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November 11, 2015

I Dropped The Hammer

February 10, 2016

 

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TWO NEW COVERS!!!

First I had to share the new covers for Stare Him Down and Stare Her DownI love them! Stare Him Down will be released this spring and there’s additional information on that at the bottom of this post.

Honey story first.

Here’s the deal. Honey and I have been having a little bit of a domestic dispute over wood. Not his, thankfully, 😉 but the kind of wood I want him to use to make the shelves I want wrapped around the new corner wall he built in the living room. How hard can picking wood be?

*Looks right at you*

It has been excruciating and I’ll tell you why. The only wood I found at the lumber store that would work for me, Honey blew off saying he could find better at another store. I was like, “Okay.” But as it turns out those two perfect boards I picked out of the 300 I picked through weren’t available at other stores, and when he went back to get them they were gone. *side-eyes you* Not that he didn’t attempt to pull a fast one by bringing home two different boards and trying to pass them off as the ones I picked – he did.

*Shakes head* He shall never learn…

Anyways, long story cut short? We went out shopping for wood again and then came home empty handed. I was angry. So what did I do? I griped, complained, and harassed him the whole way home. We were still bickering when we got out of the truck (usually, we never bicker, so you have to know I was frustrated) Not so frustrated though, that I overlooked the stack of 1X10’s on my neighbor’s driveway. They looked old, weathered, beat-up and totally perfect for my shelves. Here’s the conversation.

I held a hand up and said to Honey, “Hold on a minute.”

“Gladly.”

“What’s that?”

He turned and then frowned, “How the hell should I know. That’s Steve’s junk. Not mine.”

“It’s old wood.”

He snapped back around to look at me. “So? You’re not thinking…? No.”

I nodded and promptly marched over to our neighbor’s house to ask him about his junk. After he told me that it was an old header out of his house that he’d screwed together to make a lift so he could get under his Corvette, *insert me stepping back and tilting my head in your direction here* Men do the stupidest things, don’t they? But in this case, Steve was bordering on genius in my eyes because that wood was perfectly aged – so all I had to do was tell him Honey would build him a new and improved wooden carjack or lift thingamajig and we’d all be good.

Wrong. He tilted his head like he had to think about it. Not a good sign and then his wife had to guilt him into giving up the goods which didn’t sit well with me either. I wanted the wood, but not if he was emotionally attached to it for some odd reason, you know what I’m saying?

So…this is what I did. The next day when Honey got home unexpectedly early I asked him to go next door and take one of the smaller boards off the pile. After he brought it in I explained what I wanted him to do to it. I wanted him to make a sample of distressed wood for me. I even pulled up a video on YouTube for him to watch. Once he had the process down it was out to the workbench to make the sample. After he beat it up he called me out to have a look before he put the paint and stain on it. Here’s the conversation.

“It looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

I looked it over and said, “Yeah it does. Are you going to stain it now?”

He smiled and handed me the hammer. “You want to try it?”

I thought, sure why not? “Okay. Do I just hit it straight or…?”

“No, on an angle. So it makes an imperfect dent.”

“Alright.” I didn’t even hesitate. I just smashed the hammer as hard as I could down on the small board. It jumped, the work bench jumped, and my arm vibrated in pain from palm right up to my shoulder. “Ow.”

“Give me that, before you hurt yourself.” He took the hammer from me and scowled. “What the hell?”

“You told me to hit it.”

“Not kill it.”

*Le sigh*

Anyways, after he used some paints and did the stain technique it was perfect! I was so happy, especially when he said, “If I knew this is what you were after from the beginning we would have had the shelves up weeks ago. It would actually be easier to get the effect you want with newer wood. This had a lot of gray color to it that I had to use the plane on in order to remove.”

*Stares right at you* Who says things don’t happen for a reason? Not me. I promptly told Honey to return the piece of sample wood to Steve’s pile. Did I mention that we never told our neighbor we were going to make a sample out of it? No? Well, we didn’t. And now when I look over at it I take pride in the fact that the one little piece of wood on the pile is the nicest looking old piece in the stack. Honey and are taking bets on how long it’s going to take Steve to notice the chic change. Probably not until he finishes his bathroom remodel and he has room for the pile in his garage again.

*Shrug* Doesn’t matter to me. Our neighbor gets to keep his old wood with the upcycled board in the mix, and I get new wood designed by Honey. :) Of course, Honey has already said that I don’t get to hammer those pieces of wood. Why you may ask? He’s afraid his workbench couldn’t take the blows.

