Category Archives: The Most Wonderful Chris
After my wonderful cat, Otis, ran away to live some wonderful, fancy life with his cat friends (at least that’s what I tell myself happened to him) I was kind of OK with only having dogs for awhile. I was about to get married, and move away and I knew that our future land lord would prefer if his new tenants only came with two dogs and that the move would be easier with just two animals. However, lately I have been really wanting a snuggly little kitten. One I can let sleep on my head, and purr in my ear. So I decided to broach the subject with Chris.
Me: I want a kitten
Chris: No. Sorry.
Me: But they’re so cute. And I miss cuddling with Otis <—- that part was me trying to get him to feel bad for my loss
Chris: Jake and Max will cuddle
Me: When we own our own home, I will be more persistent.
That was the end of that conversation, but I was not kidding about being more persistent/annoying about it in the future. However, I started thinking (dangerous ground, I know) if I got a kitten…an ADORABLE, AWESOME kitten, what’s he going to do about it? Sure, he’ll be mad and he might try to convince Max it’s a chew toy, but seriously, he’s not going to leave me or kill the kitten. He would just have to deal with the new addition to our family. He would fall in love with that kitten, he just doesn’t know it yet. That cat will become his best friend. That’s probably what he’s afraid of. He’s afraid he will love that kitten so much that he won’t have any more room in his heart for me. But it’s ok honey, I know that a cute kitten can steal your heart and I won’t take offense. He hasn’t been around cats enough to know that they can be really freakin’ awesome creatures. If they weren’t, there wouldn’t be an LOLCats website with tons of funny cat pictures. Cat’s are awesome and if you don’t realize that, then you yourself are not awesome.
Anyway, I’m going to get a kitten and I’m going to hide it in the house, and when Chris finds it, I will just tell him it’s an odd looking dog with a strange sounding bark that I inherited from a relative I didn’t know I had, but I have to keep it because it’s family.
Shhhh…don’t tell Chris.
When someone in your life passes on, it makes you think about life and death and what type of impact you’re making on the people in your life. It makes you think of how people will speak of you when your time comes. It makes you wonder how you are being viewed by the people around you. I want to make an impression on the people in my life. I want to be known as someone who had a great deal of patience with others, was kind-hearted and was a spot of sunshine in the lives of those I’ve encountered. I want to be an inspiration to others, and show that having a heart full of Christ is awesome and changes life (and death) for the better.
I also want to be remembered for being funny and finding the humor in all things.
When this life of mine is no more, I want to be positioned in the casket with my right hand up so everyone that comes up can give me high-five. When people walk past my body at the end of the funeral, they will want to cry because I’m sure life without me in it will be unbearable, but then they will be like, Oh she’s giving me a high-five. That’s cool. And they’ll laugh and think “that Sara, always makin’ me laugh, she’s so ridiculous”. And then they’ll tell Chris that I was probably joking when I said I want to be in the casket with my hand up for high-five’s but it’s ok, because it WAS pretty funny and I’m probably laughing from heaven, telling Jesus that I just got 500 people to high-five my dead body. Yes, 500 people will miss me enough to come to my funeral. If only 50 people show up, then my family needs to go out and find 450 more people and bring them along to mourn me. I mean high five me.
Don’t you hate it when you try to pants your husband but then it backfires because he sprays you in the face with his deodorant?
Oh, that’s never happened to you?
It happened to me today and let me tell you that was not nearly as painful as I thought it would be. My eyes watered a lot, and it didn’t taste good and maybe my lungs are on the verge of collapsing from inhaling deoderant. Basically, I laid out the story start to finish in the first sentence so I’m not really sure how to explain it. So this isn’t even really a whole post. It’s more like a long twitter post. And also an online record of me getting deodorant sprayed in my face in case I die of some really strange ailment and no one can figure it out. It was in an orange can. I’m not sure what it’s called because Chris won’t tell me and I’m too blind to go look at the can.
In case the previous paragraph or two wasn’t enough for you, I walked the dogs in a see through tank top today. Totally not on purpose. It wasn’t until we had passed
some people a family with children that I realized I could see through my shirt. So I asked Chris if he could see through my shirt and he quickly said yep.
