How Did I End Up With This Hot Dog?

Lately, Jeremy and I have been having a little trouble communicating with each other. It started a few weeks ago when he asked me if we could take a quick drive across town to pick up a spare set of car keys to his father’s Accord so he could drive it the following week while our truck was being serviced.

On my life, that is what he asked me.

Below, is what Jeremy, the Delusional One, claims he asked me...

“Jen, Sweetheart, mother of my children and favored lover of mine, would you be so kind to drive me to the Les Schwab Tire Center so I can spend 30 minutes drooling over rims and tires we don’t need, and watch me talk about transmissions, big game hunting and NCAA basketball with a stranger working the customer service counter? Please try to keep the children entertained. They like sitting still and the smell of galvanized rubber right?”

“Then, Light of my Life, would you shuttle me to the Dodge dealership to price shop for parts while I talk with a service technician named Dale and review the finer points of tying your own flies for fishing? Don’t be alarmed if I follow him into the service bay and disappear for twelve minutes. Dale, keeps his fly collection at his work station. I’ll still see you through the plexiglas window that separates the waiting room from the bay. And I’m going to think it’s adorable watching you wrestle both Henry and Reese simultaneously especially when you let them pull at your hair like that. I’ll be sure to wink and wave at you when you mouth the words ‘I want you NOW!*’ to me from across the way. Aw, Sugarlumps, after all these years, I’m hot for you too.”

* Let it be known, in reality, I mouthed the words, ‘We’re leaving NOW’. It was most definitely a threat and not a come on.

“Then, my love, I’ll sweep you off to a magical place, because surely you and the children will be hungry by now. Have you ever heard of Hot Dog Heaven? Well I have, and it’s delightful. Don’t let the location in a poorly lit, suspect strip mall color your opinion of what you are about to experience. Sure the guy working the counter may be a bit on the ornery and slightly unkempt side, but that’s all part of his charm. He packs a mean Chicago Dog according to Utah standards. Trust me, Snookums, you won’t be disappointed.”

“What’s that Honeybuns? You say Reese has just made a present in her diaper and you didn’t pack extras because you had no idea you’d be away from home for three hours? Don’t you worry your nappy little head. I’ll run to the store up the street and fetch a package of diapers that will be two sizes too small. I will forget to buy wipes. You just wait here with the hungry kids for our food. Go ahead and start without me…if you can. Because little do you know, I’m taking my wallet and the car with your purse locked inside. You won’t have any means to pay for the food until I return. Fifteen minutes later.”

“And Lover Nugget, once we’ve finished our slightly cold food, it’s time for the final act of the night. We just need to drive down the road to pick up the spare set of car keys from my father so I can drive his Accord while our truck is being serviced next week.”

That little misunderstanding up there? Cost me more than three hours of my life and way too many calories. But have no worries. Next week, unbeknownst to Jeremy, he will accompany me to purse party and a Mary Kay open house. As far as he knows, I just have to “swing” by a friend’s house for one hot minute.

It's Your Birthday

Dear Lover,

Today is your birthday. You’re thirty-four years old and I’m happy to say that I’ve loved you for eleven of those years. The time before that? Meh, you were sort of on your own. I get a kick when you tell me that I’m the best thing to happen to you in the past ten years because before that time you continually remind me that “a lot of cool stuff happened” to you.

Really, Jeremy? I seriously doubt it.

Did anyone shave your head hours before a major family function? Did anyone lock your keys in the truck with the engine running? Twice? And with whom did you secretly watch The Hills?

Jeremy, thanks for being such a wonderful, compassionate, hilarious and wicked hawt companion. If it weren’t for you I would have never heard the phrase, “You must have misunderheard me.” Also? I would never know where my phone charger was hising or exactly where the Yankees sit in the MLB standings. Obviously I can’t live without you.

Honey, I’m sad that we can’t be together today to celebrate your birthday. Apparently your client meeting in Colorado scheduled months ago for this very day takes precedence over the subway sandwich I offered to buy you for your birthday lunch. Maybe it’s better this way. Since we work in the same office, during work hours it’s important that we maintain a professional rapport with each other and keep the physical contact down to the occasional elbow bump as we pass each other in the hall. As an aside, I sincerely apologize for the time I accidentally called you “Lover” when I paged you for a marketing meeting. My bad on that one.