*Lifts a brow in your direction* Don’t worry. I assured him that if I wanted to hammer his wood on the workbench, said “wood” most definitely would love the blows. Heheheheh.

Up next around here? I’m going to do something special for Valentine’s Day. On the 14th we’ll kick-off an epic build-a-giveaway to take place on the day Stare Him Down releases. On heart day, I’ll be revealing the cover and introducing you to Master James’ Barrington and his girl Michaela Donovan. This story is a little different, but the hero and heroine’s journey? That’s what has me completely enamored with them. So sexy and kind of sweet, until, you know? She makes a big mistake. Heh. Can’t wait for you to meet them.

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Riley

P.S I may have some remodel pictures on Valentine’s Day too! I read your emails. 😀

 

 

 


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Um…Excuse me?

February 4, 2016

 

domestic dispute

I’ve found myself saying this quite a bit lately. Why? Well, because Honey is on a roll. And by roll, I mean tumbling toward domestic disaster. Check out these beauties…

Time: Last week

Place: Our house

Situation: Remodel

I finally found the bed I wanted and it wasn’t the one Honey had his eye on, I can tell you that.

We’re both standing in the garage staring at the stacked frame that was just delivered and that’s when I noticed Honey’s unusual silence. I looked up. “Problem?”

“I’m still in shock.”

Imagine me doing an eye-roll here as I think about all the times he’s called me melodramatic over the years. “Shock? Seriously?”

“I thought we’d decided on the iron one at that pot store.”

*Looks right at you* Yeah, I always shop for my bedroom furniture while I peruse the frying pan aisle. *Shakes head and then corrects him.* “Pottery Barn. And no. You liked that one and I told you I wasn’t willing to pay that much cash for something I wasn’t in love.”

He glowers at me and points to the pieces of frame that are going to make my master bedroom centerpiece, and croaks out, “That.” Yup, he even went one outrage further by stabbing a point at our soon-to-be new bed. “That’s what you’re in love with?”

I nodded because it was. *Looks away and then looks back* Okay, truthfully, I wasn’t in love with it in its current condition, but Honey was going to change all that. I had big plans of him redoing the piece that’s probably why he was aggravated.

Long story short? I dropped the subject and, later on that night in our soon-to-be old bed, I made him VERY tired but extremely happy before I dropped the refurbish bomb on him. 😀

As an aside to this? Once he finished stripping the frame and doing the finish I wanted on the bed, he was even pleased. I nearly fell over when we got the bed into our room and he said, “Now I’m shocked for a different reason. This is the perfect choice.”

*Looks right at you* Never doubted it.

Time: Four nights ago

Place: Our family room

Situation: Hanging with Honey, and it’s commercial time so we’re talking

He says, “Man, it’s been a bad start to the year for musicians we love. Bowie and then the guitarist from the Eagles. Cancer is a bitch.”

“Glenn Frey was more than a guitarist. He founded the Eagles.”

I must pause here to tell you that this was probably the first time EVER that I knew something about music that Honey didn’t.*stares right at you* I wasn’t even sure if Honey didn’t have this information so I talked really fast to get it out and beat him to it just in case he did. Did it matter that I had just been reading an article on Glenn before I came to sit down? Nope.

“Do you know how old he was?”

Honey shook his head.

“Sixty-seven. And he didn’t die of cancer. Do you want to know what he did die of?”

Honey doesn’t blink. “A know-it-all-wife?”

Harharhar! That went over like a lead balloon. He gets to pontificate on all those documentaries and the one time I have something to pontificate upon he gets snippy? “No. Rheumatoid arthritis, complicated by colitis, and pneumonia.”

“All those were going to be my second guess before you spoiled it for me.”

*Insert me huffing my bangs off my forehead here* Men!

 

Time: Two days ago. Sunday

Place: Our garage

Situation: The bed is done and needs to be moved – piece by piece- into the house and our room.

Honey raises his hand in a motion to stop me. “No, don’t pick it up like this. Pick it up by…blah, blah, blah.”

Sorry, but when he gets that irritating “I know better than you” tone happening I tune him out.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” And I bent to pick up my side of the headboard exactly how I wanted to pick it up despite his condescending instructions to the contrary.

“I told you to bend your knees you’re going to hurt your back. This is heavy. I told you I should call one on my guys.”

