Time to build the 6 ft cat tree. Or “Let’s see if this relationship will survive”

“He won’t read directions”

“We can’t do any home project together without wanting to rip each others hair out”

“He’s a control freak and wont let me help”

“She gets all the tools, and hardware mixed up.”

“She doesn’t know what a flat head is compared to a phillips head”

Does any of this sound vaguely familiar to you? If so you might be suffering from ~ Incompatible Home Improvement Syndrome.

It affects 1 in 3 couples, and has been known to tear apart relationships before they can even have a chance to get off the ground running.

“Hey hun, I found a great painting that would look fantastic in the hallway. Let’s put it up?” Does hearing that question send shivers down your spine? 

If so, let me assure you, your compatible mate to home improvement projects is out there and waiting for you to find them. Quite possibly in your nearest home improvement store.

All joking aside, if you think about how many times you and your partner have worked together building something, working on a home improvement project, cooking, etc. it probably hasn’t been without some flaws, and sometimes you realize that it’s just better to not do something together. It’s not a bad thing to do your own thing. You may not be interested in laying tile, he may not want to crack a few eggs for brownies, you may not want to get down and dirty with grout, and he may look at you with three heads when you say you want to make a souffle with him. Or vice a versa if he enjoys doing the cooking and you’d rather paint the back deck. Whatever it is you like to do, it’s often fun to at least try to do it with your partner.

Sometimes it doesn’t always work out for the best. You can get on each others nerves for the littlest thing.

That has been my luck in some of my relationships. Often times, because I am a little extra independent and will do the home improvement project as well as the souffle, we can end up butting heads. Everyone has a better way of doing something that they think is the best way to do it because they’ve done it millions of times before and sometimes (yes I’m singling out men here from my perspective) men don’t like it if women know how to do something that they believe they should be doing. Especially if the woman does it faster and presumably better than them.

I’ve been really lucky in the sense that David and I work really well together, either in the kitchen or in the project fix it area. We have our moments where I’d like a little extra space while mixing up something in the kitchen, or he would like me to hand him the allen wrench a little faster. Like before he asks for it he expects I’d already know he needs it and have it waiting for him lol. I also have moments where I think he should know when to hand me an egg for mixing up a cake, but we don’t always get what we want.

Last week, we had a lot cut out for us. We decided to tackle the project of the 6 ft cat tree for Lilo and Stitch to play and lounge on.

We almost bought one in Petco, but found this huge one online at Chewy.com at a really great price and it was larger than the one in the store.

What did we get ourselves into, we thought. Actually it wasn’t that bad.  25 some odd parts, screws, hoozywatsis, and about an hour later, we came out with a stronger sense of self. Or each other if you will.

It didn’t happen without a few little hiccups, let’s be frank, because at one point we thought we had an extra screw. It turned out to be the anchor for the wall if we chose to use it. We worked well together, until part 10 had to go into slot b, then it was all a mess…for a moment.

He expected that I knew he needed the allen wrench at that exact moment.

“Hello where’s the wrench?”

“Why, we don’t need it yet, I’ll get it when we get to screw 19.”

Expectation is the root of all evil… or a grumpy moment for some people. I turned around and pointed to the wrench…

“If you want it so bad, reach over and grab it!”

He perked up pretty quick, and made a joke out of it as usual with a grab of my bum and we were off to finish up our project.  But then Stitch decided she was making home of one of the cubbies, before we could get to it. Finally after some coaxing with the treats, she came out and let us finish up.

All in all we worked very well together, and that in and of  itself is a huge accomplishment in many relationships. The ability to work together on a project when both partners are strong, independent people that know what they’re doing. Hell we even read directions together. It was fun, and we made it fun. We didn’t make it a chore. Heck we painted the laundry/walk in closet room together a few months ago and even worked on taking apart the washer and dryer to spruce it up and replace one of the belts in the dryer.

Teamwork.

So I think it’s safe to say it was a success, for us and the kitties. They seem to have settled into their new treehouse quite nicely if I do say so myself. Although Stitch seems to like that top perch wayyyy too much lol.

 

 

I can’t believe I just did that!

Well it’s not so earth shattering but seriously speaking, I can’t believe I just did that!

Never in my 40(1) years have I ever done that. Well maybe that one time when I was 3 and I didn’t know any better. Or is it that now I’ve finally done what everyone else has done all these years?

It’s disgusting, or at least it’s always been disgusting in my eyes. I mean how could anyone do that. It’s just gross. It’s dirty, and it really can’t be good for you. Or can it?

