Die Kashi

Nearly four years of marriage has taught me many important lessons. One of these is that my role in this relationship is to be the human garbage disposal. I am to finish any and all scraps, whether left over scraps at the table, or left over random items in our pantry.

My name is Steve, and I am a Costcoholic. I just can't live without Costcohol. My lovely wife Megan is also a Costcoholic. This means that when we buy things from Costco our brains are wired, whether right or wrong, to believe that whatever item we bought tastes better, is less expensive, and is of greater quality because we bought it from Costco. This also means that we enable each other in our addiction.

One of our purchases about a year ago was a box of 40 or so Kashi brand protein bars. Kashi is by all means a quality brand that produces healthy, quality cereals and other foods. Although compared to other protein bars Kashi proteins bars taste pretty good, they are still protein bars. We bought them believing that they would provide a healthy snack that would leave us more full during the day. I neglected to account for the fact that Megan would eat 4-5 protein bars, while garbage disposal man would have to jump on the grenade that is 30-35 dirt flavored wannabe candy/granola bars.

What makes matters worse is they seemed to be hidden in different parts of our pantry and cupboards. Leading me to believe that I was eating the last one on Monday of this last week. I announced to Megan that night that the Kashi bars were finally gone. Then I found another one in our pantry. I ate it on Tuesday and announced again to Megan that the Kashi bars were finally dead. Here is my correspondence with Megan Wednesday afternoon after surveying our "candy jar":

Despite Megan's attempt to hide these land mines around our house, I can now finally declare that the Kashi protein bars finally dead.

Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animals

Remember my previous post when I talked about Steve doing things to creep me out?  On Christmas morning he woke up early to change into different "PJ's" and then got back into bed.  This is what I woke up to (And him laughing hysterically. He's almost as bad as Jimmy Fallon):

Megan: Is that why you got out of bed early this morning?

Steve: Yes.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm being stalked....

Steve is a fan of his own sense of humor and unfortunately certain family members like to encourage him. Sometimes it's funny and other times he does things to creep me out on purpose.  Like invading my personal space in public without me knowing it's him (which he did 3 days ago at the movie theater).  A few months ago, I went to Michael's to pick up some paper and he said he was going to Petsmart instead.  I was minding my own business on the aisle for about 5-10 minutes when some lady in a purple boa kept getting closer to me.  I tried to nonchalantly back away until I turned and looked and this is what I saw:

Megan: Did you only tell me you were going to Petsmart so you could follow me and be weird?

Steve:  No.  I forgot Petsmart is by Joann's so I came back and then decided to do it.

I only felt sort of compensated when he took of the visor and it had left a big line across his forehead.

Happy Un-anniversary

Steve had been gone on an away rotation in Memphis last month and I spent an entire evening seeing if I could find Legend for free on the internet (stupid copyright laws) because I have to watch all my 80's movies when he's gone.  I realized I was going to have to buy it, but I needed a good reason.  If there is a happy un-birthday, surely there is a happy un-anniversary too.  Oh wait, there is.  It's Oct. 22, our half anniversary.  Sometimes I just feel like I need presents more than once a year and this is my excuse.

This year I decided to tell Steve to buy me Legend, BUT not the director's cut, which is an abomination.  He was in Memphis at the time and may not have loved my midnight text when I told him I had found the correct version (if it does not have Tangerine Dream in it, throw it away).  I went to bed and when I woke up it had been bought by someone else that would not love it as much as me (Steve will both vouch and pay for that).  So I had to look for another hour until I found the right version, which you can only buy with the director's cut.  When my copy came in the mail this was the conversation that ensued:

Megan: Legend just came in the mail today.  Do you want me to wait....
Steve:  Nope, you can watch it without me.
Megan: ....until you get back from Memphis to watch it?  I take your interjection as a no.  You know you have to watch it right, even though you're two states over.
Steve: *sigh* Yes.  I know.

So watch it I did.  Both versions.  And I still think the American version is better.

Spring/Summer Highlights?

I know you want to see all the things we do with our glamorous lives as graduate students, so go ahead and be jealous.

Steve's parents came to visit for Spring Break and we were assaulted by an ostrich.  No one listened me when I said we should roll up the window with his head in it and drive away.

Some people claim they weren't afraid, but you be the judge.

I asked Steve to help me with a puzzle.  And this is what I got.

My lilies finally bloomed making this the only plant to survive more than 9 months under my care.

Charlie turned 7 years old and got busted....

....and was promptly forgiven by the "Boss."

And I FINALLY found Waldo.  It only took me twenty years.  It turns out I should have been reading those postcards.

Father's Day, Smather's Day

I like consistency in my life, which was difficult after I married Steve because he is left-handed and does everything backwards (including how he hangs up his clothes in the closet).  When we were first married I would hang up his clothes the right way because it didn't look aesthetically pleasing.  But of course he would "fix it" and undo all my hard work.  I just like things to look even and one time the universe listened to me and I got my way.

This could have been you Dad.

You are probably wondering what this has to do with Father's Day.  I will tell you.  A long time ago when I was in junior high or high school my dad had to replace the stairs on our deck because the wood was rotten, but that was all he wanted to replace.  The actual deck was also rotting, but his argument was that he would replace the deck when he HAD to (apparently being a cheapskate is genetic).  I kept telling him how ugly it would look with brand new stairs and a twenty year old deck together.  Alas, he did not listen to the voice of reason.  He had built the stairs and attached them to the deck with MY help, which went something like this: "Megan, hold the stairs up underneath while I attach them to the deck."  So I pretty much could have been crushed by a flight of stairs and I refuse to die in a manner that would qualify me for a Darwin Award (even though it would not have been my fault).

One morning we were quietly eating our breakfast at the table when we heard "ERRRRRRRRRRR!!!  WHOOOOSH!!! GA-GUNG!!!  We opened up the curtain and lo and behold the deck had completely detached from the house and was now a pile of rubble one story below.  And I got my wish and my dad had to replace the deck.  So Happy Father's Day.

Fruit Snacks: Fruit or Treat?

Yesterday, Steve and I were talking about making some small changes to our diet to make us more "healthy."  When I say healthy, you are probably thinking vegan or gluten-free.  But that is NOT what I am saying.  By healthy, we are referring to limiting our treat intake which is not limiting to anyone else.  I mentioned that we could start by eating only one treat a day (instead of five).  This is the actual conversation:

Me: We could only eat one treat a day.  Like if you eat fruit snacks, you can't have a cookie or ice cream that day.

Steve: Well, then I'm never eating fruit snacks again!  Those are tiny little sucky treats.  They have left the treat arena.  They're somewhere between fruit and treats.

I never knew that Steve felt so strongly about fruit snacks.