So, there we were at the store looking for living room furniture for the condo, when…

*Looks right at you*

I hear the word “No.”

So, you have to imagine I did a double take. A triple take, and then I was checking my purse for a thermometer, because surely my husband did not countermand my design choose.

Yeah, this never happens. Not on account of me being the designer guru or anything. I tend to think it has to do with him not giving a rat’s butt about the décor.

As long as it’s functional, comfortable and something he can wear in. He likes to make his preferred seats his, you know?

So, where was I going with this? Well, I’ll tell you. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and see what happened. Here’s the conversation.

This is me, after I get over my shock and decide to roll with the upper-cut. “No? What, don’t you like the color? We can change that.” Not that I planned to, or anything, I just wanted to feel him out.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

Kinda broad, but okay. We moved along, and I see another couch set. A small sectional. “What about this one?”

He affected a face and sighed. “No.”

When we made the rounds of the store and he’d literally said no to everything I pointed out, I threw up my hands in mock defeat. “We’re reached the end of the road, buddy. This is where we came in and you didn’t like anything.”

To which his eyes lit up when he said, “I liked a couple of things.”

There’s me. *Blink, blink*

Then I looked around at a loss. “Um…where?”

God love him. Seriously, I mean he walked to the left and slapped a hand down on a coffee table that was too big. Did I mention that we were looking for light beachy tones and this was almost black? No? Well, yes it was. Bless his little heart. He said, “I like this one.”

Then he marched past me going left. “I like this couch.”

*Leans in to whisper* It was a couch and half. It even had an XL on the sales tag. So, in terms of it fitting into our small condo? Yeah, no.

“I think this is a good design.” He walked to an end table that I thought was a bistro table of some kind, until I realized it was meant to go with humungous couch. Only it was in a teal color instead of a sand color.

“And I think these are interesting.”

I looked at the lamps he was pointing to and I didn’t know what to say. Speechless never happens to me, so I tried to find a positive here. One little—nope, couldn’t do it. “Are they supposed to be animals or is that a cactus?”

It was hard to tell. They were free-form something or other. Coulda been a giraffe or the cactus I mentioned. Hell, they could have been stylized brown waves that were supposed to be forever parked on one’s end table to remind a person, or possibly your guests, not to pollute the oceans.

Bottom line? They weren’t going to be parked in my house.

I tried my best to sugarcoat my displeasure. “I’m sure if we were doing a brown theme, or even a beige one – as those two shades go together, the lamps would work. But with beachy shades…?”

“Wet sand is brown.”

Yeah, and so is a wet blanket. I guess I was being one because, for the life of me, I just couldn’t get excited about the yellow couch that was the size of the condo, end tables that could double a bar-tops and lamps that looked better suited to go to a wood carver for his next project than to win prized positions on my end tables.

Meh, it wasn’t until we got back into the car without buying anything that it hit me. I never bring him furniture shopping with me. What the hell was I thinking?

Clearly, I hadn’t been…

Anyone else have a husband story?

As always, thanks for stopping by!






Let’s Play: The Mysterious Laundry Challenge…Oh, And We Have A Giveaway Winner!


Okay, have a look at these precious Honey laundry finds.

*I shall pause here to reflect*

For those of you who are new to Honey’s laundry “specialness”, let me fill you in.

The man is a collector. Don’t ask me why. To this day, I still have fond memories of us sitting together around the campfire when we were younger, drinking beer and shooting the breeze with our friends – while I’d watch him peel his brew labels off, and stuff the paper bits in his pocket.

*Side-eyes you*

Always thought this was because he didn’t like to litter. But, well, as you can see, the man collects these work-related smalls. A screw, or nail, or…?

Yeah, I don’t want to spoil the challenge, so let me ask you this. After examining the group of items in this latest treasure trove of laundry findings, what item doesn’t belong?

Come on, look harder. You have to see what I see.

*Points right at you* Exactly! The bobby-pin. *frowns and drums fingers* Now, what do you suppose the man was using that for? Picking locks? I hope not. It’s not part of his job description. But, then, neither is collecting these little bits-and-bobs I’m stuck pulling out of the dryer on laundry day.