I have no clue, but at 8:40 am this morning, as I sat at the kitchen table with my cup of tea, looking out the big picture window out Dave’s back yard. I did it. And he saw me too. Oh the horror, the shame, the just ewewwwwness of it all.

I can’t believe I just did that!

My bagel fell to the floor, face down, cream cheese on the tile floor.

I looked at Dave, then quickly to the floor where I just KNEW it was laying helpless, face down on those tiles. The tiles I haven’t mopped in a few weeks, but at least have swept daily. Those tiles the cats walk all over daily, the kids walk all over when they are here, and we walk all over all day every day. Yep my cream cheese covered piece of bagel just lay there on the floor.

Ahhhh Hell no, I’m not wasting it. I’m not throwing it away. Not when I just spent $7.58 on a 4 ~FOUR~ pack of mini (half the size of a Real bagel) gluten free bagels. Of which there were only 2 remaining after today’s debacle. No way was I not going to finish eating it. Plus I was starving.

There was little time to make anything else, hence the whole reason I dropped the piece in the first place. Dave needed to get to work, and with construction on the nearby major roadway, he needed to be out of the house no later than, you guessed it…8:45 am. I had a mere 5 minutes remaining, not nearly enough time to make another bagel. You’re probably wondering why that’s not enough time. First you have to defrost the bagel. Package says 30 seconds, but it takes a full 1 minute to defrost it. Then it has to cool off enough to handle it so you can slice it. Once it’s sliced, you place it in the toaster to toast up a little. That takes at least another 2 minutes to get the texture and color I like on my bagel. Leaving 2 minutes if that to cream cheese it up and eat away. Not nearly enough time, as I like to enjoy my food not scarf it down in record time.

So I did what I thought I’d never do. I quickly bent down, scooped up the bagel piece, placed it on my plate and gave it a once over. Not seeing anything particular, although it was an everything bagel so I might have missed something, I decided the best thing to do was to just wipe of the cream cheese and add some more.

Dave looked at me, with this crooked little smile on his face and mumbled a low giggle. I just looked back at him and popped that piece of bagel in my mouth and took a bite. His smile grew and I then did what any awesome girlfriend does….

I shared my 5 second rule cream cheese bagel piece with him, and he enjoyed every bite!!

He did manage to ask me what happened. But was more interested in why or how I even decided to eat it after it had fallen to the floor. I am such a germaphobe. Or at least I’m always cleaning my hands and wiping the counters, not so much sterilizing things per say I don’t go overboard but he laughs at me.

Explaining to him, that first I don’t like wasting food, like the horrible Hawaiian Chicken with Catalina Dressing we tried to make last night that looked like hot pink Pepto Bismol. Secondly, after spending that much money on 4 freaking bagels I was NOT going to let it go to waste. And last but not least, I was freaking STARVING this morning. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been doing my walking more lately and getting my ass out there, but I was hungry and didn’t have time to make another one, and I didn’t want anything else either.

I still can’t believe I did that. But I ate it, and loved every bit of it. 😉

 

 

My Mom Loves Meghan Trainor’s NO song

Heading out to my doctor’s appointment the other day and my mom was my co pilot. I haven’t seen much of her lately, it’s sad but true, I’ve been neglecting quality time with her and I miss it terribly. Although she does get on my nerves as all wonderful mothers do 😉 yesterday was like any other day with her. Except we were having a disagreement over the freaking radio of all things.

When I go to the doctor, especially the gynecologist I need to destress and make sure my blood pressure is under control. I don’t know why but it goes higher when I get there. I love my doctor he is really great, I think it’s just being there kinda thing, I mean think about it no one really likes going to the gyno. Right? lol.

As we’re mosying along listening to the radio, catching up with each other over our cups of coffee, I’m channel surfing on the radio. I hate every song that’s playing, it’s irritating the fuck out of me, if it’s not some old school rap or Whitney Houston song that’s blasting, it’s some funky country tune and it’s all like nails on a chalkboard to me.

Then pops Meghan Trainor’s “NO” song and I give it a second or two and hit the search function. Not realizing Mom is singing along to Meghan! WTF

My name is no
My sign is no
My number is no

Yes she’s singing along and all of a sudden I snap out of my trance and glance at her and start laughing.

“Seriously, Mom are you singing along, and you know the lyrics?”
“Yes, it’s a catchy song. I hear it all the time on WBLI, and well it reminds me of my younger days when I was single and would go out to the Hampton’s and party with my friends”
“Really, how so?”
“Well it’s a meat market out there, as it is almost any club or bar you’d go to. But like the song says…

Thank you, I don’t wanna dance
If I want a man, then I’ll get a man
(Paraphrasing because these aren’t the exact lyrics)

“Today’s day and age isn’t any different from it was back in the 70’s, people are the same the years have just changed. But this song is a good one, she’s got a good point. Priorities, and knowing what you want and going after it. It’s a catchy tune”

As she finishes her sentence the song which had mellowed out in the background automatically seemed to get louder…

My name is no
My sign is no
My number is no
No
No
No

She was singing along again and trails off.

