Author Archives: Chrissie

The Pooka Life

Went with the boots today. Kevin walked by as I was slipping into them and said – “ah, the ubiquitous black boots, every woman should have a pair.” Huh? Is that my Kevin? Usually his comments range from “what’s for dinner” to “would it be ok if I went and played on the computer”. Since when did he develop a fashion vocabulary? Upon further questioning, I learned that he has been reading my fashion magazines. What a goof.

I’ve also got him hooked on Sex and the City. We don’t have HBO but I found out that you can rent the old season at the local video store. So I picked one up thinking I could watch it while Kevin played computer. Only, he ended up watching one episode with me and got hooked. He went out and rented the whole season and we watched something like 20 episodes in a week. It was crazy! Kevin’s favorite is Miranda which surprised me. I think she’s my favorite as well. I loved the episode where she bought an apartment by herself and ended up overfeeding her cat for zany reasons. But I’m digressing here….

Kevin is a very simple and sweet person. He is the quintessential engineer – very smart but sort of off in his own world. Our old friend Shanda said that if Kevin where an animal, he’d be a manatee. Kevin wanted to be something a little more exciting but I think manatee is a pretty good match. They are considered gentle giants of the sea – you never hear about anyone getting attacked by raging manatees. This animal naming has sort of stuck and every now and then someone sends us a manatee postcard or stuffed animal much to Kevin’s dismay.

But the thing I wanted to blog about most regarding Kevin is the fact that yesterday he saved a dog’s life. Now, I think if you save an animal’s life, you get some sort of extra bonus points that you can cash in later. He was out walking Artie last night and they went past the park. It was dark but Kevin could see a bunch of dogs running around. It was looking like a wild pack so Kev decided just to keep on walking but one big dog saw Artie and started running across the park. Now, normally, this would be no big deal except Kevin and Artie were walking across the street from the park. As the dog came up to the street, Kevin realized two things. 1) The dog was going to run across the street and 2) there was a car coming very fast down the street. So he did the only thing he could, he jumped into the street and started waiving his hands yelling – “Look out! Stop! Look out!” The must have freaked out the driver to have a person jump in front of his car because he slowed down and was able to see and stop the car in time. Kevin says there was about 1 foot between the car and the dog.

The owner comes running out of the park and Kevin goes ballistic. He starts yelling at the guy – “DO YOU WANT TO KILL YOUR DOG??? DO YOU??? KEEP HIM ON A LEASH!!!” I guess I should explain by saying a few weeks ago this exact same scenario played out only the results were much worse. Kevin & Artie on one side of the street, dog off leash on the other, dog runs across street only this time Kevin couldn’t stop the car. He heard a squeal of tire, a thud, and yelp of the dog as the car hit it. It traumatized him horribly. So when it happened again last night, Kevin lost his cool on the owner. The sad part is, the guy didn’t seem that upset by the whole thing which only made Kevin angrier.

I know we tend to treat our dogs like they are little people but they aren’t. If they see a cat or another dog or even a squirrel they will run. They don’t understand cars or roads. To them, it’s just a chase and there is nothing you can do except yell and watch. For this reason Artie *never* goes outside unless he is on leash. It’s our responsibility to take care of him and we take that very seriously. If we want to let him run, we either take him somewhere fenced in or off into the wilds where there are no cars to jeopardize him. Have you ever seen a mother or father with a kid near a road? They have a protective death grip on the child, constantly aware that at any moment their kid could try and dart across the street. In my book, the same is true with your dog.

The Pooka Life

This morning, as I tried to pick out my shoes for the day, I realized that my life is a constant battle between sensible and sexy. Bear with me here, this thought my take a while to fully form.

My shoe bin holds two very different styles of shoes. On the lower level live the sensibles. These are your basic black, low heel, closed toe shoe that have nice arch support and comfortable soles. Since I am a public transportation girl and find myself standing on the bus since chivalry is dead —mental note to blog about that experience later— and I have to hoof it a good couple of blocks each day, I find that my sensible shoes work wonders. I can be on my feet all day and not feel a thing. The only problem is that, well, they’re sensible.