But when you come home tonight you’ll see the cake the kids and I made especially for your birthday. Of course Henners and Reese couldn’t agree on a unified design for your cake so it will be sort of a “Dora the Explorer meets Spiderman” theme. Just what you wanted, I know. Sadly, you will have missed out on the inevitable frosting fight and a spirited battle for dominance of the electric beaters. (Spoiler Alert: Reese will undoubtedly win.)

In love with you always,

Jen

P.S.: I would have called you today to wish you a Happy Birthday but my phone is dead and I can’t find the charger.

Testosterone in the House!!! (With a Shot of Estrogen)

What am I doing posting two days in a row? Surely I’ve confused all you by posting twice in the same month, but stick with me, folks, I’ve got something to say. Well, actually, my husband has something to say. You see, today, I’m participating in Tattooed Minivan Mom’s bring your husband to your blog day. It's a day set aside every so often where we let our spouses run rampant all over our sites as they post every kernel of wit and wisdom they have in the hopes that it classes up our joint a bit.

I had Jeremy all primed and ready to lay his best stuff on me (writing-wise, of course) when he suddenly remembered he had a huge deadline at work to tend to. Apparently he has a huge bid set going out this afternoon for an architecty project he’s working on. He had to pull an all-nighter and didn’t come home until 3:00 am.

As an aside, to all my architecty friends out there, this includes you, Carolyn Online and Irish Gumbo, is it odd that when Jeremy returned from his all-nighter that he had glitter all over his person and he smelled of cigarette smoke? Is that normal?

Jeremy insists that architects are now using a new glitter-based ink on their drawings to make them “snazzier” for clients. He has no explanation for the stale smoke smell or the receipt I found in his pants to somewhere called Southern Exposure. You guys don’t think I should be nervous do you?

So instead of Jeremy penning his own post, I did what any dutiful wife would do whilst her husband is out bringing home the bacon, I wrote one for him. I took the liberty of guessing what topics he would want to share with all of you.

Here goes…

1. His Gun Lust: Jeremy desperately wants a Gun Werks Custom 7mm. If you have enough money to buy one of these suckers at a cool $5995 (plus shipping & handling) it will be sighted in at 1000 yards out of the box. I’m sure most of the men out there are drooling at this news, but ladies, are you with me when I say, who needs a gun sighted in at such a distance? And what’s with the shipping and handling charges? I mean, come on, you’re already shelling out six grand for a gun, why do you need to pay extra for shipping and handling? I told Jeremy I would be all for it if it weren’t for the extra charges. I then suggested he should look for something a little more practical or in our price range, you know, like a Nerf Super Soaker for $29.95. No shipping and handling.

Ooooh. So close, honey.

2. His Sports Obsession: The other day Jeremy and I are watching Sports Center. (That’s right fellas, Steenky loves her some Sports Center.) We were cuddled up watching a story about Terrell Owens being dumped by the Cowboys for being too difficult and too expensive to handle. (Sorry for your precious Cowboys, Stiletto Mom) It turns out T.O. was quickly nabbed by the Buffalo Bills for $6.5 million on a short-term contract.

Jeremy to me: Man, I wish I were 6’4”-240 lbs, ran a 4.0 split and were a giant pain in the ass.

Me to Jeremy: Well, one out of three isn’t so bad.

Me to myself: Boo-ya!

3. His Smokin’ Hot Wife: Okay, so if Jeremy were posting here at Steenky Bee today I’m sure he would tell you that every day he wakes up he feels like he’s just won the lottery because he sees me lying next to him. Yep, folks, it just doesn’t get better than my nappy, untamed bed head and mascara streaked face staring at him at 5:00 in the morning. Sometimes I’ve rolled over and nearly pushed him out of bed because I’m using his warmth (not to mention his pillow and his share of the blankets) to keep me comfy. Most days I’ve got my glistening face pressed up against his, my funky morning breath gently grazing (assaulting) him. You can imagine how difficult it is for him to rip himself away from me and my hotness to work that all-nighter, huh?

