Perspective

Sometimes something happens to "put it all into perspective." Sometimes a person needs a little perspective.

I've been married to the Engineer for more than ten years. He's just a wee bit picky.

For the first few months we were married, he reparked my car every time I drove it. I asked him if there was a problem with the way I was parking it; was it in his way? No, it wasn't in his way, it was just that cars should be backed in and driven out.

I told him that I wasn't a great backer, so that it was better for me to drive into a confined space and back out into an open space.

He continued to repark my car.

I politely requested, multiple times, that he not do so any more.

He reparked my car until I had a major hissy fit and threatened to remove his tonsils via his anus. I must have sounded quite sincere as he hasn't reparked it since.

He still adjusts most everything I touch, though. He will follow me through the house moving anything I've placed by a millimeter or two into the appropriate position. I've yet to shut the draperies properly, nor can I open them to his satisfaction. Don't mention the mini-blinds or I'll start frothing at the mouth. It's to the point that I won't touch them at all because he goes into such contortions correcting the horrible state in which I've left them.

Cooking can be fun too. He likes to follow me around pushing the trash can into my path to make sure I don't make a mess. He turns on lights. I turn them off. He turns them on. He is in charge of "Thermal Transfer" for any meat or casserole in the oven. Baked goods, however, intimidate him and he stays well away from the oven when it's occupied by cake, bread or pie. If I'm making a stir fry, and turn away from the stove, when I turn back he will have arranged the contents of the pan into a neat cone in the middle of the pan.

Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right.

Perspective:

When we turned on the heat a month or so ago, I told him that the whole house humidifier wasn't working. This is not a hard thing to determine. If it's not working, my nose bleeds during the night. As my Mom would say, "If it was a snake, it would have bitten you."

He didn't think there was a problem, but kept an eye on the humidistats he has scattered about the house to monitor the situation. A few days later he informed me that the humidifier wasn't working (!) and that I should call the furnace company that had installed it.

So I called in the furnace repair guy who came out and confirmed that the humidifier wasn't working. It needed a part, which was under warranty, a couple of adjustments, and it was working fine again. No more nightly nose bleeds.

The next weekend, when he had time, the Engineer went down into the furnace room to inspect the repair.

O!M!G! Never had he seen such terrible workmanship! The supply valve had been set improperly! and this thing! and that thing! and the other thing! The Engineer spent most of a Saturday redoing the job the professional furnace guy had done.

Nobody can do anything properly except him (and the Twin.)

Perspective:

It's not me, it's him.

But it's still annoying as heck.

It's a good thing he's cute.

Will This Breathless, Deathless Romance Never Fade

Today's my birthday. The Engineer is out of town -- again. Sunday he went to the grocery store before I woke up and got me grocery store flowers because he knows it drives me nuts. Our local grocery is right next door to a flower shoppe, and I'm absolutely positive that when the flowers are too raggedy for the flower shoppe, they get sent to the grocery and sold at a discount. It was a large, colorful and petal-dropping arrangement.

He also got me a grocery store card.

Classic, eh?

On the inside it says: "I always feel a flush of excitement whenever we're together."

The man really knows how to woo a woman.

And I do my part, moaning and groaning and pretending he's really twisted my tail. It's a strange relationship, but it works for us.

P.S. He's also hidden a present someplace and is sending me scavenger hunt clues via e-mail. I guess with the choice being love him or hit him with a baseball bat, I'll choose loving him.

Feeding the Male

In a man's younger years, a particular part of his anatomy leads him. At this stage in life, the main way a woman can catch his attention is by having big boobs. I don't care if men try to be politically correct and deny it, say it's her mind that attracts, they all like boobs.

In later years, it's his stomach that leads him. I may not have a head-turning bod, but I definitely keep him well fed and happy.

So far this week it's been:

• Saturday: Baked cod with parmigiana mashed potatoes and green cabbage
• Sunday: Roast pork tenderloin with cheese ravioli marinara and spinach
• Monday: Lamb shank with mixed grains and corn (I let him pick the veggie -- if I let him pick it's always either peas or corn -- I was hoping for peas.)
• Tuesday: Leftovers -- by which I mean pork tenderloin (I cooked two on Sunday) with potato pancakes made from the leftover parmigiana potatoes and shallots, and fresh asparagus.
• Wednesday: He's out of town so I'll have a salad.