“Oh boy it even reminds me of your father. At the time, I was dating a Nuclear Physicist, and working at the Adult/Nursing Home. There was a Christmas party and I had been told by the ladies in food services that he really liked me. I had absolutely no interest in him and told him to leave me alone. At the Christmas party I brought the guy I was dating and your father had the balls to come up to me and ask me to dance. The nerve of him.”

“Apparently you said yes, Mom.”

“Like the song says…NO. I told him I was with someone and I couldn’t dance with him. He wasn’t too happy, and that led to him pursuing me.”

“And here we are 41 years later…”

My Name is no
My sign is no
My number is no

Perfect timing and the song kicks in again, we both laugh and giggle and I tell her about one of the other songs Meghan Trainor wrote and how I blogged about it.

“Oh God are you gonna blog about me now, would you really do that to your, Mother? Talking about how love is blind and all that jazz. How I went for the Hippy with the long hair and ripped jeans, and left the Nuclear Physisist? Well one wonderful thing happened from it all, and I wouldn’t change it. If I had the chance to do it all over again I would. I got you from it so that’s like hitting the jackpot” She says with a smile and a glimmer in her eyes.

Yes Mom I will, and I did, because I love you. You have shown me year after year and day after day that no matter what is happening in our lives, a little musical interlude always does the soul good. Even if it’s some catchy tune by Meghan Trainor. Especially if her music can spark a memory of yours and we can share in that memory.

Thanks Meghan Trainor. I never thought I’d say those words before.

Dear, Elle Magazine. Celiac is a Disease, not a Joke. #Iamthatfriend

So this morning, as I’m scrolling through my Facebook feed, I happened upon a post from one of my favorite Celiac Bloggers~ Gluten Dude. He was up in arms again, and rightfully so, over a cartoon published by Elle Magazine. You can read his heartfelt reaction in the link above. This cartoon, got my blood boiling. Seriously, Elle do you really find it funny to tease about a Disease?

I rarely get so frustrated, because let’s face it, people are assholes. There are plenty out there that think an autoimmune disease is just something that’s in your head. Well, get your head out of your ass and wake up. It’s not a joke. It’s real. And there is no cure. Except, eating strictly Gluten Free. There is no pill, no cream, nothing but elimination of Gluten. Plain and simple. Got it? Good.

Here’s the thing, Elle and your well-informed staff. May is Celiac Awareness Month. Bet you didn’t know that, because that would have taken some time to research.

Research, you know what that is, don’t you? It’s all shits and giggles over there in your creative department while you’re eating your bagels and drinking your beer, joking about a group of people who have a disease. Well doesn’t that make you special.

Poking fun of people who have no control over something that is debilitating in their lives. Making fun of people who can’t just take a pill to make the pain go away. Pain that not everyone can see and pain that none of us would wish upon another, except maybe some explosive diarrhea just so you have a hint of what happens to them during a glutening episode. An episode that can have lingering effects for weeks, and if untreated, can lead to devastating diagnosis that could include Cancer.

You wouldn’t make fun of someone with Cancer, now would you, Elle? No foreshame. It’s a disease. A disease people have no control over, and although there may be medications to help destroy the cause of it, it still leaves people helpless at its grimy hands.

See, there is no fun in making fun and teasing people who have a disease. Would you place a person in a wheelchair in that bubble? An MS sufferer in that bubble? Cancer patient? You get my point, don’t you?

You disgust me!

Anyone who makes fun of a disease, disgusts me. How can you be so cruel. Yeah I’m just a little pissed off at your attempt, sad sorry ass attempt at humor. Now if I wanted to make fun of myself in a lighthearted way, so be it, because there is a distinct line in humor and humiliation, degradation, callous, rude, crude…you get the point, YET!

But your commentary about this disease is just one of many in the public eye by people who are in a position of preaching to a far-reaching audience of impressionable people.

Your attempt at making fun of a disease is deplorable. And as I’m sure the sun will set tonight, I’m sure you probably won’t ever see this post, or the comment I made on your Facebook post about this either. But that’s ok. If I can at least get one more person to see, that this is NOT A JOKE, it’s a Disease. Then that is more than enough for me. You are not alone in this, and as much as I dislike giving you and your business attention, I think that my small blast at your poor attempt at humor will balance out in the end.