Thanks. I’ve been outside in this tank top for like 2 hours WITH YOU, and you didn’t notice before now? Awesome.
If you’re one of the everybody who has self diagnosed ADD, then you will know exactly what I’m talking about. Here’s the scenario: You’re in the middle of doing something, get distracted by something and your focus changes, then halfway through your new project you get bored but now you’re in too deep so you just have to finish it and/or figure out a way to get someone else to do it for you.
NO? Just me? hmm..
Anyway, here are the 4 phases of ADD according to me:
1. Ohhh shiny
2. That would be way more fun than what I’m currently doing
3. This was a Terrible idea
4. Chris, I’m sore, will you finish this for me?
We have a walkway to the front door, and on the left side there is a tiny little area with a few sad looking rocks and dirt and a lot of weeds. Not weed. Sorry potheads, this is not the blog for you. They were regular ol’ annoying weeds. So I started pulling weeds. Halfway through the weed pulling, I discovered something that looked like a mushroom in the dirt. Not hallucinogenic mushrooms. THIS IS NOT A BLOG ABOUT DRUGS. STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT THAT WAY. So, I started to dig out the mushroom looking thing to see what it was because it looked like it was everywhere. Instead of mushrooms, I found rocks. Not cocaine rocks. Why do I even have to keep clarifying these things? I decided I would dig them up since I had been contemplating stealing the rocks in the neighbors entry way. I thought I would just find a few rocks, but there were like 100, so I decided to start digging back at the beginning where the weed pulling began.
Halfway through the rock digging I was bored again and didn’t want to dig up any more rocks. My hands were hurting, the was dirt under my nails, and I was pretty sure Chris was not going to be amused at my discovery and the now large mess that I probably wasn’t going to clean up, so I go inside to get a drink of water fully expecting a barage of questions, like what have you been doing outside for the last half hour? Were there that many weeds? Why are your hands covered in dirt? But I got no questions. Hardly even a look. Nothing. So I said “I found a lot of rocks” and walked back outside to put gloves on and continue The Great Rock Excavation of 2012. It’s a good thing I put on the gloves, because I almost imediately found an angry looking red centipede. I don’t trust anything with that many legs.
After digging up all the rocks (yes, this IS a really long story about how I dug up some rocks, I agree) I realized that I had also dug up a lot of dirt and it was all over the rocks and sidewalk. It’s ok, I’ll just hose off the rocks and hose the dirt back in the dirt area. HA. Bad idea. Turns out, when you hose off dirt, it just turns into brown water and goes wherever the heck it wants to. Which is all over my ankles. And then the dirt area turns into a brown river and you have to wait for it to dry before you can put the rocks back. THIS is really bad for my ADD because then I have to WAIT. Which most assuredly means I will get distracted by something else before the dirt dries and THAT is when I’ll tell Chris that I lost all feeling in my arms and can most definitely not put all those rocks back and since he’s outside mowing, it just makes sense that he just put them all back whenever he gets done.
Oh! I found a snake skin (because I did do the cleaning up, that part about me telling Chris to finish was a lie…my bad). It wasn’t that long, but that’s probably because the snake only shed half of his skin to make me think I don’t have anything to fear. I’m on to you snake.
I have a serious fear of breaking my own neck. I’m actually afraid to pop my neck. You know how some people pull their neck to the side and it pops so loud you start to dial 911? Yeah, I can’t do that. My husband pops his neck like that all the time and I’m just waiting for the day that he falls limp and I’ll have to tell my paralyzed husband “I told you so”. I banned him from doing it while driving, because that’s just putting both of our lives at risk.
In the shower a couple of days ago, I had a neck pain and I felt like I needed to pop my neck. So I tried, but I just couldn’t get it to pop because I felt like if I pulled any further I would paralyze myself. Then I started thinking what would happen if I did break my own neck? Chris would call 911 but then they would think he did it because I would probably be the first person in the history of ever to break her own neck with her own hands. That would be so awful knowing that Chris didn’t do it, but there I was dead or paralyzed or comatose or something that made me unable to tell the cops that I did this to myself. So, I just didn’t pop my neck. There was too much at risk.