*Imagine me wishing I had bent my knees because my back was already burning from lifting the stupid thing the wrong way, and then combine that tragedy with the fact that the #$@% thing was so heavy I didn’t want to speak in order to conserve my energy, here* But hey, you guys should know by now that I don’t let a little thing like good sense get in the way of petty-I-want-to-win-no-matter-what, pride. :)

“Relax. It’s Sunday. We don’t need to bother your crew. We can do this.”

“Do you need to stop? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“No.” Inside my head I’m screaming, for the love of God hurry up and let’s get this heavy thing to our room! But I plastered a tight smile on my bright red face and calmly replied, “I’m fine. Really.”

The foot board was heavy too, but not as bad as the headboard, and then all the top rails and the side rails…by the time we had all the pieces in the space I was ready to take a break. Honey? Not even a slight glistening sheen of sweat *Le sigh followed by a silent groan because…?* he was ready to drill.

*Pulls down my glasses and looks over their rim at you* That would be a literal drill not the proverbial slang for you know what. Anyways, he starts with that tone again, as he explains how the bed goes together. Grant it, there were a lot of separate parts and yes, I hadn’t put it together and taken it apart like he had, but there was only so much head-patting I was going to take in the course of one day. So I got kind of snippy.

“Have you been working with a lot of three-year-olds lately I’m not aware of?”

Honey, *blink, blink* “No. Why do you ask?”

There I am trying to keep my s*it together. “Because you’re treating me like one.” I leaned over and tapped the hook-slide where the side rails go. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one way to connect these rails and I don’t need a blow-by-blow “how to” to figure it out.”

“I made a mistake before.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact I stood ready to hear his apology. “I’m listening.”

“You are the first three-year-old I’ve worked with this year.”

Unbelievable! Then he turns into this robot guy and puts the whole bed together *imagine me snapping my fingers under your nose here* Just like that. I was relieved and miffed all at the same time.

Then we both stand back and look at the bed in the room. It’s perfect but…

“Looks great, babe, but I know what this needs.”

*Turns and lifts one brow at you* Remember when I told you between me and HGTV empowering him he actually believes he has a voice in our decorating schemes? Yeah. That.

*I turn to give him that raised brow* “Oh?”

“A white duvet set. Simple. Plain. Nothing too frou-frou or it will mess with the iron in the new doors.”

Dammit. He was right! Of all the times for him to be on design cue. “Glad you think so,” I said and then headed to my closet.

Yep, I’m one of those women who hides purchase in there. Not the usual purchases, though. My shoes, clothes, and new handbags never get hidden. In fact, I flagrantly leave those items out, daring Honey to complain and he never does, but other purchases…? Did I ever mention the time Honey found the spooky picture in my closet? No? Reader’s Digest version goes something like. I asked Honey to get my shoes out of my closet and when he did he was confronted by the ghost-like picture that I bought a couple of weeks before at an Estate sale. Forgot about her in there. My bad. Honey doesn’t like eerie things. He’d rather buy new where there’s no history attached to an object, and I like old, so I can imagine all kinds of creepy things. Take this woman in the picture for instance. Those eyes that follow you around – what have they seen? Anyways, that day, Honey comes into my office, not with my running shoes in hand, but the painting. LMAO even now remembering the look on his face. It’s so rare when Honey gets rattled that – yeah- I have to laugh. You know what he did? He put her out in the garage and it took me nearly a month to get her back into the house. Poor thing. Hm. Oddly enough she’s one of the pieces of artwork Honey wants to keep now that we’re changing things up. I’ll have to think about that…

But I digress.

Back to him being a know-it-all designer. I go into my closet and pull out the stack of new bedding I was going to introduce the first chance I got when he was out of the house. I brought it over to the bed and dumped the packages there. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on one thing.”

He looks down at the numerous squares that contained a duvet cover, pillow cases, sheets, shams and decorative pillows – all white with just one little pinstripe running through for a simple design, and gasps. “Sixty dollars for that?”

He was eyeing one of the smaller items, and before he got a load of the duvet cover price *You have to imagine me diving sideways onto the bed – over the entire pile of purchases and landing with my head in my palm and a come hither expression on my face as I use my free hand to pat an empty spot on the mattress, purring* “Maybe we should christen the new bed. What do you think?”

“I think you’re working your voodoo woman charm on me so I don’t see how much this new s*it cost us. That’s what I think.”

