The Hostage

Hubby will be away all week at a conference and I am taking a prisoner hostage.

Side Note: a little sadness, but I get the bed to myself. Just not sure who to torment yet…maybe Rae.

So, I told Rae we are hijacking her Boy to come cook for us all week. I told him under no certain terms that I don’t feel like eating cereal for the whole week, so we need someone to come and take care of us! Me and Rae WOULD REALLY eat cereal all week–chocolate chex to be exact.

The Boy better be scared, we want a home-made dinner on the table everynight! Hubby does not envy the Boy at all and told me I better not torment him since he has quasi-agreed to come over and make us dinners.

Poor Boy, stuck with the two non-cooking, lazy sisters…poor, poor Boy indeed.

I wonder if I can get him to do some housechores? Maybe I will leave him a chore list!  🙂

UPDATE: Hostage is in house now, sleeping. Rest up my pretty, because we are expecting a full course dinner tonight!

Evil Dynamic Duos and Dinner

mmmm Arbys!

Dear Hubby,

Since you are not here to feed me, I must fend for myself (scary thought). We are running out of cereal, so there are not a lot of choices. After last nights’ pasta fiasco, I wasn’t even about to attempt making dinner. So, I stopped at Arby’s on the way home. Nothing like a roast beef sandwich to end off the day and the pets couldn’t have agreed more with this. 

MMM give me that Arbys! Or I will eat you!

Here are your evil fur children, accosting me throughout the whole dinner, and at one point I thought Boston might maim me for my roast beef sandwich. I think it is time for a pub style table ASAP! 

I am so cute...GIVE me your Arbys!

HEY! I am right HERE! Hand over the roast beef.

So, being the amazing mother I am: I gave some roast beef to the evil dynamic duo in fear of my life. And then Boston almost ate my finger off.

MUST EAT ROAST BEEF...MUST EAT ROAST BEEF...

Fail!

Well, the Hubby is working late all week. Which means: cereal for dinner.

However in attempts to broaden my palate, I attempted to make a pasta dish mixed in with spinich (well, it sounded good) as a side with Tilapia.

FAIL.

It tastes like crap! How can I fail at pasta? But, I did. Have you ever tasted rubber noodles? So, I try and spice it up with seasonings.

FAIL.

Still tastes like crap.

I would take a picture, but I think it will scare you (for reals), so instead, I will attempt to put it in Hubby’s lunch tomorrow to see if he notices my attempt at failed pasta. Hopefully, he doesn’t read my blog before he eats his lunch!

Oh well, at least I know a good failure when I taste it! Pouring the milk over my cereal as I type.

MMMM Cereal.

UPDATE:

The attempt to put above failed pasta in Hubby’s lunch was declared null and void when even the dog would not touch my rubber pasta. So, Dearest Hubby, if you are reading…no worries, there will be no pasta surprise in your lunch…thanks to Patches’ upturned nose and my feelings of guilt.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder…

Dear Hubby,

I am so excited for you to come home tomorrow. I have missed you so! The NOT IT rule is no fun when you are not here to scream it to. You are therefore, banned from leaving me alone from here on! Here are the things I won’t miss:

*Feeding the pets in the morning (they are evil)

*No one to talk too, besides the pets (all they care about is food…after that, they want nothing to do with me)

*Taking the trash out (that is a boy’s job)

*Making dinners (let’s just face it, I suck)

*Having no one to boss around (Rae doesn’t listen….EVER)

*Sharing the bed with the pets (they are bed hogs, especially Patches)

*Having to clean up cat vomit myself, rather than calling NOT IT (NOT FUN)

*Lack of bedtime conversations where I make fun of you (leaves a void)

*Your advice, even though I never listen (in my defense, I am deaf sometimes)

*And mostly, no one to kiss me goodnight and tell me they love me (even when I am mean and don’t deserve it)

I promise not to take you for granted anymore…ok, well maybe not for one week…gotta have realistic goals here!

Love, Wifey

T-Day Freak Outs…

This weekend I sorta, kinda, without-telling him volunteered Hubby to smoke a Thanksgiving bird, along with cooking the traditional bird too. Now I know what you are thinking….WHAT?!

 And I think Hubby felt the same way, but you see the thing is… is that he LOVES to cook for people…the more the merrier and I love that he loves to cook for me and everyone else. (Plus I am a bit biased and think his cooking is phenomenal!)

So, I totally thought he would be up for the challenge and I think he still is after he got over the initial shock factor…. J
It isn’t that he doesn’t want to smoke a bird, he just gets nervous because it is one of those things he hasn’t smoked just yet (and he likes things to come out perfect) and he has to prep the other one and do his famous sides…now I am not much of a cook, but I can help with the side preparations (hopefully)…he does get a little territorial in the kitchen.  We are having my sisters, potentially one of our parents, and my sister’s in-laws come to our house. So we pretty much will have a full house….9-10 people.

I think it should be pretty fun, however yesterday the reality of cleaning and cooking set in. So not only was hubby starting to freak out….but then I started my cleaning freak out (trust me it isn’t pretty). I don’t know why I get this way…..but I am an obsessive cleaner…I can’t help it (it might be a disease). So between my cleaning freak outs and Hubby’s food freak outs…Wednesday night and Thursday morning should be an exciting time at our house!  (Usually one of is calm, therefore, slapping the other back to reality , yup sometimes a good slap does a Hubby good—don’t quite know how it will work out if we BOTH are freaking out…..well one of us might end up on the TV show Snapped). If you see a lapse in blog postings readers, you will know that either:

 1. I am dead or

2.  I am in jail for killing Hubby or

3.  I set the house on fire trying to help and my computer burned with it.

 

I am hoping my Thursday morning rum-filled crepes will calm Hubby’s nerves…if not I will be forcing him to drink all day….which won’t be too hard.

Maker’s and coke here we come!

No Betty Crocker…

So, one of my major requirements when looking for a husband was: he be able to cook, and second he be rich…..well obviously the later didn’t happen, but requirement 1 was met! It isn’t that I can’t cook, but when I do….weird things happen. I just don’t think it is meant to be. Sometimes, hubby has a brain fart lapse in memory and we have these types of discussions:

Hubby: What’s for dinner?

Me: What?! I MARRIED you because you cook, remember?

Hubby: Oh, I thought you married me because you loved me.

Me: Clearly, you are delusional.