Oh, one more irrational fear? I’m highly afraid that my nose will get shoved into my brain. I think Arnold Schwarzenegger did that once in a movie where he hit the guy with the heel of his hand in the nose and it shoved something into his brain and he died instantly. So, basically I try really hard not to get hit in the nose with stuff. Once Chris and I were goofing around and he accidentally hit my in the nose with his arm in sort of an upward motion and I freaked out and he was like what the heck is wrong with you, you would have to get hit really hard for a hit in the nose to kill you. People break their nose all the time. And I was like, no, it’s all about angles, Chris. You don’t know how much it would take to kill me through my nose. This is not a laughing matter. And then he was like ok crazy lady and then I was like LISTEN you’re the hulk, you could probably thump me in the nose and I would die, so just BE CAREFUL WITH ME.
Some of that was exaggerated, but I’m not really sure which parts because when your life is being threatened sometimes you forget things because you block out the trauma.
Actual conversation with my husband. Actually, it’s a mostly one sided conversation where Chris just gives me strange looks because I am irrational. Obviously.
Chris: I almost bought the movie Jaws
Me: We don’t need that movie
Chris: Why not?
Me: I’m already afraid of the ocean. I don’t need anymore help with that
Chris: What? You’re afraid of the ocean, but you want to go to the ocean for vacation in August?
Chris: So, you aren’t getting in the ocean?
Me: A little
Me: I’m more likely to get in the ocean than I am to get in a lake
Chris: (strange look)
Me: I’m afraid of the lake
Chris: (more strange look but now it looks like if maybe he’s wondering what he got himself into with this marriage)
Me: I’m afraid of fish. I’m afraid they’ll bite me. And those hidden underwater trees? Those freak me out.
Chris: Is that why you don’t like to eat catfish?
Me: No, it’s already dead and can’t stab or bite me. I just don’t like to eat fish.
Chris: (continued strange looks)
Me: Also, I believe that there are snakes in lakes
Chris: There ARE snakes in lakes
Me: SEE?? I’m not getting in the lake. I was tortured as a child. The only way I’ll get in the lake is if I’m thrown off the tube. Which is why I’m really good at tube wars. I can stay on for a crazy long time. But when I get thrown off I float on my back and/or kick my legs and move my arms as much as possible so I scare the bitey animals.
Me. It’s a survival skill.
Chris: Why are we talking about lakes? We don’t even have plans to go to the lake.
Me: Stop judging me.
I shouldn’t be left alone for an extended period of time. I’m bound to break things and injure myself. One time when I was left alone I stabbed myself in the hand. It was not good. It sounds worse than it is. There was hardly any blood but I still have a scar.
This time was no different. Except it didn’t include a knife. Chris has a lamp…had a lamp….that has been sitting on my dresser unplugged since we moved. Two nights ago, I decided to plug it in and use it since I’m afraid of the dark and he wasn’t home. Night #1, success. Light worked fine. Night #2…I decided to move the bed to vacuum under it (trying to do something awesome) and the lamp fell off the window sill. It broke into like 50 pieces. I seriously broke this lamp after using it for ONE day. ONE. I shouldn’t even be surprised. So, I cleaned it up, and texted Chris that I broke his lamp but that he can’t be mad because it’s just who I am, and he married me, so he’s stuck. His only reply “I’ve had that lamp for 6 years”. Whoa, my bad. I’ll glue it back together. He says just throw it away, but I thought it would be funny if I did glue it back together anyway. So, I’m almost done super gluing it back together, and of course my fingers are covered in super glue because who can use super glue without getting covered in it? Seriously, introduce me to that person. Anyway, it’s got like 3 pieces left to glue and in true Sara fashion, I cut my finger. A finger that had glue on it. Extra ouch! The same finger that once almost got chopped off by a ceiling fan. But since the piece that cut me had just had glue put on it, I did not want to waste my efforts, so before I took the bleeding to the sink, I made sure to get that piece back on the lamp. I start cleaning my finger, and then I start getting dizzy. Seriously, me? Light headed over this little bit of blood? What’s wrong with me? I still have to take a shower, so if I get in that hot water, I’m certainly gonna pass out. I really need supervision.
Here’s the proof:
I’ve suspected it for a while. I’ve jokingly called him by the name. But now I have proof.
I’m married to The Hulk.