Those annoying clink, clink, clink, clink sounds as the dryer turns? They drive me nuts…and, funny enough, they give me nuts, and bolts, and—you get the picture. 😉

When I asked him about the hair pin…well, here’s the conversation.

“So, I did the laundry today and look what I found. Any idea why you kept this?”

Quite frankly, I’d given up asking him about the mars/morets (wire connectors), screws and gaskets. He’s a collector, remember? Which did have me worried about him taking up with collecting female hair paraphernalia. This is where I was going to have to draw the line. You know what I’m saying?

Honey doesn’t even blink. He looks at the bobby-pin, and sighs. “It was probably in the way.”

And there’s me, blink, blink. In the way? The thing was tiny. “Of what?”

“Running my fingers through my girlfriend’s hair.”

Okay, I was ready to freak out here, because I wasn’t expecting that quick comeback, but then he smiled.

“What the hell do you think it was in the way of? Try me being able to apply floor patch smoothly down at the job site.”

And, again, me blink, blink, before everything was back in proper perspective. That’ll teach me not to tease the man so much. Phew! But hey, anyone else think of the pin obstructing a clean pour on a floor patch?



Haha! His girlfriend. That man. Like he could handle two of us…he’s having a hard enough time with just me. 😀


Okay, onto the winner. Congrats! There is an email in your inbox. Please let me know you’ve received the notice, and I will post your name and the detail of our next build-a-giveaway in my next post.

As always, thanks so much for stopping by! I hope none of you are stuck chained to the washer today. Now that I’ve finished mine up, I’m toying with the idea of making a laundry collage. Wouldn’t that be neat? Say I collected Honey’s “littles” all year and thenstuck them on…I don’t know, a big tool. I could surprise him with the sculpture at Christmas. Oooh, I might be onto something here. I will keep you posted. Poor Honey.




The Spear of Destiny!


I kid you not! Last night Honey and I were watching Jeopardy and he’s killing it with the correct answers. *Insert me not impressed at all here*

Actually? I do, but jest. I really was thinking the guy was doing great. Unfortunately, he thought so too.

*Looks right at you* I really hated that, but what can you do?

Ooh, Ooh, *raises hand in air and does the puppy dogs eyes at you hoping to get picked to share* Pleeease let me tell you!

Thanks. Okay, here goes…

It’s simple. You just deny, ignore, and then deny again. Here’s the conversation. Mind you, this is after he got a bazillion right on Jeopardy, just saying. State of mind is everything during our discussions. Heh. And watching Jeopardy would explain the topic we arrived at, because Mr. Trebek was looking for the mountain that erupted to bury Pompeii.

Honey got that one right, Vesuvius, but it was easy – so, I just ignored him. See? Simple. Then Honey switched the station to a show I have a hard time watching. Two guys digging up a beautiful island to find treasures? *sigh* Dang, when are men going to realize the island is the treasure?

Anyway, when I complained to Honey, he tells me they are looking for religious artifacts.

*Lifts a brow at you* And that’s different? I could go into the heated discussion we had about the Knights Templar, but I won’t. Suffice it say, that Honey thinks those guys rocked because they stood up and protected all manner of things – and I happen to like them because they were warriors who believed in something greater than themselves. Hence, me thinking that the items they supposedly kept safe and then hid so that they’d continue to remain safe – should stay hidden.

Honey? Not so much. Here’s the conversation.

Honey is staring at my profile as I don’t want to look at him. I was a little miffed, and I wanted him to know it. He knew it alright. “So, what you’re telling me, Ms. Smarty-pants, is that they should stop digging?”

And at that exact moment in the show, one guy finds – after laboriously sifting through a whole bunch of dirt he dug up – a piece of pottery that was the size of a quarter…maybe.

*Pulls down my glasses and steadily eyes you*

Let me repeat that. After digging up a whole pile of dirt for some time, the “excavator” -and I use that term loosely, found a piece of glazed pottery that was the size of a quarter. He shows it to their expert who gives it a cursory look and declares that it’s from the 1700’s.