The upper level of the shoe bin contains the sexys. These shoes tend to have nice high heels, open toes and little straps and buckles that are all shiny and purdy. These shoes hurt like hell but when you meet up with your girlfriends, they all say “ohhh, cute shoes” which somehow makes the pain ok. These shoes are fun to wear and will garner admiring looks from men and women but after more than 5 minutes, you have to sit down and relieve the pain. Probably my favorite pair of sexys are my boots. After watching The Long Kiss Goodnight one too may times I decided I *needed* a pair of black boots. Whenever I need a real boost, all I have to do is slip into my boots and I’m a power house. Isn’t it sad that shoes can have such an effect on my personality??? But my boots, well, lets just say I have yet to wear them and not get some form of compliment. If you need a pick up, I highly recommend a good pair of boots.

So each morning, I have to ask myself, “Self, what do you want to be, sensible or sexy?”

Now that I think about it, I find myself facing that question on a daily basis. Glasses or contacts? Glasses are quick and easy. But when I wear my awful, painful, contacts, I get compliments even though I spend most of the day blinking back tears. Sports bra or push up? Knee highs or control top hose? Frizzy and wild or blow-dry and straightened? Sleep another 30 minutes or get up and do the makeup thing?

If I could just decided on either sensible or sexy, life would be so much easier. Today I went with a pair of the sexy shoes and after standing on the bus, I’m beginning to regret it. Hopefully I’ll bump into a girlfriend & make the whole experience worthwhile.

The Pooka Life

Since Kevin posted the main page this weekend, I’m going to continue the theme with the following poem…

This is a poem made up entirely of actual quotes from George W. Bush. The quotes have been arranged by Washington Post writer Richard Thompson.

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER
by George W. Bush

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It’s a world of madmen and uncertainty,
And potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked,
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the internet become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope,
Where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize Society!
Make the pie higher!
Make the pie higher!

The Pooka Life

Sorry for the delay in postings lately but Kevin has been sick. Now, when I am sick, I need lots of bad tv and personal catering to recover. Kevin, however, finds that his aminobodies and white blood cells benefit from the soft glow of a computer screen. Something about the soothing hum of the processor chip coupled with the smooth rotation of the logitech mouse makes him feel better. Things like doing the dishes and vaccuming are very very bad for him in this fragile stage. So yesterday he played something like 6 hours of computer. It must be working because the entire time he was down here he didn’t cough once. However, once he arose from the basement, he was instantly hit by a coughing attack that landed him in front of the tv. Poor Kev. I don’t want to take up too much computer time from him so I’ll cut this short. Wouldn’t want a relapse now…..

20/20

Supposedly, Kevin has perfect vision. The eye doctor says no need for glasses and he doesn’t squint or have problems reading. However, I suspect he suffers from a not-so-rare affliction called “guy looking”.

Kevin will be rummaging in the kitchen at night looking for a midnight snack. I’ll hear the fridge door open and within .2 seconds, Kevin will call out, “Chrissie, where are the left over ribs? I can’t find them.” Usually, I’ll be somewhere else and have to yell back, “they’re in there, keep looking”. Now what I don’t know is that Kevin is having an attack of “guy looking”. This seems to occur most frequently when his head is in the refrigerator so I think the condition may be liked to sudden changes in temperature but this is just a theory.

“I can’t find them! What did you do with them?” This is where things start to get ugly. Instead of leaving it neutral with the “I can’t find them”, Kevin has just upped the anty by accusing me of misplacing the ribs. Now, I assure you, our refrigerator is not that big. It only has 3 shelve which are clear so you can easily spot anything in there. At least I can.

By this time, Kevin is getting restless and I have to defend my honor so I have to stop what I’m doing, get up, walk into the kitchen, push him out of the way, and pick up the ribs that were right behind the water.

“Oh, why didn’t you say they were behind something. I wasn’t looking there.” Like I know exactly where each piece of food is in the fridge.

In the interest of preserving our marriage, we have worked out a compromise. Kevin will spend .2 – .3 seconds looking on his own. At which point, he will give up and accuse me of moving/hiding/throwing away the item in question. In response, I will ask – “Are you guy looking?” If he says yes, I will take pity on him since he is obviously suffering from some sort of degenerative disease and walk over and point out the object which is sitting right in front of him. If he says no, then I tell him I have no idea where it is and let him mumble and grumble until he either finds it or admits he is guy looking. (One of the nasty side effects of this condition is an inability to admit fault/wrongness).

If anyone else knows of someone suffering from “guy looking”, let me know. I’m curious how others are dealing with this horrible and debilitating disease.