*This just in: Jeremy just told me that Southern Exposure is the name of the local printing company our firm uses for large-scale projects such as his. He then said that we should stop talking about it and never bring it up again. Ever. Especially to any of our co-workers. Phew! I knew I had no reason to worry. ☺
**I feel compelled to disclose that Jeremy has never actually been inside one of those Southern Exposure establishments.
***I wish the same could be said for me. But that story is for another day, and another post all together.

The Spin Cycle: Frankie says, 'Relax'. Jen doesn't know Frankie but wishes he would always wear clean undershorts.

Whoa! Sprite’s Keeper’s Spin Cycle came upon me quickly this week. Normally I do a little séance and eat a bunch of gummy worms to prepare for each week’s topic, but this week I had absolutely no time to run out and restock on incense. Instead, I hovered near a Pumpkin Spice scented candle and ate left over Smarties from Halloween. So please, be understanding as you read my spin on relaxing. The Smarties gave me a headache, but they allowed me to stretch the relativity of recent conversations with my husband and relaxing until it was wafer thin.

Here goes....

The other day at work there was a loud fist pounding fit from across the office. “Damn it, Jen. Not again!" I heard Jeremy shout. Within moments he was over at my desk (Did I tell you that we work together? It was a steamy office affair, but that’s a post for another day.)

He stood there, glaring at me, demanding to know why I’m trying to give him a bad rap on Steenky Bee.

Jeremy: Did you type over and over, ‘When Jeremy came out of the closet,’ when I specifically asked you not to?
Me: No, I did not type 'When Jeremy came out of the closet’ over and over. Why would you think I would type ‘When Jeremy came out of the closet’? What’s so funny about ‘When Jeremy came out of the closet’?

Jeremy: Yes you did. I just read it on your blog.

Me: Um, Lover? That was over two weeks ago. You are so behind. Don’t you read it every day?

Jeremy: *Shrugging*

Me: Don’t be upset, I far worse things about you last week.

Jeremy then pulled me into the copy room and we had ourselves a long talk about boundaries and Lemon Snapple. I listened to Jeremy as he explained the importance of boundaries on this here blog. He listened to me as I raved about how I prefer regular Lemon Snapple to that of Diet Lemon Snapple. (My husband is sooooo patient with me.)

Honestly, I am so lucky that Jeremy is contractually obligated to love me. I tell him every day how much I love him. In turn, he tells me, “Babe, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in, like, ten years.”

When I press him as to why the ten year time frame he always replies, “Well, a lot of really cool stuff happened to me before I met you.”

Do you see why I love him so much? Not only is he super funny, super handsome, but he has helped me unwind and relax a little bit in my life. He’s the ultimate mellow fellow and doesn’t let too much rile him. Truth be told, Jeremy wasn’t even upset about the post where I wrote about him coming out of the closet. He just needed an excuse to come over to the marketing department because that’s where the office keeps a secret stash of candy. Although he did have to endure my rambling testimony about Lemon Snapple, he scored a handful of bite-size Snickers bars that he claims "were so worth it".

As I mentioned just now, Jeremy has taught me to relax and just sort of take life as it comes. I am forever grateful for this. Before I met him, my hair was actually a lot nappier due to all the unnecessary stress I put myself through. However, there is still one area in our relationship where I refuse to "give in and just relax already". In our nine years together, we just can’t seem to reach a compromise about the issue of optional underwear.

Please allow me to explain: I have a strict stance of wearing underwear at all times. It’s courteous. It’s sensible. It’s hygienic. However, there are times, when Jeremy tends to be a bit lax in the skivvy department. For example, the other day as he was getting dressed for work I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. When he put his jeans on, it became clear that he was actually skipping the the application of undershorts portion of his routine. He saw me staring and came over to give me a hug.