There’s me *blink, blink* How could he possibly know? And the excavator must have read my thoughts because he asks, “How do you know that?”

That’s when I hear the expert say, “I can tell by the glaze.”

Seriously? It looked like – and probably was – someone’s broken coffee mug, but whatever. I turn to Honey ready to tell him how insane this show was – when he laughs out loud. Even he got how ludicrous it was that the “crew” was speculating about who may have owned it.

After we added our two cents in about that – I suggested Captain Hook, and he said Captain Morgan would be more fun 😉 He brought up the religious artifacts again. Then he starts naming them.

“The ark of the covenant, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Chalice, the Spear of Destiny—”

And there’s me. “Hang on a minute. The Spear of what? Destiny? Sounds like Thor’s hammer, or Wonder Woman’s magic lasso.”

To which he says, “Do you mean to tell me, that a good Catholic girl like you were growing up, you never heard of the spear that supposedly pieced Christ’s ribs – delivering the final death blow?”

*Insert me, totally offended here* Hey, I was. I didn’t sit through mass every Sunday, and attend Sunday school, and Catholic school even, you know, just in case I didn’t get enough bible, to have Mr. “God and I have a special relationship” – tell me that I didn’t know my spears.

“It’s called the Holy Spear. Not some Marvel knock off for Super heroes.”

He handed me his phone. “Look it up and then we’ll talk.”

I did. Crap! *blows that annoying strand of hair out my eyes in frustration – big, HUGE frustration* Because he was right. Which, you know, was just perfect. Not really, but what could I do?

Concede you say?


Fortunately, right at that exact minute, the show gave me an out when they started to lavishly speculate about another possible item they’d found on their island. Honey was caught up listening to their suppositions – and when they were done, I shook my head.

“Man,” I said. “Those guys should have called me. I could have scripted this to be entertaining, and somewhat believable.”

Honey gave me the side-eye. “Oh, really? What’s not to believe?”

“Something plausible. Now, if we were talking about something so off-the wall – like…like…Yes! What they need are some unicorn bones or a dragon’s head. John Q Public would be all over that.”

I was expecting Honey to laugh, but you know what he did? He nodded, and then he said, “Did I ever tell you about those guys digging for gold in Alaska? They found a freaking Mastodon bone. A big mother of a one too.”

And there’s me… Blink, blink.


Because Honey didn’t give a rat’s excrement what I thought about his stupid shows – that turns out – weren’t so stupid after all. How could they be if he was learning all those Jeopardy question/answers. You know what I mean?

Ha ha! How crazy is that?

So, *looks around* How’s everyone’s New Year’s going? Good I hope. I’m planning on making 2018 a great one! You?

As always, thanks for stopping by! I’ll be finishing up our build-a-giveaway over the next two posts, so check back.





It’s A Bird, A Plane, A Giant’s Q-Tip???

I figured I’d put that disclaimer out there because I love Santa Claus…and after he reads this I know I’ll be on his naughty list. Which isn’t so bad. I’m sure if I buy myself the right kind of gifts, the big guy will come around. *Wink, wink*

*Drum roll please*

And now without further ado, here is that post I promised. Read it and weep. Yes, weep. Seriously, you should be shedding tears of joy that you didn’t get these delivered to your house the way I did.

Check out this slice of Riley’s life…if you dare. 😉

Exhibit A

Not impressed? Take a gander.

Um, yeah. Anyways, here’s the conversation I had with my daughter about it. Please keep in mind that I ordered certain items in two separate occasions from a particular female friendly – as in very friendly online store – and the Giant’s swab was the first “Free gift” I received with purchase.

And, no, I’m not going to mention that I lucked out getting a “free gift” on account of the size of my order. BUT if I was going to share that info I would be compelled to add that it’s all for story research.

*Crosses fingers*

So, phew, good thing I don’t have to tell you that – because I’m already in enough trouble with Santie- ’nuff said, right?

