockies from Denver for 9 years, it's not as easy to get to Major League Game.

]]> Growing up in the Los Angeles area, baseball was aplenty. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I was abler to watch Dodger and Angel games from inside the park. I feel fortunate that I have been able to say "Yeah, I've seen him play" about the likes of Garvey, Cey Lopes and Russell to name a few. I remember the season that 4 guys hit over 30 homeruns each...EACH. That just doesn't happen, especially in and beyond the steroids era. Not just the boys in Dodger Blue, I saw guys like Jackson and Winfield. I feel like I was a part of baseball history... Mr October jacks one out... Herschiser on his magnificent scoreless innings streak... Gibson going yard against the A's in the Series... Getting my first foulball from Fred McGriff's attempt at a Chan Ho Park fastball. The last game I went to was a Rockies game. I was there with the same guy I was about to see the Giants take on St Louis at a park neither of us had been to. At that Rockies game (I can't remember who they played) I wore my team's cap. An Official Dodger Baseball hat. All of my life I've owned one. I was even wearing one when I met Richard Nixon. I have the photo to prove it. So here we were in Coors Field and from outta nowhere a big purple hand reached from behind me and yanked off my cap. It was Rockie the Mascot and he's running up the stairs with my cap in his furry clothed hand. I chased and he relinquished my hat. The crowd loved it and so did I.

So I knew right away that I'd be wearing the same hat the my boyhood idols wore as they played our favorite game. A bright blue hat with the hated interlocked LA emblazened on the front stands out quite well in a sea of orange and black. Of course I was well aware of the rivalry from a SoCal-ers state of mind. Over the last couple years living in this area I got to see it from the the other side. There I was walking past Willie Mays statue sporting the hat of the team that gave him fits. Willie was one of the greatest ever. I tipped my cap to the Say Hey Kid with relish.

Entering the park spectacular. The smell of hot dogs hit my nose and I knew where I was and where I wanted to be for the rest of my life, at the game. I did always like a good field. I grew up wanting to call Dodger Stadium my office and my work the greatest game of all. I was good but not that good. The weather was fantastic and as we made our way to our front row seat of the greatest show on earth we were kids again. I heard some jeers like "nice hat" dripping with sarcasm. I once again tipped my cap. I was in the Giants house and since they were playing the Cards I said I would be rooting for the home team. And I did. Lincecum was brilliant and threw 11Ks. The rookie Bowker was great and extended his newly born career with more production. We had a great time in park by the sea. I once again tip my cap to not just the players but to the crew and the fans. Thanks for a light hearteted ribbing and I will see you again. I will be at the Rivalry Series in August and be just as grateful.

By the way, we've had 5 championships since we both moved here 50 years ago. How many do you guys have? That dig is for Tom and Ted and the rest of Giant nation. See you at the park.

No Excuse for Dogs on the Loose

2008-04-09T18:46:22Z

She Said: I've heard all kinds of horror stories about Pit Bulls at large, indiscriminately attacking children and other dogs in their paths. When I was a little girl, my neighbor on the corner was walking her Pomeranian when a Pit Bull came out of nowhere and basically ate the tiny dog's head on the spot.

But I also have many years experience in animal rescue and veterinary work, and have taken a liking to this particular breed which, when treated properly, is one of the sweetest and most loyal of them all. I feel the breed has earned a bad rap, which is understandable given the number and severity of attacks one hears about in the news. But if it weren't the Pit Bull, it would be the Doberman or the German Shepherd, or some other such strong, energetic breed that requires discipline, consistency, stability, positive reinforcement and leadership. (Hmm, kind of sounds like parenting...but children run amok is a topic for another day.)

]]> I love these dogs so much that when I decided to adopt a canine friend for myself, I looked specifically for a Pit Bull. And boy, I found a great one. Sure, he's big and tough, but he's also gentle and affectionate. As much as I love him, though, I don't delude myself about the potential damage he could inflict on a person or another animal. So I work with him on behavior issues and always, ALWAYS keep him on a leash when in public.