When he's in town and not entertaining important dignitaries or mooching off a department meeting lunch, I make him a sandwich. Monday it was pork tenderloin and cheese, Tuesday it was cod and cheese. In case you haven't guessed, fish and pork are his favorites. Cheese is also high on the list. The bread is usually homemade.

Monday night I was pretty groggy when I made his sandwich for Tuesday, so when I reached into the refrigerator to get the condiments, I came out with mayo and mustard.

What was I thinking?!?!?

The Engineer has to have the same spread on all of his sandwiches, and it certainly isn't anything as mundane as mustard and mayo.

I squeeze a big dollop of ketchup on the bread, then I put a blob of hot horseradish on the ketchup and mix them together well.

Mmmmm, yummy -- NOT!

But it makes him happy, so I do it.

*********************

Potato Pancake Recipe

Saute some diced shallots in a little olive oil.
In a medium bowl, beat together two eggs and some milk.
Add a scoop of flour, salt and pepper to taste and a half teaspoon of baking powder, mix together well.
Add a cup or two of leftover mashed potatoes. Moosh up until most of the lumps are gone.
Stir the cooked shallots into the batter.
Cook pancakes on a hot nonstick skillet well sprayed with Pam until golden brown on both sides.
Serve hot with butter and/or sour cream

(I ate two, he ate the other six.)

He Loves Me

The Engineer and I went to the American Women Geoscientists annual silent auction and wine tasting on Saturday evening. I saw an ammonite necklace that tickled my fancy, so I put the opening bid on it. It was upped a couple of times, so I rebid. I rebid again after a few more uppings. The Engineer wandered by just as my third bid was trumped. I sighed.

He asked, "Do you really like it?"

"Yes," I replied.

So he walked over and bid 50% over the last bid.

He's an engineer through and through, he's not comfortable with human emotion, but he loves me.

I'm more than a little fond of him too.

Keeping His Ears Warm

I knit my beloved Engineer a headband to keep his ears warm when he skis. After telling me he liked the color, he said it needed to be lined - and he didn't say "Thank you."

He accepts gifts so graciously.

Instead of strangling him, I went ahead and knit a whole 'nother ski band to make a reversible ear warmer.

I decided to be romantic. Our wedding rings were custom-made with a Latvian good luck pattern on them, so I did my gauge swatch (is the virtue shining out of me, or what?) then printed out some custom knitting graph paper from a Japanese knitting web site, tata-tatao. (Amazing what you can find on the web.) I graphed out the pattern of the wedding ring as best I could in the space I had. Then I had to knit the darn thing. It was (gee, have I ever said this before) a learning experience. I knit from the left side of the graph to the right side, then knit the other half while counting backwards. I put yellow highlighter on the graph rows as I completed them so I would know where I was in the pattern. I perled all the places I wanted to be flat and knit the places I wanted to be raised. It works with cables, so I figured it would work with lines too.

Wrong.

Ah well, edumacation, it's good for me.

I decided I liked the wrong side better than the right side, so I whipstitched it to the original headband so that the inside was the outside - or was it the inside was inside - or some such dang thing.

Anyway, here it is. It looks better on because the pattern is more visible when it's stretched.

Dr. PickyEngineer likes it and thinks it will now be warm enough to keep his tender parts toasty. (And he didn't say "Thank you," again. Poo-poo face butt head!)

Interim Knitting

The Engineer has been watching me as I've learned to knit and I've been asking him what I could knit for him. He doesn't wear knit hats except for an ancient, raggedy, pale blue doubleknit. My Mom knit both the Engineer and the Twin hats for skiing last year and neither hat has ever seen the light of day.

The Engineer never wears a scarf or mittens.

My Mom also made him a beautiful fisherman knit sweater a few years ago which has lived at the bottom of a drawer since he received it.

Now I'm not implying that I could even begin to contemplate knitting him a whole sweater. With his track record, I assure you, I'm not ever going to try. It would be a total waste of time.

But the light bulb finally went off yesterday. He likes to wear ear warmer headbands when he skis. The one he has now is pretty ratty, so...