Now for Exhibit B

Stunned I was…

But, wait, there’s more…

In case you haven’t guessed, this was the *Free gift* with my second order. *curls fingers and examines my fingernails, while I give you a chance to digest this*


Well, for starters, if you’re anything like me, you should be having a
Goldilocks moment here. As in, “Oh, dear me, the first vibrating phallic is too big, and the second is too small…”

*Looks right at you and lifts a dubious brow* Don’t assume there’s a happily ever after here, because there ain’t. I haven’t placed a third order. But now that I think about it? Maybe I should. You know, just for the “free gift” and to see if it’s just right.

Alright, alright, I promise to post what I get when I order.

*Looks away and that looks back at you*

You guys know me too well. Heheheh.

But back to the conversation I had with my daughter. I’m laughing right now even before I get this down. Ah, good times…

I’ll set this up, but don’t ask me what the Q-Tip was doing under the spare bed in the guest room. I think I put it there when we were renovating my closet. I SO did not want Honey to see the beast – but, yeah, you know, that didn’t work out. Especially after my daughter got involved.

*Cries laughing thinking about that*

So imagine one day, when my daughter and I are looking for the suitcases that I have a tendency to shove under beds because I love my closet space. There I am on one side of the guest bed and she’s on the other. We are both on our hands and knees scanning under  the bed when…? Yep, our eyes lock on the monster at the same time.

Seriously, I’ve never seen the girl move so fast as she did that day. She had the beast (in a box – a very clear box that made it seem more daunting) in hand so quickly I was left staring at the swinging bed skirt for a full 30 count before I unbent and our gazes locked across the width of the mattress.

She didn’t blink. “What. Is. This?”

I didn’t blink either. “A dildo.”

She did a double take and then scowled. “I know what it is, mom.”

She looked so adorable getting ready to read me the riot act, I had to say something to deflate what was sure to be another one of those, “Oh, mom” conversations. “It looks like a giant’s ear swab. His big honking Q-Tip. An audio bottle-brush, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah it does. Where did you get it?”

I wasn’t going to have that conversation with her, because she might want to see the other stuff I ordered…and that wasn’t happening.

Did I mention that I think fast on my feet? No? I do. So I stood up and said, “Oh, you wait right there. You haven’t seen the best yet. This will kill you.”

Of course, I rushed to my room and dug out none other that the Mr. Sad. This was sure to stop her from digging, you know what I’m saying?

When I returned she was sitting on the bed and I did the old “Ta-da!”

She gave me a look that said, “Oh, please,” and then she followed that up with. “Womp-womp.”

I pretended like I was offended. “What? You don’t find him attractive?”

To which she said, “No wonder the giant sprung for this.” She held up the bottle-brush monster. “He’d need it because little finger there, isn’t going to cut it when he gets wax build up.”

And you know? She had a point. To this day, I still call the sad guy, little finger. Hahaha!

There, now you know my secret. Honey still hasn’t seen Little Finger. He’d probably laugh his ass off if he did.

Such is life around Riley’s house.

You guys have anything happen like this to you before?

Share please.

Ooooh. Maybe it’s time I pass on the joy. Yeah, maybe I should wrap the bottle-brush monster and send it to my brother in-law for Christmas. That way I could be sure there’d be some awkward situation going on at their house over the holidays. If I sent it to my sis, she’d trash it and tell me it wasn’t funny — but, think about it. If I sent it to her husband to surprise her? He’d be all over that idea.

Oh, boy. Santie Clause is going to be steaming despite the cold when he hears me cooking up these kinds of ideas…

But hey, it’s not my fault. I love to spread the joy. Can I help it if I’m the one who sometimes experiences the most of it? Nope. It just happens that way. 😀

As always, thanks for stopping by.

Tomorrow? It’s back to our build-a giveaway!

Stay tuned. I’m decidedly cheerful going into the Christmas count down so anything could happen. Don’t tell Honey! 😀



Deck The Balls With Hows Of Folly?


I’d say, “Ho, Ho, Ho”, but it’s more like Bah, ha, ha, ha!

*Pulls down my readers to look at you over the rim*

Honey is in fine form this Xmas season. Check it out.