To those of you who let your dogs run rampant in parks and neighborhoods: What are you thinking? Your dogs need your trust, but to assume they will be perfect angels all the time is to ignore the very nature of the beast and, frankly, downright irresponsible.

Tony walked Casey in our neighborhood the other evening, as he often does. Upon returning home, he told me Casey had been in a scrape. Apparently, an agressive Pit Bull came running up, unleashed and intent on attacking them. Casey responded appropriately, becoming defensive and protecting his leader. Tony immediately commanded Casey to sit behind him, and kept control of the leash as he kicked the assailing dog away. A young man appeared and grabbed the dog by the scruff, holding on to it as Tony attempted to determine whether this was the person culpable for having a raving animal on the loose. (He said that was not his dog.)

At first glance, everyone was OK. Casey seemed tired and Tony had a couple of scratches, but nothing major. About an hour later, I noticed the area above Casey's right eye was quite swollen, much like the egg I developed on my forehead a few weeks ago. His conjunctiva (the white parts of his eye) were bloodshot and his eye was partially closed. Thankfully, he is responding well to treatment with ice and aspirin. But his injuries (and Tony's) could have been much worse, as previous stories illustrate. The fact that this dog was running around unrestrained and unsupervised is absolutely inexcusable.

ROFLMAO

2008-04-08T18:07:39Z

She Said: I just learned that we've been living in a cave--a deep, dark cave--and apparently for some time. Tony and I recently discovered the most precious comic gold known to man: Flight of the Conchords. I'd heard some of their songs on KHUM, but didn't know who they were. Tony's friend just turned us on to them. Now, every time we try to share the funny with someone, they already know about them. "Yeah, they're freakin' hilarious. Are you just finding out about them?"

Well, yes. And in case you've been dwelling in the same cave as we have, you've absolutely got to check these guys out. If you don't think they're funny, there's seriously something wrong with you.

Ono Kine Grindz in Eureka

2008-03-14T22:30:20Z

She Said: I've been fighting a food coma since I finished lunch. Tony and I went to Banana Hut, the only Hawaiian place in town, for the very first time today. The food was absolutely delicious. It took us back to our Maui honeymoon, where we ate like the locals do and each came back ten pounds heavier.

Two words: Plate Lunch. It's the traditional Hawaiian midday meal. If you're unfamiliar, it's typically a scoop of macaroni salad (heavy on the mayonnaise), a scoop of rice (because the mac salad doesn't provide quite enough starch), and a main dish. This could be kalua pork, shoyu chicken, chicken katsu, pineapple ribs, or my husband's favorite, Loco Moco--a hamburger patty topped with a fried egg and smothered in brown gravy. That's what he had today. I couldn't pass up the kalua pork. The last time I ate that, it had just been unearthed from a pit in the ground. This was almost as good. And the musubi! Spam has never tasted so good.

We went to the Old Lahaina Luau on our honeymoon, and that food comprised one of the best meals either of us has ever had. (Also on the short list is the amazing dinner we had at Cin Cin last weekend.) It was nice to reminisce about that trip as we chowed down on our simple, savory Hawaiian comfort food in an unassuming setting. We still haven't shed the weight we gained on Maui, so we can't make a habit of eating at this place, but maybe once or twice a month wouldn't have too strong an impact on our waistlines...and our arteries.

I'm an egghead.

2008-03-14T01:04:30Z

She Said: Yesterday my dog shut the front door in my face. I was attempting to enter the door at the time, so my face was somewhat in the doorway when he slammed himself up against it with all the force his muscular, 70-pound body could muster. In what seemed simultaneously like a split second and an eternity, the door collided with my forehead, making a sound I was certain could only mean my skull cracked.

Dazed, I felt pain spread immediately from the point of impact throughout my face and head. I sat down on the porch, seeing stars and trying not to pass out. I put my fingers to my forehead, examining the extent of my injury. No bifurcation of skin or skull, but there was an unbelievable amount of swelling. I felt an egg-like protrusion develop within seconds. This was a Grade AA, Extra Large ovum.

I drove myself to Urgent Care, suspecting a concussion. There were about four people in front of me, one of whom said she had been there for two hours. I decided I'd be better off going home and icing my forehead than sitting in a crowded waiting room surrounded by sick people's germs.

