Category Archives: Family Matters

Digs

I just discovered DigsMagazine. It describes itself as “a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation.” I couldn’t have described myself better.

After searching through the “lounge” section, I have dug up all sorts of good plans for Thanksgiving weekend. Aside from Christmas shopping, I’m also going to make a new duvet cover and install some corner book shelves. Yessir, no lazing around suffering from the after effects of tryptophane for me. I’m going to be busy.

That’s assuming, of course, I can pull myself away from the I Love Lucy marathon long enough to focus on something else. I’m so excited!

The Facts of Life – Help Me!

The good news, this weekend nothing broke.

That’s right, the car drove, the plumbing ran, and the dryer heated. For the first time in forever, there were no mechanical emergencies for the McLaughlin household. In all honesty, it was rather a let down not to pull out the old tool set and spend all day long yelling at a piece to machinery.

The bad news, this weekend I discovered TV Land.

Now, I don’t know if this is just a weekend thing but there is cable station that plays TV show marathons all-weekend-long. Last weekend, they had 48 hours of the Facts of Life. That’s right, back to back hilarity with Jo, Tuti, Blaire and Natalie. I couldn’t stop myself.

I discovered The Facts of Life at 11am on Saturday morning and it wasn’t until 10pm Sunday when Kevin forced me to turn it off. When I left, Jo and Blaire were at Langley while Natalie and Tuti were still finishing up high school at Eastland. I needed help.

But it was so easy. I mean, I could wander in and out of the room without worrying I would lose the plot line since there was none. Didn’t have to channel surf at the end of every hour looking for another show to watch ‘cause the next episode came on lickity split. I could tune in and out at will. It was heaven. Of course, I’m still humming that damn theme song. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have, the facts of life… Did you know that there is a different verse that runs over the ending credits? I know! How exciting is that??? Or how about how the girls ended up living with Mrs. Garrett above the cafeteria? And who among us remembers that Facts of Live was a spin off from Different Strokes? Was this a productive use of a weekend or what!

The good news is, next weekend I think they are doing 48 hours of I Love Lucy. At least that theme show doesn’t have any words.

(Somebody, please call AT&T and shut of my cable. I need help.)

Where’s The Love?

Kevin sucks when it comes to sympathy. He has no idea how to baby someone. Instead of loving kindness, he gets all impatient and exasperated. This is why when I am feeling unwell, I banish him to the depths of the basement rather then listen to his exasperated sighing and grumbling as to why I can’t get off my lazy butt and clean the kitchen seeing as how it’s just a little temperature.

Thursday morning I didn’t feel so hot. I had eaten a very rich lamb dinner that was very very rare and it really didn’t sit well with me. It tasted good at the time but my poor stomach had a very hard time processing it. I was up tossing and turning all night and by morning, I was severely ill.

So Kevin comes downstairs to find me getting a lime soda and an apple from the fridge instead of the usual pastry and coffee.

“What’s up with the soda?” he asks as he rummages for his wallet and keys.

“My tummy doesn’t feel so good,” I reply slowly. I found moving too quickly maked me feel even worse and slowly shuffled out of the kitchen to get my jacket.

“Suck it up,” Kevin replied without even glancing at me “and take a couple of tums.” He then wanders off to find his shoes.

I manage to drag myself to the MAX station and find a seat when I break out in a sweat and feel my stomach begin to heave. I ended up chanting the Skippy Peanut Butter song to myself the whole ride in. For some reason, this songs has always comforted me. You know, “Momma loves me, loves a bunch, ‘cause she always puts Skippy’s….. in my lunch.” (The truly strange part is I hate peanut butter and my mom never made me PB&J as a kid so I have no idea why I love that song so much.) However, in time of great physical distress, I use this song as a mantra and it soothes me.

I almost made it to work when the guy sitting next to me begins to caress my leg. My first response is to throw up on him but I decided to take the high road and just got off the MAX early. I ended up sitting on a bench with my head between my legs for 20 minutes before I could get back on and finish the ride to work. By the time I got to the office, I was soaking with sweat and made a bee line for the bathroom.

