Author Archives: Chrissie

Trial Run

We had a night without Artie over the weekend. It was a scary-strange night not having the big lug in the house. I’d open the fridge and expect to hear him jump off the sofa and come jangling over, confident that whatever came out of the fridge would be shared with him. There was no hopeful little puppy face on the side of the bed that night, whining and trying to look pathetic so I’d invite him up. No one to body slam the bed the next morning to announce that it was time for a potty break. What a sad and lonely life I lead before my pooch.

The girls, however, loved it. When they saw us come into the house without the dog, I swear their little feline eyes lit up with unsuppressed kitty glee. They spent all night tearing around the house, chasing each other and having a kitty party until the wee hours of the night. Without Artie there to break up their cavorting, they had free reign of the house.

So where was Artie you ask? He was having a trial run sleep over at Kat & Josh. Since we are going out of town, they will be the proud owners of 85 pounds of puppy love for the weekend and we wanted to make sure they were up for the task. When we arrived the next morning to claim our pooch, they seemed no worse for the experience. They did, however, want to know if he always needed a potty break at 6:45am. We assured them that he was more of an 8:30am dog. Suckers.

So last night, Artie was back on the sofa where he belonged and the girls were shooting us looks of hate for having raised and then dashed their little kitty dreams, and everything was right in the world. I missed Artie so much that when he began begging to be let up on the bed last night, I gave in without a fuss. Of course, I spent most of the night contorted with one leg hanging off the bed and without any covers on the left side of my body because the darn dog kept hogging all the room but it was worth it when he lay his head on my leg, sighed a big puppy sigh of pure happiness, and begin licking the back of my knee.

How I ever managed to live without my dog I will never know.

The Pooka Life

Kevin was a very good uncle this weekend and there are more Baby D pictures too see and enjoy. The chunker is now in the 100th percentile for weight. Is there anything cuter than a fatso baby????

The Secret to Happiness

I have discovered the secret to happiness and I will share it with you for free.

So you’ve had a long day at work. You’re grumpy, tired, and hungry when you get home and the idea of cooking dinner and paying bills and washing dishes and sorting laundry makes you want to just keep driving past your house to the nearest bakery where you can sit with a loaf of fresh bread and butter and your reading book until the world goes away. (Well, that’s what runs through my mind anyway. Feel free to insert your own escape dream above.)

But you know dinner has to be cooked and the bills have to get paid and the dishes washed and the laundry folded so instead of driving by, you pull into your drive way and battle with the door, drop your stuff on the ground and think, “this sucks – I need a personal servant.” (At least, that’s what runs through my mind. Feel free to insert your own comment above.)

At this point, there are several things you can do to make yourself happier. You can draw a bath and close the door, plop on the couch and watch the tube, break into the candy supply and pump your body full of sugar, etc, etc, etc. All of these are good ideas, but I have found a better one. It’s fast, easy, and doesn’t involve any weight gain One word – PJs.

Yup, you read that right. No typo. PJs. I have discover that after you battle with the door and dump your stuff, and bemoan your lack of a personal servant, all you have to do is run to your bedroom and shed your work day cloths and slide into your most comfortable, cozy PJs and suddenly, everything looks so much better. I suppose, to an outsider, it might seem strange that you are wearing your nightie at 6:30pm but who cares! There is something wonderful about your old cotton sleep shirt that’s almost worn through and has a hole where the dog played tug of war with it. Add a pair of old loose gym socks and in under 5 minutes you have instant mood change without the use of sugar.

So when Kevin comes home at night, he finds me happily cooking dinner in the kitchen, looking like I’m ready for bed. There’s just something about your PJs. I think it’s because I spend all day bound and uncomfortable. High heels, panty hose with control tops and reinforced toes, slips and bras, hair bound back, and just uncomfortable. To be able to go home and throw it all off is so liberatingly wonderful.

And PJs say “I’m done for the day. All I have left to do is sleep.” It means I don’t have to leave my house or interact with other people. It’s the unconscious comfort of knowing that if I really wanted to, I could head to bed right now without delay. How cool is that??

So tonight, as you walk through your door and face your nightly chores, before you do anything else, go change into your PJs and then start dinner. You’ll be amazed how good it makes you feel.

(Of course, I only recommend this if you sleep wearing clothes. Cooking naked may not be the best idea unless you are really good about not splattering anything. Also, the idea of someone sitting on my chairs with their bare butt gives me the willies. )

Voting Rights

I am a big fan of democracy. So much so that I often apply the principal of “majority rules” to my own life.