Thanks to ice and repeated large doses of ibuprofen, the swelling has come down significantly. However, it's starting to take on a nice dark shade of blue. I hope it goes away soon. It's not very attractive and it hurts like hell. But I'm looking on the bright side: at least I didn't have any body parts crushed between the door and the jamb.

Saturday Night Home Improvement

2008-02-26T01:20:00Z

She Said: In my restless youth, I never thought I would realize the simple joys of staying home. Friday and Saturday nights used to be for going out and partying with friends, which I still occasionally do. But now there's nothing I enjoy more than spending the night in with my husband.

]]> We had the greatest weekend. After a low-key Friday night of movies and Guinness, we spent Saturday running errands. Errands were never as much fun alone as they are with Tony. We went to Target in search of a few specific items. We didn't find what we were looking for, and we somehow ended up trying on almost all the sunglasses in the store and each bought a pair we liked. Hungry and thirsty, we headed over to Lost Coast Brewery for some good food and beer. We lingered over a nice lunch and a few pints, then contributed a little more to the local economy before returning home.

Who needs to go out to have a great time? We cracked open a couple more beers, put on some music and got to work resurrecting our old entertainment center as shelving. This is the true meaning of conservation of resources. This thing was sitting in one of our spare bedrooms, waiting for us to get around to listing it in the classifieds. It's not the greatest piece of furniture, and has endured some wear and tear. We may have gotten $10 for it--$15 if we were lucky. In the meantime, we would have spent three or four times that amount on new materials to put much-needed shelves in our storage-lacking laundry room.

This was fun! Beer and power tools! Good music and time spent with my favorite person. We accomplished something that will greatly improve our quality of life for as long as we live in that house: we created space.

Self Censorship

2008-02-20T23:54:54Z

He Said: I had a whole bit written on the subject "Breaking News". What is "news" (as Google tells you) and what the heck is "breaking news"( as Google tells you). If it didn't just happen, it aint "news" it's "olds". After my blog/rant, I decided to delete that draft and change the subject. "Self Censorship", sounds like as good a title as any right?

]]> We self-censor constantly:
"That blouse looks great."
"I am fine how are you?"
"It is so good to hear from you."

How much of the time is what we actually say completely bullshit? As a person that doesn't normally subscribe to bullshit... "It aint likely!" I tell it like it is (normally). Every now and then I self censor...boooo... hissss....

We all do. Whatever agenda you're pushing or hiding, we self censor. Now then, that being said... I believe in spousal censorship. You know that there was something that you wanted to call bullshit and either you or your spouse thought that in the "group's" best interest it shouldn't be said. That's OK. I have been known to lie with the best of them. (Ask my Mom)

I/We want to hear your thoughts. don't make me bold text, that's a lot of work. I know that you are reading this. Come on in, the water's fine. Who is out there? Without input this might as well be print. And we all know what's gonna happen there.

I feel that if you can't self censor or be censored with your own interests involved then you don't deserve a great editor or a conscience. So %$#@ off!

Hair of the dog...literally

2008-02-07T15:22:14Z

She Said: Calm. Assertive. These are the goals of the pack leader. These are not, however, the words I would use to describe our state of mind the night Tony bathed Gabbi, our house guest for the next three months.

Gabbi: Casey's girlfriend. Doesn't know she's entered her geriatric years. Has a knee injury, but loves long walks, jumping on people and playing rough with Casey. Enjoys carrying toys out into the yard in her mouth. Hates baths.

]]> Tony was on top of the world when he returned from a long walk with both dogs. A good time for baths, he reasoned. Casey was first and, despite his habit of wedging his nose firmly in the corner of the wall, was on his best behavior. Tony was on a roll. Gabbi's turn.

I was in the kitchen boiling pasta and chopping sun-dried tomatoes. As I reached for the olive oil, I heard the frantic scratching of nails in the wet tub and Tony yelling. Into the kitchen comes a big black dog covered in white suds.