I managed to turn on my computer and sat huddled over my trash can for a while telling myself to just “suck it up”. My friend Laura, after seeing my white face and shaky hands, took matters into her own hands. She grabbed the trash can and drove me home where I could be sick in the privacy of my own home.

When Kevin returned from work, he found me passed out on the sofa having gotten over the worst of it. His response? I should have taken the Tums like he said. Don’t worry, next time he’s sick, I know just how to play it.

Back and Kicking

After talking it over with Elmo, Kevin decided not to try and change the blown belt. As we have no garage, the idea of lying under the car in the pouring rain just didn’t quite peak Kevin’s interest. Instead, he found a local Volvo shop and took it in. Half and hour and 30 bucks later, the old Volvo was as good as new.

The guys down at the shop, however, were impressed. “We don’t see a lot of ‘87 740’s here,” the repair man said, looking over the old ovlov. “When’d the belt go?” he asked Kevin.

“Yesterday,” Kev replied, proud to have brought in such a fine specimen of a 740.

“Well,” the guy replied, “you could keep driving it for a while.”

Kevin looked aghast. “But that would hurt the car!” he cried in despair.

The mechanic looked at Kev and said, “Man, you sure must love this car.”

Damn straight we love the Volvo! Kevin proceeded to the waiting room where he spied the latest IPA catalogue. “Cool!” he exclaimed as he settled in to wait for his baby.

The mechanic looked surprised that Kevin knew about IPA. “You do your own work?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” Kevin fudged a little on this one. “I’d replace the belt myself but I don’t have a garage and with the rain and all, I thought I’d bring it in.”

The mechanic looked at Kevin with new found respect and managed to squeeze in our Volvo even though they were booked solid and were down on mechanic. So the Volvo is back and kicking!

Nervous

I’m a little nervous today for three reasons. Independently, they are cause for only minor alarm but happening together…. Well, lets just say I’m out of un-bitten fingernails.

Factoid #1 – I added Kevin to Schwab.

Now, when you get married, one of the first big hassles is what to do about finances. You each had separate bank accounts, credit cards, and budgeting techniques back when you were a swinging single. After a few rounds of knock-down-drag-out fights about how much to spend where, or who spent more at the craft store vs Home Depot, you eventually settle on some compromise or decide to file for divorce. Our compromise was that I was in charge of all the money. (This makes sense to me as I was always the banker in monopoly and have a recurring dream where I’m rolling around my bed in piles of dollar bills but I digress.) Every week, I give Kevin his $20 fun money and admonish him not to spend it all in one place. Through a complex system of bribes, treats, and punishment, I have managed to wean him off of his credit cards. I had added him to all my accounts and the only account he had not yet gotten his hands on was Schwab.

Now, Schwab is my account. It’s where the big bucks sit and earn interest. You don’t touch Schwab unless it’s for something important. Up until last week, Kevin wasn’t on the account. In fact, Kevin wasn’t allowed within spitting distance of Schwab. If he even looked at it funny, I was on him like Artie on Collin*. That’s right, he couldn’t write a check, use the credit card or hit an ATM without me being there. But in a moment of weakness, I agreed to add him and yesterday the new checks arrived in the mail. Kevin tried to hide it but I saw him break into his greedy-smurf hand rub and I could almost see the pictures of Gforce 3 video cards and radial arm saws dancing through his head.

Factoid #2 – Kevin has a week off.

WaferTech is a 24 hour fab. This means that at every moment of every day there is some poor engineer working. In order to remain fair, the engineers rotate through. This is known as “being on shift.” You work for 12 hours, get off 12 hours, work for 12 hours, and so on. In order to compensate for this awful work schedule, you get a week off of work. So Kevin just finished up his shift and is currently in his week off mode. This consists of a lot of computer playing, surfing ebay for computer parts, and trying to devise ways to break into the Schwab account.

Factoid #3 – Kevin is going to Costco today.

On his days off, Kevin hits Costco because he can go during the day and avoid the massive crowds and actually park within sight of the building. However, since he is on his own, he has no loving wife to restrain him so he usually ends up standing at the car with a cart full of stuff wondering how he’s going to justify spending $300 in an half an hour.