I discovered this while doing the laundry. It was the first thing I pulled out of the basket. The Hulk was taking a nap, so I sat it aside to ask him about it when he woke up. When he woke up, I jokingly asked what triggers the transformation. I recorded the conversation, so rather than paraphrasing, I’ll give you the transcript:
Me: What exactly triggers your transformation to The Hulk (as I hold the shirt up so he can see it)
Me: because what is a ripped up shirt doing in the laundry…with HOLES in it?
Chris: I didn’t know (really…what kind of answer is that?)
Now he’s just avoiding the question…something the hulk would do when confronted. I’m sure.
At this moment, Chris acted like he was about to rip the shirt he was wearing
Me: are you going to rip another one? did I anger the Hulk with my questions? How exactly did this happen?
Chris: I put it on the other day, and it didn’t fit, it was just like…it didn’t fit…it was like stretched out.
Me: now it’s extra stretched out
Chris: It was never gonna get back to the normal form, so I just went ahead and ripped it because I was pissed about it
Me: So you did rip it like the Hulk? I really didn’t expect that answer, I really expected you to be like “oh no, it was something else, or whatever” and you actually just ripped your shirt off because you ARE the freaking hulk. So what angers the hulk? I didn’t realize it was wardrobe malfunctions that turned you into the hulk, and you’re wearing green right now which is pretty awesome.
I really wish I could upload the actual audio of this conversation. It’s so much funnier when you’re not reading it.
We like to take the dogs for walks through the neighborhood. The walks usually take awhile because the dogs are busy marking everything they can find as we pull them down the street. Walking back home I see a strange pattern on the concrete and I asked Chris, did Max do that? He said yeah. I said, do you realize he spelled your name with his pee?
Told ya. C-h-r-i-s in cursive, right there in your face. That’s serious talent.
What? You can’t see it? Ugh…ok. Let me help you.
Now, it’s probably the only thing you can see when you look at that first picture. The talent is so obvious. I’m a little surprised that Jake didn’t come back with an S-a-r-a to show Max that he’s not the only talent in the family.
That’s not something I wanted to hear while riding my bike. Chris and I have gotten into this wonderful bike riding habit. It’s great because we are working out and we’re spending time together (when I’m not miles ahead of him..ha). It’s also great because we are able to explore this new neighborhood we live in.
Take yesterday for example. We had 20 minutes left on the bike ride, we came across this bridge and this woman asked “Do you know anything about snakes?” In my head, I’m thinking, just keep going, pedal harder, if she’s asking about snakes, there’s probably a snake. Outloud, Chris says, “yeah, a little.”
So we stop, and she points to the water and says, see that snake? It’s not a coral snake, I see those all the time. This one is black with yellow rings, no red. I’ve never seen that kind before. This is one of the smaller snakes I’ve seen though.
This is where I stopped her. I said “wow, we are new to the neighborhood and you’re freakin’ me out with all this snake information”. So she continues with, do you get the neighborhood emails? The ones about the Ferrel Hogs? That’s my neighbor’s house. We’ve caught 8 so far.
Listen lady, I’m allowed to live here, too. Please stop trying to scare us out of your neighborhood with all these wild animals that will kill me.
Then she points past the bridge to this really open area and says “there’s a big pond back there, we see wildlife all the time. Deer, Bald Eagles, etc…. There’s a path that will take you back there and all around the pond. You should check it out, it’s really pretty”.
So what do we do with the knowledge that there’s a (small) snake below us, and Ferrell hogs, and other wildlife lurking nearby? We take the trail and go around the pond. While we’re riding up the path, I hear Chris say “I’m going to start carrying a knife on these bike rides”. So I laugh, and he follows it up with “Ferrell hogs will kill you” ..or something like that, I’m not really sure because I was laughing…and then I asked “so, what do you think you are going to do with your tiny little pocket knife against a Ferrell hog?” His wonderful, loving reply: “it’s better than nothing, I just have to make sure I run faster than you.”
P.S. Google thinks it’s a California King Snake of some sort. I don’t know exactly what that means, but if I dissect the name, California is artsy and liberal, Kings rule things, and well it’s a snake. So it’s probably some snake that wears weird clothes, drinks Starbucks, and thinks he’s the boss of everything..