"NO, GABBI! NO NO NO NO NO!" I shrieked. Yeah, that's calm.

I tried to herd her back into the bathroom with my body, trying pointlessly to avoid getting the smell of wet soapy dog on my freshly laundered jeans. I quickly realized it was more important to keep the furry foam out of our dinner. The jeans could go back in the wash.

We got her back in the tub and Tony finished her bath with the door closed. Novel concept, right? Well, we've never had to worry about Casey traipsing through the house all soaped up, so it didn't occur to us to shut the door. The rest of the bath went easily, but the clean up was not so.

Here's our recipe for Black Lab Surprise: Take Gabbi, add soap and water, and watch her shake. Surprise! There's wet, black hair on every imaginable surface. Tony was astounded.

We both failed miserably at pack leadership that night. We each had moments when we completely lost it. I, when wet Gabbi entered my culinary domain and Tony, at the sight of all that hair. At least we were able to enjoy a delicious, fur-free meal.

Fanaticism, Toilet Seats & Cesar Millan

2008-01-22T03:16:04Z

He Said: I haven't written a damn thing in a while. Between work and playoffs and trying to be the freakin' Dog Whisperer, I have been blogoslippin'. Yeah I just made up that word.

Yeah I am a huge Steeler fan... OK so when it comes down to a blatant holding non-call to steal a playoff win from my beloved five-time World Champion Pittsburgh F'in Steelers I get a little pissed. You Raiders fans know what I'm talkin' about... like that wasn't a fumble in the snow little Tommy Brady. OK so all of you people that aren't football fans bear with me. My point is this (MPIT): All of you guys that even talk to the TV during the game... In the eyes of your wives... you're an absolute fanatic. When you're at the sports bar watching with your boys... you're one of the coolest Mofers in the room. Yes I'm a fanatic and my team absolutely loves me for it.

]]> On to the bathroom stuff... Since when is closing a toilet seat a matter of manners? I prefer to keep bacteria as far away from my toothbrush as possible. To me this is just being clean. As far as all of you guys that keep the lid open... let me share some crap with you (pun fully intended). MPIT: Toilets have lids for a reason. And girls... you're not off the hook either. Putting the toilet seat down doesn't mean just dropping the ring. If you want the seat down just so you don't have to touch it... you're just as wrong. Although!!! All public toilets should not be touched unless you're the one cleaning them! It's simple. It's a toilet. There is function one, function two and not in use. End of story.

When I married my beautiful wife, with me came my cat Reggie. I got her two cats Morley & Lucy. What I hadn't counted on was a new best friend. That's Casey. He's a 3 year old American Staffordshire Terrier. When you're looking in my windows at night, he's a Pitbull. On May 15 he'll be four and the only thing he wants is a Steelers jersey with his name on it... oh yeah, they make 'em. He's a great dog but he could use some balance. We are trying to challenge him more. If any of you know of the Dog Whisperer, you know what I mean. His main philosophy is this: exercise, discipline and affection (in that order). Sometimes it's tough to make the proper time to exercise your dog. He is such a big part of our lives and requires his structure (as we all do). MPIT: I am the pack leader and therefore I must lead my pack.

I will try not leave you all jonesing for new blogstuffs: Like Charger fans waiting for LT to run the damn ball. Like everyone waiting for you to put the damn seat down. Like followers waiting for us to lead the damn pack.

Lay on, Commenters, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!

The Virtues of a Well-Trained Man

2008-01-15T15:16:00Z

Lacey in Durango, CO writes:

So, I've been casually keeping up on your new blog-- and congratulations on the whole marriage thing, by the way. I'm wondering, after reading the "Evolution of Man" post, how was Tony trained to put the toilet seat down? I've been seeing someone pretty seriously for the better part of a year, and despite casually mentioning the idea of maybe putting it down, mostly so I don't drop stuff into the open toilet by accident, the toilet seat cover and seat remain standing. This isn't a battle over "I'm a female who needs the seat, so put it down, dammit." It's more a battle over, "I'm a clutz and I don't want to have to fish stuff out that doesn't belong in the toilet, so close the lid, dammit."
I don't want to be a nag, because nobody likes that, but the casual (though
direct) comments and even a few clutzy incidences haven't changed a thing in 9 months... Advice?