Me: Whoa, whoa! Not so fast, fella. (One arm thrust forward)
Jeremy: What?
Me: Um, what’s with going free and easy over there? (One finger now pointing...down there)
Jeremy: I don’t have any clean shorts so I’m going commando today. Is there something wrong with that?
Me: Um, let me think…YESSSS! You know my underwear rule.
Jeremy: *smiling* Relax.
Me: I just prefer two layers of cotton, you know, between….me and….your guys.
Jeremy: Well it looks like I’m the only one willing to compromise.
Me: ?????
Jeremy: You prefer TWO layers between us. I prefer ZERO. These jeans? They count as ONE layer. Relax, I’m compromising.

After that, Jeremy did two things: First, he gave me a long, and slightly inappropriate hug, then he gave me a wedgie. Ah, true love.

It Took Ten Years, But I Finally Managed To Gross Out My Husband

Sunday we dropped in on my parents for a few hours. Jeremy and I had spent most of Saturday cleaning our house so we thought we'd let Henry and Reese run wild at the Grandparents for a few hours. You know, let the kids mess up their house.

As is typical fashion, our kids can do anything at Grandma Jo's and Grandpa Brent's house. Chocolate milk? You got it. Cookies? Well, we don't have any, but let me drop what I'm doing and run to the store right this very minute to pick some up for you. What? You don't want them now? After I've just returned from the store fetching the very cookies you wanted just minutes ago? No problem.

Seriously, it's like a spa for the kids. A Disney DVD, macaroni and cheese with a Twinkie chaser spa at their house. But it's not all about the food. There's also the activities. Guests who stay at Brent and Jo's Bed & Breakfast also have ample opportunity play kick ball, T-ball and an odd hybrid form of tennis-bowling INSIDE their house. As I watched Henry lob ball after ball into grandma's many house plants I thought back to the many times I was scolded for just walking past them too closely. My mom was afraid that somehow I would kill her plants if I even got close enough to breathe on them, let alone touch them. In her defense, she did have a point. To this day I kill any green thing I come in contact with.

But my lack of a green thumb is not the story here. I know. Just when you thought you were about to read an exciting tale of Botany, I pull the rug out from underneath you. No, I had every intention of stopping by the topic of my son's athletic prowess and eventually zipping on over to how immature I am. Keep reading. This post has nowhere else to go but up.

So, after watching Henry kick and throw balls in every corner of my parent's house, Jeremy decided it would be a good idea to get the little guy a T-ball set. I agreed, but added that we ought to start scouting for agents too. You can never start too early. Well, actually you can. I think age three is a little too early. I'm totally waiting until he's five.

Jeremy: Yeah, I think a T-ball set would be a good idea. He's already got a glove.
Me: The blue one?
Jeremy: Yeah, that's the one!
Me: It's a little stiff isn't it?
Jeremy: Bu....
Me: That's what she said!
Jeremy: (disgusted look) But we can fix that.
Me: That's what she said!
Jeremy: (ignoring me) All we need to do is oil it and break it in a bit.
Me: THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!
Jeremy: (now glaring at me) I just threw up in my mouth.

If This Doesn't Make Us Closer I Don't Know What Will

You know how Oprah's mantra in seasons past has been "Renewing Your Spirit"? Jeremy and I have something similar, except we refer to it as "Renewing Our Love". We try to do it weekly, in public, with LOTS OF PEOPLE WATCHING. Before you conjure up images of us having sexy time somewhere like a Taco Bell parking lot, just stop. Stop. Although, there is a Taco Bell across the street from our building. I'm just saying.

But no, really, our ROL time is just a planned activity together like grabbing a lunch together, or driving to work together, or paying our bills online together. Romance, folks. Nothing says I love you quite like pressing that "send payment" button at the same time. Like, maybe our hands will accidentally brush and then we'll both quickly pull away because the heat is just too much. (Cue background music and fade lighting now). Maybe our eyes lock and we realize that we can't fight what we're feeling for each other right this minute. Hold up. What's going on? And why am I all flushed?

Online bill paying. Just keep thinking about online bill paying.

And just so you know, since Jeremy and I DO work in the same office, when we're planning our time together I refer to it exactly as "Renewing Our Love" as in, "I'm sorry, Random Coworker, I can't make that 1:00. Jeremy and I are renewing our love at noon and I don't think we'll be back." Now, does this make Jeremy a little uncomfortable? Yep. But so have many other things I've done throughout our marriage.