Karma if you will. Or maybe you and your staff will research Celiac Disease, and maybe do some volunteer work, or at least take the disease seriously.

#Iamthatfriend

 

 

A to Z Challenge, G is for ~ Gluten Free

Today we’re bringing you a Flashback Friday/AtoZChallenge post for the letter G.

G is for Gluten Free!

It’s a topic near and dear to my heart, since I’ve been Gluten Free for a little over 4 years now due to Gluten Intolerance. Please take a moment to read the post, as the information in it is just as relevant today as it was last year. Happy A to Z~ing!

Random Musings And Wanderlust

Gluten Free living, because of health reasons and not a fad diet. That’s what we’re gonna talk about today kids.

Well a little bit,(I do try to keep the A~Z posts short) and  because Gluten Free in this sense, is very serious business. For some people, those with Celiac Disease especially, it is even more serious than it is for me. I suffer with Gluten Intolerance or Sensitivity. Had I been tested for Celiac Disease at the time I had my first full-blown reaction, things may have been different.

GLUTEN: is a substance present in cereal grains, especially wheat, that is responsible for the elastic texture of dough. A mixture of two proteins, it causes illness in people with Celiac disease. It is also present in Rye, Barley, and triticale (a wheat-rye cross).

For me specifically, if I ingest gluten I start with an itch in my throat, a constant…

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Wordless Wednesday

I spy with my little eye: What’s that flapping in the wind?

I guess he used what most people make fun of about him to his advantage. Maybe? Maybe not is more like it. Because I see this as something I would reconsider. Is this the best his people could come up with? Really? Yes I did a double take, and was shaking my head at the fact someone was advertising it. One I don’t like bumper stickers. Period. Two, this is a stupid looking logo for a Presidential candidate. All that hair of his flapping in the wind. What is that the winds of change? No comment needed!

 

40 things I learned in 40 years…maybe

**Adult language, proceed with caution**

As I sit here, mere moments from my impending (the day after my) 41st birthday, I’m contemplating my life thus far. Where have I been, what have I learned, and where am I going? Three of the biggest questions in life. I’m grateful that 2016 is a Leap Year. One extra day of being 40. Not that 40 is or was a bad thing, I don’t mind getting older, I’m again grateful I have the opportunity to be here at this age. There was a time I didn’t think I’d get this far…

This isn’t one of those stereotypical 40 things I learned in 40 years post. You can google the shit out of those and find a ton of useless, often repeated, self esteem bullshit out there, but this isn’t one of them. What it is, is what it is, a little pouring out my soul onto a blog post just to let it all hang out.

In 40 years, I haven’t done all that much. I had a fantastic fast track career that got sidelined in my prime due to a car accident, oh well fuck it, life sucks some times and we gotta pull ourselves up from our bootstrings and try our hardest to move on with the new normal. It’s not always easy, some days are better than others, and we do the best we can with the cards we are dealt with. There are so many things my mind would love for me to do, many of them, my body won’t allow, but I try my damndest to do the best I can. At least I can say I fucking try.

My mind still absorbs all the possible knowledge it is capable of learning. I take each day as a new learning experience, and although I don’t have vast college degrees, I think my BA in Communications/Journalism is enough for me at this time, I have a wealth of knowledge that a classroom or degree can’t measure up to. Life experience is vastly underrated and underutilized. Don’t take it for granted.

I may not be a mother, in the sense of giving birth to a child, but I have mothered plenty of children and I will say they are all better off for the time, attention, love, and discipline…yes discipline I have given them over the years. It’s not being sarcastic, snarky, or ever boasting, it’s just the facts. There are children who when in my care have learned how to read, eat, have manners, show respect, learn that working hard gives them self respect and confidence they didn’t think they had, they learned consequences from bad behavior, and reward (not in monetary sense but in pride) in doing good deeds. Yes, I can say I am a mother, of sorts, to many children.

I have learned what I will tolerate and wont tolerate from myself and from those I surround myself with. If you don’t offer positive vibes in my life, I will cut you out plain and simple. In my mid 30’s when I was trying to be a good Catholic, I gave up Negative People for Lent. I purged my circle of all that negative fucking bullshit that people had to offer me. I have no use for negativity, my own mind can do that just fine when I indulge in it, and I don’t allow myself to indulge. It serves no purpose, but to take the joy out of my life. Like a bad relationship, either intimate, familial, or friend, I will not let you do to me those things for which I know are bad. It doesn’t matter who you are to me, you will mean nothing if I see fit.