]]> She Said: Actually, I can't take any of the credit for this one. He came trained. I have his mother and, to a certain extent, probably his ex-wife to thank for that.

However, I do have some advice to offer: Pick your battles. I've found that a peaceful co-existence can be achieved if both partners are willing to compromise a little. If, after you've tried clear, calm, direct communication, he still won't put the lid down, you must decide how valuable this fight is. Can you live with this bad habit? Is it worth being stressed over, or could you make some changes to your storage and routine in the interest of keeping the peace? Maybe you can store your things in a cabinet under the sink, and his things can go above the toilet. If he's as clumsy as you are, his behavior may change quickly.

I married a jock.

2008-01-13T19:00:18Z

She Said: He warned me. When we were dating, his softball team won their tournament, so we went out for pizza and beer with the team. As he walked me to my car afterward he said, "You know I'm a jock, right? Is that going to be OK with you?"

]]> Of course I knew, and of course it was OK. In fact, it's one of the things I liked about him. He was physically active and fit, which I found attractive. I thought his love of football and baseball was really cute. It was something I could relate to, having grown up with a sports fan for a dad. And I enjoyed the rivalry between his teams and my dad's. They're on opposite ends of every major American sports spectrum. Tony likes the Steelers, my dad roots for the Raiders (that's the OAKLAND Raiders--and actually, he's more of a Niners fan, but there's more of a rivalry between the Steelers and the Raiders); Tony's a Lakers fan, my dad's a Celtics fan; Tony roots for the Dodgers, my dad's loyal to the Giants. It gives them something to talk about.

But recently I have seen my dear husband turn into a maniac. He screams, he whines, he stomps his feet. It's hard to watch him spiral out of control. It's like a sickness. It consumes the whole house. He admitted to me once that he wishes he could just be a fan instead of a fanatic.

He said, "Maybe it would have been good for you to see me through the playoffs before deciding to marry me." While we knew each other last football season, we only watched a few games together, and he was relatively tame. I think he was on his best behavior because we had just begun seeing each other.

I said, "I still would have married you. Loving you isn't a choice; it's a compulsion."

My Favorite Things

2008-01-10T15:00:00Z

She Said:

Kisses on foreheads and feet in warm slippers
Sleeping in Saturdays and hearing Mo purr
Seeing the sparkle of our wedding rings
These are a few of my favorite things

]]> Having a cocktail with my handsome husband
Dancing to Sam and Dave or holding my hand
Making me smile and laugh when he sings
These are a few of my favorite things

The sound of football games played on the weekend
The feeling of knowing I married my best friend
Cooking up a storm and eating like kings
These are a few of my favorite things

When Lucy bites
When Reggie growls
When Casey is bad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so sad

In Sickness and in Health

2008-01-04T14:58:53Z

She Said: Tony and I just can't seem to shake this cold. He got it first, on Christmas Day. I felt so bad for him, sniffling and sneezing as he unwrapped his gifts. Normally when one of us gets sick, we try to avoid kissing each other on the lips. But that was especially difficult on this day, our first Christmas as a married couple. I knew it was just a matter of time before I would start developing his miserable symptoms.

]]> I took care of my poor husband for three days as the cold germs incubated within my body. I cooked, cleaned house and nurtured my patient. He moaned, whined and complained. I wondered, why would he make all that noise when he said his throat hurt so badly?

And then it hit. The raw sensation in my throat, the congestion in my sinuses, the aching in my bones. It was wretched. And it was the holidays. And I had to work. I found myself moaning, whining and complaining, and realized I simply couldn't help it. I felt so awful, I just had to express it out loud, even if no one was listening. Good thing for those around me I eventually developed laryngitis.

Tony was starting to feel better as I hit the peak of my illness. He took care of me as I had taken care of him. We're still trying not to kiss each other, which is an incredible challenge for we newlyweds. But that effort seems to be in vain because we're both feeling like we're getting sick all over again. Who's going to take care of us when we're both down with this cold?