I remembered an old, old partial skein of 100% wool worsted tweed in my stash, so I dug it out.

I wanted something that would knit up fast in case it got deep-sixed like so much other stuff, so I decided to knit with the yarn doubled. I looked on-line for a pattern, but didn't find anything that tickled my fancy. I decided to go it alone, knitted up a swatch to get the gauge, did the math, and set to. From swatch to weaving in the ends, it took me about two hours.

Here it is.I rolled it up and tied a gold ribbon around it then stuck it in the fridge on top of his beer. (It's a place he's always bound to look.)

His comments upon finding it were (in order):

"What's this?"

He untied the ribbon and unrolled it. "A headband. I like it, it's a good color."

He tried it on. It fit. "It's not lined. The wind will whistle through my ears."

"And all the way through your head," I wanted to reply.

Ah well, I've got one ball of a very soft and lovely gray merino that I will knit into another headband. I will put it inside of this one and he'll have a fancy-dancy reversible headband.

Which he'd better wear if he wants to live.

Ribbed Ski Headband

Worsted weight yarn, unknown yardage, but less than 3 oz.
Size 13, 16-inch circular needles
Knit with two strands of yarn held together
Gauge: 10 stitches / 4 inches
Finished size: 21 inches circumference by 5 inches

Cast on 61 stitches

Round 1: Slip last stitch cast on onto left side of needle and knit it together with the first stitch that was cast on to make 60 stitches total. Perl one, then *knit one, perl one* until end of round.

Slip a ring on the needle to mark the beginning/end of the round before beginning next round

Rounds 2 & 3: *Knit one, perl one*

Rounds 4 to 13: *Knit three, perl three*

Rounds 14 to 16: *Knit one, perl one*

Bind off.

The Mighty Hunter

When I got home from the grocery store yesterday, the Engineer announced that he had caught a bird. One of the cats had brought it in, then both of them chased it all over the upstairs. He had been downstairs in his office (on the other side of the 3/4 bath from mine) when it happened, but it took him a few crashes to figure out they weren't just galloping.

We have a little loft over the master bedroom, but no way to access it yet. The bird had lighted on the loft railing. The cats were trying to leap from the top of the dresser to grab it, but their claws couldn't get purchase on the hard oak. They kept crashing back down onto the dresser, knocking everything off it.

When the Engineer realized what was going, he reacted in typical fashion.

First he assembled his tools: step stool, old bath towel, butterfly net, latex gloves(!?!)

He placed the stool on the floor below the bird. He donned the gloves and laid the towel on the bed nearby. Then he stepped up on the stool and scooped the bird into the butterfly net. He carried the bird in the net to the back door and let it fly. He didn't even need to use the towel.

He wanted to know what kind it was.

"Was it one of those little brown birds with the rosy colored head?" I asked.

"No."

"What color was it?"

"Uh, gray? It sat straight up."

"Was it blue on top and light gray underneath?"

"Yeah."

"Probably a scrub jay, we get lots of those at the feeder."

"Yeah, it was a scrub jay."

"Did it squalk and scream a lot?"

"No, it was quiet."

At that, I hoped the poor bird hadn't been too badly hurt because jays are nothing if not loud.

This morning I pointed out a scrub jay to him. He said, "It looked like that only smaller. It must have been a baby."

Not at this time of year.

I suspect the Mighty Hunter caught either a nuthatch or a junco.



Gotta admit, my favorite part
of the whole thing was the mental
image of him wearing latex
gloves to protect himself
from bird cooties.

I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane

Made the reservations for my three legged flight this evening. I'm leaving October 18 for DC to visit my good friend GuiGrl. It's about time, I haven't visited her since she married MarvelousMike seven years ago. She's been out this way three times, but that ain't near enough visiting and it's surely my turn now. Maybe I'll get a chance to say "Hey!" to Cicada while in the nation's capitol, you can never tell.

I leave DC for NC on the 23rd to visit my parents and assorted friends. Rented a car and bought myself a bluetooth headset for my cell phone (I am Borg, I have been assimilated) since I will be driving half way across the state to visit everyone. The dang car rental was only about $60 less than the plane ticket. Ouch! I'll fly home again on November 1st.