Now, put it all together and you can see why, as I type these words, my hands are shaking with fear. Kevin has been surfing the web, dreaming of all the cool stuff he wants/needs, Kevin has access to Schwab and suddenly has the purchasing power to buy all that cool stuff he wants/need, and Kevin is going to Costco where not only do they sell all the cool stuff but it comes in a 4-pack which, if you break the cost down, means you can get more for less.

I’m debating calling Schwab and reporting my card stolen. I have a feeling, that’s my only hope…

*Collin is a very nice man who came over for dinner last week. Artie, for reasons unknown, decided Collin was a threat to his dominance and spent the whole night humping his leg. We apologized profusely and Collin, gentleman that he is, laughed it off. However, he has kindly refused all other dinner invitations and, well, I don’t blame him.

I Win!

Oh boy oh boy oh boy. I have such a story to tell. However, the following blog is a giant I TOLD YOU SO with massive amount of gloating. So you Kevin sympathizers who whine at me that I should stop picking on my poor husband, you may not want to read this.

Where to begin. I’m so excited I can barely think straight.

Kevin and I have been having an ongoing battle over the cars. As it turns out, every few days we switch cars. Since I leave the house first, I have to take whatever car is parked first on the driveway. Some days it’s the Civic, others the Volvo. But lately I have been noticing a disturbing trend.

Whenever we switch cars, I always end up with an empty tank.

At first, I thought it was just happenstance. Just some odd twist of fate that every time I used a car after Kevin it needed a refill. After a couple of weeks of this, however, I began to suspect something was afoot and confronted the culprit. After intense questions and the removal of a few toenails, Kevin admitted that he often drove a car to empty and then switched them on me knowing I’d go to the gas station for him. This made me grumpy and I chastised him.

Now, the other thing you need to know is that the Civic has a low gas light. Kevin will drive it until the light comes on and then switch to the Volvo. But the Volvo, being much older, only has a gas needle. Kevin’s technique is to drive the Volvo until the needle hits the red and then leave it for me. He is constantly telling me that the Volvo won’t be out of gas until the needle drops below the red. “No,” I told him “you have to refill the Volvo when it hits the red. Once it goes below the red, it’s on empty.” Kevin’s response to this is to chalk it up to one of my numerous neurotic tendencies and ignore me.

But last night, I went from neurotic to right.

Kevin switched cars on me Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning, I went out to the driveway and saw that the Volvo was first in line. I hoped in, started it up, and saw the needle sitting in the red. This made me very very very very very grumpy. I had just filled up the Civic and now Kevin was leaving me another car to take to the gas station. Since I only drive one mile to the park-n-ride, I decided to skip getting gas. Coming home that night, I debated with myself. Get gas or no? I decided two could play this game and passed the gas station. If Kevin was so sure about this whole below the red theory, he could just keep on driving the Volvo for all I cared.

Thursday morning I made sure I had the Civic. I admit, I felt a little guilty that morning but I soon got over it. That night, Kevin called around 8pm to say he getting off of work and was going to drop off a friend and then head home. I waited and waited and waited. He finally appeared around 10pm soaked and grumpy because, yes, you guessed it, HE RAN OUT OF GAS!!!! He got in the Volvo, saw the needle in the red and decided to drive it 20 miles to Vancouver and back WITHOUT STOPPING FOR GAS!!! Yes, he planned to leave it for me again. Only, his plans fell apart.

I’m afraid I was very undignified as I followed him from room to room chanting, “who was right? Huh? Who was right?” over and over again. Poor Kevin could only hang his head in shame and mutter “you were right, you were right.” I think at one point I actually burst into a spontaneous happy dance.

Kevin has promised to fill up whenever a tank is less than half full. He also needs a new pair of shoes from walking in the mud/rain for 10 blocks to the nearest gas station.

Oh happy day, oh happy day, my husband got stranded on the side of the road in the middle of the night in the pouring rain because he didn’t do what I said.

Can life get any better than this????