I wont eat eggs that are scrambled or have a runny yolk, and if I order them in a diner and they come out any other way I ordered them, they will go back. I won’t be nasty but I will politely say to redo them the way I ordered.  I dated a guy in my late 20’s that asked the silliest question one morning as he was making us breakfast…

“How do you like your eggs?”
“Whatever way you’re having them” I said.
“No that’s not how you answer that question. You need to know how you like your eggs cooked. If you can’t tell someone how you like your eggs, how can you tell them what else you like. Don’t just go with the flow, ask for what you want and you will get it. If they can’t give it to you, move on, you deserve better than the crap they have to offer you.”

If I order 2 eggs over medium, I expect to get runny yolk and a cooked white. Yes I expect it. I want to dip my eggs into that blissfully seductive creamy yolk, and if I have a good piece of gluten free bread with me I want to dunk that shit too! I expect it, if I order over easy then runny crap it will be. And I don’t like runny crappy eggs.

“Life is like: How do you like your eggs? If you can’t express that, what else are you willing to settle for? You’ll just get whatever the fuck the world wants to give you”

Don’t settle for that crap!!

I don’t know it all, and will never claim to, but I know a lot of things about a lot of things and I wont engage in a conversation if I don’t think I know what I’m fucking talking about. I’m not wasting my time, breath or energy just to hear myself speak, and I wont waste yours either. What’s the point in that? Although I know plenty of people who will talk about everything and anything under the sun just for some attention. Don’t be that kind of person. If you can’t engage in a conversation either with well informed information, or a desire to learn from the topic, don’t waste valuable time.

What I’ve learned at 41 is that there is still a ton of other shit to learn. Yes I’ve got wisdom, experience, failures, and achievements under my belt, but Life, my life is far from over buddy. So that means I’ve got a hell of a lot more things to learn in the next 40+ years of this crazy ride called life. So yeah, I’ve probably learned 40 things in 40 years, but really take every day of your life, the life you’re blessed to live, to learn as much as humanly possible.

I still have that book in me. The one I’ve really wanted to write my whole life. But I’ve got to get to the point of figuring out why I wont write the damn thing. Am I to worried I’ll hurt peoples feelings, stir up some emotions that maybe are better left buried with the now deceased? Or should I just throw caution to the wind, dig out the old notebook, and continue what I once started. It is a story worth telling, at least from my perspective, and one that might help others. I just need to get out of my own way with this one, that I have learned can be the biggest obstacle in ones life. The self imposed boundaries.

I’m here re learning, or trying once again, how to crochet. 16 years ago my Mom tried teaching me. Right after my car accident. Hell I had plenty of time on my hands, although I really wasn’t there mentally at the time to comprehend the intricate details of chain, double chain crochet stitches, but I tried. I failed. I had no patience. So here I am Trying again. Remember in the beginning I said at least I can say I fucking try. And try you should to. Don’t settle for less than you deserve, don’t settle for the status quo, or the self imposed barriers you place on yourself.

See I still suck at crochet, but I’ll pull it apart yet again, and start over. I’m not about to quit learning and figuring out what works best for me.

So here’s a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me. Here’s to 41 fabulously crazy, funny, happy, sad, angry, uncertain, confusing, earth shattering, blissfully challenging, amazing fucking years! And the rest of the years I’ll be blessed to experience that are ahead of me.

 

xo Paula ❤

 

The attack of the Kitchenaid Dishwasher

 

Walking downstairs to the smell of charred wood, when there is no wood burning stove, or fireplace that gets filled with wood, brought on fear and panic to Dave and I this morning.

WTF is that smell?

We check everything imaginable, and then we realize it might just be something from the oven when we cooked a chicken last night although we didn’t burn anything. Anything is possible right?

Apparently so. When I moved closer to the sink and dishwasher the smell became so undeniably strong and overpowering. Checked the sink, under it and nothing was there. Open the dishwasher and I was hit with a wave of stench so unbearable I almost threw up.

WTF happened here. Every single dish and storage container smelled of charred wood. How did this happen? Frantically we empty the dishwasher, and upon Dave’s inspection, we find this gem.

His favorite steak knife. Ok but the question remains. We haven’t had steak in quite some time, and we don’t use it any other time really, so how the hell long has it been in the dishwasher? We only run the dishwasher maybe once a week on the weekend because it’s quicker to hand wash them.

This still remains a mystery, and I don’t think it’s one we will soon solve. But just think about how hot that water heating element is inside your dishwasher! Has to be pretty damn hot to char the wood handle on a knife and part of the blade.

Off to the store for dishwasher cleaner and hopefully the smell of charred wood will leave it and the house for good ASAP.

Wordless Wednesday