The Engineer is not going to like being abandoned for two whole weeks. Usually when I travel on my own, he manages to schedule himself to be out of the country while I'm gone. We'll see what he can come up with this year. Which means I'd better call the kitty sitter and put her on standby. Even if he doesn't go out of town, I may have her come in every few days to clean the litter box. The Engineer does not do litter boxes. He doesn't do any feline bodily byproducts.

I woke up yesterday morning and immediately knew that one of the girls had sinned on the new wool carpeting because of the can of carpet cleaner waiting for me at the site of the indiscretion. It was a hairball. Of course it was right next to the plastic the Engineer has laid to protect the new wool carpet.

Cats have an order of preference when it comes to upchucking:

1. Persian rugs
2. Wool carpeting
3. Shag carpeting
4. All other carpeting/rugs
5. Clothing or Bedding
6. Anything difficult to clean or that stains
7. and dead last -- Hard surfaced flooring: tile, linoleum, vinyl, hardwood, etc.

It is forbidden by
The Cat Code of Conduct
to toss one's crunchies into the litter box or outside in the shrubbery. That simply would not make a proper impression.

Just think, for two whole weeks I won't have to clean up any messes, scoop any poops, cook any meals for the Engineer, wash dishes or clothes or run errands...

Hmmm... Maybe I should make my trip a little longer.

Picky

The Engineer says I'm picky because I don't like rare pork.

Right.

I don't like rare pork or beer, he doesn't like chicken or fruit. Which, of course, means I'm the picky one since it's entirely reasonable to not like chicken or fruit and insane to not like beer or rare pork. (As a Latvian, it's beyond his comprehension that life could exist without beer. He shudders at the very thought.)

I made Runge pickles, which he loves, out of my overgrown Armenian cucumbers, but he won't eat them unless I dry them off with paper towels first.

And he calls me picky.

Stubborn?

When the weather is nice, we always eat outside at the picnic table. We have a lovely view up to the foothills and the entertainment of hummingbirds buzzing and jousting at the feeder. Kitsu and Sachi meander by to say hello before heading off on important cat business. The clouds drift by. The shadows shift on the hillside. I could happily stay at the picnic table until dark.

While I cook dinner, the Engineer does his nightly patrol and changes into after-work clothes (play clothes as my Mom used to call them) then sets the table. Tonight was no exception.

I looked at the sky and said, "It looks pretty dark, maybe we'd better eat inside."

He said, "No, it's going up the canyon, it'll pass us by." To make sure, he ran out to the front of the house and studied the sky. "No worries."

As we carried our plates out, it was growing rapidly even darker. There was a big wind up on the hill, evinced by a great cloud of brown dust hazing the view. Again I suggested that perhaps we should consider eating inside.

"No, it won't rain, we're only getting the edge of it."

So I decided I would see how long he'd last.

The wind picked up. Heck, the wind picked up the deck chair and threw it against the house. The salad dressing bottle blew off the table. Three pickets blew off the fence. The trees thrashed and dropped branches into the pool.

As huge raindrops splatted into us, we carried the picnic table under the overhang between the carport and kitchen door, then continued eating. The rain drops, however large and hard driven, were few and far between. Not even enough rain to knock the dust down. Dinner was getting a little gritty.

We finished dinner before we went back into the house. I carried the light weight things that I'd been holding down back in first. Didn't dare let go of them, they'd have taken flight.

When we watched the news at 9:00, the weather lady reported that wind gusts at the meteorology station about a mile from the house measured 63 miles per hour.

Stubborn?

Oh, yeah!

I Don't Know Why I Haven't Killed Him Yet

I tend to give nicknames; Kitsu is KitsuSweetSue, Sachi is BabyCat, I am (intermittently) GrumpoGirl. The Engineer has several nicknames: SnoreBoy, BelovedSpousalUnit, DoctorDemento, ChainsawBob. He's earned them all.

He acquired the ChainsawBob moniker about a month after we moved into this house when he went up on the roof with a chainsaw and cut any branch that hung over the roof. If an airplane flew over the house, the view would be of a perfect, house-shaped, cut-out in the greenery. Whenever he goes to a Master Gardener function with me, everyone calls him Bob. The past president won't let him into her yard until she's frisked him for power tools.