All I did was grin and when he grinned back I knew I had him.

*Looks away and then looks back*

Do you know how hard it is to get comfortable with your man when all you’re worried about is ditching the evidence that’s basically underneath you? No? It was brutal. I pulled muscles I didn’t even know I had.

Man, the things I do for marital bliss. Good thing Honey appreciates it. And I’m sure I haven’t heard the last of the sixty dollar linen item. Honey can’t tell you what he had for dinner the day before – unless it was pot roast – but he can tell you how much I paid for a chair I fell in love with in 1989. *shakes head* What’s up with that?

Thanks for stopping by! I’ve missed you guys!

Riley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Honey, I Did Not Say that…Yes I did!

January 11, 2016

domestic dispute

So what have Honey and I been up to over the last few weeks? Well, I’ll tell you. We’ve been negotiating the tricky and diverse waters of surviving the remodel. The last time we took on a project of this proportion I wasn’t writing, so all Honey had to do was say, “Okay. Sure. Whatever you want, babe. Draw it out for me. Order it and I’ll install it.” *Sigh* Such wonderful memories.

Now? *Arches a brow at you and then sighs more deeply this time.* Things are different. As in I made a huge mistake giving him a bit of the power to pull the trigger on some very important decisions. I thought I was being reasonable and kind listening to his ideas before I vetoed them, but then I noticed something strange going on. While I was in my secluded world – creating worlds – he was outside my door doing whatever the heck he wanted to do with my walls, floors, and doorways!

How the hell did this happen?

*Looks right at you* I’ll tell you how. Honey stopped watching documentaries and started watching HGTV!!!! Those DYI-egomanic-builders.  Why is this a bad – no, scratch that, a TRAGIC thing? Before them, Honey only dared to build things to my specifications. He followed directions well and didn’t try to stick his novice-in-the-art-of-design-nose into my vision, but now he’s an effing visionary who “according to him” – knows better about popular colors and the latest and most hottest decorating trends around than I do.

*Takes a deep breath and pulls up a chair to tell you like it is.*

We have been married for 30 years. And in all those years I have never followed a trend. Decorating is my thing and just because I’m a fulltime author now, doesn’t mean I lose my taste or ability to redesign our home. Clearly Honey did not get the memo. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having conversations like these. Check them out.

This convo happened when Honey was measuring the relocated double door opening we made going into our bedroom. This is me.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking on the size.”

“Why? Didn’t you already order the doors I picked out?” This was a logical question because I picked the doors based on the size of the opening. Honey had triple measured so I was confident the doors I picked were going to be perfect. In fact, all Honey had to do was call the supplier and give them the info.

“Yeah, but I ordered the 36’s instead of the 30’s.”

*Imagine me dragging my hands down the sides of my face here* Why would he do this? Presently, I could go into detail about how the doors have glass with iron inserts sandwiched between them and the reason I wanted the 30 inch doors was so one couldn’t see the door frame through the glass when they were fully closed. I could, but I won’t bore you with important details like that.

“Any particular reason you made that call without asking me?”

“You were busy, babe. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Oh. Thanks. Can I see the tape measure for a minute?”

He handed it over, but was quick to say, “They’ll fit. Don’t be worried about that.”

After I measured, I let the tape snap closed. “And I hate to bother you because I know how busy you’re are, babe, but…”

“What? There’s no but. They’re going to be a show stopper.”

I didn’t necessarily disagree. In fact, I originally wanted the bigger doors but Honey had already framed the opening before he gave me a chance to decide about this. Come to think of it. It’s funny how things work themselves out eventually in my favor. But I digress. “The opening needs to be bigger.”

He gets that look on his face. The one that says, “Yeah, I’ll be all over doing that for you when hell lands in a deep freeze and Beelzebub skates by to hand me a cherry-flavored snow cone.”

I didn’t blink. “Do you remember the conversation we had about the glass in the doors?”

“I ordered exactly the ones you want except a little bigger. Didn’t you want the 36’s from the get-go?”

“Yep, but tell me, why did you say no before?”

“I don’t know. They were probably more expensive.”

*Looks right at you* Now that made all kinds of sense. Honey is known in our family to be the thrifty one. Me? Not so much. But either way, surprisingly, money wasn’t the issue in this case. “I’m sure they were, but the reason you originally said no was because of the size of the door frame. You explained how we’d see the trim and a good portion of the wall through the glass insert when the doors were closed. I didn’t want that. Remember that domestic dispute?”