Place: Our dining room

Time: This morning

Occasion: Computer tutoring 101

Imagine him staring at the new laptop as if it’s a rabid alien suffering from a dual case of horrific malaises. *Narrows eyes while I think about an appropriate analogy*

Got it.

In this scenario, the alien is not only suffering from the plague, but a very contagious skin hive-rash type deal that is transferred instantaneously once contact is made.


Imagine me rolling my eyes at the silly man for keeping his distance. 😉

Here’s the conversation.

Me, “It’s not going to start itself. Push the button.”

He pops his brows as he scans the open beastie. “I would if I could find it. Maybe you need a fob.”

*Looks right at you* Seriously?

“Nope. It’s right where the other one was, only smaller.”

“Yeah,” like that’s going to help.”

I didn’t say anything to that because, quite frankly, I happened to agree with him. I mean who are the people designing these new electronics? Rabbits? Which, you know, does beg the question, how many carrots must one consume to keep up with the 20/20 vision required to use the new equipment?

*Shakes head*

He must have seen me do this because he sighed and said in that voice that makes me laugh, “You promised to be patient.”

I was being patient. “I am being more than patient.”

Did I mention that I’m not a big fan of doing computer stuff with him at anytime – let alone on a Sunday? No? Well, suffice it to say that I’d rather do laundry in between raking the lawn and emptying the garbage.

*Cups hand behind ear and leans towards you* What’s that you ask?



I’ll tell you why. The man is a study of contradictions when it comes to being taught the dos and don’ts of online security etiquette.

I know I’ve mentioned how everyone becomes Honey’s friend once they meet him. Remember the guys going golfing and me getting stuck with the wives I’d never met before?

*Leans in to whisper* That did not not end well…

Anyways, it’s no different with the computer, and it should be. I mean, you don’t tell the person on the phone helping you with your online difficulties with getting into – or signing up to – a new account on you-name-it website that

A: You don’t know what your doing.

B: That your old password is _______ (fill in the blank because he did) and would it be okay to use the same one again.

OR, my personal favorite

C: My wife is staring daggers at me right now and I have no idea why, so thank you very much for being patient with me as she clearly isn’t.

Imagine me with an absolutely shocked expression here.


Because I was being patient.

But…I digress. The whole reason I decided to blog about this came when he told the girl  (by the girl, I mean the person on the line that has a million calls lined up with people looking for her expertise and help) to hold on a moment.


Then the frigging guy points at me with the index finger on his other hand and says something ridiculous.

Truthfully, I don’t even know what he said. All I saw was his finger wagging in front of my nose.

Right then I decided to stop trying to figure out if he deserved to be on my naughty list.

*Looks away and then looks back*

Come on! You guys know me. I had no choice but to jump on that happy naughty-list bandwagon with…

“Careful, babe, I’ll bite it. No, I’ll lick it. Actually, I might suck it, and then what are you going to do?”

He didn’t even hug his cell closer against him – so we both knew the girl “put on unofficial hold” could hear what we was being said – the bugger!

Then he gets this smarmy expression on his face, and says, “Riley! In the work place environment this could be construed as sexual harassment. What will HR have to say about it?”

I folded my arms over my chest and shrugged. “I’d say, ‘You go girl!’ and then I’d tell you to grow a pair.”


You see? These conversations never work out between Honey and I, because there he was trying to figure out whether he was going to deal with me, or the computer crap we both hated, and there I was, daring him with a look that screamed, “Oh-oh- Pick me!”

In the end? Neither one of us made the naughty list. But Honey? He managed to do what he needed to on the new device. So…yay, him!

Speaking of devices. *raises a brow in your direction* Tomorrow, being that it’s close to the end of the year and I’ve lived with the shock of this secret since spring, I’m going to share like I’ve never shared before!

Be afraid guys.

Very afraid.

It involves the ordering of certain “feminine entertainment” devices. I shall explain all in my post – but for now I want you to think of two things.

  1. A giant with potatoes growing in his ears
  2. And his little finger

As always, thanks for stopping by!