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.

The Royal Treatment: Steve Style

Steve bought a new plastic shower curtain a few weeks ago and he decided to put it up on Memorial Day.  I thought it smelled disgusting, but I figured if we threw enough soap or cleaner on it the next few days that smell would go away.  We left our apartment for three hours and when we came back the whole apartment smelled like burning tires.  It smelled so bad Steve had to cut the curtain down instead of taking it off the rings one at a time and then he to immediately throw it out.  I told him to buy a new one on his way home from work.  He did and this is what he said:
"I was going to buy you the $2 shower curtain, but then I decided to treat you like a princess and get you the $5 one."
I realize now that I should have asked Steve to clarify what he meant by royal treatment before we got married.

You Know People Think You're Old When...

I recently turned 27 this year and when I look in the mirror I look like I am in high school, so I have to wear my glasses EVERY DAY because people mistake me for being younger.  We're not talking three or four years.  We're talking a decade.  So because that has always been the case I have never felt old and I think 27 is still pretty young, but apparently other people don't think that.  These are a sampling of what I am talking about.

1. When I go home to visit family I still watch VHS tapes on my dad's VCR/DVD combo.  I am not ashamed and will possibly take that VHS player along with the movies I want when my dad dies.  I believe in raising cultured children.  Just you wait, one day a VCR player will be vintage like a record player.  So Dad, put that in your will for me.

2. I did not get rid of my mixed tapes that I painstakingly  recorded off the radio for years until I was in college.  Even then, I only got rid of them because my parents no longer had a car with a cassette player and every one that we owned was dead.

3. I watched the same TV shows as a kid as another intern at my internship that is 8 years older than me and she is consequently the only person who understands that I wanted Scott Baio to be my babysitter.

4. I will sing the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song before anyone says that don't know what I am talking about.

5. I used floppy disks until every last computer no longer had a spot for one.  That still did not encourage me to throw them away very fast.

6. I mentioned Pee Wee's Playhouse to someone and they had no idea who Pee Wee Herman was.  Nor do people get the joke about the basement of the Alamo.

7. I saw Dick Tracy at the drive-in with my family.  Does anyone else remember Prune Face?

8. Applique sweaters (why are these back?) with matching sweatpants and windbreakers.  Christmas glitter, Jenn.

9. 80's clothes.  The first time around.

10. We had a hanger on our antennae growing up.  And Steve and I may have also had an antennae our first two years of marriage, which we are keeping because when we move we are not paying for TV.

11. Every thing sounds like Nintendo music and lots of kids give me a blank stare when I say Nintendo.  That was when we had to blow on the games to get them to work and I was a Tetris master (still am in case you were wondering).

12. TGIF.  Code man from Step-by-Step, Perfect Strangers, Steve Erkel from Family Matters, and Full House.  This was usually followed by 20/20 and a little Diagnosis Murder (which also had Scott Baio).  What has happened people?

Cow Tongue...In My Freezer...Sick

Steve is currently in his surgery rotation, but now suturing bananas and pig feet aren't enough for him (of course he waited until I left to buy pig feet and threw them out before I got back).  He decided to buy a big fat cow tongue to practice on that is now in my freezer between uses.  He considers it a "school expense."  Don't worry, we are not going to eat it (I have already eaten cow tongue tacos on my mission and I still dry heave when I think about it--worst tacos ever).

Dr. Steve contaminating my kitchen

Isn't that gray color just disgusting?

What Happens When You Take Steve to Joann's

I am the kind of person that has a million sewing projects going on at the same time (like my eternal quiet book pages project), but I haven't worked on any of them since school started because my brain turned into this:

I usually do some sort of blanket when my sisters have babies and Steve goes to the store with me to help me pick out fabric (I think he might also come to prevent me from coming back with $100 worth of fabric).  I told him to pick one boy fabric and one girl fabric and this is what he chose:

When I asked about the science fabric he said it was for the nerdy kids.  It is still unclear why he thought baby Godzilla was a girl fabric.  At the cutting station I asked him if the Godzilla fabric was really for me to make a blanket for someone else or if he wanted to keep it for himself.  He wants to keep it.

RIP Rocky Raccoon

I always get upset when I see roadkill, unless it is a snake or armadillo.  Those animals are disgusting and I feel better knowing there are less of them (so run over all you want, especially near my apartment).  I know that raccoons are mischievous and infested with rabies, but they're so cute (in my mind the cuter the animal the more sympathy it gets).  How can you look at that face and not feel bad you just ran over it? (Unless you are Steve and then I already know how you feel.)

Steve took me to the airport last Tuesday early in the morning when it was still dark outside and while changing lanes I heard him hit a huge rock that sounded like an explosion. I may have shouted a little bit, but in my defense it was only because I thought he blew out our tire (on my side of the car, of course).  I told Steve he should have been paying attention to a huge rock and then he said it wasn't a rock, but that was all he said.  I asked him if it was a raccoon and he said, "Yes."  So then I asked, "Were you not going to tell me it was a raccoon until I specifically asked if it was so that you wouldn't have to tell me and you wouldn't technically be lying?"  And this was his response: "Yes, but in my defense it was already dead.  I just hit it again."  What a sicko.  He has escaped my murder charges this time, but he may not be so lucky in the future.