He doesn’t even have to think for a second. He just barks, “#@#@!”

Aw, he remembered. “So even though I hate to bother you, babe, when you’re so busy with other work, I have to. You’re going to have re-frame the doorway and make it bigger.”

The irony of all this? Later while I was busy writing like I was when he didn’t want to bother me over those details – his sawing and hammering to make that opening bigger wound up bugging the s*it out of me. *Le sigh*

Then there was this a couple of days ago…

I handed him a few color swatches and asked, “These are the colors I’ve narrowed down for the back wall. Do you have a preference?” They were basically the same shade but this kind of tactic used to work on him prior to his HGTV watching. Normally, he’d just pick one thinking he’d made the final decision and in the end we were both happy because I got what I wanted. 😀

“I thought we weren’t going to do an accent wall?”

That was half true, but I’ve always told him that I wanted to paint around our sliders a particular shade to bring in the outdoors. There’s only a little wall space surrounding those doors so you really couldn’t think of it as an accent, you know? “Well we are.”

“It’s putrid.”

Bah! I must pause here to collect myself. The guy really does have some great descriptors. “Okay, so what about the other one?”

“Less putrid.”

*shake head at you because they are both the same shade just different paint companies* “Great. Less putrid it is.”

“You sure about this?”

*Takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly* Will the man never learn? “Yep.”

Fast forward an hour. He’s gone to the paint store and comes home with the putrid paint. “I’m not putting this on the walls.”

“Alright. Just leave it on the counter. When I finish writing this scene I will.”

He leans into my office and grins. “I’m not kidding.”

I grinned right back. “Neither am I.”

He disappears from my view, but I hear him say, “I’m leaving it for you.”

To which I called, “Go right ahead. But you may want to get the ceiling and wall paints out for touch ups after I’m done. I seem to be forgetting to wear my glasses lately and you know what kind of havoc that will create on the beautiful paint job you’ve already done in there.”

“Riley Murphy,” He called and I could hear the telltale sound of him shaking the paint can in preparation of him painting the wall. Heh. My threat worked. Honey prided himself on perfectly cut-in lines, and me? Not. At. All. Helen Keller assisted by Stevie Wonder could do a better job, trust me. Then he shouts, “If Satan had a daughter…”

“Did you just call my mom the devil? I’m telling!” I shouted back.

“Don’t bother. I already heard, sweetheart, and that’s not what he said.”

That would be my mom who ALWAYS sides with Honey and selectively hears things depending on her mood. But that’s another blog post.

Fast forward an hour later, and me walking into the living room. “I like it. What do you think?”

“I think it pains me to have to say this, but you were right. It frames the landscaping in the backyard and really makes the room.”

“Yay.” I gave him a hug from behind. “I’m glad you like it, but you were a big part of choosing the color. The less putrid shade was definitely the way to go.” *Turns and gives you the big wink here* Men are so easy sometimes, aren’t they? 😉

But wait, there’s more.

Did I forget to mention that while HGTV was included on Honey’s TV watch list now, he’s also been watching the cooking channel? No? Well, well, well, he has been, and guess what? He is moving out of his BBQ, Smoker, and rotisserie comfort zone, and sliding right into the kitchen to put a meal together when he’s feeling inspired.

*Happy dance*

But then…well, here are some conversation starts around the kitchen table lately.

One meal:

“Do you like it?”

At least I think that’s what he asked me, but it was hard to hear him over the crunchy rice in my mouth.

Another time:

“Too much salt?”

Couldn’t answer him here because I was downing a gallon of water. >.<

About a week and half ago:

“I decided to make it with beef even though the recipe called for shrimp.”

That would explain the, ah…uniqueness of flavor. *Gives you the owl eyes* Why??? For the love of…

And then there was his spaghetti dinner two nights ago. It wasn’t bad. In fact it was pretty good. So I told him so. I also told him his garlic bread was delicious.

What did he do? He reached over and gave me the hand pat, before correcting me. “It’s not just bread it’s a crostini.”

AND here I invoke the power of the snow globe!

IMG_1650_2

 

Seriously???

This is the same man who told our son one morning that the bottle of cream of tartar they’d found in the spice rack when they were making breakfast for me was the powder Mommy used to make that great white sauce for fish called Tartar sauce. I would have laughed over that mistake if he didn’t follow it up with the line. “Bingo. Here’s the sugar we need to put into the eggs.” *Side-eyes you* They were making scrambled!