So, Internet, today I'm talking to you about our ROL sessions because I think I've found a new, and quite possibly the most perfect activity for Jeremy and I as a couple. It's called Ralley Car Racing. It consists of two people in one of those souped up foreign cars driving at an ridiculous high speeds through a street course as well as a stadium course complete with ramps, jumps and tight twisty turn thingys. The key to this sport is that there are TWO people in a car together, a driver and a co-driver. Obviously, the driver is doing the driving, the physical navigation of the car. But what I find most intriguing about this sport is the co-driver who is responsible for mapping and maintaining location on the course, directing the driver where to drive and cuing him in on upcoming conditions so that he can maintain high rates of speed. Oh, and did I tell you that the co-driver just so happens to be female most of the time?

That's right. There is a sport out there where a male and a female get in a car together, and the man drives erratically and at high rates of speed and his female passenger reads the map and alerts him to upcoming turns or obstacles in the road. And he WILlINGLY listens to her. The few races we watched, it was clear that the co-driver was an integral force in the strategy for what were time and time again referred to as "stellar drive times, dude!". It was all kinds of awesome to watch.

The co-driver would shout out directions with such authority. She was considered an expert on the course and she was listened to, damnit! (I secretly kept hoping that a fight would break out between the driving teammates, but let me assure you that it never happened.)

The way I see it, if Jeremy and I could get us some matching track suits, helmets and a couple of energy drink sponsors (are you listening Red Bull??) we would be unstoppable. I'd be all, "Minivan on the left! Merge right! Slow down!"

Well, actually, we'd need matching track suits, helmets, energy drink sponsors and Jeremy's willingness to actually listen to my driving directions. Sigh. I guess we should stick with bill paying after all. Do they have sponsors for that?

Jeremy's Healthy, But Not Ready To Fight

Today, unebnownst to me, my beloved husband, Jeremy, had a physical. I'm so proud of him for going just to have his annual check up. I didn't even have to bug him to go. He's only gone to the doctor four times in the entire time we've been married. Once because he had Strep and I literally physically forced him in the car and drove him there myself. Two other times for general physicals for our adoption applications and then today.

Anyway, when I arrived home from work today, I asked him all about his appointment. The first thing out of his mouth is, "The doctor says I'm healthy enough for sex."

I was confused.

He then told me that while he waited in the exam room for the doctor to enter, there was a huge poster on the back of the door trying to pimp out Viagra. The tag line was "Ask your doctor if you are healthy enough for sexual activity."

Viagra jokes are so 90's. Oh, but he thought he was so clever. I asked him if he actually asked the doctor about that. Of course he didn't dare. But he admitted that he kept thinking about that poster and cracking himself up the entire time. The doctor probably wondered what was wrong with him.

Also, he told me that he had the lab technicians all up in stitches with his humor. When they took Jeremy's blood they first asked him if he was allergic to latex. He replied, "I don't know, I've never eaten it before." Wah, wah, wah.

A few minutes later my healthy, sexually able, latex resistant husband went into the kitchen to make brownies (cause that's what healthy people eat, yo). I challenged him to a little shadow boxing.

I thought my form was pretty fine. Jeremy then gave me a look that can only be described as his "bring it" face. Notice the aggressive stance of the male.


I am not backing down. He may have had blood drawn once today, but if I had my way, it would certainly not be the last time. For the drawing of the blood, that is. Do you catch where I'm going with this?


Suddenly, Jeremy sees his chance to try out his enhanced fighting technique that he dreamed up in Vegas. He diverts my attention upwards by throwing something (a brownie box mix, in this case) up over my head.


See how distracted I am?


He then uses both hands to clock me square in the neck.

But I am wise to his game. I quickly, so quickly it cannot be caught on film, give him a swift roundhouse to the gut.

No, no, I tell him. You may be healthy enough for sex, but not fast enough for me.

Why Eight Is So Great

So today marks the eight year anniversary of the last time Jeremy and I filed separate income tax returns as well as the day we said "I do." He's out of town and left me to fend for myself on our anniversary. His Mom said that it was too bad Jeremy was gone for our special day because she'd offer to watch the kids for a few hours so we could go out to eat. I told her that I would take her up on that even though he was out of town. I think she thought I was kidding. I have no shame in dining alone. Uninterrupted.