He always waits until I leave before he wrecks his master works.

The vinca jungle used to be full of irises and assorted bulbs and perennials. No more. Whenever he thinks it's looking a little too untamed, he scalps it with the lawn mower. He's killed most all of the flowers, only the vinca, the mighty daylily and the yellow rose survive. He cuts any shrub or small tree into either a ball or a rectangle. He regularly weed whacks my daylilies and violets.

Two summers ago, he decided the juniper on the driveway side of the yard overhung the road too much, so he "took care of it." He cut off all the green outer layer of the old juniper, leaving the bare scrubby trunks and inner branches exposed. I told him it wouldn't grow back. He didn't believe me. It's been two years. It hasn't grown back.

Today I went to the farmers' market, the dry cleaner and the grocery store -- my errands gave him lots of time -- and ChainsawBob struck again

When I got back, he was
strutting around with his chest puffed out and a self-satisfied grin on his face. Big Trash Day, the day that the city picks up anything you put on the curb, is a week away, and he's made himself the biggest pile in the neighborhood. He butchered the driveway side of the juniper he whacked two years ago, essentially giving it a mohawk, and mutilated the junipers in front of the house. The man is damn lucky that I have no idea of where my baseball bat is. I think I would have used it on him today.

See the Amazing Expando Man!

Watch as his stomach enlarges to engulf everything on the table!

Watch as he eats meat, potatoes and vegetables!

Watch all hopes of any leftovers disappear in double time!

**********************

I bought a three pound chuck roast and cooked it in the crock pot today. Why such a big pot roast? I know the Engineer loves pot roast, so I wanted to make sure I had enough left over to make MockMexican on Friday.

Who was I kidding? There's enough left for a sandwich. After eight years of marriage I should know better, but he continually astonishes me.

Guess I'll cook a pork tenderloin tomorrow and hope there's some left from that to combine with the bit of beef. I'll have my MockMexican with veggies only.

Misadventures in Cat Land

Kitsu was kitty on the spot tonight. She was waiting in front of my keyboard for me even before I sat down at the computer. The competition can be fierce; Sachi also likes the position between my chest and the keyboard. They both think they need to do The Happy Cat March on my bosom. Since both have full armament, that can be more than a little uncomfortable depending upon what I'm wearing. But they purr as they march. They know I've never been able to spurn a purring cat.

Sachi is laying a little low tonight, so she's not trying to jam herself into position too. The Engineer was out of town last night and didn't remember to close his bathroom door before he left. Since we're living in one room, he has many of his clothes in cardboard file boxes in his bathroom. He has one full box of socks, a box of underwear, a box of T-shirts and a box of ties. He is especially passionate about his ties. He will only wear ties from Liberty or maybe a Gucci if it's just right.

Unfortunately, I suspect that his ties smell more like him than his underwear or socks because they don't get laundered each time he wears them. Sachi misses him when he's gone and tries to bring warm memories by burrowing into something that smells like him.

The first time she went tie diving, he had the tie box on the top layer of bathroom boxes. She lifted the lid and removed ties one at a time, artistically arranging them on the floor into a cozy nest. We know this because after he got back in town and accused me of messing with his ties, he caught her at it the next morning. From the pitch of the hollering, he seemed to find her tie excavations quite exciting.

Being a clever human, he put the socks box on top of the tie box and closed the door the next couple of times he went out of town.

He forgot the door this time.

Sachi discovered she could push the hand-hold flap in and work her paw into the box. This was probably an even funner way to get ties out of the box because once she'd pulled out all the ties she could reach, she went to work on his socks. She made a very large and cozy nest.

After the yelling and scampering away was done, I suggested he tape over the holes to remove temptation. He snorted and growled at me as he started sorting through his scattered neckwear.

He's a true Y chromosome bearing male. About a half hour later, he called me into the bathroom to see how he'd figured out to foil her. He was taping the hand-hold holes shut with masking tape.

I congratulated him on his brilliant idea.
I'm wicked. I'm looking forward to the excitement when he realizes he should have taped the hand-hold holes closed on all of the boxes.