Sugar.

Scrambled eggs.

Imma gonna leave that right here.

O.o

Thanks for stopping by!

Riley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Happy New Year’s to…

January 1, 2016

 

photo 1 (34)

Congrats to lucky #7 – Peggy! Yay! You won our build-a-giveaway!!! If you email me the address where I can mail the goods to I’ll get them shipped right off to you. 😀

domestic dispute

 

Now for a few fun facts about Honey during holiday time.

Are you thinking ho, ho, ho? Nah, usually ha,ha,ha! And here’s why…

Honey likes to participate in the festive decorating of things only when I’m not home.

*Side-eyes you*

Interesting, eh?

This year I came home to find my four NOEL ceramic angels spelled, leoN, oNle, and my personal favorite, el No. <- As you can see Honey dropped the “he” on the first word there. But don’t worry. When I scowled at the placement and then turned to him, arching my brow, he said, “I know you’re thinking el No he didn’t! But as you can see? Hell, yes I did.” *shakes head* He’s such a comedian.

Then there was the evening I arrived home from shopping – not in the best mood, mind you, and I walk up to our front door only to find two of my Light up Nut Cracker guys humping one another. Honey’s still pleading the fifth over that one.

The day before Christmas he trimmed the Poinsettia plant I put on the piano. Only problem? He snipped the one branch that was bothering him because it was sticking out too far before he realized it was a silk plant. *Looks right at you* Then he bit*ched because I made him fix it. Of all the nerve.

Meh, I could live with all these things without complaining, but the one thing that really got to me this year? Was Honey messing with my little family tradition that goes something like this:

Riley prepares the bird. Riley makes the stuffing. Riley even boils the giblets to strain and then use the water to make the gravy. But Riley does not stuff the bird. I leave that up to…Well, it used to be my Mom, siblings, Honey, and then our kids and the nieces and nephews, but they’ve all gotten wise to me so I’ve had to expand my slave labor for poultry to include my children’s significant others. This year it was my soon-to-be son in-law’s turn. No problem, right?

Wrong.

The poor guy had never stuffed a bird before and after I handed the breading over to him and explained what he had to do I left him alone in the kitchen with part of my gang – Honey was there, so I thought everything was fine.

Again, wrong.

By the time I checked on things with the guests in the living room and went back into the kitchen nearly twenty minutes later to make sure the bird had been put in the oven, I found my son-in-law-to-be elbow deep in the bird. Literally jamming the stuffing into the thing. I’m not going to go into the visual on that because I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m still waking up at night in a cold sweat. Suffice it to say that Honey tried to spin this episode of poultry hazing as a “male rite of passage BS thing” to me.

I did the big *Le sigh* and told Honey in private that the only thing I’d believe was if my soon-to-be family member was practicing to become a farm animal vet. >.<

What did Honey reply without blinking an eye?

“Babe, I’m not a monster. If he was, I would have given the kid a pair of gloves to put on.”

Honey is so bad. And there I was worried that the emulsified stuffing squashed to the back of the bird’s cavity would affect the way the turkey cooked only to find out that this year’s turkey was probably one of the best we had.

When Honey and I got into bed that night and I mentioned how great the turkey was – no doubt because of the stuffing, Honey put his arms around me and sighed. The kind of sigh I know means something…how shall I put this? Not good?

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t think it was the stuffing that made the bird so tasty.”

*Cue bad feeling washing over me here* “Oh?”

“It could have been the fifteen minute massage old Tom turkey had before he was stuffed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You did not have our future son-in-law do that, did you?”

“Absolutely. A full service one with the melted butter and spice stuff you mixed. Think of it as fowl foreplay.”

Oh, yeah, I was thinking something was foal, but not the bird. Men! That’s when it came to me and I said, “El No. I don’t care how tasty the turkey was this year! I’m not rubbing down the meat next year. I can tell you that.”

Funny thing? Honey wasn’t worried about meat being rubbed down next year. His only concern was the, er, *cough, cough, certain meat in the moment being serviced.

*Drops chin to chest and blows out a breath*

Men really are strange creatures, aren’t they?

Thanks for stopping by!

Riley

Oh, and make sure you check back. I’ve got a lot of new and interesting things planned for this year. It should be fun! Are you guys ready for 2016?


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