I thought that I would list a few things that I love about Jeremy. Then I thought I would share that list with the world and post it here on the blog. Here they go: (Lover, please don't kill me)

1. I secretly like it when you feign interest in my interests. You're not very good at pretending to be into what I'm talking to you about, but it's cute watching you struggle to seem believable.


2. I love that through me you experience guilty pleasures that you refuse to own up to both privately and publicly (i.e. The Hills, celebrity scandal, E! True Hollywood Stories, The New Adventures of Old Christine). Folks, he pretends to not care or watch these things, but I catch him peeking over the top of his Outdoor Life Magazine to give Spencer and Heidi dirty looks.


3. I love that you will tell me your childhood stories to help me fall asleep. Even though I know most of them, there's still nothing like an old Morgan High Football story to get me to sleep.


4. You try so hard to let me fall asleep first at night.


5. You are an amazing Dad. I love that Henners thinks of you as a buddy and that you spoil Reesie to death. The kids love you and both of them get so excited to see you.


6. I love that you will let me tease you since I didn't really get to tease anyone growing up.


7. I love you for getting up to get me a drink late at night so I don't have to get out of bed.


8. Thank you for always asking me if I plan on bathing or showering before you start the dishwasher. (I didn't teach him that one. He came programed!)


9. Thank you for allowing me to have "me" time when I need it.


10. I love you pretend to believe me when I claim that my new looking shoes are "really something I've had for ages." I promise you, these shoes are so not new.

I love you, Jeremy. So while you're meeting with Doctors and walking the streets of Moab with your boss (have fun with that), I will hold our children and think about you. I will then tell them one of your high school stories in hopes that it lulls them to sleep.

Filthy Rich And A Retro Do

Off The List Again!
Shoot! Jeremy and I have checking the web all week waiting for the annual Forbes ridiculously richest people in the world list. Turns out we denied once again. We'll try again next year.

No Country for Old Men...Or Little Boys
Another important nugget I discovered this weekend was both terrifying and funny at the same time. Has everyone seen No Country for Old Men by now? Well, if you have, then you're familiar with Javier Bardem's serial killer with an awesome page boy cut. Even if you haven't seen it by now, you still should be familiar with it.

Look at Javier's portrail of a serial killer, Anton Chigurh.


Look what I found hanging on Grandma Lauri's entry hall wall.

Driving, Hats and Jeremy's Dream

The Worst Backseat Driver
This weekend as we were driving around we came up next to a car marked "Student Driver". Jeremy and I got talking and I mentioned that I thought it would be miserable to be married to a Driver's Ed teacher because he'd be critiquing you all the time on the road. You know he'd be coaching you through everything from lane changes to parallel parking. Boo. Later, our car was slowed down in traffic because of a bottleneck in the traffic. From the backseat we heard a little voice shout, "Go already, Dad. Just go!". Now who's the worst backseat driver?

Lids
Sometimes when it's a Wednesday evening and you're hanging out with Reese cleaning out the top drawer in her dresser you get an idea. Also, if you have a camera and lots of hats and all those things come together, this happens...


The Glorified Cooler
For as long as I've known Jeremy, he's always been passionate about two things: 1) Optimal gas mileage and 2) Proper hydration. Recently, he ran over to my desk all excited. In an instant I knew it must be important. He RAN for crying out loud. This never happens unless he's got urgent news or if something is on fire (I've seen him react equally to both). So as I said, when he ran over, I focused my attention on him and braced myself for what ever he had to say. Then he showed me pictures of this...

Jeremy claims this "scooler" (as he called it) is the coolest thing he's seen in almost a week. He painted a vivid picture of us at football games riding this bad boy around the parking lot while tailgating. For the record, we have not tailgated in 8 years. It turns out this contraption's official name is The Coolagan and can be yours for 10 complicated payments of $39.95 plus shipping and handling. For now, Jeremy's forgotten his dream of driving around on a cooler welded to a scooter. He did, however, take the time to show me the wagon attachment for those days when you're really, really thirsty.