For example, back in the day when Kevin and I were merely dating, we often held mini-elections over issues of contention. I had four votes and Kevin, as an independent body, had three votes. The voting would work something like this….

“Hey Kev, what do you feel life for dinner tonight?” I’d ask.

“Oh, I could really go for pizza,” he’d reply patting his stomach and smacking his lips.

“I’m not in the mood for pizza,” I’d reply, “how about Chinese?”

Kevin would scowl, “No, no, I just had Chinese last night. Pizza.”

“Chinese.”

“Pizza.”

At this point we’d realize we were at an impasse and so we’d put it to a vote. Four votes, Chinese, three votes Pizza, and the issue was decided.

Now I know what you are thinking. You’re thinking this is merely a dictatorship disguised as a democracy. Ahhh, but there you’d be wrong. How about this factual scenario….

“I’m getting hungry. What do you want for dinner?” Kevin asks me patting his stomach and smacking his lips.

“Oh, I don’t I could go for Mexican or Italian,” I reply.

“Well, which one do you want more?” Kevin asks as he hunts for his keys.

“I don’t know, I could go either way. Lets vote.”

I’m split down the middle, two votes Italian, two votes Mexican so Kevin’s three vote block easily tips the scales onto Italian and off we head for some pizza.

You see? Democracy in action.

There’s only one problem. Once our individual beings merged into the state of matrimony, Kevin believed he should be granted equal voting rights. After much debate and long diatribes, I agreed and we now have four votes apiece. This, as you can imagine, is difficult as there are often ties with no mechanism for tie breaking. My streamlined democracy is now a bit more unwieldy but this is just one of the many sacrifices I have had to learn to endure. Although I must admit it was much more fun back in the day when I held the tie breaking vote. Ah well.

But the point of this rambling is that I need a craft room. Currently, Kevin is hogging all the free space in the house. He has one room devoted entirely to his computer stuff and a second room filled with his tools and woodworking stuff. The result is there is no where for me to spread out and work. Therefore, I have decided to submit a resolution to the McLaughlin democracy. I propose that the computer room be turned into the craft room.

Voting will open at 2:25pm today and close and 2:30pm. Any vote not cast won’t count…… Think I should let him know about this? I suppose this entry is a form of public notice. I guess that’s good enough.

Well, look at that, only 4 minutes left for voting.

I’m thinking Chrissie is going to get her craft room after all……

Stuff

It’s so easy to get sucked into this material world. The world of bigger, better, newer. It’s so tempting to always want more and it’s so hard to ask yourself, “do I really need it?”

I have a friend who has sold her soul to stuff. She constantly wants and everything revolves around name brands. She has to live in the best part of town, her kids have to wear all the designer cloths, she has to drive a big name car. She asks first where your outfit came from before she decides if it is nice or not. She complains about how much she spends a month but is horrified when I suggest a less expensive alternative. “My husband would never wear shoes from Nordstrom. He only wears Ferrigamos.” She is never satisfied. She is only impressed by the price tag and the name brand and the image. I watch her in her quest for stuff and I have to shudder in part revulsion and fear because sometimes I see myself for her.

I don’t want to sell my life for money. I don’t want to spend nine hours of my day just so I can go out on a weekend and buy more stuff that I’ll never use and never be satisfied with. I don’t want to drop my kids into daycare when they are 6 weeks old. Money is great. You can get a lot of things with it, but I would rather have my time and my sanity than a stressed out life. But it is so tempting and it is so hard to be happy with what you have.

She saw my house and turned up her nose. “How can you live here?” she asked me in horror. “What is it, under 1500 square feet? I could never stand a kitchen that small. I need at least 3,000 square feet you know.” And I found myself blindly agreeing with her that yes, my kitchen was way too small and I couldn’t wait to move somewhere bigger. But after she left, I had to ask myself, why do I need a bigger kitchen? I mean, mine works just fine. It has all the appliances. Sure, it doesn’t have the island or miles of counter space but it suits my lifestyle. I mean, really, it is enough.

So now when I talk to her, I use it as a sort of grounding test. I watch her scramble through her life of image is everything and I chant to myself, “that is what I don’t want to become.” I love coming home and eating dinner with Kevin. I love playing with my dog and loving the cats. I love having weekends free to just enjoy. I don’t ever want to give those things up for more money. It just wouldn’t be worth it. So I guess that means I’ll never work at some swanky big firm or live in a 3,000 square foot house with a kitchen island, or have a prestigious zip code.

But you know what? That’s just fine with me.